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Contrary to popular belief, Zoro actually hates most bars. They’re loud, often smell like shit, and on top of that, the booze isn’t even that good.
But despite all that, he finds himself outside of one, pleasantly buzzed on a hot night in front of Sanji who is currently trying not to puke all over Zoro’s shoes.
“The fuck did you have to drink?”
Sanji groans, head hanging between his knees as he sits on the stoop outside of the pub they were just in. “Strawberry daiquiris. All night.”
“Priss.” Zoro nudges him with his foot. “And you’re a goddamn lightweight.”
“Shut up, I'm not drunk,” Sanjj grumbles, which isn’t very convincing considering the flush that spreads across his nose and cheeks.
“It’s the, uh.” He waves his hand like he’s trying to pick the word out of the air. “The heat’s making me nauseous.”
“Yeah, well you better not get nauseous all over me,” Zoro says, marching over to lean against the wall.
Sanji raises his head to glare at him. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
Zoro simply grunts in response.
Eventually, the cook stands up abruptly, stumbling slightly before dusting invisible dirt off the seat of his pants. Zoro's eyes wander to the other’s hands as Sanji readjusts the cuffs on his yellow dress shirt. His nails look like he’s been biting on them.
Sanji looks at him through his bangs. “I’m going back to the inn.”
“Okay.”
“That means you can go back to partying.”
Zoro spares a glance back at the pub, Luffy’s muffled rendition of Bink’s Sake wafting through the closed door. “...No. I was gonna leave soon anyway.”
Sanji gives him a quizzical look, like the fact Zoro doesn’t want to stay and consume more alcohol is baffling to him. He lets it go, though, starting down the street with a murmured “Do whatever you want.” Zoro follows him.
__
The room at the inn Nami had them book is surprisingly clean and simple, made up of a bed in the corner of the room and a small nightstand. There's a door laying ajar to the bathroom next to a chest of drawers laying against the opposite wall.
“I’m not leading you back to your room, you directionless shit,” Sanji grumbles, striding in and immediately shucking off his jacket. He throws it haphazardly to the side, and it barely snags onto the coat rack in the corner of the room. “Find your own way or sleep on the floor.”
Zoro takes this as an invitation to make himself comfortable, taking a seat on the inn’s small bed. Sanji barely sneers at him, too preoccupied in fumbling off his shoes en route to the bathroom.
The blonde grabs a towel from a drawer in the nightstand. “I’m showering. Don’t fuck anything up.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
“Kill yourself.” The door shuts.
__
“Why do you always do that?”
Sanji looks up from where his thigh is pressed against Zoro’s; they’re now sitting side by side on the inn’s small bed. “Do what.”
Zoro lifts his hand and places it on Sanji’s back. His skin is still warm and a little damp from the shower, and he can feel the muscles shift beneath his hand when Sanji tenses at the touch. Zoro mimics the movement, hiking up his shoulders to his ears. “That.”
“I don’t fucking do that.”
“I just watched you do it.”
Sanji shrugs Zoro’s hand off of him. “No, you didn’t,” He says, something apprehensive in his tone. He picks at a piece of lint on the blue linen pants he’s wearing.
“Sanji.”
Sanji bristles at the use of his name, a crease forming between his eyebrows, “It’s– it's not you. Not you, or Luffy, or anybody. I’m just.” He waves his hands helplessly between the two of them, “It’s just weird. I’m not used to this.”
Zoro raises an eyebrow. “To what?”
“Germa locked me in a cellar after my mother died.” Sanji admits the fact casually, not even bothering to look up as he says it. He’s still intent on fiddling with the soft fabric of his nightclothes. “I didn’t see much of anyone, then. Much less touch them. But then I got out. So.”
Sanji sighs, tension bleeding out of his shoulders; though the slope of them looks more somber than calm. “It's been ten years and I don’t think I’ve done more than shake hands with anyone but Zeff.”
And everything sort of makes sense. “…That’s–”
“Stupid. I need to get my shit together. ”
“–Fucked, actually. ” Zoro nudges him with his foot. “Is what I was gonna say.”
Sanji looks mildly surprised at that. “Huh. You were.”
“Yeah, I was– Curly, what the hell?”
Then Sanji gets this look, like he’s gazing somewhere off in the distance even though he’s still looking at Zoro. His lips fix like he’s going to say something, but he apparently thinks better of it and lets his features settle into a soft frown instead.
It’s the same face he pulls on the nights where he doesn’t sleep; When Zoro finds him outside at two in the morning, absently smoking a cigarette while looking over the Sunny’s railing at the dark sea.
