Chapter Text
Shoveling the last piece of food into his mouth, Zoro let out a loud burp of satisfaction before putting aside his tenth empty plate. All around him people were eating and drinking, dancing and singing, celebrating their newfound freedom after Arlong’s defeat. He managed to make it in time for the second night of celebrations, ignoring the doctor’s strict orders of uninterrupted bedrest. He wasn’t going to miss free booze and food, the thankful villagers pushing both into his hands whenever they could.
Set on getting more beer, Zoro started lifting himself up only to fall right back on his ass. The painful throbbing in his wounds became burning agony as soon as he tried to move, the scar across his stomach protesting the most as it bulged with the food he ate. Apparently, he was grounded where he sat for at least a couple more hours.
Zoro was about to give up on more booze and just go to sleep where he was when a full tankard of beer was pushed into his face.
“How’re your wounds?”
It was the new cook with the weird eyebrows that just joined their crew, a lit cigarette in his mouth and his own tankard of beer in his other hand. Zoro took the mug with a thankful grunt and downed half of it in one quick gulp. There was a disgusted sound before a soft thump as the cook sat in front of him, sipping his beer at a more leisurely pace.
They drank in silence while the party went on around them. Zoro didn’t bother to answer the question - the pain was still agonizing, the beer not enough to really dull it, but there was no point in the crew knowing. Zoro refused to let the pain slow him down anymore.
Looking for a distraction, he looked at the cook again. The guy was a complete idiot, falling head over heels in love with every random woman he saw. Nami already had him whipped, which only bode more trouble for Zoro in the future. The guy was probably more pain than he was worth.
…Or was he? His mind started bringing up memories from Arlong Park the day before last, visions of quick kicks being delivered without pause. The hits landed one after the other, each more powerful than the last, aim always precise. The guy was agile but still strong, and not half bad at reading the flow of battle to understand what he had to do. Zoro’s wounded pride wasn’t going to quickly forget how, at one of the times Zoro collapsed from his open wounds, the cook appeared just in time to block a hit meant for Zoro.
No one could deny the cook fought well, whether alone or by Zoro’s side. A useful idiot, but still an idiot.
Wasn’t that a perfect way to describe their entire crew.
Sighing, Zoro finished his beer before complying. “They’re fine.”
“Huh?” was the confused response from across him. He either forgot his own question, or believed Zoro wasn’t going to offer any answer.
Zoro cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with actually holding a pleasant conversation. “Doctor said they got infected to hell, making them a lot worse. But I’m fine.”
The cook stared at him in silence, one curly brow raised high. “Sure you are,” he replied, voice thick with sarcasm that made Zoro scowl.
Another awkward silence. Zoro shouldn’t have bothered, should’ve just gone to sleep right then and there in the cook’s face without giving a crap what the other thought. But if they were going to be in the same crew, if they were going to face even more powerful enemies and keep fighting side by side, if they were going to be nakama, he should at least try to talk to the guy.
“It was impressive, you know.” Zoro snapped out of his thoughts to see the cook lighting up another cigarette as he watched the stars twinkle above them. “Your torso was basically cut in half, and you kept bleeding and almost fainting—”
“That wasn’t going to stop—“
“Shut up,” the cook growled, now looking at Zoro. He looked annoyed at the interruption, but there was a glint similar to glee in his uncovered eye. “You were basically dying, yet you still beat that shitty octopus and fought Arlong until Luffy was free.” He leaned back, the glint now a wide grin. “That’s impressive.”
Zoro looked away, a grunt his only response. Shit like that was always embarrassing, even more so coming from the cook. He wasn’t sure how to react, if he should even say anything. In times like these he wished for more beer, or some other cup of booze to hide his face in.
“Of course, only a suicidal idiot would fight in that state in the first place,” the cook smirked at him, blowing a cloud of smoke right into his face.
Useful, idiotic jackass.
Whatever embarrassed flush stained his face before was now a burning red as indignant anger filled Zoro. “Says the curly moron who tried to fight a fishman underwater,” he mocked through clenched teeth.
“Tried to?! I beat the bastard to a pulp, could’ve served him as dinner if I wanted to!”
“And having your organs explode from the water pressure was also a part of your brilliant plan?”
“It’s better than bleeding to death thanks to your own stupidity!”
Infuriating, useful, idiotic jackass.
They were both growling at that point, hell-bent on one upping the other. Zoro’s hand itched to grab and unsheathe Wado, noticing the other’s legs flexing in anticipation. Wounded or not, they were on the edge of escalating into a physical fight when their raised voices got unwanted attention.
