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The morning after long battles were always drawn out and slow to start. Zoro’s arms are strong and lean, holding you with almost a vice-like grip. Often enough, you and Chopper are the first to wake after the fights, tending to the others’ wounds and such. Alabasta had definitely taken its toll.
You struggle to turn in order to lay on your other side, the slow breaths of the swordsman fanning past your ear. Squirming, you push at his arms gently until he relents with some unintelligible mumbles. You turn around to face him. You shuffle in your position, morning grogginess still lying in your bones.
Finally, you manage to face him; the slow light of the sun casts a shadow on his face. For the first time in a while, Zoro looks completely relaxed. No worries are a weight on his shoulders and his anxieties have relented for the time being. You recall sleepily — he basically used to sleep with one eye open. Tracing lightly over his nearly completely bandaged chest, you think about the new scars that would mark his flesh after. Not that you minded; you thought they were kind of sexy. He didn’t mind either, but you also thought about the pain inflicted on him that he never deserved.
The gauze under your fingers is smooth and white. Luckily, Zoro is far too tired to have already taken it off. You knew that he would sometime during today, but you would leave that scolding for when the time came. How troublesome.
Tracing your knuckle against the curve of his cheekbone, you can’t help but admire how his skin reflects the golden light slowly filtering in through the windows. You move your hand to caress the fluffy green hair on his head, fingers combing through the surprisingly soft tufts. The locks are almost a bright neon when the sun shines upon them. It reminds you of looking through a thin summer leaf under the noon sun.
Stifling a yawn, you wipe the small tears at the corner of your eyes on the pillow underneath your head. You are about to remove your hand before you realize that a strong grip is keeping it in its position. Zoro’s hand is gently holding your wrist to his ear, your fingers still tangled through his hair. Blinking in surprise, you yawn again, this time the yawn resting into a smile.
“Good morning,” you say with a grin, ruffling his locks. He smiles back, slowly opening his warm, black eyes. It’s like only his stare is drawing in all of your senses. You think to yourself that it’s pretty easy to be in love with him.
“Mornin’. Sleep well?” The sleep in his voice gives it a distinctive croak. You hum and move your hand back to his cheek, cupping it while slowly drawing his face forwards. Pressing a soft kiss to his nose, you press his bandaged forehead against yours afterward. He sighs and starts to feel his cheeks warm at the gesture. Zoro wraps his long arms around your frame, drawing you ever closer.
It’s a bit warm, but you don’t mind.
“Wanna sleep some more?” You ask, cheek pressed against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and slow. He hums and the sound rumbles through your head, giving it a pleasant buzz. “Me too.”
You can spare a few more hours — as long as it’s for him.