Chapter Text
There was a band playing that evening. Loud and jolly, it was performing on the very fringes of the coastal village, the singers filling the salty ocean air with a chorus of sound. The crackling of the fire was barely audible beneath the thundering of feet around its flickering light. Shadows danced in tandem with their owners, streaking the grass with dark stripes.
Above the droning of laughter, Luffy’s voice rang clear, rowdy and warbled trying to match the singer of the band despite not knowing a single word. The players didn’t seem fazed at all. In fact, with every beat the drummer struck, he cheered at the Strawhat Captain, encouraging Luffy to jump higher with the pulsing rhythm.
Chopper was dancing at Luffy’s feet, barely dodging the captain’s erratic movements. The little reindeer seemed to have recovered from his previous dizziness, thanks to Luffy’s mission to spin him around as fast as possible. Now, he was wiggling and hopping from hoof to hoof with unrestrained joy. Brook had joined them, effortlessly playing along to the foreign song with enthusiastic sweeps on his violin.
Nami had already won several drinking contests. That was obvious enough in her uneven movements, almost tumbling over with every twirl and giggle. She might have if it weren’t for Usopp, tugging on her hands to keep her upright and attempting to pull her away from the bonfire. Despite his obvious concern, a wobbly grin was plastered on his face, appearing only mildly less tipsy than their navigator. When he stumbled directly into her, the both of them burst into a cacophony of cackling.
Beyond the flames, Robin was seated gracefully on a stump, the smile on her face reaching her bright blue eyes as they gleamed in the firelight. And those eyes were set on the large figure of the cyborg sitting beside her. Franky was waving his oversized arms around, explaining the complexities of his next invention with a description littered with yells of ‘super’. Robin’s occasional hum proved she was clinging to his every word, gaze not leaving his grinning face for a moment. Until a sigh sounded from behind her.
Sanji plopped down against the log beside the elegant woman, leaning back against the wood with a puff. Heat thrumming under his skin, he tugged at his tie and threw it off vaguely behind him, hoping it would land at least close to his long-discarded jacket. The fire wasn’t helping much with sweat dripping down his forehead or chest, but Sanji couldn’t care any less. A smile was stubbornly plastered all over his face, cheeks still bright red from his dance with Nami a few minutes ago.
The cook did his best to tune out Franky’s loud voice and watched his crewmates prance drunkenly around the bonfire. He took a slow breath, feeling the cool evening air swirl in his lungs. Sanji tracked Luffy’s erratic movements from under liquor-heavy eyelids, his captain spinning each Strawhat member he came across. Sanji furrowed his eyebrows.
A particular splash of colour was missing. Even on the outskirts, barely touched by the orange tinge of the flames. Sanji sat a little straighter, gaze doing a scan of the party area. But he didn’t spot that smudge of obnoxious green amongst the crowd.
“Looking for someone?” Robin’s lovely voice chimed from beside him.
He whipped his head around, finding her deep blue eyes fixed on him with her chin resting her palm.
“No one who could possibly compare to your wonderful presence, my dear!” Sanji cooed, pressing his hands to his chest and presenting her a tipsy grin. “My beautiful Robin-chan, is there anything you require of me?”
“Not at all, Cook-san.”
Sanji leaned into his hands, elbows resting on his knee as he took her all in. “You’ll let me know if anything is bothering you, darling, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
Robin’s elegant smile was blinding. Even when Franky’s mug popped up over her head, bringing the beauty before Sanji’s eyes down by several notches. The cyborg lifted his sunglasses up, which he should have done hours ago, just to raise an eyebrow at the cook.
“Zoro has been gone for a while, Sanji-bro.” He thrust a thick thumb towards the beach. “Walked off that way, sayin’ something about fresh air.”
Sanji blinked once before scowling. He thumped one foot against the sand, grumbling sourly, “Who said anything about that bastard marimo-head?”
Franky made a face. Sanji couldn’t quite decipher it, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Wisely, Franky didn’t say more, turning back into the firelight to cheer on Luffy’s antics. Sanji could still feel Robin’s sharp eyes on him for a few more drawn-out moments. But he wished to decipher that even less. Sanji drew his legs up and rested his chin on his knees, still frowning.
Stupid mossball, ruining the mood even when you aren’t here. Sanji clawed through his tangled hair with a huff. He tried to summon his recent memories of Nami’s mesmerising hips, her smooth skin so close and within arm's reach even if he couldn’t touch. The attempt at distraction did nothing and Sanji cursed at his tipsy brain for jumbling those angelic images in favour of fixating on Zoro.
He fumbled his cigarette box out of his pocket, almost dropping it into the sand a few times. He did actually drop his lighter, having to lean unsteadily forward to grab it back.
“Fuck’s sake.” Sanji growled under his breath, before finally lighting up.
He took a long drag and fell back over the log, practically upside down as he looked out into the night. Traces of pink still stained the darkening clouds over the trees. From here, Sanji could just make out the tall mast of the Sunny peaking over the grove covered sandbanks.
