Fic Collab Chapter 9
I am profoundly grateful to everyone who has stuck with this conglomeration of shamelessness and man porn. I give all my humps to Stark, but to everyone who reads this, you have my eternal appreciation. Every new review is on more happy-cookie in my happy-cookie jar. - Sinisterbug
Like Bug said, a big thank you to everyone who has stuck with us through this porn. Bug, I love you, thank you so much for writing with me. I'm truly honored. - StarkBlack
Note: We don’t own One Piece, obviously.
Title: The Nature Of Things
Authors: sinisterbug and stark_black
Rating: Big fat R to NC-17
Paring: Zoro/hookers/Zoro, Sanji/hookers, and eventually Zoro/Sanji/Zoro
Warnings: Yaoi, language, and general retarded-ness.
Summary: When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit.
Sanji thanked all of the gods, the fish in the sea, and every beautiful woman in the world that he’d been the one to catch the messenger gull. Zoro would have tortured him to no end had he seen the obnoxiously formal letter and the contents of the small package that arrived with it.
The bird had shown up one week after they had left-what Sanji liked to call in the privacy of his own mind-The Man-Brothel Island. It was never going to be anything else. It was the island where Sanji had gone to his first male brothel, the place where he had gotten drunk and flirted-yes, flirted-with male prostitutes, and where he had most definitely crossed over from completely straight and into bi-curious territory.
He shivered slightly.
Leaning against the inside of the galley door, the cook opened the envelope with hands that were just short of steady and unfolded the parchment.
My Dearest Sir,
Greetings from myself and all the brothers of our establishment- it began in fancy handwriting.
Sanji quickly looked to the bottom of the letter and saw the Christian’s name signed, much to his disappointment. He had expected, hoped for a letter from Saul.
It has only been a few days since your and Zoro’s departure, but for many of us here, it has already become lonely and bereft without you.
Sanji snorted and read on.
I trust and hope this letter finds you well. I am writing at the request of a certain friend of yours, whose intimate acquaintance you gained upon your visit.
Sanji sighed, resigned. Saul hadn’t broken Sanji’s trust, he knew that for sure. Christian was just a slightly omniscient dick who probably-definitely-saw through Sanji’s bullshit.
Unfortunately, the scope of his greeting is quite long winded, so I shall summarize in brief that he is grateful, and he wishes to return your kindness.
Please find a tool enclosed in the package that was hopefully delivered to you alongside this letter. As a chef who no doubt is required to be thoughtful with the utensils he is presented, I have no doubt that you shall find just the right use for this object.
Do pass on mine and Roman’s regards to Mr. Roronoa. Let him know that Roman’s bruise has healed quite nicely, though his gait has not yet returned to normal.
Lastly, it is the express wish of all employed at this establishment that you and your companion will honor us with your presence again someday.
With affection,
Christian
The chef’s throat tightened unpleasantly as he read the last line over again. “...you and your companion...”
Sanji could have been dignified about opening the small bundle, but since he had no idea what it could be-why would Saul give him a tool?-he fumbled with the wrapping and dropped it once before he managed to get it open.
When he did, he suddenly felt very exposed. Glinting up at him from his palm was a coin. One side was recognizable, the other imprinted with an image that must have been representative of the island. Frankly, the print was too blurry for him to really understand what he was looking at, but he really didn’t care.
Sanji didn’t know what to think. Not wanting to risk Zoro finding the letter and discovering he had a coin, he almost wanted to burn it, and toss the coin overboard. But even though the letter had been written by Christian, the coin had been sent to him by Saul. He couldn’t just throw it away.
So he settled for stashing both in the most secure place he could think of: on the very top shelf, hidden behind a box of turnips in the cold store stuck inside a can labeled ‘meat product’. They kept a chain on that door to keep Luffy out. Zoro would never have any reason for going in there, since the booze was stored elsewhere. There was no safe place on the Thousand Sunny, but it was less likely to be discovered there than in the bunk.
* * *
The last two weeks had been fairly distracting, which Zoro was grateful for. A hurricane, two marine incidents and the chase to find the Abominable Unicorn Ghost before Usopp lost his toes forever. That had been truly fucked up.
“Unicorn” sounds all butterflies and rainbows, but Luffy conveniently ignored the “Abominable” and “Ghost” part.
Just busy enough, he’d thought, over and over again, until it turned into a mantra. He and Sanji were overdue in giving their time and attention to their crewmates and making sure those relationships were fostered, tended, poked, terrorized and otherwise seen to. They really hadn’t been able to... what? Spend time together?
They were three to four days out from any land, and if Zoro was being completely honest, he was praying-no, he didn’t pray-insisting on more distractions. The swordsman didn’t need Sanji suddenly getting introspective about anything that had happened with Christian and the boys. So far the chef hadn’t said anything or acted any differently, so Zoro let himself breathe that much easier for the moment.
Fuck, they needed some women. Just... clean the slate so that he knew Sanji was focusing on women, so that Sanji would know he was focusing on women, or more importantly, not on men that looked like Sanji, or Sanji himself. Zoro apparently didn’t need Sanji comfortable or curious about that part of himself.
He kicked himself for being naive enough to think that letting Sanji walk into that part of his life wasn’t potentially going to raise questions. Or put big, neon signs all over the place that just begged for the perverted chef to pay attention to them.
Franky strummed his guitar and Zoro floated on the sound. It was a balm that soothed his anxiety, alongside the perfect beauty of the afternoon. The sun shining down on him as he dozed helped the feeling of sedation, along with the several bottles of rum that sat empty next to the two of them.
“Hey, Zoro...”
Franky’s gravelly and strangely pitched voice somehow didn’t interrupt the strumming of the instrument.
“Hm,” was all the response Zoro could muster in the delicious haze.
“You’ve been hiding things.” The strumming picked up a frantic pace for a moment before abruptly pausing. “Hiding yourself. Hiding your... passion!” The Robo-Man whispered emphatically before resuming the chaotic noise.
Zoro’s pulse quickened, but he remained objective. Sitting next to him was, for most intents and purposes, a Robot... man. In a thong. He could be talking about anything. Or-as Zoro judged most conversations-nothing at all.
He grunted.
Franky began plucking out a high pitched melody. “When were you going to tell us that you and Cook-bro are in the manliest of relationships? The pinnacle endeavor that only the heartiest-”
Zoro lurched up into a sitting position, sending grass wafting a few inches into the air before settling back down. His jaw was clenched tight, narrowed eyes steeling for a fight.
Frankly rocked back, exclaiming, “Whoa, bro, you’ve got me all wrong!” He changed the tune again, slowly strumming a gentle sound. “I just saw some things on the last island that, ya know, rocked my world, ow!!!” He laughed, but the sound faded as Zoro didn’t move. Not an inch.
“What did you see?” the green-haired man seethed.
Franky frowned and set the guitar down. He took a good look around to make sure no one had noticed their conversation. The engineer leaned in, lowered his sunglasses a little and gave Zoro a stern look.
“Who are you talking to like that, brother?”
Zoro seemed to falter for a moment, but the only visible signs were a waiver in the thin line that had become his lips, and a twitch of his left eyebrow. Then he exhaled sharply through his nose and relaxed his posture.
“What did you see, Franky?” he pressed, sounding resigned.
“Well, I saw you go to a manly brothel. I saw Sanji get invited to a manly brothel by a... handsome young man, and the two of you coming and going at unusual hours.”
Zoro directed his gaze to the ocean and squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments before exhaling again, centering himself.
What the fuck did he do now? Lie? That idiot chef could not find out about this. If Franky suspected, who else knew? Sanji would blame Zoro without a doubt, and by “blame” he meant “brutally murder”.
Neither of them was going to get away with murder on this ship, so killing Sanji before the chef killed him was not an option. And since Franky was just as much super mutant as anyone else on the crew, threats against the large bionic man weren’t a viable solution either.
“We aren’t... together,” Zoro finally muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “And he’ll kill himself or me or you if he finds out that anyone-” he turned and fixed his gaze on the robot again, “anyone thinks he’s gay. Because he’s not. I am, sort’ve, he’s not. You don’t understand what you saw, and I’m not going to explain it to you. Sanji is not gay, do you understand?”
