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“Sanji… no.”
Sanji frowns down at his arugula, not even stopping for a moment as he continues to mix it with his homemade citrus vinaigrette. “Sanji, yes.”
“No, Sanji. No.”
Sanji clicks his tongue, pausing to shoot a glare at his phone where it’s propped up against his knife block, the upper half of Zeff’s face impassively staring back at him on FaceTime. “Sanji. Yes.”
Zeff lets out an irritated breath that crackles as it comes through the phone’s speaker. “Eggplant, for the last time, you are not going to the Baratie to oversee renovations. I told you, Patty and Carne have it covered.”
“Yeah, right, and that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Sanji rolls his eyes and goes back to aggressively tossing his salad. “If we leave it to Patty and Carne, the new oven will end up on the ceiling, mark my words.”
“I know this is hard for your pea brain to handle,” Zeff drawls, the camera angle swinging as he moves to get more comfortable in his recliner, “But you don’t need to be there to supervise them every hour of every day, lad. Those two have been doing this longer than you’ve been alive. They can manage.”
“It’s just…” Sanji trails off, shoulders slumping, his hands crushing delicate arugula leaves between his fingers, “…what the fuck am I supposed to do for two months—”
“For Heaven’s sake, boy, take a break !” Sanji winces as Zeff’s frustrated voice booms through the phone’s speaker. “There’s more to life than working in a kitchen, Little Eggplant. When was the last time you took a vacation? Or spent time with your friends? Or even went outside —you’re pale as a ghost!”
Sanji splutters, “I’m not that pale!”
Zeff brings the phone up close to his face, giving Sanji an excellent view of his nostrils. “You’re so pale, I can almost see through you,” he says, his voice grave and solemn, “Go outside for a change! Touch the dirt, as the kids say.”
Sanji makes a face. “It’s ‘touch grass,’ stupid old geezer. Don’t say things you don’t even understand.”
“I understand plenty!” Zeff huffs, “I understand that I don’t want to see you within a five mile radius of that restaurant unless it’s being burnt down! Got it, Eggplant?”
Sanji scoffs, plating his arugula salad and stirring his bubbling lobster bisque before glancing sideways at his father’s irate face. “That might happen sooner than you think with those two idiots in charge.”
“Sanji…” Zeff says warningly.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it, geezer. Watch your blood pressure.”
“Hmph. It’s damn hard when I have to deal with a brat like you,” Zeff grumbles, though Sanji can’t see him anymore with the way Zeff accidentally flipped his camera and now he’s fumbling to flip it back towards himself, cursing under his breath about blasted technology.
Sanji chuckles softly, wiping his hands on his apron before picking up his phone. “Don’t hurt yourself, old man. I’m done making lunch, so I’ll end the call here.”
Zeff sighs, the camera still pointed toward his knees. “Be sure to take this time off, Eggplant.”
“ Okay , Dad . I will,” Sanji says, half to reassure the older man, half because he knows calling him ‘Dad’ will make Zeff ooey-gooey enough to get him off his back.
Sure enough, there’s a long stretch of silence on the other end of the line before Zeff grunts out a gruff “Good” and then abruptly hangs up.
Sanji smiles to himself for a moment. His dad can be a grumpy old bastard, but he really is a big softie at heart, isn’t he? Shaking his head in amusement, Sanji pockets his phone and licks a bit of creamy, orange bisque off his stirring spoon.
“Hmmmm, needs more thyme…” Sanji muses. He’s just about to reach for more of the herb when his ears pick up the quiet creak of a door opening.
Sanji stiffens, hand poised over the bottle of thyme, his brows furrowing in apprehension. He’s supposed to be alone in his apartment. So what…or who…?
There it is again, a barely perceptible sound coming from his living room—the muffled thumping of footsteps on carpet this time, the body of an unknown person infiltrating his space. Sanji’s fingers twitch toward his knife block, ears straining to hear more.
It’s silent for a long, tense moment. Two moments. Three. Four, five, six and then—
The unmistakable rumble of a hungry stomach.
Sanji’s eyes widen in realization and he lets out an exasperated groan. Quickly, he plucks up the bottle of thyme, sprinkling a bit of the herb into his bisque and then lowering the heat before he hurries out of his kitchen with his apron halfway untied.
“Luffy, how many times have I told you!” Sanji scolds as he skids into his living room, “You can’t just break into my apartment whenever you’re hun—”
The words die on Sanji’s lips. Because it’s not Luffy.
There is a small child in Sanji’s apartment.
Nevermind the fact that Sanji thought he locked his door, there is a child in his apartment that he’s pretty sure wasn’t there before, staring up at him with big, brown eyes set into a round face framed with short, spiky, green hair. Poor kid doesn’t look older than four or five with his chubby cheeks, button nose, and tiny hands twisting in the hem of his Lightning McQueen shirt.
The kid blinks at Sanji. Sanji blinks back.
“Um…Hi?”
The kid bursts into tears.
For several mortifying moments, Sanji just stands there, frozen in indecision, gaping at this tiny child from God-knows-where who’s started sobbing in his living room. He doesn’t know what to do—call the cops? No, what the fuck, that’s a terrible idea. File a complaint? Yeah, that’d go over well— ‘Hi, yes, so this random little kid broke into my apartment, could you make sure that doesn’t happen again, please?’ Walk door to door and ask if someone happened to lose a whole child? Wait, that could actually work…
The kid’s wailing pitches up an entire octave and it snaps Sanji out of his spiraling thoughts. Damn it, he can’t think about any of that right now! There is a literal distressed child in his living room, that’s what he needs to focus on.
Cautiously, with slow, careful movements, Sanji approaches the little boy, squatting down on his heels in front of him. He makes sure to leave some space between them so as not to crowd the kid, wrapping his arms around his knees to seem as small and unthreatening as possible.
“Hey. Hey, kid. What’s wrong?” Sanji murmurs, voice gentle and soft, but it doesn’t seem like the boy hears him over the sound of his own crying.
Sanji reaches out and lightly taps the kid on his shoulder. “Kid, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt?”
“No,” the kid manages to choke out, his tiny hands folded over his face.
“Okay, then. Are you hungry?”
“No.” The kid shakes his head vehemently, though he’s still hiding behind his hands. Sanji knows he’s lying—he heard the child’s tummy grumble from the damn kitchen for God’s sake—but he won’t push it. At least not right now.
“Where are your parents? Are you lost?”
“Noooooooo,” the kid whines, dropping his hands to reveal red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, his lips pursed in displeasure, “Daddy’s the one who got lost!”
Sanji’s brows furrow in confusion. “Your dad…got lost?” He repeats slowly, “What do you mean? Lost how?”
“He— hic , he said he was gonna go get milk for my Froot Loops. ‘Cos we ran out,” the kid hiccups, “But he didn’ come back an’— hic an’…an’ I can’t find himmmmmm.” The kid dissolves back into sobs that wrack his whole body, the collar of his shirt damp from him wiping his tears and snot with it.
Sanji’s heart constricts, sparks of white-hot anger flickering in his chest while a growing chasm of horror opens up in his stomach. ‘Gone to get milk’? Did…did this motherfucker just straight up abandon his kid? What the actual fuck?!
“Okay. Okay, kid— hey, I need you to listen to me.” Sanji puts both of his hands on little shoulders and gently guides the boy to face him, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to dab at the child’s cheeks and upper lip. “Take deep breaths, okay? My name is Sanji. I’m gonna help you find your dad. Can you tell me your name?”
The kid peeks up at him from around the white kerchief. “…Ryu.”
“Ryu. That’s a cool name. It’s nice to meet you, Ryu. Do you know your dad’s phone number?”
The boy sniffles and shakes his head ‘no,’ shuffling closer to Sanji as the blonde cleans his messy face. One of his hands comes up and latches onto the front of Sanji’s shirt, tiny fingers curling into the fabric.
“That’s alright. Then let’s go downstairs to the building manager’s office and maybe they can call your dad. Does that sound good?” Sanji slips the handkerchief back into his pocket and rises to his feet when Ryu nods in agreement. “Okay, just wait here a second.”
Swiftly, Sanji darts into his kitchen to turn off the stove and put a lid over his bisque, tossing his apron over one of the dining room chairs. He re-enters the living room and offers Ryu a reassuring smile, tipping his head toward the door to indicate that they should head out.
But as Sanji makes to move past the kid, he feels a tug on his pant leg. He glances down and sees Ryu looking up at him, hands out-stretched, brown eyes wide and beseeching. And, well, fuck. Sanji can’t say no to that face.
Bending down, he carefully wraps his arms around the little boy’s waist, awkwardly hoisting him up and onto his hip. He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing or how to properly carry a child Ryu’s size, but the kid ends up figuring it out for the both of them, wriggling and squirming in Sanji’s hold until he can settle against him comfortably, his hands gripping the front and back of Sanji’s shirt while one of Sanji’s arms is secured under him, the other snug around him.
“Okay, we ready?” Sanji bounces Ryu on his hip, partly to keep him from slipping down and partly to startle a cute, little giggle out of him.
“Yeah,” Ryu responds, nodding resolutely.
“Then let’s go find your dad!” Sanji might’ve put a bit more cheerfulness in his tone than he should’ve—after all, the guy could very well be a deadbeat, in which case Sanji would only be getting the kid’s hopes up—but it’s hard to regret it when Ryu brightens immediately, his lips curling into a small, shy smile. Damn, he really is a cute kid.
Wasting no time at all, Sanji hurries out of his apartment and down the hall toward the elevators, making sure to kick his door shut behind him. He briefly thinks about going back to lock it, but the odds of two break-ins in one day were probably low, so fuck it, whatever. Once he reaches the elevators, Sanji pauses as he tries to figure out how to shift Ryu onto one arm without straight up dropping him, but the kid seems to take his hesitation as confusion .
“It’s okay, I can do it!” Ryu pipes up, pressing the ‘down’ button with his index finger, “See? You hafta hit this button. Then, it’ll light up an’ that’s when the el’vater will come.”
Sanji’s mouth twitches as he tries to suppress his smile, amused at the kid’s attempt at helping. “Oh, really? Who taught you that?”
“My daddy,” the boy says matter-of-factly, “He tol’ me that the button on the bottom is the one that goes down and the button on the top is the one that goes up. ‘S hard to ‘member though, so we practice a lot.” Sanji’s chest aches a little as Ryu meets his eyes, his feet kicking excitedly. “Hey, maybe me and Daddy can practice with you too!”
“Sure, kid, that’d be really nice,” Sanji replies, because what else is he supposed to say to that? The two of them lapse into silence as they wait for the elevator, Ryu playing with the collar of Sanji’s shirt while Sanji chews the inside of his cheek pensively. Things just aren’t adding up. What kind of father would teach his child how to use the elevator and then spend time practicing with them, only to leave them in the end? Plus, Ryu seems like a happy, healthy kid when he’s not crying in Sanji’s living room, one that really cares about his dad. It doesn’t make any sense.
The ‘ding’ of the elevator arriving breaks Sanji’s train of thought, and he hefts Ryu up higher on his hip, preparing to step through the doors as soon as they open. But when Sanji moves to enter the elevator, he stumbles backward as a broad-shouldered body immediately crashes into him, almost causing him to lose his grip on Ryu.
“ Hey! Watch where you’re going, assho—!” Sanji bites his tongue before he can spit out the full insult, refusing to curse where little ears can hear him. Instead, he clutches Ryu closer to his chest, tucking the boy’s face into his neck as he glowers over his head at the blind fucking idiot who just got out of the elevator. “You almost made me drop the kid!”
“Oh, shit, sorry,” the man says, levelling an unbothered, even slightly annoyed, look at Sanji, “Didn’t see you there.”
Sanji instantly bristles at how not sorry this guy sounds. He vaguely feels Ryu stirring in his arms, a faint gasp of recognition escaping the kid’s lips, but he’s too riled up to register it.
“Really?” Sanji says snarkily, mouth curling up into a sardonic smile, “Then maybe wait two fuc— freaking seconds next time so you don’t run someone over!”