Before he can really think about it, Zoro finds himself reaching for Sanji’s wrist, pulling him into a loose hug. Sanji startles, the same way he did before, but doesn’t stop Zoro as he wraps his arms around his shoulders. Sanji’s own hover awkwardly over Zoro’s middle like he’s not sure what to do.
Zoro sighs. “You’re thinking too much,” and the words seem to do something, seeing as Sanji relaxes at least a little, tentatively leaning more into the embrace. “Just fucking– chill.”
“Okay,” Sanji says, sounding kind of winded. Zoro simply pulls them closer together until they’re chest to chest, Sanji’s head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck. Zoro can smell his shampoo— pine and citrus, clearer without the scent of tobacco that usually lingers on his person.
Sanji swallows. “You smell like sweat.”
“You don’t mind.”
“I guess I don’t.”
Zoro slides a hand up the back of Sanji’s neck to card through his hair. It’s still damp from the shower. “You good now?”
Sanji scoffs, his breath fanning over Zoro’s ear. “I wasn’t ever not good.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I lied. You don’t have to sleep on the floor tonight.”
“Okay.”
______________________________________
“No, no please, I’ll be good, you don’t have to–”
“Silence.” Judge speaks, and his word is absolute. Sanji’s throat closes, no sound coming out no matter how he tries to gasp or scream or cry.
Please, Sanji tries to say, I’ll be stronger, I’ll get better, but he can't, the oxygen getting stuck in his lungs. Sanji can’t breathe.
And then there’s a hand on him, no– multiple hands. His father’s guards, Sanji realizes, and his stomach drops. They’re here to take him. Take him away and lock him down in the cellar like Judge had told him he would.
Sanji tries to fight it, tries to thrash and scream but he is four feet tall and there are three men pinning down his arms, twisting his limbs until the bones creak.
Judge steps forward, silent and stoic. He raises a gloved hand, and Sanji is helpless, jerking his head away just for Judge to grab his chin in one meaty palm.
He wrenches Sanji’s head straight, makes him look directly into soulless grey eyes. “You are no son of mine,” the man hisses, and the words rip Sanji apart from the inside out.
Judge’s hand drops. He turns on his heel and marches away. Sanji weeps silent tears for his mother.
___
Sanji wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air in the quiet of the men’s bunkroom. This is the fourth night in a row he’s been rudely thrust out of sleep by visions of his estranged father.
I’m over it, Sanji seems to tell himself a million times, but the tightness in his chest after waking up from a dream he can barely remember never really goes away.
He glances around the room, ears straining for anyone who might have woken up as well, but finds everyone snoring peacefully in their bunks. Well, besides Usopp– he’s up on watch.
Carefully, Sanji hops out of bed, a little weak in the knees when his socked feet make contact with the ground. The wood confines of the room are a bit too suffocating, suddenly feeling like the familiar concrete walls from his childhood. Sanji needs to leave.
So, he hurries outside, onto the deck of the Sunny, and once his foot crosses the threshold of the door it’s like the air whooshes back into his lungs.
‘If you come from the cold, the cold stays in you,’ his mother used to say, and on nights like this Sanji finds the idiom more than true. It’s decently warm outside, the crew having just departed from a summer island, but Sanji’s hands are still shaking like they’ve been submerged in ice water.
Fuck this. Fuck everything, actually , Sanji thinks, as he pads over to the Sunny’s railing. It’s dark. He can’t even see the ocean from here, but he leans on the polished wood anyway, looking out at nothing. Now would be the time to smoke a cigarette, but he was in such a hurry to leave the bunkroom that he forgot his pack and lighter in his locker. Sanji really doesn’t wanna go back there tonight.
“Cook?” says a voice from behind him, and Sanji nearly jumps out of his own skin. On reflex, he whirls around, winding up for a kick before he promptly realizes that he should not be trying to grievously injure what is probably a crewmate–
Oh. It’s Zoro. Who caught his ankle. “ Jesus, Moss, what the hell are you doing up?”
Zoro shrugs. “Dunno. Heard you leave.”
“Oh, great.” Sanji wrenches his leg out of Zoro’s grip, leaning back and bracing himself against the ship's railing. “Who else?”
“Nobody. You gonna tell me what happened?”
Sanji glances over Zoro’s figure. He’s wearing a threadbare tank top and a pair of sweatpants that ride low on his hips, and Sanji has to remind himself to look Zoro in the eyes, not at the sliver of stomach he can see peeking out between the articles of clothing. A cigarette would be really nice right now. “Don’t piss me off.”
Zoro hums, sidling up next to Sanji and mimicking his position, close enough that their hands are touching from where they rest on the Sunny’s railing.
“You look like shit,” He says offhandedly, and Sanji’s lip curls.
“I said , don’t piss me off.”
