Chapter 10: March

For boxers, records were everything. And right now, Zoro was at 2 wins, 0 losses, 2 KO's.

It kind of made him want to grin. Although, since it was just underground boxing, those stats were worthless. But it was good to have something that made him feel like he was more than just a fucking failure.

Plus, with the winnings from his match, he could pay rent. Once that stupid toy store had stopped putting him on the schedule, he'd applied to so many places. Any shitty, minimum wage shit-hole he could think of. But it had still taken him over a month to find a new job.

It was another late night shift, working at a convenience store right next to campus. Really close to the Sunny, too, so at least that was easy. No bus rides. He'd just started last week, so it'd be at least another week before he got his first paycheck.

Twenty-some hours a week at minimum wage. Like that would be enough money to scrape by on. But, Zoro would keep boxing, too. Hell, he'd made more winning one fight than he'd make working there for a month, probably.

Too bad those fights didn't happen very often. If boxing was all Zoro had to do—it would be nice.

School was just as bad as it'd always been. Maybe worse. But maybe it couldn't get any worse.

Tonight, Zoro probably wouldn't be sleeping. He had to study for a test. Because what else did he ever do.

Managerial Economics. Bullshit sounding class. Zoro hadn't really known what it was about when he'd signed up, but it was on the list of courses he had to take to graduate, so it wasn't like it mattered. His only choice was to struggle through it.

It was somehow even shittier than it sounded, too. The only reason he was hanging on with a D grade point average was that he'd been trying to study the same way Sanji had shown him. And he fucking hated that he had to rely on that. Because instead of studying, he'd wind up thinking about that idiot. How they'd spent so much time together at the end of last semester. How he'd stupidly thought they were getting along. How wrong he'd been.

And the fucking strained look on Sanji's face as he leaned over Zoro. The feeling of Sanji's knuckles on the tip of his nose.

Fuck. He needed to focus.

He'd spent most of the day alternating between studying and training—endurance, stamina, strength.

But it got late, and Zoro ran out of distractions, and all there was left to do was sit at his desk, hunched over a mess of papers until his goddamn back hurt.

By four in the morning, he could barely keep his eyes open. After nodding off for the fifth or so time, he gave up. Turned off his light and fell onto his bed, not even bothering to peel back the blankets.

He should've fallen asleep immediately. But his mind kept wandering.

He didn't feel good about the test tomorrow. Not that he ever really did. But it weighed down on his chest and made him feel like it was hard to breath.

For nearly four years, he'd been doing this shit. And he was so sick and goddamn tired of the same old routine.

At first, he'd thought he could do it. Get his degree. Graduate. Land a decent job. But every semester, it felt more and more impossible, as the classes got harder and he didn't get any smarter. He sure as hell didn't feel like he was learning from all of the education he was getting.

Zoro still didn't know what angel and venture capital financing really was, or what it meant to be thinking on the margin, or the difference between a discounted cash flow analysis and a market approach. He memorized definitions and scenarios, but he didn't get anything out of it. Didn't make him feel any closer to his goal.

Business classes didn't made sense—but the feeling of the weight behind his fist did.

For the second time that day, he found himself thinking about boxing for a living.

Hah. A pro-boxer. What a thought. Then all his shitty test grades and all the shit he didn't understand wouldn't matter. The only thing he'd be judged on would be his strength, speed and reflexes. Things he was actually confident about.

And hell, it wasn't impossible. If he was good enough, he could actually make a decent living. And with a steady income stream, if he planned it right, he could still keep his promise—

A wave of nausea gathered in his stomach as his eyes snapped open. He stared up at the ceiling tiles that were barely visible in the darkness as his heart thumped against his ribs.

Shit.

He shouldn't even think about it. About being a boxer. Because his career was supposed to be safe and reliable and secure. And an athletic career was the opposite of that. One stupid injury and it was all over, instantly.

Although, if his body didn't break, and he kept on winning—and if he did the right things with the money he made—

He sat up and rubbed his eyes before wiping away the sweat beading along his brow.

Zoro was thinking about the past now. And the promise.

He hated remembering his shitty fucking past. When they were just twelve years old. A bunch of goddamn helpless babies. But no matter how many times Zoro tried to reject the memory, it was always teetering at the edge of his mind.

He remembered the bile rising at the back of his throat. The taste of blood as he tongued at the fresh hole in his gums. He wasn't even sure what'd happened to the tooth that'd been knocked out. Swallowed or something, maybe. His ribs hurt like hell—bruised or broken. But he didn't care about any of that. His injuries didn't matter, because she was even worse off.

Kuina's eye was already turning black and purple, swelling shut, and she had a huge split in her lips, right by the corner of her mouth. Her hair and her clothes—dirty and fucking torn up—made it look like she'd just crawled out of a car wreck.

But it sure as hell wasn't a goddamn car that'd done all that.

The world was so fucked up back then. That foster home was a living hell, but they were only kids, and they didn't have any choice or say in what happened with their lives. They were completely and totally reliant on their fucked up caretakers.

There was no way to run away. Maybe if they'd been born a hundred years earlier, they could've pulled it off. But nowadays, there was no way for two kids to stay under the radar for long. They'd get picked up by cops or some self-righteous good samaritan who'd return them to their so-called home.

They'd tried and failed twice before they stopped trying altogether. Wasn't worth the welcome home they got.

Six years until they'd be adults. It might as well have been a million. Besides, it wasn't like it'd end there. Zoro and Kuina were all too aware of the cycle they were stuck in. Most people never broke out of it, so how the hell could they hope to be any different.

He was barely old enough to understand what a social class was, but he knew he was trapped in it. They'd be purged out of the system the minute they turned eighteen, but it probably wouldn't be long until they got sucked back in.

They'd never have a real future. Never be able to afford anything substantial, or provide for themselves, or their families, if they ever had one. They'd live a life where they'd go totally without, and have to be dependent on others, whether it was on other people or the system.

He and Kuina were only dumb kids, but there were some things they just understood.

So that night, after they'd both had the hell beat out of them, they made a new plan. They were sick of this life that they'd never chosen for themselves. So they were going to break out of it. Pick their own future.

Kuina looked like she could barely move, but somehow, she'd managed to smile and stand up straight as she linked her pinky with Zoro's, sealing the agreement they'd just made.

They would wrench themselves out of this cycle. They'd get the fuck out.

It's a promise.

Her words still sounded crisp and real in his memory, like she'd just fucking said it. Zoro sucked in a ragged breath and opened his eyes.

As much as he'd been trying to avoid thinking about her, it was no wonder he was failing. Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he pressed the button that turned the screen on. It made the room glow a little.

He knew the date he was going to see, but it still make his stomach feel heavy. March 4th. Today, it'd been ten years since Kuina died.

A whole fucking decade.

Turning his phone off, he tossed it onto the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dipping his head down. The way his brain worked was so stupid. Zoro had never been able to remember birthdays or holidays for shit, but this was a date that'd probably be burned into his mind forever.

It hadn't even been a year after they'd made that promise that Kuina had died. And after she was gone, their promise was the only thing that really kept him going.

It was all he'd ever had.

Hell, it was all they'd ever had. And when she died, probably no one else really gave a shit. Zoro was the only one who could do anything for her. He had to make something of himself for both of them. He had to break out of the system. He couldn't wind up falling back into fucking poverty.

Because there was nothing else left of Kuina in this world, except the promise they'd made late one night when they were twelve.

Zoro had thought about it endlessly. When most of the dumbass kids around him were thinking about getting drunk or laid, Zoro was thinking about his plan. His fucking life. Obsessing over what the fuck he could do.

And somewhere along the way, he'd decided college was his best shot. Because with the right degree, he could get a job that was actually enough to sustain somebody. A job with benefits and a pension and a 401(k). A wage that wouldn't force him to live paycheck to paycheck—wouldn't make him go into debt every time he had a cavity or a flat tire.

So Zoro laid out his plan, and he'd done everything he could to stay on that path. Even if he'd been struggling every fucking day.

It was goddamn awful, but he'd never even considered quitting. This wasn't just for him—it was for both of them. It was the only thing he could do for Kuina now.

College hadn't been part of their promise—but it'd seemed like the most sure-fire way to do what he needed to. But, fuck, that wasn't really panning out.

Zoro wondered if he was even capable of graduating.

He put his head between his knees and threaded his fingers along the back of his head, fighting back another wave of nausea.

If he boxed for a living—if he was good... shit could work out. Even though Zoro didn't understand a lot of the business shit he'd learned about, he knew there were some things he'd need to do. Get a retirement account. Make investments. Something to get whatever money he made grow. Buy shit that'd, uh, appreciate in value. Like a house. Instead of flashy shit like cars and big TVs.

If Zoro became a boxer—maybe shit really could work out.

Maybe it wasn't impossible.

The more he thought about it, the less sense any of it made, and his head was starting to throb a little. He didn't have a clue about what was right or wrong. Hell, maybe all of it was wrong.

He thought about Kuina, and what they'd decided for themselves as children. He thought about all the shit he used to believe so deeply. He wondered what the hell happened to all that conviction he used to have.

He gnawed at his bottom lip as he thought about what Kuina would've done, if she was there now. If she could've pointed him in the right direction. If she would have told him to do what he wanted to do. He thought about what Kuina would've said about where he was now, and what she would've thought about all the people that'd filled his life. He thought about Sanji.

And when he was too sick of the sound of his own voice in his head, he reluctantly got up and sat down at his desk. Because even if he didn't know what direction he was going in, he had to keep moving. And there was no way in hell he'd be getting any sleep, anyway.

At least studying would take his mind off of all this shit.

A couple hours later, Zoro took his test, and it was about what he expected. He fumbled his way through page after page of multiple choice questions, barely able to keep his eyes open by the end of it. After class, he went straight home, sprawled out on the couch, and passed out.

When Zoro woke up again, it was to the sound of a woman's voice.

"This place is so gross, Zoro. I can't believe you live here."

Shit. He knew that whiny, high-pitched voice all too well. Groggily, Zoro opened one eye and saw a flash of pink hair.

"And it stinks, too. People actually smoke inside?"

No doubt it was her. Although Zoro's half-asleep brain couldn't figure out why she'd be there.

Closing his eyes again, Zoro rolled around and buried his face in the arm of the couch. He was still so fucking tired. Although he already knew she wasn't going to let him sleep any longer.

"You don't even smoke, but I bet you always smell like an ashtray."

Zoro felt the cushions sink in a little as a warm body shoved into the front of his knees.

"What's up with this place, anyway?" She was still good at keeping up one-sided conversations as he remembered. "No one answered the door, and when I tried to open it, it wasn't even locked. I could be totally ripping you off right now, you know."

"It'd be easier if all I had to deal with was someone trying to steal shit," he mumbled, finally rolling over and tiredly opening his eyes, squinting against the bright lights from the window. Dammit, had she actually opened the curtains?

"What, you mean instead of me? That's so rude, Zoro, especially since we haven't seen each other in forever," she huffed.

Zoro's gaze shifted to her, his eyes still only open a sliver. "What would they steal, anyway?"

She leaned further back against his legs, clearly not too concerned about how hard her elbow may or may not have been digging into his kneecap as she took a long look around the room. "I see your point. How old is that TV, anyway?"

Zoro finally sat up little, tucking his hands behind his head, elbows sticking upward. "So what the hell are you doing here, Perona?"

Perona was putting on her best poker face, but Zoro felt her whole body tense in front of his legs. She pressed her lips together and tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ears. It was as long as it'd ever been, but she never wore those childish pigtails anymore. The pigtails he'd made fun of all throughout high school. She looked a little more grown up these days—but Zoro knew better. There was a pretty good chance she was about to throw a tantrum.

Perona glared at him and Zoro frowned a little. She was definitely pissed at him, but he didn't have a clue about what. He hadn't even seen her since—shit, he couldn't remember, but maybe last spring.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd moved, Zoro?"

Zoro paused mid-breath.

Ah, shit.

A long pause stretched between them before he finally said, "It happened, uh, kind of suddenly."

"I went to your old apartment." She said it like she was accusing him of doing something wrong.

"Uh, why?"

"To see you, idiot!"

"You should've called me first."

"I know that!"

Her voice had raised probably an octave or so, and she gave Zoro a look like she was ready to slap him, her puffy cheeks turning pink. But then her face and shoulders went slack, and she slumped back against him, like whatever angry fire that'd been building up in her had suddenly burned out.

"I... lost all my phone numbers a few months ago," she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she glared down at the floor.

"Huh. That was dumb."

"I didn't do it on purpose!" she exploded again. "Besides, when I don't call you for so long, you should call me!"

"I never call anyone."

"I know, but—but—you should've told me you moved, Zoro."

She sank a little deeper into the couch, damn near crushing his legs now. But even though Perona was immature and prone to throwing fits, there was something more to it.

Shit, he'd probably hurt her feelings, actually. Zoro should've known something was up when he hadn't gotten a single call or text from her for months and months, too.

"Sorry." There wasn't much else he could say.

"You should be! What if I'd tried to send you a Christmas present or something?"

He considered it for a moment. "Then you would've already figured out I'd moved."

Perona reached around and smacked him lightly on the side of his leg. She was still sticking out her bottom lip, but her expression had already softened.

He tried to pull himself upright a little more, wriggling his legs until she finally moved and he could pull himself free.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Oh, I was just in the area." She gestured at him as her eyes wandered away from him.

Zoro furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"Because I have things to do," she said, a bit defensively.

"Here?"

"Yes. Isn't that what I said?" she glared.

"I'm the only person you know out here."

"Isn't that presumptuous of you." She stuck her nose in the air. "As if I'd drive five hours just to see you. I have things to do that are none of your business, that's all."

That sounded like bullshit. Not to mention, she was fidgety—like she was nervous. And that was behavior that was all too familiar to Zoro. There was something else going on that she wasn't telling him.

It'd be easier for him if he just ignored it. Yeah, he should do just that...

He did his best to hold back a sigh.

"Did something happen?"

Perona stared down at her boots like she was mad at them, a big crinkle forming in her brow.

Damn, Zoro hated this kind of shit. He wasn't good at dealing with it, and he didn't particularly like dealing with it. But since this was Perona—he could probably guess what the root of the problem was.

Taking a deep breath, he sank back into the couch and tilted his head back, covering his eyes with one arm. "Did something happen with that Moria guy?"

"What? No... No. How dare you, we're perfectly fine."

Bulls eye. The corner of his lip twitched just slightly.

"I'm surprised it lasted that long at all," he tested. "That guy had to be over twice your age."

"He is not over twice my age!"

"He's not?" He peeked at her from under his arm.

Perona pressed her lips together. "Well... Next year, he'll be exactly twice my age."

Zoro frowned. He wasn't really a math person. Didn't even really know his times tables that well. But something didn't seem right. If he'd be twice her age next year, didn't that mean—

"Anyways, it doesn't matter, because—because we're totally okay," Perona declared, her lips curling into a frown.

Even though Zoro hadn't seen her in awhile, he could tell the heavy eyeliner around her eyes was a little more smudged than usual.

He didn't push her any more, though. She didn't want to talk about it now, but she would later, if she really wanted to. Probably too much.

"So, you want a drink or something?" Zoro asked, sitting up, stretching his arms and popping his elbows.

Perona crinkled her nose. "No thanks, I don't want whatever grandpa beer is in your fridge."

"We have stuff besides beer," he said, reluctantly pulling his body into a standing position. His legs were actually really sore. Too many squats yesterday, probably. "I'm not the only one who lives here."

"Make me a mai tai, then," she said smugly.

Zoro gave her a look. "Like I'd know how to make that."

"Well, what can you make?"

He thought about it as he walked to the kitchen. "We may have... wine."

She made some kind of outraged scoffing noise. "Are you serious, Zoro? You can't make any drinks?"

Opening the fridge, Zoro noticed a jug of orange juice on the top shelf. And they always had vodka.

"Screwdriver?"

With an exasperated sigh, Perona stood up and followed him into the kitchen. "Let me see what you have."

Zoro opened a cupboard and waved a hand at it. "This is the liquor, and there's... mixer shit in the fridge."

"Geez, there's a lot of stuff in here," she commented, reaching into the jam-packed cupboard to see what bottles were further into the back. "I bet you didn't pick out any of this, either."

No shit. When Zoro got a bottle, it was rarely around long enough to get put away.

"Seriously!" she turned to him, holding a bottle of some kind of schnapps he'd never have looked twice at. "Do you live with a bartender or something?"

"Yeah, although I bet the one who got that—" Zoro paused, chewing at the side of his lip for a moment. He didn't really know how to explain Sanji. Didn't want to 't have even made the comment, but now he was half-way into a sentence.

"Is what?" Perona asked, her eyes suddenly fixed on him a little too alertly.

"—He goes overboard on shit like that."

She looked like she was about to ask something else, but then she turned her head to the sound of an opening door.

Zoro nearly turned to look, but caught himself at the last second. There weren't many people who'd carelessly fling the front door open like that. And there was only one asshole who stomped around in shoes that were that goddamn loud.

It was like Sanji'd been fucking cued or something. Zoro glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was early. Way earlier than he'd usually get home.

Perona regarded him for only a second before she turned back to Zoro. "Where are your glasses?"

Zoro pointed at another cupboard. From the corner of his eye, he could already see Sanji closing in. Heading toward the kitchen. Zoro was surprised the fucker wasn't goddamn running.

The corner of Zoro's lip twitched.

"You need some help?" Sanji asked, his eyes resting on Zoro for a second before he turned toward Perona. Zoro's shoulders stiffened.

"Why?" Perona asked, giving Sanji a sideways glance.

"If you're making a drink, I can make it for you."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're the bartender?"

"No, but I can make a lot of things, if you want something in particular," Sanji replied, gesturing as he spoke, a cigarette tucked between two fingers. "Or I could suggest a few things—"

"So he's the other one, then," Perona said to Zoro, completing ignoring the rest of whatever Sanji had to say.

