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Alabasta

“And then, now get this, he said he wasn’t thirsty! Like? He was sweating like a pig, Usopp! Why wouldn’t he want a drink?” Sanji paces the floor of the kitchen, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Usopp returns Sanji’s fury with a nonchalant shrug. “I dunno, man. Guess he just wasn’t thirsty?”

“No, you don’t get it. He was working out in the sun for hours. With no water! How could he not be thirsty? Does he just not like my drinks? Would he accept it if someone like you gave him one?” Sanji asks, glaring holes into the floorboards, fixing his tie in irritation.

“Okay, first of all I don’t like the tone you used referring to me,” Usopp grumbles, raising an eyebrow in Sanji’s direction.

 “Second of all, why do you care so much? Let the dude get dehydrated, he’s an adult—I think?” Usopp replies. He’s sketching at the kitchen table, his paper suspiciously filled with angry eyes and swirling eyebrows. Sanji might burn his and Zoro’s dinners tonight. 

“I think,” Usopp continues, “that you’re a little obsessed with Zoro. For someone who claims to hate Zoro with the passion of a thousand burning suns, you sure do talk about him a lot.” Sanji freezes. He does hate Zoro. Doesn’t he?

“Like all the time. Seriously dude, like all the time. I can't remember the last time we had a conversation that wasn't about Zoro, now that I think about it,” Usopp says thoughtfully. Now his paper is adorned with little heart-eyed chefs.

Sanji quickly spins on his heel, almost leaving a scorch mark in the wood. “ First of all–” he begins, one finger held up in the air. He stops for a moment, unable to think of a decent rebuttal. Usopp stares at him with one eyebrow raised.

Taking a few steps back, Sanji clears his throat. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go make lunch now. So, Nice talking to you buddy.”

Usopp shrugs again. “Yep, you do that then. What’re you making?”

“Oh, I was gonna make rice…balls.” Sanji says, fidgeting from his spot behind the counter. His recipe book lays flat in front of him, open to a page on onigiri.

Usopp gives him a flat look. “Rice balls?”

Sanji anxiously adjusts his tie. “Mhm. Yeah. Rice balls.”

“And you decided to make these because…?”

“I, uh, well, you know, Luffy said, rice is, uh, his favorite. Ever. And captain’s orders are law. Duh.”

Usopp just stares right back, his gaze piercing a hole through Sanji’s facade. “Right. Luffy said he loves rice. Our captain. Luffy.”

Sanji rubs at the back of his head. “Yeah that’s the one. That’s our guy. And I am in no way trying to get Zoro to like my cooking after he so ignorantly and atrociously rejected my drink offer. Nope. I don’t know why you’d even assume that Usopp.”

Usopp stands up from the table pushing in his chair, his crumpled paper forgotten. “Okay then, I’ll leave you to it. See you in a couple hours for our post-lunch Zoro gossip session. Don’t be late, we haven’t missed one yet. Oh, and I’ll be sure to tell Zoro you’re making his favorite for lunch on my way out.” 

He’s out the door before Sanji recovers enough to kick him in the head. Sanji sighs, moving to get out all of his supplies for lunch. He thinks about what Usopp said. 

No way. No way is Sanji low enough to need approval from that moss-brained caveman. No, it’s not about craving validation from that freak of swordsman. It’s the principle really.  

Zoro is the most annoying person Sanji has ever had the displeasure of meeting. He’s rude, obnoxious, stubborn, and has absolutely no manners. Not to mention Sanji has only seen him bathe a handful of times since he joined the crew.

And today, the jerk had the audacity to refuse the drink Sanji worked so hard to make. He prides himself on the ability to keep his crewmates happy and healthy, considering every detail of everything he makes. For Zoro to so blatantly refuse an offer (when he was obviously thirsty ) was like taking one of those stupid three swords straight to the chest. Who even needs three swords? It’s not like the guy has three hands. It’s so painfully and obnoxiously like him to learn a sword technique outside of the realm of human capabilities. 

It’s infuriating really, the way that asshole goes out of his way to train with those comically-oversized weights. Or the years he’s spent perfecting his stupid swordsmanship. Or the way he works himself to near death to achieve his dream. 

Sani still remembers their conversation on the Baratie, if you could even call it that. He had thought Zoro was foolish for fighting that warlord, when he was so clearly outmatched. 

“Abandon your stupid dream!”

At the time, Sanji couldn’t fathom why Zoro would rather die than give up his dream. Why he challenged Mihawk without a chance of winning. Sanji had spent his entire life giving up on his own dream. For years, he was called a fool for believing in the All Blue, for wanting to chase it. Zeff had the same dream, and gave it up so Sanji could survive. There was nothing he could do to repay that debt, so Sanji gave it up too.

“Nobody calls me a fool but me. I have my reasons.” 

Maybe that was what’s so infuriating about the guy. The way he so easily gives into his own ambitions, the way he can so easily believe in himself. Zoro doesn’t wait for someone else’s approval, doesn’t wait for a sign or hold back out of fear. He so steadfastly believes , and the idea leaves Sanji perpetually confused. Zoro has the confidence that Sanji never allowed himself to even dream of feeling. It wasn’t fair. And to make matters worse, Sanji still can’t stop thinking about the stupid asshole’s rejection of his drink. 

Sanji abandons his frenzied lunch preparation to look over at the now warm drink on the counter. Maybe that’s the solution. He just needs to go out there, speak his mind, then he can go on with his life. Seems simple enough. 

Sanji steels himself, readying for a fight, and storms up to Zoro, where he’s still working out on the deck, lifting those ridiculously large weights with his ridiculously large muscles. Sanji can tell that there’s no thoughts in that moss covered head of his besides swords and booze.

“So, you‘re too good for my drink, huh? Maybe I should ban you from getting any drinks from my kitchen ever again.” Sanji says, pushing his forehead dangerously close to Zoro’s. He can practically see his own reflection in the layer of sweat on the mosshead’s face. 

“What are you even talking about, pretty boy? Get out of my way, you’re stinking up my training area with your stupid perfume.” Zoro retorts, leaning into Sanji’s personal space. 

“It’s called cologne, asshole. Not that you would know, considering you’ve never taken a bath in your entire life. Don’t you know you’re supposed to water plants?”

“Same difference, eyebrows, now leave me alone before I slice you in half,” Zoro shoves his forehead even harder into Sanji’s, like a bull trying to assert dominance. 

“As if you could be fucking  fast enough to even give me a papercut, you dimwitted oaf.”

“I’m not some weakling, shit cook. I don’t need water when I work out.”

“God, you’re such a fucking moron! It’s completely normal to drink water while working out! READ A BOOK FOR ONCE!” Sanji seethes, itching to kick Zoro’s stupid face in.

“Do I look like I care? Now why don’t you go take your little sippy cup of water and go back to your kitchen and leave me the hell alone! Do I look like I need your mothering right now?” 

Instead of a response, Sanji lifts his leg and kicks Zoro across the deck, his back slamming into the ship’s railing. “Maybe you don’t need to be mothered, maybe you just need your ass kicked instead.” 

Zoro retaliates with an attack of his own, starting a brutal exchange of blows. For the most part, the two are evenly matched, neither able to get a solid hit in. They continue like that, unwilling to surrender, until they both collapse on the deck in an unofficial draw, chests heaving.

“Bet you…wish…you had that…drink…now, huh?” Sanji says between heavy breaths.

Usopp suddenly appears in Sanji’s field of vision, rolling his eyes.

“You two are a couple of morons, you know that?” Usopp deadpans, jumping backwards to avoid a kick to the shins and ducking to escape a sword pointed at his nose.

“Watch it! By the way, Zoro, hope you’re hungry. I heard that we’re having rice balls for lunch, your favorite.” 

Zoro sits up and dusts off his pants as if they hadn’t spent the last 20 minutes sparring over this very topic. “Sweet. Now that you mention it I am kinda hungry. And thirsty.” 

Sanji stares up at the clouds, contemplating Zoro’s stupid brain and his own stupid brain for obsessing over how stupid Zoro is. The whole thing is idiotic really. Sanji is so lost in thought, he almost doesn’t notice the green blob blocking out the sun.

“I’m hungry,” Zoro says, extending his hand out to Sanji to help him up.

Sanji looks at the hand in his face. Too shocked to decline, Sanji accepts Zoro’s offering, stumbling to his feet as the swordsman brusquely hoists him up. Sanji stares at him dumbly, Zoro’s hand still on his wrist.

“I’m hungry,” Zoro repeats, ”aren’t you supposed to be the cook on this ship?” 

Sanji bats his hand away. “Fuck off or I’m putting sugar in your rice. And don’t forget to wash your hands before dinner. Or take a shower. You fucking reek.”

Zoro sniffs under his arm and shrugs. “Why do I have to shower for dinner? I don’t even need to for another day or two.” 

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Sanji walks off with his head in his hands. He can’t believe that this is the guy he can’t get out of his head. Maybe he’ll need Chopper to check his head for brain damage. Thinking about Zoro this much can’t be healthy. Tossing Zoro a quick middle finger, Sanji makes his way to the kitchen, already making a mental list of the ingredients necessary to make everyone’s meal to their exact specifications. As he kneads Zoro’s favorite meat into his own large mound of rice, Sanji starts to think he’s truly and deeply fucked.

Skypiea 

The warm sun beats down on Zoro’s face as he lays against Merry's mast. He’s just about to doze off when he hears the kitchen door open. Sanji is carrying a tray of drinks. Sanji struts over to where Nami and Robin are chatting at the table.

“Hello my beautiful flowers! It’s getting a little hot out so I thought I’d bring the two of you some refreshments. I do hope you enjoy them. Lovely ladies such as you shouldn’t be sweating–like some overgrown shrubs I know–on a summer’s day like this one!” Sanji rambles, setting the drinks down in front of the girls with an obnoxious bow. His voice is about five octaves higher than normal and Zoro swears he can see hearts in the lovesick moron’s eyes. Zoro makes a fake gagging noise that falls on deaf ears.

“Aw, thank you Sanji!” Nami says, smiling up at him under her umbrella like an evil vampire hiding from the sun. 

Zoro crosses his arms over his chest. “Awww, thank you, Saaanji. Shut up, witch, ” he mocks with a pout. 

Sanji freezes, then slowly turns towards Zoro, irritation evident in the set of his shoulders. Mission accomplished. There’s something deeply satisfying about getting the cook all riled up and aggravated, an irritated pout on his face. 

“ Excuse me ? Did I mishear you, mosshead?” Sanji seethes. The cook is already rolling up his sleeves as if he’s about to chop Zoro up and cook him for dinner.

Zoro feigns ignorance and looks around the deck. He looks back at Sanji before pointing at himself.

“Huh? Me? I have no idea what you’re talking about, idiot cook” Zoro goads, hoping to irritate Sanji even further. 

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about, asshole,” Sanji growls, already stomping towards Zoro’s direction. Lacking both self-preservation skills and common sense, Zoro leans further back onto the mast, crossing his arms behind his head with a bored sigh.

From behind the chef, Nami flips Zoro off with a glare. “Don’t bother with him, Sanji. As if I care what Zoro says about me,” She explains, patting Sanji’s shoulder.

The cook shrugs her off. “Not now, Nami. This moron needs an ass-kicking,” Sanji explains, turning to her with a wink. The cook points to himself. “Your sweet prince will defend your honor!” 

Zoro stands up with an eyeroll.

“Could you get any lamer? Sorry, we’re no longer in the kingdom of lame-asses, you gotta tone it down, buddy,” He says with a shit-eating grin.

“Could you get any more moronic? Oh, I’m sorry, let me dumb it down so someone like you can understand. You. Are. St-u-pid. Do you get it?” Sanji snarls, having made his way into Zoro’s personal space. Zoro looks up as Sanji taps his finger on his forehead with each syllable. 

Zoro moves a hand towards Wado, contemplating the consequences of cutting the crew’s only cook in half. He swats Sanji’s hand away and shoves his head towards Sanji, so close that their foreheads are touching. From this close, he can see the angry blush making its way across Sanji’s cheeks.

“I don’t need to get anything, besides the fact that I want to slice that stupid eyebrow off of your loser face,” Zoro growls. Sanji only leans closer in response. 

“Good comeback, douchebag. Which of your two brain cells did it take to come up with that one?” Sanji retorts, red in the face. Zoro can practically see the vein popping out of his forehead. He can feel the blood rushing in his ears, his heart is pounding. He’s so worked up he barely notices he’s already unsheathed two swords.  

Zoro doesn’t get why Sanji gets under his skin so easily. One stupid look from the cook is enough to set Zoro off. It’s like there’s an alarm in his brain that goes off every time the cook is around. He can’t seem to relax around him either, like he’s waiting for Sanji to do something to piss him off even more.

“That’s it, eyebrows, I’m gonna–”

“Hey! Can you lovebirds quiet down the sexual tension? You’re scaring the fish!” Usopp interrupts from where he had been fishing for tonight’s dinner over the railing.

Sanji whips his head towards Usopp, completely in sync with Zoro. 

“SHUT THE HELL UP, USOPP!” the two shout in unison, a leg and sword extended in the sniper’s direction.

“Oh God,” Usopp gulps, arms scrambling as he nearly falls overboard. He gets to his feet and slowly backs away from the two of them. 

“Ah, uh, don’t mind me!” Usopp laughs nervously. “Go on, continue your flirt–I mean, fighting! Yeah, have fun with that. Okay, bye!” 

Sanji turns to face Zoro again, his face still flushed. They’re still standing practically chest to chest. Zoro can feel the cook’s dumb suit jacket brushing against his shirt.  Neither of them breaks the other’s awkward gaze. The cook opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, until a rubber arm snakes its way between them, patting Sanji’s shoulder.

“Sanji! I’M HUNGRY! I WANT A SNACK!” Luffy yells from across the deck. 

The cook steps back with an eye roll, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. “Fine, you little leech. Give me five minutes.”

He turns to Zoro as if he hadn’t been about to filet him five minutes ago. “Want anything, mosshead?”

“Huh? Oh, just the usual,” Zoro replies without even thinking.

