And He Fell In Love (One Piece, Zoro/Sanji)
Title: And He Fell In Love
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Zoro x Sanji
Rating: R
Summary: “The feelings snuck up on him when he wasn’t paying attention and the little party those feelings had in the left side of his chest got a little bit out of control, and he fell in love.” Now he just needed to make sure Sanji fell in love, too.
Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters do not belong to me.
Zoro didn’t know when it happened.
He’d figured out early on that Sanji had a thing for him; the ridiculous over-flirtation with the girls was only convincing before Sanji started to give him “fuck me” eyes when they fought. He knew it was just a cover, and he only snapped out the occasional (well, a bit more than occasional) snide remark so he could see that cover break. It wasn’t jealousy or anything. Not at first. But then something changed. The feelings snuck up on him when he wasn’t paying attention and the little party those feelings had in the left side of his chest got a little bit out of control, and he fell in love.
At least, he thought it was love. He’d never been in love before, so he couldn’t be completely sure. Most of what he knew about love came from Usopp’s stories about women he’d never met-which Zoro knew he couldn’t rely on-and the words Sanji spouted to the girls, but beside from being a cover, those were just downright stupid. That wasn’t much to go on. But, well, if it wasn’t love, it was something incredibly close.
Once he realized how he felt, it didn’t take him long to accept and embrace it. He knew himself. He knew his mind; he knew his heart. He wasn’t going to waste time denying what he knew. The only issue was what to do next. He could tell that Sanji wanted something from him. The question was what, exactly, he wanted. Was Zoro’s love what Sanji was after? Or just sex without the sentimental, romantic attachments? Did Sanji even know what he wanted, really? Zoro needed to find out.
~
“What do you want?”
The question had no bite to it, and Zoro knew it was safe to step further into the galley, closing the door behind him.
“Just a quiet place to nap,” he said, propping his swords against the wall and sitting down on the bench that served as seating for the table. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, motioning outside. “They’re playing some demented form of hide-and-seek and being noisy as hell.”
“Yeah, I can hear ‘em,” Sanji muttered around his cigarette, a vague consent that was more than good enough for the swordsman.
When Sanji didn’t say anything more, Zoro stretched out on the bench, arms folded behind his head, closing his eyes. He didn’t know what Sanji was cooking, but it smelled spicy. Nostril-flaring spicy. It was nice, lying there and smelling the closest thing to home-cooking Zoro would ever have, even though it mixed with the smell of Sanji’s cigarette smoke. Somehow, that made it even better.
It was kind of cozy, kind of domestic-feeling. Zoro kind of liked it. It could be something worth getting used to, maybe, assuming the cook would allow it. It could be like a ritual. A quiet moment of bonding-a kind of bonding that didn’t have them at each other’s throats. It could almost be romantic, in a way. A husband and wife sort of thing. With Sanji as the wife, of course, what with that pink apron of his. Yeah. Zoro smiled at the thought and inhaled deeply.
Within a few moments, he was dozing. But he was soon rudely awakened by a shiny black shoe kicking at his head and Sanji snapping at him: “Get out of here, marimo. Your snores are distracting.”
~
“Oi, pack-mule. This way.”
Zoro felt that after being kicked out of the galley, he shouldn’t have had to carry around Sanji’s shopping. It just didn’t seem fair. He grumbled something to that effect, but was pretty sure the other man couldn’t hear him through all the bags he was holding. Even if he did hear him, he probably didn’t care.
Asshole.
It was hot. They’d been nearing the summer island for a couple of days and once they were there the heat was almost unbearable. He didn’t know how Sanji could wear that stupid suit. Even with the first few buttons of his shirt undone, it still must’ve been incredibly stifling. He’d watched Sanji unbutton that shirt. With each inch of skin revealed, his heart had beat a little faster; he’d gotten a little hotter.
Zoro remembered the one time he’d seen Sanji naked. Really seen him. Not just glimpses while undressing or bathing or getting bandaged by Chopper. Sanji had been really sick, barely conscious for more than seconds at a time, wrapped up in blankets on the couch down in the men’s quarters all day. Zoro had been sent down to check on him and dress him in fresh nightclothes. He hadn’t minded; he’d figured a sick Sanji couldn’t be too much of a pain, especially if he was too out of it to fight. It’d been before his little-well, not so little-revelation and so he hadn’t focused on the naked body he’d handled. At least, he hadn’t focused on it as much as he would’ve later. But he hadn’t been able to ignore it completely. The sickness had made Sanji so yielding in his arms and the skin under his hands had been warm, flushed, and softer than Zoro would’ve thought. His touch hadn’t wandered, hadn’t strayed to anywhere that wasn’t necessary, but he’d touched more than he’d ever had. Sanji’s eyes had opened, but Zoro still wasn’t sure whether the cook had actually seen him at all.
“Here, move your arms.”
Zoro snapped out of his reverie at Sanji’s command, and grudgingly did as he was told. Sanji gave him a light smirk and hung a new bag around his neck. Zoro scowled at the extra, uncomfortable weight, sniffed, and wrinkled his nose.
“It’s fishy,” he complained.
“Pilchards.”
“Huh?”
“Sardines.”
Asshole.
“Why couldn’t you have just said that?”
Sanji ignored him and adjusted the bag so the weight was evenly distributed and the straps didn’t dig into Zoro’s neck too hard.
“They’re in season. Around here, anyway. But maybe I should’ve gotten the rainbow trout. It looked pretty tender, but unless you know where exactly it’s been caught or raised, then sometimes it’s best to just…”
Zoro wasn’t listening. He probably should’ve been, if he wanted to act like he was interested, but the cook lost him when he started rambling like that. He didn’t understand all that shit about fish and food and seasons, and Sanji knew that. He didn’t know why the other man bothered talking to him about it. Maybe, some little, silly hopeful voice in him suggested, maybe he wanted Zoro to understand. Maybe he wanted Zoro to be interested. Well, he didn’t understand and he wasn’t interested, but if Sanji wanted him to say something, he could certainly try to say the right thing.
“Tch. It doesn’t matter what you get, love-cook. You’ll make it taste good anyway, won’t you?”
Sanji stopped talking. His hand stilled, a lit cigarette halfway to his parted lips. He looked at Zoro for a moment and the swordsman tried to concentrate on meeting his stare and not looking at the beads of sweat that were dripping down his neck and traveling down to his chest. Zoro loved the hot weather, loved Sanji’s unbuttoned shirt.
Presently, Sanji brought the cigarette to his mouth and looked away, turning around.
“Hn,” he said, without looking back. “Well, I’m done, so c’mon. I’ll buy you a drink.”
A free drink, huh? He really had said the right thing.
~
Even the night was warm around that summer island. The boys had left open the hatch that led down into their room, but the air from outside only seemed to make it feel stuffier. Zoro sat up from where he’d been lying on the wooden floor and tugged off his sleep-shirt with a muttered curse.
From where he was sprawled out in his hammock, Luffy whined, “It’s too hooooooooooot…”
Usopp and Chopper moaned, a bit dramatically, in agreement. On the couch, Sanji rolled onto his back and cut his eyes in their direction.
“Complaining won’t make it any cooler.”
Luffy griped unintelligibly for a moment, and then brightened suddenly, jumping from the hammock and clambering up the ladder with a whoop: “But I know what will!”
