What a godforsaken mess this turned out to be, Zoro sighs to himself as he sits with his back propped against the inner wall of the crow's nest, staring morosely at the label of the bottle he's gripping by its neck. Today's just been one shitty thing after another…

He trails the fingers of his free hand along the woodgrain of one of the boards on which he's sitting. I knew Merry was in bad shape- we all did- but everybody figured we'd have plenty of beli for repairs once we got all that treasure exchanged for cash. Nobody expected to find out the hull's fucked up so bad that not even a whole damn city of professional shipwrights can fix it.

Usopp taking the news badly hadn't surprised him either; in fact, he'd pretty much anticipated it. The moment the shipwright inspecting Merry - that Kaku guy he'd initially MISTAKEN for Usopp - had explained how the ship wouldn't survive another voyage, Zoro's mind had flashed to the sniper, and he'd known immediately that the younger man would be devastated. Scrapping the vessel gifted to their crew by his friend Kaya would be like- like- like losing a piece of home. Losing a piece of himself.

It'd be like losing Wado, he tells himself. I can't even imagine dealing with that kind of pain…

So, yeah, he'd known from the start that the whole ordeal would be extremely unpleasant.

What he HADN'T foreseen was the theft of two-thirds of their cash and Usopp getting the shit beat out of him- not once but TWICE- trying to get it back and being so guilty and angry regarding his failure that he'd lost control and started screaming in their captain's face. He hadn't seen THAT coming, not AT ALL.

Maybe Luffy didn't phrase it the best way when he said we needed another ship, but- The swordsman takes several healthy swallows from the bottle, draining it, and sets it aside with his growing collection of empties. Goddamn it, I was PROUD of him for making that decision, 'cause I know it wasn't easy. 'N then Usopp went 'n fuckin' threw it right in his face- said he didn't care about Merry.

He caresses the board beneath his fingertips, muttering, "Sencho doesn't wanna lose you any more than Usopp does. Or the rest of us. He just knew we don't have a choice…"

But Usopp hadn't seen it that way, and at first Zoro hadn't been too concerned, because Luffy's never discouraged any of the crew from voicing their opinions and god knows all of them have squabbled over plenty of minor issues in the past, but this hadn't been a mere squabble and it hadn't been a minor issue and before he'd realized what was happening and what was really at stake, the argument had gone too far. Tempers had gotten heated and blows had been exchanged.

I think that's when it finally dawned on me just how BAD things really were 'n at that point- it was better I just stayed out of it. Usopp crossed a line he couldn't UNCROSS, 'n besides, I doubt I would've done any better than the cook, breakin' shit up. Hell, for all I know, I might've made it WORSE. The two of them have been kinda weird with each other on 'n off for a while now, 'n- I mean, Usopp's never actually SAID anything about it one way or the other, but… Sencho's right. He does stare at us- at me- an awful lot.

Zoro's never particularly CARED, because it's not like the sniper's being creepy about it. He's never gotten THAT sort of vibe whenever he glances up to find Usopp looking at him with the dopey, bashful, longing sort of expression he often gets when he doesn't realize what he's doing. Luffy, on the other hand, cares a whole hell of a lot.

It's the whole sharing thing again, Zoro muses, selecting another bottle and jabbing in the corkscrew he brought up along with the booze. Guys like Wiper, Johnny, Yosaku- it's like he figures they're safe 'cause all they wanna do is fuck around 'n shoot their wad. They don't actually STICK around, afterwards. But Usopp's our crew mate 'n our friend- or at least he WAS- 'n I think he made Sencho nervous. Like he was afraid I'd trade him in for Usopp or something, if I thought I'd found somebody better…

There ISN'T anybody better. Zoro's known that for a while now, and while he's tried to convey it without words - showing his devotion, his dedication, his love with his touch and painfully indirect words - he keeps forgetting all of this is new and probably a little overwhelming for his captain, who'd never been KISSED before him let alone dated or fucked anybody else.