“It’s not me you’re mad at.” Zoro is partially right about that. That whole fiasco at Whole Cake Island sucked massively and now everything kind of sucks again. Sanji’s been losing sleep since he came back, and his fuse is a lot shorter than it used to be.
However, on top of that, is the strange dilemma he’s been grappling with ever since that night at the inn. So, it is kind of Zoro’s fault, one way or another.
Before he can deliberate it some more, he’s being nudged out of his thoughts by Zoro fumbling for something in his pocket. After a few seconds, he produces a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and is suddenly not on Sanji’s shitlist anymore.
Just to be an ass, Sanji asks, “You went in my locker?”
“Shut the hell up.” Zoro pulls a stick out of the pack and hands it to him, watching as Sanji’s still-trembling fingers slot it between his lips. the swordsman rolls his eyes when Sanji motions for his lighter. “C’mere.”
Obligingly, Sanji leans forward. Zoro’s calloused thumb flicks the striker twice before the thing sparks to life, and his hands come to cup around the flame when he brings it up to the tip of Sanji’s cigarette.
This close, Sanji can see the ridges in Zoro’s scar; the small gap in his dark eyelashes where the tissue cuts through. Sanji has half a mind to trace the line of marred skin with his thumb.
He doesn’t. The cherry of his cigarette burns bright red.
“You good?”
No . “Stop asking me that.” The familiar smell of tobacco fills Sanji’s nostrils as he turns the other way to breathe a stream of smoke into the night. The nicotine somewhat calms him, and his hands begin to steady.
Zoro hums at the non-answer, shifting so their legs are pressed together. He’s been doing that more often, lately, and Sanji has just learned not to startle when he feels it. “Nightmare?”
“What is this, twenty fuckin’ questions?”
“Don’t be a dick.” There’s no inflection to Zoro’s tone.
Sanji taps ash into the sea. “Sorry.”
His eyes flick down to Zoro’s hands. The swordsman is still holding his lighter, large thumb absently running over the grooves on the sparkwheel. He turns it around in his fingers. Sanji feels cold.
____
Later on, just as Sanji has finished his first cigarette, Zoro pulls him to the ground by the wrist. Sanji ends up slotted against his chest, Zoro’s legs spread so the other can fit comfortably between them.
“You know you don’t have to ask,” Zoro says, pinching Sanji’s cigarette between two fingers as they shift around on the turf. “For this.”
Sanji thinks he could feel Zoro’s heartbeat like this, if he really tried. The fact makes a lump form in his throat. “You’re being too nice. ‘S weird.”
“I’m serious. Whenever you need.”
“I don’t need shit.”
Zoro wraps an arm around Sanji’s middle, warm skin pressing against the bare section of stomach where his sleep shirt rides up. It makes the cold seep out of Sanji’s bones, and he finds himself sagging into the hold, grabbing his cigarette back and taking a long, long drag.
They are out on the Sunny’s deck so long that Sanji’s cigarette burns to the filter. Zoro lights a third one for him, and then a fourth after that.
“You gonna go back inside?” Sanji asks, eyelids drooping from fatigue.
“Are you?”
“No.”
Zoro doesn’t give him a response. Sanji closes his eyes.
____
The next morning, amidst the chaos of breakfast, Zoro presses something into Sanji’s hand before he marches off to the crow’s nest.
Sanji looks down and finds his lighter nestled in his palm; he can feel the residual warmth from when Zoro was holding it. He turns it around in his hand and then tucks it safely into his breast pocket.
______________________________________
“Are we almost done?” Zoro grumbles, laden with all of the groceries from today’s shopping trip. The crew is temporarily docked at a spring island for restocks and repairs to the Sunny’s hull after their last run-in with marines. Unfortunately, it’s usually Zoro who’s saddled with the role of pack mule while the others get to explore.
Sanji inspects a head of cabbage at a produce stand. “Why, are the bags too heavy for you?”
“Fuck off.”
“Then stop complaining. ”
Zoro rolls his eyes, shifting around the mountain of bags in his grip to glare at the back of the blonde’s head. Sanji pays him no mind, paying for the goods and chucking the cabbage over his shoulder so Zoro has to scramble to land it in an open bag.
“Asshole,” He murmurs under his breath as Sanji strings him along.
“I heard that.”
___
They’re done after a few hours, Zoro with about ten hefty bags on each arm and Sanji with a new set of pans. He haggled with the store owner for a good twenty minutes for those: something about ‘cast-iron’ and ‘seasoning’ that Zoro was too bored to pay attention to. Sanji seemed happy with the purchase, and Zoro really isn’t one to pry, so.
On their way, Zoro spots an unusually large sign pasted on the window of a shop, one corner peeling and causing the yellowed paper to flutter in the wind.
