At his first invitation, Zoro says no and Luffy thinks he’ll wait. He’ll wait just long enough for the question to really settle, long enough for Zoro to turn and ask him if he can join his crew.
He doesn’t, of course, but Luffy likes to think he would have had he not had a mouth full of food for the first time in days. Zoro takes their lack of crew and ship in stride, as much as someone without much other choice can, he supposes, but the closer Luffy looks, the less he appears like he’s been dragged along without that choice and more like he’s keen on this adventure unfolding, however it may.
There’s a small thrill gathering at the base of his spine at the oath Zoro swore, as if his devotion runs deeper than a few words exchanged in the dust and solidified when he placed a sword between his teeth. At the moment he doesn’t know what to make of it quite yet, but there’s a flare of possessiveness gathering in the pit of his stomach.
He looks just beyond Zoro, watching the waves and where he rolls an apple between his palms, one of the many that serves as their dinner. Briefly, he wonders if he could ask him to slice it up with one of his swords, and he watches Zoro dig his thumbnail under a bruise in the skin.
What are you looking at? Zoro asks him when he catches him staring, and he watches the sunlight glint off of his earrings. He twists to follow his gaze, and Luffy’s eyes track his movement, fingers twitching at his sides for reasons he can’t quite name.
To say nothing would be a lie, and he’s never been a good liar, so Luffy doesn’t. Zoro watches him, an eyebrow raised as they bob along the waves, sea lapping at the sides of their small boat and mocking their mutual lack of sense of direction. It doesn’t matter, he thinks, because they’ll get there eventually, wherever that is.
Zoro tilts his head and he catches sight of a scar on the underside of his chin, a bright white line curling toward his neck. He wants to reach out and touch it, wants to trace the length of it, learn the story behind it even though he’s never been big on them to begin with. He finds he wants to know how warm he is, if his skin is as rough and coarse with salt and sun as his own is. That, too, gathers in his belly, another sensation he can’t fully comprehend, but it feels like a mix of danger and excitement, and full of promises.
Luffy mirrors him, though he grins, hints of teeth poking through chapped lips. I’m not sure just yet, he says, but I’m really looking forward to finding out.
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"the gay pirates show" this "the gay pirates show" that ... you will never hold a candle to the REAL gay pirates show (one piece)
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