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A new moon shades storm clouds charcoal dark and swallows Luffy's outline as Zoro settles down to watch his captain watch the sea. Perched on the prow at Merry's head, Luffy looks like a helpless bird, and the thought makes Zoro queasy even if he knows it isn't true. He squeezes the bottle of rum he thieved from the galley, half-wondering if it'll shatter in his hold and break the silence literally, because there isn't a proper way that he can. Waves lap at Merry's sides, sloshing thickly like black blood. A damp wind stirs the hairs at the nape of Zoro's neck, and he can just make out Luffy's thin arm move, clutching his straw hat to keep it from flying even though it's secured.
Reflex, huh, Zoro thinks, and slides Wado Ichimonji in and out of its scabbard. Gripping the hilt is a comfortable feeling, makes Zoro feel confident. He gives the same treatment to his other swords, sliding them rhythmically. The metallic sound of his own weapons being drawn cuts the sound of waves and, as he unsheathes Wado Ichimonji in the pretense of studying its blade, Zoro takes a deep breath.
"Oi, Captain!" he says, before he can manage to overthink. But Luffy doesn't budge and Zoro decides he was too hesitant. He glares at the sword as though it's done him a disservice, then states the only other thing he assumes he can get away with.
"It isn't your watch," he adds, coming across as more accusatory than he meant to, but sounding confident all the same. And this at least gets Luffy to turn around. He's still clutching the brim of his hat, even though the wind has settled.
"I know," he says. No lights illuminate Merry's deck to keep the ship concealed so near the shores of an island, but there's a challenge in Luffy's words that Zoro could pick up blindfolded. As if he's being goaded into saying more. Zoro doesn't like it and although he's sure Luffy can't see him in the dark either, Zoro raises the rum to his lips in the hopes the bottle will hide his expression.
"You, uh, wanna go sleep while I take watch?" Zoro questions, dancing around what he really wants to ask in a way that makes his cheeks burn shamefully. He should've just cut to the point.
"No," replies Luffy. Sure enough, his jabby answer is just as quick and sharp as if this were some sort of sparring match. But Zoro can tell that Luffy's pouting, and besides, he could never converse with Luffy using swords in the manner in which it seems to work with others. If Luffy punched him, Zoro's certain he'd take the hit and topple over on Merry's deck.
That would be nice, actually, Zoro tries not to admit to himself. Much easier than trying to have this... this conversation. Zoro's fingers find the pommel of Wado Ichimonji again.
"Look, Luffy," he grumbles, "there's a good chance we'll run into Marine Admirals tomorrow, and I—everyone wants—needs you to be functional." Not sleep deprived, Zoro doesn't add. Or injured or captured or drowned. He unsheathes all three swords at once, and appreciates how they slice through the waves.
"But I am!! I'm in great shape! I can totally kick Marine ass!" Luffy snaps. His small outburst is whiny, and maybe Luffy realizes this, too, because then he yells, as exasperated as Zoro has ever heard him, "Stop worrying about me!!" Zoro can only watch as Luffy whips a rubbery arm across the ship to punch the deck next to his thigh. The impact sounds like a thunderclap; below deck, there's another thump, and Zoro imagines furniture falling, someone tumbling out of their hammock.
But Zoro doesn't flinch. He looks at Luffy's hand, liking its proximity. Liking how this close, he can see the shapes of Luffy's fingers, the scars marring his skin, the calluses on his knuckles. Zoro's own fingers abandon Wado Ichimonji for Luffy's hand on instinct. Another reflex, he considers, squeezing Luffy's palm and tracing his thin wrist with his thumb. Though Zoro's grip is firm, it's gentle enough that Luffy could retract his arm if he wished to. But he doesn't. His arm stays stretched across Merry's length as silence settles over them like a blanket, thicker and heavier than storm clouds overhead.
Tendrils of fog snake up Merry's sides like ghosts of men lost at sea, yet Zoro minds less now that Luffy's body is something he can hold on to. The faint heartbeat at the base of Luffy's palm is uneven, and his skin has goosebumps under Zoro's touch.
"Okay," Zoro says hoarsely, because maybe there's never been any point in worrying about Luffy, after all. He'll just act, the way he always has. Always does, always will: protect Luffy with his life. And yes, it's Zoro's duty as first mate, but Zoro cares much more than that. He'd care, Zoro thinks, even if they weren't pirates.
