Their personal effects have been stripped out, the machinery and appliances gone. Nothing but bare wood and cabinetry.
They'd gone to find clothes for Killer first, only to find nothing at all. Her quarter's were completely bare. Her clothes, her masks, her knives.
The mattress, the drapes from over the windows, the bottles of lotions and conditioners she hoarded in the privacy of her own room.
Her drum kit, her music dials, her cook books, her collection of miniature little butterflies and wolverines - started by a tiny Kidd almost two decades ago.
All gone.
Kidd finds much of the same in his own workshop. He doesn't bother checking his quarters, flexing the rusty scraps of his makeshift arm in irritation.
Crew quarters are just as bare. If it wasn't nailed down, it's gone. The Punk hasn't been so desolate since the day Kidd bought her. Killer is chuckling weakly at his side, clutching those awful robes to herself, and Kidd knows she's barely keeping it together.
He can't be in this room. He can't stand the hollow echo that should be filled with talking or snoring. He closes his right hand around Killer's bicep, guiding them both out.
The galley is worse - Kaido's people stole his fucking fridge. The deep freezer has had it's power cut, only still there because no one's been able to finish unbolting it. It's about the only thing he's happy to see emptied - enough food to feed a crew of 30 rotting away would have been a nightmare he wasn't sure he could have dealt with right then. Killer's meticulously collected cast iron pots and pans are gone; her pasta roller, years worth of collecting across the South Blue and Grand Line of spices and herbs, not even the custom shelving he'd made for her, have been left behind.
Killer starts to laugh across the room; the high pitched breathless wheezing that's been clawing its way out of her until she can't stand it anymore and starts to claw her own face. Kidd's at her side where she's kneeling in time to pull her hands away before blood is drawn and she slumps against him, cackling. She nods to her discovery, exhausted against him: one cabinet missed, under the false drawer of the sink, still fully stocked with sanitation supplies. Not just cleaning, but prep supplies. Hairnets. Food safety gloves. Face masks. An emergency first aid kit. The fucking fire extinguisher.
The first aid kit is meant for kitchen burns and minor cuts. Something quick and best case to hold over until the can get over to the sick bay - which is also stripped bare. It has some pressure pads and gauze, but nothing for stitches, nothing for assault and torture. Nothing for fake devil fruits.
But there's a bottle of povidone iodine in there and Kidd is more than willing to empty it on the cuts weeping though Killer's bandages that she's refused to let him look at so far.
They've been together too long; she knows exactly what he wants as soon as as he opens the kit.
The kitchen is maybe the one room on the the Victoria Punk they haven't fucked in; Killer had a very strict idea of kitchen cleanliness, and being one of the few rooms she might not have her mask on in so taste testing, Kidd had found this rule very hard to stick to, but also one that he'd never tried to press his luck with. Asking her to disrobe here felt like some kind of blasphemy now. Like it was sullying the sanctity of the place.
"Far to late for that," Killer murmured between painful chuckles, pulling the knotted sash free and letting the clothes fall open.
The wrapping around her chest wasn't for any sense of modesty, nor did it look like she'd ever been offered any since they'd been captured. They'd denied her small clothes too, and he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding at the bruises left on her hips and thighs. Killer pulled her arms out of the sleeves. The wraps on her arms ended at her elbows, more bruising on her biceps. They were a different material than the wrap on her chest. Been worn longer, rougher and stained with dirt and the blood of other men.
Kidd turned back to help her with the chest wrap only for her to smack if hands away. Fair, he regarded the left hand, it's a tetanus shot waiting to happen, and that's the last thing Killer needs to worry about right now. Given the nature of Kidd's fruit, the whole crew is up to date on their boosters on that one, but who knows what the stupid smile fruit effects.
He goes to help with his right and she pushes him away again. Kidd remained unsure, hand frozen where she'd pushed up. He keeps his gaze firmly focused on her eyes so when she does look at him - she knows he's waiting for instructions. He hears in her chest how hard she'd fighting the laugh, breath vacillating to deep painful gasps and holding it entirely.
Finally, she meets his gaze; he sees the panic and fear there and he very carefully keeps from reacting, letting her settle and center herself. She looks back to the cabinet. "Glove... put a glove on. Don't touch the blood."
He doesn't quite understand, but he'll take whatever measures she wants. She even helps him put it on, and he drapes the brittle bloody rags over his left arm, assuring her he's planning on replacing most of it with something not..well. rusting.
