Chapter Text
Zoro had known from the moment he stepped foot on Baratie that Sanji was omegan.
On the shoddy island in the East Blue where he grew up, omega were uncommon. The few he did meet in his childhood boasted weak, plain scents—Shimotsuki Village didn’t breed the cream of the crop. High quality omega, as the old farts in the bars used to call them, could only be found in classy places, out of reach of plebeians like them.
Baratie was a classy place from its prissy decor to its even prissier wait staff. There were plenty of omegas in the restaurant's clientele, sitting prim and proper and tempting as they giggled into their dates’ shoulders and delicately tipped back glasses of fruity drinks. Not long after they entered the establishment, the intermingling scents— too strong and too sweet— began to give him a headache bad enough that he contemplated skipping out on the promise of a meal entirely.
A hungry stomach and a new scent kept him tethered in place.
It wasn’t until the third time the cook had appeared out of the noisy kitchen— all slender and graceful and pretty— that the swordsman finally realized that the scent wasn’t coming from any of the delicious meals he set before them, but from him instead. And if Zoro had any reservations about naming his dynamic so soon, they evaporated the second that enrapturing gaze set on him. Darling blue eyes and hair threaded in gold, skin soft and inviting— this was an omega down to his very bones.
Sure, he was tall for an omega, almost Zoros’ height, and he went all swoon-y around Nami, who was clearly a beta—but there was no fooling anyone with that scent. Omega was written on every inch of Sanji’s skin; clear with every graceful movement and lyrical word.
“Strawberry roulade for the lovely lady,” says the pretty server, setting down a swirly pink thing in front of Nami with flourish. Then, with less decorum, he tosses a plate of ribs in front of Usopp and the swordsman, not even sparing them a second glance before he starts refilling the ginger beta’s barely touched glass with a sparkly wine he produced out of seemingly nowhere.
Zoro grunted. The waiter doesn’t even spare him a single glance.
He cleared his throat. The waiter smiles at Nami and compliments the necklace she pickpocketed off of one of the guests on their way in.
Zoro slammed his fist on the table. The waiter’s weird eyebrow twitched, but that was the only indication he gave that he even knew of Zoro’s existence at all.
The old farts at the bars of Shimotsuki Village painted out omegas to be much more submissive and subservient than the real deal is turning out to be. From their stories, they were supposed to be soft and gentle, kneeling over the second an alpha so much as glanced at them. The Baratie omega looks like he’d rather smash his fancy wine bottle over Zoro’s head than do any kneeling for him.
In the end, the blonde omega doesn’t end up addressing him or Usopp at all, spinning away to another table at the request of a brunette lady. The ribs are satisfying enough that Zoro decides to ignore it, writing off the waiter as just a weird one. A faulty omega.
Busy going against Mihawk for the first time and then chasing down Nami, Zoro doesn’t think about the blonde’s dynamic for a while after that.
-
The cook smokes a lot.
Zoro wasn’t dull. He knows why. It’s the same reason Kaya had worn that strong, jasper perfume that made his nose itch when she came to bid Usopp farewell. The same reason Nami forced Luffy and him to bathe with her oils and soaps before they entered a new town. Smoking was supposed to mask the blonde’s scent and hide his designation.
A smart move, with Luffy causing uprisings everywhere he went. To hide his status as an omega made things way less complicated with attacking pirates and marines alike. What Zoro didn’t understand though, was why the cook insisted on chain smoking even when they weren’t under immediate threat.
Even when the waters were calm, not another boat on the horizon, the blonde had a stick between his teeth, rolling it between tight lips and wafting smoke in every direction. It wasn’t like the smell could completely block out the scent for them— his crew. Sanji’s scent had melded into the Going Merry just as every other person’s on the small crew had; finding a place among Nami’s muted, citrusy scent and Luffy’s own strong, oceans’ breeze. Easily the sweetest, the cook’s vanilla and cream stood out amongst the rest, unable to be hidden beneath a few frantically smoked cigarettes.
