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The first time he’d laid eyes on him he had thought annoying… like a bird. Mostly because he was flashy. He was flashy in his movements when he fought using only his legs, flashy in his tone and accent when he’d flirted with Nami, flashy with his big shining eyes and his curled grin, flashy in the way a parrot was. Just as annoying, too. Full of empty words, repeating what he thinks you want to hear said back to you.
Annoying, he thinks now as well, like a cat. Mostly because he acts entitled. Entitled in the way that he takes up too much space on the ship, entitled in the way he expects everyone to give into his every whim, entitled in the way he expects everyone to pay attention to him as he stretches his lean body in the early dawn on the deck where everyone can see him.
He scoffs to himself, looking away and meeting Nami’s doubtful stare that has been boring holes into the side of his head for the past three minutes or so.
“What?” He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What is your problem with Sanji?” She hisses lowly.
He shrugs but keeps silent. He can’t say anything that won’t incriminate him further. He was hoping it would take her longer to notice that there indeed was a problem but now that there’s nothing to do but stare out at the sea or at her maps, she seems to have picked up on it. Honestly, he thought he’d have a few more days at least. But she’s quick and sharp and nothing escapes her eye.
“Nothing, he’s just annoying.” He settles on saying and it’s true, she can’t deny it and he sees the protest forming on her lips. “He’s annoying.” He repeats, trying to urge her to drop the subject but she seems to instead read something in his inflection because her eyes widen and her mouth rounds.
“Oh, Zoro.” The shock quickly morphs into a sly grin that he doesn’t like one bit – her eyes are sparkling.
“What.” He turns to face her fully but she’s not one to be intimidated lightly no matter how big his biceps are.
“Oh, nothing.” She chuckles. “Men are so stupid.”
He chokes out a grunt at the sudden shift in topic, unsure if to feel insulted or indignant so he settles on a mix of both. “Uncalled for.”
“Ha!” She slaps a hand against his shoulder. “Trust me, it’s very called for.”
“Whatever,” Mood sufficiently ruined (even more so than previously) he lapses into petulant silence, refusing to indulge her further.
“Well, as long as it doesn’t cause problems for the rest of the crew, I’ll let you keep your secrets.” She hums and leans against the mezzanine, watching as Sanji takes Usopp and Luffy through a series of stretches that do nothing for their Captain and make Usopp curl up like a withered plant in pain. As for Sanji, though, the stretches do plenty. His long legs extend this way and that, he twists at the waist, he does a series of complicated motions that have Zoro’s eyes widening a fraction at the balance they require. Usopp keels over with a whine, Luffy gets tangled in his own limbs and Sanji laughs. It’s loud and obnoxious, drawing everyone’s attention to his wide mouth pursed around a cigarette, to his straight teeth, to that barbell under his tongue. Except that’s not true. Because Nami isn’t looking. As a matter of fact, her eyes are closed and she seems to have dozed off in the morning light while standing up. Usopp isn’t looking either, he’s cursing Sanji to the All Blue and back. And Luffy, well, Luffy’s eyes are closed with mirth as well, all too happy to just be spending time with his friends and crewmates. Which leaves him as the sole onlooker. And he is. He’s looking so intently that Sanji must feel his eyes on him because their gazes are meeting all too soon, the residual warmth still in the other’s expression stirring that nasty something inside Zoro’s chest.
“Care to join us, Mosshead? I bet you could use a good stretch.” The drawl is easy and relaxed but all it does is make Zoro even more annoyed.
He grits his teeth, jaw flexing and now he can feel Nami’s eyes on him. “I don’t need to warm up just to get around on a ship.” He calls back, wincing internally at how gruff it comes out.
“No wonder you’re always so stiff,” Sanji waves a hand at him. “And here I thought it was that stick up your arse!”
“Fuck off,” He barks out, turning to slink away - not in shame and defeat. A strategic retreat more than anything so that he doesn’t have to look at the bastard’s smug face any longer.
He hears Nami mumble idiots under her breath and promptly chooses to ignore her for the rest of the day.
Sanji is preening again. He’s peacocking. He’s – he’s got his shirt off and he’s working out on the beach where they’d docked to resupply, showing off for anyone who’s watching. Mostly the women, though.
There’s a gaggle of girls gathered a safe distance away, observing him and giggling as he practices his kicks on the unsteady footing that is the white sand Zoro’s sitting his ass down on further away. The sand is warm and gritty as he buries his hands in it, gripping fistfuls.
“You’re no better,” Nami is scarily accurate in her reading of his thoughts – and isn’t that a frightening notion? Nami with mind-reading powers, sheesh.
He slams his eyes closed and pretends like he wasn’t doing what she’s insinuating he was doing. He was meditating, nothing else. Maybe taking a nap but that’s it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He takes a deep breath – in then out, in then out, don’t let her get to you.
“Those girls ogling Sanji, you’re the same. Maybe you should talk to them, exchange opinions.”
He can hear the shit-eating grin on her face just from the tone of her voice.
“I don’t ogle.” He grunts, fighting down a blush that’s threatening to emerge on his cheeks at being caught out.
“Oh, no. You observe. Obsessively, might I add.” She sits down next to him onto a fallen palm tree. “You’re being ridiculous about it, too.”
“Shut up.” He grinds out, finally allowing the irritation to show in the lines of his frown.
“I don’t think I will.” She smarts back. “In fact, I’m going to tell you exactly what I think you should do. I think-” Nami’s voice dies out and Zoro is prompted to open his eyes at the sudden silence.
And once he does he realizes why exactly she’d gone quiet so abruptly. He gapes, mouth popping open with an audible click. Sanji is doing pushups. Sanji is doing pushups shirtless. Sanji is doing pushups shirtless with one of the giggling girls from the gaggle on his back.
“I’m done with this.” Nami exclaims and Zoro watches her stomp down the beach, kicking up sand as she goes. She looms over the two until Sanji notices her and the random girl startles away, scrambling to get back on her feet. Nami starts complaining about something and tugging Sanji up by his ear. The taller whines and protests as Nami ushers him back towards their ship, shouting for Luffy and Usopp who are further down the beach.
He blinks owlishly, unsure of what exactly just happened but grateful nevertheless. Grateful that he doesn’t have to witness the one-man circus show Sanji was putting on and nothing else.
“Stupid,” He grumbles and picks up his sword, heading back to the ship.
The cook is talking to him. He’s probably saying something stupid. His mouth has been yapping for fifteen minutes already but Zoro’s not taking in a single word of it. Instead, he’s staring at how the moon reflects in the other’s eyes. How the sparkle in the depths of his blue gaze is akin to the moonlight being reflected on the surface of the open sea. He wants to sigh. He wants to grip his face and tilt his head so that his eyes catch more of the light, he wants to see tears sparkling in them. He wants to move the other’s stupid hair out of his face for a clearer look.
Fingers snap in front of his face and he blinks rapidly to dispel the haze that’s settled over his brain.
“You’re not even listening to me.” Sanji huffs, puffing out his cheeks in frustration.
“Shut up,” He grunts and his hand moves before he can stop it. He tucks the hair behind the other’s ear and clicks his tongue, satisfied as Sanji stares at him, bewildered.
“I-” The cook being rendered speechless is what finally brings him out of it and he realizes what he’d actually done and that they had been in the middle of arguing about something before he had zoned out.
He clams up, a flush crawling up his neck as he rushes past the other. He wants to smack himself. He wants to break his own fingers for betraying him like this. What was he thinking? This was getting out of hand. He climbs up into the crow’s nest and huddles down into it. He buries his face into his palms and finally lets the blush overtake him. He can feel the tips of his ears growing warm. Stupid, he’s so stupid. Nami was right, he’s an idiot.