“Hey, Cook,” Zoro says, stopping to squint at the poster. “Wait a second.”
“Pack mules don’t talk.”
Zoro ignores the insult. “Ain’t that you?”
Sanji turns around, and his face goes slack when he notices what Zoro is looking at. “Oh, oh fuck. ”
Now, being pirates and all, it’s inevitable that they’re basically wanted everywhere they go. However, most of the time, it doesn’t warrant a reaction like that. Sanji’s still frozen where he is, making Zoro raise an eyebrow.
Before he can ask what the hell’s going on, Sanji points to an emblem in the far right of the shop's window.
“That’s Germa’s flag. They have jurisdiction over the island,” and that’s all the cook gets a chance to say before someone emerges from the mouth of the alley they’re standing next to and pulls a burlap sack over Sanji’s head, dragging him backward into the dark backstreet.
As quick as it happens, the perpetrators are all down for the count. Zoro doesn’t even have to use his blade: Two hits from Wado’s hilt and the pair of goons lurking further inside the alley drop like flies. They should’ve known better.
Sanji on the other hand, is still blindly scuffling with the guy who attempted to kidnap him, and the back of his head meets the brick wall before he caves the man’s knee in with a well-timed kick. He goes down easy after that, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he drops. Zoro would wince in sympathy for the guy, but he did probably deserve that one.
“We need to go,” Zoro observes, eyeing the groceries he dropped as Sanji rips the bag off of his face. They’re going to need to ditch some if they really want to book it back to the Sunny. Sanji doesn’t respond.
“Cook?” Zoro calls, turning around and sheathing Wado.
Sanji lets out a strangled wheeze, sliding down the wall of the alley with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. His chest rises and falls erratically, like he can't get a proper breath in. His voice sounds strained when he says, “Just– just gimme a second.”
“Woah, shit, you okay?” Zoro steps over the limbs of the unconscious bodies around them to give Sanji a quick once-over. He doesn’t look hurt, his suit barely even wrinkled from the short fight.
The cook doesn’t dignify that with a response, fisting his hands in his hair and digging blunt nails into his scalp. Zoro recognizes Sanji’s pinched expression as fear ; of what, he doesn’t know. He tries to pry Sanji’s hands out of his hair, crouching and pressing the limbs palm to palm before sandwiching them between his own.“Okay wait, calm down—“
“Oh, genius, moss, why didn’t I fucking think of that—“
One of the people on the floor starts twitching. Sanji brings a foot down on his head.
Zoro is at a loss. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” Sanji sucks in a ragged breath, shaking free one of his hands to plant a clammy palm on Zoro’s chest. “Just let me… Hold on a minute.”
Slowly, Sanji’s breathing evens out as he tries to keep in time with Zoro’s own, eyes shut like he’s concentrating on keeping it steady. His other hand squeezes Zoro’s like a lifeline, so the swordsman thinks it’s better not to move at all.
“Okay, Okay,” Sanji says after a while, running a hand through his hair and fixing his bangs back in place. “We can go.“
“You sure?”
Sanji bristles. “Can we not do this here?”
And oh , that does sting a little. Zoro stands, and so does the cook– well, it’s more of a stagger, if they’re both being honest. The thing responsible for that is the clump of hair matted by a mass of clotted blood on the back of Sanji’s head which neither of them noticed because his back was against the fucking wall.
“You got a little something back there.” Zoro gestures to the back of his own head.
Sanji reaches a hand up to feel what Zoro’s talking about. It comes away red, and instead of reacting, he just…stares at it.
“Oh, you’re fucking me right now,” He mumbles, his voice cracking just a bit. Sanji’s eyes flutter closed, and he starts to sway a little on his feet. “You have to be fucking me right now.” He looks dangerously close to falling, so Zoro reaches out a hand to steady him. The other shrugs him off, eyes flying open at the contact and recoiling like he’s been burned.
Sanji borderline flinches when he steps away, pulling out a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe off his hands. “I can walk. Go get the groceries.”
“Sanji?” Zoro asks, but it feels like the sound doesn’t reach the other, the cook’s shoulders hiked up into a tight line that feels like a wall blocking Zoro out.
Sanji crosses his arms. “ Please. Let’s go.”
Zoro picks up the discarded bags. They leave the other people there in the alley for the marines to find. Sanji’s pans don’t make it either.
______
“Concussion, huh?”
Zoro eyes Sanji from his position at the entrance of the infirmary. Sanji’s sitting up in the cot, under strict instructions from Chopper to stay put for the rest of the day. After they got back to the Sunny with most of the food they bought intact, Sanji was immediately ushered away by the little reindeer, which left Zoro responsible for putting away the groceries.