Franky stared for a moment, then blinked. Zoro watched as the Robot-Man reached his robot-hand towards his robot-face. He paused briefly, then a small click alerted Zoro to the opening that appeared where a smaller robotic hand came out. This mini-robot-hand then reached up to push Franky’s sunglasses up his metal nose.
“I see... or not.” He resumed strumming his guitar, but the effort was a little more absent-minded. “I do want to know why Cook-bro would go to a gay bar if he wasn’t riding the gay-wave.”
Zoro ignored him and began looking around for another source of alcohol. Franky noticed, and produced some pinched-earlier-that-day rum from a storage space in his thigh.
Franky raised an eyebrow and dangled the bottle above them both. “Open your tortured soul to Big Brother Franky, bro.”
“I just said I wasn’t going to explain,” the green haired man muttered, but it was half-hearted. Zoro sighed and snatched the rum Franky dropped into his lap. He took a good swig before he explained the sordid tale. He didn’t admit to his stupid addiction to the cook.
That’s how he was starting to look at it recently, anyway: a highly destructive illness that could wipe out everything in one unguarded second of stupidity.
No more talking about it, no more male brothels, and sure as hell no more men.
“So Cook-bro wanted to show his suuuuuper masculine support by accepting the invitation to dinner,” Franky said somewhat sarcastically, to the swordsman’s surprise.
“Whatever. Morbid curiosity, support, who cares.”
Franky made a motion for Zoro to pass him the liquor. He nursed it eagerly and pulled back with a loud smack. “Aaaaah. Brhaaaaaa! Sheesh... yow... So, that look-alike-”
“Leave it. You know all you need to know. Who else have you been talking to about this?”
Franky made a mocking face and muttered at the swordsman before handing the bottle back. “No one, but…” he hesitated, “I don’t know, really. Robin has been watching you two, and you know what that probably means.”
Zoro’s grunted. “She’s not dumb enough to confront him about it. But you’re close to the woman, make sure she knows he’s not gay.”
“Oi, don’t call her ‘the woman’, brother. It’s not manly.”
Zoro smirked briefly. “Right. Please tell Robin how it is.”
Frankly frowned but nodded. “I’m your ultra-strong shoulder to cry on, brother,” he said solemnly.
Zoro grimaced and took another drink.
* * *
A nail dug into Sanji’s back as he leaned against the wall of the boy’s bunk. He panted into the silence. With his hand wrapped around his cock, he called up each image vividly for the umpteeth time. Haunted, was a good word for his emotional and sexual state. And, if that wasn’t enough, he was starting to lose his goddamn mind. One moment he’d be fantasizing that his hand was wrapped in soft strands of sandy hair, the next struggling to grip to much shorter, stupid, mossy, seaweed-colored hair. Grip it and possibly pull it down, shove it, fucking yank that shit harder and harder-
God damnit. God fucking damnit!
Sanji arched his back and clenched his jaw. The fantasy got more graphic as he rode the high of his climax, his hand working quickly and the rest of his body clenched in ecstasy as fantasy-Zoro choked and tried to swallow. Sanji imagined a tanned jaw flexing like it did around the hilt of that white sword and he groaned softly. In his head he commanded his imaginary-Zoro to run his tongue over him as he came down.
Finally, gasping for air, Sanji relaxed, his back hitting the wall painfully. His breath hitched repeatedly for several moments, ears ringing loudly as the rush of nerves from the top of his crown to the tips of his toes receded in waves.
Shit. He really liked Zoro on his knees. He really, really liked seeing Zoro on his knees...
Spent, he pushed himself off the wall and immediately fell back, blood rushing to his head. The chef took a few more deep breaths and tried again.
Slowly, he straightened his pants and tucked his shirt back in. This was just fucking ridiculous. Of course he wasn’t going to stop this and of course it was only getting fucking worse, particularly since he received the package. To put it bluntly, he’d never come so hard before Saul fucking cracked his world open and scrambled everything inside with his gorgeous mouth-
Shit, and not to mention the fact that it was near impossible to look Zoro in the face anymore. Whenever he did, all he could picture was the way the swordsman had looked when Roman had his hands all over him. Shit, Zoro was sexy when he was being submissive. Sanji knew he could make Zoro look like that, and more. He could rock Zoro’s world! He could do stuff for Zoro that Roman could only dream about! Sex was Roman’s job, but you know what? Fuck him. Sanji was naturally good at it. If he seriously put his mind to it? Hell. If he ever got the chance with Zoro, all it would take would be one time and Zoro would never want to go back to a brothel-any fucking brothel-ever again.
Sanji growled in exasperation at himself and did a few little hops in place to shake everything loose again.
Whatever, who was he kidding anyway? He might be curious about sex with a man... okay, mostly just with Zoro, but that didn’t mean the whole concept still didn’t freak him out a little. Truth be told, if he ever really did get the chance, with any guy, he wouldn’t really know what to do.
Okay, he’d have an idea but not... Details you know? Details.
He straightened his tie and ran his hands over his shirt, smoothing wrinkles. The sudden but increasing cameos from his crewmate had been disturbing and fucking sexier than he could wrap his mind around. And he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He did not understand any of this.
It was like the man he knew-the straight man-was inhabiting half of his body, literally one half, split vertically straight down the middle. Then there was this interloper, this loud, obnoxious, insistent and enthusiastic mother fucker living in the other half. And fuck it all, his straight side wasn’t even offended by this freak!
He’d had any number of wild ideas-ideas that were ludicrous, but started to seem more reasonable the more desperate he got. But then something would bring Sanji back to reality. The reality where it was a very bad idea to make assumptions as brass as the ones he was making; the reality that could be shattered by just one careless move. The crew, their dreams, came first.
Opening the door to the cabin, Sanji stepped out into the sunlight. He blinked a few times and raised a hand to shield his eyes. The crew were all pretty much where he had left them: sprawled on the grass or sunning on the deck. He didn’t see Zoro anywhere, but that was a good thing. Sanji didn’t want to see him anyway. Nope.
From the deck, Luffy and Chopper waved to him and the cook nodded a greeting as he lit a cigarette. It was several hours past breakfast so there was no doubt he was going to have to feed his crew before they all starved to death. He inhaled deeply and moved in the direction of the galley.
He got about four steps before Zoro rounded the corner.
Good thing the swordsman was watching where he was going, otherwise Sanji would have run smack into him. The cook did what he thought was a fairly good job of keeping his inner turmoil off his face, but the look Zoro gave him said he failed miserably.
“What’s your problem, cook?”
Sanji exhaled. “Nothing. What’s your problem?”
Zoro’s eyes narrowed. “I asked you first.”
Sanji slipped his hands in his pockets. He tried desperately not to think of his earlier fantasy-the one he had been having not five minutes ago-where Zoro was sucking his cock so enthusiastically, but that didn’t really work either.
“I’m on my way to make lunch, Marimo. Get outta my way.”
“I’m not in your way, you’re in mine.”
Sanji gritted his teeth, knowing full well that Zoro was antagonizing him on purpose, but unable to stop himself from retaliating.
“The moss on your head finally take over your brain? I said move!”
Zoro sneered. Sanji had known it was coming.
“Make me, asshole.”
Lunch was a little late, and Franky pitched a fit about the railing on Sunny’s starboard side, but as Sanji stood over the stove later that afternoon, he reluctantly admitted to himself that he felt a little better.
It wasn’t cooking, and it wasn’t getting lost in the arms of a beautiful woman, but fighting with Zoro was definitely the next best thing.
* * *
It was six weeks until they were within a whore’s reach again. The astronomically impossible events that had led them to this thriving port were too insane to think about.
Marines, pirate armadas, fucking sea witches (okay, that one hadn’t been so bad), and flesh-eating goats for crying out loud! As Sanji brought his glass to his lips, he wrestled with mixed feelings of disbelief and complete and utter contentment.
His life was fucking amazing. Yeah, there were bumps along the way, and yeah, he got frustrated with certain rubber captains and stupid green-haired first mates (for vastly different reasons) once in a while, and he sometimes sported a limp or a few extra stitches, but goddamn it, every day was a fucking adventure. He wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.
Standing over the grill, Sanji rotated the beef skewers and checked the edges of the peppers. The group of ten on the right needed to come off soon, but they could use a tad bit more charring. The cook took another swallow of his drink and frowned when he saw the bottom of the glass. Had he really just polished off three mugs of this shit? No wonder his head was fuzzy.