He’d never admit it, though. Not to Nami, not to himself, and least of all to the cause of his frustration, Sanji. And it is a frustration. Because he doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this. He doesn’t know what to do with himself and all of these feelings nor the inkling of an idea that’s formed in his brain over the past few weeks detailing the reasoning for his behavior. It’s terrifying, scary enough for him to bury it back down and never look at it again. Except it keeps crawling out every time Sanji smiles at him, at anyone really, it claws its way out of the ground every time Nami shoots him a pointed look. It’s inescapable and no amount of denial can save him from it. Tonight just proves this further. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this but he’d admit to knowing what he’s feeling only if he was held at gunpoint or dangled off a cliff.
Simply said: attraction. And he curses himself for it because it just had to be the most obnoxious, most annoying, straightest bastard ever. It had to be Sanji. But who else could it be? Not Nami with her disdain for romance, or Usopp with his gaze reserved only for Kaya. Or even Luffy with his general disinterest in all things not the One Piece or food related. And certainly not any of the scumbags he’s encountered so far on his travels.
Sanji was… new. He was a breath of fresh air that he didn’t know he needed. He gave as good as he got, sparred with him verbally and physically, he never backed down, he was a capable fighter and a good cook. But that’s not all there is to it – most of the crew are capable fighters and smart individuals. Sanji also cuts a striking figure in his suit, be it plain black or pinstriped, he’s always a sight to behold. His wide shoulders and trim waist that seems to be the perfect size for Zoro to wrap his hands around invade his every waking moment. The sharp jaw, the pronounced Cupid’s bow, the color of his eyes and his stupid hair, all of it is constantly on Zoro’s mind. And it’s distracting, it’s not good for his brain. As long as it doesn’t cause problems for the rest of the crew, Nami had said.
Whatever, it’s not like he’s making this anyone else’s problem. This is for him to stew over, and only Nami to roll eyes at.
Nami’s rolling her eyes at him again as he clenches his fists by his sides.
“What. Is he doing.” He grinds out through gritted teeth.
“The old lady asked him to help with the groceries so he offered to cook for her.” She shrugs, averting her eyes. “Unfortunately for us, today is her eldest daughter’s birthday which means, naturally, that the whole village is invited.” Nami elaborates, leaning back against the wall as they watch Sanji stir something in a giant pot.
“Naturally.” He scoffs.
“It’s a little setback, I’m sure we’ll be on our way by tomorrow.” Usopp, bless him, thinks he’s angry at the dallying. Usopp thinks he’s angry.
No, Zoro’s not angry, he’s just annoyed. Because Sanji keeps doing this, he keeps being kind to people, he keeps being a flirt, he keeps being Sanji. And it’s fucking with Zoro on a level that he doesn’t like. He watches the other cook. He’s ditched his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up. His forearms are straining with the effort of stirring, veins popping and knuckles white around the big wooden spoon. Something lodges inside of Zoro’s throat and refuses to pass. The eldest daughter is also there, tasting the food – some kind of stew – and grinning so widely at Sanji who looks pleased with himself.
“We can’t leave now,” Nami grumbles and he nods. It’s already been done. Sanji has to feed the people and they all look excited to eat whatever he’s cooking. And Zoro can’t fault them, it does smell delicious.
“Eh, not like Luffy would even want to.” Usopp points to the side where their Captain is chasing a ball around with the village kids, looking content.
So they find a nice spot for themselves and wait for the dinner to be ready because of course the old lady had invited them as well. And Zoro closes his eyes and meditates so he doesn’t have to see Sanji interacting with the locals, so he doesn’t have to see his smile and his strong, square fingers at work.
He’s roused from his meditation sometime later by a tap to the forehead. With a sniffle he looks up and finds Sanji peering down at him, a bowl of stew in his hand. There’s music playing in the background and the sun’s started setting – he’d fallen asleep.
“Hungry, Mosshead?” Sanji wafts the aroma down to him and his stomach protests loudly, making the other chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes. Here,” The other holds the bowl out.
“You’d take anything I give you.” He snarks back, not quite realizing what he’s implying until the person next to him gives a choked cough and Sanji’s cheeks grow pink in color.
“Well, that’s just… um.” The blonde clears his throat and offers him a spoon instead of responding.
Zoro, sufficiently mortified, accepts it without a word. “I didn’t mean-”
“No, of course not.” Sanji straightens back up and tugs his sleeves down. “Right. Enjoy your food.”
“Thanks.”
Not arguing further is weird. Seeing Sanji just turn on his heel and walk away without further comment doesn’t sit right with him. But it’s his fault so he has to deal with the consequences on his own like the fool that he is.
“That was interesting.” The person next to him turns out to, once again, be Nami.
“Sure.” He frowns down into his bowl of food, suddenly not hungry at all. Fuck, that was embarrassing.
“I mean, really.”
“Why aren’t you enjoying the festivities?” He grinds out, finally shoving a spoonful into his mouth. Fuck, it’s delicious.
“Got tired of playing with the kids,” She responds curtly before steering the conversation back to the original topic. “You really don’t know how to talk to him if you’re not exchanging insults.”
“I don’t want to talk to him.” He lies around a mouthful of hearty stew.
“You’re so dumb,” She declares, smacking him on the back with an open palm and making him wince.
“Shut up.”
It doesn’t become enough to disturb the rest of the crew until Luffy notices. That is not to say that their Captain is unobservant, he’s just rather oblivious when it comes to other people and their interpersonal relationships. Luffy can read people, sure, but if they’re not fighting him or for him or making him food, he doesn’t particularly care enough to.
So when Luffy approaches him with the topic, he knows it’s getting out of hand.
“Zoro,” The Captain sidles up to him, hands twisted together behind his back. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead,” He nods, not bothering to lift his eyes from where he’s sharpening Wado.
“Are you and Sanji fighting?” Luffy finally speaks up after a couple of moments of uncharacteristic silence and Zoro pauses to take in a short, startled breath.
“No,” He carefully lays the sword aside, giving Luffy his full attention.
“It’s just that,” Luffy trails off with a shrug. “You always seem angry and I don’t want my crew fighting. But Zoro’s my first mate and if Zoro has a problem with Sanji or if Sanji did anything bad, I’ll have to kick him off and-“
“No!” He barks out startling them both into silence. Luffy stares at him with dark eyes that seem intrigued by his sudden tonal shift. “No. It’s not a problem. Listen.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
“He’s annoying. That’s all there is to it. But he can’t help it, it’s who he is. You don’t have to worry about it.” He pats the other’s shoulder gently. He’s oddly touched by Luffy’s show of loyalty and friendship, it makes something in him warm and thaw, a special feeling reserved only for their Captain, a different type of affection.
“Alright,” Luffy nods, seemingly accepting the answer. “But if there is a problem, you have to talk to him about it.” The Captain says smartly, a finger wagging in front of Zoro’s face.
“I will.” He promises like a liar because there is no problem and he won’t talk to Sanji.
“Good!” Luffy ruffles his hair and, spirits seemingly lifted by their talk, bounds back out onto the deck.
“Fuck,” He groans, leaning his head back against the wood of the ship’s hull.
The actual problem doesn’t lie with Sanji in particular. More so it lies in the uncertainty of it all. Because Zoro isn’t sure if Sanji is attracted to him in turn. Obviously he knows his own preference, but whether Sanji would be open to his affections or not is a question that remains unanswered as of yet. So even if he wanted to make advances, which he doesn’t, there is a possibility that they would be unwanted. And that hurts more than never making a move in the first place (which he wouldn’t do) ever would.
Sometimes he deludes himself into thinking Sanji is watching him right back.
Like right now, as he sits and drinks his beer in the tavern’s booth that they’d commandeered for the night. Usopp and Nami are off dancing while Luffy is making friends with the barkeep who keeps giving him bowl after bowl of peanuts as he keeps her company. Which leaves only the two of them alone, keeping an eye on things.
He’s refusing to look to the side from which he feels the stare coming, too scared that if he’s wrong about it, he’ll get disappointed. This way, Sanji’s stare both is and isn’t pointed at Zoro. It both is and isn’t intense and interested.
He doesn’t escape the other’s company for long, though, because Sanji seems to be a braver man than he is and slides closer to him in the booth so he doesn’t have to shout over the music. He downs what’s left of his beer, already sweating at whatever the other is going to say.
