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“Oi, Luffy,” Zoro calls. He punctuates his bid for Luffy’s attention by toeing his hip with his heavy boot.
Luffy tips his hat up so he can see his very first crewmember better. The sun is setting and the sea is washed in gold and tangerine and violet. It paints Zoro’s sun-darkened skin in warm tones, and something about that strikes Luffy deep in his chest, numbs his fingertips.
“Yeah?”
Zoro’s frowning at him from across the dinghy. “You got any idea where we’re going?”
We, he asks, not you—we because Zoro is Luffy’s nakama, his swordsman, the man who made him a captain today. The thought sits heady and giddy in Luffy’s belly, curls up his throat.
“Nope!” Luffy answers, smiling, and grins wider at the affronted look on Zoro’s face. “Isn’t it more fun that way?”
Zoro stares at him for a moment, eyes squinted and mouth slack with surprise. He studies Luffy like he doesn’t understand him, which isn’t the case. Zoro understood him perfectly back at the base, in the fight with that captain axe-butt.
Then something in his expression shifts—and now Luffy is the one who doesn’t understand, because something about the way Zoro’s gaze goes intense and honest and soft all at once makes Luffy feel oddly seen. Understood in a way he didn’t know he lacked before.
The weight of that we feels heavier, suddenly.
Luffy doesn’t have time to process because Zoro throws his head back, the column of his throat arcing against the edge of the dinghy, and he laughs and laughs and laughs, so hard he shakes the boat.
Luffy likes this image, with his swordsman—his—nearly bent backwards over the rail of the ship, framed against the twilight sky with the last beams of sunlight bouncing off his earrings and skittering into the sea.
Luffy leaps over to Zoro, shakes his shoulder a couple of times and asks what, what is it, what’s funny?
Zoro just shoves him aside and laughs and ignores him, but when he’s calmed the smile on Zoro’s face is huge and excited, teeth cutting a crescent against his skin in the evening sky, his eyes bright.
And when he looks at Luffy, it’s—there, still. That look. The one that makes him feel like no one’s ever seen him before until Zoro.
Luffy doesn’t understand, but he decides he doesn’t need to. He grins back.
“He’s kinda weird,” Usopp says to him, nervous and skittish and the bravest person Luffy’s met so far. “Scary.”
“Who, Zoro?” Luffy asks, following his new friend’s gaze with a frown. Across the deck, Zoro is napping against the mast, his chin tipped to the side. His mouth is slack and soft with sleep.
“He seems nice,” Usopp hurries to explain, “Just, y’know. Terrifying.”
Luffy snorts, amused, and presses his hat against his hair. “Yeah, Zoro’s weird like that. He’s not scary though, just weird.”
From up on the aftdeck, Nami snorts. “Only you would think the guy with three swords and a body count isn’t scary.” She shrugs. “He’s our scary though, so it’s fine, Usopp.”
The two of them share a nod of commiseration that Luffy does not get.
“S’not scary though,” Luffy insists and both Usopp and Nami roll their eyes this time. The wind plays with his hair and raises the edge of Zoro’s shirt, revealing a stripe of skin above his waistband.
It looks soft, kind of vulnerable. Zoro lying against the mast, the tender underbelly of him exposed. It does weird things to Luffy’s chest, makes his skin feel tight. His palms tingle, an itch beneath his skin to—to—
He rips his eyes away with effort, and drags Usopp off to go fishing.
“Oh, a cannon,” Luffy exclaims, thoughts of supple skin and the unguarded parts of sturdy swordsmen forgotten. “I’m gonna fire it!”
“You’re gonna what?”
Sometimes, Luffy will climb up to the crow’s nest at night when Zoro’s keeping watch. Zoro will scowl at him as he hops over the edge but he shuffles over anyway, sometimes puts his swords away if he’s been cleaning them, and they end up sitting shoulder to shoulder in the crow’s nest, staring up at the stars together for hours.
Luffy likes to talk and he especially likes talking to Zoro. But something about these nights keeps him quiet, like when he sits in his special seat and listens to the sea. It seems like the stars have something to say to the two of them, a secret or a promise infused in the soft sway of the Merry or the twinkling of the sky above.
Sometimes on these nights, Luffy looks to his right. He sees Zoro, laid out against the rail of the crow’s nest with his arms behind his head. Luffy looks at Zoro, notes the way moonlight makes all of his sharp features soft, the way he radiates heat even in the wind and the chill of the evening, and something about the image makes him think of that first day, of sunlight in the sea and Zoro’s laugh.
“It’s pretty,” Luffy says when he’s done looking at the stars, when he’s admitted he can’t hear what they’re saying—yet.
“Hmm,” Zoro replies, every time, but the moonlight makes his voice soft, and the timbre of it follows Luffy down to the deck and all the way to bed.
On the Grand Line the waves are bigger, the people hardy and a little meaner, and every day seems to bring something new and interesting and fun. It’s exhilarating, everything he wanted from this adventure and more.
The fights are better too, and Luffy laughs at the challenge every time, enjoys the thrill and pull of a battle, the dance of it all. It’s so much fun to test himself, to assert his freedom. It’s fun to watch his crew do the same, each of them strong and talented and amazing in their own right.
If Luffy was pushed, he might say he likes watching Zoro in a fight best, that there’s a similar spirit about Zoro in a fight as Luffy on the prow of his ship. He likes seeing Zoro claim his dreams, and he does it a little more every time their enemies fail to stand against him.
Zoro in a fight distracts him a little more after Whiskey Peak, after he gets to stare Zoro down and test himself against the sharp side of Zoro’s blades. Zoro’s strengths are Luffy’s weaknesses—Luffy can take blunt trauma, absorbs it and punches back harder, but cuts make him bleed.
After that fight, Luffy settles on the deck, Zoro in the crows nest. He presses his thumb into the edge of a cut on his bicep, watches blood well up fresh and smear across his skin. A thin layer of his own life, drawn by his swordsman. A mark across his body, maybe permanent if it scars.
Luffy stares at it for a long time, thinking of that. He bruised Zoro, nearly broke his nose, but nothing he did will be as permanent as the scar across his first mate’s chest. There’s nothing etched on Zoro like a soon-to-be scar on his bicep, right where Luffy places his palm to control the blowback of a punch.
Zoro fights like a beast, an animal. Luffy watches him in glimpses, between the flowing blood and the crush of people desperate to overwhelm. Sometimes, an image of Zoro makes it through the fight, emblazons itself in Luffy’s vision, a lurid spot of arterial spray across his focus. It makes his limbs feel warm, his heart beat harder, something like pride settling in his ribcage alongside the joy of a fun fight.
After Whiskey Peak he’s almost—he’s almost jealous, of the people Zoro fights. Not because he wants to fight Zoro, but because Zoro affords all his focus to those he fights, the whole entire strength of him. Luffy learned it, fighting him. It’s weird how he craves it again, like an ache low in his belly, sort of warm and sharp.
Sparring isn’t the same—Luffy’s tried.
But sometimes—sometimes Zoro looks at him and sees him, and it’s close.
“Oi, Luffy,” Zoro calls to him in the middle of a ship-to-ship battle with some nameless pirates. “Don’t lose focus.”