The Strawhats had landed on the island the day before and had wandered into Toya City just about the time the sun had started to set. This was when the flesh-eating goat problem had happened. Sanji didn’t want to think about all the crap they had gone through during the night and into this morning. The cages were full again and the beasts were on their way back to whatever lab they had come from, so in retrospect nothing else really mattered.
Toya’s people were grateful for the Strawhat’s help and had decided to celebrate. Sanji had offered his services as a chef. The people had accepted enthusiastically and now the town square was filled with the smells of cooking, music, and laughter.
Sanji smiled a tipsy sort of smile and flipped the skewers again. Life was so fucking right at the moment.
He looked up just in time to see Luffy, Chopper, Usopp and Franky performing their world famous chopsticks-up-the-nose trick.
“Sanji-san, is the food almost ready? I’m skin and bones!” Brook approached, surrounded by several small, wide-eyed children, all clamoring around his legs. “But then again, I am a skeleton! Yo ho ho ho!”
The chef grinned and whipped a couple skewers off the grill and passed them around to Brook and the kids.
“Ya know, it’s always pissed me off that you can’t taste my cooking, hic!” The hiccup caught Sanji off guard and he chuckled at himself. Those drinks were hitting him harder and faster than he’d expected.
“Aaah,” the boney musician replied, his voice lowering softly, “But despite not being able to taste it with my tongue, Sanji-san, I still can taste good food with my heart.”
The children were silent. Sanji had not been expecting the compliment, and he reddened. “Ah-” was all he managed before the children and Brook broke out into laughter.
“Shut up, ya stupid kids! And you too, you stupid skeleton pervert! Get lost!” He turned back to the grill with a growl. The children ran off, giggling. Brook remained.
Another laugh joined in, but this time it was Robin, carrying an empty plate. “You and Zoro-san are as bad at accepting compliments as Chopper.”
Sanji’s heart went googly, as did his expression. “Robin-swaaan, who the hell would want to compliment that stupid ape? And thank you for returning this plate to me, my beautiful queen!” He took it from her with a bow and started piling vegetables on it. “Can I get you anything?”
“Neh, neh, Sanji!” Chopper and Usopp came running up to the expanding group excitedly.
“Where’s Zoro? You, him and Franky and Chopper have to show the Postmaster Flaming Cactus trick!” the marksman insisted.
“I don’t friggin know-”
“Absolutely not!” Nami’s voice rang out beautifully over the din of the party. “I forbade you idiots from doing that the LAST TIME I FORBADE YOU FROM DOING IT! I’m not wasting a single beli of my hard-stolen treasure to pay for the damages!” Sanji’s red headed fire goddess stormed her way through the crowd to join them with Luffy and Franky on her heels.
“But Naamiiiii,” his captain whined, “I promise-”
“NO,” Nami thundered. “You promised last time, and the time before that!”
“But Navigator-chan, we’ve gotten better since last time-”
Nami rounded on Franky. “Do you like it when Zoro and Sanji wreck your ship? No!” she shouted. “The Sunny is yours, and my share of the treasure is MINE. Every time weeeee-” she exaggerated the word and waved her hands around to indicate the entire crew, “-have to pay for some act of mass destruction done by you or one of these other monsters, I lose some of my money! So NO!”
Sanji snorted as Franky and the boys sighed, their hopes dashed.
“Don’t upset Nami-sswan, you idiots,” Sanji growled. “At least try to act c-civilized and not destroy the city we busted our asses to save!”
They each groaned in turn, Luffy huffing as he pouted.
Chopper perked up. “Then let’s do the Flying Fire Penguin!”
A chorus of “yeahs!” went up and Nami smacked her hand over her eyes. The boys were off, Brook included this time, and Sanji was left to bask in the ladies’ presence.
Robin comforted Nami as she contemplated how much it would cost them this time.
“Don worry about it, Nami-san, I’ll won’t let thosse idiots break anything,” Sanji crooned as he took the last of the skewers from the grill and loaded them onto a platter. He flourished the pile of meat and veggies as he did a half twirl and set the entire thing on a table. It was fairly amazing he pulled it off, considering how the world kept spinning after he was sure his body had stopped.
“Sanji, where is Zoro?” Nami asked.
***
Maybe it was a good thing he was heading back to the ship, he needed to sober up some anyway. Sanji realized that Nami’s concern over Zoro possibly being drunk in public somewhere causing havoc was valid, but knowing the swordsman the way he did, Sanji fully expected to find him piss drunk in the crow’s nest.
The walk to the docks was interesting. The road sort of curved to the right and Sanji was pretty sure that was new. It hadn’t curved so much earlier that day. He chuckled to himself as he neared the ramp leading to Sunny for no reason at all and slowly started to climb.
Of course, the night couldn’t get any better, so logically it had to get worse. When Sanji reached the deck and hoisted himself over the railing, he noticed the door to the galley was open. Why the hell was the galley door open? Who the hell was on watch!? Why weren’t they watching things!?
But it all became quite clear in a fuzzy sort of way when the cook flung the door open, sending it crashing loudly against the wall. Zoro sat at the table, feet propped up, leaning back in the chair. The bottle of pilfered wine halfway to his lips froze when the swordsman realized who was standing there in the doorway.
“Ya know,” Sanji started, his tongue feeling a little too big for his mouth, “There’s thiss party in the Town Square with all kinds of spectacular liquor things happening, and you’ve come back to the ship to ssteal my good cooking wine.”
Zoro stared at him. “So?”
Sanji moved into the room towards the table. “Iss just one of those things that makes you such a great asshole.”
Zoro growled and slammed the bottle down on the table. He started to stand but Sanji put up his hands in defense.
“Wait, wait, hold on. I didn’t really mean it in a bad way. Well, I did, but I didn’t mean to... never mind. I don’t really care that you’re an asshole and I don’t really care that you took the wine ‘cause I’m assuming you’re on watch and I don’t wanna fight ‘cause I think I might be a little drunk right now? Hic-”
Zoro rolled his eyes and sat back down with a thud.
Sanji looked at him and blinked.
“I think I might be too.”
Sanji chuckled and dropped onto the seat across from the swordsman. “Well shit, how many bottles did you steal?”
Zoro shrugged. “Four or five.”
Sanji snorted and folded his arms on the table, dropping his head down. For some reason that was really funny. Zoro had stolen four or five bottles? That was going to be super expensive to replace! Why was he laughing?
“Oh my God I hate you s’ometimes,” Sanji snickered.
Zoro hummed. “Well, I hate you all the time, so don’t feel bad.”
Sanji hissed a laugh through his teeth and looked up to find the swordsman trying to hide a small smile. He pointed an unsteady finger at Zoro and waggled it back and forth.
“I’m gonna kill you tomorrow once my headache goes away.”
It was Zoro’s turn to snort. “Whatever, you won’t even remember this.”
“Will too.”
“Nope.” Zoro took another long drink from the almost empty bottle. “I could say pretty much anything to you right now and you’d forget it by tomorrow morning.”
“You’re on,” Sanji sat up, bracing himself on the edge of the table.
Zoro looked at him and blinked slowly. Or at least Sanji thought it was kind of slow, it might not have been, everything was kind of slow at the moment. But, besides everything being slow, Zoro really did look a little out of sorts. Maybe he really was really drunk.
Sanji did something that was perilously close to a giggle.
Zoro ran the back of his hand over his mouth and his eyelids sank to half-mast. Sanji felt hot suddenly, flushed. He felt his heart thump against his ribs in anticipation of what Zoro was about to say.
Zoro looked at him with those hooded eyes, his face a canvas of seriousness as he readied himself for some kind of confession.
“Sometimes...” Zoro finally spoke, ever so softly, “I want to steal a pair of Robin’s heels and try them on, just to see what they feel like.”
For a moment, Sanji just started, dumbfounded, but then a grin spread across his features. “You son of a bitch, I totally thought you were fucking sserious for a second! What the fuck!”
But to his surprise, Zoro didn’t crack a smile. The swordsman didn’t even move.
“What?” the green-haired man growled and Sanji suddenly pictured Zoro as a testy badger, his hackles raised, the defensive little thing backing into its hole. “Haven’t you ever wondered how they walk in those things? Or run? I mean, they serious take some shit out there. Why the fuck would they chose to do that?”