The cook gives him a thumbs up before heading back into the kitchen, Luffy hot on his heels. The Merry’s deck feels quiet without them there, the charged feeling in the air having calmed to nothing. Zoro returns to his original position, leaning against the mast and crossing his legs. He tucks his swords under an arm and settles down to wait for his snack. 

Zoro closes his eyes, one finger tapping on the hilt of his sword, lost in thought. He replays his fight with the cook in his mind, almost surprised at the satisfied smile that grows on his face. At least with that moron around, things are never boring. And maybe, just a little part of him enjoys arguing with the cook. 

If anything, arguing with him is one of the only ways to catch the moron’s attention when they aren’t alone. He wouldn’t say he was jealous, really, he doesn’t give two shits about whatever fake lovesick musings that asshole directs to Nami and Robin.

Now that Zoro thinks about it, maybe they are friends.

Their relationship has come a long way since the cook’s first few weeks on the crew. They didn’t exactly see eye to eye. But now, Zoro has a certain level of respect for the dumb cook. The two of them have come to an understanding about their respective places on the crew. Sanji has demonstrated himself to be a formidable fighter, being the only crew member aside from Luffy able to keep up with Zoro in a fight. Zoro has relied on Sanji to keep Luffy and the crew safe if he can’t be there. The cook has proven himself time and time again to be well-deserving of that trust.

Besides, someone as stupid as Sanji does make for good company. Sometimes.

Zoro’s thoughts are interrupted with a plate shoved in his face. He supposes he can’t complain about the food either. It makes all of those years spent as a starving bounty hunter well worth it. And while he’d rather die than admit it, Sanji has always made Zoro’s food exactly the way he likes it. He remembers one off-handed comment made about his distaste for sweets and Sanji had committed it to memory. He even remembers how sticky Zoro likes his rice. A little creepy in hindsight, but sort of endearing. 

Zoro can acknowledge the lengths Sanji goes to keep everyone healthy according to their own specific needs. That can’t be easy, keeping track of everyone’s nutritional requirements and preferences. Sanji seems to love it, though. When he’s not in the kitchen, Zoro often catches him scribbling in recipe books.

“Are you going to take the plate, or have you gone brain dead? I’m not above giving this to Luffy, you know,” Sanji wiggles the plate in front of Zoro impatiently.

“Yeah, Zoro, give it to Luffy!” Luffy shouts from the other side of the deck, mouth full. 

“Huh? Screw you, gimme that,” Zoro grunts, snatching the plate from where Sanji has dangled it above his head before he can run off with it. 

“Ah, so the moss-covered rock can speak,” Sanji declares, “it’s a scientific miracle.”

“What’s science got to do with it?” Zoro asks, shoving spoonfuls in his mouth as he speaks. “Mmph. S’ good.” he continues, spitting grains of chewed rice onto the front of his shirt, wiping a hand on the leg of his pants

Sanji huffs a little laugh at that, which surprises the hell out of Zoro. He rarely makes the cook laugh and most of the time it’s at Zoro’s expense. He can't help but feel a little proud of himself for drawing a laugh out of Sanji. 

“Good,” the cook smiles, jutting a thumb at Zoro’s shirt, “you saving those for later?”

Zoro looks down at his dirty shirt with a shrug. He picks up one of the hunks of half eaten rice on his chest and pops it in his mouth. Still tastes good.

Sanji lights a cigarette and leans over the railing. He takes a drag and sighs, shoulders relaxing. 

“You’re so gross ,” the cook says between inhales of smoke. His voice is light and carries with the wind. Zoro feels at ease, comfortable with their shared existence. As he finishes his plate, his eyes feel heavy, his chest warm and his stomach full. 

Sanji heaves a sigh, shifting his weight to stand a little bit closer to Zoro, who unconsciously leans towards Sanji to listen to whatever he’s about to say. Zoro’s shoulder is only a few inches away from Sanji’s leg now.

“You know, the sky out here is so much prettier than back in the North Blue,” the cook muses, pausing to blow smoke up into the sky. Zoro wonders if it could reach the clouds from here.

“Always been so gloomy there,” Sanji continues, “here it’s like the sky goes on forever, don’t you think?” Sanji asks quietly. His voice sounds far off and distant.

“Yeah? Guess I never really paid much attention,” Zoro hums, voice laced with sleep as he starts to doze off. 

Sanji’s reply is quiet, “Yeah, I figured as much.”

Zoro lets his head tilt to the left, falling to rest against Sanji’s leg. The cook makes no move to remove himself, so Zoro takes the lack of response as permission to get comfortable, shifting around until he’s found the perfect napping position. As he drifts off, Zoro can feel a hand softly run through his hair. Only once. He mumbles a little at its absence in his semi-conscious state. 

Hours later, Zoro wakes, his eyes blinking open in a daze. The sun is setting, so it must be getting close to dinnertime. He moves to scratch at his head, surprised when his fingers graze a familiar fabric behind him. Reaching behind his head, Zoro grabs the cook’s jacket, neatly folded between him and the mast he had been sleeping against. 

Zoro feels affection swell in his chest. The gesture is oddly thoughtful, and stupidly charming. Fitting for the love cook. Zoro’s brain is still too hazy post nap to think of a way to get back at him for such a nice thought, so he decides to lay back down until he’s kicked awake for dinner. Zoro tucks the jacket back underneath his head, closing his eyes with a content sigh. He drifts off once again, filing away the implications of the jacket to the back of his mind where blue eyes and wavy blonde hair reside. 

Enies Lobby

“Hey, Zoro, pass me that bag over there.” Sanji says, bent over in front of the fridge. He has various boxes and bags in his hand. Despite being a part of the entire shopping trip as the designated pack mule, Zoro has absolutely no idea what the cook is holding. Or asking for. In fact, his mind is only fixated on one thing. Two things. Sanji’s lean frame is directly in Zoro’s line of sight where he’s sitting in the kitchen. Zoro honestly couldn’t even tell you what Sanji asked for thirty seconds ago. His eyes trail from the cook’s slim waist, framed perfectly in his tailored vest and down, down down, the long, lithe form of his legs. 

Zoro thinks about the power in those legs. How deadly they are as Sanji’s weapon of choice. He can crush a man’s rib cage with one kick. Now, they can ignite, sheathed in flames, melting through flesh and bone. He wants to spar with Sanji and his new move, see just how powerful the cook can be, feel the press of Sanji’s shoe against Kitetsu.

Damn, Zoro’s got it bad. 

“Careful, Zoro, your drool is getting all over the floor,” Nami interrupts. She waves a hand in front of his face, and Zoro ducks to continue staring.

“Mosshead, I said, pass me that bag,” Sanji asks again, his arms reaching up to open up a cabinet. His shirt lifts up slightly with the movement, exposing his lower back.

“I think Zoro is long gone, Sanji. We might have to put him down,” Nami says with a sigh, shooting the swordsman an eye roll. “Make sure to mop up when you’re done assaulting our cook with your creepy eyes, Zoro,” she whispers as she heads out of the kitchen.

Zoro completely ignores the witch, now focused on the way Sanji has rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and unbuttoned the top portion of his shirt, his collarbone exposed. Zoro is suddenly grateful for summer days and the closed window that has been broken for weeks now. Maybe he shouldn’t have shunned God from his life completely. 

“You’re really no help, you know. Lazy oaf,” Sanji grumbles, rearranging the spices.

Zoro perks up. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I am,” he says confidently, having not processed a word the cook said to him.

Sanji whips around, crossing his arms, tapping his foot impatiently. Zoro wants to kiss the grumpy little frown off his face. He could only imagine how red the cook’s face would get and the way his hair would feel in Zoro’s hands.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you, mossy?” Sanji retorts. “A real Mr. Comedy over there.”

Zoro shrugs, still a little distracted by the disgruntled tap of dress shoes and the angry downturn of curly eyebrows.

Sanji fiddles with his lighter in annoyance, flicking the flame on and off. “I feel like you’re not listening to a single word I say,” the cook says, taking a deep inhale of his cigarette. Zoro watches the smoke unfurl as it reaches the ceiling.

“ Also,” Sanji continues, “what is with your staring problem today? You too stupid to remember how to blink?”

Zoro huffs. The cook is intoxicatingly annoying. He wants to drink up each irritating insult, soak in the way the cook’s eyebrow furrows and his lip curls in exasperation. He can’t quite remember when he first started seeing Sanji like this, when he started really seeing all of the cook. It’s as though he always felt this way, just slowly building until his heart and mind could catch up with each other. Sure, he’s felt attraction before, but never something like this.  

 “I know how to blink,” Zoro states matter-of-factly. “You need a lesson?”

Sanji sputters. “God, just–shut up. Seriously, is there something on my face? My shirt? I can feel your huge eyes all over me like Luffy before dinnertime. Creeping does not befit a face like yours, mosshead.”

A face like his? Zoro can’t tell if he’s embarrassed for being caught or pissed off at the stupid cook for noticing. He was so sure he had been inconspicuous about it. Not one to be proven wrong, Zoro answers the cook immediately.

“Yes. Your face.”

Sanji gasps, his palms at his cheeks, which are getting redder by the second. “Wait, are you serious? Ugh, fuck, Nami was just in here–I’m so embarrassed. You should’ve told me, you ass,” he continues, trying to see his reflection in the metallic shine of the fridge. 

Of course. Zoro contemplates suggesting they hold a vote to get Nami off of the ship for a few months. He’s sure he could intimidate Usopp into siding with him. He could easily navigate, he’s not sure why the witch makes such a big deal about it. You just sail forward.

“Pfft. As if she was looking at you, curly. If anything, you should be more embarrassed about the way you were swooning over the new fruit we found at the market today.”

“Oh, please. Don’t act as though you weren’t excited about it too. These grapes taste just like sake! It’s cool as fuck, and quite frankly I’m offended at the sudden betrayal. I thought I knew you better than that, kelp head.” 

“ Well, at least I’m not some clown at a flirty clown show, you love sick clown .” 

“Oh, you’re not a clown, fivehead. You’re the entire goddamn circus!” 

“Who you callin’ fivehead?” Zoro stands, gearing up for a fight. 

Sanji taps Zoro’s forehead. “See what I mean? All that room in there and not a thought to be heard.”

This is how their fights usually develop nowadays, starting with borderline flirting that neither of them have any idea how to deal with. And the fact that he has no clue how to address his glaringly obvious obsession with the cook is only making things worse. Zoro’s going to tell Sanji eventually, but he can’t help but feel like he has to think this one through more than he usually does. 

Zoro lives by the seat of his pants, doing what he wants, whenever he wants, as it's convenient. Of course, Sanji is the total opposite. He’s meticulous, careful, always thinking and planning. The guy is excessively romantic, so Zoro feels obligated to handle the whole confession thing with at least a little bit of tact. Sanji may sit and spout off his cheesy proclamations of love anytime he gets the chance, but Zoro has always been able to see past the cook’s cheap imitations of hiding his feelings. He’s always been so closed off–Zoro would never want to scare him off with a sudden hey, I’m actually in love with you.

As much as it irked him, he almost felt as though it was a challenge to win the cook over, to show him just how much he really means it. 

“Whatever. Stupid. Uh. Eyebrows.” 

Sanji points a finger to the door. “Well, if you’re just gonna sit there photosynthesizing and not helping, then get out of my kitchen mosshead, or I’ll kick you out myself.”

“Oh yeah? Make m–oof,” Sanji kicks Zoro in the chest before he can even finish his sentence, sending him flying out the door and skidding across the deck of The Sunny . Maybe this is why Franky insisted on putting grass out here. 

That caught him off guard, Zoro can admit. That kick knocked the wind out of him. He blames it on the cook for being so damn distracting. 

Sanji saunters out of the kitchen, hands in his pockets, a satisfied smirk stretching across his face as he makes his way over to Zoro. 

“Hah! Caught you off guard there, didn’t I, mossy? Oh, can poor wittle Zowo not stand up? Here, let me he–woah!” Sanji says in a mocking tone before abruptly being pulled down to the ground.

Using the element of surprise, Zoro leaps up with a grin. He jumps backwards to unsheath his swords, feeling the absence of a third. He’ll make do.

For someone who seemed so insistent upon putting the groceries away, Sanji seems pretty excited at the suggestion of a fight. He rolls over from where Zoro knocked him flat on his back, doing some stupid acrobatic move to stand up. Show off. 

Sanji settles into his fighting stance, one long leg raised high, his knee pressed close to his chest.

“Oh, I see how it is. Now are you gonna fight me or are you just gonna stand there looking all stupid, Zoro?”

Zoro holds out his swords with a wild grin on his face and charges towards Sanji. The cook matches his pace and runs towards him. They collide, heel slamming against the steel of Zoro’s swords. 

They continue like that for a while, warming up with an almost relaxed back and forth, until Zoro gets tired of the complacency. Time to get serious. He comes at Sanji harder and faster, trying to push the cook into using that fancy new move of his.

Zoro backs away to fling an aerial attack towards the cook, who leaps away with lethal grace. Sanji retaliates with a flurry of attacks, so fast that Zoro has to throw up both of his swords to block them. He shoves Sanji hard in the chest and sends him flying into the railing of the deck. Chunks of wood explode outwards as the impact effectively destroys the railing.

Zoro hangs back, waiting for Sanji to make a move.

Sanji slowly picks himself up, dusting off his slacks and shaking wood chips out of his hair. He takes a moment to get out a cigarette and light it. As he blows the smoke off to the side, he looks Zoro up and down, narrowing his eyes.  

“Alright, fine. So that’s how you want to play it then, shitty swordsman. You’re asking for it now.”

Before Zoro can reply, Sanji starts to spin, picking up speed until he’s turned into a blur of movement. This must be the move he cooked up in their last fight against that Zoan type.  When he comes to a stop, his right foot is smoldering.

Hell yeah. This is what Zoro has been waiting for the entire fight.

Sanji leaps forward, throwing himself at Zoro with almost superhuman speed, flaming foot stretched high above his head. Zoro readies himself for the impact, crossing his two swords in front of him. The cook’s foot slams down on Wado and Kitetsu. 

The flames from his foot are licking at Zoro’s face, close enough to singe at his hair. He looks up at Sanji, where the flames are casting flickering shadows across his face, setting his eyes ablaze.

