Wash and Dry [One Piece, Zoro/Sanji]
Sanji handed the wet dish to the man beside him, openly smirking at the frustrated twitch of the swordsman’s eye. Annoying Zoro was quite possibly Sanji’s favorite part of the dishwashing ritual. He couldn’t remember, really, how this routine had started. He used to make the guys take turns doing dishes with him, but somehow it ended up being Zoro every night. Perhaps it was because he knew Zoro had things he’d rather be doing than washing dishes. But perhaps it was because Sanji felt he and Zoro didn’t spend enough time together. Perhaps, but probably not.
“Here, Zoro.”
Zoro’s nostrils flared as he exhaled noisily through his nose and he took the plate. Sanji chuckled, flashing teeth at him, and Zoro rolled his eyes and started drying with sharp, jerky movements. Sanji wasn’t completely sure why his calling him out bothered Zoro, and he didn’t particularly care to find out. All that mattered was that it did bother him and Sanji liked bothering him.
“Zo~ro,” he practically cooed, handing him a glass.
“Look-”
Zoro’s hand reached out and closed around the glass and, subsequently, the fingers Sanji was holding it with. The touch of skin on skin wasn’t particularly unusual, but somehow it had never happened-not once-during their dishwashing routine. Zoro’s reaction was instantaneous and surprising. He wrenched his hand away like Sanji was diseased or on fire, and the glass slipped from Sanji’s now lax fingers and fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.
“Dammit,” Sanji swore, starting to bend down and pick up the mess, but Zoro stopped him, tugging hard on his arm and pulling him back up.
“I’ll get it,” he growled, narrowed eyes glaring everywhere but at Sanji’s face. “You wouldn’t want to hurt your delicate hands.”
“Screw you.” Sanji scowled at the green head as its owner stooped down to the floor. “You should clean it up, anyway, since you’re the one who dropped it!”
“Well, I am picking it up, dumbass!”
“Well, good!”
Sanji stepped around the swordsman, wiping his wet hands on his slacks as he left the galley, grumbling about stupid idiots messing up something as simple as washing dishes.
[-]
The chill in the air came a few days ago and Nami-san, in all of her beautiful brilliance, graciously informed them that they would be reaching a winter island by the end of the week. Sanji grinned as he thought of how lovely she looked, standing at the head of the table and pointing at the map with her pretty, little, delicate fingers, balling those pretty, little, delicate fingers into a fist to whack Luffy on the head when he wasn’t paying attention.
“Ah, Nami-san is so wonderful,” Sanji sighed dreamily to himself as he poured some freshly made cocoa into mugs.
After adding those cute tiny marshmallows for decoration, he would take two of the mugs to the girls in their room so they could warm up a bit. And if they needed something extra, some more help to keep them from getting cold, he would gladly stay the night and cuddle close to their beautiful bodies and keep them nice and warm…
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned from the counter to keep blood from dripping into the cocoa. Although he didn’t particularly care what happened to the third mug. That was for Zoro. Just because he was on watch tonight. And it was really cold. And it would be bad, he supposed, if they lost their swordsman to the winter winds. Once the nosebleed subsided, he turned back to the steaming mugs. He would take the idiot his first, to leave more time for the ladies.
He found Zoro out on deck below the Crow’s Nest. His back was to Sanji and he stood with his hands on the ship railing. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders and it moved faintly with the night’s breeze. Sanji scoffed. What was he doing? Trying to look cool and mysterious? Yeah, right.
“Oi, marimo,” Sanji called, signaling his approach. He attempted a slightly amicable expression when Zoro looked back at him, holding the mug out in offering. “Cocoa. So you don’t freeze your ass off.”
A strange look flickered across Zoro’s face for a moment and then he frowned, hard, and looked back at the sea.
“No thanks.”
“What?” Sanji bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means ‘no thanks’,” Zoro said, tossing a sneer over his shoulder. “Sorry I don’t fall all over myself for your stupid drinks.”
“Sorry I bothered to make you one,” Sanji snapped, turning swiftly on his heel and returning to the galley. He slammed the mug down, scowling at the liquid that spilled over the rim and onto the counter. “Asshole.” He could freeze for all Sanji cared.
[-]
Just as Nami predicted, Sunny reached port two days later. Mayor Jack Frost was a mischief-loving man and welcomed them personally; Luffy and Franky took to him instantly, but the memory of Whiskey Peak left the others a little wary. Still, the island’s atmosphere of merriment was contagious and while the rest of the crew partied and played in the snow, Sanji managed to rope Zoro into shopping with him.
It was as if their row a couple of nights ago was nonexistent, or perhaps just unimportant, as they strolled down the frozen streets together, listening to the cheerful calls of chestnut vendors and cider sellers. If they didn’t have limited funds, Sanji would’ve checked them out, but he was solely set on veggies and elk meat.
“And booze.”
“No booze.”
“Booze.”
“No booze!”
“…Booze.”
Sanji rolled his eyes and Zoro laughed-that loud, happy laugh that Sanji rarely heard and had to smile at.
“Fine,” he relented, “but the money for it is coming out of your pocket.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro nodded to a kindly-looking old man who passed them and raised his walking stick in greeting. “Nice island.”
