Work Text:
Law wakes up groggily.
He doesn’t think he’s been asleep for very long, which is weird. He’s been falling asleep a lot more now that his symptoms are getting worse. He rubs his eyes, struggling to lift the heavy lids. He’s sluggishly aware that his surroundings are dark and fuzzy.
No, that’s just Corazon’s stupid coat.
Law can feel Corazon breathing, ruffling his hair with every exhale. The bastard has Law tucked under his chin, held tight against his chest. The position isn’t unusual, all things considered. Just humiliating.
Well something must have pulled Law from his slumber. He shifts around a little, dimly aware that he’s uncomfortable but unable to place why. His answer comes when he tries to take a breath out of his nose and abruptly finds that he can’t.
More awake now, Law pushes away from Corazon. He sucks in a breath through his mouth, finding it to be bone dry. His hand comes up to his face, registering for the first time that it’s wet. His fingers come away sticky.
Ah. Nosebleed.
It’s not a symptom of Amber Lead Syndrome. He used to get them all the time growing up.
But his sickness isn’t helping the situation. One glance down tells him he’s bleeding a lot, more than he has before. A spark of panic shoots through him and he squirms out of Corazon's arms.
Once free, he glances down. He looks like a fucking murder victim—the blood is all over his shirt and pants. Thankfully, though, it looks like none of it got on Corazon.
Pinching his nose, Law glances around for something to stave off the blood flow. They didn’t have a lot to go around. Law could ball up another one of his shirts, but then that would be ruined too, and he’d rather die before asking that overgrown bird to buy clothes for him.
Law huffs, mouth twisting into a scowl. Of course this would happen now. They just landed on this island. He can’t even go six hours without having some kind of medical emergency.
Instead of letting Corazon rest after a few days of sailing, Law’s going to wake him and make him deal with this. Luck of D his ass.
Knowing Corazon, he'll lose his mind over this. He'll take Law to the hospital right away, which Law knows won’t do anything. Hell, they’ll probably kick him out even faster at the sight of his tainted blood.
Annoyance and frustration simmering in his stomach, Law scoots forward and raises a hand to shake Corazon awake.
But…
Corazon is asleep. Actually resting, and Law knows he doesn’t do that enough. Especially not lately, when Law grows weaker and weaker and the trips between islands for potential doctors get longer and longer.
Law leans back on his heels. His eyes flicker to the path they camped near—the one that will lead them into town. They’d planned on going in the morning; it can’t be more than a mile away. It’s close.
Close enough for him to find something to staunch the bleeding until morning.
Corazon can freak out about this after he gets a proper night’s rest.
Besides, Law reasons with himself, Cora will never know. He’ll be gone fifteen minutes, tops.
He stumbles to his feet, blinking harshly as the world shifts a little. The blood loss is making him lightheaded and dizzy. He needs to get this under control, now. Law clumsily shoves on his boots and pinches his throbbing nose with one hand. The other is cupped underneath his face to catch the excess blood, but it still slips out and leaves a trail on the ground as he walks.
Law’s legs tremble underneath him. He breathes through his mouth, which feels all too loud in the quiet of the night. It isn’t long before a bend in the path leads to a humble farmhouse on the edge of the town.
The light is on inside the house, but Law doesn’t bother with it, instead opting to go around back into a barn. His suspicion proves correct: he finds a horse blanket that he quickly tears into shreds.
Back outside, he winces when he presses the fabric to his nose. It feels like his whole face is pulsating, nerves extra sensitive. He takes a moment to clean around the blocked airway. Now he can at least breathe. His clothes, though, are still a lost cause, ruined by the blood.
Cora’s face is going to be priceless.
With the fabric pressed to his face, he starts to make his way back down the path.
This was easy. No reason for Corazon to freak.
A voice cuts through the night behind him. “Hey, kid. Wanna help a guy out?”
━━━━━━━━━━
Rosinante wakes up. He’s been doing that a lot more lately—he’s never been much of a deep sleeper, especially while undercover with the Family. But ever since heading out on the run, it seems he sleeps less every day.
