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The first time Sanji sees Zoro he only registers him in the peripheral. Three swords, dangerous, pretty (he has eyes, he can acknowledge objective beauty).
He keeps an eye on him because of the dangerous part.
It isn’t until they hit their first bar after Arlong Park that he realizes other people are keeping an eye on him because of the pretty part.
There’s a certain kind of atmosphere in a bar filled with pirates. The raucous din of people used to swaying on the sea taking advantage of the comforts of solid land. The usual slamming of mugs and roared laughter. The unspoken camaraderie of people outside the law, who also understand that anyone can turn enemy in as long as it takes a bottle to break.
Sanji’s getting used to being a pirate. It’s really no different than being a cook at the Baratie. Always be aware of your surroundings. Know where the biggest threat is.
“Say,” Sanji says to Nami, leaning backwards against the wood top while watching the frankly fascinating scene playing out at the other end of the bar, “is Zoro…being flirted with?”
Nami snorts. She glances over at where a tall, buff guy with two pistols strapped to his waist has a steady hand slowly sliding down the small of Zoro’s back. Sanji braces himself for a fight, glancing over the crowd for the nearest exit, but Zoro doesn’t even move a muscle.
“Yeah,” she says as if it isn’t anything new.
Sanji looks at the guy's slicked back hair over half lidded eyes. Looks again at the big hand resting lower and lower. Sanji is alarmed. “Is he going to be okay?”
Nami shakes her head. “Zoro’s going to eat him alive. That guy’s exactly his type.”
“I meant Zoro,” Sanji corrects, uselessly.
Nami looks at Sanji’s slack face and cackles.
“Wait,” Sanji says. “Zoro has a type?”
Nami raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? It’s pretty hard to miss? He likes them big and silent and dumb. Men that look like they break rocks with their bare fists and then crunch on them for breakfast.”
This is news to Sanji. He didn’t even know Zoro liked men.
“I’ve been on guard to protect your chastity,” he tells Nami, “but maybe it’s actually Mosshead who needs it.”
“I don’t need it either,” Nami informs him.
Down the bar, Zoro is looking up at Big, Bad and Scary with just the slightest of smirks.
“So this has happened before?”
“Only at every port we’ve stopped at.”
“Wait. At the Baratie?”
Nami raises one graceful eyebrow.
“No. Who?”
She gestures at her neck. Sanji stares.
“You’re joking. Geralt? Cook with the neck tattoos?”
Nami grins, a sly fox.
“Bingo.”
Zoro is tilting his head back, letting his suitor duck down to nip at his skin.
“I hadn’t the slightest idea,” Sanji murmurs.
Nami rests her chin in her palm, elbow propped up. “He liked that one.”
Sanji rips his eyes away from the sight of Roronoa Zoro, Demon of the East, killer of men, the one who stood before Mihawk and welcomed death with open arms– being groped by a brute.
“You two talk about his…” Sanji gestures helplessly at the Situation at the other end of the bar.
Nami looks at Sanji like he’s a particularly disappointing set of wares.
“Obviously.”
Well. They did spend a lot of time sitting up in the tangerine grove together.
“What did he say about Geralt?”
“You think I’d tell you something like that?”
Sanji is appalled at himself. “My apologies, of course I should’ve known better than to ask an honorable lady about her private conversations.”
“But you noticed right?”
“...Noticed what?”
“The limp.”
Sanji’s mouth drops open and he scrambles to catch his cigarette. How undignified.
“I thought that was from the stitches.”
“Not entirely.”
“Huh,” Sanji says slowly. “Hm.”
Nami pats him on the shoulder. She’s laughing at him and not with him, but he’ll take what he can get from such a classy lady.
The next morning, back on the Merry, Sanji takes discreet glances at the bruise peeking coyly out of the collar of Zoro’s shirt when he passes behind him on his way to the sink.
Zoro glances at him with narrowed eyes. “What, waiter?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Sanji says.
Zoro continues to squint at him.
“Eat your breakfast,” Sanji tells him.
When he thinks about it, Sanji supposes he can see the appeal. Having all that power beneath you must be a rush. There’s something about the way Zoro moves that’s unlike any other fighter Sanji’s ever seen before. It makes sense. Zoro doesn’t seem to think of fighting as merely violence, no matter what his reputation promises.
Zoro fights like it’s a display of the control he has over every part of him, limbs, muscles, ligaments, tendons.
Sanji suspects most people don’t make the connection, but Zoro’s not unlike a dancer honed by years of training. His posture, the way he holds himself long and elegant. How his steps are quieter than you’d ever expect. There’s a lot of grace hidden underneath the prowling danger. Holding a being like that in your own two arms - it must be something.