And yet even still, Sanji smoked like he breathed. Flooding the air with the disgusting smell of burnt tobacco and nearly stealing Zoro’s appetite with every breath. The cook was lucky he had Midas’ touch when it came to making food or Zoro would’ve started starving himself weeks ago when he first walked into the kitchen and into a puff of smoggy air.
“No, for the fourth time, Sanji’s smoking habits don’t bother me,” Nami complained to him. Not bothering to even glance up from the map she was sprawled over, marking down an island they had just passed on the way to the Grand Line ( one that Zoro was pretty sure had been more east than that, but when he said as much, Nami just called him a directionally challenged idiot and asked him to leave again), she shook a headful of orange locks. “You coming up here when I’m working on my maps does bother me though.”
“Why does he even need to hide his scent? We’re crew,” Zoro continued his frustrated rant, Nami’s statements having gone in one ear and out the other. Their standard pathway.
The beta groans harshly, dropping her head against the table with a loud thud.
-
Loguetown is bustling with people and an overwhelming amount of scents. Two steps into it, Zoro feels like he’s going to hurl.
“You’re such a bumpkin,” Usopp teased, a skip in his step and his head held high as he casually waded through the crowds and the stalls. “The Great Captain Usopp has traversed many towns such as this. A few measly scents overlapping will do nothing to bother my strong constitution—“
“The Great Captain Usopp is a beta with the shittiest nose on the seas,” Zoro growled, words more biting than necessary. Headache pounding at his skull, he can’t be blamed for the heat in his tone. Usopp was pleasantly bounding around, not a care in the world, while he was one breath away from spilling breakfast and yesterday’s dinner on a poor, passing pedestrian.
“You should’ve stayed on the ship,” the very reason he hadn’t stayed on the ship chided from a few steps ahead of them.
The cigarette hanging off of Sanji’s lips does jackshit to cover up his sweet scent, even in a swarm of other alphas and omegas. Vanilla and cream stand out amongst the rest, like a sunflower rising high above a field of tall, dry grass. A blessing and a curse. It was both Zoro’s saving grace in the jumbled scents, and also the reason so many eyes lingered on their little group.
More specifically, why so many eyes lingered on the blonde.
Predictably, Sanji attracts attention like honey attracts bees and bears. The bees are easy enough to deal with, simply buzzing around with curious intent, swatted back with a cold look or a slight bare of Zoro’s teeth. The bears are more abominable. More than once, Zoro had awkwardly wedged himself between Sanji and a grizzly that was getting just a tad too close. More than twice, he’d nearly broken a polar bear’s filthy paws when they reached out to brush against the blonde’s slender waist.
If anything Sanji should’ve stayed on the ship to keep watch. They didn’t need that many people to catch up to Luffy, who’d slung himself off deck at the scent of food without warning. He and Usopp would’ve been perfectly fine on their own.
Sanji would’ve kicked him in the face if he said as much, so Zoro decisively only offers up an irritated grunt instead.
“Not all of us have freakishly big noses like you,” Usopp sniffed.
Zoro doesn’t need to respond to that either. Staring at Usopp’s freakishly long honker is enough of an answer.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare,” Usopp sniffed, cupping his freakishly big nose. But by that point, Zoro’s attention is drawn away when Sanji suddenly twirls off once again.
“How pretty!” Sanji gushed. Initially, Zoro thinks he’s talking about the alpha sales clerk standing before the vibrant stall, an ugly feeling twisting in his gut at the sight. But a step closer he finds the blonde’s baby blues trailing over the glistening merchandise on the table, and something in him loosens.
“Ah, I see you have an eye for the finer things!” the merchant exclaimed, a broad smile on her face. The woman raised a hand to the jewelry on the table, enthusiastically announcing: “Half off, for pretty blondes, today only!”
The ugly feeling is back. Even as Sanji awkwardly laughs off the compliment.
Huffing out a breath as the merchant continued with announcements of discounts and how everything was 100% authentic, Zoro’s gaze trails then to the set up. Pearlescent shells and colorful sea glass shards are studded into necklaces and bracelets. Shawls of fine material and exotic dye are folded nicely between intricately carved combs and pins. Zoro’s never owned anything so nice, so he doesn’t know just how true the woman’s claims are about quality, but it all sure looks first-rate.
