Chapter Text
Zoro set the cup of hot water he’d been sipping from down on the small table next to her bed, leaning back in the rusted metal chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He’d had a rough day, to say the least, a rough day with plenty of ‘fuck you’s’ from the universe that he was starting to think were a pointed sign. The kind of thing he shouldn’t ignore, because he kept telling himself he could handle it but good gods if that wasn’t getting harder to say that lately.
“Today I saw Mr. Krieg. I think he’s growing his mutton chops out, you would have had a field day.” He’d also told him he was increasing his rent. Again. For the second time that month.
“I saw your old man yesterday, too. He’s well enough, even went out to watch a race last week.” Koshiro had dodged him for three days before Zoro had caught up to him. He hadn’t had any of the money he’d promised him, telling him to wait just one more week, slips from the track falling to the ground as he pulled out his pockets to prove his poverty.
“I got a bonus, at work,” Zoro continued, keeping his voice level despite the stuttered sigh he couldn’t repress. He hadn’t worked in weeks, but he could call a one night stand mistaking him for a male escort as a bonus, in some universe. He hadn’t been in a position to correct the man.
“Otherwise it’s been quiet, just working where I can, I’m looking to pick up a second job. Waiting for you to wake up.” He was looking for a first job, although he was fairly certain he’d have no chance with his record and ruined credit score. The interest on Kuina’s bill alone was enough to eat an entire paycheck anywhere that paid around minimum wage. He had been just scraping by over the summer, catching odd yard and construction jobs as a day laborer and paying it all to bills when the guys who hired him actually paid, but the rainy season had started so all of that work was about to disappear.
The room fell to silence as worry ate at him, his thoughts slipping to consider what the hell he was going to do in the next month. What he was going to do when rent was due.
“I should get going,” he said out loud, needing to move, to do something . He felt trapped.
He stood with a jerk, walking over to Kuina’s bedside, tucking the threadbare blanket over her shoulders and leaning over to kiss her forehead. Her hair was greasy.
He turned to leave, picking up the water and the odd wrappers and cans that had been abandoned on her bedside table and dropping it into the wastebasket on his way out. The nurse on night duty looked up as he walked from the room, putting his hand out to catch Zoro’s attention. Zoro walked over, annoyance bleeding onto his face as he held himself at his full height, crossing his arms over his chest threateningly.
“How long has it been since you’ve bathed her?” he demanded, his voice leaving no room for excuses. The nurse snorted, reaching under the desk and pulling out a manila folder that he dropped onto the desk with a heavy thump, his eyes dancing like he’d outwitted him.
“When’s the last time you paid your bill?” Zoro sneered at him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the wad of cash he’d brought with him in anticipation. The nurse took it, looking at it with an eyebrow raised in the air as he looked back at Zoro suspiciously.
“This is more than usual?” Zoro didn’t respond, glaring at him with all the disinterest in the banter he had as he waited for his answer. The nurse scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stuck the check into the lockbox behind the counter. “The morning staff is in charge of bathing. She’ll be cleaned then. Do you want to see your bill from today?”
“ My bill?” Zoro asked incredulously, drawing back, his heart hammering in his chest.
“That water you were drinking isn’t free, son,” the nurse said, his eyebrow raising. Zoro’s mouth dropped open before clamping shut again, his knuckles cracking as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
“You’re joking,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet as he tried to keep his breathing even. “You’re charging me for a glass of water?”
“I don’t joke,” the nurse said, his own face hard as he handed Zoro a receipt, tucking another paper into the folder.
Zoro pursed his lips, his nails cutting into his palms as he growled in affront and forced himself to walk away, slamming the door of the hospital wing behind himself in emphasis of his anger. He looked down at the receipt, crumpling it when he saw the total and throwing it towards a waist basket by the exit. Fucking leeches .
✾✾✾✾
Zoro walked down to the pier, scuffing his shoes against the pavement as he walked. He visited Kuina once a week at least, more if possible, but this was his monthly ritual. Living her favorite days for her, until she could live them again herself. Similar to how Koshiro refused to cut his hair, arguing with anyone who said he was superstitious by saying it had worked so far.