They hold eye contact for a few seconds, stuck in a stalemate. He feels a surge of excitement. This is what makes Zoro feel alive. Fighting someone who is so clearly Zoro’s equal, meets him hit for hit, gets his adrenaline pumping and his blood rushing. Zoro gives Sanji a manic smile.

“That all you got, pretty boy?” Zoro asks, his face red and eyes wide, daring Sanji to make a move. 

Sanji’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open slightly, before narrowing his eyes with renewed focus. “Careful what you wish for, brute, I’ll burn your face off,” the cook retorts, his knee bent up to his chest as Zoro pushes back his foot with crossed swords. 

Neither willing to be bested, they both forcefully push the other forward, getting knocked backwards. Both of them land on their feet, chests heaving for air. 

Zoro narrows his eyes, looking over at the cook with his swords raised defensively over his face.

“You had enough yet?” 

Sanji sets his leg back down, extinguishing the flame on his foot and takes a long drag of his cigarette. 

“Never. But you’re lucky I have perishables in there, mosshead,” Sanji replies, already walking back into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. “Seems we’ll have to reschedule your ass kicking for a later date.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, shit cook,” Zoro replies, already making his way to his favorite napping spot to relax for the foreseeable future. 

-

Sanji rubs a hand over his face as Zoro turns away from him, sighing in defeat. The stupid moron is gonna kill him one day, with those stupid nicknames of his. Pretty boy? Seriously? Sanji’s just glad his face was red enough already to cover up the blush that certainly would have given him away. 

Back in the kitchen, Sanji looks out to the deck to be sure the mosshead is off dozing somewhere so he can’t possibly hear the disgusting amount of feelings that are about to come out of his mouth.

“So,” Sanji begins, erratically washing the dishes. Usopp sits over at the table, head resting in his hands, propped up by his elbows. He’s glad they can easily get back into their daily gossip sessions even after the whole Water Seven incident. It’s troubling how much he thinks about Zoro. 

“So,” Usopp parrots back at him. “Wait, let me guess. It’s Zoro?”

Sanji scrubs harder at the sauce gelled onto the plate. “How’d you know? I’m not that obvious am I?”

Usopp shrugs his shoulders. “Just a little. I wouldn’t worry though. Zoro is denser than a cinder block.”

Sanji huffs, setting down another plate to dry. “That’s for sure. I don’t think he has any filter, just says whatever idiotic thought that comes to his pea-sized brain. It’s–it’s infuriating really.”

Usopp waves a hand around. “So, let me get this straight. You’re in love with the guy, but also you think he’s a complete moron.”

“...Those two thoughts are not mutually exclusive, Usopp,” Sanji replies, waving a hand.

“Right, right, my bad. So, what did he say this time?” Usopp asks. 

“Get this. He called me pretty boy, again! I’m starting to think it's not an insult, Usopp. What if he actually means it?” 

“And that’s a bad thing because…?” 

“Well, just, uh, hypothetically speaking here, but let’s say I’m madly in love with him, right?”

“Right, ‘ hypothetically’.”

“Yes, hypothetically. So, if I’m in love with him, and he may, possibly, perhaps have some sort of mutual feeling for me. We just have this little back and forth going on, and I don’t know what to do. Hypothetically.”

“Well, hypothetically, I’d tell you to confess to him. Trust me, I’ve seen the way the guy looks at you. Like a lost puppy, begging to be taken home,” Usopp says, tapping his fingers on the table. “He drools like a dog, too.”

“Okay, sure, you can say that, but it’s not that easy! I can’t just go, ‘oh hey, Zoro, by the way, I’m in love with you, want to be my boyfriend and have a steamy pirate romance?’” Sanji asks, voice filled with exasperation. He throws his hands up to accentuate this point.

Usopp shakes his head. “You totally could though!” At Sanji’s glaring response, he shakes his head. “Or…not. Just tell him how you feel, Sanj. You do it with Nami and Robin literally every day, you’re practically the romance expert.”

Usopp flips his hand dramatically in front of his face, closing his eyes and throwing his other arm in the air. In his best Sanji impression, he recites, “ Oh dear sweet ladies, you are but goddesses on this sea, more beautiful than any pearl awash in the sand, the sun aching in your shining presence…” He finishes his impression with a fake blow of smoke before receiving a swift kick to the head. 

“That’s not what I sound like, you long-nosed bastard!” Sanji growls. He adjusts his tie in irritation. “Besides, that’s different. I’m just appreciating them, I don’t love them.”

Usopp rubs at the lump forming on his head with a wince. “ I thought it was a good impression.”

Ignoring him, Sanji continues. “ And, this is Zoro we’re talking about. He wouldn’t appreciate poetry if you blended up a thesaurus and served it with a glass of beer. He wouldn’t get it. He’s more of an…actions speak louder than words kinda guy.”

Usopp nods. “Okay, you got it then. Just do something for him, you know, like cook him his favorite food or something. Put a love letter in his rice ball, I dunno. Just make sure it comes from the heart, yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sanji says, wringing out his hands. 

Usopp places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got a lot of it, you know? Heart. I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Just remember, there’s no point in waiting around for what you want when happiness is just around the corner.”

Sanji smiles over at him. “Thanks, Usopp, really it means a lot. I’m glad you’re back.”

Usopp returns his smile with a beaming grin. Giggling to himself, he puts on a serious face, brushing up his hair to accentuate his forehead. In a deeper voice, he says, “Hey, dumb cook. I like you too. Let’s like makeout or whatever and go cut some stuff.”

Cackling to himself, Usopp turns to Sanji. “Pretty good, huh?”

Sanji returns his laughter with a blank stare. “Get the fuck out of my kitchen.” 

After Usopp hastily leaves the kitchen, Sanji sets to work preparing dinner. His body is on autopilot, gathering ingredients and equipment, as the door bangs open. Sanji can tell it’s Zoro by the heavy tread of his boots. He doesn’t look up from his preparation because he has a pretty good idea what the swordsman is here for. As suspected, he listens to Zoro walk over to his self-appointed spot in Sanji’s kitchen, and sits down in the cross-legged position he tends to favor, arms crossed over his chest, swords propped up next to him. 

Sanji quickly slices through piles of vegetables, unconsciously letting his gaze flicker over to Zoro every now and again. Sanji looks away before Zoro has the chance to meet his eyes. He can feel Zoro’s eyes on him as continues to prepare dinner, moving from place to place in the kitchen.

The revelation came to him a while ago–the shocking realization that he’s attracted to Roronoa Zoro, of all people–and hasn’t left his mind since. He’s recently come to terms with it, no longer laying awake at night in fear that maybe he didn’t know himself that well after all. Sanji’s always known Zoro is attractive, but he’s since become obsessed with every part of the stupid swordsman. The sharp cut of his jaw, the warm kiss of the sun on his skin, calloused hands, the way his wet shirt clings to his broad shoulders as he fishes Luffy from the ocean–okay, maybe he’s getting ahead of himself. 

Sanji shakes his head to bring his focus back to dinner, making a face at the uneven knife cuts on his carrots. That’s what he gets for being so… distracted. And, well, the swordsman’s looks aren’t the only things he cares about. Though they are a plus, he’s grown to love Zoro’s personality, his heart. 

Zoro is always solid, never wavering in his confidence in himself. At first, Sanji wrote it off as jealousy–upset that he’s never had the will to stand up for his own dreams, to believe in himself the way Zoro does. Sanji finds more things to love about the man the more time he spends with him, which is an embarrassingly large amount of time.

If anything, the swordsman encourages Sanji to be more than he ever believed he could. His convictions are infectious. The wild look in his eyes when he charges into battle like he’s having the time of his life is intoxicating. Even their fights motivate Sanji. They had started off from a place of anger and frustration, but soon grew into a strange way of bonding. It’s like his body comes alive when they spar, every fiber of himself filled with electricity. He can feel the same energy come from Zoro, the clash of metal underneath his shoes only serving to make the swordsman’s devilish grin grow wider.

FIghting alongside Zoro only makes Sanji feel even more powerful. To have someone of equal caliber watch his back, to be trusted with guarding Zoro’s, is an honor. He and Zoro are almost unstoppable when they can cooperate long enough to fight together. Nobody stands a chance. To be frank, Sanji is obsessed with it all.

Despite all of his outward surliness, Zoro is really just a big sap. Sanji has enjoyed getting to witness Zoro’s particular brand of affection. The way Zoro holds Chopper gently on his chest, keeping him from rolling off as they nap together in the afternoon sun. The way he picks up a snoring Luffy, slings him over his shoulders, gently sliding him into his bed. When they stop at an island, Zoro is always the last to jump ship, watching over them as they step onto land. 

Sanji has also noticed the little things Zoro has been doing for him–something he still struggles to come to terms with, though it does not go unappreciated. None of the crew has ever mentioned it, but he’s sure they notice how Zoro is the last to leave the table, scooping up dirty plates and forks. He’s become a fixture at the sink after meals, drying the dishes off after Sanji scrubs them clean. As soon as Sanji announces his grocery trip, Zoro is the first to sit up with a huff, only slightly complaining when he’s loaded down with bags and boxes. 

For all of their mutual grumbling, they’ve both grown to enjoy their shopping trips. The silence is comfortable when their conversation lulls. On the rarest of occasions Zoro even picks out an ingredient or two.

Despite encroaching into Sanji’s spaces, Zoro always seems to fit in comfortably, like he belongs there. Sometime’s Sanji struggles to remember a time when he ever spent these moments alone. 

Sanji aches to be close to him, to let the hands that swing at their sides brush together, letting their fingers intertwine. He longs to slide in next to Zoro as he dozes away, brush the hair from his forehead, wipe the sleepy drool from his mouth and kiss him awake. Maybe it was wishful thinking. But it’s the only thinking he’s been able to do as of late. And somewhere, in the corners of his mind, he might even think Zoro feels the same way. 

Sanji risks a look at Zoro again to him already looking back. Their eyes lock for a few moments, the tension that has been building between them for weeks rising to the surface. Sanji almost blurts it out right there.

I’m in love with you.

But to Sanji’s utter surprise, Zoro looks away first. Sanji can see the beginnings of a soft blush painting the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t push, choosing to go back to his preparations for dinner instead, turning away to hide the small smile growing on his face. 

- 

Zoro is sitting in the corner of the kitchen, making sure to stay out of the way of Sanji’s pacing around. He’s taken to sitting here in the quiet hours of the day. Zoro likes inserting himself into Sanji’s space, into his life. He likes watching Sanji do what he loves. And Sanji is in the kitchen for most of the day anyway, so if Zoro wants to spend any amount of time with him, the kitchen is the place to be. 

Sanji is humming to himself quietly as he flits from spot to spot in the kitchen in a practice rotation, not that Zoro noticed. He doesn’t stare at the cook, no matter what that witch, Nami, says.

There’s a tiny smile on the cook’s face as he prepares dinner. A blind person could see how happy cooking makes Sanji. Zoro is sure he’s never seen the cook look happier than when he’s in a kitchen, cooking for the crew. It’s more than the act of cooking itself. What really makes Sanji happy is seeing everyone leaving the table happy and satisfied from a good meal. 

Zoro is filled with the urge to be the one to put that look on Sanji’s face. He wants to make Sanji happy like cooking makes him. Zoro wants to be the one to hold Sanji, to comfort him, to love him. 

Zoro has never experienced a longing quite like this. He has dreams, goals, passions, but none of them match up to his feelings for the cook. He thinks about Sanji more than he’s probably ever thought about anything in his life and has certainly never agonized over anything like this.

Relationships, love, all of it, was never something that interested him. Until now, Zoro has actively avoided all potential suitors.

“ I don’t have time for this,” is what he's always told himself, but falling for Sanji seems to have been inevitable. A slow-burning candle that's been lit since they met at the Baratie. 

Zoro always believed love to be a nuisance, something to go out of your way for, rearranging your life to fit around another person, but being in love with Sanji has blown all of those assumptions out of the water. Zoro thinks there’s always been a spot for Sanji in his heart. He fits right into place, along with Kuina, with his dream, with Luffy and the crew. So easily that Zoro hardly noticed until it was right in front of his face.  A big sign that says, “Y ou’re in love with him, moron.”

Zoro didn’t think it was possible for him to yearn, but Sanji continues to exceed his expectations. 

After dinner, Zoro has taken up his usual position to Sanji’s left as they wash the dishes from dinner. They’ve settled into a nice rhythm, moving in sync with each other, shoulders brushing with each movement between them. 

Zoro can feel the confession on the tip of his tongue–if only the cook would shut up first.

“You know, mosshead, really you should be drying them counterclockwise . It’s the quickest way to dry them without ruining my fine china, you brute.”

“Uh, sure. So I–”

“Okay, what did you think of Franky? I don’t really appreciate his table manners. And he acts like I can just forget the whole beating the shit out of Usopp thing–I mean he did help us save Robin, but still, you know?”

The weird pervert robot is not who Zoro wants to be thinking of before he spills out his feelings. He’s seconds away from shaking the cook’s shoulders to shut him up before he changes the conversation again.

“Do you want to go to the market with me tomorrow? I know we went kind of recently, but there’s this spice I wanted to pick up, I didn’t realize we were almost out.”

“Uh, sure, but can I–”

“Oh! And we should also pick up–”

“Sanji, stop, I need to–”

Zoro’s words are cut short as Sanji shoves his chest, his hands still wet from the plate he had just scrubbed.

“God, would you stop interrupting me? I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you , asshole!” the cook exclaims, and then abruptly shuts his mouth. Sanji’s cheeks turn dark red, and he makes no move to remove his hands from Zoro’s chest, frozen in place.

Zoro freezes. They stare at each other, wide-eyed and completely shocked. The seconds tick by in thick silence. Then, his body is moving before his brain can catch up.

Zoro closes the distance between them in a step, damp hands coming up to frame Sanji’s face. Sanji loves him . Zoro can’t help but kiss Sanji then, he might die if he doesn't. Zoro kisses him like he’s a starving man and Sanji is the first meal he’s been offered in weeks.

