okay tbh i headcanon luffy being asexual so hard. when i say i like zoluzo (or any other luffy ship i've mentioned in passing, im not sure, sometimes i get talkative and i dont remember what i be saying) i mean that i like them as soulmates, they are each other's ride or die, yk what im saying anon? like they are It for me, you want me to explain the concept of soulmates to you, i'll just pull up a pic of them. that's how i ship them
saw this and it was so funny i had to do something and add my *spirit fingers* flare to it
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Sanji wakes up thanks to the assaulting rays of light from the sun. His first thought is: weird, the sun's never down here in the men's quarters. But as his brain starts to turn back on, he starts remembering little tidbits of the night before.
For starters, the crew didn't go back to the Sunny and crashed in some poor inn rented out to them for free upon saving the town from some outlaws. Big timers, supposedly, but Sanji remembers the whole ordeal ending far faster than any big timers in the past.
Though, if he's honest, his perception of strength has been twisted after fighting Queen and...whatever that Knight-creep's name was.
Groaning, he shifts so that the sun can stop harassing him. What time can it possibly be? It must be incredibly early if his internal alarm hasn't woken him up, right? Sanji sucks at his teeth and lifts an arm up to hide his face behind.
It's only a few minutes of absolute stillness before he gives in. He's not going back to sleep anymore, so he might as well get up and start to make some sort of food for the crew. Sitting up, Sanji scratches at his jaw and looks around.
The room is pretty well-put together. Like a party did not happen last night, like how his warped memories say. There's clothes strewn about; that's his tie hanging off the cheap lights hanging off the ceiling.
Someone shifts next to him.
Oh, was it one of those nights, he wonders? Raising a curly eyebrow, he tilts his head, grabbing the sheets covering the other person to yank them down and tell them they have to go now.
There are two things he sees that snap his memories back into place:
One, the silver band on his ring finger glinting mischievously in the dim lighting of the sun through the cracks the curtains provide.
Two, the person asleep next to him is not a faceless, nameless stranger but the damn Marimo himself, sporting a lovebite on his neck.
Oh shit.
That's right.
They got so drunk, they ended up agreeing to have one of the townsfolk marry them.
Sanji slaps a hand to his mouth to stifle his scream.
And then, for good measure, he kicks the idiot mosshead off the bed with as much force as he can possibly muster at six-forty-two in the morning.
Zoro crashes down with a grunt where stays for half a second before he sits up with a murderous expression on his face.
"What the fuck?" he asks with a sneer.
"Why the hell are you in my room?!"
Of course, Sanji knows why he's in the room, it's just a matter of needing to hear it be said out loud. And preferably by someone that isn't himself.
Zoro's gray eye looks at him for a bit longer before he scans the place, tilting his head up to stare at the tie that slowly rotates with the lights' fan, then down at himself and finally to a ring very, very similar to Sanji's.
"What the fuck," he repeats, this time more to himself than to Sanji. But unlike him, Zoro seems to gather himself far quicker and reaches for the ring to tug it off.
Sanji watches.
It won't come off.
"What the fuck," Zoro says for the third time.
"Say something else!" Sanji rises to his knees, holding the sheets against his chest to keep him decent. He moves closer to him, his crazed blue eyes on Zoro's thick fingers trying to get the ring off. "Are you fucking with me?!"
Zoro gives him a look. Sanji tries to ignore it because it seems to be the asshole's own version of lecherous. Right. Fine. Okay. That was taken care of last night. What the fuck ever.
"It's not coming off," Zoro states, giving up and rising up to his feet. He's wearing nothing and Sanji shrieks and looks away.
Unbothered, Zoro looks through the clothes thrown around for his underwear, slipping them on when successful. Sanji studies him from the corner of his eyes, feeling his face grow hot upon seeing more lovebites following the path of his chest scar.
Sanji thinks: fuck.
-
Nami's gleeful look is distracting him from watching Robin study the ring stuck to his finger. Zoro tries to ignore her as best he can but there's this static energy prickling his skin and he already has a huge headache that has absolutely nothing to do with how much he drank last night and everything to do with all of this. So ignoring Nami is futile.
He glares at her, hand curling into a tight grip in Robin's hold. In response, Nami's smug smile only grows.
"It seems it's a devil fruit," Robin starts, a thoughtfulness to her tone. "I've just never really heard of a devil fruit that also involves solid objects...."
Nami hums, pausing in her torture of Zoro to look down at the ring on Zoro's finger. "Maybe it isn't the solid object? Maybe the solid object, in this case: the ring, is imbued with the devil fruit's power."
Robin looks up, her brown eyes aglow with fascination. "That's a thought."
"Oh, like Jaggy," Luffy chirps, resting his chin on the top of the chair's back he's perched on. He's sitting on it backwards, arms hugging the chair to his chest. "He can attract or repel metal objects!"
Robin tilts her head, her curiosity for the world unleashed. She hasn't let go of Zoro's hand, thumb still thoughtfully running over the silver band. "Oh, how curious. Would this be an attract and repel matter as well, I wonder?"
"We should test it out," Nami giggles behind her hand.
"Hell yeah we should," Usopp says, breaking his silence with a shit-eating grin. He's here in case they think the ring should be broken to get it off. Fucking traitor. Zoro thinks they should have gotten Franky to do the job instead.
Actually, no. Definitely not Franky; he doesn't need the sobbing and blubbering about true love finding a way.
"So," Luffy says, drawing out the vowel. "If this isn't 'bout the ring, why won't it come off?" Then he blinks his brown eyes and turns to him. "Where'd you guys go?"
All four of them turn to Zoro, similar quizzical expressions on their faces. He hates when Luffy becomes attentive to the happenings in his surroundings. It makes Zoro's stomach roll to see him be obviously observant rather than secretly. At least with the latter he can ignore it.
"Don't remember," Zoro mutters.
It's the truth. Kinda.
He remembers he and the cook were wandering the festival together, bickering and pushing and shoving. It's how these things usually go when Sanji hasn't decided to join the cooking committee. He's always berating him that he's drinking too much and to slow it down and keeping count on how many beers he's had. Out loud.
Who is he, his mother? Zoro'd wondered. His damn wife?
Of course, in between the bickering, they'd stop to play some of the dumb games, both making sure to not use their real strength as to not break the machines and make the children around them sad. At this point, Zoro distinctly remembers a one-eyed frog plush he offered a small girl. He also remembers Sanji smiling and shoving him endearingly rather than to pick a fight.
He remembers matcha covered takoyaki and the cook raging about it. At first in a what-the-hell kinda way, then in the oh-hell-yeah kinda way. They'd stayed around the stand for a few minutes and they ate two servings each.
The rest after that is a bit of a blur. Zoro remembers Sanji started drinking more after the takoyaki stand; he'd been looser and giggly. It'd made Zoro have fits of snickering too, the way seeing someone very uptight loosening up tends to.
The bickering continued, of course. It's their brand of affection, after all.
He remembers a stand with crudely drawn hearts on a cardboard sign. The letters were very loopy, very curly. He remembers laughing, pointing at the curls on the letters and at the curls of Sanji's eyebrows.
He remembers that starting another bickering match, the cook's cheeks pink and his glassy blue eyes narrowed. Zoro'd been laughing, shoving back when the cook would push him.
And then....
Hm.
"Yeah, I got nothing," Zoro looks up at them, blinking.
"You're hopeless," Usopp mutters, rolling his dark eyes.
"Let's try the repel and attract theory," Nami says with a sharp smile.
"Who will go with Zoro and who will stay with Sanji?" Robin asks, still holding Zoro's hand.
It's stupidly comforting, which is stupid coming from the ship's very own queen of the macabre.
"Oh---!"
"No Luffy."
At that moment, Brook walks in to crash their little meeting in the ship's library.
-
Sanji doesn't stress cook.
He's always been accused of doing so by Patty and Carne, those fuckers. But they would eat every last crumb of all the crazy shit Sanji whipped up, leaving just barely enough for the other shitty cooks and for the old geezer too.
Still, to this day Sanji swears up and down that he does not stress cook. He stares at the long, long spread of assorted finger foods and entrees and even desserts. He's merely practicing. Expanding his horizons, if one wills.
The glint of the silver band on his ring finger makes him choke on the inhale he takes of his cigarette. He's pounding a fist to his chest when Luffy runs into the galley, his eyes growing wide at all the food and whatever his purpose for being in here evaporating from his frontal lobe.
"Whoa! So much food!" He wiggles his fingers. "Can I eat it?"
"No," Sanji wheezes, voice a little high-pitched.
Thankfully, Usopp scurries in after, holding onto his bucket hat as he sprints to make sure Luffy isn't doing exactly what he's starting to do. But when his dark brown eyes land on Sanji, he sighs in relief. "Thought the galley was unmanned."
"Nope," Sanji squeaks, hoping the burn in his throat will end soon. He tries to clear his throat. It proves incredibly painful.
Usopp adjusts the straps of his overalls and walks further into the room, only minimally eyeing the food on the counters and tables. "So, Brook and Nami are with your husband---"
Sanji wheezes again.
"---and heading back to the town. We're trying to see if this is a kinda repel and attract thing. See if you get pulled when he gets too far from you." Usopp gives him a smile. Sanji won't fall for it: it's definitely at his expense.
"I---" Sanji clears his throat, fighting through the burn until he can feel the remnants of the smoke's effect. When he speaks, his voice is back to its normal, gravely self. "I don't give a shit about that loser marimo."
Luffy pauses from trying to sneak a drumstick. "Uh..." He looks at Usopp who looks at him. "That's not what all the bites on him say."
Usopp bursts into loud laughter and Sanji thinks it's about time he commits captain-cide. His face is burning out as he turns to glare at Luffy, a finger raised menacingly.
"That was the whole marriage thing’s effect!"
Luffy blinks, his eyes slowly sliding to look at Usopp again before sliding back to Sanji. "Uh... I don't think that's how the whole thing works, Sanji."
"Oh, please. Pray tell, captain, how does this all work?" Sanji crosses his arms in front of his chest. Then, feeling like the pose is too constricting, he shoves his hands in his pockets instead. Still unsatisfied, he merely slaps his hands on the counter and grips the edge. "You have your own devil fruit powers so suddenly you're an expert on them?"
"Well, kinda," Luffy laughs, looking at Sanji again before he just goes for the drumstick and shoves it in his mouth. When he pulls it back out, it's all bones. He chews a bit, nodding in approval of the sauce. "But I'm just sayin' that all this is totally not making you wanna have sexy time with Zoro. That's all you."
Usopp is fighting for his life to keep from laughing his brain out his mouth. He grabs a stool and sits, merely staring at Sanji as he tries to control himself enough to speak. He should stay quiet for the rest of his life, for all Sanji cares.
"I, personally," Usopp starts sweetly, placing a hand to his chest, "think this was a long time coming. I didn't factor in a devil fruit doing the job, but I definitely did feel some tension there for a long time. UST, if you will."
"I don't will," Sanji sneers at the same time that Luffy asks, "What's UST?"
"Unresolved sexual tension," Usopp mock whispers to him.
Luffy, crosses his arms over his chest and gives a slow nod, his eyes on a wing this time. "Yeah... Oh, yeah, totally. I see that."
"See my foot in you face," Sanji growls as he goes into a stance to kick Luffy's face in. But in that moment Chopper comes into the galley from the sick bay, a book that's bigger than him in his hooves.
"Okay," he starts, not looking up to the massacre waiting to happen. "I really don't see any marriage binding devil fruit listed on this. Maybe it's a new one?" He looks up, big black eyes apologetic and hopeful at the same time. It makes all three other men relax and back away from each other. "Do new devil fruits sprout?"
"Why don't you ask Luffy, he's an expert," Sanji scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Luffy opens his mouth, whether to say something in response to Chopper or Sanji or to inhale some more food, no one will ever know.
"Guh!" What an embarrassing noise, Sanji thinks as he feels something pulling him towards the galley doors. "What the fuck?"
"It's happening, it's happening!" Usopp jumps off the stool, running to Sanji's side but not touching him.
"What's happening?" Chopper asks.
The soles of Sanji's dress shoes skid against the floorboards as he's pulled by a.... well by something. It's probably something that's connecting him to Zoro, that goddamn idiot. Sanji can't tell where the pull is coming from---is it his heart, is it his gut, is it his ring finger?
It feels like it's everywhere.
"What's happening?" Chopper shrieks, throwing the book over his shoulder and getting a running start so he can jump and take Sanji's hand in between his hooves. "Is there a ghost in here?!"
"It's Zoro," Usopp says, gripping Sanji's other hand and holding on. "Not sure what we're supposed to do now that the theory is proven correct!"
"Just let him go and see if he heads to where Zoro is," Luffy suggests, a plate of pilaf rice and grilled salmon in his hands. "We can follow him."
Blinking, Chopper and Usopp let him go.
Sanji has never felt more betrayed in his life.
-
"Aurgh!" Zoro tries to take another step forward, but it's literally making his chest feel like it's going to collapse in itself at any moment now. Sweat accumulates on his forehead from the sheer straining and he hates himself a little when he backtracks and sets his foot down. He gasps for air. "What the fuck."
"Yohoho!" Brook bends down to lock his eye sockets on Zoro's face. He forgets how freakishly tall the idiot is. "Looks like this is as far as the connection allows you to be. Ah! True romance!"
He clasps his bony hands and sways. Zoro, surprisingly for the first time, wishes his bones were readjusted in a manner that will impede Brook from everything.
"Hm," Nami hums, chin tucked between her forefinger and thumb. "We're kinda in the middle of the town. So.... How far would that be?"
"Does it matter?" Zoro asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "We're leaving soon anyway."
Nami looks at him, copper eyes narrowed. "No we're not. Not 'til we fix this; can you imagine this happening in the middle of a big fight? Oh, don't look at me like that, we all know Luffy will inevitably get us in some predicament again." She waves a thin hand in the air. "And the last thing we need is you two to be incapable of splitting up!"
Zoro hates to admit she has a point. How can he and the cook support Luffy and protect the others if they're being forced to be together at all times? The marriage thing isn't even a big deal to Zoro; marriage is just a contract filled with promises that, most of the time, the simplest of man can't keep. The bigger problem is proving to be this.
He harrumphs, turning his head to the side and ignoring Brook's stupid giggles about maybe having a proper wedding reception on the Sunny to commemorate the union of their love. He's a second away from kicking his skull off when he can kinda see a group approaching them fast.
At first, he thinks it's remnants of the people they beat some days ago. He takes a step further in the direction the three of them came from, putting himself between the approaching group and Brook and Nami.
Then he realizes it's the cook. And Luffy. And Usopp. And Chopper. Not far behind them is Robin, taking notes in one of her fancy notebooks.
Zoro sighs, rolling his eye skyward.
The cook looks haggard as he walks towards him, something like an urgency in his step. He has a cigarette between his teeth, as he always does, but his hair is a disheveled mess and the tie around his neck is loose to the point of almost coming undone.
When Sanji finally comes to a stop in front of him, he lets out a soft yet tired exhale. Zoro gets it. He feels something in him calm down at the close proximity, but he can't exactly pinpoint where it's coming from.
"You good?" he can't help but ask, looking at the sweat making the cook's fringe stringy, the confusion and even slight fear Sanji tries to hide behind his bravado.
Sanji looks at him, visibly swallowing hard as he gives a nod. And, for good measure, he even twists his thin lips into a smirk. "Of course."
Zoro nods, looking away from him but subconsciously staying close.
"So," Robin says, closing her notebook with a soft snap. "We must find this person and perhaps encourage they reverse whatever they've done to Sanji and Zoro."
"Ah, yeah," Usopp sagely nods. "Play at the good ol' normal, decent conversation, huh?"
"Well it depends who the person turns out to be," Nami inputs, hands on her hips. "If they're an argumentative prick, we may just have to use force."
"But that'll be our last ditch effort," Usopp quickly yelps when Luffy starts to crack his knuckles. He turns to Zoro and Sanji. "You're both sure you don't remember who did this?"
Zoro shakes his head and Sanji flicks a delicate wrist in the air, cigarette between his fingers. Usopp sighs and turns back to the others.
"So this is how I see it," Nami starts, ever the one to take charge when something like this happens. "We'll all have to split up and scope the town. Worse case scenario: we may have to check out the nearby towns too, in case it was someone that was only here for the party."
"This can take a while," Usopp comments, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "We can't just go up to someone and be like 'hey do you have a devil fruit power by any chance'? Imagine that."
Nami sucks at her teeth. "He's right." She turns her copper eyes towards Zoro and Sanji, the former quickly tensing and the latter deflating. "You two will stay on the Sunny."
"What!"
"Nami-swan, please."
She shakes her head. "Nuh-uh. It'll just be safer this way."
"Won't it be easier if this person, whoever it may be, sees Sanji and Zoro?" Brook asks, skull tilted in question.
"Sure," Nami drawls out. "But what if it makes them more tight lipped?"
Silence falls around them as the gravity of something that was funny for the majority of them earlier in the day finally starts to sink in.
"Besides," the dumb witch continues, a smug expression on her face. "This way they can spend time together. A little taste of their honeymoon."
"Oh fuck you," Zoro seethes, rolling his eye.
Sanji smacks at his arm at the same time he stomps on his foot. "Don't talk to Nami-swan like that!" He sharply turns to her. "Though crass, I must agree with him, my sweet, have mercy on me. Am I not suffering enough?"
Zoro looks at him from the corner of his eye and then at the identical looks the rest of the crew wear. They all think he's not suffering at all. In fact, something tells Zoro they all think this is something good with a little rough edges that they're trying to sort out.
He throws his head back and softly groans to himself.
-
The following morning, Sanji and Zoro have the Sunny all to themselves. The rest of the crew have headed out in search of the devil fruit user that bound them together and slapped 'married' on it with a pair of matching silver rings.
Zoro's in the crow's nest doing whatever his dumb training regime of the morning is. So that leaves Sanji in the kitchen, putting the crockery from breakfast away while he hums a little tune to himself.
He's a lot less frazzled than the day before. Then again, he's a lot less hungover so his nerves are all in a row. So he's married to his rival slash equal slash... well he hasn't really come to terms about that last part.
It's just!
Well, it's not that he's in denial about his sexuality or his feelings, potential or existing. That whole mess was cleaned up during his time in Momoiro Island, reluctant though he still is to admit. He's okay with all parts of himself and love is love no matter what form or who it's harbored for. All this is true.
It's just that... Well... it's kind of hard to admit you have a bit of a raging boner for your rival. Especially after years of ragebaiting, dick measuring and that one time where he was kind of okay with letting the mosshead drown.
The worst part of all the dumb shit Luffy and Usopp were spewing last night is that they'd been one hundred percent right. There was tension between him and Zoro. Sanji did want to get into his pants. And now he's married to him.
Which should resolve everything, right?
Wrong!
Now he has to think about how he's unknowingly tied Zoro down from being a free man to do his... Well, whatever Zoro does. He's pretty sure he's incapable of being attracted to anyone that isn't powerful and capable of manhandling---well alright wait he fits that criteria. Wait.
Sanji shoves a cigarette between his teeth.
The little pause to focus on lighting the tip until the cherry glows helps him gather his wits and bearings. What he means is that Zoro seems to only be interested in those that can hold their own against him, that ooze haki and power. So it's not like he's got any romance coming his way any time soon. But he still deserves to be single and not married to his rival.
Right?
Correct!
Sanji rubs the heel of his palm against his forehead. He told himself he wasn't going to think too hard about this. And he wasn't going to worry about it unless Zoro starts to worry about it.
Wordlessly, he plates some extra onigiri he'd made as a snack for the crew to take with them. Filling up a glass of water and another with a berry smoothie he'd made for his dearest Robin and sweet Nami for their efforts.
He walks the items to the crow's nest, kicking his heel to the floorboards to start skywalking to the hatch-door.