She starts bleeding again quickly, once the wraps start to loosen. She needs stitches. Badly. The starburst across her chest is deep, cutting into the ribs, her left tit mangled and gruesome and Kidd had a pressure pad against it as soon the wrappings are loose enough, Killer giving a laugh sob in pain as the pad is soaked almost immediately.
One handed, Kidd can't do much but hold pressure to the deepest of the cuts; the rest is still bad, but this was the worse. "Killer.. Killer? Kil-kil, look at me, come on."
Killer's breath shudders and she nods that she hears him, but don't look up. He can see the tears falling.
"Kil-Kil, get the iodine, and pour it on a new pad for me."
Her hands shake, but she does, prepping a pad and holding it ready to swap out when Kidd moves his hand. He tosses it up, hoping to get it in the sink, but not caring either way, before holding the new pad in place to free her hands up. She's gasping and shaking, and he winces in sympathy, knowing the burning against such a deep would must hurt terribly. He gives her a moment, and then Killer is reaching for the medical tape to hold it in place better.
The rest of the cuts are still deep and bleeding, but the ribs have down their job, keeping the damage away from the more important organs. Lower though... and Kidd made her lean back against the cabinets to deal with the lower five or six inches that cut into her gut to hip, and again across her navel.
More iodine, more pads, more tape.
They emptied the bottle before re-wrapping her whole torso with every stitch of gauze in the kit. It wasn't enough. Killer started to unwind the wrappings on her face, the same rough thin strips as her arms. No where clean enough for something like this but they were running out of options. The wrappings on her right arm gave them just enough to keep it all held in place; Kidd frowning at the dark bruises to her wrist, raw ripped-open calluses across her palm, and knuckles busted and torn.
Kidd tried to pull the glove off with the metal fingers of his left hand, the latex ripping nearly in half and his flings it up again into what he hopes is the sink in annoyance. Killer is chuckling softly against him, he can tell she's past her limit, long since run out of even fumes. He pulled his coat around her, lifting her up out of the Wano robes. Her eyes are puffy from crying but she's out of tears. Getting manhandled by Kidd is not usually an appreciated gesture, but Killer made no noise of protest as he carried her, making sure to keep the thick fur between her skin and his left arm.
There's no soft bed to tuck her into, not even a hammock left to lay her down in, the empty rooms larger now then he can deal with. As captain, Kidd also has his own bathroom - one that Killer uses more then him with her hair anyway - and it has locks in it that even Kidd can't brute force without his powers. They've never needed to use it as such, but Kidd wanted Killer - any of his crew honestly - to have a place to go in an emergency. The crew's wash room has a similar design, but it too large a space for just the two of them tonight.
They need to rest for at least a few hours, and then Kidd needs to figure out how the two of them are getting the Victoria Punk moved somewhere safer before they get noticed. And then figure out where their people are.
Get their people free. Stock up on food. Clothes. Get Killer stitched up correctly. Kill Kaido and get the fuck off this island.
Easy.
Until then...
Kidd locks them into the small room. Killer is naked minus the wrapping to her torso and arm and Kidd's coat. He sits on the closed toilet seat, working his boots off as Killer squats down to check the under-sink cabinets, wondering if they'd get lucky a second time.
Killer gives off a bark of laughter, and yes, they have lucked out. Kidd will have to recheck the other bathrooms later. More cleaning supplies, shower caps, a hair dryer, another first aid kit. Spare light bulbs, extra toilet paper. Killer's menstrual cups and an emergency box of pads. A box shoved behind the sink bend, full of smaller cases, and Killer tosses one of the small cardboard boxes up to Kidd, who catches it one handed and grins.
Red nail polish.
Killer would repaint his hand, the two of them curled up naked in the dry bathtub, Kidd's coat as a blanket, the ceramic basin holding their body heat well enough. Killer would end up painting her own left hand red too before she drifted off, sleeping easy against his chest, the first good sleep she'd had in months. The first time she'd been safe enough for sleep in months.
They use up all the iodine and gauze in the second kit once Killer wakes back up; blood seeping too quick though this afternoon's wrappings, but she seems more alert and calmer now none the less.
There's no running water right now, and Kidd promises her the world's best bath once this is all over, running the fingers of his right hand through her hair in attempt to brush it out. He's probably only making it worse, but they both need this, and she makes no attempt to stop him, soft touches rare for the both of them these last months.
Depending on how the night goes, it might be the last they get for a while.
Really, the only hiccup is when its time to get dressed again, and Killer goes to fetch her robes from where they'd been left in the galley.
