Work Text:
The moon is the only illuminated creature in the velvet blanket of midnight. It sticks out like a sore thumb. Law sits, one leg crossed over the other, chin tipped down, head leaning against Kikoku. Beating Caesar the Clown was only the beginning; the real beast to face is the monster named Donquixote Doflamingo.
Law leaves nothing up to fate. There are ten different failsafes for each of the fifty different ways things may turn sour.
Something clicks beside him. Law's eyes flash open.
Roronoa, the only other swordsman of this crew (other than the undead skeleton), has started to stir from the other end of Strawhat's ship. The man has a habit of being awake even when he sleeps, much like Law himself.
"Got something to say, Law?"
The way his name rolls off Roronoa's tongue sends a thrill of something down his spine. Law isn't quite ready to investigate what that something might be.
Law settles back against the Thousand Sunny walls. "You're not asleep," he observes.
"I would have been, if someone wasn't thinking so damned loudly," Roronoa grumbles as he pulls himself up to his feet, dusting the base of his green coat. His arms stretch above his head till his back lets out a satisfying crack. Law holds his breath as the swordsman starts to skulk over. Roronoa's single black eye locks onto Law's steel grey ones as the distance between them slowly diminishes.
Law's fingers tighten against Kikoku. Zoro's eyes skate down to catch the motion. "Calm down, Surgeon. I'm not looking for a fight–" his eyebrow quirks up. "– unless you are?"
By the end of his sentence, he is towering over Law. Law wonders why he does not sleep in the bunk, like the other strawhats. He wonders if the Strawhat's right-hand still sees him as a threat to his crew. It wouldn't be an impossible extrapolation, nor an illogical one.
Law deliberately relaxes his folded form, stretching out one leg to emphasise his absolute ease despite being on board a foreign ship with equally foreign crewmembers. He'd beat all of them in a fight individually, but all of them? Law does not know this crew well enough to not expect a hit, as benign as they may seem.
So he says, with a languid smirk aimed upwards, "Are you asking for one, Roronoa-ya?"
"Hm," Roronoa's eyes go back to studying him, further intensifying the thrum buzzing in Law's ears. The tingle in his spine. "No," he states simply, and then settles down beside Law.
Law twitches but does not react. His fingers drum against the side of Kikoku's sheath.
"Luffy trusts you," Roronoa says, looking at Law.
Is this the overdue first-hand shovel talk?
"I'm aware," Law answers to the sky. "And I assure you, there is no intention on my part of misusing that trust."
Roronoa waves Law's comment away, unbothered, like that wasn't even a thought that crossed his mind. "There are only so many people on this ship, and we'll all be spending a lot of time working together." He slants Law an unreadable glance.
What is he getting at? "If you're trying to say something, Roronoa-ya, I suggest you be direct. Subtlety of conversation is clearly not your strong suit."
Roronoa scoffs, rolls his eyes, and stretches an arm over Law's shoulders. Law stiffens slightly, but Roronoa runs a casual hand over his biceps, easing him against his side.
"It would be easier for everyone if you were comfortable here, 's all I'm saying," Roronoa says, his voice a deep rumble the shell of Law's ear.
Law tilts his head. Why is Roronoa extending an olive branch for no reason? Is this some strange set-up for a spar, perhaps? Or maybe... Law isn't blind; Roronoa has built himself to be quite easy on the eyes. Word on the sea is that the former Pirate Hunter swings both ways.
Roronoa had pulled him close earlier, when they were making merry and drinking beer after Caesar's defeat. Law had scowled and shoved at him then.
There isn't much need to shove at him now. He has always wondered how Strawhand's second-in-command would taste like. "I can be comfortable," Law speaks with a breathy whisper, lips lilting in a sultry smirk.
A hint of danger crawls up Roronoa's fearures, sending another thrill down Law's spine. His forehead inches closer, tipping down until it bumps against the brim of Law's cap. "You sure about that?" His tone is a palpable challenge.
Law narrows his eyes as he weighs his options. All the Strawhats are asleep. They are on the Thousand Sunny, only seven other members on this ship. Roronoa must be sure that no real harm will befall them on his home turf, even if Law cannot be.
Law's hand yanks the swordsman forward by the coat after a split's second decision. Their mouths crash against each another, Law's tongue leading them in an intense tandem of give and take, leaving no room for breaths to be caught. His teeth tugs lightly at Roronoa's bottom lip, eliciting a low grunt from the back of Roronoa's throat. Law grins against Roronoa's skin.
When they pull away for a breath, Roronoa comments, "You kiss like we're in a fight."
Law raises a brow. "Aren't we?" He is the most relaxed he has been since being separated from his crew, but they are still players on opposing sides of the field, in the grand scheme of things.
Roronoa mirrors Law's expression and crosses one arm over him. Roronoa braces himself against Kikoku's hilt, positioning them such that Law is boxed under his wide chest, his muscled arms. Law's chin cocks upwards, eyes tracing the outline of Roronoa's well-toned body hovering over him. He does not tense.
"No," Zoro rumbles, and then leans in to kiss Law again. This time, it is slower, sturdier. Law's eyes flutter shut. Safer. His hat falls from his head as Roronoa deepens the kiss with him.
This is not a fight, Law realises. Roronoa wasn't sitting outside because he wanted to keep an eye on him. He already trusted him. This is reassurance.
To think that Law, Surgeon of Death with the third highest bounty out of the Worst Generation, would ever find himself in a position of being reassured by Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. Law kisses the swordsman back at the same speed.
Roronoa pulls away first. "Better?" He asks, gruffer than his initial tone.
"Worry about yourself, Roronoa-ya," Law answers, though his head lulls forward in a subtle nod.
Roronoa laughs, a raucous thing, before settling back down beside Law. His arm remains comfortably over Law's shoulder.
"I do actually trust this crew," Law says to the sky. The moon is still the most illuminated creature in the dark velvet of this night, but aren't the twinkling stars just as bright when there's nothing of comparison to note?
"So do we, Law." Roronoa guides Law's head down until it's propped against his shoulder. His fingers rake idly over Law's hair. "So do I."
In the business of pirates, trust is a treasure guarded closely to one's chest, not to be handed out at will, unless you are Monkey D. Luffy without a single bone of self-preservation in your body. Trusting as a crew and trusting as a person are two very different things.
"The moon looks nice," Law says, casual. Roronoa keeps silent for a long while, his hands pausing in its caresses, until eventually, Law relents. "It trusts you with its life."
Roronoa hums, content, and the casual physical comfort resumes. Law is relaxed, safe, at least for now until they defeat Doflamingo.