Maybe he thinks I'd act the same way with Usopp, say 'n do the same kinda stuff. Goddamn it, I'm a fucking IDIOT- why haven't I TOLD him how I really feel? If I'd said something before this- Furious with himself, he tips back the fresh bottle, not sipping now but chugging two-thirds of the thing down before he's forced to stop to take a breath. Even though Usopp started screaming at him, Luffy was gonna try'n let it go, after the cook warned him to watch what he was saying. He WOULD'VE let it go, but then Usopp went off with all that shit accusing him of abandoning people-

If I'd told Sencho I love him, maybe it never would've gotten to that point. Because I think maybe it was already over when he lost his temper at the beginning, got riled up enough to start yelling in Usopp's face instead of keeping his cool and explaining everything, 'n I'M the reason he's been so touchy with Usopp to begin with…

If he'd guts enough to say those three words to Luffy, then maybe Luffy would've stopped seeing Usopp as a threat, and maybe he could've held his tongue when the sniper escalated their disagreement from a conversation to a confrontation.

There's too many maybes for him to blame himself for this fiasco, but he can't help feeling as though his existence definitely contributed to the overall messiness of it, and even if he wasn't dating one of them, he'd still hate seeing his friends at such odds.

He closes his eyes. Luffy might be acting like he doesn't care what happens at ten tonight, but he knows his captain too well to accept his sullen silence as a lack of interest in Usopp's decision to leave- or even as pure, unadulterated anger. Luffy's HURTING right now, and he's hurting badly.

I'd rather be down there with him, talkin' this shit out- or at least TRYING- instead of up here working my way to being drunk.

Actually, what he really wants most is for time to reverse itself so that godawful argument never happened, and for him and his lover to be wandering the shopping district in search of an adult shop, like they'd discussed on the way here. Luffy'd been smiling then, excited by the prospect of getting his rubbery fingers on some of the sex toys they'd seen depicted in photos while poking through the cook's porn after discovering he'd been hiding his raunchiest magazines not behind the wine rack with the other ones but inside his pillow case.

Unfortunately, there's no turning back the clock. Instead of happily oogling dildos and handcuffs and cock rings alongside Zoro as originally planned, Luffy's secluded himself in the men's quarters with no signs of emerging before the appointed hour. And the swordsman's retreated up here to the crow's nest to drink and avoid Sanji's ill temper, Nami's distress and Chopper's tears.

Also- where the fuck is Robin? Nobody's seen her for HOURS.

Nami's remark about feeling as though the crew's falling apart is proving remarkably astute.

FUCK. I wanna go down there 'n talk to him, but he told everybody to leave him alone 'n Nami said he got really snappy with her when she tried reasoning with him, which isn't like him AT ALL. He takes a large swig of alcohol and then another and there's another bottle almost emptied. If I go down there 'n he gets pissed off at me for disobeying orders, WE might end up fighting 'cause I might not be drunk-drunk, but I'm definitely buzzed enough that I don't know if I'll be able to just keep my mouth shut and listen to him if he tells me to go away.

Frustrated, Zoro grinds the base of the bottle against his inner thigh and rocks it back and forth, bumping the upper curve repeatedly into his groin.

He's not really horny, not in the least, but actually so unbelievably tense that he's been half-heartedly trying to work up an erection anyway, to find out if jerking off might not relieve some stress and let him relax enough to take a nap or something until ten. That's actually the other reason he climbed up here. If he manages to fall asleep after he cums, he won't need to think about the crew searching for a new ship, everybody being upset, Usopp not just leaving but fucking challenging Luffy to a goddamn DUEL over Merry, OR Robin mysteriously vanishing god knows where.

At least until ten, anyway, because much as he loathes the thought of watching Luffy and Usopp engaging in a physical fight, he needs to be there. Because he's Luffy's boyfriend, yes, but also because he'd be one shitty first mate if he refused to serve as a witness for something this important to the crew and his captain.

He presses the bottle between his thighs and allows his head to fall back on his shoulders until the back of his skull bumps the side of the crow's nest, staring up at the sky while he slides the hard glass cylinder up and down against the crotch of his trousers. Listening to the mouthful or two of liquor left inside slosh back and forth and debating.

