“You? In a flirting contest?” you scoffed, arms crossed, teasing smirk on your lips. “You wouldn’t last a minute.”
Luffy blinked. “Why not?”
“You’re too clueless, captain. You wouldn’t even know when someone was flirting with you.”
He looked genuinely offended—well, in his own sunshine-y way. “I can flirt! Teach me!”
“What?”
“Teach me how to date and stuff! Let’s practice!”
You stared at him. He was serious. You tried not to laugh. “Fine. Let’s start with compliments. Compliment me.”
He nodded, then grinned. “Your eyes look like meat.”
You blinked. “What?”
“I mean it! Like… really good meat. The kind that makes your stomach warm.”
You turned your head, hiding your smile. “Okay, no more meat compliments.”
The next few days turned ridiculous. Practice hand-holding. Practice walking side by side. Practice smiling at you like he meant it (he always did).
“You’re really good at looking mad,” he said once, watching your scowl with genuine awe. “That’s… not a compliment.”
“It is! You look cool when you’re mad.”
It was supposed to be practice. But Luffy didn’t know how to pretend. Everything he said, every look, every warm grin—he meant it.
One quiet night, no crew around, he walked up beside you. “You said I should compliment you more,” he said, serious. “So… your voice is nice. It makes my head feel calm. Even when you yell.”
Your breath caught. “You’re… getting better.”
“Yeah?” he grinned. “You like it?”
You blinked. He tilted his head. “That means I win the flirting contest, right?”
You groaned, heart pounding. “Sure, Luffy. You win.”
“Cool!” He took your hand again. “Let’s practice again tomorrow.”