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Usopp really was not in the mood to have his world rocked mid-afternoon on a random Tuesday, but alas, here they were.
Following an experiment gone horribly wrong—not to mention the subsequent explosion forcing him to set half the workshop back to rights—he'd trudged tiredly into the galley for a glass of water, figuring he'd settle down for a break and a nice chat with his good friend Sanji. That'd soothe his fraying nerves, he thought.
Unfortunately, the universe hated him.
Instead of any of that, he opened the door and immediately met a sight so disturbing he feared he might've actually kicked the bucket. That was it, the explosion had killed him and he'd been banished to hell for his crimes. Surely that explained what he was seeing.
Sanji was in fact in the galley, sat at the table scribbling away in his notebook; that wasn't the strange part. The weird bit—the thing making Usopp scrub his eyes so hard he saw stars—was his position, because he wasn't sat on a chair like usual, not on a barstool or even the galley couch, but perched on Zoro's lap.
Worse still, Zoro clearly didn't give a damn—hell, he even looked comfy! Draped over Sanji's back, arms wrapped snuggly around his waist and his chin hooked over Sanji's shoulder, he seemed minutes away from drifting off to sleep.
Sanji's head snapped up when he entered, but he made no effort to shove Zoro away; Zoro didn't bother acknowledging him, burrowing his nose into Sanji's neck with a huff. Usopp gaped openly as a pale hand came up to pat at the swordsman's head.
"You need something?" Sanji asked, far too casual for comfort considering the situation. Yeah, Usopp was definitely in hell. All the lies must've finally caught up to him. He hoped someone broke the news gently to Kaya.
(Not Nami, though. The fee for an early death plus a letter to the East Blue had to be a nightmare. He shuddered at the thought of interest.)
"Uh, just some water," He stammered, suppressing a flinch as Sanji made to get up. He'd seen too much. They were so going to kill him—but wait, he was already dead. Could he die twice? It was a matter of time before he found out—either these two ended him, or his heart would give out from the stress.
Why is it always me, he bemoaned.
Thankfully, Zoro chose that moment to tighten his grip on Sanji's waist, impeding his movements (and thus sparing Usopp's life).
He gave a low grumble of, "No," unaffected by the subsequent glare from their cook.
"Let go, you animal," Sanji hissed, twisting around in an unsuccessful bid for freedom. Zoro nipped at his ear in warning and, hey, maybe Usopp wasn't so thirsty after all! Dead people didn't need to drink, right? Brook was a special case. He'd be fine.
Mind made up, he began inching towards the door, only to freeze in place as Zoro aimed his next words at him. He really, really had to get out of here lest he lose a limb. He'd need a miracle to manage escaping the room, let alone living to tell the tale. One thing was for sure, he'd never enter a room without knocking ever again.
"Oi, Usopp. You can work a tap, yeah?" At the sniper's startled nod, Zoro grinned widely. "Thought so. Relax, Curls."
This time Sanji was the one to huff. "I know that, stupid. It's just if I'm here, I might as well—"
"Cook," Zoro spoke flatly; Sanji balked. He reluctantly paused his squirming, though his nose scrunched in defiance. "Stop stressing. The crew can handle themselves while you take a break. Trust in them."
At the ensuing silence, he added cheekily, "'Sides, thought you said you weren't our maid."
Sanji snorted at the memory of yelling as much at Luffy that very morning. "I did say that."
Zoro's hand slid up to ruffle his hair. "You did. So act like it."
Usopp watched in fascination as the cook leaned forward, scoffing before pressing a short kiss to Zoro's cheek. "Stupid moss," he muttered, but said no more.
The grin Zoro shot his way was feral. Victory!, screamed the hard lines of his teeth. Usopp's own still ached from all the chattering.
Clutching the opportunity to leave, he offered Zoro a shaky thumbs up. His smile was wobbly, but he didn't care. He hurriedly filled his glass and all but sprinted from the room, yammering about catching can't-stay-in-this-room disease, what a shame, but he really had to leave now or else he'd break out in boils and a fever and wouldn't that be terrible for everyone.
It wasn't until the door of the workshop slammed behind him that he dared breathe. He let out a long, haggard sigh, muscles going so slack he threatened to drop his glass. Deep breaths, Usopp. You're safe from those monsters for now.
"Everything okay, bro?"
Usopp yelped, jumping a foot in the air. Franky's hands came up in a placating gesture, face twisted in concern. Just Franky.
His nervous system was crying. Chopper was not going to be happy.
"Yeah, dude. I'm fine." He waved a hand dismissively in the air, exhausted. Franky hesitated, letting up when it became painfully clear Usopp wasn't willing to talk. Eventually he turned away, eager to return to his newest project.
Fifteen minutes of blessed silence later, Usopp pulled himself together. "Actually," he piped up, Franky responding with an engaged hum, "You'll never believe what I—"
Suddenly, he slumped. Right. No way would Franky believe what he just saw. If he did, he'd blab about it to Robin, who'd gossip to Nami, who'd mention it slyly at dinner—and then he really would be dead. No, if he mentioned this to anyone, let alone the monsters themselves, they'd be eating him for breakfast.
He sighed again, cursing his rotten luck. Why him, indeed.
At least he'd gotten his water.