It was too hot to be particularly interested or impressed in the moments that followed in which they half-heartedly waited and listened to the padding of his feet above their heads. He was in the galley. Zoro glanced over at Sanji, but he looked pretty unconcerned. Then Sanji glanced at him and Zoro felt like he’d been caught doing something extremely naughty for some reason. But he didn’t look away. And neither did Sanji. And maybe that meant something, maybe that was some sign, but Zoro didn’t have long to dwell on it.
“BOMBS AWAY!” came the crow from the hatch and then something hard and frozen hit Zoro in his bare stomach.
“Shit, Luffy!” He jerked up and reached for the missile on instinct, swords being too far away. It was an ice cube. There were ice cubes flying from the hatch where Luffy was laughing, hitting them on their foreheads, noses, chests, knees. Usopp and Chopper fell from their hammocks, scrambling to pick up the cubes and throw them back with battle cries. Zoro just chuckled and lifted his arm over his face to keep from getting hit in the eye.
“Dammit!” A cube struck Sanji hard on his cheek. He growled and grabbed his pillow, standing on the cushions of the couch. “You wanna try that again?!” Apparently Luffy did. Sanji used the pillow as a shield, or rather a bat, and whacked the ice cube back at the rubber boy. Luffy let out an undignified squawk and fell from the ladder on top of a charging Usopp and Chopper. “Yes!” Sanji cheered in self-congratulation for a moment or two before he lost his footing and toppled over.
Zoro grunted, suddenly finding himself with an armful of the blond object of his affections. It would’ve been a rather nice, woozy moment if Sanji’s knee hadn’t landed rather painfully dangerously close to his groin and if his elbow hadn’t practically stabbed him somewhere in the tender region of his neck and collarbone. Sanji looked down at him, his one exposed eye wide in a startled sort of way, a little breathless from his sudden fall, and Zoro really wanted to kiss him.
“DOGPILE ON ZORO!”
“What?!”
And then suddenly there were three more bodies on top of him, and they were a pile of laughter and curses and limbs and far too much heat.
“Get off me, you bastards, or I’ll cut you!”
Eventually Nami yelled at them to shut up and go to sleep. The ice cubes had all melted and there were puddles of rapidly warming water on the floor. They all slept there anyway, side by side, with the night’s stars peering in through the open hatch.
In the morning, Zoro awoke to what felt suspiciously like someone petting his hair. He cracked an eye open just the tiniest bit, just enough to sneak a peek at the person beside him. His heart tripped when he realized who it was and he quickly shut his eye all the way. Sanji was petting his hair. Sanji’s slender, skillful fingers were stroking his hair. It was a wonderfully ridiculous thing to be happy about, but Zoro was happy, wonderfully, ridiculously happy, and he would’ve had some big, stupid grin on his face if he hadn’t been feigning sleep. Presently, Sanji stopped and stood and climbed up the ladder. Zoro opened his eyes then and allowed himself to smile as he listened to the padding of Sanji’s feet above his head.
~
In the Crow’s Nest, Zoro was surrounded by Nami’s girly magazines-CosmoPirate and other things of that nature-and various books of Robin’s that bordered on looking way too intellectual. He was grateful for having the midnight watch.
A relationship between a Scorpio and a Pisces will be intense, intimate and magical. You are drawn to each other naturally, and your intense emotional needs perfectly complement each other. You share a special closeness that is truly rare. A perfect soul mate match.
Zoro fought the urge to stand up and do a victory dance. He told himself not to get too excited after one reading. It might not be true. He needed something more, a second and third and possibly fourth opinion. Better safe than sorry, right?
The drama inherent in these two signs could make for a very successful union as neither partner is consumed by, or ruled by, common sense. All their actions are motivated by the intense emotional states they seem to stay in on a perpetual basis. Scorpio’s adept manner at probing his/her partner could enable the intricacies of Pisces' secretive nature to be better understood by this sign than any other.
All right, good. That was very good.
Probably the most erotic sexual combination.
Fuck, yes.
The Neptune of Pisces blends with your Pluto to further intuitive knowing. Certainly, this combination holds great promise. There is great attraction here. Pluto and Neptune create a romantic aura and, once Pisces and Scorpio get together, it takes a storm of considerable proportions to separate them.
Zoro didn’t need any more than that. Resolve bolstered, he closed the last book and leaned back against the wood of the Crow’s Nest. Staring determinedly up at the moon, he decided he would make a move soon. Tomorrow, maybe, if the opportunity arose. He’d never put much faith in all that astrology stuff, but if things went well, maybe he would start.
~
The shade in Nami’s mikan grove was the perfect relief from the hot summer sun. Zoro had been dozing off and on for a couple of hours there, evading the occasional plea to play or fish from Luffy or Usopp with a well-placed snore or two, when the one person that he would give up his sleep for appeared. A basket balanced on his hip, Sanji stepped quietly through the grove, picking mikans. Zoro cracked an eye open and watched him, tried to calm the sudden hammering of his heart. He hadn’t been alone with the cook since his midnight decision, so he’d been able to stall with a proper excuse. But maybe this was the moment…
“Hey, moss-head. You better not be contaminating my precious Nami-san’s trees with your stupid.”
And maybe not.
“Fuck off, I’m trying to sleep.”
“Yeah right.” Sanji put his basket down and sat beside the lounging swordsman, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You’ve been sleeping all day.” He reached into the basket and took out two mikans; Zoro wondered if that was because he was feeling compassionate, or if feeding him-feeding them all-was just an instinctive obligation. “Hold still.”
Zoro had maybe half a second to ponder what that command meant before the smell of citrus filled his nostrils. Sanji was trying to balance a mikan on his fucking nose. He would’ve been annoyed by it, had the playfulness of it not made his heart flutter like a manly butterfly.
“Oi,” he muttered softly, “I’m not Usopp.”
Sanji chuckled and Zoro tried to pretend like he wasn’t watching the upward curve of the cook’s lips. The mikan was released and teetered on Zoro’s nose only slightly before rolling off and landing beside his head. Zoro closed his eyes. He knew he should’ve been taking better advantage of the moment, but he was feeling lazy and…well, he didn’t entirely trust himself to not screw up Sanji’s good mood. Yeah. That was it.
Stop being such a pussy.
With an inward growl of determination, Zoro opened his eyes and looked at the man next to him. And any words that he might’ve said were instantly stuck in his throat. Sanji had peeled his mikan, cut it into wedges, and he was bringing the fruit to his mouth. His lips closed around it and he sucked and Zoro just barely resisted the shiver of arousal that threatened to shoot through him. His eyes followed the trail the juice made as it dribbled down his chin, and he found himself wanting to lick it away, wanting to drag his tongue along his neck and collarbone and down into that damnable, wonderful shirt with all the buttons…
That desire, the heat of it, burned and burned in Zoro’s gut and groin as Sanji bit and nibbled at the fruit until he finished and paused only slightly before slipping his fingers into his mouth, sucking the juice off. Zoro couldn’t take it. He didn’t know he’d sat up until it was too late, until Sanji’s fingers left his mouth and Zoro neared it. And he kissed him. He kissed him soft, then hard, then soft again, his entire body prepared for a hasty retreat. He’d screwed up, gotten carried away, and he knew it.
But he abruptly forgot it when Sanji grabbed him by the head and pulled him back in.