Zoro is across the ship, defending the port side. His back is to Luffy, he couldn’t have noticed Luffy’s staring, the way his eyes caught on the glint of Zoro’s blades.
It was only for a fraction of a second. Luffy makes a face and deflects another cannonball. “Zoro’s bossy.”
“Oi!”
Luffy laughs, his arm contracting back into shape. Luffy’s palm covers the scar on his bicep to catch the ricochet, where Zoro left his mark.
Luffy finds himself noticing things about Zoro, the kind of stuff he doesn’t really pick up on for everyone else. He notices that Zoro only shaves once a week, but by day five his stubble is visible and by day six it starts bugging him. He notices that Zoro places himself between the others and danger, but he trusts Luffy to take care of himself—expects it, even. It feels good.
He notices Zoro doesn’t touch him, but he lets Luffy pull him along without much complaint. So he finds himself yanking Zoro into his space at the dining table or pulling him along across Merry’s deck to show him cool stuff or hugging him one-sidedly like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
If he’s really, really lucky, then Zoro will turn to look at him with this smile that he only gives Luffy. And always, always, when Zoro looks at him with that smile, his eyes soften in a way that fills Luffy up to the brim, so full he can’t breathe. It’s weird.
Luffy likes it. He likes Zoro in general.
One evening Zoro bumps his shoulder, jostling for room in the Merry’s galley. It’s inevitable in the cramped space, but Zoro is always trying to keep his hands to himself.
“Sorry,” Zoro mutters, glaring at his plate, and then does it again thirty seconds later when his knee bumps Luffy’s under the table.
“I don’t mind,” Luffy tells him, and stuffs his mouth full of a ham hock. He is so glad they have Sanji on the crew now. “Zoro can touch me.”
Zoro fumbles his fork. Across the table, Nami sips her pint and narrows her gaze—first at Luffy, then at Zoro, then back again. Luffy steals a scallop off Usopp’s plate when he isn’t looking.
“Eat the food I cook for your ungrateful ass,” Sanji snaps at Zoro.
Zoro shakes his head, and Luffy hears his earrings clink softly with the motion. “I would if it wasn’t shit.”
This starts a fight immediately. Usopp takes Sanji’s side, Luffy cheers for Zoro, and Nami tells all four of them to shut up and let her feed a blushing Vivi in peace.
Fights with marines are not unusual, especially on the Grand Line. The marines aren’t usually a real challenge anymore, so it’s exciting when they prove themselves capable of throwing down.
This fight is particularly fun, because these guys are actually strong enough to have made it onto Merry’s deck. Plus, Robin’s powers are so cool, and it’s the first time Chopper’s faced marines in a ship-to-ship battle.
“Nami! Are you having fun?” Luffy calls to the aftdeck, where his navigator is defending her tangerines. Nami does an awesome spinney thing with her new staff and lightning strikes the three marines closing in on her.
“Shut up Luffy!” Nami retorts, overturning a barrel to duck behind. She waves at him dismissively. “You’re here now, go handle it!”
“Aw, Nami,” Luffy whines. “You should have more fun too!”
Nami salutes him, her face deadpan and unenthused. “I’m good.”
Luffy pouts at her, ducks, and punches four guys at once. “Fine! I’m gonna have more fun than you then!”
He doesn’t hear Nami’s reply—there’s a barrel-chested marine roaring in his ear, and Luffy stuffs a gum-gum pistol down his throat to shut him up.
He looks up, surveying the battle ground of Merry’s deck. It’s chaos, but the sun is bright and the blood spilling on the wood isn’t his crew’s. The weaker marines are starting to look like they’re questioning all of their life choices.
At the far end of the ship, right behind Merry’s figurehead, Zoro fights two huge guys with swords at once, maybe the captain and his second in command based on the fancy coats.
“Zoro’s hogging all the strong guys,” Luffy accuses over the din. He punches out another marine closing in behind Usopp and swings across the deck using the mast.
Zoro grins at him as he fends off two strikes simultaneously from a very frustrated pair of marines, his expression vicious and a little bloody and Luffy grins back wider. “Finders keepers, Captain.”
“Pay attention,” The marine commander snarls at Zoro. He does something weird with his arm and something glowy and sharp radiates off his swords.
Luffy frowns. Devil fruit user and captain should make him Luffy’s opponent but he’s probably the strongest swordsman here since the other sword guy is his subordinate—so, Zoro’s.
Well, Luffy doesn’t think either of them will be much of a challenge.
“This one’s mine, Zoro!” Luffy declares, and kicks the guy in the less fancy coat. Zoro grunts in acknowledgement, sounding pleased.
“Don’t underestimate us!” Luffy’s new opponent howls. Luffy frowns at him, watching his sword flash in his hand. Zoro whirls into motion behind him, creating space between their respective fights as his swordsman presses his opponent down the port side of the deck.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Luffy asks, genuinely curious. If these guys have a trick up their sleeves that’ll make it more fun!
The marine turns purple, offended and indignant. He lunges sloppily, the point of his blade seeking Luffy’s left shoulder. The captain sways to the side, knowing Zoro is far enough away he doesn’t need to worry about covering his back.
This guy isn’t as fast as Zoro, and Luffy’s learned from his first mate where a blade is weakest. Before he can draw his sword back Luffy grabs it with his left hand and punches it in the middle of the blade, along the flat.
The steel crumples under Luffy’s fist, the sword shattering down to the hilt. The marine gapes at his now-useless weapon and Luffy grins, winding up for a punch that’ll send him over the side of the ship—
“LUFFY, DOWN.”
Luffy drops at the note of panic in Zoro’s voice, surprised. Zoro doesn’t fear and he doesn’t panic, and the concern draws Luffy’s eye over his shoulder to check on his first mate.
Immediately he sees the problem—an arc of violet-yellow energy bears down on Luffy strong enough that the hair on the back of his neck prickles as the danger approaches. He knows immediately that ducking won’t help at all—the range of the attack is increasing, and it’s too late to leap away.
Well, if he’s gonna get hit anyway…
Luffy braces, inhales to land a blow, and throws himself into finishing his own opponent, fully expecting the blow to catch his back.
Luffy doesn’t watch what happens behind him as his knuckles crunch into his opponent’s jaw, but he hears the rush of footsteps, a grunt of effort, and there’s a furious splintering of wood as the energy gets redirected into the Merry’s deck.
Luffy turns back around and grins as his opponent’s knees hit the deck and he slumps over, concussed. “Sanji!”
“Shitty captain,” Sanji acknowledges. “Hey, Marimo, need some help?”
Luffy peeks around Sanji just in time to see Zoro drive Kitetsu through the marine commander’s stomach and heft him overboard. His remaining crew cry out for their leader, and either flee to their own ship or dive overboard. Luffy helpfully chucks the downed vice-captain overboard in the same general direction as his commander and waves as Usopp and Nami work together to guide the Merry away from the enemy ship.
“Bye, let’s have fun again next time!” Luffy calls to the marines, which nets him a low chuckle from Robin and a huff of annoyance from Sanji.
“That was crazy!” Chopper cheers, only trembling a little. Luffy gives him a thumbs up.
Heavy boots thump along the deck with angry weight and Luffy has about three seconds before he’s crowded against the figurehead by a very pissed-off swordsman.