Well.
Maybe more people are noticing than he’s guessed. It’s not like Zoro is ever at a loss for men trying to coax him into bed at any watering hole they stop at. Honestly, it’s getting a bit ridiculous.
The waiter is being weird.
Zoro goes to find Nami. He likes Nami’s room. Likes to take naps in the corner, lulled by the sound of scratches on paper. He likes the smell of books, the comfort of being in a space small enough to relax, the sunbeam that comes in just right from her port window. You’re just a big cat, Nami likes to tell him.
“The waiter is being weird,” he announces.
She doesn’t even glance up from her maps. “How so?”
Zoro grumbles. “He’s just… he’s giving me a bad feeling.”
Nami snorts.
“Haven’t you noticed anything?” he asks.
At this, Nami looks up. “What do you mean?”
“He used to just be background noise. But I feel like he’s bigger now. Like I sense him all the time.”
Nami hums. “You’re more aware of him.”
“Right. Why?”
“Maybe he’s more aware of you?”
“Why would he do that?”
“Maybe he has a crush.”
Zoro frowns. “No he doesn’t.”
Nami laughs. “Yeah, but it’d be funny, wouldn’t it?”
“He’s too in love with women for that to even be possible.”
Nami rolls her eyes. “That’s what makes it funny.”
Zoro thinks maybe Sanji wants something from him. Maybe he wants to be first mate. He was going on and on about what Luffy needed. He’s new, he wants to upset the hierarchy.
“Do you think he wants to kill me?” Zoro asks Nami.
“No dummy,” Nami says. She looks unimpressed. “Go away, you’re bothering me.”
Zoro settles down in his corner instead. When he reaches out a leg to knock his foot against hers, she knocks him right back and then keeps her foot there, pressed up against his.
As he falls asleep he feels the soft poof of a blanket being tossed over him.
“Oi Luffy,” Zoro says.
“Yeah?” Luffy is perched on Merry’s figurehead, cross legged and eagerly dangling his fishing pole.
“Do you think Sanji wants to be first mate?” Zoro asks. He isn’t even going to bother asking what Luffy thinks of Sanji when the unshakable faith Luffy has in each crew member he handpicks is so clear. Also, a surefire way to Luffy’s heart is through his stomach and Sanji unfortunately has that locked down. Luffy adores Sanji at every meal.
“Hah?” Luffy cocks his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “You're my first mate.”
“But do you think he wants it?” Zoro presses.
Luffy looks like Zoro has just asked if the Merry should be taken to the nearest Marine base for a power wash. “You’re first mate Zoro,” he says again, as if Zoro is just a little slow or hard of hearing.
Zoro sighs. “Right. Okay.”
Luffy grins so wide it nearly splits his cheeks open. “Right!” He sings a little shanty about fish and the sea and a meal for kings as he turns back around, immediately forgetting the whole thing.
If Zoro did regrets, he might have one about pledging a life of undying loyalty to the simplest man to ever board a pirate ship. He watches Luffy a while longer. Luffy is cheery about the blue skies, the wind in Merry’s stalwart sails, what he’s going to have for lunch.
He stretches a long arm out behind him, still warbling, and pats Zoro gently on the head.
Good thing Zoro doesn’t do regrets.
Another island, another seedy bar filled with pirate scum. Zoro gets fucked in the back alleyway by a man with gelled hair that feels like plastic, which he hates, but who holds him up against the brick wall while they fuck, which he likes.
All in all it’s nothing to write home about, but he leaves with a pleasant burn which relaxes him enough that when Sanji asks to see his stitches, he agrees.
“We really need to get a doctor,” Sanji says while Zoro is laid out on his back on the kitchen table in nothing but his pants. “I’m really not qualified for this.”
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Zoro drolls. He keeps an eye on Sanji, just in case he really does want to kill Zoro.
Sanji smiles at him, unwinding his bandages. “Despite your best efforts.”
Zoro closes his eyes. If Sanji wants to kill him, he doesn’t seem rushed to do it at the moment. And besides, Zoro would like to see him try.
He’s lulled into a doze, relaxing under the way Sanji’s hands touch him. Sure and sturdy. The warm pressure of his palm as he presses down to soothe the skin from pulling is nice.
“Turn over,” Sanji says. Then: “Holy shit, your back. What’d you do, get dragged across a carpet?
“Got fucked against a wall.”
Sanji chokes.
Zoro keeps his eyes shut and works to keep his mouth from forming a smile.
“Right,” Sanji says. “You’ve got a nice bit of shamelessness in you, don’t you?”
Zoro pillows his head on his arms. “What’s there to be ashamed of?”
