Summary: Wings!AU. In a world where people born with wings are considered inferior to humans, Sabo does his best to fight for equality. His whole world changes when he meets Ace and Luffy, two Fae living on the wrong side of the law. ASL Centric.
Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentioned or referenced explicit themes, cursing.

Hey! Strays is (nearly) over and like I promised, here's my new fic!

Enjoy! And thanks very very much to Zoe for all the help with this idea :D

Chapter 1 - The Boy from the Stacks

Winter

The telltale bangs and pops of rubber bullets crash on Sabo's eardrums as the crowd around him shatters. People hurl themselves in every direction, arms over their heads, screaming and abandoning their placards in favour of protecting their bodies. Dropping his own cardboard sign, Sabo raises his arms to protect his face and sprints in the opposite direction of the storm of bullets, heart throwing itself against his ribcage. He should be used to this by now - the chaos that reigns when a protest is finally broken up - but he's not. He's far from it.

A pair of wings slap against his face roughly as another protester tries to escape. Sabo attempts to push past her, fear infecting his veins like ice, but she falls with a scream before he can as a bullet hits her right between the shoulder blades. The blonde doesn't want to leave her, but before he can even think to help her, his ears catch onto the telltale 'hiss' that is a canister of tear gas being snapped open and thrown. Regretful, he turns away and pelts towards a side alley, sucked up by the crowd. More wings push in on him from all sides, and he can feel heated glares on his own wingless shoulders. At this rally, he's the outcast.

Reaching an alleyway, Sabo doesn't hesitate to grasp onto the first drainpipe he sees, spidering up the wall at such a pace that his head spins. He reaches a window ledge on the second floor and perches on it, eyes glued to the carnage below. Fae, the protestors he was standing with not even five minutes ago, are being gunned down and gassed at such a rate that they appear to be falling like dominoes. Armoured figures thunder through the streets, flushing out the last of those fleeing, their plexiglass faceplates glinting in the grey sunlight. Sabo can see his abandoned placard lying on the ground in the square; 'FREEDOM FOR THE FAE', it says in red block capitals, but now it's peppered with muddy footprints and bullet holes.

Knowing that he'll be spotted at any minute, Sabo clambers the rest of the way up until he reaches the rooftop, arms and legs burning with the strain. A series of sharp bangs ring out, deeper and more distinctive than the snap of rubber bullets, and Sabo knows that the real rounds must have been brought out by now. What was once a peaceful protest is now a warzone.

Crouching low to the ground, Sabo follows the trail of rooftops as quietly as he can until the sound of bullets fades. The sun above is clouded by ash, as always, and the Stacks are visible on the horizon. It's a long walk, but it's necessary if he wants to be back home by nightfall. Uptown, dominated by hulking three-hundred storey monsters, shrinks behind him. The grey district is visible from here, too - it's further into the city than the Stacks but still on the outskirts, filled with clustered, low flats, grimy and overpopulated. It feels ironic to Sabo that on some days, he wishes he could live there. God knows it's better than the Stacks.

Once the carnage of the ruined protest is far behind him, Sabo slips back down to the streets, glad to be back on solid ground. Glancing at his watch, he does a quick calculation. It's 1400 now so by the time he gets to the Stacks, it should be 1500 at the latest. His shift at the Farmers' Inn is at 1900, stretching on until the early hours of the morning, so he should have a few hours to himself at home, at least. He picks up his pace.

A male Fae suddenly pushes past, and Sabo can physically see him cringing as he realises that he's pushed past a human. He turns, face full of dread, and Sabo notes that he looks even younger than him. "I'm so sorry, sir, I just didn't realise that you were- and I'm-"

Putting on the most reassuring expression that he can, Sabo raises his hands. "Hey, hey, it's okay! Are you alright?"

The Fae gapes. "Uh- y-yes, yessir, I'm fine!"

"Good! I was worried I might have hurt you. Sorry for my clumsiness." Sabo smiles at the other as good-naturedly as he can before turning and getting back to walking, ignoring the shocked gaze he can feel on his back.

When the Fae is out of sight, however, Sabo's smile slips. A very familiar rush of indignance leaps up inside him, and he's reminded yet again how sick it makes him that the male Fae had that expression on his face; like he was scared of losing his life, just for bumping into a human. The inequality makes Sabo's blood boil in his veins.

But the fire is dulled. He's been feeling that fire for a very long time - frustration, anger, sadness, determination - and by now, it's muted and weak. He still cares, but at seventeen, he's running out of fuel for the flames. The smoke and the fire of passion are fading; after hundreds of failed rallies, after being shot and gassed and beaten to the ground just for trying to make a change, that much seems natural. The colour is being seeped out of him.

When you live on the Stacks, it tends to do that to you.

