Chapter Text
The first time it happens, Zoro thinks it must be a mistake. Some kind of sick joke meant to irk him, and him alone.
He has been dragged to some so called famous restaurant, the Baratie, because Luffy heard they have the best waffles during breakfast hours. So he is here, awake far earlier than he would ever like to be, because his roommate is an ass who couldn’t just go on his own.
Zoro is up at 9 am because Luffy wants to get as much food as he possibly can before breakfast hours are done, and Zoro was already not happy about this.
And then it happened. Their food came out, and Zoro couldn’t help but notice that his order was wrong.
He grumbles under his breath, forcing himself to calm down, because obviously this is a mistake and he’s just overreacting as he is absolutely not a morning person. Except when he opens his eyes and looks over to Luffy’s ten elevenths of the table, every single thing seems oddly correct, despite Luffy ordering a meal for a party of ten, and that just pisses Zoro off even more.
“Hey.” He grits, trying his best to keep his annoyance out of his voice.
It isn’t anyone’s fault, really, and though Zoro would rather be sleeping on the ocean floor than awake and at this table right now, he’s not an asshole. He knows better than to be rude to customer service workers who are just trying their best.
The waiter turns on their heel, hands shoved into the pockets of their dress slacks as they stalk back over.
He’s tall, Zoro realizes. All long limbs in far too fancy clothes for the food he has just served Luffy, who is already slurping down his breakfast like it’s his first meal in days. (It isn’t, Luffy had a pre-breakfast at home while he waited for Zoro to shower.)
He’s also smoking, which Zoro did clock the cigarettes are permitted sign on the door when they first came in, but he hadn’t expected that to also apply to the workers. That might have been an over sight on his part, though.
“You need something else?” The waiter asks, eyes glancing over Luffy with a baffled amusement.
Zoro doesn’t blame him, though most people tend to get more so disgusted than amused when they see Luffy scarf down a meal for the first time. Or any time after that.
“No, not really.” Zoro mutters, trying his hardest not to sound like a Karen. Or Nami, the witch at his bank who Zoro sometimes fears can skin him alive with a glance alone when she wants to up his interest rates and he tries to fight her on it. “I just think my order got a little messed up.”
The waiter taps his shoe on the hardwood flooring - stained dark and finished with a nice varnish - once, twice, pulls in a drag from his cigarette as he looks over their table, then blows the smoke away from them and shakes his head.
“Don’t think so.” He says, and Zoro feels his eye twitch, because he’s already not having a good time.
“What do you mean, don’t think so?” Zoro demands, some ire eking into his voice now.
The waiter has the audacity to lean over their table and study their food like he prepared it himself - a stupid, curly eyebrow furrowed as he does it - and Zoro thinks he might want to punch the guy just to make his own morning the tiniest bit better.
Again, he must remind himself that being a dick to customer service workers is one of the lowest of the lows.
“Nah, everything’s right.”
Maybe he can drop to bottom of the barrel just this once.
Zoro growls, pushing up to stand on his feet. When the man stands up from where he had been leaning over the table, Zoro realizes they’re about the same height, save for the single centimetre he has on the blond waiter. “You even gonna ask what’s wrong, or are you just gonna keep telling me it’s right?”
The waiter narrows an eye at him, the other covered by a curtain of golden bangs, and Zoro wonders if the other eyebrow is curly too. Maybe he can use it as target practice when he punches this guy’s lights out.
And then he rolls his eyes and sighs, putting on a placating smile that just rubs Zoro the wrong way. “Fine. Please, tell what is wrong with your order.”
Luffy has stopped eating long enough to watch them, but Zoro couldn’t care less. “The eggs.”
The waiter spares a glance at the table again, his smile falling flat, then looks back up at him. No one ever stares Zoro down, straight in the eyes, like this waiter does - all mean and openly tired exasperation - but it won’t intimidate him.
“What is wrong with your eggs, sir?” He asks, drawling out the word like it personally offends him.
And, well then it personally offends Zoro, too, because like hell he’s going to have this stupid waiter doing whatever the hell this is.
“Don’t call me that.” He barks, and when the waiter quirks a curled eyebrow at him, unimpressed, Zoro ignores it. “I asked for runny eggs.”
The waiter blinks at him. And then he sighs, pulls the cigarette from his mouth and rests it between his lithe fingers. “That’s exactly what’s on your plate, sir.”
This time it’s definitely a taunt. Bait, and Zoro falls for it — hook, line, and sinker.
He grabs the waiter by his collar, pulling him in until Zoro can get up in his face, and still, the asshat has the audacity to look bored. “They’re the wrong eggs.”
The waiter flicks off the ash on the end of his cigarette with his knuckle and puts it between his lips again. Then he clasps a hand around Zoro’s clothed wrist, the hand still fisted in his pretty boy button up, and talks around the filter. “Let go of me, or I’ll be happy to make you let go.”
Zoro doesn’t heed the warning like he should.
Next thing he knows, his shin feels like it’s on fire, and then there’s a heavy dress shoe stomping down on his fucking toes like a hydraulic press attempting the tango.
Zoro yelps like a damn pup, pulls back, and the stupid waiter doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. Or at least like he broke a sweat. Fuck, he’s strong.
And that’s probably how he ends up getting kicked out of the restaurant, because the next thing he remembers is the waiter throwing kicks around like it’s a fucking soccer match, and Zoro throwing punches at the guy like he’s trying to win a prize at a carnival. And all the while, Luffy ate while cheering them on.
It was terrible.
And actually, now that he thinks about it, he wasn’t even kicked out of the restaurant. Luffy had simply finished eating, - Zoro’s food included, - paid, and dragged him out before he and the waiter could conclude who the winner of the duel was.