It’s quiet. He turns again and Sanji dabs alcohol on his skin. Zoro’s on the edge of sleep again before Sanji speaks.
“I suppose you have a point. Sit up.”
Zoro huffs and pushes his way to a sitting position, legs crossed. Sanji peers at his scar, frowning. He prods his finger against the stitches and Zoro bristles at the closeness now that they’re face to face.
“Does it hurt?” Sanji asks.
“Yes.”
Sanji raises an eyebrow. “You don’t seem very bothered by it.”
“Used to pain,” Zoro grunts.
“Hm,” Sanji says, and then goes about rewrapping Zoro’s torso. Zoro stays still, comforted by the knowledge that both of Sanji’s hands are occupied with the fresh bandages and that he can see all of Sanji’s knives on the counter. Of course there’s the business of the legs, but he’s close enough to Zoro that he doesn’t have the leverage.
Sanji tucks the last bit in firmly before pulling back to survey his work. He nods. “That’s as good as we can get it.” He meets Zoro’s eyes.
Zoro catches his gaze head on. Sanji looks back, considering. Maybe he’s sizing Zoro up. Zoro will not blink.
“You’re basically the ship cat, you know.”
Zoro blinks. “Hah?”
“You prowl around the deck looking for sunny spots to nap in and generally only wake up when you’re fed, or when there’s mice for you to run around and hunt.”
“You think I’m a cat?”
Sanji’s mouth quirks. “Alarmingly so.”
Zoro considers this. “Well, pet me then.”
Sanji barks out a laugh of surprise, but Zoro leans back on his hands and uncrosses his legs, baring his stomach. Sanji’s laughter dies down. Zoro does not avert his gaze.
Outside, Luffy’s laughter carries from the masthead. Usopp is yelling something gleefully. Nami is likely in the tangerine grove, taking advantage of the good weather to do some pruning. The ship creaks, something is leisurely dripping in the sink, and Sanji is taking a slow step forward.
Zoro does not move a muscle. Three long breaths later, Sanji is by his side. To his credit, there is no hesitation in the steady hand that reaches up and places itself lightly on top of Zoro’s bandaged stomach. It’s warm. Even through the bandages, Zoro can feel the heat of his hand. He watches as the hand makes a slow circle around his stomach. Petting.
Sanji seems content to run his hand up and down and honestly, Zoro didn’t really expect him to take him up on the offer and he’s not really sure what’s happening. He won’t be the one to back down though.
Then, Sanji’s hand trails upwards along his side and he’s brushing past Zoro’s left nipple. Zoro fights back a gasp. Slowly, achingly slowly, Sanji’s hand moves past the edge of the bandages and lands on the side of Zoro’s neck. Just resting. Not threatening yet. He looks mesmerized at the sight of his fingers on Zoro’s skin.
Not good. He thinks Zoro is easy pickings?
Zoro leans up, taking the weight off of his hands and brings his face right next to Sanji’s. Sanji’s hand stays where it is, following. He can feel Sanji’s breaths on his skin. Zoro glances up to meet his inscrutable eyes before dropping his gaze to Sanji’s mouth.
Deliberately, he sticks out his tongue and licks
a wide
strip
right over Sanji’s lips, flicking the tip over the top of his cupid’s bow.
When he meets Sanji’s eyes again, he looks shell shocked. Zoro grins and hops off the table. At the door, he turns back. Sanji remains frozen, wide eyed and hand still outstretched.
Zoro laughs and walks out the door.
That’ll show him. Zoro is the first mate, and he will not be intimidated.
So, Sanji has some realizations he’s been putting off coming to and he supposes now's a good a time as any.
Realization the first, he apparently can find men attractive. Sexually. And okay, that one’s not the biggest surprise. As an appreciator of the beautiful things in life, Sanji can recognize that beauty can be found in anything. A perfect cut of flounder, a ray of light coming through the clouds seen through the window of the Baratie kitchen, a smooth and silky pour of wine. Features come in all shapes and sizes on both men and women. Sanji can recognize a beautiful man. Now he just has to admit attraction as well. Okay. Fine.
Realization the second, he’s attracted to Zoro.
Realization the third, the attraction maybe goes a little further than that. If it were just attraction, he could admire from afar and that would be that. Zoro is a crewmate, and getting his rocks off isn’t a good enough reason to put that dynamic at risk. But he’s curious about Zoro. He wants to know more, to figure him out. And honestly, that sounds more like romance.
Here’s a story:
Once, when Sanji and the old man were no longer starving on a rock in the middle of the sea, Zeff came into his new room on what would eventually become the Baratie and tucked him in.