He had been going on the first Friday of every month for the past three years. He would go visit her and then he would walk down to the pier, watch the sunset, listen to the old man who played accordion near the tourist shops. Then, if he could afford it, he would get a coffee and a cup of soup from Kuina’s favorite diner, the one she’d begged him to take her to once a week before the accident.
Usopp would join him on occasion, never telling him ahead of time, not that he could. This was one of those times, Zoro walking down the boardwalk to find a familiar curled head of hair sitting at his bench. He sat down heavily next to his friend, sighing in discontent as he looked out at the horizon, his gaze moving to the painting his friend had been working on.
“Best one yet,” he observed, watching Usopp pick up a glob of purple paint with his brush. Usopp turned to him, brown eyes glinting as he ran the paint brush across the canvas.
“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Usopp asked, ever perseptive. Zoro shrugged, wrapping his arms behind his head, growing silent as he turned back to the sunset, watching its slow dissent.
“Alright, then, guess I’ll fill the silence, as usual,” Usopp muttered, dipping his paintbrush into the blue. “How long do I have?”
Zoro held up two fingers to the horizon, humming as he curled one of them back to his palm before bringing his arm back behind his head. “I’d say less than five minutes.”
“Alright. Abridged version, then. I had to pick up a second job for a bit, found a gig bartending while someone’s out on maternity leave, no they don’t have any more positions open, yes, I already asked,” Usopp said, Zoro clicking his tongue in annoyance. “I still haven’t sold a painting, it’s been over three months. Yesterday I went to buy supplies and I considered if it was still worth it. I mean, with what it costs me, and with how many paintings I make in a month, I would have to charge over three hundred a painting. The last one I sold they offered me sixty berries.”
Zoro blew air out of his pursed lips, feeling for his friend and furious with anyone who didn’t see his talent for what it was, for what he knew it would be seen for one day. Usopp was bound to be one of the greats, one of the artists appreciated after his time if not during, like the guys with their own rooms at the art museums Usopp was always dragging him to on the weekends. He could see it clearly.
“I guess pirate ships aren’t what art critics like these days,” Zoro said, eyeing the large galleon that rocked in the volatile waves of the painting Usopp was working on. Usopp scoffed, picking up a large glob of white paint with a new brush. “Don’t give up, ‘Sopp.”
“People are losing their appreciation for art, I don’t know how I’m supposed to overcome something like that,” Usopp said, pushing his brush in odd, looping strokes that pulled angry stormheads from thin air, purple with the sunset peaking through clear sky in the distance and turning the whole scene serene with the violence of nature against man.
“You hungry?” Zoro asked, looking back to the horizon where the sun had all but disappeared, a low red being eaten by the darker tones of night.
“You found a job?” Usopp said in excited surprise, looking at him before turning to busy himself with putting his supplies into his art bag.
“Nah, nothing still. Place I tried today called me a bum and kicked me to the curb. I’ve got just enough left for a coffee, and from what Krieg made it sound like I’m a dead man walking, so figured I might as well spend it,” he replied, standing from the bench and stretching, his ratty hoodie lifting to bunch at his shoulders with the motion.
“Ain’t no rest,” Usopp muttered in understanding, Zoro humming his agreement as they made their way back up the boardwalk. It was then that Zoro saw the new sign. Like a wrench in his already poorly oiled machine, he stared up at the unfamiliar sign, the ‘now open’ banner that sat above the front door, a precariously balanced ‘help wanted’ sign sitting in the front window.
“What the fuck,” he said, anxious anger inflating his lungs as he reached roughly for the handle of the door. It was locked, refusing Zoro entrance that only served to make him even angrier as he yanked it harder before letting go and slamming his fist against the glass window.
“Uh, Zoro, I don’t think you should-”
“Shut up, Usopp. I want an answer,” he hissed, turning back to slam his fist into the glass door again, threatening its integrity. He heard a bang from inside of the building, before a furious looking old cook appeared, his long moustache dragging his frown down into a scowl as he stomped up to the front door, pointing angrily at the small print stating their hours on the door.
“Two hours, you brat,” he said, holding up his hand in indication. Zoro sneered at him, jostling at the door again before hitting the glass hard, making the old guy jump slightly. He raised an angry eyebrow, Usopp begging Zoro to stop next to him.
