Zoro searched through his locker in the men's quarters aboard the Thousand Sunny for a shirt. It was laundry day, and Usopp had already loaded their clothes in the wash. They rotated with the others in small groups – Zoro with Usopp and Luffy, Sanji with Brook and Jinbe, and Nami, Robin, Franky and Chopper. Usopp had mainly taken over that chore in exchange for Zoro swabbing the deck, which was fine by him. He found swabbing to be meditative and extra exercise.
Normally, laundry day wasn't a problem. Zoro changed into old shorts and got on with it. But they'd landed at an island and Nami insisted he put on a shirt before heading into town. He'd thought about not listening apparently too loudly because she threatened to withhold beer money if he set foot off the ship sans shirt.
The trouble was, Zoro didn't have a lot of shirts to begin with. And when they missed a laundry day due to Luffy attempting to wash a live hog there were even fewer options.
Sunlight filtered through the open portholes, the sounds from the harbor drifting in. Franky's laugh accompanied the gangplank landing solidly on the dock. The Sunny shifted in its mooring, bumpers squeaking against the pier. Seagulls cried for scraps, nearly drowning out the bells from the clock tower in town.
Zoro finally located a shirt, shoved into the recesses of the bottom. He shook it out and held it up in the light. Sleeveless, yellow, with the cartoon face of a redhead and MAMA emblazoned across the front, it barely had enough material to count as clothes. It took him a minute to place it, thinking Chopper got his clothes mixed in with Zoro's – but then he remembered the harried mom on Water 7 all those years ago. The one who took in kids, decided Zoro must be one of hers, and put him to work as a babysitter.
A faint smile tugged his lips. He couldn't recall how he ended up in the shirt, only that he had and had kept it after it had gone through the wash. That day had been crazy, but he didn't regret helping out. And now he had a shirt to wear to appease Nami.
He drew it on. It stretched extra tight across the chest and pulled the seams at the shoulders. It barely covered his nipples, the lower part of his pecs hanging out. The width of his shoulders hadn't changed even if his musculature had, so the shirt still fit enough that he could fight in it.
Satisfied, he stuffed his feet into his boots, tucked his katanas into his belt, and double-checked the fly on his olive green cargo shorts was zipped. No haramaki as it was in the wash. He plunked a cap on his head to shade his eye from the blazing sun and headed out.
Heat hit him the moment he stepped onto the deck. The boards had already warmed beneath the midday sun, and the harbor water flashed brightly beyond the rail.
Usopp was on deck with Chopper, adjusting the harness on the pull cart. Sanji stood beside them, reviewing the shopping list in his hand. All three were dressed for the hot weather, in shorts and tees. Chopper had on an extra-wide brimmed hat.
“You guys seen Nami?” Zoro asked as he pulled the men’s quarters door shut behind him.
“In her room,” Usopp said.
“Don’t you dare bother Nami-swan with your nonsense, ma–” Sanji’s voice hitched mid-word as he looked up from his list, his visible eye growing wide. “–ma.”
Suddenly, blood gushed from Sanji’s nose so hard he went soaring. He flew right off the ship like a nosebleed-propelled rocket. Eventually, he landed in the harbor water with a splash.
“Ah! Sanji!” Chopper cried. “We’ve talked about this!”
Usopp lowered his targeting goggles. “Impressive distance. I’d give it a seven out of ten.”
“I’d better go and check my blood supply,” Chopper said, hustling off toward the infirmary.
Zoro frowned in the cook’s direction – what the hell had that been about? – before heading up the steps to the girls’ room.
Nami opened the door after he banged on it with his fist. She took one look at him and sighed loudly. “That barely qualifies as a shirt.”
“It’s all I got.” Zoro held out his hand. “Beli.”
Nami pursed her lips, but passed him several bills. “Try not to get into any fights.”
Zoro tucked the money into his pocket. “No promises.”
She huffed an irritated sound as Zoro walked off.