“Zoro!” Luffy chirps, and then gets a better look at him and finds himself reaching for his first mate’s chest. “You’re—”
Covered in blood, slashes littered all across his chest. They’re shallow, nothing devastating like the blow Mihawk dealt him, but the cuts are numerous and bleeding freely and Luffy can smell copper all sharp and tangy along with Zoro’s usual B.O.
“What kind of idiot sees an attack coming and ignores it?” Zoro snarls, and his big hands grip Luffy’s shoulders firmly. “You were supposed to duck, dammit.”
“I did!” Luffy objects, but he feels—weird. Shocked by Zoro’s touch, like touching an electrified fence. “And you’re way more hurt than me, so—”
Zoro scoffs but it snaps him out of his angry snarl. Luffy catches his gaze and holds it. Zoro’s eyes soften, and it’s—that thing like with Whiskey Peak, like every ounce of Zoro’s focus is centered on Luffy, like he doesn’t want to look anywhere else. Luffy’s breath feels caught in his lungs.
Zoro relaxes, looks Luffy over one more time, and claps his right hand to the back of Luffy’s neck.
Zoro’s hands are big, thick and knuckly and covered in calluses from his swords. He has a strong grip, too, and strong muscles because he trains them to be strong.
None of it explains the way Luffy’s body lights up when Zoro clasps the back of his neck, like every nerve is alight and trained on the palm cupping the baby hairs at the back of his skull. His stomach knots over itself and he wants to eat everything in Sanji’s kitchen. Zoro’s skin is a little rough and sweaty from fighting and warm.
Zoro is close, so close, his forehead nearly butting Luffy’s and Luffy couldn’t move if he wanted to, trapped there by the closeness and the touch that makes him aware of Zoro’s skin against his in a way he’s never been before. Zoro’s eyes bore into his, digging deep into Luffy and dragging out—something, buried in the base of his spine. He feels like the earth is tilting, and freefall seems like it might be fun.
Luffy licks his lips, his mouth dry and his heartrate frantic. Zoro’s gaze flits down before he releases Luffy’s neck, and he turns away, his hands on his hips. The tips of his ears glow red.
Luffy opens his mouth to say something, to call Zoro’s attention back and make him look at Luffy again, but his tongue feels weird and swollen. He can’t think of anything to say, his brain blank and empty with static, and he shuts his mouth, feeling weird and off-balance.
“Zoro! You’re bleeding!” Chopper exclaims, and he’s already breaking out the gauze and antiseptic from his backpack. His furry face is creased in determination, and Zoro makes a brief noise of objection as Chopper rips his shirt off and he submits to their doctor’s ministrations with a few gruff complaints and not much else.
Zoro’s bared back faces Luffy, and it suddenly seems—different. Luffy’s never noticed the way the muscles on Zoro’s back stand out, connect, contract as he moves. He’s never noticed how his tanned skin seems to glow in the afternoon light, or how his shoulder-blades stand out, framing the divot of his spine.
His face feels too warm. Everything feels too warm. Luffy tears his gaze away, and finds Sanji staring at him, one curly eyebrow raised.
“…Huh,” he says, and then turns on his heel without another word.
Luffy’s stomach rumbles. He stumbles after his cook, feeling vaguely like he could eat a Laboon-sized steak and still be hungry after.
(Sanji kicks him out of the galley after three hours of whining, six pork roasts, and an entire chicken. He’s still hungry when he lays in his bunk that night, but he doesn’t think that’s why he feels so awake.)
Luffy climbs up to the crow’s nest the next night. Zoro moves aside for him, like always, and the stars are beautiful, like always.
He looks over at Zoro, and feels the way he warms the air between them, notices the way the wind catches the collar of his shirt, opens it so a little more of his chest is exposed. Luffy follows the line of it up from his chest to his throat, the sharp angle of his jaw, and stops on his first mate’s lips.
Luffy’s gaze skitters and jerks away, his face hot. He hopes Zoro doesn’t look or notice, and then wonders why he’s also hoping Zoro does.
He wants Zoro to look at him, maybe. To touch him. It’s cold up here. Zoro’s probably cold too. Luffy would fit well against Zoro’s side.
Luffy’s never hesitated to touch Zoro before, but he does now. He frowns up at the stars, twinkling and whispering things he can’t quite hear, and grimaces against the pit in his stomach.
“Zoro,” Luffy starts. He hears Zoro move to look over at him, but doesn’t know how to voice what he wants to ask. He frowns in thought, and Zoro makes a questioning noise.
“I like it up here,” Luffy tells him. It’s not what he wants to say but it’s true regardless. He looks up at Zoro because Zoro always seems to understand him with just a look, and he thinks he may as well give it a shot now.
Zoro’s expression is soft, and he nods. But there’s no light of understanding or realization in his eyes, and whatever Luffy’s thinking or feeling misses its mark.
That’s okay—it’s not like Luffy knows what he meant in the first place.
Luffy smiles back, and Zoro meets his gaze, steady, easy, somehow overwhelming. It makes the pit in Luffy’s stomach grow.
Luffy leans back against the railing, too aware of the inches between his elbows and Zoro’s hips. The scar on his bicep aches.
“It’s pretty,” he says, like he has every other time they’ve done this. He doesn’t think he’s talking about the stars, though.
“Hmm,” Zoro agrees, and inexplicably, the pit in his stomach throbs with a sprout of hurt.
Luffy barges into the galley the next morning to find Nami and Zoro at the table, and Sanji reorganizing his kitchen for the umpteenth time. Zoro raises his pint in acknowledgement and leans back against the wall to drink.
Luffy’s eyes catch on the bob of his Adam’s apple, and feels his stomach contract.
“Hey, hey, Nami,” Luffy calls, ignoring it. His navigator is sitting at the table across from Zoro, papers and books littered around her. Luffy grins at her winningly, because Nami is awesome and smart and knows all things. “Nami, Nami, Nami—”
“What is it, Luffy,” Nami asks. She carefully sets her fountain pen aside—the fancy one he’s not supposed to touch on pain of forced vegetarianism. Luffy gives her map a wide berth too, just in case as he bounces on his toes a few feet away.
“Why’d you start kissing Vivi?”
Zoro snorts, beer spilling out of his mouth in his surprise and his eyes wide as he stares at Luffy. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand and slams his pint down on the table with a thunk. In the kitchen, Sanji drops one of his pans onto the oven range with a clatter of metal and a curse.
Nami narrows her eyes at Luffy and he frowns. It wasn’t supposed to be a secret was it? They were like, holding hands and kissing all the time, but he guesses no one spoke about it much?
“Because I wanted to,” Nami says, and then hurries on, “And she wanted to kiss too.”
Luffy crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, yeah, but how’d you know you wanted to?”
“Didn’t anyone ever give you the birds and the bees talk?” Sanji asks, and then he pales and freezes as he wipes down a pot with a towel. “Please tell me we don’t have to tell you what sex is.”
“I know what sex is,” Luffy insists. Nami snorts. “I know what kissing is too! But I wanna know why Nami wanted to kiss Vivi and not, like, Robin.”
Sanji makes a pained, vaguely stressed noise in the kitchen that the rest of them ignore.