Elevator Man’s right eyebrow ticks up, his stoic expression cracking as his features twist into an irritated scowl. “How ‘bout you wait two fucking seconds next time so you don’t get run over?”
Sanji scoffs, appalled at his audacity, “Are you serious? You’re the one who—”
“Daddy!”
Both Sanji and Elevator Man jolt at Ryu’s sudden interruption.
“Wh— Daddy?” Sanji squawks, breaking his death-glaring match with Elevator Man to stare at the boy in disbelief.
“Daddy! You’re back!” Ryu’s voice is ecstatic, trembling with tears and relief as he starts wiggling to try to get out of Sanji’s hold. Sanji sets the kid down on his feet, but still hovers over him uncertainly. This can’t really be Ryu’s dad… can it?
Ryu scampers over to Elevator Man, launching himself at him and wrapping his whole body around one of his legs, grinning up at him joyfully. “I found you!” Well, guess that answers that.
“Ryu?” Elevator Man blinks down at Ryu in surprise, eyes wide with bewilderment as they dart between Sanji and the giggling boy at his feet. Now that Sanji’s seeing them side by side, he has to admit there’s a remarkable resemblance. Ryu’s basically a tiny version of Elevator Man. They both have the same tan skin and green hair, though Elevator Man’s eyes are the cold, steely gray of a winter sky instead of Ryu’s warm, doe-bright brown.
Those eyes zero in on Sanji now, and Sanji only has a brief moment to think about how the guy is actually, kinda-sorta, really attractive with his chiseled jawline and muscular build before Elevator Man’s face darkens like a thunderstorm.
“Oi,” he growls, brandishing a milk carton in his hand, “The hell were you doing with my kid, you fucking creep?”
Sanji’s jaw drops. “…Huh?”
“You heard me.” Elevator Man’s eyes narrow in rage, his voice dipping down into something gravelly and threatening, his other hand settling protectively on top of Ryu’s head. “You trying to kidnap my kid or something?”
“Wh— no!” Sanji nearly chokes on the words in his haste to get them out, his face flushing with indignation. “What the fu— I was trying to help him!”
“Sure you were,” Elevator Man says, his words dripping with sarcasm, “Some… curlybrow stranger running to the elevator with my kid—do I look stupid to you?”
He takes back every positive thing he just thought about this guy. Elevator Man is a certifiable, Grade-A dickhead.
Sanji grits his teeth, seething, about to tell this asshole just how stupid he really looks to him, when Ryu interjects again, tugging at his dad’s pant leg insistently.
“That’s not a stranger, that’s Sanji! He’s my friend!”
“Your ‘friend’?” Elevator Man peers at Sanji suspiciously.
What the actual fuck is happening right now? Sanji takes a deep breath to calm his frazzled nerves, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers to ward off an oncoming headache. “Okay, wait, wait, wait, let’s start over. My name is Sanji. I have no idea who you are, but your kid wound up in my apartment this morning—”
“Oh, he ‘wound up’ there, did he?”
“Would you prefer I use the term breaking and entering?” Sanji snaps, hands curling into fists to keep himself from kicking Elevator Man’s teeth in, “I accidentally left my door unlocked and he wandered inside. Looking for you, I might add. He was freaking crying for God’s sake! I wasn’t just gonna ignore him!”
Elevator Man’s glare falters. He tips his head down to look at Ryu. “Is that true, Ryu?”
Ryu pouts, hesitating. Then, he squishes his cheek against Elevator Man’s thigh. “You were lost, Daddy. I couldn’t find you…”
“I didn’t—! Get lost…” Elevator Man averts his eyes and blushes, redness blooming under his tan skin. “I just—look, it doesn’t matter. I told you not to talk to strangers, didn’t I? You were supposed to stay at home.”
“Yeah, but you were gone a really long time!” Ryu protests, his voice starting to waver again. “An’ I got really scared…an’ then I found Sanji an’ he helped me.” Ryu picks at the seam of Elevator Man’s jeans before mumbling quietly, “You missed Paw Patrol ‘cos you got lost again.”
Elevator Man stiffens, then he exhales out a tired breath. “Ah, fuck. I’m sorry, buddy.” He crouches down, setting the milk carton on the floor as he cups his kid’s face with one hand. “I didn’t mean to be gone for so long. I’m sorry I scared you. I got the milk, though, so we’ll do Froot Loops and Paw Patrol next Saturday, okay?”
“Okay!” Ryu chirps, his mood lifting in a snap-second as he throws his arms around his dad’s neck.
Elevator Man’s lips quirk up into a slight smile that brightens his handsome features. He pulls Ryu into a fierce hug, pecking the side of his face, then scoops him up with one arm, his other hand grabbing the milk carton. He turns to regard Sanji carefully for a moment.
“...Sorry, Curlybrow. I guess…” Elevator Man grumbles reluctantly, but Sanji just rolls his eyes at him.
“Tch, don’t call me that! It’s whatever.” Sanji shrugs, brushing off the apology. “Just be more responsible next time. Maybe have someone watch your kid? Don’t leave him all alone and then get lost buying milk of all things.”
Elevator Man’s jaw tightens at Sanji’s last remark. He sneers at the blonde. “Do me a favor. Keep your shitty parenting advice to yourself.”
Sanji lets out a startled laugh, his anger flaring up again at how stubbornly rude and uncouth this man is. “Hah! What you call ‘shitty parenting advice’ is what most people call ‘common sense’ you…” Sanji’s eyes flick up to the top of Elevator Man’s head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “…you Mosshead.”
Elevator Man stares at him for a long moment. “…What did you just call me?”
“Moss. Head,” Sanji says sickly-sweet, eyes sparkling with glee, “Y’know because your hair is like—”
“For God’s sake, can the two of you pipe down!” Sanji startles at the sound of an entirely new voice, shrill and murderous as it cuts through his taunting. “These shitty walls are paper thin, y’know? The whole damn building can hear you two arguing!”
Whirling around, Sanji catches sight of the most drop-dead gorgeous woman he’s ever seen in his life leaning out of an open doorway. She’s beautiful even though she looks like she just rolled out of bed, clad in loose shorts and a black band t-shirt, her eyes still crusty with sleep, her fiery orange hair pulled up into a messy bun. There’s something strangely familiar about her, but Sanji can’t quite figure out why. It doesn’t really matter though, because she fixes him with a glare that could melt concrete and, of course, it makes her no less lovely, but it does make Sanji much more in fear for his life.
“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry!” Sanji apologizes profusely, “I wasn’t even thinking about how loud we were being, did we wake you, dear? I am so sorry. I can make it up to you, I promise. Do you like lobster bisque? That’s all I have at the moment, I’m sorry, but I can whip up something else if you’d prefer that?”
The woman stares at him like he’s crazy, before her eyes shift to look over his shoulder, her gaze flat and unimpressed. “Well, Zoro? Where’s your apology? Or are you gonna let this poor schmuck do it for you?”
Elevator Man— Zoro, Sanji supposes—grunts noncommittally. “Eh, I think Curlybrow’s got us both covered.”
Sanji spins on his heel and jabs a finger in Zoro’s direction. “Stop calling me that! And I most certainly do not! Apologize to this nice woman right now, you mosshead brute!”
Zoro barks out a snide laugh at Sanji’s demand. “Nami? Nice? Get back to me after you’ve actually spent five minutes with her. She’s a damn witch.”
Sanji gasps, scandalized at how impolite this Zoro guy is being toward such a lovely lady. He turns back to the woman—Nami, another apology on the tip of his tongue, but she simply waves him off.
“Don’t bother. Like I said, I heard you guys earlier. This idiot’s already said ‘I’m sorry’ three times today. Trust me, I’ve known him long enough to know that’s his hard limit.” Nami gives Zoro a stern look, her eyes round with worry. “What I’m more concerned about is why you didn’t ask me and Vivi to watch Ryu? How many times have I told you not to leave him alone, especially when you’re going out by yourself? Don’t give me that look, you know how you are!” Nami’s tone sharpens when it seems like Zoro is about to object, before it softens again. “Haven’t I told you our door’s always open?”
Zoro shifts his weight awkwardly, his eyes downcast, his arm tightening around Ryu, who’s hiding his face in his dad’s neck. Sanji’s gaze flits between Zoro and Nami, and he takes a half-step back, getting the distinct feeling he shouldn’t be here for this.
“…Was gonna knock, but figured you weren’t up yet. It’s the weekend and I know it’s the only two days you can sleep in.” Zoro raises his chin and looks Nami square in the eye. “Plus, you already have Mika to look after. You don’t need to take care of Ryu, too, Nami. That’s my job.”
Nami groans exasperatedly, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “I can’t believe I have to deal with this again,” she mutters, low enough that Sanji thinks he’s the only one that hears it. “Zoro,” she says louder, “It’s okay to ask for help. If not mine, then someone. Get a babysitter or a nanny or something! You can’t always be leaving Ryu at home alone because your stubborn ass thinks you can do everything by yourself! Get—” Nami’s gaze snaps to Sanji and suddenly she’s pointing at him. “Get someone like him. Hey, what was your name again? Do you like kids?”
Sanji blinks, dumbfounded. “Uh…what?”
“Kids, keep up. Do you like kids? Are you qualified to take care of children?” Nami crosses her arms over her chest as she looks Sanji up and down scrutinizingly. He doesn’t think he looks all that impressive with his black slacks and blue button up, but she seems to see something worthy of approval because she raises her eyebrows at him expectantly, her slippered foot tapping against the floor. “Well?”
“I, uh, I’m Sanji. But I, I don’t— I just live here,” Sanji stammers out.
Nami squints at him. “Which apartment?”
“416—”
“Perfect!” Nami claps her hands together decisively and turns to Zoro. “See! Sanji’s your next-door neighbor. Have him watch Ryu when you need him to. Hell, pay him if that’ll make you feel better! What’s your hourly rate?” Nami faces Sanji again, her expression suddenly cool and calculating.
A little voice in the back of Sanji’s head tells him this is definitely not what Zeff meant by ‘take a break.’ But it’s not like he has anything better to do for the next two months and he still has bills to pay. Might as well make some extra cash, right? How much do babysitters even charge anyway?
“Um…fifty?”
Nami narrows her eyes dangerously. Sanji gulps.
“I mean forty.” Nami tilts her head, her lashes fluttering.
“Thirty.”
Her lips tug down into a small frown. She looks so disappointed in him. Sanji can’t have that.
“Fiftee—”
“Okay, okay, Jesus, just shut up before she gets you to work for free,” Zoro interjects, huffing out a heavy, world-weary sigh. He sends Nami a deadpan, ‘Are you seriously making me do this?’ look and the woman meets his eyes evenly, quirking up a brow in a silent ‘Yes, in fact, I am.’ Then, Zoro turns to Sanji, giving him his own critical once-over. Sanji fights back the urge to shiver as those eyes trace up and down his body, sharp and cold as a knife’s blade, weirdly lingering on his face. Seemingly satisfied, Zoro gives him a curt nod. “I’ll pay you thirty. Are you free Monday?”
Well, he usually wouldn’t be, but with the Baratie closed for the next two months, Sanji’s pretty much free all day every day. “Yeah,” he agrees, glancing over at Ryu, who’s peeking out from his dad’s neck. Sanji’s heart lightens when the boy flashes him a small smile. “How early do you need me?”
“9 am,” Zoro says, “That too early?”
“No, I’m usually up at 5.” Sanji shrugs. “I can even have breakfast ready.”
Zoro’s eyes glimmer with interest. “Huh. You cook?”
Well, yeah, that’s his whole fucking job. But for some reason, Sanji feels the need to be a little mysterious. “Mm, I dabble,” he hums coyly.
“Okay, then. Come over tomorrow and we can talk more. I’m 415.” Zoro strides past him without another word, Ryu waving to Sanji from over Zoro’s shoulder, calling out “Bye-bye, Sanji! Bye-bye, Sanji!” until his dad finally turns the corner.