"Hi," he says as he lands on the crow's nest floors, kicking the hatch closed.
Zoro looks up from the plank position he's on. Sanji can see his muscles quiver with strain. Knowing how much Zoro hates to not only be interrupted but distracted, Sanji quietly walks to the benches, setting the serving tray down and taking a seat down next to it.
He fiddles with his lighter for the next three to five minutes, following the grooves of the mermaid carved at the front, the bumps of her tail's scales. He opens and closes it, though he fears the snap would distract Zoro so he stops.
Soon, Zoro eases down from the plank, rolling over onto his back to catch his breath before ultimately sitting up. "What is it?"
Sanji watches him reach for the towelette near him and runs it through his hair, his face and neck. Which still sports the lovebite. He blurts out, "Does it hurt?"
Zoro raises an eyebrow but then follows his line of vision. He places a hand over it, and it turns out to be the hand with the silver band on his ring finger. Sanji's insides churn.
"No," mosshead responds. "This one does a little though," he admits, pointing at a bite that has Sanji's teeth marks. It's near the valley between his pectorals and where the thick scar bisecting him is at its thickest and most sensitive.
Sanji turns his head to hide his smug smile. "Oops...?"
"RIght," Zoro snorts, standing up and dumping the damp towelette into the hamper and reaching for a new one that he rests around his shoulders. He sits on the bench, the tray of food still between them. "S'for me?"
Sanji hums, crossing a leg over the other and watching Zoro go for the glass of water first.
Silence falls between them but Sanji's surprised to realize it's comfortable. He wonders how long it's been like this, the comfort between the two, and he just never noticed. Never paid any mind to it.
Now it's so obvious, so present. Sanji swallows, fidgeting with his lighter before deciding to light up a new cigarette. Then, because since the whole Big Mom shit that happened he promised he'd be more forthright, he asks, "Does it bother you?"
"Well," Zoro says, not realizing what Sanji actually meant, "I know you like to make yaki onigiri when we're out exploring, but gotta say, it's never been my favorite." Nonetheless he takes a big bite of the riceball in his hand. "A little on the sweet side."
Sanji blinks. "Wait, you notice that?"
"That it's sweet? Well, yeah." Zoro blinks, still missing the actual point of the conversation. "I can get into some sweet stuff but I don't like it on my onigiri."
"No, you moron," Sanji hisses. "You notice that I make yaki onigiri when packing bento?"
Now it's Zoro's turn to blink. "....Yeah?"
Sanji feels warmth. He watches, wide-eyed as Zoro grabs the smoothie and pauses to stare at the colored swirly straw before taking a long sip. He thinks the warmth is coming from his cheeks, stretching up to his hairline and down to his collarbones. He thinks the back of his neck burns and the tip of his ears do as well. His insides feel all fluttery. He's never once reacted like this at being perceived.
"That's uh," he clears his throat. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh." Zoro shoves an entire riceball into his mouth, cheek puffed out. "What did you mean, then?"
Sanji blinks his eyes and swallows. He supposes it isn't important, is it? He shakes his head and Zoro, eyeing him for a little longer, shrugs.
-
Zoro decides to lounge in the galley.
He feels like this whole being skittish thing at their current predicament has gotten a little old. So the cook's his husband now! Big deal! It's kinda what he'd wanted all along, anyway. Minus the marriage, though he supposes he can deal with that little detail.
Zoro's more of a life-partners than a husband-and-husband kind of guy. Why would he bring in a god he doesn't believe in into his relationship?
Anyway, that relationship is kinda not real, unfortunately, but until the others return with the bastard that did this, he and the cook are husbands.
So.
Might as well spend time with his husband.
Not like it's the first time they do it. Actually, since the cook came back from his whole family drama shit, they've been a little more... at ease in each other's space. Actually, no, that's not true. Bicker as much as they do, sure, but they've always been comfortable in each other's presence.
It's just a little different now. Or maybe it had been before the whole married thing. Now that whole married thing has made it more obvious.
The cook's in the kitchen, making dinner for two. Zoro rests on the couch, one leg still on the ground and the other spread in front of him, making sure his boot is off the cushions.
Not going to lie, Zoro wishes he remembers the night.
He's got a high alcohol tolerance, always have, but for some reason he'd blacked out. So bad, that he didn't even get to remember having sex with the man he's been wanting to have sex with for a year. Maybe longer. Zoro isn't good with the concept of time. Or direction, but he stands that this last one is the world having it out for him.
The lovebites he's sporting prove that one) it did happen and two) it must have been a good time. He wonders if he left any marks on Sanji. He won't ask him, though. Not if he doesn't want to get his head caved in. But he wonders.
"Try this," he hears and Zoro opens his eye to see Sanji standing next to him a spoon with broth in one hand, the other hovering below to catch any drops.
Zoro sits up and leans forward, opening his mouth so the spoon can come in. Belatedly, he thinks he maybe was supposed to take the spoon from Sanji's grip and feed himself. The cook's face is as pink as the short-sleeved button-up he's wearing.
"S'good," he says, feeling a little smug at the reaction he's caused. "What is it?"
"Bouillabaisse," the cook says as he turns away from him and heads back to the kitchen proper. "One of Zeff's favorites."
Zoro stands from the couch, sliding all three of his swords from their loops and letting them rest on the couch in his stead. He follows Sanji into the kitchen, looking over the pot of stew and watching it simmer.
"Should be ready in a few," the cook tells him as he cuts into a boule. He cuts thick slices and looks between the stove and the toasters before he settles for the toaster. "Can you bring the aoili to the table?"
Zoro looks at the little jar of fresh made aoili and does as instructed. The table's already been set for the both of them and Zoro hesitates for a moment before he goes to grab them water.
He doesn't wait for long before Sanji comes out with two bowls of stew, setting one down in front of Zoro and the other in his place at the table. He only wanders away to bring the plate of toasted bread and he sighs happily when he sits down.
"Looks good," Zoro says, feeling weird at paying him compliments that he usually just keeps to himself because the others shower him with them instead.
Sanji's smile is a little shy, which Zoro isn't used to.
They start to eat, the silence comfortable and light. Zoro thinks this may be the best meal he's had in a while. Not because Sanji doesn't cook good things, but because it tastes good. His compliments to the old man and his good taste.
"You think the others have found anything out?" Sanji asks, spreading aoili onto one of the toasted breads.
Zoro leans back in his seat, grabbing his glass of water and taking a long sip. "Nah. It's too soon; can't ever be that easy for us."
Sanji laughs a little, looking away from him because the laugh happens just as he takes a bite of the bread. "Dumb marimo."
Zoro grins, proud of himself.
"And... you're okay with this?" Sanji asks after another brief moment of silence. He's scooping up some fish with his spoon.
"With what?" Zoro asks, though he thinks he has an idea of what he means.
Sanji looks up at him, his expression carefully blank. Too carefully blank to be honest. Zoro lets him have it for a second, just waiting for whatever he's going to say and deciding to go from there.
"Being married," he says. It's like a nonchalant drawl, but it falls short. "To me."
Ah.
Zoro supposes he should be a little more honest about his feelings. But how can he tell the most uptight man on this ship that he's actually very much into him and sometimes when Zoro's alone with his thoughts for long enough he's pretty sure he's in love. How does he word that with as little words used as possible?
He licks his lower lip in thought. But in the end, he settles for a light shrug. "It could be worse."
Sanji stares at him, not blinking, probably not breathing either.
"I could have gotten married to Franky."
The joke makes the cook snort but it seems to not be what he wants to hear. Zoro sobers up a bit, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck.
"I don't mind," he finally says, voice soft and low. Usually, it'd be swallowed by the cacophony of noise the rest of the crew makes. But in this quiet moment where it's just the two of them, it rings loud. "Kinda glad it's you."
-
Sanji lies awake that night. At first, filled with wonder at how the rest of the crew are fairing, if they've caught a hint of any sort. Then, that quickly switched to thoughts of Zoro and dinner earlier.
Kinda glad it's you.
If Sanji weren't so... well, if he didn't have such a bad habit of selling himself short, he'd think that the mosshead was being honest about feelings. Feelings for him.
But it sure as hell can't be that.
Sanji's just reading too much into it, putting his feelings where they don't belong. But it still leaves him incapable of sleeping, until he becomes very agitated and kicks his sheets off.
The men's quarters are empty save for him, since all the other guys are in the hunt for the devil fruit user. Maybe that's also keeping him awake; the lack of ridiculous snores. He sighs through his nose, and sees himself out of the empty room.
The lights in the crow's nest are off, but he knows Zoro's awake up there. He climbs up the mast to get to the closed hatch-door, poking his head in first to pinpoint what Zoro's up to. He climbs fully inside when he sees him sitting on one of the benches, a blanket covering him to fight off the chilly night.
"Hi," he mutters, bare feet slapping against the floorboards.
Zoro looks at him, his eye starting from his bare toes and slowly making his way up to his messy blond hair.
"Can't sleep," Sanji admits, sitting on the bench. They should consider bringing throw pillows in here. But he knows it'll probably piss Zoro off. "Can I stay here?"
Zoro glances at him again, his expression open like it always is. "Why are you asking permission?"
Sanji shrugs. "This is your space."
Zoro snorts but doesn't say otherwise, and he doesn't tell him to leave either. Sanji thinks he should have brought his blanket with him; the night is pretty chilly and the sound of the angry waves makes him shiver.
Without a word, Zoro stands from the bench, grabbing the blanket he'd been sitting on to envelop himself in. He shakes it off, holding it in both hands as he moves to sit back down on the bench and letting it fall over himself and Sanji.
"Oh," Sanji blinks his bleary eyes. "Since when are you thoughtful?"
Zoro snorts again, tilting his head to spare him an annoyed glance. "This is how I always am, dumb twirly cook. You're just too busy seeing the worst in me."
Sanji flinches a little.
But Zoro bumps their shoulder. "Chill, dumb cook."
Silence falls around them, Sanji feels incredibly tired but he can't seem to go to sleep. He tilts his head back, resting it against the wall. He thinks about how, two days ago now, he'd woken up to find himself naked and sharing a bed with an equally naked Zoro, both hungover and suddenly married.
Is it really marriage though? Sounds like a binding spell, more like.
He laughs a little. "We were pretty frazzled when we first found out about this, huh?"
"Who the hell says the word 'frazzled'?" Zoro grunts when Sanji elbows his side. He spares him a glare as he rubs at his sore side. "I was just hungover and kinda confused." He takes a moment before he adds, "Mostly confused. I can deal with a hangover."
"The mood was set the moment I realized you were the one in bed with me," Sanji admits.
Zoro rolls his eye. "Couldn't have been that bad."
"The sex? I don't know, I can't remember."
"See? It was so good it gave you amnesia."
Sanji snorts, smacking his arm as he tries to stifle a laugh. At least they're not awkward about it; Sanji definitely would have been awkward about it two years ago. Actually, if this happened two years ago, he would have definitely had an identity crisis, a meltdown and would have desperately needed an intervention packed with one of Luffy's infamous speeches.
"It seriously doesn't bother you?" he asks, tilting his head to glance up at him from his slouched position. "Be honest, mosshead, if you'd been the one to wake up first how would you have reacted?"
Zoro scratches at his jaw as he looks out to the open sea. A thick fog was easing its way towards the island. No wonder it's so chilly, he thinks, shivering and burrowing himself further into the blankets.
"Dunno," Zoro finally answers. "I wouldn't have kicked you off the bed, though."
"Fair."
Zoro seems to actually be thinking about this, his gray eye almost black in the darkness, dancing as he studies the expanse of sea in front of them. "I think I would have been more concerned with having to deal with your inevitable meltdown."
"I did not have a meltdown!"
Zoro glances at him, unimpressed.
"That was not a meltdown!" Sanji sits up a bit, shifting so he can face him. "I had just woken up with no recollection of the night before, I was vulnerable!"
"Vulnerable?" Zoro laughs, rolling away from him when Sanji aims another smack at his arm. "You were vulnerable? I was vulnerable to you kicking me off the bed!"
"Oh, shut up. I've kicked you harder."
"While awake."
Sanji grabs at Zoro's wrist, pulling him upright and closer to him again. For the body heat, obviously, nothing else. Zoro's snickering to himself, allowing himself to be pulled.
A new wave of silence falls over them, comfortable and soft. If a silence is even capable of being soft. Sanji curls up, his eyes drooping. Zoro is a furnace next to him and he enjoys that little perk of his, ah, husband.
"You know what I don't wanna deal with again?" he asks after a long while, his voice soft and light with sleep.
"Hm?"
"That tug," Sanji murmurs. "When you were walking into the town and I was still on the Sunny."
"Yeah?"
Sanji nods, eyes closed, head drooping to the side and being held by Zoro's arm. "I felt it in so many places, I couldn't tell where it was coming from."
"You looked relieved when we met up," Zoro says, his own voice becoming soft with sleep.
"I was. That awful feeling was gone. And..." Sanji will blame it on being half-asleep if it's ever brought up again. He murmurs, "You were there."
If Zoro says something else, Sanji doesn't hear it. He falls victim to the the warmth and the comfort of companionship. And he sleeps.
-
They're both on the Sunny, so technically, they don't really have to be in such close proximity but Zoro can't help himself. These past few days, since the whole marriage thing happened, has given him a little hope that he has some semblance of a chance here.
They're in the galley again, breakfast eaten and dishes washed. Sanji's prepping for a simple lunch and Zoro sits and cleans Kitetsu. He thinks this is his version of intimacy and he thinks that sex may be good but this is better. To be comfortable enough to be in each other's presence without needing to interact. To simply coexist.
He studies his work, leaning close to the blade and observing the surface. In the kitchen, Sanji hums to himself.
Zoro's tried hard not to think about Sanji's words last night. He's a grown man, for fuck's sake, he doesn't need to add feelings to everything like a blubbering teenager. The cook said he was relieved because he was there, at the end of the tug. There, after the uncomfortable feeling was gone.
It's the softest and sincerest he's ever heard Sanji be.
He vaguely remembers the cook promising the crew to be more honest, after he'd bamboozled them and his heritage. Personally, Zoro hasn't witnessed anything happening to prove that promise to be true... until last night.
It'd left him speechless, his breathing hitching when the cook had fallen asleep and rested against him. It's so stupid to react in such a way to something as simple as the man holding his affections sleeping with his head pressed against Zoro's arm.
He sighs.
"What're you thinking?"
Zoro looks up, but Sanji is still working on his prep. He stays quiet long enough to have Sanji chance a glance his way and smirks at the cook's flustered expression as he looks back down at his work.
"Fine," Sanji says with a pout in his tone, "don't tell me."
"I was thinking about how this is a different side to us," Zoro admits, his face growing warm at the admission. "That I'm not used to."
Sanji's looking at him again when he raises his eye up from Kitetsu's blade.
"I like it."
The cook scoffs to hide how embarrassed he is by Zoro's words, shifting away so he won't have the chance to face him any more. "Stupid marimo."
Zoro grins.
-
That night, they lay on their backs on the lawn, looking up at the stars. They haven't heard from the others at all and Sanji would be lying if he were to say he isn't stressed about it.
He bites his lip.
It sucks because it's the complete opposite of what he's currently experiencing with Zoro. It's so soft and delicate, a contrast to who they are individually and a pair. Sanji rolls over so he's on his side, facing Zoro.
He wishes he could get closer to him. It's a terrifying feeling. Not because of what the feeling is or who it's for, but because Sanji is afraid to be totally vulnerable and walking into the unknown.
Still, what would happen if he scoots closer, presses himself to Zoro's side? He swallows, deciding it's better to test the waters than just go for it blind.
"What if we sleep together again?" Okay, definitely not how he was trying to go about this.
Zoro looks away from the endless glittering stars above them and looks at him, his expression calm but his eyes skeptical. "Why would we do that?"
"Consider: what if us having sex that night bound us together?" Sanji is just rolling with this. How hard can it possibly be to admit that it's because he wants to have sex with Zoro again? And be able to remember it this time. "If we sleep together again, maybe we'll set ourselves free."
Zoro laughs a little, sitting up enough to support his weight with his elbows. "If you wanna fuck, you could just say that."
He's teasing him, but truther words haven't been said.
"I do," Sanji mutters, face scorching hot. "But I also thought maybe this theory could be a thing."
"Wait," Zoro says, drawing out the vowels. "You want to sleep with me?"
"Is that all you're focused on?"
Zoro rolls over so he's facing Sanji, his gray eye looking at him like trying to find a hundred different answers for one simple question. "Cook, can you blame me?" He chuckles a bit. "Kinda had you pegged for a raging heterosexual."
Sanji feels like his face is going to melt off from how hot, and probably pink, it is. "Well... you're not wrong. Or you wouldn't of been two years ago."
"Is that right," Zoro murmurs but he doesn't ask for more details.
But Sanji feels like he owes him that much. Why, he isn't sure. Maybe he wants to share this side of himself with the person he desires most. Maybe he's just trying to connect. Maybe this whole ordeal has just fried his brain and he can't make coherent decisions.
"I definitely was into only women, when I was younger," he murmurs, looking at anything but at Zoro. "Then I started to notice my attention... would often wander to the same sex." Sanji runs a hand through his hair, fidgeting, feeling naked and judged. But Zoro wouldn't judge him, would he?
He peeks at him, seeing Zoro studying his expression and merely waiting patiently for him to finish his story.
"And then I think I was in the closet for a long time," he laughs a little, feeling a littler hysterical. "It was torture to stay in there when you live on a ship with both men and women that are very attractive."
Zoro smirks.
Sanji studies the curve of his lips, noticing that it's not a smug smile. It's more like Zoro seems to understand the feeling Sanji's trying to convey.
"And then after we split up for those two years..."
"Ah, yeah," Zoro finally sighs. "You've never talked about that."
"I don't really want to," Sanji admits and Zoro snorts but doesn't poke or prod. "Suffice to say that I am... more attuned to my desires."
Zoro tilts his head, his eye narrowing a bit. Like a predator almost. "And what do you desire, cook?"
If the constant bickering and constant need to keep an eye on him when he's off wandering on his own or drinking more alcohol than a fish drinks water doesn't seem to make the idiot understand. Maybe being direct as possible will.
(At no moment does Sanji ever realize or admit that he is a master at sending mixed signals and Zoro would never catch onto his romantic desires when in the flip of a coin Sanji's trying to start a fight.)
Sanji leans in and brushes his lips against Zoro's. It's chaste and incredibly unsatisfying. But instead of pulling away, Zoro leans into it, slotting his lips in between Sanji's. It's a slow kiss, but it's intense.
A soft noise escapes him the more demanding the kiss becomes. The hand that's not supporting his weight reaches to cup Zoro's cheek, pulling away just enough to catch his breath before they're kissing again.
He feels Zoro's hand tracing his side, slow and steady and making him painfully hot and bothered. Sanji shifts, pulling himself half on top of the other man in his quest to get closer.
Then there are feet running up the gangplank and, unfortunately, Sanji isn't gone enough to not catch them. He pulls away, pushing himself off of Zoro and settling himself at a distance.
When he looks at Zoro, his mouth is red from being thoroughly kissed. It makes something smug bloom in Sanji's chest.
"Guys!" It's Chopper. "We found the culprits!"
-
What the fuck.
Zoro has never been so thoroughly cock-blocked like he is in this very moment. His brain buzzes as he watches the rest of the crew filter onto the ship and towards the lawn where he and the cook were about to... fuck.
Literally and figuratively!
As a verb and an adjective, goddamnit!
He's still trying to reel the murderous intent and his horniness in when two little girls are pushed to the forefront. Now Zoro just feels downright uncomfortable and he looks away from them as he tries to gain some self control again.
"Who... are these lovely ladies?" Sanji asks, the first to gather himself after all that.
Zoro tilts his head to face the girls again, his eye zeroing in on a one-eyed frog plushie. Seems very familiar, he thinks as he looks at one girl then at the other. They look alike, so they might be sisters.