“You always the life of the party like this?” Sanji’s tone is teasing and light, like he’s genuinely trying not to antagonize Zoro despite his words.
“Oh, you haven’t seen me hit the dance floor yet.” He deadpans and – good, that wasn’t mean or stupid. It was a perfectly normal response, just the right amount of sarcasm, he’s doing so well.
Sanji’s chuckle sears a line of heat down his spine, it’s low and close to his ear, he’s afraid to look.
“I’m sure you’d be quite the sight. Dancing is just a step away from fighting, you see.” The response is veering into the territory of flirty and Zoro doesn’t quite know if it’s in his head, if he’s deluding himself, or if Sanji means it. Worse yet, if this is just what Sanji is like with everyone because he’s a flirt.
“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” He responds noncommittally, feeling like he’s playing a game of Go with the other and losing – badly. He’s not equipped for this, he doesn’t have the patience for slow seduction or the nuance for romance. If that’s even what’s happening here. He might be off the mark.
“Whatever do you mean, Mosshead?” A line of heat presses to his shoulder as Sanji leans against him casually.
His fingers flex around the empty bottle in his hand; he really wishes he’d opted for something stronger instead.
“Your fighting style,” He clears his throat. “Lots of intricate footwork and fancy kicks.”
The cook hums, nodding – a motion he sees in his periphery because he still refuses to look at the other, keeping his eyes on Usopp and Nami instead.
“I suppose. But I did always prefer dances meant for two.”
And surely, surely this is Sanji flirting with him. Surely this can’t be misconstrued as anything else, right?
“I didn’t think your pride could handle being lead.” He finally turns to look at him and instead of Sanji’s eyes he finds the other’s head tipped skyward, lids lowered as he rests against the back of the booth. He looks peaceful despite all the noise surrounding them. His profile is striking, the shape of his nose strong and fascinating, the curl of his mouth alluring, the cut of his jaw as sharp as Wado’s blade edge. It’s like the Gods sculpted him to be Zoro’s temptation personally.
“My pride can handle quite a bit, I’d say. Especially if my partner knows what they’re doing.”
His mouth shapes the words, the light catching the barbell as he grins and Zoro’s breath stalls in his chest, his pulse rabbits, thundering in his ears. The racket is loud and jarring and he abruptly realizes that it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing and instead it’s someone who has decided that starting trouble with Luffy and that bounty he has on his head is a good idea.
“Shit!” He jumps up and is quickly followed by Sanji.
“Shit.”
“Go help.”
“No,” He refuses to even open his eyes.
“You lazy bastard, just because you’re first mate doesn’t mean you get to slack off!” Nami exclaims, voice loud and angry and he winces. It’s not often that she gets fired up like this, maybe he ought to listen to her this once. Except – well. Except she’s asking him to go help Sanji with the dishes. Sanji who he hasn’t spoken alone with for more than a minute since the other night in the tavern.
“He can handle it.”
“Just because he can do it alone, doesn’t mean he should!” She kicks him in the shin and he yowls as the pain lances up the rest of his leg.
“Fine!” He yells back, getting up and stomping away from her self-satisfied smirk. Stupid Nami and her stupid sense of justice. The shitty cook has never asked any of the others to help so why should he be the one? Personally, he thinks that she has ulterior motives but he just can’t prove it.
He slams the door to the galley open and Sanji jolts away from the sink, hands lowered and stance wide – ready to fight. They stare at each other until the other relaxes and flicks dishwater his way with a roll of his eyes. He’s got a cigarette between his lips again, the smoke curling around his head in a distorted halo.
“What do you want, Mosshead? No more food until dinner.”
He clears his throat, coming closer to the sink. “Do you need help?”
Sanji pauses, frowning and bringing a hand up to place the back of onto his forehead. “Are you feeling alright? Are you running a fever?”
He bats the other away, “Shut up and hand me the rag, I’ll dry.”
“If you insist,” Sanji hums and hands him a dry dish towel. He gets to work and they fall into a companionable silence, developing a rhythm where Sanji washes diligently and he dries them before putting them where they belong.
“I didn’t think you’d know where everything’s supposed to go.” Sanji says without any heat but Zoro bristles nevertheless.
“I have eyes, shitty cook.” He snaps but Sanji just chuckles at him.
“Yes but your observation skills could use some work.” He says it so pointedly that Zoro pauses in his wiping of a large plate – the one that usually hosts Luffy’s portion of the food Sanji prepares, it’s chipped and scratched and-
“Are you calling me dumb?” He challenges, squinting at the other, unsure of what this conversation is supposed to be. He preferred it when they were silent a couple of moments ago.
“I’m calling you thick,” Sanji sneers back, “And I don’t just mean your ample chest and beefy biceps.” The other pats one of said biceps, wiping his wet hand against the material there and Zoro splutters.
“You dick!” He feels the now-wet sleeve with his hand and Sanji just chuckles.
“Thanks for the help, darling.” The cook winks and saunters out of the room, leaving Zoro spluttering and mostly confused as to what the cryptic bullshit the other had spouted meant.
He’s injured again because of course he is. But, it’s not his fault this time. It’s the shitty cook’s. Sanji hadn’t been paying attention for some reason or other and their skirmish with the marines had ended up with him being cut as he pushed the blonde out of the way of an oncoming sword swipe.
Maybe if he’d been faster he would have been able to block with his sword instead of his arm. But he wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t good enough so he he’s here again, getting patched up by Sanji who’s muttering something under his breath.
“Speak up, blondie, if you have something to say, I want to hear it.” He finally snaps, tired with the other’s passive-aggressive behavior.
Sanji tightens the bandage around his bicep more firmly than necessary and he hisses. He looks up to glare at the other but finds the cook already frowning at him, a cigarette with a chewed up filter hanging from his mouth.
The other takes a deep breath and lets it out steadily. “I don’t like you getting hurt, Mosshead. You make everyone worry and you make Luffy sad. If there’s one person on this blasted ship that shouldn’t be sad ever then it’s Luffy.”
“Ah,” He swallows. He doesn’t know what he had expected but this blatant concern for him, for the crew and for their Captain especially, certainly wasn’t it. He also feels something nasty and barbed drag along his insides, cutting a path from the pit of his stomach to the back of his throat. Jealousy.
“Sorry,” He says, sufficiently cowed by his own ill-advised feelings and the tone of the other’s voice.
The apology seems to take the other by surprise because it causes Sanji to splutter, dropping the unlit cigarette onto the ground.
“It’s your fault anyway.” He looks away from the other’s shocked expression. “If you hadn’t been distracted, I wouldn’t have had to save your ass.”
“What?” Sanji asks, his hand still lingering on the hem of the bandage, fingers slowly trailing down Zoro’s arm and making him squirm.
“That sword was meant for you, shitty cook. Did you think I pushed you aside just because?” He rolls his eyes, refusing to look at where Nami has scampered away from the kitchen entrance abruptly, suddenly no longer interested in their conversation.
“I wouldn’t put it past you.” Sanji murmurs but it lacks conviction, it doesn’t seem like the other’s certain of his words at all.
“Shows what you know,” He grunts and swats the other away, reaching for his shirt but is stopped by Sanji’s hand on his chest this time.
“If that’s truly the case, then… thank you, Zoro.” Sanji demurs, looking at him shyly. The use of his actual name takes him out for a moment before something else brings him back. Sanji’s hand flattens against the scar crossing his chest – the one still fresh enough to hold a faint redness around the edges and painful memories for both him and everyone involved in the ordeal (except perhaps for Mihawk). The other seems fascinated with it, mouth tugging down at the corners.
“You’re too reckless, Mosshead. You can’t have all the scars, you shouldn’t carry all the hurt.” The cook pats his chest once, twice, before smiling at him tightly and leaving the room.
“Fuck off,” He mutters to himself and the empty galley once he’s been left alone, bereft of an actual conversation because nobody seems to be expecting him to actually respond.
