The crew had stopped at a new island—bright, loud, full of color and people. The kind of place that usually made Zoro scoff, then head straight for the nearest bar without a second thought.

He’d almost done exactly that.

Almost.

Instead, he lingered on the deck, arms crossed, back against the railing, one eye half-lidded as he watched the movement onshore. Vendors shouting, laughter spilling through the air, music too cheerful for his taste. He clicked his tongue, annoyed without knowing why.

You were there too. Quietly beside him, close enough that he could feel the heat of you without looking.

It had been a while since you’d joined the crew. Longer since you’d somehow slipped past his walls. It wasn’t something he talked about—hell, it wasn’t something he thought about—but somewhere between fights, shared watches, and nights where neither of you slept much, you’d become… constant.

Closer than he ever let anyone get.

And for once, the others had scattered. Luffy chasing food, Nami chasing money, Usopp already lost in a crowd. Sanji had been dragged away, kicking and screaming, by a group of admirers.

Alone.

Zoro grunted something like a farewell and headed below deck when you did, not bothering to explain himself. He heard the water before he reached the door—the steady sound of a bath being filled, steam already slipping into the corridor.

He paused.

Scratched the back of his neck.

Idiot, he thought.

Still, after a quick glance around—more out of habit than concern—he knocked once, firm and brief.

“Oi.”

Silence, then the water again.

He exhaled slowly, voice lower when he spoke, stripped of its usual edge.

“Can I join?”

Not teasing. Not smooth. Just honest in the blunt, unpolished way that was pure Zoro—an offer, not a demand.