One is a little taller, a little older. And the one, with the plushie, seems to be the more sheepish of the two so she must be the one that's landed them both in this predicament.
"Meet Ai and Kokoro," Nami says, placing a hand on either of the littler girls' heads. "Guess what we caught them doing."
"Hopefully nothing illegal," Sanji offers, trying hard and failing to adjust himself in his pants and not offend the women in front of him.
Nami's eyes glint. "They were marrying off their toys. Seems normal right?"
"Wrong!" Usopp yells as he shoves his way next to her. "They were reciting vows before making the toys kiss. And even though they're just objects they had to stay together. Or do whatever the vows and promises said."
"You two must have vowed to stay together forever or something," Luffy laughs, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Would explain why you did the thing."
"I only did what they asked me to do," the smaller girl says with a pout. Her white hair is pulled back into a messy braid, dark eyes squinted like she wants to cry but it looks like an act. "They came to my booth."
The older one, similar white hair cropped short, nods. "You asked what kind of booth we had. We said a marriage booth. You both thought it was funny and then dared each other to do it."
"Fucking idiots," Nami mutters.
"Ah, young love," Brook sighs.
"You're, like, seven years old. Why the hell are you marrying people?" Sanji demands, feeling bad for talking to little girls like this. "Much more, using your devil fruit powers to do it?"
The younger one, who seems to be the devil fruit user, blinks her eyes. "Because I have to. To stay alive. If I don't use my powers at least once, I get sick."
Zoro mutters something under his breath, rolling his eye.
To the side, Robin is jotting down on her notebook.
"Well can you revert it all back?" Sanji asks, tilting his head. "Sorry, we can't really afford to have to be next to each othr at all times. Sometimes duty needs us to split up for periods of time."
"I can...." Little Kokoro bites her lip. She blinks her eyes and looks uo at them. "Fine. I can cancel the binding part. But I can't undo the other parts. It will take away years of your lives."
"What other parts," Nami and Usopp and Chopper all screech.
Zoro and Sanji look at each other, not really knowing what other idiocy they vowed to each other in their drunken state. But something tells Zoro it has to do with the death pact in Onigashima. And that's one vow he has no plans of going back on.
"That's fine," he says, standing up just as Sanji does so too. "I only care about the binding one."
"Yeah," Sanji says, sighing shakily. "Same here."
Kokoro gives another firm nod, handing her frog plush to Ai. She grabs their hands, the ones with the wedding bands and takes a deep breath. "I need to hear you both say you cancel your binding to each other."
They both open their mouths.
"Clear as day," she prompts, narrowing her eyes.
"I cancel my vow to bind myself to him," they both say at once.
Nodding again, Kokoro's hands glow pink and she grabs onto their hands. She holds on steadily, her eyes fluttering shut. She doesn't let go until the glow disappears.
Zoro looks at his hand and sees the ring still on his finger. Furrowing his brow, he tries to pull it off. It comes off easily and crumbles once it leaves his finger. Next to him, the same thing happens to Sanji.
He mutters, "What the fuck."
-
Way later that night, Sanji climbs onto the crow's nest where Zoro's got first watch.
He kicks the hatch door closed, hands in his pockets as he moves to sit on the bench next to the green-bean. He bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to find the words to say.
"We're technically still married," he finally murmurs.
"Technically," Zoro agrees.
Sanji turns to face him, an amused tilt to his lips. Sanji's not one hundred percent sure what other shit they vowed to each other, aside from what he thinks could possibly be a revisit to the Onigashima pact. But he's actually a little fine with whatever this is.
Sanji leans in, but Zoro grabs his jaw in between one hand to hold him in place.
Is this... rejection? Sanji feels a cold shiver down his spine.
"I'm not one for marriage," Zoro says, looking him dead int he eye. "It's not something that aligns with my values and my perspective."
"Oh."
Zoro shakes his head. "But I am a big fan of a life partner."
"Oh."
"And if you're okay with that," he continues, his voice growing lower, quieter. "Then we can pick up where we left off."
Sanji wraps a hand around Zoro's wrist, but he makes no move to remove it from holding his face. Once, he thinks, he saw a future for himself that involved marrying a beautiful woman and making her as happy as he possibly can. They'd settle down in some island, some town, some village. They'd have two kids, he'd shower them with unconditional love. He'd live happily ever after.
Now, he feels like that future doesn't fit with who he is and who he's continuing to become. He's a pirate and his captain is an Emperor of the Sea. He World Government, though they want all pirates dead, want the Straw Hats especially dead. Not every day is guaranteed and life is a thrill.
Life partners.
"Yeah---"
"And I don't want to be kicked off the bed every morning. Or whenever you decide to have a freak out."
Sanji rolls his eyes. "Fine."
Zoro raises an eyebrow. "Fine?"
Sanji nods. "Yes. I... I like the sound of life partners more. I like it because it's you."
He hears the swallow Zoro makes. And for a moment they both just watch each other, drinking each other in, taking everything in.
"Kiss me already," Sanji growls.
"Oh," Zoro murmurs, dropping his hand and leaning close. "I'll do more than that."
saw this and it was so funny i had to do something and add my *spirit fingers* flare to it
.
.
Sanji wakes up thanks to the assaulting rays of light from the sun. His first thought is: weird, the sun's never down here in the men's quarters. But as his brain starts to turn back on, he starts remembering little tidbits of the night before.
For starters, the crew didn't go back to the Sunny and crashed in some poor inn rented out to them for free upon saving the town from some outlaws. Big timers, supposedly, but Sanji remembers the whole ordeal ending far faster than any big timers in the past.
Though, if he's honest, his perception of strength has been twisted after fighting Queen and...whatever that Knight-creep's name was.
Groaning, he shifts so that the sun can stop harassing him. What time can it possibly be? It must be incredibly early if his internal alarm hasn't woken him up, right? Sanji sucks at his teeth and lifts an arm up to hide his face behind.
It's only a few minutes of absolute stillness before he gives in. He's not going back to sleep anymore, so he might as well get up and start to make some sort of food for the crew. Sitting up, Sanji scratches at his jaw and looks around.
The room is pretty well-put together. Like a party did not happen last night, like how his warped memories say. There's clothes strewn about; that's his tie hanging off the cheap lights hanging off the ceiling.
Someone shifts next to him.
Oh, was it one of those nights, he wonders? Raising a curly eyebrow, he tilts his head, grabbing the sheets covering the other person to yank them down and tell them they have to go now.
There are two things he sees that snap his memories back into place:
One, the silver band on his ring finger glinting mischievously in the dim lighting of the sun through the cracks the curtains provide.
Two, the person asleep next to him is not a faceless, nameless stranger but the damn Marimo himself, sporting a lovebite on his neck.
Oh shit.
That's right.
They got so drunk, they ended up agreeing to have one of the townsfolk marry them.
Sanji slaps a hand to his mouth to stifle his scream.
And then, for good measure, he kicks the idiot mosshead off the bed with as much force as he can possibly muster at six-forty-two in the morning.
Zoro crashes down with a grunt where stays for half a second before he sits up with a murderous expression on his face.
"What the fuck?" he asks with a sneer.
"Why the hell are you in my room?!"
Of course, Sanji knows why he's in the room, it's just a matter of needing to hear it be said out loud. And preferably by someone that isn't himself.
Zoro's gray eye looks at him for a bit longer before he scans the place, tilting his head up to stare at the tie that slowly rotates with the lights' fan, then down at himself and finally to a ring very, very similar to Sanji's.
"What the fuck," he repeats, this time more to himself than to Sanji. But unlike him, Zoro seems to gather himself far quicker and reaches for the ring to tug it off.
Sanji watches.
It won't come off.
"What the fuck," Zoro says for the third time.
"Say something else!" Sanji rises to his knees, holding the sheets against his chest to keep him decent. He moves closer to him, his crazed blue eyes on Zoro's thick fingers trying to get the ring off. "Are you fucking with me?!"
Zoro gives him a look. Sanji tries to ignore it because it seems to be the asshole's own version of lecherous. Right. Fine. Okay. That was taken care of last night. What the fuck ever.
"It's not coming off," Zoro states, giving up and rising up to his feet. He's wearing nothing and Sanji shrieks and looks away.
Unbothered, Zoro looks through the clothes thrown around for his underwear, slipping them on when successful. Sanji studies him from the corner of his eyes, feeling his face grow hot upon seeing more lovebites following the path of his chest scar.
Sanji thinks: fuck.
-
Nami's gleeful look is distracting him from watching Robin study the ring stuck to his finger. Zoro tries to ignore her as best he can but there's this static energy prickling his skin and he already has a huge headache that has absolutely nothing to do with how much he drank last night and everything to do with all of this. So ignoring Nami is futile.
He glares at her, hand curling into a tight grip in Robin's hold. In response, Nami's smug smile only grows.
"It seems it's a devil fruit," Robin starts, a thoughtfulness to her tone. "I've just never really heard of a devil fruit that also involves solid objects...."
Nami hums, pausing in her torture of Zoro to look down at the ring on Zoro's finger. "Maybe it isn't the solid object? Maybe the solid object, in this case: the ring, is imbued with the devil fruit's power."
Robin looks up, her brown eyes aglow with fascination. "That's a thought."
"Oh, like Jaggy," Luffy chirps, resting his chin on the top of the chair's back he's perched on. He's sitting on it backwards, arms hugging the chair to his chest. "He can attract or repel metal objects!"
Robin tilts her head, her curiosity for the world unleashed. She hasn't let go of Zoro's hand, thumb still thoughtfully running over the silver band. "Oh, how curious. Would this be an attract and repel matter as well, I wonder?"
"We should test it out," Nami giggles behind her hand.
"Hell yeah we should," Usopp says, breaking his silence with a shit-eating grin. He's here in case they think the ring should be broken to get it off. Fucking traitor. Zoro thinks they should have gotten Franky to do the job instead.
Actually, no. Definitely not Franky; he doesn't need the sobbing and blubbering about true love finding a way.
"So," Luffy says, drawing out the vowel. "If this isn't 'bout the ring, why won't it come off?" Then he blinks his brown eyes and turns to him. "Where'd you guys go?"
All four of them turn to Zoro, similar quizzical expressions on their faces. He hates when Luffy becomes attentive to the happenings in his surroundings. It makes Zoro's stomach roll to see him be obviously observant rather than secretly. At least with the latter he can ignore it.
"Don't remember," Zoro mutters.
It's the truth. Kinda.
He remembers he and the cook were wandering the festival together, bickering and pushing and shoving. It's how these things usually go when Sanji hasn't decided to join the cooking committee. He's always berating him that he's drinking too much and to slow it down and keeping count on how many beers he's had. Out loud.
Who is he, his mother? Zoro'd wondered. His damn wife?
Of course, in between the bickering, they'd stop to play some of the dumb games, both making sure to not use their real strength as to not break the machines and make the children around them sad. At this point, Zoro distinctly remembers a one-eyed frog plush he offered a small girl. He also remembers Sanji smiling and shoving him endearingly rather than to pick a fight.
He remembers matcha covered takoyaki and the cook raging about it. At first in a what-the-hell kinda way, then in the oh-hell-yeah kinda way. They'd stayed around the stand for a few minutes and they ate two servings each.
The rest after that is a bit of a blur. Zoro remembers Sanji started drinking more after the takoyaki stand; he'd been looser and giggly. It'd made Zoro have fits of snickering too, the way seeing someone very uptight loosening up tends to.
The bickering continued, of course. It's their brand of affection, after all.
He remembers a stand with crudely drawn hearts on a cardboard sign. The letters were very loopy, very curly. He remembers laughing, pointing at the curls on the letters and at the curls of Sanji's eyebrows.
He remembers that starting another bickering match, the cook's cheeks pink and his glassy blue eyes narrowed. Zoro'd been laughing, shoving back when the cook would push him.
And then....
Hm.
"Yeah, I got nothing," Zoro looks up at them, blinking.
"You're hopeless," Usopp mutters, rolling his dark eyes.
"Let's try the repel and attract theory," Nami says with a sharp smile.
"Who will go with Zoro and who will stay with Sanji?" Robin asks, still holding Zoro's hand.
It's stupidly comforting, which is stupid coming from the ship's very own queen of the macabre.
"Oh---!"
"No Luffy."
At that moment, Brook walks in to crash their little meeting in the ship's library.
-
Sanji doesn't stress cook.
He's always been accused of doing so by Patty and Carne, those fuckers. But they would eat every last crumb of all the crazy shit Sanji whipped up, leaving just barely enough for the other shitty cooks and for the old geezer too.
Still, to this day Sanji swears up and down that he does not stress cook. He stares at the long, long spread of assorted finger foods and entrees and even desserts. He's merely practicing. Expanding his horizons, if one wills.
The glint of the silver band on his ring finger makes him choke on the inhale he takes of his cigarette. He's pounding a fist to his chest when Luffy runs into the galley, his eyes growing wide at all the food and whatever his purpose for being in here evaporating from his frontal lobe.
"Whoa! So much food!" He wiggles his fingers. "Can I eat it?"
"No," Sanji wheezes, voice a little high-pitched.
Thankfully, Usopp scurries in after, holding onto his bucket hat as he sprints to make sure Luffy isn't doing exactly what he's starting to do. But when his dark brown eyes land on Sanji, he sighs in relief. "Thought the galley was unmanned."
"Nope," Sanji squeaks, hoping the burn in his throat will end soon. He tries to clear his throat. It proves incredibly painful.
Usopp adjusts the straps of his overalls and walks further into the room, only minimally eyeing the food on the counters and tables. "So, Brook and Nami are with your husband---"
Sanji wheezes again.
"---and heading back to the town. We're trying to see if this is a kinda repel and attract thing. See if you get pulled when he gets too far from you." Usopp gives him a smile. Sanji won't fall for it: it's definitely at his expense.
"I---" Sanji clears his throat, fighting through the burn until he can feel the remnants of the smoke's effect. When he speaks, his voice is back to its normal, gravely self. "I don't give a shit about that loser marimo."
Luffy pauses from trying to sneak a drumstick. "Uh..." He looks at Usopp who looks at him. "That's not what all the bites on him say."
Usopp bursts into loud laughter and Sanji thinks it's about time he commits captain-cide. His face is burning out as he turns to glare at Luffy, a finger raised menacingly.
"That was the whole marriage thing’s effect!"
Luffy blinks, his eyes slowly sliding to look at Usopp again before sliding back to Sanji. "Uh... I don't think that's how the whole thing works, Sanji."
"Oh, please. Pray tell, captain, how does this all work?" Sanji crosses his arms in front of his chest. Then, feeling like the pose is too constricting, he shoves his hands in his pockets instead. Still unsatisfied, he merely slaps his hands on the counter and grips the edge. "You have your own devil fruit powers so suddenly you're an expert on them?"
"Well, kinda," Luffy laughs, looking at Sanji again before he just goes for the drumstick and shoves it in his mouth. When he pulls it back out, it's all bones. He chews a bit, nodding in approval of the sauce. "But I'm just sayin' that all this is totally not making you wanna have sexy time with Zoro. That's all you."
Usopp is fighting for his life to keep from laughing his brain out his mouth. He grabs a stool and sits, merely staring at Sanji as he tries to control himself enough to speak. He should stay quiet for the rest of his life, for all Sanji cares.
"I, personally," Usopp starts sweetly, placing a hand to his chest, "think this was a long time coming. I didn't factor in a devil fruit doing the job, but I definitely did feel some tension there for a long time. UST, if you will."
"I don't will," Sanji sneers at the same time that Luffy asks, "What's UST?"
"Unresolved sexual tension," Usopp mock whispers to him.
Luffy, crosses his arms over his chest and gives a slow nod, his eyes on a wing this time. "Yeah... Oh, yeah, totally. I see that."
"See my foot in you face," Sanji growls as he goes into a stance to kick Luffy's face in. But in that moment Chopper comes into the galley from the sick bay, a book that's bigger than him in his hooves.
"Okay," he starts, not looking up to the massacre waiting to happen. "I really don't see any marriage binding devil fruit listed on this. Maybe it's a new one?" He looks up, big black eyes apologetic and hopeful at the same time. It makes all three other men relax and back away from each other. "Do new devil fruits sprout?"
"Why don't you ask Luffy, he's an expert," Sanji scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Luffy opens his mouth, whether to say something in response to Chopper or Sanji or to inhale some more food, no one will ever know.
"Guh!" What an embarrassing noise, Sanji thinks as he feels something pulling him towards the galley doors. "What the fuck?"
"It's happening, it's happening!" Usopp jumps off the stool, running to Sanji's side but not touching him.
"What's happening?" Chopper asks.
The soles of Sanji's dress shoes skid against the floorboards as he's pulled by a.... well by something. It's probably something that's connecting him to Zoro, that goddamn idiot. Sanji can't tell where the pull is coming from---is it his heart, is it his gut, is it his ring finger?
It feels like it's everywhere.
"What's happening?" Chopper shrieks, throwing the book over his shoulder and getting a running start so he can jump and take Sanji's hand in between his hooves. "Is there a ghost in here?!"
"It's Zoro," Usopp says, gripping Sanji's other hand and holding on. "Not sure what we're supposed to do now that the theory is proven correct!"
"Just let him go and see if he heads to where Zoro is," Luffy suggests, a plate of pilaf rice and grilled salmon in his hands. "We can follow him."
Blinking, Chopper and Usopp let him go.
Sanji has never felt more betrayed in his life.
-
"Aurgh!" Zoro tries to take another step forward, but it's literally making his chest feel like it's going to collapse in itself at any moment now. Sweat accumulates on his forehead from the sheer straining and he hates himself a little when he backtracks and sets his foot down. He gasps for air. "What the fuck."
"Yohoho!" Brook bends down to lock his eye sockets on Zoro's face. He forgets how freakishly tall the idiot is. "Looks like this is as far as the connection allows you to be. Ah! True romance!"
He clasps his bony hands and sways. Zoro, surprisingly for the first time, wishes his bones were readjusted in a manner that will impede Brook from everything.
"Hm," Nami hums, chin tucked between her forefinger and thumb. "We're kinda in the middle of the town. So.... How far would that be?"
"Does it matter?" Zoro asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "We're leaving soon anyway."
Nami looks at him, copper eyes narrowed. "No we're not. Not 'til we fix this; can you imagine this happening in the middle of a big fight? Oh, don't look at me like that, we all know Luffy will inevitably get us in some predicament again." She waves a thin hand in the air. "And the last thing we need is you two to be incapable of splitting up!"
Zoro hates to admit she has a point. How can he and the cook support Luffy and protect the others if they're being forced to be together at all times? The marriage thing isn't even a big deal to Zoro; marriage is just a contract filled with promises that, most of the time, the simplest of man can't keep. The bigger problem is proving to be this.
He harrumphs, turning his head to the side and ignoring Brook's stupid giggles about maybe having a proper wedding reception on the Sunny to commemorate the union of their love. He's a second away from kicking his skull off when he can kinda see a group approaching them fast.
At first, he thinks it's remnants of the people they beat some days ago. He takes a step further in the direction the three of them came from, putting himself between the approaching group and Brook and Nami.
Then he realizes it's the cook. And Luffy. And Usopp. And Chopper. Not far behind them is Robin, taking notes in one of her fancy notebooks.
Zoro sighs, rolling his eye skyward.
The cook looks haggard as he walks towards him, something like an urgency in his step. He has a cigarette between his teeth, as he always does, but his hair is a disheveled mess and the tie around his neck is loose to the point of almost coming undone.
When Sanji finally comes to a stop in front of him, he lets out a soft yet tired exhale. Zoro gets it. He feels something in him calm down at the close proximity, but he can't exactly pinpoint where it's coming from.
"You good?" he can't help but ask, looking at the sweat making the cook's fringe stringy, the confusion and even slight fear Sanji tries to hide behind his bravado.