He told Sanji a story of a boy and a rabbit. The boy found the rabbit when it was lost and tiny and alone. He spent all of his days and nights nursing the rabbit back to health. He gave it food from his own plate, milk from his own cup. He dedicated himself to saving the rabbit and he succeeded. The rabbit grew up to be hearty and hale and carried the boy on its back as they flew through the sky on endless adventures.
Sanji, cheeks flushed and on their way back to being full instead of gaunt, had listened with rapt attention.
See, Sanji’s always wanted something just of his own. His to care for, to treasure, and to hold. Just his. And Zeff told him that if he was strong enough, if he was good and just and dependable enough, someday someone would come along and entrust themselves to him, wholly and completely.
He’s been working his whole life to become the kind of gentleman someone would entrust their life to.
He’s not sure if Zoro of all people can be the one he’s been waiting for. But he’s got an itch and his curiosity is thirsting to be satisfied.
Well Sanji, a gentleman’s a gentleman, no exceptions. Isn’t that right?
It is.
Sanji starts out small. He’s smart enough to know that bull rushing will get him nowhere in this case, that it requires a delicate hand.
“Your breakfast, Darling,” he says when he puts Zoro’s plate down in front of him.
Zoro squints up at him. “The hell did you just call me?”
“Darling,” Sanji repeats helpfully.
Usopp, shoveling food in his mouth from next to Zoro, looks on with wide eyes.
“That’s what you call Nami,” Zoro says.
“Oh no,” Sanji says, “not at all. I call everyone little names. It’s just a North Blue thing.” Usopp seems to have inhaled a bit of egg too quickly and is choking. Sanji discreetly kicks his chair leg so he jerks back. “Isn’t that right Usopp?”
Usopp looks panicked. Sanji steps on his foot.
“Oh, right, yeah,” Usopp finally coughs out, “totally. Just a North Blue thing. You know. Culture.”
“Okay,” Zoro says slowly. He turns to his plate, crisis apparently averted.
Sanji grins.
Zoro blinks awake from his nap. The sun has moved a few feet down the deck. Something else has changed too.
He turns his head to the right and there the waiter is. Leaning back against the Merry, feet planted wide with one arm dangling over a knee and the other holding a cigarette.
“Oh,” Sanji says, puffing out smoke, “you’re awake?”
“What’re you doing, waiter?”
“Taking a break.”
“...Right next to me?”
“What, I can’t?”
Zoro grits his teeth. If he says no, it’ll seem like he’s scared of Sanji. He’s left him no choice. “Do what you want.”
Sanji inhales and drops his head down, peering at Zoro. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on things. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
Zoro closes his eyes grudgingly, not willing to let go of a perfectly good nap but also not willing to go to sleep with Sanji so near.
As he listens to Sanji’s quiet breaths, he falls asleep anyway.
Zoro pants as he gets through the last of his push ups. His stitches are pulling uncomfortably but he’s not going to waste more time sitting around and not improving.
He hears the waiter in footsteps across the deck before he sees him.
“Worked up quite the sweat, have we?” Sanji asks cheerfully, crouching down next to him. “Here, a nice cold glass to cool you down.”
Zoro eyes the tall cup in his hands with suspicion. It’s even got a little umbrella in it, for fuck’s sake. He takes a sip.
Ah shit, it tastes delicious.
“Refreshing isn’t it?” Sanji seems to be smiling all the way up to his eyes, which Zoro immediately hates. “The coconut water is to replenish all the liquids you’ve lost, and the cucumber and lime are there to cut down the sweetness a bit. But you want to know the secret of why it tastes so good?”
Zoro takes another sip. Sanji leans closer. “At the very end, I add one perfectly ripe strawberry in. And the teeny tiniest pour of honey.” He leans his head against his fist, seemingly content to watch Zoro drink.
Zoro grumbles. “It’s not bad for a waiter.”
Sanji laughs lightly like Zoro has just given him a huge compliment. “It’s hard to get the balance right, to make sure all the obvious notes are blended even with the hidden ones you’d never be able to pick out, but when you do…” he trails off. When he speaks again, it’s only a murmur.
“Lovely. Just like you.”
Zoro’s frozen, jaw halfway open, straw still dangling in his mouth. Sanji reaches over and gently takes a hold of his chin. He guides Zoro’s mouth closed. Strokes his thumb at the corner of Zoro’s lips.
Then Nami calls for him and Sanji unfolds himself into a stand. He calls back as he walks away.
Zoro blinks. Overhead, a seagull caws, and he squints up into the sun. Zoro stands and walks to the railing. The waves are lapping at the sides of the ship.
Zoro plucks the straw out of his cup and dumps the rest, feeding it to the sea.
“That’s the most disgusting thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he says to the water.
