M to be safe
It's always the same.
His body was iron made flesh.
Every time we meet, it's always the same.
The network of knotted scar tissue felt like steel thread under her fingertips.
Why?
His hands were rough, callous strewn just like hers, and each time they passed over her skin, each time she felt the heat of them pressed against her, the regimented chaos of her mind shut down, leaving nothing but the two of them in that moment. The warm exhale of his breath at the crook of her neck sent gooseflesh erupting down her spine, across her shoulders, driving the last of the air from her lungs: a pleasant torture that she couldn't take much more of but desperately wanted to.
You know why.
The ratty, moth strewn sheets beneath them were soaked in sweat. What little air filtered through the tiny window was suffocated by the cloying heat of the night before it could take hold, not that they cared to notice. The death throes of a raucous feast prattled on behind the grimy glass, with vibrant laughter from the town's savior carrying high above music that was losing its vitality by the minute. What paltry light the moon provided was useless in making them, the pair were one: molded together with seamless edges, all grasping hands and feverish lips that no one could separate, not even themselves.
All of it felt so far away; the lights and the music, the party and the people, marines and pirates, honor and justice. They may as well have been alone on the island as far as she was concerned.
It's the only way this works.
Rear Admiral Tashigi was not a woman who made a habit of letting difficult questions slide by with easy answers but she made an exception when it came to Roronoa Zoro.
Soon, it all became too much, a playful nip on the shell of her ear combined with the myriad of other sensations pushed her over the edge and she collapsed. Her limp form dropped on top of his like deadweight, leaving the pair of them exhausted and breathless, unwilling and unable to move. Somehow she found the energy to roll herself off of him but not by much, nestling her head between his shoulder and chest. Briefly, she felt ashamed: embarrassed that a Navy officer such as her was resting in the embrace of her enemy, until he threw his arm languidly around her, almost protectively, and placed a rough kiss atop her crown. Her misplaced shame was drowned out by the warmth of him.
The two of them laid still, too tired to move and too content to complain.
Tashigi could already feel her eyelids drooping and she struggled valiantly against the allure of sleep, even as she heard her partners breathing even out, a sure sign he'd succumbed to its embrace himself. His broad chest rose and fell rhythmically, the gentle movement lulling her further into darkness.
The quiet peace gave her frantic mind ample time to remind her of how much of a mess she was in, even as drowsy as she was, and inevitably her thoughts wandered back to how it had all begun.
Sometimes she wondered if it was fate that had brought them together, it certainly seemed that way in the beginning. They had crashed headlong into each other (sometimes literally) so often that both of them had accused the other of stalking. It wasn't until Tashigi had made the active decision to hunt the man and his crew down that she realized a small part of her had always enjoyed their encounters.
The New World was vast of course, but the Strawhat captain's penchant for adventure meant that he and his crew bounced around the turbulent waters like spring wire, giving Tashigi and the rest of the marines ample opportunity to chase them down. Though these days, catching sight of the Strawhats jolly roger usually sent the members of G-5 scrambling for spare booze rather than cannonballs. Luffy always promised a lively party after all.
And despite the constant threat of court martial, Tashigi took it all in stride. She knew that the Strawhats weren't as evil as some, but not just that: frequent contact meant access to the crew's first mate, more specifically, a chance to duel him. Her goal had not changed over the years and she still didn't, couldn't, trust him enough to let him hold such treasures.
And so they fought. Every Time they crossed paths they crossed swords and even though she'd never bested him, even though her own sense of justice screamed at her in his vicinity to cut him down, eventually she began to look forward to their bouts.
Over the months, duels had turned into discussions, discussions had turned into drinks, and one day, after hours of matching blades and wits, they sat under the soft shade of a tree, resting in the allaying heat of the evening in hesitant companionship. The memory of how it exactly started was a blur now, shunted from her brain, replaced by the much more memorable moments of that day, but at some point, between the teasing jokes and cautious flirting, his lips had found hers and all she could recall was how soft his vibrant hair felt to her fingers running through it.
