The Polar Tang was quieter than it had been in months, the hum of the engines softer, the footsteps of the crew light with relief. A rare free day—no battles, no emergencies, no charts to study. Just silence.

Law barely made it three steps into the lounge before exhaustion caught up with him. He dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, one hand covering his eyes, the other limp at his side. Within moments, his breathing slowed, his shoulders eased, and sleep pulled him under.

You settled beside him with a book, careful not to disturb him. The warmth of the room, the steady rhythm of the submarine, and the soft rise and fall of his chest made the world feel slower, gentler.

Barely a minute passed before he shifted.

In his sleep, his hand found your waist, fingers curling instinctively, pulling you closer until your side rested against his. His grip was firm, protective in a way he’d never allow himself while awake.

A quiet sound slipped from him—something between a hum and a sigh.“…Stay,” He murmured, voice rough with dreams, forehead brushing your shoulder.

His breathing evened out again, deeper now, calmer.Even asleep, even on a day meant for rest, Law held on to you like you were the one thing keeping him grounded.

The Polar Tang drifted on, peaceful—and for once, so did he.