“Who says I don’t want to kiss Robin?” Nami asks, smirking. She’s looking at Zoro for some reason when she says it, and Luffy frowns. Does Zoro want to kiss Robin?
“Do you?” Luffy asks Nami, genuinely curious. Luffy covers the scar on his arm with his hand. “How d’you know you do?”
“Well, no, not really,” Nami admits, finally looking up at Luffy. “Robin is very attractive and cool and mysterious. But she feels more like an older sister than a girlfriend, or a cool aunt.”
Luffy nods. He’s never had an aunt but he thinks that makes sense. “But it was different with Vivi?”
“Mhmm,” Nami answers, and she lifts up the map she was working on to help it dry. Her eyes are narrowed critically as she inspects her work. “Vivi’s very pretty and she thought I was very cute—”
“Nami-swan is perfect!”
“And we became close while we were travelling to Alabasta,” Nami says, ignoring Sanji.
“Yeah, Vivi is an awesome crew member!” Luffy agrees.
Nami frowns and looks at him, “Different kind of close. It wasn’t like, true love or anything, but we felt, uh, fond of each other?” Nami blushes. “And the sex was good stress relief for her, I think.”
“But how’d you know you wanted to kiss her?” Luffy asks, ignoring Sanji’s spluttering. Sanji could be so weird about girls sometimes.
Nami gives him a weird look. “I was, you know, attracted.”
Luffy stares at her blankly.
Nami raises an eyebrow. “You know, like, I thought she was hot?”
“You think Robin is hot,” Luffy points out reasonably.
“Robin is hot,” Nami agrees, “but you know how, like, you can look at a person and think they’re pretty or hot but it’s kind of—objective? Remote? And how with other people you notice they’re pretty and also you feel like you want to be near them or touch them?”
Luffy tilts his head to the side. “No?”
“Hmm,” Nami frowns. “What about, like, butterflies? Where you see someone and get kind of nervous and hot because you like them?”
Luffy scrunches his nose. He can’t remember being nervous about…well, anything, ever.
“Maybe you’re just not into kissing or liking people. Not everyone wants that,” Nami says. Then she leans her chin on her palm, her elbow on the table. “Why are you asking though?”
Luffy freezes, feeling trapped. “Uh…”
Nami’s smile becomes mean. “It wouldn’t be because you want to kiss someone is it?”
Luffy’s face feels hot, and he looks anywhere but Zoro. “Nooooo…”
“Really.”
“Uh huh…”
“Is it Usopp?” Nami asks, and her expression flattens out to something deadpan and blank. “No way you’d ask me in front of the person you want to kiss, I’m sure.”
“It’s not Usopp!” Luffy objects, and then covers his mouth with his hand. He points at Nami with his other hand, wide-eyed. “You tricked me!”
Nami raises an eyebrow. “It’s not tricking you if I’m just asking a question.” She looks across the table to Zoro, who has emptied his pint. His face is flushed from the alcohol and he’s glaring at nothing in particular. “Hey, Zoro, go get Usopp since it’s not him, he can tell Luffy about his crush on Kaya.”
“No way in hell am I running an errand for you,” Zoro snarks, but he gets up and stomps out the door quicker than usual anyway.
Nami watches him go with a gleam in her eye and then gestures to Zoro’s recently vacated seat. “Sit.”
Luffy shifts, uncertain. Nami rolls her eyes.
“Do you want to talk about your feelings for Zoro or not?” Nami asks, and Luffy goggles at her. Nami gestures at the seat. “Sit.”
Luffy sits.
“Now, why do you really want to know about kissing?” Nami asks, her fingers steepled.
Luffy squirms, the words sticking in his throat. “I—!” He shakes his head, frustrated. “I want to know if I want to kiss Zoro,” Luffy admits.
“Can’t be,” Sanji denies. “No way anyone would want to kiss the mosshead, not even you, shitty captain.”
“I can’t believe you asked me about kissing in front of Zoro,” Nami marvels. “Are you dumb or brave?”
Luffy shrugs. “What’s the difference?”
Nami snorts, grinning. Sanji mutters another curse.
“So you wanted to know what wanting to kiss someone feels like because you’ve never wanted to before?”
Luffy nods, emphatic. Nami really is awesome and smart. “Yeah!”
Nami makes a gesture with her wrist, a sort of go on, and Luffy seizes the opportunity.
He doesn’t think it makes a lot of sense, since most of Luffy’s explanations have to do with Zoro staring or how it suddenly feels weird to touch his swordsman or how he really, really wants Zoro to touch him. He tells them he feels—squirmy around Zoro now and it’s not restlessness or hunger or anything else he knows how to deal with, how he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. Sanji looks more and more like he’d like to stick one of his knives in his ears to stop himself from hearing this, and Luffy can’t even blame him because he doesn’t get it either.
Luffy doesn’t know what to make of Nami’s expression, but she leans back into her chair, hooks her elbow over the top of it, and lets him speak until he runs out of things to say, and then stares at him for a few seconds longer.
“So you’re not sure if you want to kiss him or not,” Nami says after a moment. “Why not just kiss him?”
Luffy scowls. “Vivi wanted to kiss you back.”
“Hmm,” Nami agrees, “Yeah. So maybe just ask him if he wants to kiss you?”
Luffy feels warm and itchy all over. His palms tingle.
“Or maybe start with a hug?” Nami suggests, apparently noticing Luffy’s about to combust. “You can work up to it. Practice asking him to see where his boundaries are.”
Luffy thinks about hugging Zoro. He’s done it a lot, but Zoro doesn’t usually hug him back unless one or both of them are bleeding out and he’s trying to hold Luffy upright. Still, it felt nice when he hugged Zoro before. Zoro was nice to hug, and it—it still makes Luffy feel warm, but in a way that feels less overwhelming than kissing.
“I can ask him to hug,” Luffy says. “Nami, I can ask if he wants to hug!”
Nami grins, a little bemused. “Yeah, you can.”
“If I see you two hugging in my kitchen, I will commit homicide.”
Luffy beams. This’ll be easy.
The mission to hug Zoro begins after lunch, when Luffy has attempted to curb his hunger with twelve sandwiches, an entire bottle of juice and half the teacakes Sanji made for Robin and Nami.
It feels a little weird to put so much thought in it to be honest, because 1) Luffy is not a guy who usually asks permission to hug people and 2) he’s hugged Zoro plenty of times before without issue. And Zoro even seemed to like his hugs before so he’s not sure why it feels so different to ask.
But he spots Zoro at the back of the ship, doing squats with his super big barbells, and Luffy trots up to him eagerly. Zoro is shirtless, like he always is when working out, and the cuts from that marine commander the other day are almost fully healed.
The way the almost-formed scars pull at his sweat-glistened skin while he squats is…interesting. Luffy kind of can’t stop staring at it actually. At Zoro. And his muscles. Wow, Zoro has a lot of muscles…
“Can’t play right now, Luffy,” Zoro grunts, and settles into another squat. “Training.”
Luffy nods, because fair enough, training is super important to Zoro’s dream. “I’ll wait.”
Zoro stops moving halfway through his squat. He squints up at Luffy, fighting his own sweat and the glare of the sun to look at him.