And why should they? He’s not exactly known for his conversation skills. He can trade insults with the shitty cook when necessary and ask Nami a question when he needs to, he can even laugh at Luffy’s jokes and scold Usopp when he’s going too far. But – but. He’d spent so long on his own that holding conversation had become a skill he didn’t really need to retain. So now he finds himself having to re-learn the art of small-talk. Which is awful and embarrassing.
He’s never really felt his age before and it’s an experience he doesn’t like.
He’s absolutely positive that Sanji is staring at him right now. Mostly because there’s nobody else on the ship so the cook is the only one who could be making the back of his neck prickle like this. Which is in turn interesting because either the cook has taken an interest in lifting weights as of recent or he’s staring at Zoro’s shirtless form. He feels himself heat further at the implications of the second option and lets the weights drop, stretching his muscles out instead of thinking about it further.
“Mosshead.” Sanji calls from much closer than he would have thought and he jolts, turning to look at him. His shoulders wide and squared, a serious frown on his face. “Let’s go down.”
“We’re supposed to look after the ship,” He grunts, wiping down the sweat from his chest with his dirty shirt.
“Who’s going to take this thing? It’ll be fine. If you’re really worried, I’ll pay someone at the docks to keep an eye out.” Sanji seems jittery, swaying back and forth where he stands like he can’t wait to jump ship.
He sighs, thinking about having something strong down in the tavern and his want for a drink wins over his fear of Nami’s wrath so he agrees. “I’ll go get a shirt.”
Sanji grins, wide and satisfied and making Zoro’s gut churn, something in the back of his head spelling trouble.
The tavern is already loud and the filled with the kinds of men that fill the ranks of burgeoning pirate ships that are docked by the Merry in the marina. They’re lively and young, still optimistic much like their own Captain is and Zoro finds himself observing the crowd with some interest. Usually it’s all crotchety old men or arrogant marines so this is a nice change of pace.
Well, it would be nice were it not for the fact that within five minutes of stepping foot in the fine establishment, Sanji had ditched him and is now lost in the sea of people around them. He grumbles to himself, drinking whatever it is that the barkeep had served him and not complaining when it goes down like swallowing a flaming sword. Anything to take his mind off the stupid cook.
He’s on his third glass, the alcohol not doing anything but souring his mood, when he finally spots him. And – it’s a mixed crowd, there’s all kinds of people out tonight but who Sanji is chatting up seems to be a tall, well-built man. His hand clenches so hard around the fragile glass that it cracks in his grip. The music ramps up, laughter fills his head and he feels a little tilted as Sanji bats his eyelashes up at the burly pirate who’s definitely too old for him. And then the man reaches up and tucks a stray lock of Sanji’s hair behind his ear just like he had done and he sees red.
Someone bumps into him from the back, spilling something cold down his shirt and he slams the glass in his grip against the bar, shattering it completely before turning around and clocking the man straight in the nose. He ducks out of the way of a flying pitcher and a brawl breaks out just like that – everyone looking for an excuse to start a tussle. It’s only a minute before the situation has developed into a full-on bar fight as everyone decides that it’s a good idea to join in on the fun. As far as blowing off steam goes, it’s not a bad workout. There’s some big men to take down and some that take cheap shots and then a mighty kick that gives him pause is slamming down onto his forearm. They both stop at that, meeting in the middle of the skirmish and Zoro feels his blood boil anew. Stupid cook and his stupidly pretty mouth, but most of all stupid Zoro’s lack of self-control!
“Let’s get out of here,” He twitches his head towards the door and Sanji nods, following closely behind as Zoro clears the way for them by barreling into people and shoving fighting pirates to the side.
Sanji seems to be none the wiser as to who exactly it was that started the fight so he keeps his mouth shut, mind filled with too many images of the other flirting with a man. The back of his shirt sticks to his skin uncomfortably and he tugs it off, grimacing as he twists it to drain the liquid. He’s due a bath that he’s not sure he wants to take yet so instead he heads for the beach, Sanji following in silence all the while. And he’s not – usually he’d try and piss the cook off just for his own amusement but tonight his heart’s not in it. No, it’s too full of fractures and trying to keep it together because if Sanji is interested in men as well, why isn’t he interested in me?
He drops the haramaki and his pants, leaving the Wado on them as he strips naked in order to walk into the tepid sea. He doesn’t know what Sanji is doing and he doesn’t care, he’s too busy wallowing. The water envelops him, soothing his temper some and washing away the irrational jealousy. Maybe it’s envy instead, because he’s never really had Sanji’s attention on him like that man at the bar – intention clear in his body language and the fluttering of his long eyelashes. He sighs and lowers himself until the water sits just below his nose. And Sanji must know that there’s something wrong at this point because he hears splashing behind him and soon the other’s swimming until they’re next to each other.
“What’s wrong, Mosshead?” Sanji asks gently and Zoro wants to cry.
Because if Sanji was just annoying, if he was just entitled, it would be so much easier to hate him. But he’s so much more than that and Zoro’s initial assessment of him was so far off base it might as well be buried with the One Piece. And it's not like he can come clean, can he? What is he supposed to say? Oh, I started a brawl because I saw you talking to some man and I wanted it to be me? No, not likely. He sounds childish even to his own damn self so surely Sanji would also think him stupid (as if he already doesn't).
He never thought he'd struggle this much with anything, let alone something as simple as having feelings. He always figured that when the time came and someone caught his eye, was worthy of his attention, that he would be ready. That he would put on his best, most sincere expression and fess up. But he'd never accounted for that someone being Sanji. He's never known anybody like Sanji, so full of contradictions and already so nuanced at their age. He makes Zoro feel juvenile at best, he makes him feel like a kid tugging on an adult's sleeve trying to get their attention. Because Sanji is a flirt and he's good at cooking, at fighting and so many other things that Zoro could never dream of catching up. He's bright and shining and everybody loves him so why should Zoro be any different? Of course he's no better than all the women swooning over Sanji, Nami was right. And if given the chance he too would sit idly by and waste his time watching him do whatever. But he can't. Because that's not who he is and he'd cornered himself early with that one, childish in his jealousy as he was.
He has a lot of gall calling Sanji entitled when that's what had gotten him into this whole ordeal in the first place. Had they not started off on such a bad, antagonistic foot, maybe he would feel better about his little problem. But because he had felt entitled and as the first official member of Luffy's crew, felt like he had a say in who they take on. So when Luffy had just outright asked the other to become part of their ragtag team based solely on seeing him fight, some good food and an easy grin, he had felt a pang of anger sear through him. And worst of all, Sanji had accepted the offer. The other had waltzed in, legs long and shoulders wide, winked at him and, well, Zoro's entire being had rioted against him in an instant because Sanji was a challenger. For what? He couldn't tell you.
“Think any harder and you'll sink, Mossy.” Sanji splashes him lightly and Zoro grunts, wondering how long he'd been silent for.
“I'll just use your big head and float us to shore.” He finally retorts, hoping his voice doesn't betray how tight his chest feels.
“I'd let you drown. Maybe then we could find someone who'll actually pull their weight as the new member of the crew.” Sanji bares his teeth jovially, swimming until he's right in front of Zoro.
He swallows and wishes the other's words didn't hit as close to home as they do.
“Fuck you.” He very maturely dunks Sanji into the water and the other flails for a moment before Zoro lets him up again. The other gasps for breath, spluttering but laughing and the sound eases some of Zoro's burdens, making him feel lighter.
“You bastard!” Sanji's still chuckling as he splashes Zoro in retaliation, making them break out in a fight that involves a lot of stray limbs and salt water getting into Zoro's eyes.
It dawns in him, as he has Sanji in a headlock, his front to the other’s back, threatening to go under again, that they're both naked and pressed together rather intimately. He releases the other as the cook's teeth bite into his forearm because Sanji's a rat like that.
“Fuck!” He yelps even though it doesn't hurt that much just to give himself the excuse, just so he can shove the other away lest he see the effects that that little revelation has left Zoro with.