Sanji looks at him, visibly swallowing hard as he gives a nod. And, for good measure, he even twists his thin lips into a smirk. "Of course."
Zoro nods, looking away from him but subconsciously staying close.
"So," Robin says, closing her notebook with a soft snap. "We must find this person and perhaps encourage they reverse whatever they've done to Sanji and Zoro."
"Ah, yeah," Usopp sagely nods. "Play at the good ol' normal, decent conversation, huh?"
"Well it depends who the person turns out to be," Nami inputs, hands on her hips. "If they're an argumentative prick, we may just have to use force."
"But that'll be our last ditch effort," Usopp quickly yelps when Luffy starts to crack his knuckles. He turns to Zoro and Sanji. "You're both sure you don't remember who did this?"
Zoro shakes his head and Sanji flicks a delicate wrist in the air, cigarette between his fingers. Usopp sighs and turns back to the others.
"So this is how I see it," Nami starts, ever the one to take charge when something like this happens. "We'll all have to split up and scope the town. Worse case scenario: we may have to check out the nearby towns too, in case it was someone that was only here for the party."
"This can take a while," Usopp comments, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "We can't just go up to someone and be like 'hey do you have a devil fruit power by any chance'? Imagine that."
Nami sucks at her teeth. "He's right." She turns her copper eyes towards Zoro and Sanji, the former quickly tensing and the latter deflating. "You two will stay on the Sunny."
"What!"
"Nami-swan, please."
She shakes her head. "Nuh-uh. It'll just be safer this way."
"Won't it be easier if this person, whoever it may be, sees Sanji and Zoro?" Brook asks, skull tilted in question.
"Sure," Nami drawls out. "But what if it makes them more tight lipped?"
Silence falls around them as the gravity of something that was funny for the majority of them earlier in the day finally starts to sink in.
"Besides," the dumb witch continues, a smug expression on her face. "This way they can spend time together. A little taste of their honeymoon."
"Oh fuck you," Zoro seethes, rolling his eye.
Sanji smacks at his arm at the same time he stomps on his foot. "Don't talk to Nami-swan like that!" He sharply turns to her. "Though crass, I must agree with him, my sweet, have mercy on me. Am I not suffering enough?"
Zoro looks at him from the corner of his eye and then at the identical looks the rest of the crew wear. They all think he's not suffering at all. In fact, something tells Zoro they all think this is something good with a little rough edges that they're trying to sort out.
He throws his head back and softly groans to himself.
-
The following morning, Sanji and Zoro have the Sunny all to themselves. The rest of the crew have headed out in search of the devil fruit user that bound them together and slapped 'married' on it with a pair of matching silver rings.
Zoro's in the crow's nest doing whatever his dumb training regime of the morning is. So that leaves Sanji in the kitchen, putting the crockery from breakfast away while he hums a little tune to himself.
He's a lot less frazzled than the day before. Then again, he's a lot less hungover so his nerves are all in a row. So he's married to his rival slash equal slash... well he hasn't really come to terms about that last part.
It's just!
Well, it's not that he's in denial about his sexuality or his feelings, potential or existing. That whole mess was cleaned up during his time in Momoiro Island, reluctant though he still is to admit. He's okay with all parts of himself and love is love no matter what form or who it's harbored for. All this is true.
It's just that... Well... it's kind of hard to admit you have a bit of a raging boner for your rival. Especially after years of ragebaiting, dick measuring and that one time where he was kind of okay with letting the mosshead drown.
The worst part of all the dumb shit Luffy and Usopp were spewing last night is that they'd been one hundred percent right. There was tension between him and Zoro. Sanji did want to get into his pants. And now he's married to him.
Which should resolve everything, right?
Wrong!
Now he has to think about how he's unknowingly tied Zoro down from being a free man to do his... Well, whatever Zoro does. He's pretty sure he's incapable of being attracted to anyone that isn't powerful and capable of manhandling---well alright wait he fits that criteria. Wait.
Sanji shoves a cigarette between his teeth.
The little pause to focus on lighting the tip until the cherry glows helps him gather his wits and bearings. What he means is that Zoro seems to only be interested in those that can hold their own against him, that ooze haki and power. So it's not like he's got any romance coming his way any time soon. But he still deserves to be single and not married to his rival.
Right?
Correct!
Sanji rubs the heel of his palm against his forehead. He told himself he wasn't going to think too hard about this. And he wasn't going to worry about it unless Zoro starts to worry about it.
Wordlessly, he plates some extra onigiri he'd made as a snack for the crew to take with them. Filling up a glass of water and another with a berry smoothie he'd made for his dearest Robin and sweet Nami for their efforts.
He walks the items to the crow's nest, kicking his heel to the floorboards to start skywalking to the hatch-door.
"Hi," he says as he lands on the crow's nest floors, kicking the hatch closed.
Zoro looks up from the plank position he's on. Sanji can see his muscles quiver with strain. Knowing how much Zoro hates to not only be interrupted but distracted, Sanji quietly walks to the benches, setting the serving tray down and taking a seat down next to it.
He fiddles with his lighter for the next three to five minutes, following the grooves of the mermaid carved at the front, the bumps of her tail's scales. He opens and closes it, though he fears the snap would distract Zoro so he stops.
Soon, Zoro eases down from the plank, rolling over onto his back to catch his breath before ultimately sitting up. "What is it?"
Sanji watches him reach for the towelette near him and runs it through his hair, his face and neck. Which still sports the lovebite. He blurts out, "Does it hurt?"
Zoro raises an eyebrow but then follows his line of vision. He places a hand over it, and it turns out to be the hand with the silver band on his ring finger. Sanji's insides churn.
"No," mosshead responds. "This one does a little though," he admits, pointing at a bite that has Sanji's teeth marks. It's near the valley between his pectorals and where the thick scar bisecting him is at its thickest and most sensitive.
Sanji turns his head to hide his smug smile. "Oops...?"
"RIght," Zoro snorts, standing up and dumping the damp towelette into the hamper and reaching for a new one that he rests around his shoulders. He sits on the bench, the tray of food still between them. "S'for me?"
Sanji hums, crossing a leg over the other and watching Zoro go for the glass of water first.
Silence falls between them but Sanji's surprised to realize it's comfortable. He wonders how long it's been like this, the comfort between the two, and he just never noticed. Never paid any mind to it.
Now it's so obvious, so present. Sanji swallows, fidgeting with his lighter before deciding to light up a new cigarette. Then, because since the whole Big Mom shit that happened he promised he'd be more forthright, he asks, "Does it bother you?"
"Well," Zoro says, not realizing what Sanji actually meant, "I know you like to make yaki onigiri when we're out exploring, but gotta say, it's never been my favorite." Nonetheless he takes a big bite of the riceball in his hand. "A little on the sweet side."
Sanji blinks. "Wait, you notice that?"
"That it's sweet? Well, yeah." Zoro blinks, still missing the actual point of the conversation. "I can get into some sweet stuff but I don't like it on my onigiri."
"No, you moron," Sanji hisses. "You notice that I make yaki onigiri when packing bento?"
Now it's Zoro's turn to blink. "....Yeah?"
Sanji feels warmth. He watches, wide-eyed as Zoro grabs the smoothie and pauses to stare at the colored swirly straw before taking a long sip. He thinks the warmth is coming from his cheeks, stretching up to his hairline and down to his collarbones. He thinks the back of his neck burns and the tip of his ears do as well. His insides feel all fluttery. He's never once reacted like this at being perceived.
"That's uh," he clears his throat. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh." Zoro shoves an entire riceball into his mouth, cheek puffed out. "What did you mean, then?"
Sanji blinks his eyes and swallows. He supposes it isn't important, is it? He shakes his head and Zoro, eyeing him for a little longer, shrugs.
-
Zoro decides to lounge in the galley.
He feels like this whole being skittish thing at their current predicament has gotten a little old. So the cook's his husband now! Big deal! It's kinda what he'd wanted all along, anyway. Minus the marriage, though he supposes he can deal with that little detail.
Zoro's more of a life-partners than a husband-and-husband kind of guy. Why would he bring in a god he doesn't believe in into his relationship?
Anyway, that relationship is kinda not real, unfortunately, but until the others return with the bastard that did this, he and the cook are husbands.
So.
Might as well spend time with his husband.
Not like it's the first time they do it. Actually, since the cook came back from his whole family drama shit, they've been a little more... at ease in each other's space. Actually, no, that's not true. Bicker as much as they do, sure, but they've always been comfortable in each other's presence.
It's just a little different now. Or maybe it had been before the whole married thing. Now that whole married thing has made it more obvious.
The cook's in the kitchen, making dinner for two. Zoro rests on the couch, one leg still on the ground and the other spread in front of him, making sure his boot is off the cushions.
Not going to lie, Zoro wishes he remembers the night.
He's got a high alcohol tolerance, always have, but for some reason he'd blacked out. So bad, that he didn't even get to remember having sex with the man he's been wanting to have sex with for a year. Maybe longer. Zoro isn't good with the concept of time. Or direction, but he stands that this last one is the world having it out for him.
The lovebites he's sporting prove that one) it did happen and two) it must have been a good time. He wonders if he left any marks on Sanji. He won't ask him, though. Not if he doesn't want to get his head caved in. But he wonders.
"Try this," he hears and Zoro opens his eye to see Sanji standing next to him a spoon with broth in one hand, the other hovering below to catch any drops.
Zoro sits up and leans forward, opening his mouth so the spoon can come in. Belatedly, he thinks he maybe was supposed to take the spoon from Sanji's grip and feed himself. The cook's face is as pink as the short-sleeved button-up he's wearing.
"S'good," he says, feeling a little smug at the reaction he's caused. "What is it?"
"Bouillabaisse," the cook says as he turns away from him and heads back to the kitchen proper. "One of Zeff's favorites."
Zoro stands from the couch, sliding all three of his swords from their loops and letting them rest on the couch in his stead. He follows Sanji into the kitchen, looking over the pot of stew and watching it simmer.
"Should be ready in a few," the cook tells him as he cuts into a boule. He cuts thick slices and looks between the stove and the toasters before he settles for the toaster. "Can you bring the aoili to the table?"
Zoro looks at the little jar of fresh made aoili and does as instructed. The table's already been set for the both of them and Zoro hesitates for a moment before he goes to grab them water.
He doesn't wait for long before Sanji comes out with two bowls of stew, setting one down in front of Zoro and the other in his place at the table. He only wanders away to bring the plate of toasted bread and he sighs happily when he sits down.
"Looks good," Zoro says, feeling weird at paying him compliments that he usually just keeps to himself because the others shower him with them instead.
Sanji's smile is a little shy, which Zoro isn't used to.
They start to eat, the silence comfortable and light. Zoro thinks this may be the best meal he's had in a while. Not because Sanji doesn't cook good things, but because it tastes good. His compliments to the old man and his good taste.
"You think the others have found anything out?" Sanji asks, spreading aoili onto one of the toasted breads.
Zoro leans back in his seat, grabbing his glass of water and taking a long sip. "Nah. It's too soon; can't ever be that easy for us."
Sanji laughs a little, looking away from him because the laugh happens just as he takes a bite of the bread. "Dumb marimo."
Zoro grins, proud of himself.
"And... you're okay with this?" Sanji asks after another brief moment of silence. He's scooping up some fish with his spoon.
"With what?" Zoro asks, though he thinks he has an idea of what he means.
Sanji looks up at him, his expression carefully blank. Too carefully blank to be honest. Zoro lets him have it for a second, just waiting for whatever he's going to say and deciding to go from there.
"Being married," he says. It's like a nonchalant drawl, but it falls short. "To me."
Ah.
Zoro supposes he should be a little more honest about his feelings. But how can he tell the most uptight man on this ship that he's actually very much into him and sometimes when Zoro's alone with his thoughts for long enough he's pretty sure he's in love. How does he word that with as little words used as possible?
He licks his lower lip in thought. But in the end, he settles for a light shrug. "It could be worse."
Sanji stares at him, not blinking, probably not breathing either.
"I could have gotten married to Franky."
The joke makes the cook snort but it seems to not be what he wants to hear. Zoro sobers up a bit, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck.
"I don't mind," he finally says, voice soft and low. Usually, it'd be swallowed by the cacophony of noise the rest of the crew makes. But in this quiet moment where it's just the two of them, it rings loud. "Kinda glad it's you."
-
Sanji lies awake that night. At first, filled with wonder at how the rest of the crew are fairing, if they've caught a hint of any sort. Then, that quickly switched to thoughts of Zoro and dinner earlier.
Kinda glad it's you.
If Sanji weren't so... well, if he didn't have such a bad habit of selling himself short, he'd think that the mosshead was being honest about feelings. Feelings for him.
But it sure as hell can't be that.
Sanji's just reading too much into it, putting his feelings where they don't belong. But it still leaves him incapable of sleeping, until he becomes very agitated and kicks his sheets off.
The men's quarters are empty save for him, since all the other guys are in the hunt for the devil fruit user. Maybe that's also keeping him awake; the lack of ridiculous snores. He sighs through his nose, and sees himself out of the empty room.
The lights in the crow's nest are off, but he knows Zoro's awake up there. He climbs up the mast to get to the closed hatch-door, poking his head in first to pinpoint what Zoro's up to. He climbs fully inside when he sees him sitting on one of the benches, a blanket covering him to fight off the chilly night.
"Hi," he mutters, bare feet slapping against the floorboards.
Zoro looks at him, his eye starting from his bare toes and slowly making his way up to his messy blond hair.
"Can't sleep," Sanji admits, sitting on the bench. They should consider bringing throw pillows in here. But he knows it'll probably piss Zoro off. "Can I stay here?"
Zoro glances at him again, his expression open like it always is. "Why are you asking permission?"
Sanji shrugs. "This is your space."
Zoro snorts but doesn't say otherwise, and he doesn't tell him to leave either. Sanji thinks he should have brought his blanket with him; the night is pretty chilly and the sound of the angry waves makes him shiver.
Without a word, Zoro stands from the bench, grabbing the blanket he'd been sitting on to envelop himself in. He shakes it off, holding it in both hands as he moves to sit back down on the bench and letting it fall over himself and Sanji.
"Oh," Sanji blinks his bleary eyes. "Since when are you thoughtful?"
Zoro snorts again, tilting his head to spare him an annoyed glance. "This is how I always am, dumb twirly cook. You're just too busy seeing the worst in me."
Sanji flinches a little.
But Zoro bumps their shoulder. "Chill, dumb cook."
Silence falls around them, Sanji feels incredibly tired but he can't seem to go to sleep. He tilts his head back, resting it against the wall. He thinks about how, two days ago now, he'd woken up to find himself naked and sharing a bed with an equally naked Zoro, both hungover and suddenly married.
Is it really marriage though? Sounds like a binding spell, more like.
He laughs a little. "We were pretty frazzled when we first found out about this, huh?"
"Who the hell says the word 'frazzled'?" Zoro grunts when Sanji elbows his side. He spares him a glare as he rubs at his sore side. "I was just hungover and kinda confused." He takes a moment before he adds, "Mostly confused. I can deal with a hangover."
"The mood was set the moment I realized you were the one in bed with me," Sanji admits.
Zoro rolls his eye. "Couldn't have been that bad."
"The sex? I don't know, I can't remember."
"See? It was so good it gave you amnesia."
Sanji snorts, smacking his arm as he tries to stifle a laugh. At least they're not awkward about it; Sanji definitely would have been awkward about it two years ago. Actually, if this happened two years ago, he would have definitely had an identity crisis, a meltdown and would have desperately needed an intervention packed with one of Luffy's infamous speeches.
"It seriously doesn't bother you?" he asks, tilting his head to glance up at him from his slouched position. "Be honest, mosshead, if you'd been the one to wake up first how would you have reacted?"
Zoro scratches at his jaw as he looks out to the open sea. A thick fog was easing its way towards the island. No wonder it's so chilly, he thinks, shivering and burrowing himself further into the blankets.
"Dunno," Zoro finally answers. "I wouldn't have kicked you off the bed, though."
"Fair."
Zoro seems to actually be thinking about this, his gray eye almost black in the darkness, dancing as he studies the expanse of sea in front of them. "I think I would have been more concerned with having to deal with your inevitable meltdown."
"I did not have a meltdown!"
Zoro glances at him, unimpressed.
"That was not a meltdown!" Sanji sits up a bit, shifting so he can face him. "I had just woken up with no recollection of the night before, I was vulnerable!"
"Vulnerable?" Zoro laughs, rolling away from him when Sanji aims another smack at his arm. "You were vulnerable? I was vulnerable to you kicking me off the bed!"
"Oh, shut up. I've kicked you harder."
"While awake."
Sanji grabs at Zoro's wrist, pulling him upright and closer to him again. For the body heat, obviously, nothing else. Zoro's snickering to himself, allowing himself to be pulled.
A new wave of silence falls over them, comfortable and soft. If a silence is even capable of being soft. Sanji curls up, his eyes drooping. Zoro is a furnace next to him and he enjoys that little perk of his, ah, husband.
"You know what I don't wanna deal with again?" he asks after a long while, his voice soft and light with sleep.
"Hm?"
"That tug," Sanji murmurs. "When you were walking into the town and I was still on the Sunny."
"Yeah?"
Sanji nods, eyes closed, head drooping to the side and being held by Zoro's arm. "I felt it in so many places, I couldn't tell where it was coming from."
"You looked relieved when we met up," Zoro says, his own voice becoming soft with sleep.
"I was. That awful feeling was gone. And..." Sanji will blame it on being half-asleep if it's ever brought up again. He murmurs, "You were there."
If Zoro says something else, Sanji doesn't hear it. He falls victim to the the warmth and the comfort of companionship. And he sleeps.
-
They're both on the Sunny, so technically, they don't really have to be in such close proximity but Zoro can't help himself. These past few days, since the whole marriage thing happened, has given him a little hope that he has some semblance of a chance here.
They're in the galley again, breakfast eaten and dishes washed. Sanji's prepping for a simple lunch and Zoro sits and cleans Kitetsu. He thinks this is his version of intimacy and he thinks that sex may be good but this is better. To be comfortable enough to be in each other's presence without needing to interact. To simply coexist.
He studies his work, leaning close to the blade and observing the surface. In the kitchen, Sanji hums to himself.
Zoro's tried hard not to think about Sanji's words last night. He's a grown man, for fuck's sake, he doesn't need to add feelings to everything like a blubbering teenager. The cook said he was relieved because he was there, at the end of the tug. There, after the uncomfortable feeling was gone.
It's the softest and sincerest he's ever heard Sanji be.
He vaguely remembers the cook promising the crew to be more honest, after he'd bamboozled them and his heritage. Personally, Zoro hasn't witnessed anything happening to prove that promise to be true... until last night.
It'd left him speechless, his breathing hitching when the cook had fallen asleep and rested against him. It's so stupid to react in such a way to something as simple as the man holding his affections sleeping with his head pressed against Zoro's arm.
He sighs.
"What're you thinking?"
Zoro looks up, but Sanji is still working on his prep. He stays quiet long enough to have Sanji chance a glance his way and smirks at the cook's flustered expression as he looks back down at his work.
"Fine," Sanji says with a pout in his tone, "don't tell me."
"I was thinking about how this is a different side to us," Zoro admits, his face growing warm at the admission. "That I'm not used to."
Sanji's looking at him again when he raises his eye up from Kitetsu's blade.
"I like it."
The cook scoffs to hide how embarrassed he is by Zoro's words, shifting away so he won't have the chance to face him any more. "Stupid marimo."
Zoro grins.
-
That night, they lay on their backs on the lawn, looking up at the stars. They haven't heard from the others at all and Sanji would be lying if he were to say he isn't stressed about it.
He bites his lip.
It sucks because it's the complete opposite of what he's currently experiencing with Zoro. It's so soft and delicate, a contrast to who they are individually and a pair. Sanji rolls over so he's on his side, facing Zoro.
