Kidkiller - Blog Posts

29. Date

Kidd - 18 | Killer - 21

Tags specifically for this chapter:

discussions of minors and sex

Kidd confronts Killer on him leaving

Killer struggles with Kidd's age

discussions of teenagers and age gaps

would they actually talk about this irl/cannon - i dunno...

probably not... but then again, they are soft about the other

be ready for an awkward fight that they've been needing to have a for a few years now

but also needed to wait to have until Kidd matured a little bit

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

They were supposed to be going out on the town, the island they'd docked at having a wide selection of restaurants and concert halls and other amusements. They'd been loitering in the area past their departure as the days slowly ticked away in the second week of the new year, specifically for tonight. Instead, Kidd and Killer found themselves drinking in the quiet galley, sharing gossip and reminiscing about an island that never quite felt like home there at the end.

About the wild exploits of The Kid Boss of the Heaps - a teenager that had managed to unify the unmanageable, and how even Killer's Boss had sat up and took notice before their group had imploded.

Kidd had had a few times where the same had almost happen to him too, before he really came to understand the power he'd found himself responsible for - "People only fear you for so long before they hate you enough to do something about it." Which was terribly profound when you realize a 16 year old had come to understand this before the adults around him did.

"At least you had some charisma that got you a few people that had your back. Nobody followed me because they thought I was going to be a good Boss. I was just the poor bastard left standing with the dust cleared. As soon as they realized they had other options, it was an exodus. Most of them defected to you or Wire pretty fast."

"I did notice an uptick of sycophants after that one meeting we had."

"I believe I warned you about that."

Kidd nodded. "Yeah... yeah, you warned me about a few things. You were right - about using my fruit around people. It being a bad idea."

"... I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well. Live and learn."

"I hope you smeared the assholes to paste."

Kidd chuckled darkly, "I did indeed. They were worthless; be glad they ditched out on you."

"It was only a matter of time before they left. They all do." Killer conceded, sipping his beer though a straw Dive had found... somewhere. "Just sorry you had to deal with them."

"You left me." He hadn't meant it accusatorially, not really. Just a statement of fact. But once it was out, Kidd felt a little angry about the whole thing. Killer just going on about being left behind, oh woe is me, but he did the same damn thing.

Killer frozen in place, before slowly putting his mug on the table. Kidd could feel him looking to the galley exit, calculating how to leave.

Fuck that.

"Was I that awful to be around?"

Killer rubbed his palms on his jeans, and Kidd swallowed thickly around the lump forming there.

"Oh."

"Look.. It..." Killer got up then, and Kidd watched him start to pace, feeling more and more uneasy with each anxious step Killer took. "It wasn't you, it was me... Well, it was you but it wasn't your fault."

"I have no idea what that means."

Killer's head is tilted up like the ceiling holds the answers.

"Killer, what the fuck does that mean?"

Killer shook his head, and Kidd stood up abruptly, ready to block him from fleeing.

"Killer! What did I do?"

"It wasn't your fault." Killer reiterated, and that didn't make anything clearer, and they both knew it. "You were just... You were kind of a lot... at.... that age..."

"I was 14! What are you on about?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Kidd had a sickening feeling starting to form in his gut. It must have shown in his face, because Killer glanced at him once before quickly looking away.

"You... got a little.. handsy. At night."

"Handsy?"

"A lot handsy. And.. clingy?" His voice pitched like a question, like he was trying to find a way to word Kidd's apparent behavior while downplaying it at the same time.

Kidd slumped against the table they'd just been enjoying drinks at. "How bad was I?"

"Four Blues, Kidd - you were awful." Killer groaned, "Every fucking night, three times a night, minimum, you'd be all over me."

"I... I.."

"Every time I thought it safe to drift off, you start making these little noises and I was so sleep deprived, Kidd. So sleep deprived. I'd leave in the morning purely to go sleep in Ceannard's office for a couple hours."

"I was 14!"

"When I was 14, I would get up and fucking take care of it - you just.." Killer voice had a panicky edge he'd never heard, before pointing wildly at him, "Every fucking morning, I wake up and had to deal with you getting off dry humping me. And you didn't even have the decency to be awake!"

"So you should of woken me and told me to knock it the fuck off!" Kidd paused, head cocking to the side as he studied how Killer had tensed up, bad shoulder touched in - "You didn't want me to wake up. You didn't... you didn't want me to know. Why?"

The mask hides a lot - Killer was always too expressive - his face an open book. But the mask didn't hide everything. Not from Kidd at least.

"You were into it."

Killer shook his head. Not a denial of Kidd's words, a denial that they were being spoken in the first place. He was coiled up so tight Kidd wasn't sure he was even breathing anymore.

"You liked me all rubbing up on you." Kidd almost wanted to preen at that, anyone else he would be puffed out proud. Instead a knot formed in his gut. You got off on it He keeps himself from saying, the thought tangling in his throat, forcing him to swallow thickly. Or you wanted to at least...

Killer made to widen the gap, but Kidd wouldn't let him, crowding him up against the wall.

"Then why would you leave?" he cried, not understanding at all, "I was horny, you were horny, what was the problem? We coulda fucked around a little, so what?"

"Because Killer might be good for a quick fuck, but nobody sticks around long after!"

Kidd started at him quietly, stunned, step back like Killer's words had been a physical blow. Killer hunched in himself, slouching back, surprised by his own confession.

"Killer..."

"I thought... I thought if I left first it would hurt so bad. You were getting along with the other Heaps' and you had a reputation for being an tough asshole so I thought... I thought you'd be okay."

Kidd pressed his fingers up on the bottom lip of Killer's mask, a request not a demand, his brows pinched unhappily.

Killer relented, and pulled the helmet off. But Kidd surprised him by taking it from him, holding it in his hands thoughtfully. He studied the interconnected plating, planning on how he'd make the next one different - better ventilation and more internal padding around the ears.

"I really liked Vicky." He started solemnly, "The three of us. Hanging out together. And sure, I wasn't thrilled about the two of you ditching me all the time. I thought maybe I was jealous of you for a long time, getting to hang out with her alone. And maybe I was... But I think I was also jealous of her. But then she was gone." Kidd spoke to the helmet, easier to say this to the empty drill marks than the man in front of him. "But that was okay because I still had you. And .. And I really liked being with you. I always felt safe, and waking up every morning with you right there... and then.. and then you weren't anymore. Even before you left, you started to be distant, and I hoped maybe you just got a new girlfriend and after the novelty wore off things would go back to how they were."

Killer was quiet, watching his hands fiddling with the metal, before he gently took the mask back.

"But it was me. You left because of me."

The worst part was Killer couldn't even disagree. He turned away from Kidd to put the helmet aside. "I left because I didn't know how to tell you no. I left because I rolled over and let anyone fuck me for a kind word, and I knew that I'd let you too, if you wanted. But you were 14 and you're my kid, and it got all weird and complicated and I didn't know how to see you as someone who wanted sex yet and .. And I was scared if I gave in, if let you take what you wanted, you'd toss me aside too once you were satisfied... so I ran away before you could."

"And if Vicky hadn't died... would you have ever talked to me again?"

He watched Killer's hand caress the line of white and blue. "No." He said finally. "No. You were doing so well; I was so fucking proud of you. You turned into this great man: You united the Heaps, made them believe they were people again. You had all them following you because they saw you were someone worth following. And I knew that I didn't have anything to do with that. That was all you. And I didn't deserve to talk to you anymore."

"Excuse me?" Kidd frowned, "What the fuck do you mean - you didn't have anything to do with that? You don't deserve to talk to me? What are you on about?"

When Killer didn't answer, Kidd grabbed his elbow and forced him to turn back, "Look me in the face and say that bullshit again!"

Killer stubbornly remain quiet.

"No!" Kidd growled, "I've gladly bashed the face in of anybody who talked shit about you. Don't think I'm gonna let you say it either."

Killer opened his mouth to start to say something but then stopped again.

"Killer!" frustrated, Kidd grabbed Killer's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him, "Say it to my face. If you're going to insult my friend, have the balls to say it to my face."

Killer met his eyes this time, blue to orange, complementary and contrasting in equal parts, and Kidd frowned at the pained pinch at the corners, the shame Killer wore in his features. He didn't understand, and no searching helped him find the reason. "Why would you ever say that you aren't the reason I got this far in life?"

Killer tried to escape his look by closing his eyes, but Kidd shook him softly; Killer's long lashes brushing his thumbs when he opened them again.

"Why did you leave me?" he tried again.

"You were 14...."