“I’ll say,” Sanji agreed, heart tripping as a woman merchant smiled at him from her stand. He might have to visit her later if he had the time. He glanced at the swordsman next to him and smirked when he noticed how red Zoro’s nose was. The man’s hair was full of snowflakes and when he lifted his hand to rub at his red nose, sniffling, some of them drifted to his shoulders, a couple of others sticking to his cheek on the way down.
“What?” he asked when he caught Sanji looking.
“Nothing,” Sanji chuckled, hesitating only a moment before reaching over and brushing the snowflakes off his cheek.
Zoro stopped walking, so Sanji stopped, too, and tried not to look like he’d just done something weird and embarrassing. Zoro looked at him with his brow furrowed for an awkward moment or two before something a bit like a smile tugged at his lips. Sanji smiled back, relieved, and couldn’t help but notice the redness of Zoro’s nose spreading. Sanji might’ve said something, or Zoro might’ve said something, but someone else said something first.
“Excuse me? Could you guys help us out?”
Sanji’s ears perked up at the decidedly feminine voice and he turned, knees going weak at the sight of two gorgeous young women dressed in silvery, smooth-looking fur coats. Between them was a stack of crates and they gestured to it, batting their eyelashes and flashing dazzlingly white teeth.
“We’ve bought all this meat,” said the taller one with the elegantly slender neck and red hair, “but it’s too heavy for us.”
“We could use a couple of strong, helping hands,” said the brunette with freckles and a cute little nose. “If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” declared Sanji instantly, prepared to glide over to them when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“We’ve got supplies to get,” Zoro said, voice suddenly firm. “Remember?”
“Don’t be rude, marimo.” Sanji shrugged off the hand, giving him a quick glare before turning to the ladies with a charming smile. “Of course we’ll help.”
“You’ll help.”
Sanji turned again-he’d been doing a lot of that lately-as Zoro snagged the supplies list from where it was sticking out of his pocket. He was about to protest when he realized that would be a silly thing to do; he had two beautiful women who needed him.
“You don’t mind us borrowing him?” the brunette asked.
“Of course he doesn’t,” Sanji assured her, going over to the crates and picking up two.
“Hell,” Zoro scoffed, continuing down the path, “you can keep him.”
Sanji bit his tongue to keep from shooting back something crude that would offend his new companions’ delicate ears. He would get back at him later.
Later turned out to be much later than Sanji had expected, not that he was complaining. After he helped them carry the meat back to their house, the two women expressed their gratitude in ways Sanji had only known in his imaginative fantasies. Nice island, indeed. In the morning he returned to Sunny, whistling, in a mood so jovial it rivaled that of all the island’s inhabitants’.
“Good morning, Nami-san,” he greeted his goddess as he climbed up on deck.
“Oh, Sanji-kun,” she said, looking up from a new edition of CosmoPirate. “There you are.”
“Were you worried about me, my angel?”
She smiled lightly and returned to her magazine, turning a page. “Where’s Zoro?”
“Zoro?” How should he know?
“Wasn’t he with you?”
“Not since yesterday afternoon,” he said, a frown slowly forming on his face. “Didn’t he come back last night?”
“Ugh!” Nami groaned in frustration. “I hope he hasn’t gotten lost again!”
The idiot.
Sighing, Sanji jumped back down onto the dock and started into town. He hoped the seaweed-head had at least remembered to get the supplies before wandering off. But not even searching for the lost moron could spoil his great mood. As he took his time sauntering through the snowy lanes, greeting people with, “Good morning! Have you seen a large, green idiot with three swords, by any chance?” Most people hadn’t seen him since Sanji had, but finally a smiling old woman nodded and pointed toward a colorfully decorated street and said, “Yes, yes, last night. They went that way.”
Sanji thanked her, wondering vaguely what she meant by “they.” Had he met someone? That was laughable. Maybe he’d gotten into a fight or some other kind of trouble, which was much more believable.
The street the old woman had directed him toward was different than the rest of the town. It was just as friendly, perhaps even friendlier, but it was louder, more colorful. There were lights strung everywhere and music spilling from almost every other window. Sanji knew what this place was. He knew without even having to look at the people, without even seeing the guys with arms draped over each other or the girls calling to each other from balconies. He could just feel it, and he knew. He’d always been able to tell.
Just like he could tell about Zoro.
He had absolutely nothing against it. He believed in love and love had no restrictions. And, besides, he himself appreciated beauty wherever he found it. Not that he’d ever acted on anything like that. The guy that could manage to snatch him up from the sea of lovely, lovely ladies would have to be pretty amazing.
He stopped walking when he saw that familiar head of moss and his mouth went oddly and suddenly dry when he saw the building it emerged from. Roronoa Zoro was coming out of an inn. Oh god, he had met someone.
“O-Oi,” he managed to call out.
“Sanji?” Zoro narrowed his eyes in puzzlement. He approached after a moment and Sanji saw the bags of supplies he had slung over his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
He could’ve asked him the same thing, but he already knew the answer and he didn’t want to hear it.
“I came to find you,” he said after clearing his throat and turning around. “And I did, so let’s go.”
He knew Zoro was gay but he didn’t actually want to think about him…sleeping with guys.
“Sanji-”
He didn’t want to think about him sleeping with girls either.
“Oi-”
He didn’t want to think about him sleeping with anyone.
“Listen-”
Which was stupid, and he didn’t know what his problem was.
“At least wait up!”