After, in the glow of the moonlight under that same tree, wrapped around one another in blissful exhaustion they had made a pact. It was to be a one time thing: an untenable lapse in common sense brought on by the maddening summer sun and the lingering adrenaline from their battle, one that would be ignored in the future. They had parted that night in total agreement, leaving Tashigi feeling assured that their momentary loss of judgment was behind them for good and that the next time they met, it would be strictly business.
They collided again almost two weeks later and Tashigi didn't even have time to draw her sword before he was kissing her.
So much for common sense.
Tashigi forced herself back into lucidity from where she had been dancing on the edge of unconsciousness, straining to keep her eyes open against the enticing darkness. She had to get up. As much as she wanted to stay with him, she had to leave now, lest she lose the will to leave at all. Slowly, with great reluctance, she untangled herself from the mess of limbs and fabric and planted her feet on the ground, preparing herself for the inevitable ache of absence.
The old wood was cool, surprisingly pleasant in the muggy warmth of the rest of the room but to Tashigi it was hollow. She got to her feet, mustering up no small amount of willpower to ignore the muffled sound of protest from the still slumbering man, and as quiet as she could, began to dress.
She didn't have to look to know that Shigure was beside her, propped against the wall within arms reach, just like how she didn't have to look to know that his own blades mirrored it on the opposite side. It was one of their rituals. One of the many laws they had to follow in order to let this small weakness continue and it made her heart ache. Even alone, even when they had shed the weight of expectation and given themselves to each other completely, they couldn't let their guard down, not in this sea. He was still a pirate after all.
The worn clothing, still rough with blood and sweat from the fighting, felt horrid to her bare flesh and the comfort of familiarity that came with being back in uniform was lost by the sensation of her torn, floral shirt clinging to her damp skin. The prospect of ignoring her conscience and tearing off the annoying fabric from her body seemed more appealing by the second, but it could never happen. They had rules, and Tashigi wasn't one to break rules so easily. Well, most of the time anyway.
And so she dressed, slowly buttoning her shirt with a sour taste in her mouth, but with each button came more and more of the mountain of reasonability she had accumulated over the many nights she had spent with him, with each passing second, her grim determination to maintain the status quo of their relationship deepend. By the time she could reach for her boots, her reasoning had solidified into a hardened resolve backed by her own justice.
"Wait…"
Only for it to be shattered by one word.
It didn't even sound like him. The whispered request that pinned her to the spot was so quiet, so vulnerable, that Tashigi could hardly believe that it came from the mouth of a man she knew could cut a mountain in half. She halted her attempt to dress herself and turned to face him.
He hadn't moved from his spot, still loosely covered by the sad excuse for a bed sheet, even with his clothes in reaching distance. Instead, he lay there, both hands behind the back of his head, fixing her with a one eyed stare that she couldn't read. The soft moonlight bathed him in silver and gray, shadows playing along his prominent scar and toned muscles giving him a dreamlike quality that Tashigi found very hard to look away from. He seemed relaxed and content, inviting even. Tashigi fought the urge to rejoin him.
He glanced almost shyly at the window, tilting his head ever so slightly toward the sounds of revelry before looking back at her and hesitating with his mouth open, like the words choked him. "Luffy's… not gonna be done till morning," he said, the bass-like thrum of his voice making her shiver.
She understood what his words really meant, even if he was too proud to say it.
Stay
He held her gaze, not flinching at the sight of her look of wide eyed panic, even as she took several steps back from the bed, grabbing Shigure protectively. She shot her head backwards and forwards in search of the rest of her uniform, trying desperately to keep her glasses from falling to the floor in her fit of alarm.
What was he doing? He knew the rules, he'd made half of them himself. Their peace was a tenuous one, and if they wanted to maintain their small paradise, where pirates and marines didn't exist, they had to have conditions.
"I-I should go. I have to be back o-on the ship in a few hours to give my report to A-Admiral Smoker!" she flapped. She tugged one shoe on while simultaneously trying to clip her sword belt back around her waist. Whether it was the hopping on one foot that made her tumble to the floor, or the pressure of his gaze, she wasn't sure. She counted her blessings that she had landed on her own rose pink overcoat rather than the filthy floor of their hideaway, but still, her clumsiness paid her back in kind with a throbbing pain in her impacted knees.
Her glasses, skewed by the fall, clattered to the ground as she winced and a mild panic set in when she couldn't retrieve them with her first blind swipe at the floor.
