Title: Equanimity
Rating: PGish, I suppose.
Character/Pairing: Zoro/Nami/Sanji
Notes: Written in response to a challenge from sasorikatana at the LJ One Piece comm.
There is a time for everything. Right now, it is a time for equanimity. It is not a time for nosebleeds or discomfort, or the mental images that will produce them. Unfortunately for Zoro's tranquility, it doesn't take a great imagination to go from what he sees in front of him to the sort of thing that will send him desperately running for a dark storeroom.
It's a gorgeous day, so even the more sane and weather-sensitive members of the crew have opted for summer clothing, while Chopper hides in an ice bath in the infirmary. He could use Franky to take his mind off his - ah - preoccupation, but the shipwright has eschewed his shirt today. The sight of the older man in only his speedo unsettles Zoro's mind in an entirely different way than it would if it was, say, Sanji (or, gods help him, Nami), and it unsettles his stomach too, so he keeps his gaze firmly averted.
But the deck planking isn't interesting for anyone but Franky, and sails bore everyone but the navigator, so they can't hold Zoro's attention for long. His eyes are drawn back to the other side of the deck. Nami's reclined on her deckchair, her lightly tanned skin glowing against the blue of the chair's fabric. There's an awful lot of that skin, stretching from her burnished hair to her toes. The bikini matches the chair so perfectly it seems to disappear, and Zoro's imagination fills in those little gaps with ease. The resulting image is distracting.
Somehow, Sanji has convinced Nami to wiggle over and share her seat. He's tucked up against her, white and gold against copper and bronze. One arm is thrown over Nami's stomach, and she's complaining that if he doesn't move it soon, she'll get strange tan lines. From Zoro's vantage point, only Sanji's golden head, a pale shoulder, and that single lean arm are visible. He's wearing swim trunks, but Zoro can't see them, so they might as well not exist. It goes beyond distracting.
He's supposed to be meditating, clearing his mind of distractions so that he can do it in an instant in battle. But battle, even with the screams and danger and the elegant movement of his nakama fighting around him, is nothing like so distracting as the glowing gods on the other side of the deck. His mind won't clear, and his body won't relax - if anything, it gets tenser every time his eyes flick towards them. He wonders if they're doing it on purpose, in retaliation for choosing training over them.
His last, valiant effort at serenity is destroyed when Nami raises her arms and stretches, head back, spine arched, her eyes closed in an expression of sinful ecstasy. The movement causes Sanji's arm to move, sliding down from her stomach and drawing Zoro's attention with it, down to a place he had been trying desperately not to think about. Even over here, Zoro can hear the blonde's murmur of happiness, somewhere between a purr and a growl.
Now, Zoro decides, is a time when equanimity can go hang itself. There is a time for everything, and right now is a time for dragging the pair of them into a cabin and letting them know just what he thinks of their little display.