Work Text:
Law is hanging around the local morgue, which is something he does often, for reasons varying from innocuous to nefarious. This time he’s leaning more nefarious. He has some truly genius ideas about reanimating specific organs with partial functionality, and to really dig into the meat of this experiment, he’s going to need some free body parts.
Free is subjective, especially for a pirate. This was the closest island with a nicely stocked morgue – he keeps tabs on this sort of thing – and he’s released his crew to terrorize the island with their shore leave antics. Meanwhile, he’s made his merry way to the somewhat decrepit morgue, at just around midnight, when it’s sure to be deserted.
So here he is, strolling contentedly through the darkened halls of the morgue, popping his head in and out of the rooms, looking for the best bodies to loot. He’s got all the time in the world, or at least a few good hours of organ-harvesting.
The dusty silence is broken rather abruptly by a series of thumps and curses. Law’s evening improves considerably when he peek around a corner to investigate and sees a familiar blond figure hunched over in the hallway. It’s quite a tableau he’s stumbled upon – Sabo is noticeably disheveled, his hair mussed up and soot smeared on his face. He’s wearing a formal suit that would likely look very dashing if it wasn’t wrinkled and torn and singed at the edges. He’s missing a shoe, even. It looks like he’s having a rough go about it, compounded especially by the obviously heavy corpse he’s trying to drag through the hallway in vain.
Be still his heart – is Sabo a fellow connoisseur of body-snatching for medical enjoyment and/or experimentation? It seems too good to be true.
“If you’re looking for a date,” Law says, announcing his presence as he steps fully into Sabo’s line of sight. “I volunteer. That guy looks a little stiff.” He smirks at his own joke. Morgue humor, the best.
Sabo’s head whips up comically fast, and he angles himself in front of the body as if to hide it behind him, which is laughably ineffective. “What the – Law?”
He sounds less than pleased to see him, but he’s also just been caught body-napping, so the reaction is understandable.
Law lounges against the wall. “You didn’t call,” he says, pouting a little to be obnoxious.
“I – you – why are you here?” Sabo spits, still frozen in a half-crouch over his prize.
“I think that’s a question you should be answering,” Law returns. “Stealing corpses? I wasn’t aware I had competition.”
Sabo straightens at that. “…You’re here to steal dead bodies?” he says finally, staring as if Law’s the one still holding onto the awkwardly bent arm of a cadaver.
“It fits my brand on multiple levels, try to keep up,” Law replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. “This is a little off-brand for you though – what’s that about? Have I inspired you so deeply?” He slaps a hand over his heart just to see Sabo cringe in annoyance. He wants to laugh – how did he miss someone he barely knows? And yet.
“Shut up, this is my…friend. Jorbo…Stevens,” Sabo says slowly, looking progressively more and more like he’s wishing he could trade places with the corpse.
Law does laugh, at that. “Jorbo Stevens. And why would you steal away poor dear Jorbo’s lifeless husk?”
Before Sabo can answer, Law dives for the toe tag. Sabo tries to intercept him with a screech like a bird of prey being startled from a nap, and just barely misses Law’s hand. Victory. He flips the tag this way and that, and finds no trace of the name Jorbo Stevens. Sabo is steaming, hands and teeth clenched, glaring at Law. It’s a good look on him, especially with the disheveled thing he has going on.
“Soooo,” Law croons, sidling up to Sabo and tucking the toe tag into his breast pocket. “What really brings you to my fifth-favorite morgue in this geographical area?”
“If I tell you, then I’d have to kill you,” Sabo replies primly, pulling the tag from his pocket and sticking it in the brim of Law’s hat. Charming, that one. “Though I’ve thoroughly warmed up to the idea of killing you no matter what, at this point.”
“Oh, I’d love to see you try!” Law replies with genuine sincerity, slinging an arm around Sabo’s shoulders. “Now why don’t you tell your good friend Dr. Law what you want with this nice fresh corpse? Because if you don’t have dibs, I’d love to get my hands on this one’s liver.”
Sabo stares at him speechlessly for a few seconds before a somewhat conniving look overtakes his face. Oh, this should be interesting.
Sabo flings his arm around Law’s torso, pulling him in closer. Interesting indeed. “Maybe you can help me out.”
“What’s in it for me?” Law shoots back, tipping his head closer to Sabo.
“I don’t murder you?” Sabo tries.
Law laughs, again. “I really would like to see you try. It would be invigorating.” He can imagine that furious bloodlust would be a good look for Sabo.