[-]
Zoro was acting weird. He hadn’t looked Sanji in the eye since they’d left Mayor Frost’s island. Sanji guessed he was embarrassed or something, but he didn’t need to be. Sanji couldn’t tell him that, though, because just the thought of it left a nasty taste in Sanji’s mouth and he just couldn’t bring himself to bring it up.
Even their fighting-their most sacred bonding activity-was different. Sometimes Sanji would toss out an insult and Zoro would just sit there, like he wasn’t even paying attention. He just wouldn’t rise to the bait. Other times he did and he would shoot something nasty back and things would escalate as usual, but still, Zoro wasn’t himself. He was far too vicious, far too aggressive. It wasn’t just them fooling around or letting off steam. It was like Zoro didn’t even see him, didn’t even know who he was fighting.
Once, he got so carried away that Luffy and Franky had to pull him off before he sliced off Sanji’s head, or worse, his hands. Zoro was so ashamed that he didn’t eat with the others for almost a week, taking his meals in the Crow’s Nest instead. Sanji told him it hadn’t mattered, Zoro shrugged and said “fine”, and that was that. Sanji lied, of course, but he would do what he had to in order to keep his dishwashing partner. That’s what he told himself, anyway. But even that ritual seemed to be a lost cause.
“Marimo, that dish is still soaked,” Sanji snapped.
“It is not.”
“It is. Dry it again.”
Zoro did, scowling heavily. “There. Better, your Highness?”
“Much.” Sanji sported a frown of his own around his cigarette. Scrubbing at a particularly difficult stain, he grumbled, “Your job is ridiculously easy, but of course you find a way to half-ass it, can’t you?”
Zoro’s scowl deepened and he said nothing for a moment as he accepted and dried the next plate, stared at it, and then threw it back in the soapy water, splashing them both and dousing Sanji’s cigarette.
“Bastard, what are you-”
“Fuck you, cook. Fine someone else to do your stupid dish duty, then.”
“I-” was all Sanji got out before Zoro was out the galley door.
[-]
Sanji was glad that he and Zoro weren’t friends. If he and Zoro were friends, his heart would be utterly, utterly broken by now. Things got worse and worse between them which each passing day. All fighting-physical, verbal, emotional, playful, anything and everything-stopped. All of it just stopped. Zoro never gave in to Sanji’s taunts and he finally just stopped trying.
The others worried. Sanji heard them talking. The ladies asked him sometimes if he was feeling all right, and he told them he was feeling just fine. Because he was. He was. Zoro was the one with the problem, the big stupid ape, and if he didn’t want to talk to Sanji, Sanji didn’t want to talk to him. Their only interaction was during meals, and all that entailed was Sanji giving him a plate, Zoro accepting it, and Sanji taking it away when he was done. It was as simple as that. Whatever. No big deal.
And it wasn’t a big deal, really, until Sanji noticed that they didn’t look out for each other during fights anymore. It was unnerving-not feeling that strong back against his every now and then while kicking ass, not trying to one up the swordsman by kicking more ass and kicking it while looking so much cooler than him. He never really knew how much he depended on the other guy being there, egging him on, telling him to duck or turn around or fucking move before he gets his ass kicked, until he just wasn’t there.
And he got his ass kicked.
The fact that Zoro got his ass kicked too was only a slight consolation.
They sat in silence in opposite sides of the infirmary while Chopper patched them up. Sanji smoked and stared at a wall and Zoro had his arms crossed with his eyes closed like he was going to sleep. Chopper opened his mouth to speak a couple of times, but then just sighed and sniffled, a little miserably, and just did his job. Sanji said nothing, Zoro said nothing, Chopper said nothing. No one said a goddamn thing and Sanji wanted to scream, but Chopper beat him to it.
“WAAAAAAAAH!!”
They both jumped, startled and awash with guilt at the sight of tears spewing from the reindeer’s eyes as he threw his bandages and ointment down and wailed, “I can’t take it! I hate it like this! You’ve gotta make up, you jerks, you’ve just gotta!” And with that, he ran out of the room, sobbing loudly.
Sanji really did feel like a jerk.
He took a deep breath and looked at Zoro, who was already looking at him. He was pretty sure the expression on Zoro’s face-the “Gee, I really feel like a jerk” expression-was the same expression he had on his own face.
“Zoro, look-”
But it seemed that just the sound of Sanji’s voice was enough for that look to fall away and the swordsman’s eyes narrowed and his mouth turned down.
“Maybe we should-” Sanji tried to continue in vain as Zoro stood and headed for the door without a word. “Dammit, Zoro, can’t we just-”
But they couldn’t just. Because Zoro walked out. And Sanji was really, really glad that they weren’t friends.
[-]
The next island they docked at was a spring island. It was beautiful. The weather was fair, the sun was gentle, the sky was the prettiest shade of blue. Flowers of all sizes and shades were blossoming everywhere and the fragrance they released made it almost impossible not to feel giddy with each inhalation. Sanji was bound and determined to appreciate this place. It was the perfect place for wooing. Perhaps he would make a bouquet for the ladies or ask them to go for a walk after dinner when the sun was setting. He swore to himself that he was not going to let this shit with Zoro get him down.
But that was before Usopp came in and told him.
“What the hell do you mean he’s eating dinner ashore?!”
Usopp shuddered and hid halfway behind the open galley door, knees knocking.
“J-Just what I said, Sanji! He said he was going ashore and he would eat there. He said he wanted something-” He paused, gulping audibly. “He said he wanted something d-different.”