Nami enjoys her room on the Merry. It’s hers alone and she appreciates the privacy, solitary creature that she is. When she does crave some company all she has to do is open the door and jump right into whatever chaos the boys are getting up to.
She likes that the smell of parchment has seeped into the walls. She likes the little dried tangerine peels that she leaves tucked away into nooks and crannies. The soft bedspread that she tucks neatly over her luxurious bed.
Even though Luffy is captain he always makes sure to knock, albeit loud enough to make her jump every time. Usopp’s knock is easygoing and friendly. Out of all of them, Usopp is the one that she can most rely on to be practical about things, the two of them otherwise surrounded by monsters on board. They get along that way. Sanji is gentlemanly with his knock, the same polite pattern followed by an adoring call of her name.
The only one that has never knocked a single time is -
“Nami,” Zoro says, bursting into her peaceful sanctuary, “the waiter is definitely up to something.”
She sighs.
The first time she spoke to Zoro she knew who he was. She knew because he is her. Growing up friendless, always on guard, learning from experience to see enemies everywhere. There’s no one on this ship that understands her like Zoro does. But light of her life, kindred of her soul he may be, he really needs to work on his timing.
“What’s Sanji up to now?” she asks, carefully stowing away her pen so as not to drip ink across the paper.
Zoro crosses his arms.
“He’s been following me around, making me things, talking to me.”
“That doesn’t sound particularly evil,” Nami points out.
“He’s trying to catch me off guard. Make me slip up.”
“Uh huh,” Nami says, “I think he’s trying to be nice to you.”
“He made me a drink with an umbrella in it.”
“He makes those for me all the time.”
“Exactly,” Zoro says gravely, “exactly.”
Nami cannot handle him sometimes.
“Maybe he wants to be friends. You guys are crewmates now you know, and all of us are going to be spending a lot of time together. Some people care about camaraderie and atmosphere.”
“What?” Zoro looks bewildered, though his face doesn’t change much.
“I said some people,” Nami says.
“He wants to be first mate,” Zoro says. He’s thumbing the hilt of his sword.
“You don’t know what he wants. Maybe he does want to fuck.”
Zoro rolls his eyes. “That womanizer?”
“We’re always out at sea,” Nami says, “and he knows better than to ask me for a quick fuck. Sometimes straight men can find a little flexibility when times are tough. You never know. You’re a pretty boy.”
Zoro grunts, unconvinced.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Nami offers.
“Ask him what?”
“Ask him what he wants.”
Zoro eases into a cross legged sit in his corner. “Having a crew is annoying,” he grumbles.
Nami leans on the palm of her hand, hiding a smile. “Kinda nice though.”
Zoro closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall. He tosses his bandana over his eyes. “...Yeah.”
Yeah. Zoro and Nami, one and the same.
Another island, another angry mob giving chase because Luffy didn’t pay the bill. Said captain in question is currently at the front of the pack slingshotting himself all over the place, laughter ringing out clearly above the chaos.
Somewhere along the line, bandits join the fray. Zoro doesn’t bother figuring out why. It’s his duty to clear a path for his captain, so that’s what he’s doing. The bandits put up a bit more of a fight than the restaurant staff, but it’s all still a little dull. His stitches aren’t even bleeding.
He’s envious of the waiter, who at least gets to handle a mean looking motherfucker with a giant pickaxe. Zoro’s about to jump in and steal the fucker for himself when Sanji jumps, twists, and lands on one hand, using the residual momentum to swing a leg so hard into Mr. Pickaxe that he goes flying hard enough to crumble the wall he’s slammed into.
Damn. Pickaxe was at least twice Sanji’s height and weight.
He’s seen Sanji fight before of course, at Arlong Park. But he was a bit preoccupied at the time. Also, Zoro did all the work, no matter what Sanji insisted.
Now he watches as the stupid waiter quickly and completely decimates the group in front of him. Zoro thinks about the image of Sanji shirtless and bursting out of the water, dragging Luffy behind him.
Hm. Guess those muscles aren’t all for show.
There’s a handful of things that Sanji is learning about Zoro. He grumbles and glares, but he’s never rejected a single treat Sanji has brought him.
He doesn’t say much, but he lets Luffy cling to him, allows Usopp to hide behind him, and nine times out of ten he does what Nami tells him to do. Living with the Demon of the East is an entirely different experience than hearing about him.
And the napping. Lord, the napping. He really does sleep so much.
General noise doesn’t wake him. But a sudden movement from Luffy will. Once, Usopp almost fell out of the crow’s nest and his scream had Zoro drawing his swords out before his eyes had even fully opened.