The light went on this time, Kidd breathing out a soft, "Oh" as Killer tried to look away again. Kidd rubbed his thumb against Killer's cheekbone, tipping his head back until their eyes met again. "I'm not anymore."

Killer was starting back at him, a fearful guarded look. But now, now Kidd thought he understood. He smiled back, tone soft, "Can I kiss you?"

The fear was still there, but Kidd would show him. He waited until Killer lowered his gaze, but nodded, a soft, "Okay" that was both defeated and begging.

Kidd smiled, hands sliding up Killer's cheeks to brush his bangs away and placed a soft kiss to Killer's forehead, smirking at the red painted lip marks left behind. Killer was looking up at him curiously though his lashes. Kidd rearranged Killer's bangs until the mark was hidden under wild hair.

"It's my birthday... come have dinner with me?"

"Okay."

28. Kimono

Kidd - 22 | Killer - 26

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Kidd injury recover from loosing his arm

Killer's not doing much better mentally

bathing again

with hair washing role reversal

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

-thank you wife for telling me kimono (きもの/着物) literally just means 'thing to wear' and helping me get unstuck with suggesting coat redux.

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

He's starting to remember more and more of each day, the haze of pain and drugs slowly lifting as his body heals. What was once just vague feelings are starting to be actual lucid moments, a few minutes at a time.

<><><>

Killer's there at his side every time he comes around; even if he can't remember, he knows it's true.

Killer's on the chair facing him today, feet propped up on the nightstand, but careful not to disturb the bottles of meds or the canteen of water. He's fiddling with something in his lap, but Kidd's not sure he has the facilities to figure out what.

<><><>

When he drifts back again, he practically begs Killer to let him up; he's exhausted, he's hurting, but he also has to pee and he would like to take a piss like an adult for once.

Halfway there, and Kidd knows they aren't going to make it if Killer walks him there - and Kidd relents and lets himself be carried if only for the fact it means he won't piss on himself in the hallway.

He'd hate all of this more if he had the energy to even make it back to bed before he's passing out again.

<><><>

He wants to eat with the crew.

He wants to see his crew.

Heat & Wire keep assuring him everyone if fine, but they're too quick to placate and refuse anything more. Killer won't even entertain his questions, and Kidd nearly cries when he finally has the awareness to notice that Killer's hair is almost completely gone, shorn just past the helmet.

He can't bring himself to ask, and Killer offers nothing back.

Kidd needs to see his crew.

<><><>

Finally Killer relents, but he has his own stipulations. The big one being Kidd needs to look presentable if he's doing this.

Kidd - who is tired of sponge baths and fever sweat sheets - allows him to be man handed into the bathroom again, this time letting Killer pamper him in the warm tub. He's too tired and heavy to appreciate it fully, but soaking in the warm water already has him feeling more like a person again, and he lets Killer scrub him down, wash his hair, tend to his still healing wounds.

Kidd see them for the first time, then. He'd been aware his left arm was gone, but it didn't sink in until he sat in the water, bandages off, healing stitched skin on display. It's not just his shoulder, but his reflection in the water, his neck and chest, his gut. His right arm bears more marks from where he tried to defend himself and if he crosses his forearm across his chest he can see the long injury drawn out across his entire body, from forehead to groin.

No wonder Killer's been so quiet. Gormaichean. He owns his partner big for this - the fright he must have caused the man.

Its a wake up call, as he watches Killer mother him in the water's reflection, combing his hair like the invalid he is. He can't even bring himself to bitch about it, instead just letting the continuous motion and the still water lull him into a doze, until the bath starts to cool and he's all prunie and wrinkled.

Then Killer's hauling him up and toweling him down, and Kidd says nothing about the zen-like focus his partner pays him, afraid to break whatever peace Killer has found in the actions. The absolute concentration Killer directs at him once he is clean and dry, and Killer starts to work the ointment into his stitches before wrapping them once again.

The stitches still pull at his left eye a bit, and it feels like Kidd is just endlessly crying. He's almost relieved when Killer wraps his face back up, the tears hidden in the gauze.

Killer gives him a moment to compose himself as he slips Kidd's legs into his pants, starts dressing him slowly and reverently. Slides his boots on for him and laces them like they're something precious.

The shirt Killer pulls out to dress him in is unfamiliar. Unlike Killer, who liked to hide behind long sleeves and higher collars, Kidd's ruined too many shirts with his devil fruit, the small sharp edges that came hand in hand with weapons and scraps tearing the sleeves to shreds after a single fight. But he doesn't have the range of motion right now to be pulling a tang top on and off. Kidd is too broad chested for it to be one of Killer's, the solid dark colour not in his partner's usual tastes either. It's short sleeved and very low necked, and it's a button up that Kidd realized was Wire's as Killer slide it up his right arm. It's a snug fit around his bicep but it's not unwelcome, and the hem stops just short of the thickest part of the wrapping on his left arm as Killer carefully works it over the healing stump.

While his face heals, Kidd's not surprised Killer doesn't offer him his googles, but at least the bandages have the side effect of covering his forehead and keeping his hair pushed back out of his eyes.

<><><>

He hadn't realized he'd drifted off again until he he wakes up to the feeling of anxiety. Not his own, but his partner's.

Killer's staring at their makeup bag on the bathroom counter - foundation in hand; It's going to rub off on the bandages all over Kidd's face. Kidd decides for him, pulling the bag closer and picking out the black eyeliner pen and his favorite shade of red eye-shadow. "You can at least fix up my good eye, yeah?"

It's the first thing either if them have spoken since entering the bath

Killer patiently paints his face back on, Kidd watching him intently, trying to get a read on him though the mask.

It's not usually this hard, but Kidd knows things have changed again.

Kidd lost.

It's been a very long time since that's happen. He'd forgotten the feeling.

He drops his jaw gently, parting his lips as Killer pulls out his favorite lipstick, Killer's thumb pressing against his chin. Kidd can see Killer's eyes this close, his attention completely on his task.

His hand is next, Killer matching the nail polish to Kidd's lipstick; Kidd realizing with a pang that it maybe a long time, if ever, before he's able to do things like this for himself now.

Its intolerable: this weakness. It is inexcusable, especially from a Captain. Kidd can not loose again. He wont stand for it and neither should his crew.

Killer inspects Kidd's appearance, seeming hyper aware of the way every hair falls, and even with out gelling it up, spends a few moments carefully arranging the drying locks.

Kidd's hates every moment of it, hates that Killer is still so shaken that he's stressing about how Kidd's hair is styled.

"You died." Heat will tell him later, just the two of them as Wire takes watch and Killer finally, FINALLY falls asleep. "And Boss Killer was more than willing to follow you. I thought he was going to turn on us when we tried to stop him."

Hates that he was too weak to protect Killer from himself.

Satisfied, Killer steps back to look him over, a Captain's Return. Kidd understands why Killer believes they need this, the crew need to see Kidd as someone strong, even if Kidd doesn't feel that himself at the moment.

But Killer has one last touch, pulling a heavy weight across Kidd's shoulders. Physically, physically, it's not too much - Kidd thought his coat destroyed and gone, but Killer appears to have salvaged the red fur lining and it's been reworked into a presentable coat once again. it's also nearly a third of the weight of the original one, and his left arm can shoulder the weight with little strain. The weight on his heart, however is crushing.

Killer carefully balances it over his shoulder's draping it back like a King's cloak.

Kidd will earn that weight back. He won't fail them again.

27. Warm

Kidd - 8 | Killer - 12 | Victoria - 13

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Children in danger

Sick!Killer

Kidd is out of his depth

aftermath of Grief

Enter Victoria

drug use (pills) both 'prescribed' and not

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

"What's wrong with him?"

Kidd startled, and the mystery voice yelped as scrap metal flung itself at her haphazardly. Kidd armed himself with a pipe, planting himself firmly between the girl who'd dropped to the ground, and Killer's still sleeping form.

Seeing as no other attack followed, the girl looked up tentatively, before glaring at him as she stood up, brushing the filth from her shorts. Kidd just adjusted his grip on the pipe.

"You're Kidd, right? I've seen you two around town."

"Yeah, so what?" Kidd hisses.

"So, what happen?"

"None of your business."

She blinks at that, looking honestly surprised. "oh.. okay. Fair, i guess." she shrugs, turning to leave.

"I can't get his fever to go down." Kidd admits. She stops, looking back at him. "We got .. we got ambushed. Killer got hurt and now he was a fever and no matter how many times I change the bandages, he doesn't get better."

"You can't... You gotta do more than just change bandages," she muttered, cautiously approaching him. "Can I see?"

The blond boy under the rags is shivering and panting, blue eyes glazed over and unresponsive. His skin is warm and clammy, splotchy red where it's not paper white pale. She doesn't even need to see more to know this is way past her expertise.

