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Franky drifted between sleep and waking, buoyed by the soft alto of Robin's steady voice. He wasn't listening to her words, even if he could he knew he probably wouldn't understand the topic, he was just drifting.
Sometimes they had mornings like this. The Sunny, bobbing along the waves softly and the deck unusually quiet. Not eerily quiet, Franky noticed as he slowly drifted closer to consciousness. He could hear the faint and comforting sounds of Sanji starting breakfast in the galley, his knife chopping methodically and humming soft under his breath. He heard Luffy's snores, soft at this distance tucked away in Robin's room, Zoro's even inhales and exhales as he meditated, Usopp and Chopper's soft exclamations as they watched fish swim alongside the Sunny, Nami's pencil scratches, and Brook tuning his violin; all the gentle morning sounds of the crew were home to him now.
But his favorite sound in the morning was Robin's beautiful, rolling voice as she read aloud. After years of waking to chaos and the loud sounds of ship construction, Franky had come to cherish the slow quiet of Robin's room at daybreak. Her sheets were soft on his synthetic skin, and smelled just like her: a hint of perfume, old books, and the light spice of her sweat. As he woke, sensation returned to him. He felt one of her knitted blankets twisted around his right leg, the almost uncomfortable line of a book propped up on his expansive chest, and the warm body tucked neatly between his legs and across his belly.
He shifted minutely, pulling her closer with a leg and sleepily raising a big hand to settle along her back, giving her plenty of time to stop him if she didn't want it. Robin's soft, beautiful chuckle interrupted the flow of words, and he felt her lean down to press a kiss into his shoulder. Her hair slipped down and brushed against him, giving Franky a fresh wave of her spicy, sleepy scent.
Robin's elbow dug into him slightly as he felt her reach up and then her long fingers were sliding up and into his hair. Franky let out a sleepy whine from deep in his chest. He loved when she did this. He loved any touch she gave him, but when she was intentional about using her two hands without the devil fruit, that was his favorite. Her nails scritched gently along his hairline to the back of his head, massaging along the back of his neck and then back up to thread through the longer strands up top.
"Wake up, shipwright, you've had enough beauty sleep to entice even the cook," Robin murmured, the vibrations of her low voice tickling against Franky's chest. The side of his mouth kicked up in a small grin and he finally opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light beginning to streak past her colorful curtains. He had installed them for her after she sidled up to him holding the intricately patterned fabric with a soft look in her dark eyes.
His gaze drifted to the end of the bed where her favorite blankets had been pushed to make room for him. As he continued up, he noticed her feet tucked under his thigh, the dark smooth skin of her legs pressed against the curve of his hip. She was propped on her side, soft shirt riding up to expose her bellybutton. It poked out just the smallest amount, and there was a starburst of freckles just above it that he absolutely adored. The book she had laid out was a thick tome, and her perfectly manicured nails tapped softly against the open pages. He glanced at the spill of her hair across his shoulder. It was smooth like an oil slick and more beautiful to him than a sunset. Finally their eyes met.
She had the same soft look in her eyes she had when he knew she wanted curtains just from seeing the fabric. Her eyes were dark like coffee, and more important than cola. He had spent a lot of time learning how to read those eyes when she was quiet, how to read the slightest quirk of her brow or turn of her lips. Right now, her thoughts were open, like her huge book still digging into him uncomfortably. She was smiling, soft and just for him. He couldn't help but smile back, running his thumb up and down her spine. She pressed back into it like a cat, studying his face with those soft, dark eyes. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. If she noticed the contrast of their hair, like a glimpse of blue sky amidst the power of a hurricane, or if she relished the feel of his curling leg hair pressed against her smooth, oiled skin. He bet she did. Robin seemed to notice everything, even when someone else wouldn't. He loved that about her. He loved her. So he told her.
Her small smile deepend, her nose scrunching the tiniest amount. She was quiet, but traced the line of his nose and his jaw with her long fingers. He didn't press her, he didn't need to. Franky pushed himself up to sit, steering Robin onto his lap as she caught the falling book and set it aside. He moved to stand and had to stop when she wound her arms around his neck, pulling herself up and close. They sat like that for a full minute, together and quiet. The moment broke as joyful shouting rose outside and Robin pulled away, padding to the closet and pulling out a dress. As she slipped it on, Franky struggled into his bottoms and snatched a patterned shirt that hung over a chair. They turned to face each other, Robin reaching out to fix his waistband and Franky holding up her favorite necklace. She turned away and pulled her beautiful hair aside. He carefully fastened the clasp, relishing the last few moments of morning quiet in Robin's room.
She opened the door, holding it for him. With a smirk, she bowed slightly, "after you, sleeping beauty." Franky laughed sharply. He stepped out into the sun and felt her arm tuck snugly into his.
"Today's gonna be SUPER!"