Sabo just rolls his eyes. “You can have his organs. I just need something that this – this absolute colossal moron – karma struck him, or maybe me? Karma is a bitch, really, it isn’t fair at all, I don’t deserve this…”
Law gives his shoulder a little shake. Sabo shoots him a poisonous glare. “Anyways, this pox upon the human race swallowed an important object that I need. And if you’re really as good of a surgeon as all of your fake medical licenses say, maybe you can get it for me.”
Intriguing on many levels. “So your plan was to…steal this body and what? Dissect it yourself? Or do you have another doctor friend I don’t know about? If so, I’m hurt.”
Sabo rolls his eyes so hard that his whole head tips back. “I had a genius plan that involved relocating this body to a more suitable location and using this bad boy,” with this he pulls out an ornately carved and decidedly beat up pocket knife, “to commence Operation Object Retrieval.”
Law cackles, arm tightening around Sabo’s shoulder. He can feel the warm line of Sabo’s torso pressing against his side, even through their layers. “I am truly, deeply impressed by your gusto, but also a little bothered that you would ruin a perfectly good corpse like that.”
“That’s your takeaway?” Sabo replies, flipping the knife through his fingers in an attractively competent manner. Almost as attractive as his plan to hack a freshly dead body up with a likely dull pocket knife. Now there’s a sight Law’d love to see, despite the tragic waste of organs that would result.
“I’m a consummate professional, Sabo,” Law sniffs. “It’s important to always treat cadavers with respect.”
“Even when stealing their organs?” Sabo questions, sounding doubtful.
“Especially when stealing their organs,” Law informs him. “Now, come on, let’s find a place to crack this one open. I’ll even help you, free of charge.” And he winks, just to see Sabo splutter. And he even blushes a little, what a treat.
It takes some maneuvering for them to get a good grip on the thus-dubbed Jorbo. Sadly, it’s abundantly clear that Sabo is a novice at corpse-handling, the way he was dragging it around before.
“A fireman carry would’ve been best,” Law tells him. “You know, for the next time you need to steal a body. But you should call me first, I’ll help.”
Sabo adjusts his hold on Jorbo’s shoulders and glowers at Law. “I figured as much, you know. I was doing that, but – ah. You know. Life gets in the way,” he goes to wave a hand in the air, blasé, and nearly drops the body.
“He fell off your shoulders, didn’t he?” Law crows. “Oh, that’s rich. I wish I’d seen it.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you do,” Sabo huffs. “Laugh it up, go ahead. I’ll just plan to blow you up with the tiny but mighty super-weapon this guy swallowed.” He gives the corpse a little shake for emphasis.
“Oh, I seriously doubt that’s what it is,” Law shoots back.
“Okay, well, you don’t know. And I am not going to tell you.”
“Have you considered that I’ll need to know what to look for when dissecting it out of his stomach?”
“No, I think this will be a better challenge,” Sabo says merrily. “I want to see your skills in action,” and he’s totally just being an asshole, but a thrill goes through Law at his words nonetheless.
“We’re here,” Law says, to distract from the urge to make out with Sabo in a morgue like some sort of teenager. “This room will be best.”
It’s an autopsy room, and probably the nicest one at this morgue. The specific combination of smells in a morgue – the chemical cocktails used for preservation, fighting with the sickly rotting meat smell of decaying flesh that marches on inexorably – it permeates the very walls of the place, especially the autopsy rooms. But this one is the least aromatic, Law finds. Plus, the large vat of embalming fluid decorating the corner really brings a nice ambiance to the place. There’s a clean mortuary table in the middle of the room, with empty trays lined up neatly alongside it. No matter, Law brought his own dissecting tools.
“Do you really know your way around this place that well?” Sabo asks, giving Law a judgmental side-eye look.
“Sabo, my dear friend, I never forget a morgue,” Law says solemnly, as if he doesn’t preemptively memorize the floor plan of every mortuary before visiting, just in case some rude night owl morgue worker tries to chase him out.
Together they heave Jorbo onto the table, where he collapses in that stiff, awkward sprawl that cadavers are prone to. Heavy cursing ensues as Law and Sabo work together to jam positioning blocks under the body’s torso. Sabo throws his arms in the air and paces after they finally manage to settle it, while Law cracks his knuckles and gets to work divesting the body of its shirt.
He waves a hand at Sabo. “Grab me those gloves, will you?”
Sabo scoffs, dragging a stool over and sitting primly. “Absolutely not, get them yourself. I’m not an accomplice here.”
Law gives him a sidelong look. “You’re literally the one who wants this guy cut up.”