Sanji only found himself laughing harder, not so much because of what Zoro was saying, but because of the look he was giving Sanji from across the table.
“Oh my God,” he chortled, “Zoro, you’re such a dumbass.”
Zoro’s brow furrowed. His hand tightened around the neck of the wine bottle. “Laugh it up shit-cook. I don’t fucking care. Like I said, you won’t remember this tomorrow.”
Sanji put his hands up. “No, no, Zoro. You are a dumbass, but not...” Letting another very manic and admittedly non-masculine giggle escape his throat, Sanji reached out in silent request for the wine bottle. To his surprise, Zoro handed it over. He took a swallow and shook his head.
“A’course I’ve wondered what it feels like. I mean, I can’t imagine walking around on my tiptoes all day. It’s gotta be the most fucking uncomfortable thing ever.”
Zoro’s expression had softened and he relaxed the more the cook spoke. When Sanji offered the bottle back, he took it and took a long drink.
“They know it looks damn good... but that can’t be the only reason, right?”
Sanji shrugged. “See? It’s a misstry. A fucking awesome, sexy misstry. Maybe you really should steal a pair of Robin-chwan’s shoes and try ‘em out. Gather intel on how the other sside operates.”
Suddenly, to Sanji’s utter surprise, the corner of Zoro’s mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles. The cook’s stomach did a little flip flop, and he knew it wasn’t because of the alcohol.
“So,” Zoro drawled, suddenly shifting and leaning back in his seat again. “Yer tellin’ me you wanna see me try on lady shoes.”
Sanji froze, stuck between wanting to laugh and feeling like he’d just been caught with his pants down.
“I... well, no...” Well actually, who was he kidding? “Okay, maybe, yeah. But you know...”
Zoro’s left eyebrow rose slightly in response.
Sanji leaned forward conspiratorially. “Pretty sure Robin-chhhwan’s shoes are too big for me. And Nami’s are too small.”
The cook’s eyes widened in mock amazement. “Shit, that means if I want to wear girls’ shoes, I’ll have to actually go buy some...”
Zoro roared with laughter, slapping his knee. Warmth spread through Sanji’s body, but he gave himself the usual line - it was the alcohol.
* * *
Two days later, the hangovers had worn off and he and the swordsman were back to sniping at each other and fighting. They were setting sail tomorrow, and he had business to attend to.
Sanji wanted food, he wanted booze, he wanted a hot ass, and a warm bed.
He’d had made it six blocks into Toya City when a terrible shiver ran up his spine. He hadn’t been looking for it. He hadn’t. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Not since entering the city, anyway. This possibility, too, had become a part of his fantasy, particularly now that he owned a coin.
Even so, the excitement of their adventure finally winding down and the lure of the old fall-back had completely blocked the idea from his head.
So there it was-the two-toned sun painted brightly on the side of a tall building, calling to him, screaming at him to acknowledge its existence, daring him to process it. Good thing he’d left the coin where he put it the first time.
Not that he would have used it. No fucking way.
Sanji turned on his heel and walked the other direction. He needed to find a woman. More specifically, he needed to pick up a woman. No brothels, no whores, just a bar and a drink and all his charm. He needed to know he still had it…
…that he still wanted it.
* * *
Zoro hadn’t seen it from the ship this time, but he had known it was there. A port this big, this prosperous, it was a certainty there would be a male brothel. You didn’t stick hundreds of thousands of people on an island this big and expect that the demand wouldn’t win out.
Wandering the streets of Toya City, hoping he would either get too lost to find it, or maybe, just lost enough to come across it by accident, he growled under his breath at his earlier lack of discipline. He had steeled his will against it. He had fought, he had agonized, terrorized himself, waged a bloody, violent, epic war in his soul over it, but ultimately he had succumbed. The coin sat hot in his hand at this very moment, a terrible weight crushed between his fingers and his palm. Zoro was sure that if he were to look down, open his fist, his skin would be charred black, slowly melting away from his bones.
It’s just in case… just on the off-chance…
Turning down another street in yet another busy district, Zoro caught sight of a hanging sign that read Dancing Jug. It was too nice an area to be full of lowlifes, but not nice enough to have none. Maybe he’d get in a fight and fuck someone up. That seemed normal.
Zoro knew a bar was a bad idea. He knew he would find a reason to fuck someone up even if there wasn’t a good one. He knew he was probably going to end up breaking a whole bunch of stuff and in the end have nothing to show for it but bloody knuckles or something worse. He knew he’d be better off channeling that energy on an opportunity with a woman he wasn’t sure would come up again in the near future, but he really didn’t feel like listening to himself at the moment.
He tucked the coin into his boot and told himself to forget about everything.
Zoro was going to get himself straight, so to speak. But first, he needed to get drunk. And that required a lot of drinking.
* * *
“But that’s impossible! You are so totally pulling my leg right now!”
Sanji grinned and took another swallow of his drink. She called herself Aya. She had long brown hair, smooth skin, and a sweet smile. She was also not a prostitute.
It wasn’t as if the idea of being with a prostitute was no longer appealing to Sanji, but prostitutes made him think of brothels, and brothels made him think of male prostitutes, and male prostitutes made him think of Zoro getting sexed up by male prostitutes. Sanji really didn’t want to be thinking of Zoro period, and thinking of Zoro in a sexual situation was just infinitely worse.
No, tonight was going to be fun. He was going to woo this beautiful woman, and then take her home and make love to her with such passion that she would write him love letters every day. She would leave lipstick kisses on the pages that had been sprayed with sweet-smelling perfume, and then Sanji would sit back and be absolutely fine with Zoro catching each and every one of them from the messenger gulls.
This was the plan anyway.
It had taken less than he had expected to rope Aya in with stories of the Strawhat’s adventures. She listened with wide eyes and giggled at all his jokes. He crooned her praises as the alcohol in his system settled his earlier nerves. Their bodies moved closer together as the evening turned into night.
Sanji had forgotten how satisfying the chase could be. He liked brothels for when he was tired or stressed and he wanted a sure thing, but once in a while, it was thrilling to come in with a clean slate and try with a woman that could at any moment decide that no, she wasn’t into it. Lately he had been so caught up in this stupid game with Zoro that he hadn’t had the time, or the opportunity, to work for anything. He had been focusing so much on one-upping the swordsman, or trying to prove himself, or just-
God damnit he was thinking about Zoro again!
He turned his attention back to Aya and gently pushed a lock of her soft hair behind her ear. Whatever she had been saying died on her tongue as she looked into his eyes. Her breasts brushed against Sanji’s arm as he reached around her and pulled her close. He needed to get it together and focus on the task at hand. Not let his mind wander to stupid green-haired swordsmen that had started to get really fucking sexy when they were being annoying.
“Hey, bartender!” Sanji called. “Another round for me and the lady!”
* * *
Zoro froze halfway through the entrance, that familiar timbre carrying across the tavern alerting the swordsman to the chef’s presence. His vision zeroed in on Sanji immediately. The chef was tucked away in a corner, wrapped in a gorgeous woman, smiling that dashing smile and drinking in the woman’s adoration.
This is a good thing, Zoro told himself. It was this very scenario that he had hoped would win out. Sanji had let everything roll off his shoulder, and so the swordsman was safe for that much longer. However, knowing this did nothing to ease the embarrassing and painfully telling ache in his chest.
He wanted to maim something. He wanted to tear the fucking city apart. He wanted a fight so fucking bad. But he quickly turned and left.
The adrenaline coursing through him quickly burned itself off as he stalked angrily down the Toya City streets, spending far too long trying to find his destination and fuming the entire way. There wasn’t any alcohol in him, and he’d yet to find a good outlet for his energy. He couldn’t fathom looking at a woman at this point. Any whore or bar chick would only serve to remind Zoro of what Sanji’s preferences were. He could go back to the ship, but why? Sanji would be burying his face in some gorgeous women’s pussy and he’d be stuck jacking off in the bunk and being bitterly disappointed. So fuck Sanji and fuck trying to hide it and fuck the whole fucking FUCK-
“Welcome, sir, may I see your coin?”
Zoro looked up and the nasty snarl he’d been pointing at the ground quickly disappeared. He’d managed to storm his way to his destination without being aware of it.
“...Sir?”
Zoro blinked and registered the attractive, young attendant peering at him. He fished the coin from his boot and produced it for inspection.