"The... other one?" Sanji said, pronouncing the words slowly, furrowing his brow. He turned toward Zoro, met his eyes and held his gaze there, as if he was waiting for something. Like an explanation, or an insult.

But nothing came to Zoro. He didn't want to talk to Sanji right then, or ever, actually, so he turned around and walked away. He sat down on the couch facing away from the kitchen, so he wouldn't have to watch them. Watch him.

Zoro was annoyed at Sanji being there. He didn't even understand why. No, there was nothing to understand. He just didn't like being around Sanji and that was that.

They hadn't even said a goddamn word to each other since that fight.

"I asked Zoro to make me a mai tai," Perona sniffed, not offering any further explanation for her comment. Zoro was a little relieved for that.

"A mai tai, huh." A pause as Sanji clinked around a few bottles in their liquor cupboard, and, seemingly satisfied by whatever he found, he replied, "You got it."

"You want a beer, right, Zoro?" Perona called out, taking a few steps toward Zoro, her clunky heels noisy against the hardwood.

"Yeah," Zoro nodded, not turning to face her.

She didn't ask him what kind. He never cared, and she knew it. Zoro stared forward at the blank TV screen, and he wound up watching their reflections in it anyway. Perona's shoes thudded back over to the refrigerator and he heard a click as she grabbed one of the beer bottles from the inside of the door.

"I need a bottle opener," Perona said to Sanji.

Sanji immediately started rummaging around in a drawer, and even though Zoro couldn't make out his expression on the TV screen, he could hear Sanji's fake fucking smile as he finally found the bottle opener and handed it to Perona, and said, "Here you are."

Perona didn't move to grab it. After both of them stared each other down for a moment, Perona held out the bottle.

"Aren't you going to offer to open it for me?" she asked, like she was offended.

The pause wasn't that long, but it sure as hell felt like it. Sanji turned toward Zoro—Zoro could see it in the reflection—as he reached out and took the bottle from her.

Perona had no idea what that meant.

But Zoro had no idea either. Just like he had no idea why Sanji's head stayed turned in Zoro's direction as he pulled the cap off of the bottle with a dull pop.

"Here you are." Sanji's voice was reserved as he finally turned back toward Perona and handed her the opened bottle.

Perona grabbed it without a word, walked up to Zoro, and shoved the beer right in front of his face as she sank into the couch next to him.

A moment later, Sanji came over to hand Perona her drink. It was one of the nicest glasses in their mixed up collection. And that asshole had actually garnished it with a toothpick spearing a maraschino cherry. Zoro was only mildly surprised they had both of those items somewhere in their kitchen.

"Thanks," she replied curly, reluctantly accepting the glass, openly unimpressed by the presentation of it.

Perona didn't comment as she brought the small straw to her lips and took the first sip, but from the look on her face, it was probably good.

Of course it was.

Zoro felt his stomach drop a little, because it was pretty goddamn likely Sanji was about to sit down with them. With Perona. Because why the fuck wouldn't he. It was just what he did.

But first, he went back into the kitchen. Probably to get a drink himself. Some of that shitty wine he seemed to always buy a case of after a payday. Then he'd come sit with them.

Zoro took a very long sip of his beer. He should've gotten something stronger.

Perona started talking to him—about a whole bunch of things that he was only paying a little bit of attention to. The trips she'd been on lately and all the cute clothes she'd bought. The new car she'd just gotten that was parked outside.

He tried to listen, but with each clink and clack of things from the kitchen, he dreaded that Sanji would finish whatever the hell he was doing and come sit with them. Zoro's eyes kept flickering to the TV screen. Watching Sanji's reflection.

Dammit, he needed to think of some way to get out of there. But Perona has barely even touched her drink. She was so slow to finish things.

Zoro's beer was already nearly empty.

"Do you guys want something to eat?" Sanji called out from the kitchen. "I was about to get started on some dinner."

"Nah, we're about to leave, actually," Perona replied quickly. "Zoro has a place he thinks I'll like."

"Yeah. We should probably go."

"Yeah, let's. I'm starving," Perona agreed, handing him her half-empty glass.

Zoro downed the rest of the drink in two gulps while she stood up and smoothed out her dress.

Shit. It really was good. Sweet, but good.

Zoro's eyes flitted over to the kitchen, and he realized Sanji was looking over at them. As Zoro started to turn away, their eyes locked.

For a beat, he felt frozen. Everything felt so off, and it made Zoro feel restless, like uncomfortable in his own skin, like he just wanted to get out of there and keep running until the feeling went away.

The whole thing was making his equilibrium feel off. Sanji should've looked away. He should've gone to hole himself up in his room for awhile, until Zoro left. Or maybe fucking never came home in the first place, so he could go find the next person he was going to fuck.

And why the fuck wasn't Sanji all over Perona. Of all the shit he'd seen Sanji do, why did he have to pick this particular moment to suddenly start acting like a normal human being. Like his sole motivation in life wasn't to figure out the next place he could stick his dick into.

Zoro turned away and started walking toward the door.

"If there are any leftovers, I'll put them in the fridge," Sanji mentioned.

These wasn't like Sanji at all. Maybe he was on some weird fucking personality-altering drug or something. That could explain it. Because Zoro knew Sanji, and he knew how he was supposed to act in this situation.

Once Zoro and Perona were on the front porch, he slammed the door closed behind him. He was done thinking about Sanji.

"I'm parked on the street."

Zoro could already tell which car was hers, though. There were rarely cars parked this far down the street, but even if there had been, her car would've looked pretty out of place. It was black and sleek and perfectly detailed. It looked just look something she'd pick out. Expensive, too. Well, that Moria guy was loaded.

"You could've parked in the driveway."

"The pavement's way too uneven. I didn't want to mess up my alignment or something."

Huh. It was pretty uneven. He'd never noticed. It never seemed to bother Usopp's old boat. Her car was a lot lower to the ground, though.

"So, uh, what's this place I think you'll like?" Zoro asked, opening the car door and ducking into the bucket seat.

"Oh, I don't know. I just wanted to get out of there."

It was so goddamn clean in there. Cleaner than anything Zoro had ever owned in his life. Not even a stray wrapper or piece of paper anywhere. Perona's familiar, too-sweet perfume mingled with the new car smell.

"What do you want?"

She shrugged. "Just pick something I'd like."

Zoro rubbed his face. "Like what?"

"Hmm, someplace cute. You know. Nice aesthetic. Preferably gluten-free options."

"You don't eat gluten?" Zoro asked, trying to remember what exactly that was. Flour or something?

"I just like it when I can order things without it."

Zoro rolled his eyes. He sure as hell would've never noticed if any restaurants around town had shit without gluten, but—somewhere cute. No, somewhere Perona would consider cute.

"I know a place."

"Good," Perona said, punching a couple of buttons on the screen to the GPS-thing built into the dashboard. "Put in the name here."

"I can just tell you how to get there."

"I want to eat tonight, Zoro."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

She glared at him in a way that made him give in a little too quickly, and Perona finally put the car in motion.

How the hell—he hadn't seen her put a key in.

"How did you get my address, anyway?" Zoro bent forward to look at the steering column. There wasn't even a place to put a key. Huh. He'd heard of cars that just needed to have the key nearby to start, but he'd never actually been in one before. Not even when he was a valet.

Perona suddenly slammed on the brakes and Zoro barely leaned back in time to stop his head from smashing into the dash.

"Oh my god, it was such a pain!"

"Shit, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Come on, we were going like three miles an hour," she snapped, pressing her foot on the accelerator again. "And what's wrong with me is that you're such an asshole."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because you didn't tell me where you live now! I went to your old apartment looking for you, you know. Or I tried to. It's like, the whole thing's totally blocked off for some reason—"

"Condemned," Zoro filled in.

"Eugh, that's gross. And I didn't know what to do, so I tried going to your old work."

"Uh, which one?"

"That disgusting sports bar place," she barked, jamming on the brake again. Well, this time they were actually at a stop sign.

He frowning, staring at the road ahead. "I haven't worked there for awhile."

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that, considering how no one remembered you."

Probably not. He hadn't worked there long.

"So then I went to your school," she said in a huff.

"That campus is huge, though."

"I freaking know that now. But I thought maybe if I hung around the gym, you'd be there. Fencing or whatever."

Zoro pressed his lips together as the GPS announced a right turn ahead.

"I was about to give up," Perona huffed. "But then I remembered those idiot friends of yours. Johnny and the other guy."

"Yosaku?" Zoro wouldn't have expected she'd remember them at all. Especially where they lived.

"Yeah, whatever," she shrugged. "So I go there—and no one is home, of course. But I waited a little bit, and just as I was getting ready to leave, they showed up."

"Geez," Zoro murmured, leaning forward in his seat a little.

"'Geez'? That's all you have to say about that? Did you even listen to what I went through for you today?"

Yeah, he had listened. He just didn't really know what to say. Perona had always been tenacious about the dumbest things. But to go to four different places to track him down—that was actually nuts. There weren't a lot of people who'd do that much for him. Or who'd give a shit about where he was.

It made him feel a little guilty.

Swallowing, Zoro pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts. There weren't a lot in there. More like a graveyard of old jobs. He frowned.

Finally, he reached her name and wordlessly clicked the button to call, and a second later, an eerie symphonic metal song blared from inside of Perona's purse.

"Nice ringtone."

"It's cute, isn't it?" she smiled, one hand already digging for her phone.

"It's me, you don't need to answer it."

"Oh, okay."

He'd done it so she'd have his number again. But he didn't want to talk about it any further, and Perona didn't mention it again.

When they arrived at the restaurant Zoro had picked out for them, Perona pulled into a parking spot and frowned up at the old building, making a face like it smelled bad or something. It didn't look like much, though. A tiny diner at the ass-end of an office park that had probably hit its prime two or three decades ago, next to some kind of discount clothing store and a check cashing place. Maybe it was a discount clothing store and check cashing place.

"Zoro, this place looks gross," she said quietly.

He shrugged. "Their food's pretty cheap."

"Is it good?"

"For the price."

"That means no," she sighed, shaking her head, pushing pink hair behind her shoulders.

"We could go to the sports bar instead. It's not far from here."

"Jesus, no," she said quickly. She pursed her lips as she stared at a bright neon sign on the front window flashing the words BREAKFAST ALL DAY. "Do they have milkshakes?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," she said resignedly, finally turning the car off.

"I'm pretty sure you'll like it."

"Uh huh."

Zoro actually knew she'd like it. And sure enough, the moment they stepped through the doors, Perona let out a high-pitched squeal. Everyone in the place—which was only about nine or so people, staff included—turned to look at her.

"It's so cute!" she shrieked, her cell phone already in hand, snapping pictures of the walls.

Zoro couldn't help but smirk a little. The old diner didn't have much in the way of décor, but someone had painted murals of cartoony skeletons on the blue-green wall. Skeletons eating burgers, sharing milkshakes, diving into a huge stack of pancakes. It was one of the tackiest—and maybe creepiest—places Zoro'd ever seen. Perona acted like he'd just taken her to Disneyland.

After they'd been seated and ordered their food, Zoro leaned back, resting one elbow along the top of the booth, studying her as she told him about some stuffy-sounding event she'd been at with Moria the weekend before.

She actually didn't sound that down on her old-man boyfriend. He'd figured she was there because the two of them had gotten in a fight—but that she could talk about the guy without getting all misty-eyed made Zoro wonder what'd really happened. He didn't care that much either way, but, eh, maybe he did. A little bit.

"So, what's going on?" Zoro didn't really know any other way to ask but bluntly.

Thin eyebrows raised incrementally for a moment before she shook her head from side to side, loose tendrils of hair falling forward slightly. She stuck her nose in the air. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay. Did something happen?"

She pulled out her phone and locked her eyes to the screen, furiously scrolling. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"Then why are you here?"

"That doesn't matter either." Suddenly, she held her phone out in front of Zoro. "Hey, look at how cute this picture is!"

He stared at it for a moment. It was one of the skeleton mural pictures. A picture that was visible from where they were sitting. Zoro frowned at her, and asked, "You break up?"

"No," she snapped. "No, of course not. It was just—none of your business!"

Zoro remained silent, staring at her. He knew he just had to wait a little bit, and sure enough—

"Look, it's just—I kind of had these plans for today. And then Moria suddenly decided to make some other stupid plan for us. This stupid gross medical thing he knew I had zero interest in."

Like Zoro had suspected, once Perona got started, she didn't stop for awhile. Their food arrived, and she was still going, even though he wasn't really saying much back. She dropped in a lot of unnecessary details, but basically, Moria had disregarded a plan she'd made for herself, and signed them up to do something else that involved some rich-person event for whatever organization was paying for his research. Sounded boring as hell.

"So you're mad, even though you didn't go with him anyway?" Zoro asked slowly.

"That was not the point," Perona replied huffily.

"You're pissed because you had a thing to do today."

"Yes."

"But instead of doing that thing, you're here," Zoro pointed out, taking a large bite out of his burger.

Suddenly Perona had this weird fucking look on her face, and fell silent of of all things.

That said a lot. As Zoro chewed his bite and watched her take a lot of interest in her strawberry milkshake, he thought about how the last time he'd seen her was around the same time last year. And, come to think of it, she'd been by the year before. Always on this same day. March 4th.

Shit.

God damn it.

Zoro didn't want to think about it too much. Sure as hell didn't want to ask her about it any further. Perona squirmed a little in the silence, but Zoro just shoved fries into his mouth, not really minding. There was no need to always talk.

Besides, Perona was seldom at a loss for words for long. Sure enough, after a minute or two, she'd started prattling about some of the things she'd been up to lately—places she'd visited, some old high school acquaintances of theirs she'd seen, that kind of stuff. Kind of reminded him of high school, actually.

Then she got a little quiet, bringing her straw to her mouth, taking a thoughtful sip of her milkshake and studying him.

"What?"

"Hmm, just wondering something."

Zoro said nothing, swallowing down the last bite of his food.

"What's up with you and that roommate?"

Zoro frowned, pressing his lips together. "Nothing. He's an asshole."

"Yeah, but that way you guys acted around each other... It was kind of bizarre."

He shrugged. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that.

"You looked uncomfortable."

"I was fine," he said flatly. "We got in a fight recently. Maybe that's why you thought that."

"Ooh? About what?"

"I don't even know," Zoro said with a sigh, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't remember. He came at me, I punched him in the face, we got knocked on the ground. That kind of shit."

"Oh. So a fight fight."

"Yeah," Zoro replied, like he thought that was a dumb thing for her to say. Although may it wasn't.

"I've never really seen you like that with someone."

"Like what?"

"Like that tense. I mean, I've totally seen you around people you thought were assholes—but it didn't feel like you hated the guy or anything."

"Actually," Zoro narrowed his eyes, "I really fucking do."

"Why?"

"Why..." Zoro repeated, frowning as a million reasons sprung into his head all at once. There was no way he was going to be able to pick out one or two particular things, so rattled a few of them off to Perona as they came to mind.

Like Sanji's contradictory personality. The ridiculous way he catered to the needs of any pretty women around him, and acted like a jerk to everyone else. Or most of the time, anyway, before he suddenly decided to be nice for no reason whatsoever. How he had a sarcastic comeback to anything that was said to him. His smoking. His drinking. The way he dressed. Shit, there was so much about Sanji that made him angry.

Perona listened patiently, until Zoro finally ran out of things to say.

"Are you done?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Geez, Zoro, you might as well go sleep with him and get it over with."

Zoro bristled at the remark, slamming his glass of water on the table.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Come on, you clearly have a huge boner for him." Perona rolled her eyes. "I had a hunch earlier, but now I'm a hundred percent sure."

The actual fuck? "Did you listen to anything I just told you?"

"Yeah, I listened—I listened to you talking about someone for like fifteen whole minutes."

"That's because you asked me—"

"Zoro," Perona interrupted, and he didn't like the way she said his name. "You never talk about anything for fifteen minutes."

He opened his mouth, but it took him a few seconds before he could string together a response.

"It's because I just fucking hate him that much, that's all."

Perona said nothing else, but the look on her face made it clear she was unconvinced. God dammit.

She didn't bring up Sanji again. They hung out at the diner for a little longer before Perona suggested they go to a bar. Which Zoro was on board with. She picked out some kind of fancy place that she found on yelp that was a little too trendy for Zoro, but since she loved it and he didn't need to pay for it, he didn't complain too much.

Sometime after midnight, they headed to her car, Zoro walking slightly behind Perona as she swayed in her heels.

"You need to drive," she announced, glaring at him from over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I figured."

"And I need to find a hotel."

"Huh? Why?"

"To sleep, obviously."

What a pain. "Just crash at the Sunny."

"The Sunny?" she repeated as they both settled down inside the car.

"Uh—the house I live in." Zoro felt around the bottom of the seat until he found the button that made the seat slide back.

"You named your house?" she asked incredulously.

Zoro paused. "My roommates did. Habit kind of stuck."

"It's kind of cute. But I would've given it a more fitting name."

"What's more fitting?"

She hummed for a moment. "Maybe something like... the Hill House. No, wait, the Whaley House. Or the Amityville Horror House. Is that one too obvious?"

"Those are terrible. It's old, but it's not haunted."

"Are you sure?"

"I guess you'll see for yourself soon."

When they got to the Thousand Sunny, Zoro parked on the street, and as they were walking up the driveway together, the front door flew open and Brook burst outside. In the shitty porch lighting, he was even more surreal than normal. He was also wearing some kind of outfit that Zoro was pretty sure he'd only seen men wear in black and white TV shows.

"Oh my god, did you see that?" Perona squealed. "It really is haunted!"

"It's not," Zoro grimaced.

"Didn't you see that?!"

"Yeah, he's our landlord," Zoro muttered.

"That's a lame excuse, Zoro."

"Look. He's going to the house next store."

"Oh," she murmured, openly disappointed.