“Wellllllll,” Sabo hedges, “It sounds like you would’ve cut him up either way, had I not been here, and now I’m just coincidentally benefiting from your actions. So, therefore, I’m entirely innocent, including and especially if you steal this guy’s organs.”
“Your logic is flawless,” Law notes, grabbing the box of nitrile gloves and a handy, freshly-unopened pack of cut gloves.
Sabo straightens from where he was slouching on the stool. “Wait, why the fuck aren’t you using your Devil Fruit? Isn’t that how you got your dweeby moniker?”
“Dweeby?” Law gasps.
“Not the point!” Sabo exclaims. “Also, I’m right and you know it, totally dweeby, really, it’s just too much. Surgeon of Death? Over the top, I’m telling you – anyways, let’s cut this unfortunate reunion short, I have things to do. Chop chop, Fruit time.”
“Sorry, no can do,” Law shrugs, pulling his dissection kit out of his coat. “I’m currently conducting an experiment on the quantity of seastone required to cease Devil Fruit functioning when the aforementioned seastone has been swallowed by a subject.”
Sabo looks intrigued despite himself. “So you could, what, swap something in the stomach – food, acid, whatever – with some seastone?”
“Exactly that,” Law says, placing his tools on the tray. “They likely won’t even realize what happened.”
“Why not just…decapitate them with your ridiculous sword, or take their heart out with your Fruit?” Sabo muses.
Law scoffs, waving a retractor at him dismissively. “Where’s the panache , Sabo?” he implores. “You don’t get called extremely cool names like the Surgeon of Death by monotonously teleporting people into pieces and letting them die. You have to get creative.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay – but what does that have to do with your current situation? As in – you don’t mean to tell me that you swallowed seastone,” Sabo says, in an increasingly incredulous tone of voice that indicates that he thinks exactly that.
“I’m trying to expand the boundaries of science here,” Law explains patiently.
“Oh, my god,” Sabo mutters, running a gloved hand through his ruffled hair. Law likes how it looks, haphazardly falling into his face, and he wonders if it’s always this messy without his hat blocking it from view. “There’s no way you actually did that. I know how seastone works, and that ain’t it.” He shakes a finger at Law menacingly.
“Clearly you don’t know how science works,” Law says, straight-faced, just to see Sabo wave his finger more aggressively.
“That’s – ugh,” Sabo mutters, and Law can practically see him physically drop the issue, and he turns away to grab a scalpel in order to hide his victorious grin.
“Okay, in we go!” Law narrates, making the first incision at the right shoulder joint. “I always start on the right side for good luck.”
“How is that good luck?” Sabo mutters.
“Mm, this is just lovely,” Law says as his scalpel slides smoothly to end the first cut at the peak of the manubrium of the sternum. “Isn’t this exactly how you wanted your evening to go? Anyways, what the hell happened to you? It looks like you’ve been through the wringer.”
He catches Sabo’s disgruntled expression out of the corner of his eye and smirks as he starts the second incision at the left shoulder.
“Well, if you really want to know – and I’m sure you do, because you’re a freak – I was doing some very cool and important stuff, and then things both literally and figuratively blew up in my face, and now I’m here. My life has clearly reached lows that I previously thought impossible.”
“Now, it can’t be that bad,” Law encourages, slicing down the midline of the torso with a little flourish. This is going to be beautiful, Sabo will be so impressed.
“It is though, it – it’s ridiculous, you try to do one – well, it isn’t any of your business, actually, but just know that Jorbo here is a grade A fucker, and he deserves to be organ-robbed, I guess.” Sabo’s crossing his arms and looking put out. He looks cute like that, Law is inclined to think, especially in his mussed-up evening-wear.
“Do you want me to make this extra bloody?” Law asks, waving his scalpel a little.
“Uh – I mean, not…hm,” Sabo looks off into the middle distance, contemplating. “Y’know, it might make me feel a little better about this whole catastrophe, but I also shudder to think what you consider extra bloody, so I’ll probably pass.”
Law pouts. “Well, whatever. Joke’s on you, cadavers don’t bleed in that satisfying way that living bodies do.”
“You say some really creepy shit, you know that?”
“It’s part of my charm,” Law replies, sending him a winning smile. “Anyways, I like to make these dissections interactive – more fun that way. So, would you rather have the chest reflected – y’know, open in the middle like a set of doors – or clip the ribs and remove the whole anterior ribcage?”
Sabo stares at him in bemusement. “I – why are we even doing all that? Can’t you just cut right into the stomach and grab the thing and go?”