“Zoro, we really, really shouldn’t…” The old cook growled in annoyance, reaching down and unlocking the door before yanking it open and shoving himself through, standing at his full height with his arms across his chest threateningly. Zoro glanced down at the wooden leg the old man sported, looking back up at him with challenge.
“You’re either very brave, or very stupid, kid,” the old man said, leaning in close. “We don’t open for another two hours. What do you want?”
“Nothing sir, we’re so sorry to have bothered-”
“I want to know what the fuck this is. What happened to Izakaya?” Zoro demanded, gesturing at the large bold neon lights reading Baratie above their heads.
“ This , is a fucking sea food restaurant on a pier front, you washed ashore kelp. And Izakaya isn’t gone, they’ve just moved, down past third a ways. Is that all you bothered me for? Wasting my time for something your phone could’ve told you all on its own, you should listen to your friend there,” he yelled, his voice projecting loud enough for anyone in the pier to hear. Zoro stared at him for a moment, his eyes flitting behind him to look into where their favorite restaurant used to be, cataloguing how he felt about the restaurant moving, finding himself happy that at least it was still around, that he would still be able to take Kuina there when she woke up.
“You’re hiring?” he asked as an afterthought, Usopp balking next to him as the cook paused, glaring at him hard before breaking out into a loud belly laugh.
“You are stupid, then,” he growled, wiping a tear from his eye as he looked down at Zoro curiously. “And what makes you think I’ll give you a job.”
Zoro pointed wordlessly at the sign in the window, leaving his eyes on the old cook confidently, the man turning around to look at it before looking back at him with a raised brow.
“You got a name?” He asked.
“Roronoa Zoro,” he said, lifting his hand. The cook took it, shaking it before lifting his hand to fiddle with his mustache.
“You worked in a kitchen before?” he asked.
“No,” he said. The chef cracked a grin at him, shaking his head.
“You got a resume, then?”
“Not that you’d like to see,” Zoro responded honestly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Criminal record?” Zoro paused at that, staring at him viciously. He hated that question more than any other.
“... Yeah.” The old man looked him up and down, putting his hands to his hips as he looked over his shoulder into his restaurant.
“Can you wash a dish?”
“I can try my best,” Zoro nodded, his heart rushing into his throat. No one had ever asked him a question after they found out he had a record.
“Christ,” the old man said, playing with his moustache again, staring into the restaurant before turning back to Zoro, his hand out. “You’ve got the job under three conditions.”
“Anything,” Zoro agreed, reaching out and shaking his hand furiously, earning a look of surprise from the cook. He quickly concealed it behind a glower, though, puffing out his barrel chest and turning as serious as he could as he stuck his finger in the air.
“First, you don’t talk back and you show up on time. Tardiness or insubordination and there’s no second chance,” he said, Zoro nodding in agreement. He could keep his mouth shut when he needed to. “Second, you come inside right now, your friend here too if he wants, and try our menu. Even the dish washers have to know what we serve and how it tastes. And third, and you listen to this one close. You don’t ask questions you don’t need the answer to.”
“Yessir,” Zoro nodded, potentially a bit too much enthusiasm behind it but he didn’t care because it was the first damn chance he’d gotten in months.
“Alright, kid, you’ve got yourself a job.”
✾✾✾✾
Usopp shifted uneasily across from him, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater as his eyes darted uneasily around himself. Zoro watched him in confusion, lounged comfortably on the plush red velvet seat, not sure why the artist seemed so stressed. “What gives?”
“Zoro do you not know what this is?” Usopp whispered, looking around himself again conspiratorialy. Zoro lifted a brow, looking around at the dark interior of the restaurant, the intimate lighting and two seated tables carefully set up, while booths offered room for larger parties to sit.
“Looks like a place meant for a fancy date night,” Zoro answered with a shrug, Usopp shaking his head. Zoro didn’t want to hear it, though. “Really what it is is my first shot at a real job, ‘Sopp, I don’t need to know anything other than that. Just like the old geezer said.”
“Zoro I think you might want to at least know-”
“Alright, appetizers first.” Usopp shut his mouth like a steel trap at the sound of the kitchen door swinging open, Zeff, as the old chef had introduced himself, appearing with two bar trays covered in dishes in his hands.