Two rubber arms stretched and wrapped around each of their necks, giving them mere seconds to process what would come next, before Luffy crashed into them. Giggling maniacally as they lied in a heap on the ground, he used his grip to pull both men into a tight hug. “I could hear you having fun! I want in!”
The cook pulled away from the hug and stood up, only to glare down at the menace they called their captain. “What the hell do you consider fun? And don’t use us as a landing mat!” He punctuated every other word with a painful kick to Luffy’s ribs, though it did nothing to stop his bubbling laughter. Zoro pushed up but remained sitting on the ground, trying to feign disinterest in the conversation.
That plan failed him spectacularly the moment Luffy opened his big mouth. “I was happy ‘cause Zoro and Sanji are already good friends!”
Both of their jaws dropped, Zoro letting out an obnoxious “huh?!” right when the cook screamed “what the fuck?!”. Their synchronized responses had them glaring at each other, Luffy only laughing louder.
“Yup! Zoro and Sanji are gonna be best friends! I just know it!” What Zoro would’ve given to slice that self-satisfied smile right off Luffy’s face. He made a swipe at Luffy’s neck, ready to strangle him to death then find a new captain, but the movement tugged hard at his stitches. The sudden flare of pain coupled with Luffy’s earlier impact was agonizing, his chest constricting so much he barely managed to get a breath in.
He probably looked pathetic, sitting frozen in place with his arm half-way towards Luffy. Great, another reason for the cook to mock him.
“Hey Luffy, there was some melon and prosciutto on that last table. It was really good…” the sentence wasn’t finished and Luffy was already sprinting away to search for whatever meat the cook mentioned.
They were left in silence once again. Zoro clenched his teeth; he refused to be thankful towards the cook for distracting Luffy. Besides, he probably only did it to mock Zoro without their captain around. Whatever insulting remark or pitying look the cook had for Zoro’s weakness, he was going to face them head on. Lifting his head, he saw an understanding look on the cook’s face before another cigarette was lit, the thick smoke obstructing Zoro’s line of sight.
Soft, infuriating, useful, idiotic jackass.
Somehow, it was more embarrassing than the pity he expected.
When he spoke, the cook’s voice was quieter than before. “How did you know?”
Confused, Zoro just stared at the other until he huffed and continued on.
“You had your chest cut in half, got it infected and bleeding, but you still acted as if there was no chance you were going to die here,” he stated matter-of-factly, stare boring into Zoro’s and causing his chest to clench even harder, “How did you know that?”
Zoro pretended to consider the question, watching the cook’s patience run out at the same fast pace his cigarette burned. “’Cause I can’t die yet,” he finally answered, tone serious while his mind drifted far away, to a hill under that same moonlight, “not before I reach my goal.”
The cook rolled his eyes but deflated a little. “Conviction isn’t enough to defy death.”
“Your conviction just isn’t strong enough.”
The cook looked pissed, his hands clenching into fists. He seemed to consider whether Zoro’s wounded body could take a few more kicks, his thigh flexing and unflexing. The fire in his eyes – the one that matched Zoro’s and promised a good fight – had a desperation in it, and suddenly Zoro really understood the question.
Soft, infuriating, useful, insecure, idiotic jackass.
“Yet,” Zoro added before the cook could decide how hard to kick him. “It’s like a muscle; train your conviction until it’s as strong as your body.” Staring right into that one blue eye, Zoro let the ferocious grin he saves for exciting fights grow on his lips. “Train your conviction to defy death.”
That message remained in the air between them for a moment, their gazes connected as understanding seemed to seep through the cook. Zoro got to watch as the glint from the beginning of their conversation returned to that blue eye, how it sparkled with new ideas.
It only lasted a second before the cook looked away from him. “What a waste of time. It was my fault, thinking moss could be a decent conversation partner.” His taunting words lacked any real bite, barely hiding the true appreciation underneath them. Zoro didn’t challenge him on it.
“I’m gonna find me a cute girl,” the cook said as farewell.
Before he managed to walk away, Zoro quickly grabbed at his coat and tugged. “Hey, love-cook.”
“Yeah, shitty swordsman?” he looked back, that ridiculous curled eyebrow raised once more. Foregoing a verbal reply, Zoro just raised his empty tankard. “If I get you four beers, will you leave me alone for the rest of the night?” the cook sighed, and Zoro was more than happy to comply with a shit-eating grin.
A few minutes later, Zoro was surrounded by mugs of beer and the cook was free to chase any skirt he noticed. Drinking merrily, Zoro watched as the first woman declined a dance before running away with her friends, leaving behind a heartbroken cook. At least until he noticed another one, hearts in his eyes as he ran to another area of the party.
Yup, their cook was a perverted, soft, infuriating, useful, insecure, idiotic jackass.