Chapter Text
It never does get easier, being in love with Sanji.
Since that fateful evening he apologized to Zoro, thanked him for saving his life, the long-time antagonism between the swordsman and the cook takes on a different dynamic.
They still rib at and insult each other, competition is in their very nature after all, but it never sprouts from that old place of hostility. There's now an underlying comfort, like a mutual understanding, which starts off a mere spark but quickly begins to catch–
(neither of them realize that left to fester, the very ship beneath their feet sets on course to burn down in flames)
It begins first with little changes, like how Zoro stops trading his turns washing dishes for Usopp’s nights of watch duties. He goes from avoiding kitchen chores to volunteering to take them from others, athirst for any excuse to be in his rival's space.
Zoro embraces the extra time in the galley to make playful digs at the perpetually busy man. Heart on his sleeve, Sanji does a terrible job of suppressing his reluctant amusement at their casual banter. He packs up leftovers and jabs Zoro right back, high on the companionship neither expected to be so easy.
He truly meant it when he suggested they put their differences aside. Sanji is nicer to Zoro now, but it's not in a patronizing way– he more willingly acknowledges the swordsman's hard-earned strength as well.
It especially shows when the cook begins to request his company for offshore grocery shopping.
"I need a brute to handle Franky's heavy cola barrels." Sanji will claim, as if he can't very well carry three of them on his own, or ask literally anyone else in the crew. Robin can offer more than two hands, at least, but the request is only ever extended to Zoro.
It doesn't end there.
Sanji gravitates toward him, too. Cigarette between his teeth, he'll often join Zoro where he lounges on deck, keeping watch over their rambunctious crewmates as they cause their daily mischief in one way or another.
Sometimes, he'll sit so near that their arms brush together. It never lasts long, but such casual points of contact burn Zoro with the sweet ferocity of molten magma. Utterly different from being kicked in the head like he’s used to, it burns the tips of his ears cherry-red.
Nami takes to teasing him about it as soon as the cook returns to the kitchen, completely oblivious to the damage done to Zoro's pride.
So no, loving Sanji does not get easier, but being his friend does– and in turn it makes loving him all the more difficult.
It's a life raft thrown to a man resigned to treading endlessly above whirlpools. A dinghy presented to he who would have stubbornly doggy-paddled across the New World in pursuit of his goal anyway. Now Zoro has another relationship he can't bear to lose, because it's more than he ever even imagined he’d have with his self-proclaimed rival.
The reason Zoro ventured to sea was not to find love. He didn’t become a pirate with expectations of grand romantic whims. He swore fealty to his captain because he has a dream, one borrowed from another, but a dream nonetheless. And the fact stands that every unstoppable flutter in his chest– each knee-buckling rush of affection and every intense urge to drag Sanji closer and taste more than just the delectable things he puts on their plates– remain weaknesses of Zoro’s character. Hindrances in the name of becoming the world's greatest swordsman.
Even if Nami has taught him to acknowledge these shortcomings, it doesn't mean he has to indulge in them.
Zoro was never a man to poke his own bruises, he has a ship full of nakama to do that for him.
~~~
"One more, come on."
The navigator lies on her back before him, a barbell the size of two cannonballs resting on the ground near her heaving chest. Her short hair has escaped the tiny ponytail she tried to tame it with, her workout gear likewise soaked through with sweat. The two of them have been lifting weights together for the past thirty minutes and she’s neared her wit’s end.
"I can’t– I can't do it again." Nami wheezes.
"Yes you can." Zoro insists. He's long since finished his own hundred reps, now holding her ankles down and helping her count her last few.
"It's too heavy." Her head thunks against the mat. "My arms are gonna fall off!"
"No they're not." He looms closer, "Don't you wanna be able to protect yourself? Your crewmates? Your woman?"
Nami sighs, "She's not my woman. You know that."
"Finish this rep and she will be. You got this."
"I don't! I'm not built like you, Zoro!" her grip loosens around the bar, but she doesn't yet let go. That's a good sign. "I've bit off more than I can chew today…"
Zoro decides to change tactics. Shrugs, "You're right. I bet you can't even pick Vivi up with those noodle arms of yours."
Nami glares hotly at him, but the flush already gracing her freckled face deepens even further.
He adds, "Let alone sweep her off her feet."
"You asshole." she smiles cat-like. True to her reputation.
Yeah, Zoro knows just what to say to her, now.
Her fingers tighten around the bar. She takes a deep breath before finally lifting the barbell above her head, holding it for a few seconds before dropping it back on the mat with a resounding thump.
"I will sweep that woman off her feet." She declares before collapsing on the floor like a flattened starfish.
Zoro is proud of her, of how much she's grown. She started working out with him some two months ago and her improvement has been staggering. She could barely do a push up for fear of breaking a nail the first time she entered the gym in the crow's nest. Now she climbs up to join him every other day.