“Yeah,” Sanji responds. Zoro’s eyes track the blonde’s hands as he fiddles with the thin sheets. His head is bandaged, the white wrappings stark against his hair. “Concussion.”
Zoro pushes off of the door frame, moving to sit down at the stool in front of the infirmary’s twin bed. “Does that happen often?”
“I’ve hit my head a few times before.”
Zoro isn’t one for dodging questions. “Cook.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Do you not want me to?”
Sajni sighs, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He inclines his head toward Zoro as if he’s going to answer, but stays silent. The fluorescent lights of the infirmary buzz overhead. He breathes in and out, steady and rhythmic but not completely devoid of the panic from earlier.
Eventually, Sanji speaks, his eyes still trained on the white sheets. “You don’t have to worry about me–”
“We’re nakama,” Zoro cuts him off, maybe a little more stern than he meant to, “It's our job to worry about each other.”
“Yeah. I know. But I feel like– I don’t know.” Sanji gestures between them, “Like I’m asking for too much.”
And that makes something in Zoro’s stomach roll around uneasily. Sanji, who never hesitates to give, feels like he’s asking for too much. Who feels like he is too much. Zoro’s mouth twists into a frown, and he scoots closer to the cot, resting his elbows on the edge so he’s looking up at the blonde.
“Is it too much for you ?”
Sanji pauses. “...No.”
“And have I ever fucking complained about it?”
“No.”
“Don’t get it twisted. I don’t ever do shit I don’t want to.” Zoro watches Sanji’s face pinch into something pensive as he mulls the words over, pulling one of his knees to his chest. “I told you. Whenever you need.”
Sanji is silent for a few moments longer, lips fixing like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. Zoro waits for him.
“They locked my head in an iron mask. It had a gag in it. I could only see out of one eye most of the time.”
Zoro doesn’t need to ask what Sanji’s talking about. “Is that why you freaked out today?”
“Yeah,” the cook shrugs, “Guess so.”
Zoro hums noncommittally.
“M’sorry, or whatever. For brushing you off, also. I wasn’t mad at you.”
“You sure were pretty pissed at somethin’.”
Sanji lets out an amused huff at that, finally meeting Zoro’s eyes. “Yeah, not at you, dickhead. At… I dunno. Judge. Germa. Myself.” He nods to himself at that last one, gaze flicking between the walls of the infirmary and Zoro lying in front of him.
“It’s just fucking irritating,” Sanji continues, “ How I thought I was better. How I was better. I stopped sleeping with the lights on and stopped tiptoeing around shit and I wasn’t so scared Judge would come for me anymore.”
“And then?” Zoro shifts, crossing his arms to rest his head atop them.
“And then I had to go back. A week and a half of seeing his face and suddenly I’m eight years old again, down in that fucking cell. I hate it. I hate him. I hate what he did and I hate that I can’t get over it, no matter what the hell I do.”
Zoro doesn’t like the crease forming between Sanji’s eyebrows, his lips pressed into a thin line. “It won’t always be like that,” He tries.
“And you would know?”
Zoro thinks of Tashigi, a face buried years in the past pasted onto a stranger. He remembers how his heart sank when she opened her mouth and he realized it wasn’t her , the fear he felt afterwards. “I think I would.”
Sanji peers at him appraisingly, like he’s looking at Zoro for the first time, blue eyes wide and searching for something he seems to find almost immediately. He hums to himself, reaching a hand out to tousle Zoro’s hair. “...Right. Thanks.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“I know.”
Zoro raises his head, gently lacing his fingers with the hand Sanji laid there. “Scoot over.”
“No fuckin’ way.” the blonde cracks a smile, crooked and small but genuine all the same. “Your giant ass’ll break the bed.”
Zoro squeezes his hand. “Fuck off.” Sanji pulls him up onto the cot anyways, squeezing far enough onto the other side of the small mattress that Zoro can fit. Both of their feet dangle off the edge. Neither of them mind that much.
____
“I’m glad you came back to the crew.” To me.
Sanji’s fingers graze his collarbone. “Me too.”
______________________________________
They’re drunk when it happens. Sanji knows he’s fucking drunk. And surprisingly, Zoro is too– drinking three quarters of a bottle of spiced rum will do that to you.
“You’re hogging it, jackass.” Sanji reaches out, uncoordinated, trying to grab the brown bottle back.
Zoro leans backwards and waves it out of his reach. “You don’t need it. Your tolerance is shit.”
They’re sitting in the crows’ nest, legs crossed on the hardwood floor and facing each other with the bottle of rum that is supposed to be in between them, but Zoro’s a fucking asshole and won’t give it back.
Sanji is pleasantly tipsy, the quarter of the bottle he was allowed to have warming his system and leaving the taste of cinnamon lingering in his mouth. Zoro is faring about the same, but only after having almost all of the liquid and leaving barely a mouthful for the other.
