The vacant expression on his face was concerning. Even as his brown eyes came into focus, you understood that something was wrong. He was angry, but he wasn't reaching for his weapon.
Smoker had taken a beating, nearly paying the ultimate price for it. His men were scattered, the girl with the glasses who was always with him was no where to be seen. You'd made a completely crazy decision and had intervened.
Gotten between him and someone strong enough to have beat him so senseless. It had taken every gadget and trick you knew to escape, especially while carrying someone nearly twice your size.
Fear alone, sheer desperation, had powered your muscles and you had gotten him somewhere safe. Somewhere that you could tend to him as best as you were able.
It was a death of a thousand cuts, and nothing was mortally deep. You cleaned, stitched, sterilized, and bandaged everything you could. Once you were done you'd gotten him as comfortable as you could and fell asleep on the floor beside him.
A soft groan had woken you up, and you were relieved to see him coming around. Doubly relieved to see he wasn't running a fever. If something had infected, or if he hadn't woken up on his own, you didn't know what you were going to do.
Now, however, you had a new problem.
"What happened?" He questions groggily, grunting a little as he sits upright.
"You were, uh, injured." You begin, both of you looking at the bandages dotted over his body. "I did what I could and here we are."
"You did this?"
You nod. "The nature of your wounds limited my options, so this was the best I could do. I didn't want to risk a hospital."
"... Your being vague on the details." He points out.
"What... do you remember?"
He scowls a little, looking around and grabbing his jacket. He looks over the blood stains for a long moment before pulling a couple cigars free and lighting them.
"My name's Smoker, I'm a marine. I have a devil fruit, and I just made captain." He recites, filling the room with smoke and relaxing a little. "But my bars are scuffed and worn, like I've been captain for a good long while."
"Long as I've known you." You agree, pulling up a stool and sitting down nearby. "And I've known you," you pause and consider it. "Three years now, give or take a week."
"So I've lost that much time then." He grumbles the words, chewing on the cigars thoughtfully.
"Mm, but hey, you remember your name and your job, that's good." You say.
"... You... sound sad." He says carefully, eyes turned toward you. You feel yourself flinch a little but you shrug.
"Maybe a little." You don't see a reason to lie. You've been painfully honest with him for years at this point, no reason to stop now. "We're not enemies, but... we're not friends.
"I don't know," you mutter the words, eyes shifting to the floor as your mind wanders across three years of memories. "It'd be nice."
"To be friends?" He prompts and you laugh.
"It'd be closer that way, wouldn't it?" You say it sardonically, biting back the pain twisting in your chest. "Ah, but it is what it is."
"We're friends enough that you saved me." He points out.
You snort, it's more derisive than you mean, and so you get up and and go to pull your shoes on. "You're stable, it's been hours. You wanna look for a marine girl with dark hair and glasses-."
"Tashigi." He says, and you nearly bite through your lip. An ugly feeling curls around your heart.
"... Yeah. Her." You grimace at the unintended venom. It wasn't Tashigi's fault he could remember her. "She'll probably yell your name halfway across the town square when she sees you."
There's silence as you lace up one boot, and then the other. A soft shift of air moves over you and you can feel and smell the plume of cigar smoke that fills the room a little more than before.
"I'll listen to you." He says the words with such surety and weight you turn to look at him. He's sitting on the bed facing you, but not looking at you. He takes another slow drag and lets more of the sweet scent of smoke into the room. "For saving me." He clarifies, finally looking at you.
"Listen... to me?" You question, not entirely sure you know what he means.
"You've got something you want to say. I don't know what it is, or why you want to say it," he admits. "But I'll listen."
The words freeze you in place for a long moment. You could say everything. You could. There was no reason to keep them to yourself. Especially not now.
Not when you had permission.
But.
"It wouldn't be fair." You say eventually, sighing and looking away. "You don't remember, or you wouldn't offer."
"Doesn't matter." He asserts. "What I owe you, this is the least-."
"IT'S NOT!" You interrupt, clenching your fists and trying to calm yourself down. "It's not... fair." You repeat.
You breathe in deep, letting it out slowly as you look up at the ceiling. Bitter tears and equally bitter clipped laughs escape you.
"Marines razed my hometown." You say, gaze still pointed upward. "Marines. Not pirates. Took everything. Women, supplies, kids. Murdered people in the streets. Set buildings on fire, tore fields to pieces." You breathe in deeply again, looking down and matching his gaze. It was the same stern face you knew, but you could see rage at the edges.
"Those left behind almost died, but a passing pirate vessel docked. We figured that was the end, but they brought supplies, food, blankets. Set the fields right, built up a few houses. Not much," you sigh. "But more than any marine ever did." You bite the word marine hard enough you can feel it bleed in your mouth, but Smoker doesn't even flinch.
"I'm not a pirate." You say after a moment, the rage and anger leaving you, quickly replaced by the same bitter feeling you've been carrying with you for almost three years. "But why did you have to be a marine?" You can feel tears stinging your eyes, but the gates are open, and there's no stopping you. "Why? Why did you have to be a marine! Why did they do that? Why did they leave me with this anger? To meet you later? To love you almost the moment I saw you and heard your voice?
"What good does it do me now?
"What good does it do you to know?" You question, flinching when you look up and realize he's right in front of you.
You step back and he grabs your wrist. The hitch in your movement from the action is enough, and your eyes focus on his. He lets the cigars fall and they turn to smoke, swirling into the haze of the room.
When he speaks, the words are slow. Soft. Carefully chosen and left to slip gently from his tongue.
"Ever since I woke up," he begins, fingers slipping between yours as he lets go of your wrist. "I've wanted to kiss you." His fingers slip to the ends of yours and he lets your hand slip away. "Have we?"
You can barely her him over your own heart, but you shake your head. "Not in this life, no." Your words are scarcely a whisper, displacing only the smallest wisps of smoke around you.
"Then... may I?"
You tilt your head up as he leans down, a gentle shift of smoke against your skin. A soft caress, a tender feeling, and the sweet understanding that it's more than just your lips that meet. A little more than just his fingers against the nape of your neck.
A sweet caress that mingles with the parting of your lips. Wet, warm, searching. Committing the shape your heart beat makes against the smoke in the air. Nothing existed but the room, the haze, and the sensations of your fingers swirling through him.
From one sweet moment, to the next.
You walk away from your safe house, as it's no longer a viable option in this port, and disappear into the crowd. He watches you, memories sparking at the edges of his mind, still unconvinced you don't have a devil fruit of some kind.
It was the only way to explain how you could disappear into a crowd so easily, while your lips were still wrapped around his heart.