“We should head back,” Sanji sighs, shaking his head like a dog and sending his hair flying all over the place until it's messy enough that it resembles a mop. “Nami, beautiful Nami, will already be livid that we left.”
“You go ahead, I'll swim for a while longer.” He turns away from the other to avoid the eyebrow raise and darts his hand out, propelling himself with his feet. He needs to calm down, he needs to send blood rushing somewhere else before he even thinks about leaving the water. He splashes away from the shore, far enough that he can breathe easier and far enough that Sanji doesn't see him watching the cook as he comes ashore, naked as the day he was born.
He sucks in a breath as he observes the interplay of shadows on the other's back, how the dips of his spine grow more pronounced, how the dimples in his back appear and disappear, how his shoulders flex as he tousles his hair dry. He's beautiful and Zoro doesn't know what to do with himself. It's gotten bad, it's gotten real bad. He dives to spare himself the sight of the other's front as he starts turning, unconcerned with his nudity. He lets the salt sting his eyes and clean out the minor scrapes he'd earned during the brawl, lets it cleanse his rotten brain.
Once he's calm enough he heads back to the shore. He expects the other to have already left but Sanji is lounging on the sand, bare-chested, his shirt tied around his head to keep his hair away from the sand as he lies there. He gives himself only seconds to pause and decide what to do before he wins over his blush and shuffles up the sloping sand, letting the water trail rivulets down his form. And he knows he's not unattractive. He's worked hard for his physique, his scars are well-earned and his calluses proof of his dedication to sword fighting. But. He still feels somewhat self-conscious about the way Sanji's gaze flickers over him like he's assessing.
He bites back a snarky comment and lets the other look. It doesn’t mean anything, after all. Sanji’s curious and much like Zoro had checked him out earlier, it’s only fair he allows this. He doesn’t flex, but it’s close enough as he rotates his shoulder to ease some of the strain of swimming from it. Alright, so maybe he flexes a little as he twists at the waist to pop his spine but who can blame him?
He puts his clothes back on slowly, leaving the shirt in the sand and opting to just throw it away rather than bothering with washing it. Once his sword is secured in its place, he finally gathers the courage to face Sanji. The cook is still looking at him and Zoro would bet his last berry that he never looked away. This thought lights a fire in the pit of his stomach that is dangerous, that makes him want to do something stupid like get Sanji on his knees.
He offers the other a hand and Sanji, much to his surprise, takes it. Smooth palms but with grooves from handling various utensils worn in them in certain places, the cook grips his hand firmly. He pulls the other up and Sanji goes willingly, up and up until they’re sharing the air in the quiet atmosphere of the night.
“Don’t think this little dip in the sea excuses you from having a proper bath, Mosshead.” Sanji taps the back of his free hand against Zoro’s chest with an easy grin, once again his usual teasing self.
“If it bothers you, stay away.” He quips back, not really meaning it because he’d never want that.
“Oh, I could never stay away from you, you brute, I’d die of boredom.” The cook winks and detaches himself from Zoro, starting up the trek back towards the ship.
Zoro swallows heavily and wonders when the straw that is going to break the camel’s back will make itself know.
There’s that curl of a mouth again, pleased as all hell as he watches Luffy practically inhale his portion of the food (and then some). Zoro’s lost his appetite a little while ago so he’s pushing around the rice on his plate like it’ll attack him if he tries eating it. There’s such obvious affection in how Sanji looks at Luffy and Nami, and on occasion even Usopp that it makes him seethe with envy. Sanji’s only ever looked at him like that when he was being condescending, when he knew Zoro was about to say something stupid. And even then it was a mocking sort of affection, nothing as pure and joyful as the rest of them get.
“You’re blind,” Nami says once they’ve finished eating and have evacuated the galley.
He grunts, not in the mood for another one of her insightful attacks on his character.
“You’re gonna wear grooves into the railing if you keep clenching your hands like that.” She taps his knuckles and he flexes his fists to relax his grip.
Taking a deep breath he rolls his head left and right, trying to ease some of the tension from his neck.
“My eyesight’s fine, thanks.” He finally murmurs, keeping his voice low lest someone overhears them.
“No, you’re blind in the brain. Or, well, specifically when it comes to Sanji. You’ve got pride-blindness or maybe it’s self-pity-blindness. Whichever one makes you oblivious to shit right under your nose.” She extrapolates on her point, waving her hand around in the air like she’s getting ready to scam him. But all she does is flick his three earrings and grin at him.
“I’ve given up and I’ve decided that watching you suffer is more entertaining.”
“What the fuck.” He swats her away, frowning at her words. Was he truly this hopeless?
“I’m giving you one more chance.” She crosses her arms and stares him down. “When we dock tonight, go with him to get groceries, I’ll make sure the ships empty by the time you return.”
He feels a blush trying to fight his way up the back of his neck and clears his throat. “Listen, I don’t-”
“No, you listen, dumbass!” She hisses, irritated now. “I’m tired of your stupid love funk messing with the crew! Either get it sorted or get over it!” She stomps away promptly, not giving him any time to respond. He watches her leave, helpless to protest because what could he say? There’s no amount of denial that’s going to convince her that he’s not pining. It’s too late for that now so the only thing left to do is as she said.
“Well, at least we’ll be putting all your big muscles to good use, Mossy.” Sanji drawls as they hit land, long legs making strides towards the seaside town. It’s located on a hill, squat, square houses and other buildings plopped along it at various points. The lights and lit fires make it look like there are fireflies scattered about, glittering in the night. He bets this place is beautiful during the day.
“If you worked out something other than your legs, you wouldn’t need my help.” He grumbles halfheartedly, knowing full well Sanji’s workouts are thorough.
“You’re so sour, Mosshead. I thought you’d leap at the chance to show off your impressive strength.” Sanji bumps their shoulders together and he sways with the motion as they walk.
“I’m not you, cook, I don’t preen.”
“Maybe you should,” Sanji snorts, “It’d do you good to get laid. Get that-”
“Stick out of my arse, yes, I know. I guess that’s as creative as it gets. I should have known, judging by your cooking and all.” He lays it on thick, a sneer and a hiss to his tone and Sanji gapes at him, offended.
“Besides,” He offers a careless smirk that’s entirely a lie. “Who said I’d be the one getting anything up my arse?”
Nami’s words fuel him as he squares his shoulders and winks at the cook, besting him at his own game. He continues walking and leaves the spluttering blonde to scramble after him. And it feels good to once have the upper hand in their bantering. It feels good to let himself bask in it.
It doesn’t last long because Sanji catches up with him quickly, a new quip on his pierced tongue.
“Oh, are there hidden depths to your shallow waters, Mossy? What are you concealing behind that empty stare of yours?” The other kicks him in the ankle lightly and Zoro pushes him to the side, hard enough to have him stumbling a little.
“No,” He rights the cook when it looks like he’s going to let himself stumble. “What you see is what you get.”
“All things considered, it’s not a bad sight.” Sanji hums and then sticks his nose up into the air, frowning. “It’s going to rain.”
He ignores the first part of the sentence and hums. “We better get this over with quickly then.” He picks up speed and Sanji matches him, silent as they continue with their mission of grocery shopping.
They’re mostly done with their shopping by the time the sky breaks open in a torrential downpour. He curses and Sanji valiantly uses his suit jacket to conceal his head.
“We’ll need to get the cart back to the ship in the morning.” The other eyes the valuables and Zoro shakes his head.
“No, no sense in leaving it here. Let’s just get it to shore and I’ll load it in.” He insists, not wanting to risk having their shit stolen.
“Alright, but if we lose anything to the storm, you’re explaining to Nami.” Sanji smirks at his grimace and they swiftly descend from the hill and to the port.
It takes longer to load everything in with only the two of them but they manage. By the time everything’s put away, there is thunder rolling across the dark sky, lightning sparking above, and Zoro shudders at the thought of getting struck. They need to get inside.
