Chapter Text
“Touch me one more time and I’ll slice your fingers off.” Sanji couldn’t fight the way his eyes rolled even if he wanted to. He did, however, try to press the damp cloth against Zoro’s chest a bit gentler.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a shitty fighter and hadn’t ripped your stitches, I wouldn’t have to touch you, mosshead.” Sanji waits for a response, but when nothing comes he looks up to find Zoro’s eyes shut, jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his neck look visibly tight.
The pair are tucked between two houses, away from the main celebration that joyously rings through Coco Village, Zoro sitting on a stack of wooden crates and Sanji leaning over him. Even under the flickering light of the bonfire, his normally tan skin looks pale, beads of sweat forming at his temple. Sanji’s eyes are wide, trying to keep his arm steady as he presses the back of his hand against Zoro’s forehead. No fever. Good, he thinks. Pulling his hand away, he tries to calm the sudden spike in frantic energy with a long exhale.
“Stop looking like that,” Zoro mutters, eyes slowly peeling open. He shifts his weight till his upper back is leaned against the house behind him. Sanji ignores the way the movement spreads his legs a bit wider and stretches his pants over his thighs. His panic is swiftly replaced with ire.
“Looking like what?” He dips the cloth back into the bowl of water at his side.
“Like you think I’m about to fall over and die,” he scoffs. “I’ll be fine.” Of this, Sanji has no doubt.
The memory of Zoro laying in the middle of the kitchen, chest freshly stitched up and barely moving up and down, is still fresh in his mind. He hadn’t known the swordsman well - they’re still barely familiar - but he felt a sting in his own chest at the sight of such an injury, at the thought of how loved this man was by his crew. By sheer will or annoying stubbornness, if the village fell under attack right at that moment, Zoro would be up on his feet and ready for a fight without uttering a word. He’s a brute, sure, but a fighter above all.
“You worried about me, waiter?”
Sanji’s sigh sounds pained even to his own ears as he switches the rag for some gauze. He holds one end of the bandage against Zoro’s rib and is about to reach around his torso when he feels the man tense beneath his palm. “I said don’t touch m-” Sanji shoves his knee into Zoro’s shin and feels satisfied at the grunt he gets in response.
“Did someone knock you in the head too or are you always a mannerless barbarian with shit for brains?” Sanji finishes securing the bandage with a little more force than necessary. “You know, most people in your current circumstances would simply say thank you.”
Without thinking, he reaches up to pinch Zoro’s face between his fingers, squeezing his mouth open and closed like a puppet. “ Thank you Sanji. What would I do without you, Sanji? First you save my life and then you patch me up? I’m forever in your debt,” he says with a tone lower than normal. Zoro’s glare is both murderous and unimpressed. Sanji doesn’t break eye contact for a few more moments before realizing that he’s yet to release the man’s face.
He pulls back, wiping his hand on his shirt and letting out a cough, head turned away from the swordsman in front of him and toward the rest of their crew, lounging comfortably and chatting with the rest of the villagers.
They’ve all been fed, Sanji dealing out generous portions even to those returning for seconds and thirds. Usopp has a crowd of children surrounding him as he gives them a dramatic rendition of their battle in Arlong Park, how the fishmen ran with their fins between their legs at the sight of the great Captain Usopp. His arms wave at his sides while his eyes dance from face to face staring up at him. Luffy is among those crowded around him, nodding his head vigorously and cheering loudly in support of his friend’s tale.
Nami sits on the porch next to her sister. Their sides are pressed together, hands sharing space on her knee while her head rests on Nojiko’s shoulder. She looks calm, worn out no doubt, and will definitely be feeling the emotional and physical repercussions of this battle later, but for now, it seems like a small burden has been lifted off her.
“If you’re gonna keep standing there and making heart eyes, I’m gonna need a drink.” His head snaps back to Zoro who has pulled one leg up to his chest and is now resting his elbow on his knee. His head is tilted back, exposing the length of his neck. Sanji’s eyes follow the path of smooth skin down to his exposed chest, then down to a trim waist. His fingers are itching to grip so he fishes his cigarettes out of his back pocket and ignores the heat he feels on his face as the first inhale settles in his lungs. He blames the humidity of the late evening air.
“I’m sure you can use whatever’s left of your brain to find one,” he says and walks to join the rest of the village in their celebration.
—
The mood on the Going Merry is high tonight. It’s been a few days since they left the Conomi Islands, the winds have been kind to them and the sky is full of brilliant stars. The crew is gathered on the upper deck, drunk on more than a few glasses of champagne that Sanji magically procured, and their captain drunk on his delicious cooking.