Nami lets out a snort once Zoro and Ryu are gone. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
“What do you mean?” Sanji asks.
“Just that you’ll have your hands full babysitting that one.”
Sanji gives her a cautiously polite smile. “But Ryu seems like a sweet kid.”
Nami grins at him, and it is a truly wonderful, breathtaking, movie-star smile that makes her nose scrunch and her eyes crinkle. It also happens to be more than a little evil. “Oh, I didn’t mean Ryu.”
Sanji blinks. “Wha—”
She slams her door in Sanji’s face before he can get the question out.
✦ ✦ ✦
It’s only been two days and Sanji already misses the Baratie.
He misses the chaotic cling-clanging of cookware against stoves and stainless steel counters, a chorus of soup sloshing in massive pots and bacon frying in rows of nonstick pans, the hiss of steam escaping when the lid’s taken off a simmering seafood stew and the crackle-pop of chicken curry bubbling in a cast iron wok.
He misses the constant clamor of voices ringing out against pale blue kitchen walls, an undercurrent of ambient noise that envelops him in a blanket of sheer sound—stern orders, barked commands, playful taunts, whispered advice, every word a celebration of cooking as a collaborative art, something meant to be shared with guests, but also between chefs, too.
He misses the happiness in patrons’ eyes when they eat his food, the instant spark of joy when a creamy lobster bisque or a tangy lemon tart hits their tongue and their mouths sing with the flavor, the way a simple soufflé can brighten the face of even the most dour customer, their lips tugging up into a delighted smile despite their sullen temperament.
Oh, how Sanji misses it. All of it. The chaos and the clamor and the customers. And yet…
And yet, there’s something undeniably cathartic about just being in his apartment, leisurely flipping pancakes on a misty Monday morning, the air heavy with the scent of sweet, a divine aroma of butter and chocolate curling through space as the warm sizzle of batter pooling in a heated pan fills his kitchen. When Sanji dropped by Zoro’s place on Sunday to get his number and iron out the details of their babysitting agreement, he asked him about what Ryu would want for breakfast. Zoro simply said ‘pancakes,’ but Sanji doesn’t think the Mosshead appreciates how complicated pancakes can be. Sanji’s prepared though. He has sliced strawberries and whipped cream and extra chocolate chips at the ready, handfuls of blueberries and chopped up bananas if needed, and both maple syrup and honey, just in case. He knows it’s a little over-the-top, but better to be safe than sorry.
Sanji is plating his second stack of pancakes—Mickey Mouse-shaped because he’s pretty sure kids go crazy for that shit—when he hears a knock at the door.
“Coming,” he calls out, wiping his hands on a dishrag before hurrying to get the door.
Zoro stands on the other side, his fist up in the air, poised as if about to knock again. From their conversation yesterday, Sanji knows Zoro works two jobs. He knows Zoro spends mornings and afternoons at the gym as a general manager and part-time personal trainer, and evenings at a dojo near the local middle school, teaching kids kendo. So Sanji knows Zoro will be in his gym clothes when he opens the door, he knows that. But somehow, he’s still not prepared to get an eyeful of him at 9:04 in the fucking morning dressed like he just walked off some kind of fitness catalogue, clad in loose gray sweatpants and a black tank-top tight enough to look molded to his skin. It does nothing to hide the bulge of his biceps and the broad length of his shoulders, and if Sanji looks closely—which he isn’t, of course!—he can even see the contours of his pecs and abs through the fabric.
For the sake of his mental health, Sanji keeps his eyes trained on the Mosshead’s stupid face.
Zoro smirks at him, a mocking little thing that simultaneously makes Sanji want to swoon and knee him in the balls. “Cute apron, Curly,” Zoro drawls, gaze flitting down to the embroidered panda in the center, “Suits you.”
Sanji carefully doesn’t react, though he’s inwardly kicking himself for forgetting to take the frilly, pink thing off. “Thanks, it’s custom.”
For a moment, they stand together in awkward silence, neither one sure how to proceed. Sanji wonders briefly if he should invite Zoro inside.
“...So where’s—”
“Sanji!”
Right on cue, Ryu pops out from behind Zoro, running forward to collide with Sanji’s left leg. The boy wraps his arms around the limb as he grins up at the blonde. “Sanji, Sanji, look, look!” He steps back and tugs the hem of his shirt down over his yellow Curious George shorts so Sanji can clearly see it. It’s a bright red, with a happy-go-lucky looking dalmation in a firefighter helmet emblazoned across the front. “See? It’s Marshall! He’s in Paw Patrol an’ he’s my fav’rite, d’you like him?” Ryu blinks up at Sanji, doe-eyed and hopeful.
Sanji smiles down at the boy indulgently. With his green hair, the red shirt, and the yellow shorts…poor kid looks like a walking stoplight. “Yes, Ryu, he’s very cool.”
Ryu seems pleased with the answer and goes back to trying to climb up Sanji’s leg, still chattering away. “Didja make pancakes, Sanji? Didja, didja? Daddy said you did! It smells really yummy in your house. Can I have pancakes now? Pleeeeeaaaaassseeeeee?”
Sanji laughs, “Yes, of course you can. I have them all ready for you. I just have to set the table now.”
“Yaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy!” Ryu cheers, letting go of Sanji’s leg again to do a little dance. Sanji can’t believe how exuberant the kid is this morning. And to think, just a couple days ago he was bawling in his living room.
Zoro seems a little surprised too, but he takes it in stride, kneeling down beside his son with a serious, yet tender, expression. “Okay, buddy, remember what we talked about. Don’t cause too much trouble for Curly. I’ll come pick you up later, okay? Be good ‘til then.”
Sanji graciously opts not to start another argument over the stupid ‘Curly’ nickname in front of Ryu as Zoro sends the boy racing to the dining room with a kiss on the top of his head and a firm pat on his back. Sanji turns to follow him, about to ask Zoro to shut the door on his way out when the other man suddenly grabs his wrist.
Sanji stills, glancing over his shoulder. Zoro’s mouth is set in a grim line and it makes his face look even more striking and severe.
“Take care of him,” Zoro says.
Normally, Sanji would make some sort of quip about overprotective fathers, but something about the tenseness in Zoro’s jaw has him answering sincerely. “Of course I will.”
Zoro nods and lets go of Sanji. A complicated mix of emotions spasms across his face. He doesn’t make a move to leave. “You have my number.”
“I do.”
“You’ll call me if there’s an emergency?”
“I don’t expect there to be one, but I will if there is.”
“Ryu’s allergic to shrimp. Make sure it doesn’t get anywhere near his food.”
“Yes, you told me. It’s a damn shame, but I’ll make sure.”
“He likes to nap at 2, so you’ll have to—”
“Mosshead, you’re gonna be late.”
“Fuck.” Zoro spins on his heel and takes three steps down the hall. “Shit, wait.” And then immediately comes back to shove a little blue and black backpack into Sanji’s chest. “Take this. It has a bunch of stuff that’ll keep Ryu entertained. Don’t let him stick the markers up his nose or in his mouth. ‘Kay, bye.”
Then, he’s gone, zipping down the hallway as if he knows he won’t be able to bring himself to leave if he stays another second.
Sanji shakes his head in amusement, closing and locking the door. He sets the backpack down on the couch and heads for the kitchen, where he finds Ryu trying to scale the cabinets and drawers in an attempt to reach the plate of pancakes sitting on the granite countertop.
Pure fear flashes through Sanji and his body moves on instinct, lunging forward to pluck the boy from where he’s halfway hanging off the edge of the counter, depositing him safely on the floor before he falls. “Ryu! Don’t do that,” Sanji scolds frantically, “It’s dangerous! You could hurt yourself!”
Ryu looks up at him, stunned at Sanji’s outburst, his eyes huge and glistening. “I was jus’ tryna get the pancakes…” he mutters dejectedly, bowing his head, gaze fixed on his tiny socked feet.
Sanji inwardly panics. Damn it, it hasn’t even been five minutes yet and he’s already fucked up.
Sanji tries for a gentler tone to salvage the situation. “I know, sweetheart. But you need to ask me if you want something from a place you can’t reach. That way you won’t get hurt climbing stuff. Can you do that for me?”
“…Okay,” Ryu mumbles, peering up at Sanji shyly, “Can I have the pancakes now?” He pauses for half a second. “Please?”
In response, Sanji picks up the two stacks of chocolate chip pancakes, pirouetting dramatically and falling forward onto one knee, presenting them to Ryu with a flourish. “Yes, you can! And see, I made them Mickey Mouse-shaped, just for you!”
Ryu giggles at Sanji’s antics and follows close at his heels when Sanji leads them to the dining room. He even sits quietly, only fidgeting in his seat a little bit, his feet swinging back and forth in excitement, as Sanji cuts up his pancakes into smaller, bite-sized pieces.
“Thank you for being so patient, Ryu,” Sanji praises, pushing the plate closer to the little boy, “Here. Let me know if you want seconds.”
Ryu stabs his fork into his first piece of pancake and eagerly shoves it into his mouth, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as he chews and swallows. He turns to look at Sanji with an awestruck expression. “This is the best pancake I ever had ever,” he says, voice soft and solemn, as if revealing a grand secret.
Then, he begins to unceremoniously scarf down the rest of the pancakes, smearing chocolate and syrup all over his face as he does so. Sanji chuckles and busies himself with his own food, sneaking glances at Ryu to watch him inhale his breakfast at record speed. It makes his chest warm with affection and satisfaction to see the little boy enjoy his cooking with such unabashed enthusiasm, cherishing each and every one of the happy wiggles Ryu does when he takes another bite and the ‘Hooray!’ he lets out when Sanji puts a dollop of whipped cream on his pancake. He’s almost sad when Ryu finishes his second helping and finally pushes his plate away, his belly full with pancakes and orange juice.
From then on, their day goes rather smoothly.
While Sanji takes care of the dishes, Ryu sits in front of the TV, enraptured by whatever cartoon’s on cable at 10 in the morning. It’s some show about mermaids going to school—Bubble Puppies or something like that. Sanji’s never heard of it before, but it’s bright and colorful and there’s lots of music that has Ryu up on his feet dancing along. Sanji smiles to himself as he scrubs at used plates and utensils, listening in on Ryu’s cute, off-tune singing from the kitchen as the kid mispronounces words and forgets certain lyrics, stumbling his way through the songs. Sanji pops his head into the living room to remind the boy not to stomp too hard on the floor lest they disturb their downstairs neighbors, only to get roped into dancing with him. He holds sticky little hands as they spin together in a circle, laughing, even picking Ryu up to twirl him around. He’s sure he looks crazy, waving his arms and kicking his legs in an uncoordinated, childish dance, but Ryu seems to be having fun, so it doesn’t really matter.
Then, as Sanji’s lounging on the couch and browsing online, finally getting around to looking for a new airfryer because the one he has broke when Luffy tried to stuff an entire raw chicken in it, Ryu’s rummaging through his backpack, eventually turning it over and dumping all of its contents out—white printer paper and washable markers and colored pencils and Crayola crayons spilling onto Sanji’s fluffy gray rug. Sanji pauses in his search, watching curiously as Ryu grabs some paper and a few markers and crawls over to the coffee table, hunching over it as he begins to scribble away. Once Sanji’s made his purchase, he asks Ryu what he’s drawing and promptly lets out an impressed ‘oh wow, that’s so cool!’ when he says, with gravity, ‘The Ender Dragon.’ Sanji doesn’t really know what that is, but it sounds important. Ryu gifts his drawing to him, so Sanji pins it up on the fridge—a black, amorphous blob that kind of looks like a Dino chicken nugget with purple eyes and triangular wings. He loves it so much.