Zoro never considered he'd be a good teacher, but the workout regimen he designed for Nami has been doing wonders. The training has been enhancing her endurance tenfold. Her balance as well. It increased her own confidence and shows in battle, noticeable enough that even Usopp cowers behind her at the sight of particularly threatening foes. Although she denies it, she's more toned, lean, and visibly stronger now. Zoro was lying about the noodle arms.
He also didn't think it was possible for Nami to be lusted after more than she already was, but everyone with eyes ogles her tattooed biceps, some hot and heavy and others green with envy. It's an upgrade to the weapon she’s always wielded proudly, easily able to entice enemies into doing exactly what she wants.
Zoro cannot, however, convince Nami to join him for meditation. Her mind buzzes a mile a minute. She’s perpetually mapping sea charts in her head, budgeting the ship's finances, devising plots to triple her investments, or daydreaming about the princess.
He supposes some causes are lost.
"Told you you could do it." He retrieves her water bottle and holds it out.
"Drinks on me at the next island." she promises before draining every drop.
He quirks an eyebrow. "Surprised you're offering after last time."
"Avoid anything not clear enough to shine a light through and it'll be fine."
He smirks, presents an upturned palm to help her to her feet.
"I'll hold you to that."
~~~
Nami's improvement inspires Zoro, makes him realize that he has growing to do too– just not by bulk nor mass. Blood, sweat, and tears in the gym aren't what he needs to surpass Mihawk.
He'll never admit it to his face, but there’s a lot he can learn from Sanji. On patience, delicacy, expression. Matters of his own heart. For two young men so close in age, they have vastly different strengths. Zoro can see now that he’s lacking where Sanji seems to overflow.
It's how he ends up in the galley that morning to help with daily meal prep. And Roronoa Zoro, awake earlier than the sun, is a feat nobody except the cook himself could probably ever achieve.
(Alright, so maybe Zoro’s motives aren’t entirely in the name of sagacious personal improvement. It helps that he’s been taking less watch duties– they were the main contributor to his penchant for sleeping in.)
"This one is called a paring knife." explains Sanji over the cutting board at his left. "It's short and slim, with an evenly sized blade and pointed tip. It tends to be light, allowing for ease of handling."
He’s currently teaching the swordsman proper knife etiquette. Zoro had no idea there were so many different kitchen utensils, each with its own unique purpose. How Sanji remembers them all is beyond his understanding.
"A paring knife is best used for fruits and vegetables, especially those with tough skins like these pomegranates.” Sanji is saying with gusto, “It's great for peeling, trimming, and removing seeds and pits. Delicate but essential work."
"Small but mighty, like you." Zoro jokes, and receives a jovial kick in the shin for it.
"Oi, do you really think it wise to insult me when I'm armed?"
Zoro snorts, returning to the mountain of rubied pomegranate seeds in front of him.
He isn't allowed to use the cook's knives– Sanji is touchy about them in the same way Zoro is with his own swords– so he has instead been tasked with pulling the seeds off the pomegranate wedges Sanji hands to him and collecting them inside a bowl.
Zoro is more than content to leave the blades to someone else for once and simply just watch. The restraint it takes to keep his calloused fingers from accidentally crushing the tiny seeds until they’re a puddle of juice actually serves as a challenge– one of patience and dexterity– a younger version of Zoro would have immediately flipped the table and stormed out on such a menial task. Now, he can admit these are both mental and motor skills that need practice. So he listens intently as Sanji moves onto explaining the purpose of a carving knife.
A vibrant green watermelon is placed onto the chopping block. Sanji gives the blade a twirl, throwing it into the air with a spin before catching it with practiced ease right in front of Zoro’s face. He then cuts into the hardy melon with it as if the thing was a big ball of butter.
Zoro’s mouth is suddenly very dry.
Showoff.
"Carving knives are made to produce thin and even slices. They're not just for fruit, but meats as well. See the long, slim blade?" Sanji holds the tool up, and Zoro catches his blue gaze through its steel mirror-like reflection, "You could even use it to cut desserts like cakes. They're quite efficient, powerful yet controlled."
"Like me." says Zoro, not even bothering to dodge the second kick that comes his way.
"If anything this one is like you."
Retrieving his leather sheath, the cook unveils a long, serrated blade. Zoro doesn't recognize it, but notices it somewhat resembles the nose of Nami's old nemesis Arlong. Or one of Franky's hand saws.
Sanji says, "Yes it's pointy and threatening, but in reality this blade was created to cut only the specific thing it's been named for."
Zoro indulges him. "And what's that?"
"Bread. It's a bread knife."
"You calling me soft, ero-cook?"
Sanji snorts, all too pleased with himself at that one. Zoro’s ego won’t let it slide, so when his crewmate twists to return the bread knife to its leather sheath, he slips a dripping piece of watermelon down the front of his shirt, delighting in the yelp that follows.