Sanji tenses up for a second, and then kisses Zoro back. A frantic, heated press of lips that lights Zoro’s chest on fire. This is what he’s been searching for, yearning for this entire time. He smooths his thumbs across the cook’s cheekbones, pushing Sanji up against the counter, trapping him there. The kiss slows to something sweeter as they fall into a rhythm with each other. Their lips move in sync with one another, just like in a fight, like they each know their next move. Sanji tangles his hands together behind Zoro’s head as he presses closer.

Zoro moves one of his hands around Sanji’s head to cradle the back of his neck as he pulls back, just enough to look Sanji in the eyes. Sanji chases after him for another kiss—which doesn’t do much for Zoro’s self control—before pulling away and opening his eyes. Zoro’s other hand falls to Sanji’s waist, keeping him from moving away.

“Uhhm,” is Sanji’s response, eyes unfocused and cheeks dusted pink. 

“Wow, good talk,” Zoro replies, unable to stop the smile growing on his face. Every fiber of his being longs to pull Sanji in again, kissing him until he forgets how to breathe.

“...Are you going to say it back?” Sanji says quietly, fiddling with the hairs at the base of Zoro’s neck. He suppresses a shudder. 

Zoro huffs, grabbing Sanji’s chin to tilt his head back up. “God, you’re so stupid. Of course I love you.” 

Sanji surges forward, capturing Zoro’s lips in another kiss to which Zoro responds enthusiastically, smoothing his hands up and down Sanji’s back, clutching at his suit jacket. He presses Sanji as close as humanly possible. Sanji takes Zoro’s face in both of his hands and kisses him again and again, making tiny, satisfied sounds with each press of lips. Zoro can feel Sanji smiling against his mouth. He refrains from puffing out his chest in pride at being the one to make the cook so happy he can hardly give Zoro a proper kiss. 

Zoro has no idea how much time passes before they finally break apart, his hands still finding their home in the small of Sanji’s back. He leans back to look at him, drinking in every inch. Sanji’s face is flushed, his lips kissed pink, eyes bright. Most of all, he looks undeniably happy. Zoro lets his hands fall to the cook's waist, keeping him near. 

“Can’t get enough of you, love cook,” Zoro sighs, his voice soft. There’s a tiny voice in the back of his mind saying he should be embarrassed at the gooey crap coming out of his mouth, but he ignores it in favor of kissing Sanji smack on the nose. 

He brushes Sanji’s bangs from his face, tucking stray strands of blonde hair behind his ear. Sanji laughs, his voice low and gravelly. He pulls back a bit from Zoro, shaking his hands off of his waist. The missing warmth leaves Zoro pouting, already reaching to pull him back in. Sanji bats his hands away.

“Cut it out, clingy monkey. I need a smoke,” Sanji grumbles with a wave of his hand. He reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his cigarettes and lighter. He moves to head to the door, Zoro pulling him back before he can get too far.

“Can’t you do that here?” Zoro asks, definitely not whining.

Sanji taps him on the forehead with the butt of his lighter. “Don’t be such a baby. C’mon, sit outside with me?” 

“Always.” 

Thriller Bark

“I’ll carry that,” Sanji sighs, reaching down to grab the box of supplies before Zoro can. He’s covered in bandages, barely able to walk straight as they explore the small island’s market. 

Sanji really didn’t want the moron to play pack mule today, but Zoro is nothing if not stubborn. It’s only been a little over a week since he woke up after his fight with Kuma on Thriller Bark, and Zoro is still in recovery. His whole body is still wrapped in bandages–the ones Sanji can force him to keep on, anyways–and he walks with a slight limp. 

He watches Zoro’s hands shake when he hoists up their heavy grocery bags, a grimace set on his face and sweat running down his forehead. Zoro is still weaker than he’s ever been in the time Sanji has known him. It’s never taken him this long to heal.

“Nah, I got it. I’m not a fucking baby,” Zoro pouts.

“Well, neither am I, asshole. And you’re my baby,” Sanji says sarcastically. “My little mossy baby,” he continues, batting his eyelashes and puckering his lips in Zoro’s direction. 

Zoro flips him off. “Fuck you.”

“Aw, babies shouldn’t use bad words,” Sanji says, pinching Zoro’s cheek.

Zoro’s pouting, but at least he’s given up holding the box. The fact that he gave up the argument so easily shows Sanji how much Zoro’s injuries are really bothering him. With his one free hand, Sanji reaches over to gently rub his shoulder. 

“You wanna head back soon? I think I have just about everything,” Sanji says, trying to be subtle. His eyes trail down to look over Zoro’s bandages peeking out from underneath his loose shirt.

“Cook, I’m fine. Come on, this is like, only half the list,” Zoro grumbles, gesturing towards their small pile of purchases. Sanji can tell he’s irritated, but he can’t help but let the worry soak through his words as he watches Zoro struggle just to stand still. 

Sanji waves him off with a hand. “Didn’t know you even cared about reading my lists, mosshead.” 

Zoro waves the folded list of paper in his face. “Course I do. Especially when you’re trying to fuckin’ coddle me like I’m some helpless weakling,” he growls. 

Sanji crosses his arms and glares over at Zoro, an angry pout set on his face. “I would never say that about you, shithead and you know it. But since you can barely fucking stand without nearly passing out, I want to go back to The Sunny .”

“I know,” Zoro grumbles, avoiding Sanji’s gaze.

“You better. And you better know that I’m only saying this because I care about you, you fucking gorilla,” Sanji continues.

“‘M not a gorilla,” Zoro frowns. 

Sanji squishes his bicep in his hand. “Yes you are. Look at those gorilla arms,” Sanji coos, pressing a quick kiss to Zoro’s shoulder. 

Zoro leans down to headbutt him gently. “Yeah? Well, you’re a–uh, um…” Zoro trails off.

“I’m a what? Come on, say it, big guy.”

“A loser,” Zoro says smugly. He looks so confident in his answer Sanji almost doesn’t want to make fun of him. Almost. 

“Ah, you got me,” Sanji says solemnly, patting Zoro on the back. “How will I ever recover from that excruciating burn?”

“You can’t, loser.”

“Ouch! I think I need to see Chopper when we get back. Speaking of, we should do that now, come on,” Sanj continues, rushing  to say the last part, words coming out in a tumble all at once.

He grabs Zoro’s arm tightly, tugging him in the direction of where The Sunny is docked.

“Okay, fine I got it, stop! You’re going the wrong way, cook,” Zoro grunts as Sanji pulls him away from the market.

“What? No, I’m not gonna let your directionally-challenged ass gaslight me. I know where the ship is, bastard.”

As Sanji trudges back to the ship, walking a few steps behind Zoro to keep an eye on him, his mind wanders back to the fight against Bartholomew Kuma. Sanji doesn’t remember much from the last half of the fight. He’s spent the past week trying to sift through his foggy memories. He thinks about watching Zoro stand up to Kuma, offering up his life in exchange for Luffy’s.

Zoro could hardly stand, but neither could Sanji for that matter. Sanji could see Zoro’s body giving out on him, tremors wracking his body as he forced himself to stand and look at Kuma as he sacrificed himself. Ready to die for his captain, his crew.

You want a head? Then I’ll give you a head. However, I can’t give you my captain’s.

Sanji remembers the dread that rose in the pit of his stomach, willing himself to stand from where he was very nearly passed out on the ground to stop Zoro.

He had hobbled his way over to Zoro, with a broken leg and several cracked ribs. Each step was agony to his shattered bones, but he couldn’t have just let Zoro kill himself when he still had so much more to do with his life. His promise to Luffy, the crew, his dream–they were all about to disappear. Sanji would never forgive himself if he just let Zoro throw it all away like he meant nothing to them–to him.  

It was clear that Zoro hadn’t expected anyone to protest, the shock showing on his face when Sanji pushed past him to stand between the tyrant and his lover. He wasn’t going to allow Zoro to give up and die. If Sanji could choose to do one thing right in his life, it would be to save the people he loves, every time. 

You had the right idea, but what about your dream? You can’t accomplish anything if you’re dead, you stubborn fool.

Then, Sanji had offered up his head to Kuma and prepared to die, body shuddering with the effort of standing. The thought came naturally to him, that he should be the one to die for the crew. For their captain. They could get another cook, but they wouldn’t ever find another Roronoa Zoro. He had looked over at Zoro, wracking his brain to think of the last words he could say to him. Take care of them for me. Accomplish your dreams for us. I love you.

Zoro’s eyes had widened at Sanji’s words. For the first time ever, Sanji had seen true fear on Zoro’s face. That is the last thing Sanji can recall before waking up in the rubble and seeing Zoro’s swords where he had thrown them towards Sanji, as if entrusting his most prized possessions to him. Panic had flooded his body, desperately urging him to find Zoro. 

Despite his aching body’s screaming protests, Sanji had jumped up, running until he came upon a pool of blood. The sight had made him nauseous as saw  Zoro standing in the middle of it all, clothes torn and covered in dirt and blood. His shoulders were shaking, but he had stood there as still as he possibly could. Sanji ran to get a closer look, eyes burning. Without thinking, he had gripped Zoro’s shoulders, pulling him in to look over his nearly lifeless body.

What happened here? Where did that guy go?

Zoro’s response still haunts him. Sanji doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget it.

Nothing happened.

After that, Zoro had collapsed, falling to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut. Sanji had rushed forward, frantically searching for a pulse and blowing out a relieved sigh when he felt it. Faint, but there.

Sanji had carried Zoro back to the makeshift camp, his injuries forgotten as he hurried back with Zoro’s lifeless body hefted onto his back. Sanji had been sick with the way Zoro’s head lolled lifelessly against his shoulder. Zoro’s ragged breaths against his neck were the only things that kept his legs moving. 

The cold fear that had seeped into Sanji’s veins at seeing his lover half-dead and barely breathing still hasn’t left him. The past week has left Sanji feeling jumpy, like Zoro is going to drop dead any second. It has taken all of his self control to not hover, making sure he’s safe. He finds himself keeping a hand on Zoro’s chest to make sure he’s still breathing when they go to bed at night, unable to sleep until he can feel a pulse beneath his fingertips. He rewraps Zoro’s bandages as if they’re the only thing holding him together. He had even scoured through some of Chopper’s notes to find anything he could do to help, to reassure himself that Zoro wasn’t going to spontaneously pass out and die.

It weighs on Sanji’s mind. He can hardly eat or sleep without the image of Zoro standing there flashing through his mind. He goes through cigarettes like they’re candy, his thumb shaking as he struggles to click on his lighter.

Of course, in typical Zoro fashion, the moron only adds onto his stress. He acts as though he’s perfectly fine, training and running around as if Sanji hadn’t once held his lifeless body in his arms and felt the ghosts of shaky breaths on his tear-stained cheeks.

Sanji is shaken out of his train of thought by a hand waving in front of his face. 

“Hey, shit cook, what the hell are you doing? Hello?” Zoro asks, tapping Sanji on the forehead.

“What?”

“You were way too quiet for a minute there. Normally I can never get you to shut up,” Zoro huffs, though the concern is evident in his eyes and the way his hand rests upon Sanji’s side.

Sanji waves him off, pressing forward. He can see The Sunny not too far off in the distance. Zoro stops walking, and Sanji stumbles from nearly bumping into him. The swordsman stands there with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. He looks condescendingly attractive, and if he wasn’t still injured Sanji would have kicked him out of the way.

They stare at each other for a minute, until Sanji breaks the silence. “What.”

“You know what. You’re being stupid again,” Zoro says smacking Sanji’s forehead lightly.

“The pot calling the kettle black I see.”

“Huh? Nevermind, I’m just saying you’re being dumb. Overthinking or whatever,” Zoro says, as if that explains everything.. “So stop it. I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

He knows Zoro means well, and a part of him does find it comforting how stupidly straightforward he is. Every word that comes out of the swordsman’s mouth is so believable, Sanji thinks he might be going crazy. It’s almost infuriating that Zoro always knows just what to say to calm him down when Sanji is completely incapable of telling himself to slow down and just breathe.

Sanji stands with his arms crossed before giving in and deflating. “I know, I’m sorry. You know me, I always sweat the small stuff. And the big stuff. And the medium sized stuff. All stuff.”

Zoro slings an arm lazily over his shoulder. “I know you do, sweaty. Let’s just go home,” he says confidently, leading Sanji away from the dock, rubbing small circles into his shoulders. 

“Geez, you’re tense, cook.”

Sanji smacks Zoro’s hand off his shoulder before tangling their fingers together, leading them back to the ship.“And whose fault would that be, mosshead? Maybe stop trying so hard to get yourself killed and I’d be able to relax every once in a while.”

They finally make it back to The Sunny , and Sanji supposes that fact itself could be considered a miracle. If he could get Zoro to rest instead of trying to heave all of the groceries on deck, then an angel might truly be smiling down upon him. 

Ushering Zoro on board before he can even think about it, Sanji rushes him over to the makeshift room they’ve been sleeping in while Franky works on their new bedroom.

“Do I need to tuck you in, moss brain, or do you think you can handle that one on your own?” Sanji asks. He pushes his boyfriend down onto the bed anyways, pulling the blanket up over his chest and smoothing back his hair from his sweaty forehead. “Ew, you need a shower. Stinky.”

“Am not,” Zoro grumbles, his eyelids already sliding shut.

“Yes you are. Now, I’m putting the groceries away. Do you know what that means?”

“Mmph, groceries, yeah.”

“Yeah. It means don’t you dare move from this bed, or I’m telling Chopper,” Sanji threatens, swaddling the blanket tighter around Zoro’s shoulders in warning. Zoro grumbles some incoherent response that sounds vaguely like whatever, eyebrows. Sanji lets it slide just this once, leaning down to give Zoro a quick kiss on the forehead before heading out of the room. 

Sanji returns to the kitchen to start putting away the groceries they picked up. Zoro was right, they didn’t get everything they needed on the trip to town today. He’ll probably have to go out again before they set sail.

Sanji lights a cigarette as he organizes the items they got from the shopping trip and takes a long drag. He thinks about the conversation he had with Zoro after the swordsman had woken up from a three day coma. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, Zoro?”

“You know I’d do anything for Luffy, the crew, you. And I’d do it again. too.” 

Always doing the noble thing, that bastard. It makes Sanji’s heart expand in his chest, until he thinks it might burst. Experiencing firsthand the extent of Zoro’s dedication, to see the lengths Zoro will go to do what he believes to be the right thing, to protect his crew, is something that will stick with Sanji forever. 