He tasted better than Zoro could’ve imagined. Mikan and smoke and sea and summer heat. Zoro’s hands were shaking when he reached out to hold him and he knew the cook would’ve teased him, but he was more interested in the kissing, which pleased Zoro just fine. Zoro himself was more interested in the kissing than air.
“Breathe, moron,” Sanji whispered against his lips. “You’re no good to me dead.”
“But what a way to go.”
Zoro couldn’t tell just how long he and Sanji sat there, kissing in the shade. It couldn’t have been too long; though it went unspoken, neither of them wanted to be caught. Zoro couldn’t imagine a more effective mood-killer. But however long or short the moments were, they were quite possibly the best moments of Zoro’s life.
~
Sanji was fucking him with his eyes.
Zoro didn’t mind, certainly. It’d happened before-on days when Sanji had a good view of him training-and Zoro had always been pretty flattered and a little turned on. But it was the first time it’d happened since their kisses a few days earlier, and there was a new intensity in the cook’s gaze that practically set Zoro’s skin aflame.
He’d never been wanted by someone. Not like that. At least, he’d never been aware of anyone wanting him like that. He was pleased Sanji felt that way about him, but he wasn’t going to give in and bend over so easily. Maybe he was old-fashioned, but he just didn’t believe in doing something without having your heart invested in it. If a fuck was all Sanji wanted, Zoro would gladly point him in the direction of a brothel. (It would probably be the wrong direction, but that’s beside the point.) Zoro wanted a fuck with feeling. So until he found out what exactly Sanji’s feelings were, there would be no fucking. That was his plan.
He only hoped he could stick to it.
~
It was pouring rain and the deck of the marines’ ship was soaked and slippery. Clenching Wadou tight in his teeth, Zoro slid across the wood beneath his feet; he would’ve looked like an idiot, had a marine not been nearby for him to stick a sword in. The damn storm had come at the worst possible moment. The sky was just beginning to look cloudy when they’d boarded the enemy ship on Luffy’s orders, and only seconds later the rain was coming down. Now there was thunder, lightning lit up the sky, and they were surrounded. There was no way they could retreat now.
He cursed the Grand Line’s unpredictable weather as he forced himself to move steadily through the wind and the rain, cutting down the marines in his path. He couldn’t tell how many there were. It seemed that they were all coming out of the woodwork, but they all looked the same. Faces running together behind the rain flooding his vision. He could hear an occasional whoop of victory from Luffy and the sound of bones cracking as Robin’s army of hands broke man after man. And every now and then the ship shook from the cannonballs Usopp was shooting from the Merry and cheers of Nami and Chopper’s encouragement would sound faintly over the crashing waves and the thunder.
Zoro could see flashes of Sanji’s blond hair out of the corner of his eye, and he was trying not to concentrate too hard on the other man’s well-being. He couldn’t afford to worry about him; Sanji wouldn’t have liked that, anyway. But he did worry. He did care. He did want to make sure Sanji’s skillful feet hadn’t slipped on the wet wood. And that worry cost him. He was preoccupied, unprepared for the sudden attack from behind by two weasel-looking marines and the rocking of the ship by the combined force of a cannonball and a rather large wave. He lost his cool, lost his balance, lost his grip, and while the two marines paid dearly for their cowardice, Kitetsu flew out of his hand and over the railing of the ship.
“Shit!” And he wasn’t sure if the voice that swore was his or Sanji’s, because in one long stride the cook was suddenly there, at the railing, leaning over; and when he pulled himself up, Kitetsu’s blade was clutched in his bloody hand.
They won, of course. And while Luffy and the others celebrated and cheered as the marine ship sank into the sea, Zoro silently watched with dark eyes as Chopper stitched up Sanji’s palm. Sanji smoked and feigned nonchalance, looking anywhere but at his hand or at Zoro, but the unsteady trembling of the cigarette between his lips gave everything away.
“Let me see it,” Zoro demanded later, when they had a brief moment alone in the galley before Luffy would charge in, smelling dinner.
“No.” Sanji scowled at the simple meal he had prepared; he would say it was because the fight had left him too pressed for time to make anything extravagant.
“That was stupid.” But he was to blame, really, he knew. And he waited for Sanji to point that out. “Really stupid.”
“Yeah,” was all he said.
And when dinner was over and everyone else had slowly trickled out onto the deck, Sanji leaned over the table, took his face in both hands, and kissed him; Zoro could feel the stitches in the cook’s palm against his cheek.
~
“Taste this.”
Zoro eyed the spoon that was offered to him with heavy suspicion. He’d never been asked to test the food, unless Sanji thought something tasted funny. Sometimes Luffy would be asked, even though Luffy would just swallow the food without really tasting it. Usually, when Sanji wanted an opinion that mattered, he would ask the girls. Both the girls and Luffy were in the galley at that moment. So what was Sanji doing asking him?
“…Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why me?”
“Because,” Sanji snapped, all but shoving the spoon down Zoro’s throat.
After pretending to gag a little longer than what was probably necessary and receiving an irritated kick to the back of his head, Zoro declared that it tasted fine. Sanji seemed satisfied and returned to the stove. Luffy, having watched the exchange, sat up excitedly.
“Sanji, can I ta-”
“No.”
“B-”
“No.”
“Saaanjiiiii!”
“Be patient. I’m almost done.”
Zoro propped his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand, grinning faintly beneath his fingers.
~
It was a little after two in the morning when Zoro woke up to the sound of the hatch opening and Sanji climbing down from his watch. He listened, eyes closed, as Sanji crossed the room to Usopp’s hammock and shook the sniper awake.
“Whasherong?”
“Your watch, long-nose.”
“Oh, okay.” A stifling yawn sounded.
“I think I may have spotted the island we’re heading for. We should reach it in a few hours.”
“All right. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“No problem.”
Zoro heard Usopp slip into his shoes, and then clamber up the ladder and through the hatch. He waited for the sound of Sanji climbing into Usopp’s now abandoned hammock, but it didn’t come. He just barely kept himself from jumping and falling off the couch when he felt Sanji’s fingers brush against the shell of his ear; when did the cook get so damn stealthy? He bent down and whispered, “We need to be alone. Soon.” A shudder ripped through him as Sanji walked away, and it took him a little longer than he would’ve liked to get back to sleep.
~
Zoro was going to get some great booze. Despite occasional stolen kisses, heated glances, and soft, tender feelings, Sanji still refused to let him drink their really good stuff. And that fancy, pansy wine Sanji said he could drink tasted like fruity piss.
But now he was on an island with a tavern and a good bit of money, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
“Oi, where are you going?”
He glanced over his shoulder at Sanji. The cook was stepping lightly, quickly, closing the distance between them, and Zoro wondered if he’d been following him long.
“Where do you think?”
“Well, the tavern’s that way, moss-for-brains,” Sanji said, jerking his thumb in the opposite direction.
“Che, I would’ve found it eventually,” Zoro said, turning around and walking as if he’d been going that way the entire time.
“Sure.” Sanji walked with him and they were silent for a moment or two. “Hey. Why don’t you skip the tavern this time?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because,” Sanji practically purred as he moved a little closer, hips almost bumping, to place his hand lightly on the small of Zoro’s back, “I have other plans for you.”
Zoro’s steps faltered, just slightly, and he remembered the words from Nami’s magazine: Probably the most erotic sexual combination.
Fuuuuuck yes.
