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Zoro remembers the first time that Law fell asleep against his shoulder. On the long way to Zou, after the parties and the trips to the infirmary, everybody was exhausted. Silence fell over the Thousand Sunny, so atypical to be uncanny, and it was interrupted only by Luffy’s snoring and by the click-clack coming from the kitchen, where the cook was spinning on the hardwood floor with his heels.
Zoro was perched atop the mainmast, with his sore back against the railing, and he was enjoying the chilly air of the evening and the unusual calmness before dinner. That was, until he sensed that someone was climbing the ladder to his nest with a stealthy step: not Chopper’s slightly indecisive gait, and he had seen Robin asleep below deck when he had gone to retrieve some booze. He was quick to pretend to be asleep.
A second later, the uninvited guest reached the platform and sat down, putting a good distance between them. Zoro sensed the ominous presence of the nodachi that never left Law’s side, and wondered if the captain of the Heart Pirates could feel Kitetsu’s thirst for blood. They shared more than just cursed swords. Zoro had noticed Law’s tendency to avoid the chaos, to speak only when necessary and to get involved in situations that appeared beyond his control. He seemed unapproachable, which Zoro guessed was the idea that he himself gave of his persona outside of the crew. He had not always been like this, and he had the feeling that the same could be said about Law, even if in a hardened sense. Zoro was still quick to soften, while Law’s elusive behaviour looked like a callus that his own owner wasn’t too eager to scratch off.
As if he were sensing Zoro’s idle thinking, Law let out a weak sigh. The fight against Doflamingo had not been kind on his body (nor on his mind), and he looked more weary than usual, which was an understatement. Zoro swallowed back the impulse to crack open his eye to throw a look at the body next to his, at its visible and less so wounds.
He knew that Law’s stare would’ve immediately pierced through him, and that the awareness of Zoro’s presence would’ve made Law flee like a bird sensing the approach of a predator. So he kept breathing deeply, and he felt a strange kind of contentment at the perspective that they were sharing the same space, a spot that Law had searched for and chosen to rest, even when he saw that it was already occupied.
Faking his sleep, Zoro ended up sleeping for real, and when he was woken up by the cook’s shrieks calling for dinner, Law was already gone. But a warmth was infused in the wood where he had rested, and Zoro briefly placed his palm on it before descending the ladder.
What Zoro thought would be a one-time exception became a recurrent habit before dinner was ready, or in the first hours of the day, when the crew was still asleep. Sometimes, Law sat closer to him. When Zoro was awake, Law asked for permission to share the space with a nod, and Zoro granted it with the same gesture.
They didn’t talk, which was a relief. Zoro believed it would’ve been impossible to have a normal conversation with Trafalgar Law, and he hated small talk anyway. They sat in silence, watching the changing colours of the sky, until someone interrupted the stillness and Law got up like he was being woken up from a deep sleep. He threw his long, slender legs into the void, pausing for a second as if he was about to turn around and say something, but in the end he gave his back to the void and put the first foot on the ladder’s rope.
The day before their arrival on Zou, they clashed against a Marine vessel. It was usual business, but they were still recovering, and getting rid of the Devil Fruit-powered captain (Zoro hated Zoan fruit owners with a passion) turned out to be harder than expected. He was still tearing away from his skin the spines thrown by the bastard-turned-porcupine (ridiculous), when he climbed the ladder to his resting spot.
Law was already there, with his eyes closed. He made no move to acknowledge his presence. Zoro shrugged between himself and sat down, closer than Law had ever dared to venture. Blood was slowly oozing out from his wounds. Chopper was going to make a fuss at him at dinner for not coming to the infirmary. Law’s nose scrunched up slightly. One second later, his scrutinising stare was on him. He was pissed; Zoro couldn’t decide if it was for the smell or for the proximity. They stared at each other until Zoro had the time to notice the exact pattern of the whitish blemishes on Law’s face, until a spike from his back was abruptly torn away by a clinical hand. Doctors were all the same.
Zoro grunted as more blood wet his vest. Brook was going to turn more insane than he already was at scrubbing away the stains, no matter how many times Zoro told him that he didn’t give a shit about them. Law looked completely disinterested as he rested once again against the railing. But his hand was stained with Zoro’s blood, and the sight made his head feel a little light. He gazed at it for so long that his mind had the time to produce a wild thought. If he offered himself up as a distraction, would Law take it?
Zoro didn’t get to reply to the question with a resounding “What the fuck?” as Law’s shoe collided with his boot. He stared down at their touching feet like they were the stupidest sordid joke ever made. Law didn’t seem to have noticed anything, which, given his usual hyper-awareness about the smallest details, was absolutely nuts. His eyes stayed closed, eyelids fluttering in an almost imperceptible way, and Zoro couldn’t help but take in the sight as if he was witnessing something forbidden. A white spot marked his left eyelid, which created a strong contrast with his long, almost black eyelashes.
