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They were sailing through one of those rare patches of perfect weather; the sun high and bright, but not scorching, round, friendly clouds drifting through the sky on light breezes, enough to fill the sails and keep them moving. None of them trusted it would last, of course. You didn't get far on the Grandline if you expected the weather to be kind. But the Strawhats and their unlikely allies were taking advantage of the calm to rest for a few hours before the next disaster.
Nami watched those allies from her deck chair, where she was sipping on one of Sanji's experiments with mikans in smoothies. It was good, she noted absently. She'd have to ask him to make them again. Law and Cora were sitting on the grassy deck of the Sunny. Law's massive wings, such a dark shade of black that they reflected deep blue, were spread behind him like pools of spilled ink. The man himself was curled over a book in his lap, reading aloud quietly. Behind him, Cora was preening his wings. Nami wouldn't have expected it, from the way that he could trip over perfectly flat ground, but Cora took to the delicate task with ease; he aligned feathers, pressing them back into place, carefully removing the molted ones, and spread oil through the plumage.
Maybe it shouldn't have been such a surprise, though. There was a care in all his motions, even when he tapped between Law's shoulders, making the captain grumble and sit up straighter. Watching them, Nami was struck by a memory of Bellemere telling her to sit up, you'll hurt your back with posture like that! It was a fond memory, sudden and soft as a soap bubble bursting. Cora smiled like Bellemere used to; like he could think of nothing he'd rather be doing than lecturing Law about his spine.
Law didn't pause in his reading. His book had been borrowed from the Sunny's library, but Nami couldn't recall ever having read it. So far, it was about a man imprisoned for a crime he hadn't committed, but they were still at the beginning of the story. Nami was expecting the man and the new friend he'd made in prison to break out together.
"'Then you shall love me,"' Law read aloud, smooth and even. "'If you are young, I shall be your friend; if you are old, your son.'" He glanced over his shoulder at Cora, who glanced up to smile at him before continuing to preen.
There was a sudden ruckus from the upper level that had them all looking up; even Zoro, sleeping by the mast, cracked open his eye. But when Sanji shouted "Peste!", followed by a familiar cackle, they all relaxed and went back to what they'd been doing before. Sanji continued "P'tit rat! Espèce de sous-merde! Tu te magasines une soupe aux dents!"
With a bright grin, Luffy burst through the kitchen door with an armful of sandwiches and vaulted over the railing to the lower deck, landing flat on his back, his wings splayed out under him just in time for Sanji to finish with "And fucking stay out!" and slam the door behind him.
Still giggling, Luffy shoved an entire sandwich in his mouth and swallowed, eyes skimming the deck as he looked for the next mischief to make. Nami was fairly certain that Sanji had actually set those sandwiches aside for Luffy. For all of his performative ire, Sanji didn't actually refuse to feed Luffy when he was hungry unless they were running very low on food.
Luffy brightened when he saw Zoro sleeping, but before he could go flop down for a post-snack nap beside him, he was distracted by the sight of Law and Cora. He wandered over, eating his sandwiches at a rate that should have been alarming, but was rather tame, for him. He wiped sticky fingers on his shirt before crouching beside Cora, their shoulders almost touching. Beyond a quick glance, Cora seemed unbothered by his presence. As he removed a broken feather and placed it in a bag at his side, a thought visibly occurred to Luffy, the captain shifting his weight to his toes so he could bounce up at a moment's notice.
"You save the feathers for your uniform?" Luffy asked Cora. Law paused in his reading, tilting his head to listen without moving his shoulders and wings.
Cora reached up to touch the collar of his boiler suit, fluffy with black-blue feathers. Nami wasn't sure how she'd never noticed before, but Luffy was right; they were Law's feathers. She had noticed that Cora didn't have wings. She hadn't asked why. The answer couldn’t be good.
"That's right," Cora said.
Practically vibrating with excitement, Luffy reached up to the sun-bleached, time-worn feathers sewn into the brim of his hat. "These are my brother's," he revealed.
Cora looked at the straw hat with an unreadable smile. Nami thought that it looked a little sad. But he said, "I'd guess that you're the youngest," with a light, teasing tone.
It went over Luffy's head entirely. "I am! They're my big brothers. They're the coolest," he enthused.
Laughing, not meanly, Cora tapped Luffy's shoulder-- in much the same way that he had to Law earlier. "Move over; I need to switch wings."
Luffy flopped to the side, twisting his legs into some improbable configuration. It didn't look comfortable, but Luffy seemed content. "Corao! Do me next!" he said, childishly demanding.
Law bristled. Nami didn't blame him. Preening was personal. It was for families-- or crew. As much as Luffy eschewed social norms, Law seemed to cling to propriety and image. But that was a failing battle with Luffy around. Especially since Cora just paused to give Luffy an amused look, shrugged, and said, "Alright, then."
Pleased with this indulgence, Luffy laid on the grass in front of Law, rolling onto his stomach and propping his head up with his hands. "Start the book over, Torao," he said. "I want to know what happened!"
"Give him an inch and he takes a mile," Cora murmured, still smiling. "Who else do I know like that, hm?"
Law huffed, a put-upon sigh. But, in the absence of protest from Cora, his irritation seemed to have deflated. And maybe the preening had put him in a good mood, because he flipped back to the beginning of the book. "The lookout at Notre-Dame de la Garde signaled the arrival of the three-master Pharaon..."