“Different,” Sanji echoed blankly. “Different, sure. That’s-that’s reasonable, isn’t it?”
“Sure!” Usopp agreed, nodding vigorously.
“Sure.” Sanji smiled and Usopp, relieved, left him so he could finish preparing the meal.
Five minutes later, dinner was done and served, and Sanji was storming through the town, ready to choke a marimo. He’d really done it this time, the asshole. This was unforgivable, the ultimate insult. Did he really care so little? Well, hell, if there was anything the past month had shown Sanji, it was that Zoro really didn’t care about him at all.
He gritted his teeth as he mind supplied him with the image of Zoro coming out of that inn on the last island. Was that what Zoro was up to? Was he going to meet someone here? Some guy? Was he going to have dinner with him instead? And then…
“DAMMIT!” Sanji swore loudly, kicking at a rock in his path. It flew through the air and landed somewhere nearby with a thunk.
“Ow! What the hell, cook?”
Sanji stopped, the sound of that voice directed at him after so long almost making his heart stop. Zoro was sitting at an outside table at a small and inexpensive looking restaurant, rubbing his head where the rock had hit him and frowning faintly. Giving the man the nastiest look he could muster, Sanji stomped over to him and slapped his palm down on the table, demanding, “Who are you here with?!”
Zoro furrowed his brow. “How the hell could I be with someone? I don’t know anyone here! And why do you care?”
“I don’t,” Sanji hissed, turning around to head back, like he was satisfied to just be sure Zoro was alone. But who the hell was he kidding? He stopped, tapping his foot on the ground a few times as if to summon up something that might or might not have been courage, before turning around again and sitting down at Zoro’s table.
“What are you-”
“Look,” Sanji snapped. “Eating meals is all I’ve got with you, shithead, and I’m not losing that like I’ve lost everything else! You got a problem with that?!”
If Zoro did, he didn’t say so.
Having dinner ashore, alone with Zoro, was a strange experience. They didn’t say much at first; Sanji hadn’t expected much conversation, anyway. He’d already taken the first step, said all he could say, all he needed to say. He hadn’t thought Zoro would take it any further. So he was surprised when, a few minutes into their meal, Zoro said, “It’s good.”
“It is,” Sanji agreed, trying not to sound as insulted as he still felt. “Better than mine?”
“No,” Zoro said, quicker than Sanji expected. “Just different.”
Relief and something else kind of warm spread through Sanji’s chest and as dinner continued, he found himself growing comfortable enough to notice things. Little things. Like the funny way Zoro held his fork sometimes, and the way his jaw set when he was cutting his meat. And the way Zoro reached up to scratch his neck when he attempted small talk. And the fact that his hair was just a little bit longer than it should’ve been.
“You need a haircut,” he remarked and chuckled when Zoro rolled his eyes.
This was better, he thought as he inhaled and the various scents of the flowers and allowed himself a smile. Much better. This was the way things were supposed to be with them. And he would do his damnedest to make sure things stayed this way, this time.
The walk back to the ship was slow, leisurely. Sanji couldn’t help but notice it was the type of walk he’d planned on perhaps asking the ladies to go on with him, but he brushed that thought aside hurriedly. He thought about Zoro and the inn again. He almost wished he’d seen the guy Zoro had spent the night with, just to get a glimpse of what Zoro’s type was.
It was probably nothing like him. Which meant that Zoro was even stupider than he’d thought, because he was an excellent catch.
Not that he wanted Zoro to want him. Just his type. There was a big difference.
“You know,” Zoro said, sort of softly, “I think I needed this.”
“Needed what?”
“Needed to know that we could be together without killing each other.”
Sanji laughed lightly and tried not to notice the sun setting. Sunsets always made normal moments seem much more romantic than they actually were. By the time they got to the ship the sky was all pink and orange and Zoro might’ve been grinning.
“What’re you looking like that for?” Sanji asked, eyebrow arched.
“No reason.”
He didn’t offer anything more, not in words. But he took Sanji by the shoulders and surged forward before Sanji could blink or ask what the hell he was thinking, and kissed him. Sanji wasn’t sure how to react, other than the quiet sound of surprise he couldn’t stop, which was muffled by Zoro’s lips. But he didn’t really have to react, because Zoro pulled away shortly, his hands still gripping Sanji’s shoulders as he waited patiently for…something; Sanji wasn’t sure what.
“Well…” he offered lamely, after a moment.
“Well?”
“Well…things certainly are making sense now.”
“…Ah, shit.”
Dropping his hands quickly, suddenly embarrassed, Zoro hastily climbed back onto the ship. Sanji watched him go, touched his lips lightly, inhaled, and felt giddy.
[-]
“Here, Zoro.”
Zoro took the wet plate with reluctance, drying it grudgingly. Sanji whistled cheerfully as he scrubbed the next dish clean, smirking at the other man’s scowl.
“I can’t believe you’ve got me on dish duty again,” he grumbled.
“Here, Zoro,” Sanji chirped, moving on to a glass. “Maybe I like doing dishes with you, marimo.”
Zoro didn’t have anything to say to that, just sighed as Sanji held out the glass and reached for it. Sanji waited until his hand had closed around it before he captured the swordsman’s fingers with his own. He looked at other man pointedly, trying not to get distracted by the faint blush spreading across Zoro’s nose, and murmured, “Here, Zoro.”