Sanji let out a groan ending in a short shout of frustration before throwing himself forward. He struggled to his feet, flailing his arms to keep his balance. Once steady, he took a long drag from his cigarette and spoke through smoke.
“I better go find that directionally challenged idiot.” He announced to no one in particular. “Could be halfway across the island by now looking for his fucking fresh air.”
Sanji supposed he was glad nobody around the fire paid him any mind when he wandered away, too deep into the hollers raging around the band as they began a new song.
The trees rustle gently over his head along the well trudged path towards the beach. Sand crunched underfoot. Sanji could feel some of it flick up on his heel and into the back of his dress shoes, but he ignored it in favour of sucking a large cloud of smoke into his lungs. At least that warmed him up. Away from the bonfire, shivers threatened to cascade down his sweat-damp skin. The sea breeze didn’t help at all, feathering against his face and buffering the Sunny’s flag as the ship came into view.
The sun had set beyond the watery horizon, though the last traces of its light were still painting the clouds and ocean with dusty orange. The final calls of the birds rung through the gentle breeze, their chimes drifting to the shoreline with the sharp tang of salt. Waves lapped along the sand and slapped against the Sunny where it had docked close to the beach, the painted sail already raised and tied for the night.
Sanji stumbled past the last grove roots and onto the beach. He strode past the looming shape of the Strawhat ship, squinting down the darkened shoreline. Sanji could feel him. Subdued, but close. His presence lapping at his consciousness like the waves on the sand. As he trudged further around the curving land, Sanji began to hear the muted chimes of earrings ringing against each other in the wind.
On the precipice of a sloping sandbank, Zoro sat with his eyes closed and legs crossed. His three swords lay in his lap. One of Zoro’s hands rested firmly on the saya as if they centred his very being. The other was the pale handle of Wado, his calloused thumb stroking slow circles into the ribbon.
The swordsman didn’t so much as twitch when Sanji climbed the shelf. But the cook knew it wasn’t for lack of noticing. Zoro had probably sensed him the moment he set foot on the shore. Sanji came to a stop behind the man’s broad back, shoving his hands in his suit pockets before breathing a stream of smoke.
“Look at the great lump of seaweed that washed in.”
Zoro’s finger paused its rubbing. But he didn’t turn his head.
“Couldn’t find a woman to pay you attention, cook?” The swordsman’s voice was low, cutting through the rustle of trees with a graveled baritone.
Sanji clicked his tongue, choosing to ignore that particular jab. “I’m surprised you’re not halfway through the forest looking for the Sunny, you oaf. What the hell are you doing out here?”
Apparently, his body decided it was best to undermine his question with some sudden loss of balance. The cook tipped, barely catching himself before his face met the sand, cursing as his cigarette fell out of mouth. Zoro turned. A dim grey eye flickered over Sanji’s wobbly stance, a sharp eyebrow quirking upwards.
“You’re wasted, curly.”
Sanji could practically hear the amusement radiating from his tone, even if he hadn’t already spotted his mouth twitching into a smirk. Sanji fumed.
“I am not!” Sanji snapped, stomping his foot. “I am perfectly sober, you shitty piece of moss! Bastard! Lump of seaweed!”
Zoro snorted and turned back to the ocean. “I guess you’re right. Temper tantrums have always been your sober specialty.”
The cook hissed. And by some miracle of momentarily clear vision, Sanji slammed his shoe into just the right spot beside the large green haired man. The sandbank crumbled like puff pastry, giving out beneath Zoro’s hefty weight.
Sanji cackled at the undignified yelp Zoro let out as he tumbled into the damp, hard sand below. One of his boots landed perfectly into the path of an incoming wave. Zoro quickly drew it back, but the damage was done, water soaking into his shoe and pant leg.
Sanji was still suffocating with laughter when Zoro roared, whipping his head up to glare venom at the cook.
“You!” Zoro tossed his swords onto dry ground before scrambling up the short slope. “You motherfucker!”
Sanji’s giggling was cut short when a large hand took a firm hold around his ankle and his weight was pulled from under him.
Sanji wouldn’t say he squealed, but the sound that left his mouth was not flattering. His back hit the ground with a thump and he spluttered as sand found its way into his mouth. Not able to rid his vision of his own shitty bangs in time, Sanji felt himself being lifted.
The swordsman, grabbing him roughly around the middle, growled in his ear and began walking. Zoro was making sure the cook was held too close to land a proper kick, leaving the cook to wiggle and scratch at a hard wall of muscle.
“Oi, prick-” Sanji gasped, his calf suddenly icy. The cook whipped his head down as best he could, spotting ocean water flowing just under Zoro’s knees. He grabbed handfuls of the swordsman's coat, slamming his forehead into Zoro’s to glower at him.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
Zoro paused for a heartbeat, his one good eye staring blankly. Then, the widest shit-eating grin split his lips. “I dare, love-cook.”
