Chapter Text
The thing about Law, which Penguin has learned through years of experience living with and then next door to the man, is that if he’s having a bad pain day, his go-to form of self medication is muscle relaxers. And if the muscle relaxers aren’t doing it, then step two is Shower Wine. A long hot shower with the best wine ten dollars can buy.
And the ultimate, closely guarded secret, is that after shower wine, Law will agree to just about anything.
(It is, unfortunately, not that closely guarded of a secret— at this point everyone on who lives in the Tang town house is very aware of this fact, which means that if Shachi senses shower wine is happening, counting down the minutes until he can sneak next door with his emergency key and ply Law for whatever his heart desires. Usually his heart desires lasagna).
Today, the first day of December, is the aftermath of Law’s shower wine.
Penguin gets home a little after four, exhausted and ravenous because eighteen five year olds have just spent a good eight hours singing Christmas carols that they absolutely do not know the words to because they are five, but singing them nonetheless because it is December first and that is what happens on December first. Plus, he did not get to eat his lunch, because his co-teacher had some sort of emergency at lunch time and Penguin had to cover.
No lunch. Many hours of carols. And now Penguin walks into his apartment only to find Law, who lives across the hall, laying on the floor of Penguin’s living room with about fifty sheets of paper spread out around him.
“Penguin,” Law says, “I am going to die.”
“We all are, Captain,” Penguin says. “Let me make a turkey sandwich first.”
Penguin makes a lot of turkey sandwiches because Shachi hates turkey, so it is the only thing that is reliably available in the refrigerator. When he returns to the living room, turkey and mayo sandwich in hand (they’re out of cheese), Law is still laying on the floor. He’s staring up at a sheet of paper with red pen scrawled all across it.
“Who let Luffy into my apartment last night?” Law moans, putting the paper down and throwing an arm across his face.
“I fear you gave him a key, Captain,” Penguin says.
“Yes,” Law agrees. “And I’m taking it back. He’s not allowed here anymore.”
“Best of luck with that,” Penguin says, flopping down on the sofa and taking a bite of sandwich. He wishes he had cheese. “Usually fiancees have keys.”
“Well I’m breaking off the engagement,” Law says. “Fuck. Fucking shit. Everything hurts.”
“Like, physically or emotionally?” Penguin asks, then thinks for a moment. “Or spiritually?”
“That one,” Law says. “FUCK.” He picks up a piece of paper and tears it in half. “December 24th! Why did I agree? Who let me agree?”
“You seemed very happy about it at the time,” Penguin points out. “Luffy was too.”
“Don’t say his name to me,” Law says. “He’s dead to me.”
“Well that would solve the problem of getting married to him in twenty three days,” Penguin allows.
Law pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes and groans again.
The thing about Law, is that Penguin has never seen the man as happy as when he’s around Luffy. Having known him since he was four feet tall and dying of tuberculosis, Penguin has seen the man go through every mood under the sun, but the day Luffy showed up at Law’s job, punched his boss, and was subsequently banned from that hospital (Law has since changed hospitals), there’s been a light in Law’s eyes that Penguin never thought he’d see. He’s different.
“Captain,” Penguin says. “You’ve been engaged for two years. You knew a wedding was coming eventually.”
“I thought we were going to plan a wedding,” Law argues weakly. “I thought we would go venue shopping. Or at least test out different caterers. Luffy loves food.”
“Luffy also loves Sanji,” Penguin points out. “The catering is the only part that I think you already have ready to go.”
Law turns and looks at Penguin with the tired eyes of a man who has just agreed to get married in twenty three days, while under the influence of a bottle of Barefoot red moscato and a hot shower.
“It’ll be okay, Captain,” Penguin says, reaching down and awkwardly patting his shoulder (Law hates physical touch, he says that he endures it only because it makes the people giving it feel like they’re helping). “In a month, it’ll all be over, and you’ll be married, and you’ll never have to think about any of this again.”
Law narrows his eyes. He reaches over, searchingly, until he finds one of the papers scattered across the floor, and hands it to Penguin.
It reads List of Bridesmaids and Groomsmen.
On one side of the list, it looks like everyone Luffy has ever met is included.
On the other side, Law has written one name. Bepo.
Well. “You wound me, Captain.”
“Put whoever you want on there,” Law says. “I’m delegating.”
He throws an arm over his eyes again just as the door to the apartment shoots inward, banging against the familiar hole in the wall where the handle goes.
“Penguin!” Shachi shouts as he comes barrelling into the room. “Work drama!”
Penguin gestures down at Law on the floor.
“Ah.” Shachi wheels to a stop and drops his voice to a whisper. “Sorry, Captain.”
Law groans, not removing his arm from over his eyes. “Kill me.”
“No can do, Captain,” Shachi says, heading to the kitchenette and throwing his lunch bag in the sink before checking the refrigerator. “Ew. Turkey?”
Penguin takes another bite of his sandwich.
“Anyway, listen.” Shachi pulls out an open tub of cream cheese and a spoon. “Sorry Captain, I’ll commiserate with you in a second. Penguin!” He drops onto the sofa next to Penguin. “We had an electrical fire at work!”
“WHAT?” Penguin yelps. “Are you OKAY?”
Shachi waves him off. “Obviously. It was Hawkins. I can’t prove it, but I know it was him. Anyway our whole electrical system is shot. And we can’t just run off of generators, not with all the blow driers and flat irons and shit. So guess who’s going to be repairing our electrics starting on Thursday?”
Penguin watches Shachi happily chomp a spoonful of cream cheese. “I dunno, the fire marshal? Are you even able to stay open? How bad was the fire?”
“Missing the point!” Shachi shrieks. Law groans and kicks out at him. “Sorry Captain.” He points at Penguin with his spoon. “Your man. Your favorite blondie with the purple lipstick.”
Penguin’s eyes grow wide. He grips the paper in his hands a little tighter. “My blondie?” he squeaks.
Penguin’s blondie is a man he’s never once spoken one word to. He’s seen him, on occasion, working odd jobs around the school. Each time, Penguin has immediately clammed up and then hidden under his desk until his heart calmed down. “He’s an electrician?”
“Or fireman. Do firemen repair electric shit? Anyway yeah! He came into our work after we got the okay that the building wasn’t gonna come down. He said all the rewiring might take a few weeks.” Shachi waggles his eyebrows.
“Oh my god,” Penguin says. Somehow the idea of the blondie being a real person with a real job outside of ‘work handyman’ is terrifying. Too real. “I’m gonna die.”
“Not until after you write out my groomsmen list,” Law mumbles.
“Wait, you can’t die yet, that’s not even the best part,” Shachi says. “I got his name.”
“Oh no,” Penguin says. “That’s scary.”
“Penguin,” Law says from the floor. “Knowing someone’s name isn’t scary.”
“No, it is,” Shachi says. “His name is Killer.”
“That’s scary,” Penguin breathes.
“That’s dumb,” Law says. He slowly raises into a sitting position. “That’s so dumb that it’s cured me of my stupidity. He looks at all the papers around him. “I’m going to kill Luffy.”
“That’s more like it!” Shachi crows.
Law points at Penguin. “If you bring a man named Killer to the wedding, I’ll kill you.”
Penguin nods. “Yes, Captain.”
That would be an insane thing to do.
After all, Penguin’s half convinced he’s just going to throw up if Killer looks at him.
Oh god, Penguin’s never going to be able to visit Shachi at work again. What if Killer’s there?