Smiling brightly, the attendant returned the coin and knocked on the door. Zoro was admitted with a small bow.
TBC
Previous chapters here.
xD
Like Bug said, a big thank you to everyone who has stuck with us through this porn. Bug, I love you, thank you so much for writing with me. I'm truly honored. - StarkBlack
Note: We don’t own One Piece, obviously.
Title: The Nature Of Things
Authors: sinisterbug and stark_black
Rating: Big fat R to NC-17
Paring: Zoro/hookers/Zoro, Sanji/hookers, and eventually Zoro/Sanji/Zoro
Warnings: Yaoi, language, and general retarded-ness.
Summary: When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit.
Sanji thanked all of the gods, the fish in the sea, and every beautiful woman in the world that he’d been the one to catch the messenger gull. Zoro would have tortured him to no end had he seen the obnoxiously formal letter and the contents of the small package that arrived with it.
The bird had shown up one week after they had left-what Sanji liked to call in the privacy of his own mind-The Man-Brothel Island. It was never going to be anything else. It was the island where Sanji had gone to his first male brothel, the place where he had gotten drunk and flirted-yes, flirted-with male prostitutes, and where he had most definitely crossed over from completely straight and into bi-curious territory.
He shivered slightly.
Leaning against the inside of the galley door, the cook opened the envelope with hands that were just short of steady and unfolded the parchment.
My Dearest Sir,
Greetings from myself and all the brothers of our establishment- it began in fancy handwriting.
Sanji quickly looked to the bottom of the letter and saw the Christian’s name signed, much to his disappointment. He had expected, hoped for a letter from Saul.
It has only been a few days since your and Zoro’s departure, but for many of us here, it has already become lonely and bereft without you.
Sanji snorted and read on.
I trust and hope this letter finds you well. I am writing at the request of a certain friend of yours, whose intimate acquaintance you gained upon your visit.
Sanji sighed, resigned. Saul hadn’t broken Sanji’s trust, he knew that for sure. Christian was just a slightly omniscient dick who probably-definitely-saw through Sanji’s bullshit.
Unfortunately, the scope of his greeting is quite long winded, so I shall summarize in brief that he is grateful, and he wishes to return your kindness.
Please find a tool enclosed in the package that was hopefully delivered to you alongside this letter. As a chef who no doubt is required to be thoughtful with the utensils he is presented, I have no doubt that you shall find just the right use for this object.
Do pass on mine and Roman’s regards to Mr. Roronoa. Let him know that Roman’s bruise has healed quite nicely, though his gait has not yet returned to normal.
Lastly, it is the express wish of all employed at this establishment that you and your companion will honor us with your presence again someday.
With affection,
Christian
The chef’s throat tightened unpleasantly as he read the last line over again. “...you and your companion...”
Sanji could have been dignified about opening the small bundle, but since he had no idea what it could be-why would Saul give him a tool?-he fumbled with the wrapping and dropped it once before he managed to get it open.
When he did, he suddenly felt very exposed. Glinting up at him from his palm was a coin. One side was recognizable, the other imprinted with an image that must have been representative of the island. Frankly, the print was too blurry for him to really understand what he was looking at, but he really didn’t care.
Sanji didn’t know what to think. Not wanting to risk Zoro finding the letter and discovering he had a coin, he almost wanted to burn it, and toss the coin overboard. But even though the letter had been written by Christian, the coin had been sent to him by Saul. He couldn’t just throw it away.
So he settled for stashing both in the most secure place he could think of: on the very top shelf, hidden behind a box of turnips in the cold store stuck inside a can labeled ‘meat product’. They kept a chain on that door to keep Luffy out. Zoro would never have any reason for going in there, since the booze was stored elsewhere. There was no safe place on the Thousand Sunny, but it was less likely to be discovered there than in the bunk.
* * *
The last two weeks had been fairly distracting, which Zoro was grateful for. A hurricane, two marine incidents and the chase to find the Abominable Unicorn Ghost before Usopp lost his toes forever. That had been truly fucked up.
“Unicorn” sounds all butterflies and rainbows, but Luffy conveniently ignored the “Abominable” and “Ghost” part.
Just busy enough, he’d thought, over and over again, until it turned into a mantra. He and Sanji were overdue in giving their time and attention to their crewmates and making sure those relationships were fostered, tended, poked, terrorized and otherwise seen to. They really hadn’t been able to... what? Spend time together?
They were three to four days out from any land, and if Zoro was being completely honest, he was praying-no, he didn’t pray-insisting on more distractions. The swordsman didn’t need Sanji suddenly getting introspective about anything that had happened with Christian and the boys. So far the chef hadn’t said anything or acted any differently, so Zoro let himself breathe that much easier for the moment.
Fuck, they needed some women. Just... clean the slate so that he knew Sanji was focusing on women, so that Sanji would know he was focusing on women, or more importantly, not on men that looked like Sanji, or Sanji himself. Zoro apparently didn’t need Sanji comfortable or curious about that part of himself.
He kicked himself for being naive enough to think that letting Sanji walk into that part of his life wasn’t potentially going to raise questions. Or put big, neon signs all over the place that just begged for the perverted chef to pay attention to them.
Franky strummed his guitar and Zoro floated on the sound. It was a balm that soothed his anxiety, alongside the perfect beauty of the afternoon. The sun shining down on him as he dozed helped the feeling of sedation, along with the several bottles of rum that sat empty next to the two of them.
“Hey, Zoro...”
Franky’s gravelly and strangely pitched voice somehow didn’t interrupt the strumming of the instrument.
“Hm,” was all the response Zoro could muster in the delicious haze.
“You’ve been hiding things.” The strumming picked up a frantic pace for a moment before abruptly pausing. “Hiding yourself. Hiding your... passion!” The Robo-Man whispered emphatically before resuming the chaotic noise.
Zoro’s pulse quickened, but he remained objective. Sitting next to him was, for most intents and purposes, a Robot... man. In a thong. He could be talking about anything. Or-as Zoro judged most conversations-nothing at all.
He grunted.
Franky began plucking out a high pitched melody. “When were you going to tell us that you and Cook-bro are in the manliest of relationships? The pinnacle endeavor that only the heartiest-”
Zoro lurched up into a sitting position, sending grass wafting a few inches into the air before settling back down. His jaw was clenched tight, narrowed eyes steeling for a fight.
Frankly rocked back, exclaiming, “Whoa, bro, you’ve got me all wrong!” He changed the tune again, slowly strumming a gentle sound. “I just saw some things on the last island that, ya know, rocked my world, ow!!!” He laughed, but the sound faded as Zoro didn’t move. Not an inch.
“What did you see?” the green-haired man seethed.
Franky frowned and set the guitar down. He took a good look around to make sure no one had noticed their conversation. The engineer leaned in, lowered his sunglasses a little and gave Zoro a stern look.
“Who are you talking to like that, brother?”
Zoro seemed to falter for a moment, but the only visible signs were a waiver in the thin line that had become his lips, and a twitch of his left eyebrow. Then he exhaled sharply through his nose and relaxed his posture.
“What did you see, Franky?” he pressed, sounding resigned.
“Well, I saw you go to a manly brothel. I saw Sanji get invited to a manly brothel by a... handsome young man, and the two of you coming and going at unusual hours.”
Zoro directed his gaze to the ocean and squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments before exhaling again, centering himself.
What the fuck did he do now? Lie? That idiot chef could not find out about this. If Franky suspected, who else knew? Sanji would blame Zoro without a doubt, and by “blame” he meant “brutally murder”.
Neither of them was going to get away with murder on this ship, so killing Sanji before the chef killed him was not an option. And since Franky was just as much super mutant as anyone else on the crew, threats against the large bionic man weren’t a viable solution either.
“We aren’t... together,” Zoro finally muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “And he’ll kill himself or me or you if he finds out that anyone-” he turned and fixed his gaze on the robot again, “anyone thinks he’s gay. Because he’s not. I am, sort’ve, he’s not. You don’t understand what you saw, and I’m not going to explain it to you. Sanji is not gay, do you understand?”
Franky stared for a moment, then blinked. Zoro watched as the Robot-Man reached his robot-hand towards his robot-face. He paused briefly, then a small click alerted Zoro to the opening that appeared where a smaller robotic hand came out. This mini-robot-hand then reached up to push Franky’s sunglasses up his metal nose.