Sanji felt Zoro’s arms flex and his own weight shifting in the swordsman's grip. As some kind of last-ditch effort, Sanji latched onto Zoro’s thick torso with his legs, hooking his ankles together. When Zoro attempted to throw Sanji into a wave, the cook let his body go limp. Though his mass was not greater than the swordsman, the surprise of having Sanji’s dead weight suddenly attached to his centre of gravity was enough.
With a yell and loud splash they both toppled into the icy shallows.
Bubbles fizzed in Sanji’s ears. He could feel Zoro’s body bump against him in the gentle tide, but even as he opened his eyes the water was too dark to see him. Finally untangled from the swordsman, Sanji found his footing on the seabed and thrust himself up right.
He broke the surface with a gasp, clawing his sopping hair out his eyes. Close by, Sanji could hear Zoro coughing. Barely able to see past the salty water dripping off his forehead, Sanji thrust a kick through the water at Zoro’s aura, managing to clip him on the shin.
“You are literally the worst!” Sanji spat out some ocean. “I hate you!”
Zoro grunted and began wading towards the shore. The cook only just heard his bitter mumbling, carried on the breeze. “Why’re you here then, stupid-cook?”
Sanji opened his eyes to watch the swordsman exit the waves. Zoro grimaced at the coat sticking to his well-muscled frame before letting it fall around his waist, leaving his chest bare. The cook’s gaze trailed a droplet trickling between scarred pectorals and down twitching abs. Zoro interrupted the seeping water by shaking his head like a dog, earrings ringing out into the night air.
“I think,” Sanji began. “I think I’m a little tipsy.”
“Hmm.” Was Zoro’s only response. Which, given the particular ‘marimo’ tone, was full of sarcasm.
Sanji didn’t care to bite back, especially once his hands dipped into his pockets as he stepped onto the sand.
“Noooo!” Sanji fell onto his knees with a whine. His hand clenched into the cardboard box breaking apart in his hands. “Fuck, my cigs.”
Zoro hesitated before climbing back up the sandbank. He dragged his swords towards himself and tugged at the wrapping keeping the blades together. Sanji furrowed his brows, watching the swordsman rifle through the fabric. Finding what he was apparently looking for, Zoro tossed something at the cook.
“Here, shit-cook.”
Sanji caught it just before it hit the ground, dropping his useless pack. His fingers finding a grip on the small, light object, Sanji’s eyes widened.
“Are you picking up my habits, mossy?”
Zoro was dragging his hands through his wet hair, trying to slick it back. His eye fixed Sanji with a glare.
“As if.”
The swordsman’s scowl made him resemble a pouting child too much. His hair refused to fall back into place the longer he pulled at it, green strands sticking out all over his head. Sanji couldn’t swallow back his laughter.
“One minute in the sea and algae’s already growing from your brain!”
“Oi!”
The cook's cackling rang out loud into the night, until he was wiping tears away from his eyes. “What’s a plant growth like you doing smoking cigarettes, huh?”
Zoro growled, finally giving up on his hair. “I ain’t smokin’ them. I have better things to do than poison myself with a nicotine stick.”
“What, like drinking yourself stupid?” Sanji retorted, still snickering.
Zoro tipped his head to the side. “How about you look in a mirror, cook. ‘Cause unlike an idiot I know, alcohol doesn’t make me stupid.”
Before Sanji could retort, Zoro looked to the sky, considering, and put a hand on his hips. “Well, more stupid.”
Sanji scrunched up his face, spluttering and waving an accusing finger at the swordsman. “You’re just lucky a marimo with no brain can’t get any dumber.”
Zoro snorted. Sanji blinked, lowering his arm. The green haired man was actually grinning now. Just visible in the low light, his stern face broke into a wide smile, the usual savageness of his intimidating aura flooding with sunlit warmth.
“Why aren’t you at the party?”
The question escaped Sanji in a soft murmur. He hadn’t intended to ask. Really. He didn’t care why the stubborn swordsman had left. But…
Zoro raised an eyebrow, his smile fading into a frown.
“Mmm,” Zoro rubbed at the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders. “Well, I was there for a bit. But, I–”
Zoro’s voice died for a heartbeat. He sat back in his place on the edge of the sand bank, putting a hand on his swords. He furrowed his brows, watching a droplet of water fall from his nose onto the sand.
“I’m not Luffy. People make him go crazy. He loves them. Anyone.” Zoro amended the thought. “Anyone who feeds him, anyway.”
Sanji was quiet as Zoro continued.
“I’m not saying I hate the parties either. Celebration’s good. We deserve it. Booze is good, too. But when we win,” Zoro was forcing each sentence out past his teeth. Frustration touched every word, like he was struggling for the right tone. “When we have a huge battle, with our lives on the line and hanging in the balance of Luffy’s orders or our own decisions. I’ve…we’ve all gotta get our heads around it a different way.”
Sanji had gotten to his feet by this point, wandering up the slope of sand to lower himself beside the swordsman. He wasn’t close enough to touch, but the cook could feel Zoro’s body heat radiate against his soaking pants. Sanji was surprised when Zoro lifted his head to look at him.