Restless as ever, Luffy suggests they play a game. Usopp enthusiastically agrees and Nami nods, though she doesn’t say anything. Zoro’s face is, unsurprisingly, blank, but he makes no move to leave their little circle.
“Any suggestions?” Sanji asks. Usopp’s hand pops into the air.
“How about two truths and a lie?” His voice is a little too loud, and Nami silently moves his cup out of reach.
“Of course that’s what you want to play,” he hears Zoro mutter on his breath. Leaning against the deck rail, Zoro stretches his limbs, one arm tucked behind his head as he tips his glass back. Sanji’s lost count of how many drinks they’ve had exactly, but he knows Zoro must best them all, and has somehow managed to hold onto his stoic composure. Sanji thinks he must be enjoying their company, at least a little bit, if he hasn’t retreated to whatever dark galley he can find.
“That sounds fun,” Luffy says excitedly. “How do you play?” Cute. Sanji feels a grin slip easily onto his own face at their captain's enthusiasm. A little team bonding couldn’t hurt, he supposes.
“Why don’t I make us something light to munch on while you all explain the rules to Luffy?” He stands and swipes at the seat of his pants. He turns to Nami and asks her directly, “Any special requests, my dear?” She waves him off with a small but sincere smile.
When he returns to the crew brandishing a tray piled high with tuna and cucumber sandwiches, they’re ready to get started. Usopp naturally volunteers to go first.
“One time, there was a gigantic mole in Syrup Village that buried itself all the way underneath Kaya’s house. I was chasing after it, clawing my way through the dark, covered in dirt. Even though I almost had it, I let it go,” he says remorsefully.
He shrugs before continuing, “At least it wasn’t hurting anybody. But then another time, these kids running through the market knocked over a fruit stand. Turns out he was an alien and he got so mad he transformed in front of everyone! Eight feet tall, arms stretched as high as the sky!” He takes a gratuitous pause. “Luckily I, the Great Captain Usopp, was there to save those kids from getting hurt. That alien never dared to show his face again.” A casual smirk settles itself onto his face, even as he mostly speaks directly to Luffy who’s hanging eagerly onto Usopp’s every word, though Sanji can’t tell if he truly believes the stories.
“And then another time, a giant sea monster was hanging too close to the docks and it started attacking all of the ships. I fought it with my bare hands, but it was too strong, so I grabbed a spare piece of wood off the ground, loaded my slingshot, and hit that sucker right in the eye! Pow!”
He’s standing now, gazing into the distance like he can see the creature before his very eyes. “Down goes the beast, causing a wave that shook the entire dock. The whole village feasted on the sea creature for days.”
Usopp has finally returned to his seat, a look of absolute satisfaction on his face, like he’s mentally reliving his various ‘victories’, while a silence falls across the rest of the crew. Zoro is the first to break.
“You couldn’t have made at least one of them believable?” He asks. It draws a laugh out of Nami, which sets Sanji’s heart aflutter, even as Usopp shoots them all a weak glare. He’s slightly mollified by Luffy raving about how he can’t wait to hear about the rest of Usopp’s adventures.
“If you don’t believe me, why don’t you go first,” Usopp says, giving Zoro an expectant look. The man simply sighs.
Taking another swig, Zoro sits up, muttering something about stupid party games and squaring his shoulders as if readying for a fight. Sanji manages not to scoff at his ridiculous posturing while Zoro takes a few more moments to think before speaking.
“My favorite color is green. I hate chocolate. My birthday is November 10th.”
A similar silence falls over them after Zoro’s turn, and it’s clear that the attention makes him slightly uncomfortable as he refuses to look up from his glass.
“Gee, don’t give us everything all at once,” says Nami, a teasing grin still resting on her perfect face.
“Obviously the first one is true,” Usopp says. His fingers rub at his chin, almost comically, and Sanji laughs despite himself at how serious he seems to be taking this game. Zoro simply shrugs.
Tricky, Sanji thinks. For once, Zoro being a simpleton has worked in his favor. Everything he’s claimed has equal potential of being either true or false.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Luffy says, pointing a finger at Zoro’s unyielding face. “The second one. ‘You hate chocolate.’ That’s a lie ‘cause you love chocolate.” Their captain’s grin is huge, and Nami seems to agree. Well, they’ve known him the longest. Sanji didn’t even realize this moss covered boulder was capable of ‘liking’ things.
“Wrong.”
There’s the smallest quirk at the corner of Zoro’s lips. Is that… a smile ? “My birthday is actually November 11th. And I hate chocolate.”
Ussop groans out complaints of Zoro cheating, but the accused man simply shrugs again, draining the last last of his glass to hide the full extent of his grin. Luffy looks confused as he tilts his head and pinches his brows together.