“I see... or not.” He resumed strumming his guitar, but the effort was a little more absent-minded. “I do want to know why Cook-bro would go to a gay bar if he wasn’t riding the gay-wave.”
Zoro ignored him and began looking around for another source of alcohol. Franky noticed, and produced some pinched-earlier-that-day rum from a storage space in his thigh.
Franky raised an eyebrow and dangled the bottle above them both. “Open your tortured soul to Big Brother Franky, bro.”
“I just said I wasn’t going to explain,” the green haired man muttered, but it was half-hearted. Zoro sighed and snatched the rum Franky dropped into his lap. He took a good swig before he explained the sordid tale. He didn’t admit to his stupid addiction to the cook.
That’s how he was starting to look at it recently, anyway: a highly destructive illness that could wipe out everything in one unguarded second of stupidity.
No more talking about it, no more male brothels, and sure as hell no more men.
“So Cook-bro wanted to show his suuuuuper masculine support by accepting the invitation to dinner,” Franky said somewhat sarcastically, to the swordsman’s surprise.
“Whatever. Morbid curiosity, support, who cares.”
Franky made a motion for Zoro to pass him the liquor. He nursed it eagerly and pulled back with a loud smack. “Aaaaah. Brhaaaaaa! Sheesh... yow... So, that look-alike-”
“Leave it. You know all you need to know. Who else have you been talking to about this?”
Franky made a mocking face and muttered at the swordsman before handing the bottle back. “No one, but…” he hesitated, “I don’t know, really. Robin has been watching you two, and you know what that probably means.”
Zoro’s grunted. “She’s not dumb enough to confront him about it. But you’re close to the woman, make sure she knows he’s not gay.”
“Oi, don’t call her ‘the woman’, brother. It’s not manly.”
Zoro smirked briefly. “Right. Please tell Robin how it is.”
Frankly frowned but nodded. “I’m your ultra-strong shoulder to cry on, brother,” he said solemnly.
Zoro grimaced and took another drink.
* * *
A nail dug into Sanji’s back as he leaned against the wall of the boy’s bunk. He panted into the silence. With his hand wrapped around his cock, he called up each image vividly for the umpteeth time. Haunted, was a good word for his emotional and sexual state. And, if that wasn’t enough, he was starting to lose his goddamn mind. One moment he’d be fantasizing that his hand was wrapped in soft strands of sandy hair, the next struggling to grip to much shorter, stupid, mossy, seaweed-colored hair. Grip it and possibly pull it down, shove it, fucking yank that shit harder and harder-
God damnit. God fucking damnit!
Sanji arched his back and clenched his jaw. The fantasy got more graphic as he rode the high of his climax, his hand working quickly and the rest of his body clenched in ecstasy as fantasy-Zoro choked and tried to swallow. Sanji imagined a tanned jaw flexing like it did around the hilt of that white sword and he groaned softly. In his head he commanded his imaginary-Zoro to run his tongue over him as he came down.
Finally, gasping for air, Sanji relaxed, his back hitting the wall painfully. His breath hitched repeatedly for several moments, ears ringing loudly as the rush of nerves from the top of his crown to the tips of his toes receded in waves.
Shit. He really liked Zoro on his knees. He really, really liked seeing Zoro on his knees...
Spent, he pushed himself off the wall and immediately fell back, blood rushing to his head. The chef took a few more deep breaths and tried again.
Slowly, he straightened his pants and tucked his shirt back in. This was just fucking ridiculous. Of course he wasn’t going to stop this and of course it was only getting fucking worse, particularly since he received the package. To put it bluntly, he’d never come so hard before Saul fucking cracked his world open and scrambled everything inside with his gorgeous mouth-
Shit, and not to mention the fact that it was near impossible to look Zoro in the face anymore. Whenever he did, all he could picture was the way the swordsman had looked when Roman had his hands all over him. Shit, Zoro was sexy when he was being submissive. Sanji knew he could make Zoro look like that, and more. He could rock Zoro’s world! He could do stuff for Zoro that Roman could only dream about! Sex was Roman’s job, but you know what? Fuck him. Sanji was naturally good at it. If he seriously put his mind to it? Hell. If he ever got the chance with Zoro, all it would take would be one time and Zoro would never want to go back to a brothel-any fucking brothel-ever again.
Sanji growled in exasperation at himself and did a few little hops in place to shake everything loose again.
Whatever, who was he kidding anyway? He might be curious about sex with a man... okay, mostly just with Zoro, but that didn’t mean the whole concept still didn’t freak him out a little. Truth be told, if he ever really did get the chance, with any guy, he wouldn’t really know what to do.
Okay, he’d have an idea but not... Details you know? Details.
He straightened his tie and ran his hands over his shirt, smoothing wrinkles. The sudden but increasing cameos from his crewmate had been disturbing and fucking sexier than he could wrap his mind around. And he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He did not understand any of this.
It was like the man he knew-the straight man-was inhabiting half of his body, literally one half, split vertically straight down the middle. Then there was this interloper, this loud, obnoxious, insistent and enthusiastic mother fucker living in the other half. And fuck it all, his straight side wasn’t even offended by this freak!
He’d had any number of wild ideas-ideas that were ludicrous, but started to seem more reasonable the more desperate he got. But then something would bring Sanji back to reality. The reality where it was a very bad idea to make assumptions as brass as the ones he was making; the reality that could be shattered by just one careless move. The crew, their dreams, came first.
Opening the door to the cabin, Sanji stepped out into the sunlight. He blinked a few times and raised a hand to shield his eyes. The crew were all pretty much where he had left them: sprawled on the grass or sunning on the deck. He didn’t see Zoro anywhere, but that was a good thing. Sanji didn’t want to see him anyway. Nope.
From the deck, Luffy and Chopper waved to him and the cook nodded a greeting as he lit a cigarette. It was several hours past breakfast so there was no doubt he was going to have to feed his crew before they all starved to death. He inhaled deeply and moved in the direction of the galley.
He got about four steps before Zoro rounded the corner.
Good thing the swordsman was watching where he was going, otherwise Sanji would have run smack into him. The cook did what he thought was a fairly good job of keeping his inner turmoil off his face, but the look Zoro gave him said he failed miserably.
“What’s your problem, cook?”
Sanji exhaled. “Nothing. What’s your problem?”
Zoro’s eyes narrowed. “I asked you first.”
Sanji slipped his hands in his pockets. He tried desperately not to think of his earlier fantasy-the one he had been having not five minutes ago-where Zoro was sucking his cock so enthusiastically, but that didn’t really work either.
“I’m on my way to make lunch, Marimo. Get outta my way.”
“I’m not in your way, you’re in mine.”
Sanji gritted his teeth, knowing full well that Zoro was antagonizing him on purpose, but unable to stop himself from retaliating.
“The moss on your head finally take over your brain? I said move!”
Zoro sneered. Sanji had known it was coming.
“Make me, asshole.”
Lunch was a little late, and Franky pitched a fit about the railing on Sunny’s starboard side, but as Sanji stood over the stove later that afternoon, he reluctantly admitted to himself that he felt a little better.
It wasn’t cooking, and it wasn’t getting lost in the arms of a beautiful woman, but fighting with Zoro was definitely the next best thing.
* * *
It was six weeks until they were within a whore’s reach again. The astronomically impossible events that had led them to this thriving port were too insane to think about.
Marines, pirate armadas, fucking sea witches (okay, that one hadn’t been so bad), and flesh-eating goats for crying out loud! As Sanji brought his glass to his lips, he wrestled with mixed feelings of disbelief and complete and utter contentment.
His life was fucking amazing. Yeah, there were bumps along the way, and yeah, he got frustrated with certain rubber captains and stupid green-haired first mates (for vastly different reasons) once in a while, and he sometimes sported a limp or a few extra stitches, but goddamn it, every day was a fucking adventure. He wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.
Standing over the grill, Sanji rotated the beef skewers and checked the edges of the peppers. The group of ten on the right needed to come off soon, but they could use a tad bit more charring. The cook took another swallow of his drink and frowned when he saw the bottom of the glass. Had he really just polished off three mugs of this shit? No wonder his head was fuzzy.