“I ain’t like you, curly.” Zoro said. “You’re more like Luffy.”
Sanji sniffed. “Rude.”
“Shithead, you know what I mean.” For a moment, it looked like Zoro was reconsidering his honestly. But his hesitation dissipated with a huff. “You guys are such fucking social butterflies. I don’t mind the parties for a bit, but after a while, I’ve gotta get away. Reorganise my thoughts. By myself. Just, fuck, I don’t know, go through a kata or two. Calms me, or somethin’.”
Zoro grip tightened on the white sword on the sand, his thumb returning to its instinctual pattern against the pale fabric. His good eye flicked up to watch the last colour on the clouds slowly melt into the dark grey of the night sky. In the distance, a cheer rang out over the mangrove sand dunes. Sanji turned his head to try and catch the tune, the recognisable notes of a sea chanty just reaching his ears.
“You should be up there, shitty cook.” Zoro told him gruffly, not looking at him. “I know you love it. Go on, get another drink and find some poor girl who’s stupid enough to dance with you.”
Sanji whipped his head back around, staring at the back of Zoro’s damp, jade hair, gone wild with the salty water. Then, he snorted. Sanji rolled his eyes and started getting to his feet.
“Oh please, you want me to go back to the party looking like this?” He spread his arms out and flicked the swordsman with his sopping sleeve for emphasis. “No lady will take me after what you’ve subjected me to, asshole.”
Zoro shot a scathing look at the cook. “Hah?”
“My dress shirt!” Sanji accused. “It’s completely ruined because of you! You owe me for all the dances with ladies I’m missing at this very moment.”
“In what world does that make any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“Like hell it does!” Zoro was squinting up at Sanji, frustration written all over his face. “What in fuck’s name would I owe you, love-cook.”
Sanji planted his hands on his hips, staring down the length of the beach. He muttered begrudgingly, almost under his breath.
“A dance.”
Zoro's voice was flat. “You what?”
“I suppose marimos don’t have ears either.” Sanji shot a glare at Zoro, spitting his request out louder. “I said a dance, shitty moss-brain! I’ve got to enjoy some of my evening, haven’t I? Come on. Up.”
Sanji stepped into the swordsman’s space, leaning down and grabbing hold of Zoro’s muscular arm. Zoro only resisted for a few moments, following Sanji’s insistent pull until he was on his feet again. Although, it seemed it was more out of blatant confusion than compliance.
“I– Curly, I don’t–” Zoro stumbled over his words, wide eye tracking Sanji’s movements. “I can’t dance?”
Sanji rolled his eyes. “Really? It’s not so different from fighting without your swords or that kata you do. Movement with rhythm. You’re just not supposed to fatally wound the other person involved.”
“Kata aren’t really about–”
Zoro’s mouth snapped shut as Sanji’s hand enclosed around one his own, tugging the green haired man closer. Sanji suppressed the shiver threatening his body when the swordsman’s breath brushed his ear and let his other hand rest gingerly on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro stiffened at the touch, muscles jumping under Sanji’s fingers.
“Relax, marimo.” Sanji murmured with a nervous chuckle. “Listen to the beat. You can hear it, yeah?”
Zoro let out a wordless grunt but nodded his head. Across the quiet beach, the drumming slowed into a solid thump, thump, thump beneath the singer's voice and joyful twang of the guitar. Sanji took a breath.
The Strawhat cook took a first step to the side, leading the swordsman into a gentle swaying movement. Zoro attempted to match Sanji’s slow footwork, his steps delayed behind the beat of the song. Sanji almost jolted away when Zoro’s palm touched his side. His fingers traced down the wet fabric of his shirt until they found purchase on Sanji’s hip, resting there, heavy and warm.
Sanji’s gaze slid up to the swordsman’s face, observing it in the darkness. The man’s eyebrows were furrowed deep with concentration, looking down at Sanji’s ruined dress shoes. Sanji tried a different move, grinning when Zoro stumbled over it with a frown.
“Hey, hey.” Sanji snickered. “Look up here, Mr Two-Left-Feet.”
Zoro’s head shot up, making up for his missing eye with a glare worth a thousand. He let out a loud huff.
“Like you’re a fucking expert. You’re just stepping back and forth.”
“And yet you still fail, mossy.” Sanji teased.
Sanji slipped his hand from Zoro’s shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
Still holding Zoro’s hand, Sanji lifted the swordsman’s arm to twirl himself underneath. He spun on one foot, the flick of his shoes sending sand spraying across the beach. Zoro only stared stiffly, but he didn’t let go, calloused fingers tightening around Sanji’s palm. Sanji used the momentum to step into the swordsman’s space, back pressing against his wide chest.
“Waist, Zoro.” Sanji commanded, guiding the rough hand downwards.
Zoro obeyed, his hand digging into the cook’s side. Sanji could feel warmth radiating off the swordsman’s body, hot compared to the cool night air soaking into his wet clothes. Every time he brushed up against Zoro’s front a stuttering breath buffeted Sanji’s neck. The fingers in his shirt flexed with each roll of the cook’s hips.