Understandably, this would attract an omega’s attention. The old farts at the bar would say their omegan mates had an eye for the expenses, running their pockets dry with all their exorbitant wants. Eyes widening at the hefty price on the anklet Sanji is admiring, Zoro finds the old men were right.
“What do you think of it?” Sanji asked suddenly, holding up the dainty thing between them.
It’s beaded in white shell shards, compact so tight the thread holding it together is entirely hidden. Each is jagged, of different sizes, and just a slightly different shade than the last, but beautiful all the same. Zoro only has a second to admire it before his attention is pulled from the jewelry to the imploring gaze just beyond it, crinkled slightly and so, so blue.
Just like the anklet, Sanji’s gaze isn’t just one shade. It’s cerulean, and navy blue, with a splash of turquoise and azurite– and Zoro doesn’t know how he never noticed before.
“I don’t know why I even bothered to ask,” the blonde huffed under his breath, after a solid minute of Zoro being unable to find his tongue, counting the different shades in the omega’s unfortunately very pretty eyes. “An oaf like you wouldn’t be able to see true beauty if it kicked you in the face.”
It has, Zoro thinks. And then, upon fully registering his words, this prick.
Opening his mouth to tell Sanji where to shove his overpriced anklet, Zoro is cut off by the overzealous merchant, seeming to sense the fight brewing between the two. Laughing loudly, she waves her hands fervently between them. “I’ve got a spitfire mate too! It’s fun when they’re feisty– I’m sure you know what I mean,” she says, winking at the swordsman in a way that leaves him entirely confused. His state of confusion isn’t helped when she continues to turn fully towards him and announce, “Now with the discount that’ll be fifteen thousand berries. You will be buying it for him, right? It’d obviously suit him so well!”
“He won’t,” Sanji immediately interjected, cheeks pinkened for whatever reason. Dropping the anklet back onto the table as though it burned him, he continued, hurriedly. “We were just leaving actually so–”
She was right. It does suit him.
Staring down at the anklet, all Zoro can think of is the length of Sanji’s leg as they sparred. The chiming of shells clanking together with the speed of his attacks. The way it would rest so pretty on his slender ankle, right above a fancy dress shoe, hidden beneath his crisp, black slacks.
Shoving a hand into his pocket, Zoro doesn’t say a single word as he hands over the crumpled bills Nami had given him for allowance. It was just barely enough, leaving him with a few more berries for whatever else he needed, but for whatever reason– he can’t imagine stepping away from the table without the stupidly expensive thing.
“What. Are. You. Doing.” Sanji hissed, reaching out to swat the alpha’s hand down. But within his surprise, he’s a split second too late, and by the time he reached out, the merchant had already happily snatched the money away. All the blonde gets for his efforts is a happy hum from the woman as she drops the anklet into his outstretched hand.
“Wonderful doing business with you!” the merchant beamed, stuffing the berries down the front of her shirt, lodged between her cleavage. Smiling cheekily, she announced, “No refunds accepted!”
Figures. Zoro grunted in return, turning mechanically onto their path to continue with what they were supposed to be doing. There’s a commotion starting up a bit further in the square, and knowing their captain, it could be no one else but him causing it.
Only when neither Usopp or Sanji follow after him does he begrudgingly stop. But even then, he doesn’t bother turning around, simply crossing his arms and stomping his foot impatiently for them to stop gawking at whatever else had caught their attention.
Sanji’s quick to step into his path. Looking at him as though he’d grown a second head— an entirely unwarranted look, in Zoro’s humble opinion— the omega jostled the anklet in his face rather rudely. “What the hell was that!” he demanded, sounding hysterical.
Zoro’s face heated slightly, suddenly embarrassed as his most recent actions caught up to him. In true honesty, he really didn’t know what the hell it was. But like hell he’d tell Sanji that. “What? You didn’t want it?” he asked instead, trying to sidestep the blonde and his far too distracting blue eyes.