They have a good time at lunch, too. Ryu likes Tonkotsu ramen and he’s endlessly inquisitive about what Sanji can do in a kitchen, asking questions like ‘Sanji, what does that thingy do?’ and ‘Sanji, what’s this green stuff? It tastes yucky.’ and ‘Sanji, where do the noodles come from?’ Sanji shows him how he kneads the dough and slices it up into long, thin strings, the kid watching with fascination at how the blonde tips the bowl over, sending noodles sliding into warm, simmering pork broth. Halfway through Ryu says he wants to help too, so Sanji holds him up on his hip over the pot and lets him sprinkle in chopped up chives and spring onions. When they finally eat, Sanji learns the kid’s fingers are surprisingly dexterous with a pair of chopsticks, able to pick up the slippery noodles, but Sanji still spoon feeds him the soup so he doesn’t spill it everywhere. After lunch, Ryu gets drowsy, and, like clockwork, starts nodding off at 2:00 pm. Sanji settles him into the guest room with a blanket and a bear plushie he finds in his backpack.
Ryu’s been napping for about thirty minutes—Sanji having spent that time tidying up the living room, picking up all the art supplies and arranging them neatly on the coffee table in case Ryu wants to return to them after waking up—when there’s another knock on his door, this time lighter than before.
Sanji blinks in confusion. That’s strange. It’s barely 2:30. Zoro’s not due back for another 4 hours. And he’s not expecting any guests, at least he doesn’t think so. Maybe the muscle-brained idiot came back because he forgot something? But then why didn’t he text?
Sanji approaches the door, swinging it open. “Back so soon, Moss— Nami?”
Said woman giggles at the surprise on Sanji’s face, her pink-tinted lips curling with mirth. Sanji opens and closes his mouth like a fish, at a complete loss for words. Nami looks dazzling standing on his doorstep in her red dress and heels, her fiery hair pulled back into a high ponytail, pearls accenting her ears and neck.
Sanji clasps his hands over his chest. He’s had dreams that start just like this.“Nami, dear, you look gorgeous! What’s the occasion?”
“There’s no occasion, Sanji. This is what I wear for work.”
“Oh, I see, did you just get back then?” Sanji backs up and beckons Nami inside, “Come in, come in! You must be starving! There’s still some leftover ramen from lunch. I can fix you a bowl if you’d like, darling?”
Nami nods in agreement, stepping past him into his apartment. She looks around as she takes her heels off, peering into Sanji’s living room, her gaze brushing over the pictures he has on the walls, lingering on the one in the center—where a little Sanji grins widely while perched on the shoulders of a younger Zeff, a banner in the background reading ‘Baratie: Grand Opening!’ in big block letters. Sanji doesn’t pay it much mind, sweeping past Nami to show her to the dining room.
“To what do I owe this visit, dear?” Sanji asks, pulling out a chair for her, “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Nami replies, sitting down, a disarming smile on her pretty face as Sanji takes the seat across from her. “I usually get off work around this time, so I thought I’d come say hi. We never properly introduced ourselves when we first met, did we?”
Sanji returns her smile with one of his own. “That’s really nice of you, Nami. I would love to get to know you more!”
“Great! You go first then. What kinds of things are you into, Sanji?”
Sanji tilts his head consideringly. “Well, I love cooking. And the ocean. My dad owns a restaurant down by the pier, so I spent a lot of time there growing up. Um…I like to dance? I used to do ballet as a kid.”
“That’s cool.” Nami nods, resting her chin on her palm. “You have a partner? Any kids?”
“Oh, no, no, I don’t. I’m usually pretty busy, so I guess I just haven’t gotten around to that yet.”
“Huh, so what have you been doing with Ryu all day then?”
Sanji’s smile falters, the question striking him as odd. “Uh…well, mostly I’ve just let him do what he wants. He’s a pretty chill kid, easy to keep entertained. He likes drawing and watching me cook. Eats a lot too, which is crazy since he’s so tiny.”
Nami purses her lips. “You haven’t been letting him near the stove, have you? And you make sure to interact with him, not just leave him by himself, right? I know he can be quiet, but he really hates being left alone.”
Sanji’s brows furrow in apprehension. He hates being skeptical of lovely ladies, and yet, the longer this goes on, the less it seems like a ‘get to know you’ type conversation and more like a full-blown interrogation. “No…I haven’t let him near the stove. At least, not when I’m not there to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself,” Sanji says slowly, “But he wanted to help me cook, so I let him do a few small things…” Sanji regards the woman across from him carefully. “Look, Nami, I’m happy you came over to talk, but…somehow I get the feeling you’re not just here to introduce yourself.” Sanji’s lips tug down as a thought occurs to him. “…I bet Zoro asked you to come here.” He raises a brow at her. “He did, didn’t he?”
“Pfft, what? No, he didn’t.” Nami shakes her head as if Sanji just said the silliest thing. Then, she sees the look on Sanji’s face and her expression dims. “…Yeah, he did.”
Sanji sighs. “He knows he can just text me if he wants an update, right? He doesn’t need to send you all the way here under false pretenses? That’s why we exchanged numbers.”
“He knows, Sanji,” Nami says, a glimmer of apology in her eyes, “He’s just weird about making sure Ryu stays safe. Don’t try to understand it, trust me, I’ve tried. I think he just loves making things harder for himself.”
Sanji just shrugs his shoulders, trying not to feel too put out by the revelation. “Well, you’re welcome to check on him. He’s napping in the guest room on the right. I’ll go get you some food. Any dietary restrictions, dear?” Nami shakes her head and Sanji gets up from his seat. He busies himself with ladling ramen into a bowl for Nami as she quietly ducks into the guest room. When he returns, she’s already back at the table, her posture much more relaxed, her face more sincerely kind. She thanks him for the food.
“So. How is he?” Sanji asks, leaning back in his chair.
“Sound asleep.” Nami hums as she blows on and then slurps up some of the broth. Her face lights up instantly and her gaze flits to Sanji. “Holy shit. Did you make this? It’s really good!”
Sanji laughs, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, “You’re too kind.”
“No, ‘m serious!” Nami mumbles around a mouthful of noodles, pointing her chopsticks at Sanji. “You could be a professional!”
Sanji preens a little at the praise. “Well, it just so happens I am. I mentioned my dad’s restaurant to you, right? I work there. It’s called the Baratie, not sure if you’ve heard of it. I’d invite you for a meal, but unfortunately we’re closed for renovations these next couple months.”
“Ohhhhhhh, that picture you have makes more sense now,” Nami says, “Damn, that knucklehead’s got a professional chef making meals for his kid? I’m so jealous! I’ll have to let him know Ryu’s in real good hands.”
“Heh, tell him I said hi when you do,” Sanji jokes.
Nami winces, glancing up at him sheepishly. “Y’know…I wouldn’t blame you for giving him shit for this. Actually, I think it’s pretty deserved at this point. But just…go easy on him a little, will you? That idiot has a hard time asking for help when it comes to Ryu.”
“I just don’t understand why he even agreed to this if he doesn’t trust me,” Sanji fumes, tapping his fingers against the table in frustration.
“Ugh, that’s my fault. I’m the one who roped you two into this.” Nami pouts, poking at her ramen sadly. “Zoro doesn’t really do babysitters. But I pushed him to hire you. I knew if he kept going like he was, he was gonna crash and burn and Ryu would have to deal with the fall out.”
Sanji blinks, bewildered. “But if that’s true then…how has he even been managing this long?”
“Usually, he leaves Ryu with one of our friends, but he’s stopped doing that as much. Sometimes, he takes Ryu with him to the gym or to work or wherever else he goes. Or he leaves him at home alone if he thinks he can be quick about running errands.” Nami gives Sanji a pointed look. “You already know how badly that can turn out.”
“What about you, then?” Sanji asks, eyeing the woman across from him curiously, “You’re his friend too, right? And you live on this floor. It’s obvious he trusts you more than me, so…”
Nami sets her chopsticks down, staring into her bowl of broth pensively. “Well, he wasn’t wrong when he said it’s hard for me to help out as much as I used to. Both me and my wife, Vivi, work a lot. Vivi’s a public defender, so she’s almost always on the job and ever since I got promoted, I have to be down at the station pretty early most mornings.”
“Wait…you’re a cop?”
Nami barks out a laugh. “What? Hell, no. I meant news station. I’m a meteorologist, not a pffft, not a fucking cop. I work for Grandline News.” She rests her elbows on the table, cupping her face in her palms and flashing Sanji that winning smile of hers. “I’m Nefertari Nami, here with another weather report. Today you can expect clear skies and a light breeze, with temperatures in the mid to high 70s!”
Sanji snaps his fingers. “I knew you seemed familiar! I’ve seen you on the news! You’re always spot on with your weather reports.”
“I know,” Nami says loftily, “I love my job, but it’s a shitload of work. Between that and Mika…life’s getting pretty busy these days.”
“Mika,” Sanji muses, “That’s your kid?”
“My daughter, yeah.” Nami’s entire demeanor softens, her eyes becoming unbearably tender, her face creasing into a smile just at the thought of her child. She takes out her phone and taps the screen, sliding it over for Sanji to look.
There, on Nami’s slightly cracked lockscreen, is a tiny ginger girl squished between Nami herself and a beautiful blue-haired woman who Sanji assumes to be Vivi. The three of them are sitting in the shade of a tangerine tree, Nami and Vivi’s arms around each other, with their daughter in the middle of their embrace. The girl has a megawatt smile on her face and a basket of oranges in her lap. Her eyes are a green-flecked hazel, a few shades of brown lighter than Nami’s.
Sanji coos at the picture. “Oh, she’s adorable! And that hair, she looks just like you, Nami, dear!”
“That’s my Mika,” Nami murmurs, eyes downcast as she admires the photo herself, “I love her to bits, but she’s a handful. It just wouldn’t be fair to Ryu to have to be dragged along to her ice skating lessons and tumbling classes and soccer practice. A million interests, this girl.” Nami takes back her phone and levels a more serious expression at Sanji. “That’s why I know Zoro appreciates your help. Even if he won’t say it.”
Sanji nods, digesting the information. “But then…what about Ryu’s mom? Is she not able to help out?”
Nami stiffens at the question, dropping the tea egg she’d been about to put in her mouth. It splashes back into her bowl and splatters soup onto the table.
“Oh, fuck, shit.” Nami quickly grabs a napkin and wipes up the mess before it can spill into her lap.
Sanji eyes her with concern, hovering halfway out of his seat in case she needs assistance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no, it’s okay. I just—” Nami gestures for him to sit down again, pushing the napkin aside once the soup’s been cleaned up. “It’s…a sore subject for him, Sanji. I can’t say much, but, no, Ryu’s mom isn’t in the picture anymore.” Nami stabs a piece of pork with her chopstick and chews it agitatedly. “Which makes it even harder for Zoro. No one to share the load with. The single parent life is not for the weak. And ever since he took in Ryu, he’s got it in his head that he has to prove he can handle it.”
Sanji’s brain halts over those words. His face pinches in confusion. “‘Took in’?”
Nami falters, blinking wide-eyed and caught-off-guard at Sanji. “...I guess he didn’t tell you that either.” She frowns, something like guilt on her face. “Ugh, today’s not my day. I don’t think I was supposed to say any of that.”
They stare at each other for a long, tense moment.
“…It’s okay, I won’t pry,” Sanji reassures, filing away the information that Ryu might be adopted. It’s surprising with how eerily similar he and Zoro look, but it’s not like it changes anything. He knows that better than anyone. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
Nami mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like ‘matters to him though’ before she covers it up by sipping at her undoubtedly cooling bowl of soup. Once she’s finished, she sets the bowl down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “On that note, I should probably get going. Tomorrow’s forecast isn’t going to predict itself!”
Sanji’s aware she’s beating a hasty retreat because she doesn’t want to reveal anything else, but he chooses not to mention it. Instead, he packs up the rest of the leftovers for Vivi and Mika to enjoy and walks her to the door.
“Take care, Nami,” he says as she steps out of his apartment.
“Wait!” Nami shouts, reaching out to grab his forearm before he can close the door, squeezing gently. “Just. Thank you. You’re not gonna hear it from him, so. Thank you.”