Even though it was late, the house was full of people. Luffy was sitting with a couple of his friends who Zoro had never met—or maybe he had, it was hard to keep track. He wasn't surprised people were still up, though. Zoro had been sort of hoping he could sleep on the couch, but, whatever.

He and Perona headed upstairs, and Zoro actually remembered there were extra blankets in one of the hall linen closets. He grabbed a couple of them, and when they got to his room, he threw them all on the floor and told Perona she could sleep on the bed.

"You sure? We could probably both fit up here."

"I bet your eighty-year-old boyfriend would like that," Zoro replied, wasting no time flopping down onto the pile of blankets he'd just laid down, grabbing a pair of old sweatpants to ball up and use as a pillow. He'd never really minded sleeping in uncomfortable places.

"He's not that old, asshole!" she shouted, her cheeks puffing up indignantly. "He just turned forty-three."

Wait, earlier hadn't she said—Zoro paused to calculate. "So he is more than twice your age."

"Shut up, that wasn't the point," she huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm going to use your bathroom. Do you have towels?"

"Uh, same closet I just got the blankets from."

"Okay."

Once she came back and the lights were out, Perona still kept talking for awhile, sleepily and a bit drunkenly. Finally, she stopped, maybe because she'd run out of things to say—or more likely, she'd gotten too tired to keep going. Zoro was nearly asleep when she suddenly spoke again.

"You've changed, Zoro."

He twitched a little, not bothering to open his eyes. Her tone was a lot more serious than before. Maybe it was the only reason he was paying any attention at all. "How?" he asked groggily.

"I'm sure it was hard for you—changing, I mean," she went on, ignoring his question, "but I think it's good. You're still kind of a downer sometimes, though."

"Thanks," he muttered in reply, not exactly sure what he was thanking her for. She didn't speak again—or if she did, he never got to hear it.

The next morning, Perona was awake before him. As he blinked against the sunlight, rubbing sleep from his eyes, he noticed Perona standing near the old mirror screwed into his wall—it had come as part of the room, not anything he'd gotten himself—and she was shimmying into a dress, sliding it over a frilly, mis-matched bra and underwear set.

"You know, the bathroom is right outside that door," he croaked, his voice still thick from sleep.

Perona craned her neck back to look at him. She looked a lot softer without all that dark eye stuff she liked so much. "It's just you," she shrugged. "I'm leaving in an hour, you should get up."

She finished dressing, moving onto her make-up. If she hadn't started speaking to him again, he probably would've passed back out.

"Zoro, I don't know what's going through your big dumb head right now, but don't be an idiot."

"Huh?"

Zoro had no idea what the hell that meant. He was pretty sure nothing had been going through his head at the moment. Other than something about how damn bright it was.

Perona paused in front of the mirror, her eyes finding the worn out floorboards.

"You know what I'm saying?"

"Not a clue."

"I'm glad you're sort of doing something you feel good about now. Something you actually like doing."

So goddamn cryptic. She probably meant the boxing thing, though. She had been surprisingly open to the idea of it when he'd told her about it at the bar. Of him maybe taking it seriously. Even if he'd definitely heard her call it—or pretty much any sport in general—dumb before.

Suddenly, she turned away from the mirror and looked straight at him, a surprisingly serious look on her face.

"I'm just saying, it's okay to do things just because you want to do them. You should do a lot of things you want to do, you know? And whatever's holding you back—it's probably really dumb."

Zoro tensed. "Uh, okay," was all he managed to say in response.

Then Perona turned back toward the mirror, back to drawing a thick black border around her eyelashes.

Zoro rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow. He wasn't good with subtlety. That kind of shit went over his head. But this time, he got the subtext. Normally, it'd be worthy of an internal pat on the back or something.

Instead, he wished he hadn't understood what Perona meant.

Usopp's tongue felt like it was on motherfucking fire.

He was actually trying not to cry. Or throw up. Both of those things were extremely pressing to him at the moment, for various reasons.

Even trying to keep his mouth shut was almost too fucking much. His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking.

Half an hour earlier, everything had actually been... pretty great, all things considered.

Holy fuck.

He wanted to blame Sanji for all of this. But, well, obviously, it wasn't Sanji's fault that his life was coming apart at the seams, and that the reality of what he was seeing happen right in front of his face with his own two eyes was making him want to faint. He couldn't faint. He had to keep it together, because Chopper was probably going to faint, judging by the look on his face, and that was too much.

All of this was too much. And he couldn't blame Sanji because it wasn't his fault.

But. Well. It was Sanji's fault that his mouth was on fire. That was all on him.

Usopp mentally backtracked.

Half an hour ago.

A lot could happen in half an hour, apparently.

Only half an hour ago, Usopp had been laughing. Laughing really hard, actually, with Nami and Chopper. They'd been sitting at the counter/bar with Zoro, and in front of them, Sanji was pacing around the kitchen, talking about food and other food-related bullshit.

Luffy had just run upstairs to take a shower, and then he was going to come back down and join them for dinner.

Things were, at that moment, really fucking great.

Everyone was together, which was rare anymore, but it felt really good, having the whole group there. Nobody had work that night, and nobody had pressingly urgent school shit to work on, or plans to go out, and everyone was... getting along and drinking beer and, shit, it really felt like the way things used to be. And Usopp was really happy about it.

So happy, that he got a little ahead of himself, or maybe it was because he was three beers deep, but either way, he kind of screwed himself early on in the night.

Sanji was kind of rambling about food with a glass of wine in his hand—actually, a glass mug, which looked pretty funny because he still sipped at it like he was holding a fancy wine glass—and he was looking kind of happy while he told some story about some extra-spicy dish he made once for a contest or something.

"There's no such thing as too spicy," Usopp said into his can of shitty beer.

"You say that, but—" Sanji began, but Usopp cut him off.

"Yeah, yeah, I get what you're trying to say, but I'm, like, a boss at spicy food."

Which was totally true. Usopp loved spicy food. He always had. He always ordered the hottest shit whenever there were spicy things on the menu at restaurants. When he had money for restaurants, anyway.

"Do you wanna make a bet?" Sanji asked, and everyone at the bar—Nami and Chopper and Zoro—stayed silent while Sanji gave Usopp this look that, honestly, made Usopp's gut scream at him to not take this bet. But.

"Uh. What're you—"

"I'll make you a burger, and if you can eat the whole thing and not puke, I'll cook for you for, uh, a whole week," Sanji said, pausing to take another sip from his wine mug.

Usopp snorted. "A burger? That's it?"

"It's a really spicy burger. Also, you can't cry. You also lose if you cry."

"I'm way too manly and confident to ever cry in front of any of you. Actually, I don't cry. I've never once cried—"

"So you're in?" Sanji asked, looking blatantly hopeful.

Usopp cleared his throat. "If I eat some spicy burger you make and don't barf, you'll cook for me for an entire week? Like, every meal?"

"Yes. Or cry. You can't cry, either."

"Yeah, I got that," Usopp said. "How long do I have to eat it?"

"I'unno. Half an hour."

Usopp laughed, all confidence and bravado. "For one burger? Pff, easy. But, okay—what do you get out of this bet?"

Because there had to be something. Right?

Sanji shrugged and smiled. "The satisfaction of watching you try to eat this burger. As a chef and as your friend."

"It's a burger, it's not like you're making some crazy Thai or Chinese shit—"

"It's really spicy, Usopp."

Nami leaned on Usopp's shoulder, and she clinked her can of beer against his, and he almost dropped it.

"Do it. You destroyed that buffalo chicken pizza, and that was spicy as hell. You totally got this," she said to him, and Chopper and Zoro started egging him on, too.

"You can totally do it, Usopp!"

"Do it, nerd."

Well. Okay. He couldn't really say no after all that.

"You're on," Usopp said, and he got a few cheers for that.

He should have fucking known better, honestly.

Sanji made everyone burgers that night, and he made a few extra for when Luffy came downstairs—which, Luffy was taking forever, but whatever, he always took long showers—and Usopp got a special burger, which, actually, it looked better than everyone else's. Nice.

"Do I get to drink anything?" Usopp asked as Sanji placed everyone's meal in front of them.

"Sure. You can drink water."

"You're making this all too easy, Sanji," Usopp said, puffing out his chest a little.

"Am I?"

Sanji even went so far as to grab a glass of water for him, and as he prepared to take his first bite, he realized everyone was watching him.

It couldn't be that bad, right?

Wrong. Totally wrong. Super, extra, hardcore wrong. And he should have fucking known better.

After Usopp took the first bite, it was alright, for, like, a second. After he chewed it, he almost couldn't swallow it.

His eyes started watering immediately.

"Oh, you're a fucking asshole," Usopp barely managed to say after he barely managed to swallow.

Sanji started laughing, leaning against the far counter, and Nami slapped Usopp on the back, encouraging him, and it wasn't encouraging at all. It was only making him want to choke. But she was trying.

"I got this," Usopp said, sitting up straighter, and he could hear Zoro snort at the end of the bar. Usopp ignored him. "If I don't got this, we have a doctor on site."

"I'm not a doctor," Chopper said.

"My life is in your hands."

"It is not!"

The second bite was worse than the first. This was actual hell. Usopp started literally sweating.

He made it halfway through the burger by the time all of them were cheering at him.

Maybe they were a little drunk. Maybe he was a little drunk. Even Sanji was shouting at him that he could do it.

Zoro laughed as he said to Sanji, "You really are a fucking asshole."

"Maybe a little bit," Sanji smiled back at him a bit, and yeah, whatever, it was good to see those idiots starting to get along again, but—

"I'm glad you two are bonding over my suffering here, that's really nice and all, but, really, fuck you both—"

"You asked for it!" Sanji pointed out, going to refill his mug.

"We aren't fucking bonding—" Zoro began, but Usopp ignored him.

"I was tricked! I was befuddled by your slick words and your smooth European cuisine—"

"I'm pretty sure burgers are an American creation," Sanji said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Whatever, asshole, point is, I regret this deeply, but I'm too far in to back out now, so. You're a jerk," Usopp said in between taking great chugging gulps from the cup of water Sanji had brought him and kept refilling. The water did literally nothing to help him.

"You kind of are a jerk, Sanji, honestly" Chopper grinned, and Sanji gave him a fairly nasty look.

Nami's hand went to Usopp's shoulder. "Just think. A whole week. Breakfast and dinner, Sanji will cook you all this great shit," she said, trying to rally him.

"And lunch. He's making me lunch, too," Usopp added.

"If you don't barf or cry. You look like you're tearing up again," Sanji started to say, but Usopp was quick to follow up on him, despite the fact that even speaking hurt, what the fuck.

"I'm not going to cry. You're going to cry."

Sanji snorted at him. "Why am I going to cry—"

"I don't know! You just are!" Usopp shouted, and Nami laughed at him, which really wasn't helping.

But okay. A few more bites. Home stretch.

"He's gonna do it," Zoro said to Sanji, who was still grinning over this whole thing.

"He's not."

"He is!" Chopper added, enthusiastic as it got, siding with Zoro and even leaning up on him a bit, pointing at Sanji, beer in hand.

"He's going to throw up in ten minutes, watch," Sanji replied.

"I have a stomach made of gold and steel and courage and I'm not going to throw up," Usopp said, more to himself than anyone, and he took the last fucking bite and swallowed and threw his arms into the air.

"See!" Chopper yelled, and Nami and Zoro were actually clapping—both of them doing that polite golf clap thing—and Sanji was laughing at him because, fuck him, Usopp was probably going to throw up in, like, ten minutes.

"I'm so proud of you," Nami said, rubbing the top of his head and messing up his goddamn ponytail, she knew he hated that, but—

"You still can't throw up," Sanji interrupted.

"I'm not gonna!" Usopp shouted right back at him, and Zoro got up to go grab another beer, but he clapped Usopp on the back first.

"I'm pretty impressed, though," Sanji added in, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

"That was so badass, Usopp!" Chopper cheered, rocking back on his barstool, and Usopp smiled, even though pressing his lips together like that made him want to scream.

Aside from the volcano in his mouth, things were pretty goddamn great, in that moment.

The congratulatory celebration died a little at the sound of a loud knock on the door, though.

"Who the hell even bothers knocking these days?" Nami asked, spinning around in her seat, but making no move to get up.

"I'unno. Go answer the door, asshole," Sanji said to Zoro while he hoisted himself up on the back counter, reaching for an ashtray.

"You go get it, prick," Zoro returned, cracking open his new can of beer.

"You're already up! And shut up, you're the closest."

"Whatever. You're so fucking..." Zoro trailed off, wrinkling his nose while he left his new can of beer on the counter, and Usopp might've added to this particular commentary, but he was concentrating on keeping it together, even though his shirt was kind of, like, damp with sweat at that point.

"I'm so fucking what, dick?" Sanji called after him.

"So fucking annoying!" Zoro shouted over his shoulder, walking to the door.

Usopp turned back to the counter/bar and leaned on it, reaching for his water. He didn't know why his mouth was still on fire this bad. Like, it was almost worse? He apologized mentally to his tongue. And he would've been lost in thought about having a conversation with his own tongue over what he'd put it through over the years, but he was interrupted by the faint sound of Zoro's low and kind of quiet voice barely reaching him.

"What the fuck..."

Usopp lifted his eyes, and he saw Sanji sitting frozen on the far counter, ashtray still in his lap, cigarette still in his hand, stopped halfway to his mouth. His eyes were huge. He was staring right past Usopp.

So Usopp followed his gaze. He turned slowly in his chair, and he noticed Nami and Chopper just as frozen as Sanji, staring at the door.

And at the door, Zoro stood with his back to them all, and he was slowly raising his hands in the air, like he was being held at gunpoint.

He took a few steps backwards, and two really fucking big guys followed him in, shutting the door behind them, not saying a word, and after Zoro took a couple more steps, Usopp realized he really actually fucking was being held at gunpoint.

Oh.

Usopp's brain sort of shut down, and his heart started pounding all the way down into his fingertips, and the only coherent thought that went through his mind was, holy shit, Zoro's about to get shot.

After only a second or two, Usopp's thoughts immediately started racing, trying to place the faces of the two big guys who were wordlessly forcing Zoro back into the living room, glaring at him, and Usopp thought he'd definitely seen their faces before somewhere, but he had no idea where, and, holy god, was this his fault? Was this his and Nami's fault? God, this was bad, this probably was linked to them, somehow—

"You know who I am, right?" the first guy—the guy with the fucking gun—said to Zoro.

"Hard to forget your face after I beat it in," Zoro replied, cold, and Usopp's stomach plummeted because, holy shit, that's who those guys were—Zoro had beat that one guy up in his very first boxing match and caused that big fucking upset—and also, holy shit, that was so badass of Zoro to say just then.

Usopp glanced at Nami around the same time that she glanced over at him, and they both shared relatively panicked expressions.

From the corner of his eye, Usopp registered the motion of Sanji sliding off the back counter, setting the ashtray to the side.

"Hey! You! Stay right there. None of you move," the second big guy yelled, prompting the first to point his gun at Sanji, who stopped in his tracks, eyes shifting from Nami, who was right in front of him, to the man pointing a goddamn firearm at him.

Zoro didn't move. He stayed there with his hands up, his face almost blank, staring down the two giant guys in front of him.

"They didn't do anything," he said slowly, his voice hard.

"Shut up," the first guy barked, and the gun returned to its original position of being pointed at Zoro's face.

"Why are you guys here?" Zoro asked, ignoring the command.

The first guy—guy with the gun—rolled his eyes and grabbed Zoro by the front of his shirt, and he yanked him over a few steps, bringing him closer to Usopp and Nami and everyone by the kitchen.

"Get on your knees," he said to Zoro, waving the gun just a little, like he was gesticulating his instructions.

"Oh my god, Zoro—" Nami began, her voice shaking, and Usopp snapped out of his mild shock.

"It's cool," Zoro replied, cutting her off.

Zoro's response was answered by the first guy cracking him across the jaw with the end of his gun, like the guy just straight pistol-whipped him, and Nami yelped a little and Zoro recovered and straightened back up after a second, a hand going to his mouth as he slowly sank to his knees in front of them.

Usopp blinked several times. His tongue felt like it was on motherfucking fire. He was also trying not to cry. Or throw up. Both of those things were extremely pressing to him at the moment. For various reasons.

His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking.

Holy fuck.

Usopp remained silent, scared out of his fucking mind, because he was totally powerless and Zoro was possibly about to, like, fucking get shot and killed right in front of him, holy shit.

He realized this seemed almost vaguely familiar. This wasn't the first time Usopp had been too terrified to move because a close friend was being held at gunpoint. And this time it didn't even have anything to do with him, what the fuck was going on—

"We're not gonna kill you," the first guy said as Zoro glared up at him.

"But we are gonna beat the hell out of you," second guy added, standing behind Guy Number One, looking casual as hell, like this was a typical Sunday evening for him, smiling like a fucking asshole while he stood in front of the staircase that led to all of the bedrooms upstairs.

Guy Number One handed the gun off to Guy Number Two, who pointed it straight at Usopp. And in response, Usopp lowered his eyes and kept them on Zoro, who he could've reached out and fucking touched, he was so close, but fuck, he couldn't goddamn move.

The first guy grabbed Zoro by his hair and drove a giant fist into his face so damn hard that Usopp could hear it, he could hear the sound of bone being smashed in, like Zoro might as well've been on the receiving end of a battering ram. Usopp flinched and glanced back up at the second guy.

And the second guy grinned while Usopp was fucking stuck staring down the barrel of a gun.

The sound Zoro made after being hit a second time made Usopp's attention snap back down to him, and Zoro was bringing a hand to his dripping and red face when Guy Number One kicked him hard enough to knock him from his knees to the hardwood floor beneath him.

"Fuck you guys," Sanji said in this sort of quiet voice, and Usopp could hear the tension and control in his words, and he could honestly feel the coiled rage that Sanji was trying to contain.