Sanji cleared his throat. “You, er, you can have the cigarette back.”
Zoro didn’t answer immediately, jaw clenched tight. Sanji was about to open his mouth again when the swordsman responded, voice hoarse.
“You…aren’t gonna smoke it?”
“No.” Sanji traced his fingers up Zoro’s arm, chuckling. “If you will remember my lighter would be ruined too, mossball.”
Zoro made a low noise in his throat before he managed another sentence. “Can’t you, you know, go on fire or somethin’?”
“’Go on fire?’” Sanji echoed.
“Shut up.”
Sanji grinned. “No, in fact, I will not be ‘going on fire’ for the cigarette. It’s too much of a pain, especially now I’m wet.”
The cook added, tapping at Zoro’s damp abdomen, “Loosen up, move with me.”
Finally, Zoro unstuck his feet from the sand once more, leaning with Sanji’s movements. Sanji appreciated the effort with a pat on Zoro’s wrist. Even if the swordsman was bumping into the back of the cook’s knees each step.
“Either way, cook,” Zoro muttered. “Keep it if you want it. I’ve got plenty where that came from.”
Sanji’s swaying faltered and he whipped his head around to peer at Zoro passed his bangs. With that, Zoro seemed to have realised his mistake. He avoided Sanji’s prying gaze as if his life depended on it, biting at his bottom lip like it would stop the words escaping further. Delight bubbled in Sanji’s chest.
He cooed, “You what, moss-head?”
Sanji grinned when Zoro’s face only seemed to fall further. With his brows scrunched up it looked like he was personally offended by the sand beneath his feet.
“I thought you said you didn’t smoke.”
“I don’t!” Zoro snapped. “I just—”
He scrubbed his free hand over his face with a groan, mumbling a few words Sanji couldn’t understand. Sanji took hold of one of Zoro’s fingers within reach to keep the man from escaping. He dipped his head a bit to catch Zoro’s eye, teasing smile still bright on his lips.
“How many have you got?”
Zoro’s grey eyes flickered between Sanji and the ground, palm plastered over his mouth. He let out a long breath.
“Over those two years…” Zoro muttered. “On the island I was sent to, I just…”
Sanji tipped his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. But he said nothing, waiting for the swordsman to find his words.
“Everything there was uncomfortable, confusing. I needed something familiar I guess.” Zoro’s tone waivered, but he continued nonetheless, staring firmly at his own boots. “Hawkeyes, he let us order a few things when cargo ships came past. So, I grabbed one pack. I–Fuck! This is stupid.”
Zoro tried to pull his hand out of Sanji’s grip but the cook only tightened his hold.
“It’s not!” Sanji argued, leaning his head into Zoro’s eyeline. “Zoro, it’s not stupid.”
Finally, that pale grey eye flicked up to meet the cook’s, brows easing as his hand slipped off his face. Zoro was quiet for a moment. He appeared to be scanning Sanji’s expression for its usual taunting demeanour. Sanji squeezed the swordsman’s fingers, quirking the edge of his lips into the smallest smile.
“The whole Sunny reeks of those fucking cigarettes.” Zoro said.
Sanji might have kicked him in the head for the blunt comment but the swordsman kept going.
“The galley, the deck, the aquarium. You may not smoke much in the bunk, or bathroom but even there I can smell it. Fuck, cook, it’s all over the crowsnest because you can’t go on watch without one.”
Zoro slid his warm fingers between Sanji’s and gave the cook a hard look. “On that bloody island, where I hated almost every moment, I wanted home. I’m not fucking supposed to. I’ve been wandering for years. A good part of my life and I’ve never missed a place. But I missed our home. And those cigarettes were my lifeline.”
Sanji blinked, going still. Zoro’s gaze was firm, so intense that Sanji’s own trailed down to look at their tangled fingers. He opened his mouth. Then close it. His damp face was suddenly warm despite the biting chill of the night air.
“You’re allowed to miss things.” Sanji murmured. “I missed Sunny those two years. I’ve…been in unfamiliar places before. Uncomfortable places, when I was young. This is one of the first times I had people I wanted to return to so badly.”
Sanji rubbed his thumb against Zoro’s damp skin, chuckling quietly. “Honestly, I wish I found something on that damn island that reminded me of you.”
Cheers rang out over the sound of waves lapping against the shore, before a few gentle notes of guitar began the song anew. Sanji’s bangs buffeted against his face in the seabreeze, no longer dripping freezing water into his eyes.
When Sanji lifted his head again, Zoro was only inches away. That sharp eye was fixed on Sanji beneath a half closed lid. His eyebrows were slightly pinched, creases forming with soft concentration. Tufts of messy green hair were stuck to Zoro’s forehead, barely moving in the salty wind.
A droplet seeped from a strand and trickled down his tan skin until it got caught in his brow, where it clung for a heartbeat. Before it could creep any further, Sanji reached with his free hand and brushed the water away. The tips of his fingers traced a damp trail over the swordsman’s scar and down to his cheek bone. Sanji left it there, watching Zoro’s lips part slightly, his breath warming Sanj’s wrist.