Zoro watched the food being laid out onto the table in front of him, barely noticing the sound of the bell above the door as his eyes devoured the sight in front of him.
“What the hell is this?”
Zoro looked up from the food just as his stomach gave a loud, cavernous growl, the sight of more food than he’d had in weeks too much for him to bear. There was a man standing just past their table, his hands buried in the pockets of his perfectly tailored pinstripe suit pants, the matching jacket unbuttoned to expose a black button up unfairly sized to fit to keep everything just enough to the imagination while leading the mind right into imagining.
Zoro lifted his gaze to meet the newcomer’s, unnerving blue eyes watching Usopp with curiosity that held no small amount of confusion. The guy had a sharp jaw covered in a scrappy excuse for a goatee, a lit cigarette hanging from chapped lips. His eyes moved from Usopp up the table, Zoro noting the dark circles and the hooked nose that looked like it had broken more than once just before their eyes met.
The second the blonde looked at him, though, any thoughts regarding the rugged appearance he presented disappeared behind the blindingly disarming half smirk that appeared as soon as he caught sight of him. It was the kind of smile that could charm its way into a federal bank, something confident and cocky made endearing by deep dimples. It was the kind of smile that always lied, while his eyes told everything his smile wouldn’t. Zoro had seen that look before, the way his gaze lingered, inquisitive. It was the exact opposite of what he needed before he’d even had a chance to start the first honest job he’d had in a long time.
“Meet our new hire. This is Roronoa Zoro, and his friend, uh… sorry son, I never caught your name,” Zeff introduced, turning to Usopp.
“Usopp,” the artist answered quietly, looking like he was standing with a gun to his head. Zoro gave him a confused look, earning a look of terror in return.
“Usopp. Yes, well, this is my son, and the Sous Chef here at Baratie, Eggplant,” Zeff finished, Zoro snorting at the ridiculous name.
“Got something to say?” The blonde demanded crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes tried to search across as much of Zoro as was visible. He felt like he was on display, suddenly very conscious of just how threadbare the sweater he wore was.
“Just isn’t the first name I would’ve picked for you,” Zoro responded blandly, unable to help himself as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his leg over his knee. “Makes me wonder what you did to earn it.”
“Oh? And what’s the first name you would’ve picked for me, Mossy?” Zoro grimaced at the nickname, holding himself back from putting a self conscious hand up to his hair and instead holding the blonde’s gaze, unblinking.
“Doesn’t get much more simple than this, Curly,” he answered, tracing the shape of the blonde’s eyebrow’s on his own forehead and watching that confident smirk waver with secret glee. He kind of needed this guy to hate him a little, if he was going to keep his promise to Zeff’s third rule. He was certain that asking whether or not the head chef’s son was fair game would fall under questions he didn’t need the answer to.
“Zoro, I think we have somewhere to be, why don’t we just try the food while it’s still warm and then head out,” Usopp suddenly blurted, his voice nervous and rushed. The three of them all looked at him with varying levels of confusion, the blonde recovering first as he looked back to Zoro with that same intentionally charming smile.
“You should listen to your friend there, Moss. It would seem he’s the smart to your pretty. You can’t always have it all, don’t beat yourself up too much,” he teased, turning to Usopp before Zoro even had a chance to recover enough to shoot back. “Is it to your liking so far? Did the geezer give you our drink menu?”
“Oh, uh…,” Usopp said dumbly, put off by the blonde’s sudden shift in service, all heated charm entirely diffused into something far more palatable. It was unnerving in a way Zoro hadn’t experienced in a long time. “I guess I could use a drink, would be nice to have something to calm my nerves a bit. Thanks, uh…”
“You can call me Sanji,” he introduced, reaching his hand out to shake Usopp’s formally, Zoro clicking his tongue, unimpressed. Sanji turned to him with a wink Zoro was sure was meant just to piss him off before he turned back to Usopp. “I’ll be back in two seconds, sit tight.”
“In the meantime, eat, before it gets too cold. I’ll explain each as you try them, start with the crab stuffed mushrooms,” Zeff instructed, Zoro not having to be told twice as he pulled the plate towards himself. His first bite was like eating for the first time again, the food delicious beyond belief, to the point that he couldn’t help but to shove more into his mouth, reaching for the next dish as Zeff laughed at him, reciting off what he was eating as he reached for it. He hadn’t eaten anything as nice as the food laid in front of him in… Well, potentially in his entire life.