"He needs a doctor."

"They don't see Heaps kids," Kidd said bitterly, and Victoria's heart broke - it sounded like the kid had already tried that only to be turned away.

She pulled the makeshift blanket away further, the dirty bandages wrapped to the best an eight year old could manage. She didn't dare try and unwrapped them again with nothing to wash the area. "Okay... okay, let me think..."

Kidd pulled the blanket back up, small face twisting in grief. At least she didn't have to explain to the boy the dangerous situation his friend was in. "Sure."

He looked at her, like he didn't dare to hope. "Help me get him up, I'll carry him." she said, kneeling down so Kidd could drag his friend up onto her back.

"What.. what's the plan?"

"The nurse at the boarding house."

Kidd paused, look at her like she was an idiot. "We're not allowed in the Mill's houses."

Victoria started walking without him.

"Wait! Wait! We're not allowed in!!"

"You're not allowed in." She corrected, "But I am, and if I go to the infirmary Ii should be able to avoid the Widow Matron. It's early enough in the day that the only ones in the house are working and they are too busy doing chores to bother with me."

She was right, even if Kidd was left at the gates to pace worriedly.

<><><>

It was starting to get dark and Kidd was staring infuriated at the large foreboding stone building, angry tears falling without his permission as he waited for any word on Killer or the girl who'd whisked him away. He felt a fool, sure that he' been swindled and now his only friend had been stolen away after everything they'd gone though to stay together.

Killer had worked so hard to keep them together and safe, and Kidd had just lost him.

One of the men at the gates was watching him suspiciously, whispering to on of the other men. Well, let them whisper. Kidd wasn't going anywhere. He wiped some of the snot and tears from his face, glaring back at them, daring them to try and run him off.

He wasn't expecting someone from inside to call his name, some older auntie asking for him to be let inside. The men at he gates seemed just as surprised.

"His sister fell ill today, the poor child's just waiting to hear she's okay."

"Ma'am, no one's allowed in or out after curfew..." One of the men stated nervously, wilting immediately under her glare. Kidd wasted no time squeezing though the gate bars and running to the woman's side unprompted. The men grumbled, but seemed like chasing a kid down wasn't worth their time.

"You're Shiruton's friend, yes?" the woman asked him quietly, and Kidd nodded; He didn't know who Shiruton was, but he'd be whatever she claimed he was if it meant he got to see Killer again. The older woman was waking across the yard carefully, faux-casually staying to the shadows and Kidd made sure to do exactly as she did. They slipped around the side of the larger building, entering in though a food prep area before navigating to the brink building's infirmary.

Victoria sat waiting for him, sitting in a wooden chair next to a bed at the end with the curtain drawn. She must be Shiruton then, Kidd assumed.

Kidd practically threw himself at Killer, even if his friend still slumbered on. He smelt funny - a sharp tangy smell that also filled the room in general. The woman hissed at him, and bodily drug him back off the bed. "You are filthy, get down!"

Kidd hissed at her, fulling intending to bite her for manhandling him. For separating him from Killer.

"Stop it!" She warned him, "You will wash and if you don't have lice or fleas, then I will let you back on the bed."

Wash? Kidd started at her blankly, so thrown that he forgot he was upset. He wiped his hands on his shorts, and held them up for inspection. Her and Victoria both looked horrified. "I'll take him," Victoria volunteered, her face still pinched.

She lead him to a privacy room off to the side, and introduced him the joys of hot water and showers. And then the doldrum of soap and shampoo. She also took his clothes and informed him they should be thrown away, before lending him a nightshirt that was practically a nightgown on him. He stood once again for inspection by the nurse, right down to her checking his scalp with a comb.

"Clean enough for now - go on then." She dismissed him before talking quietly with Victoria for a moment before sending the girl away to her own room before she was noticed missing.

He was at Killer's side in a flash, gingerly climbing up on Killer's right side, avoiding the injuries he knew festered on Killer's left. The injury was unwrapped, and the nurse waited for him to settle before speaking.

"This is a third degree burn, and it's infected. You need to make sure it stays clean." No eight year old should be the one receiving these directions - a doctor should be caring for these children. but Victoria had sad all she needed to hear - Heap's Boys. No one was going to care about if they lived or died. Her Bosses certainly wouldn't either.

She showed the little redhead a jar of cream she'd prepared. "You want to gently use this on the whole area - every day." She demonstrated how to apply it, before then showing how how to correctly wrap the area. Next she showed him a little orange bottle she'd prepared. "He needs to take one of each color, every singe day, until they are gone. Kidd, this is very very important. He has to take all of them. Even if he starts to feel better, he has to take them all."

Once he nodded solemnly, she set it on the top of the burn creme jar. "Make sure he's drinking clean water, as much as he can stomach. After the pills are gone, he might still want some pain killers, just make sure he's taking only as much as he absolutely needs."

And... easy part done. now the hard part. She handed him the last packages she'd prepped. "I was able to stop the bleeping - it's healing up now, but over the next week or so it still needs to heal. You need to make sure he soaks in a warm bath of this, twice a day." He looked over the collection, pointing a the creme - "one a day", the pills "once a day until they're gone," and then hold up the little box of powder, "twice a day."

It may not be enough, but at least she tried. She'd have to kick them out before sun up, hoping the meds would have enough time to get the older boy somewhat lucid. He had already started to sweat, and his temperature was slowly coming back down. Until then, she watched as the younger boy crawled under the thin little blanket to curl up on the narrow bed with his partner.

<><><>

Once they're back on the streets, getting clean water proves to be a task too large for Kidd, try as he might. He's got enough for Killer to either drink it or wash in it, and Kidd finds someone to trade the bath mix to. He brings back soups and painkillers and holds Killer tight when he cries in pain. Holds him tighter, scared when too many of the pills Kidd bought on the street puts Killer in a limp daze as they try to find the right dosage. The bleeding comes back every few days, but it looks less and less each time, so Kidd just hopes and prays

Slowly, Killer heals, and the infection clears up. Kidd can tell that walking hurts for a long time, and his arm is still messed up pretty bad. But Kutsukku doesn't care, and they both know Killer needs to suck it up or the Heaps will eat them both alive.

26. Cold

Kidd - 17 | Killer - 21 |Heat -22

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Head Injuries again

please seek emergency care for head injures like this!

The helmet is born

brief but repeated vomit

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

"What's wrong with him?"

House gestured over to where they'd set up an impromptu infirmary; where Heat had apparently marched Killer off to once the heaviest of the fighting had died down. "Dunno. I think he tried to block a pipe with his face."

Kidd groaned; He didn't like to see Killer hurt - but he didn't like to hear Killer had gotten hurt in such a stupid way even more. He stalked over to the little shelter, throwing the door open to find just the two men thankfully.

Killer was seated on the ground, Heat squatting next to him, red stained cloth pressed against his forehead and their first aid supplies lain out next to them. The cloth mask Killer usually wore over his face had been pushed up as an impromptu headband by Heat to hold his bangs back as he picked through the supplies one handed. Heat waved for Kidd to keep his voice down, the Captain only just biting back a jab at Killer's bad luck.

"hmhmmka" He mumbled to Kidd.

He was definitely not okay; any jest's dying on Kidd's lips as Killer tried to stand up to prove he was fine only for all the colour to drain from his face. He was blinking rapidly, and then Kidd and Heat were lowering him back to the ground before he fainted.

"Get the bucket," Heat warned urgently, dropping the bloody rag to pull Killer's hair back suddenly. Kidd handed it off just in time for Killer to hurl into it. It was not the first time, Kidd frowned, as the bucket already had sick in it. "I'm.. gonna go dump this." His nose wrinkled up at it once he took it back from Killer before he spilled it on himself.

"I wouldn't. I don't think he's done yet."

Kidd's frowned deepened; Heat began to stitching up the still bleeding cut along Killer's hair line. Kidd reached out to touch the end of Killer's nose, blood dripping onto his hand.

"This one is bad."

"/This/ one?" Heat looked nervous, "How many concussions has he had?"

Kidd made a /ehh/ noise, checking Killer's pupils, "I'm gonna have to start sending you out with a safety helmet, buddy."

Killer just looked confused. "Imnt 'uty"

"Oh Killer, you so are fucked up right now." Kidd said sympathetically.

"A'mo wel'day." He told Kidd as Heat finished trying off the thread, before giving a pathetic whine and shudder as Heat pulled away. Baffled by the noise, Heat looked over at Kidd who shrugged back.

Tentatively, Heat put his hand back on Killer's forehead and swore, before using both hands to cup his cheeks. Killer closed his eyes and shivered, leaning into his touch.

