untitled (One Piece, Zoro/Sanji) for askcaptaintashigi
I was prompted with “value me” (one character telling another how they feel about them) by askcaptaintashigi
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Zoro/Sanji
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters do not belong to me.
Word Count: 490
A/N: Takes place during the three day rest period in Alabasta.
It’s still raining the day after the fighting stops. Sanji wakes before the others, his tired mind and wounded body following routine, prepared for a breakfast he won’t be cooking (he will be asking permission to enter the royal kitchen as soon as he’s able, though; he intends to learn everything about each exotic Alabastan spice he’s never seen).
The bed Zoro slept in is empty and there is a trail of blood splotches leading out the door. “You’re going to clean that up,” he tells the idiot when he finds him sitting outside on a covered balcony, wrapped in fresh bandages. “How’d you end up out here?”
“The rain,” he says, simply, and after spending so much time in the desert, Sanji does mostly believe him. He may have just been trying to go north again.
He sits beside him, accepting an invitation that wasn’t given. “Fresh pack,” he sings to himself as he pulls unopened cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket.
“Lung disease,” Zoro mutters under his breath.
“Kidney failure,” Sanji counters the hypocrite sweetly.
All he gets in response is a snort. They sit in silence broken only by the flick of the lighter and the pitter-patter of raindrops and Sanji allows it until exasperation overwhelms him.
“Only you would be out here brooding after such a huge win!”
Zoro barely looks at him (not that Sanji wants him to, not with that broody face). “I’m not brooding.”
“You’re not happy.”
“Yes, I am.” Zoro’s brow furrows and Sanji surprises himself with the sudden urge to reach over and smooth the lines (an urge he quickly squashes). “I can cut steel.”
Sanji blows smoke at him in lieu of applauding. “I’d congratulate you on your accomplishment, but I know you won’t be satisfied with it.”
“Why should I be?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” he says with a roll of his eyes, “because that’s fucking incredible?”
Zoro looks at him, then, an eyebrow quirked, a noticeable tug at the corner of his mouth, and Sanji immediately wants him to go back to sulking. “You think I’m incredible?”
Luckily, a retort is right there on his tongue. “I think you’re an incredible idiot.” He pays very close attention to his cigarette and misses the movement, doesn’t know what’s happening until Zoro is leaning into him, arm pressed intimately against arm. “What are you doing?” He refuses to let any of the flustered fluttering in his chest sneak into his voice.
It doesn’t matter, of course, but he can’t know that. Can’t know that Zoro can hear his breathing just as clearly as he hears the rain, can listen to the way his pulse races. “The feeling’s mutual.”
“Whatever,” Sanji mumbles, distracting himself by putting out the cigarette he hasn’t nearly finished, working hard to keep his face from coloring. “How does someone cut steel, anyway?”
When he glances at him again, Zoro's just smiling.
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Zoro/Sanji
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters do not belong to me.
Word Count: 490
A/N: Takes place during the three day rest period in Alabasta.
It’s still raining the day after the fighting stops. Sanji wakes before the others, his tired mind and wounded body following routine, prepared for a breakfast he won’t be cooking (he will be asking permission to enter the royal kitchen as soon as he’s able, though; he intends to learn everything about each exotic Alabastan spice he’s never seen).
The bed Zoro slept in is empty and there is a trail of blood splotches leading out the door. “You’re going to clean that up,” he tells the idiot when he finds him sitting outside on a covered balcony, wrapped in fresh bandages. “How’d you end up out here?”
“The rain,” he says, simply, and after spending so much time in the desert, Sanji does mostly believe him. He may have just been trying to go north again.
He sits beside him, accepting an invitation that wasn’t given. “Fresh pack,” he sings to himself as he pulls unopened cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket.
“Lung disease,” Zoro mutters under his breath.
“Kidney failure,” Sanji counters the hypocrite sweetly.
All he gets in response is a snort. They sit in silence broken only by the flick of the lighter and the pitter-patter of raindrops and Sanji allows it until exasperation overwhelms him.
“Only you would be out here brooding after such a huge win!”
Zoro barely looks at him (not that Sanji wants him to, not with that broody face). “I’m not brooding.”
“You’re not happy.”
“Yes, I am.” Zoro’s brow furrows and Sanji surprises himself with the sudden urge to reach over and smooth the lines (an urge he quickly squashes). “I can cut steel.”
Sanji blows smoke at him in lieu of applauding. “I’d congratulate you on your accomplishment, but I know you won’t be satisfied with it.”
“Why should I be?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” he says with a roll of his eyes, “because that’s fucking incredible?”
Zoro looks at him, then, an eyebrow quirked, a noticeable tug at the corner of his mouth, and Sanji immediately wants him to go back to sulking. “You think I’m incredible?”
Luckily, a retort is right there on his tongue. “I think you’re an incredible idiot.” He pays very close attention to his cigarette and misses the movement, doesn’t know what’s happening until Zoro is leaning into him, arm pressed intimately against arm. “What are you doing?” He refuses to let any of the flustered fluttering in his chest sneak into his voice.
It doesn’t matter, of course, but he can’t know that. Can’t know that Zoro can hear his breathing just as clearly as he hears the rain, can listen to the way his pulse races. “The feeling’s mutual.”
“Whatever,” Sanji mumbles, distracting himself by putting out the cigarette he hasn’t nearly finished, working hard to keep his face from coloring. “How does someone cut steel, anyway?”
When he glances at him again, Zoro's just smiling.