"Yeah? You can be next, blondie," Guy Number Two said while he retrained his gun on Sanji.

"This is some absurd bullshit, he beat you goddamn nut jobs in a fucking boxing match—" Sanji was saying, speaking through a clenched jaw when Guy Two lowered the safety on his gun with a click.

"Keep talking!"

Zoro was pushing himself back upright when Guy One kicked him again—kicked him hard with the flat of his boot—and Usopp barely registered Nami shouting at them to stop, that it was enough, already.

Usopp almost didn't hear Chopper yelling, either. His pulse was drowning the sound out of his ears.

He could see Zoro gritting his teeth. They were red. His mouth was bleeding.

Usopp's body started moving before he told it to, and he was starting to stand and step forward, to do something, but. He froze again.

The next course of events happened so fucking fast, it was like... time warped and slowed, and he could take in every detail. A few seconds stretched on almost indefinitely. And Usopp watched with wide eyes.

Guy Two's eyes turned before the rest of his head did, and he moved in a quick, startled motion, trying to hurry and point and aim his gun up the stairs.

"Shit—"

"HEY!"

Guy Two didn't get a chance to pull the trigger before Luffy leapt from the stairs.

Holy fuck. Luffy.

The soles of both of Luffy's sandals fucking smashed into Guy Two's face. And—Christ—Luffy kicked him so hard that Guy Two's feet left the goddamn floor, and he flew back a few paces before stumbling and crashing to the ground.

The gun clattered to the floor, and everyone moved at the same time.

Usopp and Nami, maybe out of reflex or something, immediately grabbed Chopper and pushed him back behind the both of them, and they scrambled out of the way while Sanji fucking vaulted over the counter/bar and dove at Guy Number One in front of Zoro. Zoro was already on his feet again, joining Sanji in dragging Guy One to the floor.

Luffy was on Guy Two before he had a chance to even start trying to pull himself upright.

"Holy shit," Chopper breathed when Luffy pummeled Guy Two's face with his fist several times in a row before kicking him again, knocking him down flat.

"Sanji!" Luffy shouted, extending his arm, holding out his hand, pointing at the gun on the floor. And Sanji responded immediately, kicking the gun to Luffy without hesitation before turning his attention back to Guy One.

Guy One was better off than Guy Two. Usopp and Nami, probably subconsciously, sandwiched together and blocked Chopper's view.

Luffy grabbed the gun from the floor before it had the chance to skid to a stop, and he held it by the barrel while he used the end of it like a metal club to just fucking smash Guy Two's face in.

As soon as Guy Two stopped moving altogether after only a few seconds, Luffy dashed back to Guy One. The one Zoro had beaten in a boxing match a month ago. The one who was responsible for all the blood currently dripping from Zoro's face.

Sanji and Zoro had Guy One restrained—both of them using their full weight and strength to hold him down against the hardwood floor.

"Don't ever screw with my friends again!" Luffy shouted, his voice raw, before kicking Guy One right in the fucking teeth.

Usopp found himself suddenly remembering Luffy's boxing match. It'd been so much different from this. In the basement of that restaurant, in the boxing ring, Luffy had almost been... kind of playing around. Like he hadn't been serious. The contrast was easier to see now. Back then, when boxing, Luffy had... really been holding back, hadn't he.

He'd been smiling during his match. And he wasn't smiling now.

The look in Luffy's eyes was serious and kind of fucking crazy, and every hit he delivered to Guy One made Usopp kind of flinch a little.

Sanji and Zoro stepped away from Guy One. They didn't need to do anything anymore.

Luffy's rage was evident, and the strength and brutality of every single punch and kick was fucking blatant, and, fucking shit, honestly... it was a little goddamn frightening.

Guy One managed to barely put his arms up in defense before Luffy dealt the final blow, striking him upside his chin with the gun still clutched tight in his hand, knocking the giant attacker unconscious.

Er. Probably... Probably unconscious.

He could be fucking dead, after that.

Everything was very, very quiet for a few seconds.

The sound of Luffy and Sanji and Zoro's heavy breathing filled what was otherwise a very heavy silence.

And when Luffy looked up, he seemed to realize everyone was staring at him.

He opened his mouth, like he was going to speak, but no words came out.

Usopp didn't know what the hell to say.

His mouth was still on fucking fire, though.

"Zoro—" Chopper said suddenly, pushing past him and Nami. "Is your face okay?"

"Yeah," Zoro said, blinking a few times, looking away from Luffy and down at Chopper.

"Ugh, no it's not," Chopper returned, stepping closer, pulling Zoro by the front of his shirt to get him to lean over—to get face level.

"Then why'd you even ask!"

"Good question," Chopper mumbled, reaching forward to gingerly touch Zoro's nose.

"Ow, fucker!"

"Don't be a baby."

"I'm—!"

Usopp actually smiled just a little at the look on Zoro's face. Just for a second. And then his eyes trailed towards the two unconscious bodies on the floor of his living room.

Chopper did well to break the silence. But Luffy still looked... not panicked, but. Something. Usopp had never seen that look on his face before.

Like he was worried or something.

"Luffy, what should we..." Nami began, her words fading when Luffy looked directly at her. She cleared her throat and gestured to the two guys bleeding on the floor. "What should we do about all this?"

At first, for just a second, Usopp thought it was kind of weird for Nami to be asking Luffy for directions, like he'd know what to do in this kind of situation.

"You guys should probably just, uh, leave for a little while. I'll take care of it," Luffy replied.

And everyone was looking at Luffy again.

Nobody said anything for a few seconds.

What the fuck.

"It's really messed up that this happened, you know?" Luffy said, looking back down at the beaten and unconscious body crumbled on the floor next to him. "They came in here with a gun, even. And I couldn't just—I mean—that could've been really bad."

Usopp initially hadn't understood why Nami had asked Luffy what they should all do, but as the seconds slipped by, he began to realize... that kind of made sense, didn't it. Somehow.

And it wasn't like they could call the cops. Luffy had beaten these guys' faces in with an actual gun. Maybe an illegally-owned firearm. Probably. And it wouldn't be so cut-and-dry as just... calling the fucking cops to come clean up this mess. No. No, this was... This was pretty bad in and of itself. Wasn't it.

Usopp watched Luffy look down at the gun still in his hands, and he pushed the little button that released the magazine and—of course, the gun hadn't even been loaded.

It was fucking weird, watching the way Luffy knew how to handle a gun like that.

"Yeah. You're right, yeah, we'll get out of here for a while," Sanji said suddenly, snapping everyone out of their thoughts, Usopp included. Digging in his pockets, Sanji walked around the counter/bar, and he grabbed a kitchen cloth and a bottle of water from the fridge and stuck a cigarette in his mouth and started walking towards the door.

And, silently, everyone else just... started moving without speaking. They followed Sanji towards the door.

All except Luffy.

Usopp went to jog up the stairs, pointedly not looking at Guy One or Guy Two. He dipped into his bedroom and grabbed his car keys off his dresser. And when he came back downstairs, he saw Luffy still standing there. And Usopp paused on the stairs and watched him for a few seconds.

Luffy was glaring down at the body on the floor, pulling his shitty throw-away flip phone from his pocket, and he looked pissed as hell.

He turned when he pressed the phone to his ear, towards the hallway—towards the door that led down into the basement—to his bedroom that nobody had ever been inside of.

Usopp walked down the rest of the stairs as Luffy walked down the hall.

And as he passed, just before Luffy reached the door at the end of the hallway, Usopp heard him say in a rough voice, "Hey! Jinbei, listen—"

Luffy disappeared into the basement and Usopp walked to the front door.

Everyone was waiting for him outside, standing around his locked car.

Sanji was pouring water onto the kitchen cloth he'd grabbed, shoving it at Zoro once it was dripping wet.

"What the hell is this for—"

"For your face, idiot. How are you this fucking stupid?"

"Yeah," Usopp cut in, and everyone looked at him. It was dark out, and the stars were out and the weather was pretty nice, actually, and even in the low light, Usopp could kind of see the blank expressions on everyone's face. "I'd rather you didn't bleed all over my car."

"Where are we going?" Chopper asked, standing next to Zoro, looking like he wanted to fuss over him still.

"I was thinking my work," Nami said, earning the honor of everyone fixing their gaze on her now.

"You wanna drink now?" Usopp asked, even though it honestly didn't sound like an awful idea. Maybe liquor would make his mouth calm down. He couldn't believe it still burned the way it did.

"No! Well. Probably not. No, I was just thinking we could park behind the building. Nobody would bother us... and we're just killing time, right?" she explained.

"Well. I guess so."

Usopp walked over and unlocked the doors to his car, and everyone slid in.

The car ride was mostly silent. It only took them a few minutes to get to the bar where Nami worked, and Usopp pulled in the small back parking lot.

Everyone got out of the car and paced around and just... God, it was fucking weird.

Nobody knew what the fuck to say. Even still.

There was only the glaring obvious to talk about. Luffy did some crazy fucking shit, and none of them really knew what to make of it. Nobody really... knew what to think of Luffy now.

But fuck if he hadn't saved their goddamn asses.

"Hey, Zoro, I'm gonna... You really need to have your nose fixed within, like, ten days. Or you're gonna have to wait a really long time to get it fixed," Chopper said, standing on the tips of his toes, scrutinizing Zoro's swollen nose.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine! If you don't fix it, it's gonna wind up looking like Sanji's."

"Hey!" Sanji cut in, lighting a cigarette. "Fuck you guys."

"Can't you just do it?" Zoro asked Chopper, seemingly taking him more seriously after that remark.

"I would really rather not."

"But you can."

Chopper kind of visibly squirmed and said some things about how a real doctor needed to do it, and how there needed to be anesthesia, probably, and he ignored Zoro when he started saying how he couldn't afford all of that.

"Hey," Nami said quietly, coming to stand next to Usopp. She spoke under her breath as she said, "So all that shit that just happened... really didn't have anything to do with us."

"Seems that way," Usopp replied, folding his arms across his chest while he watched Sanji and Zoro argue above Chopper's worrying.

"So then what the fuck was that—"

"I'unno, Nami," Usopp cut her off, and he realized his voice sounded kind of tired. He tried to speak as quietly as he could. "But Luffy was calling someone when I left the house, so... I don't know."

His brain was too fried to be putting pieces together now. His whole chest kind of felt hollow and numb from his heart kicking the shit out of it for the past however-long.

Nami took a deep breath before she whispered, "But did you see him? I mean, shit. It kind of seems like Luffy's kind of fucking involved in—"

"Maybe he is. Who knows anymore. I saw that shit too, Nami, but... I don't know. And what if he is? We're not exactly ones to be talking."

Nami pursed her lips together and joined Usopp in folding her arms over her chest, watching their three roommates yelling at each other under the street lamp. "I guess you have a point."

"Yeah. But. You know, the night wasn't a total bust."

Nami looked over at him. "Uh."

Usopp smiled just a little bit. "Sanji still has to cook for me for a week."

Nami snorted and rolled her eyes.

They hung around the back parking lot for maybe an hour, or a little longer. And they got Zoro's face cleaned up. His nose did look bad, and he had two black eyes, but... Well, he'd recover.

When they finally drove back to the Sunny, everyone kind of fell quiet again on the ride there.

And when they walked inside, everything looked... like nothing had ever happened. And Luffy was nowhere to be found.

And still, nobody said anything.

Tucked away somewhere at the back of the science and engineering building, Franky had an office. But he honestly never used the thing, except in those super rare moments he needed to have a particularly private talk with a student. And even then, he'd usually just suggest they grab a coffee somewhere else. If that cramped and tiny little office made Franky's skin crawl, he could only imagine how uncomfortable it made everyone else feel.

Walking through the creaky double-doors that led to the office wing of the liberal arts building—where Robin's office was—had pretty much the same oppressive feeling he expected.

The scent of toner and mildew more or less backhanded him in the face. And he almost had to squint at the overly bright fluorescent lights. Not a window in the place. Eugh.

Franky shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked and tried not to stare at all the administrative assistants he was passing, but it was hard, okay, because they only had these little half-walls instead of real cubicles, and he could see all the empty cans of soda and half-eaten granola bars sitting out on their desks, and it was kind of like a car accident where he wasn't trying to look, but. He looked.

It went both ways, though. As Franky headed towards Robin's office, he could feel more than a few eyes on him. Well. He was used to drawing a little attention.

Robin's door looked just like the rest of them, with a cheap plastic name plate and everything.

Franky paused in front of it for several seconds before he craned his neck forward and pressed his ear against the door, trying to figure out if he could hear anyone speaking over the sound of copiers and squeaking chairs and heavy keystrokes.

"She's got someone in there," a woman's voice called from behind him, answering the question he probably should've just asked.

Franky spun around, quickly straightening up. "Oh, okay, thanks! I'll, uh—I'll wait my turn, then."

"You can sit, if you want," the woman behind the half-wall said, pointing at one of the old plastic chairs sitting right outside of her... administrative station.

"Great, thanks," Franky said, hesitantly taking a seat. Because, man. That had to be distracting, having a rotating group of strangers sitting three feet away from her for a good portion of her workday. And also because it was kind of awkward as hell.

This really wasn't his scene.

Luckily, it was maybe thirty seconds later that Robin's door flew open, and a student quickly walked out, eyes fixed to the floor, obviously trying not to make eye contact with anyone over any half-walls.

Franky couldn't help but smile a little. He knew that expression all too well. It was the look of someone who had to ask for an extension on something—paper, project, whatever—and had just swallowed all of his pride to do it. Franky kind of liked those kinds of students, actually. The ones who took their assignments so seriously, they got all flustered when they really just couldn't do it in time, for whatever reason. Probably just having too much shit to do.

The student looked so stressed out, Franky kind of hoped Robin had let him have an extra day or two. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

"Oh, you're here already," Robin said, and Franky's attention immediately snapped to her.

"Yeah! I got done super early. I can come back a little later, if you want, though."

"No, your timing is perfect, actually. Why don't you come in for a minute while I finish something up, and then we can go." She beckoned him in, smiling faintly, and Franky's knees maybe felt a little like jelly as he rose to his feet.

It was because of that smile of hers, damn, it made him want to grin like an idiot every time he saw it—which was exactlywhat he was doing.

"Great! You wanna go straight there, or should we kill a little time first?"

"Let's go ahead and go," Robin replied, closing the door. "They supposedly have a good happy hour."

"Yeah, I heard that, too," Franky said, sitting down in one of the two guest chairs in front of her desk. The same style of plastic waiting chair he'd just gotten up from.

Robin took a seat, turning her attention toward her computer screen.

"Sorry, if I could just finish up this email—"

"Sure, take your time."

Franky pulled his phone out of his pocket, periodically stealing glances at Robin as she concentrated on her computer screen, her expression stoic and impenetrable. She was probably a badass at poker.

Whenever Franky typed a message to someone, he was pretty sure he was making the same face he'd make if he was speaking it aloud—which probably led to him making a lot of ridiculous faces at his screen, he was suddenly realizing.

"Alright, done," Robin said, pushing her chair back slightly from her desk. "Actually, come here and look at this, you'll like it. It's a project one of my old student's is working on."

He bounced up and quickly slipped in next to her, hunching over a little as he peered at the photos she had just brought up on her screen.

"So all of these pictures are actually replicas of famous buildings that are no longer standing, created using 3D printers."

"Oh, cool, I've heard about this!" Franky leaned in closer to the monitor as Robin clicked through the pictures. "Wow, they're detailed."

Glancing at Robin, he saw she had a slight, dreamy smile on her face.

"Yes, it's really impressive. This is one she said they just finished," Robin said, nodding her head faintly at the image on the screen. "It's called the Porcelain Tower of Nanjing."

Franky tried to keep his eyes on the screen. He was failing, though. He knew it.

"The tower was torn down in the 1800's," Robin added, and she started giving him a brief background of the tower's history. She sat up a little straighter. And Franky watched her.

She started to ramble a little, her whole face lighting up, smiling through her words, and Franky started smiling with her. She pointed out little details on the screen, and his eyes trailed from her long fingers, to her slender wrists, up her arms—

"She helped them analyze historical records to recreate something that's been gone for over a hundred and fifty years," Robin finished, barely able to conceal the passion bubbling beneath her cool and even tone.

Franky grinned so wide, it felt like his mouth was hanging open, and he couldn't help but laugh a little bit.

"I love when our students go on to become badasses," he said, chewing on his lip through his grin. He couldn't look away.

Robin spun her chair around to face him fully, and she beamed up at him. "I really do, too."

Damn, he was in love.

He was all too aware of where they were at the moment—at work, at the campus, where they were both employed. And they were in her office, no less, which meant there were probably at least a dozen other professors around who could've heard him if he shouted loud enough.

But. Man. He really needed to kiss her. Couldn't be helped.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, brushing the side of her jaw with one hand before slipping it towards the back of her neck. And as Robin tilted back in her chair, Franky dipped his head. Kissed her a little more.

Just a little bit couldn't hurt.

When he pulled away, their eyes locked, and he probably could've just stayed like that for awhile, even stooped over as uncomfortably as he was. Robin just kind of did that to him—made him lose his sense of time while he took her in. But okay, they would be off campus soon, and unlike him, Robin was actually a pretty model teacher. He didn't ever want to do anything to mess that up for her.

He took a step back and straightened out his posture, rubbing the back of his head.

"So, uh, I guess we can get going now, since—"

"Franky," Robin cut him off, standing up and taking a step closer to him, instantly filling up the little bit of space he'd just made between them.

It made him forget to breathe for a second.

"Yeah?"

She regarded him a moment, her eyebrows slightly raised, that same aloof look on her face she'd had earlier when she'd been typing that email.

And then she slipped her fingers into the belt loops of his pants and pulled him slowly him toward her.

Holy shit, he still didn't know how Robin went from being cool as hell to smoking hot in like one-tenth of a second.