Sanji smiles, patting her hand appreciatively. He bids her farewell and shuts the door, turning around to see Ryu toddling out of the guest room, his clothes rumpled, hair a mess, little fists rubbing at his bleary eyes.
“Sanji,” Ryu says, voice still slurring with sleep, “Who was’at? Wassit Daddy?”
“No, Ryu, that was your Auntie Nami, she just came to say hi.” Sanji kneels down to gently smooth the boy's hair. “How was your nap? Did you sleep well?”
“Mhm…can we have snack time now?”
Sanji chuckles, already moving toward the kitchen. This boy truly was a bottomless pit. He should introduce him to Luffy, he has a feeling they’d get along swimmingly.
For the rest of the day, Sanji stews on the little tidbits of information he learned from Nami, turning the details over and over again in his mind. Ryu’s mom not being around anymore. Zoro taking the kid in even though he’s already working two jobs. Zoro refusing to ask for help because he feels like he has something to prove. It all paints a very messy picture Sanji’s not sure he can decipher. He’s not even sure if he should.
At least he gets no more surprise guests. He and Ryu are left undisturbed until Sanji hears another heavy-handed knock on his door at around 6:43 pm. He knows exactly who it is before he even opens the door. He sends Ryu to go collect all his things while he answers the knock.
“Hey there, Mosshead. You just come back from church or something?” Sanji drawls, leaning against his door frame as he eyes Zoro’s long black robes.
Zoro scowls at him, unimpressed with his sarcasm. “It’s called a keikogi and hakama . It’s what I wear for kendo, dipshit.”
“Hm, that so?” Sanji lets his voice trail off as he picks at his nails nonchalantly, glancing up at Zoro through his lashes to watch him squirm in the silence. “Y’know, I’m surprised you opted to use the front door. Figured you’d just break in through a window and snatch Ryu up when you got back. Seems more your style.”
Zoro clenches his jaw, his cheeks tinting red. But to his credit, his gaze never wavers and his voice is firm as he speaks. “Look, Nami already called me to scream my ear off. Let’s just forget about it. I’m…” Zoro seems to struggle, letting out a disgruntled huff of breath. “I’m sorry. Okay? I won’t do it again. Can we drop it now?”
“Wowwwww, two whole apologies from you to li’l ol’ me in just two days?” Sanji smirks, leaning in to drop his voice to a false whisper. “That must really hurt.”
“Not as much as your face is gonna hurt if you don’t drop it right now,” Zoro growls, stepping forward to emphasize his point. They're standing so close together now they’re practically chest to chest, Zoro’s body emanating a heat that sinks through Sanji’s clothes to his skin, his warm breath puffing against the bridge of Sanji’s nose, his eyes half-lidded as he glares down at the blonde. He has flecks of brown in his gray irises that Sanji didn’t notice before, and a mole high up on his cheek that Sanji feels the irrational urge to kiss.
“Make me,” Sanji murmurs, going for a more threatening tone, but for some reason, with the way he can see Zoro’s pupils fucking dilate, he thinks it might’ve come off a tad more… sultry.
“Daddy! You’re back!”
At the sound of Ryu’s voice, the two of them flinch away from each other. Sanji feels like a diver who’s just come up for air, floundering and a little light-headed, as he watches Ryu skip over to his dad, his backpack bobbing up and down with every step.
Zoro receives him with a smile, pulling the boy in by the wrist and folding him into his chest in a hug so tight it makes Ryu squeak at the strength.
“As you can see, all his limbs are intact and he still has all ten fingers and toes,” Sanji says in a more light-hearted tone, his treacherous heart daring to skip a beat, when Zoro shoots him an exasperated, but genuinely thankful, look.
“Did you have fun, today, buddy?” Zoro asks, cupping his face, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks.
“Yeah! Sanji is the best ever!” Ryu exclaims, “He made yummy pancakes and yummy noodles and yummy cookies and yummy—”
“Jeez, Ryu, do you only like me for my food?” Sanji says, lips puffing out into a playful pout.
“Noooooooo!” Ryu squeals, detaching himself from Zoro and scrambling to wrap himself around Sanji’s leg. “I like Sanji!” He pauses. “And also Sanji’s food.”
Zoro chuckles, clapping his palms over his knees before getting to his feet. “Well, we better get going, squirt. Hopefully, you can choke down my cooking after getting spoiled by Curly’s.” He takes Ryu’s hand and nods a goodbye to Sanji. And, well, Sanji doesn’t know what it is, but there’s something about seeing the two of them leaving that has his stomach twisting with displeasure.
“Wait—” Sanji starts, hesitating for a moment before proceeding, fingers reaching out as if to grab Zoro’s sleeve. He pulls back at the last second when Zoro turns around. “I still have some leftover ingredients from lunch. If you wanna…I mean, I’m sure you’re tired…that is, I don’t mind…”
“The hell are you trying to say?”
Sanji clicks his tongue, irritated with Zoro for not understanding him and with himself for thinking this idiot man was even smart enough to do so. “I’m trying to say I can make dinner too, Mosshead! But I forgot sentient plants like you probably don’t understand human speech!”
Zoro’s face twitches through a myriad of emotions—annoyance, then surprise, then understanding, finally settling on a smugness that has Sanji’s blood boiling.
“Oh? You inviting me in, Curly?”
“No!” Sanji snaps, sticking his tongue out childishly, “Who’d want to invite you? I’m inviting Ryu. It just so happens that you’re here too. So if you wanna stay…I guess I’m not opposed to that.” Sanji sniffs petulantly, turning his nose up and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Hm, alright, if you say so,” Zoro snickers, “I won’t pass up a free meal.” He saunters into Sanji’s apartment, his shoulder brushing against Sanji’s as he passes. Ryu, oblivious to the tension but overjoyed at the realization that they get to stay, lets out an excited cheer, running to catch Zoro by the hand and pull him into the dining room.
Sanji sighs and knocks his forehead against his door frame, unsure why he had to go and open his big mouth. What the hell did I just sign myself up for? And yet, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He cracks his knuckles.
Oh well, time to get dinner ready.
✦ ✦ ✦
Over the next month, the three of them fall into a routine.
On Mondays, Ryu stays with Sanji while Zoro’s at work. They spend the whole day together, Ryu watching cartoons in the morning while Sanji experiments in the kitchen, napping in the afternoon while Sanji tidies up after lunch, and coloring in the evening while Sanji sits beside him, drawing something of his own. Worried that Ryu will grow tired of doing the same old activities, Sanji makes sure to plan something new every week. He goes out and buys finger paints and poster paper so they can do a whole art project together—a massive garden full of mismatched plants, where Ryu’s hand and wrist are the trunks of trees and Sanji’s fingertips are flower petals. It’s too big for the fridge, so it goes up on Sanji’s wall next to all of his photos. Some days, he’ll text Zoro to let him know he’s taking Ryu out to the park across the street, to which the Mosshead responds with a thumbs up emoji. Sanji will sit on a bench and have a smoke as he watches the kid clamber all over the jungle gym. Other days, he’ll ask Zoro what Ryu’s favorite ice cream flavor is, to which the Mosshead also responds with a thumbs up emoji. Sanji won’t bother trying to decipher that, so he’ll take Ryu to the ice cream shop a couple blocks down and let him choose whatever flavor he likes. For all his ideas, Sanji always checks with Zoro first. But no matter what he suggests, Zoro always answers with a thumbs up emoji.
On Tuesdays through Fridays, Zoro drops Ryu off at preschool on his way to the gym. These are quiet mornings Sanji gets to himself and he uses them to pursue the hobbies he always set aside for work—reading books and going on runs and doing yoga. Sometimes, he’ll visit Luffy and Usopp. The two troublemakers are predictably getting up to trouble, which always makes for a fun story to share over Sanji’s fried rice and beef brisket. Other times, he’ll visit Nami, an orange-infused Bundt cake in hand, so they can get to know each other for real outside of surprise interrogations. He even gets to meet Vivi, and she is as lovely as Nami described with her kind heart and sunny smile. Then, in the afternoons, he picks Ryu up from school while Zoro’s at the dojo. Nami catches on to this part of their routine and convinces Sanji to leave Ryu with his friends on the playground for an extra 30 minutes and join the PTA meetings, although he isn’t a parent. Sanji suspects it’s because his cookies work wonders influencing the other PTA moms to go along with Nami’s plans. Finally, in the evening, when Zoro returns to take Ryu home, they do the same song and dance they did that very first day. Sanji will hover by the door, Zoro will linger in the hall, until Ryu begs to stay for dinner and their eyes meet over his head. Sanji will ask. Zoro will relent. They both tacitly agree they’re doing this for Ryu’s sake alone.
On the weekends, Sanji’s technically not supposed to be babysitting at all. But he gets roped into hanging out with Zoro and Ryu anyway—as per Ryu’s request, of course, not for any other reason. They go to Fishman Aquarium and Ryu darts from exhibit to exhibit, smushing his face up against the glass to marvel at the octopi and jellyfish and leopard sharks, clapping his hands with joy when he sees cute baby penguins and sea otters. Zoro and Sanji follow behind him at a more leisurely pace, and if Sanji notices Zoro’s hair turn the blue-green of the open ocean under the light filtering in through the exhibit windows, his three gold earrings glittering like sunken treasure, well, he keeps that to himself. They go to Foxy Amusement Park and Ryu sits cheerfully on Zoro’s shoulders, eyes wide with delight as he picks apart a cloud of cotton candy while they wait to board the carousel, smearing pink-colored sugar all over his face. And if Sanji’s heart flutters at how Zoro makes an effort to win his kid prizes at games and ensure his seatbelt is safely buckled on rides and buy him a strawberry-Nutella funnel cake that Sanji ends up finishing himself anyway, well, he keeps that to himself too. Those are the times when Sanji feels strangely bereft after they part ways, bone-tired and aching after a long day of fun. And yet, it doesn’t feel right to lie alone in his apartment with Zoro and Ryu a whole wall away.
Sanji tells himself this is normal, that it’s all part of the job. He’s just being a good babysitter, a good neighbor, hell, maybe even a good… friend. There’s nothing more to it.
But then, they cross a line at the end of April.
It’s late at night, and Ryu is fast asleep in the darkness of Zoro’s living room, freshly-turned five years-old and conked out on the couch. Meanwhile, Zoro and Sanji sit across from each other at the kitchen table, awash in the golden glow of a single-bulb light fixture hanging down from the ceiling, a couple of half-finished Coronas and empty bowls once filled with chicken alfredo pasta scattered between them.
The Mosshead is in several beers deeper than Sanji—which isn’t that grand a feat considering the blonde took one sip and almost spit it back out at the sour taste, much to Zoro’s amusement—but he's not quite drunk, or even tipsy. He’s more… loose. The alcohol has softened his gruff, rigid, stone-cold demeanor into something more open and expressive, and Sanji is having a hard time looking away from how his cheeks dimple when he smiles and how his eyes crinkle when he’s happy and how his shoulders tremble when he laughs, as he’s doing now.
In fact, Zoro is practically wheezing with laughter, voice cracking with mirth as he tells Sanji about Ryu’s birthday party earlier in the day at Skypiea Trampoline Park. Apparently, his friend Yosaku dared his other friend Johnny to impress all the kids by doing a backflip on a trampoline while holding Ryu’s birthday cake, but Johnny ended up fucking up the landing and face-planting into the cake instead. Luckily, Zoro anticipated something like this happening and purchased two cakes. The green-haired man slaps the table as he tells the story, doubling over with the strength of his guffaws and Sanji has to hiss at him to be quiet, glancing toward the living room where Ryu’s asleep, valiantly trying to smother his own giggles at the mental image. Truthfully, he thinks it’s a damn shameful waste of good cake, and he’s sure he’d have been pissed if he was actually there to witness it, but right now, seeing Zoro laugh so freely, he can’t find it in himself to be all that mad.
