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Summary
The ship was unnaturally quiet that night, save for the faint lapping of waves against the hull. Both Zoro and Sanji had drunk far too much tonight.
Zoro stumbled into the cabin where a steaming tub waited, stripping his haramaki off with a grunt. His muscles flexed under the lantern light, sweat and sake staining his skin.
Behind him, a low whistle cut through the haze.
Zoro turned his head sharply to see Sanji, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, a smirk plastered on his face. His blonde hair hung a little loose, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Enjoying the view, cook?"