Sanji blocks the attempt, crowding up into his space until they’re practically chest to chest. His scent is sharper, overpoweringly sweet, and judging by the way the blonde’s nose scrunches up, Zoro knows his own scent flared up in response. “It was fifteen hundred berries! What the hell, Marimo! If you’re that ready to throw your money around on useless crap, you should’ve just let Nami keep—“
“It’s not useless,” Zoro barked, suddenly annoyed. Sanji’s acting as though he wasn’t practically drooling over the damned thing a few seconds ago, like the alpha had done him some sort of disservice by buying it for him. “You know, normally when you receive a gift you shut up and be grateful. What? Did they forget to teach you manners at that damn restaurant?”
“Oh– you’re one to talk about manners!” Sanji spat, sounding incredibly miffed. He’s posturing, puffing out his chest like a bird, but Zoro’s far broader and has a good few inches on him. All it takes is half a step forward and the omega is stumbling over himself.
Zoro snorts at this. Sanji growls.
Usopp appears then, steadying the blonde and also looking at Zoro like he’d grown not only a second head, but a third, fourth and fifth too. “Hey guys, let’s all calm down…” he tried, a wary smile on his face.
Beyond reason, Sanji shrugged Usopp’s hands off his shoulders and snarled, “Don’t tell me what to do!”
“Don’t talk to him like that!” Zoro snapped at the omega. Not because he actually gave a fuck how Usopp and Sanji talked to each other. But at that point, he was also quite a bit beyond the borders of reason, and that was just one more thing they could argue about.
Usopp pressed a hand against his heart and cooed, “Aww, Zoro, I didn’t know you cared–”
“Shut up!” both he and Sanji yelled in unison.
Usopp frowned.
Sanji opened his mouth around something else to bitch about, and Zoro is reminded of another thing the old farts at the bar used to say. All omegas knew how to do was nag, nag, nag. No matter what an alpha did, it would never be exactly right for their mates. There was always something wrong, something to pick at. The old timers used to complain that they could never do good by their omegan wives and husbands, and Zoro is starting to slowly believe them. After all, in theory, Zoro had done something that should’ve made Sanji happy, and here he was bitching about it for no reason.
Omegas.
Sanji calls him an insult so bad it makes a giant sailor at their side turn bright pink and an old lady a few steps ahead of them shout “Oh goodness!” and begin to pray. Perks of growing up in a restaurant surrounded by beer-bellied, retired pirates.
Zoro had the perfect response to it, truthfully. He just doesn’t get to say it because then Luffy slings by and they all nearly get trampled by the crowd of Marines in his wake.
-
In all the chaos that comes after– being hunted by Smoker and the Marine swordswoman that looks freakishly like Kuina, Buggy nearly executing their captain, remembering he was out two swords and had just spent his allowance on an anklet – Zoro never does end up getting a thank you from Sanji.
Instead, he gets two swords sitting against the wall of the crow’s nest and a plate of onigiri.
When Zoro tests the blades against Sanji for the first time, he swears he hears the sound of clanging shells with every kick.
Naturally, they don’t talk about this.
-
Reverse Mountain wrecks their nest.
It’s only a few weeks old at that point, so really, it’s less a nest than it’s a pile of haphazardly slung clothing in the male quarters. Just a day ago, Nami had yelled at Luffy for using it as a place to discard his dirty laundry, and their captain had smartly replied: but you haven’t complained when I left my socks in it?
Long story short, they were going to have to redo it anyway. If not to make it neater, then to find where Luffy had buried all his dirty clothes. And to have a place for Luffy to rest and recover after the beating Nami gave him for hiding his dirty socks in her pillow cases.
As captain, Luffy’s the one who initially started the nest, throwing his red vest on the floor the day they claimed the ship. (Now that Zoro thinks about it, maybe it was an accident and Luffy really was just trying to start a dirty clothes pile). Beyond that, he throws things in at random, from cool shells he finds on passing islands to rocks he thinks are shaped funny. Rarely ever does he add anything for comfort, which is ironic given he’s the one who spends the most time in it. (Then again, half the time he uses it for pillow fights or to build forts that Nami yells at him over).