Law becomes weaker by the hour, and one of them has to steer the boat.
He stretches, the muscles in his back and shoulders twinging from both days at sea and months of sleeping on the ground. Maybe he should splurge tomorrow night and get them a room at a local inn. It might help Law too, to be out of the elements for a while.
It's then that Rosinante notices his arms are empty.
He cracks his eyes open, expecting to see a kid grumpily stabbing at breakfast cooking over a firepit.
But there’s no fire, and more damningly, no grumpy kid. There’s nothing around him but an empty campsite. It’s still dark, the only light coming from the stars above and the nearby village. Rosinante sits up, eyes quickly scanning the area in case he’s missing something obvious.
Law’s boots are gone.
“Kid!” Rosinante hisses into the darkness, “This isn’t funny! Now isn’t the time to play games, you little shit!”
He holds his breath and waits. No response.
“Law,” he tries again, panic lacing his tone. “I’m serious. Come out right now.”
Silence.
Alarm bells blare in Rosinante’s head as he stumbles to his feet. Where the hell is the kid? Did he try to make another break for it? He hasn’t tried to run away in weeks, but maybe Rosinante shouldn’t have let his guard down. What a little bastard.
He takes a step in the direction of their boat and trips. It’s only when his face is pressed to the dirt that he sees the trail of dark blood on the ground.
A different kind of panic blooms in Rosinante’s chest.
Worst-case scenarios flash in front of his eyes, each one more horrible than the last. Fuck, if anything happens to that kid… He scrambles off the ground and goes tearing down the path.
━━━━━━━━━━
The guy who steps out of the shadows has clearly seen better days. His coat is ripped and dirty, and his pants and shoes are scuffed. He looks like a loser.
Law rolls his eyes as the guy looms closer, clearly trying to be intimidating. “Oh, fuck off.”
“Well, that’s not very nice.”
Law doesn’t dignify him with a response; this fucker isn’t worth his time. He turns around and heads back toward the path.
He makes it a few steps before a hand seizes his shirt, dragging him backward. “You should have the decency to look at someone when they’re talking to you, brat.”
“Don’t fucking touch me!” Law shrieks. He whirls around and aims a punch at the stranger’s stomach. It’s not as hard as he wants, but it’s hard enough to take the guy by surprise. He doubles over and Law kicks him in the leg.
Unfortunate placement, all things considered, because the guy collapses, and drags Law down with him.
Law lets out an oof as the air is knocked out of him, the back of his head smacking into the ground. It dazes him for a moment; long enough for him to register that the guy’s patting him down.
“Get off me! Asshole!”
Law struggles to throw the guy from him. They tousle for a minute, and it’s clumsy —the smell of whiskey tells him this asshole is probably drunk. Honestly, Law isn’t much better, considering the sickening vertigo that rolls through him.
His second disadvantage comes in the form of a stray elbow that clips him in the face. It’s not enough to hurt, not really, but the bump to the nose is more than enough to restart the relentless blood flow.
Law feels it gush down his face; he chokes as the blood fills the back of his throat, once again blocking out the airway. Just his luck—he’s going to choke to death on his own blood because some dickhead wanted to rob a kid.
In a desperate move, Law kicks him in the ribs, taking sadistic glee in the pained huff it earns. Victory doesn’t last long—there’s a hand on his throat, long fingers curling around his windpipe.
They don’t have the time to flex, though, because the body on him is suddenly yanked away.
The guy gets slammed into the side of the farmhouse so hard that the wood behind him splinters. A giant, bird-like figure boxes him in.
“You don’t touch my kid,” Corazon snarls through his teeth. He holds the stranger by the lapels of his shirt to keep them at eye level, leaving the attacker’s legs dangling freely in the air.
He emphasizes every word by jostling him back into the wood. The drunk has the decency to look scared.
“Co—” Law coughs before he can get the name out, thick and wet. Another wave of dizziness hits him, knocking him back to the ground.
“Fuck,” the guy spits, squirming in Corazon’s hold. He appears so small compared to the blond giant pinning him. Corazon looks so angry, eyes blazing with fury, shoulders heaving like a caged, violent animal.