A pair of arms sliding around Sanji’s waist interrupts his train of thought.

“I thought I told you to rest , you insufferable idiot,” Sanji chides, resting one of his hands on top of Zoro’s.

He feels a chin hook over his shoulder as he gets a low grunt in response, a small puff of air tickling Sanji’s ear. Zoro speak for I don’t wanna.

Sanji traces circles into Zoro’s hand with his thumb. He’s probably going to have to change the bandages on them soon. God knows Zoro won’t.

“That’s weird, I thought we were in the kitchen. You know, a place to eat, not to sleep.”

He can practically hear the snicker in the small breath that Zoro lets out against his neck.

“We eat in the bedroom all the ti–” 

“ Zoro. Get your mind out of the gutter, you brute.”

In reply Zoro only buries his head further into his neck, inhaling deeply with a happy sigh. Sanji leans back into Zoro’s hold. He can feel his heart flutter in his chest. As much as he loudly complains about Zoro’s clinginess, he loves it. Zoro’s affection is honest, making sure Sanji holds no doubts about the extent of Zoro’s feelings. 

“Well,” Sanji continues, face growing warm. “I guess you could stay. But you need to sit down, I’m busy.”

Zoro’s reply only comes in the form of a tighter grip, the entirety of his weight bearing down on Sanji’s back. Don’t wanna move. 

“God, you’re like a leech. A big green leech, sucking the life out of– Zoro, don’t you dare,” Sanji complains, but does absolutely nothing to dislodge Zoro’s hold. 

Zoro stifles his laugh with one hand. “Right, my bad…uh oh,” he gasps cryptically. Sanji rolls his eyes, having only half paid attention to him. 

“Huh?” Sanji asks, moving over to grab the salt container, sighing at the heavy weight still latched to him.

“Do you see that?” Zoro whispers, silently running his fingertips on Sanji’s shoulder. 

“...see what?” Sanji asks just as quietly, the hairs on the back of his neck are starting to rise.

“That thing..on your shoulder, I think it’s a bu–” Zoro begins, barely having time to finish his sentence as Sanji stands up ramrod straight, pushing Zoro away from him. 

“What!?” Sanji screeches, erratically shaking his head around, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Is it a bug? Oh my God, Zoro–please, get it, I’m–” Sanji continues to yell in terror, shaking himself from Zoro’s grasp.

“Come on, I said–oh hell, Zoro. You absolute fuck! I hate it when you do that! Your creepy moss tentacles feel just like spiders–so gross,” Sanji complains, shuddering as he continues to wipe imaginary insects from his shoulders. He whips around to fix Zoro with a glare. His anger is brief–as it usually is when it comes to Zoro–when he looks up from brushing off his shirt to see the idiot absolutely losing it.

Zoro laughs, big and deep from his belly. His eyes squeeze shut and he holds his stomach, hunching over slightly. He’s breathless now, smiling so wide Sanji thinks it might split his face in half. He feels his eyes widen as he watches Zoro laugh and laugh, the sound loud and unrestrained. Warmth floods his chest, seeping into the rest of his body. Sanji wants to freeze time and stay in this moment surrounded by Zoro’s joy. His laugh is infectious. He looks happier than he’s been since he woke up.

It’s several minutes before Zoro calms down enough to talk.

“I’m–hah, oh my–I’m sorry it’s just–,” Zoro dissolves into another fit of laughter before he can finish speaking. Sanji’s not sure his frown is very convincing anymore, trying to fight off a smile at Zoro’s behavior. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, big man,” Sanji pretends to grumble.

“Your face, I–” Zoro breathes out, looking up at Sanji just to start laughing again.

“Yes, my face of terror and anguish is so funny, real hilarious,” Sanji says sarcastically. He’s not sure his face conveys his tone as his smile grows. Even at his expense, Zoro’s laughter is hopelessly endearing. 

“I said–and then you thought–and I just–Every time you–” Zoro sputters, still trying to catch his breath. 

“You’re a monster. Big, scary pirate hunter Zoro, laughing at his poor, innocent boyfriend, who was just trying to cook dinner,” Sanji says in fake misery, a dramatic hand raised to his forehead.

“Okay, okay, stop, I’m good,” Zoro sighs, taking in a deep breath. He’s still smiling.

“I’m sorry, Sanji, really–it’s just so funny. Plus, you just look so cute when I do that.”

Sanji feels his face flush. He can see Zoro trying desperately to hold in another laugh, but he appreciates the effort anyway. He’s given up all pretenses of looking annoyed, a small huff of a laugh escaping his lips. 

“Well,” Sanji begins, adjusting his tie in fake seriousness. “Glad I could provide you with some entertainment, you overgrown lichen. Clearly it doesn’t take much,” he continues, rolling his eyes.

Zoro slinks back over to him, wrapping his arms around Sanji like vines on a tree once again.

“M’ sorry. You forgive me?” Zoro mutters into Sanji’s neck. Sanji can feel the smile pressed against his skin. Zoro nuzzles his forehead against Sanji for good measure, but Sanji refuses to fall for his mind games. 

“Yeah yeah,” Sanji grumbles, making no effort to shrug Zoro off. He turns his head to give Zoro a kiss before going back to the dish he was preparing. 

“You want cheese on your eggs?”

“Nah. I want the yolk thing though,” Zoro says, his voice still muffled. Sanji thinks the swordsman should consider himself lucky that he’s such a great chef. Not many could still prepare a meal with hundreds of pounds of moss slung over their backs. 

Though he should feel annoyed, Sanji feels content to drag Zoro around the kitchen as he makes dinner. Something about the scene makes him feel content in a way he hasn’t in awhile. With Zoro’s heart beating steadily against his back, Sanji knows that everything will work itself out in the end. 

Saboady Archipelago 

It’s been two weeks since Luffy’s message in the paper. Two weeks since Zoro started training with Mihawk. Two weeks since he’s seen Sanji. 

Most of Zoro’s time is taken up by Mihawk’s instruction. He spends hours and hours fighting those stupid monkeys only to get his ass handed to him regularly. 

The company isn’t so bad, though. Perona is like the annoying little sister he’s never had, or wanted for that matter. She’s constantly bothering him and teasing him about the cook, saying he needs to talk about his “ boy problems. ”

Zoro doesn’t like to talk about Sanji. Thinking about the cook only serves to remind Zoro that they’re going to be separated with no way to communicate for the next two years. Hell, Zoro doesn’t even know where Sanji is. He could be halfway across the world for all he knows. 

“Come on, you gotta at least explain why,” Perona grumbles, holding up Sanji’s wanted poster in front of Zoro’s face. “I mean come on, he’s not even that cute.”

Zoro slaps the poster away, continuing to lift weights. “That’s not what he actually looks like, emo witch. Can’t you tell the difference between a drawing and a picture?” He snaps. 

Exercising and training is the only thing Zoro can do to keep his mind off of the crew. He can only imagine what they’re going through out there. While he’s well aware they can each hold their own, he feels a little guilty for not being able to be there for them. 

“I highly doubt the marines would draw him incorrectly. Maybe you just have bad taste in men, Zoro,” Perona sighs, hovering above him.

“And maybe you just have bad taste in personality. Pick a different one or leave me the hell alone,” Zoro grunts between reps. He wonders if Sanji has to deal with anyone as aggravating wherever he is. But knowing him, he’d probably rejoice to be in Perona’s company.

“Fine then, Zoro, just keep moping and being all sad and lame. You’re not even depressed in a cute way, it’s just pathetic,” Perona says, floating off somewhere else in the massive castle. If Zoro’s hands weren’t full, he’d flip her off as she left. 

All this time alone has allowed Zoro’s mind to wander. He spends most of it thinking about the cook. Zoro misses him. He feels like he’s missing a part of himself. Like if he looked down, there'd be a little Sanji-shaped hole in his chest. 

Zoro wonders how the cook will change, and how he will change for that matter. Would Sanji want to start right back where they left off?  He wonders if their relationship will be the same, existing together as easy as before? A lot can happen in two years. 

Of course he trusts the cook, that matter was never up for debate. But, two years seems further and further away each day. Besides, he knows Sanji like the back of his own hand. The moron lets himself fall into pitfalls of self-doubt, convincing himself he’s undeserving of what he has. 

Maybe he’s grown soft, being apart from them all. He wishes he could talk to Sanji, remind him that his feelings will never waver. Zoro’s never made a promise he doesn’t intend to keep–and he certainly hasn’t now. He just hopes Sanji knows that too. 

For now, anyways, he’ll keep training, keep getting stronger for them. Zoro wanders around the castle until he finds a balcony. It’s attached to this old looking bedroom, the walls adorned with bookshelves and creepy sword memorabilia. The balcony doors creak when he opens them, but the view expands across the entire island. He looks up at the stars, wondering if Sanji can see the same constellations scattered across the sky. Maybe they’re even looking at the same time. Maybe Sanji is thinking about him too. 

Once, when he was much younger, Kuina had explained to him that stars could grant wishes. He had laughed at her, how stupid could you be if you believed in something like that? Besides, no matter how often he talked to the night sky after she left, they never answered him anyways. But, maybe just this once he’d try again.

I know you’re up there somewhere, Kuina, so don’t laugh at me for doing this. But keep them safe for me, okay? I swear I’ll return the favor.

Zoro isn’t quite sure how you’re supposed to sign off when you make a wish upon a star, so he takes Wado out of its sheath, brandishing it up towards the sky. He holds it there for a moment, just so she can see.

With his eyes closed, Zoro almost doesn’t notice Perona coming up from behind him.

“ Ew, what are you doing, freak?” Perona shrieks. Zoro nearly drops Wado in surprise.

“Hey!” He shouts, turning around to face her. “Would you mind your own damn business for once?”

“It is my business when you’re out here acting like a lunatic and snooping through Mihawk’s bedroom . Could you get any creepier?” Perona complains, her arms crossed. 

Zoro feels the blood drain from his face. “Wait. This is…Mihawk’s bedroom?”

“Well, duh! You’re lucky I noticed you out here before you got in trouble. Now come on let’s go before he–” Perona says, tugging on Zoro’s arm before getting interrupted.

“Ahem.”

Perona squeaks, dropping Zoro’s arm and floating away as fast as she can. Zoro curses her for leaving him here.

“Roronoa, if you’re going to threaten the sky, I would appreciate it if you did it on your own balcony instead of mine,” Mihawk deadpans.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Right,” Zoro stammers, slowly stepping backwards until his back hits the railing. 

“I’ll just…be going now. Thanks,” he says, turning and leaping off the ledge, landing on the ground with a thud. Somewhere in the distance he can hear the annoying girl’s weird laugh as he brushes twigs and leaves from his hair. He can only hope Sanji is having a better time than he is. 

-

Sanji is decidedly not having a good time. 

Normally at this time of day he would have just finished breakfast, gathering up all the dirty dishes to throw in the sink while Zoro finds a cloth to dry them with. He would shoo Luffy away from the fridge, and send Chopper out the door with a cookie. Now, he’s running for his life across the beach, training to get faster, stronger–and maybe just a little less self-conscious. That part he could do without, but Ivankov seems intent on getting him to express himself. 

The people here are unapologetically themselves, something Sanji has never been able to do. He’s spent his life either trying to get away from his family or pretending they never existed in the first place, trying to make himself tougher, less emotional. To see the ladies here be so wholeheartedly authentic makes Sanji’s chest ache for something he never knew he wanted. 

“Oh, dear, Sanji-boy! How’s the training going?” Iva shouts, appearing in front of Sanji from out of nowhere.

Sanji skids to a halt with a screech, nearly falling backwards to avoid running into her.

“Iva! You scared the shit out of me,” Sanji yells, clutching his chest. It’s like she can sense whenever these thoughts come to his mind, appearing from thin air to force him into talking about it. He’s sure he won’t budge this time.

“Well, I promised you a recipe, didn’t I, candy boy? I always keep my promises,” Iva says with a wink. 

Sanji straightens up at this, his eyes lighting up. “Really, already?” He asks, excitement seeping into his voice. 

“My, someone’s an eager beaver. Let’s get going then, much to talk about,” Iva says slyly. Sanji is almost sure she wants to do more than cook together, but he shoves that thought to the back of his head along with all of the other things he’s pretending not to think about. 

Once they get started cooking, Sanji spends the next hour learning the new recipe. Iva lets him take the lead, giving him pointers and correcting him along the way. He wants to be sure to memorize it as fast as possible. Sanji’s so engrossed in his work that he’s almost completely forgotten about what Iva had mentioned earlier. He turns to her to ask a question about the dish, only to be met with an intent stare.

“...can I help you?” Sanji asks reluctantly, holding the mixing bowl to his chest like a shield. 

Iva turns away, feigning ignorance. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking, is all,” She says cryptically, pretending to flip through the pages of her recipe book.

“Right…whatever you say,” Sanji replies, turning his attention back to his whisking. He hopes that if he stares into the bowl intently enough, maybe Iva will drop whatever she plans on asking him. Of course, this is nothing but wishful thinking.

“So, do you have a special someone back on straw-boy’s ship?” Iva asks suddenly.

Sanji sputters, nearly dropping the whisk into the bowl. “What? Why would you–how do you know that?” He asks accusingly, pointing the whisk at her. 

“Oh, I didn’t. But I do now!” She says cheerfully, clapping her hands together. “Tell me all about it!” 

Sanji whisks the bowl at a furious pace. “Stop asking me personal questions!” He nearly shouts, hoping Iva doesn’t hit him for the outburst. “Besides, not like it matters anyway,” Sanji whispers, mostly to himself.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Iva asks. Sanji can feel his face growing red at the interrogation.

“Not like I’ll get to see him in the foreseeable future. We’re all stuck for the next fucking two years,” Sanji grumbles.

“Well, no need to be a sour puss about it. I’m sure you’ll see your long-nosed boyfriend again soon,” Iva comforts him, patting his shoulder a bit patronizingly. 

“Long nose–what? No, no, it’s not him,” Sanji counters defensively, setting the bowl on the counter to cross his arms.

“Really?” Iva asks. “Seems like he’d be your type. Oh, it’s not that robot fellow, is it? He’s a bit too old for you, candy boy.”