“Your friends are idiots,” Sanji says, entirely aware he’s being hypocritical as he shakes his head in exasperation—after all, that stunt sounds exactly like something Luffy would do. “I’m sorry I missed the party. Should’ve been there to put a stop to you menaces.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” Zoro shrugs, still chuckling. “Those two always find a way to fuck around. Best thing to do is work damage control.”
“Still…I wish I could’ve made it.”
Zoro sighs. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re here now, aren’t you?”
Sanji nods. That much is true. Honestly, he was pretty surprised when Zoro called him a couple hours ago. He knew the Mosshead was taking the whole day off work to celebrate with Ryu, so he wasn’t sure why he would need Sanji’s babysitting services. But the brute didn’t even mention babysitting. He just said ‘You free? Yeah? Come over. Bring food’ and then abruptly hung up, leaving Sanji to blink in confused silence.
“Y’know, I still don’t get why you invited me over. I mean, weren’t you supposed to take Ryu out for a special birthday dinner? What happened to that?”
“Well, that was the plan,” Zoro says, meeting Sanji’s eyes over the rim of his bottle, “But when I asked the kid what he wanted to eat, he just said, ‘Sanji’s food.’ So. I called you up.”
Oh. Sanji’s heart does a funny little sumersault in his chest. I didn’t…oh.
“Well, fuck,” Sanji mutters, rubbing an embarrassed hand over his face, “I’ll have to make sure I’m free next year then. Give me more than an hour’s notice and I’ll make Ryu a whole damn birthday feast.” As soon as Sanji says that, he regrets it, tapping a nervous fingernail against the neck of his beer bottle, trying not to overthink the implications of ‘next year.’ He’s just a babysitter, after all, he might not even be in Zoro and Ryu’s life next year. Is it presumptuous of him to act like he will be? Sanji covers up his anxious thoughts by taking another swig of beer, cringing at the foul bitterness of it.
“Learn to hold your liquor before making promises, Curly,” Zoro teases, chugging the rest of his own bottle like water.
Sanji clicks his tongue, scowling. “Well, excuse me. Not all of us enjoy the taste of motor oil.” He runs his thumb over the lip of his bottle pensively, searching for a way to change the subject to something other than the future. “Did Ryu like his gift, at least?” Last week, Sanji purchased a weighted, green-and-red dragon plushie for Ryu’s birthday. He’d been itching to know if the boy would like it ever since he first bought it.
Zoro grows quiet, leveling Sanji with a look that’s strangely warm and… sweet. “Yeah,” he murmurs, the left corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile, “How’d you know he likes dragons?”
“I put on How to Train Your Dragon a week or two ago. The first movie.” Sanji props his elbow on the table, resting his cheek on his palm as he recalls that day fondly. “He seemed to like it a lot. Wouldn’t stop telling me about how his name means ‘dragon’ in Japanese.”
“Yeah, he’s always been into ‘em.” Zoro tips his head back to look at the ceiling and Sanji tries not to let his gaze linger too long on the strong line of his throat. “As soon as he opened your gift, he wouldn’t let go of it. He’s been running around with it all day. Now he wants to be Toothless for Halloween and he’s begging me to be Hiccup.”
“You, Hiccup?” Sanji barks out a laugh. “Please.”
“Oi, why not? I’d be an awesome Hiccup. You could be my Astrid.”
Sanji valiantly holds back from choking on his own tongue, a multitude of questions racing through his mind. ‘His’ Astrid? As in, the Astrid to Zoro’s Hiccup? As in, the two characters who date, marry, and have fucking kids in the movies? That Astrid?
“Why the fuck would I be Astrid?” Is what Sanji actually asks.
“Uh, duh, you’re blonde? And have blue eyes?” Zoro gestures vaguely at Sanji’s face. “You look just like her.”
“Yeah, let’s just forget about the fact that Astrid’s a whole ass woman.”
“Okay, and?” Zoro snorts, “You’d look pretty hot in a viking skirt.”
Forget the part about Zoro wanting to do a goddamn couples costume with him, that comment is what’s going to kill Sanji.
“I’m gonna ignore that you just said that.”
Zoro puts his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just tellin’ it like it is.”
Sanji rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Personally, I think you’re more Stoick than Hiccup anyway.”
“Why? Because I’m jacked?” Zoro smirks, flexing his bicep for emphasis.
“No, because you’re a good dad.” The words slip out of Sanji’s mouth before he can even think about them, said simply, casually, and with a humiliating amount of sincerity.
Instantly, both Zoro and Sanji freeze, their gazes locked on each other. Zoro is blinking at him, his gray eyes wide and stunned, while Sanji’s shoulders have stiffened in mortification.
“…What?” Zoro asks, his voice weirdly quiet, almost meek, if that word could ever be used to describe the muscle-brained idiot.
“Don’t go fishing for compliments, now, Mosshead,” Sanji recovers quickly, chiding Zoro with a playfully arrogant glare, “You’re a good dad. There, I said it twice. Go ahead, soak it up. I won’t repeat myself again.”
Sanji expects Zoro to fire back with some sort of snarky retort like he always does, gearing up to swap insults back and forth, a sort of verbal tennis match between them that never seems to end. But Zoro doesn’t say anything at all, just stares down at an old smudge of blue paint flaking off his kitchen table. Sanji squints his eyes in confusion, his brows furrowing, the mocking smile on his face fading with every passing moment.
“…Zoro,” Sanji says slowly, haltingly, “You— You know you’re a good dad, right?”
“What was that about not repeating yourself, Curly?”
“Zoro.”
The green-haired man shrugs. “I know I do alright.”
“You do more than alright!” Sanji snaps, his volume unintentionally rising. He casts another alarmed glance toward the living room, pausing for a second as he strains to hear any sign of Ryu waking. He hears nothing. “I don’t know how you can’t see it, Mossy,” he continues in a whisper-shout, needing Zoro to get this through his thick fucking skull, “But you make your Mini-Moss really happy.”
Zoro scoffs, his grip around the neck of his now empty beer bottle tightening. “I still make too many mistakes though. I leave him alone unsupervised. I take too long getting back. My work schedule’s fucking crazy so he has to bounce between a million other people just to get to and from school on time. If I was a good dad, I’d be able to give him something more stable—”
“Newsflash, idiot,” Sanji interrupts, scowling, “You can’t be everywhere at once. You’re a great father, but you can’t take on everything by yourself—”
“Then how come Kuina was able to?!”
Sanji nearly flinches back at the harshness of Zoro’s tone, but he holds steady, his gaze searching as he looks into the other man’s eyes. “...Kuina?”
Zoro gapes at him, surprise written all over his face. Sanji thinks he probably didn’t mean to say that. “…Just forget it,” Zoro eventually mutters, crossing his arms over his chest as he averts his gaze, almost like he’s physically closing himself off.
And, well, maybe Sanji should. He told Nami he wouldn’t pry, after all. But, there’s something about the frustration and guilt and… sorrow twisting Zoro’s expression into something sad and bitter and unrecognizable that has Sanji opening his mouth anyway.
“By ‘Kuina’ do you mean your ex? Ryu’s mom?” Sanji asks, trying to keep his voice gentle and non-confrontational.
Zoro’s face spasms, something like disgust flickering over features. “Ex? The fuck—she wasn’t my ex! Where the hell did you get that idea from?”
Sanji gives him a blank stare. “You’re kidding right? Ryu’s a literal carbon copy of you. There’s no way you’re not related.”
Zoro’s brows knit together as he frowns. “We are related, but she’s not…she wasn’t my ex, she was my sister.”
Sanji throws his hands up helplessly. “Okay, fine, whatever. She was your sister. She—” Sanji cuts himself off as what Zoro said registers in his mind. “She was your sister?”
Zoro swallows thickly. There are no tears in his eyes, but they shine as if he’s about to cry. “…Yeah. She died a couple years ago, so.”
“Oh.” Sanji stares down at the table for a long moment. So, after his sister passed away, Zoro took in his nephew and turned him into a son. He lets that knowledge sink in. When Sanji finally breaks his silence, he doesn’t say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or ‘That must’ve been hard’ or any stupid shit like that. He knows this kind of grief. He knows it doesn’t help. Instead, Sanji reaches out, slowly, gradually, fingers extended, brushing over the scarred skin of Zoro’s knuckles before he wraps his hand around Zoro’s, their palms sliding to fit against each other perfectly. “How did it happen?”
Zoro’s voice is rough when he responds, gravelly with grief. “An accident. She fell down some stairs. Hit her head really hard. Bled out. Ryu was…Ryu was in the other room when it happened. They only found her because he was crying so loud the neighbors heard.”
Fuck, that’s terrible. That’s really, really terrible. Holy shit. Sanji closes his eyes and wills away the horror.
“They contacted me because I was Ryu’s next of kin.” Zoro’s voice is almost frantic, as if he can’t figure out how to stop now that he’s started his story. “The rat bastard that got her knocked up was long gone before he was even born. So she’d been taking care of Ryu by herself that whole time. But then she died and I didn’t know what to do. I’d just graduated from college. I didn’t even have a job yet, but I had to take care of a whole person?”
Sanji squeezes Zoro’s hand, cupping it in both of his. He runs his fingertips over the creases and calluses of his palm in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. “I think she would be so proud of you,” Sanji murmurs, “Proud. And grateful.”
Zoro shakes his head. “You don’t know that—”
“I do,” Sanji says firmly, “If she saw what I see every day, there’s no way she’d feel any different.”
Zoro meets his gaze again and this time, he doesn’t look away. There is an emotion in his eyes, unknowable and indecipherable, that makes Sanji’s breath catch in his throat. It’s something cautious, yet warm, tempered, but bright with hope. It pulls Sanji in and fills him up, makes him feel like his skin is too tight for his body, like his heart is beating too loud, like he’s a hair trigger away from exploding. Sanji’s sure his ears are tinted red when Zoro’s fingers fully intertwine with his and he finally gives Sanji’s hand a squeeze back.
The blonde watches as Zoro’s lips part. He looks like he wants to ask Sanji something. He could ask anything and Sanji knows, deep down inside, the answer would be yes yes yes yes yes.
“Do you—”
“Daddy?” Both of their heads snap to the side as Ryu’s voice floats in through the open doorway leading to the living room. “Sanji? Where’d you go?”
Zoro and Sanji exchange glances. Even within the simmering tension of this moment, the unexpected vulnerability and the unspoken words and the unknown feelings, they both agree the little boy calling out for them comes first. Sanji extracts his hand from Zoro’s grasp, following close behind as Zoro leads the way to the living room, over to where Ryu is still lying half-asleep on the couch. Although the living room is only dimly lit by the tendrils of light sneaking in from the kitchen, Sanji can still make out Ryu’s tiny body curled around the dragon plushie the blonde gifted him. He’s surrounded by Zoro’s three cats, each of them named after one of his swords, which Sanji thinks is ridiculous even for a kendo-obsessed idiot like the Mosshead.
Sanji hadn’t gotten a good look at the cats until a couple weeks ago, when he was invited over to Zoro’s place for a take-out style dinner. Before then, they’d always slunk around in the periphery of Zoro’s apartment when Sanji visited, giving the blonde a wide berth as if they were unsure of his trustworthiness. But as he started coming by more and more often, they began to warm up to him and now he’s settled into various stages of pleasant coexistence with each of them.
Wado—the sweetest girl in the whole wide world as far as Sanji’s concerned—is dozing in a cute little loaf by Ryu’s head, her snow white fur bright against the shadows of the room. Her green eyes open in tiny slits and she lets out a soft purr when Sanji sits on the couch arm beside her, stroking the top of her head with the pads of his fingers. Kitetsu—or Tetsu the Terror, as Zoro likes to call him—is a temperamental tabby. He’s flopped half on top of Ryu, his long limbs sprawled out haphazardly, orange fur a spiky mess. He stirs from his slumber when Ryu lifts his head and shoulders to blink sleepily up at Zoro, who’s leaning over the back of the couch. Finally, Enma, generally the most aloof and apathetic of the three felines, sits in a silent vigil by Ryu’s feet, standing guard over his little human and the other two drowsy cats. His glossy black fur blends into the darkness so well Sanji would hardly be able to see him if not for his luminous eyes, a blue so vivid it almost looks purple. His ears are up, alert and inquisitive as he regards Sanji. Of all of Zoro’s cats, Enma avoids him the most.