The Strawhats had landed on the island the day before and had wandered into Toya City just about the time the sun had started to set. This was when the flesh-eating goat problem had happened. Sanji didn’t want to think about all the crap they had gone through during the night and into this morning. The cages were full again and the beasts were on their way back to whatever lab they had come from, so in retrospect nothing else really mattered.
Toya’s people were grateful for the Strawhat’s help and had decided to celebrate. Sanji had offered his services as a chef. The people had accepted enthusiastically and now the town square was filled with the smells of cooking, music, and laughter.
Sanji smiled a tipsy sort of smile and flipped the skewers again. Life was so fucking right at the moment.
He looked up just in time to see Luffy, Chopper, Usopp and Franky performing their world famous chopsticks-up-the-nose trick.
“Sanji-san, is the food almost ready? I’m skin and bones!” Brook approached, surrounded by several small, wide-eyed children, all clamoring around his legs. “But then again, I am a skeleton! Yo ho ho ho!”
The chef grinned and whipped a couple skewers off the grill and passed them around to Brook and the kids.
“Ya know, it’s always pissed me off that you can’t taste my cooking, hic!” The hiccup caught Sanji off guard and he chuckled at himself. Those drinks were hitting him harder and faster than he’d expected.
“Aaah,” the boney musician replied, his voice lowering softly, “But despite not being able to taste it with my tongue, Sanji-san, I still can taste good food with my heart.”
The children were silent. Sanji had not been expecting the compliment, and he reddened. “Ah-” was all he managed before the children and Brook broke out into laughter.
“Shut up, ya stupid kids! And you too, you stupid skeleton pervert! Get lost!” He turned back to the grill with a growl. The children ran off, giggling. Brook remained.
Another laugh joined in, but this time it was Robin, carrying an empty plate. “You and Zoro-san are as bad at accepting compliments as Chopper.”
Sanji’s heart went googly, as did his expression. “Robin-swaaan, who the hell would want to compliment that stupid ape? And thank you for returning this plate to me, my beautiful queen!” He took it from her with a bow and started piling vegetables on it. “Can I get you anything?”
“Neh, neh, Sanji!” Chopper and Usopp came running up to the expanding group excitedly.
“Where’s Zoro? You, him and Franky and Chopper have to show the Postmaster Flaming Cactus trick!” the marksman insisted.
“I don’t friggin know-”
“Absolutely not!” Nami’s voice rang out beautifully over the din of the party. “I forbade you idiots from doing that the LAST TIME I FORBADE YOU FROM DOING IT! I’m not wasting a single beli of my hard-stolen treasure to pay for the damages!” Sanji’s red headed fire goddess stormed her way through the crowd to join them with Luffy and Franky on her heels.
“But Naamiiiii,” his captain whined, “I promise-”
“NO,” Nami thundered. “You promised last time, and the time before that!”
“But Navigator-chan, we’ve gotten better since last time-”
Nami rounded on Franky. “Do you like it when Zoro and Sanji wreck your ship? No!” she shouted. “The Sunny is yours, and my share of the treasure is MINE. Every time weeeee-” she exaggerated the word and waved her hands around to indicate the entire crew, “-have to pay for some act of mass destruction done by you or one of these other monsters, I lose some of my money! So NO!”
Sanji snorted as Franky and the boys sighed, their hopes dashed.
“Don’t upset Nami-sswan, you idiots,” Sanji growled. “At least try to act c-civilized and not destroy the city we busted our asses to save!”
They each groaned in turn, Luffy huffing as he pouted.
Chopper perked up. “Then let’s do the Flying Fire Penguin!”
A chorus of “yeahs!” went up and Nami smacked her hand over her eyes. The boys were off, Brook included this time, and Sanji was left to bask in the ladies’ presence.
Robin comforted Nami as she contemplated how much it would cost them this time.
“Don worry about it, Nami-san, I’ll won’t let thosse idiots break anything,” Sanji crooned as he took the last of the skewers from the grill and loaded them onto a platter. He flourished the pile of meat and veggies as he did a half twirl and set the entire thing on a table. It was fairly amazing he pulled it off, considering how the world kept spinning after he was sure his body had stopped.
“Sanji, where is Zoro?” Nami asked.
***
Maybe it was a good thing he was heading back to the ship, he needed to sober up some anyway. Sanji realized that Nami’s concern over Zoro possibly being drunk in public somewhere causing havoc was valid, but knowing the swordsman the way he did, Sanji fully expected to find him piss drunk in the crow’s nest.
The walk to the docks was interesting. The road sort of curved to the right and Sanji was pretty sure that was new. It hadn’t curved so much earlier that day. He chuckled to himself as he neared the ramp leading to Sunny for no reason at all and slowly started to climb.
Of course, the night couldn’t get any better, so logically it had to get worse. When Sanji reached the deck and hoisted himself over the railing, he noticed the door to the galley was open. Why the hell was the galley door open? Who the hell was on watch!? Why weren’t they watching things!?
But it all became quite clear in a fuzzy sort of way when the cook flung the door open, sending it crashing loudly against the wall. Zoro sat at the table, feet propped up, leaning back in the chair. The bottle of pilfered wine halfway to his lips froze when the swordsman realized who was standing there in the doorway.
“Ya know,” Sanji started, his tongue feeling a little too big for his mouth, “There’s thiss party in the Town Square with all kinds of spectacular liquor things happening, and you’ve come back to the ship to ssteal my good cooking wine.”
Zoro stared at him. “So?”
Sanji moved into the room towards the table. “Iss just one of those things that makes you such a great asshole.”
Zoro growled and slammed the bottle down on the table. He started to stand but Sanji put up his hands in defense.
“Wait, wait, hold on. I didn’t really mean it in a bad way. Well, I did, but I didn’t mean to... never mind. I don’t really care that you’re an asshole and I don’t really care that you took the wine ‘cause I’m assuming you’re on watch and I don’t wanna fight ‘cause I think I might be a little drunk right now? Hic-”
Zoro rolled his eyes and sat back down with a thud.
Sanji looked at him and blinked.
“I think I might be too.”
Sanji chuckled and dropped onto the seat across from the swordsman. “Well shit, how many bottles did you steal?”
Zoro shrugged. “Four or five.”
Sanji snorted and folded his arms on the table, dropping his head down. For some reason that was really funny. Zoro had stolen four or five bottles? That was going to be super expensive to replace! Why was he laughing?
“Oh my God I hate you s’ometimes,” Sanji snickered.
Zoro hummed. “Well, I hate you all the time, so don’t feel bad.”
Sanji hissed a laugh through his teeth and looked up to find the swordsman trying to hide a small smile. He pointed an unsteady finger at Zoro and waggled it back and forth.
“I’m gonna kill you tomorrow once my headache goes away.”
It was Zoro’s turn to snort. “Whatever, you won’t even remember this.”
“Will too.”
“Nope.” Zoro took another long drink from the almost empty bottle. “I could say pretty much anything to you right now and you’d forget it by tomorrow morning.”
“You’re on,” Sanji sat up, bracing himself on the edge of the table.
Zoro looked at him and blinked slowly. Or at least Sanji thought it was kind of slow, it might not have been, everything was kind of slow at the moment. But, besides everything being slow, Zoro really did look a little out of sorts. Maybe he really was really drunk.
Sanji did something that was perilously close to a giggle.
Zoro ran the back of his hand over his mouth and his eyelids sank to half-mast. Sanji felt hot suddenly, flushed. He felt his heart thump against his ribs in anticipation of what Zoro was about to say.
Zoro looked at him with those hooded eyes, his face a canvas of seriousness as he readied himself for some kind of confession.
“Sometimes...” Zoro finally spoke, ever so softly, “I want to steal a pair of Robin’s heels and try them on, just to see what they feel like.”
For a moment, Sanji just started, dumbfounded, but then a grin spread across his features. “You son of a bitch, I totally thought you were fucking sserious for a second! What the fuck!”
But to his surprise, Zoro didn’t crack a smile. The swordsman didn’t even move.
“What?” the green-haired man growled and Sanji suddenly pictured Zoro as a testy badger, his hackles raised, the defensive little thing backing into its hole. “Haven’t you ever wondered how they walk in those things? Or run? I mean, they serious take some shit out there. Why the fuck would they chose to do that?”
Sanji only found himself laughing harder, not so much because of what Zoro was saying, but because of the look he was giving Sanji from across the table.
“Oh my God,” he chortled, “Zoro, you’re such a dumbass.”
