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I need to talk to you.
Zoro rereads the text again as a tight feeling twists in his chest. He’d sent back two middle finger emojis almost immediately after receiving it, his usual acknowledgement text to the inane things Sanji likes to send him, but it doesn’t dispel the feeling that this is something Serious, capital S and all.
He knows what need to talk texts mean, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what this could be about.
It’s not a break up thing. He’s positive about that. He and his idiot boyfriend have been together too long and struggled through enough shit that nothing short of—he doesn’t even know—death, probably, will separate them, and maybe not even that.
Zoro would fight Death and crawl his way back out of hell to stay with Sanji, that’s for damn sure.
But since it isn’t a break up thing, he’s not sure what else it could be.
Sanji has been a little... not distant, but subdued, lately. Quiet, in a way he only ever is when too many thoughts are vying for attention in the little pea brain he’s got rattling in his pretty head. Thoughtful, then. And it’s always a fifty-fifty thing as to whether those thoughts are anything good or not.
Zoro reads the text again as the bus pulls up to his stop and just hopes Sanji hasn’t done something stupid before they’ve actually talked.
He hops off the bus and makes the trek to their shared home. Sanji’s car is out front and Matcha, their giant Maine Coon, crawls out from under it as Zoro makes his way up the porch.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he greets her as she comes up to rub against his legs. He leans down to scratch behind her ears. “You know what it is your dad wants to talk about?”
She purrs in response, which doesn’t tell him much.
“I figured.”
The door is open already, and he shrugs his way in with a loud call of, “Curly, I’m home!” as he kicks off his boots and slips out of his coat.
“Welcome home, Moss!” Sanji calls back. He sounds normal enough, so whatever talk he wants to have, it must not be anything too terrible.
Zoro patters into the kitchen, where he finds his other half washing dishes. Also normal. Sanji’s brow is furrowed as he scrubs at a spot on the pan in his hand before it smoothes out as he apparently takes care of whatever had tried to crust onto it, and he rinses it before setting it aside. He wipes his hands on a towel before running one through his bangs and turning to smile at Zoro. It’s a little weak compared to his usual.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” Zoro says, coming up to wrap his arms around him. He presses a kiss to Sanji’s cheek. It’s smoother than normal under his lips and when he pulls back he also notices that the usual meticulously groomed goatee is gone. He wonders what it is about today that made his boyfriend want to shave. “Everything okay?”
Sanji hums but otherwise doesn’t respond beyond turning in his arms to return the embrace. He tucks his face into Zoro’s neck and for a long minute, they just stand there, holding each other. Zoro’s hands run up and down Sanji’s back in soothing strokes, and he lets his boyfriend have his silence.
Notably, despite the presence of recently washed dishes and the lingering scent of whatever it is he made, there is no food set out on the table. Zoro knows this means Sanji was stressed enough to need to cook to occupy himself, but whatever is on his mind, he thinks it’ll distract from dinner, so he’s meal prepped instead and they’re probably going to order take out once their talk is over.
The last time he did that, Zoro had finally been told about the biological family Sanji never talks about.
He hopes this talk is not like that one.
After several more long moments of overall peaceful quiet, Zoro presses a kiss to Sanji’s temple and gently urges his face out of his throat. He brushes their noses together and then their lips.
“You said you wanted to talk?”
Sanji welcomes the chaste kiss Zoro gives him, which is a good sign. He nods in answer, hands gripping in Zoro’s shirt before releasing him. “Yeah. It’s not—it’s nothing bad, but I just...”
Zoro rubs up and down his arms in encouragement, waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts. In any other circumstance, he’d roll his eyes and tell his boyfriend out with it, because his boyfriend is a drama queen who likes to hem and haw and build up the suspense before getting to the point. Sanji would huff and call him a mannerless oaf but would finally cave, and they’d move on with their day.
Things like this, though—something serious enough that Sanji has been docile and sweet and done nothing more than seek comfort and affection—Zoro will wait as long as he needs.
Well. Sort of.
“Curls?” he eventually prompts, when it looks like Sanji may be talking himself out of having the talk at all. They’ve done this song and dance enough that he knows sometimes he has to give his boyfriend a gentle push or they’ll be standing there the rest of the night.
Sanji draws in a deep breath, eyes on everything but Zoro. He lets out a little self-deprecating laugh. “I’m sorry, Moss. I’ve been trying to figure out exactly how I want to start this all day, but I just can’t seem to find the right words.”
