Aria's Pov
If there's one thing One Piece never prepared me for, it's how much traveling sucks when you don't have a ship, a map, or basic stamina.
"Do you ever slow down?" I groaned, dragging my feet dramatically over the uneven path. The sun was merciless, my boots pinched, and I had decided whining was my last surviving form of entertainment.
Ace, naturally, looked like the poster child for "effortless." Hands tucked into his pockets, shirt hanging open, his hat tilting back just enough for sunlight to catch the freckles across his nose. His voice was maddeningly even when he said, "You're the one who insisted on tagging along. Freeloader doesn't get to complain."
I gasped, clutching my chest like he'd just stabbed me. "Excuse me? Freeloader? I bring wit, charm, conversation—"
"Dead weight," he corrected.
"Carrying me would be less exhausting than listening to your slander," I shot back, grinning when he glanced over with an incredulous raise of his brow. "C'mon, strong guy. Carry me. It'll build your endurance."
He snorted. "You'd burn my patience before I broke a sweat."
"That's a no, then?"
"That's a no."
Despite the bite in his words, his lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. The warmth in his tone was new, a tiny shift from the Ace who'd tried to ditch me some days before. He didn't even ask why I was still with him, even though we had left the area of the tavern pirates. It was enough to keep me grinning as I trailed after him, ignoring the ache in my feet.
Of course, even this universe has a way of smacking you the second you get comfortable.
We rounded a bend, and there they were: half a dozen rough-looking men blocking the narrow pass, armed and grinning like they'd found a payday.
"Looks like you've wandered off course," one of them drawled. "Hand over your supplies and we'll let you through."
They probably didn't check wanted posters often or they wouldn't be attempting this. Still there were a lot of Marines on this island and we wanted to pass quietly. Ace would know we definitely couldn't beat-
Ace exhaled, rolling his shoulders. I felt it before I saw it—the air heating, the faint shimmer of fire curling at his fingertips.
Oh, hell no.
"Don't," I hissed, grabbing his wrist. "You torch them here, and the whole island's gonna know exactly where we are!"
"They won't let us pass." His tone was calm, almost amused.
"Then let me try something."
Before I could think too hard about it, I latched onto his hand, squeezed tight, and shut my eyes. Please work. Please don't make me look like an idiot.
I had never used my devil fruit on anyone else, but I hoped I'd be able to wish us both somewhere safe.
It worked.
The world tilted, folded, snapped.
Suddenly, the dusty pass was gone. The bandits were gone. My knees buckled, dropping me into sand, the scent of salt and the sound of waves thick in the air.
I hit the sand, dizzy. Definitely took a little out of me.
Ace was beside me, still steady on his feet, his brows lifted slightly. "Huh."
I blinked up at him, my heart hammering in my throat. "Huh? That's all you've got? I nearly popped a blood vessel, and you—'huh?'"
He crouched, resting an elbow casually on his knee, lips quirking. "Guess you're not totally useless after all."
I narrowed my eyes, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Excuse me? I just saved us from being found by Marines. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you."
"Didn't say I wasn't grateful." His smirk grew. "Just surprised. You don't exactly scream 'useful.' I didn't even know you had a devil fruit."
I puffed up, chin high. "My company is useful enough, thank you very much. Keeps you from dying of boredom."
"Or killing you for the noise," he countered, but the light in his eyes betrayed the humor. He stood, brushing sand from his shorts, and offered me a hand. I took it, letting him pull me up. His grip lingered a second longer than necessary, hot and solid, before he let go.
We didn't mention the hand-holding again. But it stayed with me, buzzing like a secret under my skin.
By evening, we'd set up camp on the edge of the shore. The tide whispered against rocks, stars scattering across the sky like spilled jewels. I crouched over the firepit, turning a spit of Sea King meat, the flames casting orange shadows over Ace where he lounged nearby, hands folded behind his head, watching me with lazy amusement.
"Didn't peg you for the cooking type," he said.
"Didn't peg you for the lying-around-while-I-do-all-the-work type," I shot back, poking at the meat with more force than necessary.
"I caught it," he pointed out.
"I seasoned it."
His laugh was quiet, rolling through the night air, wrapping around me like warmth. The fire cracked, sparks flickering up. I shifted closer to the spit, pretending it was the fire that made my cheeks hot.
The teasing didn't stop there. I "accidentally" brushed his arm when handing him food. He didn't move away, just raised an eyebrow. When I sat too close, our knees almost touching, he gave me a look that was more curious than annoyed.
The tension between us was a living thing, crawling under my skin, sparking every time his gaze began to linger too long.
And I was trying really, really hard not to stare at his mouth.
Which was how I ended up blurting:
"I've always been curious about how your lips would taste."
Silence.
The words hung there like a banner of shame with my face plastered on it. My soul did that thing where it tried to leave my body, floating up with a little "bye, loser" wave.
I scrambled, waving my hands, nearly smacking myself in the nose. "I mean—NOT like in a creepy way! Just, y'know, casual curiosity, like when you wonder how sea foam tastes, or—or how—"
Ace tilted his head at me, those eyes catching every ounce of my panic. Then he smiled—no, not smiled, smirked, like he knew exactly how badly I wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it.
And then—
"Do you want me to kiss you?"