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Sweat was the main thing Zoro smelled at this point in his life. But then, the smell of sweat had always been achingly familiar. Sure, out here in the middle of the ocean with the salty aroma of the sea to couple with it, it seemed stronger, but really, it had chased him his whole life. Training alongside Kuina and the other men learning swordsmanship, they had all reeked of sweat more often than not. It was a strange comfort, and Zoro never really understood why Nami and Sanji tended to complain about it. (And really, if Sanji wanted to bitch, he could wear something other than dark, long-sleeved thick clothes to soak it all up). Usopp didn’t seem to mind it, and neither did Robin. Obviously Chopper didn’t care (did reindeer even sweat?), but no one seemed to find that comfort in it like Zoro did.
It wasn’t necessarily that he liked being dirty, gross, and sweaty, it was just… familiar. And well, it was probably a good thing it was familiar, because being a pirate meant being dirty, gross, and sweaty.
Maybe that was why he’d been so quick to follow Luffy back then. Maybe he could already sense the familiarity in him. Gross, sweaty, stubborn to a fault…
Maybe he’d seen a tiny piece of Kuina in Luffy.
Of course, they really weren’t all that similar. In retrospect, that was obvious. But maybe, just maybe, that little bit of familiar comfort had been what sparked things.
Who was to say, really? It didn’t matter, because he was here now.
But all of that was to say, that Zoro didn’t mind the smell of sweat, nor did he mind going for a bit without a shower or bath.
And neither did Luffy.
That was probably the only reason they’d survived in that tiny boat when it was just the two of them, now that he really thought about it. Nami would have lost her damn mind if she’d been with them during that.
Anyways, because of all that, it was always nice being close to Luffy after a long day of sailing and training. Muscles sore and aching from exertion, the heat of a slight sunburn on their skin, the stench of sweat.
It meant they’d lived another day together. Well and truly lived it, and the state of their bodies proved that.
It was times like this that Zoro found himself just… staring at Luffy. He didn’t really know why he did it, but once he started, he just couldn’t stop.
His captain often sat at the prow of the Going Merry this time of night; Zoro had no idea why or what it was he thought about. He didn’t ask, because he didn’t need to know. If Luffy thought he should know, he’d tell him. But Luffy sat at the prow, gazing out towards the horizon, his eyes wide and full of wonder.
Sometimes Nami and Sanji made jokes that he wasn’t thinking about anything when he had that look on his face, but Zoro didn’t think that was true. Luffy thought about everything when he had that look on his face. He thought about where they were going, what they were going to do, every bit of the ocean they were going to explore.
How he would be King.
The brim of his hate shadowed his eyes, the light of the moon and stars not quite enough to illuminate his features, though his eyes glinted bright enough regardless. The breeze ruffled his greasy bangs, and Luffy leaned into the soft wind, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
It wasn’t the great big grin Zoro and everyone else was accustomed to. And sure, Zoro loved that smile, so bright and intense it could rival the sun.
But this subtle one… It was something special, he thought.
It had become something of a routine of theirs, this little thing. Not every night. Not even most nights. Most nights were for laughing with the whole crew, were for enjoying time with their friends, and, on rare occasions, if they were all in the right mood and the winds were fair, they might plan.
But nights like tonight, after a long and arduous day when everyone was exhausted and wanted to be left to their own devices, Sanji in the kitchen trying out new recipes, Robin up in the crow’s nest stargazing, Nami holing away somewhere to pour over her maps, Ussop tinkering with little knick knacks, Chopper already having gone off to bed…
And this was where Zoro and Luffy found themselves.
Luffy sighed, and reached for the plate that sat on the railing next to him. For his standards, it likely didn’t even qualify for a snack, but it was a bit of leftover food from dinner. Some of Ussop’s, that he didn’t finish, if Zoro remembered correctly. Of course it’d gone to Luffy, and he munched on the little pieces of fried meat.
“Want a piece?” Luffy offered, already holding it out to him.
Zoro stared at him, at the piece of food being offered to him so readily, so casually. Perhaps it should not have been a big deal; comrades, friends, shared food all the time, but for Luffy to offer him even a bite?
Even if nights like this were the only time it happened, it still took Zoro’s breath away.
He didn’t really want it. He wasn’t hungry, and it had long since gotten cold, but he would never turn down anything Luffy decided to share with him. He’d take whatever he was offered.
“Sure.” He took the morsel from him and popped it into his mouth.
Luffy hummed and turned his attention back to the soothing waves of the ocean and the swirling skies above them.
“I wonder what we’ll do tomorrow,” he mused.
Zoro blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in routine. They tended not to speak to each other on these nights, the silence comfortable and casual as Luffy basked in the presence of the world and Zoro basked in the presence of Luffy, but if Luffy wanted to talk, he would indulge him.
“I’d say much of the same,” Zoro said.
Luffy chuckled and reached for another piece of cold dinner. “Yeah, probably! I can’t wait!”
And he couldn’t, because Luffy looked forward to everything with that blazing optimism, an intense joy that Zoro wasn’t quite sure he would ever understand. But he didn’t need to understand it to appreciate it.
“Hey, Zoro?” Luffy leaned a little closer, which wasn’t really that unusual, because personal space wasn’t something he appeared to grasp well.
(Not that Zoro was any better in that department, according to Nami).
“Yeah?” Zoro leaned a little closer too. He could count the freckles dotting the bridge of Luffy’s nose if he had the patience.
(He might, because it was Luffy).
Salty, chapped lips scraped against his own.
Zoro didn’t know if it was the salt of the sea, the salt of sweat, or the salt of tonight’s cold dinner.
Maybe it should have been gross. All three of those things would have been gross on anyone else’s lips, but not his.
Because Luffy wouldn’t taste like anything else.
It was a chaste, quick kiss, which was probably a good thing, all things considered, because it took Zoro’s mind an embarrassingly long amount of time to process that Luffy’s lips had just been pressed against his own.
“Heh! Your face!” Luffy laughed as he clutched at his stomach, already reaching for another piece of food. “Sorry, was just thinking about everything for a minute.”
Zoro tilted his head, worked his jaw, trying to think of something to say to that, to the fact that Luffy had just kissed him, as if it were no big deal at all.
But then, to someone like Luffy, perhaps it was no big deal at all.
Luffy turned his gaze back to the sky, reached for the last piece of his dinner, and that small smile returned to his face.
Zoro stared. He stared too long to say anything, so he didn’t, and they lapsed back into that familiar and unfamiliar silence.
The kiss became a part of their routine after that.
Zoro wondered if one day he might ask what it meant.