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll wait,” Luffy repeats. He crosses his arms and tears his gaze away from Zoro’s chest to look at the tangerines. Maybe he could swipe a couple while he’s up here? Nah, Nami’d still notice.
“You’ll wait,” Zoro repeats, and Luffy nods absently, folds himself down to sit cross-legged facing Zoro. “Luffy, I have seven hundred and forty-three more reps.”
Luffy nods. “Yeah, Zoro’s super strong!” He squints. “You gonna make it through all those squats though? Your face is super red.”
Zoro wheezes strangely, readjusts his grip on the bar. He still hasn’t moved out of his half-squat position, and Luffy notes his thighs aren’t even shaking.
That knowledge itches something in the back of his brain.
“Of course I’m gonna make it,” Zoro scowls, “This is my low-rep day!”
Luffy grins. “Cool! Then workout!”
Zoro stares at him with a pinched expression for a moment more, then rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Do what you want.”
And he squats.
Three weeks ago, Luffy thinks he might have found it boring to watch Zoro do seven hundredty-thousand squats or whatever. It’s just Zoro, doing the same motion over and over, and over, and over…
It’s not boring.
Zoro squats, and as he squats he exhales through his mouth. His abs bend and his thighs bulge through the fabric of his trousers. He rises, and his stomach contracts as he inhales through his nose, his broad chest bulging and his shoulders pinned back under the weight he’s holding. Luffy follows the line off his shoulders to the swell of his biceps, the tension of his forearms and the firmness of his grip around the barbell.
Luffy watches the motion of Zoro’s hips for a moment but it makes a flush of something deep and sharp slide through him, something unexpected. He imagines Zoro turning around, imagines watching him do this from behind, and he has to look away, imagining the muscles of Zoro’s back move and twitch beneath his skin, his trousers filling with his butt on each squat—
Luffy squirms, the first flash of impatience hitting him. He wants to touch Zoro. He wants to hug him. Or something.
He watches Zoro’s expression. His first mate’s brow furrows in concentration, his eyes trained on a space over Luffy’s head. He’s flushed from working out, and as Luffy watches the flush spreads from his cheeks to his neck, his shoulders his chest. Luffy bets his swordsman’s skin is warm to the touch, almost burning.
It’s not boring at all. Luffy’s as captivated by this as he’s ever been.
It takes almost two hours for Zoro to finish his workout. Luffy sits still the whole time, isn’t even tempted to move until the rhythm of the workout is disrupted by Zoro setting down the weights.
Luffy stands as Zoro does. His first mate swings his arms a few times, rolls his shoulders. Luffy’s fingers twitch—he wants to dig them into the muscle, feel them move under his hands.
“So what’d you want,” Zoro grunts. He sighs, resigned. His eyes bore into Luffy’s. “It must be big if you waited that long.”
“Ah—hmm.” Luffy shakes his thoughts away. Smiles brilliantly, and opens his arms. “Do you want to hug, Zoro?”
Zoro gapes at him, drops his hands to his sides. Looks suspiciously between Luffy and the trees like he expects a bomb to go off.
“You waited—for that?” He sounds—deeply confused.
Luffy pouts, holds his arms out a little wider. “Do you not want to?”
“I—uh—” Zoro’s face gets really red, “Sure?”
Luffy grins, and jumps onto Zoro, wraps his legs around his hips and his arms around his shoulders and squeezes hard.
Zoro takes half a step back to balance, his arms hovering at Luffy’s sides. Luffy scowls.
“Do you or don’t you want to hug?” Luffy asks, a little annoyed now. He asked and everything! Zoro should hug him back!
“You…want me to hug you?” Zoro asks. His voice sounds kind of funny.
“Mh!” Luffy affirms, and squeezes tighter. “Unless you don’t want to?”
After a second Zoro moves, slowly. Luffy can practically smell the confusion on him as his arms close around Luffy’s waist. His touch is light, but there. Luffy will take it.
He relaxes into the hug, letting his grip go a little looser. Zoro feels nice against him, even overheated and sweaty from his workout. He smells like sweat and grass, like their crew quarters and soap. He’s muscly and firm but kind of soft too. Human.
It’s nice. It makes Luffy’s tummy feel warm. The pit he’s been carrying around loosens.
Zoro’s grip tightens. It’s strong enough that Luffy can feel the press of his hands through his shirt. Can feel the tendons of his forearms against his sides. A strong grip, like the clasp of Zoro’s palm against his neck the other day—shocking in its strength, comforting in its security, its firmness. He feels excited, but not overwhelmed.
Luffy likes this. He wants Zoro to hug him a lot. All the time, maybe, if he wants.
“Is something…wrong?” Zoro asks hesitantly. He gives Luffy’s back an awkward pat. Luffy can imagine him saying there, there, befuddled and desperate to make someone less likely to cry all over him.
Luffy snickers at the mental image. “Nah, just wanted to ask if we can hug.” He presses his cheek to Zoro’s neck. He hears the older boy swallow, his adams’ apple brushing against Luffy’s hair.
“Okay?” Zoro says, clearly still confused.
“Do hugs make you feel good?” Luffy asks, curious. He knows Zoro doesn’t like touch like Luffy does, so it would be disappointing but not weird for Zoro to say no.
“I—don’t—maybe?” Zoro squirms and it makes Luffy giggle as his muscles move underneath him. “It’s—fine, I guess.”
Luffy leans back in the hug so he can see Zoro’s face. He’s still sweaty from his workout, and red from the exertion, but he’s scowling hard, his whole face pinched into it. His glare is fixed on Luffy’s face, firm and unrelenting.
Luffy studies him, looking for objection, for discomfort or dislike.
He grins.
“I think you should hug me if you want to,” Luffy tells him. Zoro’s glare fractures with surprise. “I like hugging you, so you should do it if you want.”
Zoro swallows, but his grey eyes are wide, searching Luffy’s face. “You do whatever you want anyway, I’m not stopping you.”
“Yeah,” Luffy agrees. “But I like when you hug me back.”
Zoro’s hands clench in Luffy’s vest. He nods, jerky and sharp, and Luffy’s stomach knots over once—twice—keeps going.
Luffy gets really, really good at asking Zoro things in the next few days.
He asks Zoro for hugs most often. Zoro hasn’t refused him once and always hugs him back, but he seems more flustered every time Luffy asks. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable though, so Luffy keeps asking.
He asks Zoro if he can pet his hair, if he wants to touch Luffy’s. Luffy doesn’t know what to make of Zoro’s expression when he combs through a knot at the back of Luffy’s head but it seems good. He asks if he can touch Zoro’s arm while he naps, and spends an hour drawing patterns on the inside of Zoro’s arm while his swordsman pretends to sleep. He asks to massage sunscreen into Zoro’s back, and is pleased when Zoro returns the favor without comment.
He asks to hold Zoro’s hand because he wants to, because he’s developing something of an obsession with Zoro’s hands. Zoro gives him a look, his eyebrows pinched but not in anger or confusion or irritation, and his mouth is pressed together. His eyes go soft. Whatever this look is makes Luffy’s heart squeeze hard in his chest and freezes the air in his lungs.
It’s a relief when Zoro takes his hand. The rough topography of his palm feels nice, and Luffy’s fingers fit well between Zoro’s knuckles. It makes Luffy’s whole body light up. His face feels hot, and he’s a little bit glad Zoro isn’t looking at him so he can sort of kind of calm down.