Sanji groans dramatically, kicking Zoro in the leg with a socked foot. “You shit. You literally just chugged all of it.”
“Nuh uh.” Zoro, the fucker he is, drinks the last of it just to spite him. “Now I’ve chugged all of it.”
“I’m gonna kill you.” But Sanji doesn’t really mean it, he hasn’t for a while. Ever since that night at the inn, things have been getting lighter; There’s no heat behind the insults they share, replaced with sly grins and late-night conversations where Sanji’s back rests on Zoro’s chest. It’s new, but it’s nice, he can’t deny.
“I’d like to see you try , Curly,” Zoro says, placing the expensive glass behind him. It falls on the ground with a clink, rolling away from the two of them– But Sanji can’t pay it any mind, too busy ogling at the flash of canines he–
Fuck. fuck. Sanji is not going to do this right now. “Don’t mess with me, I will.”
“You can’t even stand.”
“Says fucking who?” Sanji jabs an accusing finger into Zoro’s chest, and the swordsman pushes back, playful and predictable and laughing in Sanji’s face. His breath smells like cinnamon.
“Says me.” His earrings sway, as he does, and Sanji can’t look at them, he can’t, so he settles for watching them glint out of the corner of his eye.
“We’ll see who’s standing when I kick your goddamn face in.”
Zoro chuckles again, low and mischievous in the way Sanji only discovered he could do two weeks ago. The sound bounces around in his head like a set of dice, and suddenly Sanji’s the poor sap who keeps rolling snake eyes. Just his luck. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Sanji repeats, suddenly a little breathless because Zoro is a lot closer than before, almost pressing his forehead against Sanji’s own, smiling crookedly and–
Sanji really can’t help what comes out of his mouth next, the alcohol making him lose the ability to fucking think before he speaks. “You can’t keep doing this to me.”
Zoro looks confused. “What?”
Sanji is never drinking with this prick again, mark his goddamn words.
But the words just keep coming, spilling out and digging Sanji into a deeper hole than he’s already in. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he says, instead of just shutting the hell up.
And no, Zoro has no way of knowing what the hell he’s done; how all the hands he’s laid on Sanji’s back and shoulders and thighs and stomach and face and wherever the fuck else have ruined him, turning Sanji into a selfish mess who can’t stop taking what he wants because Zoro doesn’t bat an eye at any of it. He never does.
Zoro doesn’t move back, one dark eye searching Sanji’s for an answer. His smile drops. “No, I don’t.”
Apparently, Sanji doesn’t feel like explaining himself on this particular night, seeing as his hand moves by itself to cup the back of Zoro’s neck. It’s warm, no– searing, Zoro’s body heat just as intense as everything else about him. It drives Sanji up the fucking wall.
Sanji breathes slowly. In. out. This close, he can hear Zoro’s breaths too, puffing in time with his own. The ship sways.
Unthinkingly, Sanji pulls Zoro in, eyes flicking down to his lips, tilting his head to the side. Sanji just needs to get a little closer, a little more–
What the hell am I doing?
Suddenly, Sanji is frozen, unable to reel backwards because he can’t move from where his nose is brushing Zoro’s . They’re too close for him to play this off. Zoro’s eye is blown wide, pointed directly at Sanji and leaving him no way out of this.
Sanji closes his eyes. Reflects upon himself. Decides that he’s lived a good life, and contemplates snapping his own neck.
Before he can, though, Zoro is shifting, placing a large hand on Sanji’s thigh and crashing their lips together. The force of the movement bowls both of them over, Their teeth clacking as Sanji’s back hits the floor. Sanji doesn’t realize for a hot second, actually, his head spinning from the booze and sudden movement before he belatedly thinks, Oh, Zoro is kissing him.
Zoro is kissing him. Zoro is kissing him. Zoro is on top of him and their lips are touching and Sanji barely has time to think before he’s opening his mouth and tasting the rum on the other’s tongue.
Zoro braces his arm on either side of Sanji’s head and the two of them are pressed together in so many places it makes him dizzy. Zoro slides a hand to his waist, gripping tightly the fabric of his sleep shirt and Sanji can’t help but arch into the touch like he needs it.
The push and drag of their lips is electrifying, all tongue and sharp canines and Zoro’s hands are somehow everywhere, lighting up Sanji’s body with sensation and making him gasp into the swordsman’s waiting mouth. It’s too fucking much. Sanji has never felt more alive.
Abruptly, Zoro pulls back and Sanji finally sees his face, red-lipped and panting and Sanji can’t help but preen at the fact that it’s his fault.
