Chapter Text
“Oi, asshole!”
As a thoroughly pissed off swordsman came storming across the deck of The Thousand Sunny with an aura that spoke of imminent bloodshed, Law felt an irregularly strong pulse in his chest, though he didn’t bother looking up. There were plenty of assholes on board this ship; Zoro could have meant anyone, really; and as he was quite engrossed in the novel he’d discovered in the library based around lost, ancient combat practices (it was an interesting tale, a fiction founded on little-known facts), spats between the mugiwara kaizoku interested him very little. Had nothing to do with him. Wasn’t his business.
Even as a dark shadow in the shape of another man was cast over him on the bench against the foremast where he’d taken to relaxing, he still did not look up. Merely shifted to where his book fell under the light again, licked his thumb, then turned a page.
“I know you have it, Torao. Give it up,” Zoro said, voice low and dangerous – at least, dangerous to anyone else, but not to Law. No. But grating. Perhaps if he ignored him, he would just give up and go away, or…
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said dismissively.
Another page was flipped before a sheathed white katana came down between himself and the book in his hands, blocking his view, and he slowly looked up. Blinked once, a slender brow lifting as if to say in the most innocent way possible (if, that was, Law had any innocent ways about him… probably not), ‘I certainly don’t know what you mean, Zoro-ya.’
“Liar,” Zoro growled out, baring his teeth, “I can see it moving in your pants.”
If Zoro didn’t have the full attention of the entire crew before, he certainly had it now.
Smirk.
Well. This could be… mildly entertaining.
“Just to be clear,” he began as he laid the borrowed novel aside, pages faced down so as to save his place before propping his elbows on his knees, resting his chin into laced fingers. Comfortable, casual, and lightly amused as he gazed upwards at the rather attractive (to put it lightly) swordsman. “You want me to 'give up’ the throbbing thing that is inside of my pants? A certain organ you’re after, I presume?”
“Yes, that thing. Give it. Now.” Crossing one arm over his stomach, the swordsman held out a palm to him, expectant and demanding.
“I’m not hearing this,” came a female voice on the lawn amidst a crowd of snickers as the navigator covered her ears and shook her head, scandalized. Franky wolf-whistled at them while Usopp and Luffy looked like they were about to cry from stifling their laughter–
“I thought you already had that last night – at least, it seemed that way from the sounds I heard,” Robin added, delightfully amused, “I never imagined you the loud type, Kenshi-san, but I believe some congratulations are in order.”
– Sanji didn’t even bother holding it in, tears streaming down his cheeks.
And Zoro’s face and the tips of his ears burned bright fucking red. Like tomatos, like cherrys, like valentines, and like boiled lobster. Like Luffy’s shirt or the strip around the brim of his straw hat. Many kinds of red. All of the red.
“That’s not–!” Zoro attempted, but was cut off as Brook made a skull joke of exceedingly poor taste and the raccoon-doctor began to worry over the cook, who looked like he was about to rupture his spleen as he doubled over, holding his stomach.
“I suppose you may have it.” Law decided this on a matter of diplomacy before it all went a little too far and the pirate crew ended up skewered on the swordsman’s blades. They were all very useful to him alive, after all. And thus, reaching into his coat to its lowest inner-pocket (not in his pants at all), he removed the organ Zoro was after. “I thought to make you beg for it, Zoro-ya, but I suppose there’s no harm in indulging you – for now.”
And with all innuendos aside, the assumed object of interest that he’d surreptitiously stolen during the other man’s nap a few hours prior was dropped into the man’s still-outstretched hand.
“Whatever,” Zoro mumbled between grit teeth as he slid his coat off his shoulders and placed the heart in his palm into the gaping black hole in his chest before hoisting himself up the ladder to the crow’s nest, presumably to train. Or hide away in embarrassment. Or both.
“What did I even just witness?” Nami asked to herself as the din lowered.
“The stealing of our swordsman’s heart, it seems,” Robin replied, leveling the pirate surgeon with a certain knowing look, “And succeeding. Although, I don’t think that is meant to be so literal, Torao-kun. Whatever do you plan on doing with it?”
Heh.
If Miss Nico had easily understood his minor sleight, he wondered how long it would take for Zoro to notice that Law had given him the wrong heart. Or perhaps it was the right one after all, he thought as he settled back into his book, depending on how one wanted to look at it.
“Cherishing it, for the time being. What else?” stated offhandedly, as if this should have been completely obvious.
It seemed as such to him, in any case. The heart in his chest was still beating slightly stronger than he was accustomed to, while his own felt quite heated in its new little home. And as he reveled in that foreign sensation, he relaxed back against the foremast as he re-introduced himself to his reading, idly flipping to yet another page.
It really was a good one.