Sanji wonders if Zoro is constantly teetering on the border of wakefulness, too used to watching his own back. How he must have wandered alone, moving from town to town, sleeping somewhere new and strange every night, making enemies as he went.
Sanji wonders if it was tiring.
All this he contemplates as he sits on the deck of the Merry, watching the sun cut in and out of the clouds, Zoro asleep with his head resting in the crook of Sanji’s shoulder.
Zoro stirs. His eyebrows furrow and he cracks open a bleary, unfocused eye.
“The ship was rocking,” Sanji says to the sky, voice barely above a whisper. “You tumbled over a tad. Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep, little ship cat.”
Zoro, only halfway surfaced from a shallow dream, lulled by this hazy promise, sinks back down. Miracle of miracles.
Sanji closes his eyes with a smile. As with all things done with care, it’ll be a long, slow, bloom.
Zoro stomps over to the kitchen door, pulling it open and stepping inside, letting the door bang shut. The waiter is at the sink, humming and peeling a potato with a knife and Zoro has had enough. He will get to the bottom of this.
“Hi lovely,” Sanji says, “can I get you something? A bit of jam and toast to tide you over until lunch, perhaps?”
“What’s your game, waiter?”
“Hm?” Sanji asks, keeping an eye on his knife. “What game?”
“What do you want from me?” Zoro demands. Sanji finally looks up. Zoro makes sure to scowl, crossing his arms. He’s got too much dignity to flex his arms, but the urge is there.
Sanji raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Roronoa Zoro has never shied away from a fight. He doesn’t use flowery words to cover up the true meaning of his intent. Luffy will just have to deal with the fallout, as a captain should. “If you want to be first mate you should fight me like a man.”
Instead of dawning understanding, Sanji only looks confused. He looks like he has completely lost the thread and maybe never even had a grip on it to begin with.
“Huh?” Sanji says.
“Do you want to be first mate?” Zoro presses.
“Not particularly?”
Zoro narrows his eyes. What a coward. “What,” he says, sneering, “you wanna fuck then?”
Sanji carefully puts his knife and potato down. He turns to fully face Zoro, brushing his hands off. “I mean,” he says, “that’s not all I want, but if it’s on offer…”
Zoro can feel his face slacken. He can’t be serious. He stares at Sanji’s face, but he only looks calm.
“I’ll suck your dick,” Zoro says, sure that Sanji will drop his act and make a fuss.
Sanji swallows. “Okay,” he says, voice coming out hoarse.
Unwilling to back down, Zoro strides over and drops to his knees.
“Wait,” Sanji says a bit hysterically, “wait a second.” He puts a hand on Zoro’s shoulder and crouches down to his level.
There. See? It was all an act. Zoro scoffs.
Sanji’s head drops down. When he looks up again, he seems to have collected himself, gaze its usual brand of infuriating confidence.
“Sorry,” he says, “let’s just slow down a bit, okay darling?” Then he presses his lips to Zoro’s.
It’s chaste. When Zoro presses back with a fury, Sanji only opens his mouth, bringing a hand to the back of Zoro’s head to guide them away from harshness.
Zoro must be going crazy.
“Come here,” Sanji murmurs. He sits with his back to the sink cabinets and pulls Zoro between his legs. Caged in with his back pressed to Sanji’s chest and Sanji’s arms around his waist, Zoro can no longer see his face but he can see through the kitchen window. He strains to listen for the others. Nothing.
Sanji’s pressing fluttering kisses against his neck. His hands are roaming under Zoro’s shirt and stroking along his sides.
“I said I would blow you,” Zoro says in a daze.
“I know,” Sanji says, and his breath against Zoro’s neck sends a shiver down his spine. “But just indulge me for a while longer, okay sweetheart?”
“I thought you were straight,” Zoro accuses.
“Yeah,” Sanji murmurs, “I thought so too.” He runs a hand over Zoro’s stomach, spreading his fingers wide. The other hand creeps up to cup at his chest.
Fine. If they’re going to do this, Zoro at least wants to get a good, hard fuck out of it. He presses back and turns his head up to bite Sanji’s jaw. Tries to push his hand down to Zoro’s crotch.
Instead of yielding, Sanji moves to press his lips against Zoro’s again, firmly bringing his hand out of Zoro’s grip and away from giving him any satisfaction, the asshole.
“Come on,” Zoro growls against his mouth.
“I’ve got a gorgeous creature in my arms,” Sanji says, “let me enjoy him.”
Horrendous. Zoro pulls back to snap back a retort but it chokes into a gasp instead when Sanji brings one hand up to circle around a nipple. Sanji looks delighted.