“Cora,” Law finally manages. It’s not a shout, but Corazon reacts like it is. He jolts as if the word hits him physically, head whipping around so fast the tassels on his hood go flying.
His eyes are wide and panicked, which makes sense. But the fear that's there too?
That's a surprise, honestly. Getting tackled by some petty thug isn’t ideal, but it’s not like Law can’t take care of himself. He could totally kick this guy’s ass if he wasn’t choking on his own blood.
Oh.
The blood.
“It's fine,” Law rasps. He sits up, blinking hard as black spots dance in front of his vision. “It’s not what you—”
The door to the house bursts open, light pouring out that Law has to blink. An older woman steps out, arms crossed as she takes in the scene.
“I already called the police,” she announces. “I heard all the ruckus you’re causing.” She takes a look at Law, freshly bloodied on the ground, then to Corazon, seething in unabashed fury. “What in the—Marx. Again?” She glowers at the man Corazon has pinned to the wall. “I told you to stay off my property! Were you harassing these folks?”
“I wasn’t doin’ shit—”
Marx’s body gets slammed into the wall again.
“Brat was like that when I saw him!” Marx protests. “Somebody else broke his face, it wasn’t me.”
“Nobody punched me!” Law protests loudly, “Fucking hell—Cora, just put him down!”
Corazon relaxes his grip. The second Marx’s feet touch the ground, he gets the fuck out of there, scrambling away towards the town like a rat on a sinking ship.
The woman watches him go sternly, shaking her head. “The sheriff will take care of him, don’t you worry. Marx is just a petty thief, he’s not violent. Likes to pick on travelers." She jerks her chin in Law's direction. "You should focus on taking care of that boy of yours.”
Law barely has time to blink and Corazon is there. He makes a strangled noise as he’s lifted off the ground by an arm under his torso.
“The nearest hospital,” Corazon says, voice threaded with alarm. “Where is it?”
“Corazon!” Law squirms midair, kicking at Corazon's legs. He hates it when this bastard scruffs him like a dog. “You’re overreacting! Just shut up and let me explain—”
“Overreacting?” Law squawks as he’s shifted, held aloft by both of Corazon’s hands so their faces are level with each other. “Look at your face,” Corazon bemoans. “You look like you got pummeled, Law!”
“Nobody attacked me! I woke up with a really bad nosebleed. Like, really, really bad. But that’s it, so calm the hell down!”
Corazon’s eyes search his for a long moment. Law can see the urgency that’s still there, the adrenaline that hasn’t quite dissipated from his blood.
“Law,” Corazon says softly, pleadingly. His chest is still heaving, the feathers of his coat fluttering with the motion.
It clicks then, what Corazon walked into—Law, pinned to the ground by a stranger, screaming and coughing up his own blood.
Context is a bitch.
“I’m fine,” Law assures him lowly. He dips his head to hide his eyes under his hat. Corazon’s concern makes him feel…weirdly warm. “Nothing happened, okay? I’m just dizzy from blood loss, that's all.”
Corazon visibly deflates, shoulders sinking in relief. He pulls Law closer, cradling him to his chest in an overwhelming hug. Law coughs around a mouthful of feathers and punches him in the sternum.
“Let go of me, clown!”
“Why don’t you come inside,” the woman cuts in. “You can clean up your boy in our bathroom.”
“I’m not his anything,” Law grumbles. He leans a little more into Cora anyway.
“Thank you,” Corazon talks over him effortlessly, “but we wouldn’t want to impose—”
“No trouble, really,” the woman says, eyeing Law in trepidation. “Besides, you need to stop the bleeding while you can. Your kid’s a damn faucet.”
━━━━━━━━━━
The bathroom on the main floor of the house is small. It’s more of a closet, really, with a small sink and toilet. Corazon can’t stand up to his full height. Not that it matters; he’s been hunched over Law for the past fifteen minutes, carefully cleaning his face without aggravating his nose further.
Corazon hasn’t said anything since they got inside. His mouth is pressed in a thin line, but his eyes are still blazing with that wild, primal fury.