“Wait. Didn’t you eat chocolate at the bar, from the girl that made you rice balls?” He says. Sanji raises his brow.
“You cheating on me with another chef, mosshead?” Zoro, in all his maturity, only flips him off in response.
“No, it was when we first met,” Nami says to placate him. “A little girl made the food for him, but some asshole marine bumped into her and knocked the plate to the ground.” She raises her glass in the swordsman’s direction. “Our big bad bounty hunter here ate it right off the floor because he couldn’t stand to see her so upset.”
“And then he kicked that marine’s ass!” Luffy exclaims with a fist in the air. He starts recreating the bar fight, holding an imaginary sword and swinging his arms wildly but Sanji doesn’t hear him. His heart is pounding in his ears, beating so fucking fast he hurries to loosen the tie around his neck. He’s staring at Zoro’s profile.
He ate the food.
Off the ground.
To protect a little girl.
He ate the food off the fucking ground to protect a little girl.
Sanji is a man of prestige. A gentleman with principles. He knows how a lady (even a young one) should be treated. But even above that, he has one rule: never waste food.
The heat on his face is making him sweat despite the cool night, as well as a new tightness in his chest making him so distinctly uncomfortable that he hopes no one else notices. In another circumstance, he could appreciate hearing the story of how the crew first met. But as Luffy copies the way Zoro threw a marine into a table,and Zoro looks at him fondly, a laugh that sounds more like a huff of air slipping past his lips, Sanji’s fingers itch. He needs a fucking cigarette.
—
When the crew calls it a night and disperses across the ship, Sanji doesn’t go looking for Zoro. He really doesn’t, he just needs a smoke before he heads back to the kitchen to prepare for tomorrow’s breakfast. So what if he walks past his usual post and heads to the stern of the ship, leaning over the rail just a few feet from where Zoro is lounging on a pile of rope with a freshly cracked open bottle of sake, definitely not suspicious at all. He feels Zoro eyeing him, but he mercifully stays silent.
The tops of his ears are already burning a brighter red than the cherry of his cigarette, and he knows it’s not from the alcohol. He feels weirdly strung out, a little disoriented like his legs aren’t fully under him, which is a lot coming from a man who has spent almost his whole life on a boat and uses his feet almost as well as he uses his hands. He doesn’t need to hear whatever this shithead has to say to wind him up anymore.
“So our swordsman has a heart after all?”
Sanji presses his lips together in a grimace, cursing his loose tongue. Bastard, he thinks to himself. Why would you even say that? Why start a pointless conversation he doesn’t want to have in the first place? He fights the urge to tug on his hair and instead takes another drag, pointedly staring in the opposite direction of the man in question. He hears him shift in place before clearing his throat.
“Never said I didn’t,” he states. Sanji chances a glance at him from under his hair, seeing Zoro once again reclined like it’s his natural state, eyes closed like he’s ready to nod off any second. “I’m just not like you.” Sanji merely frowns. He doesn’t want to start a fight tonight, not when everyone, including himself, has been in such a good mood.
“Exactly what is that supposed to mean?” Sanji asks. It comes out a little sharper than intended, but they both ignore it.
Zoro’s eyes open slowly, raking up and down Sanji’s form like he’s trying to figure something out, perhaps why the cook had even bothered to approach. Sanji doesn’t know the answer, but the other’s gaze sends a shiver over his whole body. Must be the sea breeze.
“You have all these feelings,” he replies. He attempts to take another swig of his bottle only to find it remorsefully empty.
“Good on you for noticing.” Sanji grins, prays that the shit head can’t sense his slight embarrassment. “It comes with the territory of being such a romantic.” Zoro barks out a laugh that grates on Sanji’s nerves.
“You call hitting on any woman within a five mile radius ‘romance’?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, mosshead,” he sneers. “You wouldn’t know romance even if it hit you in the face.
Zoro scoffs as he pushes himself up to stand. “And you couldn’t catch a hint even if it was right in front of yours.”
Sanji feels himself blink slowly as Zoro saunters up next to him, steps heavy but measured. “What the hell are you even talking about?”
If Zoro catches the slight waver at the end of his question he doesn’t show it. The man simply stares and leans his elbow on the rail just inches from Sanji’s own, his whole body angled towards the cook. Under this much direct attention, Sanji resists the urge to shove his face into his shoulder to hide from the weight of Zoro’s eyes solely on him. There’s no challenge in his gaze, no contempt, but he looks excited. Like he’s playing a game and winning, waiting for Sanji to either take his turn or surrender, only Sanji’s not sure he knows the rules.