"Eh, what the hell."

If he decides he's not into it, he can always stop.

After finishing off the bottle, he sets it aside and unfastens his trousers, shifting from one ass cheek to the other until he's got them pushed down around his thighs, exposing his flaccid cock to the sea breeze.

Too bad I don't have a boner already, he thinks, reaching down to cradle his balls and give them a gentle squeeze, his fingertips caressing his perineum. Make this a lot easier. Not to mention a hell of a lot quicker.

Using his other hand, he grips his soft shaft in the middle and slides the loose skin up and down, using it to stroke the sensitive flesh of his glans in hopes of coaxing his body to respond. At the same time, he flexes the palm cupping his scrotum, squeezing and slowly rolling his testicles against one another.

Stimulating himself feels good, but even after several minutes there's distressingly few results to show for all his efforts. His body's being stubborn, resisting his attempts to rouse it.

Still tugging awkwardly at his cock, he slips the fingers resting on his perineum lower, raising his hips a bit and curling his body so he can reach down to ease his buttocks apart and touch his hole. Pressing the pad of his middle fingertip into the center and rubbing lightly. Teasing his rim by applying just enough force that it begins giving way under the pressure, then easing off.

That finally gets a response, albeit a sluggish one, so he adds a second finger. Captures the pucker between them and rubs back and forth, stroking the sensitive tissue, then pauses to splay his fingers apart, stretching his opening and letting his breath shudder out. He can feel the muscles in his rear contracting, jumping, each time he tightens his sphincter.

Having his ass played always gives him a charge, no matter if somebody's doing it to him or he's only messing around with himself. There's finally a hint of moisture gleaming in the tiny slit at his tip- a wet bead of pre-cum beginning to ooze out- and his shaft's gotten thicker and a little firmer in his grasp, although he's nowhere near fully erect yet.

Any other time, when I didn't actually WANNA stroke one out, I'd be harder than a fuckin' rock already, he groans to himself. C'mon, stupid body- get on with it!

He presses a fingertip past his rim, plunges it briefly inside, eases back, gives his hole another slower, deeper prod and this time rotates the first two joints of the finger around inside himself. Feels his cock twitch eagerly in his opposite hand, and yes, that- THAT is exactly what his body wanted. That's a lot more like it.

Stroking himself more easily now that he's finally getting stiffer, he slides his thumb over his glans, smearing the clear fluid leaking from its tip, and keeps fingering himself, working the digit he's thrusting inside as deep as he can given what's becoming an increasingly awkward angle.

GET UP, dumbass. You're NEVER gonna cum if you give yourself a cramp from bein' twisted up like a frickin' pretzel. He reluctantly withdraws his finger and struggles clumsily onto his knees while continuing to jack off because he's afraid of losing what little progress he's made. But in the end it's worth the risk; in this new position, he's able to reach his hole from behind and penetrate it far more deeply and with a lot less hassle.

One finger becomes two, scissoring and twisting and curling and oh fuck yes that's exactly what he needed, his breath coming shorter as he takes a firmer hold on his hardening cock and begins pumping it steadily. Each stroke of his hand and thrust of his fingers making a little more pre-cum well out of him, until there's a thin strand of it dangling from his tip and swinging back and forth with his movements.

He wishes Luffy was up here, kneeling behind him, buried all the way deep inside and nuzzling and kissing his shoulders and the back of his neck, hands running up and down his sides and occasionally seizing him by the hips for a flurry of quick, rough thrusts. Groaning his name in his ear over and over and telling him how good he feels and how hot and tight. Dick slippery with lube and plunging in and out of his hole, pelvis slapping loudly against his ass.

Just imagining his captain fucking him up here in the crow's nest, under the open sky with the clouds drifting overhead and the sea air wafting over his bare skin- oh god, oh fuck, just the thought's making his pulse speed up and his groin throb and his sphincter clench on his fingers, which suddenly aren't enough. He wants more. He wants to feel his hole stretching wide, dilating to accept something far more substantial.