“Shit.” Sanji breathed. “I’m drunk.”
Sanji took a large step back, ripping his hand away from Zoro’s grip. He stumbled on the uneven ground along the top of the sandbank.
“I’m so fucking drunk.” Sanji rubbed at his head, fingernails caught in his hair. “Not fucking thinking straight. Not thinking at all. What the hell am I doing?”
“Cook.”
Sanji drowned Zoro’s voice out with a bout of unsteady laughter. “That’s right. Ladies. Dancing with Nami. I gotta go back to the fire.”
He whipped around and stalked up the shore the way he came, almost tripping on seaweed left behind on the tide. Sanji could hear boots crunching the sand not far behind. But he kept his eyes on the treeline.
“Curly!”
Sanji covered his ears as he marched, gritting his teeth. “Shut up, stupid mosshead! Nami’s waiting for me for a dance. I can’t let her down. I’ve gotta–”
“ Sanji! ”
Sanji froze in his tracks.
The heavy footsteps following him came to a stop. Though Zoro didn’t reach out to touch him, Sanji could feel the swordsman’s presence enclosing him.
“Look at me.”
Zoro’s voice was quiet, but commanding, ringing deep in Sanji’s ears. The cook hesitated for a heartbeat. Then, he turned to face Zoro. His gaze stuck to the sand under his feet and his hands squeezed at the damp folds of his sleeves.
Zoro took another small step forward, his boot sliding into Sanji’s view.
“Sanji, please .”
The words themselves, from Zoro’s mouth of all places, made Sanji’s whole body flood with heat. With the surge of panic, the cook had to stop himself from bolting full speed into the mangroves. Instead, Sanji took a breath in, hating the way it shook. And looked up.
Now there was an expression he’d never seen before. Sanji could never accurately describe the way Zoro’s usually reserved features had melted into a look of raw desperation. Zoro’s hair was still a mess. His cloak was still dripping seawater. His three swords stuck out of his belt at awkward angles like he had shoved them haphazardly just to chase Sanji up the beach. And Sanji wanted nothing more than to hold the man so close he could feel his heartbeat against his own.
“Cook,” Zoro began, voice hoarse. “Right now, you’ve got to be honest with me.”
Sanji hummed a high-pitched noise, struggling to keep eye contact.
Zoro clenched his fists. “Cook, do you…do you feel something?” He cleared his throat, gaze fixed on Sanji’s every reaction. “For me?”
Sanji’s heart hammered in his ears. He bit at his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head frantically. And yet. What finally escaped his mouth was a wavering, whispered, “I don’t know.”
Zoro huffed a breath out his nose that Sanji couldn’t decipher before the sand crunched closer. Sanji could feel heat radiating off Zoro’s body, his breath soft against his skin. Sanji could smell the familiar tang of sweat faint under the layer of drying sea salt.
The cook jumped when calloused fingers grazed his jaw, tracing a soft line just past his stubble and pausing there.
“Kick me if you hate it.” Zoro murmured. “Okay?”
Sanji’s responding whimper was cut short when lips met his.
Zoro’s kiss was clumsy. Upon contact, the swordsman’s mouth bumped lightly against Sanji’s own, his breath stuttering awkwardly on Sanji’s face. His lips were chapped, no doubt a result of his recent fight and disturbing lack of self-care routines. Cold water dripped from his hair. It took a moment for Zoro’s hands to find their place on the cook's body, and even then, they trembled over Sanji’s damp sleeves.
With this display, Sanji wouldn’t be at all surprised if the swordsman had never thought to kiss another person, let alone do it. It was damp, it was rough, and it was downright shitty. And still.
Sanji’s fingers found a hold on Zoro’s chest before his brain had processed the movement, tracing down that ragged scar. He chased the heat flooding his system through the swordsman’s touch until he was pressing close. Pressing back. He parted his lips in a sigh, letting Zoro’s mouth settle comfortably between them.
Zoro’s body twitched and fingers gripped tighter around Sanji’s arm. A small groan escaped him as the cook’s knee pushed between his legs, brushing dangerously high against his thighs. Sanji revelled in it. Every little movement he made the swordsman tremble, his muscles jumping as if Sanji’s touch was electric.
The waves of heat passing through them seemed to take all of the strength from Sanji’s legs. Barely a minute and his joints turned to jelly. They gave way beneath him, causing Sanji to slump towards the beach, scrambling to a hold on Zoro’s shoulders.
They parted with a gasp. Zoro slid down with Sanji, just managing to keep him upright when they landed with a thump in the sand. The swordsman pressed their foreheads together, their pants mixing in the cold air shared between. They knelt in silence for a good few moments, calming down to the sounds of the rolling waves and the yells of celebration.
“That,” Sanji swallowed. “Was the worst kiss I’ve ever had.”
The finger’s stroking Sanji’s hip pinched his skin through his shirt.
“Ouch!”