Zoro licked his lips; that sounded good, sounded very good, but… He remembered his plan, his rule. His stupid no-fucking rule. Fucking no-fucking rule.
“I’m really in the mood for a drink,” he said. “You should come with me. There’s bound to be bar wenches there. Isn’t that what you do at these ports? Seduce some unsuspecting pretty woman?”
“Pretty women aren’t everything.”
“What?” Zoro stopped walking, unable to keep his jaw from dropping. Even Sanji seemed surprised by what he’d said, his one visible eye gone just a little wide, his hands suddenly fumbling for a cigarette. “What did you say?”
“You heard what I said, shithead…”
“Are you sick or something? I mean, what the hell?”
“Just forget about it,” Sanji snapped, placing a cigarette between his frowning lips. “Go on and have your shitty drink.”
Zoro felt a little bad. He hadn’t meant to completely screw up the evening.
“Oi-”
“I’ll join you later. But then you have to go somewhere with me. All right?”
Zoro was trying to come up with a nice, gentle way of saying no; he had no intention of going anywhere with him especially if it would result in deliciously hot and sweaty fucking. But then he saw the palm of Sanji’s hand, saw the scar that had formed right across the middle where the stitches had been, where the blade of his sword had been.
“All right,” he said.
The inn Sanji took him to was dimly lit and reeked of sex. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as honey-voiced women coaxed their men to the rooms upstairs, and Sanji received a rusty key from a leering man at the front desk. He might’ve audibly gulped because Sanji glanced briefly at him before nodding his head toward the staircase.
They were chest to chest the moment the door to their room closed. Zoro sucked in a sharp breath as Sanji’s hands roamed up his arms, Sanji’s head almost nuzzling against his shoulder until he moved up, tugging at each of Zoro’s earrings with his teeth. His pants were suddenly too tight and his heart was pounding dangerously fast; he willed it to relax, to slow down, but Sanji might’ve already felt it because he was close, so close. His lips moved to mouth at the actual flesh of Zoro’s ear, almost-kissing, almost-biting.
“Off,” Sanji whispered, kicking lightly at Zoro’s boots before stepping back to kick off his own shoes.
Zoro did as he was told, silently, not trusting himself to speak. He wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t say something stupid, something too sappy, something un-sexy. He also wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t turn around and run right out of the room.
“What’s your problem?” Sanji asked, reaching out and pulling him close by tugging on his haramaki. “I know you’re not shy.”
Somehow Zoro managed to form words and keep the shakiness he felt inside out of his voice: “Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to run my mouth off all the time.”
“That’s better,” Sanji smirked, and leaned in to kiss him as his hands delved deeper into the haramaki. The noise that resulted from Zoro’s throat was somewhere between a protesting grumble and an approving moan, but Sanji pretty much ignored it, swallowed it into his mouth. The article was shortly divested, followed by his shirt, and Sanji wasted little time in dropping to his knees and trailing his tongue along Zoro’s scar. Zoro’s knees went weak and he wasn’t sure if he was okay with that, so he pulled the cook back up and set to work on those damned buttons he loved and hated so much.
They were naked sooner that Zoro expected, maybe sooner than he wanted. He was on his stomach, hands gripping the sheets beneath him, when Sanji settled between his legs. He was uneasy, but he was overcome by Sanji’s body on him, Sanji’s mouth on him, fingers on him. The first shove in had them both swearing; Sanji told him to relax and he did, slowly, and Sanji’s stuttered breath warmed the back of his neck.
Zoro loved him. Loved him, loved him, loved him. Loved every move and sound he made. Loved the way he felt inside him and the way he said his name. Loved the way he shuddered and gasped. Loved the way he made stars burst behind closed eyelids. He loved him, god, he did.
Sanji lay beside him, taking the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling a stream of smoke before putting it out. He chuckled, a tired sound from low in his throat. He rolled onto his side, turned sleepy eyes on Zoro, slinging one leg over both of the swordsman’s. Zoro tired not to smile; he would’ve looked idiotic, like the same love-sick fool he often mocked the cook for being. Sanji was seconds away from being asleep, but before his eyes slid closed, just before, he sighed, soft and nearly silent, “Finally.” And suddenly, with one little word, Zoro knew he really was a fool.
Finally. Finally, Sanji’d had him. Sanji’d gotten him alone, gotten him to spread his legs. He found himself thinking about things he didn’t want to-the various conquests Sanji had bragged to the boys about after each port they’d left. He thought about Sanji’s eyes fucking him, fucking him, all heat and lust and nothing, nothing else. Fuck, he was so stupid.
He waited until Sanji’s breathing was slow and even, and then he lifted the cook’s leg off of him, and slipped out of the bed. He redressed quickly, tried to make as little noise as possible, tried not to stumble as he hurried down the stairs and passed the leering owner, out into the night. The air was wet, the sky covered in clouds, starless.
~
“You didn’t eat today.”
Sanji’s tone was heavy; he wasn’t just talking about food. Zoro’s was on watch and his eyes were on the sea. He willed himself not to look away.
“I had an apple.”
“When?”
“Earlier.”
“From where?”
“The barrel.”
“What barrel?”
“The barrel with apples in it!” Zoro slammed his palm down on the railing of the Crow’s Nest. “Will you piss off?!”
Sanji said nothing for a moment, but his silence was the loudest Zoro had ever heard. It sounded offended. Offended, and maybe a little hurt.
“You got a problem with me now? Huh?” The quiet question might’ve been nonchalant in earlier days, days before sticky citrus kisses and stitches, but it was angry now. And Zoro was angry, too.
“Yeah. I’ve got a problem. Tell me something: do you usually take girls to seedy little inns like that? It isn’t very romantic for someone who calls himself ‘prince’.”
“You ain’t no girl, marimo.”
“That isn’t the point, dammit!”
“Then what is?! What the fuck have you got to be so angry about?!” Sanji grabbed his arm and tugged, hard, but Zoro stubbornly, determinedly, kept his furious gaze on the dark waves. “Look at me!” He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Sanji fell silent again and released Zoro’s arm. When he spoke again, the anger was mostly gone, replaced by something like defeat. “So, that’s really how it is, huh? We fuck once and then we’re done? I guess that works if that’s what you’re into, but I’ll admit, I didn’t think you were that kind of guy.”
“Wait a minute, let’s get something straight. I’m not that kind of guy; you are.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Don’t think I didn’t hear you. I understood. Finally. But don’t worry. I’ve accepted that I was wasting my time, waiting for you to fall in love with me.” Zoro was staring so hard he could see the fish underneath the water. They seemed restless. He wanted to throw himself down into the sea with them, let scales and fins and bubbles encompass him completely, let their pursed, gurgling voices tell him what an idiot he was, what a pathetic idiot, and he should stick to swords, swords and sleep.
“Oh, Zoro,” a shaky exhalation, something close to a whisper and a laugh, something in between. “I fell in love a long time ago, dumbass.”
And Zoro did look at him then, and said, “Oh.” And he felt even more like a fool, but a good kind of fool. The kind of fool who got kissed softly, sweetly, and saw stars.
~
“What do you want?”
Zoro propped his swords against the galley wall and glanced at Sanji’s back as the cook stirred something that smelled spicy. He grinned.
“Just a quiet place to nap.” And anything, everything, everything you’re willing to offer me.
“As long as you don’t snore.”
He did snore. Loudly, in fact. But Sanji didn’t kick him out.
