“Yours looks like a bullet hole,” Zoro laughed, pointing at the mark on the back of Sanji’s right shoulder. Sanji twisted his neck, peering over at it for the millionth time in his life.
It was a rounded shape, almost circular, but somewhat lopsided; the edges were softly spiky, almost like the scalloped edge of a pie crust. Sanji smirked darkly. How like the mosshead to interpret the symbol of his future love in such a violent way.
It wasn’t a mocking laugh, though. At least— it didn’t seem to be. Zoro’s smile was simple, stupid. Sanji handed him a dish to dry, and he took it without another word.
They were passing through a particularly sweltering front of weather. Zoro was shirtless— nothing new— and even Sanji had stripped down to his undershirt and pants, strands of damp hair clinging to his forehead.
He took another dish and dipped it in the cool water, sighing dreamily. “Well, maybe we’ll run up against a beautiful lady pirate, or a gorgeous Marine—” he felt a blush rising to his cheeks, even in the heat— “and just as she puts her finger on the trigger, I reach out and touch her hand…”
He handed the dish to Zoro, who rolled his eyes. Sanji wasn’t looking, but he could feel it even through the clouds of his fantasy.
“...and our marks will both burst into color, and she’ll look into my eyes—”
“Is this before or after she’s shot you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sanji giggled. “We’ll put our differences aside as soon she realizes I’m her soulmate.”
Zoro grunted. “Better start going into fights shirtless, then.”
“Hm.” Sanji considered it. He glanced out the window for a moment; their captain rocketed by like he’d been shot from a cannon, pursuing a seagull or Usopp or something. Blink, and he would have missed him.
It had always bothered him, not knowing what his mark was supposed to be. Other people had it simple. Luffy had a small anatomical heart on his arm, right there in plain sight. It was one of the first things Sanji had noticed about him, right after the straw hat and the facial scar.
Luffy was about the furthest thing from a romantic that he’d ever seen, but he definitely wore his heart on his sleeve. It suited him. There was someone out there who was a perfect match for him, and they would know as soon as they touched skin to skin. And Luffy was never not touching people, so it was bound to happen.
What kind of person could match their captain’s energy, though? Luffy never expressed any interest in finding his soulmate. His priorities were the crew, the One Piece, and meat. Sanji had a sudden and unpleasant image of a cannibal hunched over a human heart, gnawing on it as she locked eyes with Luffy—
“Cook?” Zoro elbowed him. “Dish?”
He’d zoned out. Sanji stepped on Zoro’s foot in gentle retaliation, then grabbed another dish and scrubbed it off. “Here,” he grunted, thrusting it at Zoro.
He didn’t like the little smirk on the swordsman’s face. They were speaking the same monosyllabic language now.
“If you ever meet your soulmate, mosshead, it’ll probably be in battle.” Sanji stole a glance at the thinly outlined flame on the back of Zoro’s left shoulder. It was one of the few things they had in common; their marks were out of sight most of the time. It meant they might touch their soulmate and never even realize it.
But like Luffy, Zoro had his own priorities, and true love was near the bottom of the list— if it was on the list at all, Sanji figured. There was no room in that mossy brain for anything but swords and muscles and more swords.
“Uh, no.” Zoro shook his head, flashing a look of disbelief at Sanji. “If some dude tries to set me on fire, I’m not stopping to hold hands with him.”
Sanji sniffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a—”
Hm?
His head turned ninety degrees, staring at Zoro for a long moment. Zoro stared back at him.
“What, ya weirdo?” Zoro scowled. “You might not have any standards, shit-cook, but most people don’t wanna get all lovey-dovey with someone who’s trying to kill them.”
“That’s— no,” Sanji said, furiously dunking the last dish into the water. “No, I just…”
He scrubbed it, staring down at his hands, feeling the heat of Zoro’s questioning glare. When he was certain every molecule of grease had been eradicated, he held it out to Zoro.
Zoro didn’t reach for it. He raised an eyebrow.
Sanji put his other hand on his hip, and raised an eyebrow back. “I just didn’t know,” he said, fixing his voice into something calm and polite.
“Didn’t know… what?” Zoro tilted his head, his earrings catching a glint of hot sunlight as they swayed. Sanji watched the gears turning slowly behind his eyes. “…That I’m into men?”
Inexplicably, Sanji felt the heat rising in his cheeks again. He turned back to the sink. “Should have guessed. Your table manners alone are enough to drive any woman off.”
“Fine by me.” Zoro shrugged. “So, what? You gotta problem?”
Sanji looked at him. One second, then two. He clicked his tongue.
“Obviously not,” Sanji said, holding the dish out to him again. “I grew up on the Baratie, for fuck’s sake.”
Zoro blinked, then reached out to take the dish. The corner of his mouth turned up in something resembling a smile. “Cool.”
As the hand-off occurred, their fingers brushed. It was no big deal, but Sanji snapped his head rigidly forward. Wouldn’t want the marimo getting any ideas. For an unseen half-second, Zoro’s mark flared a bright yellow-orange; Sanji’s a soft, fuzzy green.
(ETA: this is now a multichapter fic, go read on ao3!)
I'm rewatching OPLA and I forgot how much they BEAT us over the head with gay zoro. From "you're asking the wrong guy" in response to Usopp asking for girl advice, to Zoro saying "should have brought me instead of the cook" (to accompany Luffy and Nami up the mountain) and Usopp calling him out with "Sanji will be fine..."
really Usopp has been on quite the journey. With the way things are going I expect we'll get to see him playing wingman to Zoro at Alabasta's hottest gay club next season