His heart was already hammering in his chest by the time she kissed him, immediately parting her lips, and Franky's hands returned to her face, cradling them around her jaw. There was so much heat in her mouth, and his body started to get warm, like his blood was slowly coming to a boil.

Robin was really good at flipping some kind of switch in his brain.

She threaded her fingers into the waistband of his pants and held him there against her, pressing into his pelvis and his stomach, and, god, he could feel her hands slipping around his waist, trailing down the outside of his thighs, and he could feel her tongue running along his lower lip, and she knew he loved that shit.

He moaned into the kiss, kind of loud, but damn, he couldn't help it. He wrapped his arms around her back, holding her, trying to feel as much of her as he could.

Until Robin pulled away a bit, and put her index finger on her lips, like she was trying to hush him.

"Keep your voice down," she said quietly, and ah, shit, they were in her office, of course he had to keep his voice down. But maybe she wasn't actually upset—the corner of her mouth was actually turned up slightly as she said it, after all. And then she stood up on the tips of her toes and sort of pushed his shirt collar away from his neck, and pressed her lips on his collar bone.

Oh.

Franky couldn't say anything else. He didn't trust his voice anymore. And as she kissed the side of his neck, she also guided him around, pushing him back against her desk, and he didn't need a second hint.

He hoisted himself up onto it, and Robin followed, kept her lips on his skin, kissing and biting at his throat, his ear lobe, the side of his jaw—

And then he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the side of her face, pulling her lips toward him again, kissing her hungrily.

Robin moved her hips forward, squeezing her body in between his knees, her hands getting tangled in the back of his hair. Franky was totally pinned against the desk by her, and it made him feel like someone had jump-charged his body.

A pile of papers fell on the floor, and Franky tried to turn his head to look, but Robin grabbed him by the jaw and held his head in place, forcing him to keep kissing her, and damn, he wasn't exactly going to fight her on it.

She pressed forward, her chest against his, her knee on the edge of the desk between his legs, and he inhaled a sharp breath when she pushed him back a little more. He could feel her voice vibrate against his lips, the very faint sound making him shudder as she followed her momentum, and she climbed into his lap, pushing him back until he was flat on her desk.

God damn, god damn.

The rest of the world slipped away as she rolled her hips against his, the weight of her body warm and perfect against his, and he groaned against her, his hands slipping up the back of her blouse.

He loved her. He loved her like crazy.

Robin had never really said anything to him about his dumb little love confession—but they'd kept on seeing each other. Maybe more than they used to, even. Even on busy days, they tried to squeeze in dinners or coffee breaks. Even just a few minutes with Robin was enough.

And that was all he needed—to be able to see her. To talk to her. To touch her.

He pulled away for a second and looked at her, and her cheeks were a little bit pink, and she had this look on her face like she wanted to keep kissing him, too. Yeah, these moments, too—when she was suddenly sexy as all hell.

He'd never been happier than when he was with Robin.

Franky nearly jumped out of his skin when Robin's office phone started to ring. Even though he'd been the one worried about them being at school, it'd taken about three seconds for him to completely forget himself.

Robin reached for it, sitting up and readjusting her weight on top of his crotch, pinning him in place.

"Hello," she answered, and her voice didn't give away even a hint of her current position.

Franky was duly impressed—he wouldn't have trusted his own voice right now.

He could only make out maybe one out of every three words from the caller, but it was enough for him to be able to tell it was someone in the building. He felt like it was high school all over again and a teacher was about to bust him for making out in the bathroom, and heart started beating a little harder. But, it wasn't like anyone was about to barge in there. Probably.

"Yes, it's actually an easy fix. Would you like me to come show you?"

The caller sounded very relieved.

"I'll be there in just a moment."

Robin reached around him to return the phone to its cradle, and then she glanced down at Franky, smiling a little.

"My colleague is having a slight network issue," she said, tracing her finger along his jaw line, letting it linger on his chin for a moment as she leaned down and gave him a soft kiss. "I'll be right back."

Franky's mouth felt dry.

"Teaching history and doing tech support, huh?"

"Seems like an unlikely combination, doesn't it?" Robin smirked, finally slipping away from him and off the desk, standing up straight again. He sat up, pressing his weight into the heels of his palms.

"Nah, you're the type to wear a lot of hats, I bet."

"Perhaps I should send you over there instead."

"You'd be surprised at how little people actually ask me to fix stuff for them," Franky laughed, hunching over a little as he sat there. Not exactly in a hurry to get off her desk. He, uh, needed a minute, maybe.

Robin walked over to the door of her office and opened the door. "I'll be back in just a moment."

"Alright," Franky replied, finally easing himself off of the desk as soon as she left, a little relieved she'd closed the door behind her. Geez, this really was like high school all over again.

He was about to return to his seat in her guest chair when he noticed the pile of papers he'd knocked down.

"Oh, shit," he murmured, bending over to start picking them up.

They'd sort of spread all over the place instead of landing in a neat pile, so it was hard to see what order they'd originally been in. Damn. He looked at them, trying to figure out what went together, feeling really guilty that he'd messed up her tidy desk.

One sheet of paper clearly didn't belong to the rest, so he started to set it aside, but the first couple of lines caught his eye, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd started reading.

His stomach started sinking as his eyes raced down the page.

It was an offer letter. Like, a job offer. It'd been quite awhile since Franky had gotten one himself but—there wasn't anything else it could be.

And damn, it was a good one, too. A really good one.

The salary alone was astounding. Definitely way more than what she was making here. Even factoring in that Robin's salary was undoubtedly significantly higher than his own, it was a lot. Like, more than anyone at the whole university made.

But it didn't stop there. The offer included the usual benefits, sure. Stock options. Travel reimbursement—with a per diem that was like three times what the university paid, not that they had business travel very often. Even a stipend for living expenses, which was more than enough to cover rent and then some.

But the line that really made his stomach lurch was the one about paid moving expenses. Because it wasn't talking about moving to the next city over, or to the other end of the state.

The job was almost three thousand miles away.

The acceptance line still wasn't signed, but... man, what a great offer. Plus, the first paragraph mentioned something about how they'd adjusted some of it in light of Robin's requests. That meant this wasn't the first time they'd approached her—she'd been negotiating. Which sounded exactly like something Robin would do, too.

It probably wouldn't be long before she signed it, huh.

With slightly unsteady hands, he snatched up the rest of the fallen papers and lined them up, careful to place the offer letter at the back of the stack before he tossed them back on top of Robin's desk.

A wave of guilt passed over him as he sank back into the chair facing Robin's desk, hunching his shoulders forward. Shit, he shouldn't have read so much. Shouldn't have read it at all, if he'd been thinking. It was just, Franky had always been a really fast reader—and the part of his brain that recognized he was totally breaching Robin's privacy just couldn't get a message to the speed-reading part of his brain fast enough.

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. He might as well have started going through her text messages or emails or something. Wasn't any better or worse than what he'd just done, reading her mail like that.

Franky tried scrolling through some articles on his phone as he chewed on his bottom lip, waiting for Robin to come back.

As soon as the office door flew open, Franky nearly jumped to his feet, puffing his chest out a little as he smiled at her.

"Ready to go?" Robin asked, reaching for her coat, which was hanging on a little hook on the wall.

"I am if you are!" he boomed, maybe talking a little louder than he'd meant to. He realized his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and he relaxed them.

"Great, let's go."

Franky followed her, and she turned back to look at him as she asked, "Do you want to just ride together?"

"Sure," Franky said.

"I'm parked in the lot outside. Are you near your building?"

"Yeah."

"I'll drive, then, and drop you off at your car later."

Franky cleared his throat and smiled. "Alright."

A minute later, he realized Robin was no longer walking with him when she called out from somewhere behind him.

"Franky?"

"Hm, what?" He spun around.

"This is my car."

Franky swallowed and stood there, lagging for a second. And then he took a deep breath, and he laughed.

"Dunno what I was thinking," he smiled, shaking his head a little as he backtracked over to her passenger side door.

Spending time with Robin had always been perfect. And tonight was no different. He had a super great time, and all too soon, she was dropping him off next to his car, and he was sliding behind the steering wheel and shifting into drive.

He barely even recalled the drive home.

There were a dozen different projects he wanted to work on, but when he got back to his apartment and closed the door behind him, he just… stood there.

His eyes drifted over the interior of his home, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

He raked his hands through his hair as he walked to his fridge and grabbed a can of Coke. He popped the top and walked over to the island in the middle of his kitchen, taking a single sip before setting the can down on the countertop.

It really was an incredible offer.

There was no way she wasn't going to take it.

She wasn't stupid.

And it wasn't like she had anything tying her to this place. In fact, she'd told him before that she'd wound up at Sabaody more or less on a whim. There was no reason why she shouldn't upgrade.

He wanted her to be happy. She deserved to be happy. She deserved that job offer.

Franky wondered if he had anything to do with her wanting to leave.

Rubbing the back of his wrist over his mouth, Franky leaned against his kitchen counter, staring at the green recycling bin sitting on the floor just in front of him.

Robin had specifically told him she wasn't interested in anything serious, hadn't she. And then, right after she'd told him that, he'd just fucking blurted out his feelings to her anyway.

And since it'd been okay after that — since nothing had really changed between them — he'd just assumed everything was okay. But. What if he'd screwed all that up.

God damnit.

He had a feeling she was going to take the offer. And he had an even stronger feeling that, if she moved, he'd probably never see her again.

Franky stood alone in his kitchen, his can of Coke forgotten beside him. His entire apartment was silent, aside from the sound of a clock ticking in his living room.

He closed his eyes, and he took a deep breath, rubbing his face and his eyes and pushing all his hair back again. And then he took two steps forward, grit his teeth, and he kicked his recycling bin across the kitchen, and he watched it crack against the far wall.

Several days passed.

Okay, really, it'd only been, like, two days total since they'd seen Luffy, but it felt like fricking ages in Nami's mind.

After that night—after they'd all gotten back to the Sunny and realized Luffy had vanished along with the two guys he'd laid the fuck out—along with the blood he'd spilled, and the gun he'd taken from them—after all that, Nami and Usopp and everyone all sort of sat around in a lingering communal daze until finally going to bed.

And nobody had brought it up since. Almost like they couldn't.

Nami had tried calling Luffy late that night, but his phone wasn't turned on. She'd tried again the next afternoon, too, and gotten the same result.

She didn't even know if she had the correct number for him anymore, it changed so much with how often he replaced his shitty flip phones that he bought from the drug store down the street.

It wasn't weird for Luffy to be gone for days at a time. Everyone who lived at the Sunny was used to that. But now... Now, his absence certainly felt different, to say the least.

Luffy disappearing for extended periods of time at random, switching phones once a month, coming home looking like he'd rolled down a mountain, leaving again at the most ridiculous hours—that shit, and all the shit they never questioned, felt a lot fucking different now.

Nami didn't know exactly what the hell to make of everything, and she didn't know how her roommates felt about it. Not even Usopp, of all people.

But she didn't want to assume anything.

And. And she just wanted to see Luffy. She wanted to talk to him.

And, truthfully, judging by the current state of the other Thousand Sunny tenants, it was probably safe to assume they all felt something similar.

Everyone was spread out on the couches and the love seat in the living room, except for Sanji, who sat perched on one of the stools by the counter/bar, chain smoking and reading through one of his school textbooks.

And nobody was saying jack shit.

It was the first day of spring break, actually. Which kind of felt surreal in and of itself.

With all the shit going on in everyone's life—between committing grand theft auto, breaking into the world of underground boxing, dealing with obvious depression, trying to become a child doctor, and finding out two nights ago that their happy-go-lucky and very carefree roommate could've probably easily killed two men twice his size with his bare fists if he wanted to... God.

Spring break kind of lost its magic and sense of relief.

Nobody really said anything for a long time, sitting around the living room, letting one of Luffy's alien DVDs fill the empty space that the silence between them created. And even that felt weird. They were usually so damn loud when they were all together.

Nami was on the end of the long couch, both of her feet shoved under Usopp's thigh while she scrolled through her phone, the words what even is my life anymore floating around her head when, out of all of them, it was Chopper who finally and suddenly broke the silence.

"Hey. Uh. Do you guys wanna throw a spring break party?"

"Holy shit, did I really just hear Chopper suggest we throw a party," Sanji said to his textbook before taking a drag of his cigarette.

Nami clicked the screen on her phone off and asked, "When?"

Chopper shrugged from where he was stretched across the short couch. "Um. Now? Er, tonight, I guess?"

"Honestly," Usopp said slowly, looking over at Chopper, "I wouldn't... necessarily mind getting stupid drunk tonight."

Chopper smiled. "Yeah?"

With his legs thrown over the armrest of the love seat, Zoro took a sip of his beer and said, "Yeah, I could get behind that."

"Well that's in character, at least," Sanji muttered to his textbook.

Zoro craned his neck and glared at Sanji's back. "Says the prick in a long term relationship with box wine."

"Fuck off, you stupid—"

"Let's do it," Nami said, cutting Sanji off and sitting up straighter. "We don't have shit else to do tonight. Right?"

Nobody argued.

And then, after a few seconds, Zoro snorted. "What else can we do, really."

So. That was that.

Chopper started tidying up the house, which Zoro pointed out as stupid since the place was gonna get wrecked anyway, which Chopper ignored, and Usopp took some money from everyone and dragged Zoro along to pick up a few bottles of liquor, and Sanji and Nami busied themselves with sending out a couple of mass party invitation texts.

And just like that, everyone was in motion again.

"Hey," Nami said to Chopper in kind of a quiet voice while everyone else was sort of scrambling to get ready and prepare themselves for the imminent onslaught of people. "Why'd you wanna have a party?"

Chopper shrugged.

"Oh c'mon," Nami said, nudging her foot against his. "Spill it."

"I dunno," Chopper replied, his hands going to his pockets, and in that moment, he seemed too tired and too worn and too genuine for someone who was only eighteen years old. "I just thought... I don't know. I want Luffy to come home. And since none of us can reach him, I thought that, uh, if there was a big party at his house, maybe he'd hear about it. And maybe he'd show up."

"Oh." Nami pursed her lips together and stared down at Chopper. And he looked back at her like he was unsure if maybe he'd said something wrong. And then Nami grabbed him, and she pulled him into the tightest hug, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and squeezing him against her chest. "You are so fucking cute, you stupid freckled little baby genius."

"Nami, hey—!" Chopper started, his voice muffled.

"I want him to come home, too," Sanji said as he walked past them on his way to the kitchen, "Do I get a hug?"

"You get to make us all drinks," Nami replied over her shoulder, and she saw Sanji smile before he disappeared behind the counter/bar.

He really outdid himself on the cocktails that time. He made one for everyone, preparing each drink in a way that he thought each tenant would like, obviously, and it was kind of weirdly similar to a mom preparing lunch for her kids to bring to school, which made Nami smile as she sipped her fucking delicious drink through a red straw.

It was also weird how something like throwing a last minute party and getting drunk and stupid together was routine enough—familiar enough—to bring everyone at the Thousand Sunny back to their status quo. Things were starting to feel slightly normal again. Like they were all... back to being them again.

There was only one thing missing.

For a few minutes, everyone found themselves in that weird state of lingering that went on when you were waiting for something to start, for the thing to happen, where you couldn't do anything else except kind of stand there and exist slightly on edge and let the seconds tick by.

"Hey, let's—let's do a shot together," Nami said suddenly, and everyone in the living room looked up. "You know. Before a bunch of strangers drink all our liquor. Also because why the hell not, c'mon."

Sanji grabbed a bottle of honey whiskey from the back counter and smiled at her. "Five pre-game shots, coming up."

They all gathered around the counter/bar, and Sanji passed a drink to each one of them, and they held their mismatched shot glasses up together in a wordless cheers, and after they tapped their glasses against the counter/bar in a salute to the Sunny, just before they brought their drinks to their mouths in unison, the front door suddenly swung open.

Everyone turned real quickly, before they could even get their drinks in, mentally preparing for a large group of strangers, or their landlord, or, honestly, it could've been fucking anybody at that point in their lives, but—it was Luffy.

He stood in the doorway, hand still on the doorknob, and the rest of them stood around the counter/bar, and for maybe two long seconds total, nobody said anything. And then—

"Hey!" Chopper shouted, a huge grin on his face. "You're home!"

And after a split second, Luffy dropped his hand from the doorknob and completely matched Chopper's expression, smiling with his whole face. "Yeah! I am."

And that was that. It was like a huge mental and collective sigh of relief. Nami could literally feel the pressure in the air change.

"We're having a spring break party!" Chopper added.

"Really?" Luffy raised his eyebrows, shutting the door behind him, still smiling so wide. "When?"

"Like, right now, pretty much," Chopper replied. "We're all about to do a shot together."

"Yeah. Come do one of these with us," Sanji said, already filling an extra glass.

"Okay!"

And with Luffy standing there, raising his shot glass with the rest of them, it felt, in that moment, like maybe everything could go back to normal. Like everything could wind up being okay, in the end.

"Oh, wow, Zoro," Luffy said, trying not to laugh already, "Your face looks awful, you look like shit—"

"Asshole." Zoro wrinkled his nose and seemed to immediately regret the action.

"I think it suits him," Sanji said while he opened a new bottle of wine. He smiled at the look Zoro gave him. "What! You look good just like that—"

"Fuck you, at least I'll get better. You're stuck with your ugly face forever."

Nami snorted into her cocktail that she'd started chasing her shot with. Zoro really did look terrible. His nose still looked pretty messed up, and the bruises around his eyes had only gotten more purple and angry-looking over time.

Well. His face did end up looking a lot better than the other two guys, in the end.

Jeez.

The thought kind of rocked Nami back to reality, and she glanced over at Luffy.

She wondered if anyone else had thought anything similar just then.

"If people are about to be here," Luffy said, wiping his mouth after taking another quick shot, "I'm gonna go change my clothes and junk. I'll be back up in a minute!" And he disappeared again, down the hall and into the basement.