Oh yeah. It was definitely love.
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Zoro x Sanji
Rating: R
Summary: “The feelings snuck up on him when he wasn’t paying attention and the little party those feelings had in the left side of his chest got a little bit out of control, and he fell in love.” Now he just needed to make sure Sanji fell in love, too.
Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters do not belong to me.
Zoro didn’t know when it happened.
He’d figured out early on that Sanji had a thing for him; the ridiculous over-flirtation with the girls was only convincing before Sanji started to give him “fuck me” eyes when they fought. He knew it was just a cover, and he only snapped out the occasional (well, a bit more than occasional) snide remark so he could see that cover break. It wasn’t jealousy or anything. Not at first. But then something changed. The feelings snuck up on him when he wasn’t paying attention and the little party those feelings had in the left side of his chest got a little bit out of control, and he fell in love.
At least, he thought it was love. He’d never been in love before, so he couldn’t be completely sure. Most of what he knew about love came from Usopp’s stories about women he’d never met-which Zoro knew he couldn’t rely on-and the words Sanji spouted to the girls, but beside from being a cover, those were just downright stupid. That wasn’t much to go on. But, well, if it wasn’t love, it was something incredibly close.
Once he realized how he felt, it didn’t take him long to accept and embrace it. He knew himself. He knew his mind; he knew his heart. He wasn’t going to waste time denying what he knew. The only issue was what to do next. He could tell that Sanji wanted something from him. The question was what, exactly, he wanted. Was Zoro’s love what Sanji was after? Or just sex without the sentimental, romantic attachments? Did Sanji even know what he wanted, really? Zoro needed to find out.
~
“What do you want?”
The question had no bite to it, and Zoro knew it was safe to step further into the galley, closing the door behind him.
“Just a quiet place to nap,” he said, propping his swords against the wall and sitting down on the bench that served as seating for the table. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, motioning outside. “They’re playing some demented form of hide-and-seek and being noisy as hell.”
“Yeah, I can hear ‘em,” Sanji muttered around his cigarette, a vague consent that was more than good enough for the swordsman.
When Sanji didn’t say anything more, Zoro stretched out on the bench, arms folded behind his head, closing his eyes. He didn’t know what Sanji was cooking, but it smelled spicy. Nostril-flaring spicy. It was nice, lying there and smelling the closest thing to home-cooking Zoro would ever have, even though it mixed with the smell of Sanji’s cigarette smoke. Somehow, that made it even better.
It was kind of cozy, kind of domestic-feeling. Zoro kind of liked it. It could be something worth getting used to, maybe, assuming the cook would allow it. It could be like a ritual. A quiet moment of bonding-a kind of bonding that didn’t have them at each other’s throats. It could almost be romantic, in a way. A husband and wife sort of thing. With Sanji as the wife, of course, what with that pink apron of his. Yeah. Zoro smiled at the thought and inhaled deeply.
Within a few moments, he was dozing. But he was soon rudely awakened by a shiny black shoe kicking at his head and Sanji snapping at him: “Get out of here, marimo. Your snores are distracting.”
~
“Oi, pack-mule. This way.”
Zoro felt that after being kicked out of the galley, he shouldn’t have had to carry around Sanji’s shopping. It just didn’t seem fair. He grumbled something to that effect, but was pretty sure the other man couldn’t hear him through all the bags he was holding. Even if he did hear him, he probably didn’t care.
Asshole.
It was hot. They’d been nearing the summer island for a couple of days and once they were there the heat was almost unbearable. He didn’t know how Sanji could wear that stupid suit. Even with the first few buttons of his shirt undone, it still must’ve been incredibly stifling. He’d watched Sanji unbutton that shirt. With each inch of skin revealed, his heart had beat a little faster; he’d gotten a little hotter.
Zoro remembered the one time he’d seen Sanji naked. Really seen him. Not just glimpses while undressing or bathing or getting bandaged by Chopper. Sanji had been really sick, barely conscious for more than seconds at a time, wrapped up in blankets on the couch down in the men’s quarters all day. Zoro had been sent down to check on him and dress him in fresh nightclothes. He hadn’t minded; he’d figured a sick Sanji couldn’t be too much of a pain, especially if he was too out of it to fight. It’d been before his little-well, not so little-revelation and so he hadn’t focused on the naked body he’d handled. At least, he hadn’t focused on it as much as he would’ve later. But he hadn’t been able to ignore it completely. The sickness had made Sanji so yielding in his arms and the skin under his hands had been warm, flushed, and softer than Zoro would’ve thought. His touch hadn’t wandered, hadn’t strayed to anywhere that wasn’t necessary, but he’d touched more than he’d ever had. Sanji’s eyes had opened, but Zoro still wasn’t sure whether the cook had actually seen him at all.
“Here, move your arms.”
Zoro snapped out of his reverie at Sanji’s command, and grudgingly did as he was told. Sanji gave him a light smirk and hung a new bag around his neck. Zoro scowled at the extra, uncomfortable weight, sniffed, and wrinkled his nose.
“It’s fishy,” he complained.
“Pilchards.”
“Huh?”
“Sardines.”
Asshole.
“Why couldn’t you have just said that?”
Sanji ignored him and adjusted the bag so the weight was evenly distributed and the straps didn’t dig into Zoro’s neck too hard.
“They’re in season. Around here, anyway. But maybe I should’ve gotten the rainbow trout. It looked pretty tender, but unless you know where exactly it’s been caught or raised, then sometimes it’s best to just…”
Zoro wasn’t listening. He probably should’ve been, if he wanted to act like he was interested, but the cook lost him when he started rambling like that. He didn’t understand all that shit about fish and food and seasons, and Sanji knew that. He didn’t know why the other man bothered talking to him about it. Maybe, some little, silly hopeful voice in him suggested, maybe he wanted Zoro to understand. Maybe he wanted Zoro to be interested. Well, he didn’t understand and he wasn’t interested, but if Sanji wanted him to say something, he could certainly try to say the right thing.
“Tch. It doesn’t matter what you get, love-cook. You’ll make it taste good anyway, won’t you?”
Sanji stopped talking. His hand stilled, a lit cigarette halfway to his parted lips. He looked at Zoro for a moment and the swordsman tried to concentrate on meeting his stare and not looking at the beads of sweat that were dripping down his neck and traveling down to his chest. Zoro loved the hot weather, loved Sanji’s unbuttoned shirt.
Presently, Sanji brought the cigarette to his mouth and looked away, turning around.
“Hn,” he said, without looking back. “Well, I’m done, so c’mon. I’ll buy you a drink.”
A free drink, huh? He really had said the right thing.
~
Even the night was warm around that summer island. The boys had left open the hatch that led down into their room, but the air from outside only seemed to make it feel stuffier. Zoro sat up from where he’d been lying on the wooden floor and tugged off his sleep-shirt with a muttered curse.
From where he was sprawled out in his hammock, Luffy whined, “It’s too hooooooooooot…”
Usopp and Chopper moaned, a bit dramatically, in agreement. On the couch, Sanji rolled onto his back and cut his eyes in their direction.
“Complaining won’t make it any cooler.”
Luffy griped unintelligibly for a moment, and then brightened suddenly, jumping from the hammock and clambering up the ladder with a whoop: “But I know what will!”