Zoro’s brow furrowed. His hand tightened around the neck of the wine bottle. “Laugh it up shit-cook. I don’t fucking care. Like I said, you won’t remember this tomorrow.”
Sanji put his hands up. “No, no, Zoro. You are a dumbass, but not...” Letting another very manic and admittedly non-masculine giggle escape his throat, Sanji reached out in silent request for the wine bottle. To his surprise, Zoro handed it over. He took a swallow and shook his head.
“A’course I’ve wondered what it feels like. I mean, I can’t imagine walking around on my tiptoes all day. It’s gotta be the most fucking uncomfortable thing ever.”
Zoro’s expression had softened and he relaxed the more the cook spoke. When Sanji offered the bottle back, he took it and took a long drink.
“They know it looks damn good... but that can’t be the only reason, right?”
Sanji shrugged. “See? It’s a misstry. A fucking awesome, sexy misstry. Maybe you really should steal a pair of Robin-chwan’s shoes and try ‘em out. Gather intel on how the other sside operates.”
Suddenly, to Sanji’s utter surprise, the corner of Zoro’s mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles. The cook’s stomach did a little flip flop, and he knew it wasn’t because of the alcohol.
“So,” Zoro drawled, suddenly shifting and leaning back in his seat again. “Yer tellin’ me you wanna see me try on lady shoes.”
Sanji froze, stuck between wanting to laugh and feeling like he’d just been caught with his pants down.
“I... well, no...” Well actually, who was he kidding? “Okay, maybe, yeah. But you know...”
Zoro’s left eyebrow rose slightly in response.
Sanji leaned forward conspiratorially. “Pretty sure Robin-chhhwan’s shoes are too big for me. And Nami’s are too small.”
The cook’s eyes widened in mock amazement. “Shit, that means if I want to wear girls’ shoes, I’ll have to actually go buy some...”
Zoro roared with laughter, slapping his knee. Warmth spread through Sanji’s body, but he gave himself the usual line - it was the alcohol.
* * *
Two days later, the hangovers had worn off and he and the swordsman were back to sniping at each other and fighting. They were setting sail tomorrow, and he had business to attend to.
Sanji wanted food, he wanted booze, he wanted a hot ass, and a warm bed.
He’d had made it six blocks into Toya City when a terrible shiver ran up his spine. He hadn’t been looking for it. He hadn’t. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Not since entering the city, anyway. This possibility, too, had become a part of his fantasy, particularly now that he owned a coin.
Even so, the excitement of their adventure finally winding down and the lure of the old fall-back had completely blocked the idea from his head.
So there it was-the two-toned sun painted brightly on the side of a tall building, calling to him, screaming at him to acknowledge its existence, daring him to process it. Good thing he’d left the coin where he put it the first time.
Not that he would have used it. No fucking way.
Sanji turned on his heel and walked the other direction. He needed to find a woman. More specifically, he needed to pick up a woman. No brothels, no whores, just a bar and a drink and all his charm. He needed to know he still had it…
…that he still wanted it.
* * *
Zoro hadn’t seen it from the ship this time, but he had known it was there. A port this big, this prosperous, it was a certainty there would be a male brothel. You didn’t stick hundreds of thousands of people on an island this big and expect that the demand wouldn’t win out.
Wandering the streets of Toya City, hoping he would either get too lost to find it, or maybe, just lost enough to come across it by accident, he growled under his breath at his earlier lack of discipline. He had steeled his will against it. He had fought, he had agonized, terrorized himself, waged a bloody, violent, epic war in his soul over it, but ultimately he had succumbed. The coin sat hot in his hand at this very moment, a terrible weight crushed between his fingers and his palm. Zoro was sure that if he were to look down, open his fist, his skin would be charred black, slowly melting away from his bones.
It’s just in case… just on the off-chance…
Turning down another street in yet another busy district, Zoro caught sight of a hanging sign that read Dancing Jug. It was too nice an area to be full of lowlifes, but not nice enough to have none. Maybe he’d get in a fight and fuck someone up. That seemed normal.
Zoro knew a bar was a bad idea. He knew he would find a reason to fuck someone up even if there wasn’t a good one. He knew he was probably going to end up breaking a whole bunch of stuff and in the end have nothing to show for it but bloody knuckles or something worse. He knew he’d be better off channeling that energy on an opportunity with a woman he wasn’t sure would come up again in the near future, but he really didn’t feel like listening to himself at the moment.
He tucked the coin into his boot and told himself to forget about everything.
Zoro was going to get himself straight, so to speak. But first, he needed to get drunk. And that required a lot of drinking.
* * *
“But that’s impossible! You are so totally pulling my leg right now!”
Sanji grinned and took another swallow of his drink. She called herself Aya. She had long brown hair, smooth skin, and a sweet smile. She was also not a prostitute.
It wasn’t as if the idea of being with a prostitute was no longer appealing to Sanji, but prostitutes made him think of brothels, and brothels made him think of male prostitutes, and male prostitutes made him think of Zoro getting sexed up by male prostitutes. Sanji really didn’t want to be thinking of Zoro period, and thinking of Zoro in a sexual situation was just infinitely worse.
No, tonight was going to be fun. He was going to woo this beautiful woman, and then take her home and make love to her with such passion that she would write him love letters every day. She would leave lipstick kisses on the pages that had been sprayed with sweet-smelling perfume, and then Sanji would sit back and be absolutely fine with Zoro catching each and every one of them from the messenger gulls.
This was the plan anyway.
It had taken less than he had expected to rope Aya in with stories of the Strawhat’s adventures. She listened with wide eyes and giggled at all his jokes. He crooned her praises as the alcohol in his system settled his earlier nerves. Their bodies moved closer together as the evening turned into night.
Sanji had forgotten how satisfying the chase could be. He liked brothels for when he was tired or stressed and he wanted a sure thing, but once in a while, it was thrilling to come in with a clean slate and try with a woman that could at any moment decide that no, she wasn’t into it. Lately he had been so caught up in this stupid game with Zoro that he hadn’t had the time, or the opportunity, to work for anything. He had been focusing so much on one-upping the swordsman, or trying to prove himself, or just-
God damnit he was thinking about Zoro again!
He turned his attention back to Aya and gently pushed a lock of her soft hair behind her ear. Whatever she had been saying died on her tongue as she looked into his eyes. Her breasts brushed against Sanji’s arm as he reached around her and pulled her close. He needed to get it together and focus on the task at hand. Not let his mind wander to stupid green-haired swordsmen that had started to get really fucking sexy when they were being annoying.
“Hey, bartender!” Sanji called. “Another round for me and the lady!”
* * *
Zoro froze halfway through the entrance, that familiar timbre carrying across the tavern alerting the swordsman to the chef’s presence. His vision zeroed in on Sanji immediately. The chef was tucked away in a corner, wrapped in a gorgeous woman, smiling that dashing smile and drinking in the woman’s adoration.
This is a good thing, Zoro told himself. It was this very scenario that he had hoped would win out. Sanji had let everything roll off his shoulder, and so the swordsman was safe for that much longer. However, knowing this did nothing to ease the embarrassing and painfully telling ache in his chest.
He wanted to maim something. He wanted to tear the fucking city apart. He wanted a fight so fucking bad. But he quickly turned and left.
The adrenaline coursing through him quickly burned itself off as he stalked angrily down the Toya City streets, spending far too long trying to find his destination and fuming the entire way. There wasn’t any alcohol in him, and he’d yet to find a good outlet for his energy. He couldn’t fathom looking at a woman at this point. Any whore or bar chick would only serve to remind Zoro of what Sanji’s preferences were. He could go back to the ship, but why? Sanji would be burying his face in some gorgeous women’s pussy and he’d be stuck jacking off in the bunk and being bitterly disappointed. So fuck Sanji and fuck trying to hide it and fuck the whole fucking FUCK-
“Welcome, sir, may I see your coin?”
Zoro looked up and the nasty snarl he’d been pointing at the ground quickly disappeared. He’d managed to storm his way to his destination without being aware of it.
“...Sir?”
Zoro blinked and registered the attractive, young attendant peering at him. He fished the coin from his boot and produced it for inspection.
Smiling brightly, the attendant returned the coin and knocked on the door. Zoro was admitted with a small bow.
TBC
Previous chapters here.
xD