“Oh, Sabo, Sabo, Sabo,” Law chuckles. “So naive and uncultured in the ways of anatomical dissection.”
“You are so annoying,” Sabo groans theatrically. “Also, answer my question.”
“I just told you, this is meant to be fun and relaxing. Organ-stealing doesn’t have to be a drag. Now, where did I put my sternum saw?”
“Oh, you want to borrow mine?” Sabo asks brightly.
Law perks up. “You have one?” Be still his heart.
“No, of course the fuck I don’t!” Sabo exclaims.
“Now that’s just sad,” Law sighs. “Come here and put some gloves on, I need your help with this.”
Sabo groans and slides off of the stool onto the ground. He lays there, boneless, for a few seconds before likely realizing the fact that he’s collapsed on a morgue floor, and springs up accordingly. He dusts off his battered jacket like he just took a stroll in the park, and grudgingly pulls a pair of gloves from the box Law offers him, stripping off his singular leather glove first.
Law spies a glimpse of scarred fingers before Sabo puts the gloves on. He sees Sabo’s mouth twist briefly when he catches Law looking.
“How come you get those fancy gloves, hm?” Sabo asks, gesturing at Law’s cut gloves.
“Oh, these are to prevent me from getting nicked by any of my tools. I don’t want to catch any of the gross germs currently proliferating on Jorbo’s nice, dead skin. Normally I wouldn’t bother, but who knows where this guy has been.”
“What, and it’s just fine if I get infected with some weird dead people virus? No thanks! Get me a pair too,” Sabo demands.
“Wow, so needy,” Law sighs, put-upon, and tosses him an unopened pair of cut gloves. Sabo confidently pulls them over the nitrile gloves, and then puts on another pair of nitrile gloves, all of which is hilarious, so Law doesn’t say a word.
Law has Sabo hold the cadaver in place as he puts his sternum saw to good use. Sabo’s assistance isn’t strictly necessary – Law is more that capable of cracking open a ribcage all by his lonesome – but it’s quicker and less messy with someone else.
“Are those garden clippers?” Sabo asks, sounding a bit disturbed, as Law clips through the ribs laterally with his rib shears, eliciting that distinct cripsy-crunchy splintering sound.
“Believe it or not, this is a real dissecting tool,” Law informs him. “They just happen to look extremely similar. So similar that they could probably be dual-functioning – in fact, I wonder if I grabbed the right one…”
He’s kidding, of course, but it’s worth it to see Sabo’s face.
Now, with the ribs clipped on both sides and the sternum cut down the middle, Law is able to open the two symmetrical chest wall sections he’s created like a door. The ribs, still ensconced in flesh, prevent the segments from being removed entirely, but the two sides are able to flip out towards the arms perfectly. With some gentle butchering, he cuts away the last of the superior attachments and opens up the chest cavity to reveal the beauty within.
Law lets out a low whistle. “Nice. Never gets old.”
Sabo gives him an odd look. “I’m no anatomy expert, but I’m not seeing a stomach.”
“Patience, dear Sabo,” Law croons, attempting to twirl a probe in his hand like Sabo did with the knife earlier, and only succeeds in dropping it right into poor, long-suffering Jorbo’s mediastinal cavity. He plays it off masterfully by grabbing a second probe and pretending the incidental placement of the first was entirely intentional. Sabo gives him another look, which Law dutifully ignores in favor of holding the two probes like chopsticks. “This is an advanced technique, I doubt you’re ready for it,” he tells Sabo.
“I could so do that,” Sabo argues. He grabs a couple probes and holds them like Law, expert even with the bulky cut gloves on. Law laughs.
“Also, should we be wearing eye protection? I can spot quite a few friendly reminder posters in this very room extolling the wonders of lab safety,” Sabo inquires.
“Oh, you’re not wrong. It was a test for you, and you passed,” Law says, having completely forgotten about something like eye safety. “So, here you go,” and he pulls out his handy safety glasses that he almost never uses. Law unfolds the arms and gently slides them onto Sabo’s face, ignoring the outstretched hand. “There. Safety first, that’s what I always say.”
Sabo blinks at him. One of his eyes, the one surrounded by scarring, is paler than the other. “Ah. Thank you. Lab safety, good.” His voice is somewhat faint.
“Just being extra cautious,” Law says with a wink. Sabo blinks more rapidly, and Law takes pity, sliding his own pair of glasses on before turning back to the cadaver’s chest cavity.