Luffy wants to touch other parts of Zoro too. The idea of it makes a kind of helpless swoop arch in his gut, the kind of thing he associates with food or pirate king or new adventures.
Touching his swordsman so much makes Luffy greedier, makes him want to do it more and more often, makes him wish Zoro would ask more of him. He’s been dreaming about simple things lately, like Zoro taking Luffy’s hand or hugging him because he wants to, not because Luffy asked.
Maybe it’s his impatience, or maybe it’s his greed, but things come to a head a week after the marine attack, when the Merry pulls into port in a tiny town with half-decent food, per Sanji.
They’re shown corner table—there’s space for all of them but it’ll be cramped, and Luffy’s palms are itching anyway.
“It’s fine,” Luffy says brightly. “Zoro can sit on my lap for dinner!”
Usopp chokes on his drink. Robin smiles behind her hand and Sanji makes gagging noises while Nami starts laughing uncontrollably. Luffy doesn’t know why, this was all her idea in the first place.
Zoro just stares at him, turning redder and redder by the second.
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to have me sit in someone’s lap?” Chopper asks good-naturedly. He’s in brain point—tiny, easily squishable, easy to eat around.
Luffy doesn’t answer, just waits for Zoro’s reaction. Nami said he was supposed to test Zoro’s boundaries, to see what he might be comfortable with. Luffy likes touching him, and he likes the idea of Zoro’s weight in his lap and of getting to hold him through a whole meal.
“I don’t get it,” Zoro says after a moment. He’s staring at Luffy with—wait, what, that looks like—hurt, or embarrassment, or— “Why are you being so weird the last few days?”
Luffy frowns. “I’ve been asking.”
“Yeah, and—” Zoro runs his hand through his hair, frustrated. He glares at nothing, somewhere above their heads, and squeezes the hilt of his white sword. “Forget this. Someone should watch the ship.”
He turns on his heel and stomps out of the bar before Luffy can get over his confusion and react.
“He’s gonna get lost,” Sanji notes. He doesn’t sound that upset about the prospect.
“He’ll find Luffy eventually,” Usopp disagrees.
“Why’s he gotta find me in the first place,” Luffy complains, “I don’t get why he ran off.”
“Captain-san, if I may—you’ve been rather…handsy, with Swordsman-san lately,” Robin says gently. “Ah, moreso than usual, even. I daresay he’s confused at the change.”
“I’m trying to figure out if I want to kiss him,” Luffy says, pouting at his plate. Even meat does not sound as good now that there’s a churn of confusion and rejection swelling in his stomach. He would have shared it with Zoro if he sat in Luffy’s lap. Or vice-versa, or if he just ate dinner with them. “I just wanted to hug Zoro and eat at the same time.”
“Ah,” Robin says, and tilts her head thoughtfully.
Usopp glares at her. “Don’t act like that made sense.”
“Hey, this was my idea,” Nami defends, then she winces. “I admit he’s been weirder about it than I expected but Zoro didn’t exactly have any complaints until now.”
“He didn’t?” Luffy asks, and it’s a little quieter and more hesitant than he really meant it to be.
Nami’s expression softens when she turns back to Luffy. “Nah. He’s confused. Zoro just needs you to explain it to him slowly.”
Luffy squints and wolfs down two steaks in one bite. “Explain what?”
Nami throws an exasperated look at Robin before turning back to Luffy. “Look, you and Zoro have the weird psychic connection thing going on, right?”
Luffy frowns and swallows his steak. “We do?”
Nami makes a face and gestures aimlessly with her wrist. “Your whole, like, understanding gaze or whatever. You talked about it for like twenty minutes the other day.”
“He did?” Usopp asks to no one.
“He did,” Sanji confirms heavily. He looks unimpressed with the potatoes. “Be glad you missed that one.”
“It was cute,” Nami defends. “Anyway, you get what I mean now?”
“No,” Luffy answers honestly. He picks at his salad apathetically. Sanji doesn’t even yell at him for it.
“Ugh, this is like trying to teach a fish to walk,” Nami grumbles. “Just—you and Zoro usually know what each other are thinking, right? You can read him pretty easy and he can read you?”
Luffy nods, “Yeah, we’re both dumb.”
“That’s right,” Nami agrees, while Chopper gives a half-hearted objection. “And you get each other. Right?”
“I guess?”
“But you are different people,” Nami says, like that’s supposed to be a revelation. “And you might be coming at the same topic differently, right?”
“No, Zoro always knows what I’m thinking.”
Nami raises an eyebrow, gestures at Zoro’s very obvious non-presence at the table.
“Oh.”
“Oh,” Nami agrees, “So maybe, instead of expecting him to read your mind, try telling him what you’re feeling and thinking.”
Luffy frowns. “That was my whole problem in the first place though. I dunno.”
Nami slams her palm into her forehead and holds up a finger to hush Sanji.
“Luffy,” Usopp asks, looking vaguely annoyed at having to ask this. “Do you want to kiss Zoro?”
Luffy stares down at his plate.
He can picture it, sort of. He knows how Zoro’s body feels under his hands, knows the sparky feeling of being close to him, really close, knows the strength in his hands and how they feel against his back. He’s looked at Zoro’s mouth a lot, maybe trying to picture it, to think of how it would feel to press his lips to Zoro’s, and he doesn’t know really, can’t quite imagine it.
He doesn’t want to have to imagine. He wants to know.
“I’m gonna steal some really good booze,” Luffy decides. Usopp and Chopper whoop for him as he bolts for the bar, grabs whatever’s in reach, and sprints for the door.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Nami hollers, and even Sanji and Robin raise their glasses, wishing him luck.
Luffy kind of hopes he doesn’t need it.
He half expects Zoro to be working out on the deck when he gets to the ship, but it’s empty. So is the kitchen, the men’s quarters, and the bathroom. He’s about to start searching Usopp’s workshop when he hears a creaking noise across one of the masts and spots the crow’s nest.
Luffy hums, and climbs up the ropes one-handed, the bottle of mystery booze clutched under his armpit.
“Zoro,” he calls as he approaches the top of the mast. “Zoooorrroooo.”
No response. Luffy frowns, and grips the edge of the crow’s nest as he heaves himself up.
Zoro is here, a bottle of clear alcohol emptied already. He’s leaned up against the edge of the lookout, hands behind his head and his legs straight, boots angling in over the curved edge. He’s glaring at nothing in a way that means he’s actually angry or upset, not just default-grouchy. He doesn’t look at Luffy, which is even weirder.
Luffy’s gut twists unpleasantly. He didn’t think asking would make Zoro upset.
He swings his legs over the edge of the crow’s nest, opposite Zoro. The wood was sanded smooth when they first got the Merry, but it’s dried out a bit in the wind by now, and it feels a little rough and splintery under Luffy’s hands and his thighs. They’ll need to oil it soon to avoid cracks.
Luffy kicks his heels against the wood, and puffs out his cheeks. It feels a little like he needs to be invited or something, like he’s done something wrong.
“I got you somethin’” Luffy offers, and hands over the slightly warmed bottle of amber liquid. “You didn’t have dinner.”
