Also known as the: This chapter was actually out long ago in Ao3, but i forgot to post it here too so oopsie.

"No, no, no, you're doing it all wrong!"

He's your brother, Marco repeated for the nth time in his head, a less than potent mantra to stop him from taking his hands out of the gooey dough they're buried in to instead wrap them around Thatch's neck. He's your brother, he's just trying to help, and if you kill him now, the family will be upset. Probably.

"And what," he finally groused out, jaw tight and lips curled downward in annoyance, "Am i doing wrong? Again?"

With the sound of tongue clicking, his self-appointed mentor appeared in his vision, taking the dough out of his hands - they made a wet squelching noise as they were separated from his hand and Marco winced - before tossing them from one hand to another, "This is not a good pastry dough, it's too wet," Thatch commented, frowning before tossing the dough back on to the counter top. It landed with a puff of flour smoke, due to the liberal amount of the white powder on the surface, "Did you put in the butter?"

Marco glanced to the blocks of butter on the plate next to his arm, "They're not melted yet,"

"They're not— You're supposed to put them in while they're cold!"

"But you said yesterday to melt them first!"

"That's a different type of dough! Right now, we're making pastry dough, you need them to be as cold as possible!"

"How am i supposed to know?! Why are there even different types of doughs, anyway?"

Instead of answering him, Thatch only let out an exasperated groan - oh yeah, like he has any right to do that after forcing Marco to participate in all of this - and shook his head, "Okay, just… just throw that away, we'll continue on with the one i made for the next step. Obviously this is a bit too advanced for you right now,"

"I'll show you advanced, you little—"

With how hectic their respective lives are, routine is something both rarely had. Such was not the case for the last few weeks however, ever since Thatch made it clear that he wasn't joking when he said he wanted to teach Marco in the culinary art for reasons that sometimes escaped him. Every time he stepped into the apartment when Thatch was home, Marco would barely have enough time to close the door before he was dragged again to the kitchen and suddenly found himself reluctantly receiving a speed course about the variety of cooking techniques and an assortment of fancy looking desserts.

Which, Marco would admit, actually looked and tasted amazing, even for someone who is partial about sweets like himself. And sometimes, he actually felt proud for some of the results. He didn't have the same deft hands as Thatch for all of this, but he could say that he did a decent enough job, and could even found himself relaxing after a hard day at work hearing his brother prattling on and on about the history of a particular sweet while mixing a bowl of chocolate and butter.

Not that he'd ever tell Thatch that.

And despite Thatch's complaints, Marco actually did pay attention to his 'teachings', which is why when the pompadoured chef came back from the fridge minus the pastry dough and with a wrapped package with the tag 'Minced beef' written in a marker over it, he found himself frowning and said, "Meat? There's a dessert that uses meat?"

"Well, if you're creative about it. But, we aren't quite making the traditional dessert today," the auburn haired man replied as he undo the neat packaging and placed the meat on top of the cooking station. He threw the packaging paper away before turning to Marco, gesturing with grandiose to the fresh, pink pile of meat, "Today, we are making meat pie!"

Thatch grinned widely, eyebrows wiggling. Marco only stared at him uncomprehendingly.

After seconds passed, he finally put his hands down to pat it on the apron tied around his waist, "I just learned of a very important piece of information today, and know now that sweet desserts just won't cut it," he said, still grinning deviously as he always would whenever he thought he had come up with something ingenious, "No, if you want to win the heart of the cute potential date i worked so hard to get for you, you have to master the art of making savoury, hearty dishes,"

Ah yes, now he remembered why he's being dragged into all of this: Because Thatch wanted Marco to impress this guy he met at work and want to introduce to him.

Against his will, mind.

"Now, i taught you the basics of sautéing and frying a couple of weeks ago, but this will be a little different, so pay attention," while Marco kept silent and wondering why is this his life now, Thatch had gone and pull out his brand new pot. He strongly forbade Marco from ever touching any of his cooking equipments ever since he burned the last one - while frying eggs no less, something Thatch had told approximately everyone they know in revenge for the loss of his beloved pan - but evidently, that doesn't matter now.