“Don’t play with me,” Zoro whispers fervently. “Don’t fucking play with me, Sanji–”
Sanji scrambles, propping himself up on his elbows, “I’m not, I’m not–”
“You’re drunk.”
“I don’t care–”
“You will in the morning.”
Sanji groans, “Don’t say that, please don’t say that,” and he frantically tries to get his thoughts together, which is really hard when Roronoa fucking Zoro is still caging him onto the ground. “You messed with my head. Since the inn, I can’t– whenever you hug me I feel like I’m dying.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
”It is,” Sanji breathes, licking his kiss-bitten lips, “I want, I need – this. You. I don’t know.”
Zoro curses emphatically under his breath at that. “You serious?”
Sanji pulls Zoro in by the back of his neck for the second time tonight, their breaths mingling in the silent air of the crows’ nest. “Dead serious.”
“Fine.”
“Dead as a doorknob. That’s how serious I am. Cross my bitter heart and hope to die–”
“Alright, now you’re just saying shit–”
“Please.”
Zoro huffs. “Okay,” and Sanji doesn’t hesitate this time, bringing their lips together into something much gentler, slow and almost sickeningly sweet. Zoro takes his time, licking into Sanji’s mouth like he wants to memorize the feel of it, inside and out. Zoro’s hands slide under his shirt, warm and palming at Sanji’s hips and stomach and Sanji wants to melt into the floorboards. He can’t take this.
“ What do you want? ” Zoro asks, lips brushing against Sanji’s jugular.
Sanji really didn’t think he’d get this far. “I don’t know.”
“You’re a virgin, ain’t you?” Zoro comes to the abrupt realization at the same time Sanji does, letting out a disbelieving huff. “That was your first kiss.”
Due to Sanji’s unusual circumstances, the answer to that is, unfortunately, yes. Embarrassment wells up inside him. “Don’t be fucking crass .”
“I’m just calling it how it is.”
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
“Don’t worry, I got you,” Zoro says, pulling down the waistbands on both their pajamas, and everything fades to a low buzz as Sanji learns intimately what it feels like to be loved.
_____
Sanji traces the bruise on his neck, relishing the ache as he presses down on the tender skin. His collar won’t be able to cover it, come morning. “What are we?”
“Pirates.”
“No, I mean, what are we doing?”
“Whatever the fuck we want.”
Sanji laughs quietly. He doesn’t know what other answer he was hoping for, anyways.
______________________________________
“ZORO! COME PLAY TAG WITH US!” Luffy’s voice cuts through Zoro’s unconsciousness, starting him wide awake from where he was dozing against the ships main mast The rubber boy comes bounding over, Usopp and Chopper in tow.
“No, Luffy. I’m sleeping.”
“Well technically, if you were sleeping right now. you wouldn't have been able to respond,” Usopp chimes in, and Zoro has half a mind to kick him in the shins.
It’s been two weeks since they departed from their last island, and two weeks ‘til they reach a new one, according to Nami and the log pose. Everyone’s gotten at least a little bored at this point, but it seems that Luffy and Usopp have nigh infinite ways to entertain themselves. Too bad almost all of them involve bugging Zoro until he eventually gives in for a few minutes, then goes back to napping.
“Hey, hey, don’t bully Zoro,” Luffy giggles, “He’s just scared cause he’s too slow.”
“I’m faster than all of you combined.”
“ Slow ,” Usopp stage-whispers to Chopper, and the reindeer shrieks inhumanly loud in laughter.
Zoro stands up, groaning irritably, “Slow? I’ll show you fucking slow.”
“GAH! RUN! HE’S AFTER US!”
“ZORO’S IT, ZORO’S IT!”
___
Zoro gets roped into playing tag for about ten minutes before Sanji comes out on deck to deliver everyone midday drinks. When he sees the buffoonery happening on the Sunny’s lawn, he promptly bursts out laughing and doubles over with two trays in his hand. How Sanji manages not to spill anything is beyond Zoro.
“Oh god, you look so stupid right now,” Sanji cackles from across the deck before placing the trays down on the table near where Nami and Robin are lounging. “Ah— my ladies. Enjoy.”
Zoro sees Sanji saunter over out of the corner of his eye, too busy trying to catch Luffy (Who is cheating, by the way. He should not be allowed to slingshot himself around the deck) while Usopp and Chopper laugh hysterically at him.
They scramble around on deck for a few seconds before Zoro finally catches the captain, managing to grab him by the ankle right as he launches himself across deck again. The sniper and little doctor whoop as Luffy’s leg stretches comically long before he groans about being caught.
“Yeah, who’s it now?” Usopp and Chopper scramble to run away as Luffy stands up and gives chase, and Zoro thinks he’s free from their antics for at least another hour.
