One Piece isn't mine. So please don't sue me…
Zoro POV.
I've noticed him watching me.
It was annoying at first, knowing he observed me from the window of the galley or that he blatantly stared when he thought I wouldn't notice.
But something changed. I don't know; I guess the bastard grew on me or something. I started noticing things in return, like now smooth his movements are when he cooks, almost like a well-practiced dance. The way his blonde hair moves in the breeze, looking so silky and begging my fingers to run through it. And those tight pants he wears… damn. They just accentuate the curves of his perfect ass.
My mind's jumped off the fucking deep end into dangerous territory. I've tried to hide the change from him; gods knew what he'd think, how he'd react. I can take any shit he can dish out, but some part of me is scared that it would be different this time around, somehow. It's a weakness. And I fucking hate being weak.
I guess that's why I'm standing in his kitchen right now. Why I'm silently watching him cut vegetables for dinner and trying desperately to figure out what to say, what to do, 'cause I gotta get this out of my system.
So when he snaps at me-
"Oi, shithead, what do you want?"
That's my cue. Striding forward, I grasp a thin shoulder and turn him toward me, plucking the cigarette from his mouth with my other hand. He snarls, but I take no heed as I grab the back of that blonde head and pull him close to capture his lips with my own.
I take what I want, and I'll fight for it if I have to.