“Sensitive?” He asks, and when Zoro refuses to reply he firmly strokes his finger down. Zoro squeezes his eyes shut. Sanji pets over his nipple again and again, sending fissures of pleasure like lightning in a straight line downwards.
“Oh,” Sanji says, “oh darling, aren’t you a vision.”
“Shut up,” Zoro snaps, then squirms, giving up on words and trying to push his chest into Sanji’s hand. He jerks a hand down to palm himself over his pants.
Sanji catches his wrist. “Don’t.” He drags Zoro’s hand up to grip at the counter above their heads. Then he does the same with his other arm. “Hold on. Let me take care of you.”
Zoro adjusts his grip on the counter and hangs on, only because Sanji is now helping him out of his pants and he can use the leverage to lift himself up enough for them to slide off. Zoro’s content to just kick them down to his ankles, but Sanji brings one leg up to carefully remove both pant leg and shoe. Then he does the other. He doesn’t rush, even when Zoro growls.
Sanji then brings a hand to Zoro’s other pec, petting.
There’s something about Sanji’s hands, the way he handles them, that feels at once both firm and soft. The control has Zoro lightheaded. He feels Sanji reaching up, and then the quiet pop of a jar lid.
Sanji moves the arm on his chest and Zoro mourns the loss. He hooks the arm under Zoro’s leg, pulling it up and forcing his legs apart. The other hand drops down and palms his ass. Sanji groans, and then two slick fingers are gliding over his rim. Zoro drops his head back onto Sanji’s shoulder. Finally.
“I’ve… never done this before,” Sanji says, hesitant now of all times. “Let me know if I hurt you.”
“Hurry it up already, waiter.”
There’s a long pause, and Zoro’s about to kick him in the head before he feels a finger pressing in. He sighs out a deep, slow breath, melting into the feeling. It feels so good to be filled. Sanji’s got perfect fingers for this, long and dextrous. “‘S good,” he murmurs.
“Yeah?” Sanjis asks, sounding breathless. He takes his time stroking in the wet heat of Zoro. Zoro’s never been fingered so patiently, but the indulgence might be his new favorite thing. He turns his face into Sanji’s neck. He always smells nice, the prissy bastard.
He leans into the feeling of Sanji’s fingers moving in and out of him. He can feel the heat of Sanji pressed against his back. The arm holding up Zoro’s leg doesn’t seem to tire. Inside him, around him, Sanji is a firm, hard presence that threatens to overwhelm everything else. He’s drunk with it.
Then, Sanji crooks his finger and strokes just right. Zoro arches violently, an embarrassing sound punching out of his chest.
“Holy shit,” Sanji gasps, “Zoro–”
“Do it again,” Zoro demands, panting.
Sanji does.
Zoro can’t help the whine that is dragged out of him. “Mmm,” he moans, “feels good, just like that,”
Sanji curls his fingers again, desperate to obey. Zoro, held open and propped up, tries his best to ride the fingers that are rubbing so perfectly, just exactly what he needs. He forces his eyes open and Sanji is looking down at him, eyes wide, like he’s seeing the answer to the universe.
“You’re beautiful,” Sanji gasps, “Oh god Zoro, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Am I giving you what you need?” He’s thrusting his hips as best he can against the small of Zoro’s back, constrained against the cabinet as he is. He’s dropped Zoro’s leg and his other arm is frantically petting over all the skin he can reach.
Zoro grinds desperately against those fingers, little moans punching out each time his prostate is hit. God it feels good, Sanji really does have great fingers for this. He just wishes that the most perfect hands he’s ever felt weren’t attached to the most annoying man he’s ever met.
“Sanji,” he gasps, trying to encourage him, “right there.” This apparently works very well, as Sanji groans deep in his chest and his hips jerk, cock a hard line of heat against Zoro’s back. He mutters nonsense against Zoro’s neck, praises and gratitude that he can’t pay attention to, so overwhelmed by Sanji’s touch, how wet he feels inside. Sanji tongues the spot under his ear, and Zoro arches.
He’s losing himself, mind starting to blank out, when Sanji drops his other hand and gently palms the head of Zoro’s cock, just once. Zoro’s vision whites out and he holds his breath as the swell of pleasure crashes over him, completely lost in it, coming with a high whimper.
When he drifts back to himself, Sanji is cradling his waist, petting him soothingly.
“Alright, darling?”
Zoro’s trembling, barely perceptible. He can’t believe how stupid Sanji managed to fuck him with just his fingers. This infuriates him enough that he pushes himself up to a sit.
“I promised you a blow job.”
Sanji laughs, a little strained. “That’s okay sweetheart, you can rest.”
“No,” Zoro says stubbornly. He pushes Sanji to a stand, getting on his knees. When he yanks the waistband of Sanji’s pants down, his dick springs out, hard to the point of looking painful.