I doubt Sencho's in the mood to fuck right now, but- god, I'd totally settle for gettin' reamed real good by a dildo. Or even just pounding myself with it 'til I can't see straight. One of those nice thick ones with the big fuckin' balls, so I can feel 'em smack up against my hole every time I shove the whole damn thing- He falters, an idea forming in his mind.

He's been staring down at the floorboards, panting as he rubs his fingertips in firm little circles over his prostate, and his gaze has settled on the empty bottles scattered nearby.

The bases are too damn wide, that's obvious at a glance. He likes some pain, alright, but he's not masochistic enough to attempt shoving that end of a bottle up his ass without a fuck-ton of lubrication, and the only kind he's got handy at the moment is plain old-fashioned saliva. And pre-cum, if he counts the minuscule amount of the stuff he'd be able to squeeze out of himself. He's not like Luffy, dribbling everywhere to the point it sometimes looks almost like he's gotten off already.

One of the necks, though? Mmm. He eyes the closest of the bottles, noting how the neck tapers wider as it approaches the main body and drawing his lower lip into his mouth to suck it thoughtfully while he weighs the pros and cons of going through with this.

He'll definitely cum a lot quicker with something wider and longer than a finger stretching his hole and bumping over his prostate…

I know it's glass so I gotta make sure I don't get TOO rough with it, but- this is the same brand I dropped that one time Sencho tackled me when I had both hands full 'n that sucker not only didn't shatter, it didn't even crack. Just kinda bounced a couple times before it rolled under the table. So it's not gonna break if I'm careful with it.

Shit, he's actually getting more turned on just THINKING about doing it, the flow of pre-cum seeping from his tip getting heavier with each passing moment.

Biting his lower lip, he eases the two digits buried in his ass a bit farther apart, stretching his hole wider until it's beginning to gape between them and slowly rotating his wrist from side-to-side to make sure he's well-prepared. His body protests with an intense, dull-edged pang that makes his cock twitch hard in his hand; it's that confusing blend of sexual pleasure and physical discomfort he thrives on, that makes his hips snap forward twice in rapid succession even as a helpless little "nnn!" of denial bubbles out of his throat.

He pulls his fingers out slowly and slides them over his twinging rim a few times before he reaches out to select a bottle. Bringing the bore to his lips and sliding them over the finish and partway down the neck, bobbing his head up and down as though he's delivering a blowjob to let his accumulating saliva slick the glass. Swirling his tongue a few extra times around the orifice to make sure it's good and wet and savoring the remaining droplets of alcohol he tastes when he dips his tongue tip into the opening.

Despite them having been in his mouth, he discovers the lip and collar of the bottle haven't warmed up in the slightest when he slips them between his buttocks. The glass isn't genuinely cold but it's still cool enough to make him gasp while he teases his rim. At first merely sliding the aperture back and forth across it, then pressing steadily harder until it begins sinking into him, and if he thought it felt chilly on the outside-

His body shudders involuntarily around the cool, smooth object inching into it, his hand trembling where it's gripping the bottle around the shoulder. Closing his eyes, he allows his mouth to fall open as he reverses its movement and pulls until only the lip's left inside, then forces his muscles to relax and pushes. Panting as his flesh gradually swallows the neck, the thin hard cylinder working deeper and deeper into his hole until he feels the girth of it beginning to slope wider.

He slumps forward, letting his weight rest on one shoulder so he can blink his eyes open to watch his fist continue pumping his cock. Pre-cum drips from the tip to land on the deck underneath him, the strand somehow not snapping but remaining suspended between him and the boards where he's kneeling, and a soft moan escapes his throat at the sight.

Ass in the air, he leans his forehead against the deck as well while he shifts his hand on the bottle down the body to curl his fingers around the heel. Gripping it firmly and beginning to tug and push it back and forth, moving it only slightly at first and then with more momentum as his ass grows accustomed to taking what he's put inside it.