Kidd 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 though 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.
He wasn't often able to stun Killer in to silence. Her face was blank and she was just 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 and formless as it hung down off her. A strange look crossed Kidd's face when he looked at her, before he knelt down to tie the pant legs up at her knees to keep her from tripping on them.
"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."
Her time spent as Kamazo had been well spent, Kidd came to find out. When she was allowed to slip her handlers to go assassinate whoever Orochi was mad at this time, she took as long as she could get away with, scouting and mapping out ever part of Wano she could.
Killer knew where everyone was - had known where he was - in her time as Orochi's puppet, and had spent what sanity she'd had left getting their crew moved around and taken care of.
The indiscriminate killing had never been the hard part; she'd do it all over again for her crew without batting an eye. On the surface, it wasn't even the favours she'd done that bothered her, although they'd shaken her more than she'd admit. No, it was that her ability to compartmentalize and cope had been completely screwed once she'd eaten that fruit, and with how lost she'd been when Kidd had first found her, he knew the lucidly she had now was held in place by the barest of tethers.
She'd taken him to Wire first, their tallest commander spotting them before the guards did, and immediately turning on his captors. It seemed what Orochi had forgotten was the Kidd Pirates where only placid because they believed he held their captain's life in his hands. The sight of Kidd walking free meant all shackles were thrown down, and Kidd walked out of there with not just some of his crew but a good number of forced-laborer locals there to help.
He was... not sure how to take that turn.
Wire got them weapons, and freeing Heat was next. While Wire had been quick, efficient and clean in his killings, Heat took one look at his crew come to free him, and turned on Kaido's men with all the fury he'd been forcing down since they'd been subdued at their own base. He'd been the last of the four standing against Kaido, and Apoo, the one the watch Hawkins take a knee as he himself was beaten down.
Wire had fallen first, taken out by Kaido before they'd understood they where under attack. Killer had been next, that bastard Apoo having moved like he'd watch her back, to uphold an alliance they'd just sworn to, only to step aside to let her take Kaido's club full force to the head. Heat had been frozen in place, uncomprehending as her helmet shattered in a single blow. Kidd had fallen next, blindsided by rage, even his fury no match for an emperor. Hawkins had knelt then, surrendered. Heat felt all eyes to him, both his enemies and crew alike, and had answered the only way he'd known how; he'd spit a fireball at the monster, and then knew no more.
Since waking up, he'd been with a few surviving crew mates, forced to work. He didn't know if Wire or Killer had survived, only being told Kidd lived. And would only continue to live only so long as they didn't cause Kaido's people any trouble. So against every fiber of his being, Heat had kept his mouth shut and head down. He'd tolerated their abuse and horded supplies and weapons, and waited. and waited. and waited.
And then a wild man stood at the gates, dressed only in boots and kilt and the red of blood. Heat did not freeze up this time. He was not sorry to have left so few for his captain to get to fight.
Seeing Wire dressed in the same drab prison garb as himself was disheartening, but the blood splatter on them both livened it up pretty well. Heat then broke one of the biggest rules the crew had, and pulled Killer into a hug without warning. He'd not seen her face when her mask had broken, but the fact she was still bare broke his heart, and the only way to keep from staring was to put her out of his line of sight.
She gave an uncomfortable giggle, a sound so strange to him he didn't place it as her making the noise at first, as he cupped the back of her head in his hand. Solid bone, whole and unbroken, unlike his nightmares. Frighteningly more, was she allowed the embrace at all, only Kidd ever granted the privilege of being tactile because of the long history between the two. Her own hands warm against his back as she tucked in under his chin, returning the gesture.
In his panic, Heat looked to Kidd, demanding answers to what their vice-captain had been forced to endure. Kidd's face was carefully blank, Wire's pinching as he drew his own conclusions.
The men here had died too fast. Heat would be sure to make it last longer at the next camp, grinding his jaw as he rested his head against Killer's for a brief moment longer before pulling away. He kept his gaze lowered, frowning as he took in her getup.
"Boss Killer, you really do not have to indulge Captain's atrocious taste in patterns, you know." Although, she at least wore the shirt better than he did, even if it was poorly fitted for different reasons.
"You know a place I can get a good pair of jeans?" she asked dryly.
"All leather here I'm afraid. But," he nudged the wooden sandals she was balancing on, "that does include shoes. Lets find you something better?"