Sanji’s foot begins to tap before he can help himself, so he brings his cigarette to his lips once more, pointedly focusing on the smoke that fills his lungs and nothing else. He hears Zoro chuckle and tap his fingers against his empty bottle. “Goodnight, Cook.”
Huh.
Better than waiter, he supposes. As he watches the man walk away, likely to raid their kitchen cabinets for a new bottle, Sanji’s left feeling oddly bereft, an unsteadiness even stronger than it had been before. He ignores the way one side of his body feels hot. His cigarette has burnt down to where his fingers pinch at the filter, so he flicks into the sea with a groan.
—
Sanji’s back hits the deck with a loud thud. He groans, both from the pain and the thought that Nami will kill him if they break another board. Before he can think any more about it, he’s quickly throwing himself to the left in order to dodge Zoro’s sword, blade whizzing past his head with such speed he feels a breeze in his hair. Gathering himself, he shoots to his feet and dusts off his palms. He swears if he has to pick splinters out of his suit later tonight, he’ll rip that bastard’s stupid bandana off his arm and wring it around his neck.
They do this sometimes, spar together. Even though Zoro’s body is still recovering and their crew has only been sailing together for a few weeks after bringing back Nami, it’s become almost a routine. Sometimes it’s training, sometimes it’s the culmination of a day’s worth of insults shot back and forth between the pair, never truly scathing, but merely keeping the other on their toes.
Truthfully, only they can really fight each other like this. Luffy is a strong opponent as well, of course he is, but he considers them friends, so even if they’re sparring it’s more like play. With Zoro and Sanji, there’s something a little different, a little more aggressive. They’re equally competitive, sure, but it’s more than that. They’re not exactly friends.
Fighting probably brings out the most understanding between them, the most respect for each other, never needing to pull their punches knowing the other can take it. Zoro is decisive to act, Sanji quick to adapt, and both of them quick to anger. The kind of anger it takes to fight hand to hand the way they do is in no short supply between them, the center of gravity that draws them to circle each other, where every push away only pulls them closer.
It’s not quite a dance, more like a tug of war in which they parse out each other’s strengths and weaknesses. A give and take where victory isn’t necessarily the goal, but it sure as hell would make all the bruises and sore muscles they walk away with more worth their time. The crew finds it both amusing and ridiculous, even as Usopp hides behind their navigator, clutching Nami’s shoulders as if using her as a human shield.
Sanji deflects Zoro’s sword with the heel of his boot before quickly shifting his weight, bringing his other leg around to aim a swift kick to Zoro’s side when he feels something catch.
His ankle is stuck in the crook of Zoro’s elbow. Thinking the swordsman is going to try to throw him backwards, he jumps and aims his other boot at the man’s face, but Zoro surprises him. He drops to the floor while both of Sanji’s feet are off the ground and rolls them until Sanji is pinned on his back with Zoro straddling his hips and the dull edge of his sword under his chin.
Both their chests are breathing heavily. From this position Sanji is forced to look up at Zoro above him and the site he’s hit with causes a dizzy spell so sudden that he has to blink a few times before his vision returns to him. Zoro’s skin is flushed, both from their straining and from the heat of the sun. Rays of light dance between the gold dangling from his ears, shimmering like a desert oasis. Fuck. Sanji realizes how dry his throat is as his breaths become raspier by the second.
They’re very close, he notices. Zoro is leaning forward, despite using a good amount of his weight to keep him pinned. The hand not holding a blade is splayed near his face. Out of the corner of his eye he can follow the veins from the back of his hand up his forearm toward a very… toned… bicep.
Now, he knows what Zoro looks like. He unfortunately sees the man everyday, but usually not from so close that Sanji can feel the warmth of Zoro’s breath on his face.
Zoro, who hasn’t stopped staring at his face. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, something a little more menacing than just pride in his victory, something that brings a nefarious smirk to his lips.
We’re still very close, Sanji thinks.
It should be gross. It should really be so disgusting that in any other situation Sanji would gag. But when a bead of sweat rolls off Zoro’s nose and falls onto his cheek, only a small distance away from the corner of his mouth, a searing heat twists in his gut.
To his horror, Sanji realizes that the front of his pants are incredibly tight, and that if Zoro moves even an inch, he’ll likely come to the same realization. And Sanji would rather die than allow that to happen.
Tense, his breath leaves him so quickly he opens his mouth with a gasp, momentarily startling Zoro enough for Sanji to quickly shove him off. He scrambles to his feet, muttering a ‘good fight’ in the other’s direction before walking as fast as he can to the kitchen without running or causing a scene. He swipes his lighter off the countertop and hides in a storage closet until it’s time to prepare dinner.