Oh fuck, that- that feels so GOOD, but how does it LOOK? With clear glass, if somebody was behind me right now- oh god, they'd be able to see right inside my ass, wouldn't they? Watch this thing go right up inside me.

He closes his eyes again, trying to stroke faster with both hands at once and panting forcefully against the boards. Feeling his balls beginning to sway where they're hanging heavily against the base of his cock because he can't hold still. His body wants to move. His hips want to jerk and buck, drive his length more vigorously through the tunnel of his fist and thrust his ass farther onto the bottle he's clutching.

A familiar, welcome sensation's building in his lower belly, a pleasurable tension mounting in his groin and inner thighs, and he slides the bottle's neck out until the bore's rubbing and grinding on his prostate and making him shake and moan and squeeze his eyes more tightly shut.

Yeah-yeah-yeah-FUCK-Y-YEA- He pushes hard, driving the bottle into his ass midway down the shoulder as he feels all the muscles in his pelvis start to contract, climax breaking like a wave smashing down on him.

He cries out as his sphincter constricts forcefully around the hard object impaling it, his shaft jerking and pulsing in his grip as cum spills and squirts from his tip to form small glistening puddles on the deck beneath his shuddering frame. When his thighs start shaking hard enough that he's in danger of falling, he allows his body to sag and rolls onto his side, bumping over several other bottles and sending them rolling in all directions while he sprawls there coaxing out the last dribbles of his semen onto the floorboards with trembling fingers and gasping each time his hole clenches on the upper half of the bottle trapped inside it.

At first it doesn't want to budge because he's clamped too firmly around it, but after he rocks it back and forth a few times, gasping when it resists his efforts, he finally manages to work enough of the shoulder loose to slide the neck and bore out through his twitching rim. He's shaking too much to hold onto it, and it tumbles from his hand to spin across the boards and clatter into another bottle.

Holy shit, he groans to himself as he lets his head sink down to rest with his temple and cheek pressed against the deck. I NEEDED that. I feel like somebody wrung me out 'n hung me up to dry. And despite- or maybe because of- the potent ache throbbing in his rear, it's a good feeling. He's exhausted but satisfied.

He's also a little dizzy. Either everything he drank earlier is finally catching up or maybe there were a few more traces of liquor in that bottle than he thought. He'd tried to make sure he grabbed one that was totally empty, because while pouring booze straight into his ass might SOUND like fun, he knows better. Accidentally giving myself alcohol poisoning would be the cherry on top of the shit cake with everything else that's happened today.

xxx

I need a fuckin' drink. 'N another nap. Actually- no, Zoro tells himself. I need to get completely smashed 'n sleep for a year.

He's exhausted, feeling as though he's gone through half a dozen of those Davy Back ball games even though he was nothing but a spectator, watching from the bow of the ship while Usopp and Luffy destroyed every memory of the previous friendship between them on the rocky coastline outside the city. Standing with his arms crossed and his neck and shoulders and back aching with renewed tension and his tongue caught between his teeth to keep himself from calling out to the duel's participants.

Being in charge of the crew's departure from the ship now that the fight's ended is the last thing he wants, but he doesn't have a choice. Not with their captain refusing to issue additional orders since leaving Merry's fate in Usopp's hands, and while he's aware Luffy SHOULD be the one ensuring the process of clearing out the ship goes smoothly, he can't bring himself to make an issue of it. Not after already reprimanding Luffy for openly expressing regret about adhering to his own decisions.

He hadn't wanted to do that either, but the crew's a mess. Nami and Chopper have been crying non-stop while packing up their belongings and even the cook's skulking around the kitchen pale-faced and quiet when Zoro trudges into the meeting hall after he's finished securing the root balls of their navigator's mikan trees inside burlap sacks to make them easier to transport.

"Whatever you can't fit in the packs now stays here 'cause we're only makin' one trip 'n we're not comin' back," he warns Sanji as he stands at the sink washing the soil from his hands. "I know it sucks 'cause you just loaded up on supplies, but- there's no helping it." Giving the blond a meaningful look. I know you were gonna leave him food no matter what I told you, but while I can't come right out 'n say so, I got your back. It's something we can do, like Chopper leavin' him all those medical supplies.

