You tap the index finger of your left hand on the table. Your head's resting against the crook of your right arm against the dining room table and you look aggravated.

"Still feels off?" Killer asks, setting breakfast in front of you.

"Yeah." The plastic and mylar fingers clicked and clunked as you tapped them all against the table. You could feel through the taps, but it felt weird. It was less of a thump against wood and more of a click against metal.

The hand was what had been provided by the hospital, and you had spent the last couple days trying to adjust to it. Opening and closing your fingers was easy enough, and you'd even managed to button your jeans with little frustration this morning. Control any finer than that was difficult, and talking with Eustass, it seemed the biggest problem was the lack of tactile input.

Even being made of plastic, the connectors and the tech should be sending the right signals. Wood should feel like wood, grass like grass. Instead, it all felt muted and clicky – like a button being pushed.

The second hardest adjustment had been trying to sort out how much weight it could take. The connector was deep into your arm, and you had healed up perfectly, so according to Eustass you shouldn't have anything to worry about. The new hand should survive more weight and damage than your original hand could have ever hoped to.

But weight on the hand was weight on the connector, which was a sensation you felt in your arm. It didn't hurt, it wasn't even uncomfortable, but because you could feel the sensation it gave you pause.

You go to pick up the fork with your left hand and instead bat it across the table. There's a frustrated sound that escapes you and you reach out and collect the fork with your right hand before carefully placing it into your left. Once you had the fork in your hand the rest of the process was easy enough, and you made it through breakfast with little issue.

"I've heard people say that the first prosthetic from the hospital never works right. We'll get you something better soon." Killer says, trying to make you feel better.

You make a sound but can't muster up the energy to continue the conversation. The third straw on your back is how little of Eustass you've seen since the workshop incident. He wasn't exactly avoiding you, but he wasn't easy to find, and part of you knew why you wanted to find him, even if admitting it out loud seemed like a bad idea.

Kid and his crew had gotten more comfortable around you in the last month or, so you had been staying at the house and that comfort had them slipping more than you think they realized. You weren't just mostly sure the group was a gang; you were completely positive. From what you could gather they did a lot of stuff, but most of it had to do with metal work – cars, guns, machines, computer tech. You wouldn't be surprised to find out that they were in some sort of underground paperclip business, to be perfectly honest.

Grandline Metro had a lot of regulations to keep the Emperors in check, and the underground had become as robust as it was because of that. Not that there was a better solution for the Government, there wasn't a viable way to keep the Emperors in check in the sprawling 600 sq km metropolis. The DFU was even a part of that – though, knowing that three of the four Emperors have devil fruits doesn't really do anyone much good. None of them were shy about it.

Whatever all they did though, this crew did it well. You never went more than a couple days without seeing someone, and no one showed up in bandages and casts. Since people didn't heal the way you did, you could at least assume that they weren't getting into desperate fights every other night just to keep their feet planted.

The idea that you were being protected by a gang didn't bother you. It had felt a little surreal at the beginning of things, especially since you'd turned Luffy down to lead a nice quiet life, and now you were getting ready to train with combat specialists. At least, once you adjusted to your new hand a little better.

You flopped into the couch in the living room and let yourself sink into it. You needed to shake your morose feeling, but every time your fingers twitch-clicked you felt irritated.

"Gimme your hand, Mouse." Kid says.

You look up over the couch and see him sitting against the back of it. Without a word you reach out with your right hand, palm up, expecting him to put something in it. He glances over and grunts.

"Your left hand, Mouse."

You get up onto your knees on the couch, leaning against the back and reach out with your left hand.

"What for-Ow!" You start to ask him, but he snaps the prosthetic off swiftly. The flash of pain from the disconnect is swift, and not even all that bad.

"Don't move." He commands, bracing your arm against his hip and holding it in place. Your right hand grips the couch, and you hiss a bit as he connects something to your wrist, the tingling sensation of touch zinging up your arm. You feel cool metal against your forearm, but more than that, your hand feels.