With a quick swooping motion, Zoro plucks the refined black tom off the couch. Enma lets out an indignant mrrp?! as Zoro lifts him to make room for himself. The cat twists like a snake in Zoro’s arms, forcing the Mosshead to drop him on the floor. Then, he patters over to Sanji and elegantly hops into his lap, casting a baleful look over at Zoro as he settles on Sanji’s thighs with a pompous flick of his whiskers. Sanji laughs as he rubs under Enma’s chin. Well, he usually avoids Sanji, up until Zoro inevitably annoys him and he cuddles up to the blonde instead as punishment for his human’s insolence.
“Hey, munchkin,” Zoro whispers, drawing Sanji’s attention back to him and Ryu. His face is soft and kind as he tips Ryu’s head back to press a kiss to his forehead, earrings jingling as he ducks down. “You wanna go to bed now?”
“Ye—” Ryu’s response is interrupted as he yawns. “—ah. ‘M tired.”
Sanji smiles at Ryu’s droopy eyes and rumpled hair, taking that as his cue to leave. He spares Zoro one last glance, just enough to nod his goodbye before he gently scooches Enma off his lap, silently apologizing as the cat lets out a disgruntled yowl. “I better get going myself, then. Thanks again for inviting me over, Mossy. This was fun.”
Sanji moves to show himself out, but he only makes it one step toward the door when suddenly Ryu lunges to snag the hem of his shirt.
“Wait! Do you have to go?” The boy asks, a pleading tone in his voice.
Sanji blinks down at him, unsure what to say. “Ryu…you don’t need me to stay here, sweetheart.”
“But I don’ want you to go! Why do you have to go? Don’ go!” Ryu now has both hands firmly fisted in the fabric of Sanji’s shirt and he yanks Sanji closer to him, burying his face in his stomach. “Please?”
Sanji’s hands hover uncertainly, until one eventually lands on Ryu’s shoulder while the other cups the back of his head, fingers tangling in his short hair. Sanji sends Zoro a helpless look.
Zoro’s gaze flits between Sanji and Ryu a couple times before ultimately landing on Ryu. He sighs and puts a hand on the boy’s back. “C’mon, let him go, Ryu. Sanji needs to sleep too.”
“He can sleep here! With me! We can have a sleepover!” Ryu insists, tightening his grip, and Sanji does a double take because what?! While the blonde’s too stunned to react, Ryu succeeds in latching onto him like a koala, all his limbs wrapping around Sanji’s torso. Sanji’s arms instinctively come up to support the boy, ensuring he doesn’t fall.
Zoro runs an exhausted hand through his hair and gives Sanji a ‘Well, I tried’ type of look. Sanji returns it with a ‘Not hard enough’ glare. Finally relenting, Sanji places both hands on Ryu’s shoulders and gently pushes him back to see his face properly.
“Okay, Ryu. I’ll stay. I can sleep here on the couch with the kitties—”
“Nooooooo, I wanna sleep next to you too!” Ryu whines, his cheeks puffing out into a pout.
“But—”
“It’s okay, cook, you and Ryu can take my room and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Mosshead, I am not kicking you out of your own bed!”
“Then we can all sleep in Daddy’s room!” Ryu chirps, “Daddy has a realllyyyyyy big bed. We can share! Ms. Carrot says sharing is caring.” The little boy nods matter-of-factly, as if he’s just bestowed the greatest piece of wisdom onto them.
“Ryu, that’s not—” Sanji’s protest is abruptly cut off when he sees the wide, hopeful smile on Ryu’s face, his round eyes sparkling with excitement. And Sanji is a weak fucking man because how is he letting a five year-old manipulate him like this?
“…You heard him, Curly,” Zoro says, and Sanji can tell from his voice that he’s a weak fucking man too, “Sharing is caring.”
That’s how Sanji winds up in Zoro’s bed at 11:52 pm on a Friday night. And, well, Sanji hasn’t been an official babysitter for very long, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t normal.
It’s a tight fit with all of them on the bed, despite the Mosshead having a rather spacious mattress. Zoro and Sanji are lying on their sides at the edges, Ryu tucked between them. The little boy fell asleep almost as soon as they got settled, facing the blonde cook with his fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, his head pillowed on Zoro’s bicep. Wado and Kitetsu somehow managed to worm their way into the pockets of space beside Ryu, curling up into balls of warmth and soft fur against the kid’s back and belly. Even Enma joins them on the bed, his lanky body stretched across the mattress at their feet, the tip of his tail tickling Sanji’s toes.
Sanji keeps his eyes on Ryu’s peaceful face, watching him breathe deeply and evenly as he sleeps. He can feel Zoro’s gaze on him, a heavy, conspicuous weight on his shoulders, but he can’t bring himself to meet it, not when they’re lying so close together like this. It would be too intimate, too meaningful, too… much.
And yet, that’s exactly what he does when he hears Zoro speak, hopelessly drawn to him in spite of himself, like a moth to a flame.
“Thanks,” Zoro says, his voice a low, rumbling whisper, quiet enough to not disturb Ryu, “For staying.”
“The kid drove a hard bargain,” Sanji whispers back teasingly, reaching out to push an errant strand of green hair behind Ryu’s ear, “He hit me with the puppy eyes and I just couldn’t resist.”
Zoro smiles, his eyes softening as he follows the motion of Sanji’s fingers. “Yeah. I can never say no to him either.”
Sanji swallows a yawn, blinking back his drowsiness as he tries to focus on Zoro’s words. “See? That right there. That’s how I know you’re a good dad.”
“What? ‘Cause I fold easily?”
“‘Cause it’s so clear to me how much you love this kid, idiot Mosshead,” Sanji mumbles, slightly irked at Zoro’s stubborn refusal to accept facts, “Trust me on this. I know what it looks like when a parent couldn’t care less about their kid. You’re the farthest thing from that.”
Zoro’s eyes narrow on him, concern on his face. “What do you mean?”
Sanji shakes his head, teetering on the edge of sleep. “Not now. Maybe I’ll…” the yawn escapes Sanji’s lips, “…tell you someday, but just…take my word for it, okay? You’re a good dad. I wouldn’t fuck with you about something like this.”
Sanji doesn’t know what expression is on his face when he says that, but it feels raw, honest and unfiltered, like an open wound exposed to air. Zoro inhales sharply at his words, and the affection that blooms on his face makes Sanji’s heart swell.
They’re silent as they both soak in the moment. Sanji breathes in and out. In and out. In and out. Somewhere between his fourth and fifth breath, Zoro leans forward and kisses him.
It’s not a long kiss. Really, it’s more of a peck than anything, a firm press of Zoro’s lips against his, soft enough to make Sanji ache, but strong enough to leave his mouth tingling even after Zoro pulls away. Sanji’s whole face flushes, feeling especially hot where Zoro’s fingertips brush over Sanji’s cheek.
Sanji thinks his heart is trying to leap out of his chest. He tries to say something, anything, to assuage the swirling storm of emotions raging inside him, but Zoro stops him before he gets the chance.
“Shhhhhhh,” Zoro hushes, “Go to sleep.”
“But I—! You—!”
“Go to sleep, Curly. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
Sanji wants to argue, but he finds it hard to focus with the way Zoro caresses his brow, his thumb following the arc all the way to its swirly end. The rhythmic strokes lull Sanji into a daze and his eyes droop until they eventually fall shut. The last thing Sanji registers before sleep takes him is the feather-light pressure of another kiss being placed on his forehead.
✦ ✦ ✦
They don’t talk about it in the morning.
Because when Sanji wakes the next day, it’s only to Wado sleeping on his stomach in a furry white lump, Ryu starfished on the bed beside him with Kitetsu lying half on top of his face. Zoro and Enma are nowhere to be found. Sanji sits up carefully, trying not to disturb Wado too much as he shifts her into his lap. He finds a note on the nightstand and it’s written in Zoro’s signature chicken scratch.
‘Got called into work. Emergency. Can you watch Ryu? Thanks.’
Sanji sets the note down and yawns, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes to rub them of sleep. Zoro’s damn lucky he’s not busy this Saturday, luckier still that he would’ve cancelled his plans to look after Ryu anyway even if he had any. But Sanji supposes this is actually a good thing. The Mosshead is finally asking for help without it having to be like pulling teeth. That thought alone has him feeling off-kilter, stunned at the incredible show of trust, but combine that with what happened last night and Sanji can say he feels fucking insane.
Did Zoro really open up to him last night? Did he really share his grief with him? His pain? His doubts and his insecurities? Or did Sanji imagine that? Did he really show true and honest vulnerability or was that whole interaction a hallucination? And did he actually kiss Sanji? Or was that just a dream? A manifestation of a subconscious yet undeniable fantasy that’s been lurking in Sanji’s mind for weeks?
But no. It was real. Sanji knows it was real. The warmth of Zoro’s hand in his. The taste of him on his lips. The tenderness and the affection in his eyes. It’s all so beyond anything Sanji’s mind could have made up on its own.
Sanji doesn’t know what any of this is supposed to mean, though. The more he tries to figure shit out on his own, the more questions he comes upon. What exactly does Zoro feel towards him? Does he even understand how much last night meant to Sanji? How are things going to change now that they’ve crossed this line?
And, most important, when did this happen? When did things between them begin blurring so much that a regular old babysitting arrangement transformed into more of a… relationship? All those times Sanji invited Zoro over for dinner under the guise of making more food for Ryu, all those times Zoro essentially asked him out on—oh God— dates with Ryu acting as a buffer… fuck has it always been this way? Have they been dating this whole time?
Would Zoro even want to be in a relationship with him?
Sanji knows by now that going on these overthinking spirals doesn't do him any favors. He needs to talk to Zoro and set the record straight, needs to ask him where they’re supposed to go from here.
Ryu twitches beside him, whining as he nudges Kitetsu off his face before the cat can suffocate him. The orange tabby mrows in displeasure but only bats at the top of Ryu’s head lightly to show it, claws retracted. Sanji happily shifts his focus to the boy, already thinking about what he should make for breakfast—hopefully Zoro restocked his fridge like Sanji’s been telling him to. But even if not, Sanji can just go next door and grab ingredients from his own fridge.
With plans of making french toast and scrambled eggs overtaking the anxious thoughts in his mind, he decides he’ll talk to Zoro about what they are later.
Except…later doesn’t end up being later that day. Or the next day. Or the day after that. Or even the day after that.
Somehow, Sanji just can’t seem to get Zoro alone for more than five fucking minutes, which is ridiculous because they literally see each other everyday. And yet, there’s always something or someone interrupting them. Ryu—as much as he adores the kid—truly has the worst timing and will burst into the room to ask Sanji to color with him or Zoro to take him to the park just as Sanji’s working up the courage to broach the subject. Nami will come over and start up a conversation with Sanji and Sanji—being the chivalrous, respectful, and… somewhat pathetic man that he is—won’t dare to cut her off or ask her to give them a minute, just barely keeping himself from glancing tellingly at Zoro. Then, Zoro gets busy preparing his students for an upcoming regional kendo tournament and Sanji gets called in to the Baratie early when there’s an unexpected issue with the renovations that he needs to help resolve. Eventually, he stops trying to initiate the conversation and thinks Zoro might just do it himself, which proves to be a foolish hope. Sanji wonders if maybe he forgot about it entirely. They were both half-asleep and delirious, after all, maybe Zoro wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe he didn’t think it was that big a deal. Or maybe…maybe he regrets it and wants to forget about it. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t tried bringing it up even once.
Before Sanji knows it, two weeks have passed. It’s mid-May now and he is still no closer to understanding what the fuck happened between them that night.