Zoro’s entire face reddened, much to Sanji’s amusement, but that didn’t stop him from leaning over determinedly and kissing Sanji briefly on the lips. When he pulled away he had that grin on his face again, like he’d accomplished something really hard.
Sanji was just proud of him for not dropping the glass.
“Here, Zoro.”
Zoro’s nostrils flared as he exhaled noisily through his nose and he took the plate. Sanji chuckled, flashing teeth at him, and Zoro rolled his eyes and started drying with sharp, jerky movements. Sanji wasn’t completely sure why his calling him out bothered Zoro, and he didn’t particularly care to find out. All that mattered was that it did bother him and Sanji liked bothering him.
“Zo~ro,” he practically cooed, handing him a glass.
“Look-”
Zoro’s hand reached out and closed around the glass and, subsequently, the fingers Sanji was holding it with. The touch of skin on skin wasn’t particularly unusual, but somehow it had never happened-not once-during their dishwashing routine. Zoro’s reaction was instantaneous and surprising. He wrenched his hand away like Sanji was diseased or on fire, and the glass slipped from Sanji’s now lax fingers and fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.
“Dammit,” Sanji swore, starting to bend down and pick up the mess, but Zoro stopped him, tugging hard on his arm and pulling him back up.
“I’ll get it,” he growled, narrowed eyes glaring everywhere but at Sanji’s face. “You wouldn’t want to hurt your delicate hands.”
“Screw you.” Sanji scowled at the green head as its owner stooped down to the floor. “You should clean it up, anyway, since you’re the one who dropped it!”
“Well, I am picking it up, dumbass!”
“Well, good!”
Sanji stepped around the swordsman, wiping his wet hands on his slacks as he left the galley, grumbling about stupid idiots messing up something as simple as washing dishes.
[-]
The chill in the air came a few days ago and Nami-san, in all of her beautiful brilliance, graciously informed them that they would be reaching a winter island by the end of the week. Sanji grinned as he thought of how lovely she looked, standing at the head of the table and pointing at the map with her pretty, little, delicate fingers, balling those pretty, little, delicate fingers into a fist to whack Luffy on the head when he wasn’t paying attention.
“Ah, Nami-san is so wonderful,” Sanji sighed dreamily to himself as he poured some freshly made cocoa into mugs.
After adding those cute tiny marshmallows for decoration, he would take two of the mugs to the girls in their room so they could warm up a bit. And if they needed something extra, some more help to keep them from getting cold, he would gladly stay the night and cuddle close to their beautiful bodies and keep them nice and warm…
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned from the counter to keep blood from dripping into the cocoa. Although he didn’t particularly care what happened to the third mug. That was for Zoro. Just because he was on watch tonight. And it was really cold. And it would be bad, he supposed, if they lost their swordsman to the winter winds. Once the nosebleed subsided, he turned back to the steaming mugs. He would take the idiot his first, to leave more time for the ladies.
He found Zoro out on deck below the Crow’s Nest. His back was to Sanji and he stood with his hands on the ship railing. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders and it moved faintly with the night’s breeze. Sanji scoffed. What was he doing? Trying to look cool and mysterious? Yeah, right.
“Oi, marimo,” Sanji called, signaling his approach. He attempted a slightly amicable expression when Zoro looked back at him, holding the mug out in offering. “Cocoa. So you don’t freeze your ass off.”
A strange look flickered across Zoro’s face for a moment and then he frowned, hard, and looked back at the sea.
“No thanks.”
“What?” Sanji bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means ‘no thanks’,” Zoro said, tossing a sneer over his shoulder. “Sorry I don’t fall all over myself for your stupid drinks.”
“Sorry I bothered to make you one,” Sanji snapped, turning swiftly on his heel and returning to the galley. He slammed the mug down, scowling at the liquid that spilled over the rim and onto the counter. “Asshole.” He could freeze for all Sanji cared.
[-]
Just as Nami predicted, Sunny reached port two days later. Mayor Jack Frost was a mischief-loving man and welcomed them personally; Luffy and Franky took to him instantly, but the memory of Whiskey Peak left the others a little wary. Still, the island’s atmosphere of merriment was contagious and while the rest of the crew partied and played in the snow, Sanji managed to rope Zoro into shopping with him.
It was as if their row a couple of nights ago was nonexistent, or perhaps just unimportant, as they strolled down the frozen streets together, listening to the cheerful calls of chestnut vendors and cider sellers. If they didn’t have limited funds, Sanji would’ve checked them out, but he was solely set on veggies and elk meat.
“And booze.”
“No booze.”
“Booze.”
“No booze!”
“…Booze.”
Sanji rolled his eyes and Zoro laughed-that loud, happy laugh that Sanji rarely heard and had to smile at.
“Fine,” he relented, “but the money for it is coming out of your pocket.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro nodded to a kindly-looking old man who passed them and raised his walking stick in greeting. “Nice island.”
“I’ll say,” Sanji agreed, heart tripping as a woman merchant smiled at him from her stand. He might have to visit her later if he had the time. He glanced at the swordsman next to him and smirked when he noticed how red Zoro’s nose was. The man’s hair was full of snowflakes and when he lifted his hand to rub at his red nose, sniffling, some of them drifted to his shoulders, a couple of others sticking to his cheek on the way down.
“What?” he asked when he caught Sanji looking.