“Geez, you look like this is your first time eating before in your life. Slow down or you’ll give yourself indigestion.” Zoro paused his chewing, looking up to find the blonde had returned, two drinks in hand. Zoro eyed the amber one, knowing an expensive whiskey when he saw one, only to watch as Sanji set it in front of Usopp, walking the second drink over to him.
“There’s a plant in this,” Zoro said warily, poking the spikey pine frond before looking back up at the blonde for an answer.
“Just like there’s a plant in my restaurant,” Sanji observed sagely, standing a little closer to Zoro than was necessary, his hand on the table as he leaned down. That same disarming smirk grew to a purposeful smile that made it near impossible to move his gaze away. “Sometimes it’s good to try something a little new. Don’t waste a drop.”
Zoro couldn’t stop himself from looking over at his new boss, finding Zeff’s eyes thin with warning. He turned back to Sanji, picking up the glass and taking a long drink, holding it on his palette and frowning in surprise. It wasn’t overly sweet like he was used to most cocktails being. It wasn’t earthy, either, it tasted… fresh , was the closest word he could find to it. Like fresh air, like clean pine and spring flowers. It was good, good in a way that paired with the appetizers he was eating perfectly.
“Yeah, alright,” he admitted, Sanji’s grin turning sunny with his victory.
“The entrees should be ready, now. Try those bacon wrapped scallops, I’ll be back in five minutes,” Zeff interrupted, leaning over to whisper something into Usopp’s ear on his way out that made the artist’s eyes grow wide in terror.
“Listen, I’ve got to start prepping for dinner, but when you’re finished up here you let me know and I’ll have my driver take you and your friend home, yeah?” Sanji smiled, speaking quietly. Zoro lifted a brow, looking up at him as he lifted his finger in the air, motioning to the restaurant.
“Sous chef at a place like this pays enough for a personal driver?” He asked skeptically, Sanji standing back with a raised brow and a curious grin.
“Sure,” he said, eyes running across Zoro’s face for a moment longer than necessary before he smirked and turned towards the kitchen. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Zoro,” Usopp hissed from across the table, looking over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. “That is the exact kind of question you don’t need the answer to.”
“What?” He asked incredulously, Zeff walking through the door at the same time with even more food than the first round, saliva filling Zoro’s mouth. He wondered if he’d be able to hide customers’ leftovers to take home for himself, if he really got to work there. It couldn’t be that difficult of a feat working as a dishwasher, and it wasn’t really stealing.
The entrees were just as good as the appetizers, and far more filling, Usopp and Zoro making low conversation with Zeff as they ate, talking about the ingredients and inspiration behind the dishes, all things Zoro didn’t really care about but pretended to for the sake of a once in a lifetime opportunity. Zoro had taken a chance, asking a few more specifics about the job, the hours he’d be working, if he’d be able to have one Friday off every month. Zeff had laughed, asking him if he’d work every other evening of the month, and laughed again when Zoro had vehemently nodded his head in agreement.
Apparently he wouldn’t be expected to work more than five days a week, and he could have Mondays off every week, Zeff had said, noting that they were closed Mondays anyways. He made it clear that as long as he showed up five times a week and stayed for his full shift; the eight hours the restaurant was open, including the two hours the place closed between lunch and dinner, Zeff didn’t give a rats ass what he got up to. Which worked perfectly for Zoro, because there was no way that he wouldn’t be picking up odd jobs still, not with the mountain of debt he was looking at, and the threats from Krieg.
By the time they’d made it through the dessert menu Zoro was sure his waistline had grown a size, feeling more full than he had since the accident. Zeff had packed what they hadn’t finished into to go containers that he was certain would feed him for a week, and it had him feeling like there was some second shoe, on the horizon, just waiting until he had accepted the divine intervention to drop.
“Alright, let me take you on a walk through the place, and then you need to get the hell out to let us open,” Zeff said, standing from where he’d been nursing a beer in the seat between the two of them at the table. Zoro nodded, following behind as Zeff led them through the dining area to the back, opening the two way door into the kitchen. Zoro looked around, eyeing the unfinished brick walls and surprising amount of visible copper piping.