All the prisoners raided the supplies, trading out ragged linen for furs and leathers, and even if it wasn't quite their style, Heat and Wire made it work for them. Killer also got boots, but - with Kidd's blessing and don't think Heat didn't catch that look he gave her - stayed with the clothes she had. Kidd also passed on clothes, and admittedly, he looked fearsome enough as is, so it worked for him too.
"I do have one last thing," Heat admitted, as they made ready to hit the next camp. Some of the locals would march with them, but most had gone their own way already. As long as it caused chaos and a headache for what passed as authority on this island, Kidd didn't care either way.
This camp had been mostly responsible for metal work, and that was both the ore being mined on the island, and the melting down the scrap form other projects. Or other ships.
Heat and the few crew mates that had been assigned here and been slowly salvaging little bits that they knew had been taken from the Punk. Enough for Kidd to build a respectable new prosthetic. For Wire to have a trident that would work for his taller frame. Older punishers that had been retired; not because they were broken but because Kidd and Killer had perfected a new design. Still perfectly functional, and between Kidd, the weapons on hand, and the camps tools, new blades had been procured and affixed easily. The strange new smile that never seemed to waver on Killer's face seemed genuine the first time the machine spun to life in her hand.
"Don't say thank you yet," Moai grinned, before hoisting up a wooden crate that had clearly been buried in the ground until recently.
Most of the crew had never heard Killer laugh before, something she'd stopped doing long before they'd stopped trying to kill each other instead of turning their ire to bigger targets. So it took them by surprise to hear her burst into both tears and cachinnations. Kidd's look to them was a clear and present warning not to react, as he took the helmet from Moai, who looked at him to make sure he'd not done something wrong.
Kidd loosened the latches on the spare helmet, before holding it up for Killer. Heat could see in his eyes he was furious about the situation, but was doing an admirable job in acting like nothing was amiss. Killer lowered her head to let him put it on, the Captain pausing only to ask, "Bangs?"
"Don't care right now," she laughed back, little mirth in her voice despite all. And despite the laughter and tears, the moment the metal was carefully latched back into place, her whole body eased just a bit, relaxing enough for all to see just how tense she'd been up to that point.
All told, they hit eight different labor camps that night, before all that was left was the most delicate extraction, getting the pretty members of their ranks from the pleasure district.
Attacking the labour camps would take some time for word to get back to Kaido and his men. A similar approach on the pleasure houses would not work, would get all eyes on them before they were ready for such a confrontation.
Killer is more than prepared to sneak in alone; Wire and Heat do not like this plan, and Kidd hates it even more. The four fight about it, until it's decided Heat will watch Killer's back, Kidd and Wire taking the men back to the Punk and getting her moved somewhere both closer and safer, less conspicuous.
<><><>
Killer confronts Koushiro While he is partially responsible to the torment she underwent under Orochi - he is also the reason the other members of the crew where kept much safer in the whore houses; most of them assigned as attendants and labors and while not completely unmolested, in far better straights than Killer.
Koushiro is also responsible for making sure the clothes from Victoria Punk where sent to him for recycled/turning to rags, and he turned a blind eye to them getting squirreled away in the mean time instead.
<><><>
There is a soft feeling at wearing Kidd's cloths, but when Dive hands her Jeans back to her, she almost cries again.
The girls grow increasingly worried at her mood swings and Koushiro gives them something to give her later { crew starts to worry she might be pregnant - AN: she is not }
<><><>
Heat knows immediately what Koushiro has given the girls.
It's a powder, not the pills that the black market provided Killer with ten years ago. But it's intended use is the same. Terminating a pregnancy.
He very carefully does not look at his vice-captain once the Wano man slips back into the shadows. Because it's not the girls that the man has come here for. They might need it too, Heat will not be naiive enough to think they remained unmolested in their time in captivity, but Koushiro clearly understood much better what happen to Killer after they'd been separated. Had been.. involved .. to some extent.
Kidd would have already demanded his head if he'd come instead. Heat wants to as well, watching Quincy slide the package into her bag, and /hating/ the confirmation of the ... liberties... Kaido has allowed to be taken on his family. Being worked and beaten in the camps has been humiliating, but his personhood had never been in question. Instead, Heat motions for his crew to head out.
He still does not look at Killer, but makes a point to reach out and firmly grip her shoulder, a grounding touch for them both.
On Kutsukku, He and Killer had been the bitter most rivals. Kidd was just that- some shit kid that had been given a shit lot in life and took it out on everyone else. Wire had been his peer - a rival yes, but they also knew how to work together and play the system in their favour. Killer though.