“Oh, now this is exciting,” he says as he takes a good look into the thoracic cavity. “First things first–” and he uses his Metz scissors to delicately slice through the fibrous pericardium surrounding the heart to reveal the adipose-encrusted muscle below.
“That’s a heart,” Sabo says, somewhat accusingly.
“Good job!” Law says, mostly genuine, looking at Sabo with what he wants to call an encouraging smile.
“That’s not where the object is – at least, I hope not. So, what’s the big idea?”
“The big idea, Sabo, is that I’m the captain of the Heart Pirates, which means that I’m basically obligated to dissect any heart that crosses my path. If you don’t watch out, I’ll dissect yours.” And he shoots Sabo a sleazy smirk to top it off.
As expected, Sabo recoils with disgust at his amazing-terrible pickup line. “First of all, that logic makes no goddamn sense. Also, you’re creepy, and that is not cute.”
Law’s busy dissecting one of the coronary arteries away from the myocardium for the fun of it. “Not even a little?”
“No, not even a little, bastard!” Sabo exclaims. He jabs his finger at the Jorbo’s aorta. “Also, is that normal?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Law says cheerfully, sparing a glance at the bumpy, swollen vessel Sabo’s indicating. “In fact, I’d wager that that’s the cause of Jorbo’s untimely death.”
Sabo leans in, looking intrigued despite himself. “What is it?”
Law perks up. Oh, this is good. An opportunity to impress Sabo with his myriad knowledge. “Well, you’ll appreciate this. Actually, I think it’ll make you quite angry to know how badly this all seems to have timed out for you. It looks to me like Mr. Stevens suffered from an aortic dissection.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?” Sabo points out.
“Well, yes, but it’s also the name for an occurrence in which the inner wall of the aorta – called the tunica intima, or tunica interna – tears. This allows blood to seep into the newly created space between the tunica intima and the tunica media, which is the muscular middle layer of an artery that gives it that characteristic ability to pump blood with purpose. This separation of the two layers of the arterial wall is a dissection – makes sense, right?”
“So the wall of the aorta – which is a very important vessel – just…spontaneously ruptured?” Sabo outlines.
“Indeed,” Law confirms. “This diverts regular blood flow from the heart. Now, instead of oxygenated blood going to your organs and whatnot, blood is pouring into a space within the wall of the aorta itself. Bad news for Jorbo.”
Sabo sits back in the stool with a huff. “And what causes this?”
“Well, lots of things. That’s the kicker – the buildup to an event like this is typically years in the making. Hypertension – that’s high blood pressure – is a big factor. There could be links to congenital or genetic disorders as well. It’s fairly hard to predict when things will start to go south, though.”
Sabo levels him with a look. “So, the bottom line is – let me get this straight here – this could have happened at any time , but it just happened to happen at the exact worst time possible for me personally.”
Law can’t help but to grin a little. “Yeah, you said it.”
“Hoooooly shit,” Sabo groans, folding his arms against the edge of the table and smacking his head aggressively into them, heedless of the shiny, dead skin of Jorbo’s arm tapping against his knuckles. “My life is a living nightmare. I don’t deserve this kind of bullshit.”
“I’m not disagreeing, but also, take some time to enjoy this. It isn’t every day that you get to dissect the body of somebody who has slighted you so.”
Sabo picks his head up a few inches to stare at Law morosely through a mussed-up curtain of blond curls. His safety glasses are askew, and Law’s own traitorous heart clenches in what he’s fairly certain is not an indication of an impending cardiac event, but rather a perfectly regular reaction to Sabo’s baleful gaze. His eyes are sharp, despite the dark circles beneath them, and his eyelashes are long, and Law really needs to quit while he’s ahead. He has a body to cut up, after all.
“Well, uh – why don’t you touch it?” Law offers, pointing towards the abnormal aorta.
Sabo frowns with apparent hesitation, but recovers admirably to press a couple of tentative fingers to the vessel. “It’s...squishy,” he describes, tone balanced between disgust and fascination, as is typical for those new to cadaver touching.
“That would be the collected blood, from the dissection. Any harder patches?” Law asks.
Sabo continues to palpate. “A few.”
“Probably atherosclerosis, then,” Law says. “Check it out.” He waves Sabo’s hands away and cuts through the aorta, applying much more pressure than he did for the thin pericardium.
His cut reveals dark, nastily congealed blood, and Law sticks a finger into the aorta to feel around.
“That’s gross,” Sabo informs him, but he’s leaning close enough that his arm is brushing against Law’s, so he isn’t inclined to take his word for it.