It was too hot to be particularly interested or impressed in the moments that followed in which they half-heartedly waited and listened to the padding of his feet above their heads. He was in the galley. Zoro glanced over at Sanji, but he looked pretty unconcerned. Then Sanji glanced at him and Zoro felt like he’d been caught doing something extremely naughty for some reason. But he didn’t look away. And neither did Sanji. And maybe that meant something, maybe that was some sign, but Zoro didn’t have long to dwell on it.
“BOMBS AWAY!” came the crow from the hatch and then something hard and frozen hit Zoro in his bare stomach.
“Shit, Luffy!” He jerked up and reached for the missile on instinct, swords being too far away. It was an ice cube. There were ice cubes flying from the hatch where Luffy was laughing, hitting them on their foreheads, noses, chests, knees. Usopp and Chopper fell from their hammocks, scrambling to pick up the cubes and throw them back with battle cries. Zoro just chuckled and lifted his arm over his face to keep from getting hit in the eye.
“Dammit!” A cube struck Sanji hard on his cheek. He growled and grabbed his pillow, standing on the cushions of the couch. “You wanna try that again?!” Apparently Luffy did. Sanji used the pillow as a shield, or rather a bat, and whacked the ice cube back at the rubber boy. Luffy let out an undignified squawk and fell from the ladder on top of a charging Usopp and Chopper. “Yes!” Sanji cheered in self-congratulation for a moment or two before he lost his footing and toppled over.
Zoro grunted, suddenly finding himself with an armful of the blond object of his affections. It would’ve been a rather nice, woozy moment if Sanji’s knee hadn’t landed rather painfully dangerously close to his groin and if his elbow hadn’t practically stabbed him somewhere in the tender region of his neck and collarbone. Sanji looked down at him, his one exposed eye wide in a startled sort of way, a little breathless from his sudden fall, and Zoro really wanted to kiss him.
“DOGPILE ON ZORO!”
“What?!”
And then suddenly there were three more bodies on top of him, and they were a pile of laughter and curses and limbs and far too much heat.
“Get off me, you bastards, or I’ll cut you!”
Eventually Nami yelled at them to shut up and go to sleep. The ice cubes had all melted and there were puddles of rapidly warming water on the floor. They all slept there anyway, side by side, with the night’s stars peering in through the open hatch.
In the morning, Zoro awoke to what felt suspiciously like someone petting his hair. He cracked an eye open just the tiniest bit, just enough to sneak a peek at the person beside him. His heart tripped when he realized who it was and he quickly shut his eye all the way. Sanji was petting his hair. Sanji’s slender, skillful fingers were stroking his hair. It was a wonderfully ridiculous thing to be happy about, but Zoro was happy, wonderfully, ridiculously happy, and he would’ve had some big, stupid grin on his face if he hadn’t been feigning sleep. Presently, Sanji stopped and stood and climbed up the ladder. Zoro opened his eyes then and allowed himself to smile as he listened to the padding of Sanji’s feet above his head.
~
In the Crow’s Nest, Zoro was surrounded by Nami’s girly magazines-CosmoPirate and other things of that nature-and various books of Robin’s that bordered on looking way too intellectual. He was grateful for having the midnight watch.
A relationship between a Scorpio and a Pisces will be intense, intimate and magical. You are drawn to each other naturally, and your intense emotional needs perfectly complement each other. You share a special closeness that is truly rare. A perfect soul mate match.
Zoro fought the urge to stand up and do a victory dance. He told himself not to get too excited after one reading. It might not be true. He needed something more, a second and third and possibly fourth opinion. Better safe than sorry, right?
The drama inherent in these two signs could make for a very successful union as neither partner is consumed by, or ruled by, common sense. All their actions are motivated by the intense emotional states they seem to stay in on a perpetual basis. Scorpio’s adept manner at probing his/her partner could enable the intricacies of Pisces' secretive nature to be better understood by this sign than any other.
All right, good. That was very good.
Probably the most erotic sexual combination.
Fuck, yes.
The Neptune of Pisces blends with your Pluto to further intuitive knowing. Certainly, this combination holds great promise. There is great attraction here. Pluto and Neptune create a romantic aura and, once Pisces and Scorpio get together, it takes a storm of considerable proportions to separate them.
Zoro didn’t need any more than that. Resolve bolstered, he closed the last book and leaned back against the wood of the Crow’s Nest. Staring determinedly up at the moon, he decided he would make a move soon. Tomorrow, maybe, if the opportunity arose. He’d never put much faith in all that astrology stuff, but if things went well, maybe he would start.
~
The shade in Nami’s mikan grove was the perfect relief from the hot summer sun. Zoro had been dozing off and on for a couple of hours there, evading the occasional plea to play or fish from Luffy or Usopp with a well-placed snore or two, when the one person that he would give up his sleep for appeared. A basket balanced on his hip, Sanji stepped quietly through the grove, picking mikans. Zoro cracked an eye open and watched him, tried to calm the sudden hammering of his heart. He hadn’t been alone with the cook since his midnight decision, so he’d been able to stall with a proper excuse. But maybe this was the moment…
“Hey, moss-head. You better not be contaminating my precious Nami-san’s trees with your stupid.”
And maybe not.
“Fuck off, I’m trying to sleep.”
“Yeah right.” Sanji put his basket down and sat beside the lounging swordsman, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You’ve been sleeping all day.” He reached into the basket and took out two mikans; Zoro wondered if that was because he was feeling compassionate, or if feeding him-feeding them all-was just an instinctive obligation. “Hold still.”
Zoro had maybe half a second to ponder what that command meant before the smell of citrus filled his nostrils. Sanji was trying to balance a mikan on his fucking nose. He would’ve been annoyed by it, had the playfulness of it not made his heart flutter like a manly butterfly.
“Oi,” he muttered softly, “I’m not Usopp.”
Sanji chuckled and Zoro tried to pretend like he wasn’t watching the upward curve of the cook’s lips. The mikan was released and teetered on Zoro’s nose only slightly before rolling off and landing beside his head. Zoro closed his eyes. He knew he should’ve been taking better advantage of the moment, but he was feeling lazy and…well, he didn’t entirely trust himself to not screw up Sanji’s good mood. Yeah. That was it.
Stop being such a pussy.
With an inward growl of determination, Zoro opened his eyes and looked at the man next to him. And any words that he might’ve said were instantly stuck in his throat. Sanji had peeled his mikan, cut it into wedges, and he was bringing the fruit to his mouth. His lips closed around it and he sucked and Zoro just barely resisted the shiver of arousal that threatened to shoot through him. His eyes followed the trail the juice made as it dribbled down his chin, and he found himself wanting to lick it away, wanting to drag his tongue along his neck and collarbone and down into that damnable, wonderful shirt with all the buttons…
That desire, the heat of it, burned and burned in Zoro’s gut and groin as Sanji bit and nibbled at the fruit until he finished and paused only slightly before slipping his fingers into his mouth, sucking the juice off. Zoro couldn’t take it. He didn’t know he’d sat up until it was too late, until Sanji’s fingers left his mouth and Zoro neared it. And he kissed him. He kissed him soft, then hard, then soft again, his entire body prepared for a hasty retreat. He’d screwed up, gotten carried away, and he knew it.
But he abruptly forgot it when Sanji grabbed him by the head and pulled him back in.