Zoro’s face tightens, but he looks at Luffy and the proffered booze and sighs. He holds out his hand and Luffy takes it as the permission it is—slaps the alcohol into Zoro’s palm and scrambles into the crow’s nest beside him. Zoro raises an eyebrow at the label and cracks it open, takes a swig.
“This is shit booze,” he says, but he sounds kind of pleased about it anyway. Luffy beams.
“I stole it,” Luffy says proudly, and Zoro snorts. He sets the bottle down beside the empty one and relaxes against the wood. He looks more relaxed and less angry than he did a second ago, the lines of his face happier.
Normally on nights like this Luffy stretches out beside Zoro, matches his posture. The crow’s nest is big enough for both of them if they prop their ankles on the edge of the basket, if they don’t mind getting a crick in their necks.
Luffy doesn’t feel like letting this be any other night.
“It’s pretty,” he says, not looking anywhere but Zoro—he’s not talking about the stars, and his swordsman’s going to know that by the end.
Plus, it’s a warning of a kind.
“Hmm?” Zoro queries, sounding distracted. Luffy wonders if he maybe gets it already, and then dismisses the thought. Zoro wouldn’t ignore something like this if he knew what Luffy is trying to say.
He sits up next to Zoro, crosses his legs and rocks forward and back twice. Thinks about the question he really wants to ask and what Zoro may or may not say in response and decides he may as well do it anyway.
“Hey, Zoro, Zoro,” Luffy calls twice, because he likes saying Zoro’s name. His swordsman turns away from the stars to look at him. His pupils seem to dilate when he finds Luffy’s face, but it’s hard to tell in the weak light. “Can I sit in your lap?”
Zoro scowls at him, turns back to the stars. His face is red again, and his relaxed posture from a second ago is obliterated.
“Why are you doing that,” Zoro snaps, mulish and maybe—hurt? Again. “Asking and shit. And back at the bar?”
Luffy purses his lips, because he thinks this much at least should be obvious. “I’m asking ‘cuz I want to do stuff with you.”
Zoro squints at him. “You don’t ask,” he spits. “Or you didn’t before.”
“Mm, Robin said you might be confused,” Luffy acknowledges. He ignores Zoro’s irritated expression and barrels on, because yes, obviously the whole crew discussed it when Zoro dramatically stormed out of the restaurant. “I’ve been asking because I like touching you. And I really like when you touch me. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to, so I’m asking.”
Zoro stares at him, his ears turning red even in the dark. He stares for long enough that Luffy frowns and waves his hand in front of Zoro’s face and checks to make sure he’s still breathing, but he just swats Luffy’s hand away and turns away from him, hides his face in the wood and scrubs his hand down his scalp. He takes a long swig of the stolen booze, and then turns back to Luffy with a determined frown on his face. Luffy stuffs his hands in his armpits to stop himself from smoothing out the harsh lines at the corners of his mouth.
“Fine,” he agrees, “C’mere. But you gotta explain what the hell you’re thinking. No more ambushing me in bars.”
Luffy grins, and scrambles over to his swordsman. He straddles Zoro gracelessly, facing him with his back to the mast, and puts his hands on Zoro’s chest to balance. He leans back to beam at Zoro, his weight settled over his first mate’s lower belly, and he’s pleased to see the flush has now reached down Zoro’s neck. Hesitantly, Zoro puts his hands on Luffy’s hips. He glares up at Luffy like he’s waiting for an objection and only relaxes a little when Luffy feels his cheeks warm in kind.
“Zoro!” Luffy exclaims, pleased he didn’t have to ask for the contact. His hands fist on Zoro’s chest, over the cotton of his t-shirt, and he squirms a little. He’s so excited his head feels fuzzy.
“Oi, quit that,” Zoro grunts, and squeezes his hips to still him. Luffy pouts but listens, mostly because the pressure of Zoro’s hands feels nice. “Now talk.”
Luffy sits back, nodding slowly. Right, that was the whole reason he came up here. “Mm, so, I gotta explain right?”
“For the sake of my sanity, yes.”
“Zoro doesn’t have that anyway,” he points out. Zoro opens his mouth to object, but Luffy interrupts. “You’re like me. Maybe that’s why I like you so much?”
Zoro’s mouth shuts with an audible click. His eyes are very, very wide, as open as Luffy’s ever seen them.
“I like everyone on the crew,” Luffy explains, and his hands float in the air as he speaks, illustrating his points for him. “So I was confused at first! Because I like everyone a whole lot, and everyone’s different so I like them for different things and in different ways! And I thought I just liked Zoro in the Zoro way the way I like Usopp in the Usopp way and Chopper in the Chopper way. But I then I realized it’s maybe different? A different sort of like, y’know?”
Zoro just stares at him—doesn’t react or speak or even blink, and Luffy huffs. He doesn’t have the words for this.
“I’ve never liked someone the way, like, Nami likes Vivi or Usopp likes Kaya. I thought I didn’t get like that and I didn’t really care. Except you…”
Luffy grabs Zoro’s right wrist, still squeezing his hip. Zoro resists at first, his limbs stiff, but he lets Luffy guide his hand up to the back of his neck and rest it there, his wrist clasped between both of Luffy’s hands.
“You did—this,” Luffy explains, “And I started thinking about—how the way I like you feels different, how I notice things about you I don’t notice for anyone else, like the way you have nice hands or how you always clean your swords a certain way or when you like to shave, and I—“ Luffy scowls, because the words are kind of hard to say suddenly, “My favorite scar is the one you gave me, and sometimes I want to bite you so we match.”
Zoro swallows hard. Luffy watches the movement raptly, and finds himself gripping his own bicep again, like maybe he can control the ricochet of this conversation if he squeezes hard enough.
“So like, then I realized that I want you to look at me all the time, because no one looks at me like you do, and I want you to touch me all the time, because it feels different and good and stuff when you touch me. It’s fun and I like it, and I want to touch you lots.”
Luffy takes a deep breath, and risks a look at Zoro’s face—he’s not sure when he looked away, when it became too much to say all that looking Zoro in the eye.
Zoro’s face is soft. Softer than he’s ever seen it before. Luffy sees shock and awe in his eyes but mostly Zoro’s open, so open, like he’s offering all of his heart to Luffy and—he’s seen shades of this Zoro before, this bared open man with his heart out there for the taking. Zoro’s just never let his guard down enough for Luffy to see this part of him clearly.
Luffy’s greedy for it, covetous immediately. He wants to keep this side of Zoro for himself, wants to keep Zoro for himself, somehow. He wants and he wants and he wants and he’s going to be the pirate king so he’s going to have it if that’s what Zoro wants too.
(He really, really hopes that’s what Zoro wants too.)
(Oh—huh. What if it’s not?)
“Nami said I should practice if I wasn’t sure what I wanted, and I did, so now I know what I want,” Luffy says, determined now that he’s said this much—the adrenaline in his veins feels a lot like nerves and he wants to laugh at his older self for scoffing at the idea. Maybe Luffy’s laying his heart bare too, without even realizing it. He flushes, looks Zoro in the eye, and smiles as big as he can. “Zoro, can I ki—”
Zoro’s left hand covers his mouth—firmly, but with no more force than necessary to shut him up. Luffy makes a muffled protest against the meat of Zoro’s palm, but his first mate doesn’t let him go, and Luffy meets his eyes to glare at him. He could at least let Luffy finish asking since he decided to do it!