“I might not last very long,” Sanji says, wry.
“Good,” Zoro says, and then dives down to close his mouth over the tip.
Sanji shouts, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle it.
Zoro suckles at the head, relishing the hot, heady taste. He hollows his cheeks and slowly slides his mouth down and Sanji doubles over. He rolls his tongue up and down the shaft. Zoro’s always liked sucking dick, and he’s damn good at it. His hands are on Sanji’s hips, and he can feel the way all his muscles are tensed up.
Zoro tugs at Sanji’s hips impatiently. Sanji gulps in a breath and then hesitantly begins to rock back and forth into Zoro’s mouth. It’s considerate. He doesn’t ever push in too deep, quivering with the effort.
Inwardly, Zoro rolls his eyes at being treated like a virgin. He tightens his grip and pushes forward, swallowing Sanji down to the root.
“Fuck!” Sanji cries, and Zoro swallows once, twice, and then he’s coming.
Zoro keeps him in his mouth through the aftershocks, content to keep the warm feeling a little longer. As soon as Sanji’s done though, he’s pushing Zoro back by the shoulders.
“God Zoro,” he says, frantic. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve controlled myself, I’m horrified, that was not befitting of a gentleman.” He holds out a cupped palm in front of Zoro’s mouth. “Here sweetheart, spit.”
Zoro considers the hand. Sanji gestures again. “It’s okay darling,” he says, “go ahead.” Zoro glares.
He looks Sanji dead in the eye, and very
deliberately
swallows.
Sanji’s mouth gapes open, watching the line of his throat.
“It’s mine,” Zoro says. His voice sounds wrecked. “You gave it to me, it’s mine.”
Sanji looks like he’s been punched in the face.
“Anything,” Sanji breathes, reverent. He cups Zoro’s face. “Whatever you could ever want from me, it’s yours.”
After that things get a little weird for a challenge-slash-hookup.
Zoro gets to his feet, intent on finding his pants and shoes and fucking off to never think about this ever again, but Sanji insists on moving him to the bench under the window. He fusses with the cushions and lays Zoro down.
Zoro lets him. His head is still a little woozy and if he was going to nap anyway it may as well be here. Sanji disappears and comes back with a blanket, tucking it carefully over him.
Zoro dozes to the sounds of Sanji bustling around the kitchen. He’s comforted by the sound of knives hitting the wooden chopping block, and the breeze coming in from the now open window. Sanji’s humming as he moves, and the low timbre of his voice is…nice.
He must’ve fallen asleep because he wakes when Sanji brushes a hand over his cheek, propping him up and tilting a cup to his lips. The taste of honey and lemon slides down his stomach, warming him to the core.
The rest he remembers in hazy bursts.
Sleep. A piece of fruit being pressed past his lips. Sleep. A firm hand cupping the back of his neck, blanket being tugged up. Sleep.
Through it all, the faint vibrations of Sanji’s humming.
Sanji is still in a fantastic mood the next morning. He can’t believe his own luck. He’d thought it’d take much longer to charm Zoro, much less into his bed.
And okay, he’s not delusional enough to think that Zoro equated the sex they had with romance, but it’s a step forward.
“Say Usopp,” he murmurs, chin propped up on a hand. Usopp looks up from his breakfast plate. At the other end of the table, Zoro and Nami are making aggressive eye contact, Nami’s eyebrows climbing higher and higher as Zoro shovels food into his mouth and grows increasingly red.
“What’s up?” Usopp asks, and Luffy takes the opportunity to shoot a hand under his elbow, stealing a sausage. Usopp squawks and stabs at the hand.
“Your lady, back on your home island. How long did it take you to woo her?”
“Kaya?” Usopp asks. “Uh, I don’t know if I ever wooed her, man. We were friends for ages, I think the feelings sort of just…happened.”
“So you were her closest confidante.”
“Yeah,” Usopp scratches his nose, embarrassed but pleased. “I guess I was. I think we were both alone when we found each other as kids, and she trusted me with all the feelings she never told anyone else.”
“Ah,” Sanji says, “she trusted you.” Sanji smiles wistfully at how enamored Usopp looks. Oh to bask in the glow of love. “So it did take a long time for the romance to bloom.”
“I guess,” Usopp grins. “But I’d wait for her for a thousand more years if I had to.”
Sanji glances down the table. Luffy is draped over Zoro’s shoulder, neck stretching long to chomp directly from his plate, straining against the palm smacking at his face. Zoro’s own face is still flushed, red high on his cheeks.
A thousand years. That’s okay. Sanji is a patient man.
He’s already been waiting all his life, after all.