“Ooh, yep,” Law says, as his gloved finger scrapes against a rough, bumpy patch. “Atherosclerosis; plaque deposits on the inner walls of arteries. That’s mostly why his aorta is so wide, not the dissection. In response to decreased space available due to the plaque, the artery expands and hardens. Here, feel it.”
Sabo dutifully probes a finger around in the soupy blood to feel the plaque spots as per Law’s instructions. His face is screwed up in concentration, and his color looks better than it did before – Law will gladly cite the restorative power of learning about anatomy via cadaver dissection.
He’s distracted again by Sabo’s face, the way his eyebrows furrow and his mouth twitches. Law wants to map out the different muscles of his face with his fingers and tell Sabo about them. He wants to run his fingertips over his forehead (frontalis), and then trail his hand through Sabo’s hair (epicranial aponeurosis), and cradle the back of his head (occipitalis). He wants to –
“You with me?” Sabo’s asking, wiggling his morbidly bloody fingers in front of Law’s face.
“Just contemplating anatomy,” he answers breezily, his fingers convulsing briefly against his forceps with the urge to reach out and touch Sabo, cut gloves and all.
“Are we going to contemplate the anatomy of the stomach now?” Sabo inquires innocently.
“Oh, I just need to check one thing,” Law answers, perking up. He slices his way into the left ventricle, and has Sabo hold the muscular flaps of myocardium out of the way as he shines a penlight into the upper depths of the small cavity.
“Aha!” he exclaims, excitedly enough that Sabo shoves his head down to peer into the ventricle as well. “Check that out!”
“I see…well, I’m not sure what I’m looking at, to be honest,” Sabo says.
“It’s Jorbo’s aortic valve,” Law replies. “The valve that allows blood to flow from the heart into the aorta. You’ll see here that this guy has a bicuspid aortic valve – see how there’s only two sections of it? Typically there are supposed to be three, but J.S. here was unlucky enough to be born with a condition that predisposes aortic dissection. Pair that with his likely high blood pressure, and here we are.”
“So that’s a risk factor? How do I know if I’ve got that?” Sabo asks, staring down at his own chest.
“Well, I can take a look for you if you’d like,” Law offers pleasantly, wiggling his fingers to indicate his Devil Fruit.
“And I thought you couldn’t do thatttttt,” Sabo sing-songs threateningly, waving a pair of tweezers at Law in warning.
“Well, not right now,” Law corrects. “But next time we meet. You know, if you want me to get to know you more intimately.”
Sabo’s jaw flexes, but Law likes to think he isn’t imagining the blush. “You are not getting your hands on my organs.”
“Well, right now we’re more concerned with Jorbo’s, anyways,” Law says.
“Specifically the stomach!” Sabo says cheerily. “Which, mine is totally growling, so let’s get this show on the road so I can go eat my weight in food and then sleep for three days, alright?”
“Oh, great idea, we should go on a dinner date after this,” Law replies brightly as he cuts away the tattered remains of the diaphragm with his scissors.
“How can you think about food at a time like this?” Sabo questions, gesturing to the butchery as Law trims at the edges of the fatty greater omentum.
“You brought it up first,” he points out. “Also, this really doesn’t make you hungry?” He blinks innocently at Sabo as he pulls away the now-detached greater omentum, holding the rough, blobby yellow tissue up for show.
“Ew, stop you – weird cannibal,” Sabo groans.
“I wasn’t going to eat this, but if you’re that hungry…”
“Oh, fuck right off,” Sabo gripes. “Here, if you’re gonna mess around, I’ll help.” He pulls out his pocket knife and opens it with purpose.
“While that would be quite entertaining, my scientific sensibilities are hurting just looking at that thing. Here, take this, if you want to eviscerate that badly,” Law says, handing Sabo a small scalpel.
Sabo pinches it delicately between his finger and thumb and holds it away from him like its diseased. “What exactly am I doing with this? Eviscerate sounds a bit more violent than what I was planning for.”
“Whatever your heart desires,” Law says distractedly. He’s finally cutting through the ridged walls of the stomach, hit with belated curiosity of what exactly Sabo has him searching for. “Also, I’ll have you know that eviscerate was an anatomy word first, and it was unfairly co-opted by the violent masses.”
“Okay, Doctor Nerd, I didn’t ask for a vocabulary lesson. Let’s get this show on the road,” Sabo grouses, unceremoniously hip-checking Law out of the way and attacking the stomach in an impressive one-man scalpel assault.