"He does feel a little chill," Heat warned, and Kidd pulled his jacket off to wrap Killer up in it.

In a show of gratitude, Killer puked on him.

<><><>

He can't help but have a laugh at Killer's expense when he hands the gag-gift over as they wait for permission to dock on the little backwater island; The Victoria Punk is almost bigger then the entire pier and someone on island wants to make sure she's actually going to fit. It's a reasonable enough request with no undertone of malicious intent, so Kidd is content to wait for once.

"You've had a real head for trouble lately," he cackles, as Killer opens the box to study the crudely made safety helmet.

It's just a basic hard hat that Kidd had shaped out of scrap steel, though he'd lowered the back a little more than was standard and didn't bother shaping the brim onto it.

"Shouldn't there be like... padding?" Killer asked, baffling Kidd in that he seemed to be taking it... seriously.

"Wait.. What?"

"I don't think it's going to be useful without some padding to absorb the blow. It's also going to fall right off."

"Are... Are you fucking with me?" Kidd asked; Killer was inspecting the item like he was actually considering wearing it.

He also looked confused by Kidd's comment. "What do you mean?"

"Because I'm fucking with you. This is a joke..." Kidd said slowly, waiting for Killer to drop the act, "Because after your last concussion? I made that joke about sending you out in a helmet?"

Killer looked down at the helmet in confusion, and then looked back up, still lost.

"Which I'm starting to realize... with your concussion, you don't remember any of that..."

".. I'm sorry?"

"Air son muir, don't be fucking sorry!" Kidd went to take the helmet back, feeling a fool, only to catch a look of uncertainty on Killer's face and pulled his hand back slowly. "I... Di.. Do you want me to make you a helmet? Like... an actual helmet?"

Killer floundered for a moment, "...Maybe?"

Kidd held his hand out, and Killer handed the piece to him this time. "So... Padding..." he prompted, turning the metal over.

"Maybe a face plate too?"

A knot tangled up in Kidd's gut. "Like, are you thinking down the center covering the nose or up over the cheeks?"

He almost didn't hear Killer's response, it was so quiet. It shouldn't have surprised him, not after a friendship as long as theirs.

"Anything you want."

If Killer wanted it full coverage, then that's what Kidd would make for him.

25. Night

Kidd - 21 | Killer - 25

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Heat & Wire have left to go on a date

leaving Kidd and Killer unattended

Killer is our short!King

Hogmanay/First-Foot preparations

chores turned shenanigans

Pomp would like you to take this elsewhere

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

While the Punk would be a wild party later for Hogmanay, most of his crew was off making last minute preparations or napping in advance for the long night. The unchanging standard daylight hours of the Grand Line forcing them to adjust some celebrations, seeing as it would have been long past sundown if they'd been back on Kutsukku by this time of the afternoon. Kidd been trying to find Killer, only to be soundly kicked out of the galley by Pomp, who'd warned him that only the cooking brigade was allowed in there until Killer said so.

"Well, bring him out, I wanna talk to him."

"Oh - no ones in here but me. The prep work is done, and I'm just keeping an eye on a few things that are in the ovens. And to discourage any raids." He climbed back up to his perch on the counter where he'd been messing with some new project. Kidd felt he should say something back, but was so bewildered by being dismissed so causally by one of his own men that he ended up just wandering back out the galley and started for the stairs up deck.

Only to stop, blink, and take two steps backwards, looking down the hall to the crews quarters.

Killer was dragging a little two step ladder around, swapping out light bulbs on the hallway wall. Two steps up, unscrew the light cover, take out the dead bulb. Two step down, dead bulb in one box, new bulb from the second, still in protective wrapping. Unwrap, trash the packaging, then two steps up. Replace bulb, screw cover closed, two steps down. Drag everything over three feet towards the galley and repeat.

"Why is our shortest commander the one replacing light bulbs?"

"I think the better question is why is the guy who wired our ship afraid to change out the bulbs himself?"

"I mean… we did kick him off the ship" And they'd done so every December 31 for 5 years now. As Mr. Tall Dark and Mysterious, Wire been unanimously named qualtagh. He didn't fight it to much, and he'd even had a song to go with it that his mother had taught him as a small child. Technically he just had to disembark the ship before midnight and then come back after the bell tolls. One time they'd been at sea for the new year and had dumped him on a life raft for a few minutes before hauling on board again.

"I told him if he changed these out I'd talk to you and we could kick Disk J or Gig out instead. Make them qualtagh this year. He said no way, and took Heat with him before sunrise."

"… should I be worried about the Punk?"

Killer laughed before he caught himself, an easy sound when it was just the two of them. Wire had been a good sport about the whole life boat thing, but this year Wire had declared if he was to remain qualtagh, then no one was allowed to bother him or Heat until he returned on his own after midnight. "I think we're okay; Anyway, we put all of these in at the same time, it makes sense they all burned out at once." /Please be why they all went out at the same time…/ "New Lights for New Year - gotta be something in that."

"Y'all are a bunch of superstitious fools."

"You're just bummed we couldn't find Trafalgar in time for First-Foot."

"He's probably keeping himself submerged on purpose."

Killer made to step down but Kidd gently -pushed- the ladder over to the next fixture, dragging the boxes with him, and started unwrapping a new one. "Thanks," Killer murmured, opening the casing, "I.. I don't think Trafalgar celebrates First-Foot…"

Kidd took the burned out bulb from him and handed him a new one, "I … may have made allusions to ruining his new year last time we ran into each other."

The bulb light up brightly once it was screwed in, and Killer closed up the casing. Kidd watched the way the light reflected off his helmet, the hint of a beard he'd stopped shaving off every morning at his chin, more noticeable from this lower angle.

"Only one that'd be funnier to crash in on would be Monkey, but the bastard's already had a shit year. He doesn't need my help." He -pushed- Killer over to the last bulb on the hall.

"That's almost thoughtful of you."

 "Hardly. It woulda just been a waste of my talents."

Killer shook his head in bemusement, last bulb bright. Kidd went to start putting things away when Killer dragged the step stool over to one ceiling light over the archway to the mess hall. It had been burned out so long Kidd had forgotten about it. It was also much higher than the rest, the entry way build so Wire & Mosh didn't have to duck to get in.

Climbing up, Killer was still a few feet too short to reach. Kidd watched in amusement as his partner stretched on tip toes but still only barely brushed the light casing. "Misjudged that one, shorty?"

"Oh don't you even start!"

Kidd could help but laugh, the image of killer stretched out just burned into his memory, and he fell across the hall so the wall could hold him up.

Killer growled at him - and Kidd just kept smirking. He could tell Killer hasn't playing anymore, but Kidd still had a plan, and he needed Killer to -

Killer stepped off the stool and grabbed his bandolier to jerk him forward, "Don-"

Killer might be faster, but Kidd was stronger. He hauled Killer up over his left shoulder, both hands clasped around his left thigh. He ignored the way Killer's heel tried to dig into his hip, and after some kicking, Killer got his right leg hooked around Kidd's neck, hanging awkwardly down Kidd's back, thighs pressing against both ears and trying to strangle him with his calves.

Pomp came running at the first sounds of a fight, and Killer had told him to get back in the kitchen.

/We have a strange kind of foreplay,/ Kidd though to himself, pointing not slamming Killer's face first into the wall behind them, but getting close enough that Killer could leverage himself up until he was sitting on Kidd's shoulders; If Kidd was anyone else, that knife Killer only just didn't pull would have been in his neck. Instead Killer had a fist full of his hair, twisting his head around to force Kidd to look upward at him, knowing full well that even without seeing his face, Kidd knew how pissed he was.

Kidd just smiled out sweetly, patted apologetically the hand shaped bruises he probably left on Killer's left thigh and -pulled- the base of a new bulb over to himself, holding it up to Killer, face of pure innocence.

Killer looked at it in confusion, before glancing up quickly to find the light fixture now in reach. "You're a prick."

"A massive one," Kidd agreed with a wink; He could tell Killer rolled his eyes at that before he readjusted his weight so his was sitting snugger on Kidd's shoulders, no longer tying to strangle his captain between his legs, instead tucking his toes around Kidd's sides and behind his back for balance. Kidd kept his right hand on Killer's hip to steady him, head still twisted to the awkward angle their tussle had left him in, but it let him watch Killer unscrew the cover to open it, pillowed on Killer's thigh.