Sanji fake gags. “ Franky? God, no, fuck, absolutely not. If I just tell you already, will you stop putting those grotesque images in my head?” Sanji asks, furiously rubbing at his eyes.

Iva claps her hands together. “Are you sure? I was having much more fun guessing–oh, candy boy, it can’t be Luffy, right?”

“No! Goddamn, it’s Zoro, okay? The sword guy? Big muscles, green moss-shaped head? Always has that moronic look in his eyes? Surely you’ve seen him in the paper,” Sanji admits, looking down to avoid Iva’s gaze. 

“Ah, I see,” Iva hums. “You miss him.” 

“Nope, no, not doing this again, I don’t wanna talk about it,” Sanji says, covering his ears with his hands.

“It seems like we’re already talking about it, aren’t we? Come on, tell me about it,” Iva urges. Sanji curses his own hands for not being better at blocking out sound.

“We’re not talking about it, because there’s nothing to say,” Sanji insists. “Of course I miss him, I miss all of them. And sure, maybe I do wonder what he’s doing out there, or what he’s thinking about, but–all of these points are irrelevant.” 

Iva opens her mouth to say something, but Sanji forges on, his words picking up speed as he rambles on.

“And it’s all irrelevant because it’ll be two damn years before I can even see him–them–again, and I know. Okay, I know it’s the right decision, I trust Luffy, but still. I just got him back, and now–” Sanji cuts himself off, traitorous voice wobbling dangerously. He drags in a ragged sigh.

“Oh, honey,” Iva says quietly, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Like I said, irrelevant. Not important. I just need to focus on getting stronger for my crew,” Sanji says, mouth set in a hard line. Flashes of their time on Sabaody flash through his brain. He sees Zoro disappear with a swipe of a hand, hears his friends cry out, remembers Luffy telling them to run.

More determined than ever, Sanji sets his attention back to the ingredients laid out on the counter. Never again.

“So courageous, Sanji-boy,” Iva says, patting him on the head and ruffling his hair.

Sanji swats her hand away. “Don’t patronize me,” he says grumpily. 

Iva’s presence is oddly comforting. The past two weeks had Sanji convinced these two years were going to be hell, but maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. Talking to Iva kind of makes Sanji want to spill his guts, tell her every shitty insecurity, all of the parts of himself he's been too scared to properly address. While he will continue to deny it at every turn, a part of him really did appreciate these cooking sessions with Iva. 

“Now, let’s circle back for a minute here–oh don’t forget to set the oven to simmer, yes–anyways, you and this…Zoro, was it?” Iva continues peering over at Sanji with a raised eyebrow.

“...yes?” Sanji says reluctantly.

“You seem a little nervous about something,” Iva says with a casual shrug. “Just curious, is all.”

Sanji sighs, ”Guess there’s nothing I can hide from you, Iva.”

Iva beams back at him, gesturing for Sanji to continue.

“A lot can happen in two years, you know? I just don’t know how things are going to change between us. What if it’s not the same? Hell, he might not even like me after two years apart.”

“Just because people change doesn’t mean things have to be different,” Iva says sagely. She taps at Sanji’s chest with one finger. “You’re still you, deep down in here.”

“I know that, but–”

“No buts. You need to give the pirate hunter some more credit, Sanji-boy. Despite all of these walls you put up, he already knows and loves you for who you are. And that, my boy, will never change,” Iva says with all of the years of wisdom in her voice.

Maybe she’s right. Sanji can only imagine if Zoro’s put up with him this long, surely things can’t be that different when they finally meet again. He’ll still be the same just–more so himself. He can practically hear Zoro’s groan from miles and miles away. Stop overthinking everything, curly. For someone so smart, you can be real stupid sometimes.

“Thanks, Iva,” Sanji says quietly. “I’m gonna go take a quick smoke break, if that’s okay?” 

Iva shoos him out the door, promising to keep an eye on the oven timer. Now you remember what I said, alright? I really should be charging for this excellent advice. 

Sanji leans against the side of the castle as he pulls out his cigarettes and lighter. He takes a long drag, blowing the smoke at the sky. He thinks about what the rest of his crew is doing, if they’re getting enough to eat. He thinks about Zoro last, letting the ache in his heart wash over him. Damn it all, he misses that idiotic meathead. He didn’t know how much he’d miss the tickle of green hair against his jaw or the brush of fingers along his waist until they were ripped away from him. Three days. They were only supposed to be apart for three days. Two years seems impossible. 

Sanji tips his head back to look at the sky. The stars are just barely starting to come out. He wonders what time it is where Zoro is, if he’s doing alright, how his training is going. He takes another drag, blowing the smoke up into the sky in the shape of a heart

Two years, mosshead. Don’t get lost on the way back. 

-

Sanji is standing there, looking right back at him for the first time in two years. He’s different, but not in a bad way. His hair is parted differently and he’s bigger, taller, more confident. Those two years of training were invaluable, but damn, Zoro missed him. 

After being unceremoniously whisked away by Kuma, there had been a little bubble of discomfort in his chest. It was similar to the way he feels when he's parted from his swords for too long, like he should get up and go look for them to make sure they’re okay, or him, in this case. But that was impossible, so Zoro spent two years waiting for this exact moment.

The bubble pops. 

Joy floods his chest in sweet relief, soothing the aching of his heart that had been near constant since their separation. He’d taken his training seriously, and devoted all his focus to becoming a better swordsman, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander, thinking of the cook during rest periods and quiet nights in Mihawk’s dreary castle.

Perona had called him mopey, aying all he did was complain about the cooking and the lack of suitable sparring partners. Zoro begged to differ. Swordsmen do not mope.

Zoro takes a moment to just look at Sanji, basking in his presence like a cat in the sun. His suit has been tailored to perfection, making his legs look longer than ever. The top few buttons of Sanji’s shirt are undone and his hair is messy, sticking up in places, as if ruffled by the wind. Cute, is the word that comes unbidden to Zoro’s mind . His hands itch to touch, to run his hands all over him, to bring Sanji close and never let go. 

Sanji smirks at him, taking a drag from his cigarette,”Did you get shorter, mosshead?”

“Did you get more annoying, curly?” Zoro asks in return, rolling his one good eye.

The familiarity of the banter, of Sanji’s lopsided grin hits Zoro full force. Now, Zoro is not a crier. Never has been, but he absurdly feels like he might do so in the middle of this very public place. 

He holds up a hand to the top of his head and moves it towards Sanji’s head. The cook probably has at least an inch on him, the asshole. Before his hand reaches the top of his head, Zoro slides it down to ruffle Sanji’s hair, before dropping his hand and taking a step closer. He’s invading Sanji’s space now, so he has to look up slightly to meet the cook’s gaze. It's heartbreakingly gentle, the way Sanji is looking at him. 

“It’s been awhile,” Zoro offers. His gaze is fixed on the cook, the sounds of the townsquare behind him fading into the background. 

“It has,” Sanji whispers, looking down at his feet. “Too long, even.”

“You saying you missed me, cook?” Zoro asks, not even trying to hide the grin that spreads across his face. Yesterday, the Sabaody Archipelago was the worst place Zoro ever had the misfortune of going to, and now it sets the scene for a reunion two years in thr making.

“Don’t get a big ego there, mossy. I missed everyone, equally,” Sanji says with a huff, crossing his arms. “But, a certain green-haired swordsman may have crossed my mind from time to time,” he finishes quietly, leaning in slightly, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards.

Zoro is struck with the urge to kiss Sanji right in the middle of the plaza, long and sweet. He desperately wants to be closer, to make up for the two years apart, but he resists. They would have plenty of time for quiet moments together on The Sunny . However, he couldn’t stop the excitement thrumming in his chest. Of course everything could still be the same. Sanji was here, had sought him out the moment he landed on the island. The years apart seem as far away as ever now. 

“Oh, so you were worried about me, huh?” Zoro asks again, a mischievous glint in his eye. As expected, he still knows exactly which buttons to push to get the cook going.

“ Worried about you? Don’t make me laugh,” Sanji replies, rolling his eyes. He sticks a pointed finger on Zoro’s chest. “Clearly I should have been, though. I leave you alone for two years and you manage to lose an entire eye ?”

“‘S no big deal,” Zoro shrugs. He can see the same forehead vein twitch on the cook’s forehead. Some things really never change.

“ No big de– no, I’m dropping it,” Sanji says with a sigh. “Guess I’ll have to stick around so your sorry ass doesn’t lose an arm or something.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me,” Zoro says. “Just admit it, cook, you missed me.”

“Stop projecting your mushy feelings onto me, you brute,” Sanji grumbles. “And you’re standing so close, clingy much?” He asks, making no move to stand further away from Zoro. 

“So what if I am? Got a problem with that?” Zoro asks, taking the opportunity to stand even closer to Sanji. The cook swallows, his eyes unable to meet Zoro’s own.

Zoro is close enough to see the blush staining Sanji’s cheeks. Zoro’s smile grows. Too easy. Two years of intense training and he’s as easily flustered as always. 

“Well, no, but…”, Sanji trails off before shaking his head to bring himself into reality. Zoro looks away in feigned innocence. 

“Oh fuck you, Zoro–get out of my brain , you–you invasive plant life,” Sanji growls, pushing Zoro in the chest. “And another thing! Where is your damn shirt? Could you not be bothered to wear any fucking clothes after not seeing your crew for two years?”

“Oh, you’re judging my clothes, right now?” Zoro grumbles. 

“Roronoa Zoro, I already know what you’re about to say,” Sanji begins, his eyes trailing down to follow Zoro’s gaze pointed at his shoes. “Don’t you fucking dare let a single. Word. Leave. Your. Stupid. Mouth.”

Zoro puts his hands up in surrender. “Hey now, I wasn’t gonna say anything about your loafers,” he says innocently.

Sanji leans in closer, his forehead against Zoro’s, “Well, let’s see if you change your mind when I shove these loafers up your ass.” 

Zoro starts to snicker, and Sanji leans back in horror at the realization of the joke he’s walked himself straight into. 

“In public? Really, cook, I think there are better things to stick up–” Sanji cuts Zoro off with a hand to his mouth before he can finish his sentence. 

“ Shut up! No, we’re leaving now, come along, mosshead. Goddamn, do I need to get you a leash or something?” Sanji grumbles, grabbing Zoro by the arm to lead him away. Zoro raises his eyebrows suggestively at him.

“Don’t even say it, you pervert, come on we’re going home,” Sanji continues. “Now, I hope you didn’t forget your pack mule duties, mosshead.” He gestures towards the bouquet of groceries and supplies to the side of him. 

“Can I at least get a please?” Zoro pouts. 

“Oh, sweet, sweet, Zoro, would you be ever so gracious as to please carry everything back to The Sunny ?” Sanji drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Sure,” Zoro shrugs, grabbing the groceries with one hand and Sanji’s hand with the other. Their hands fit together with the same ease as two years ago. “Now come on, your highness, the ship is this way.”

Sanji looks down at their intertwined fingers, a soft smile gracing his face. They make it a few yards before Sanji’s dopey grin fades into an annoyed frown.

“You moron, The Sunny is this way!” 

Whole-Cake Island

The walk back to The Thousand Sunny seems far too long and too quick all at once. He and Luffy had finally made their way out of the whole ‘staged arranged marriage blackmail’ fiasco, and were headed back to meet up with the others on the ship. Sanji could only imagine what they would have to say. He’s played several scenarios in his head over and over, and he can’t possibly imagine any of them ending with their hands held together in a circle singing kumbaya.

And, well, there’s the issue of Zoro. Anytime he tries to bring his mind elsewhere, it always comes back to Zoro. What he thinks. What he's going to say. Would he be angry? Ashamed? Disappointed? All of the above? Sanji wouldn’t blame him for being any of those things. In fact, it would be a miracle if Zoro even decided to forgive him in the first place. He can’t imagine leaving without a goodbye to apparently get married to Big Mom’s daughter does much good for a relationship. 

Sanji anxiously clicks his lighter as he cycles through all of the ways Zoro could tell him he’s through with him. 

“Walkin’ to The Sunny, it’s a little funny,” Luffy sings to himself around a mouthful of his bento. “Me and Sanji, walkin’ to The Sunny , food in my tummy, is that a bird? What’s the word? Walkin’, walkin’, walkin’,” Luffy continues to sing, nearly skipping as he and Sanji head down the forest path. He pouts as he gets to the bottom of the bento box. Sanji watches as he stabs at the empty container with a grubby finger. He still looks a little worse for wear, his clothes tattered and his face bruised. Sanji can’t say he’s surprised at the twinges of guilt that pull at his heart.

“Here,” Sanji says quietly, reaching into his bag to pull out another lunchbox. “I made another one, just in case.”

Luffy grins at him like Sanji never kicked him in the face and told him to stay out of his life forever. His smile reaches his ears as he holds his hands out for the lunch box. 

“Thanks, Sanji! Your food is the best in the whole world,” Luffy gleefully shouts, immediately shoving handfuls of food in his mouth.

Luffy must notice the pained look on Sanji’s face as he eats, because he holds out a smushed pile of fish and rice in his hand to him. “My bad. You want some?” Luffy asks.

Sanji shakes his head, turning his attention to an unlit cigarette so he doesn’t have to look Luffy in the eyes. 

“No thanks. I made it for you,” Sanji says quietly. It takes several tries to get his lighter going. Maybe he should just throw the thing out.

“I don’t mind sharin’! Now that you’re back, I can eat like this all the time!” Luffy says with a laugh. The lunchbox is nearly gone by the time he finishes his sentence.

Sanji waves him off with one hand. At least one of them was enjoying the walk home. 

“No thanks, Luffy, really, I’m not hungry,” Sanji explains.

Luffy tilts his head at Sanji in confusion. “Not hungry? Why?” He sticks his finger in the bento to get the last of the sauce stuck in the corners. Sanji doesn’t have the heart to correct him on his manners.

Instead, he doesn’t answer, hoping Luffy will take his shrug as an excuse to drop the whole thing.

Instead, Luffy stops in the middle of the path, arms crossed. His eyes turn serious as he meets Sanji’s gaze, “Are you not hungry because you’re scared of going back to The Sunny ?” Luffy asks, blunt and straight to the point. Sanji thinks he might crumble to pieces under his captain’s stare. 