"We'll start with prepping the vegetables. First, the onion. And don't just stand there, come closer or you won't be able to see what i'm doing!" the chef protested, expertly peeling off the skin of an onion before pulling out one of the slimmer knife in his collection. He points using the hand that held the knife, and coupled with the glint in his eyes, Marco felt a little bit threatened, "Who knows, maybe one day you'll master this and you can uh, offer to teach it yourself. You know, the kitchen could be one of the most romantic places in the world,"

"Stop doing that with your eyebrows,"

"Stop what?"

"Stop… wiggling them suggestively like that. And stop making weird insinuation about me and your friend, we haven't even met yet. You have no idea whether or not this whole thing will actually work out," Ugh, now it sounded like he actually wanted things to work out with Thatch's friend.

Thatch grinned even wider, and despite Marco's request, does not stop his eyebrow wiggling. It's honestly starting to look disturbing, "Oh, it will. Never doubt my skill, little brother—"

"Again, i am older than y—"

"By a couple of months! But my experience in life has made me older than you by miles,"

"That's not how that works. That's not how any of that works at all,"

The 'lesson' that day took a while longer than usual, with Thatch repeatedly yammering about the sort of scenarios he can't wait would unfold between Marco and his friend, while Marco tried his best to tune him out. By the time they are done, however, the blond had to admit that the meat pie was probably one of the most delicious thing he had ever eaten in his life, while Thatch was beyond exuberant, saying that he 'have to give this to him, he'll love it to bits!'. He, being the friend, supposedly.

While Thatch continue to stroke his own ego by claiming what a genius he is for creating the recipe, Marco continues to ignore him, sneakily smuggling out a couple more of the pies for himself.

(He never managed to give it to his friend. Thatch died 2 days later, and along with him, Marco's happiness)

"No, that's… that's not how they're supposed to look like,"

"It's not?" Ace lifted his hands from the dough in confusion, looking at the milky coloured blob that he had been pounding with all of his might that Marco was honestly concerned for the table top. He glanced back to where Marco stood, lips pursed and both hands lifted high, fingers covered in clumps of flour and dough, "But i did everything you said,"

And Marco thought he did to, but then he had looked away to take care of his own dough and taking out the other ingredients they will need, and past experience told him anything at all could've happened if he left Ace to his own devices. He walked over, frowning at Ace's handiwork before asking, "Wait, how long have you been kneading this?"

"I don't know? Since you said you'll get the meat and sauces out?"

Ah, that explains a lot, "It's overworked. The gluten has developed on this one, and if we bake it, it will either be very tough, or the pastry will be very crumbly. Not really something you're looking for in pies,"

Ace's face fell, and Marco felt kind of bad for it, "So we can't use it?"

"Sorry, i forgot to tell you," Well, he kind of did, but then he probably should've been clearer when he said for Ace to 'knead it for a while'. Ace had the tendency to be… overenthusiastic.

Still, he chuckled when the younger started staring at his hard work pitifully, and leaned over to press a quick peck to the side of his temple, avoiding bits of flour that somehow made their way there, "It's okay, i made a pretty big batch, we can just use mine, okay? Why don't we start making the filling for now?"

It was arguably easier to cook the meat and vegetables than it is making the pastry dough, and this time around, Marco made sure to keep an eye out as he gave out instruction of what to do when Ace refused to even let him touch the spatula, wanting to make them himself. So he simply draped himself onto the dark haired male's back, one arm around the younger's waist and his chin resting on his shoulder, quietly watching as the minced meat turned from pink to grey and the aromatic smell of beef and onion began to fill the entire apartment.

"That seems just about enough," Marco murmured to Ace's ear, using his other hand to gesture to the side of the stove, where he had placed the rest of the ingredients, "Now, put in all the sauces. Tomato paste, beef stock, Worcestershire—"

"Wor—" Ace frowned, twisting his body slightly, just so he could catch Marco's eyes, "What?"