There were five people working tirelessly in the kitchen, Zoro’s eyes immediately catching on where the sous chef was working over a large bowl, slicing onions without pause. He had taken off his suit jacket, the sleeves on his dress shirt unbuttoned and rolled past his elbows, exposing toned muscled arms covered in a fine layer of hair and more than one thin scar, a large gold watch sitting on the bone of his wrist and drawing attention to incredibly nimble fingers. He had on a basic blue and white striped apron that was tied tight around his waist, making his broad shoulders stand out even more.
Zoro glanced up just in time to catch the blonde catching him looking, a half smirk already on his face as Zoro turned away again quickly, walking over to fiddle with a stove as if he was inspecting the kitchen itself, and nothing else. Zeff walked over and smacked his hand off of the knob, glaring at him dangerously as he shoved him by his shoulder towards the back of the kitchen.
“The only thing that should matter to you in this entire restaurant is right back here. You don’t need to go wandering, you hear? We have a full dishwasher system as well as two sets of sinks, you put any leftover food scraps in this bin with the green bag, we take that to the farm we run, give it to the pigs, then any non food waste in the garbage. You clean in this sink, rinse in this one, then put it in the dishwasher, that just disinfects it, it doesn’t clean it. Got it?” Zeff instructed, like he was listing off a grocery list. Zoro nodded, sure he’d heard it all clearly enough and certain it was the kind of job that he wouldn’t fuck up. He kept his mouth shut, not asking anything else, reminding himself of the third rule. He didn’t need to know anything other than the station in front of him.
“The most important part of your job,” Zeff said, standing taller so that he could use the height advantage he had to loom over him. “And you listen close, boy. The most important part of your job is staying out of the way of the chefs. Now scram.”
Zoro nodded, dipping his head with a quiet thanks before turning to leave, clapping his hand on Usopp’s shoulder as the artist gave him one of the most relieved looks he’d ever seen from the guy in all the years he’d known him. They made it nearly the entire distance to the front door before the kitchen door swung open again, Zoro looking over his shoulder to find the curly browed blonde following behind them, wiping his hand on a towel.
“You didn’t forget my offer, did you?” he asked, throwing the towel over his shoulder.
“It’s really not necessary, sir,” Usopp placated, Zoro snorting at the formality he was treating a guy who looked no older than himself. Sanji gave him an annoyed look before smiling charmingly at Usopp.
“It’s not an inconvenience at all, I’ve got an errand to run for the kitchen anyways. I’ll come with,” he said, his phone already out of his pocket and to his ear. “Yeah, Gin, I need you to meet me at Baratie.”
Zoro eyed the phone suspiciously as Sanji hung up, dropping it back into his pocket and turning his charm back on, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket in place of his phone. “We can wait for him outside, he should only be a minute.”
Zoro didn’t completely understand why the blonde seemed to think they’d just let him order them around. There was no way for him to know just how desperate Zoro was for the job, but he still seemed completely entitled, like he knew they would say yes. He was probably rich enough that he was used to people being impressed by him throwing his money around. He was going to find out quickly that Zoro wasn’t that easy.
A sleek black car with windows tinted far past the legal standard pulled up to the curb, the passenger door window rolling down just enough for a skinny man wearing black sunglasses to look over at them, not moving until Sanji stepped forward with a wave. The guy jumped from the car then, running around to the front and opening the back door for them, standing tall. Sanji turned with a smile, gesturing forward, Usopp following his direction nervously and climbing into the car first while Zoro followed behind, casting an unimpressed look at the driver before turning it to Sanji slowly, pausing in front of the door.
“Don’t hit your head,” Sanji crooned, his voice full of humor as he set his hand against the crook of Zoro’s neck to encourage him into the car, Zoro having little choice but to follow the pressure of his hand. He sat down, only for Sanji to move to sit down next to him, the car far too small for three grown men to be sitting in its backseat together. He didn’t give up, though, Zoro eventually having to move into the middle of the seat, pressed firmly between Usopp and his new boss’s flirty son.