He wishes he could get closer to him. It's a terrifying feeling. Not because of what the feeling is or who it's for, but because Sanji is afraid to be totally vulnerable and walking into the unknown.
Still, what would happen if he scoots closer, presses himself to Zoro's side? He swallows, deciding it's better to test the waters than just go for it blind.
"What if we sleep together again?" Okay, definitely not how he was trying to go about this.
Zoro looks away from the endless glittering stars above them and looks at him, his expression calm but his eyes skeptical. "Why would we do that?"
"Consider: what if us having sex that night bound us together?" Sanji is just rolling with this. How hard can it possibly be to admit that it's because he wants to have sex with Zoro again? And be able to remember it this time. "If we sleep together again, maybe we'll set ourselves free."
Zoro laughs a little, sitting up enough to support his weight with his elbows. "If you wanna fuck, you could just say that."
He's teasing him, but truther words haven't been said.
"I do," Sanji mutters, face scorching hot. "But I also thought maybe this theory could be a thing."
"Wait," Zoro says, drawing out the vowels. "You want to sleep with me?"
"Is that all you're focused on?"
Zoro rolls over so he's facing Sanji, his gray eye looking at him like trying to find a hundred different answers for one simple question. "Cook, can you blame me?" He chuckles a bit. "Kinda had you pegged for a raging heterosexual."
Sanji feels like his face is going to melt off from how hot, and probably pink, it is. "Well... you're not wrong. Or you wouldn't of been two years ago."
"Is that right," Zoro murmurs but he doesn't ask for more details.
But Sanji feels like he owes him that much. Why, he isn't sure. Maybe he wants to share this side of himself with the person he desires most. Maybe he's just trying to connect. Maybe this whole ordeal has just fried his brain and he can't make coherent decisions.
"I definitely was into only women, when I was younger," he murmurs, looking at anything but at Zoro. "Then I started to notice my attention... would often wander to the same sex." Sanji runs a hand through his hair, fidgeting, feeling naked and judged. But Zoro wouldn't judge him, would he?
He peeks at him, seeing Zoro studying his expression and merely waiting patiently for him to finish his story.
"And then I think I was in the closet for a long time," he laughs a little, feeling a littler hysterical. "It was torture to stay in there when you live on a ship with both men and women that are very attractive."
Zoro smirks.
Sanji studies the curve of his lips, noticing that it's not a smug smile. It's more like Zoro seems to understand the feeling Sanji's trying to convey.
"And then after we split up for those two years..."
"Ah, yeah," Zoro finally sighs. "You've never talked about that."
"I don't really want to," Sanji admits and Zoro snorts but doesn't poke or prod. "Suffice to say that I am... more attuned to my desires."
Zoro tilts his head, his eye narrowing a bit. Like a predator almost. "And what do you desire, cook?"
If the constant bickering and constant need to keep an eye on him when he's off wandering on his own or drinking more alcohol than a fish drinks water doesn't seem to make the idiot understand. Maybe being direct as possible will.
(At no moment does Sanji ever realize or admit that he is a master at sending mixed signals and Zoro would never catch onto his romantic desires when in the flip of a coin Sanji's trying to start a fight.)
Sanji leans in and brushes his lips against Zoro's. It's chaste and incredibly unsatisfying. But instead of pulling away, Zoro leans into it, slotting his lips in between Sanji's. It's a slow kiss, but it's intense.
A soft noise escapes him the more demanding the kiss becomes. The hand that's not supporting his weight reaches to cup Zoro's cheek, pulling away just enough to catch his breath before they're kissing again.
He feels Zoro's hand tracing his side, slow and steady and making him painfully hot and bothered. Sanji shifts, pulling himself half on top of the other man in his quest to get closer.
Then there are feet running up the gangplank and, unfortunately, Sanji isn't gone enough to not catch them. He pulls away, pushing himself off of Zoro and settling himself at a distance.
When he looks at Zoro, his mouth is red from being thoroughly kissed. It makes something smug bloom in Sanji's chest.
"Guys!" It's Chopper. "We found the culprits!"
-
What the fuck.
Zoro has never been so thoroughly cock-blocked like he is in this very moment. His brain buzzes as he watches the rest of the crew filter onto the ship and towards the lawn where he and the cook were about to... fuck.
Literally and figuratively!
As a verb and an adjective, goddamnit!
He's still trying to reel the murderous intent and his horniness in when two little girls are pushed to the forefront. Now Zoro just feels downright uncomfortable and he looks away from them as he tries to gain some self control again.
"Who... are these lovely ladies?" Sanji asks, the first to gather himself after all that.
Zoro tilts his head to face the girls again, his eye zeroing in on a one-eyed frog plushie. Seems very familiar, he thinks as he looks at one girl then at the other. They look alike, so they might be sisters.
One is a little taller, a little older. And the one, with the plushie, seems to be the more sheepish of the two so she must be the one that's landed them both in this predicament.
"Meet Ai and Kokoro," Nami says, placing a hand on either of the littler girls' heads. "Guess what we caught them doing."
"Hopefully nothing illegal," Sanji offers, trying hard and failing to adjust himself in his pants and not offend the women in front of him.
Nami's eyes glint. "They were marrying off their toys. Seems normal right?"
"Wrong!" Usopp yells as he shoves his way next to her. "They were reciting vows before making the toys kiss. And even though they're just objects they had to stay together. Or do whatever the vows and promises said."
"You two must have vowed to stay together forever or something," Luffy laughs, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Would explain why you did the thing."
"I only did what they asked me to do," the smaller girl says with a pout. Her white hair is pulled back into a messy braid, dark eyes squinted like she wants to cry but it looks like an act. "They came to my booth."
The older one, similar white hair cropped short, nods. "You asked what kind of booth we had. We said a marriage booth. You both thought it was funny and then dared each other to do it."
"Fucking idiots," Nami mutters.
"Ah, young love," Brook sighs.
"You're, like, seven years old. Why the hell are you marrying people?" Sanji demands, feeling bad for talking to little girls like this. "Much more, using your devil fruit powers to do it?"
The younger one, who seems to be the devil fruit user, blinks her eyes. "Because I have to. To stay alive. If I don't use my powers at least once, I get sick."
Zoro mutters something under his breath, rolling his eye.
To the side, Robin is jotting down on her notebook.
"Well can you revert it all back?" Sanji asks, tilting his head. "Sorry, we can't really afford to have to be next to each othr at all times. Sometimes duty needs us to split up for periods of time."
"I can...." Little Kokoro bites her lip. She blinks her eyes and looks uo at them. "Fine. I can cancel the binding part. But I can't undo the other parts. It will take away years of your lives."
"What other parts," Nami and Usopp and Chopper all screech.
Zoro and Sanji look at each other, not really knowing what other idiocy they vowed to each other in their drunken state. But something tells Zoro it has to do with the death pact in Onigashima. And that's one vow he has no plans of going back on.
"That's fine," he says, standing up just as Sanji does so too. "I only care about the binding one."
"Yeah," Sanji says, sighing shakily. "Same here."
Kokoro gives another firm nod, handing her frog plush to Ai. She grabs their hands, the ones with the wedding bands and takes a deep breath. "I need to hear you both say you cancel your binding to each other."
They both open their mouths.
"Clear as day," she prompts, narrowing her eyes.
"I cancel my vow to bind myself to him," they both say at once.
Nodding again, Kokoro's hands glow pink and she grabs onto their hands. She holds on steadily, her eyes fluttering shut. She doesn't let go until the glow disappears.
Zoro looks at his hand and sees the ring still on his finger. Furrowing his brow, he tries to pull it off. It comes off easily and crumbles once it leaves his finger. Next to him, the same thing happens to Sanji.
He mutters, "What the fuck."
-
Way later that night, Sanji climbs onto the crow's nest where Zoro's got first watch.
He kicks the hatch door closed, hands in his pockets as he moves to sit on the bench next to the green-bean. He bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to find the words to say.
"We're technically still married," he finally murmurs.
"Technically," Zoro agrees.
Sanji turns to face him, an amused tilt to his lips. Sanji's not one hundred percent sure what other shit they vowed to each other, aside from what he thinks could possibly be a revisit to the Onigashima pact. But he's actually a little fine with whatever this is.
Sanji leans in, but Zoro grabs his jaw in between one hand to hold him in place.
Is this... rejection? Sanji feels a cold shiver down his spine.
"I'm not one for marriage," Zoro says, looking him dead int he eye. "It's not something that aligns with my values and my perspective."
"Oh."
Zoro shakes his head. "But I am a big fan of a life partner."
"Oh."
"And if you're okay with that," he continues, his voice growing lower, quieter. "Then we can pick up where we left off."
Sanji wraps a hand around Zoro's wrist, but he makes no move to remove it from holding his face. Once, he thinks, he saw a future for himself that involved marrying a beautiful woman and making her as happy as he possibly can. They'd settle down in some island, some town, some village. They'd have two kids, he'd shower them with unconditional love. He'd live happily ever after.
Now, he feels like that future doesn't fit with who he is and who he's continuing to become. He's a pirate and his captain is an Emperor of the Sea. He World Government, though they want all pirates dead, want the Straw Hats especially dead. Not every day is guaranteed and life is a thrill.
Life partners.
"Yeah---"
"And I don't want to be kicked off the bed every morning. Or whenever you decide to have a freak out."
Sanji rolls his eyes. "Fine."
Zoro raises an eyebrow. "Fine?"
Sanji nods. "Yes. I... I like the sound of life partners more. I like it because it's you."
He hears the swallow Zoro makes. And for a moment they both just watch each other, drinking each other in, taking everything in.
"Kiss me already," Sanji growls.
"Oh," Zoro murmurs, dropping his hand and leaning close. "I'll do more than that."
Wow, three amazing fics in three days? All in a row? What a treat!!
tehehehe yeah sorry im under a lot of stress and need somewhere to pour this energy to lol oh and also i found the treasure trove of prompts that is the 50 a softer world prompt-post in my likes so there’s that too ☺️☺️☺️
life is what happens while you're waiting for the sweet release of death
.
There once was a boy with an iron helmet over his head.
Four.
That's how many times it happens before Fuu comes up to him about it. Sanji feels like his skin will melt off his bones as he eyes the older lady's approach, sweat accumulating on his forehead and making his blond fringe stringy.
"Sanji," she starts, her voice soft yet firm. He tries very hard not to flinch. Her face is in that stage where wrinkles start to form and show her age. He finds her crows feet absolutely precious. "The kitchen staff have a concern."
Fuu isn't part of the kitchen staff. And she isn't part of the leadership branch on the Orbit, either. But she's something. Someone to go to when something needs to be addressed but no one wants the leaders coming around digging their noses where they don't belong. She's fair, the older kitchen crew say. She isn't easily swayed from the truth and she won't sugarcoat her words.
Sanji opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
Fuu looks at him with that carefully blank expression for just a moment. Just a brief moment. And then it disappears, like a mask shattering into pieces. There is a softness that Sanji hasn't had anyone gift him since his mother died and Reiju finally, finally had enough of standing by and watching the others torment him.
"Come here," Fuu says and grips his thin fingers when he's close enough. "You don't have to tell me. Or any of them. "
Sanji starts to shake.
It's been seven whole days since he escaped Germa. And any second now Judge will come for him. He's so sure of it. He can't relax, he can't settle down, he can't let anyone in.
And yet here this lady is, not knowing all Sanji's been subjected to yet assuring him it's all over now.
Sanji stiffens when he feels those hands come to rest on his shoulders. He knows the kitchen staff has sent Fuu to talk to him because he's flinched and shut down four different times upon seeing one of the line cooks raise their arms. To grab a pan, to grab a pot, to grab a spice Sanji can't reach. Each time it'd been something so simple and mundane and each time Sanji had thought it'd been a strike coming down on him for being weak and slow.
"It's alright now," Fuu tells him. "Whatever it was before, it's not here now. " She looks into his eyes. One of hers is starting to get milky, like she's losing sight. "I heard you want to learn how to cook."
Sanji opens his mouth again, but when he's unable to speak he nods his head. He clears his throat. "Yes."
Fuu smiles. "Good. I'm sure Haru would love to teach you some things."
She reaches for his head. A test, maybe.
No.
He has to stop seeing things like that, if he wants to move on in life. Sanji inhales deeply, wills himself not to flinch away.
Fuu pats his head affectionately.
The blood on the weather-worn rocks is dry, chipping off in flakes and being taken by the wind. It's always windy here, in the middle of nowhere with nothing to conceal them from the elements.
Sanji's skin is pink and raw. His eyes are always dry and his hair is greasy and tangled. He stands to the side, his hands clenching closed and snapping open a few times. Like his heart beat as it pumps a consistent, loud beat.
Licking his lips stings but a sick part of him welcomes the pain. It's better to focus on it than on the knot sealing the trunk of what's left of the old bastard's leg.
"Your leg," he finally manages to say. His voice a garbled mess from disuse. At the beginning, he'd talk out loud to himself. He ran out of things to say very quickly. He repeats, "Your leg."
The old man sucks at his teeth and looks away. His dirty blond hair is as tangled as Sanji's and his impressive moustache droops, the bows at the end of the braids gone and in their place simple knots. His cheeks are sunken and his skin is paler than Sanji thinks it's supposed to be.
"You don't have any food," he says.
The anger he feels has no real target. He's angry at the world, at this fucked up life he's been given. What has he possibly done to deserve any of this? It's like being in Germa all over again, his brothers torturing him and his father gleefully allowing it all to happen.
The world hates him.
And he hates the world right back.
"I don't," Zeff says, resignation thick in his voice.
"You ate your leg."
Zeff finally spares him a single glance. His eyes are a different shade of blue than Sanji's, more mixed with green than orange and gold like his are.
"I did."
Sanji feels himself teeter at a precipice. Over the edge is fury and behind that, he does not know what sort of feeling lies in wait because Sanji falls and rage takes over.
"Why," he screams. "Why would you do that for someone you don't even know?! Why did you give me all the food?! I didn't deserve any of that!"
He is a failure.
He is weak.
He is worthless.
He screams until his throat goes raw. His voice cracks and the way his body convulses in its search for air makes Sanji dizzy. He wheezes, placing a hand over the rocks that serve to separate Sanji's side of the cliff from Zeff's.
"You done?" the old man drawls, looking at him with a blank expression. His bushy eyebrows start to furrow, looking Sanji up and down. Maybe realizing how pointless his sacrifice had been. "You ate all the food?"
Sanji grits his teeth but says nothing.
Zeff nods all the same.
Sanji wonders if drowning will be painful. And then he thinks he's so weak he's even afraid to die.
"I believe in the All Blue too." A pause. Sanji's breath stutters. "She's out there. I know it."
The safest Sanji's ever felt is in pitch darkness, the sea roaring around him, the ground the hardest bed he's ever had. Curled up into Zeff's hard side as he screams and sobs in sadness, in fear, in anger.
But he endures.
A large hand drops on Sanji's head.
They're staying at an inn where Zeff has found a job in the kitchens. Turns out, the gold and jewels he had in his sack covered a little over half of the down-payment for his dream sea restaurant. The rest, he's working his ass off to get in this town.
Blinking, Sanji looks up.
Zeff is a giant. Not as tall as Judge, but tall all the same.
Sanji's begged to let him help with work but Zeff refuses. Instead, he's gone out and spent his dumb, stupid money on math books and the like with stupid problem solving questions. He doesn't want an idiot in his restaurant, he says, so he tasks Sanji with work to do while he's away.
"Your head's huge, little eggplant," he says. He's teasing him, Sanji's learned to understand. "Looks like we have a lot of work to do."
"Huh?"
"What, those workbooks got your brain fried?" Zeff raises a bushy eyebrow. He juts his chin in the direction of the small kitchenette. Zeff laments on how tiny it is and how little he's able to do in it, but it's their little kitchen and Sanji's learned a lot in there too. "Food, you little shit. We got to get food in that belly of yours so you can get strong enough to carry that big head."
"You're such an asshole," Sanji growls and Zeff's laugh is loud.
The look on Zeff's face when the Baratie is finished is the most precious thing Sanji has ever seen. He'll never, ever say it out loud and he'll never, ever mention it again.
But he tucks it somewhere safe. Somewhere near his healing heart where he'll carry it in silence forever.
Monkey D. Luffy's smile is blinding.
"I want you to join my crew," he says with a laugh. It's infectious and Sanji has to work hard to keep his own chuckle down his throat. "I want to eat your food every day!"
"Sorry," Sanji says. He's already decided long ago that he'll stay here forever to pay Zeff back for everything he's done for him. "I can't."
The old geezer doesn't know about this decision, and Sanji wants to keep it this way. He's everything but ungrateful and Zeff saved him from the world and from himself. He owes him everything.
He walks out the kitchens and to the lobby where people dine. There's a cacophony of chatter happening, like there always is on the Baratie. His eyes scan the place and land on a ragtag group of delinquents staring at the menu and looking troubled the further down the list they go.
He walks over, adjusting his suit-jacket as he goes.
There's a beautiful ginger sitting in between two idiots. She is the most beautiful woman he's seen in the last fifteen minutes. Her eyes are the color of copper and her freckles are like kisses from the stars.
To her right sits a boy with curls hiding under a hat, sweating buckets at the menu or perhaps at what the other guy sitting across from him is muttering. That guy has stupid green hair sticking up in unruly spikes, full lips parted as he speaks under his breath.
When he looks up, gray eyes finding him instantly, Sanji grits his teeth.
He'll kick him, he thinks.
Except, later that same gray-eyed, green-haired idiot just about dies in front of his old man's restaurant. Sanji can't help but scream at him to give up on his ambition.
What good is it, if it gets you killed?
"Zoro!"
Sanji looks at Luffy's expression. It's a cross of agony, of fear, of shock like he'd never once thought Zoro could be defeated. Angry at himself for doing so, he kicks his shoes off and runs to chase after the fool down into the sea.
What good is your ambition if it gets you killed?
It's a thought that Sanji continues to ponder over for the next 48 hours. There's a voice in his head that tells him he's grown comfortable here, that he's forgotten his dreams, that he'll whither away and become nothing. It strangely sounds a lot like Zeff but the real Zeff only glowers at him and says nothing.
Damn Luffy and his stupid idiot Marimo of a crewmate.
They've both come to wreck his peaceful life, uprooted him from the life he's chosen to live and have reminded him of how much more there is out there.
Out there.
Somewhere.
The All Blue continues to exist, hidden in some corner of the world, waiting to be found, waiting to be explored.
He closes his eyes, hands resting on the handrails as he smokes. He can't let those thoughts resurface. He's made up his mind. This is where he belongs.
He'll work here, live with Zeff and then take over whenever the old bastard dies or simply decides to retire. He'll go on food supply runs, he'll continue to make his own creations in his spare time and he'll fight with the old man because it's the only way he knows how to show how much he loves.
It'd been a decent life the first time he thought of it.
Now it feels brittle.
Every inch of his body aches after that fight with Don Krieg and his stupid pirate crew. Gin's sacrifice weighs heavy in his chest, like Luffy's stupid proposal and Zoro's stupid ambition.
He'd known who he wanted to be mere days ago. He'd known the life he was going to live. Now he feels like he's caught between a rock and a hard place, knowing what he's meant to do and what his true, undisclosed desires are.
"Don't catch a cold."
If it's embarrassing, Sanji doesn't feel a single ounce of it as he falls to his knees and bows forward until his forehead touches the deck. Tears of devotion and gratitude blur his blue eyes as he tries to swallow his sobs but seems to fail to do so.
"Zeff," he calls, remembering the sight of his missing leg back on that rock they'd been stuck on, remembering his laugh in the inn they'd called home for months, remembering that look when he first laid eyes on the finished Baratie. "I will never forget all you've done for me. Thank you for all you did for this stupid little eggplant!"
