Chapter Text
console.log(‘Hello, World!’);
Tuesday morning, Sanji woke up way too early after going to sleep way too late last night, having helped Zeff with the restaurant.
Nothing a nice breakfast, coffee, and a cigarette can’t fix.
He pushed himself out of bed, trying to shake sleep off him as he walked to the living room of his apartment.
Sanji always tried to keep his routine the same.
He woke up at an ungodly hour, exercised in his living room, showered under water far too cold for that early in the morning, dressed in the only clothes he considered decent enough to be seen in, then made breakfast while trying to convince himself all of it was necessary.
When he was finally ready to leave for the office, he looked at himself in the mirror one last time. He needed more sleep or more concealer. Every good programmer had a fucked up sleep schedule and dark circles under their eyes; that was normal. He still refused to let it show.
The office wasn’t too far from where he lived, so he always chose to walk. It was relaxing; a few people were already out, heading to work as well. He lit a cigarette and enjoyed the burn down his throat while the nicotine eased into his system.
He hoped at least one of the girls would show up today, Nami, Robin. He knew most of the developer team worked from home most days, but at least a few days a week, one or two women from backend or frontend would show up on the same day.
While he thought about who might or might not come to the office that day, he remembered someone else who would surely show up. His shoulders tensed just from the thought of having to spend another day alongside the sentient mossball. It was in that moment that he regretted each complaint he had made to Nami about Roronoa.
Why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut? As much as he hated it, he had brought this fate upon himself. Of course, Zoro could have just answered his damn messages, but Sanji could also have quit, disappeared, and never met the man at all. Now he had to put up with a muscle-brained alcoholic for god knows how many weeks.
When he reached the third floor, he went straight to Luffy’s office. He was almost certain his boss would be there. If anyone had a fucked up sleep schedule, it was Luffy. He would come to the office before sunrise some days, others he would arrive at almost two in the afternoon, and some days he wouldn’t even show up at all. On rare occasions, he would just crash at the office; it’s not like anyone would stop him.
Sanji had developed a weird friendship with Luffy over the months he had been working here. His childlike boss had something like a sixth sense for people who needed help; he never overstepped, he just naturally and quietly lent his hand to anyone who seemed to struggle with something, and he never asked questions either. He just stayed there, supporting without making a big deal of anything.
Luffy had apparently noticed how uneasy Sanji got when left alone and always made sure to tell Sanji if he would pass the night in the office, so if Sanji stayed overtime, he knew he wouldn’t be alone.
Sanji really appreciated the small gesture; he even made it his personal mission to always keep the mini fridge in Luffy’s office somewhat full.
He saw through the glass wall that Luffy was, in fact, there, playing some video game.
As much as Sanji cared for Luffy, he didn’t understand how he and his brothers had managed to form a whole company from scratch.
Luffy was at the office most of the time, but mostly talked to whoever was around, ate whatever he found, napped, and played video games. Ace was almost never in the country (only God knew what he actually did during those so-called business trips, and Sanji doubted most of them involved business at all). Sabo, though the most normal of the three, only stepped in when truly needed…
Mostly, when Luffy got too excited about an impossible idea that he swore his team would be able to do it because he trusted their capabilities with all his heart.
Sanji opened the glass doors and entered without even bothering with a ‘Good morning’. He knew Luffy didn’t care about formalities. “Had breakfast already?”
Luffy didn’t look at him, but he did pause the game. “Yeah, you left some leftovers from lunch yesterday.” Then he grabbed one of the extra controllers he used whenever Ace or Sabo were there, or when he simply wanted company while playing, and passed it to Sanji. He stared at it for a second and took it. “You know I have work to do, right? And you are my boss.”
He sat down on the floor and inspected the controller. It was the newest one, but in the end, it was the same one he had at this apartment. He hasn’t played in so long. “Exactly, I am your boss, and right now your job is to play Mortal Kombat with me.” Luffy grinned at him happily as he started another match.
They played for a few minutes, but Sanji was starting to feel uneasy about just wasting time when he had stuff to do. Even if Luffy insisted this was part of his job.
When Sanji kicked Luffy’s ass for a second time, he decided it was time to go do his actual job. “Gotta go, Luff.” He stood up from the floor, gathering his belongings that he had discarded on the floor beside him.
Luffy pouted like a child at Sanji’s words, but didn’t press further. Before Sanji could exit the office, “How are you and Zoro holding up?” He turned his head towards his boss once again and couldn’t help the scowl that the marimo’s name brought to his face. “He acts like answering one question costs him physical pain.”
A laugh rang through the room. Obviously, everyone in the office had noticed the tension coming from the shared desk, and Luffy was no exception.
“You and Zoro are funny, you’re the same but opposites!” A toothy grin appeared on his face as he looked at Sanji at the door.