“You're a brat.” Zoro snorted. His one eye followed Sanji’s light touch on his own chest.
Sanji glowered at him through his bangs, fighting down the heat in his face. “Can’t help it if it's the truth.”
Zoro gave a sour frown and narrowed his eye at the ground. “Well, I apologise that my lackluster skills weren’t up to standard, princess.” He muttered under his breath, “Not like I have the practice all your precious girls seem to have.”
“Oi, what are you implying, fucker.” Sanji hissed, pressing a knuckle into his tan chest.
“Nothin’,” Zoro said with the childish tone that implied just about everything.
Sanji slapped at the swordsman’s stomach, gritting his teeth. “Ahhh! You’re impossible, you moss-brained caveman! Don’t offend the ladies.”
Zoro took the half-hearted hits with barely a flinch. His bottom lip was stuck out in pout, gaze still straying to the sand between them. In the half light, Sanji could see Zoro’s face was smudged with pink over his nose and cheeks. Sanji lowered his hand.
“You–” Sanji cleared his throat to rid his voice of the tremble. “You’ve really never…kissed anyone before?”
Zoro sighed through his nose and shook his head. “Nah. I’ve never really wanted to.”
Sanji blinked. “But. You kissed me?”
“Yeah.”
The swordsman glanced at Sanji from under furrowed brows, rubbing the back of his neck. The cook couldn’t hold the look for even a moment. His face flushed, ears growing hot as he waved his arms around wildly.
“What the hell, marimo!” Sanji yelped. “How the fuck am I supposed to react to that? What does this even mean, then? Shit, I don’t get it–”
“I like you.”
Sanji’s jaw snapped shut.
Zoro had raised his chin firmly, staring Sanji down. The hand resting on the cook’s hip gave a light squeeze. The swordsman’s voice rang low over the beach and the call of evening birds, tone unyielding.
“I really fuckin’ like you, curly,” he said. “So much I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to touch you all the goddamn time and when you drape yourself all over the girls, I feel like I’m going to go insane. I’ve never ever felt like this before. Maybe close, sometimes, but–”
With a groan, Zoro let his head fall and settled heavily in the crook of Sanji’s neck. The cook could feel his eyelashes flutter against his skin, the swordsman’s sigh warm on his collarbone.
“I think I probably love you.”
Sanji sucked in a breath, mouth falling silently open. Zoro’s nuzzled closer to his ear as if trying to hide his face away from the cold ocean breeze. Sanji was sure the swordsman could feel his heart hammering violently and loudly where he was pressed to the cook’s throat, because that’s all he could hear ringing in his own ears. Zoro’s words reverberated in Sanji's chest when the swordsman continued.
“Love’s too much, isn’t it?” Zoro reconsidered. “Shit, forget that. Love isn’t the right word. I didn’t mean to–”
“No!” Sanji rushed out. He tugged the swordsman’s face away from his neck and cupped his hands around his face. “No, idiot, don’t you dare take it back.”
Zoro’s dark grey eye flickered up at the cook, wide as he studied Sanji’s stern expression. Sanji eased his stance, stroking the swordsman’s finely stubbled jaw line with a slow sigh.
“Look,” he began. “I don’t…I can’t sort out all of my head right now. Shit, it’s so muddled up here I don’t know where to begin. But love,”
Sanji rolled his tongue between his teeth, clicking it on the roof of his mouth. He took a moment to seal himself for his next words.
“I love you.” Sanji murmured. “As my nakama .”
Sanji saw the swordsman’s eyebrow twitch, his jaw muscles jumping beneath his fingers. Before Zoro could open his mouth, before a single idea could settle in his brain, Sanji bumped his forehead back against his damp hairline.
“I know that much.” Sanji conceded, closing his eyes. “I love you as I love Luffy, or Usopp. Shit, even Nami. It’s the only thing I’m certain of right now. All these other feelings. I thought I was aware of what they felt like but, holy hell, they’re all new to me. But like this?”
Sanji loosened his grip to a trace gentle trail towards Zoro’s chin, nudging the swordsman’s head to level his stare. The cook’s gaze followed his own touch. It watched the crinkle in the new scar tissue beneath dark eyelashes, memorising the cracked lips parting with a wobbly exhale. Sanji met Zoro’s eye.
“Like this, Zoro? I think I really fucking like you too.”
The huge grin flashed to Sanji was blinding even as they sat on the half-lit beach. A deep chuckle rumbled from Zoro’s chest, rolling in waves passed ferociously bared teeth. Large palms enclosed Sanji’s waist and pulled him flush to the swordsman’s powerful body. Sanji only indulged for mere heartbeats in the pure joy flooding Zoro’s eye before his mouth was smothered with it instead.
“You’re a tease, shit-cook.” Zoro scolded between kisses.
Sanji smiled into them. A crooked, shit-eating smile.
“You love it.” He snickered. “Now shut-up and kiss me properly, marimo.”
