day 2 part 1

There was no running water right now, Kidd making a promise to Killer for the world's most luxurious bath once this is all over, running the fingers of his right hand through her hair in attempt to brush it out. He was probably only making it worse, but they both needed this, this grounding soothing action. She made no attempt to stop him, still resting against his chest, her own hand warm over his heart, red nails tracing faint patterns against his skin. Soft touches were rare for the both of them these last weeks. Depending on how the night goes, it might be the last they get for a while. The light creaking of the ship in the harbor's gentle waters sooth away the early daylight hours, their infiltration having gone unnoticed despite the messes left in the galley.
Messes they will be returning to shortly, mussed Kidd as he shifted, glancing at the soft dark red smear left on his own skin where blood has started to stain through the bandages across Killer's breast. She's still dozing against him, neither awake or asleep, and he's loathed to disturb her, but...
He sat up, not so much a kiss, but a firm press of lips to the top of her head as he does. She gave him an irritated little warble and tried to bury her face in his collar, hunching so the fur coat hid more of her face.
Kidd can do little more than smile contently down at her. Things are precarious right now, sounds stolen from her without her consent; but he has missed her mirth over the years. They once laughed together with such ease, years and oceans removed from here and today, and part of him has regretted being too slow too grow in time to beat down her bullies before she discarded that part of herself.
It took all his will power to bite back the 'cute' that comes to his own lips when she huffed a giggle at him, trying to hold fast to just a few more moments of quite and calm.
"What is it you love to tell me, /'Sun's up, get your ass up?'/"
Killer scoffed, tired blue eyes glaring up at him from a frame of fur and bangs. He grinned, and she rolled her eyes, but pushed herself up with a jaw popping yawn.
His coat slipped off her as she did, and as casually as he could, Kidd made sure it fell over the blood left staining his skin. She'd been so cagey about it last night, he didn't want Killer to start her day off an a sour note. She sat back, partly on her haunches, partly still cushioned on his thigh, rubbing sleep from her eyes and making a face at her own morning breath. "Did we find any water last night?"
He shook his head no with a frown. "We'll steal some when we snag some food."
At the mention of if, he can hear her stomach complain, when was the last she's eaten? It was more than just exhaustion weighing her down; it's likely been days at this point, no one bothered to feed either of them on the march back to Udon. They'd all known she was being taken to Queen for execution, why waste food on a soon to be corpse?
With his impromptu left arm in pieces on the floor, Kidd slid his right arm though the coat sleeve, making it look like he was planning on wearing it to keep it in place, and reached out to rest his hand on her knee. "You'll have to play tour guide, show me where the best food is on our way to jail break our crew."
There was a lift to her eyes, this smile was real, "I can think of a few places you'd enjoy" she said, leaning forward to kiss his brow, a particular cluster of freckles she'd taken a liking to a long time ago, usually hidden away by headband and goggles, before using him to push herself standing, climbing out of the tub with all the grace of a newborn calf as the days of rough sleeping made themselves known.
Kidd carefully turned away, making sure his snickers were nothing more then the clearing of his throat, refusing to met her glare.
"I'll be back" she said dryly to the back of his head, wandering off into what had once been his quarters, now just an empty sad little room. Kidd turned and watched her leave, let himself be distracted by her bare ass and legs for just a moment as she walked away, before turning back to the dried blood.
It wasn't too bad - certainly more than he'd have liked to see - but not so much a little spit and the end of his coat didn't wash off. There was a reason he commissioned red for his coats, and it was not to match his hair. Bleaching blood out of fur was a nightmare, where here the colours just vanished into the rest of the blood stains, no one else the wiser.
He was out of the tub, left arm assembled into something vaguely hand shaped, and pulling their meager supplies out, lamenting over how unnecessary 20 boxes of red polish was when it was half their total stock at the moment, when Killer returned. Everything let over from the galley was bundled in those awful Wano robes and soon they had every last thing left to their name set out on the bathroom floor between them.
Killer set to planning how to repurpose the fabric menstrual pads since they both already knew the kit's pressure pads wouldn't be enough. They still planned to use the kit's first, next to skin, soaked in iodine, since they'll be more sterile than the fabric.