The grey district is fast approaching now, and Sabo curls in on himself slightly, pulling at the sleeves of his sweatshirt so they cover more skin. Definitely not his favourite neighbourhood. High Fae population; more importantly, high criminal population. The people here don't live in the same level of depravity as those on the Stacks, but they're further into the city; they're angrier, they know more about what really lies below the skin of this place. On the Stacks, it doesn't matter whether you're Fae or human – everybody is subhuman, no matter what – but here, the exact opposite applies.

Sabo walks against the crowd, travelling in the opposite direction of the flow that leads further into the city. He feels the usual suspicious looks from all sides, and his skin crawls. He keeps his head down. The burn scars on the side of his face feel cold and painfully exposed, smarting in the bitter December cold.

Somebody pushes past him, bare-shouldered and very obviously human. "Watch it!" the stranger growls viciously, pushing Sabo hard enough to send him stumbling back. He catches himself before it can cause a scene and turns away, knowing that it's pointless to start a drama in a place like this. The blonde listens to the stranger's stamping footsteps as he thunders away.

Sabo has had to make this journey time after time for two years now, but it still never fails to disconcert him. Somebody else pushes past him, winged and huddled against the cold, and Sabo waves off her sullen apology before she can get it out. All he wants to do now is go home, nurse his frayed nerves and get working on a new sign. He feels some new kind of fatigue, something that stretches right through his skin.

As he hurries, he pretends not to notice the distinct pair of eyes watching him from across the street.

By the time Sabo gets to the Stacks, he's dragging his feet. The mac-rations in his sweatshirt pocket feel heavy. The domineering forms of the Stacks tower over him, and against the moving clouds, they look like they're about to fall over. The ground is muddy and trodden down, peppered with pieces of gravel and shrapnel. Sabo knows the way through like the back of his hand and he picks through the rubble of rusted car parts on autopilot, letting his mind wander.

The Stacks have always represented something sad for Sabo. He knows their history well. Forty-three years ago, in the throes of the housing crisis, Edward Newgate - the now-dismissed third regulator of Region 7 - came up with the brilliant idea to take all of the trailer homes clustered around the city and use cranes to pile them on top of one another, one by one. At first, for maybe even ten years, it was a well-meaning and orderly system. But when Newgate was dismissed from his post and disappeared into obscurity, all that went down the drain.

The safety of those living in the Stacks became less of a priority than it had ever been. The huge structures grew higher and higher, piercing the clouds, held up by bare lances of scaffolding. Stairs were soon considered unneeded; the residents of the Stacks grew hardy, having to climb hundreds of feet of sporadic metal support poles just to get to their homes every day. Life got harder, and it only got even worse when the Stacks were officially denounced as official houses.

Now, the residents of the Stacks couldn't get formal work. Their lives grew riskier still and the world got more dangerous. Many of them grew to hate Edward Newgate. A vicious trend grew in popularity, and it soon became common to find bodies hanging from the scaffolding. Starvation and disease became common sights. Many soon grew to consider the Stacks a living hell.

They're what Sabo's parents used to use to scare him, telling him that he would end up living there if the debates didn't stop. Of course, he never actually believed them, but here he is.

He goes the long way, dodging the places where he knows that it's likely that you'll get stabbed. The base of each Stack has a large number sprayed onto it, and he walks quickly past three, seventeen, ninety-eight and thirty-one (they're in no particular order) before finally catching sight of his own.

Stack forty-three is just as grey as all the others, stretching up and up until it disappears into the ash clouds. The trailers near the bottom look distinctly squashed, roofs caved in, the glass of their windows smashed and jagged. Trailing up the structure like a strange metal snake, the scaffolding stretches high into the sky. As Sabo gets closer, he can make out his own reflection in it, a blurred mass of blond hair and dull, grey-blue clothes.

The blonde speeds up to a run when he's a few feet from the base and jumps, scrambling to grab onto the first rung of the metal. The surface is rough and scrapes up the palms of his hands but he barely notices, pulling himself up to perch of the first bar before reaching for the next. He wraps his hands around it and heaves his legs up, muscles burning. The cycle continues; reach, pull, crouch, stand. Don't look at the ground. Don't make eye contact with the people you pass at each level. And especially don't make any noise.

First level - second, third, fourth, fifth. They pass without Sabo paying much attention to them. He only pauses when he reaches level twenty-one, reaching across to tap on the glass of the particularly destroyed-looking trailer home.

"Koala?"

After a few moments, a familiar head of auburn hair appears in the window. Koala waves, the red tattoo on her collarbone rippling, before gesturing further into the trailer and making a shushing motion. Sabo nods, returning the gesture and winking, and the friends smile at each other. Then, just to make her laugh, Sabo springs upwards and feints a tumble, swinging through the metal bars lazily with a goofy look on his face. Wide-eyed, Koala stifles a giggle and gestures to her fist threateningly.

She mouths, 'Asshole!'