“Well…” Sanji trails off, unable to answer Luffy. It’s not that he has nothing to say, really, he could tell Luffy everything. Tell him he feels as though he’s betrayed Zoro’s trust in him even when he was only trying to protect his family. The family that really matters anyway. How could he possibly even think about facing Zoro after this?

“That’s what I thought,” Luffy says, mouth set in a thin line. Sanji has a feeling Luffy already knows everything he can’t force himself to say out loud. He nods slightly, hoping his captain will understand.

“Sanji, I’m not Zoro. I can’t tell you what he’s going to say,” Luffy begins, his hands on his hips. His eyes are wide and bright, and in that moment Sanji remembers all over again why he chose to follow him.

“But,” Luffy continues. “Zoro is my nakama. And so are you. And we don’t let things like this break family apart. Even if Zoro is mad, he understands. You need to trust him, Sanji, like he trusts you,” Luffy finishes, his voice strong and unwavering. Sanji feels strangely comforted, even as tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

“Luffy–” Sanji begins, before being cut off with a hat smacked down on his head. Luffy pats the top of it with a big grin. He puts his hands on his hips in accomplishment before continuing to march ahead. He doesn’t bother to check if Sanji is following.

“Second verse! Oh…we’re walkin’ to the ship, hope I don’t slip…on a banana!” Luffy sings off key, laughing to himself. Sanji stares after him, eyes wide, straw hat still firmly affixed to his head. His hands hold the sides of the brim, pulling it further down his head. Maybe he could do this after all.

Counting to ten, Sanji takes a deep breath before jogging to catch up to Luffy. The serious air around his captain seems to have faded as quickly as it appeared. He happily hums and whistles the rest of the walk back, stopping occasionally to point out a cool plant or bug he finds to Sanji. 

As they make their way to the ship, the whole ordeal is much more anticlimactic than all the scenarios Sanji had spent the last hour conjuring up in his head. Luffy skips the steps completely, using a single arm to slingshot himself back onto the Sunny’s deck and taking his hat with him. 

Sanji takes the long way up. He looks up at the crow’s nest, wondering if Zoro’s up there watching him approach.

As he makes his way up the steps, the chatter of his crew grows louder and louder. Luffy laughs loudly as Chopper frets around him, a flurry of bandages and antiseptic. Nami stands off to the side with a frown as Luffy begs Brook to play the song he just made up. Everything screeches to a halt when they notice Sanji. The silence only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity.

“Sanji!” Chopper shouts, running over to him with tears in his eyes. The reindeer clutches his pant leg, burying his little face in the fabric. “We’ve been waiting for you, I’m so glad you’re back! Are you hurt!? Are you okay!?” Chopper sobs, his voice muffled as he wipes his tears on Sanji’s pants. 

Sanji’s heart aches. He thought he’d never get to see any of them again. Sanji feels like he might break down right here in front of everyone. Tears well in his eyes, but he shakes them away with a wobbly cough. Nobody seems fooled. 

“I’m okay,” Sanji says quietly, patting Chopper on the head. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

“Of course we were worried!” Chopper shouts, his eyes still wet. “We all were worried, Sanji.”

Sanji’s gaze meets Nami’s from across the deck. She still looks angry, but her face softens slightly when their eyes meet. She points towards the crow’s nest, her eyes flickering up to the single light up there.

“He’s up there,” she says, her voice firm. Sanji smiles at her, but she looks away, turning her attention back to where Luffy is still accosting Brook. He has so much more to tell her, so many I’m sorry ’s caught in his throat. Instead, he bows his head in thanks, detaching Chopper from his leg with another head pat before making his way to the crow’s nest.

Sanji makes his way up the ladder, his heart beating in his throat and his hands sweaty. Maybe he’ll get lucky and just slip right off. At least Zoro would have a reason to laugh at him then. Sanji hesitates outside of the hatch. He’s sure Zoro can sense him there, but neither of them makes an attempt to open the door. 

Taking one more deep breath, Sanji lets himself in. Zoro is sitting on the bench, looking out the window. Sanji’s mind empties. All of the speeches Sanji has rehearsed on the way here suddenly disappear from his mind. He feels frozen in his spot, his body completely given up on functioning.

Zoro turns to look at him. Their eyes meet and it takes everything in Sanji not to burst into tears right then and there. To rush up to him and beg for forgiveness. 

Oh god, he missed him. Being away from Zoro had been like losing half of his soul. Sanji feels his lower lip start to wobble. All of the breath leaves him at once. Sanji opens his mouth, searching for something to say, but words have abandoned him. 

Zoro stands up, crossing his arms. He looks at Sanji expectantly. Sanji is at a loss. Everything that’s happened, that he’s done the past few weeks, hits Sanji all at once. The weight of it drags him down. He has no idea where to start. Which part to apologize for first. All of the words jumble up in his throat until they all come out in an unintelligible heap.

“God, Zoro, I–I don’t even know where to start. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry, it hurts to say, because you didn’t deserve this. Any of this. I–I really didn’t mean to hide this from you, if you just let me explain , then you can be done with me,” Sanji talks until he runs out of breath, but Zoro’s still just looking at him. 

He looks down at his hands, feeling phantom cuffs around his wrists. His shoulders slump in defeat. 

“They were going to take my hands,” Sanji whispers. His voice is barely audible. 

There’s a beat of silence and then,”What?” 

“Judge. He put these— these cuffs on me. Said that if i tried to escape they’d blow them off,” Sanj says. 

Sanji keeps his gaze trained on his shaking hands, afraid to look at Zoro and what he might find on his face. The past few weeks have been so terrible he doesn’t know if he can take anymore hurt.  A rejection from Zoro would ruin him. 

“Sanji,” Zoro says gently, taking a step closer. The toes of Zoro’s boots come into Sanji’s field of vision. 

Sanji doesn’t look up. Instead, he buries his face in his hands, running them through his hair. He clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Cook, look at me.” Zoro’s voice is firm. 

Sanji does.  Zoro’s face is dark, eyebrows pulled together in an angry frown. Sanji knows that look. He’s angry, but not at Sanji. His hands twitch downwards reaching for the swords at his hip in an unconscious motion. He clenches and unclenches his fists before forcibly relaxing. He seems to come to some sort of conclusion, setting his shoulders and closing the distance between them in one big step to gather Sanji into a bone-crushing hug. 

“I’m glad you’re safe, curly. Wish you’d let me slice those bastards into pieces though.”  

Sanji stands there, frozen, before sagging into Zoro’s grip, so relieved he can hardly hold himself up. A small noise makes its way out of Sanji’s throat. There’s no point in trying to hold back the tears anymore. He takes a great, shuddering breath and lets them fall with a sob. Zoro holds him so tightly, knitting Sanji back together as fast as he falls apart.

Sanji tries to say something, anything , but as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, Zoro squeezes him even tighter, fingers bunching in the back of Sanji’s dress shirt. 

“I was never going to marry her. You have to know that. I never wanted to marry her, Zoro,” Sanji chokes out. He has to make sure Zoro knows. 

Sanji can feel his heart breaking ten times over. His breath catches as he waits for Zoro’s response, ready to get down on his knees and repeat himself over and over until he understands.

“You think I’m stupid?” Zoro asks, his voice rough. “...actually, don’t answer that.”

Despite himself, Sanji lets out a watery laugh. He’s less surprised by Zoro’s response than he should be. Of course he knows.

“I knew you wouldn’t run off just to marry some woman you don’t even know,” Zoro says.

His breath is warm against Sanji’s ear. Sanji breathes a wavering sigh. The certainty in Zoro’s voice only makes Sanji cry harder. His tears are undoubtedly soaking the shoulder of Zoro’s shirt now, but he doesn’t seem to care. Sanji sniffles, tucking his head further into Zoro’s neck, focusing on the low vibration of his throat as he speaks. 

“That’s just not you, cook. You think I don’t know exactly how that stupid head of yours works?” Zoro smacks the back of Sanji’s head lightly for emphasis.

Stepping back, Zoro studies Sanji for a moment, eyes dark and serious. As if he knew Sanji was about to look away, Zoro gently grabs his chin, making sure Sanji looks at him when he speaks. 

“Before you even say anything, of course I forgive you. Never had a reason to be mad,” Zoro insists, answering Sanji’s question before he even has a chance to ask it.

The gesture is so authentically Zoro, Sanji’s lips upturn into a small smile. For the first time in weeks, it feels genuine. Zoro’s mouth quirks upwards in response. Zoro wipes the tears off of Sanji’s cheeks.

“ But,” Zoro begins, his gaze still serious. “That doesn’t mean you can pull that shit again. Don’t go acting like you have to protect us all by yourself–that’s what we do together– moron,” Zoro says with a sigh. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Sanji apologizes.

Zoro merely gives him a questioning glance, crossing his arms with a huff.

“Okay, I mean, I know that now,” Sanji concedes, his arms up in surrender.

“Good, you better,” Zoro admonishes. “I just spent two years waiting to get you back, I don’t need your self-sacrificial ass running off again.” Despite the severity of his statement, Zoro pulls Sanji in close, softening the insult with a gentle kiss to Sanji’s forehead.

“Isn’t running off your job?” Sanji asks.

“I’ll cut you, asshole,” Zoro replies, kissing each of Sanji’s cheeks. Sanji can feel his face getting warm.

Sanji wraps his arms around Zoro’s neck. “I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass it’ll come out the other end, mosshead.”

Zoro kisses the tip of his nose. “I’ll slice you into a million pieces before you can even think about it, curly.” Zoro leans in close enough that their noses are touching.

Zoro’s breath ghosts across Sanji’s mouth. Sanji meets Zoro halfway in a soft kiss. He can feel the flutter of Zoro’s eyelashes against his cheek. Zoro kisses him soft and sweet, like he’d be content to do this for the rest of the night. Sanji is inclined to agree. He doesn't know how he ever thought he could live without this.

“I missed this,” Sanji says, pulling back just enough to speak. He runs his fingers through Zoro’s hair, twisting it between his fingers. The weight of the past weeks lifts from his shoulders, replaced by the warmth of Zoro’s chest pressed against his own and the arms tightly wrapped around his waist.

Zoro kisses him again, more firmly this time. As if to say “ I missed you, too.” One of his hands trails along Sanji’s jaw, holding him in place as they kiss. Zoro presses kiss after kiss onto Sanji’s lips, his other hand gently squeezing Sanji’s waist. Sanji could drown in the endless well of Zoro’s devotion, his love. Sanji couldn’t find the bottom if he tried.

This is Sanji's salvation.  

There’s a sort of reverence to the way Zoro holds him. A sudden wave of emotion washing over him threatens to swallow Sanji whole.    

Zoro gave him his heart, as guarded as it is, and Sanji almost threw it away, like it wasn’t the greatest treasure he'd ever received. The thought urges Sanji to press impossibly closer, clutching at Zoro’s shoulders almost desperately. 

Eventually they break apart, the stars high in the sky and The Sunny’s deck long below them long since growing quiet with the twilight. Sanji’s cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. He’s not sure how long they’ve been up here. He stares down at the deck from the window, fondness swelling in his chest as he gazes at his home–his real home – peaceful and serene as The Sunny bobs with the roll of the waves.

Zoro shakes his shoulder. “You’re not thinking of abandoning me up here alone on night watch, are you, cook?”

“Of course not, stupid,” Sanji yawns. “‘M not tired anyways.” He trudges over to the bench by the window, patting the spot next to him as he plops down. Zoro follows, sitting down beside him with a grunt. Personal space long forgotten, the two of them are pressed together ankle to shoulder.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me,” Zoro warns, his eyes closed as he turns to rest his head in the crook of Sanji’s neck.

Any other time, Sanji might have called him out on his hypocrisy. But the fondness that swells in his chest in time with the gentle rhythm of Zoro’s snoring is all too endearing to ignore. He thinks back to last week, long nights spent wide awake in his childhood bedroom. The silk sheets felt like a cold prison, the enormous bed empty and suffocating all at once. Sanji would wake up alone, longing for the familiar tangle of limbs and warm breath against the back of his neck. He would curse himself for not treasuring the last time he had fallen asleep with Zoro, ashamed that he had not taken a moment longer to kiss him awake.

Zoro stirs in his sleep, nuzzling his face further into Sanji’s neck. His hair tickles Sanji’s skin. Sanji never thought he could deserve something like this. He never dreamed he could get it back, anyways. 

If Sanji had to guess, being loved by Roronoa Zoro was a feeling akin to finding the All Blue. Rare and beautiful. An oasis in the vastness of the unforgiving seas. And now that he has it back, Sanji wouldn’t give it up, family blackmail and emperors of the sea be damned.

Sanji shifts slightly, maneuvering Zoro into a more comfortable position. It's a familiar one, Zoro’s cheek pressed into his thigh. Sanji swipes the drool from the corner of Zoro’s mouth before it lands on his pants. He mumbles incoherently in his sleep, turning to press his face further into Sanji’s lap. Zoro reminds Sanji of an overgrown green cat. As he runs his fingers through Zoro’s hair, Sanji is almost surprised he doesn’t start purring. The silence in the room is interrupted by low snores and the crash of waves against The Sunny's hull.

Here, everything is as it should be. Far away from chilling castle walls and silent rooms that housed years of suffering. Here, the kitchen is bright and warm, the walls echoing with the laughter of his friends, his family. This family wants him to stay–needs him and loves him. And Sanji wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Post-Canon

It’s been years since Luffy conquered the Grand Line and earned the title of Pirate King. The All Blue is as beautiful as Sanji could have ever dreamed and the new Baratie Franky built fits in just as nicely. The weather is always perfect, the fish plentiful, and new customers find their way in every day. Sanji has finally been able to make Zeff’s dream a reality and Zoro has achieved his long awaited status as the world’s greatest swordsman. 

Zoro has been permanently living with Sanji on the Baratie since the Strawhats went their separate ways. Nowadays, with everyone off doing god knows what, the crew only congregates every few months. With the One Piece found and Luffy’s reign as Pirate King established, there’s not much to do besides fend off challengers every once in a while. Zoro has taken it upon himself to become Baratie's unofficial watchdog. 