"It's warm." You murmur, and you move your fingers without thinking.

"Don't move." He repeats, this time there's a smirk in the sound of his voice. "You're kind of shit at taking orders, Mouse."

"I didn't realize I'd become a member of the gang." You quip, trying to keep your fingers till.

"Who says we're a gang?"

You scoff, "If you all aren't a gang, or a mafia, or something, then I've sat on the Empty Throne. But -," you continue, before Eustass can say anything. "It's not like it matters."

"Oh?"

"Mm," you hum positively, leaning a bit to look up at him. "So long as you don't try to ditch me once I'm all rehabilitated."

"Hanging out with us is a rough road, Mouse." He replies, looking down at you. His expression seems bemused, but before you can say anything he releases your arm. "Happy Birthday, or something."

"It's not-." Your eyes lock onto what Eustass had put on your wrist, and you freeze.

The hand is made of glass or crystal, with thin silver lines woven through it. Each segment of your fingers are smooth, surrounded and almost painted in gold and copper filigree. The only part not perfectly smooth are detailed fingernails etched into the end of each finger, the surfaces were deliberately rougher than the rest of the hand. A matching style gold and copper band comes down from the connector and presses against your forearm a little, padded with leather underneath to soften the push against your skin.

When you move your fingers there's no click.

You run your fingers over the couch, both your left and right hand, and are marveling at how they feel the same. Your glass fingers slide over Eustass' hand, and you can feel the warmth rush through your fingers. You suck in a shuddering breath, feeling relief that you're feeling things again – feeling them correctly. It hadn't been that long since you had even lost your hand, but it felt like it had been years since you'd felt right like you did now.

"You made this."

"Yeah."

"It's... amazing." You murmur, lost in the sensations of your fingers running over Kid's rough hand.

"You're killing me, Mouse." Kid says, his voice almost cracking. You look up to see his face is flushed red, and partially covered by one of his more proportionally correct prosthetic hands.

"I..." Realization dawns and you snatch your hand away, blushing just as furiously as Kid was. "Sorry."

"It's fine. You've got impressive control," he says, moving his own prosthetic. "It took me a couple weeks to adjust enough to not bruise people, or bend forks. I know you're a mouse, but that was a pretty light touch earlier."

"It's cause it's your hand... I mean, it's my hand, but you made it, b-but the one from the hospital was clicky and wrong and nothing felt right, and this one does... feel right, so – I mean – of course," you reach back out and touch his hand again. "Sorry, but your hand's so warm and I can... feel it. It's comforting."

"... Not a whole lotta people find me comforting, Mouse." His voice was lower than usual, and there was a weight to the words. Almost like a fear.

"Well... I do." You pull your hand back and turn away, feeling your face go red before you started talking again. "I... find you... a lot more... than just... comforting."

"Dangerous waters, Mouse."

"... You gonna kick me out if I tell you I think you're hot?"

"Did Killer give you booze for breakfast, or are you just touch starved?"

"You want the truth?" You question, glancing up before you had to look away for your own sanity.

There's a long tense silence for a moment, and then Kid walks over to the entryway for the living room and pulls the door closed, before coming back and standing in front of you. You straightened up against the couch cushions, so you are at eye level with his chest, instead of his belt, but you can't hold his gaze.

"Sure Mouse, tell me."

You move the fingers of your glass hand before pressing them against Eustass' chest. "You said you don't do anything you don't want to, then you let me order you around," You manage the terribly embarrassing words with a smile, knowing full-well that Eustass could've thrown you into the house and ignored you, if he had really wanted to. There's a hum from Eustass in response that makes the heat pool in your stomach.

"... I want to touch you."

"You already are, Mouse." He muses quietly.

"I want you," you poke him to emphasize your point. "To want to kiss me."