Nami's eyes shifted around, and she realized everyone had watched him go, and they were all kind of stuck still staring down the hallway.

"Fuck," Sanji said after a beat. "This is..." He glanced at the rest of them. "This is weird. Right?"

Nami almost couldn't believe someone said it. Finally.

Nobody answered him right away.

"Whatever. He's Luffy. It's fine," Zoro said, like that could just explain away everything.

Although, nobody argued with him, either.

"I'm glad he's back, either way," Usopp said, reaching for the cocktail Sanji made him earlier.

"We all are," Nami added, letting her shoulders fall a little. "It'll be okay, either way. Like Zoro said. He's Luffy."

Whether or not that was enough didn't matter, because they all heard the loud knock at the front door, and as soon as that door was open, it was like releasing a dam, and people just started pouring in.

Nami was actually kind of impressed that so many people were showing up when she and Sanji were the only ones to send out invitations, but, shit, that was how college parties worked, wasn't it. She'd certainly learned that life lesson by then, at least.

But it was good. It was loud, and it was distracting, and it was a relief to be surrounded by people and conversations that she didn't have to lead, that she didn't have to think about, that didn't require dwelling on life-altering decisions and breaking the law. Or, god fucking forbid, school.

She drifted for a while.

The more people drank, the more they talked, and the louder they talked, until everyone in the damn house was doing that thing where they were yelling at each other instead of just speaking.

Usopp and Chopper were both sitting on the floor, immune to the sea of people flooding around them, messing with this fancy set of turntables someone had apparently set up on the coffee table. Which was kind of funny. They were both the resident science geeks at the Sunny, weren't they.

"Hey, DJ Dorklord," Nami said, walking up to Usopp and handing him a new drink because she was such a good friend, "Do you have weed?"

"Yeah, it's upstairs, you know where it is—"

Nami made a big show of groaning. "That's all the way upstairs, though."

"I'm not getting it for you, I have important DJ business to attend to," Usopp replied, stealing the big headphones from Chopper. Nami wondered where the owner of the fancy turntables they were messing with had disappeared to.

"Rude," Nami sighed and spun around, scanning the crowd.

Sanji and Zoro were standing in the kitchen, arguing by the looks of it. And Nami turned and walked in the other direction. Although, truth be told, she was glad to see them actually speaking again.

She wandered towards the stairs, her little plastic red cup in hand, almost empty once more.

She could've gone to grab Usopp's weed, but. She didn't actually really care about getting high.

And she could've interrupted the domestic spat in the kitchen and gotten Sanji to make her another drink, but. She didn't really care about that either.

So she sat on the stairs that led up to the upper floor and swirled the melty ice cubes around in her cup.

She didn't know how long she sat there like that.

"Hey!"

Nami looked up, and she realized Luffy was standing right in front of her, smiling and holding two drinks—one in each hand.

"Hey," she returned, and he handed her one of his drinks and sat down next to her on the same step. "Where've you been?"

"Oh—turns out I know almost everyone here, actually," he said, tilting his head and scratching the top of it. "I was just saying hey to everybody."

"I'm deeply unsurprised," Nami replied, setting her old drink to the side and nursing the new one. It tasted god awful. So Luffy had made it himself. "You do have a lot of friends."

And the usual smile that Luffy wore plastered on his face faded just a little as he said, "I guess."

Nami stared him down, and when he didn't say anything else, she repeated, "You guess?"

"Yeah. Well. I dunno. I mean, yeah, I know all these people, but. They're my friends, totally, but most of them don't really know me. You know?" he explained, finally meeting her eyes.

Nami paused, her eyes trailing to the floor in front of her. Luffy had always been so direct in so many ways. And in other ways, he was anything but.

"I see what you mean, yeah," she said after a few delayed seconds, half lost in her own thoughts.

"You guys are my friends," Luffy added in, slowly rotating the plastic cup in his hands. He tapped the edge of it with his finger a few times before he said anything else, and when he did speak again, his voice was kind of... quieter than what Nami was used to hearing, coming from him.

She looked back over at him in the delay of his hesitation.

He met her eyes. "... Right?"

"Luffy," she said, her words kind of riding her voice as her breath slipped away from her lungs. "I—yeah. Yeah, of course. Of course."

And the smile that grew on Luffy's face was as genuine as she'd ever seen it.

"Good," he replied, taking a long drink after that.

And for a moment, they sat without saying anything, watching the crowd and sipping their drinks together.

"Hey—you know that, no matter what, we're going to be your friends, right?" Nami asked.

It just felt like one of those things that suddenly needed to be said.

She watched his face. She watched the way it changed a little, and the way he wouldn't look at her, and the way his lips pressed together a little harder, and the way he gripped his drink a little tighter. And then, finally, he said, "You really mean it?"

"Damn right," Nami smiled, and she elbowed him a little, feeling him rock sideways a bit when she pushed.

"That's—awesome." He grinned down at his drink, big and open and unabashed.

Sitting next to him, watching him smile and kind of hiding his face, Nami couldn't help but want to hug him, or yell at him, or something. She... she was kind of starting to get it.

She pushed him again, hard enough that he bumped into the wall, and he swatted back at her.

She laughed. Because it was funny. He felt kind of small, next to her, letting her push him around. Almost like she could beat him up if she wanted. He was nearly her size. He was only a couple inches taller than her. And yet, after what'd happened a couple nights ago, and after everything she'd seen—she knew what bullshit that whole image really was.

Nami thought about what he'd just asked her—checking to make sure everyone at the Sunny... still wanted to be his friend. And she tried not to frown.

She was starting to get it.

And she wanted to understand. All of it.

"Where the hell are you from?" Nami asked suddenly.

"The midwest, actually."

"So you grew up in hell, basically."

Luffy laughed outright at that.

"So what brought you out here?" Nami continued.

Luffy's laughter quieted down. "I…" he trailed off, blinking a few times. "Came to see my grandpa."

She watched his mouth shift, chewing the inside of his cheek while his eyes followed the big crowd in front of them.

"Yeah? He's the dean of the school, right?"

"Yeah."

Nami paused. And then she asked, kind of carefully, "Do you and him spend much time together?"

Luffy laughed again, but it was a different sort of laugh this time. "Nah. He's not really like that."

"But you came all the way out here just to see him?"

Luffy was still smiling as he replied, "Yeah, well, he wasn't too happy with me when I got here."

"Why?"

Luffy tapped his plastic cup a couple times again. "He wanted me to make some different decisions, I think. Like, uh. In life."

"Like what?"

Still watching all the people floating around in front of him, Luffy got that look on his face like he was deep in thought, which was a fucking weird expression for him to have in general. And then, finally, he said, "A lot of stuff."

"What, like not going to school?"

Luffy snorted and replied, "There's that, definitely, yeah."

When he didn't add anything else, Nami considered a few options and decided to ask, "Is that not all?"

He looked like he maybe had something to say, but in the end, Luffy just looked over at her and smiled a weird sort of smile and shrugged a little.

"Luffy," Nami said, and she took a sip of her drink, and then she worked up the nerve to finally say it, to voice what'd been on everyone's mind for the past couple days—since they'd all known him, really—asking him at point blank, "You're not really just some underground fight club boxer, are you?"

"Heh," Luffy almost laughed, and then he took a drink of his shitty cocktail, and he looked back out at all their house guests wandering around, and he pulled his mouth to the side, getting that deep-thought look on his face again, and then, apparently coming to some conclusion, he took kind of a deep breath and said, "Nah."

"So then what the hell do you do?" Nami followed, and her chest felt a little tight, like she was getting anxious over this whole thing as she asked, "Who are you, really?"

"I'm..." he trailed off, and he huffed to himself. "I'm just Luffy. That's all."

"And you always will be." Nami met his eyes again. "And nothing will ever change that."

He didn't say anything.

"I'm your friend, Luffy. Not just another person walking around here who barely knows you. Right?"

"Right."

"So I wanna know your story," Nami said, leaning back against the wall of the stairwell. "I wanna know you."

"Well," Luffy said, and he looked back down at his drink for a second. And then he smiled, looking back up and connecting with her eyes again. "Okay. I'll tell you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He stood up, rolling his shoulders a couple times. "But you're gonna have to walk with me. I can't talk that much without walking around."

Nami grinned, and she rose to her feet and stood next to him. "Fair enough."

She trailed behind him while he started wandering aimlessly, weaving through people and talking over his shoulder at her.

"So, uh, I had two really good friends growing up. They were basically my brothers," he began. "We thought of ourselves as brothers, anyway. I mean. Yeah. We were brothers."

Nami nodded and sipped her drink and didn't interrupt.

"One of them moved away when we were all still pretty young. And the other one died almost five years ago."

Luffy told his story with as few words as possible in some spots, and in others, he kind of started to ramble. He didn't go into detail about a whole lot, though, and he kind of jumped around his own timeline. He was actually kind of awful at telling stories, especially his own, it seemed, but Nami was able to piece everything together, she was pretty sure.

She followed him around the house, and slowly, the picture became clearer.

One of his brothers moved away, and Luffy lost contact. He never saw him again after that. And after his other brother died when they were both still in high school, Luffy stopped going entirely and dropped out.

From the sound of it, Luffy and his brother were both kind of delinquents, although Luffy insisted on how cool his brother was, and how badass, and all this other shit, a stupid grin on his face as he recounted a few memories of them together, and the trouble they got into, or barely escaped from.

He didn't say how his brother passed away. Just that he died when Luffy was seventeen.

"I was all alone after that," Luffy had added with this weird conversational tone.

And so, following all that, he'd apparently managed to mostly hitchhike his way across half the country with what little money he had to his name in an attempt to reach his grandpa, Garp, because, "He was the only family I had left, you know, so, uh... Well, I just wanted to see him! So I decided to go see him."

However, Luffy kind of mentioned in a few choice words how he wasn't really all that great with budgeting and managing his money, which Nami was less than shocked to learn, which had resulted in him completely running out of cash before he ever made it to the college town that Garp and the rest of them all lived in currently.

"Couldn't you call your grandpa and ask him to help you out?"

Luffy kind of chuckled and replied, "Yeah, I tried that. He wasn't very excited to hear I'd dropped out of school and gotten myself into that kind of situation."

Which, by the sound of it, was what led Luffy to winding up homeless and stranded in an unfamiliar city, trying to work shitty jobs for minimum wage at best, and being fired from all of them less than a week after being hired.

"It was so stupid!" Luffy all but shouted as they slipped past a big group of people playing some kind of drinking game. "I did everything they told me to at those dumbass jobs, and everything still got all messed up, like when this deep fryer caught on fire? Nami, it was so nuts, it pretty much exploded, okay, it was actually pretty awesome—but they blamed that on me, too!"

Nami wasn't surprised to hear that Luffy didn't excel at menial tasks and taking direction. From the sound of it, he got caught eating half the ingredients at the restaurants where he worked, and he messed up almost every order, apparently, and broke what sounded like a fuckton of dishes at multiple locations, and he was also maybe responsible for exploding a deep fryer, and. Well. Eventually, he stopped being able to get hired anywhere at all, being a greasy, clumsy, homeless teenager in dire need of a shower and some new clothes.

"And then I got super lucky," he said, pushing open the front door of the Sunny and walking outside, and Nami shivered a little when the cool night air hit her.

"Yeah? What happened?"

"I met Jinbei!"

"Who's Jinbei?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot I never actually introduced you guys. Only Zoro. Anyway, Jinbei's really awesome, he really helped me out a lot back then. I pretty much owe him my life."

As they walked down the stairs of the front porch and out to the sidewalk, Luffy explained how he'd met Jinbei in the first place. He made it seem so serendipitous and lucky, and, honestly, from the sound of it, it really was exactly that.

Luffy had been at a point of desperation. He hadn't eaten in several days, and he hadn't slept inside for an even longer stretch of time, and he didn't go into detail about it, but from the way he was speaking, Nami got the impression that he'd basically been pushed to his wit's end.

Which. Who wouldn't be. Nami imagined that trying to succeed and survive in the world they lived in was probably... pretty challenging for someone like Luffy. Especially all on his own. Honestly, the way it sounded, and maybe Luffy did or didn't realize it, but he really could've actually died during that time in his life. Except. He happened upon a chance encounter, instead.

Starving and exhausted and running on whatever fumes born from sheer determination he had left, Luffy was walking down a side street one night in the shittier part of the city he was in, when he happened upon a man being mugged. And he made a quick decision.

Three full grown adults were not enough to stop Luffy, even in his awful condition.

"Did you... Do the thing like you did a couple days ago?" Nami half-asked, knowing he'd understand what she was getting at.

Luffy kept walking down the sidewalk with Nami next to him, and he looked up at the faint stars collected in the dark sky above them. "I beat them up. I stopped them from robbing that guy, and then they pretty much ran off. That was all."

And then he stopped walking and looked down at the little plastic cup with his half-finished cocktail in it that he was still carrying with him. And he smiled as he said, "I asked the guy they were robbing—after I gave him his wallet back, I asked if I could have some of the money in it."

Nami couldn't help but grin at that. "Did he give it to you?"

Luffy laughed and shook his head. "Nope. He must've been pretty freaked out, too, because he also ran off. Which, screw that guy—I totally saved his ass, he could've bought me dinner!"

Nami smiled and waited for him to continue. They stood there, alone on the side of the street, with only a streetlamp at the corner and the moon above them illuminating their faces and their fading smiles.

"But. Jinbei saw the end of it. He saw me give that guy's wallet back, and while I was sitting there in some alley wondering what the hell I was gonna do next, he walked up and introduced himself. And he more or less offered me a job."

"Doing what?"

"A lot of different stuff."

"Like what?"

"Just. Whatever he needs me to do."

Nami didn't say anything in response to that for several seconds. Her feelings were mixed. He wasn't directly answering her on purpose. And she was going to speak up, but, suddenly, Luffy's words interrupted her thought process.

"I can't do... a lot of things," he said. "All the stuff you guys do, like school and shit—I can't do all that. There's only one thing I'm any good at."

And Nami's mind drifted to Luffy trying to fit into society. She thought about him failing at school, and every job he'd ever gotten, and she didn't know how he'd ever get by and make enough to afford something like a home and groceries and bills every month, or how he'd even keep up on everything without any help, and, for a second, she realized that she couldn't really blame him.

"So you do what you can do. I get it. And Jinbei's like your boss?"

"Hah! Nah. He's just... he's my friend. He's a really good guy, Nami. He helps a lot of people. That's, like, what he's all about."

"But?" Nami asked, because it really felt like there should've been a but at the end of that sentence.

"Uh. But. It's just not all very legal the entire time."

"What, so he, like, smuggles immigrants over the border and shit?"

Luffy paused, and then he kind of did this shrugging-nodding gesture, and Nami raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"He does a lot of different stuff. He just wants to help people."

"And he's the guy that got Zoro into the fight club boxing thing? Where's that whole deal fit in?" she asked.

Which, Luffy laughed a bit at that. "Jinbei just really likes boxing. And I do too! But that basement fighting thing doesn't happen very often."

"I see." She looked around the empty street, her eyes trailing back to their house at the end of the cul-de-sac, and she could still hear the music pouring from the Sunny, just slightly. "Is Zoro... That's over, right?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah—that didn't have anything to do with me, even. Zoro just wrecked a guy with a big reputation and a really big ego." Luffy shrugged. "That guy just turned out to be crazy, that's all."

"You went pretty crazy there, too, for a minute," Nami said before she could think better of it—before she could consider how Luffy might receive that comment.

But he nodded. "Yeah. I did. But that guy had a gun, and people like that are nuts, and you guys are my... You're all my friends."

Nami blinked a couple times.

"Thanks for that, by the way," she said, her voice quiet. "Who knows what would've happened if you hadn't shown up and flipped shit."

Luffy didn't respond for a beat. And Nami couldn't see the look on his face very well in the dark. But she could hear it in his voice—the way he sounded a little older, or maybe he just sounded his actual age, or whatever, but... he sounded more mature than what she was used to. Which was funny, because all he said was, "Anytime."

They started walking back to the Sunny, and Luffy craned his neck back and guzzled down the rest of his drink. And eventually, before they got back to the party, Nami said, "So you ended up being able to get here in the end. To see your grandpa."

She could see the new, thin smile stretch across his face. "Yep."

"And he doesn't wanna see you because—"

"Yeah."

"So why'd you bother coming here anyway? Why still try with him?" she wondered, because they were almost back, and she... didn't want to miss this chance.

They walked a few more steps before he answered.

"I wanted a family again. That was the idea the whole time, I guess."

The air around them felt quieter, like all the background noise of simply existing slipped away, and Nami's voice was soft when she asked, "So why'd you stay?"

Luffy grinned at her. "I met Brook while he was putting up flyers for the Sunny."

They stood together in front of the Thousand Sunny, still teeming with people and filled to capacity. They stared at the bright happy lion on the front door. And Nami realized she was starting to smile just like Luffy was. They had the same expression on their faces, standing in silence and looking at their home filled with their roommates. Their friends. More than that, even.

"So where were you the past couple days?" Nami asked after several seconds, and she saw him dip his head a little.

"I stayed at Trafalter's. I just thought—maybe it was better to stay away for a little while."

"You know you don't have to do that anymore if you don't want to, though, right?"

Luffy nodded. Still smiling.

"We're… this is your home. You know?" Nami's eyes were still on the stupid lion Usopp painted so many months ago. That she loved. "It's our home. All of us."

"Yeah," Luffy replied, and his voice sounded lighter, and happier, and more Luffy than it'd been all night. And she was glad. She was relieved, for whatever reason. Probably a lot of reasons. And he probably was, too. She could feel that, at least.

"Does Law know about... all of this?" she asked, and she saw him glance over at her with his tiny grin still stuck on his face.

"Yeah, he does."

And Nami matched his expression again. And after that, he turned and started walking inside. And she followed a few steps behind.

