this started off with such a simple prompt - something like, "manager at a no-tell motel and frequent room renter. bonus: manager thinks they're a sex worker" - and the AU turned into something much bigger.

i hope you're ready for a bunch of queer/trans headcanons and queer solidarity!

Its a boring gig, to be honest, but its a steady one. Motel management is an easy station, and the patrons almost never give Marco trouble. The place has a bit of a reputation as some motel of ill repute, so everyone comes at night with their shoulders hunched and voices quiet, alcohol thick on their breaths.

Just nameless faces he only needs to talk to for a few minutes at a time.

There's one face he's registered though, which is probably normal, considering how often he sees the person in question.

One of those people that turns heads. Not necessarily because he's drop dead gorgeous or unusual looking - he's attractive, yes, but its not in some ethereal or magnificent way. Confidence, Marco thinks; that's probably it. One of those people you want to be friends with, or you want to hear say your name.

Marco only knows his name because of what's on his ID. Ace. It fits, somehow.

Just a good looking sort of dude with a nice smile and a good laugh. Its probably that he's seen him before in the day time, when the sun is shining on his tanned skin and all of those freckles. Not the harsh fluorescents, which always make a person look washed out and grungy.

When you're often incredibly bored at work, its the little things that help pass the time.

He comes in sporadically, but often. Always just for a night, checking in early on, always with a blonde boy who looks to be about the same age, who hangs back. He wears a weary look nearly every time Marco sees him. But the way they smile at one another and walk out with their arms around one another's waist …

Well, Marco figures he's like a lot of the other patrons that come by. Its just an inkling, but its a strong one. Marco wonders - casually, of course - just how much the boy goes for. The place is cheap, so the clients are cheap.

Ace is definitely too attractive for the going rates of the place, Marco decides.

Its stupid to think about, though. So he doesn't. He takes his phone, cigarettes, and wallet and heads out from behind the counter.

Marco always takes a smoke break at one thirty AM, right before bars close. When the bars let out, he usually has to do some work.

Its only a few drags into his Camel Crush that a pickup rolls into the parking lot, just a few yards away. Marco sighs out smoke and laments the fact that he'll have to clip it before he gets his full nicotine fix.

Ace hops out of the truck, and it occurs to Marco that he never considered how the young man got to the motel in the first place. Its sort of out of the way from a lot.

He goes to clip the smoke on the bottom of his Doc Marten, and Ace holds his hand up as if to tell him to stop.

"Its cool, I can wait." he says, voice a little rough with what Marco takes to be exhaustion.

"Thanks, man." comes his reply, then a beat of silence, "You want one?"

"If you can spare it, yeah. Please and thanks." he steps closer, and grins, and Marco takes a moment to appreciate that grin before digging his pack out again. As soon as he takes the smoke, he pops the bead in the filter that turns it to menthol. A seasoned smoker.

Marco lights the end of the smoke for him.

"You're here alone for once."

"How astute."

Marco smiles, exhaling a laugh despite himself, "Thought a guy like you would have some, uh. Arm candy. I mean, you usually do."

"Arm candy." he repeats, slowly, like he's testing the words on his tongue, "Guy like me. Hm. Do I really exude the kind of air that screams 'deserves arm candy'?"

"Well, every time I've seen you come in you're hanging onto one another." Marco shrugs. Ace shrugs too.

"He's my brother, not my boyfriend or anything. We're just close." he exhales the smoke. Huh. Swing and a spectacular miss on the whole male prostitute and john thing. He feels a little dumb and embarrassed at that, but ashes and manages to keep his cool.

It strikes Marco as weird that he comes to a sleazy as all Hell motel with his brother, but they must have their reasons.

"Guess the word 'assume' really does make an ass out of you and me."

Ace stares at Marco for a split second before he starts laughing. Its the first time he's heard him laugh harder than something polite and casual, and its still just as nice. Under those fluorescents, moths bumping headlong, he manages to look stunning.

It occurs to Marco that he might have an odd infatuation with him.

"Man, I didn't know anyone besides middle school teachers actually said that." the syllables come out laced with snickers and smoke. Marco has to laugh, too; its contagious.

"My gramma used to say it. Guess it just got ingrained into my personal vocabulary."

Marco finishes his smoke when Ace still has a quarter of his left.

He ashes, "Was your gramma a middle school teacher?"

"Nah, nurse. Good guess though."

Ace puts the smoke out in the proper container for it, exhaling through the motions. Still grinning, he straightens.

"What did you assume about me, exactly?"

Marco spends too much time wondering if he should play it straight or not, and turns to open the door to the front office. Over his shoulder, "Well, the place has a rep, you know?"