The cuts looks worse today, no closer to closing up by themselves as yesterday, the edges red and puffy. Kidd swallowed down a lump in his throat when he prodded the area with a gloved finger; Killer doing her best to muffle her own pain, but he already knows this is easily going into problem territory.
They don't have many options unfortunately, and Kidd has wrapped her back up as tight as he dares. Once he's done, he hides the shaking of his own hands cleaning up the mess of supplies and empty wrappers, giving Killer a chance to center herself; ignoring the painful wheezing fwafwa as she breathes though the pain. They've used up all the iodine and gauze in the second kit; there's nothing left on the ship to wrap her a third time; they'll need to steal medical supplies of some kind on top of raiding the camps for their missing crew mates today. They desperately need something to stitch the wound closed.
He'd barely composed himself when he turned, his blood running cold when Killer pulled the kimono stained her own blood back on, struggling to hold it closed over the starburst cut across her heart. He nearly throws a conniption, hating how uncomfortable she looks in the get up; the way her hands shake as she goes to tie the robe closed again, the way she fumbles and has to undo it. He can see her mentally trying to remember how it goes, like he does the few times he's attempted a necktie.
"Stop stop stop," he growled, trying to take the garments away from her, only for her to growl right back.
"You are not leaving me behind, jackass," she hissed.
He looked at her like she's slapped him; the thought never having crossed his mind, "What? No! I mean, you not wearing that crap -"
"I'm not going naked!"
"No, wear mine," he said, shoving his own clothes at her, his vest and slacks at least, moving almost on impulse to give her /anything/ other than those haunting robes to wear.
He wasn't often able to stun Killer in to silence. Her face was blank and she was left blinking rapidly, trying to find the tracks Kidd's mental train of thoughts had taken.
"The fuck are you going to wear?" she settled on finally.
"My kilt."
She erupted into laughter at that, more manic than usual because of the fruit, but honest laughter, the kind saved for his particularly stupidest moments.
"I'm serious," Kidd got her to drop the robes, and held his slacks open for her to step into.
"You're going to stick out- "
"I was always going to stick out."
"Well, now we're both going to stick out."
"That has never stopped us before."
She 'tched' at him, but stepped into the pants. As wide as her hips were, Kidd's waist was thicker, and she had to hold them up as he worked one of the belts off his kilt for her to use.
His vest was just as awkward fitting, a bit too tight in the bust but otherwise formless as it hung down off her. A strange look crossed Kidd's face when he looked her over, tugging and adjusting the clothes so they hung off her better, small little adjustment like they needed to be presentable for something, instead of just off to commit some liberation and murders.
She could see his mind tumbling over something, but before she could ask him, Kidd knelt down to tie the pant legs up at her knees to keep her from tripping on them. With a gentleness usually reserved for the internal workings of his more delicate creations, he moved her left foot to brace against his own thigh, pulling the ribbon in the pant hem tight.
Killer couldn't breath for a moment, giggles pressing against her throat. Her racing thoughts told her this was hilarious, seeing a man like Kidd prostrating himself like this, but that didn't make sense, considering the tears steaming down her face.
His impromptu prosthetic cupped the back of her thigh to help her balance, head resting against her stomach as she fought her own maelstrom of conflicting emotions, choking down her laughter. Her sobs.
She felt so pathetic right now, so broken and useless. A liability at best. Yet someone as proud as Kidd would humble himself before her. She'd messed everything up so profoundly, she endangered his dream, so much she'd be little better than stung up like so many of those too weak for the New World before her'd been.
How was anyone going to take him seriously as Pirate King with a fool like herself in his court. She could only laugh at his ambition. What kind of partner was she?
Kidd exhaled, a breath held so deep his shoulders slumped when he did, and she rested a hand on his messed hair, held back only by some of the salvageable wrapping from which she'd be bound with last night. She struggled to pull her thoughts together, to find some middle ground between the hilarious and the profane. Banish both extremes from her mind and focus back on the task at hand.
"Please do not start to be weird about my feet or something," she worried at him when he didn't get back up again, hand resting on her calf.
"I.. I was going to have you wear my boots, but your feet are so fucking small."
She pulled her leg away, frowning at him, "I'll wear the geta, I've gotten decent enough at walking in them. What were you going to do, go barefoot?"
When he didn't immediately answer, she smacked him upside the head, "Dumbass. Put your boots on and stop being weird."

Parent Plot

kif!ki

Subplots

• day 2 part 2 - crew

• 2025.03.06 09:33 - minor sentance tweeks and tense corrections
• 2025.03.05 10:01 -  chapter split in two