Cora’s still angry.
The thing is, though, Law doesn’t know why.
After another minute, Law decides he can't stand the silence anymore. He rips the tissues out of Corazon's hands and finishes dabbing his face himself.
“I could have beaten that guy,” he huffs. “He was just some jerk, he’s nothing compared to Diamante.”
Corazon’s eyes lock on him, and he creates a bubble of Silence before he responds.
“Kid,” Corazon says, but then loses his grip on the new package of tissues in his hand. Cursing, he goes diving for them, shoulders bumping into the cabinets under the sink. Law curls his legs toward his chest to avoid getting smacked.
“I think I broke his rib, though, so that’s good—”
“What?” Corazon says flatly, wincing as he stands and bangs the crown of his head on the ceiling. “Do you want me to say I’m proud of you?”
“I—! I don’t know,” Law bites out, suddenly unsure. He masks it with a scowl. “You’re obviously mad about something. I’m—I’m not that weak, though. Not yet.”
“You think I’m—” Corazon laughs. It’s not a nice noise, choppy and cold. It would sound better coming out of his brother’s mouth than his. “Kid, I’m not mad because you were losing a fight. I’m mad because you ran off without telling me.”
Law bristles. “It wasn’t like that. I was going to come back.”
“You left in the middle of the night.” Corazon’s voice raises, “And I had no idea where you went! You could have been kidnapped, or killed. Or died on the side of the road!”
“I’m just going to die anyway.”
Corazon ignores him, on a roll now as he rants, “What was I supposed to think happened? Shit, Law, when I woke up and you weren’t there, I—” He shakes his head, pinning Law with a gaze that's suddenly far too parental. Law’s skin crawls. “You’re smarter than that.”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Law insists fiercely.
“If I hadn’t pulled him off you—”
“I could have taken him!”
“This isn’t about you being weak!” Corazon stresses. “We’re in this together, brat, you can’t just run away like that.”
“I wasn’t running away!” Law shoots back, balling his hands into fists. Their faces are only inches away from each other, but he still feels the need to shout. “And I didn’t ask for you to rescue me. I would have been fine.”
“So I should have let him mug you? Honestly, kid, you're not making any sense. What were you trying to prove by leaving on your own?”
“I’m not trying to—” Law growls and shakes his head. He wills away the frustrated heat pricking at his eyes. “I just—I wasn’t—I didn’t want to ruin your coat!”
“My coat?” Corazon's eyes widen with curiosity, though the edge is still present in his tone. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I didn’t want to bleed on it!” Law shouts. “When I woke up, you were—” holding me. He snaps his teeth shut, hoping Cora thinks the red on his face is only from anger. “The stupid thing was in my face, and I was bleeding everywhere, and didn’t want to ruin any of our stuff. The village was close so I was just gonna get some towels or something. I was only gonna be gone for, like, two minutes. Then that asshole tackled me and you showed up and made it into this whole,” he waves his hands around, “thing.”
Law breathes heavily after he’s done, swaying a little as the rush of emotion takes its toll. He grounds himself by gripping the edge of the sink, looking anywhere but directly at Cora.
Which is hard, because there's not much space where Cora isn't.
A strange expression crosses Corazon’s face. His eyebrows pull together.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Corazon’s soft tone sends him bristling. And it seems so stupid now, doesn’t it? Law crosses his arms and tilts his head down, his ears hot.
“Because you don’t sleep,” he mutters. “You’re always doing stuff for me. I didn’t want to wake you up for something I could do myself, so…”
“Oh, Law.” Corazon sighs, fondness coloring his tone. He rests a giant hand on Law’s head. “What am I going to do with you?”
Law snarls, grabbing his wrist and wrenching his hand back until Corazon makes a pained noise.
“Ow, okay, jeez! Stop moving around so much you little shit, you’re going to make yourself bleed again!”
“That’s fine. I’m going to lose all my blood when I die anyway.”
“Not funny,” Corazon snaps.
Law sticks out his tongue. Cora returns the gesture.