The Boy Who Would Be King

They're sharing the floor. There's no lack of sleep spaces but Zoro chose there so of course Luffy was wont to follow, sprawling over his first as if it were his right to do so. It was, but neither of them outright say it. It's one of those things that's just...understood.

Luffy moves, though. A lot. Regardless of his state of wakefulness the captain can really only ever sit still if it is atop the figurehead, staring out at the unknown with an eagerness for the next adventure as he parses through the last. In his sleep he thrives on contact and it ranges based on impulse alone as with most things. A twitch or turn...wandering hands that sometimes bypass fabric, sometimes not, to cup and knead...a mouth that mumbles and drools and drags lips and teeth lazily over what it finds beneath it. Most often he wakes to a scowl or a groan depending on the situation and every time he laughs.

This time... this time he wakes flat on his back rather than sprawled on or wrapped around his first mate, his own hands lax while rough palms skirt over his ribs. His vest is somewhere, pushed off without his waking and it seems he's the only one sleep still clings to, making him pliant under hand. Turnabout is fair play, seems it's Zoro's turn.

Now, Luffy's greedy. He loves to grip and possess and drive to madness no matter who winds up being the one on the receiving end. Used to getting as good as he gives and don't get him wrong, it is good, both are, he's just...he's not used to this...this softness. This reverence with which Zoro touches, dragging its fingers over every dip and valley on soft skin, tracing the tough outlines of scars from carelessness and the retelling of their adventures--up, feather-light over the curve of dashes from teeth at Arlong Park and the battle for their third member, down along a starburst from Crocodile and the freedom of an entire nation and the leaving behind and gaining of their newest members. His skin tingles with it and it makes him squirm with the want for firmer. As lips touch to his navel and hands settle on the rough denim he hadn't bothered to shuck before joining Zoro he lifts his hips with intent to move things along only to have them pushed right back down.

They're on their fifth round of I Spy--Zoro keeps guessing it but it takes him a long time and Luffy isn't sure if he just isn't getting the gist of the game or if Zoro only answers when Luffy's wheedled him enough--when he jumps up and the dingy rocks dangerously. It doesn't flip, though it wouldn't be the first time. Or second. Or tenth. It's hard, okay? The boat is small and he has so much energy.

Nami is staring at him, expression flat, and it doesn't take a genius to see that she thinks that is the most absurd thing she has ever heard. Usopp is gawking, open-mouthed and sputtering sounds that might be words if they would manage to be more than half-formed because, really, who talks like that? It's a morbid sort of waxing poetic and Zoro is...eccentric --withdrawn and a curious sort of creature-- but this should be beyond even them and yet here they are. It's bound to be the rum to blame.

Luffy is staring though, gaze intently focused on the spot just south of Zoro's left clavicle, like he can see the pounding of that heart through thin white cotton and is mulling over whether or not the extraction of the thing would be an acceptable offering. If he wanted it, or rather if he wanted to test the weight of conviction behind that leveled stare right back at him. The conversation picks back up, new topic bowling over the last one forcefully, and neither of them correct the course. Not when his gaze switches to meet Zoro's own.

It doesn't count if he didn't think about it first, right? How much thought is enough to damn him? Surely not the bare minimum that comes with 'hey look he is up and talking let's go visit!'

He's in motion before the thought is even fully processed, sandals clapping against Adam's wood before he springs and tackles, wrapped in layers around the temporary crewmate who honestly spent way too long recovering from the last adventure. Really. Who needs that much rest when they can just eat and eat until they feel better?!

"You're gonna what?"

His upper lip curls in a sneer, nose wrinkling slightly as he leans just a liiiiitle bit further over the railing. In his hand is the last bottle of sake, stolen from the stash that was stolen from the kitchen that was stolen from...did it count as stealing if it came off an enemy ship? They won, they kind of earned it.

At the time. Zoro didn't earn it now. Not when he made such a damn fuss over the hermit crab that Luffy had smuggled on board. So what if its new home happened to be the swordsman's bed? It wasn't like his first mate didn't sleep all over the place anyway!