He tasted better than Zoro could’ve imagined. Mikan and smoke and sea and summer heat. Zoro’s hands were shaking when he reached out to hold him and he knew the cook would’ve teased him, but he was more interested in the kissing, which pleased Zoro just fine. Zoro himself was more interested in the kissing than air.
“Breathe, moron,” Sanji whispered against his lips. “You’re no good to me dead.”
“But what a way to go.”
Zoro couldn’t tell just how long he and Sanji sat there, kissing in the shade. It couldn’t have been too long; though it went unspoken, neither of them wanted to be caught. Zoro couldn’t imagine a more effective mood-killer. But however long or short the moments were, they were quite possibly the best moments of Zoro’s life.
~
Sanji was fucking him with his eyes.
Zoro didn’t mind, certainly. It’d happened before-on days when Sanji had a good view of him training-and Zoro had always been pretty flattered and a little turned on. But it was the first time it’d happened since their kisses a few days earlier, and there was a new intensity in the cook’s gaze that practically set Zoro’s skin aflame.
He’d never been wanted by someone. Not like that. At least, he’d never been aware of anyone wanting him like that. He was pleased Sanji felt that way about him, but he wasn’t going to give in and bend over so easily. Maybe he was old-fashioned, but he just didn’t believe in doing something without having your heart invested in it. If a fuck was all Sanji wanted, Zoro would gladly point him in the direction of a brothel. (It would probably be the wrong direction, but that’s beside the point.) Zoro wanted a fuck with feeling. So until he found out what exactly Sanji’s feelings were, there would be no fucking. That was his plan.
He only hoped he could stick to it.
~
It was pouring rain and the deck of the marines’ ship was soaked and slippery. Clenching Wadou tight in his teeth, Zoro slid across the wood beneath his feet; he would’ve looked like an idiot, had a marine not been nearby for him to stick a sword in. The damn storm had come at the worst possible moment. The sky was just beginning to look cloudy when they’d boarded the enemy ship on Luffy’s orders, and only seconds later the rain was coming down. Now there was thunder, lightning lit up the sky, and they were surrounded. There was no way they could retreat now.
He cursed the Grand Line’s unpredictable weather as he forced himself to move steadily through the wind and the rain, cutting down the marines in his path. He couldn’t tell how many there were. It seemed that they were all coming out of the woodwork, but they all looked the same. Faces running together behind the rain flooding his vision. He could hear an occasional whoop of victory from Luffy and the sound of bones cracking as Robin’s army of hands broke man after man. And every now and then the ship shook from the cannonballs Usopp was shooting from the Merry and cheers of Nami and Chopper’s encouragement would sound faintly over the crashing waves and the thunder.
Zoro could see flashes of Sanji’s blond hair out of the corner of his eye, and he was trying not to concentrate too hard on the other man’s well-being. He couldn’t afford to worry about him; Sanji wouldn’t have liked that, anyway. But he did worry. He did care. He did want to make sure Sanji’s skillful feet hadn’t slipped on the wet wood. And that worry cost him. He was preoccupied, unprepared for the sudden attack from behind by two weasel-looking marines and the rocking of the ship by the combined force of a cannonball and a rather large wave. He lost his cool, lost his balance, lost his grip, and while the two marines paid dearly for their cowardice, Kitetsu flew out of his hand and over the railing of the ship.
“Shit!” And he wasn’t sure if the voice that swore was his or Sanji’s, because in one long stride the cook was suddenly there, at the railing, leaning over; and when he pulled himself up, Kitetsu’s blade was clutched in his bloody hand.
They won, of course. And while Luffy and the others celebrated and cheered as the marine ship sank into the sea, Zoro silently watched with dark eyes as Chopper stitched up Sanji’s palm. Sanji smoked and feigned nonchalance, looking anywhere but at his hand or at Zoro, but the unsteady trembling of the cigarette between his lips gave everything away.
“Let me see it,” Zoro demanded later, when they had a brief moment alone in the galley before Luffy would charge in, smelling dinner.
“No.” Sanji scowled at the simple meal he had prepared; he would say it was because the fight had left him too pressed for time to make anything extravagant.
“That was stupid.” But he was to blame, really, he knew. And he waited for Sanji to point that out. “Really stupid.”
“Yeah,” was all he said.
And when dinner was over and everyone else had slowly trickled out onto the deck, Sanji leaned over the table, took his face in both hands, and kissed him; Zoro could feel the stitches in the cook’s palm against his cheek.
~
“Taste this.”
Zoro eyed the spoon that was offered to him with heavy suspicion. He’d never been asked to test the food, unless Sanji thought something tasted funny. Sometimes Luffy would be asked, even though Luffy would just swallow the food without really tasting it. Usually, when Sanji wanted an opinion that mattered, he would ask the girls. Both the girls and Luffy were in the galley at that moment. So what was Sanji doing asking him?
“…Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why me?”
“Because,” Sanji snapped, all but shoving the spoon down Zoro’s throat.
After pretending to gag a little longer than what was probably necessary and receiving an irritated kick to the back of his head, Zoro declared that it tasted fine. Sanji seemed satisfied and returned to the stove. Luffy, having watched the exchange, sat up excitedly.
“Sanji, can I ta-”
“No.”
“B-”
“No.”
“Saaanjiiiii!”
“Be patient. I’m almost done.”
Zoro propped his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand, grinning faintly beneath his fingers.
~
It was a little after two in the morning when Zoro woke up to the sound of the hatch opening and Sanji climbing down from his watch. He listened, eyes closed, as Sanji crossed the room to Usopp’s hammock and shook the sniper awake.
“Whasherong?”
“Your watch, long-nose.”
“Oh, okay.” A stifling yawn sounded.
“I think I may have spotted the island we’re heading for. We should reach it in a few hours.”
“All right. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“No problem.”
Zoro heard Usopp slip into his shoes, and then clamber up the ladder and through the hatch. He waited for the sound of Sanji climbing into Usopp’s now abandoned hammock, but it didn’t come. He just barely kept himself from jumping and falling off the couch when he felt Sanji’s fingers brush against the shell of his ear; when did the cook get so damn stealthy? He bent down and whispered, “We need to be alone. Soon.” A shudder ripped through him as Sanji walked away, and it took him a little longer than he would’ve liked to get back to sleep.
~
Zoro was going to get some great booze. Despite occasional stolen kisses, heated glances, and soft, tender feelings, Sanji still refused to let him drink their really good stuff. And that fancy, pansy wine Sanji said he could drink tasted like fruity piss.
But now he was on an island with a tavern and a good bit of money, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
“Oi, where are you going?”
He glanced over his shoulder at Sanji. The cook was stepping lightly, quickly, closing the distance between them, and Zoro wondered if he’d been following him long.
“Where do you think?”
“Well, the tavern’s that way, moss-for-brains,” Sanji said, jerking his thumb in the opposite direction.
“Che, I would’ve found it eventually,” Zoro said, turning around and walking as if he’d been going that way the entire time.
“Sure.” Sanji walked with him and they were silent for a moment or two. “Hey. Why don’t you skip the tavern this time?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because,” Sanji practically purred as he moved a little closer, hips almost bumping, to place his hand lightly on the small of Zoro’s back, “I have other plans for you.”
Zoro’s steps faltered, just slightly, and he remembered the words from Nami’s magazine: Probably the most erotic sexual combination.
Fuuuuuck yes.
Zoro licked his lips; that sounded good, sounded very good, but… He remembered his plan, his rule. His stupid no-fucking rule. Fucking no-fucking rule.
