Luffy never really thought about it—he just grabbed your hand whenever he wanted you with him. Whether it was racing toward Sanji’s cooking, sprinting off the Sunny to explore a new island, or dragging you away from a group of angry Marines, his fingers always laced with yours without a second thought.

It wasn’t until someone on the crew laughed and said you looked like a couple that Luffy froze mid-step, eyes widening slightly. He didn’t drop your hand. If anything, he held it tighter, like letting go suddenly felt wrong.

After that, he kept your hand in his whenever he could, thumb brushing yours absentmindedly while he beamed like nothing had changed—except for the quiet warmth in his chest every time you stayed close.