Sabo sticks his tongue out, laughing silently, before waving goodbye and clambering more carefully up onto the next metal rung. His own trailer home used to belong to a man known by most as Burgess, a human who is now in prison and won't be getting out anytime soon. It's a solid, round number, trailer fifty out of one-hundred and three. Sure, it's a long way up, but Sabo is sure that it could be far, far worse.

By the time that he reaches his home, however, his whole body is aching. It's been a long day. With barely enough energy to heave himself through the window, he latches it tightly behind him and stumbles into the main room. There are only three real rooms - the kitchen, the bathroom-stroke-utility room and the main room, which mostly consists of a large, ratty couch and a table. Yawning and stretching, Sabo feels his eyes droop. Rain begins to patter outside, peppering the metal walls in a comforting, pulsing hum.

The couch rushes up to meet him, and he knows no more.

Wide wings tucked in just so he can get through, the grey-eyed seventeen-year old stumbles through his front door, dead on his feet. Outside, it has just begun to rain. What little colour the grey district has blurs and disappears. Shrugging off his jacket, Ace calls, "Luffy?"

A pair of footsteps pound down the stairs and a second later, Luffy skids into the room, hair flying. His face breaks into a wide, gleeful grin at the sight of his brother, and his wing twitches as he runs forwards, tackling him around the waist.

"Ace is home!" he cheers to the world at large. Ace returns the hug with a small smile, used to this ritual, as the rain outside picks up.

After a few seconds, he pushes Luffy away slightly and kneels down to examine his face. The fourteen-year old is still as scrawny as ever, skin as pale as his naturally Brazilian complexion will allow, but he looks cheerful enough to light up the drab apartment hallway they're standing in. The scar under his eye stands out sharply against the skin of his cheek. As always, his straw hat bounces on his back, held up by a string. His single wing, dull scarlet and just as skinny and scrawny as always, flaps slightly with excitement. He looks the same as always.

"You were away for three days this time," Luffy whines. "It gets longer every time!"

Pulling his little brother into a noogie, Ace rubs the top of his head roughly, laughing as he struggles. "And you'd better have went to school for all three of those days!"

When Luffy's face falls and he looks away, however, Ace releases him. "About that..."

"You didn't go to school, did you?" Ace asks flatly. When he gets a small, ashamed shake of the head in answer, he sighs and pulls away fully. "Luffy, we've talked about this! School's the most important thing for you, you need an education!"

Luffy's face reddens slightly and he looks down, clenching his fists. "You never went! And you're- you're-"

"A wanted criminal?" Ace deadpans. He turns back towards his jacket, rifling through the pockets and purposefully letting his wings hide him from Luffy's view.

"You're Ace! You're amazing!" Luffy throws his hands up in frustration. "When I turn sixteen I can just join the Blackbeards like you, or make my own crew - and Zoro said he would join if I did - I don't need school for tha-"

"Zoro doesn't know shit," Ace decides, wheeling around with a scowl. "I never got the chance to go to school, Luffy, not even for a day. At least do what I couldn't!"

"Why should I?!"

Ace growls, pushing past the smaller teen and storming into the kitchen. "It's that kind of mindset that's ruining your education! Face it, your grades suck!"

"You suck!"

"Arrh!" Ace makes a frustrated noise and throws himself into a seat at the kitchen table. Luffy stands in the doorway, fists clenched tightly, hair falling into his eyes. "What do you have against school?! Do you know what I would've given to be able to go?!"

"I just-" The flames in Luffy's eyes suddenly seem to diminish. His shoulders slump and he murmurs, "It all makes my head go funny. And they all talk too much, I can't concentrate on what they're saying... It makes my brain hurt and I just can't concentrate on anything, and everything goes all fuzzy and stupid."

Ace's anger fades almost immediately and he sighs, gesturing for Luffy to come sit across from him. The table is small and when Luffy sits tensely, Ace pushes his head down gently but firmly until it's resting on the wood. The second Ace reaches out to touch the crest of his brother's wing, Luffy practically melts, tension ebbing from his body.

"Look, I'm sorry," Ace sighs. "I know it's really hard, 'specially with being one of the only Fae there, and with ADHD and everything else to boot... But Luffy, you've got this amazing opportunity in front of you that most of us never get. What is it that I've always told you?"

"Don't meet their eyes," Luffy murmurs.

"Yet somehow, you've managed to get into a school taught by them, populated by them - you're living the life of a human teen, not a Fae one. You're so goddamn lucky to be there, Lu. You have no idea."

"We still live in the grey district..."

"Yeah, but the more time you spend in school, the less time you gotta spend here. Good trade?" reasons Ace.

"I guess so... Okay." Nodding, Luffy sits up, brow furrowed. "Okay. I'll go there more, I promise. Just... try to stay home a little more?"