Nami’s bossy and picky for a beta, practically leading the crew since Luffy is so flippant about everything unless danger or food’s involved. She was second to add to the nest, after complaining to Luffy about how the hell he was going to start a nest with a shirt? She stole bought the structure of the nest at a fancy store in Loguetown– way too many pillows for the five of them. (And Zoro says the word pillows, very generously, because the colorful things were more boulders than anything else. When he’d said as much, Nami’d beaten him black and blue with one, and that was the end of the conversation about whether aesthetics mattered more than comfort in their nest).
Usopp hesitantly weasels in a few blankets every now and then. Though sometimes they have holes in them or come apart at the seams, they at least can’t be used to stone someone to death. Half the time, he awkwardly piles his additions to the edge of the nest, or blushes a violent red as he slides them between two of Nami’s pillows. And usually, he does this when he thinks no one’s looking, and squeaks loudly as if he’s been caught doing something wrong if anyone walks in on him. (Though, he has no such embarrassment when going spread eagle and taking up half the nest for his naps).
Zoro adds whatever he feels like, whenever he feels like. Which ends up being whatever shirt he’s wearing when he falls asleep in it. As often as he passes out in it, this tends to be a lot of shirts.
He’s never exactly made a nest before, but that’s okay, because he silently suspects none of them have actually made one before they joined the crew. None of the Strawhats ever boasted about their family, and the only one who had a lingering scent on him when he joined the crew was Usopp. But Kaya had been a recent thing for him, and Zoro doubted he had time to build a nest with the girl before they hopped town. With how overbearing Nami was about it, how jumpy Usopp was, and how careless he and Luffy were– they were all so awkward about this nest thing that it was obvious that it was their first. If that wasn’t obvious enough just by the sloppy way it looked.
At least they’re trying.
As far as Zoro knows, Sanji hasn’t added a damned thing to the nest.
Supposedly, while alphas lead the pack, omegas lead the nest. It’s supposed to come naturally to them, an instinct that makes them better at constructing them than all the other dynamics. Not only this, but they’re supposed to live in them, filling the blankets and the pillows with their scents by lingering in it longer than any other member of the pack. As far as Zoro understood about omegas, any time Sanji wasn’t in the kitchen, theoretically at least, he should’ve been in the nest– resting, keeping it warm, whatever else omegas did in there.
Yet, as far as Zoro knows, their pack omega has never even stepped foot into the nest, immediately leaving whenever Luffy forcibly pulled him in and keeping a wide distance every time he entered the male quarters as though he were allergic to it. Pointedly, he slept on the furthest bed from it too, keeping his scent to himself and his little corner of the lodgings.
Zoro can’t help but be offended by this, both for himself and his pack. So they aren’t providing the most attractive components of a good nest, so they’re a bit mix-matched with what they bring into it– that doesn’t mean the blonde needs to turn his nose up to it. As an alpha, he knows the pack is a bit lacking in what they’re providing– and realistically, no omega would probably want to lay down in a glorified pile of dirty clothes and weirdly-shaped rocks– but, that doesn’t make it hurt any less any time Sanji side stepped it or avoided so much as looking at it. For fuck’s sake, it was all of their first nest. It wouldn’t kill the omega to be a bit less hypocritical about the damn thing.
It wasn’t so bad. At some point before Reverse Mountain blew the nest to bits, it had actually become comfortable. Somehow, Luffy’s dirty socks and Usopp’s hole-ridden blankets had come together and managed to find their place. Even Nami’s stiff pillows had been fluffed out to the point that you could lay on them without waking up with a stiff neck. Every time Zoro laid down in it, he found himself enveloped in the perfect medley of his packs’ scents, the perfect balance of Luffy’s salty ocean air and Nami’s tangerines sprinkled in Usopp’s faint syrupy scent.
If Sanji had just tried it, maybe he’d know this. But by this point, with the nest strewn all over the men’s quarters as though a tornado had blown through, he’d missed his chance.
The silence in the room is stiff, the entire crew gathered in the middle of the mess. A nest wasn’t exactly a necessity— it wasn’t like anyone was sleeping in it nightly. But there was a certain unease that seemed to befall the entire crew upon seeing it all askance. Even Sanji looked miffed, lighting the cigarette between his lips. It’s the third one he’s lit since they saw the mess of the kitchen half an hour ago.