Killer was a feral monster of a child from day one, and a pain in Heat's ass from the moment they crossed paths. Heat will likely never know exactly why, but from day one, they'd been at each other's throats. By Killer's late teens, she'd carved his face to ribbons and he'd light her on fire several times. And then she'd disappeared.
13 year old Kidd left alone. Heat could still remember the day he'd noticed, acne faced redheaded teen boy sullenly glaring at passersbyers, but otherwise looking lost and uncertain on the street.
"She told me to fuck off." Was all he said when Heat had asked where his rabid dog had wandered off too.
Today, Heat guides her back to their ship. Or she guides him, taking his hand in hers when he does let her shoulder go.
Then, he'd been unable to stop thinking about the was Kidd has sneered out those words. At the betrayal in his voice. The uncertainty.
It had taken Heat two days to track her down. She'd holed up in a drug den, and Heat had almost dismissed her as just another one to fall in the cracks. Almost. But then, he'd found himself mad on the kid's behalf, and stormed in to give her a piece of his mind.
The other occupants were high and stoned and completely oblivious to him. He was certain he was going to find a stung out Killer in one of the back rooms. He would have at least known how to deal with that.
He did find her in a back room, scattered pills and empty liqueur bottles in puddle of her own vomit. He'd been ready to turn away in disgust before he noticed the blood. It was pooling under her hips, soaked into her pants, making it impossible to walk away.
He had pulled her jeans down expecting a stab wound or something. When he realized her bleeding was from her cunt genitals, that this much blood was not normal, not even remotely; the pills, the booze, the cutting ties with her lifelong shadow. Heat had redressed her, stared down at her for a long moment. He could leave. Blues they'd been /trying/ to murder the other for years. He could just roll her onto her back and she'd probably choak on her own vomit before nightfall.
Irritated, he threw her over his shoulder instead, taking her with him. No one stopped him.
Even with his own people sitting with her, she still almost didn't make it. House had been running with him, even back then, and she'd played nursemaid for the younger woman. Counted out proper pain meds and replacing the alcohol with them and soup broths, stood firm on that when Killer screamed at her in agony, holding her hair back as the pain and drugs twisted her up inside and had Killer puking and sobbing.
Once the bleeding finally stopped, and House was pretty sure Killer wasn't going to drop dead on them, Heat had sent Pomp out to hunt Kidd down and see if the boy wanted his partner back.
It took Kidd six months to come for Killer. She'd long since left
The item from Koushiro will terminate a pregnancy; Killer worries about taking anything before the fight - remembering how bad it was last time. She promises the girls she'll take them after Kaido is defeated.
The girls are terrified this match will just be a rehashing of the last match and if they loose again, Killer may not have a chance to take them. They push for her to take them - there's a week still for her to recover - and Killer can't stop the laughter once it starts.
He's not usually denied kisses, confused when Killer turns away form him, her face pinched ad upset.
She pulls his hand away when he tries to go for the fly on her jeans.
There's some mixed signals going on, and Kidd would really like some clarification, because Killer is not usually so coy with him.
Not to say she hasn't done this dance with men before, but Kidd was still a child then, and desperate times had called for desperate measures. That had been ages ago, before they had a crew, before they had people to back them up should a fight break out. once, they'd been at a point where they couldn't say no, less they just be killed outright and their stuff taken any way.
He'd been 12 the last time he was aware Killer had to play hard-to-get, and it wasn't because she enjoyed the game, but because Kidd had cut his leg in the scrapyard and the infection was starting to spread.
Sure, /they/ screwed around, but Killer had always been very upfront about what she wanted from him and he'd liked that about her. He'd had flings when men and woman alike, as had Killer, but Killer was the only one who'd ever got him, and it wasn't that she was demanding for anything, just that.. they worked seamlessly together.
Except now, and Kidd was staring to worry whatever dynamic they'd had before was lost. Another line in the long list of things Kaido would pay for.
He pressed his forehead into her collarbone, taking a grounding breath. Lashing out would not make him feel better, it would not fix whatever misconception they where dealing with. He focus on her chest moving with each breath; too much, his cue she was struggling with her composure.
"Do.. Do you want to put the mask back on?"
The mask didn't bother him so much as the fact she felt more confidence with it than without and he didn't like that anything would make her self conscious. He was damn proud of her, and he didn't understand how she could lack that for herself. Instead of answering him, she started to laugh; dryer this time than usual- she wasn't crying. He glanced up, careful not to let his gaze linger on her lips; he wanted to kiss them very badly, and not only was she refusing, she'd likely think he as looking at the way she was smiling again. He held her gaze, lower than her for once and able to see up under her bangs.