“Nothing,” Sanji chuckled, hesitating only a moment before reaching over and brushing the snowflakes off his cheek.
Zoro stopped walking, so Sanji stopped, too, and tried not to look like he’d just done something weird and embarrassing. Zoro looked at him with his brow furrowed for an awkward moment or two before something a bit like a smile tugged at his lips. Sanji smiled back, relieved, and couldn’t help but notice the redness of Zoro’s nose spreading. Sanji might’ve said something, or Zoro might’ve said something, but someone else said something first.
“Excuse me? Could you guys help us out?”
Sanji’s ears perked up at the decidedly feminine voice and he turned, knees going weak at the sight of two gorgeous young women dressed in silvery, smooth-looking fur coats. Between them was a stack of crates and they gestured to it, batting their eyelashes and flashing dazzlingly white teeth.
“We’ve bought all this meat,” said the taller one with the elegantly slender neck and red hair, “but it’s too heavy for us.”
“We could use a couple of strong, helping hands,” said the brunette with freckles and a cute little nose. “If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” declared Sanji instantly, prepared to glide over to them when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“We’ve got supplies to get,” Zoro said, voice suddenly firm. “Remember?”
“Don’t be rude, marimo.” Sanji shrugged off the hand, giving him a quick glare before turning to the ladies with a charming smile. “Of course we’ll help.”
“You’ll help.”
Sanji turned again-he’d been doing a lot of that lately-as Zoro snagged the supplies list from where it was sticking out of his pocket. He was about to protest when he realized that would be a silly thing to do; he had two beautiful women who needed him.
“You don’t mind us borrowing him?” the brunette asked.
“Of course he doesn’t,” Sanji assured her, going over to the crates and picking up two.
“Hell,” Zoro scoffed, continuing down the path, “you can keep him.”
Sanji bit his tongue to keep from shooting back something crude that would offend his new companions’ delicate ears. He would get back at him later.
Later turned out to be much later than Sanji had expected, not that he was complaining. After he helped them carry the meat back to their house, the two women expressed their gratitude in ways Sanji had only known in his imaginative fantasies. Nice island, indeed. In the morning he returned to Sunny, whistling, in a mood so jovial it rivaled that of all the island’s inhabitants’.
“Good morning, Nami-san,” he greeted his goddess as he climbed up on deck.
“Oh, Sanji-kun,” she said, looking up from a new edition of CosmoPirate. “There you are.”
“Were you worried about me, my angel?”
She smiled lightly and returned to her magazine, turning a page. “Where’s Zoro?”
“Zoro?” How should he know?
“Wasn’t he with you?”
“Not since yesterday afternoon,” he said, a frown slowly forming on his face. “Didn’t he come back last night?”
“Ugh!” Nami groaned in frustration. “I hope he hasn’t gotten lost again!”
The idiot.
Sighing, Sanji jumped back down onto the dock and started into town. He hoped the seaweed-head had at least remembered to get the supplies before wandering off. But not even searching for the lost moron could spoil his great mood. As he took his time sauntering through the snowy lanes, greeting people with, “Good morning! Have you seen a large, green idiot with three swords, by any chance?” Most people hadn’t seen him since Sanji had, but finally a smiling old woman nodded and pointed toward a colorfully decorated street and said, “Yes, yes, last night. They went that way.”
Sanji thanked her, wondering vaguely what she meant by “they.” Had he met someone? That was laughable. Maybe he’d gotten into a fight or some other kind of trouble, which was much more believable.
The street the old woman had directed him toward was different than the rest of the town. It was just as friendly, perhaps even friendlier, but it was louder, more colorful. There were lights strung everywhere and music spilling from almost every other window. Sanji knew what this place was. He knew without even having to look at the people, without even seeing the guys with arms draped over each other or the girls calling to each other from balconies. He could just feel it, and he knew. He’d always been able to tell.
Just like he could tell about Zoro.
He had absolutely nothing against it. He believed in love and love had no restrictions. And, besides, he himself appreciated beauty wherever he found it. Not that he’d ever acted on anything like that. The guy that could manage to snatch him up from the sea of lovely, lovely ladies would have to be pretty amazing.
He stopped walking when he saw that familiar head of moss and his mouth went oddly and suddenly dry when he saw the building it emerged from. Roronoa Zoro was coming out of an inn. Oh god, he had met someone.
“O-Oi,” he managed to call out.
“Sanji?” Zoro narrowed his eyes in puzzlement. He approached after a moment and Sanji saw the bags of supplies he had slung over his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
He could’ve asked him the same thing, but he already knew the answer and he didn’t want to hear it.
“I came to find you,” he said after clearing his throat and turning around. “And I did, so let’s go.”
He knew Zoro was gay but he didn’t actually want to think about him…sleeping with guys.
“Sanji-”
He didn’t want to think about him sleeping with girls either.
“Oi-”
He didn’t want to think about him sleeping with anyone.
“Listen-”
Which was stupid, and he didn’t know what his problem was.
“At least wait up!”
[-]
Zoro was acting weird. He hadn’t looked Sanji in the eye since they’d left Mayor Frost’s island. Sanji guessed he was embarrassed or something, but he didn’t need to be. Sanji couldn’t tell him that, though, because just the thought of it left a nasty taste in Sanji’s mouth and he just couldn’t bring himself to bring it up.