Killer removed the dead bulb, plucked the new one like picking a flower from someones' garden, and planted the dead one in it's place. Kidd knew he was getting a cocky smirk under strips of white and blue but patently bid his time while Killer's attention went back to the task at hand. In the mean time, he -tossed- the dead one into the box of trash

He rested his hand back on Killer's hip, the rough denim on his jeans and the soft silk of the sash. He wouldn't likely ever wear a leather belt, but had no problem pilferering Kidd's things and repurposing them for his own means. It was not lost on Kidd that his colours was the thing keeping other wandering hands off his partner, and his alone allowed to remove them.

"Any more chores left?" Kidd asked, his chin brushing the inseam of Killer's jeans. He felt the muscles of Killer's inner thigh flex and he smirked as his ran his hands down either side of the material's outseam until he was supporting Killer with a firm grip on the thickest parts of his thighs.

Killer squeezed his legs in warning, a light pressure around Kidd's head as a reminder that could actually probably kill him if Killer was so inclined.

"I'm just saying," Kidd pushed his luck, "that unless you have anything else on that needs seeing to, we've got some time until you'll be needed back in the galley, yea?"

There was a light pull on his hair, a shift of weight, and Killer had curled down to look at him, still balanced carefully on his shoulders but close enough Kidd could have kissed him if not for the helmet.

Kidd kissed him anyway.

23. Morning

Kidd - 6 | Killer - 10?

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Kidd gets named

Killer gets a birthday

more scottish holidays I'm trying to twist to fit into one piece

holidays would be the most reliable way for a bunch of homeless kids to keep track of time

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Besides counting the fourteen days between dock pays, Killer also carefully counted quarter days. He had no paper contracts - he wouldn't be able to read them anyway - but its when pay ledgers would be checked, and extra hands would be let go. Leases would be up and one either paid for the next few months or made sure to be out the door before the landlords caught on you'd been squatting there in the first place.

It was also a chance to get hired again and get steady work. And Killer put his best face forward every Martinmas; winter was the most important time to get work. Work meant pay, sure. But good work also meant being warm in the day, sometimes a meal at lunch, and if really lucky, a safe hidy-hole to sleep after dark.

Killer, who was good with numbers and likes sussing out the patterns they made, loved this time of year. Martinmas started on 11/11 and lasted 2 months and 22 days ending on 2/2 on Candlemas, and Killer had always felt that must mean it a lucky time of year. Last year had been hard - the docks were still recovering from the fire and the only people with extra coin for the season hadn't wanted two little boys on staff.

32 days after First-Foot and 23 days after he'd given the last of their coins to the kid, Killer had taken the tiny stub of their last candle and boldly joined the woman who marched to Februa. He's watch them march every year to get their candle's blessed, and Killer needed all the blessings he could get, even if it just meant a candle he'd hope would last a little longer.

The women around him would point and whisper at him as he walked with them, but when his bravado started to fail him, he was saved by the kid who'd gotten bored begging at his assigned corner and left to find him. He was munching on an already partially eaten sandwich, before offering it to Killer. Killer - who was indeed hungry - took a bite before giving it back.

The whispers started up again, and Killer wished he hadn't taken the bite, it knotting up in his gut.

"Whose children are these?" One woman asked finally, addressing the others.

He just wanted his candle blessed. Now he was pretty sure he'd messed up somewhere. Thankfully, the kid didn't seem to notice the unease and stayed focused on his meal.

At least until the woman grabbed his arm, and he dropped the coveted food when she practically lifted the little boy off the ground - "Whose kid is this!"

Killer could have bitten her, and certainly would if she carried on like that, "Hey! Hey, he's mine, let him go!"

She frowned at him, expression unhappy still, "Excuse me?"

"He's mine!"

"Where's your mother?" one woman asked; Killer had no answer to that. "What do you mean he's yours?" asked another, and Killer wasn't sure how to answer that either.

"Is this your bother?" the woman ask the kid instead. He looked just as unsure how to answer as Killer.

"He's my kid! Give him back!" Killer declared, both boys starting to get upset.

One of the women took pity on them it seemed, and she stepped up to whisper something to get first woman to let go of the kid. Killer grabbed his hand and meant to run away, but the woman who's asked about their mothers knelt down to block their way.

"Hi, Kidd, I'm so sorry about your sandwich. But I saw you come over to share it with.. uh…"

"This is Killer." he said it without hesitation, clinging to Killer. He was more upset by Killer being upset at the moment, the whole ordeal making little sense to him.

"I saw you share it with Killer while he waited in line with us. That was very thoughtful of you."

He grinned, and Killer relaxed just a fraction.

She pulled out beri note, and put it into Kidd's free left hand, "Hey, Kidd, why don't you go and get you and Killer a new one?"

Both the boys face dropped in surprise at the paper bill. Kidd practically shoved it in Killer's face, with an awed 'look!'

Beri was off island money; it was worth a lot to the right people. Worth more then the numbers printed on it.

"It's too much…" he didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out before Killer could stop them. Kidd looked at him curiously.

The woman's smile is still kind but incredibly sad. "Is it just the two of you then? Or are there others?"

"Just us," Kidd pipped up, the beri note having been folded up and put in the little drawstring bag his birthday coins has been in.

"Wh.." she pursed her lips, tilting her head and tried again, "Do you understand what the march to Februa is for?"

"Killer's getting our candle blessed."

Killer showed her their candle stub.

"It's just the two of you?" she asks again, and Kidd nods before Killer can tell him to stop, starting to feel nervous.

But she looks thoughtful, "Is this the first year it's just been the two of you then?"

"The kid's been mine since the coup."

"Okay," she smiles, and when she stands, she ushers Killer in front of her with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

A few of the women had hung back waiting for her as the rest had marched on. "This is Kidd," she says, touching Kidd's red hair first, "and this is Killer," she said, her hand going from his shoulder to his hair too. "This is the first year Killer has had Kidd, and he's going to get get their last candle blessed."

He was still doing it wrong, Killer realized, but the laughs were kind, their smiles no longer mocking but sweet. The woman's hand was warm and soothing where it lingered on his head. They looked at him like people looked at Kidd when he did something cute. The beri woman kept a hand on them the whole way, and no one asked again why they were there. When it was Killer's turn, words where exchanged in advanced, and a confused man said a prayer on his candle.

It would several year later before Kidd would sit up suddenly one night, hours after they should have both been sleeping. Killer bolted upright the moment he did - a light sleeper to the point to of detriment - but also something that had saved their asses many a times. "What it is?!" he whispered harshly when he couldn't figure out what woke Kidd up.

Kidd looked at him accusingly in the low light, "When is your fucking birthday?"

"Wha… what?"

"How do I not know this? How have we never celebrated your birthday?!"

Exhausted, Killer plopped back down, arm slung over his face. "Go the fuck back to sleep."

"No, seriously," Kidd shoved his shoulder, and when that didn't work, pulled Killer's arm down, "When the fuck is your birthday?"

"Who knows," Killer answered, pulling his arm free and rolling away from Kidd to try and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately for him, it was never going to happen as long as Kidd was staring at him; some part of his brain refusing to let him ignore the fact someone was looking at him.

"Candlemas." he said finally, the first day to come to mind, "last term day of winter."

Kidd was whispering under his breath, trying to remember if he knew anything relevant about the day.

"Second of February." Killer supplied, tired of listening to the gears grinding uselessly in Kidd's head.

"Oh…"

"Will you go back to sleep now?"

22. Aftermath

Kidd - 5 | Killer - 9

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Children in danger

Killer gets named

Killer's been an orphan for a long time

Kidd becomes an orphan

Baby Killer's first steps in Observation Haki

Child-Laborer!Killer

Killer running errands for the mob/bagman

lots of background death for this one, including some named oc's

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

He's too small for the good paying jobs, but he's a fast learner, and dexterous. And while mending nets and quality checking ropes doesn't make him a lot by way of coin, he's reliable and known and most of the dock masters will find something for him to do. He's become a familiar face both on the docks and in the taverns and sometimes they even left him sleep where he falls and pay him all the same.

He also stated to be trusted for other tasks - a note from a sailor to the City Boss, an envelope from the Boss back to the docks, sitting watch at a door until just the right man came around. He'd make more in those nights than he'd make in weeks of rope mending.

He'd make a name for himself that way too - when the wrong man came sniffing around. He hadn't meant to kill anyone, but the man not only refused to go away, he'd gotten physical with the little boy, not expecting much of a fight from a 6 year old. But a 6 year old with a nail studded board got the drop on him none the less, and the man woke up tangled in rope and sinking in the bay.

He wouldn't wake back up again, even if his body was pulled up, picked over for clues, dead eyes staring back at the little blond child that had gotten the better of him.

"No body messes with our little killer," the dock master had said, ruffling the boy's hair as the dead man's identity and loyalties were sniffed out.