When he looks up, there are unshed tears in Zeff's eyes but his expression remains the same as he's always remembered it to be. Hard, lips in a downturn.
And yet.
Sanji's seen that expression in those green-blue eyes. Once---only once. When the Baratie was first unveiled to them and Zeff looked like it was the most precious thing in the world and it was all his.
He looks at Sanji like that now as they part ways for first and last time for how ever many years Sanji is destined to sail the seas. Like Sanji is the most precious being in the world and he is all Zeff's and to love someone is to let them go.
Sanji grits his teeth and turns away. It's now or never.
Zoro looks like he's dead on his feet.
His skin looks pale and clammy, sweat like second skin. His chest wound as reopened and the blood that spills is steady, covering his front.
His lips, when he speaks, are white and chapped. His eyes, when he spares Sanji a glance, are a little unfocused. "I can give you ten minutes."
Sanji opens his mouth to demand what the hell he's talking about. But it clicks, it makes sense. He looks at Zoro, really looks at him. A part of him wants to protest; he'll die if he leaves him here to face Arlong alone. But that's not important, is it?
He means, it is but it isn't. He knows what Zoro's priority is and though Sanji wants to stay and help him, he knows what his own priority should be. He grits his teeth and gives a firm nod.
In the next moment, he's running towards the water as the sharp song of blades echo behind him. A part of him hopes this is the right call, that Zoro will persevere and not only give him those ten minutes but also find a way to stay alive.
It'd be a damn shame if his first stint as part of the Straw Hats gets the captain's most devoted knight killed.
Later, after they've inevitably won.
The music is loud but not as loud as the laughter and the relief in the air. Lights twinkle like fireflies as Cocoyasi rejoices and celebrates their liberation from Arlong's dictatorship.
Sanji grins as he watches Luffy and Usopp dance with the villagers. They have absolutely no grace, either incapable or unwilling to follow the beat of the drums. It's the funniest thing he's witnessed in days, weeks even.
He continues to walk to his destination: an alleyway housing a sulky Marimo. Earlier in the day, he'd been screaming bloody murder while his chest wound got properly stitched up. Now, though he picks at them consistently, he wears fresh bandages across his chest.
Zoro sits with his legs crossed and his sword resting on his lap. As Sanji'd thought, the tankard of ale in his hand is just about empty and to avoid standing up and having to socialize, the silly Marimo just nurses the last dregs.
"Here," he says with a sigh as he sinks down next to him.
Zoro looks up from the ground he's studying and at the proffered booze. He raises an eyebrow for a moment but takes it, incapable of looking at a gift horse in the mouth.
Sanji is homesick and he knows that he will be for days and even weeks. He's expecting Zeff's yells but they never come and he's ready for one of Carne's snarky remarks but those are gone too. Instead, what he has now are four potential friends to make new habits and memories with.
He spares Zoro a glance from the corner of his eye.
"How's the wound?"
Zoro tilts his head to look at him, eyes half-lidded like he's bored or sleepy or both. "Fine."
Ah, Sanji thinks.
Of course the idiot that grabbed his attention is as chatty as a wet sock. He bites the inside of his cheek. The silence that falls between them is surprisingly comfortable. Zoro drinks his booze and Sanji's eyes shine as he drinks in the festivities happening in front of them.
Sanji's life of piracy is heavily detailed by the brief and stolen moments after a big fight. No one knows this of course, because all the world knows is the chaos he and the Straw Hats leave in their wake. But he thinks it's what he remembers the most. Like life continuing to happen in increments despite the greater picture.
In Little Garden.
The galley is quiet and a little dim as Sanji sews a thread through Zoro's tanned skin with a needle. The cuts on his ankles aren't as bad as the one on his chest, but they'd been deep like the idiot really did intend to cut his feet off.
He's no doctor, but he watched enough of the cooks take care of a cut from a knife to know what he's doing.
Zoro doesn't make a sound, his lips pressed tight as he stares at him work with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Idiot," Sanji mutters again. He pauses, the needle pinched in between the thumb and forefinger of one hand while he snatches his cigarette from his mouth with the other. He tilts his head to the side to exhale smoke. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
Zoro rolls his eyes, looking away from the half-shut cut on his ankle and to Sanji's blazing glare. His skin looks like caramel under this lighting. Outside, Sanji can hear the others laugh as they talk with Dorry and Brogy.
"I don't know, cook," Zoro finally drawls. "I guess I was thinking that I needed to get out of the wax to help Nami and Vivi. And I guess I was thinking of fighting those bastards. But I'm not too sure. I could have just wanted to cut my feet off for the shits and giggles."
"Don't be a little smartass," Sanji growls, pointing at him with his cigarette. "It doesn't suit you, damn moron."
Zoro's lip curls in a sneer and Sanji meets it head on with a nasty look of his own. Luffy's loud laugh from outside cuts through the hostility and both their faces soften to neutral expressions.
This close, Sanji notices the faint splatter of freckles on the apples of Zoro's cheeks. Golden, almost lost against his natural tan. He clears his throat and looks back down at his work.
"Don't do it again," he mutters, the back of his neck growing hot.
Zoro snorts, wiggling his toes just to piss Sanji off.
"We know it'll definitely happen again."
Sanji sighs. "Yeah."
In Skypea.
Sanji knows he still smells like burnt flesh and yet he pours every bit of his love into the meal the Sky people deserve after all this shit with Enel's fuck ass bullshit.
He watches them all eat the fruit of his labor, grinning at the looks of awe that each one of them has on their face after a bite.
The drums are loud and the percussion is sizzling. Sanji bites back a groan as he eases down into a sitting position, watching them dance around an enormous pit of fire. Luffy's there, of course. Luffy loves to dance. And not far behind is Usopp.
Nami is lost in the throng, but if he tries hard enough he can hear the tinkle of her laugh float and dissipate up in the sky, like smoke.
He hears boots on the broken pavement and he knows it's Zoro before he even looks up. A tankard of ale hovers in front of his face and Sanji shifts his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other with the tip of his tongue.
He follows the length of that tanned, muscled arm up to Zoro's face. He still has those dumb goggles resting on his head, just at his hairline and ruffling his growing green spikes. Sanji'd be lying if he said they weren't endearing.
"Are you gonna take it or not, shitty cook?"
Sanji grins, taking the tankard and allowing their fingers to brush despite the touch hurting his sensitive skin.
It's strong and bitter down his throat. Of course it is; Zoro likes the strong stuff, forgetting that not everyone has an iron-clad tolerance. But Sanji has always enjoyed a challenge and so he gulps down some more.
"You really let him burn all of you, huh?" Zoro mutters as he crouches down next to him. "Got a death wish?"
"Dont be a hypocrite," Sanji laughs, curly eyebrows raised. "Don't think I need a lecture from our suicidal houseplant."
When he looks over at him, Zoro's already staring.
In the middle of some stupid games.
"Cook," Zoro gasps, blood trickling down his nose, into his mouth, down his chin. His eyes are like hurricanes. Gray and wild. "Lend me a hand for ten minutes."
Sanji can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He thinks he has a couple of broken ribs and his ankle may or may not be sprained. Zoro doesn't look much better if by the way he rolls his wrist is anything to go by.
And yet a traitorous part of himself thinks he's never looked lovelier: covered in blood and blotched with upcoming bruises.
"Ten minutes?" he rasps, pulling a cigarette from his pack. "I think that's enough."
In Enies Lobby.
The buzz after everything that has happened is almost insufferable. Sanji almost wants to pick at his skin until it peels off. It's a feeling he hasn't felt in years, one he has not missed for a single moment.
He's restless.
He sits and he bounces his leg.
He stands and he paces.
He scratches on the inside of his elbow.
The Merry's gone, her voice still echoing in his head like a ghost. Robin almost got taken from them. Usopp's not part of the crew any more.
Everything's going to shit.
Everything is shit.
Sanj runs a hand through his blond hair and tugs. Just to see if he can. Just because he can. In moments of high anxiety and turmoil, he subconsciously falls back to old habits, hidden memories resurface for brief moments, like blinks, like the glow of fireflies they wink in and out of life.
"Cook?"
Zoro walks into the room. There's a nasty gash on his lower lip, red and alive. He's eyeing Sanji like he can pinpoint all the things wrong with him. When Zoro stops in front of him, Sanji thinks he's going to say something scathing, something that'll knot and twist Sanji's insides and get them going in a fight.
Instead, Zoro fishes something out of his pocket.
It's a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Both new.
"They..." Zoro clears his throat. "The other ones were ruined. In the water."
"Yeah," Sanji agrees, though Zoro hasn't said anything that needs agreeing to. He reaches over and accepts the gifts.
Zoro runs a hand through his hair. It's gotten longer, the spikes slicking back, looking rounder as they do. If that even makes sense---it makes sense to Sanji. With his movements, his earrings tinkle together and grab Sanji's attention. The golden bars sway for a moment until they grow still.
"Do you think Usopp will come back?" he asks, his voice a croak. It's his turn to clear his throat.
Zoro rubs at his jaw where a nasty bruise is still in the midst of blooming. His eyes are staring out the window where the sky is a clear blue and the sounds of Water Seven trickle in through the cracks.
"Yeah," he says. A moment later he tilts his head to look at him. "He will. When he's ready."
"Before we leave."
"Before we leave," Zoro agrees.
Sanji nods his head, hoping despite knowing that Zoro is right. He looks down at the pack of cigarettes; it's his favored brand. Something lodges itself in his throat. A part of him is afraid at being so perceived and yet there's another part, a bigger and stronger part that sings. At being noticed, at being known.
"Zoro, I---"
He sucks in air, eyes fluttering shut as he feels the press of Zoro's forehead against his, large hand cradling the back of his neck.
All of them almost died a few days ago. All of them have declared war against the World Government.
Sanji exhales a soft breath.
In Thriller Bark.
Sanji babbles to Zoro's prone body.
It's the only way he can keep the images away. The sight of him, a lone figured, battered and bruised, more blood than man, clinging to life by the thinnest thread. His glazed look. Distant and gone, so far fucking gone.
Chopper says he died for a moment. He'd been muttering to himself, the little guy, grief-stricken and so very afraid. Sanji'd heard him though.
And now he can't shake the thought. The feeling.
So he bargains.
If he wakes up, he'll make him more onigiri.
If he wakes up, he won't hide the sake.
If he wakes up, he'll be honest.
If he wakes up---
When he'd set out to join the Straw Hats and committed to finding the All Blue for both himself and Zeff, he'd never thought he'd be so afraid to lose someone the way he's afraid in this very moment that Zoro won't ever open is stupid gray eyes and be stupidly obnoxious.
"You're a bastard, you know," he whispers, hating that he always comes back to this very argument. Except it's not an argument because no one is fighting him back. "It should have been me. I'm the one that's so replaceable. You should have let me do it. Luffy needs you."
When Zoro wakes up and the crew showers him with tears and affections, fear dissipating like smoke, Sanji hangs back and watches from afar.
Blackleg Sanji as been through so much, too much, to have him stop and once again become afraid. He's in his place of birth, his once upon a prison and the man before him is no father of his.
He refuses to see him as his father.
His father has blue-green eyes and graying dirty-blond hair. An impressive moustache he once braided but now just chooses to tie silly little bows at the end to. He can cook absolutely anything in the world and he delivers a mean kick and, most importantly, he'd made Sanji feel loved.
He made Sanji feel wanted.
It'd planted a seed within him that's grown and grown and continues to grow up to this moment, leaving no room for doubt. If Zeff's love planted the seed, Luffy and the Straw Hats has consistently watered it, filling him with life and love and and the will to keep going. To dare anyone to tell him otherwise.
"And yet I can't let them die," he whispers, on his knees in front of Luffy's weak and starving body. "I can't leave them. I--"
"Shishishi," Luffy weakly laughs. "Of course you can't. It's who you are... You're the nicest person in the world."
Sanji looks at him, thoughts of how weak he is for wanting to save the very people that once hurt him to the point of wanting to die. And with such simple words, Luffy has made him feel like it's okay to want that.
That it's not a weakness.
It's a strength.
Luffy shifts, accepting the basket of food. Everyone in the crew's favorites because Sanji misses him more than air, more than rest, more than peace. He wants to go back home. He wants to be in the comfort of the galley where sometimes Robin keeps him company by reading a book while he cooks. Where Usopp comes and asks for something spicy. Where Nami sits in the shade of her tangerine trees and laughs so freely.
Back in the Sunny where Franky promises to add a new project to the kitchen, even if Sanji never asked, but he'll do it because he knows it'll make Sanji smile. Home, where Chopper tries to sing Bink's Brew while Brook plays the melody.
Home where Zoro is, always annoyed with him and yet always lingering, always at arm's reach.
"I want to go home," he tells Luffy. "But I have to save them first."
"Okay." Luffy's smile is blinding.
After the Raid, Sanji sits in one of the Palace's gardens.
Now that there's not an impending fight looming over him, he closes his eyes and relishes in the warmth of the Flower Capital's warm weather. It's quiet here, because the palace is big enough that wherever the others are, being rowdy and loud and full of celebration, he can't hear them.
It's been hell, he thinks, to wonder if he's susceptible to become like his siblings. Unfeeling, unforgiving. But worse of all, it's been hell to feel like his mother's sacrifice had been all for nothing. That she'd shortened her life for absolutely nothing, when she could have stayed alive and by his side.
And yet what kind of life would that have been? To stay in Germa, with Judge on his children, with his mother as his shield from the horrors they'd always wanted to subject to him.
He would have never met Zeff.
He would have never met Luffy or the Straw Hats.
He would have never seen as much of the world as he has.
He would have never met---
"Cook."
Zoro.
Sanji swallows, listening to the rustle of Zoro's yukata as he sinks down next to him. He knows he's found him by pure chance, that Zoro's lack of direction still rings true even now. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.
"Marimo--"
"Cook--"
Sanji snorts, opening his eyes to look at his counterpart with a wry expression. Zoro should really be wearing his bandages but it seems like he's picked them off again. Chopper will have an aneurysm.
"Go ahead," Sanji says, waving a hand.
For all that he thinks he knows Zoro, he seems to have gotten something wrong. He'd thought he'd find a furious Zoro unwilling to accept him back in the crew, the way it'd been with Usopp years ago. He'd thought that Zoro would be disgusted at the sight of him.
Granted they'd been in the middle of an oncoming war, but even now after it's all over Zoro looks at him like he's the answer to a question Sanji isn't aware of.
"About that call," Zoro starts and Sanji shakes his head.
"I'm being honest," he says, shifting so he's facing the Marimo. "It's not necessary anymore. In the moment, I felt like I was going to lose myself."
Zoro looks at him, features still ashen after another near death experience. In this silence Sanji thinks he can almost hear Lady Hiyori's shamisen.
"And now?"
Sanji licks his lower lip, wishing he'd pocketed his pack of cigarettes before he left his room earlier. "Now, I think I'm well on my way to understanding a lot of things."
Zoro hums and looks away from him. His hair is grown again, messily brushed back, tuffs falling over his forehead. His yukata is a deep emerald that compliments his caramel-colored skin.
"I'll still do it," Zoro finally says, his voice low and soft. "If I need to."
"I know." A part of Sanji knows he wouldn't want it any other way. He looks down at the soft grass under them, to where Zoro's hand rests, his fingers spread.
Sanji's heartbeat sings and his nerves are fleeting. He reaches over, touches Zoro's hand. He's warm, is the first thing he thinks. They both use their hands to do the things they love, is the second.
He'd like to kiss him, is the third.
Zoro's jaw twitches before he turns his head to look at him. The apple of his cheeks are splotched red and it's so lovely, how it brings out those freckles.
Sanji leans forward.
This boy doesn't live happily ever after. But he seems to be well on his way. After all, his story doesn't seem to be over just yet.
life is what happens while you're waiting for the sweet release of death
.
There once was a boy with an iron helmet over his head.
Four.
That's how many times it happens before Fuu comes up to him about it. Sanji feels like his skin will melt off his bones as he eyes the older lady's approach, sweat accumulating on his forehead and making his blond fringe stringy.
"Sanji," she starts, her voice soft yet firm. He tries very hard not to flinch. Her face is in that stage where wrinkles start to form and show her age. He finds her crows feet absolutely precious. "The kitchen staff have a concern."
Fuu isn't part of the kitchen staff. And she isn't part of the leadership branch on the Orbit, either. But she's something. Someone to go to when something needs to be addressed but no one wants the leaders coming around digging their noses where they don't belong. She's fair, the older kitchen crew say. She isn't easily swayed from the truth and she won't sugarcoat her words.
Sanji opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
Fuu looks at him with that carefully blank expression for just a moment. Just a brief moment. And then it disappears, like a mask shattering into pieces. There is a softness that Sanji hasn't had anyone gift him since his mother died and Reiju finally, finally had enough of standing by and watching the others torment him.
"Come here," Fuu says and grips his thin fingers when he's close enough. "You don't have to tell me. Or any of them. "
Sanji starts to shake.
It's been seven whole days since he escaped Germa. And any second now Judge will come for him. He's so sure of it. He can't relax, he can't settle down, he can't let anyone in.
And yet here this lady is, not knowing all Sanji's been subjected to yet assuring him it's all over now.
Sanji stiffens when he feels those hands come to rest on his shoulders. He knows the kitchen staff has sent Fuu to talk to him because he's flinched and shut down four different times upon seeing one of the line cooks raise their arms. To grab a pan, to grab a pot, to grab a spice Sanji can't reach. Each time it'd been something so simple and mundane and each time Sanji had thought it'd been a strike coming down on him for being weak and slow.
"It's alright now," Fuu tells him. "Whatever it was before, it's not here now. " She looks into his eyes. One of hers is starting to get milky, like she's losing sight. "I heard you want to learn how to cook."
Sanji opens his mouth again, but when he's unable to speak he nods his head. He clears his throat. "Yes."
Fuu smiles. "Good. I'm sure Haru would love to teach you some things."
She reaches for his head. A test, maybe.
No.
He has to stop seeing things like that, if he wants to move on in life. Sanji inhales deeply, wills himself not to flinch away.
Fuu pats his head affectionately.
The blood on the weather-worn rocks is dry, chipping off in flakes and being taken by the wind. It's always windy here, in the middle of nowhere with nothing to conceal them from the elements.
Sanji's skin is pink and raw. His eyes are always dry and his hair is greasy and tangled. He stands to the side, his hands clenching closed and snapping open a few times. Like his heart beat as it pumps a consistent, loud beat.
Licking his lips stings but a sick part of him welcomes the pain. It's better to focus on it than on the knot sealing the trunk of what's left of the old bastard's leg.
"Your leg," he finally manages to say. His voice a garbled mess from disuse. At the beginning, he'd talk out loud to himself. He ran out of things to say very quickly. He repeats, "Your leg."
The old man sucks at his teeth and looks away. His dirty blond hair is as tangled as Sanji's and his impressive moustache droops, the bows at the end of the braids gone and in their place simple knots. His cheeks are sunken and his skin is paler than Sanji thinks it's supposed to be.
"You don't have any food," he says.
The anger he feels has no real target. He's angry at the world, at this fucked up life he's been given. What has he possibly done to deserve any of this? It's like being in Germa all over again, his brothers torturing him and his father gleefully allowing it all to happen.
The world hates him.
And he hates the world right back.
"I don't," Zeff says, resignation thick in his voice.
"You ate your leg."
Zeff finally spares him a single glance. His eyes are a different shade of blue than Sanji's, more mixed with green than orange and gold like his are.
"I did."
Sanji feels himself teeter at a precipice. Over the edge is fury and behind that, he does not know what sort of feeling lies in wait because Sanji falls and rage takes over.
"Why," he screams. "Why would you do that for someone you don't even know?! Why did you give me all the food?! I didn't deserve any of that!"
He is a failure.
He is weak.
He is worthless.