Sanji stares at him warily for a moment, unsure if he's being mocked, and then comprehension dawns in his eyes, tinged with gratitude. "Yeah, it's just too bad, isn't it." He hesitates, then reaches into one of the bags he's been cramming full of groceries and kitchenware to pull out an unopened bottle of liquor and shove it unceremoniously in the swordsman's direction. "Oi. Marimo. You need to drink this shit so I've got room for my knife block."

Zoro accepts it with a grunt, scowling to hide the wry, tired smile threatening to curl his lips. "Just quit screwin' around 'n hurry the hell up, alright. I wanna get outta here 'n checked into the inn before it gets a whole lot later."

xxx

The first mate's exhaustion deepens when he turns from the front desk to survey the absurd amount of baggage they've hauled into the inn's lobby, knowing it'll need to be parceled out between their rooms before he can deal with Luffy, who's filthy and bleeding and refusing Chopper's increasingly tearful attempts to treat him.

Before he can begin trying to decide what should go where, however, a bleary-eyed Nami plucks two of the three room keys from his hand. "We'll move everything into the adjoining rooms. You and Luffy take the single. See if you can't get him cleaned up a bit." She gently pries the medical bag that Chopper's clutching from his hooves and pushes it at Zoro's chest. "Here, you'll need this."

"Nami, I need to examine-!" "Nami, I really oughta-"

"Zoro, GO. Chopper, you come with Sanji-kun and me, okay? We could use your help."

"But- but-"

"We'll be alright. This won't be the first time I've patched up somebody else," Zoro assures the doctor, accepting the bag with mixed relief and foreboding. He's glad he'll be able to- at least temporarily- abandon his current role as acting vice captain but he's also unsure how he's going to handle getting Luffy washed and bandaged if the rubber man decides he doesn't want to cooperate with him either.

"O-Okay, but if you- if you n-need anything, just come get me," Chopper insists, craning anxiously to peer at Luffy where he's standing behind the swordsman with his scratched, dirt-smudged arms dangling at his sides and blank gaze fixed on the floor, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow beneath the lowered brim of his hat.

"Come on," Nami tells the distraught Zoan. "Let's give them some space." She flashes a tremulous smile over her shoulder at Zoro as she ushers him away. "Good luck…"

"… thanks." The green-haired pirate takes a deep breath to steady himself before turning to face his despondent partner. "Oi, Sencho, our room's over here." Placing his arm at Luffy's back to steer him in the proper direction and waiting patiently when he stumbles, limping on feet pierced by caltrop spines. "Just a little farther, okay?"

His slow progress is painful to watch, and Zoro wants to just scoop him up and carry him but isn't sure he ought to push his luck so soon when he still needs to convince him that being covered in dust and sweat and rotten eggs and bleeding all over the damn place are NOT in his best interest.

Eventually he gets Luffy to their destination and through the door, and as it clicks shut behind them and he turns to engage the lock, he allows his shoulders to slump with the fatigue he's been masking for most of the afternoon. Pretending he's not exhausted and heart-sick over Usopp's falling out with the crew and his lover's distress and worried as hell about Robin, who's still missing. Trying to be a rock for his crew mates to stand on when they're confused and upset over the events of the last few hours.

He slips his arms around Luffy's middle, pulling him close and bowing his head to rest it on his lover's shoulder. Ignoring the sulfuric stench clinging to Luffy's skin because he doesn't care how filthy or smelly he is- he just wants to hold him tight and not let go. "Oi- oi, it's gonna be okay, Sencho, I promise. Let's get you cleaned up 'n into bed 'n whatever we're gonna do about getting a new ship can wait 'til tomorrow."

For a moment Luffy's utterly motionless and silent in his embrace, making no sound save a faint rasp as he breathes, but then he shifts in Zoro's arms, turning slowly around to face him and staring up at him with somber eyes. "No. I don't wanna get cleaned up, Zoro. I wanna fuck."