So Killer got his name, fell in deeper with the black markets of the docks, and sometimes even got to sail on some of the ships on their shorter day voyages.

And when the inevitable happened - and once some small time Street Boss rose up to overthrow the City Boss, and throw down his sympathizers - 9 year old Killer was meant to be rounded up with them. But three years of running errands for a mob boss had taught Killer the signs to watch for - and all the best hidey-holes in the city.

He just really failed to understand the scope of such a take over. He heard the fighting outside, listened in horror as fighting turned to guns turned to explosions. In the end he'd climbed down in the water itself as the buildings and the ships started to burn, clinging to the dock pilings. It was foul, and so polluted he was afraid the sea might catch fire too. The heat would get so intense at a few times he had to dive completely under, holding his breath until he could no more, only to risk surfacing for air and diving back under again.

The fires burned for hours. The smoke would linger for days more; thick and cloying. It burned his eyes and throat and each breath hurt.

The docks were unrecognizable when he could tread no longer and lay gasping and exhausted on the stone work at the shore. The ships were gone. The wharf and piers charred down to the sea. The taverns and markets and shops no more than rubble as far as he could see. Corpses littered the streets, burned and mutilated, left to rot.

He wandered the streets - everything changed so much he didn't know where he was anymore, even if his feet did - eventually taking him back to the long time safety of Eustass' Tavern & Inn.

It too had been caught up in the fires, the Inn part completely gone, and only a scattering of the Tavern's shell still there.

"Mòr Mhàthair?" He was sure he sensed something in the smoking remains. He glanced down the street - still empty and still. "Mr. Eustass? Are you still here?"

He climbed over the smoldering wood beams that might have been part of the roof; there was definitely someone here, he could tell, but he wasn't sure who or exactly where. Worried the tavern matriarch might be trapped somewhere, Killer made his way back to where he believed the kitchens had once stood.

Sure enough, she'd been trapped. Unfortunately, Killer was far too late to do anything about it. He didn't know how to feel as he stood over her - one of so many burned mangled bodies he'd found since he thought it finally safe enough to climb out of the bay's water.

She might have been on of the few he would cry about if he had any strength left for it.

But there was still someone here...

Killer respectfully crawled past her, moving some of the rubble that had fallen against the bricks of the fireplace. Hiding in the soot bricks, covering in grime himself, was sunshine boy. He didn't look too bright now, just terrified, the only clean part of him was where his tears had been streaming down his face.

"Hey Sunshine." Killer said soothingly, pulling more rubble away so he could get closer, "You okay? Are you hurt?"

He shook his head no, but didn't move. Killer tired to move more of the debris but lacked the upper body strength, "Kid.. kiddo, you gotta come to me, okay? Can you move?"

The boy nodded, crawling forward until Killer could awkwardly pick him up. Killer started picking his way back out of the former building, whispering, "close you eyes" as they passed auntie, "keep them closed" he murmurer, when he spied Eustass' body on his way out. "It's okay... I've gotcha..."

20. Metal Trinkets

Kidd - 7 | Killer - 11

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Children in danger

Sometimes, Kidd is still a child

Killer doesn't understand playing pretend

He's so confused but he's trying

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Kidd had a cute chubby face that meant people didn't feel guilty giving him things, and he had been slow to grow and was still very small looking for seven. He was also quick tongue and lacked any of Killer's hesitancy when it came to demanding attention. Everything about him was loud, and he just could stand in crowded streets and adults would stop to see what he needed help with.

He'd pretend to be lost, or spin them some other fantastic story, and Killer would lift items from their bags or coin purses from pockets. And then later they'd awe at their spoils and feast like Kings. Sometimes the items could get pawned for coin; sometimes they kept them, if they were small enough. A neat watch that Kidd would break almost immediately because he tried to take it apart, a box of luxury chocolates that they gorged themselves on - too sweet and rich for them in the end - and once they even pilfered a doll that ended up being far more trouble then it was worth.

Children's toys were a complete unknown to Killer; Children's games in general were a mystery to Killer, and Kidd long declared him the absolute worst at playing pirates when he'd spend most of their game correcting Kidd on the names of the parts of their non-existent boat. "No, that would be the backstay."

"It doesn't matter!"

"… but it does?" Poor Killer just could not wrap his head around Kidd's point of view, and if Kidd had anyone else to play with he'd probably have left to do so.

But, Killer was also his best friend, and Kidd thought it important that someone teach Killer how to play. So when the doll had appeared in one of the packages they'd lifted, Kidd had wanted to keep it. The problem was, playing with just the one doll between the two of them was difficult, and trying to teach Killer how to play dolls with just the one was proving to be impossible. He'd intently watch Kidd demonstrate, but when it was his turn, Killer would freeze up, and just cradled the dainty little doll like he was afraid to break it.

Stealing a second doll had so far not worked out for them - Kidd was starting to suspect Killer wasn't trying to find them another one - so Kidd took it upon himself to make one. He'd already been making little abstract things with the scrap during slow spells or when he couldn't sleep but he didn't want to wake Killer up. Killer didn't sleep though the night very often as it was, so when he did pass out during the day, Kidd was more than happy to keep watch and let him rest. Granted, making a doll was a little harder since it needed to look like something when he was done, but Kidd was pretty proud of how it was coming along.

He'd been out looking for new pieces when he'd spotted a dozen City Men in the Heaps. They'd come by from time to time to dump their trash, but normally the only ones coming this deep were ditching a body or looking for someone. Heap-folks learned to avoid them; pretend you don't see them, they pretend they don't see you.

These men didn't seem to want to follow the script, because one pointed directly at Kidd, "That red yokel, that's one of them!"

"Killer! Run!" he'd yelled back to their hovel, taking off in the opposite direction, hoping they'd follow him instead. Kidd knew the Heaps like the back of his hand, he could run this place blindfolded if he needed too. And as long as Killer wasn't nearby, Kidd was happy to -wreck- shit up without worrying his friend getting caught in his still sporadic control over his magnetism. He could -attract- things towards him without hurting himself anymore, but -repealing- was still like firing a scattershot and he hadn't figure out at all how to aim it.

Unfortunately, only about half the men took the bait, and all Kidd could do was pray Killer had enough warning. Frustratingly, the man who'd pointed at him had not been one to follow.

Kidd was small and fast, and he new all the best paths to run along, and which were filled with tripping hazards. And alone, he was free to -pull- and -push- piles to his whims to trip up or even bury his tag-alongs.

Once he was sure he'd lost his tail, he made his way back to the last place he'd seen Killer and started looking for the older boy - only to hear cursing and swearing beckoning him toward their shelter.

"WHERE IS IT!"

Kidd stuck his head over one of the lips of trash. The leader of the group was screaming at Killer who was ignoring him completely to fight with the man who was trying to keep him in a head lock. The three of them were covering in blood splatter and the man looked like he had a child size shoe print across his face. The other four men that had stayed behind with him hadn't fared so well, bodies twitching and discarded in the rubble.

Kidd froze when he recognized the knife the man was threatening with was Killer's own blade, and its very sharp point was being waved far too close to Killer's own face.

"Where is the Duck House?!"

"I dun what that means!" Killer had gasped out when the man's free had grabs a fist full of his hair, and the other man finally got his forearm successfully under Killer's chin and against his neck.

"The Duck House!" The man screams again, and the knife is going for Killer's face, and Kidd -pulls- in a panic, the blade sinking in to the trash pile as he ducked back down to hide behind once more. The two men turned and looked in the opposite direction, reasonably believing someone shot something to disarm them. There are no devil fruit users on Kutsukku after all. Those are just Grand Line myths the Marines use to trick people.

Killer however, uses the distraction to mule kick the man holding him in the groin, and is running the moment his feet hit the ground. Kidd wants to send the knife back to him, but he's terrified to hit Killer with it by mistake.

The grunt is still huddled in on himself, and his leader screams and picks up some scrap to throw after Killer. Kidd -pushes- that off course but remains otherwise crouched and hidden. He knows that Killer knows he's nearby, and no doubt will double back, so he stays down, listening, waiting. Watching.

He watched the two men tear into their home, the makeshift walls light enough for children to put into place no match for adults as they are ripped away. He bitterly watched as their meager things get tossed aside, just more trash in these men's way.

They tear apart blankets, rip open the 'pillow' Kidd and Killer share, throw clothes aside regardless of the mud. The parts to the watch Kidd was still trying to figure out get scattered, lost forever in the scrapyard.

Killer slid down next to him, panting softly, eyes a little manic from adrenaline but hands soft and steady has he checks Kidd over for injures he doesn't have. Kidd keeps watching the City Men as they destroy everything.

