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Merry
They christened Merry well, welcoming her with a party as they set off on her maiden voyage, Usopp in tow. By sunset, his crewmates had claimed some of the best retail on the ship—Luffy the ram’s head and the hammock closest to the window where the sea was the loudest, Nami her own room and nearly the entirety of the quarterdeck, and Usopp a space in the kitchen to play with his toys and tricks.
When everyone else had gone to sleep or passed out drunk, Zoro climbed up Merry’s ladder, a weighty bottle of rum pulling at his haramaki. Before anyone else could take it, Zoro was going to make the crow’s nest his.
When he reached the top where the crow’s nest sat, he settled in, stretching out his legs with his back against the curved rail. He popped the bottle of rum open, fumbled a bit, and some accidentally spilled onto the wood.
Merry accepted the drink. It soaked into her dry wood before Zoro could even curse. Zoro paused, then poured her a bit more. She soaked it up.
Zoro grinned.
“You’ve got a taste of liquor, huh?” he said, feeling a little stupid for talking to a ship but not caring because no one was around to give him shit for it. He settled in, brought the bottle to his lips, and took a nice long drink. “A woman after my own heart.”
Merry always accepted a drink of rum, soaking it into her wood. Zoro liked to drink with Merry. She didn’t talk much, but when she did—creaks of her haul, the waves at her rails—it was always worth listening to.
Sunny
Zoro had to be quick if he wanted to avoid the teasing jeers of his crewmates. As they left Water 7, a new crewmate and Usopp (once again) in tow, Zoro grabbed a bottle of rum from the kitchen and made his way to the quarter deck. It was quite here, most of the commotion happening on the main deck.
(He could still smell Merry as she burned. To him, her wood smelled like rum.)
Zoro popped open the bottle of rum and poured a small amount onto the wood. Sunny took a little longer to drink than Merry, the rum soaking in slowly. Once she got a taste for it, Zoro gave her another drink, this one accepted more readily.
“’at a girl,” Zoro said.
Any ship that liked the taste of rum was fit to be part of the Pirate King’s crew.
Brook
After Thriller Bark, on a day when Zoro’s body was aching from pain, pain, pain, fuck, he clung to Sunny’s rail as he walked along the quarter deck.
If the cook saw, he would give Zoro this strange look of pity that hurt more than the physical pain. Usopp probably would fuss over him, Nami would watch his ever step in case he needed her help, and Chopper would probably approve of Zoro using aides to walk when he needed it. But that didn’t matter because Sanji was busy in the kitchen making snacks for the women, and Usopp was probably working on something with Franky, Nami was sunbathing on the main deck, and Chopper was taking a nap in his office.
The only person around to see Zoro’s weakness wasn’t even a person at all, not really. It was Brook, who was standing directly in front of Zoro’s path, sipping from an old, dented flask. Zoro still didn’t quite understand how the hell a skeleton without eyes could see in the first place, or where the food he ate went, but Brook must have seen him because he turned.
Brook said, “Care for a drink? I won’t tell the good doctor, cross my heart. If only I had a heart! Yohoho!”
Brook held out his flask to him, the meager contents sloshing inside.
Zoro took a few more slow steps, refusing to grit his teeth, and took the flask. It was so small, he could probably down the contents in one go, but he took a single, small swig, barely enough to fill his mouth. It burned as it went down. Zoro licked his teeth, chasing the faint taste of wood.
He couldn’t quite place the taste, though he knew he’d had it before. He asked, “What was that?” because he sort of liked the burn that came with it and the way it made his teeth feel soft instead of stingy and sharp.
Next to him, Brook began to sing.
“Come guess me this riddle. What beats pipe and fiddle,
What’s hotter than mustard and milder than cream,
What best wets your whistle, what’s clearer than crystal,
Sweeter than honey and stronger than steam?
“What can make the dumb talk, what can make the lame walk,
What’s the elixir of life and philosopher’s stone,
And what helped Mr. Brunnell to dig the Thames Tunnel?
Sure wasn’t it—”
Brook gestured a bony hand towards Zoro, who said, “Brandy?”
Brook shook his head.
“Whiskey?” Zoro tried.
Brook nodded and continued singing, as if Zoro’s uncertain answer was sung with the same smooth grace as Brook’s voice.
“—from old Inishowen.
"So, we’ll stick to the crater, the best thing in nature,
For sinkin’ your sorrows and raisin’ your joys.
And boys, I half wonder, if lightning and thunder
Was made from the plunder of—”
When Brook gestured again, Zoro said, “Whiskey,” with more confidence. He still wouldn’t call it singing, but Brook seemed to think it was.
“—me boys!” Brook finished without missing a beat. A skeleton couldn’t quite smile, but Brook certainly looked pleased. “That was quite the duet, yohoho! Care for another?”
“Another what?”
“Another drink, or another song.”
Zoro grinned. “Think I’ll take both.”
He took another swig from the flask while Brook began to sing another song about whiskey. Next time, he'd show Brook where the good rum was stashed, and they'd have a proper pirates' drink.