He returns to his spot by the mast again, accompanied this time by Sanji, who feels the need to give a running commentary on everything over letting Zoro sleep. Not that he particularly minds.
“You need to help me with the dishes tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
The cook bumps shoulders with him, and they both look on as Franky gets roped into the chaos happening on the lawn too.
“They look happy,” Sanji says, taking a drag from his cigarette. Zoro hums in agreement. “They like it when you play with them, you know.”
“I know. They like it when you do too.”
“Ugh. No. I’d get my hands dirty rolling around in all that grass.”
As if on cue, a rubber hand stretches from all the way across the deck, clapping Sanji on the back so hard his cigarette falls out of his mouth onto the floor.
Zoro snorts as Franky bellows, “SANJI’S IT!” Serves him right.
“You fucking jinxed me,” Sanji hisses, glaring at Zoro out of the corner of his eye.
“Hey, go chase ‘em. You’re it, remember?”
And then Sanji gets this really sly look on his face, Like he’s plotting something evil. “Oh, I’m it, right?”
Zoro has two seconds to sprint across the deck like his life depends on it.
_____
At this point, They're not even playing tag anymore; it’s just Sanji chasing after Zoro on the Sunny’s lawn while the others whoop and cheer them on. Zoro reckons he’s been doing pretty well, seeing as Sanji’s whole thing is that his legs are freaky strong but he still hasn’t managed to catch up yet.
“Diable Jambe.”
Oh, Zoro spoke too soon. He hears Usopp scream something fierce before there’s a blur of blonde in his vision and he’s being tackled to the floor from the side.
He and Sanji skid across the grass, the momentum taking them every which way as they begin to grapple on the ground. Luffy whoops, and Franky pulls out a fucking stopwatch, of all things .
“You dirty cheater! You can’t light yourself on fucking fire–”
“That’s not cheating, that’s being resourceful!”
“BEAT HIS ASS!” Usopp shouts unhelpfully. Sanji hooks his leg around Zoro’s ankle to flip him around entirely and lever himself on top of Zoro’s back. Zoro pushes Sanji’s head away, but the effort is futile and all he gets is a mouthful of grass.
“Tap out.” Sanji pulls him up by the hair, trapping Zoro into a headlock with his legs around the other’s neck. Zoro has to fight to keep his breathing steady as Sanji’s thighs squeeze his head like a fucking watermelon.
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Tap out, tap out!” Franky shouts, “Thirty seconds on the clock!”
“You’re timing this shit?” Zoro tries to wriggle out, but Sanji simply cackles and squeezes harder. “Ow, OW, I’m not tapping–”
“You have to say ‘Uncle’ when you do, pussy–’”
“Usopp, shut the hell up before I break your nose.”
“Noted. Shutting up now.”
“Come on, mossy,” Sanji taunts, powerful muscles flexing right against Zoro’s ear. “Can’t hold out forever–”
Fuck this shit . Zoro turns his head and bites into the meat of Sanji’s thigh through his dress pants.
“ – OW , you algae-brained bastard, now that’s cheating–” The results are instant; Sanji loosens his hold just enough for Zoro to slip out just as Franky calls time.
“Foul ball!” Luffy shouts, then deflates as Usopp regretfully informs him that ‘foul ball’ is not a wrestling term. Idiots. All of the people on this crew are idiots.
Zoro spares a glance over at Sanji, who doesn’t seem as miffed about the bite mark as the swordsman expected him to be. The cook meets his eye, both of his own visible from bangs being tousled around relentlessly during their impromptu match. There are so many grass stains on his shirt that it’s more green than white, now, and the sight makes laughter bubble up in Zoro’s throat.
“Fuck are you giggling at?”
“You.”
And then Sanji is laughing right along with him, loud and so much freer than Zoro has seen him in a long time. He sounds like a bell, bright and ringing through Zoro’s head until everything else fades into the background.
Sanji looks at him, a wide smile creasing lines into the outer corners of his eyes. The afternoon sun makes him look like something out of a fairytale, even with the dirt and grass staining his clothes. It steals the air right out of Zoro’s chest.
Zoro can’t help himself. He pulls the cook in by the lapels and kisses him stupid, right there on the lawn.
_____
That night, Zoro helps Sanji wash and put away dishes in the quiet of the dining room, dim light from the oil lamp casting ambient shadows over both of their hands and faces.
“Don’t you think that was a little too sudden?” Sanji asks, passing Zoro a plate to dry.
Zoro recounts Usopp passing out on deck earlier today, and has to suppress the urge to laugh. “No. Perfect timing, actually.”
Sanji pauses for a second. “...Thank you. For letting me have this.”
“I told you.” Zoro places the dish on the drying rack. “Whenever you need.”