One Piece isn't mine. So please don't sue me…
Warning: This story is shounen ai, which is a term of Japanese origin used to refer to work that refers to homosexual relationships between male characters. Boy love. So if this isn't your thing, please go back now.
Written for LiveJournal's OPGoldenTrio community. Zoro x Sanji x Luffy.
It was Thursday, Nami noted with a grin as she pulled her lounge chair closer to the bow of the ship. The one day a week when she could observe the oddities that she called crewmates participate in one of their most entertaining endeavors: communal naptime.
Sanji had the night watch Wednesday night, meaning the cook ran out of steam right after lunch the next day. Zoro was, well, Zoro. The swordsman did little more than fight, drink, and sleep. And Luffy was a hyper ball of energy on the worst of days. But even the most active people had to crash on occasion, and their rubber captain was no exception. So on Thursdays the cook, the swordsman, and the captain would inevitably end up in a tangled heap of dozing testosterone not far from the figurehead.
Zoro would wander out of the galley after the midday meal and plop down near the bow for some shut-eye. His lone snores echoed across the deck for the next half an hour or so, when the blonde would emerge from the sanctity of his kitchen to scan the deck unobtrusively (or so he thought; Nami thought it was rather obvious).
Sanji's steps would take him in a haphazard path in Zoro's direction, as if he thought no one would notice his true goal if he approached it indirectly. Finally coming to the swordsman's side, he'd lean against the rail and smoke quietly, watching the rise and fall of the swordsman's broad, scarred chest from the corner of his eye. Once the cigarette burnt out, the blonde would flick it overboard with a sigh and slide down to slump against the other man's shoulder. Within minutes, azure eyes would drift closed as his breathing slowed to the same steady rhythm as Zoro's.
Luffy would be watching the cook's dance from his perch on the figurehead, drowsy eyes following the blonde's every movement until Sanji finally succumbed to sleep. With nothing to keep his attention, the young captain's eyelids would droop as he slumped forward, seconds later snapping back with a jerk as he tried vainly to stay awake. Giving up after this happened three or four times, the rubberman would slide to the deck and shuffle slowly over to his sleeping crewmates. With barely a pause he'd crawl across their laps and curl up over them both, one hand gripping the edge of a dress coat while the other wound itself in a green haramaki. Sharp ears could pick up the melody of the captain's happy humming until he too fell into Sleep's embrace.
Luffy's wiggling would cause the swordsman to crack an eye in momentary annoyance before he realized what was going on, sliding back to sleep with a smile as one arm reached out to rest against a rubbery thigh. Sanji, meanwhile, would only stir enough to twitch and mumble something incoherent into Zoro's shoulder.
For the next several hours Nami would find the odd pile of men extremely amusing. They would remain tangled together, snoring, sleep-arguing, and body parts wandering to the most… interesting places.
Eventually Luffy would drool a bit too much on someone's leg (or crotch, or whatever else he managed to be pressed against) and be rewarded with a solid thump to the head from the offended party. The rubberman would wake with a startled yelp and reflexively ram a knee or foot into someone else's body. Shouts of pain and anger would echo across the deck as the still-drowsy parties exchanged blows, until they finally managed to untangle themselves. Sanji would stomp off to make dinner, flinging insults at the other two over his shoulder as he went. Zoro would just smirk as he settled back to sleep, snores once again echoing across the ship. Luffy would pout and wander over to see what Usopp and Chopper were doing, but soon lost his forlorn look as they distracted him with something shiny. Thus the three would return to everyday activity as if the last few hours had simply not happened.
The navigator smiled happily as the galley door creaked open to reveal a sleepy-eyed cook, scanning the deck before his gaze settled on the swordsman's still form. She double-checked that her camera was carefully hidden in the pocket of her shorts.
Nami thoroughly enjoyed Thursdays…