"Pretty ballsy for a little mouse," Kid's voice is husky as the warmth of his right arm slips around your waist. His prosthetic – designed for the kind of fine detail work he had to do for your hand's creation – slips under your chin, tilting your head back.

You swallow as your eyes focus on his lips for a moment before looking into his eyes. "Gotta be, if I'm gonna be your Mouse." You're sure your face is bright red but seeing Kid's eyes go wide makes the embarrassment worth it.

"Fuckin' hells, Mouse." Eustass swears as his prosthetic slips into your hair, and he pulls you into a kiss.

The taste of lipstick gives way to the scent of the workshop – the smells of Eustass Kid - wood, metal and heat. He leans back, just enough to break the kiss, and you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers going into his hair. You pull him toward you, and he complies, leaning back down into another kiss.

He pulls you in closer than before, and you're held against a body that feels more like rock than flesh. There's a tug at your hair that causes you to gasp, and Kid pushes into your mouth without hesitation, his hot tongue causing your breath to catch as he controls the kiss and embrace roughly. It sends a rush through your chest and a soft moan slips into your mouth, causing the corners of his lips to pull into a grin.

"That's a nice sound, Mouse," He says, his voice smoother than you've heard before now.

"Make me make more, Kid." You demand, this first kiss making you needy.

"Got that word of greed out of you after all," he muses, and before you can think about what he's referring to, his lips devour yours. Strong, rough hands slide down your back, and along the curve of your ass, squeezing until you're making squeaky moans into the kiss, squirming against him.

Such a move seems like cheating, but you're not able to point that out, and you're not entirely sure you're bothered by it enough to say anything anyway. The sound of the door sliding open barely registers, but you're not surprised to hear someone start to talk.

"Hey Captain there's – oh."

Kid puts up a finger without breaking the kiss, his lips sliding from your mouth down your neck. You gasp as his teeth and tongue send shivers through your body.

"Minute! Just give us - Haaa-ngh - a minute!" You manage to request shakily. You're not sure who it was, maybe Emma or Hip, but there's an 'A-yup', and the sound of the door sliding closed again. Just as it clicks shut, Kid sucks the tender flesh of the crook of your neck into his mouth roughly, biting against the skin. The mix of pleasure and pain causes you to make a noise and your fingers flex in his hair. There's a soft grunt from Eustass, but by the time he stops you're certain you have an impressive hickey.

A light nip at your ear sends an unexpected shiver through you and you bite your lip against the squeak that nearly escapes you.

"Don't heal that, Mouse." He demands quietly, letting you sink back down into the couch.

"I... wasn't going to." You admit, appreciating the approving smile that crosses his face. Despite what just happened you feel like you're going to die from embarrassment. "Your... lipstick."

"Doesn't look half-bad on you, Mouse." He says with a wicked grin.

You reach up and wipe your hand lightly across your lips and pull back fingers with smudges of lipstick on them. Kid lifts the bottom of his shirt up and wipes around his lips, making the smudges only slightly less obvious. You're mostly sure he's just showing off body at this point.

It's effective and appreciated.

There's a knock at the door, and you recognize Killer's voice this time. "Oi! Kid! Emma needs you, your minute's up!"

Kid ruffles your hair and turns toward the door. "Yeah, yeah, we're done." He barks, pulling the doors open and walking out of the living room. His attempt to sound annoyed falls pretty flat, as there's a little spring in his step he'd probably punch someone for pointing out.

Killer points to his own lips with a teasing grin. "Got a little somethin'-."

You cover your mouth. "I know!"

Killer's shoulders shake. "No, (y/n), you need to go to the bathroom, you have no idea."

You scramble off the couch and run upstairs, heading up to your room and bathroom. Your lips are covered in the dark, almost black, deep crimson lip color, and it trails down the side of your face, fading into nothing before reaching your jaw. You pull the collar of your shirt off to the side and see the impressive hickey already blooming on your skin.

You start to clean up the lipstick, and quietly wonder what Kid would think if he knew he was your first kiss.