She had something she wanted to tell him; something she was afraid to voice.
Afraid... of his reaction.
He searched her face, never looking away even as he tipped his head to kiss her collarbone again. She let him. He touched her breast, and she let him do that too. There was a twinge to her face - tender and soar, and he knew the slash under his fingers wasn't healing as it should and he was all the more gentle because of it. But she didn't stop him, just watched.
Killer was never afraid. She was strong and merciless and left a trail of bodies behind her when wronged. Her wrath was second only to Kidd's himself, and even then, it had been a lifetime before he'd started to surpass her in that. Entering the Grand Line had meant one of them needed to be level headed for the crew's sake, and Killer had drawn the short straw.
But fear was new.
She'd never been afraid. And she'd certainly never been afraid of him.
That was terrifying, that he could ever evoke such an emotion from her. It didn't make him feel big or strong, far from it. He felt powerless and small and weak under her gaze, and he couldn't hold it, turning away to rest his head on her chest, to listen to her heart hammering away under his weight.
Se touched his hair, as feather light as his own hand on the wrappings over her heart.
"I..." she started, her breath shuddering under him as giggles coloured her fear, "I might..." Killer was the wordsmith of their duo, how was he to coupe is she was stumbling on them now. "Orochi and his men..."
Kidd froze, jaw clenching.
"They were not... hygienic." she said carefully, "I need to be sure I didn't... catch something.. from them."
"That's why you've been weird about the blood." Kidd whispered into her skin, her panic about her injuries starting to make more sense. They'd all been a little too prideful about being hurt before, but she'd never been the type to lash out when help was offered.
She seemed to ease under him, a weight lifted that she wouldn't have to explain more, and Kidd would stop pushing it then.
"I can still kiss you then?" he asked, for once not bratty or mischievous, just an honest question, "You just can't kiss me back. Not yet."
"Not until I know I wont get you sick too."
Kidd was already making a list in his head of possible doctors - Kaido hadn't felt their own necessary and they'd been killed for mouthing off long before Kidd had woken back up apparently. Once they got off Wano - Kidd had a few places where he might trust a doc or two enough for something as sensitive as this. Someone who wouldn't go blabbing their potential weak points to the first marine or bounty hunter.
He titled his head up to kiss the underside of her jaw.
Monkey was here, and whatever Kidd's complicated feeling on the man was, he did at least trust the other captain to be discreet - at least about something like this. Hell - Trafalgar was here, and Kidd was pretty sure he could barter with the asshole for something. He'd done it before, helping repair that sub of theirs back when... well..
Killer's breath shuddered, and he grinned, the barest nip of teeth before he was sitting up, kissing her neck, her jaw, her cheek. Her lashes fluttered under his lips when he kissed up her nose, across her eye, hands wandering
<><><>
he can't help but grin down at her when she pulls him away from her jeans with a fist full of hair. any other time, she'd be shoving his face /down,/ but she always did have more self control then he did.
he wants to touch her so bad- she wants him to touch her so bad - her little gasps and moans as her hips stutter against him when he wedges his knee between her legs when she pulls up away.
he know he looks the fool, but he can't help but give her a hungry look and his hand drifts down again.
"Can't" she warns - a whine really - and if she'd left it there he'd of continued anyway. 'Can't ' really isn't in his vocabulary.
"Please, Kidd, don't."
But 'Please' isn't in hers either and he grumbles, kissing her throat again, hand remaining outside her jeans.
Since Kidd's been old enough to keep it up, they've never denied the other - not even propriety has gotten in their way. They've never had too, because Kidd does actually know boundaries, thank you very much, and has been able to tell with a look if she'd be down to fuck or not. She'd never denied him before, because he learned along time ago not to put her in a position to have to.
So it's immensely frustrating to be denied now, because she clearly does want him, but it's his health and safety on the line this time, and Kidd can't wait to smash kaido and orachi into a bloody pulp. It's not even that he's getting cockblocked but that he can't even go down on her right now. He's more then willing to risk it for her, but the 'please' stutters his heart and keeps him in check. The SMILE fruit as already messed with her head, stole so much from her and she's been trying to claw it back so hard the last few days. Kidd's smart enough to know if the bastards gave her some std and she passes it to him, that it will destroy her.