“I’m really in the mood for a drink,” he said. “You should come with me. There’s bound to be bar wenches there. Isn’t that what you do at these ports? Seduce some unsuspecting pretty woman?”
“Pretty women aren’t everything.”
“What?” Zoro stopped walking, unable to keep his jaw from dropping. Even Sanji seemed surprised by what he’d said, his one visible eye gone just a little wide, his hands suddenly fumbling for a cigarette. “What did you say?”
“You heard what I said, shithead…”
“Are you sick or something? I mean, what the hell?”
“Just forget about it,” Sanji snapped, placing a cigarette between his frowning lips. “Go on and have your shitty drink.”
Zoro felt a little bad. He hadn’t meant to completely screw up the evening.
“Oi-”
“I’ll join you later. But then you have to go somewhere with me. All right?”
Zoro was trying to come up with a nice, gentle way of saying no; he had no intention of going anywhere with him especially if it would result in deliciously hot and sweaty fucking. But then he saw the palm of Sanji’s hand, saw the scar that had formed right across the middle where the stitches had been, where the blade of his sword had been.
“All right,” he said.
The inn Sanji took him to was dimly lit and reeked of sex. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as honey-voiced women coaxed their men to the rooms upstairs, and Sanji received a rusty key from a leering man at the front desk. He might’ve audibly gulped because Sanji glanced briefly at him before nodding his head toward the staircase.
They were chest to chest the moment the door to their room closed. Zoro sucked in a sharp breath as Sanji’s hands roamed up his arms, Sanji’s head almost nuzzling against his shoulder until he moved up, tugging at each of Zoro’s earrings with his teeth. His pants were suddenly too tight and his heart was pounding dangerously fast; he willed it to relax, to slow down, but Sanji might’ve already felt it because he was close, so close. His lips moved to mouth at the actual flesh of Zoro’s ear, almost-kissing, almost-biting.
“Off,” Sanji whispered, kicking lightly at Zoro’s boots before stepping back to kick off his own shoes.
Zoro did as he was told, silently, not trusting himself to speak. He wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t say something stupid, something too sappy, something un-sexy. He also wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t turn around and run right out of the room.
“What’s your problem?” Sanji asked, reaching out and pulling him close by tugging on his haramaki. “I know you’re not shy.”
Somehow Zoro managed to form words and keep the shakiness he felt inside out of his voice: “Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to run my mouth off all the time.”
“That’s better,” Sanji smirked, and leaned in to kiss him as his hands delved deeper into the haramaki. The noise that resulted from Zoro’s throat was somewhere between a protesting grumble and an approving moan, but Sanji pretty much ignored it, swallowed it into his mouth. The article was shortly divested, followed by his shirt, and Sanji wasted little time in dropping to his knees and trailing his tongue along Zoro’s scar. Zoro’s knees went weak and he wasn’t sure if he was okay with that, so he pulled the cook back up and set to work on those damned buttons he loved and hated so much.
They were naked sooner that Zoro expected, maybe sooner than he wanted. He was on his stomach, hands gripping the sheets beneath him, when Sanji settled between his legs. He was uneasy, but he was overcome by Sanji’s body on him, Sanji’s mouth on him, fingers on him. The first shove in had them both swearing; Sanji told him to relax and he did, slowly, and Sanji’s stuttered breath warmed the back of his neck.
Zoro loved him. Loved him, loved him, loved him. Loved every move and sound he made. Loved the way he felt inside him and the way he said his name. Loved the way he shuddered and gasped. Loved the way he made stars burst behind closed eyelids. He loved him, god, he did.
Sanji lay beside him, taking the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling a stream of smoke before putting it out. He chuckled, a tired sound from low in his throat. He rolled onto his side, turned sleepy eyes on Zoro, slinging one leg over both of the swordsman’s. Zoro tired not to smile; he would’ve looked idiotic, like the same love-sick fool he often mocked the cook for being. Sanji was seconds away from being asleep, but before his eyes slid closed, just before, he sighed, soft and nearly silent, “Finally.” And suddenly, with one little word, Zoro knew he really was a fool.
Finally. Finally, Sanji’d had him. Sanji’d gotten him alone, gotten him to spread his legs. He found himself thinking about things he didn’t want to-the various conquests Sanji had bragged to the boys about after each port they’d left. He thought about Sanji’s eyes fucking him, fucking him, all heat and lust and nothing, nothing else. Fuck, he was so stupid.
He waited until Sanji’s breathing was slow and even, and then he lifted the cook’s leg off of him, and slipped out of the bed. He redressed quickly, tried to make as little noise as possible, tried not to stumble as he hurried down the stairs and passed the leering owner, out into the night. The air was wet, the sky covered in clouds, starless.
~
“You didn’t eat today.”
Sanji’s tone was heavy; he wasn’t just talking about food. Zoro’s was on watch and his eyes were on the sea. He willed himself not to look away.
“I had an apple.”
“When?”
“Earlier.”
“From where?”
“The barrel.”
“What barrel?”
“The barrel with apples in it!” Zoro slammed his palm down on the railing of the Crow’s Nest. “Will you piss off?!”
Sanji said nothing for a moment, but his silence was the loudest Zoro had ever heard. It sounded offended. Offended, and maybe a little hurt.
“You got a problem with me now? Huh?” The quiet question might’ve been nonchalant in earlier days, days before sticky citrus kisses and stitches, but it was angry now. And Zoro was angry, too.
“Yeah. I’ve got a problem. Tell me something: do you usually take girls to seedy little inns like that? It isn’t very romantic for someone who calls himself ‘prince’.”
“You ain’t no girl, marimo.”
“That isn’t the point, dammit!”
“Then what is?! What the fuck have you got to be so angry about?!” Sanji grabbed his arm and tugged, hard, but Zoro stubbornly, determinedly, kept his furious gaze on the dark waves. “Look at me!” He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Sanji fell silent again and released Zoro’s arm. When he spoke again, the anger was mostly gone, replaced by something like defeat. “So, that’s really how it is, huh? We fuck once and then we’re done? I guess that works if that’s what you’re into, but I’ll admit, I didn’t think you were that kind of guy.”
“Wait a minute, let’s get something straight. I’m not that kind of guy; you are.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Don’t think I didn’t hear you. I understood. Finally. But don’t worry. I’ve accepted that I was wasting my time, waiting for you to fall in love with me.” Zoro was staring so hard he could see the fish underneath the water. They seemed restless. He wanted to throw himself down into the sea with them, let scales and fins and bubbles encompass him completely, let their pursed, gurgling voices tell him what an idiot he was, what a pathetic idiot, and he should stick to swords, swords and sleep.
“Oh, Zoro,” a shaky exhalation, something close to a whisper and a laugh, something in between. “I fell in love a long time ago, dumbass.”
And Zoro did look at him then, and said, “Oh.” And he felt even more like a fool, but a good kind of fool. The kind of fool who got kissed softly, sweetly, and saw stars.
~
“What do you want?”
Zoro propped his swords against the galley wall and glanced at Sanji’s back as the cook stirred something that smelled spicy. He grinned.
“Just a quiet place to nap.” And anything, everything, everything you’re willing to offer me.
“As long as you don’t snore.”
He did snore. Loudly, in fact. But Sanji didn’t kick him out.
Oh yeah. It was definitely love.