Franky's heartbeat still echoed in his chest. Two years ago, he would have been willing to sacrifice everything for this ship, for his dream, to see the Thousand Sunny sail across the world. To be the man who built the ship captained by the Pirate King, just like his mentor had done before him. But so much can change in two years.
What would he have done if Kuma meant to kill him? If he'd meant to send him away again? He stifled the thought, choosing instead to slam open every door looking for any sign that something wasn't right. Each time he closed his eyes, the memories flooded back to him.
Robin fled, darting across a sea of green grass. Her muscles burned, hair singed, every step echoing the pounding rhythm of her heart. A blast of light seared the ground, flooding the air with the sickening scent of ozone.
He ran to her, screaming. His voice caught in his throat, threatening to tear him apart. But when the words finally fell from his lips, it was a pitiful plea,
"Take me, not her. Please, take me not her."
She collapsed, arms wrapped tight across her chest, fingers curled and sapphire eyes alit with flame. Nami was tight on his heels as that bear of a man materialized before them.
"I'll fucking kill you!" His voice was not his own, and when his fist made contact with their oppressor's cheek, he felt nothing at all. He floated, far above his body, watching the world dissolve around him.
He would never forget the size of Kuma's hand as he raised it over him, suddenly no longer the man he had grown into, but the boy he had once been. The sting of his abandonment never hurt as much as the memories of his father's fist against his jaw, of the helplessness he felt as he watched his mother beg for him to get off of her.
In the last moments before that impossibly large palm came down on him, the Thousand Sunny was a distant memory. The only thing he could see was her, reaching out, begging, "Please, take me not him."
A fine layer of dust coated the dinner table. The faucet in the bathroom quietly dripped. His room was just as they had left it, swinging cots full of crumpled sheets, the floor still littered with clothing and shoes. He picked up an old shirt, running the fabric between his fingers, and sighed. It would never fit him now.
The girls' room came next, the bed made up in pink silk sheets that Nami had purchased not a week before they came here. He could still hear her voice, flushed with excitement,
"New World calls for new everything, and these were the most expensive Sanji's money could buy."
She had snickered, eyes sparkling, and Robin had giggled and smiled, the perfect picture of restraint.
Almond, summer-kissed skin, sapphire eyes that creased when she smiled, warm hands, cold feet, tiny pink scar on her left shoulder, birthmark on the inside of her thigh, scent like amber heat, old books, jasmine tea, honey—his mind blurred. Her memory had become his mantra. Every night as he fell asleep, he conjured up the image of her, and every morning as he rose, alone in that frozen wasteland, her name was the first word on his lips.
He was moments away from the end of that torture, and yet, fear gripped him.
The ship creaked in her moorings, the stairs reluctant to give way to his step after so many months of disuse. Kuma had not lied, or what was left of the man who had once been Bartholomew Kuma, and Duval had done more than his duty. The Thousand Sunny had been preserved just the way they had left it, two long years ago. But now, like then, it was the furthest thing from his mind.
Please, his body wracked with the memory of her, come home to me.
Franky wiped the first glistening beads of sweat from his forehead as he sprawled out on the deck, surrounded by tools. He would have thought someone, anyone, would have arrived by now.
He hummed as he worked, a desperate attempt to fill the empty air with Brook's voice and all the memories of Bink's Brew, the violin, the dancing and feasting. He thought of Luffy's snickering laugh, his star-filled eyes, of Sanji and Zoro, fighting and swearing, of Chopper half-hidden all wrong behind the mainmast, of Usopp softly snoring in the bed beside him. He rubbed a tear from his eye. Soon, they would all be here…
Soon.
And as if having heard his plea, the breeze blew something familiar with it, something that made his heart race. It pounded behind his chest, burned his throat, and tossing the rocking horse waver to the side, Franky threw himself against the ship's rails and wailed, "YEOW!"
She was even more beautiful than he could have imagined.
"Don't tell me that's our gorgeous archeologist, Nico Robin, I see."
She giggled, blue eyes creased at the corners, glowing in the morning sun. When she spoke, his name was breathless on her tongue, "Franky."
He needed to be normal, needed to sound like every moment apart hadn't killed him. His voice felt foreign in his mouth, but that... that look on her face, it said everything. She missed him.
"Oh my god, Franky, look at you!"
He hadn't even noticed Nami saunter up, the picture of perfect womanhood, dressed in low-cut jeans and little else.
She smiled at the ship, hands on her hips, and whistled, "The Sunny looks great! I'm not gonna lie, I was worried about her."
"Yeow, scandalous! Nami, when did you become a pervert too?"
She flicked him off. Tossing a wave of hair over her shoulder, Nami sighed and leaned in closer to Robin's ear, "What did he do to his body?"
Robin's eyes hadn't left him, his glittering smile, his familiar chin and eyes and lips and voice. He was everything she had remembered and more.
"I don't know," She mused.
"How long before you find out?"
Robin narrowed her bright, blue eyes, glaring at her friend with a bit of flush in her cheeks. It was a familiar threat, one her fellow shipmate had always known was empty. For a single moment, Robin flashed her friend the same hungry smile reserved for the man on deck.
Nami giggled and stretched her arms high over her head, "Well, I think I'll head into town and check out the bar. I could use a drink. If I run into anyone, I'll tell them to head over to Shakky's to check in on Rayleigh. Give you two a little privacy. You're clearly going to need it."
Robin hissed another silly threat, but the younger woman just waved her off.
"Jeez, Robin, give me some credit, won't you? The mugiwara boys might all be idiots, but I can recognize a love story when I see one. Go to him," She waved her hands, "Go to that weird, giant pervert before he starts to cry."
She could not reach him fast enough. When her fingers brushed against his cheeks, they were tear-stained.