Despite their reputation, wannabe pirates still take it upon themselves to challenge the wings of the pirate king. Usually, Sanji refrains from joining in, leaving the fights to Zoro, but every now and again they would stand back to back, just as in sync as the old days. More often than not, though, Zoro is the one getting kicked for being a nuisance in the kitchen. 

In typical Strawhat fashion, they’re all together again for another banquet, the Baratie reserved just for the crew. They reconnect as if they haven’t been apart for months, a family even when they’re oceans away. 

Zoro is sitting in the corner, relaxing against the wall with a bottle in hand. Zoro basks in the joy of his friends as he looks out at the room, watching his nakama with a satisfied smile plastered on his face. Luffy and Usopp are attempting to teach Chopper a new dance move. Usopp is grabbing Chopper’s little arms to move them in the right direction. Luffy waves his arms around with no rhyme or reason, flailing around like a fish out of water. He has a huge grin on his face, a large plate in one hand as he attempts to dance with the other.

Brook is supplying the music, playing a song from his newest album. Zoro recognizes it from the tone dials Sanji keeps in the kitchen of Brook’s best hits, playing them on repeat during long mornings spent preparing food for the day. 

Nami breaks up Usopp and Luffy’s poor attempt at dance lessons to pull Usopp into her own energetic dance, spinning him around until he’s out of breath. Usopp can barely keep up with her, stumbling over his feet, but they're both laughing as Nami swings him into a dip, pretending to drop him to the floor. Chopper screeches, running over to catch him, sighing with relief when Nami pulls Usopp back up and back into the rhythm of the song.

On the other side, Franky and Robin are doing some strange dance Zoro has never seen before, both looking at each other in a form of silent conversation he’d never be able to translate. 

Sanji is nowhere to be found, but Zoro has a pretty good idea of the cook’s whereabouts. The ding of the oven timer in the next room confirms his suspicions. Sanji kicks the door open with one foot, his arms lined with several trays of food. He sets them down next to Luffy, who cries out in delight, stuffing his face the minute the trays hit the table.

Sanji wipes his hands on his apron before adjusting the blue clips that pull back his long hair from his face, setting them back into place. Zoro recognizes the clips as a gift from Robin. With his hair pulled back, Zoro is able to admire the full profile of Sanji’s face. His cheeks are flushed from rushing around with refreshments for everyone and there’s a smile on his face that has been near constant since everyone arrived this afternoon. Sanji is beautiful, the kind of pretty that simply demands Zoro’s attention.

He watches as Sanji turns in a slow circle, looking for what Zoro assumes is him. Sanji spots Zoro almost immediately, marching over to him with his arms crossed. Zoro cracks open his fifth bottle, confused as to what could have crawled up his ass and died this time. 

Zoro looks him up and down, taking another swig. “Hey, legs,” he says with a sly grin. He pats the space on the floor next to him in an invitation. “What brings you here?”

“I work here, you ass. This is my damn restaurant,” Sanji grumbles, picking up the empty bottles scattered around Zoro. “And just what are these? Are you trying to drink me out of house and home?” He leans against the wall, pulling a cigarette out of his shirt pocket. He pats his pants for a lighter, sighing when he is unable to find one.

Zoro pulls a spare lighter from his pocket, reaching up to hand it over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If anything, I’ve been holding back,” Zoro explains, punctuating his sentence by finishing off the next bottle. 

“If you weren’t broke I would be charging you the five hundred berries for each of those bottles, you big green glutton,” Sanji sighs as Zoro pops open another bottle. “Can’t you go drink the cooking wine? I doubt you’d be able to tell the difference.”

Zoro leans his head against Sanji’s legs, taking a small sip and pretending to consider the flavors. “You don’t think I’d be a good wine taster?” He asks, swirling the bottle around.

“I’m getting hints of…wine. And is that…alcohol I taste? Truly worth the price,” Zoro says, putting on his best fancy accent.

He looks up at Sanji, “Is that refined enough for you, fancy pants?” 

Sanji’s eyes are dark as he snatches the bottle from Zoro’s hand. “Do not ever, mock the cabernet sauvignon in my presence again, you uncultured pile of moss.”

“Yeah, yeah, the cabbage sauce is too advanced for the tastes of simpletons, we get it,” Zoro relents, rolling his eye. He nudges his head further into the side of Sanji’s thigh, closing his eye in content as Sanji runs his fingers through his hair absentmindedly, scratching  Zoro’s head lightly in time with the music. Zoro is definitely not falling asleep. 

The song fades as Brook moves on to a slower ballad. Zoro feels Sanji perk up as he recognizes the song Brook starts to play. He raises his head, noting the melody as one of Sanji’s favorites.

Zoro watches Franky bow low in front of Robin, who hides a laugh behind her hands.

“Care to dance, pretty lady?” He asks, holding out a giant hand. “Papa’s feelin’ romantic tonight, yow!” 

She takes his hand with a smile, leaning closely against him as they slowly sway to the sound of Brook’s violin. Zoro can see the tears form in the corners of Franky’s eyes. Zoro turns his attention back to Sanji, who’s gaze follows the two as they dance. 

“You know,” Sanji says wistfully, just loud enough for Zoro to hear. “This song always makes me think of my mother.”

Sanji had told Zoro about his mother years ago, recounting the little time he got to spend with her. He told him of meals thrown together with childish abandon, and the sweet smile on her face as she ate every single bite. He’s never met Sora, but  Zoro can tell Sanji is just like his mother. He’s kind and beautiful and everything she would have wanted him to be. 

Zoro pulls himself up with a sigh, holding out a hand to the cook.

“Alright, let’s go then.”

Sanji looks at him in confusion, narrowing his eyes at Zoro’s outstretched hand. “Go where, exactly?”

“To dance, curly. Where else?”

‘You, Roronoa Zoro, want to slow dance,” Sanji says with a disbelieving stare. 

“Well–” Zoro begins, stopping himself when he catches a glimpse of the hopeful smile on Sanji’s face. “Gotta show these assholes up. We’re the ones with the fancy restaurant. Franky’s not even wearing pants.” 

Sanji places his hand in Zoro’s upturned palm, squeezing once. Zoro squeezes back, tugging Sanji in for a quick kiss.

“Thanks, Zoro.”

Zoro leads him out to the dance floor, acutely aware of the blinding grin on Sanji’s face. “Course. I love dancing the–uh, you know.”

“The waltz?” Sanji asks, nudging Zoro’s foot with a tap of his dress shoe, lining them up in position. Zoro lets him position their hands and shoulders, pretending as though he understands whatever is going on. 

“You know me, I love the wall.” 

“The waltz, mossy. Here, put your hand–no, up here,” Sanji’s eyes are fond, crinkling at the corners as he laughs at Zoro’s awkward attempts at positioning his hands. Too many damn rules. 

“Didn’t you say dancing was like an art form or some shit? What is with all these rules?” Zoro grumbles, dramatically bumping his forehead into Sanji’s shoulder. 

“What’s with all the complaining? I thought you loved to dance,” Sanji says, shrugging Zoro’s head off of his shoulder.

“Nah, just like doin’ stuff with you,” Zoro says. 

Sanji blushes at that. He clutches Zoro’s hand even tighter, pulling Zoro closer. “You stop that,” he says, the pink dusting his cheeks betraying the harshness of his tone. “Just shut up and dance with me, mosshead.”

Sanji takes the lead, guiding them around in a slow waltz. Back, left, forward. Repeat. Zoro follows along with the rhythm of the song, but he doesn’t possess the same effortless grace that Sanji seems to have. He moves elegantly around the deck. Zoro just tries to keep up.

Zoro feels his chest swell with affection as Sanji looks at him. It was the right call, asking him to dance. He looks radiant; the warmth of his smile rivals the sun itself. Zoro is so in love he can hardly stand it. He loves Sanji more than he’s ever loved anything. 

As Zoro watches Sanji sway across the dance floor in the restaurant they had built together, he’s struck with the realization of how intertwined their dreams had become. Since he was young, Zoro has had a difficult time staying in one place; always moving on to his next goal, his next triumph.

After achieving his dream of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman, Zoro had no idea what he was going to do. Zoro spent so long chasing that dream that he never gave himself time to think about what would happen once he achieved it. His purpose was suddenly gone, destiny fulfilled. What comes after? 

The answer had been staring Zoro right in the face. He had followed Sanji as he searched for a sufficient ship for his restaurant and simply never left. His next adventure is his forever–the rest of his life coalesced into the man in front of him. The man who has always believed in him, always stood beside him. Zoro had always been of the mind that staying in one place was to be restrained, but Zoro had never felt more free. 

Well–mostly free. He was still getting a kick to the shins when his footwork didn’t line up to the music. He feels like he could maintain his balance and posture if Sanji had just let him bring his swords out onto the dance floor. Since when were weapons not allowed in ballroom dancing? He decides he might slice the guy who came up with the waltz. And Franky, who just so happens to be better at dancing than him, even with his enormous robot feet. 

Speaking of Franky, they eventually pass him and Robin mid-song, catching Franky in the middle of his third declaration of love for the night. Robin has a content look on her face, raising her eyebrows at the pair as they pass by. Zoro can feel her pinpoint his every thought and feeling with one glance, and he shudders at the thought. Sanji shoots her a dopey grin, which is both infuriating and endearing all at once.

“Oh, my sweet Robin, you look so lovely tonight! You dance like an angel in heaven, my dear,” Sanji swoons, his face turning red when she smiles at him.

Zoro nudges Sanji with his foot.

“Oi. I can dance like that too, you know,” Zoro grumbles. He pouts when Sanji laughs at him in reply.

“Oh, really? I was thinking you looked more like a tumbleweed in the wind than an angel, mosshead,” Sanji teases him.

“That’s not very fair,” Zoro pouts, staring down at his feet in an attempt to intimidate them into dancing better. His efforts are fruitless.

“Okay, so maybe you’re not the best dancer,” Sanji begins.

“Wow, you’re so very sweet,” Zoro says dryly.

“Listen, you may not be the best dancer, but you were willing to try for me,” Sanji continues, his voice growing soft. “And I think that matters even more. It really means a lot, Zoro.”

“Psh, it’s no big deal. Don’t gotta be all dramatic about it,” Zoro deflects, fighting off a blush.

“And,” Sanji says, patting Zoro’s shoulder, looking him up and down with a smirk. “You do look pretty great while doing it.”

Zoro considers this for a moment. “I think I deserve a reward for all of my hard work. It’s not easy, you know.”

“And all this time I had no idea you were suffering in silence,” Sanji sighs. “You poor thing. However could I repay you?” 

Ignoring stupid arbitrary dance rules, Zoro slinks his arms around Sanji’s neck. “I could think of a few things.” 

They’ve circled around to the other side of the dance floor now, and Usopp whistles in their direction.

“Ugh, Zoro, you’re gross. And I’m trying to be romantic. Don’t ruin it,” Sanji says. He sounds annoyed, but Zoro can see the smile spreading across his face. Zoro has no doubt his face mirrors Sanji’s own. He wants to kiss the grin right off of him, but settles for a hand on his back, lazily tapping his fingers on Sanji’s shoulder blades. 

They’re hardly dancing anymore, mostly just shifting back and forth in time with the music now.

“What’s it to you?”  Zoro asks, smiling crookedly. 

“Just wondering. You’ve barely complained at all,” Sanji explains, swaying a bit in Zoro’s arms. 

“Because, curly, I love–”

“To dance?”

“You,” Zoro finishes, pulling Sanji in for a kiss before he can reply.

He kisses Sanji long and sweet, trying to put all of the love he feels into a singular kiss. An impossible task really, but he tries anyway. Sanji meets him halfway, kissing back with just as much fervor. Zoro closes his eye and tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His hands slid down to grip Sanji’s waist, pulling him closer. Sanji’s hands grip his shoulders, squeezing gently. Zoro isn’t paying attention to anything else anymore, Sanji’s mouth is the only thing on his mind. 

“ Zoro , Sanji! Come on!” Luffy shouts, jumping on top of the two with a loud laugh.

“Luffy–what the fuck–get your nasty little–” Sanji begins, cut off by Nami and Usopp shouting and giggling in their direction.

“Get a room, lovebirds!”

“No, Luffy, don’t–”

Before Zoro can finish, Luffy wraps one stretchy arm around the two of them and unceremoniously flings them over to where the rest of the strawhats are gathered. Huh. Zoro hadn’t even noticed. They land in a heap on the deck. Zoro shoves Luffy’s face further into the wood for good measure before picking himself up.

“Alright! It’s toast time!” Luffy shouts, gathering his crew into a large group hug.

“Hey now, I’m not gonna agree to a toast with no booze,” Zoro complains.

“Can you go one minute without drinking, you alcoholic?” Usopp asks, shrinking away when Zoro glares at him.

“We could always toast with cola, bros!” Franky offers, opening up his chest to pull out a full case of soda.

“Ew, Franky, I don’t want to drink the soda that’s been inside of you,” Nami grumbles, pushing his outstretched hand away.

“It’s like drinking the blood of Christ,” Robin offers cryptically. “It’s his lifeblood.”

“Oh my, the years have not made you any less terrifying, Robin,” Brook shudders. 

“Maybe we could compromise with some juice?” Chopper asks, tugging on Zoro’s pant leg.

“Compromises are for losers without swords, Chopper,” Zoro explains.

“Okay, enough with the complaining,” Sanji interrupts, stepping in with a tray of drinks. “I made one for each of you, so let’s just get on with it already.”

Luffy laughs, loud and from deep within his chest. “To my nakama–the best pirate crew in the four seas!”

Their glasses clink together, and the Strawhat pirates cheer in unison. Zoro downs his in one gulp, sighing happily as he finishes it off. He clinks his empty glass against Sanji’s own, sending him a toothy grin.

“To the best cook in all the oceans.”

Sanji smiles back, clinking his glass again. “To the world’s greatest swordsman.”

Zoro pulls Sanji into his side, wrapping an arm around his waist as they lift their glasses in another toast from Luffy.

“Love you, mossy,” Sanji says, breath ghosting against Zoro’s ear.

“Love you more, eyebrows,” Zoro replies, pressing a kiss to Sanji’s temple.