“Come on, you’ll catch your death out here.” He tugs on the sleeve of Sanji’s shirt where the other had been fiddling with a barrel and the other startles. He’d only done it because he wasn’t sure if the cook would hear him due to the constant noise of the rain and it seems as though he was right. He still feels embarrassed about it for some fucking reason.
“What?!” Sanji shouts as another loud boom fills the air.
He shakes his head and wraps his hand around the other’s wrist, dragging him into the men’s room where they begin dripping all over the floors. He frowns at the puddle forming at his feet and resigns himself to getting yelled at by Nami for causing water stains on the hardwood.
“The weather flipped on us very fast,” Sanji mumbles, already struggling to peel his wet button up off his body.
“Fickle,” He grunts, shrugging out of his light shirt and letting his sword rest on the bed while he gets out of his boots.
He’s not really paying attention to what Sanji is doing aside from hearing a few mumbled curses from the other here and there so he’s surprised when he feels a hand on his bare back as he's getting out of his pants – palm wide and scorching on his chilled skin. He holds back a yelp as the cook gets handsy with him and swats the other away.
“What?” He hisses, willing his body not to react in any ungentlemanly ways since he's basically naked.
“Help me get the tie, my fingers are frozen stiff.” The other say and Zoro pauses at the blatant lie. The hand on his back was warm, the fingers having left a mark there that’s not visible but is securely felt, the shape of it distinct. He turns to look at the other and – well, Sanji looks stupid. He looks silly with his soaked hair, shirt off and hanging at his biceps but his tie still stubbornly around his neck. He can’t help the smile that escapes him this time.
“Something funny, Mossball?” Sanji’s grin is as wide as ever, unconcerned by their situation, unaware of the thoughts swirling around inside Zoro’s head.
“You look stupid.” He says but his smile remains as he steps closer to grasp the other’s tie.
“Well you look like an algae patch.” The cook huffs, holding still while Zoro fiddles with the knot. It’s tied properly but whatever Sanji did to it has tightened it up enough that he considers just cutting it off. But – the material is smooth and soft despite being wet, it has to be either expensive or important to the other so he refrains from doing anything rash.
“You look like a drowned rat.” He retaliates, tugging the tie a little vindictively and Sanji sucks in a breath as it tightens.
“Brute,” The cook hisses but he’s still smiling that wide, beautiful smile of his. There are the dimples that grace his cheeks, the faint clinking of the metal ball in his mouth against pearly white teeth, all of it drawing Zoro’s attention to the other’s lips.
And he just – he can’t take it anymore.
“What game are you playing, cook?” He blurts it out, his hand on the makeshift leash firm as he holds the other still, not allowing him to escape.
Sanji tilts his head to the side, biting his lip as his lids lower. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Stop playing coy, you bastard!” He growls, shaking the other by the grip he has on him. Because Zoro may know why he’s always on Sanji’s case, but what puzzles him is why the cook is always so fucking smug about something that Zoro’s not privy to. Why he smirks so secretively at Zoro even as he flirts with every girl that walks within his sightline, why his eyes glitter like that looking at Zoro even as he’s getting hit on by other people.
“Aw, you’re no fun.” Sanji rolls his eyes, completely unrepentant. “You’re also incredibly thick.”
“Sanji,” He grinds out and the other actually startles at that, hands hovering above Zoro’s forearms as he stares in shock.
“Oh, um.” The other falters, seemingly caught out.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” He steps even closer to the other, using the scant few centimeters he has on the other to loom. “You’re full of shit, shitty cook. All talk.” He doesn’t know what’s fueling him; maybe it’s Nami’s words, maybe it’s his own frustration. But he does know that he’s had enough and Sanji is either going to reject him or, well, they’ll have some fun.
“My, how very forward of you.” The other swallows, throat bobbing inside the noose of his tie and Zoro’s fingers ache to replace the material. “First name basis already.”
“Infuriating.” He tips his head down, bumping their foreheads together. “You’re a fucking brat.”
“Now you’re just being rude,” Sanji pouts, hands on his hips as he lets Zoro continue staring at him from way up close.
“I think I’m allowed to be rude, considering.” He keeps it vague, plausible deniability in the back of his head as he battles Sanji on this chessboard he’s so ill-equipped to play on.
The cook rolls his eyes, letting the shirt that was hanging open around his biceps fall to the ground with a soft swish of fabric and a flex of his wide shoulders. Zoro’s eyes are drawn to the motion then downwards along the divots of his lean muscle mass. He wants to swallow heavily as saliva gathers in his mouth and his jaw aches to take a bite of the other.
“Considering what?” Sanji bites back, “Considering you couldn’t get your head out of your ass? Considering I’ve had to quite literally strip nude twice in front of you now for you to do something even as small as this?” The catty tone is accompanied by hands gripping his wrists as Sanji grins at him menacingly.
The implication hits Zoro like a kick to the gut from the other would, heavy and pointed. One of his palms darts out to grip the other’s face, squeezing his cheeks to keep him silent as he grinds his teeth together.
“You stupid bastard. What are you trying to say? That you’ve been, what? Trying to seduce me? Speak plainly!” He warns, thinking that he cannot afford to be wrong about this, he cannot afford a misunderstanding.
“You really are thicker than a brick shithouse, fuck’s sake!” Sanji smacks his hands away from both his face and the tie and Zoro finds himself being kissed within an inch of his life just like that. A wide mouth and sharp teeth, a tongue bullying its way between his lips and Zoro’s never – he’s never kissed anyone like this, he’s never been kissed like this. Like he matters, like he’s wanted, like Sanji wants to crawl into his head and live there for the foreseeable future. He’s certainly never kissed someone with a tongue piercing either.
His knees grow weak and he finally gathers his bearings enough to put his hands back onto the other’s warm skin. Sanji hums, nipping at his bottom lip and smiling into the kiss. Zoro tightens his grip as the cook chuckles and no, he’s not going to let the other overwhelm him like this. He’s – he’s stronger than that, he’s not going to be pathetic about finally kissing the guy he likes. He’s not going to drop to his knees and worship the other like he’d thought about – at least not this time.
With a casual grace he didn’t know he possessed, he starts backing up until he reaches Sanji’s bed, all the while tugging the other after him by the conveniently still-looped tie. Sanji makes an inquisitive noise but refuses to stop kissing him even as his hands scramble along Zoro’s chest and shoulders, keeping his balance. He sits down and the cook follows, trying to straddle his lap but with a swift motion, Zoro has the other over his knees on his front instead. Sanji gasps, hands scrabbling against the bedding and to look back at him, betrayed.
“What? What are you doing, Mosshead?” Sanji’s breathing is labored, his cheeks are flushed and his hair has started drying in messy waves.
“You’ve been stringing me along, cook, teasing me for weeks. You deserve a bit of punishment. Don’t you think?” His hand lands heavy on the back of the other’s thigh and Sanji cranes his head, eyes growing wide as he realizes what’s seemingly going to happen.
“Zoro,” The other warns but Zoro’s instincts are faster than the doubt in his head and his hand connects heavily with the other’s ass. Sanji yelps and wiggles on top of his legs but Zoro places a palm firmly in the center of his back, holding him down. And it’s a really nice ass, he’s now coming to realize. He’s known this objectively already, all the leg work Sanji does cannot mean anything else. But feeling the flesh under his hands is something else. He gives the right cheek a squeeze and Sanji sucks in a sharp breath.
“That’s a little forward of you,” The cook’s voice is breathy as he repeats his joke and when Zoro meets his eyes they’re glossy and wide, the blue of them a thin ring around the pupil.
“You saying you don’t deserve it?” He runs his hand down the other’s thigh, kneading the muscle and Sanji’s eyelids flutter to half-mast.
“By all means, blockhead. Do your worst.” The cook glares, the challenge issued out carelessly like Zoro isn’t going to take him up on it.
“Oh, you’re gonna eat your words, blondie.” He grins, squeezing the muscle under his palm again as heat coils in his stomach, stoked back to life at the idea of putting Sanji and that ego of his in their place.