He starts laughing again, following, "You thought I was a hooker?"

"Rep." Marco repeats. He circles around to the space behind the counter.

"Do I look like a hooker?"

"Wear your jeans a little lower and brush your hair back, maybe."

"You seem pretty acquainted with gigolos."

Marco grins at the outdated and ridiculous term, rolling his eyes a little. "They're not as common as female sex workers, but I know the type. You staying for the night again?"

"Two nights, actually." Ace says, fishing out his wallet from his back pocket, "What's your name?"

Their eyes meet. The question was a little abrupt, but delivered just as casual. He slaps money down on the counter, unable to hide his smirk. Still contagious.

"Marco." he swipes the money off the counter.

"You don't look like a Marco." he squints at this, as if fitting a better name to the face. Marco quirks an eyebrow in response, leaning on the counter just as the other does.

"You seem pretty acquainted with Marcos."

"I'm not, actually, but I might like to be." Ace says, playful, but he rights himself from leaning. Shit, Marco thinks, Kid got me. He almost laughs before Ace continues, "We set?"

"Yeah. Let me know if you need anything, don't set the room on fire, blah blah, you know the drill." he says this while taking the room key out to hand to Ace. He takes it and catches Marco's eye again. The both of them look tired, feel tired, but there's some sort of spark in Ace's eye for just a second that belies his exhaustion.

"Thaaaanks, man. Good night!"

He leaves with a wave, leaving Marco feeling just slightly bereft.

Its an odd encounter, he thinks. But all the same, like after every other patron, like every time at one forty-five on his shifts, he sits down and he waits.

Luffy treats doors how football players treat paper banners - he crashes on through. Sabo is much too tired and much too weighed down with bags to be able to grab him by the back of his shirt and reel him in. Its not much of a big deal, anyway.

He flips on the lights.

"Heel, Luffy, heel." he says, anyway. Ace is curled up in one corner of the bed, still in his t-shirt and jeans. It wouldn't surprise Sabo if he'd forgotten to bring pajamas at all. Good thing he thinks ahead.

"Time is it?"

"Like, three." Luffy chirps, falling back onto the bed, "We got Burger King, so sit up."

He does, possibly quicker than he should have; the lights burn at his eyes. Rubbing the sleep out of them, Ace rights himself more on the bed and regards his brothers.

Normally, they'd show up together, but the newly arrived pair had prior obligations and Ace had a bad need to leave.

There's not a lot of down time at Dadan's, with people coming in and out at all hours of the night and day. It just seemed to strike a nerve now moreso than before, like the planets aligned to magnify Ace's irritation. Anxiety and anger swelled in his chest until he found himself driving to the oft-visited motel, a text sent to Luffy and Sabo as an afterthought.

He'd calmed down on the ride over with System of A Down playing, honestly; just getting away from the situation was enough. Still, something strange hangs over the night like a storm cloud.

Sabo offers him a bag of food and sinks into the chair at the desk. He looks older than he is, weary. Ace counts on the three of them sleeping in late.

"How was the movie?" Ace asks. He picks through the fries and pops a couple in his mouth. Where Sabo looks tired, Luffy appears wide awake in the sort of caught - his - second - wind sort of way.

Still, he's been known to drop and sleep absolutely any time, anywhere.

"Funny. I started a slow clap at the end." Luffy replies, matter of fact, tacking on, "You should have come."

"I wouldn't have been good company, kiddo." he jokes, "Maybe next time."

Sabo starts to take off his binder through his shirt, speaking as he does, "Thanks for getting the room, anyway. No way I could have slept in that house tonight."

"That bad, huh?"

Sabo nods and stands, all languid, looking like he's about to drop any minute. Discarding his binder on the floor, he promptly flops into bed with his feet hanging off the edge. Luffy snickers and pats at his head.

Ace takes that as a cue, that Sabo doesn't want to talk about his insufferable parents or the games they play and the shows they put on at their son's expense. They're not entirely supportive or knowledgeable in regards to his gender identity, so he has it pretty rough.

At least Dadan genders Luffy and Ace correctly, even if she's a loud drunk. Ace pets at Sabo's head too, a silent show of solidarity, but he's out like a light.

Luffy takes the remote off the bedside table and begins to flip through the channels, silent and worn out. He doesn't settle on a single show while they pick through their food, unspeaking. Soon he falls asleep too, sitting propped up against the headboard with the remote still in his hands.

The TV plays the news and Ace feels the weight of the day, heavy over him. He thinks a lot of nothing, static in his brain while the newscasters speak. Its nice to zone out, some, after all the introspection and negativity of the day.

Just as the reports cycle for the third time, he falls under sleep's spell, too.