Rare And Elusive Wipweds Of The Dinghy Boys

rare and elusive wipweds of the dinghy boys

(text under the cut)

His brain’s already half gone to soup and he’s not even drowning yet, but this is how their friendship’s always been—playing like animals, like poking an angry thing with a stick even before he turned seven. Water snaps against the tip of his nose and (not for the first time) he wonders if he could bite the ocean back—if it ever let him have the energy—maybe it would understand like an animal, too. Or like a Luffy. Because he knows from Ace and from Gramps and from Shanks and from Dadan—there’s the bad hurt of meanness and there’s the other kind, the right one, that says I hate you but means I love you.

Then—suddenly—there’s a rocking underneath him, and a hand at the back of his collar, hauling him back—not gentle, but not unkind even as Luffy (limp and heavy) splashes water into the dinghy. Zoro breaks the people-silence and grouses, “Fuck, you’re high maintenance,” but it’s. Soft. At the edges. Not so much a scold as a statement of fact. And when Zoro settles back to sleep-or-maybe-not, he doesn’t let go—just palms the edge of Luffy’s shirt without looking. Touching. Still quiet (the way Zoro likes it) but there (the way Luffy does).

Not alone.

And Luffy blinks, neck bent at a stupid angle as he stares up at the moon (real, this time—not its reflection) and relishes the tingling in his limbs. Reaches out to grasp the edge of Zoro’s shirt, too, for no reason, and misses. Doesn’t try again. Furrows his brow. Feels the world shift, just slightly—or maybe just the boat.

Thinks—this is the first time anyone’s stopped him from falling in first, not just pulled him out after.

Thinks—of course Zoro’s going to be the World’s Greatest Swordsman. Not because the Pirate King can’t have anything less but because he won’t.

Thinks—no matter what happens—forever and ever—there will always be a line here: before Zoro (Luffy), and after Zoro (LuffyandZoro) and thinks, ah—because it turns out Dreams can stretch, too—can change and grow, just like the rest of him.

Thinks—he can’t tell if this is what it means to be a Captain or to have a First Mate. Can’t remember if Shanks ever said anything about Benn and knows his brothers never thought much about it because they’d been too busy fighting for a higher rank.

Thinks—they’ll just have to find the rest of their crew so he can figure it out.

Slurs, instead of any of that (because thinking’s just as boring as the rest), “Zor-o!” and rolls the sound around in his mouth, relishing the new-funny taste of the rest of his life. Whines, “I’m hungry!” because he is.

One bite, and he’s starving.