The town sat close to the harbor, a tight cluster of pale buildings with sun-faded roofs and narrow streets running between them. The afternoon sun blazed overhead, turning the stone underfoot hot enough to feel through thin sandals. Most of the locals dressed for it – shorts, T-shirts, loose tank tops, and open shirts over swimsuits – and every shop had its doors thrown wide for whatever breeze came in off the water. Bright awnings shaded fruit stands and café tables. Beyond the last row of buildings, low green hills rose toward the center of the island.
The streets carried the constant murmur of conversation from open storefronts, mixed with cart wheels over stone and the occasional call from someone selling fruit or cold drinks. Zoro ignored most of the looks he got, though a few he returned with interest. He wouldn’t mind getting laid on this stopover. It’d been a while – not since Wano – though not for lack of opportunity. Someone always wanted Zoro as a notch on their belt, especially marines who thought they could take him in afterward.
He ambled through town, not in any hurry, though a tavern was his ultimate destination. He bought a takoyaki skewer from a street vendor, and wandered through a swordsmith shop. A used bookstore caught his eye and he ventured in to browse. He found a few adventure novels with gay leads and opted to spend some beer money on them.
He stepped out of the shop, bag in hand, and nearly ran into Sanji and Chopper with the cart. “Hey,” he said. “You got booze on your list?”
Sanji made a very strange sound, then a nosebleed launched him in one direction while his cigarette went in another. Zoro tilted his head back to watch as he disappeared over the top of a building. He glanced behind him, spotting a pair of bathing suit-clad ladies with loose coverups a few shops back. That would explain it.
Chopper flailed. “Not again!”
Zoro rolled his eye and patted Chopper on the head. “Dumbass just needs to get laid or something. Just drop him off at a brothel. Thought I saw one near the docks.”
Chopper nodded sagely. “Good idea. I have plenty of blood bags in stock, but I’d rather use those for actual emergencies.”
“Make sure the cook has booze on the list,” Zoro told him, then continued on.
He poked his nose into a few more shops whose displays caught his eye – a trinket seller with suncatchers in interesting designs; a store that specialized solely in socks; a sushi stall when his stomach rumbled. He eventually came upon the tavern, settled on a stool at the bar, and ordered a beer.
The place was open and airy, with the front doors propped wide and sunlight stretching across the worn plank floor. Ceiling fans turned overhead, stirring the warm air while a handful of customers in shorts and T-shirts lingered over their drinks. Behind the bar, bottles crowded the shelves between mismatched glasses, and condensation ran down the sides of several abandoned mugs. A busty female bartender with biceps to match wiped down a glass.
Zoro pulled out one of his books and propped it on the counter. During night watch, he liked to read between training sets while the rest of the ship slept. It took a while to get through them, but he enjoyed the stories, even if the sex was sometimes ridiculous. He liked the passion underlying it, though, the sense of it being more than just a casual night. The cook liked to claim he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, but being more practical most of the time didn’t mean Zoro didn’t like romance.
Of course, he didn’t mind a quick and dirty hookup in the restroom, either. A guy with the sunworn look of a fish hauler came up to the bar to get a drink, took one long look at Zoro, and made himself known.
“That an offer?” he said, gesturing to Zoro’s shirt with a tilt of his chin.
“Could be,” Zoro said with a slow smirk. “Depending on what you’re into.”
He was into milking Zoro’s cock with his mouth before having Zoro ride him while he fondled and sucked on Zoro’s chest. A win all around in Zoro’s opinion.
The guy buttoned his trousers while Zoro cleaned up at the sink. The small restroom was warmer than the main bar, with a narrow window cracked open near the ceiling. “Thanks, Mama,” he said with a tip of his fisherman’s cap.
It drew a grin from Zoro as the guy left the bar’s restroom.
Zoro fixed his shorts and pulled his shirt straight. His nipples were still sore enough that the fabric dragging across them sent another sensitive twinge through him. They remained hard beneath the shirt, the dampness left by the guy’s mouth showing through in two faint spots. The start of a hickey peeked from the tight hem of the shirt on his left pec.
Readjusting the cap on his head, Zoro picked up his bag of books and left the bathroom.