What the fuck did he mean by that?
“Sure, Captain.”
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Zoro was once again late. In his defense, the streets were badly signaled and built like a maze.
The moment he set foot in the office, his already bad mood became even worse, and the shout aimed at him was just the cherry on top. “Zoro!”
Fuck. Why was the damn witch screaming at this hour? He took a sip, more like a long chug, from his thermos; this time it was just plain alcohol, and the burn slid down his throat straight to his liver. “What?”
Nami was speed-walking toward him. Her fists were clenched, her brows furrowed, and her eyes promised blood. Zoro sighed, readying himself for what was coming, and as she lifted a finger right in front of his face, “Nami-swan!”
That voice, that damn ridiculous tone.
Zoro groaned at the sight of the man approaching them, this time he was dressed in another ridiculous suit and was holding what looked like… a tray? Nami turned her head, and her scowl seemed to soften at the sight of the drinks Sanji was bringing.
What? So he was a waiter too now? Wasn’t this man supposed to be working? What was he doing, making fancy drinks and flirting with Nami? Apparently, Curly-brows was so desperate to get laid that he thought working was a side quest. Nami wasn’t even into men, that was obvious, his gaydar never faltered, and Zoro was almost sure that she had something going on with that human resources girl—Vivi? Something like that.
Whatever, he didn’t care about Nami’s love life; he just cared that his fucking coworker, who was supposed to be working right now, in something they had to do together, seemed too busy trying to get laid with a lesbian instead of doing his damn job.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working, Cook?” Sanji’s gaze shifted from Nami to Zoro. He looked almost surprised, like he hadn’t even noticed Zoro was there. Then his eyes narrowed, and his prince charming smile instantly turned upside down.
“Weren’t you supposed to be here almost two hours ago, Mosshead?” Okay, he had a point. But not a valid one. Zoro was about to answer, but Nami beat him to it, teaming up with blondie to make Zoro’s life a living hell this early in the day.
“That’s exactly what I was gonna say.” She said with a fake sweet smile, as if she hadn’t been ready to kill him a couple of seconds ago. “I was about to tell you that for every minute you’re late, I’m deducting 200 berries off your salary.” Her smile grew even wider, as evil as ever. She took a sip from her drink while looking at Zoro, like she was challenging him to protest.
Zoro quickly decided against taking her up on that. He didn’t want to lose his job, and he knew Nami had her ways of making people’s lives miserable. He huffed out a breath, trying to compose himself. Then he threw a glare straight at the eyes of what he was certain was the devil herself. “Damn witch,” he muttered. She only smiled wider, and then, the little servant of Satan decided he wanted to throw some fuel into the fire, “Don’t call beautiful Nami a witch, stupid idiot!”
Good. He needed something to blow off some steam anyway.
He took two steps towards the other man. Taking a deep breath, catching the scent of tobacco and some… girl perfume? God, this dude is really trying hard, isn’t he?
“Who are you calling a stupid idiot, dart-brow?” Sanji didn’t back away; he took another two steps closer, until their faces were barely inches apart. Neither of them backed down. Zoro noticed they were about the same height, but he could bet he was at least a centimeter taller.
“Has all the moss in your hair reached your brain?!” A forceful push on his shoulder from Sanji was all it took.
Zoro clicked his tongue. That was enough.
He didn’t think twice — his fist landed straight on the blonde’s jaw. The impact barely registered before a forceful kick slammed into his side. The perverted idiot sure had some fucking powerful legs, but Zoro’s muscles weren’t just for show.
He swung again, this time aiming for the gut, knocking the air straight out of Sanji’s lungs. Surprisingly, it barely slowed him down, and the blonde quickly regained his posture, and a well-polished dress shoe landed right on Zoro’s temple, nearly knocking him to the floor.
“Have you two lost it?!” They both heard Nami yell at both of them before a devastating slap hit the back of their heads, “I’m taking 300 out of both of your salaries!” With that, she walked away, leaving the two rubbing the back of their heads, still staring at each other, fury burning in their eyes.
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Great. Fucking great.
His head was pounding, his jaw and stomach were definitely going to bruise, and he’d almost thought lung cancer had finally caught up to him for the two seconds the punch had knocked the air out of him.
When he finally took a good look at Zoro, he could see that the man was clutching his side, and a bruise was already forming at his temple.
He smiled a little, pleased with the damage he’d done to the walking algae. With a scoff, he turned around and walked back to his desk, and a few seconds later, Zoro was beside him again, as if nothing had happened, but he seemed calmer, relaxed even, as he took a seat and took out his laptop from a backpack that had seen much better days.
Zoro didn’t look at him. He just put on his headphones and started to work. The scowl was still there, just lighter now.