She sensed more than saw him move. Years of fighting savage beasts had ironically culminated in her sharing her bed with the most dangerous one, and so any unexpected movement from the one eyed man usually had her rigid in fight or flight. Her fingers twitched around the hilt of her trusted blade, she wasn't in any state for her observation haki to be anything other than a formality, but she was far from helpless. It was only when she felt the gentle touch of his surprisingly delicate fingers on her chin, and the sudden weight of her practical metal frames sliding into place did she realize she wasn't giving Zoro enough credit.
Immediately, his sharp features snapped into focus, and she felt herself relax once again. Pale moonlight shone in his one good eye, glimpsing at the humor he was holding back at her clumsiness, while shadows from the torches of the street flickered shadows across his angular features, mesmerizing her further. His scar, the prominent defining marker of a warrior, was entirely silenced, in Tashigi's opinion, by the endearing smirk that tugged ever so slightly at the corners of his mouth. It was clear he wanted to laugh, but he held himself back for her sake. She didn't know whether to kiss him or sock him.
"T-thank you," she said, refusing to meet his eye.
He didn't offer to help her up, he knew better than that, she would only refuse, if simply on principle alone. Instead he stood there, silently watching as she got to her feet. She dusted off the already filthy legs of her faded slacks and secured her sword belt to her waist firmly, doing her best to occupy her waring thoughts and to delay the inevitable confrontation.
She could barely hear the background noise from the street party over the cacophonous thumping of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears like a drum, conveniently drowning out her common sense screaming at her to jump out the window and scamper off into the night. She still would not look at him, scared of her own reaction.
"Tashigi…"
A white hot knife of something pierced her stomach at the sound of her own name.
Tashigi.
Glasses, copycat, sword nerd, sometimes even her rank: he'd called her a variety of different things during their little trysts (if you could call them that), but never her name, never Tashigi. A part of her, some masochistic, traitorous little piece of her brain, made interested note of how the sound of it in his voice made her heart melt.
She looked up, slowly raising her head until she could just barely see his shadow drenched face. She felt light headed, the blood normally reserved for brain function pooled in the pit of her stomach and flooded her rapidly reddening face.
Through the dim lighting and her own reluctance, Tashigi saw that all traces of humor at her earlier mishap had left Zoro completely, he stared back with the seriousness he reserved for their duels, with just the barest trace of hopefulness tinting the edges of his gaze. He was waiting for an answer one way or the other.
"I don't…" Tashigi began but the words stuck in her throat. The vile refbuffal she fully intended to speak glued her mouth shut and rooted her to the spot. She couldn't do it. No matter how much the voice in her head wanted her too, Tashigi couldn't bring herself to run. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was her stubborn refusal to back down from him, but in the end it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that she would not leave. "Ask me," she suddenly snapped, jaw tight and fist clenched. She needed to know for sure, lest she make a fool of herself. "Ask me and I will,"
It was Zoro's turn to be speechless. He could only gawk at her, mouth agape. It was clear that her sudden 180 in temperament had thrown him for a loop and, as sharp as he was in battle, he needed time for his thoughts to catch up to him.
"Stay…with me," he said slowly, testing each syllable almost curious, like he'd never said that phrase before which, in fairness, he probably hadn't.
Tashigi had been holding her breath, waiting for his confirmation, and when he spoke those words, she felt her heart race, skipping a thousand unimportant beats. Nothing was important anymore, apart from the two of them. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. At a snail's pace she reached for the clasp securing her greatcoat to her shoulders and allowed the vast symbol of her justice melt to the floor, taking all her reservations with it.
She opened her eyes, shyly looking back at him as she stepped forward in millimeter movements. His smile, almost imperceptible buried beneath his hardline features, quickened her pace just a little.
She folded herself into his open embrace and sighed when she felt his warm, strong arms wrap themselves around her, fitting her against his bare chest like a missing puzzle piece. Once again she felt the brush of his lips against the crown of her head and couldn't stop the pleased grin that found its way onto her face.
Quietly, she spoke against his steel skin, barely loud enough for him to hear, but that didn't matter, the word was more for herself anway: a happy acceptance, and a welcome adjustment to her justice.
"Okay."