“Hang tight,” He wiggles a hand under the other and Sanji yelps as he unceremoniously and inelegantly unbuttons and then unzips the other’s slacks. They’re tight in all the right places but they’re no match for Zoro’s brute force as he tugs them off the other’s ass until they reach the other’s calves.
“You fucking savage,” Sanji hisses, trying to get to his knees but failing as Zoro drags him back down by his sharp hips. He’s so glad that the other’s conveniently shirtless because he gets to enjoy the interplay of muscles under the other’s smooth skin up close like this. He wants to purr, wants to grin like a lunatic, wants to get his head down and bite at the swell of the other’s ass. But not today, there’ll be time for that later.
“You’re terrible at dirty talk,” He snaps the band of the other’s underwear against the small of his back and Sanji jolts again.
“That’s because someone’s groping – Zoro!” Sanji whines as Zoro’s palm connects with the place where his thigh meets his ass, the crack of skin on skin filling out the room.
“Shut up, if you’re not counting, I don’t want to hear it.” He grins, loving the power he’s wielding over the other at the moment and knowing that if Sanji got serious the situation could flip on him so easily. He tugs the other’s underwear down and sucks in a breath as he realizes that this is indeed real and that this is happening and that he can feel Sanji’s half-hard dick against his thigh. Weeks’ worth of tension eases from his shoulders as his palm connects with the other’s bare ass again. The skin reddens from the impact and Sanji jolts with every subsequent smack, the sound ringing out in the empty bunkroom. The cook jolts but remains silent and Zoro can’t have that.
“Getting bored, cook?” He rubs the other’s ass, the flesh radiating heat from the abuse of Zoro’s heavy hand. “Maybe I should up the stakes.”
“Zoro-” The other probably hadn’t meant to whimper but he does and Zoro’s ego grows three times in size. The other clears his throat, the blush on his cheeks matching the color of his ass, his hair messy and his eyes teary. Zoro momentarily leads a battle with himself – give up the punishment and kiss the other silly, worship every divot on his body and bare his throat to the other like he’s wanted to or continue the punishment and save face.
“You shitty fucking bastard, is this all you got? I’ve had customers put up more of a fight!” Sanji hisses, finally getting his bearings and Zoro’s decision is made for him.
He scowls and uses his hands to spread the other’s cheeks, spitting across his hole and wasting no time as he presses a finger to his rim. Sanji’s words die in his throat as he stares Zoro down, thighs quivering with the effort of remaining still.
“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow, watching carefully as Sanji nods frantically, probably not daring to open his mouth again. “Eyes forward, cook.” He orders and the other snaps back around, shoulders hitching.
Sanji is – he’s tight. Zoro can’t discern if it’s because it’s been a while or it’s because the other’s tense. Either way, the wetness of the other’s dripping length against his leg is encouragement enough so he continues without much worrying.
“It’s so nice when you’re silent.” He sighs, pushing his finger in and out of the other unhurriedly. “Peaceful.”
“Fuck you,” Sanji barks out, the words punched out of him as Zoro spits some more and adds another finger, slowly pushing them both in. The other clenches around him and whines at Zoro’s ministrations, he feels like his face is going to get stuck with how wide he’s grinning.
“Maybe later,” He bends down and buries his teeth in the other’s ass cheek, finally getting to leave a mark on the supple flesh.
“Zoro! Fuck, that’s – you fucking animal!” Sanji pushes into his hold, arching his back with a loud moan and Zoro swears he’d going to die. His own dick, which had been ignored so far, twitches against the other’s hip and all he can see are stars and pale flesh that’s bruising quickly with a waterfall of wisterias found in the most beautiful of gardens. He lets out a little noise of his own, something pleased and primal from deep within his chest and thinks maybe Sanji wasn’t wrong when describing him as a savage.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Sanji? Have you been thinking about it?” He goads, his fingers keeping an unrelenting pace as he talks. “Because I have. I’ve been thinking about putting you in your place, shitty cook.”
“Of – of course you have, fuck.” Sanji whines out, “Your stupid eyes were glued to my ass for days.”
“I’d apologize, but I’m not really sorry.” He snorts, thinking about the time he’s wasted looking instead of touching. He spreads his fingers, and the cook goes rigid as the stretch intensifies. He feels his heart in his throat as the other releases a long moan. He sounds like he’s being tortured and loving it, Zoro doesn’t know how he’ll ever go back to not having him sound like that. He’s going to have to take every opportunity presented to have the other on his lap like this.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Sanji?” He asks again, stressing the name because it seems to make the other pleased. The blush reaches past his shoulders and he can imagine how far it’s spread over the other’s front, it’s a beautiful contrast between that and Zoro’s rough hands that are tanned and bony.
“Yes!” The cook finally bursts out, clambering up to his knees shakily as Zoro loosens his grip on him. “Yes, you shitty swordsman, I want you to stick your obnoxious dick in me! I’ve wanted you to do it since the first fucking insult you threw my way. Is that what you wanted to hear?!”
He’s stunned. To have Sanji looking this disheveled, this out of it when he’s usually so put-together and in control is magnificent. He breathes out heavily, and crooks his fingers and Sanji wails as Zoro nails his sweet spot insistently. The precum leaking out the other’s dick is obvious now and Zoro aches to put the pretty length into his mouth but he can’t get sidetracked.
“You should have just asked, silly bastard.” He chuckles and pulls his fingers out, smacking the other’s ass one final time, making the other yelp. “Come on, on your back, I want to look at you.”
“What, my ass not enough anymore?” Sanji grumbles as Zoro manhandles him onto the bed. And Sanji’s – he’s a vision. The tie is still around his neck and he wonders if this is going to come in handy soon, but he’s mostly focused on his watery eyes. Not even the depths of the East Blue were this enticing, this mesmerizing, this easy to get lost in.
“What?” Sanji stares at him, defiant and out of his depth now that he’s getting what he wanted. And to think Zoro considered him smooth at one point.
“You’re beautiful,” He says plainly and Sanji’s chest hitches up, his thighs closing around Zoro with admirable strength, his dick twitching at the compliment visibly.
“You liked that, huh?” He grins, reaching past the other to where Zoro’s personal chest is located.
“S-shut up.” The other whines, covering his face.
He rummages through the random assortment of stuff in the chest until he finds the little vial of sword oil he keeps in reserve there. With a victorious hum he returns to kneeling between the other’s spread legs. Sanji had taken the liberty of undoing the tie after all which is a shame but hardly a setback.
“What is that?” Sanji sniffles, looking at the liquid like it’ll poison him.
“Uh, sword oil.” He uncorks it, fully prepared to continue because his dick is urging him to.
“Is that shit safe?” The other grips his wrist and brings the bottle up to his nose. “Hm, cloves. Should be good.”
“Only the best for you.” He rolls his eyes, fond, and Sanji kicks him in the ribs lightly.
“At least it’s not my cooking oil – ah!” The other throws his head back as Zoro presses the tip of his hard length against his rim, slowly pushing.
“Alright, gorgeous?” He asks, pausing to let the other adjust and Sanji nods enthusiastically.
“Yeah, fuck. Keep going,” The other grips his shoulders, nails digging in and Zoro tutts. He grabs the other’s wrists and pins them above his head, keeping his hold light as to not bruise and cut off circulation.
“Zoro,” Sanji growls, thighs hitching up as he squeezes Zoro’s ribs between them.
“I’ll be careful, promise.” He leans down, pressing his lips to the other’s forehead, using his free hand to move the other’s hair to the side. The other goes lax in his hold, eyes wide and seemingly stunned at the treatment. And Zoro gets it, he does. Nothing in their relationship so far had indicated any sort of gentleness. He knows he looks and acts like a brute, he knows he’s rough around the edges and even uncouth at times, but he’d never risk actually hurting Sanji. Not when he means something unidentifiable to Zoro, not when he cares as much as he does.
“Alright, Mossy, do what you must.” Sanji’s smile is coy this time, fully trusting Zoro to make him feel good, to make it worthwhile. This show of trust and genuine affection is what gets under his skin more than anything, making him twitch, making him throb. Maybe there’s something wrong with him.