Sabo seems disinclined to touch the floppy walls of the stomach for long, periodically grabbing and releasing the edges of the widening cut he’s creating with the pair of hemostatic forceps that Law gave him. He’s got an impressive death grip on the scalpel, and the hacking motion he’s chosen to employ is certainly inspired. Law sidles up behind him and tucks his chin against Sabo’s shoulder for a better view of the bloodbath.
“Back off, I’m busy doing science here,” Sabo gripes, but he makes no move to shove him away, so Law counts that as a win.
“Now you’ve really got me curious,” Law hums.
Sabo doesn’t answer, instead sticking his heavily gloved hand into the narrow stomach cavity and feeling around. Law completely misses the moment he pulls something out, too entranced by the myriad of entertaining expressions crossing over Sabo’s face.
“A-HA!” Sabo exclaims. His glasses are askew, and he’s got that fiery passion in his eyes that Law feels whenever he finds something particularly interesting when dissecting a dead body. He’s practically radiant with it, and Law once again misses the moment when Sabo holds his prize aloft, entirely distracted by the way the harsh fluorescents complement Sabo’s messy blond hair.
Law forcibly reroutes his cognitive processing to focus on the object Sabo’s holding in his stained, nitrile-clad fingers. It takes a few seconds to identify the item, viscera-covered as it is, as a ring of some sort.
“Is this your way of asking if we can take our relationship to the next level? Because, if so, you know me so well already,” Law croons, pressing a hand to his chest and smearing blood all over his lab coat.
Sabo shoots him a look and doesn’t dignify Law’s comment with a reply. He marches over to the sink and carefully washes the ring off.
Law slides over just as Sabo shuts off the water. With the gunk washed away, Law can now see that it appears to be a cipher ring of some sort. Very intriguing, that. Sabo is examining it with sharp eyes, a little furrow between his brows as he turns it this way and that. And Law is once again distracted by him, rather than focusing on the fascinating prize of their cheerful cavity search.
“Can I see?” Law asks innocently.
Sabo whips around so quickly that his glasses are knocked even further askew. He closes the hand holding the ring into a fist, and opens it again just as quickly to reveal…nothing. He grins big, with all his teeth, and it startles an undignified snicker out of Law.
“It could be a wayward replacement valve of some sort, and not what you were searching for,” Law wheedles.
“Oh, that’s – you’re so full of shit,” Sabo leers.
Sabo’s right, but Law isn’t going to be the one to tell him that. He pouts spectacularly instead. “After all my hard work, this is the thanks I get?”
“I told you, I was perfectly capable of handling things on my own,” Sabo says, shucking off all of his too many layers of gloves.
“And I told you that your way would’ve been much messier than mine, and almost certainty less successful,” Law shoots back, pulling his own gloves off.
Sabo sidles up to him, suddenly far closer than he had been. “And I told you,” he says, grabbing Law’s glasses right off of his face, folding them up, and sticking them in Law’s lab coat pocket, “that this all would have been faster with your Fruit.”
He slides away just as quickly as he approached, leaving Law momentarily frozen in place. Well, somebody’s in a good mood now, he thinks, snapping back to himself and wheeling around on his heel to follow Sabo back to the corpse’s side.
Sabo is staring down at Jorbo with his fists planted on his hips, tapping a foot speculatively. “What’s the plan with this guy? I wouldn’t be against some light cremation.”
“I was planning to steal more of his organs,” Law says, propping an elbow on Sabo’s shoulder. He doesn’t even get an annoyed look for his efforts. He really is in a good mood.
“Acceptable!” Sabo declares, clapping his hands together over the body like he’s bestowing his blessing upon the corpse.
He then whirls to the side, dislodging Law’s arm in the process, and slaps both hands down on Law’s shoulders, leveling him with a serious look. “I’m leaving before anything else happens. I’ve tested my luck enough today. If I get lit on fire again I really might lose it.”
Law swings both his arms up to grab Sabo around the waist. “Let me walk you out, sweetheart,” he croons.
Sabo screeches and flails out of his grasp, scrambling for the exit. But he waits there in the doorway, hair still disheveled, collar crooked, face red – Law is still caught up on this being a good look for him. It takes him an extra second to get his act together solidly enough to stride forward purposefully to the door.
“Shall we?” Law offers Sabo his arm, and his brain has to take another second to recalibrate when Sabo actually takes it, albeit following a suitably dramatic eye roll.
“How did you get in here, actually?” Sabo asks. He seems to be doing his best to ignore the fact that they’re strolling arm in arm through the darkened morgue halls like a couple on a leisurely walk through a fragrant botanical garden.