Zoro had perceived the change in the Heart Pirates captain as they had left Dressrosa. Law had always looked as if he was holding his breath, a perpetual state of apnea that held him in a choke-hold night and day. Now, he was resurfacing like a man who had almost drowned, exhausted and high from the lack of oxygen. He wandered the ship with a restlessness that made him appear uncharacteristically scared. Like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, and that scared the shit out of him. Of course, he was masking it most of the time. But in the few moments before Law closed his eyes, Zoro could see through it and witness the way he seemed to invoke sleep as an indifferent divinity who didn’t have time for his prayers.
Now, Law appeared to have reached the breaking point: many sleepless nights had taken their toll, and he couldn’t postpone his body’s desperate calls for rest anymore. What a fool, Zoro thought, as Law slid inch by inch towards his body as if he was attracted by the warmth it radiated. He didn’t know for sure to whom the thought was directed. When Law’s slender figure entered his personal space, Zoro went still. A sudden weight was placed upon his shoulder, and soon he felt Law’s rhythmic breathing across his chest. Zoro wouldn’t have moved even if a sea monster was about to swallow the ship.
The moment was fleeting. Fifteen minutes later, Law moved in his sleep and his breathing pattern changed. To avoid him the embarrassment, Zoro was quick to push him slightly, enough for him to return to a vertical sitting position against the railing. It was a matter of seconds, and then Law stirred awake.
He looked disoriented and on the defensive. He threw an accusing stare in Zoro’s direction, as if it was his fault he had fallen asleep, to which the swordsman replied with an unimpressed expression. Then, retrieving his nodachi, Law left the crow’s nest without a word, like an animal with a tail between its legs. Zoro fixed the crumpled shoulder of his vest.
Seated across a campfire in Zou, Zoro and Law watched as the other members of the respective crews fell asleep one after another, full of booze and mirth. Zoro was delighted with the sake offered by the minks, and he slowly sipped from his mug with his eye fixed on the flames. From time to time, he saw across them, and Law’s pale face appeared as a hallucination between the flickers of glowing fire. The captain of the Heart Pirates didn’t avert his gaze; rather, he returned it with what Zoro couldn’t help but perceive as challenge-charged eyes.
They had shared moments on the crow’s nest every day before their arrival in Zou, and hell if that wasn’t something. Zoro didn’t know what tug-of-war game they were playing, but he wouldn’t mind finding out, even if it turned out to be a simple ricochet of his own curiosity. He wouldn’t have pinpointed Law as someone interested in anything else but his plans, but he was open to being proved wrong.
He finished his ninth drink of the night, and when he put the mug down and returned his stare to the fire, the space behind it was empty. The forest looked back at him, and then Law was sitting crossed-legged a few inches away next to the empty jar of booze and his swords. The crackling of the fire turned deafening.
When he decided to finally look at Law, Zoro was surprised to find on his face the hint of a smirk. Once he was certain to have Zoro’s attention on him, Law’s hand slowly moved towards the katanas next to him, and just as slowly wrapped itself around Kitetsu’s length. Not on the hilt. Zoro, always quiet by nature, wanted to scream.
Somewhere in the distance, from a different plane of reality, someone sneezed. The polar bear, judging by the intensity of the sound. The hand retreated, and Law with it, going back to his side of the fire. Zoro sat there, dazed, drunk on the booze and on something that he couldn't name.
Kitetsu buzzed with energy, as if it had been charged by the hand that had held her. Zoro grabbed it more tightly than necessary and waited until the tension in his body dissipated.
When he tilted up his head, his cranium itched with the sensation that a pair of eyes had been boring into it just the second before. Frogs and crickets sang from the nearby swamp. His crew-mates slept peacefully, their bellies full. The wind rustled the forest’s secular trees. Zoro sat next to the campfire until it was extinguished. No one was waiting for him on the other side.
Astraddle a bench in the Polar Tang’s canteen, Zoro was enjoying a drink at an unholy hour of the night. The bluish glow of the ocean stood in stark contrast to the warm artificial light coming from the pantry. The submarine’s pace was so stable that the booze in Zoro’s glass barely rippled. The fan above his head lamented softly. He was on the fourth glass when he heard the door open behind him. The rhythmic tapping on heels on the floor, and then Law sat down next to him. Zoro went on drinking as if the captain’s presence was something that could go unnoticed.