“Then tell me with the wrong ones and we’ll go from there,” Zoro says with a shrug. “Whatever it is, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
That finally earns him the small, sweet smile he loves so much. A hand cards through his hair, fingers scratching gently behind his ear and flicking his earrings, and Zoro leans into it.
“Don’t I know it,” Sanji says fondly. “You stick around like a weed. Couldn’t get rid of you if I tried.”
Zoro smirks at him. “You’re deflecting, Curls.”
“I know.” Sanji draws in another deep breath and straightens up, though his hands still rest on Zoro’s chest and he doesn’t step out of the circle of Zoro’s arms. His blue eyes finally meet Zoro’s gaze head on, because whatever he may be, Sanji isn’t a coward.
“Zoro,” Sanji says, “I’m a woman.”
The quiet that follows is very poignant. Zoro can hear the drip of the faucet from where Sanji hadn’t pushed the handle all the way back to turn it off, the tick of the antique clock sitting on the tv console that Usopp had passed onto them from Kaya, Matcha grooming herself in her bed across the way in the living room.
Three beats of his heart pass. Then, Zoro squeezes Sanji’s waist where his hands have made their home and says, “Alright.”
Sanji snorts softly, head shaking. “‘Alright’? That’s it?”
“That was just to buy me some more time,” he admits. His thumbs rub soothing circles into Sanji’s hip bones, seeking to ease the tension in his—her frame. “But... yeah. Alright. There somethin’ else you want me to say?”
It’s a genuine question, and he can tell that Sanji understands that. She purses her lips and flicks her bangs out of her face.
“I guess not,” she finally says. Another chuckle slips out of her. “I don’t know what I expected, exactly. You’ve always been so good at taking things in stride. Nothing’s ever a big deal to you.”
Zoro doesn’t like the edge in those last words. “Baby,” he says, reaching up to take her chin between his fingers, “just because I’m not freaking out or yellin’ or whatever any of our friends might do doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s a big deal. I’m not an idiot, okay? I know this kind of thing is important and I sure as hell don’t wanna say somethin’ that’s gonna make you uncomfortable or upset you. Figured my acceptance would be better than nothin’, though, so...”
Tears spill from her eyes and he brushes them away with his thumb. She sniffles but still doesn’t pull away from him. “You are definitely an idiot,” she finally says, but she smiles as she does, and he knows she’s teasing.
“Takes one to know one,” he shoots back with a grin of his own.
She leans into his hand still cupping her cheek, her smile fading. “It... it really doesn’t bother you, though? It’s not going to change things?”
“Not fundamentally.” He shrugs. “Might take me a minute on the details, but you’re still my partner, Curls. Don’t plan for that to change anytime soon.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good.” The way she relaxes at that makes thoughts start swirling in his brain. He frowns.
“Is that what you’ve been worryin’ about the whole time?” he asks. “That this would change things? That I’d, what, want to break up with you?”
She fiddles with the hem of his shirt, and that tells him all he needs to know. “I mean, you’ve never exactly been attracted to a woman, Moss,” she points out. “You’ve said so yourself. You are very much a gay man through and through, so does it really surprise you that I’d, you know, think about that?”
Zoro groans, letting his head dip forward until their foreheads are pressed together. She huffs when he rubs against her like he’s trying to force out all the stupid thoughts she’s ever had, but she doesn’t push him away.
“No, it doesn’t surprise me,” he says. He steals a kiss from her. “But it doesn’t make it any less stupid. We are so far past gender being the basis of our relationship, Curls. I get it—and you’re right, if I’d met you as a woman back then, I might not have been interested in something more than friendship—but I’m not with you because of your gender now. I’m with you because you’re the love of my goddamn life.”
He pulls back and takes her face in his hands, making sure she doesn’t look away from him. She’s crying in earnest now but there’s a wobbly sort of happiness in her expression. Zoro can’t help but kiss her again—and then again, and again.
“So we’re not breaking up?” she asks, and he bites her nose.
“No, you diva,” he says, “we’re not breaking up.”
“Oh, thank god,” Sanji says, and then her arms are around his shoulders and she pulls him into a deep, hard kiss. He hums into her, thumbs caressing the smooth skin of her cheeks. Guess that explains why she’d shaved today.
They make out until they’re out of breath and Matcha comes meowing, demanding dinner. Sanji pulls away with a giggle and immediately begins cooing at her as she goes to get her food. Zoro licks his lips and watches his girlfriend—his girlfriend, wow, that’ll be fun to get used to—baby their cat.
Once Matcha is taken care of, Sanji turns to Zoro and holds up two take out menus. “Your pick, Mossy,” she says, and he deliberates for all of a second before flicking the one for the Indian place.