She wanted to tell him, she realized, as she stared at his back. She wanted to tell him everything—about her and Usopp and her farm and about Crocodile—the same way he'd just opened up to her. But in the end, his words about wanting a family echoed in her head, and the image of him leaping down a flight of stairs towards a gun pointed straight at him rushed through her mind, and the gravity of everything he'd risked with zero hesitation in order to keep them safe bloomed in her chest, and—

She followed him inside, and she said nothing at all.

With a frustrated grunt, Usopp threw the blankets off of his legs, heaping them in a lump at his feet. He was so tired—so very freaking tired—but his brain just was not letting him sleep.

The last couple of days had been kind of rough. No, they were definitely rough. And bad. And he really wanted to just sleep and forget about it all.

Usopp and Nami had been working at their second job for three nights in a row. They'd never done that before, and Usopp really hoped they wouldn't do it again, because his nerves were pretty much shot at that point.

He'd been thinking about his comfort zone a lot lately. Usopp had always been a relatively cautious person. The most danger he wanted to have in his life was to maybe ride in a car without a seat belt on for a couple of blocks, or eat an egg salad sandwich from a gas station. So, yeah, he'd pretty much skyrocketed way beyond his danger-threshold in the past couple of months, and he'd almost forgotten what it was like to go for a few hours without his heart racing for no reason.

For awhile, he had kept a tally of how many cars they'd stolen in his head, but now it was all starting to blur together. The new count was how many guns had been pointed at him. Or his friends.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, half-rolling out of the bed as he rose to his feet.

He'd never really thought a whole lot about his feelings on guns, but now, he was pretty decided that nope, he did not like them one bit and he hoped he'd never see another one again. His stomach twisted as he realized that was probably impossible. Yep, definitely impossible, because that Crocodile guy or someone working for him was absolutely going to murder them, for sure. Why the hell wouldn't he? He had nothing to lose, he'd probably killed dozens, no, hundreds of people, so what would two more mean? Crocodile had probably lost count of how many people he'd killed already—just like Usopp had lost count of all the cars he had stolen.

Even if it wasn't Crocodile, it'd be the police. Yeah, there was no way they weren't going to get arrested one day. In fact, he was surprised it hadn't happened yet. Seriously, how the hell had two total amateurs managed to get by so far? They'd get caught, or pulled over, or something like that, and Usopp was definitely going to get shot when that happened, because come on, even if he didn't have a weapon, even if he listened to everything the police said and put his hands up and laid down on the ground and there was no way he could possibly do anything to anyone—he'd still get shot.

Usopp decided he never wanted to see another gun again in his life. Even if the zombie apocalypse started right that second and someone offered him every single weapon in the whole wide world to choose from, he'd rather use a baseball bat or an axe or maybe a freaking crossbow, just so he'd never have to lay his eyes on a gun ever again.

He needed to pee.

Usopp reached for the socks he'd thrown on the ground a little while ago and paused. He considered going barefoot. And then he remembered the state of his house, and who lived in it, and he pulled his socks on and left his room.

It only took him about three steps outside of his door to hear it—the sound of the shower running. Dammit. He contemplated if he should just go back to bed, or maybe wait in his room a little while until whoever it was got out of there.

But as he stood in his doorway for way too long thinking about it, he realized he really needed to pee. And the only other bathroom in the house was the one next to Chopper's room.

It was something like one in the morning, but there was no need to worry about making noise as he trudged down the steps, because he could already hear a whole bunch of people down there. He could make out Luffy's shouts and Brook's laugh, and a couple other voices that were kind of familiar. When he reached the landing, he made a bee line to the door at the end of the hall, just hoping nobody would call after him. And thank god, no one did.

After he emptied out his bladder and washed his hands, he paused with one hand on the door knob. He probably wouldn't be so lucky trying to head back upstairs, because there was no way to get to the staircase without pretty much staring at everyone in the living room.

Usopp genuinely liked how everyone there always made him feel included. It was great, to feel like he was always welcome, unconditionally and without question. It was just, he was beyond tired, more worn down than he'd maybe ever been in his life, and he wasn't sure how good he'd be at attempting to be social. As he took a deep breath and listened to the cheerful voices through the bathroom door, it wasn't hard to guess that the odds of him getting by without saying anything were zero to none.

He barely made it two steps outside when he collided with someone who had just come out of Chopper's room. Which was weird, because Chopper almost never had people in his room.

About all he took in during the split second before they crashed into each other was that she was short—like a head shorter than him, at least—and she had long blonde hair, parted straight down the middle.

"I'm sorry!" she said, at pretty much the exact moment they slammed into each other.

Usopp's stomach dropped.

This was a voice that was permanently etched into his memory. A voice he used to try to make the first thing he heard when he woke up the morning, and the last thing he heard before he fell asleep at night. The voice that belonged to the person who had mattered most to him, until just a few years ago.

It was Kaya.

Kaya was here, in his house.

"What the fuck?" Usopp murmured.

"Oh my god," Kaya said at almost the exact same time, bringing her hands up to her mouth.

They stared at each other for several very long seconds, her eyes looking larger than ever. Something was different, actually. Usopp squinted a bit, trying to place what it was—probably some kind of make-up, like mascara.

The loud thunk that came from somewhere inside of Chopper's room somehow managed to tear Usopp's attention away from the incomprehensible thing that was happening, and he turned his head toward the door just as it burst open and Chopper tripped out of it, barely catching himself before he fell over.

As soon as he recovered his balance, he looked over at Usopp, sort of from the side so the whites of his eyes were showing, and he looked totally freaked. He was kind of a mess, too, with his fluffy mop of hair looking like someone had rubbed a balloon on it, and his clothes were the sloppiest Usopp had ever seen them. His loose shorts—the ones Usopp was pretty sure he slept in a lot—weren't quite lined up right, and his even looser t-shirt had the bottom seam all tucked under and inside, like he'd pulled it over in his head a hurry—

Kaya had just left Chopper's room.

Ah.

Usopp almost laughed.

Chopper looked like he was about to faint.

"So, uh, how's it going," Usopp finally said, willing the muscles in his face to stay lax and expressionless, but it wasn't working very well, and the corner of his mouth twitched a bit.

Chopper tried to say something, but it took a couple of tries for him to make actual words, and he was gesturing like crazy, like he was trying to fight off a swarm of invisible bees.

"Oh my god, um, Usopp, listen, I'm so sorry, I can explain—"

He looked really ridiculous. And it sounded like he was reading lines right out of a script for a shitty TV drama or something. And—god, this was funny, why was it so funny?

Usopp couldn't hold it anymore.

He started laughing—like, hard laughing, buckled over with his hands on his knees kind of laughing. His brain kept repeating for him to stop, over and over, but he just couldn't help himself. He didn't even catch whatever else Chopper said, although it wasn't much. He might've trailed off.

Okay, wow, Usopp really needed to stop though, this was very crazy of him, but the struggle was intense. It took him a couple of attempts before he finally managed to swallow back the belly laugh that still wanted to keep erupting out of his mouth.

Kaya was staring at him with her mouth slightly open, and Chopper looked a little green.

"I was in town again as part of my program," Kaya finally started to explain, a bit hesitantly, "which I think you knew."

"Yeah," Usopp managed to croak, but shit, talking was hard.

Chopper had mentioned it to him. Another medical convention-y thing. Except maybe this time she wasn't speaking—Usopp couldn't really remember much beyond how much he one hundred percent did not want to go. He'd assumed Chopper was looking for someone to come with him, so Usopp had been worried that he might be guilt-tripped into going anyway, but when Usopp had made a flimsy excuse about why he couldn't make it, Chopper had looked kind of relieved. Which seemed weird at the time.

But now it it made perfect sense, and Usopp was so tired, and this was so damn funny.

"I was done with what I needed to do for the day, and those convention centers aren't exactly the best place to have a conversation," Kaya went on.

"And, uh, everything around closed really early, too," Chopper managed to contribute.

"Yes, that's right. So, after trying to figure out where we could go for awhile, Tony suggested we come here."

Holy shit, did she just—

Usopp bit down on his lip. He had to get out of there.

"Ah, okay, well I was just coming down to use the bathroom. I've got to go to work early tomorrow, so I'll let you go."

Usopp stepped past them and hurried toward the staircase without waiting for a response. Kaya might have said something else to him, but he didn't quite catch it, and he really didn't want to turn around. He had to get upstairs like right now.

Luffy, sitting at the counter/bar, caught Usopp's eye right as he got to the staircase. Funny, that was just the thing Usopp had been worrying about like three minutes ago. Suddenly it didn't seem like that big of a deal. He almost laughed again.

Luffy waved a hand at him, urging him to come over, but—he really just could not.

Usopp shook his head from side to side, pressing his lips together. Normally, Luffy was extremely insistent about getting people to hang out with him—so Usopp was surprised when he gave Usopp a kind of serious look. His eyes drifted to somewhere behind Usopp, back where Kaya and Chopper may have still been standing, for all he knew, and then he gazed back at Usopp again.

Then Luffy smiled a little, giving him a quick nod before he turned his attention back to the rest of the room. Even Luffy had picked up on the ridiculously awkward thing that had just happened to him, apparently.

He made it to Nami's bedroom door and managed to get inside of her room and close it behind him before he leaned back against it hard, sliding down the wall until he was just sitting on the floor, and after a couple seconds, he started laughing so hard that he was almost crying.

Nami, who had been laying on her stomach on her bed, scrolling through her phone or something, raised her eyebrows at him.

"What's so funny?"

"You remember Kaya?" he said finally.

"Yeah?"

"She's here."

"Oh, like in town?"

"Like, downstairs."

"What? How?"

"With Chopper," he added, a certain inflection in his voice. Usopp closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, still smiling a little.

There was a very brief pause before Nami replied, "...Oh."

"Yep."

"Like, she's with Chopper?"

"Yep."

Usopp started laughing again, crossing his arms over his knees so he could rest his forehead on his forearm.

"Are... you upset?" Nami asked when his laughter finally subsided.

He wiped his eyes and chuckled again. "Why would I be?"

"Because you guys dated for like a hundred years."

Usopp rolled his eyes. "But we broke up a hundred years ago, too."

It really did feel like it'd been that long. At the beginning of their relationship—right before high school—everything was so new and happy. Usopp had probably loved Kaya more than anything else in the entire world back then. She was one of the only people he cared about, and she was probably the only person who really cared about him. He'd thought there was no way he could possibly survive without her.

It was funny remembering all that, now that they'd been apart for so long.

There were a lot of signs leading up to it ending, though. The closer they got to graduation, the more obvious it became they were weren't headed in the same direction.

Hell, Usopp didn't even know which direction he was heading in, then or now. He'd just been sort of meandering down a path and taking the steps he thought he was supposed to take, crossing his fingers that someday, he'd land somewhere where he'd be happy. Or at least, be able to scrape by a living.

For Kaya, on the other hand, she knew exactly where she was going. For her, that path was a straight line with no turns or detours, and she never faltered for a second. Usopp couldn't even imagine what it was like to have a clear goal in sight.

"Kaya and Chopper are a lot alike, when you think about it," Usopp said aloud.

"You mean beyond the doctor thing," Nami guessed.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Kaya did the same thing Chopper's doing—well, not exactly the same, but close. Kaya took all these college courses during high school—I forget what it's called, the classes where you get college credits too—"

"AP? DE?"

"Yeah, uh, I think so." He couldn't remember what any of those letters meant—it wasn't like he'd ever taken those kinds of classes in high school. "For senior year, she took most of her classes at the junior college."

Nami considered a moment. "So, if she did all that in high school, does that mean she already got her bachelor's?"

"Last year," Usopp nodded.

"Jesus," Nami murmured. "That is like Chopper, though. I think he told me he's trying to graduate when he's like twenty."

Usopp had heard him say that, too. So there was that. And there was the way Kaya and Chopper talked to each other the very first time they'd met—how even though they were total strangers, they'd been able to talk about all these different things so passionately. Things that Usopp had never really been able to comment on, because they'd just never been that interesting to him.

As he considered it, Usopp realized there were a trillion other small things that probably made the two of them really compatible. But there wasn't really any point in getting into any of them. So finally, he just shrugged and said again, "They're are a lot alike."

Nami hummed, obviously agreeing with him. "You can still be upset about it though."

"I'm not," he said, leaning his head back against the door again.

"Like, it would be completely okay if it bothered you."

Usopp closed his eyes and thought it over. But compared to all of the shit that'd been happening to him lately, the idea of Kaya and Chopper being together wasn't really that earth-shattering.

"What if it doesn't bother me at all?" he said finally, staring down at the floor. He was so tired, his eyes were starting to hurt. "Is that bad of me?"

"Of course not," she replied immediately, pulling herself upright. "But it would've been normal to flip out over it, too."

"If I thought Chopper was bad for her, sure, I might have a problem with it. Like, if I saw Kaya walk out of Sanji's room instead of Chopper's..." he trailed off.

"You saw her walk out of Chopper's room?" Nami's eyes widened.

"Yeah, uh. She called him Tony."

"Oh my god." This time, it was Nami's turn to laugh. "No wonder you had that look on your face when you came in here."

"Yep."

Once her laughter faded, a sort of comfortable silence slipped over them. Nami stood up and walked over to him, sitting down on the floor right in front of him.

"Are you okay, Usopp?"

"What do you mean, am I okay?" The question almost made him laugh again. Even if it wasn't funny in any way. "I'm as okay as you are. Are you okay?"

"I'm obviously okay," she replied reflexively, glancing downward.

"Well, me too."

They were most definitely not okay, though. If only term papers and tests and his roommate sleeping with his ex-girlfriend were the only things he had to worry about these days.

"We will be okay," Nami whispered. "We'll be okay one day."

"God, I fucking hope so."

Usopp closed his eyes. He heard Nami shift her position, and she pushed his arms out of the way until she could get to his torso, leaning in and hugging her arms around him. With a sigh, he let his arms rest around her shoulders.

Even though the floor was dusty and a little cold, they stayed there for awhile, clinging onto each other.

Zoro had been off work for over an hour, and he was enjoying his fourth beer.

It was one of those warm nights, and all the windows on the bottom floor were open, and, incredibly, nobody else was awake. It was past two in the morning on a Monday night. And, really, this was was more or less prime time for his loud and stupid roommates to come together and get even louder and stupider than usual.

Things had kind of gone back to normal like that lately. Like everything was starting to slide back into place, the way it used to be with all of them. Which was ridiculous, because the past month had been one of the... least normal months of Zoro's life.

He still had bruises under both eyes, but they were finally starting to look better. And he was supposed to go get his nose fixed in two days.

Sanji should've been home a while ago.

He was usually home before Zoro's late shift at the convenience store ended. Lately, it was typical, when Zoro got back to the Sunny, to find Sanji sitting there by the counter/bar with everyone else, drinking wine like the asshole he was, chain smoking and rubbing his face and raking his hands through his hair, letting it stick out in every direction because he hadn't slept in two days and even that didn't matter to him.

Stupid fucker.

Zoro was on his seventh or eighth beer—just starting to get comfortable—when Sanji made it back to the Sunny.

Sitting on the couch, Zoro had been listening to the television and staring off into space. Tonight's documentary was about aliens being mistaken for divine beings in religious texts. He probably knew more about alien conspiracies than fucking business at that point.

He listened to Sanji fight the lock on the front door for a solid minute before unexpectedly triumphing and nearly falling into the living room.

Sanji righted himself quickly, snapping back up, slamming the door shut behind him, his eyes immediately landing on Zoro.

"Go the hell to bed already, fuck, you and your sleeping habits are so goddamn stupid," he said, kicking off his shoes and dropping his keys on the scuffed coffee table that Zoro had his feet propped up on.

Zoro looked him up and down real quick. "Did you get lost coming home?"

"That's funny as hell, coming from you, isn't it," Sanji snorted, already on his way to the kitchen. "I missed the bus, and then I missed it again, and..." he trailed off, sifting through the cabinet. He produced a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread, and he held both items in his hands, looking down at them with an expression like he was doing a big mental debate.

"Did you walk here, then?"

"Why the fuck do you care," Sanji said suddenly, looking up, setting the loaf of bread back down on the counter. Decision made.

"I don't," Zoro replied, watching Sanji uncork his bottle of wine in a matter of a few seconds. His eyes followed Sanji's hands as he added, "You seem drunk enough already."

"I'm sorry, I'm pretty sure you had a half-pint for breakfast this morning, if I, uh, remember correctly. Can you shut up? Just shut up, just for a little while. Just let me get back to blacking out, and then I'll go pass out, and, uh, you can stay here and think about your future, or whatever you think about when you sit around with a stupid look on your face."

Sanji was wavering on his feet. Zoro didn't bother saying anything as he walked over, full wine bottle in hand, and sat on the opposite end of the couch.

"Did you get drunk at work?" Zoro asked after a few seconds, opening his... ninth? beer.

"Extremely."

"What brought that on?"

Zoro didn't actually know why he asked that.

"Why does anyone get drunk at work," Sanji muttered, and he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and Zoro blatantly watched as he opened his throat and chugged a third of the bottle. An entire fucking third of it.

Sanji belched and let out a long sigh and wiped his mouth and Zoro looked away.

So unlike him.

"I feel disgusting," Sanji said, and when Zoro finally glanced over again, he could see Sanji smiling a little.

"That so."

Sanji was pretty goddamn fucked up.

"I should shower." He let his head fall back against the couch cushion. "Where the hell is everyone?"

Zoro shrugged. "Asleep."

Sanji closed his eyes. "It's Monday, right?"

"It was. It's Tuesday now."

"You know what the fuck I meant."

Sanji's voice was quiet, and Zoro could see how visibly tired he was.

They drifted into silence and watched the documentary still playing on their old-ass television. Actually, that thing could probably be classified as vintage by now. Sanji kept drinking, and Zoro was nearing the end of his twelve-pack.

They'd been doing this more often lately. Just—the whole coexisting thing.