He fists the waistline of her jeans, thumb hooking through a belt loop and jerking her <><> Keeping hands outside clothes makes him feel thirteen again, oblivious stupid virgin kissing girls for the first time. Killer's girlfriend Victoria had been his first kiss, <><><> Then he didn't know what he was doing, kissing was nice but awkward and he had no idea where his hands where supposed to go. Now he traces the wrappings up her side, careful with the tender cuts still healing on her chest, teasing a serious of soft chuckles from Killer as he kissed and nipped at her uninjured right breast. He pulls her hips flush against his thigh with his prosthetic hand, the wide palm easily supporting her ass as he ruts back, both desperate for friction.
The hours are trickling down, one more night of rest before they all may die.
They toast to the battle, this could be their end and they will face the morning with no regrets.
It's not the drunken glee that will follow the victory, but a quiet sobering affair with enough intoxicants to take the edge off and allow restful sleep.
Kidd has already decided that he's spending this night with his partner, and that doctors and tests and diseases be damned, if she'll have him. He knows she's worried abut him, but despite his bravado, nothing about this fight has gone his way yet and he won't
She's been more and more distant as the day goes on; the girls are starting to give /him/ worried looks and he knows when she slips out early that it's time for him to call it too.
Normally there would be cat calling and an couth comment or three about debatury. Only ever said to him - that mistake was only made once to Killer and the man found himself keel-hauled in her rage. And Kidd was more than happy to repeat the performance to anyone who talked about any of their girls the way that sleaze had.
<>
The Killer that freed them from Wano's prisons was not the Killer that they'd sailed with the last few years, and while they loved her all the same, there was a careful balancing act everyone was learning on the fly. Killer was a stoic, massacring badass, no quarter given and deadly enough to be hailed as one of the top in the worst generation. So much so, the Marines had to write 'Captain' on Kidd's poster just to clear up confusion on which of the two was the more dangerous.
The Killer that had slipped out tonight was still just as deadly, just as dangerous. But not just her stoicism had been stolen from her, the fits of laughter that seemed to spill out endlessly in the beginning. But her confidence, her swagger. She seemed jumpy, second guessing her own objections to Kidd's plans to the point she just stopped contributing completely in the last few days.
Killer had always been her own person under Kidd's command; the only thing that universally tying her to the crew was the generally /fuck you/ attitude to the world's status quo and the unwavering belief that Kidd was going to the next Pirate King. That their world was broken and Kidd being King was going to finally get the downtrodden to sit up and take notice to how fucked their lives were and do something about it already. Kidd's reign would being throwing off the yokes of poverty and class, tearing up the script they'd been told they had to follow by laws and tradition of those before them.
Killer had her own taste in music and cloths that drove the rest of them up the wall (affectionately) and a skill in the kitchen that had all of them associating creamy pasta with home, regardless of where they hailed from. At first glance, she'd stick out like a sore thumb in their ranks, but the more you knew about the Kidd Pirates, the more you'd see she was exactly where she was meant to be.
And the collective crew was devastated but how off kilter she was, and not a single one of them knew how to make it better. She'd never been the one you gave soft looks too, she wasn't the type for random acts of kindness -not that the crew in general were good at that to start with - and she certainly was not the type to be coddled. Her way of showing you she cared was to risk her neck defending you in a fight and then chew you out later for being careless. How were they suppose to match that for her?
What were they supposed to do or say when she locked herself in the deep freezer because she was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe? When she threw hands with a smile on her face and ugly tears streaming down it?
What was Kidd supposed to do when she barricaded herself up in his bathroom, the only thing keeping him out could be solved with a flick of his wrist and a gentle nudge of his powers?
He could hear her giggling behind the heavy door, breathless as she wrestled with the SMILE fruit's putrefaction of her emotions.
"Can I come in?" He asked, palm on the divide between them. Like he could step into her head as easy as he could stop though the doorway, if only she'd let him.
She doesn't say no, doesn't say anything.
"Killer? Aye or nay? Need you to use words with me; I'm an idiot, remember?"
There's a 'fwa' to her giggles that might be an honest to Blues real laugh at him. "Aye, Kidd, you can come in."
He's not surprised that she's sitting on the toilet seeing as there are few other places to perch, but her jeans around her ankles give him a double take. It's a vulnerability he doesn't see often, and he locks the door behind him, before setting with his back to the cabinets next to her. He looks at the far wall for bit, glancing occasional down at her toes to show he's ready to listen if she wants to talk.