Finally, they make a triumphant noise, and the leader is holding out the doll relevantly, her porcelain skin dirty from her time with Kidd but intact. The man is grumbling about the state of her dress, and Kidd and Killer shoot each other dumbfounded looks.

But this doll is apparently worth the lives of most of his crew, and they go to leave, their treasure reacquired. The leader can't help but twist his heel into one of their shirts as he walks by, grinning at the sound of ripping cloth.

All this for a doll. Killer looks pissed, and Kidd can't blame him. Two on two - they could still mess this man's day up. But Kidd is also frowning at the blood dripping from Killer's nose still and touching it seems to drain all the blood-lust out of Killer's body. He just looks forlorn.

The men are getting way, but…

Kidd climbs to the top of the heap, and holds his hands out in concentration. Everything crackles around him, but he's not -calling- for anything nearby. No… he wants something much farther away. It's hard to pick the -song- of any specific piece of metal, they all -sing- pretty close to the same frequency.

Kidd finds the right song and he -calls- for it, across the yard, a large shuttering network of pipes welded together as part of a crane at some distant point in its life. It vibrates as Kidd isolates its sound, "Attract…" he muttered, concentration on just it.

The beam starts towards them. But more importantly, it starts rolling toward the men picking their way out of the Heaps, standing just below it. Killer jerks his arms down, and Kidd looses is focus on it, but it's already moving. Rolling down the hill as more clutter follows it down.

The men don't stand a chance.

Killer is draped around him, loosely pinning Kidd's arms to his sides, both boys watching and the Heaps buries those who dared cross into Her Realm uninvited.

They'll pick over their home and see if anything is salvageable, and then they'll find somewhere else and start over. Kidd never does find all the watch pieces, the tiny parts eaten by the endless yards of trash accumulated under their feet. The doll - a Duck House Doll, apparently, whatever that was supposed to mean - was destroyed along side the City Men with the trash slide, leaving Kidd with just his mostly finished doll that was meant to go with her.

He had left the unfinished project behind with the rest of their unsalvageable belongings.

A lifetime later, after Killer left him to go be a yesman for one of the City Bosses, and it was clear he wasn't coming back, Kidd had raided every cache Killer had left behind in a rage. He was angry and he just wanted to break things, and he had no more of a goal than to destroy anything the tied Killer to Kidd's turf.

Most of the caches were clothes, mostly warmer winter gear, knives, a full coin purse and usually a handful of little trinkets Kidd had made over the years. The last one Kidd would raid angry was more of the same, with one glaring exception. Inside the metal box to protect Killer's things from the elements was a well balanced dagger, it's hilt unlike the style mostly found on Kutsukku, and a flintlock pistol, polished and clean but without ammo. Both looked unused - new. The two weapons framed the last item, a long forgotten metal robot doll smiled back at him, clunky arms wrapped purposely around the drawstring coin bag with it's crudely stitched skull and crossbones.

19. Pirate King

Kidd - 4 | Killer - 8

Tags specifically for this chapter:

songfic again - same song as before

our babies have a good night for once

the adult men are not being creepy

which is rare for me, i know...

when i'm talking about the dock workers from here on out > they see Killer as a little brother or a son

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

One thing that could be counted on was the crowds of men every two weeks that his the port side taverns in mass. And without fail, every 14 nights, Killer would wait until the sun was firmly down before crawling in the back windows of Eustass' Tavern & Inn and sneak his way into the front of the house.

Eustass himself would have long thrown him out had he tried the front door, but Mòr Mhàthair was a soft touch, and as long as he waited until the dock workers were in their cups, she let him roam from table to table, polishing off plates of forgotten diners. Sometimes other street kids would show up but most of them didn't know the tricks to staying and would get kicked out the next week or never make it in the doorway to start with. But there were lots of other pickings on these nights, and Killer never once felt bad watching one of them get tossed out as he hid in the shadow of a chatty drunk and ate him out of his hard earned coin.

Away to the cheating world go you,

He had to listen to their terrible ditties, week after week, so he thought the meal was really only fair. By the time Killer usually arrived, the singing had already started and he just hoped they were fun ones instead of the sadder ones about loosing loves and such.

They were already well into it this night, the change up only being the other boy that seemed to be around more often theses days, a chubby little red head that Killer suspected might be Mòr Mhàthair's boy or nephew or something, or otherwise maybe the cook's son.

He was in the thick of it tonight, tiny little form standing on the table in the middle of the room with a crowd of drunkards, all bellowing the words out together. He had to be 4 or 5 at the most, probably looking forward to starting school like all the other good kids that belongs to people, Killer mused.

A bright shock of short red hair, unruly and ruffled from the hands of many a dock worker, thinking him some kind of good luck charm. By the end of the night it be sticking out at every angle, like the rays of the sun on a children's drawing. Killer would watch him ever few weeks as he soaked in the attention of those not fortunate enough to have families of their own. He was magnet for the downtrodden it seemed, a little mascot the laborers rallied behind every paycheck night.

Where pirates all are well to do,

Some weeks, the kid would even turn to him as the hours drew late, when sleep started to override the joy of being somewhere warm and well fed. Killer was always careful to leave before last call, never giving the matron a reason to turn him away next time. The kid never had this restriction, and would watch him quietly as he snuck out of whatever booth he'd camped in for the night, slipping out of the back.

The one time Killer had looked back, the boy had waved at him, a sad little bye. Killer didn't return the gesture. Not that night.

But after a few months, the kid would see him and grin, and he'd find himself smiling shyly back across the noisy tavern.

And as the spring turned to summer, Killer finally waved goodbye back.

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

Sometimes, the kid would try to include him in the group's singing, especially the nights when they sang his favorite song: the pirate king anthem. Killer was mortified to be the center of the room's attention, and had hid under the table until one of the dock workers took pity on him and picked him back up to sit on the bench next to him, hidden from the room in general with an arm thrown over his shoulder and just tucked in close.

Most city people didn't want Killer anywhere near them - said he smelled funny and suspected he'd try to pickpocket them. Which was true for both cases more often that not. But the dock workers didn't particularly smell great either, and the dock master often gave him little jobs to do so he'd quickly become a familiar face to many of the men. And this one was pushing his half finished dinner in front of Killer so Killer really didn't have much motivation to steal from him. And week by week, he'd find himself shyly hiding from the boy at Eustass' behind one laborer or another, and it seemed to be a great source of entertainment for the blue-collar workers.

And live and die the Pirate King!

For a little pocket of time, every fourteen days, Killer felt like this must be what a family felt like. Sitting next to some man too rough and tumble to be a father to any real child; warm and dry, belly full of delicious properly cooked food. He'd listen to them spin fantastical yarns, then the sunshine boy himself would come sit next to him and demand songs from the men, and every time, someone would break out into one, and a cacophony of out of tune drunks would rattle the windows and Sunshine Boy would turn and beam at him like it was the neatest trick he'd ever learn to do. And maybe it was.

Killer would smile back, listening to the men warble on about Pirate Kings and Bink's Brew and in the days to follow would day dream about letting those silly ballads take him away from Kutsukku for good. Maybe he'd take Eustass' Sunshine Boy with him.

18. Trust

Kidd - 12 | Killer - 16

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Children in danger

Killer lives up to his name

Kidd makes Killer's dating life complicated

Kidd devils fruit

he's getting better with it

but it draws unwanted attention

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Kidd was getting better at the smaller things, easily convincing the deadbolt to open for him in the grey afternoon, clouds overhead repeating another day of cold autumn rain. 'Talking to locks' as Killer called it, and there was no way Kidd was going to tell him it was more like singing.

His devil fruit was absurdly loud, all of the time, and everything demanding his attention like ostentatious exotic birds; their songs fighting for his attention at all hours. Most of the time his usage of his abilities was just going, 'Okay sure,' and just -attracting- or -repelling- everything in mass. Which was a great offense/defense kind of move, but didn't work for shit if Killer was standing next to him; his poor friend caught in friendly fire more than hurt by their pursuers these days.

It made Killer extremely paranoid when ever he did, and Kidd's not so sure it has anything to do with any sense of self preservation in the teenager. If Kidd uses his ability, Killer does not leave witnesses.

There had been a boy recently, one that had been nice to them, and while Kidd hasn't really felt any which way about him, he knew Killer liked him. A lot. Caught them making out once after Killer thought he'd gone to sleep.

...

Caught Killer crying over him when a group of thugs hadn't liked them squatting in their turf, and a fight broke out. Kidd had ended up killing a few of them by -repelling- an entire dumpster at them; and it was pretty obvious he'd done it, because he'd yelled it when he'd done so.