He screams until his throat goes raw. His voice cracks and the way his body convulses in its search for air makes Sanji dizzy. He wheezes, placing a hand over the rocks that serve to separate Sanji's side of the cliff from Zeff's.
"You done?" the old man drawls, looking at him with a blank expression. His bushy eyebrows start to furrow, looking Sanji up and down. Maybe realizing how pointless his sacrifice had been. "You ate all the food?"
Sanji grits his teeth but says nothing.
Zeff nods all the same.
Sanji wonders if drowning will be painful. And then he thinks he's so weak he's even afraid to die.
"I believe in the All Blue too." A pause. Sanji's breath stutters. "She's out there. I know it."
The safest Sanji's ever felt is in pitch darkness, the sea roaring around him, the ground the hardest bed he's ever had. Curled up into Zeff's hard side as he screams and sobs in sadness, in fear, in anger.
But he endures.
A large hand drops on Sanji's head.
They're staying at an inn where Zeff has found a job in the kitchens. Turns out, the gold and jewels he had in his sack covered a little over half of the down-payment for his dream sea restaurant. The rest, he's working his ass off to get in this town.
Blinking, Sanji looks up.
Zeff is a giant. Not as tall as Judge, but tall all the same.
Sanji's begged to let him help with work but Zeff refuses. Instead, he's gone out and spent his dumb, stupid money on math books and the like with stupid problem solving questions. He doesn't want an idiot in his restaurant, he says, so he tasks Sanji with work to do while he's away.
"Your head's huge, little eggplant," he says. He's teasing him, Sanji's learned to understand. "Looks like we have a lot of work to do."
"Huh?"
"What, those workbooks got your brain fried?" Zeff raises a bushy eyebrow. He juts his chin in the direction of the small kitchenette. Zeff laments on how tiny it is and how little he's able to do in it, but it's their little kitchen and Sanji's learned a lot in there too. "Food, you little shit. We got to get food in that belly of yours so you can get strong enough to carry that big head."
"You're such an asshole," Sanji growls and Zeff's laugh is loud.
The look on Zeff's face when the Baratie is finished is the most precious thing Sanji has ever seen. He'll never, ever say it out loud and he'll never, ever mention it again.
But he tucks it somewhere safe. Somewhere near his healing heart where he'll carry it in silence forever.
Monkey D. Luffy's smile is blinding.
"I want you to join my crew," he says with a laugh. It's infectious and Sanji has to work hard to keep his own chuckle down his throat. "I want to eat your food every day!"
"Sorry," Sanji says. He's already decided long ago that he'll stay here forever to pay Zeff back for everything he's done for him. "I can't."
The old geezer doesn't know about this decision, and Sanji wants to keep it this way. He's everything but ungrateful and Zeff saved him from the world and from himself. He owes him everything.
He walks out the kitchens and to the lobby where people dine. There's a cacophony of chatter happening, like there always is on the Baratie. His eyes scan the place and land on a ragtag group of delinquents staring at the menu and looking troubled the further down the list they go.
He walks over, adjusting his suit-jacket as he goes.
There's a beautiful ginger sitting in between two idiots. She is the most beautiful woman he's seen in the last fifteen minutes. Her eyes are the color of copper and her freckles are like kisses from the stars.
To her right sits a boy with curls hiding under a hat, sweating buckets at the menu or perhaps at what the other guy sitting across from him is muttering. That guy has stupid green hair sticking up in unruly spikes, full lips parted as he speaks under his breath.
When he looks up, gray eyes finding him instantly, Sanji grits his teeth.
He'll kick him, he thinks.
Except, later that same gray-eyed, green-haired idiot just about dies in front of his old man's restaurant. Sanji can't help but scream at him to give up on his ambition.
What good is it, if it gets you killed?
"Zoro!"
Sanji looks at Luffy's expression. It's a cross of agony, of fear, of shock like he'd never once thought Zoro could be defeated. Angry at himself for doing so, he kicks his shoes off and runs to chase after the fool down into the sea.
What good is your ambition if it gets you killed?
It's a thought that Sanji continues to ponder over for the next 48 hours. There's a voice in his head that tells him he's grown comfortable here, that he's forgotten his dreams, that he'll whither away and become nothing. It strangely sounds a lot like Zeff but the real Zeff only glowers at him and says nothing.
Damn Luffy and his stupid idiot Marimo of a crewmate.
They've both come to wreck his peaceful life, uprooted him from the life he's chosen to live and have reminded him of how much more there is out there.
Out there.
Somewhere.
The All Blue continues to exist, hidden in some corner of the world, waiting to be found, waiting to be explored.
He closes his eyes, hands resting on the handrails as he smokes. He can't let those thoughts resurface. He's made up his mind. This is where he belongs.
He'll work here, live with Zeff and then take over whenever the old bastard dies or simply decides to retire. He'll go on food supply runs, he'll continue to make his own creations in his spare time and he'll fight with the old man because it's the only way he knows how to show how much he loves.
It'd been a decent life the first time he thought of it.
Now it feels brittle.
Every inch of his body aches after that fight with Don Krieg and his stupid pirate crew. Gin's sacrifice weighs heavy in his chest, like Luffy's stupid proposal and Zoro's stupid ambition.
He'd known who he wanted to be mere days ago. He'd known the life he was going to live. Now he feels like he's caught between a rock and a hard place, knowing what he's meant to do and what his true, undisclosed desires are.
"Don't catch a cold."
If it's embarrassing, Sanji doesn't feel a single ounce of it as he falls to his knees and bows forward until his forehead touches the deck. Tears of devotion and gratitude blur his blue eyes as he tries to swallow his sobs but seems to fail to do so.
"Zeff," he calls, remembering the sight of his missing leg back on that rock they'd been stuck on, remembering his laugh in the inn they'd called home for months, remembering that look when he first laid eyes on the finished Baratie. "I will never forget all you've done for me. Thank you for all you did for this stupid little eggplant!"
When he looks up, there are unshed tears in Zeff's eyes but his expression remains the same as he's always remembered it to be. Hard, lips in a downturn.
And yet.
Sanji's seen that expression in those green-blue eyes. Once---only once. When the Baratie was first unveiled to them and Zeff looked like it was the most precious thing in the world and it was all his.
He looks at Sanji like that now as they part ways for first and last time for how ever many years Sanji is destined to sail the seas. Like Sanji is the most precious being in the world and he is all Zeff's and to love someone is to let them go.
Sanji grits his teeth and turns away. It's now or never.
Zoro looks like he's dead on his feet.
His skin looks pale and clammy, sweat like second skin. His chest wound as reopened and the blood that spills is steady, covering his front.
His lips, when he speaks, are white and chapped. His eyes, when he spares Sanji a glance, are a little unfocused. "I can give you ten minutes."
Sanji opens his mouth to demand what the hell he's talking about. But it clicks, it makes sense. He looks at Zoro, really looks at him. A part of him wants to protest; he'll die if he leaves him here to face Arlong alone. But that's not important, is it?
He means, it is but it isn't. He knows what Zoro's priority is and though Sanji wants to stay and help him, he knows what his own priority should be. He grits his teeth and gives a firm nod.
In the next moment, he's running towards the water as the sharp song of blades echo behind him. A part of him hopes this is the right call, that Zoro will persevere and not only give him those ten minutes but also find a way to stay alive.
It'd be a damn shame if his first stint as part of the Straw Hats gets the captain's most devoted knight killed.
Later, after they've inevitably won.
The music is loud but not as loud as the laughter and the relief in the air. Lights twinkle like fireflies as Cocoyasi rejoices and celebrates their liberation from Arlong's dictatorship.
Sanji grins as he watches Luffy and Usopp dance with the villagers. They have absolutely no grace, either incapable or unwilling to follow the beat of the drums. It's the funniest thing he's witnessed in days, weeks even.
He continues to walk to his destination: an alleyway housing a sulky Marimo. Earlier in the day, he'd been screaming bloody murder while his chest wound got properly stitched up. Now, though he picks at them consistently, he wears fresh bandages across his chest.
Zoro sits with his legs crossed and his sword resting on his lap. As Sanji'd thought, the tankard of ale in his hand is just about empty and to avoid standing up and having to socialize, the silly Marimo just nurses the last dregs.
"Here," he says with a sigh as he sinks down next to him.
Zoro looks up from the ground he's studying and at the proffered booze. He raises an eyebrow for a moment but takes it, incapable of looking at a gift horse in the mouth.
Sanji is homesick and he knows that he will be for days and even weeks. He's expecting Zeff's yells but they never come and he's ready for one of Carne's snarky remarks but those are gone too. Instead, what he has now are four potential friends to make new habits and memories with.
He spares Zoro a glance from the corner of his eye.
"How's the wound?"
Zoro tilts his head to look at him, eyes half-lidded like he's bored or sleepy or both. "Fine."
Ah, Sanji thinks.
Of course the idiot that grabbed his attention is as chatty as a wet sock. He bites the inside of his cheek. The silence that falls between them is surprisingly comfortable. Zoro drinks his booze and Sanji's eyes shine as he drinks in the festivities happening in front of them.
Sanji's life of piracy is heavily detailed by the brief and stolen moments after a big fight. No one knows this of course, because all the world knows is the chaos he and the Straw Hats leave in their wake. But he thinks it's what he remembers the most. Like life continuing to happen in increments despite the greater picture.
In Little Garden.
The galley is quiet and a little dim as Sanji sews a thread through Zoro's tanned skin with a needle. The cuts on his ankles aren't as bad as the one on his chest, but they'd been deep like the idiot really did intend to cut his feet off.
He's no doctor, but he watched enough of the cooks take care of a cut from a knife to know what he's doing.
Zoro doesn't make a sound, his lips pressed tight as he stares at him work with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Idiot," Sanji mutters again. He pauses, the needle pinched in between the thumb and forefinger of one hand while he snatches his cigarette from his mouth with the other. He tilts his head to the side to exhale smoke. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
Zoro rolls his eyes, looking away from the half-shut cut on his ankle and to Sanji's blazing glare. His skin looks like caramel under this lighting. Outside, Sanji can hear the others laugh as they talk with Dorry and Brogy.
"I don't know, cook," Zoro finally drawls. "I guess I was thinking that I needed to get out of the wax to help Nami and Vivi. And I guess I was thinking of fighting those bastards. But I'm not too sure. I could have just wanted to cut my feet off for the shits and giggles."
"Don't be a little smartass," Sanji growls, pointing at him with his cigarette. "It doesn't suit you, damn moron."
Zoro's lip curls in a sneer and Sanji meets it head on with a nasty look of his own. Luffy's loud laugh from outside cuts through the hostility and both their faces soften to neutral expressions.
This close, Sanji notices the faint splatter of freckles on the apples of Zoro's cheeks. Golden, almost lost against his natural tan. He clears his throat and looks back down at his work.
"Don't do it again," he mutters, the back of his neck growing hot.
Zoro snorts, wiggling his toes just to piss Sanji off.
"We know it'll definitely happen again."
Sanji sighs. "Yeah."
In Skypea.
Sanji knows he still smells like burnt flesh and yet he pours every bit of his love into the meal the Sky people deserve after all this shit with Enel's fuck ass bullshit.
He watches them all eat the fruit of his labor, grinning at the looks of awe that each one of them has on their face after a bite.
The drums are loud and the percussion is sizzling. Sanji bites back a groan as he eases down into a sitting position, watching them dance around an enormous pit of fire. Luffy's there, of course. Luffy loves to dance. And not far behind is Usopp.
Nami is lost in the throng, but if he tries hard enough he can hear the tinkle of her laugh float and dissipate up in the sky, like smoke.
He hears boots on the broken pavement and he knows it's Zoro before he even looks up. A tankard of ale hovers in front of his face and Sanji shifts his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other with the tip of his tongue.
He follows the length of that tanned, muscled arm up to Zoro's face. He still has those dumb goggles resting on his head, just at his hairline and ruffling his growing green spikes. Sanji'd be lying if he said they weren't endearing.
"Are you gonna take it or not, shitty cook?"
Sanji grins, taking the tankard and allowing their fingers to brush despite the touch hurting his sensitive skin.
It's strong and bitter down his throat. Of course it is; Zoro likes the strong stuff, forgetting that not everyone has an iron-clad tolerance. But Sanji has always enjoyed a challenge and so he gulps down some more.
"You really let him burn all of you, huh?" Zoro mutters as he crouches down next to him. "Got a death wish?"
"Dont be a hypocrite," Sanji laughs, curly eyebrows raised. "Don't think I need a lecture from our suicidal houseplant."
When he looks over at him, Zoro's already staring.
In the middle of some stupid games.
"Cook," Zoro gasps, blood trickling down his nose, into his mouth, down his chin. His eyes are like hurricanes. Gray and wild. "Lend me a hand for ten minutes."
Sanji can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He thinks he has a couple of broken ribs and his ankle may or may not be sprained. Zoro doesn't look much better if by the way he rolls his wrist is anything to go by.
And yet a traitorous part of himself thinks he's never looked lovelier: covered in blood and blotched with upcoming bruises.
"Ten minutes?" he rasps, pulling a cigarette from his pack. "I think that's enough."
In Enies Lobby.
The buzz after everything that has happened is almost insufferable. Sanji almost wants to pick at his skin until it peels off. It's a feeling he hasn't felt in years, one he has not missed for a single moment.
He's restless.
He sits and he bounces his leg.
He stands and he paces.
He scratches on the inside of his elbow.
The Merry's gone, her voice still echoing in his head like a ghost. Robin almost got taken from them. Usopp's not part of the crew any more.
Everything's going to shit.
Everything is shit.
Sanj runs a hand through his blond hair and tugs. Just to see if he can. Just because he can. In moments of high anxiety and turmoil, he subconsciously falls back to old habits, hidden memories resurface for brief moments, like blinks, like the glow of fireflies they wink in and out of life.
"Cook?"
Zoro walks into the room. There's a nasty gash on his lower lip, red and alive. He's eyeing Sanji like he can pinpoint all the things wrong with him. When Zoro stops in front of him, Sanji thinks he's going to say something scathing, something that'll knot and twist Sanji's insides and get them going in a fight.
Instead, Zoro fishes something out of his pocket.
It's a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Both new.
"They..." Zoro clears his throat. "The other ones were ruined. In the water."
"Yeah," Sanji agrees, though Zoro hasn't said anything that needs agreeing to. He reaches over and accepts the gifts.
Zoro runs a hand through his hair. It's gotten longer, the spikes slicking back, looking rounder as they do. If that even makes sense---it makes sense to Sanji. With his movements, his earrings tinkle together and grab Sanji's attention. The golden bars sway for a moment until they grow still.
"Do you think Usopp will come back?" he asks, his voice a croak. It's his turn to clear his throat.
Zoro rubs at his jaw where a nasty bruise is still in the midst of blooming. His eyes are staring out the window where the sky is a clear blue and the sounds of Water Seven trickle in through the cracks.
"Yeah," he says. A moment later he tilts his head to look at him. "He will. When he's ready."
"Before we leave."
"Before we leave," Zoro agrees.
Sanji nods his head, hoping despite knowing that Zoro is right. He looks down at the pack of cigarettes; it's his favored brand. Something lodges itself in his throat. A part of him is afraid at being so perceived and yet there's another part, a bigger and stronger part that sings. At being noticed, at being known.
"Zoro, I---"
He sucks in air, eyes fluttering shut as he feels the press of Zoro's forehead against his, large hand cradling the back of his neck.
All of them almost died a few days ago. All of them have declared war against the World Government.
Sanji exhales a soft breath.
In Thriller Bark.
Sanji babbles to Zoro's prone body.
It's the only way he can keep the images away. The sight of him, a lone figured, battered and bruised, more blood than man, clinging to life by the thinnest thread. His glazed look. Distant and gone, so far fucking gone.
Chopper says he died for a moment. He'd been muttering to himself, the little guy, grief-stricken and so very afraid. Sanji'd heard him though.
And now he can't shake the thought. The feeling.
So he bargains.
If he wakes up, he'll make him more onigiri.
If he wakes up, he won't hide the sake.
If he wakes up, he'll be honest.
If he wakes up---
When he'd set out to join the Straw Hats and committed to finding the All Blue for both himself and Zeff, he'd never thought he'd be so afraid to lose someone the way he's afraid in this very moment that Zoro won't ever open is stupid gray eyes and be stupidly obnoxious.
"You're a bastard, you know," he whispers, hating that he always comes back to this very argument. Except it's not an argument because no one is fighting him back. "It should have been me. I'm the one that's so replaceable. You should have let me do it. Luffy needs you."
When Zoro wakes up and the crew showers him with tears and affections, fear dissipating like smoke, Sanji hangs back and watches from afar.
Blackleg Sanji as been through so much, too much, to have him stop and once again become afraid. He's in his place of birth, his once upon a prison and the man before him is no father of his.
He refuses to see him as his father.
His father has blue-green eyes and graying dirty-blond hair. An impressive moustache he once braided but now just chooses to tie silly little bows at the end to. He can cook absolutely anything in the world and he delivers a mean kick and, most importantly, he'd made Sanji feel loved.
He made Sanji feel wanted.
It'd planted a seed within him that's grown and grown and continues to grow up to this moment, leaving no room for doubt. If Zeff's love planted the seed, Luffy and the Straw Hats has consistently watered it, filling him with life and love and and the will to keep going. To dare anyone to tell him otherwise.
"And yet I can't let them die," he whispers, on his knees in front of Luffy's weak and starving body. "I can't leave them. I--"
"Shishishi," Luffy weakly laughs. "Of course you can't. It's who you are... You're the nicest person in the world."
Sanji looks at him, thoughts of how weak he is for wanting to save the very people that once hurt him to the point of wanting to die. And with such simple words, Luffy has made him feel like it's okay to want that.
That it's not a weakness.
It's a strength.
Luffy shifts, accepting the basket of food. Everyone in the crew's favorites because Sanji misses him more than air, more than rest, more than peace. He wants to go back home. He wants to be in the comfort of the galley where sometimes Robin keeps him company by reading a book while he cooks. Where Usopp comes and asks for something spicy. Where Nami sits in the shade of her tangerine trees and laughs so freely.
Back in the Sunny where Franky promises to add a new project to the kitchen, even if Sanji never asked, but he'll do it because he knows it'll make Sanji smile. Home, where Chopper tries to sing Bink's Brew while Brook plays the melody.
Home where Zoro is, always annoyed with him and yet always lingering, always at arm's reach.
"I want to go home," he tells Luffy. "But I have to save them first."
"Okay." Luffy's smile is blinding.
After the Raid, Sanji sits in one of the Palace's gardens.
Now that there's not an impending fight looming over him, he closes his eyes and relishes in the warmth of the Flower Capital's warm weather. It's quiet here, because the palace is big enough that wherever the others are, being rowdy and loud and full of celebration, he can't hear them.
It's been hell, he thinks, to wonder if he's susceptible to become like his siblings. Unfeeling, unforgiving. But worse of all, it's been hell to feel like his mother's sacrifice had been all for nothing. That she'd shortened her life for absolutely nothing, when she could have stayed alive and by his side.
And yet what kind of life would that have been? To stay in Germa, with Judge and his children, with his mother as his shield from the horrors they'd always wanted to subject to him.
He would have never met Zeff.
He would have never met Luffy or the Straw Hats.
He would have never seen as much of the world as he has.
He would have never met---
"Cook."
Zoro.
Sanji swallows, listening to the rustle of Zoro's yukata as he sinks down next to him. He knows he's found him by pure chance, that Zoro's lack of direction still rings true even now. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.
"Marimo--"
"Cook--"
Sanji snorts, opening his eyes to look at his counterpart with a wry expression. Zoro should really be wearing his bandages but it seems like he's picked them off again. Chopper will have an aneurysm.
"Go ahead," Sanji says, waving a hand.