Sanji nipped the swordsman’s lip from emphasis, drawing out a very satisfying groan. Zoro met the next kiss with an open mouth, slotting the tip of his tongue dangerously between Sanji’s teeth. Sanji wrapped his hands around Zoro’s neck and dug his fingers into damp, green hair to drag him further in.
As Sanji’s tongue tangled with Zoro’s, the swordsman’s weight shifted. The hands on his hips dragged down to take handfuls of Sanji’s thighs, kneading and yanking at the tense muscles beneath his tight dress pants. Without resistance, Sanji let his legs be guided onto Zoro’s lap. He didn’t have much time to appreciate the press of the swordsman’s body before Zoro tipped onto his back, pulling Sanji down with him by the mouth.
“Zoro–” Sanji mumbled, if just to tease the swordsman with his own name.
Zoro growled. Apparently just a taste of intimacy had gotten him riding some kind of high, going at Sanji like he planned to eat him whole. And not in a bad way. Not at all. Despite the roughness of inexperience, raw enthusiasm soaked through in his every movement. The brush of fingers under his shirt had Sanji’s breath hitching.
Sanji unravelled one of his hands from Zoro’s hair to caress the swordsman’s chest. A smirk played on his face when Zoro gasped, a clear reward of Sanji brushing his nipple. The cook used his newfound grip to push his body lower, rolling his hips until he sat heavily over Zoro’s crotch. Beneath his ass, Sanji could feel the swell of Zoro’s arousal beginning to strain in his slacks.
“Shit, wait–” Zoro hissed and pulled his tongue away. “W-wait a minute, Sanji.”
The cook narrowed his eyes, heat flooding his stomach. “You say my name like that, and you want to wait, shitty moss?”
Again, he gave his hips an experimental roll. Zoro groaned, eyelids fluttering before he recovered his control with a scowl at Sanji.
“You’re an insufferable pervert.”
“Uh-huh.”
Sanji didn’t even attempt to hide smug grin, even as Zoro smushed his face with rough palms. The swordsman peered at Sanji through an incredulous squint. The earnest concentration in the pinch of his expression only resulted in cracking the cook up further and Sanji burst out in hysterical cackling.
“Ahh! See you’re still drunk, curly!” Zoro scolded,
“I’m not! I’m not!” Sanji tried to curb his giggling with little success. “I’m good, marimo!”
“Yeah right.”
Sanji patted Zoro’s arm. “No, no, I’m okay. I haven’t drunk anything in like two hours, mossy, and I’ve danced, eaten, and been dunked in the ocean by someone who will not be named.”
Sanji took a quivering breath, calming his mirth into a soft smile. Zoro quirked an eyebrow, but his grip loosened enough for Sanji to feel the cool sea air on his face again. The cook caught a wrist before he could fully pull away, drawing the swordsman’s hand to his face to press his lips to the warm, calloused palm.
“Seriously, I’m good now.” Sanji met his eye. “And I really want to have sex with you.”
If Zoro hadn’t been blushing already, he certainly was now. And, fuck, it was a sight. The way his tan skin flushed across his nose and all the way up his forehead where his damp green hair stood out even further against the red. Sanji wanted to see more .
The swordsman’s throat bobbed. “You…” This voice was hoarse. “You done this before?”
Sanji opened his mouth to answer, but Zoro followed up quickly.
“With a man, I mean.”
It took a second for Sanji to close his mouth again, slowly shaking his head.
“Neither have you,” he pointed out.
Zoro’s gaze dodged his own, wandering to the half-done buttons on the cook’s shirt. Sanji gaped.
“You said you hadn’t kissed anyone!”
“I haven’t, shithead!” Zoro scowled.
Sanji gave him a hard look.
The swordsman tugged on Sanji’s bangs distractedly and muttered through clenched teeth. “I’ve…given a couple handjobs. I guess.”
The cook rolled his eyes. “Oh please, That’s barely relevant experience for this.”
“How fucking far are we going?” Zoro’s voice was high-pitched with nerves, spitting at Sanji. “And it’s plenty of experience, thanks. You probably haven’t even seen a guy naked, damn womaniser, you’d probably run away.”
Sanji dug his nails into the swordsman’s chest. He leaned down close to Zoro’s face, glaring into that fiery grey eye.
“You’ve touched, what, two dicks? Don’t laud it over me like it’s some big accomplishment, mosshead.”
“Two more than you, fishfucker.”
“Fish–?! You shitty virgin!”
“Lady-cook!”
“Seaweed brain.”
“Hornball.”
“That is correct.”
Zoro blinked. They stared hard at each other in the half light, panting quiet breathes between them. Sanji’s face burnt in the cold night air, heart jackhammering away in his ribcage like it was trying to kill him right then and there. His bangs trailed paths of seawater on Zoro’s red face and dripped into the crease of his scar-sealed eyelid. The swordsman groaned.
“Sanji, I want to fuck you so bad.”
Sanji grinned into the strokes along his cheek. He rested his temple on Zoro’s, feeling the other man’s pulse thrum hard through his tight-muscled body.
“Yeah?” Sanji hummed. “Let’s go then.”