"The brown bottle with the blue label,"

Ace did as he was told, pouring out the contents of each bottle and cans - with Marco keeping him from being too overzealous - into the steaming pile of meat, "It smells really good," the younger commented while squeezing out the tube of tomato paste. Already, the initial squeeze itself was far too much for what the recipe called for, and Marco silently tried to salvage it by grabbing the tube away and offering Ace the stock inside of the measuring cup.

"Yeah, well, i wouldn't doubt Thatch's recipe," he replied softly, before burying his face on the crook of Ace's neck. Ace, in reply, tilted his head to the side so their heads bumped into each other, laughing under his breath.

Marco took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sweat underneath the much more emphasised smell of raw dough, meat, and whatever else they had all over the kitchen right now. It's not really a surprise, considering that they've been at this since early in the morning, but it made him feel calm and at peace, as he tightened his hold around Ace's waist.

"Marco?"

The blond lifted his head, humming inquisitively when he suddenly he felt something cold being smeared to his cheek. He let out a strangled yelp, hand quickly reaching up to whatever it was that's starting to melt down on his cheek and found that it was a messy dollop of tomato paste. In front of him, Ace let out a loud guffaw, head tossed back and entire body shaking in hilarity, "Your face!" he cackled, "You should've seen your face!"

"You little—" In retaliation, Marco wrapped his other arm around Ace's waist, mindfully pulling him away from the stove first before wiggling his fingers around the area he knows Ace was the most ticklish. Ace's laughter died with a choke, before it became even louder as he begged for mercy, tossing from side to side.

"Marco! Marco— Stop! Wait! I'm sorry, pfft hahaha, okay, okay i'm sorry, i give up!" with a little bit more struggling, the younger twisted his body around, just as Marco pushed him towards the counter right next to the stove. With little effort and with Ace's own help, he lifted the younger up to sit on the marble top, hands no longer tickling but simply resting on Ace' slim hips and holding. Ace's laughter slowly died, and when he opened his eyes, he gave a gentle smile that never failed to make Marco's heart stutter even after so long.

Ace's eyes darted towards his handiwork, and still laughing, he reached over to wipe it away with his thumb, "So," he said after a few seconds has passed and his thumb came up clean from the older's skin, "What's next?"

"Well, we wait for the meat filling to simmer," Marco glanced to the bubbling pot, making sure they really are save away from them, "And by then the dough should be chilled and rested enough and we can start baking in the oven,"

The dark haired one gave a small hum of acknowledgement, his thumb stilling once there was nothing else to wipe, hand still framing the side of the older's face. With a smile of his own, Marco lifted his hand to cover Ace's, turning his head just enough to press a closed lipped kiss to the flour stained palm. He heard Ace gave an affectionate laughter, and with his hand still in his own, spoke, "I could never thank you enough,"

Ace's hand twisted itself to be able to hold his, tugging slightly, "This, again?"

"Not many people would've been as understanding as you," Marco admitted, "Who would've wanted to spend their anniversary visiting a graveyard? For 4 years in a row?"

"Well," he felt the body in front of him shift, and looked up to see that Ace had slid forward on the table, both legs trapping Marco's torso and their faces so close to each other, "Us? It's unconventional, but i like to think us as an unconventional couple. I mean, nothing about our relationship from the beginning is in any way conventional, you know?"

Marco snorted, silently in agreement.

Ace leaned down even further, pressing their foreheads together, "Besides, i know how much he meant for you. I would know, since, well, he might be your brother, but he's also my friend," he gave out a soft sigh, voice barely a whisper as he said, "I missed him too,"

With a shaky breath, Marco closed his eyes and hung his head down. Ace would know so much more than that. He had seen through so many nights when Marco would wake up in silent terror, the image of Thatch's demise never quite leaving him even after over 6 years. He would stay up with him through every nightmare, holding him through every tearful cries, never having anything to say but it's okay because Marco never needed comforting words, he just wants someone to be by his side. Something Ace never failed to provide.