“Anything you want,” He croons and Sanji rolls his eyes, biting his bottom lip as Zoro begins moving his hips.
The rhythm he sets is slow at first, he moves at a leisurely pace so that he can track the shifting expressions on the other’s face. The way the other’s jaw goes slack, how he screws his eyes shut and tries to keep his moans behind his teeth but ultimately fails every time Zoro bottoms out. He’s so pretty it’s sort-of painful to look at. And Zoro’s looking, his gaze is glued to every minute twitch of muscle, every bead of sweat pooling between them and how Sanji twists his tongue until the metal in his mouth clicks against his teeth audibly.
“Sanji, eyes open.” He purrs and the other obeys immediately, the gentle blue lost to the size of his pupil.
“Zoro,” He whines, high in the back of his throat and he smiles, the pleasure radiating from within, a gentle warmth around his heart. Oh, he thinks, oh. He knows what this is, he’s heard about this before. He’s suspected it might be the case, but up until now, he’d never have thought about it seriously.
“-, love,” Sanji stutters, “Zoro, love, move please, yeah?”
He jolts, realizing he’s stopped moving entirely as everything was slotting into place. He tightens his hold on the other’s wrists momentarily before releasing them, bringing himself closer to the other’s face instead.
“What – what’s wrong?” The other hushes into the warm air between them, frowning.
“Nothing, cook, absolutely nothing.” He connects their foreheads together and essentially cages the other in, hugging him as he picks up speed again. He can’t go as deep as he’d like in this position but the friction of their skin sticking together, Sanji’s hardness against his abs, the other’s hitched breaths – it all makes it worth it. He spreads his thighs to get a better foothold so he can put more power into his thrusts. Sanji clenches around him and he grins, sinking his teeth into the side of the other’s neck as the other wraps his hands around his shoulders and head.
“Fuck, fuck!” The other groans as the sounds get punched out of him, the bed, the ship creaking underneath them. The clinch he has the other in doesn’t allow for much movement but the other finds room to cross his legs at the small of Zoro’s back, still insisting on giving as good as he's getting. He’s pushing the other up the bed, he realizes, the force of his thrusts moving them and the sheets. It’s visceral how pleased this makes him, how hot he feels with Sanji underneath him, willingly entrapped.
“Sanji,” He pants, feeling like he’s losing his mind as the cook starts whining continually, throwing his head left and right.
“Feel how well you’re taking me? Fuck, this was worth all of the fucking teasing.” Another minute adjustment and Sanji’s nails dig into the nape of his neck as he starts grazing the other’s sweet spot continually.
“You stupid – I can’t.” The other whines trying to get more friction on himself but Zoro doesn’t relent.
“You can,” He goads, “You can, you’ll be good for me, won’t you? You’ll come just like this, just from me fucking you.” He lifts the other, getting his feet under him and putting more weight onto Sanji as the other bends under him beautifully.
“There we go,” He chuckles breathily as Sanji’s eyes start watering, all coherence lost as Zoro plows forward relentlessly.
“You – fuckin’ – animal!” Sanji hiccups, the tears finally escaping from behind his eyelids and sliding down his cheeks. Zoro can feel himself grin, feral as the animal he’s accused of being, as he licks them up, making the other moan louder.
“I can’t, I can’t!” Sanji tries trashing in his hold but he’s too insistent, too firm.
“Come on, gorgeous, come on. For me? Sanji, please.” He croons and Sanji sucks in a wet breath and then lets it go. The wet warmth splashes between them and he feels the other’s dick twitch against him as the cook comes soundlessly, mouth open and eyes unseeing.
“Fuck!” He pulls back, pulls out of the other and takes himself in his hand, still holding the other’s legs up.
“What, my ass not good enough for you to fill, Zoro?” Sanji’s voice is shot, the fry low and drawling, almost drunken as he goads.
“Fucker,” He groans, a laugh at the tip of his tongue as he pumps himself until his orgasm washes over him, painting the backs of Sanji’s thighs white with his spend.
The room fills with the sound of their heavy breaths and Zoro’s abruptly aware of how everything’s going to stink of sweat and sex for the next few days – until they can air the room out.
“The storm’s stopped.” Sanji shuffles to the side, fumbling with his discarded jacket until he finds his lighter and cigarettes.
He hums, tipping to onto the bed and plastering himself to Sanji’s right, disregarding the mess and the oppressive heat of the tiny room. The cook grumbles but repositions himself so that he’s leaning back against Zoro’s chest instead, fitting them onto the small mattress better.
“Think they’ll be back tonight?” The other speaks around the cigarette and Zoro snorts.
“No, tomorrow noon at the earliest.” He traces patterns onto the other’s shoulder lazily, enjoying the closeness now that he’s allowed to have it.
“You sound sure.” Sanji tilts his head back, burying his nose in the hinge of his jaw and Zoro feels at peace for the first time in a long fucking while.
“Nami may or may not have implied so.” He winces as the cook stiffens, a hand coming to smack Zoro’s thigh.
“What the fuck, Mosshead? Does she know about this? Did you plan this?”
“No!” He hurries to deny before thinking better of it. “Well, yes. Sort of. She’s, uh, been aware of how I feel about you for a while. She insisted I talk to you about it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call this talking exactly but – wait.” The other scrambles to his knees until he’s straddling Zoro’s lap. “How you feel about me?”
He squints at the cook, his hands coming to rest on the other’s hips. “Yeah, I mean. It’s obvious. It’s been obvious. Even Luffy’s noticed something’s up.”
“This isn’t – you feel something?” Sanji raises his eyebrow, an odd look on his face.
“Shitty cook, did you think this was just me blowing off steam?” He snorts, plucking the cigarette out of the other’s mouth and putting it out on the bedframe, flicking the butt away.
“I don’t know what I thought,” The other runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated.
“You’re telling me,” He rolls his eyes and pulls the other in for a short and sweet kiss, prying his hand from his hair.
“I guess I owe Nami dearest a feast, then.” The cook grins and Zoro groans. He rolls the other over, making Sanji yelp as he bullies him into the little spoon position.
“That’s disgusting! We need to wash off!” The other insists but he just bites at his shoulder, making him shudder and shut up.
“In the morning. Enjoy this for now, blondie.”
“Brute,” Sanji sneers but settles down and Zoro feels him relax fully into his hold.
“You owe me money.” Nami grins, eyes sparkling at the prospect of money.
“I don’t remember making any bets.” He grunts, averting his gaze as he sharpens Wado.
“No, but you’re covering the inn costs. And the dinner at the restaurant. And the snacks Luffy wanted after dinner. And the drinks Usopp got us. And for emotionally scarring him.” She lists off, hands on her hips as she mightily looms over him.
“Take it up with the cook,” He waves her off but she doesn’t budge.
“No dice, Sanji was at least trying to do something instead of pining miserably.” She kicks him in the shin lightly and he darts out a hand to grip her ankle.
“What,” He hisses, “Do you mean he was trying?”
“Oh, um.” She looks around, seemingly panicked. “Nothing!”
“Did you,” He releases her and she wobbles before stabilizing. “By any chance know that he felt the same and did you, by chance, forget to tell me before pushing me to talk to him?”
“Hey, uh, did you hear that? I think Luffy’s calling me, I gotta go!” She jumps away from his arms and runs across the deck towards the galley, screaming you’re welcome as she leaves.
“What was that about?” Sanji, materializing out of nowhere as he is wont to do, asks, a hand running through Zoro’s short hair easily.
“Nothing, cook, nothing at all.”
“Well, if you’re good and help with the cleanup, I might reward you after lunch.” The other purrs and Zoro’s stomach clenches at the suggestive words.
“Oh, yeah?”
The other’s mouth curls at the corners, clear blue eyes shining in the afternoon sun as he flicks the metal ball against his lower lip. “Yeah.”
And, well, maybe Zoro can be good, too.