And for while, it doesn't seem like she does.
"I.. haven't been feeling good.. lately." she says carefully. Understatement of the year. "And today... it's been.. worse. than its been. for a long time."
If he leans slightly, he can brush her thigh with his stump. A solidarity nudge in a way.
"I've been having cramps." she settles on, "I'm.. going to have to take something. But I'm worried about. side effects. Tomorrow."
She'd not talking to him, but the tissue in her hand. He sits up, turning and looking at her face. This is important, and he needs her to know that he knows it's important. "What kind of cramps?"
She licks her lips, the grin wide and painful, but her eyes have softened, lost some of the tension. "There... was concern. for valid reasons. that I might be pregnant." She admitted to him. He'd guessed as much, but no one had actually said it to him until now. Quincy /had/ stormed up to him earlier that week, screaming for him to make Killer take the pills, without explaining any more than that. When he'd asked for clarification, she'd thrown her shoe at him and stormed away without another word.
He raised his hand - slow, in case she didn't want him to touch her - and resting it on the bared skin of her calf, thumb rubbing the muscle soothingly.
"I'm... pretty sure I'm not.. hurray.." she said, no joy in her voice, but at least not scared anymore. She showed him the tissue, the spotting of blood on it.
"Menstrual cramps?" he guessed. Her period was irregular at best, always had been, but the last year or so they'd started to even out it had seemed.
"I.. I think so. Pretty sure so."
He rested his forehead on her knee. "When was your last one?"
"About three weeks before all this shit started."
He swore into her skin and she chuckled, twisting up on herself. He pressed his lips to her skin once more. She'd always been his better half, and to have to have dealt with this on top of everything else. Alone. He couldn't fathom it, such a violation of her self. "I'll kill him."
"I know you will."
Even know, she was stoking his hair with her free hand.
"Scale of 1 to 10, what are the cramps?"
Laughter. Shit. "Seven. Eight?"
"Roronoa cutting you up?"
"Five."
Shit.
"Oh please, Heat's done me worse than Roronoa did. Slashy bastard just got lucky."
Kidd grumbled.
"He got lucky," she assured him, pulling his hair slightly. "You try twisting around with your tits flying all over the place and tell me your balance isn't fucked."
Its more than that - so so much more, but Kidd is placated for the time being. The clothes, the shoes, the weapons. The fucking fruit. The torment and abuse. Orochi really had been stacking the deck against his partner. He might have been using her to murder his own annoyances, but he would have been just as happy to watch her fail. He /was/ just as happy when she'd failed, but at least Kidd had found her before she'd died alone.
"Do we have anything strong enough?"
"Nothing that's not going to leave me loopy in the morning."
"Take what you think you can tolerate..."
"I did."
He nodded into her leg, before pulling away with a groan to rummage under the sink, getting one of her menstrual cups for her. He stood up as he handed it too her, kissing her forehead. "I'mma getcha a heating pad."
She was curled up in his bed when he came back, wearing just a pair of his dark shorts and the wraps over her still healing chest. Kidd could never remember being nervous before a fight before, folding himself behind her and smiling softly at the content happy sigh she gave him when he held the heated pad against her, before frowning again. They'd been taken by surprise last time they fought Kaido. That had been happening more then he'd liked - they'd been surprised by Big Mom's flunkies before that. Frankly Kidd was getting tied of getting fucked over by emperors and their underlings, especially when he hadn't actually done anything in the first place.
He tightened his hold on Killer, trying to clear his own head. It wouldn't happen again. He'd make sure of it. He wasn't going to give them a chance to hit first, never again. He'd mow down any crew in his way before they ever had a chance to lift a finger against his people. Never again would he underestimate anyone flying under an emperor's banner.
Tomorrow, StrawHat was leading an fight against Kaido. Alliances had not worked well for Kidd lately, but Monkey had looked out for Killer and himself when they'd been marched back to Udon. He had no reason to do that, he'd had put himself at risk advocating for Kidd, advocating for /Killer/, when Queen had decided to execute them via drowning. Kidd had walked away because of that. He'd had no intention of meeting back up with the man.
But this past week had cemented that .. begrudgingly... joining Monkey's raid was going to be his best chance at taking down Kaido. His crew, his partner, were not ready for this fight if they did it solo. He's not even sure Killer is ready even with the combined forces, but he also knew absolutely nothing was going to keep her sidelined.
He'd sail to onigasimas, cross the waters and if strawhat happened to sail at he sail time, so be it.