As time passed, things did get better. His nightmare would reduce in frequency, it became easier to talk to his family and friends about Thatch, and these days, he found that he could recall some of the better times with his brother without being reduced to a pile of regret and guilt. And through all of that progress, Ace still stood by him, an understanding figure with whom Marco could mourn and cherish Thatch's memory all the same.

He felt the hand holding his slipping away, and not a moment later felt his face framed by floury hands, slowly lifting his head up to meet Ace's gaze. There's such a palpable concern in that stormy grey orbs that he loved, so much that Marco couldn't stop himself to lean upwards and pressing their lips together.

Ace met his kiss tenderly, tilting his head and sighing a little.

"I think i ate the one filled with nothing but burnt meat,"

Next to him, Ace scoffed over fishing out the third meat pie from the plastic container they had brought over, placing it on the small plastic plate before putting it in front of Thatch's tombstone, right next to the wine bottle Marco never failed to bring over, "Serves you right for distracting me while cooking. If you hadn't kissed me, they would've come out alright," he turned to the tombstone, and said, "If this pie doesn't come out right, it's all Marco's fault, just so you know, Thatch,"

"As i recall, you kissed me back and was even holding on to my shirt, so whose fault is this really?"

It was surprisingly bright that day, that the usually eerie looking graveyard doesn't look as creepy as they would this close to the evening. It's just as quiet all around them, with only the grave keeper passing by now and then to greet them on his way to take care of the rest of the tombstones, and what other visitors there tends to give them a funny look as they pass.

Marco supposed they do make quite an odd sight; between the pies, the wine, as well as the sitting mat they brought from home, it looked more like they're having a picnic than paying their respects.

But he knows Thatch wouldn't want it any other way. He never did like a somber atmosphere, and highly doubt he'd like it better in death.

"You think that with how he acted, Sanji would've end up with a woman. I always thought it'll be Nami or Pudding, since he always seems to be even more pathetic around the two of them," Ace mused, leaning his head on Marco's shoulder as he reached over for another pie. So far, he had finished an entire container by himself, while Marco was still working on his 3rd one, "But at the same time, it sort of makes sense? I mean, he's never as rough with Usopp as he is with other guys. Like he's a dick to him still, but not as bad as to the others,"

Marco gave him a noncommittal hum while taking a sip from the water thermos, "Nami said it's so obvious, and so did Koala. They still told me to this day i should've seen it coming, but i never did,"

"Didn't you find out after barging on them making out in the storage?"

"Don't remind me. Couldn't look at either of them for days after that,"

After so long, this has become some sort of a rite. Visiting Thatch's grave wasn't an emotionally taxing chore, it has become no different than whenever he and Ace would visit Pops or Ace's grandfather. In fact, between Pops' tendency to pull out a new baby photo out of thin air every single time Ace was in his near vicinity, and Garp's habit to challenge him for a physical fight after hearing he used to be in the law enforcement, Marco honestly preferred coming here.

It felt like visiting an old friend, bringing them souvenirs and little presents, and they would spend hours here talking about the latest news in their lives. After Sanji and Usopp's unexpected love affair, they talked about Mayor Dragon's attempt to run for Governor after the end of his term next year, about Luffy's various misadventures since Sanji hired him as a waiter due to Mr. Prince's Patisserie's increasing popularity, about Ace's co-worker, Eustass, who he still suspect is stalking the tattooed doctor with dour attitude from the hospital near the fire station where he worked and whether or not it's a crime, to just about any topic that came up to their minds.

