A/N: I do not own One Piece or any of its affiliated characters.

When Brook plays, things change. It's like we can all feel again. Not that we ever stopped feeling. More like, we can appreciate the things we feel. But- aw, to hell with it. I'm no good with words.

It would be easy to sleep, even pretend to sleep while he's got those sad songs drifting through the air. But I sleep all the time, more so to stay awake for things like this. I can think about things I might not normally feel like thinking about. Maybe that's stupid, because it looks like everyone else is out for the count, curled up next to each other in a pile of limbs and empty bottles. Except Robin. But that's not surprising, since it's questionable whether she ever actually sleeps. She's across the way, leaning her back against the ship's wall, probably still stuck in that book from earlier. I'm used to a fucked up sleep schedule, so I don't really mind; this feeling that I've woken up to a scene I might not completely understand. Suppose that's not a bad thing. I never know what to expect.

It's funny though, the things you see when someone else might not think you're looking. I've misjudged what Robin's attention is drawn to. The book is closed. Her eyes are looking at the same thing my own has chosen to fall upon. Chosen might be the wrong word, though…

She moves in a way that is neither subtle nor demanding. It simply beckons. To learn what the body is capable of. You don't have to watch, it says. And yet you can't look away. Not for want of beauty, but simple human need to know how far it can go before something breaks. But there is no break. Only fluid, illustrious action. Commandeering the space, regardless of size of audience or reason for initiation.

"Hancock-san's dancing is breath taking, is it not?" I hadn't even heard or seen Robin come over to sit next to me. I nodded, but I wouldn't know if she'd caught it or not. I was too busy staring like a dumb oaf at the scene before us.

Brook stood off to the side, the sound of his violin evolving from something slow and creeping into sped up measures that suggested mystery. His face is illuminated orange with the still burning flames of the large fire pit Usopp built just for such occasions as this. And casting long shadows as she puts it to good use, is Boa Hancock.

"Hancock-san told me this is called Nyoronyoro. It's used for spiritual purposes on Amazon Lily."

"Mm."

I didn't give a damn what it was called, and I suspected Robin knew that already.

Hancock has abandoned her shoes in favor of moving around the deck with bare feet. The rest of her legs are fairly uninhibited because of the skirt she's wearing, long and fringed with slits that ride up to her hips. As Brook hits those queer notes in broken succession, the crest of each one juts out rhythmically, putting that pale skin on playful display-

"You could move closer, Swordsman-san."

Ok. Now I know she's teasing me. I can't even glare at her because I'm sure she'd be able to see I'm turning red.

Must be the heat.

I can hear her chuckling as I crawl over to the others quietly. It's only to get away from her and her weird way of psychoanalyzing, though. It's not like I want a better view.

Where did this come from, anyway.

Normally this woman and I can't stand each other. And yet, as I'm watching her slide her hands over herself, I can't help but feel like I've missed something. She's so predictable during the day, either giving out orders or completely ignoring us. There's nothing complicated or misunderstood about it.

That same woman now moves each ligament in her fingers in accordance with the crackling of wood, her arms as the smoke rising against the moon. They twist slowly up from her thighs to hover over her head, then mingle with the stars when she has stretched to her limit, practically becoming a constellation. And then she contracts within herself, knees collapsing until they reach the ground. She arches back, back until her head touches the grass and her hands open to offer up something invisible. Then the music is slow again, seemingly pulling her back up, spine straightening and moving fluidly on itself. Her hands find their way from her neck to her chest, pale cleavage shivering under her own ministrations.

Calm down.

I bring a hand up to cover my mouth in an attempt to slow my breathing. Though, this does little since my eye still refuses to look away.

Her hips remain stationary as her diaphragm supports the ribs in a solitary rocking motion from one side of the torso to the other. Her thighs have spread so she sits at a low level, blue eyes regarding the flame with focus and respect. She moves her head until she's staring straight up at Cygnus, soft chants escaping her lips.

Calm down.

I bite down on my wrist, a trickle of blood traveling down my arm.

Perhaps in her enhanced state she could smell it. Or maybe I had been breathing too loud. The chants continued to come, but her eyes now hold mine in regard. I almost feel guilty now that she knows I've been watching. I may have just been trespassing on the little known piece of the real Boa Hancock, the part we probably aren't supposed to see. My heart isn't pounding in fear, though, as it probably should be as she snakes her way over to me.

The chants are mumbled, probably in some forgotten language only known to those of her island. Doesn't matter. I don't really care what she's saying. Her hips are now in front of me, mimicking that same rocking motion from earlier. I find it hard to resist moving with them. They move closer to me, until they're on top of me, the movement never stopping.

"Nemurikomu," she whispers in my ear, rubbing her cheek against mine. "Nemurikomu…"

"Don't…wanna…" I can't sleep now, now that you're here…

"Dowasure," I feel lips on my neck. "Nemurikomu…"

Ok. If you insist.

And then, nothing.

Next thing I know, I'm spluttering and gasping for air as freezing water is poured over my face.

"Get up, shitty swordsman. And make you and your 'problem' scarce. Hancock-dono is coming down for breakfast." The cook looks like he could've gotten a couple more hours of sleep. The bags under his eyes are testament to the late night of drunken festivities in honor of Hancock's visit.

Normally I'd kick his ass, but I'm sort of disoriented, realizing I'm still on the deck. Everything's been cleared away and apparently everyone else has gotten up already, Luffy and Usopp supporting each other as they wobble into the kitchen.

And I don't even need to look down to know what he's referring to as my 'problem'. I can feel it.

Shit.

I stand up and stagger over to the men's quarters, knowing I didn't drink nearly enough to deserve this kind of hangover-ish feeling. Had that actually happened? That…whatever it was. To hell with it. It probably wasn't a good idea to dwell on a wet dream involving Boa Hancock. I certainly didn't plan on finishing what my lonely testicles had started. Nope, I'd sleep this one out and be back to normal by lunch.

Well, maybe nobody had to know...

I'm about to carry out my own agenda when there's a knock at the door. I answer, and there's Boa Hancock's breasts. Er, well, the rest of her is there too. That's just what happened to be in my first line of vision.

"What do you want?" Dream lap dance or not, I didn't plan on changing my usual attitude towards her. I glare in feigned contempt as she leans over so we're eye level.

"I see sleep hasn't deterred any of last night's…stimulation," she purrs sarcastically. I can't help but blush at the bluntness of her statement.

"Yeah, well, I'm about to sleep off any stimulation that might be left over, so beat it."

"That won't be necessary," she says, pushing her way through the door and closing it behind her. She flips her hair in that obnoxious way she does everything. "The point of Nyoronyoro is to use basic snake charming abilities."

She smirks at what must be my dumb expression as she walks over and leans in to my ear.

"It's best, in these situations," she whispers, undoing the clasps of my coat, "to leave the 'charmed snake' in the hands of professionals."

Translations:

Nyoronyoro literally means 'slithering' in Japanese. It seemed to fit the most. *Kanye shrug*

Nemurikomu means 'sleep deeply'.

Dowasure means 'forget for a moment'.