Sanji stared at Zoro across the bed – the only bed – in the room. Zoro’s brow ticked, gaze narrowed. Tension climbed high. The Straw Hats were staying at an inn for the night after the festival in town. Nami – who was an angel sent from the heavens to grace them with her beauty and presence – was a miser, and now they were here, sharing a room, with only one bed.
Sanji’s lips thinned. Zoro’s hand curled into a fist. The air crackled.
“Dibs on the middle spot!” Usopp declared, and launched himself toward the bed.
It was on.
Zoro grabbed for Usopp, as Sanji got an elbow from Franky to the ribs. Brook kicked Luffy in the face as they tried to enter from the bottom. Jinbe slid onto the bed like cutting through water, silent as a shark, claiming the right side. Franky blinded Sanji with his nipple lights before cannonballing himself onto the left end.
Sanji blinked the spots out of his eyes in time to see Brook occupy the spot next to Jinbe, lying back like a corpse. He surged forward, crawling quickly toward the last remaining spot at the pillows. Zoro scrambled across the wide bed as well, trying to beat Sanji to the space. They collided, all spit and snarls, wrestling for it.
Luffy tried to slither in from the top, but they noticed, grabbed him and flung him off the bottom of the bed, bowling the army-crawling Usopp onto the floor. Sanji snared Zoro around the waist and they tumbled into the last spot, Zoro’s face smashed into Brook’s afro, Franky’s shoulder ball smacking into the back of Sanji’s head.
Zoro bristled and grumbled, then wiggled back tighter into Sanji’s hold. Sanji’s hand splayed across Zoro’s bare stomach and he pressed his nose against the back of Zoro’s neck. He smelled like sake and takoyaki, and Sanji brushed a soft kiss on his nape to settle him. Zoro liked being the little spoon, anyway.
Chopper – who’d been waiting patiently – joined them, climbing up onto Jinbe’s wide chest, to use him for a pillow. Luffy sprawled across their legs. Usopp curled into a defeated ball beneath Sanji and Zoro’s tucked feet at the end of the bed.
The room settled, the air growing still. Yawns and tired sighs drifted upward. A Great Owl hooted outside the curtained window, the night sky peeking in.
Franky shifted, turning on his side, reaching for the bedside lamp. “Night, bros.”
“‘Night,” seven sleepy voices chorused in return.
Franky shut off the light.
End