“Usopp, where are we taking you?” Sanji asked, suspicion sparking in Zoro’s brain, his eyes narrowing. Usopp looked across Zoro to meet Sanji’s gaze, shaking his head.
“We should take Zoro home first, he’s on the way, and, well, I know his address.” Zoro shot Usopp a warning look, begging him to shut up, feeling the blonde’s eyes on him already.
“I’m sure the Moss knows his own address…” he said, Usopp looking between them awkwardly. Zoro sat back in the seat, staring resolutely forward and refusing to engage in the conversation at all.
“Well, I can guarantee I’ll get him home safe either way. Just tell Gin where we’re taking you,” Sanji instructed, Usopp not questioning him twice as he rattled off his address, the car moving into quick motion towards the other side of the city. Zoro didn’t say a word, Usopp and Sanji making awkward stilted conversation before finally giving up, the car falling silent for close to ten minutes before they finally pulled up to Usopp’s apartment.
“Um,” Usopp said, hopping out of the car and walking around to the other side, knocking on the window. Sanji lowered it, looking out at him and waiting for him to speak. “Um, don’t… listen to his directions. Just go to Fifth and hang a right, drive for six blocks, and he’s in the building on the right.”
“Sure,” Sanji responded, humor in his voice. “Have a great night, Usopp. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
He rolled the window up, Zoro scooting to the side and looking out the tinted window, remaining resolutely silent as the car started to move again. “You really don’t know your own apartment address?”
“I know where I live,” Zoro responded, Sanji snorting in disbelief. Zoro felt the leather of the seat move, finally looking over to find Sanji had moved closer to him, looking at him with that same smirk he’d offered when they’d first met. Zoro wasn’t an idiot.
“I’m not interested,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and turning to look out of the window again.
“Oh?” Sanji responded, amusement tinging the question. “You’re saying you don’t want to show me where you live? I’ve still got an hour before I have to start cooking.”
“You think I’m going to risk a job I just got ‘cause you put me in a stupid car?” Zoro asked, giving in and turning to face the blonde. Sanji was watching him with something close to entertained amusement, as if he found it endearing that Zoro was trying to deny his request.
“I think you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me whenever we were in the same room,” he crooned, one of his arms on the back of the seat while his hand rested on the back of the driver's seat, cornering Zoro in in a way that would normally strike him as a challenge worth the risk. But this was Kuina’s medical bills at stake, and he wasn’t going to take any chances that could result in pissing off his new boss. Fucking his son one of the top chances on that list.
“I’m not losing this job,” Zoro said stubbornly, leaning towards the driver. “Here’s fine, you can let me out.”
“Alright, alright,” Sanji said, backing off. “It’s not gonna cost you your job, honest. Sure, the geezer’s protective, but he knows I’m an adult. Not to mention that I know how to keep a secret. But if you’re not interested you can just say so.”
Zoro didn’t say anything, holding eye contact without flinching. Sanji’s smirk faltered, before growing even stronger as he leaned in again, reaching out and pinching Zoro’s ribs. “See, I knew it, come on, take me to your place for a quickie.”
“No.” Zoro said, getting a kick out of toying with the blonde, even if it was an act of self preservation. He needed the guy to do him a favor and not ask him again, because he really fucking wanted to say yes. Sanji’s face fell, before one of his eyes narrowed in suspicion, as if he were inspecting something fascinating.
“So the Moss is a romantic plant, eh?” he grinned, putting his hands up in surrender, “sorry for reading the room wrong. A date first is fine by me, let’s say next Friday, I’m sure we can find something that’s open around eleven, closing should be wrapped up by then.”
“This isn’t a game to me,” Zoro said seriously. He wasn’t willing to entertain some rich kid’s fling of the week, not when it had ties to something close to financial security for him. Not when she was depending on him.
Sanji turned to look out at the dump they’d pulled up next to. The dump Zoro lived somewhere inside, it definitely couldn’t be considered an apartment, let alone a home. He paused a moment before looking back, his face neutral, eyes suddenly serious. “I understand. And I’d still like to take you out, if you’re interested.”
Zoro looked for any deception in the blonde’s face, any sign that he wasn’t serious, thinking over his options in his mind. If Zeff never found out, if Sanji was serious, Zoro wasn’t against it. There was something so captivating about his smile.
“Alright.”