But Zoro’s face is set in yet another expression he’s never seen before—something sort of wild and intense and so hungry it makes his insides catch fire—there’s lightning in his veins and every nerve is poised in anticipation of—of—
Zoro sits up away from the wooden walls of the lookout, and draws Luffy closer at the same time. He moves slowly, like he’s afraid Luffy will spook if he acts too suddenly. Luffy holds his gaze, feeling—trapped but in a good way, held fast and with a sure grip, like when Zoro drags him out of the sea.
Finally, Zoro’s forehead presses against Luffy’s. They’re nose to nose, so close Luffy can count Zoro’s eyelashes, see his pores, watch the red on his cheeks grow darker with a front row view.
“Captain,” Zoro breathes quietly, not blinking once, “Doesn’t need to ask me things like that.”
Behind Zoro’s palm Luffy frowns because yes, he does, how else will he know if Zoro wants to do it too, but then Zoro drops his hand from Luffy’s face and his grip on the back of his neck grows strong and purposeful. It lights Luffy up from the spine down, just like it did the other day, his whole body vibrating underneath Zoro’s touch and he gasps just in time for Zoro to press their mouths together.
Luffy’s brain goes staticky and warm and numb. He smells nothing but Zoro and tastes cheap liquor coating Zoro’s lips, and Zoro kisses him with yearning and gentle pressure. His first mate exhales softly from his nose, so Luffy feels his breath against his face, and the intimacy of it leaves him feeling cut open, alive in a whole new way, and he wants—
The pressure on his neck lets up, and the mouth under his pulls back. Luffy gapes, breathing too quickly—he feels off-kilter, dizzy. There’s entirely too much in him—too much want and too much warmth and too much excitement too.
He blinks and sees Zoro properly. His cheeks are flushed and his gaze is steely and determined but he speaks anyway.
“Captain doesn’t need to ask me,” Zoro repeats, his voice rough and low and his breathing is ragged too. “Captain should just take what he wants.”
Luffy feels something snap inside him. He’s been given permission and he’s a pirate so he’s going to take take take—
It’s Luffy who crushes Zoro’s mouth to his this time, and if their first kiss was sweet this one is frantic. The back of Zoro’s head cracks against the wood behind him with the force of Luffy’s kiss but neither of them stop for a moment. This kiss is warm and a little sloppy, and it feels like Luffy could claim Zoro for himself if he just kisses him hard enough, like all this energy will have somewhere to go if he just makes Zoro feel half as good. Zoro kisses him like he’s drowning and Luffy’s air, like he needs him and—
He’s flying apart with Zoro’s face between his hands, and it’s only Zoro’s strong arms that hold him together, only the slickness of his mouth and the liquor-sweet taste of him and only the soft noises he makes when Luffy tugs on his hair that keeps him from floating away entirely.
All he feels is warm, sea-roughened skin and pressure and Zoro’s heavy hands gripping him. He feels Zoro’s body moving underneath his as he changes his hold on Luffy, cants his head to the side so Luffy can kiss him deeper, and the permission of it is so much more than Luffy will ever be able to take. He’s imploding inside as something slides into place in time with Zoro’s breathless moan, and he decides he wants to bury himself in this, in Zoro, forever.
His lips feel numb. His lungs burn. He pulls back just a little, enough to see Zoro’s flushed face and swollen lips and that vulnerable, laid-bare expression on his face, like Luffy’s giving him something special instead of the other way around.
Luffy wants to keep him. He wants to keep Zoro forever, until they’re old and gross and wrinkly. Luffy doesn’t care as long as Zoro keeps looking at him like this.
Zoro’s hand finds Luffy’s cheek, his thumb against the scar under his eye. He feels tingly with his swordsman’s regard, and he wonders what parts of Luffy Zoro’s seeing for the first time tonight.
“I like you a lot,” Luffy tells him, and grins as he kisses Zoro’s palm. He really, really likes Zoro’s hands.
“I noticed, Captain,” Zoro returns dryly. And then his expression sobers. “Hey. Luffy. I like you, too.”
Luffy rolls his eyes—because duh, he figured that out, thanks—but he doesn’t feel like teasing. He wants that soft look in Zoro’s eyes to stay and he wants to drink it in as much as possible tonight and forever too.
Luffy licks his lips. Zoro stares, and doesn’t bother to hide that he’s watching.
“Captain’s order,” Luffy says hoarsely. “Zoro’s gotta kiss me whenever he wants to, too.”
Zoro raises an eyebrow, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tiny suns burst inside Luffy’s chest, crowding out everything else. “That so?”
“Mhm!”
“Not a lot of sailing we’ll be doing then,” Zoro muses, his smile broadening. “Or fighting, or exploring—”
Luffy’s face feels hot again and he’s not even sure why. Luffy’s wanted to kiss Zoro when doing all those things too even if he didn’t get it at the time.
“Zoro,” he whines, and flops onto Zoro’s chest because he’s wanted to do this for a while now, press together so Luffy can feel Zoro breathing under him, hear his heartbeat against his ear. “We can do that stuff and kiss, too.”
Zoro snorts, but he doesn’t disagree. His hand comes up to grip the back of Luffy’s shirt. Luffy nuzzles into Zoro’s collarbone and enjoys the way his swordsman’s breath hitches.
“So what now, Captain?” Zoro asks quietly, and Luffy wonders how long Zoro’s been waiting for this, if he ever looked at Luffy and thought maybe he’d want to live beside him, too.
“I dunno,” Luffy answers honestly. “Whatever we want. ‘Cept it won’t be cold up here anymore.”
Zoro doesn’t say anything to that, just gets a better grip on Luffy and squishes him closer, covers his bare arms with his own. Luffy grins into Zoro’s chest, secret and just for him, because he will never, ever understand how people look at his first mate and think he’s scary when all he does is show Luffy his soft parts and tender dreams.
Luffy isn’t quite ready to sleep, so instead he considerately slides off to his swordsman’s left, so he can still reach the liquor with his right hand.
“I’m an awesome boyfriend,” Luffy declares smugly. Zoro’s stomach hitches and then Luffy looks up to be stunned at the sight of his swordsman laughing from the gut, a squinty-eyed, toothy smile on his face and his head thrown back against the wood of the crow’s nest.
Luffy asks what’s funny, what’s funny, and doesn’t get an answer even when he digs his fingers into Zoro’s floating rib. But Zoro holds him like he means it, like he’s never meant anything more, and as long as Zoro keeps looking at him like that and keeps holding him like this, he doesn’t care.
He tells Zoro it’s not fair anyway, and pinches him, but he doesn’t do anything but smile, impervious to his captain’s efforts. And when he shifts a few minutes later to look up at the sky, moonlight glances off of Zoro’s earrings, right into Luffy’s eyes.
One day, Luffy will hear the stars sing like the ocean whispers of adventures, and they will tell him hold fast, little king, the journey only grows harder from here.
But Luffy will hear it with his swordsman beside him, beneath him, between his palms, and he will whisper to him that song. Zoro will reach for him, as natural as the sea’s tide, and grip the back of his neck.