Law had been pumping out plans about Wano day and night. Zoro was amazed by how he had not yet had a stroke, considering he was surviving on caffeine alone and little else. The polar bear was so worried that he was following his captain everywhere. Law seemed to relax when he passed his hands through the fur of his navigator, but in the last days he had been so on edge that the trick didn’t work anymore. Zoro would’ve suggested a drink if only Law wasn’t absolutely against alcohol and if his body wasn’t already under the effects of extraordinary amounts of coffee.
If there was something that he had learned after all the time he had spent in Law’s company, it was that he never asked for help. Not directly, anyway. So, Zoro finished his drink, placed the glass on the table and turned to the hunched, wary figure next to him.
He met Law’s tired eyes with his own and then, without asking for permission, he picked the brim of his hat between three fingers and slowly took it off. Law froze, his eyes swirling rapidly from Zoro’s face to the hat in his hands, like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming everything up or if Zoro had really dared to make such a move. The hair under the hat stood in every direction, a little oily after days of having no time to wash it. It had been reckless on his part to pin Law in the position of knowing exactly what he was offering, a step that he couldn’t take back. Zoro was no man of regrets.
He placed the hat on the table, next to the glass. Law looked naked without it. Zoro was offering him a liminal space to free himself of his duties, to stop being a captain for a moment. It could be perceived as an offence, a recognition of weakness. But Zoro believed that Law was smarter than prickly, and that he would at least consider the opportunity. What he couldn't imagine was that he would have found himself pushed against the edge of the table and a mouth pressed against his without ceremony. His back was hurting from the pressure, but what stole the air from his lungs was the violence infused into the kiss. Law kissed like a lion cub, all bite and voraciousness, and it didn't take long for Zoro to realise why. Law was aggressive on the rare occasions when he didn't know what he was doing.
A rumble escaped from his lips when Zoro's hand planted into his collar and pushed him aside. They stared at each other, panting, until Zoro realised how much courage Law must've mustered to show such bravado on Zou and he burst into a roar of laughter. Law looked at him like he had gone insane. The dark hues from the ocean caressed his face, colouring the skin in different tones of blue, and Zoro felt oh, so fond of him. Just as Law was beginning to display on his features signs of disappointment and regret, Zoro lunged forward and connected their lips for a second time.
Now, without haste, he could taste the acid aftertaste in Law’s mouth, feel the firm pressure of his lips and get scratched by his goatee. When he passed his tongue over Law’s upper lip, Zoro felt him tremble under the touch. They kissed until their lips went numb and puffy.
Law looked wrecked when they finally separated; his eyes were shiny and a flush had spread across his face. Zoro wanted to cradle him into his arms for as long as he would need, hidden from a world that had no pity for a man who offered himself with such utter abandon. Instead, he pressed his forehead against Law's, and closed his eye. He was soon mimicked, and they breathed against each other until their heartbeats returned to normal.
When they broke apart, Zoro expected to watch Law turn around on his heels and leave the room. So much had already been disclosed that he wouldn’t have pressed for anything else. If he had learnt to read Law, even a little, he would have needed time for himself. As predicted, Law did close the door of the canteen behind himself. But that happened after he had caressed Zoro's pierced ear with a finger, making his earrings chime when they clashed against each other. Zoro couldn't help but close his eye, and when he opened it, he was alone again.
Law’s private quarter was a mess. Stacks of papers high as Chopper, books scattered everywhere, cubes with mysterious organs inside them found in unsuspected places (Zoro tried not to look at them when he went to the bathroom). The only pristine angle was the one dedicated to Law's collections of commemorative coins and comics. Even the bed had not been spared, given the amount of folded clothes and newspapers that had been piled on it, which signalled louder than a shrieking alarm how little time Law passed asleep. Zoro was quick to change that habit. He unceremoniously dropped that shit on the floor and forced Law to spend more time there with the promise of a good rest and other kinds of relaxation.
It turned out that even sex, something that Zoro had always put little thought into, placing it on the same level as eating, sleeping and pissing, could be a complicated matter with someone as Trafalgar Law. It mostly happened the first times they shared the bed: Zoro would catch Law zoning out afterwards, a look on his face like he was destined to face a punishment for what he had just done. It made Zoro go feral, knowing that someone had implanted into him a feeling of guilt towards what was the furthest thing from something to be ashamed of. Law would then grow distant or, on the contrary, throw himself at Zoro again. The swordsman didn't mind it; in a trial of test and errors, Law would have slowly learned that no judgment would have fallen upon him. Zoro believed only in one god, and that was the rule of willpower. As long as Law’s desire to fuck him was stronger than his inner turmoil, that was fine by him. His predictions proved correct: Law began to enjoy the sex for what it was, and he slept like a dead man afterwards.