The more they drank, the more involved they became with Luffy's DVD, which they discovered was a series and not just one single documentary, and they immediately located the second disk and put it on, and they bickered casually here and there, and they got up to go to the bathroom a lot, and Sanji eventually gave in and ate some of the cold pizza Zoro had found in the fridge and didn't even complain about it.

Zoro was peeling pepperonis off a slice and eating them like potato chips when Sanji returned from another bathroom trip—how someone so clearly dehydrated could piss so often was beyond Zoro—and he was hardly walking in a straight line, his stupid hair sticking out in twenty different directions. A half-curly mop, ruined by a long walk through the damp night air outside.

Sanji didn't sit back down on the couch. Rather, he half-stumbled towards the TV and stood next to it, almost shouting at it in a drunken ramble, mocking the transatlantic accent of the current speaker on the documentary who was going on and on about the Nazca Lines, and he still had a piece of pizza in his hand.

Had he stood there in the bathroom, fucking pissing while eating a piece of crappy pepperoni pizza from down the street? Zoro had no idea how old that pizza was. Sanji probably knew that.

It was a good thing their roommates were heavy sleepers. Sanji was speaking—kind of yelling—with his mouth full, using his pizza crust to point at the television, and Zoro wasn't listening. He could only hear Sanji's own stupid fucking accent bleeding through in his inebriation.

Sanji turned away from the TV and walked over to the couch, and he sat down abruptly on the coffee table directly across from Zoro, and he looked very serious, and his eyes were very bloodshot.

"So what the fuck, right? I know you don't believe in God, and I get that, good for you, you know, atheism, so modern—but, uh, okay. Do you, or do you not, think that aliens influenced early civilization? I think it's fucking stupid made up bullshit, but fuck, right? Fuck."

Zoro watched Sanji's lips. He watched him light a cigarette.

"I wonder what Robin would say. I wonder what she thinks. Probably aliens. Probably she loves aliens. Wait. Wait, though. So, alright, do you, or don't you?"

Zoro didn't know who the hell Robin was.

"Do I what, now?" Zoro asked, his voice deadpanning.

"Aliens and civilizations, I don't fucking know," Sanji said, dropping what was left of his second piece of pizza back in the box with finality. He grabbed the bottle of wine in its place. It was nearly empty.

"You're hammered," Zoro observed, shaking his own beer can a little to see how much was left in it. Not much.

He'd only seen Sanji this fucked up a couple times, really. Maybe only once.

"Are you not?" Sanji asked.

"Not at all."

"Well that's because you're an alcoholic, Zoro," Sanji replied, leaning back on the coffee table, his weight on his left hand.

Zoro paused at that. At the sound of his name. And then he glared, because Sanji was one to goddamn talk. "I'm not a fucking—"

"Doesn't matter to me if you are or not. It doesn't change anything, does it."

Zoro slid his tongue along the back of his teeth, thinking. Sanji was looking at him with exhausted eyes, running on pure fumes, empty and wired, still full of hollow energy fueled by caffeine and booze and other things.

His knee touched Zoro's as he leaned over and spoke in his slow and liquidy English, pointing at him, and Zoro could see his hand shaking, which seemed to be something that happened to him when he was past the point of exhaustion and well into near-delirium.

"You're still you. Probably nothing could change that."

Zoro looked down at his own lap and Sanji stubbed out his cigarette and stood, stepping around Zoro's legs, going back to his kitchen. The sound of the fridge opening floated over to Zoro's ears.

"You want some real food?" Sanji asked over his shoulder.

"What're you trying to make?"

"I don't know. I don't care. Anything. I'll make anything. I just want to cook."

Zoro thought to himself for a moment. "Make some cookies."

"Ooh, yeah. Yes. I will do that. Baking, yes. Okay. Okay, give me a minute, I'll make some goddamn cookies that'll fuck you up, they'll be so good."

Completely forgotten, Zoro watched him from behind the couch, turning around and sitting on it backwards with his legs tucked under him, his chin resting on the back couch cushion.

In a completely drunken haze, Sanji flipped on the oven to preheat and grabbed butter and flour and a bunch of other shit, stumbling around the kitchen, throwing things into a bowl, and more things into a different bowl, only eyeballing the measurements, and he leaned back against the fridge for balance and whisked his ingredients together while the stupid alien documentary played in the background. Zoro hardly heard it anymore.

Sanji formed the dough and rolled it into little balls and placed them—all perfectly equally spaced apart, it looked like—and he used his thumb to make indents in each little clump of dough, and he poured some kind of jam he'd picked up or even made, probably made himself, into the little holes he'd created, licking his fingers on his other hand while he swayed back and forth, and somehow, nothing spilled, he poured perfect amounts of everything, all perfect, all of it was mother fucking perfect.

He threw the tray into the oven and kicked it closed, and he walked around and hoisted himself up on the counter/bar, his legs dangling off the side edge, and he seemed to remember Zoro, and in an episode of completely forgetting himself, he smiled at him.

His fucking lopsided smile, warm and completely disarming.

Zoro flipped back around on the couch and sat on it like a normal human being should, bringing his can to his mouth, and in a few long gulps, he finished his beer and stood up.

"Do you think there are aliens on Earth right now?" Sanji asked as Zoro walked past him to the fridge and peered into it.

"I dunno."

"Of course you don't. Were you there when we watched the one made by the BBC?"

Sanji's speech was getting jumbled a bit. Zoro wondered for a brief moment what Sanji would sound like if he were yelling at him in his mother tongue.

"Maybe. I don't remember. I think there's a few different ones like that," Zoro replied, talking into the fridge.

"Do you think Luffy actually believes in all that shit, or, um. Do you think he just, you know, gets off on it? Not, like... well, you know what I mean."

Zoro pulled one of Usopp's beers from the fridge because Usopp wouldn't care. He liked that about him. Opening it, he turned, and Sanji's eyes were lowered, staring at the floor, and he was smiling a little.

"I don't know," Zoro said.

"Luffy... what a fucked up little shit. I love that kid. He..."

Zoro moved to stand in front of Sanji, who looked up at him, trailing off, the smile on his face fading. Zoro took another step forward.

"What're you doing," Sanji mumbled, his eyes bouncing from Zoro's chest to his face.

"I don't know," Zoro said again. He took one final step forward, and he pushed Sanji's knees apart just a bit with the tips of his fingers, holding his drink with just his thumb and forefinger, and he stood there between Sanji's legs, taking a long gulp of his beer before setting it on the counter. And then, finally, he looked at Sanji's face. It was utterly blank.

Zoro's hand came to rest atop Sanji's thigh, and Sanji raised his eyebrows a little at that, studying Zoro's expression.

"Really."

Zoro's eyes snapped back to Sanji's, refocusing, and he couldn't read him, couldn't tell what he was thinking, couldn't tell what was really going on in his stupid French brain, like always, like fucking always, so he didn't say anything. Like always.

Almost always.

Rather, he put his hand against Sanji's chest and pushed, leaning him back, and Sanji wasn't fighting him at all. Zoro's hand slid down lean stomach muscles as Sanji laid back against the countertop, and he pushed up Sanji's shirt and studied all the lines and curves and indents of his abdomen, and the trail of light hair—nearly as blond as on his head—that ran downwards and disappeared beneath his dark trousers.

Zoro put his lips against his stomach, hands going to his hips, and he kissed against sensitive skin while Sanji sucked in a long breath, his chest rising slowly.

Zoro hooked his fingers around the rim of Sanji's trousers, pulling them down just slightly—as much as they would go before getting too snug to go down any further—and he kissed what he'd exposed, and he licked against Sanji, dragging his tongue, and he maybe bit down just a little near a protruding hipbone, his breath hot against wet skin.

Sanji's back started to arch. Both of them were silent.

As he kissed slowly against his stomach, Zoro unbuttoned Sanji's trousers, and he unzipped them with one quick yanking motion, and he wiggled Sanji's pants and his boxer-briefs down a little further, bit by bit, just enough to pull his dick from where it'd been pressing hard against the crotch of his slacks.

Zoro's fingers curled around it, and when he glanced up, he saw Sanji, unmoving, still silent, with both his hands covering his face, his elbows sticking out in different directions.

"Do you have a problem with this?" Zoro asked evenly, watching him.

With his hands still over his face, Sanji slowly shook his head.

"You wanna do this?"

After a small pause, just a slowly, his blond hair rubbing against the countertop, he nodded.

Zoro licked against the head of his cock, and he could hear Sanji's sharp inhale, sucking air past his palms.

Zoro went slow. As slow as he could. He trailed his lips along Sanji's length, kissing and licking at him with deliberate and soft movements, squeezing his hand tight around the base of his dick, feeling Sanji throb against his palm every time his lips pressed and dragged against warm skin.

And, as best as he could, he watched Sanji.

Hands creeping upwards and past his forehead, Sanji pushed all the hair away from his face, and he clenched his hands shut, pulling on tight fistfuls of wavy blond locks. He blinked his eyes open and focused on the ceiling, his lips parted, breathing through his mouth now, trying to draw more air into his lungs.

Zoro sucked the head of Sanji's cock into his mouth, licking heavy against it, rolling his tongue, and when he glanced up at Sanji again, his voice slipped, got away from him as he exhaled, moaning a bit, and Sanji's breath hitched when he heard it.

Zoro's hands roamed while he dipped his head lower, his eyes fluttering closed, still moving as slowly as he could, feeling the way Sanji started to shift and arch further under his fingertips when he ran them up and down his stomach, and his hips, and his thighs. Spreading long legs a little further apart until he was pulling against the trousers still gathered around his knees, Sanji's heavy breathing filled Zoro's ears, and his head, and everything.

With languid movements, Zoro worked up and down Sanji's cock, flattening and curling and pressing his tongue hard against throbbing, hot and wet flesh. And he chanced another glance upwards, Sanji having made nearly no sounds up to that point, and he blinked a couple times and realized his breath was stuck in his throat.

He let Sanji's cock slip from his mouth with a wet pop, and he straightened up, wrapping his fingers around Sanji's dick. And he stood there, stroking Sanji, watching him openly. Staring at him.

Sanji's neck was craned back, one hand covering just his eyes, and the other was balled into a tight fist in front of his mouth. He was biting down hard on his knuckles, squirming with his thighs spread wide on the countertop, his shirt still bunched up around his collarbone. Breathing so damn heavily.

The image burned into Zoro's eyes, and Sanji pulled his hand from his mouth and said without looking at him, so very quietly, "Keep going."

Zoro, for the first time, obeyed him.

He sucked harder, curling his lips inwards and closing his mouth tight around Sanji's cock, pressing the tip of his tongue hard against Sanji's length, flicking it back and forth as he moved forward and back, and Sanji finally, finally, groaned something long and kind of loud, and his back arched so much.

Zoro pulled back and licked all over him, he couldn't fucking help it, dragging his tongue and sucking skin into his mouth along Sanji's pelvis, and under his cock, burying his face between Sanji's legs, and he bit his thighs, and Sanji caught himself from yelping when Zoro bit down harder.

When he went back to his dick again, cheeks hollowing a bit around it, Zoro felt Sanji grab a rough handful of his hair and roll his hips upwards, and he pressed himself down the back of Zoro's throat. And Zoro wrapped his fingers around Sanji's wrist, squeezing hard, his thumb pressing against Sanji's palm as he bobbed up and down on his cock, and, he couldn't goddamn help it—he moaned around Sanji's dick, because he was completely swept up, caught up in everything, and there was nothing else.

"Hey."

Zoro glanced up.

"Can I come in your mouth," Sanji breathed, his eyes closed and his voice uneven and thick as hell. Just above a whisper. "Please."

"Mhm."

It didn't take a lot after that. And when Sanji came, he pressed a hand over his mouth, muffling his own voice as he nearly shouted, his back curving so much, almost shaking. Zoro swallowed and stayed on him, still sucking, still licking, and when he finally pulled away from him, he watched Sanji laying there, slowly relaxing back against the counter/bar, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow, trying to catch his breath.

Zoro was standing up straight again and taking a step back, wiping his mouth off with his hand, when Sanji took a deep breath through his nose and suddenly sat up straight.

"Fuck!"

He leapt off the counter, tripping up with his pants still around his thighs, and he hurried to pull them back up, and he threw open the oven. He pulled his shirt off and used it as an oven mitt, and he pulled out the cookies he'd made earlier and half-tossed them on top of the stove.

Zoro walked over and stood next to Sanji as he surveyed his work.

"Almost forgot about these fucking cookies."

They looked perfect.

Zoro reached forward to grab one and Sanji smacked his hand.

"Ow, dick—"

"No, you stupid idiot. First, they're too goddamn hot, I pulled them out of the, uh... Fuck. Uh. Um... Oven. The oven—I pulled them from the oven literally two seconds ago. Also, I have to glaze them."

Zoro rolled his eyes.

Sanji grabbed the second bowl he'd mixed ingredients into earlier, and Zoro watched him use the whisk from before to drizzle the glaze all over the cookies, and he stood back when he was finished, looking pleased while he admired his work, shirtless and skinny and drunk as fuck.

"Alright. Um." Sanji turned back towards Zoro, and the realization and recollection of what'd just passed between them bloomed all over his face. "Oh yeah."

Zoro said nothing, still watching him, and his dick was still pressed kind of fucking hard against the fabric of his pants, actually, and Sanji's eyes shifted down, finally noticing it.

There was no hesitation. Sanji stepped forward and grabbed the front of Zoro's shirt, yanking him along, around the counter/bar and out towards the couch, and he used both hands to wrench him down onto the cushions, and he crawled on top of him.

"You don't need to—"

"Ah, but I want to," Sanji cut him off.

"How're you even still conscious," Zoro muttered.

"Beats me."

Sanji had Zoro's pants off in a matter of a few maneuvers, and Zoro pulled his shirt off, and then he was kind of suddenly very naked, laying back on the couch, and Sanji's mouth was all over him, hands rubbing against him, and Sanji knew what to do with a cock like he knew how to mix ingredients, and Zoro watched him, never looked away, and he could feel his own heartbeat in his ears.

He was slipping.

He hadn't meant to do this.

He hated Sanji. He couldn't stand him, or the way he spoke, or the way he was good at cooking and business and, god damn it, sucking his dick. At everything he fucking did.

And the way he moaned, the way his hands ran up Zoro's stomach, up to his heaving chest, fingers stretching, blond hair falling over his face, shoulder-blades protruding out against his back when he moved his arms like that, god damn it—

Zoro wanted him.

He didn't need him, didn't need him, didn't need that piece of shit. But he wanted him.

And that was his goddamn problem. And... Fuck. Probably that had always been his goddamn problem.

He'd watched Sanji drink his face off all night and never talk about it, never talk about why he ever did that sort of shit, never opening up to anyone or being fucking real or anything, always taking his dumbfuck emotions out on himself rather than anyone else, because that's how he was, and he lived for other people instead of himself, and Zoro hated that about him.

Sanji would never open up, he'd never be real, and he wouldn't ever tie himself to any one person because he belonged to fucking everyone. Zoro was one of many.

And he hadn't meant to do this.

Sanji's nose was pressed up against his pelvis, and Zoro ran his hand through blond hair as his roommate laid between his legs, weight on his elbows, his face wet and his eyes closed.

When Zoro came, it was when Sanji looked up at him.

And Sanji, without a word, pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, and he crawled up over Zoro and laid across his chest, elbows on either side of Zoro's neck, burying his hands in Zoro's hair, and he kissed him.

Zoro hadn't meant for this—this emotion, this crushing feeling, and the solidity of Sanji's weight on him, pressing him down into the couch. He could feel Sanji's fucking heart pounding out of his bare chest, right against his own, and Zoro didn't know how to handle that. And. And he—

Fuck.

He wrapped his arms tight around Sanji and kissed him hard, again and again, their lips pressing together in every way they could, and Sanji kissed against his jaw, and the corner of his mouth, and everywhere, and his breath was hot and smelled like cigarettes, and he pressed his lips firm against Zoro's again, fingers raking through his hair, moving one hand to his throat, and Zoro felt Sanji's breath, warm and almost gasping against his cheek.

And after a moment, or maybe a while, Sanji pulled away and pushed himself up and away from Zoro, looking down at him, his lips parted just slightly, eyes searching all over his face. Like he was waiting for something. Looking for something.

Zoro was stuck. He was lost, and he was trapped, and he'd never hesitated more in his life.

And at that, Sanji rolled his eyes at him a little, and he fell down onto the couch, wedging himself between Zoro and the back cushion, throwing his arm loosely over Zoro's chest, and he used his other arm as a pillow and closed his eyes.

Zoro slid out from under him and sat up after maybe a minute or two. Sanji was already asleep, passed out cold, shirtless with his work trousers barely still on his hips. Zoro stood up slowly and put his own clothes back on. And then he wandered over to the kitchen where Sanji's cookies had cooled off. He put one in his mouth, and he scowled.

They were fucking perfect.

A/N: hey! THANKS FOR READING THE NEW CHAPTER! we sincerely hope you liked it! as always, we UGHHHH SO DEEPLY appreciate all reviews and reblogs and all that man. that means the world to us, especially now, after our hiatus. 2k15 has been a long year for us both. thanks for your patience dudes it means the world. also, here's some additional facts about zoro and perona:

-perona was the first person to dye zoro's hair green in freshman year, and he kind of just kept doing it indefinitely after that

-perona is the reason zoro knows 100% he is hella gay

-zoro knows how to do 4 different types of braids and it's all perona's fault

-perona gave zoro the shirt he wore to the christmas party

-the clerks at blockbuster knew zoro and perona by name because they'd been in there and rented just about every single horror movie in stock

-perona picked out shampoo and conditioner for zoro in high school that he still uses to this day

-zoro can make 14 different types of milkshakes but he'll never tell anyone at the sunny and that is entirely perona's fault also

thanks again yall. you're the best tbh honest

the name of the ship is kachop btw