“The…door,” Law replies, half statement and half question. “How did you get in here?”
Sabo’s steps become noticeably more mechanical. “I…well. You know how it is. With. When life gives you a brick, you throw it through a window. That’s something my, erm…uncle…always said.” His face screws up in pernicious despair at his own words before gamely smoothing back into nonchalance. His shame would go unnoticed entirely if not for the flush still high on his cheeks.
“You probably did me a favor, actually,” Law says breezily, deciding to cut Sabo a break for perhaps the first time in their acquaintance. “They might think this organ-napping job was done by a total amateur who can’t unlock a morgue’s front door – this way, they’re far less likely to connect it back to me.” He shoots Sabo a winning smile.
Sabo rewards him with a sidelong glance. “How many people break into morgue to steal organs, really?”
Law laughs heartily, throwing his head back in overexaggerated mirth. He can feel Sabo rolling his eyes bodily in the way he tips back next to Law. “Oh, Sabo. Once again revealing your naivete regarding the complex realm of organ theft. Let’s just say that I’m glad I ran into you and not Slunko the Boneslurper tonight…in fact, you are my favorite unexpected organ thieving guest thus far.”
He turns to give Sabo another one of his soon-to-be-trademarked winning smiles, but he can feel that it’s come out far too sincere and soft before he even finishes turning his head. Even worse, Sabo is looking right back at him, face open and honest in a way that Law hasn’t really seen from him so far. His eyes are two slightly mismatched rings of blue, shining out of his face like beacons. The warped, raised scarring around his eye is more noticeable up close. Law wonders if his vision was damaged by the injury that gave him that scar. Law also wonders how long he’s been staring Sabo right in the eyes while they stand there like a couple of idiots.
“And here you will find your exit,” Law says, gesturing to his left, breaking the moment before it can break him. That was close.
Sabo blinks in slow motion, then snaps his entire body to the side to face the door. “I see. Cleverly placed,” he says nonsensically.
When it becomes clear that Sabo doesn’t have any impending plans of movement in his future, Law takes it upon himself to open the door with a flourish. He gestures Sabo through with a half-bow. The man himself marches through the doorway as if heading to an execution, his face blank in such a way that it’s obvious he’s holding back an undoubtedly fantastic facial expression. Shame.
Sabo’s evident brain malfunction at their tender eye contact has bolstered Law’s confidence considerably. He closes the door with a swoop of both lab coat and regular coat, and swings himself into place directly in front of Sabo, who’s standing at parade rest with his gaze fixed on the dark, starry horizon.
Law daringly grabs one of Sabo’s hands, pulling it up to his chest. Sabo lets him, arm completely limp. “My darling Sabo…Lastname.” He frowns briefly. “Do you have a last name? Never mind, not important right now. My dear Sabo, I thank you so for the lovely night of gory, illegal dissection. I cannot imagine a better setting, nor a better person to occupy it with,” he grins, and all of this is edging too close to sincerity for his comfort yet again. But, crucially, he is still outmaneuvering Sabo, whose face is once again adorned by a thunderstruck expression at his words.
“I…” Sabo says, voice dying spectacularly after less than a syllable. He clears his throat valiantly and tries again. “I am glad that my abject suffering was entertaining.” He’s giving Law a look now, and Law isn’t an idiot, he knows a deflection when he sees it. Sabo is slipping back into overdramatic, hyperbolic joking statements, which means that Law won. Hah.
He’s about to fire off something truly atrocious, like you suffer so beautifully, though, when Sabo pulls his hand from his grasp. He’s straight-backed with determination, steel in his eyes – another good look for him.
Sabo reaches for him, settling a hand on his cheek. Law has just long enough to wonder what his angle is when Sabo leans in and presses a kiss to Law’s other cheek, lips lingering.
And now Law is the one frozen in place, a statue of a man as Sabo pulls away.
“Thank you for the help tonight,” Sabo says, breezy and sincere all at once.
And then he whirls on his heel and veritably sprints into the shadowy night before Law can formulate a reply. He can only watch as Sabo runs, stumbling over seemingly nothing at one point before vanishing completely into the dark.
Well. Law will count that as a draw, then. Sabo the challenger. Hm. He likes that.
The spot where his lips pressed against Law’s face burns like a brand. Law takes four more seconds to process before letting himself back into the morgue. He allows himself a few more blinks under the sudden harsh fluorescence before making his way back towards the dissection room.
He has organs to steal, and an interesting new puzzle to take apart in his head.