Day by day, Zoro got to learn Law’s habits around his home.
He was exceptionally good at not letting himself be found when he wanted his privacy, but he had underestimated Zoro’s ability to randomly open the wrong door, and that produced a series of exhilarating scenes in which Zoro had thrown open a broom closet, convinced it was the door to the bathrooms, and found Law perched upon a box, furiously scribbling on a notebook. The hard stare thrown in his direction would convince him to retreat in silence, not before Law had pointed him the right way to the toilets.
He would skip his meal more often than not, so Zoro and Bepo took turns bringing them to his room, where Law would eat them at his desk. While the polar bear cried words of worry, practically begging his captain to take care of himself, Zoro used to hit Law on the back of his neck with one of his swords, a move that made him bend forward, just as he dropped the tray on his table: Law had risked a few times to plant his pretty face into his plate, and that seemed to inspire him to consume his meals in the canteen with everybody else more frequently.
When he yawned for the umpteenth time in a row, usually in the first hours of the morning, Zoro considered himself authorised to pick him up from his chair and to lay him on the bed. Law would protest, bitching about unfinished work, and Zoro would shut him up by sucking him off. They would sleep for their usual couple of hours in a warm tangle of limbs, deep into a cold metal tin at the bottom of the ocean. Zoro would wake up a few moments before Law to observe the long, lean body stretched across him, to map the pattern of his scars, blemishes and tattoos.
Zoro managed to convince Law to spar by reminding him that they needed to get stronger before docking at Wano. The captain of the Heart Pirates was a terrific opponent. His mixed style of combat gifted him unpredictability and flexibility in his attacks, to which Zoro had to muster all of his hard training to counter back. Even if he usually won when they crossed swords with the rule of no powers or haki allowed, when Law got to use the freak ability of his fruit the outcome turned unpredictable.
A few times, Zoro had watched, powerless, as his detached hand, still holding a sword, floated in the air; Law was, after all, a little smug bastard, and he took pleasure in catching the arm and feigning to lick the bare blade to get on Zoro’s nerves. Zoro struck back by mocking his building-blocks fruit and by calling him a child, knowing well that Law could turn him into a fruit salad and feed the pieces to the fish.
If asked, Zoro must have admitted that spending time with Law was always a good investment, but nobody did, and so he kept quiet and enjoyed it like a nicked little bottle of the finest liquor.
The day when the shores of Wano finally appeared on the radar of the Polar Tang, Zoro was prepared. The news arrived in the first hours of the morning, when they were still lingering in bed, and Law closed his eyes at the sound of the alarm like he was gathering the energy to face whatever was waiting for them on the samurai island. Zoro turned it off by pressing a button, and the red light that was pouring on them was extinguished. He would've claimed another moment for themselves, Law agreeing to it or not.
He started to pass his hand over Law's body, tracing the muscle of his chest, sliding across the flat stomach and the lower belly, until he reached his soft dick. Zoro went on, caressing the long legs, and coming back up to his butt-cheeks, small and firm. Law's back and shoulders were already in tension, so he took his time massaging them until the captain melted against him. When, in the end, they got up, Zoro retrieved the spotted hat from his desk and put it on his head. Trafalgar Law nodded and turned around. Zoro picked up his katanas.
When the Polar Tang emerged from the ocean, the sun was rising. The crews gathered on the glistening deck, where a few fish were struggling and some jellyfish were drying in the sun. Shachi and Penguin were doing their best to throw them back into the water.
The beach's white sand glimmered in the distance like a polished coin. The view was breathtaking—cloudless sky, deep green sea—, which produced a jarring contrast with the violence that awaited them on the island like a camouflaged beast.
Law gave orders to the crew to dock in a hidden spot on the coast. The submarine reached the shore with a snail's pace, or maybe Zoro was so focused on the moment that was lingering like a pressing obligation all around them that time flowed more slowly. He rested his elbows on the railing and let the sea foam drench his vest.
The anchor was lowered, and Zoro did his best not to associate the disappearance of the weight under the water with a feeling. The crews began to disembark, but Zoro's boots didn't leave the deck. Silhouettes moved around him and moss grew on his legs. A hand was placed upon his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. Law was behind him. They were the last ones still on deck. Their crew-mates had always known.
Zoro didn't turn around. He slipped away from the weight of Law's hand and retrieved an object from his pocket. The crash of the waves was deafening, but for a second Zoro didn't hear a single sound. He tossed the coin—a small, boring penny, which he had found in his trousers by chance, probably the change from some alcohol he had bought—into the air and took a step forward. No tickle on the deck resonated behind him.