It had made it so much easier, calling it out like that. The exhale of sound and breath, and then the metal had moved like an afterthought, no convincing required.

Any joy in him figuring out such a trick was lost though when he turned to his two companions.

Killer looked at him heartbroken.

Kidd thought the other boy might be uneasy, scared... but no. No one had ever looked at Kidd like that before. Hungry. Greedy. And then with a blink his face was casual, forced jovial before nothing at all as Killer stabbed him in the back, once, twice, three times, aiming up under his ribs for the lungs.

Half a life time ago, Killer had told him not to let anyone know he'd eaten a devil fruit. At 12, Kidd is haunted by The Boy's face - and he's just The Boy, Kidd refuses to remember the name of anyone who looked at him like that - and vows that one day, he'd get to so powerful with his abilities that people look at him in fear instead. No one will even look at Eustass Kidd like he's an easy payday. And he's going to be strong enough that Killer doesn't have to kill his boyfriends to protect Kidd.

If the dead bolt is in place, then Killer is already home. While the other boy is crafty enough to jimmy open most locks given time, he's certainly not skilled or patient enough to try and get them locked back up when he leaves. Kidd does because it's easy enough for him, and lowers the chances of an opportunist slipping in and running off with their stuff.

It's not a lot of stuff; and never anything worth much. Killer thinks its bad luck to keep that nearby, like it's inviting danger, and Kidd likes to joke Killer was a pirate in a past life, the way he buries his treasures all over the place.

"Jokes on you then," Killer would tease back, "because I don't leave maps with 'x's' on them for you to find."

A very long time ago, faces Kidd can't remember used to sing songs about Roger and Pirates and he has vague memories of someone trying to explain log posts to him. "The pirate king uses a log post, not maps," Kidd had teased Killer back, and he'd let the island sing to him until he'd lead Killer right to one of his hidden caches.

And then to another one

And another one

"Good thing i trust you not to rob me blind," Killer had joked, but his voice was coloured in a kind of awed pride in Kidd.

Killer doesn't trust many people these days; he certainly hasn't brought another boy around Kidd since. He won't even show Victoria where they live right now; Killer rarely brought girls over to start with - most girls don't want to hang out with the two of them in whatever place they've shacked up in at any given time. But Victoria was at least judgemental in away that feels teasing instead of cruel. Not of the ruthless criticisms that barbed other girls' tongues.

Kidd adores Victoria, he loves hanging out with her, but even he's afraid now that he might slip up and show her. He's terrified one day she'll look at him they way that boy had, ready to turn on him for a coin.

...

He's afraid one day, Killer will have to choose between Victoria or Kidd.

And he's afraid of what either answer would mean.

17. Sacrifice

Kidd - 18 | Killer - 22 | Heat - 23

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Food Issues coming up again

yeah, all these assholes had some kind of eating disorder at one point

vague references to starvation, overeating, and eating rotten food

Killer struggles to throw rotten food out

Kidd does too but actually manages to go through with it

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

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

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

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

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

"What's up?"

"Its gone bad..."

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

"How bad?"

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

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

"Do we have more?"

"Different fruit, but yeah."

"The other one still good?"

"Still sealed, so it should be fine."

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

Killer handed both other with no hesitation.

Kidd left the galley.

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

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

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

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

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

Heat had been making his way the crow's nest for his shift, and paused to watch the two of them. Watched the jittery way Killer followed. Watched the jar in Captain's hand.

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

He could feel Killer tensing up even without looking at him. He did met Heat's gaze though, the man doing his best to look nonchalant to hid his interest.

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

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

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

15. Modern

Kidd - 21 | Killer - 25 | Wire - 27

Tags specifically for this chapter:

approaching Saboady

between P.Tang, the eyeliner, and the alt music vibes

the rivalry of Kidd & Law is fascinating

Kidd's about to commit a IP copyright violation

he wants to get his hands on the Tang's blueprints so bad

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

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

"You good there, Kidd?"

"The bastard has a fucking submarine."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dare I ask?"

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

"Only 10?"

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

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

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

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

Killer just shook his head.

14. Punk

Kidd - 18 | Killer - 22

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Killer's struggling with identity issues

and how he fits into the crew

Killer might be slightly agoraphobic|claustrophilic

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

He's not as surprised as he outta be to find Killer dozing in the workshop again. What was part of the captain's quarters had been split down the middle with all the best shiny crap Kidd could fill it with.

The room was now the closest to the scrapheap one could get - sans the smell. Kidd wasn't particularly trying to replicate anything but Killer certainly seemed to gravitate to something in the area.

Or maybe it was just the smallest room right now. Killer had always been uneasy in open spaces. As kids, they'd learn to burrow into many a small cramped places at night for safety and Killer's never really lost that habit.

Today he was tucked in under the desk. Kidd smirked as he moved in another box of odds and ends he'd gathered up. Killer had a perfectly good mattress in his brand new room and yet continued to wedge himself under Kidd's desk to sleep.

Dork Kidd thought fondly. He did try to work quietly though.

After a few minutes, a thought struck him, and he paused to peer down at his new colleague and oldest friend inquisitively. He mulled over the curiosity forming in him mind, tumbled it around.

"Hey Kil?" he prompted, kneeling down by the man. Killer did not move. He was curled in on himself, bangs down around his eyes, chin and nose tucked down into his collar. Kidd touched the rough shirt fabric thoughtfully, before brushing Killer's bangs away.

Killer made a soft little, "hmmm?" but did not wake.

***

There was certainly a ... theme... starting to develop with Kidd's new crew. A lot of fishnet as a fashion statement. A lot more leather then he'd been expecting. He'd thought he might have gone over board with some of the ostentatious prints he'd hoarded in the corner of his wardrobe, but nothing compared to the belts and chains and straps that was clearly his crew's new aesthetic.

But they looked so happy. Some of the get ups were impractical as hell, but that just meant Kidd had to be stronger and better to make sure that he'd be the one taking on any challengers and letting them keep their towering heels and strands of pearls.

Before they knew it the ship was ready to sail. Kidd standing on the deck of the newly christened Victoria Punk.

There was just one thing left...

Before the rest of the crew assembled, Kidd took his box and headed to the quarters of his three commanders. Wire & Heat he had already passed, leaving just one man behind. Good - Kidd wasn't sure how his gift would be received and wasn't sure Killer would want an audience. Once entering, Kidd knocked on the wall once inside, eyeing Killer in amusement.

"Don't laugh at me." The man warned, as serious as a heart attack. Killer had lost his sense of humor after Victoria Prime handed his ass to him a handful of years back.

Kidd held up the box as a peace offering. "I'm sorry." And he was. He could only guess how uncomfortable Killer was in that get up. "You look pitiful."

Killer scowled but Kidd just shook the box for emphasis. "The three of us had a chat. Sorry you weren't invited."

The scowled deepened. One of Killer's problems was he was just too damn emotive. No matter how he tried to hid it, just a glance at his face told you everything you needed to know about his mood. The mop of hair he called bangs could only hide so much, and Kidd was waiting for the day he came out to find Killer replaced by Cousin It.

Killer took the box, glaring at him before opening the lid to.... "Kidd?"

"We wanted everyone to be themselves, Killer. Remember? No more acting or dressing how other people expect us too. And that includes you."

Inside was a soft cashmere sweater, pale blue and cream. Probably the most money any of them had ever spend on a single item, much less for a piece of clothing.

Killer held the sweater, stunned, fingering the soft weave. "Kidd... I don't..."

"If you don't like it - then we'll give it to someone else. But... Kil, don't pretend to be into what every one else in. You don't have to do that anymore. I want you to just be you. Killer. Not someone parading around in today's latest BDSM catalog - which, apparently, is our new signature style - because he thinks he has to to be accepted."

Killer chuckled before pretending to cough to cover it up. Kidd tried not to let his disappointment at that colour his expression. But Killer did slid the garment on, and Kidd smiled when Killer's face lit up at the soft feel, beaming ear to ear in that silly crooked smile of his.

13. Diner

Kidd - 13 | Killer - 17 | Victoria - 18

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Child (Kidd) in danger

Victoria beats up Kidd & Killer

Victoria mocks both their laughs

Victoria and Killer have been having sex together

It's been going on for a little while

She mocks him about poor sexual performance

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

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

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

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

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

"Get out.." he growled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never even kissed her."

<><><>

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

"...what?"

"Just was thinking about when we were kids."

"Oh?"

"When Vicky called you 2 Pump."

Killer scowled, "Figures you remember that."

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

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

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

"That's fucking gross."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready to admit you lied?"

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