Sanji was seated at the bar when he came out, a half-finished drink in front of him. Zoro joined him, signaling for a new beer. “Shopping done?” he asked, sliding onto a stool. He shifted slightly at the lingering ache.
The female bartender headed their direction. Sanji turned, glanced at Zoro, and wheezed, “You fucker.”
Then, Zoro watched as a nosebleed sent him sailing backwards out the tavern door.
A couple of customers turned toward the sudden commotion. Someone near the end of the bar gave an appreciative whistle.
Zoro shook his head and reached for the drink the bartender put in front of him. Yeah, she was busty, but that was over the top. “Stupid cook needs to get his dick wet.”
The bartender hummed with amusement and went back to her work.
When Sanji didn’t return, Zoro polished off his drink before settling back into his book.
He killed a few hours at the tavern, reading and drinking the rest of his money away. The heat hadn’t eased once he finally left, the late afternoon sun still scorching in the sky. The stone streets radiated warmth beneath his boots, and the shade cast by the buildings barely helped.
A public fountain caught his attention, children and adults alike dipping into the waterfall that spilled over the tiered edges, splashing in the ankle-deep water below. Laughter mixed with relieved sighs. A few of the locals had shed their cover-ups and stood in their bathing suits in the fountain. It appeared to be a common way of dealing with the heat.
Zoro toed off his boots and tucked his bag inside one of them before stepping into the fountain. The cool water immediately felt like a balm. With a faint grin, he ducked under the flowing water, pulling off his cap to get his hair wet.
Water ran down his face and shoulders, soaking the yellow shirt until it clung completely to his chest. He pushed his fingers through the wet tendrils of his hair, brushing them out of his eye, and spotted Sanji standing outside the fountain, mouth agape and staring.
The nosebleed launched him so high he became a dark speck against the sun.
A few of the young women near Zoro tittered, and Zoro snorted quietly. Trust Sanji to keep making a fool of himself instead of talking to a woman like a human being.
Pleasantly cooled off, Zoro pulled his boots back on and meandered in the direction of the harbor. The town grew quieter as he left the main streets behind, the packed shops giving way to scattered houses and stretches of scrub. Somehow, he ended up in the hills outside of town, but the scenery was good and he had no place he had to be. Sometimes, it was nice to wander without purpose, even if his crewmates insisted that he’d gotten lost.
He let his mind wander to his book, imagining the direction it might take. He enjoyed the push and pull of rivals to lovers, as long as the rival wasn’t a true villain. There had to be some core beliefs that synced or there was no way a romance was plausible. According to the book jacket, this one was about an ancient plague, a scientist who wanted to study it, and an adventurer who wanted to profit from it. Zoro liked characters who stood up for themselves, and the scientist didn’t seem like a pushover so far. He was only halfway through the second chapter, so he’d see how it’d go once the scientist met the adventurer.
The sun settled lower in the sky as Zoro made his way down a hill and found himself at the ocean. He tugged off his boots again, carrying them in one hand. He picked the direction he thought the docks might be in and started walking along the shoreline. The warm ocean water lapped at his bare feet. Sandpipers ran in and out of the surf, pecking for food. Crabs scuttled sideways, pincers open, as he passed. The salty breeze off the water felt good against his heated skin. Farther out, sunlight broke across the water in broad bands as fishing boats made their way toward the harbor.
He was debating whether to eat or train first when he got back to the ship when Sanji suddenly landed hard in front of him. Sand and surf flew up with the impact. Zoro blinked, brows climbing. “Are you just crashing down now?” he said. If so, that had been a hell of a nosebleed. How high up had he gone?
“You–” Sanji jabbed a finger in Zoro’s direction. “–are a menace.”
Then his nose started bleeding again and he collapsed at Zoro’s feet.
Zoro scoffed in derision. “Stupid cook. Chopper’s going to kill you.” He shifted his bag of books to the hand with his boots, hoisted Sanji over his shoulder, and continued following the coastline. Such an idiot. Chopper should just cauterize his nose shut and be done with it.