"You were right, i shouldn't have doubted you, Thatch," Marco whispered as he gently pushed away a stray strand of hair from Ace's sleeping face on his shoulder, smiling when the younger kept snoring away. The three containers worth of pies were all gone, with the last piece still held in Marco's hand, "He's…I never thought i would ever feel like this for someone, or fall in love, but he's everything i never thought i ever wanted,"

With a melancholic smile, Marco took a bite into the pie, savouring the taste of crisp pastry and rich meat and sauce. He chuckled, licking his lips after he swallowed and continued, "There's not a single day passed that i look at him, when i realized just how much i love him that i wish you were here so you can tell me that you were right," he gave a little choked laugh, his chest stuttering as he held back the strong emotion that never failed to rear its head whenever he stepped into this place, "Or that i can tell you in person how grateful i am, because in the end, you still brought us together,"

Marco pulled one of the food container over to put away the pie and wiped his hands on the mat, before glancing to Ace, who was still deeply asleep, "Thatch, did you remember once saying something about wanting to see me get hitched before you.. die? I… i wish i could've made that happen to you," he reached into his pocket, where the item that has been poking on his leg since he brought it this morning before leaving was stored, "But i want to make it up to you, and show you this before i show anyone else, even Ace,"

The small box in his hand made a popping noise as it opens, revealing the small, shiny band nestled inside of it. Inconspicuous, simple yet its true value lies on the engraving etched inside of it, where his name is eternally placed right next to Ace's.

"What do you think?" he asked while pointing the ring towards the tombstone, smiling almost embarrassedly even though no one is really watching him, "I thought of buying something a bit more intricate than this, but Ace always said he didn't like extravagant things so i thought this one is a lot more fitting, right?"

The head on his shoulder shifted and Marco nearly jumped off his skin, until he heard Ace grumbled in his sleep and continue to snore. The blond let out a sigh in relief, but quickly pocketed the ring and its box again before his lover woke up for real, "I planned on doing it tonight," he finally said again, "After this, we're planning to go to this little riverside we went to on our first date, and back home, i promised to make him steaks for dinner. I'm thinking prime cut, rubbed with salt and pepper, seared with olive oil, some butter, some garlic, some thyme. I think you would have approved,"

He glanced to his side, noting that Ace hadn't stir even a little. He learned only in weeks after they started dating that aside from his dysgeusia, Ace is narcoleptic. Unlike his taste buds, his chaotic sleeping cycle was still easily controlled by medication, but there are still moments like this when he would doze for a moment or longer, depending on the situation and his health. Right now, Marco couldn't really tell if he fell asleep because of his disorder or because it's such a nice day, with warm breeze and cloudy skies, almost enough to lull him to sleep as well.

"I'll pop the question right after we eat. Yeah, it's nothing big, and i don't even know if it's actually romantic or not. What did you always say? That i'm probably the most romantically challenged person you ever met in your life?" Marco laughed to himself, rubbing the back of his nape. He fell quiet after a while, and asked in a smaller voice, "Do you think he'll say yes?"

The wind began to pick up around him, passing by like a gentle stroke.

"Sorry i fell asleep,"

Marco shook his head as he packed away the food containers and sitting mat into Ace's backpack, while he lets the younger finished up this half-eaten meat pie. Ace was always hungry after sleeping, even if he already have a lot to eat before he fell asleep, "It's fine. Are you alright to go for a walk to the riverside, or do you want to go back home instead? We can have an early dinner,"

Ace shook his head, "No, i want to spend the rest of today with you," he said with a smile. Marco felt his face reddening, much to Ace's apparently glee, and continues on packing up.

Once he was done, Ace stood up first, approaching the tombstone and kneeling in front of it, just behind the plate of pie and the wine bottle they left behind. He placed his hand on the arching top, caressing the hard surface, "We'll see you soon, Thatch. Hope you liked the pie,"

It's a silly notion of course, that Thatch would. And yet, hearing and watching that, Marco felt nothing but swelling affection in his chest, and he reached into his pocket, knowing for sure there is no doubt he made the right decision.

He just hoped that Ace thinks the same.

"Ready to go?"

"After you,"

As the two figure walked away, hand in hand and smiling to each other, behind them, a phantom laughed happily and approvingly, eating a piece of perfectly baked meat pie.

Yeah, i don't know either.

Hope you enjoy, at least?