Sanji mentally scolded himself for staring again, but the dude was so annoying that he just couldn’t help himself. Zoro seemed to hate him for no good reason at all, and if Zoro was gonna hate him, he was going to hate the fucking hermit too. It may be childish, but Sanji was a petty motherfucker, and he felt no shame about it.
He kept staring a little longer than necessary.
He took in Zoro’s features aside from his missing eye, his tanned skin, the stupid green hair, and the concentration in his remaining eye as he typed away on his laptop. Sanji’s gaze shifted a little lower, and he noticed the hard muscles of his arms, the stupid gym clothes again, the shirt that clung a little too tightly around his arms and chest, looser around his abdomen. He still seemed tense, but more tired than anything.
Wait, why the fuck was Zoro tired? He had arrived two hours late to work, and Sanji would bet anything that the man hadn’t even showered.
He forced himself to stop looking. He had work to do.
An hour later, Sanji stood up from his desk. He was getting restless and needed to stretch his legs.
He went to the kitchen to make a big pot of coffee for everyone in the office. He had everyone’s tastes memorized —well, everyone’s except the Marimo’s, but he just ignored that for now.
As he stepped into the kitchen, two of his lovely coworkers were already there, sitting at the table nearby, having one of the snacks he had made earlier for anyone to grab. He smiled to himself at the sight of them enjoying his food. Then waved his hand at them and smiled in that charming and almost seductive way he always did when talking to women, “Ladies, I see you liked my latest dish.” They turned their heads to him and smiled politely, “Hi, Sanji, yeah, they’re delicious, as always,” said one of them, “I’m jealous of your cooking, everything tastes perfect, and you make it look so easy!” said the other.
His smile softened, “I’m glad you enjoy it.” The girls giggled and kept eating while chatting, and Sanji went back to his task.
He poured the last drink, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. What the hell did Marimo do all night?
When everything was set, he heard the same name that had been causing him more and more headaches lately, and it hadn’t even been 48 hours since he met the man in real life.
“Have you asked Roronoa out already?”
“No, and Nami says I shouldn’t even bother, she says the guy’s impossible to deal with.”
Why would a lovely and beautiful woman want to deal with Zoro for anything other than work?
“Come on, what’s the worst that can happen? I mean, yeah, he seems grumpy, but he’s so hot too!”
“I know! And have you heard his voice?” She gave a dreamy sigh, as if Zoro was something to be dreamy about.
‘Hot’? Moss-head? They had to be joking. Once they actually talk to him, they’ll forget that idea even crossed their minds.
…
Sitting beside the most annoying plant in the fucking world. Sanji’s mind was rushing.
Apparently, rude, grumpy, a permanent resting bitch-face, and not caring one bit about personal presentation were the standards for beauty in men now.
It had only been a few days since he’d overheard his coworkers talking about the man currently making his life miserable.
And it’s not that Sanji was keeping count. But since Tuesday, he had seen Zoro getting hit on exactly fourteen times. Again, he was not keeping count; it was just a mindless observation.
Even some guy from Brook’s team tried to hit on him, and Zoro hadn’t even bothered to look at him.
And every single time, the brute bastard responded with a grunt, like some kind of animal, a very rude “Leave me the fuck alone,” or nothing at all.
Sanji didn’t understand why Zoro never responded, or at least tried to be polite.
If he wasn’t interested, he could at least say so. Instead, the muscle-bound fool decided to act like he was better than anyone who looked at him.
What an annoying man. But the hype over him would be over in just a few days, right now everyone was excited about the green-haired, mysterious, and hot asshole. No, not hot, just an asshole.
Why was he thinking so much about him anyway?
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This week has officially been the worst week of Zoro’s life. He was trying to work, he really was. But as he sat on his desk beside the Prince of Stupid Kingdom, he just couldn't focus.
Why are so many people trying to give him their numbers?
Don’t they see that he is working? Are they aware that they are supposed to be working too?
And stupid curly-brow has been glaring at him more since that fight. He just wants to go home. This is too much; he just wants some peace and quiet, away from all of these people.
As he accidentally meets the gaze of the same girl who had given him her personal number on Tuesday, he finally comes to a conclusion.
He doesn’t care how many sleepless nights this takes him; he was gonna finish this goddamned migration as soon as possible. He recalls the cook not minding extra hours of work and figures it’s not gonna kill him to spend some more time with Blondie if it means finishing the migration sooner. He just had to avoid getting in more fights with him.
Easy.
Actually, now that he thinks about it, Sanji’s face looked so fucking funny that day. His visible eye narrowed, his face had gone all red to the tip of his ears, and his nose was all scrunched up.
It wouldn’t be so bad to annoy the guy a bit more just to see him get mad. Maybe not actual fights, but just push his buttons a little.
Wait.
God, why was he thinking about that bastard’s face?