Nights with Ace were always unpredictable.

One night, he could be normally chill, maybe a few drinks in. On other nights, he’d be blacked out to the point of no return — getting into bar fights left and right.

But tonight, he was on his best behavior. Ace didn’t allow himself to get into more than 5 beers — not when you were around. If he made a fool out of himself while you were there, all of the chances he had to talk to you would have been diminished.

He wanted — no — he needed to make this special.

After all, he was the son of the Pirate King — everyone thought he was a monster, just like his father.

Ace couldn’t let that mindset change the way you thought about him.

The two of you were strangers up until this point. You’ve never been to one of Whitebeard's celebrations before. All you knew was that they were loud and obnoxious.

He noticed you — oh, did he notice you. You weren’t just attractive, you were his type. His eyes lingered longer than necessary before his crewmates got his head out of that trance.

Alcohols were strung out through the bar to each person. Strong ones, too. Everyone in that bar was either slightly hammered or blackout drunk — no inbetween. Rambunctious and nonsensical shouts filled your ears.

You were probably the only person in the room that wasn’t completely wasted, as you wanted to keep at least a little bit of a hold on yourself before the atmosphere got the better of you.

He was practicing in his head since the moment he laid eyes on you. Ace rehearsed every interaction — how he’s approach you without trying to seem intimidating, when he’d ask the right questions — he’ll, even how he’d sit.

Ace was just in earshot — you heard him drunkenly rambling to his friends about this hot person from across the bar.

He tried to keep his alcohol intake in check this time around, which was very out of character for him. In fact, he could probably drink everyone out of the bar and still have that shit-eating grin on his face while doing so.

Ace and his friends weren’t far in distance, and you could almost hear his buddies snickering and whispering to eachother from where you sat. It made your skin crawl.

The other division commanders looked at eachother knowingly. Ace wasn’t going to work up the courage to strike a conversation himself — so, he needed a little push.

Literally.

Knowing Whitebeard and his goons, that meant they were planning something — nothing but downright sinister for their tipsy friend.

They started openly talking about his bar crush, loud enough for you to hear. At first, you didn’t think much of it — drunk men can talk for hours about nonsense. But then it started going deeper — more methodical and in detail, giving Ace boyish nudges and pushes as his face turned redder than his fire.

That’s when it happened.

All eyes turned to stare as Marco, Vista, Izou, and Thatch stood up in unison, their chairs scraping against the hardwood floors. Then, each of them started roughly shoving him in your direction.

"Hey! Cut it out!!" He yelled, trying to stop them from accelerating their pace.

With crude smirks and exciting intentions, they made a beeline straight for you. You were sitting at the bar by yourself, with only the bartender and a shot to keep you company. Ace's boots screeched in protest and the laughter following the entire situation was immediate. People were doubling over, even falling backwards into themselves as they watched Ace — Fire Fist Ace — for the first time, get flustered.

But before you could even turn around, they were already too close to back out.

You felt his shoulder make contact with yours as he was practically propelled into the seat next to you, his expression winded and his mind in shambles.

His usual beer was tossed in front of him with raucous cheers following suit.

"I..er.." he stammered, fumbling with the drink in his hands as he tried to regain his composure. It was truly a pleasure to see his face and ears turn so bright now that he was finally next to you.

"Hey.. you.." Ace slurred out at last, leaning in a bit closer.