“Damnit,” Nami eventually broke the silence, picking up one of her pretty pillows from the floor. Frowning down at the splintering golden threading, she began to ooze the distinct smell of rotting fruit. With a bit more emphasis, seconds after, she repeated, “damnit.”
“It’s fine. It’ll only take a few seconds to fix it,” Usopp insisted, more to himself than everyone else. A lie that it sounds like he doesn’t even believe. Sure, it’d take maybe a minute to pile everything back up, but to get it feeling like it had only hours ago? To thread their scents together in the mesh of pillows and blankets as right as it’d been before? It’d take days. And the first thing Zoro wanted after being bullied by a mountain, and then an old man and a whale immediately after, was a nice, long replenishing nap in his pack nest.
Luffy’s uncharacteristically thoughtful hum breaks the tense silence that had befallen the crew. Zoro turned to find a small frown on his normally jovial, boyish face, surprised at how much the expression aged him. For a split second, as the shadows of the room contoured on his face and he opened his mouth to give an order, he looked like the Head Alpha he was. And then he simply says, with the weight of the sea, “Sanji .” And Zoro immediately loses all consideration of this to immediate confusion.
Around his cigarette, the blonde shoots the captain an annoyed look normally reserved for when he asked for his fifteenth serving of dinner. “My kitchen–”
“Can wait,” Luffy reiterated, unyielding. “This comes first.”
There’s a conversation going unspoken here, somewhere in between Luffy’s steely gaze and Sanji’s own narrowed baby blues. Zoro hasn’t known Luffy to stand on orders, or really give any in general. Even when Sanji leaves the nest after he yanks him in, he always laughs it off, never forcing him to stay or pulling him back. But this is clearly something he won’t relent on, judging by the way Sanji eventually scoffs and stomps towards the middle of the room, leaning down to pick up the bunched up red vest. Glaring back to the captain, he dropped to his knees with it, smoothing it out. Pliant.
“Make them leave,” Sanji requested, quietly, back to them as he gingerly set the vest down on the floor. Something in Zoro’s chest warms at the sight of the omega, knelt over the starting of the nest, reaching out for a pillow and blanket and pulling them close.
As though they’d never been there at all, the shadows all melt from Luffy’s face under the force of his sunny smile. “Let's go fish, Usopp!” he exclaimed suddenly, all giddy. Freakishly, in a matter of seconds, his entire aura had flipped on its axis.
“Shouldn’t we help–” Usopp sputtered, but Luffy was already yanking him up the steps, two at a time.
From up above, he shouted, “Nami! Zoro! Come on!” And though there’s the normal excitement in the words, the look the beta sends him spells that she heard the intensity hidden beneath it just as well. Another order.
Nami cleared her throat and set the pillow down at her feet. “Sanji, do you need any–”
“No,” Sanji said, distractedly. And then, realizing who he was talking to, he paused where he was spreading one of Usopp’s blankets across the floor and he cleared his throat. “I mean, thank you, Nami-swan . But your library needs more attention than this mess. This won’t take long.”
“Right,” Nami said, brown eyes narrowed slightly. With one final uncertain glance at Zoro, who shrugged in confusion, she disappeared up the steps with a shout after the captain about getting his ass to the deck to help clean.
Zoro hesitated a second longer after her, eyes still on the cook’s back. A white dress shirt tucked around his narrow waistline, his legs folded neatly beneath him. The flush of his neck where it peaks above his shirt, scent gland an unblemished white, just slightly fairer than the skin around it. He’s half leaned over the nest still, but he’s unmoving, frozen as the alpha watches him. Like this, he looks delicate. Docile. Omegan.
It suits him.
Eventually, the blonde’s slim fingers clench around the blanket in his hands as the limits of his patience are hit. “Listen to your captain, mosshead,” Sanji warned, a growl in his tone.
Heat coursing through him, Zoro didn't argue as he turned and rushed up the steps.
-
Later that evening, when the nest is somehow exactly as it had been before, a faint scent of vanilla and cream drizzled over it— Zoro has the best sleep of his life.