For all that he thinks he knows Zoro, he seems to have gotten something wrong. He'd thought he'd find a furious Zoro unwilling to accept him back in the crew, the way it'd been with Usopp years ago. He'd thought that Zoro would be disgusted at the sight of him.
Granted they'd been in the middle of an oncoming war, but even now after it's all over Zoro looks at him like he's the answer to a question Sanji isn't aware of.
"About that call," Zoro starts and Sanji shakes his head.
"I'm being honest," he says, shifting so he's facing the Marimo. "It's not necessary anymore. In the moment, I felt like I was going to lose myself."
Zoro looks at him, features still ashen after another near death experience. In this silence Sanji thinks he can almost hear Lady Hiyori's shamisen.
"And now?"
Sanji licks his lower lip, wishing he'd pocketed his pack of cigarettes before he left his room earlier. "Now, I think I'm well on my way to understanding a lot of things."
Zoro hums and looks away from him. His hair has grown again, messily brushed back, tuffs falling over his forehead. His yukata is a deep emerald that compliments his caramel-colored skin.
"I'll still do it," Zoro finally says, his voice low and soft. "If I need to."
"I know." A part of Sanji knows he wouldn't want it any other way. He looks down at the soft grass under them, to where Zoro's hand rests, his fingers spread.
Sanji's heartbeat sings and his nerves are fleeting. He reaches over, touches Zoro's hand. He's warm, is the first thing he thinks. They both use their hands to do the things they love, is the second.
He'd like to kiss him, is the third.
Zoro's jaw twitches before he turns his head to look at him. The apple of his cheeks are splotched red and it's so lovely, how it brings out those freckles.
Sanji leans forward.
This boy doesn't live happily ever after. But he seems to be well on his way. After all, his story doesn't seem to be over just yet.
We are terrible for each other, and, yes, we are a disaster. But tell me your heart doesn’t race for a hurricane or a burning building. I’d rather die terrified than live forever. (mistakes aren’t always regrets)
.
Zoro's breathing is stuttered and wet.
Every cell in Sanji's body vibrates as he walks through a random door he's picked of the many in this long hall. A candle burns, the single light dim and low, painting the room copper and gold.
His footsteps echo as he walks further in, his acute hearing picking up the drop of water from a leak somewhere. It makes the room damp. Makes it smell like mildew, like wet rust. And yet, the chaos happening on the other side of the door has muffled, like Sanji has walked into a different dimension upon entering this room.
Zoro sucks in air and starts to choke a bit.
Fuck, Sanji's been here before.
It's tattooed in the back of his eyelids: a circumference of blood, Zoro more wounds than man, his eyes distant, his heart slowing to a stop. Nothing happened.
"Fuck you," Sanji whispers as he sets him down on a flat surface.
He hyper focuses on his chest, waiting to see it rise and fall, waiting to see him breathe. Waiting to see he's still alive.
"C'mon, you selfish bastard."
"Are you... checking me out?"
Sanji jumps back, blue eyes wide as he shifts to look at Zoro's face. His eye is glazed with pain, his lips chapped and bleeding. Sanji'd tried to wipe his face from the blood that covered every bit of his tanned skin just before he started to bandage his head wound. Now, he looks mildly ridiculous with a thick crown of bandages, golden skin turned pink.
"Don't be a prick," Sanji grouses, a sneer curling his thin lips. "I was making sure you were breathing."
"Right," the mosshead sighs. Speaking must be torture for him right now. And yet he won't shut up. "Sure you were."
"You're fucking half-dead," Sanji says, hoping to all hell that the fear that clogs his throat is as well hidden as he thinks it is. "You don't get to make jokes, bastard."
Zoro doesn't say anything, his eye fluttering shut again. It must be uncomfortable: he has dried blood caking his thick eyelashes, clumping them together. Sanji bites at the inside of his cheek, eyes drifting down to his chest, to see it rise, to see it fall, to see him breathe.
It's so faint, but it's there.
"I've been here before," he starts, voicing his earlier thought. What happened in Thriller Bark is a secret he will take to the grave because it's how the mosshead wants it. He knows a few others know, but Sanji is sure that Robin and Lola's crew, wherever they may be, will keep it safely tucked in inconspicuous places. In between their bones, just under their tongue where confessions make a grave in the mouths of cowards and good friends. "I've been here before. You always do this shit, mosshead."
To me, goes unsaid.
Because is it ever to him, if Zoro's gifted his soul to a ghost in his past and to Luffy? He mustn't have much left to give. Good thing Sanji's used to taking scraps. But that's a whole other monster that needs more than a fleeting moment in the middle of a war. He tucks it back into the figurative closet.
"I think we're even," Zoro slurs, his eye still closed but his brow furrowed. In pain or annoyance, who knows. Possibly both, all things considered. "You always leave. I always end up half-dead."
"That's not how it fucking works," Sanji mutters because the alternative is yelling so loud, his lungs will collapse. He picks up the roll of bandages again and starts to bind Zoro's broken body.
How much more can his bones take?
In Thriller Bark, he'd also been all broken bones and bruised organs. How Chopper fixed him up is a mystery Sanji still to this day does not understand. But Chopper isn't here---he's too far away from them right now and Sanji's hands were not made for healing. Not like this.
"Yeah, it is," Zoro finally responds. He sucks in air through his mouth. It's wet. It's still so wet with blood. He tries to raise an arm but it falls limp at his side again. Sanji pretends he doesn't hear bones creak. "In Little Garden. In Alabasta. In Water Seven..... While I was in Dressrosa and you---"
"Stop," Sanji whispers. "It's different. I always come back---"
"I always live."
Sanji grinds his teeth and swallows back the fear. It's hypocritical anyway. There's truth in the shit Zoro's spewing. Not that he'll ever say that out loud.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" Zoro breathes, looking at him with an intensity that sets Sanji's skin ablaze.
"Sure I do," he mutters. "It's like trussing a ham."
If he were able to, Sanji knows, the mosshead would chuckle. As it is, his gaze does not waver as he asks, "Am I a ham to you?"
The world is Zoro's slaughterhouse but Sanji doesn't voice that. This is the life they've both chosen: Zoro sacrifices his body and Sanji leaves to infiltrate and do recon. And sacrifice himself too, he supposes. Both tasks leave bitter and sour tastes in their mouths. They're one in the same, two sides of the same coin.
They're terrible for each other.
"You're not that appetizing," Sanji says, looking away because it's the only way he can hide when there's no one to shift the attention to.
Zoro wheezes, his eye half-lidded. "Liar."
"You always do this shit," Sanji repeats, thin fingers skimming the bandages near Zoro's hip.
"So do you."
Sanji nods, turning away from him to light up a cigarette.
We are terrible for each other, and, yes, we are a disaster. But tell me your heart doesn’t race for a hurricane or a burning building. I’d rather die terrified than live forever. (mistakes aren’t always regrets)
.
Zoro's breathing is stuttered and wet.
Every cell in Sanji's body vibrates as he walks through a random door he's picked of the many in this long hall. A candle burns, the single light dim and low, painting the room copper and gold.
His footsteps echo as he walks further in, his acute hearing picking up the drop of water from a leak somewhere. It makes the room damp. Makes it smell like mildew, like wet rust. And yet, the chaos happening on the other side of the door has muffled, like Sanji has walked into a different dimension upon entering this room.
Zoro sucks in air and starts to choke a bit.
Fuck, Sanji's been here before.
It's tattooed in the back of his eyelids: a circumference of blood, Zoro more wounds than man, his eyes distant, his heart slowing to a stop. Nothing happened.
"Fuck you," Sanji whispers as he sets him down on a flat surface.
He hyper focuses on his chest, waiting to see it rise and fall, waiting to see him breathe. Waiting to see he's still alive.
"C'mon, you selfish bastard."
"Are you... checking me out?"
Sanji jumps back, blue eyes wide as he shifts to look at Zoro's face. His eye is glazed with pain, his lips chapped and bleeding. Sanji'd tried to wipe his face from the blood that covered every bit of his tanned skin just before he started to bandage his head wound. Now, he looks mildly ridiculous with a thick crown of bandages, golden skin turned pink.
"Don't be a prick," Sanji grouses, a sneer curling his thin lips. "I was making sure you were breathing."
"Right," the mosshead sighs. Speaking must be torture for him right now. And yet he won't shut up. "Sure you were."
"You're fucking half-dead," Sanji says, hoping to all hell that the fear that clogs his throat is as well hidden as he thinks it is. "You don't get to make jokes, bastard."
Zoro doesn't say anything, his eye fluttering shut again. It must be uncomfortable: he has dried blood caking his thick eyelashes, clumping them together. Sanji bites at the inside of his cheek, eyes drifting down to his chest, to see it rise, to see it fall, to see him breathe.
It's so faint, but it's there.
"I've been here before," he starts, voicing his earlier thought. What happened in Thriller Bark is a secret he will take to the grave because it's how the mosshead wants it. He knows a few others know, but Sanji is sure that Robin and Lola's crew, wherever they may be, will keep it safely tucked in inconspicuous places. In between their bones, just under their tongue where confessions make a grave in the mouths of cowards and good friends. "I've been here before. You always do this shit, mosshead."
To me, goes unsaid.
Because is it ever to him, if Zoro's gifted his soul to a ghost in his past and to Luffy? He mustn't have much left to give. Good thing Sanji's used to taking scraps. But that's a whole other monster that needs more than a fleeting moment in the middle of a war. He tucks it back into the figurative closet.
"I think we're even," Zoro slurs, his eye still closed but his brow furrowed. In pain or annoyance, who knows. Possibly both, all things considered. "You always leave. I always end up half-dead."
"That's not how it fucking works," Sanji mutters because the alternative is yelling so loud, his lungs will collapse. He picks up the roll of bandages again and starts to bind Zoro's broken body.
How much more can his bones take?
In Thriller Bark, he'd also been all broken bones and bruised organs. How Chopper fixed him up is a mystery Sanji still to this day does not understand. But Chopper isn't here---he's too far away from them right now and Sanji's hands were not made for healing. Not like this.
"Yeah, it is," Zoro finally responds. He sucks in air through his mouth. It's wet. It's still so wet with blood. He tries to raise an arm but it falls limp at his side again. Sanji pretends he doesn't hear bones creak. "In Little Garden. In Alabasta. In Water Seven..... While I was in Dressrosa and you---"
"Stop," Sanji whispers. "It's different. I always come back---"
"I always live."
Sanji grinds his teeth and swallows back the fear. It's hypocritical anyway. There's truth in the shit Zoro's spewing. Not that he'll ever say that out loud.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" Zoro breathes, looking at him with an intensity that sets Sanji's skin ablaze.
"Sure I do," he mutters. "It's like trussing a ham."
If he were able to, Sanji knows, the mosshead would chuckle. As it is, his gaze does not waver as he asks, "Am I a ham to you?"
The world is Zoro's slaughterhouse but Sanji doesn't voice that. This is the life they've both chosen: Zoro sacrifices his body and Sanji leaves to infiltrate and do recon. And sacrifice himself too, he supposes. Both tasks leave bitter and sour tastes in their mouths. They're one in the same, two sides of the same coin.
They're terrible for each other.
"You're not that appetizing," Sanji says, looking away because it's the only way he can hide when there's no one to shift the attention to.
Zoro wheezes, his eye half-lidded. "Liar."
"You always do this shit," Sanji repeats, thin fingers skimming the bandages near Zoro's hip.
"So do you."
Sanji nods, turning away from him to light up a cigarette.
i don’t know what the fuck true love even is but i do want to hang out with you for basically the rest of my life
.
Zoro doesn't like cooking.
He did it for a bit, back when he was younger and had to be self-sufficient. He knows how to make simple stuff: eggs and rice for the most part. Sometimes he combines them together. Onigiri, too, if one gets over the lumpy sides. And since Zoro has always been a simple guy, they never bothered him.
Food has always been sustenance and nothing more. He'll eat just about anything, sometimes even have seconds. Food is food.
He doesn't like cooking, but he likes eating.
The cook is pretty much everything Zoro isn't. He cooks so one eats not just with their mouths but with their eyes too. There's always an elegance to his arrangements that brings a smile to his dumb face.
For a long time, Zoro wondered if the others ever noticed the garnishes, the little faces, the careful way he added art with a dropper. Delicate cross-hatches, drops that went from large to medium to small to gone. Carefully picked fruits that compliment each other. Pastries with sugar crystals mindfully sprinkled over them. Did they actually pay attention to all of it, or has it always been just for himself?
Zoro started to take notice some time after Whiskey Peak. Just so that the idiot could have one person appreciate it. Quietly, in case the others did see the dumb cook's efforts. Quietly, because everything Zoro does is quiet. Even when he's loud, he's quiet.
But Zoro doesn't like cooking and yet...
And yet.
Sanji hums as he pulls ingredients from the cupboards and sets them on the counter next to the mixers and bowls. There's an unlit cigarette between his teeth and his dumb blond hair curls at the ends in dumb, distracting waves.
"Have you washed your hands?" he asks without even looking towards him.
Zoro has in fact washed his hands already because it's the first thing the dumb cook demands he does when he's in the kitchen. He doesn't say this because he doesn't want to give the prick the satisfaction. So he just grunts.
"Quite the chatterbox, mosshead," the cook drawls but Zoro's learned to pick up the teasing, the fondness.
Tch, the cook's fond of him.
Whatever.
"Pour five ounces of vinegar onto that bowl," the cook instructs as he heads towards the fridge.
Zoro does as instructed. He's learned to listen carefully to what the cook has to say because, if he doesn't, he goes on a tirade that usually gets Zoro kicked out and not allowed to come help in the kitchen for days. Once, it took about a week before Sanji softened up again and let him stay with him.
"Two tablespoons of sugar," Sanji recites without looking at Zoro's work. He's pulling a tray with salted mackerel from the fridge. "I left these salting before breakfast. It'll make the process a little faster."
Zoro pretends not to care. So he grunts.
"Half a tablespoon of salt," the cook says with a bit of a laugh in his voice.
It makes Zoro's skin vibrate.
"Whisk it."
Zoro likes this part. He grabs the whisk by the handle and then begins to flick his wrist in even little circles. Bubbles form in the substance inside the bowl but the sugar and the salt quickly start to dissolve and combine with the vinegar.
The first time Sanji ordered him to whisk something, Zoro hadn't been as skillful which had made the cook sigh in annoyance and snatch both the mixing bowl and the whisk to show Zoro how simple the task was. Zoro'd given him an amused grin, but he supposes he'd failed in hiding the mischievous glint in his eye. It'd caused Sanji's face to turn pink which in turn made him stomp on Zoro's booted foot.
"Okay," the cook says from in front of the sink where he's washing the salt off the mackerel. "On the other bowl: add two tablespoon of yellow mustard." He sighs and sucks at his teeth. "I would have preferred stone-ground, but we're out. Ah, remind me to add that to the grocery list for our next stop."
Zoro won't remind him. Sanji never forgets.
"Add half a tablespoon of honey and half a tablespoon of vinegar."
Zoro adds the honey. It's a bit of a sticky business, no pun intended. He shifts so any extra honey doesn't land into the mix he's preparing because anything extra will change the taste and the cook will know. He blinks, setting the jar of honey aside and staring at the bottle of vinegar.
"How much vinegar?" he asks, because he can't just guess.
"Half a tablespoon," the cook responds, drying the mackerel with specific paper towels he keeps for food, not the ones that are out for the crew. This, too, he learned the hard way in the past.
Zoro does as instructed. "Whisk it?"
The cook comes closer, Zoro knows because he can smell the nicotine and the sea. It's so dumb, how he thinks of Sanji and the sea as the same. As if he'd formed from the sea foam itself, made of the salt and the sun.
Zoro looks at him as he hovers right behind his shoulder, eyeing the mix, his thin lips curved in thought. The cigarette twitches up and down from the probing of the tip of Sanji's tongue. Without warning, he looks at Zoro, his eyes a deep blue, eyelashes a dirty blond.
Zoro holds his breath.
"What do you think?" he asks and this is kind of new. The cook never really asks what Zoro would do in the kitchen. Zoro would do what Sanji instructs him to do, obviously. "Should we add dill?"
The cook could be asking him for his deepest darkest secret, for all Zoro knows. He can't exactly focus on anything coming out of his mouth when he's been pinned by Sanji's eyes on him. They're a deep blue, streaks of orange around the pupil, a little green hidden in between. If Zoro doesn't breathe soon he's going to die.
And you know what, that's okay. It feels like death would be a lot easier to navigate than this.
"Moss?"
"Huh?"
"Yes dill or no dill?"
This could be a trick question.
"No dill," he splutters, hoping he's chosen right.
By the curve of Sanji's mouth, it seems so. The smile is both soft and sharp, exasperated and fond. A contradiction, just like the cook himself.
Zoro exhales.
"Good choice," Sanji praises, his thin hand coming to rest in between Zoro's shoulder blades. He gives a soft pat, a short rub. It looks condescending, it feels like the very definition of intimacy.
"Whisk it," he instructs and peels himself away from him.
Zoro misses the warmth almost instantly.
"Then, combine the two and whisk that as well."
And Zoro does as instructed. When he's done, Sanji beckons him over with one hand while the other grabs a ladle. He hands it to Zoro, shifting to the side to make more space for Zoro's bulk.
"Pour it on top of the mackerel," Sanji instructs, taking the mixing bowl into his hands so he can hold it for him.
This part is hard.
Zoro can follow any and all instruction Sanji gives him, so long as the cook is looking away and busying himself with his own part of the prep. Like this, under Sanji's watchful eyes, Zoro feels vulnerable and like he's more susceptible to make a mistake.
These are foreign feelings to him. Zoro's a man confident in his skills, in all he's capable of and all challenges that are thrown his way. But it's different when he's in Sanji's territory, when it's Sanji's expertise, when it's Sanji the instructor and he the student. It's a bit of a shift in their dynamics. Out there, out in the world they're set to conquer, they're equals, they're rivals. Here, in their own little slice of life... Well, suffice to say that Zoro does not mind being led, if it's Sanji leading.
"Good," the cook hums, watching the careful way Zoro pours the sauce over the mackerel.
He has to make sure it's evenly poured, he has to make sure he doesn't waste anything. And when he's done, the look the cook gives him makes Zoro's heart flip.
Wordlessly, Sanji walks the tray back to the fridge, moving things around with one hand before he slides the tray in.
"We let it chill for thirty minutes," he says turning back to him.
Zoro swallows, giving a grunt as a response while he dumps all their dirty crockery into the basin. Cooking with Sanji is always uncharted waters, but washing dishes will always be a bit of a comfort zone.
He starts to let the basin fill up with water, dropping dish soup so it gets sudsy. The cook comes to stand next to him, dish rag in one hand.
"You know," he starts with a bit of a laugh in his tone. "You have a knack for following instructions. Who would have thought, mosshead?"
Zoro rolls his eye.
And grunts, because that always annoys the cook and Zoro must keep the appearances up and running.
"Hm," Sanji hums, his blue eyes shiny with amusement.
"I could do this every day," he says. It's a light statement but the meaning is heavy. He hopes... he hopes.
The cook looks at him some more, his expression open for once. It's like staring into a mirror, Zoro thinks, watching all he carries reflected right back to him.
Sanji's lips curve to one side into a crooked, shy smile.
"With a little more practice, you may just be able to," he says, he invites. In that dumb flippant way of his because if Sanji is anything it’s infuriating, easy to dig his way in under the skin. Then, more softly, so only Zoro can hear, so even Zoro could very well miss it, "Me too."
Zoro exhales the breath he hadn't known he was holding.
are you vocal about your icks and headcanons you don’t like/agree with?
Ummmmm I mean I HAVE icks and stuff I see/read I don’t agree with. But I won’t insert myself into a person’s space and drop MY take all willy nilly like that. It’s kinda mean/rude?
I’ll share my thoughts or pieces of my thoughts if im asked, but that’s just it
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izzy806
dailybridgerton