Luffy's hand relaxes under his own and Zoro asks, quietly, with his eyes closed and head tipped back against the railings, "You wanna tell me what you've been worried about?"
Luffy's fist clenches again and for a heartbeat, Zoro's pulse races faster than if he were thrown in the midst of battle with his defenses wide open. Then, before he can blink, Luffy is a warm weight being propelled onto his lap. He lands on Zoro heavily, snatching up his hand from beneath Zoro's to push at his chest hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. Zoro's eyes fly open, a grunt escaping his mouth as his head bangs on Merry's sharply carved wooden rails and his vision swims with stars.
"I'm not worried," Luffy mutters. He clutches the fabric of Zoro's tight t-shirt white-knuckled before replacing the touch with his palms in what Zoro will take as an apology. He rubs his head, feeling a bump beginning to form, and hides behind another long chug of rum. Luffy is hiding too, chin tucked to his chest, the brim of his hat casting shadows across his face. Zoro knows that if he tipped it back, there would be black bags, puffy like bruises under Luffy's eyes.
But he won't. There isn't anything he needs to prove. Besides, even though Luffy is lying through his teeth, every other part of him is confessing that it isn't true. Zoro guesses that's a win. Or at least a draw.
"Okay," he says again, gulping down the next quarter bottle of alcohol. Something about it seems to make Luffy finally incline his neck, and he gives Zoro a little glare as a frown and pout compete visibly at the corners of his lips. It's confused... Adorable, and Zoro finishes the last of his rum in a half-hearted effort to hide a small smile.
"Okay?" echoes Luffy suspiciously. "You believe me?" he says, as if he's gauging his own capability to tell convincing lies. It's cute... really cute, the way Luffy's nose scrunches and he bites his lip: Zoro can't help the laugh that tumbles from his mouth. His chest feels warm from more than alcohol.
"No," Zoro says through a smirk.
"Then why did you say okay?" asks Luffy, glaring a bit harder and leaning forward so that his face is very much in Zoro's. His mouth is fixed in a pout now, and the brim of his hat rests on Zoro's untidy hair. Zoro goes kind of cross-eyes trying to study Luffy. He can taste the seafood pasta from dinner on Luffy's breath when he asks in return, "What, did you want me to say something else?"
Rather captivated, Zoro watches Luffy's lips purse before forming an O as he struggles around a reply. This close, Zoro is able to see the dark patches beneath Luffy's eyes and, as Luffy keeps searching for words, Zoro cups his face gently. Luffy's skin is soft as he traces the curve of his cheekbones, trailing fingers over his tender eye-bags, swollen with sleepless nights. Zoro finds himself suddenly self-conscious about the bulkiness of his own hands, the rough calluses on his palms that Luffy must be able to feel. But Luffy's forehead tips towards him along with a sigh, and Zoro takes it as permission to continue.
After a while, made braver by Luffy's legs wrapped around his waist, Zoro replaces the caresses across Luffy's face with kisses, dropping his hands to massage knots of tension from Luffy's shoulders and back. He keeps going until Luffy's entire body droops forward: cheek smushed against his shoulder, quiet, steady snores tickling the skin at the hollow of his throat. Where Luffy has let Zoro tip back his hat to rake blunt nails against his scalp, his fringe brushes Zoro's ear and tickles it, too.
Just like this, Zoro takes this watch and the next and the next, Luffy draped across him warm and pliant. Zoro's hands don't leave Luffy's waist. Every so often, he shuts his eyes and breathes in the salty tang of Luffy's skin.
Luffy never did answer, Zoro realizes, finding that he doesn't really mind. By the time clouds have cleared and stars begin fading into purple, the waves are quiet as well. If he concentrates hard enough, Zoro can imagine water lapping to the rhythm of Luffy's heartbeat. Sappy, he chides himself, but continues thinking it anyway.
Come dawn, a bleary-eyed Luffy will kiss him soundly on the mouth before curling up once more, tucked into Zoro's broad arms. And Zoro will grin because maybe, just maybe, Luffy did answer, after all... They've never quite needed words between them, have they?