The Polar Tang hummed steadily beneath your feet, the low thrum of the submarine blending with the distant chatter of the crew on deck. The air smelled faintly of salt and metal, sharp and familiar—home.

And currently? Irritating.

“C’mon, I could show you a better way to handle that blade,” Rod was saying, leaning just a little too close, his grin just a little too confident. “You’re good, but I’ve got a few tricks—”

You didn’t even look at him.

“Not interested.”

That should’ve been enough. For most people, it would be. But Rod just chuckled like you were playing hard to get, shifting closer, trying again—like he hadn’t already been shut down ten times today.

Across the deck, Trafalgar Law stood near Penguin, arms crossed tightly over his chest, Kikoku resting at his side. His posture was calm—too calm—but Penguin had learned to read him. The slight narrowing of his eyes. The way his fingers tapped once against his arm before going still again.

“…You’re gonna kill him if he keeps that up,” Penguin muttered under his breath.

Law didn’t answer. His gaze stayed locked on you.

On Rod.

On the way Rod leaned in again.

Something in Law’s jaw tightened.

Back on your end, Rod was still talking, still trying, still not getting the hint. “At least let me show you one move. I promise you’ll—”

That was it.

You turned, planted your hand firmly against his face, and shoved him back—hard enough to make him stumble a step.

“I said I’m not interested.”

The deck went quiet for half a second.

You didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t care if he was embarrassed, confused, or finally getting the message. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked straight across the deck.

Straight to Law.

He didn’t move as you approached, but his eyes flicked over you quickly, checking—like he always did. Then his gaze shifted briefly past you, toward Rod, before returning to you again.

“Problem?” he asked, voice low, controlled.

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you grabbed the front of his coat, fisting the fabric and pulling him down just enough—

—and kissed him.

Not soft. Not subtle.

Clear.

Intentional.

Yours.

For a split second, Law froze—caught off guard, rare for him. Then his hand came up, gripping your waist, steadying you as he leaned into it just slightly, grounding himself in the moment.

Behind you, you could practically feel Rod’s stunned silence.

Good.

When you pulled back, you didn’t say a word. Just let go of Law’s coat like nothing had happened, like this wasn’t the most normal thing in the world.

Then you turned and walked off the deck.

Silence lingered.

Penguin let out a low whistle. “…Damn.”

Law straightened slowly, adjusting his coat with a small tug like he wasn’t just kissed breathless in front of his crew. His expression settled back into something neutral—but his eyes flicked once more toward Rod.

Cold. Sharp. Warning.

“Don’t touch what’s mine,” he said flatly.

Then he turned and followed after you.