Even their fighting-their most sacred bonding activity-was different. Sometimes Sanji would toss out an insult and Zoro would just sit there, like he wasn’t even paying attention. He just wouldn’t rise to the bait. Other times he did and he would shoot something nasty back and things would escalate as usual, but still, Zoro wasn’t himself. He was far too vicious, far too aggressive. It wasn’t just them fooling around or letting off steam. It was like Zoro didn’t even see him, didn’t even know who he was fighting.
Once, he got so carried away that Luffy and Franky had to pull him off before he sliced off Sanji’s head, or worse, his hands. Zoro was so ashamed that he didn’t eat with the others for almost a week, taking his meals in the Crow’s Nest instead. Sanji told him it hadn’t mattered, Zoro shrugged and said “fine”, and that was that. Sanji lied, of course, but he would do what he had to in order to keep his dishwashing partner. That’s what he told himself, anyway. But even that ritual seemed to be a lost cause.
“Marimo, that dish is still soaked,” Sanji snapped.
“It is not.”
“It is. Dry it again.”
Zoro did, scowling heavily. “There. Better, your Highness?”
“Much.” Sanji sported a frown of his own around his cigarette. Scrubbing at a particularly difficult stain, he grumbled, “Your job is ridiculously easy, but of course you find a way to half-ass it, can’t you?”
Zoro’s scowl deepened and he said nothing for a moment as he accepted and dried the next plate, stared at it, and then threw it back in the soapy water, splashing them both and dousing Sanji’s cigarette.
“Bastard, what are you-”
“Fuck you, cook. Fine someone else to do your stupid dish duty, then.”
“I-” was all Sanji got out before Zoro was out the galley door.
[-]
Sanji was glad that he and Zoro weren’t friends. If he and Zoro were friends, his heart would be utterly, utterly broken by now. Things got worse and worse between them which each passing day. All fighting-physical, verbal, emotional, playful, anything and everything-stopped. All of it just stopped. Zoro never gave in to Sanji’s taunts and he finally just stopped trying.
The others worried. Sanji heard them talking. The ladies asked him sometimes if he was feeling all right, and he told them he was feeling just fine. Because he was. He was. Zoro was the one with the problem, the big stupid ape, and if he didn’t want to talk to Sanji, Sanji didn’t want to talk to him. Their only interaction was during meals, and all that entailed was Sanji giving him a plate, Zoro accepting it, and Sanji taking it away when he was done. It was as simple as that. Whatever. No big deal.
And it wasn’t a big deal, really, until Sanji noticed that they didn’t look out for each other during fights anymore. It was unnerving-not feeling that strong back against his every now and then while kicking ass, not trying to one up the swordsman by kicking more ass and kicking it while looking so much cooler than him. He never really knew how much he depended on the other guy being there, egging him on, telling him to duck or turn around or fucking move before he gets his ass kicked, until he just wasn’t there.
And he got his ass kicked.
The fact that Zoro got his ass kicked too was only a slight consolation.
They sat in silence in opposite sides of the infirmary while Chopper patched them up. Sanji smoked and stared at a wall and Zoro had his arms crossed with his eyes closed like he was going to sleep. Chopper opened his mouth to speak a couple of times, but then just sighed and sniffled, a little miserably, and just did his job. Sanji said nothing, Zoro said nothing, Chopper said nothing. No one said a goddamn thing and Sanji wanted to scream, but Chopper beat him to it.
“WAAAAAAAAH!!”
They both jumped, startled and awash with guilt at the sight of tears spewing from the reindeer’s eyes as he threw his bandages and ointment down and wailed, “I can’t take it! I hate it like this! You’ve gotta make up, you jerks, you’ve just gotta!” And with that, he ran out of the room, sobbing loudly.
Sanji really did feel like a jerk.
He took a deep breath and looked at Zoro, who was already looking at him. He was pretty sure the expression on Zoro’s face-the “Gee, I really feel like a jerk” expression-was the same expression he had on his own face.
“Zoro, look-”
But it seemed that just the sound of Sanji’s voice was enough for that look to fall away and the swordsman’s eyes narrowed and his mouth turned down.
“Maybe we should-” Sanji tried to continue in vain as Zoro stood and headed for the door without a word. “Dammit, Zoro, can’t we just-”
But they couldn’t just. Because Zoro walked out. And Sanji was really, really glad that they weren’t friends.
[-]
The next island they docked at was a spring island. It was beautiful. The weather was fair, the sun was gentle, the sky was the prettiest shade of blue. Flowers of all sizes and shades were blossoming everywhere and the fragrance they released made it almost impossible not to feel giddy with each inhalation. Sanji was bound and determined to appreciate this place. It was the perfect place for wooing. Perhaps he would make a bouquet for the ladies or ask them to go for a walk after dinner when the sun was setting. He swore to himself that he was not going to let this shit with Zoro get him down.
But that was before Usopp came in and told him.
“What the hell do you mean he’s eating dinner ashore?!”
Usopp shuddered and hid halfway behind the open galley door, knees knocking.
“J-Just what I said, Sanji! He said he was going ashore and he would eat there. He said he wanted something-” He paused, gulping audibly. “He said he wanted something d-different.”
“Different,” Sanji echoed blankly. “Different, sure. That’s-that’s reasonable, isn’t it?”
“Sure!” Usopp agreed, nodding vigorously.
“Sure.” Sanji smiled and Usopp, relieved, left him so he could finish preparing the meal.
