Zoro X Robin: 3 Days Remastered

3 - Drinker's Regret

It was humble but roomy, aesthetically barren, and lacking any form of entertainment or memorabilia. There was a black leather couch against the far wall, and a laundry basket by the door, both contrasting deeply the carpet, Navajo-white walls, and ceiling. None of that mattered, however, as much as the fact that it was warm. The sudden influx of heat caused her hands, marred by frostbite, to sting and burn as they turned red. Robin fell to her knees.

"I don't reckon that feels good," Zoro said, ripping off his white t-shirt and throwing it into the basket, revealing his lean, yet robust figure, tainted with scars and scratches.

Somehow they all seemed insignificant in comparison to the large scar across his chest, which began close to his stomach and climbed up his body, curving around his pectorals. Robin didn't want to admit it, but it aroused her. Instead of drooling, however, she stopped staring and broke the silence.

"It doesn't. It hurts very badly"

"I imagine it does. Anyway, listen. You'll be sleeping here," he said gesturing towards the inky divan. "I hope that's okay with you?"

"Of course," she said with a smile, noting the countless times she had had to sleep on the cold ground. Sitting there, however, she began to think. Thinking was "all she ever did," according to an old companion. Zoro had no reason to let her stay. He's found his way back home... I'm no longer of any use. I wouldn't be surprised if he kicked me into the street tomorrow morning. I might be able to stay for a while if I remain useful.

"I haven't had anything to eat for dinner yet, I'm starving. You want me to cook you something?" he offered

"There's no need. I can cook. I have a few years of experience." She said with a warm smile. He hated it. Personal experiences told him it was fake, no more than a mask worn by cowards. The mosshead, however, opted not to call her out and decided to take her up on her offer.

"Shit. That works for me"

"Great! Anything you want in particular?"

"Surprise me."

"I can do that."

"Alright well I'm going to take a shower, I smell like sweat and liquor. Knock on the door if you need help finding anything."

She almost laughed. He failed to see the irony in him "helping her find" anything. Fortunately, she stifled her laughter into a giggle, weary of the fact that angering him would only put her in danger. Nonetheless, she was ready. Throughout her years of "freeloading", she had picked up many skills. Basic medicine, cartography, cooking, cleaning, and a few techniques she was less than proud of. Grabbing a pan out of a cabinet, she sighed.

"Shouldn't be too hard to find something."

Half an hour later, in the bathroom, Zoro wheezed and gasped, trying to fill his lungs with air, hoping to suppress the stabbing sensation he felt in his stomach. Who would've thought that fighting a bunch of thugs while drunk out of your mind was a bad idea? The water was hot, and refreshing, though the steam only made it harder to breathe.

Focus damnit

He grabbed a bar of soap. Slowly, his hand slithered across his body. It hurt, but he'd survive. Years of training went into crafting his technique. The connection between every muscle fiber in his body and his mind, his pain tolerance, his obduracy...slowly crafted. Darkness. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Gently, he caressed his chest, hoping to remedy, to an extent, his sore muscles. He was struggling to stand. The water was fighting him. Not to mention, he was sore from his workout earlier that morning. Resistance was futile. Slowly he got weaker, and his knees hit the floor. Still alert, however, he noticed that he was being watched. Looking into a corner he saw an eye. Drunk as he was, he recognized it.

"Next time, ask nicely if you wanna watch." He said with a smirk. He noticed the pupil dilate, before hearing footsteps approach. There was a knock on the door.

"Then can I watch?" He heard. Followed by a mischievous giggle.

"Come in, woman."

The door opened and in stepped a tall, but curvy profile. Wasp-waisted, uniform... blurry. Soon it was only her eyes, the most entrancing blue he had ever seen, that he could differentiate.

"You don't mind if I join you, right?"

"I don't need your help."

"Of course not," she said sarcastically. "Your pride won't allow it. I'm not here to help, only to clean myself. I haven't had the chance to bathe today either." she reasoned.

"Come on" he grunted. She calmly removed her clothing, and stepped into the shower, slowly moving closer to him.

"Watch yourself"

"I'm only getting closer to the water."

"Hmph. What about the food?"

"I finished a few minutes ago. You were taking a while. I heard you struggling. I decided to check on you."

He struggled to focus his eyes. "I don-" he paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Thank you. Do you drink?"

"Sometimes." she lied. "Why do you ask?" Alcohol simply never appealed to her, but in-the-middle responses were always safer than definite answers.

"I'll pour you a glass later, as a way to thank you, but I gotta go," he said, standing up.

He slipped, unconscious for a split second. His fall was broken by soft skin- two cushions that smelled like lavender. She clenched her jaw. The sword wound on her shoulder still hurt, but she didn't want to cause him stress. Zoro gritted his teeth, trying to suppress a blush. No way a man as proud as Zoro could ever fall so low. She helped him step out, and watched him stumble to his room naked. It was for the best. She finished cleaning herself and went back into the living room. Zoro was on the sofa, eating the plate she had made him. He looked up.

"This is pretty damn good. Salmon and rice are some of my favorites. Grab a bottle of Sake out of the fridge, if you want some."

"I think I'll take a raincheck. No one needs any more alcohol right now. Especially not you, you're injured."

"Stop telling me what I do and don't need."

"Y-yes... Sorry"

"Grab your plate and sit. It feels good."

On the dining room table was her plate. Similar to his, only with smaller portions. The night was young and her fingers still hurt, sitting down, catching her breath after all she had been through. It was relaxing.

"I admit. It feels wonderful."

"Blankets are in the basket over there."

"...but you threw your dirty clothes in that basket."

He gritted his teeth. "My clothes basket is in my room. I was too lazy to go all the way there."

She understood. Men tend to get sore when corrected or when their belongings are rearranged. Keeping this up will only make things worse for the brief period I spend here. I had better tone it down.

"Zoro, I have a question."

"*yawn* Well ask me tomorrow, I need to sleep," he said, placing his head against the left arm of the couch.

"Alright then."

He had taken the couch, and she wasn't going to wake him, or tell him to go to his bed. Instead, she grabbed her blanket and lay on the floor, something she had grown familiar with.