Zoro's lizard brain insists the guy was asking for it with that half-exposed chest of his. It’s not his fault Sanji chose to forgo a tie and have half of his dress shirt unbuttoned this morning! Why did he bother even wearing one?
“Marimo!” Sanji rounds on him, furious. The watermelon juice is soaking through, now. "You know how I feel about wasting food!"
"I'll eat it, then." Zoro assures him.
The cook fumbles to fish the fruit out of his shirt before it stains the fine fabric. "You'll eat it?"
"Yeah, pass it here."
"It slid down my chest."
"So?"
"What if it slid down my trousers, would you still eat it?"
"I think we both know your trousers are a few sizes too tight for that."
"Wh-Wha– You bastard!" Sanji sputters, flustered, "I expected a lack of dignity from Luffy but not from you!"
"Really? Because you literally call me a brute at least five times a day." Zoro plucks the dripping watermelon from his fingers, "I'm just living up to the name."
He sinks his teeth into the slice, savouring its cool sweetness, the crunch of the seeds, leaving only the green bit behind. Sanji gapes like a fish out of water as juice dribbles down his chin.
"At least you didn't eat the rind…"
"Can't I?"
Eye still glued to Zoro’s mouth, Sanji says distractedly,
"Technically yes. But they're very tough, so I usually turn them into pickles. Or chutney. Sometimes a gazpacho. You can even candy them."
"Hm, candy.” Zoro licks his lips. “Chopper would love that."
Sanji swallows. "Yeah..."
He slaps a hand on the cook's back, jolting him out of whatever disgusted stupor he'd been in.
"Teach me."
"Teach you?"
"To make candy."
"I thought you weren't big on sweets?"
"They'll be for Chopper."
"... Alright." Sanji tentatively agrees. "Wait, we gotta finish the fruit salad."
And just like that, his brain is going a mile a minute again. He flutters around the kitchen doing this and that, swift and practiced, muttering,
"Shit, not now! Breakfast is soon, I still gotta put the coffee pot on and fry Luffy's bacon, juice Nami-san's mikans– did I buy eggs? Robin-chan will be up any minute–”
Zoro's grin goes unnoticed. He finishes up with the pomegranates and leaves his nakama to it.
Softly, on his way out he murmurs,
"Next time, then."
~~~
“Today is a good day!” Nami declares out loud, uncaring if she sounds kind of crazy because she is. Vivi makes her crazy. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
She received a letter from the princess via courier pelican at lunch and this time it came with pictures. Pictures! And they are so delightful she simply has to show them off.
(Get your head out of the gutter, they’re not those kinds of pictures!)
“Robin! Robin look!"
She finds the older woman lounging alone in the shade with a thick book, far removed from the rest of the happenings on deck, perhaps seeking some peace and quiet.
Well, oops.
“Vivi sent me a bunch of photographs! I know you were kind of our enemy at the time but aren’t they great? Look at this one– that’s the front of the royal palace in Alubarna! And see this one here? It’s the base of the new fountain they’re building in the square. Isn’t it grand? I can see it already!”
“Aren’t you a lucky lady.” comments Robin, that trademark knowing smirk dancing upon her face.
Ecstatic, Nami flips to another. “I even got one of Vivi and Carue. Aren’t they cute? I miss them so much.”
If Robin has any ill will against what happened while the two of them were part of Baroque Works together she doesn't let it show. She simply studies the photo appreciatively then hands it back with care.
Nami indulges in another glance at it too, her heart blooming in her chest.
“I’m sure the feeling is mutual.” the archeologist says kindly.
Nothing short of afloat on cloud nine, Nami skips off to gush over the photos with some other unfortunate soul.
There's a photograph more precious than the rest, though. She's keeping it in her pocket for safekeeping, not inclined to share.
Vivi sent her a self-portrait.
It was taken by Kohza, according to the letter, so Nami can’t bring herself to irrationally loathe him anymore. In the scene, Vivi is sitting on a rooftop somewhere, backdropped by the city, looking like nothing short of an ethereal desert goddess. Her station shows, for she’s decked out in extravagant beaded jewelry, possibly having just come from a royal celebration. But for once in her life the former cat-burglar has no eyes for that which glitters gold.
Cheeks burning, Nami memorized every wisp of blowing teal hair, longing to reach out and touch Vivi’s bronzed skin. The princess is beaming so wide her eyes appear shut, and Nami’s only qualm with the portrait is that she can’t gaze upon those gorgeous ebony irises, too.
All the more reason to return in person one day, she supposes.
And listen, if Nami’s attention fixated for a disproportionate amount of time upon the enticing slice of Vivi’s thigh revealed by the billowing wind?
Well that’s her own prerogative.
Today is a good day, she reiterates.
Then she spots her best friend Zoro enjoying a nice nap up against the mast.
Not for long.
“Zoro!” she bellows, leaping across the deck, “Wake up! Look what I got!"