Chapter Text
The pint-size version of Luffy is, to put it in one word, cute.
Cuteness overload.
When Luffy requests something of Zoro in that body, with that voice, Zoro cannot find it in himself to deny his captain anything.
(He ignores the little voice in his head that tells him that he rarely denies Luffy anything anyway.)
Zoro sighs and gets on his hands and knees.
With a squeal of excitement, Luffy launches himself onto Zoro’s back, riding him as he would a horse.
The cook walks past them, on his way to serve the ladies drinks, and the cigarette drops from his mouth in astonishment.
Zoro ignores him, even as his cheeks burn with humiliation.
“Go, Zoro! Towards the front!” Luffy urges him on, joyful laughter bubbling forth, as his tiny fists pats Zoro on the back soothingly.
It’s a sound that Zoro would do almost anything to hear.
He determinedly pretends not to hear the cook’s laughter.
Later that night, when Luffy had turned back into his normal-sized self, he quietly confesses to Zoro, “That was my first horseback ride. Thanks, Zoro.”
Zoro’s heart clenches.
Growing up, neither of them had much of a family, he knows.
“Anytime, Captain.”