She trembled against him and whimpered, "Franky."
"R-Robin, about my… I know I've changed a lot," His voice shook, silver eyes looking anywhere but directly into hers, "If you don't… If I've changed too much, I would understand."
A finger pressed softly against his lips, and he quieted. It took everything in him to control his breathing, to not completely lose himself. Every day he spent alone dreaming of her, and now that she was here, all he felt was inadequate.
She pressed her forehead against his and breathed in his ester scent, sweet and heady, like cardamom and burning, white-hot heat. It flooded through her, cheeks, chest, stomach, and settled between her thighs. Her chest pounded, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. He was real. He was here.
When she kissed him, he thought his heart would stop.
"I thought about you every day," She panted between another kiss, deeper than the first. The heat that had been blossoming in her swelled and rolled as his hands tightened around her.
"I thought about you twice a day," He teased.
"I thought about you every moment." It didn't matter that they were alone, her voice was barely above a whisper as he carried her towards the bedroom, "I was so worried you'd get yourself killed, you know."
"I blew myself up," He chuckled. She giggled.
The silken top sheet flew from the bed like a wave of sunset water, filling the room with dust. When Robin sneezed, doe eyes widening, tears flooded his face again.
"So kawaii," He purred and swallowed her retort in a hungry kiss.
The fantasies could not compare to the reality of being reunited. When darkness fell on them, alone, they would slide their hands between their thighs and conjure forth the memory of hands and chest and lips and heat, of moaning, pleading cries and giggles. Every angle, twisting, writhing bodies burning together, every fetish, every panting breath, every rough, pounding stroke, every wailing ending begging for more and more and more. They would have it all again, but not now.
Now, Franky ran his thumbs over her nipples and Robin burned under his lightest touch. Her body, pale and lithe and impossibly his, was tiny beneath this new form. He slid her thigh over his shoulder and felt a dozen hands caress his back, gentle fingers tracing ridges of soft, pink scar and tense sheets of muscle.
He moaned against the slick heat between her thighs, a rumbling purr, and smiled, "Itadakimasu,"
That sharp intake of breath. It would destroy him.
So slick, so deliciously wet and soft as cream. She flooded him in a way the sea never could. His body was on fire, his mind burning as she wrapped her legs tighter around him and arched her back against the pillows so he could lift her onto his knees.
Her hands traced tight, hungry circles against his skin as she explored every new hard, sharp angle and gentle, familiar curve until her fingers found the length of him, thick and wanting, and tightened around every inch.
"Robin," He growled his mantra, his hope.
Playing like this was pointless. He wouldn't last. He needed to feel her against him, around him, to hear the sounds she made when she was full of him. To hear his name on her tongue. He lowered her, fingers wrapped tight around her hips, and fed her his kiss, biting down against her lip, pressing deeper, deeper, so that she could taste herself on him. She moaned, her blossoming hands slowly fading, body too full of heat to maintain the illusion. There was no need to prolong their passion.
She took him all. Slow at first to feel every gentle curve of their meeting, until slow and gentle were no longer an option. Their foreheads pressed together, damp with sweat, breathing doubled. Her thighs trembled as their hips met again and again and again.
He rested his palm against her belly, fingers brushing against sensitive skin to feel himself rocking inside her. His eyes were hazy, swirling molten silver ore. His throat was so dry he could barely swallow.
She was here. This was real.
Franky wanted to roar. He wanted to break and shatter and fall to pieces. He'd built this body for them, and now, seeing her like this.
Her dark lashes fluttered. She moaned his name and panted and ran her hands over her breasts.
Shit.
Franky slid her down against the mattress, hands trembling as he released her hips, desperate to press their bodies closer than close, to melt into one another completely. Her dark hair wreathed her pretty features, like a crown of crows. He cupped her cheek and tears swelled in his eyes again.
There was nothing more beautiful in the world. He would sail to every corner of the seas and at the end of the day, no shore nor sky nor shimmering gold would compare to the woman in his arms. She was his One Piece, his dream, his treasure.
His lips brushed against her throat and she pulled him in tight, meeting him again and again in ecstasy until her pleading cries ended in a sundering whimper that brought him over the edge entirely.
Fire flooded her thighs and belly as he filled her, and she cried out his name into the darkness.
They lay together, refusing to part until their breathing had slowed to a gentler rhythm. Even then, they could not let the other slip away, holding one another greedily, laughing and whispering secrets and promises into the empty ship. Destiny had brought them back together, and this time, they would never let go.
"I love you, Franky." Her eyes were pools of sparkling sea, deeper than the ocean, endless and exquisite.
"And I love you." He laced her fingers with his own, her hands so small in his. "Always."
"Always," She repeated.
Her heart fluttered. All her life, she had been told what she could and could not do, always making sacrifices to her happiness for her safety. Even then, with every part of her she had given away to those crooked pirates and wanton strangers, she never truly felt safe. Not like she did now. Not like she did with him.
She'd lived so long without the freedom of choice, she never knew that it was something she could have. Luffy had no idea how much he had given her. A chance at life, and a chance to share it.
Finally free to pick her own love, how could it be anyone other than him? He was a supernova, burning bright and free and unstoppable in his glory. He was open, unguarded, relentless in his individuality. He had nothing to hide, wanted for nothing. He only gave himself to those he loved. How lucky she was, to be one of them. How impossible it was that she had found something she never knew she was missing.
Robin brushed her cheek against his chest and found the beating of his heart. His arms tightened around her. They breathed.
They held each other close as long as time would allow, but despite their deepest wishes to stay entangled like this forever, they didn't need to worry when it was time again to dress, and smile, and greet their dearest friends.
They had never really been apart, and would never be again.