Now, it's Ace's turn to slump. "Luffy..."

"I know you hate it there!" Luffy flares up. "It's obvious! And that Blackbeard guy is really creepy and I know you really, really hate him and- mmmhp!"

"Shh!" Ace hisses, looking around in a paranoid manner. In a low voice, he mutters, "You never know when they're listening."

Luffy shoots him an unimpressed look over his hand.

Ace rolls his eyes. "I mean it, Luffy. They're the only way I have to make money, and keeping you in school is hardly cheap..."

"Then why don't I just...?"

"No."

Luffy looks away, scowling bitterly. Looking down at the rough wood of the kitchen table, Ace picks at some blood crusted under his fingernails. After a few minutes of silence, Luffy asks, "So, when's your next job?"

"Tomorrow. But it's an easy one, I should be back here with you by nine. That sound good?"

A smile breaks out on the younger's face. "Yeah! What is the job?"

Cracking his knuckles, Ace stands and moves over to the kettle. The kitchen is so small that you can stretch out both arms in any direction and touch two walls, but it feels homely, at the very least.

"Just a kidnapping. We found out that some noble kid ran away from home two years ago - the eldest son of the Outlook family. We've tracked him down. Knowing the nobles, they'd be willing to throw away some money to get back their runaway brat, so I just need to deliver him to boss and then I'm done until Monday."

"So we get Sunday together?!"

"Of course!"

Luffy beams widely but after a few moments, his smile falls. A small frown worms its way onto his face. "The guy you're kidnapping... If he ran away from the nobles, doesn't it mean that he's a good guy? What if he didn't agree with what they were doing?"

Ace scoffs. Something viscous enters his eyes and Luffy shifts away from him, uncomfortable. "He probably just ran away for attention and couldn't find his way back, the spoiled brat. There are no 'good' humans, Luffy, especially not nobles. Do you see any of them fighting for our freedom?"

"I don't see you doing it, either..." Luffy mutters.

"That's only because I'm trying to keep you alive."

"Well, if you've got your reasons, why can't they have theirs?! There are good humans, you just refuse to believe it! Like San-" He cuts himself off before the name can get out, eyes wide as he realises his mistake.

"Like who?" Ace growls. He's suddenly gone very, very still.

"Like- like some people, that's what I said," Luffy lies.

Ace sees right through it. "Tell me the truth," he says in a soft, dangerous voice. He still doesn't turn away from the kettle.

"I am!"

"You're not!" Ace whirls around, shoulders raised like a raging bull as the golden-red feathers of his wings raise to make his form look larger and more domineering. "You're friends with a human!"

Luffy stands up with a scowl. "Yeah, well, so what if I am?!"

"A human! Luffy, how many times have I told you?! They don't care about us! They're never going to care about us! I've told you what they did to me, isn't that enough for you?!"

"Forget that! Sanji cares about me! I know he does!"

Ace sniffs contemptuously. "Sanji. So that's his name. Good, I'll be able to hunt him down when he and his people eventually kill you."

Luffy stumbles back, eyes wide with hurt, and Ace immediately regrets his words. Before he can open his mouth to take them back, however, his younger brother's face settles into a mask of determined anger.

"You know what?!" Luffy shoves past Ace into the hallway, wing shaking with anger, and settles his straw hat onto his head. "You don't know anything! Sanji's one of my friends, and he's been here for me a lot more than you for the last few months!" He starts towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To stay with Sanji for the night. Let's hope he doesn't kill me," Luffy says viciously, in a tone that Ace never even knew he had. He reaches for the doornob. Outside, it rains harder.

"If you walk out of that door..." Ace says threateningly.

Luffy ignores him, throwing open the door, and a second later he disappears into the night and the door slams behind him. Ace stands alone in the hallway, hand half-reached out, loneliness washing over him. Half of him wants to follow his younger brother out onto the street, his heart aching as he realises what he's just done, but he holds himself back. If he isn't back by tomorrow night, then Ace can panic. For now, maybe Luffy deserves some time away from him.

Feet dragging, Ace considers going to his room but decides against it, instead going to the lounge and lying down on the couch. He doesn't have the heart to grab a mac ration from the kitchen, and they don't have enough water saved up for him to be able to treat himself, so he nurses his empty stomach and listens for any sound from the hallway. He expects it to be hard to sleep, what with his worry about Luffy and everything else, but he finds his eyes drooping surprisingly easily.

Wrapping his large, vibrant wings around himself, Ace buries his face in his arms and lets himself go to sleep, feeling stupid, knowing that he might be pushing away the one thing he cares about the most.

First chapter done! The chapters of this fic are going to be a little shorter than Strays', but hopefully the quality will be the same or even better! Updates should come around once every few days, but please bear in mind that I do have a life and sometimes said life does get in the way.

Anyway, thank you for reading! Please please review if you have the time!