Sanji hadn’t yet stirred when Zoro saw the docks ahead about half an hour later. The harbor had grown busier as boats returned for the evening, sails dropping and dockworkers calling to one another across the piers. He also saw the brothel’s distinctive red door and he deposited Sanji in front of it. The amount of blood he’d lost to make him pass out probably warranted a trip to the infirmary, but if Sanji didn’t get laid, Chopper would just be right back where he started.
Zoro managed to find the Thousand Sunny with only two moving streets and an alley that dead ended out of nowhere. The sun had drifted lower, casting long bands of gold against the helm. Pulleys knocked in the rigging as the ship shifted. He climbed the extended gangplank, then continued up to the crow’s nest. With Sanji out of commission for a bit, he’d get in a workout before venturing down for food.
The books went into the locker against the wall in the crow’s nest. He opened the windows in all directions, creating a good cross-breeze. The circular room doubled as his training space, with weights, storage, and a bench seat that ran around the perimeter. Others came up while on watch, but it was primarily his space. He even had a few necessities tucked away for long nights when his books got to the steamier parts.
Zoro ditched his cap and leaned his katanas against the bench before setting up his weights. He’d start with an easy set of five-thousand-pound squats and move on from there.
The sounds from the harbor drifted in through the windows as he worked out. Voices from other ships. Cargo being loaded. Wood creaking against wood farther down the docks. The seagulls still cried for scraps. He could see another ship sailing toward the harbor flying a jolly roger. Something to keep an eye on. Though, knowing Luffy, unless the pirates were abusive, they’d all be friends before dark.
He continued pumping iron. Sweat glistened on his skin and made the shirt cling to him. His shorts slipped low on his hips. His hair curled damply against his brow and the nape of his neck. His earrings chimed softly with every lift of the weights. The breeze through the open windows cooled the sweat along his back between sets.
He heard the creak of the ladder as someone approached the hatch. The hatch pushed open as Zoro set his weights down and the back of a blond head came into view. “You finally get laid?” he said in lieu of greeting.
Still dressed in shorts and an obnoxious floral shirt, Sanji stepped into the crow’s nest and kicked the hatch closed behind him. He didn’t turn to face Zoro. “No, but I’m about to.”
Zoro’s brow furrowed and he reached for a towel to wipe his face. “What’s that mean?”
“It means that you’ve been running around all day in that shirt with those pecs, and my nosebleeds have outed me completely – thank you very much, shitty swordsman – so you’d better be prepared that I’ll probably die fucking you but it’ll be a hell of a way to go.”
Zoro lowered the towel slowly and stared at the back of Sanji’s head. “You’re gay?”
“Bi-enough,” Sanji corrected toward the window.
“And those nosebleeds were for me?”
“Yes, dumbass. We’ve already established that,” Sanji said irritably. “And if you make fun of me, I’ll kick your ass before I fuck it.”
Zoro tried to process this new information and came up with: “Huh.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Sanji growled, hands tugging at the hem of his ugly shirt. Harbor noise carried faintly through the open windows in front of him.
“If I was a nerdy scientist and you were an adventurer after the same ancient plague, would you save me when everything went wrong?”
Sanji almost turned, but appeared to catch himself. “What kind of ridiculous question is that?”
“Just wondering.”
“Of course I would save you, shithead. Not that you would need saving. But if you did, I’d be there.”
Zoro grinned. Rivals to lovers. His favorite trope. “Want to call me ‘Mama’?”
Sanji’s hand flew to his face. “Fucking hell!”
Zoro snickered. Sanji whirled around, looking like a wild-eyed, bloody mess. It was actually kinda hot.
So was the sex, once Sanji regained consciousness and pounced with a handkerchief stuffed up his nose.
Zoro lost the shirt, and his shorts, and ended up being cuddled in the afterglow. By then, evening light had replaced the hard afternoon glare through the crow’s nest windows. With Sanji’s palm warm on his lower belly, nose against the nape of his neck, Zoro quietly wondered if this was a one-off or maybe the start of something more.
In any event, he owed Nami a thank you for making him put on a shirt.
Not that he’d ever thank her. She’d find a way to charge him for it.
End