Five minutes later, dinner was done and served, and Sanji was storming through the town, ready to choke a marimo. He’d really done it this time, the asshole. This was unforgivable, the ultimate insult. Did he really care so little? Well, hell, if there was anything the past month had shown Sanji, it was that Zoro really didn’t care about him at all.
He gritted his teeth as he mind supplied him with the image of Zoro coming out of that inn on the last island. Was that what Zoro was up to? Was he going to meet someone here? Some guy? Was he going to have dinner with him instead? And then…
“DAMMIT!” Sanji swore loudly, kicking at a rock in his path. It flew through the air and landed somewhere nearby with a thunk.
“Ow! What the hell, cook?”
Sanji stopped, the sound of that voice directed at him after so long almost making his heart stop. Zoro was sitting at an outside table at a small and inexpensive looking restaurant, rubbing his head where the rock had hit him and frowning faintly. Giving the man the nastiest look he could muster, Sanji stomped over to him and slapped his palm down on the table, demanding, “Who are you here with?!”
Zoro furrowed his brow. “How the hell could I be with someone? I don’t know anyone here! And why do you care?”
“I don’t,” Sanji hissed, turning around to head back, like he was satisfied to just be sure Zoro was alone. But who the hell was he kidding? He stopped, tapping his foot on the ground a few times as if to summon up something that might or might not have been courage, before turning around again and sitting down at Zoro’s table.
“What are you-”
“Look,” Sanji snapped. “Eating meals is all I’ve got with you, shithead, and I’m not losing that like I’ve lost everything else! You got a problem with that?!”
If Zoro did, he didn’t say so.
Having dinner ashore, alone with Zoro, was a strange experience. They didn’t say much at first; Sanji hadn’t expected much conversation, anyway. He’d already taken the first step, said all he could say, all he needed to say. He hadn’t thought Zoro would take it any further. So he was surprised when, a few minutes into their meal, Zoro said, “It’s good.”
“It is,” Sanji agreed, trying not to sound as insulted as he still felt. “Better than mine?”
“No,” Zoro said, quicker than Sanji expected. “Just different.”
Relief and something else kind of warm spread through Sanji’s chest and as dinner continued, he found himself growing comfortable enough to notice things. Little things. Like the funny way Zoro held his fork sometimes, and the way his jaw set when he was cutting his meat. And the way Zoro reached up to scratch his neck when he attempted small talk. And the fact that his hair was just a little bit longer than it should’ve been.
“You need a haircut,” he remarked and chuckled when Zoro rolled his eyes.
This was better, he thought as he inhaled and the various scents of the flowers and allowed himself a smile. Much better. This was the way things were supposed to be with them. And he would do his damnedest to make sure things stayed this way, this time.
The walk back to the ship was slow, leisurely. Sanji couldn’t help but notice it was the type of walk he’d planned on perhaps asking the ladies to go on with him, but he brushed that thought aside hurriedly. He thought about Zoro and the inn again. He almost wished he’d seen the guy Zoro had spent the night with, just to get a glimpse of what Zoro’s type was.
It was probably nothing like him. Which meant that Zoro was even stupider than he’d thought, because he was an excellent catch.
Not that he wanted Zoro to want him. Just his type. There was a big difference.
“You know,” Zoro said, sort of softly, “I think I needed this.”
“Needed what?”
“Needed to know that we could be together without killing each other.”
Sanji laughed lightly and tried not to notice the sun setting. Sunsets always made normal moments seem much more romantic than they actually were. By the time they got to the ship the sky was all pink and orange and Zoro might’ve been grinning.
“What’re you looking like that for?” Sanji asked, eyebrow arched.
“No reason.”
He didn’t offer anything more, not in words. But he took Sanji by the shoulders and surged forward before Sanji could blink or ask what the hell he was thinking, and kissed him. Sanji wasn’t sure how to react, other than the quiet sound of surprise he couldn’t stop, which was muffled by Zoro’s lips. But he didn’t really have to react, because Zoro pulled away shortly, his hands still gripping Sanji’s shoulders as he waited patiently for…something; Sanji wasn’t sure what.
“Well…” he offered lamely, after a moment.
“Well?”
“Well…things certainly are making sense now.”
“…Ah, shit.”
Dropping his hands quickly, suddenly embarrassed, Zoro hastily climbed back onto the ship. Sanji watched him go, touched his lips lightly, inhaled, and felt giddy.
[-]
“Here, Zoro.”
Zoro took the wet plate with reluctance, drying it grudgingly. Sanji whistled cheerfully as he scrubbed the next dish clean, smirking at the other man’s scowl.
“I can’t believe you’ve got me on dish duty again,” he grumbled.
“Here, Zoro,” Sanji chirped, moving on to a glass. “Maybe I like doing dishes with you, marimo.”
Zoro didn’t have anything to say to that, just sighed as Sanji held out the glass and reached for it. Sanji waited until his hand had closed around it before he captured the swordsman’s fingers with his own. He looked at other man pointedly, trying not to get distracted by the faint blush spreading across Zoro’s nose, and murmured, “Here, Zoro.”
Zoro’s entire face reddened, much to Sanji’s amusement, but that didn’t stop him from leaning over determinedly and kissing Sanji briefly on the lips. When he pulled away he had that grin on his face again, like he’d accomplished something really hard.
Sanji was just proud of him for not dropping the glass.