He’s still fuming about it as he drives to Cocoyashi Elementary School, his hands gripping tight at the wheel. He pulls into the parking lot and parks in his usual spot next to the playground. He gets out of the car, but doesn’t see Ryu on the monkey bars or the swings like he typically does. It’s not concerning in and of itself though—maybe Ryu’s class got held back and is going to be excused late for some reason. Sanji decides to make his way over to Ryu’s classroom, the one with dozens of paintings and drawings pinned to the windows, some facing inward as decoration and others facing outward so passersby can admire the children’s artistic talent. When he gets there, he notices a couple of Ryu’s classmates already holding hands with their parents as they head to the school gates. But still Sanji can’t see Ryu anywhere.
Concerned now, Sanji tries to peek in through the window but the drawings make it hard to see anything. So Sanji hesitantly opens the door and pokes his head inside.
Ryu’s classroom is bright and whimsical like something out of a storybook. The walls are a cheery yellow and covered with inspirational posters, children’s artwork, and marker-smudged whiteboards. On the far side of the classroom, there’s a rainbow rug in front of a shelf crammed with books and in the middle space between the rug and Sanji, there’s several round tables surrounded by plastic red chairs. There are no kids in the room, but Ms. Carrot, Ryu’s preschool teacher, is sitting behind her desk, writing something down on a piece of paper.
“Um, hello?” Sanji calls out, stepping inside, “Ms. Carrot? Do you happen to know where Ryu is?”
Carrot jolts at the sound of Sanji’s voice, looking up from her papers to blink wide brown eyes at him. “Oh! Mr. Blackleg! You’re here!” Carrot hastily stands from her desk and comes around to greet him. “I was just about to call you. I was hoping you’d be here to pick up Ryu soon.”
“You were? Why? Is there something wrong?”
“Well…” Carrot’s face pinches nervously. “Nothing’s wrong necessarily, it’s just…Ryu’s in the Principal’s office right now.” She fidgets as Sanji’s features twist in confusion and surprise. “He got into a fight with another student.”
“What?!” Sanji’s jaw drops. Not once in the entire month and a half that he’s known Ryu has he ever seen the kid be anything other than the sweetest angel. He’s never hurt another person as far as Sanji knows and he’s always been gentle and kind with the cats. What in the actual fuck happened?! “Is he okay? Is he hurt?”
“Oh, no, no, no!” Carrot says, visibly flustered as she shakes her head profusely, “There wasn’t any violence. He just argued with one of his classmates and it got a bit… heated. Ms. Nico was visiting us when it happened, so she decided to take them back to her office to sort things out.”
Okay, well, Sanji supposes that’s marginally better. At least no one put their hands on his kid.
“Can I see him?” he asks. Carrot nods and beckons him to follow her. She takes him to the Administrative Office on the other side of the school, to a room at the back of the building with a thick wooden door and an engraved plaque that reads ‘Principal.’
Inside is a cluttered, yet somehow tastefully decorated office. The walls are a light tan color and lined with shelves upon which all manner of knickknacks, baubles, and curiosities lie. Sanji sees handheld globes and rubiks cubes, old-looking wooden animal figurines and half-cut geodes, stuffed toys and miniature cars. It looks like the kind of room that has something to interest any kid. Behind the huge mahogany desk, a black-haired woman sits in an ergonomic chair, dressed in a gray pinstripe suit with a deep purple tie. Her striking blue eyes piece straight through Sanji when he opens the door, her wireframe glasses perched on the edge of her nose. As he enters, he gets the distinct feeling that she’s stripping him bare, picking him apart piece by piece to figure out what makes him tick. It’s unsettling as hell, but somehow she dissipates the feeling easily with a polite, serene smile.
“You’re not Mr. Roronoa,” she says. Her voice has a sing-song quality, low and smooth and confident, leaving no room for objection. Everything she says is right and who is Sanji to question her?
“No, Ms. Nico, unfortunately I wasn’t able to get ahold of Mr. Roronoa,” Carrot explains, an apologetic tone in her voice, “This is Mr. Blackleg. He’s listed as Ryu’s second emergency contact and I can confirm he comes to pick up Ryu everyday after school.”
Sanji makes a mental note to yell at Zoro about turning his phone off during kendo classes as he steps forward to introduce himself. “Blackleg Sanji, pleased to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Blackleg. My name is Nico Robin. I’m the principal of this school.” Robin stands from her seat to accept Sanji’s handshake. “Please, feel free to take a seat and join us.” She gestures at the empty chair in front of her desk next to Ryu, whose head is ducked down, his hands clenched into fists in his lap, his small shoulders hunched and tense. He hasn’t said a single word since Sanji came into the room, hasn’t even looked at him once. Sanji eyes him with worry as he gingerly sits down to his right.
On Ryu’s left, there’s a little girl perched on the edge of her seat, wearing a yellow sundress decorated with white daisies that match the flower clip in her hair. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest and she has one leg primly folded over the other, a supremely annoyed expression on her face that would be scary if she wasn’t quite so adorable. When she turns to scowl at Sanji, her cheeks puffing out in displeasure, he gets the distinct feeling he’s seen her somewhere before.
It turns out he’s right. Because sitting next to the little girl is…
“Vivi?” Sanji blurts out.
“Hi Sanji.” The blue-haired woman smiles sheepishly as she gives him a little wave. Then, that must mean the girl beside her is Mika, in the flesh. He’s only ever seen her in photos and in the background of Nami’s FaceTime calls, so he didn’t recognize her at first, but now he can see that the resemblance is uncanny. She truly does look like a tinier version of Nami.
“Oh, good, you already know each other. Then we can skip introductions,” Robin says, sitting back down in her chair. Carrot also takes a seat but in the back of the office, closer to the door. “Before we begin, I just want you two to know,” she levels her gaze at the children sitting between Sanji and Vivi, “that neither of you are in trouble. We are not having this conversation to scold you or punish you. We’re here to better understand what happened during your argument. Does that make sense?” Robin waits until she gets confirmation from both children—a tiny hum and a dip of the head from Ryu, and a hmph! and terse ‘yes, miss’ from Mika.
“Okay, then. Who would like to share first?”
“Me!” Mika raises her hand and waves it around. “Pick me, Ms. Nico! Me, me, me!”
“Mika,” Robin nods her head at the girl.
“Okay, see, it’s like this. I was draw-ling Mama’s card for Mother’s Day ‘cos I was done draw-ling Mommy’s card an’ Ryu asked me why I have two cards an’ I said ‘Cos I have two mommies, duh .’” Mika shoots a glare at Ryu, her frown deepening. “An’ then, Ryu said he wanted to take one of my mommies away and I said ‘No way!’ an’ then he got really mad—”
“That’s not true!” Ryu protests, “She’s lying!”
“Ryu, you’ll get your turn to share,” Robin says calmly, “Until then, let’s listen to Mika. Please continue, Mika.”
“Yeah, then he got really mad and started yelling even though Ms. Carrot said to use inside voices. But my Mommy tol’ me to always stick up for myself, so I yelled back. An’…” Mika shrugs. “That’s it, really. I jus’ tol’ him it’s not my fault his mommy died and went to Heaven. He can’t have one of mine jus’ ‘cos he doesn’t have one!” Sanji winces at the poor choice of words, starting to understand why Ryu might’ve gotten so riled up.
“Mika!” Vivi gasps, her brows furrowing in distress, “That’s not a nice thing to say at all! Ryu’s your friend! You need to be more sensitive about—”
“But Mama, it’s true—”
“We can address that later,” Robin interrupts, raising her hand for silence, “For now…Ryu. Is there anything you’d like to share?”
Ryu stiffens, fidgeting a little in his seat under Robin’s gaze, idly kicking his feet as he glances at Sanji out of the corner of his eye. Then, he mumbles something under his breath, too quiet and garbled to understand.
“What was that Ryu?” Sanji says, trying to gently prompt the boy to speak up.
“I said it’s no fair Mika gets to have two mommies and I don’t get any !” Ryu suddenly snaps. Sanji rears back at the loud, shrill quality of his voice, watching in shock as his face crumples and turns an alarming shade of red. Sanji reaches out and puts what he hopes is a steadying hand on Ryu’s back, feeling his little body shudder with each of his heaving breaths.
“What do you mean by that, Ryu?” Robin murmurs.
“Jus’…Jus’ that…” Ryu blinks rapidly as if trying not to cry. He sniffles and starts over. “…Tyler tol’ me I can’t make a Mother’s Day card ‘cos I don’t have a mommy. But Mika has two mommies an’ she says they’re the best mommies ever. So I asked to have one of her mommies so I could make a card, but she said no.” Ryu’s lip starts quivering and Sanji’s heart breaks into pieces. “Ms. Carrot always says to share but Mika’s not sharing. An’ I wanna make a card, but I don’t have a mommy, so I— I dunno what to do now…” A tear slips out of Ryu’s eye, sliding down the curve of his cheek. Sanji instinctively brushes it away with the back of his index finger. Ryu’s hand comes up and wraps around Sanji’s finger, clinging tightly.
Robin’s sharp eyes follow the motion. She looks at Sanji for a long moment, her face unreadable.
“Let me ask you a question, Ryu,” the black-haired woman says, a mysterious smile on her lips, “What do you think a ‘mommy’ is?”
Ryu’s face screws up in confusion. “Huh? I dunno… a mommy is…a mommy. It’s like a daddy, but a mommy.”
Robin chuckles. It’s a deep laugh, one that comes straight from her chest. “You said something very smart there, Ryu. A mommy is like a daddy. A mommy is someone who loves you and takes care of you, like a daddy does. Someone who protects you and makes you feel happy and safe.” Robin leans forward, her elbows on the desk, her eyes bright with conviction. “See, ‘Mommy’ is just a title. That means that someone—anyone, really—can be a ‘mommy’ without officially being a mommy. Does that make sense?”
Vivi looks like she’s catching on to whatever Robin is hinting at, her eyes widening as her head snaps to the side to stare at Sanji. He returns her look with a perplexed one of his own. Ryu’s nose scrunches. He seems as lost as Sanji feels. “No…I don’t get it.”
Robin laughs again and leans back in her chair. “That’s alright. How about you try something for me? I want you to think about a person in your life—and it can be anybody— who you think takes care of you and loves you like your daddy does. Someone who protects you and makes you feel happy and safe. They would be just like a mommy to you, right? Why don’t you make a Mother’s Day card for that person? I bet they would like it very much.”
Ryu is silent for a few seconds, his brows knitting together pensively. He looks like he’s thinking about something very, very hard. “…Okay.”
“Excellent,” Robin says, and then proceeds with the rest of the conversation. By the end of it, Sanji is thoroughly impressed with the woman’s mediation skills, the way she’s able to coax both Ryu and Mika to express their true feelings to each other while also encouraging them to empathize and understand each other’s perspectives. She even gets them to apologize to each other before they leave. Sanji thanks his lucky stars for her seemingly infinite patience and wisdom. If it was him trying to mediate, he’d have probably rage-quitted or burst into stressed tears by the third or fourth time Mika or Ryu interrupted to say ‘he’s a crybaby!’ or ‘she’s a meanie!’
After Robin excuses them all, Vivi and Sanji agree to take the two kids out for ice cream to lift their spirits and disperse the haze of negativity floating around them. It seems to do the trick because Mika and Ryu practically skip out of that parlor arm in arm like nothing even happened, the best of friends once more. Sanji finds it admirable the way children can forgive each other so easily.
But Ryu is still uncharacteristically quiet on the car ride home, staring out the window, watching the scenery flash by while his unfinished treat melts into a soup of M&Ms, gummy worms, and cookie dough ice cream. And when Sanji opens the door to his apartment, the little boy makes a beeline for the guest room without even pausing to ask Sanji for a snack. Sanji calls out to ask him what the rush is, but Ryu just says he has something ‘super duper secret’ to work on. Sanji resists the urge to pry and decides to just leave him be, focusing instead on preparing something for dinner as he tries to figure out how he’s going to explain the day’s fiasco to Zoro. He’s already left several texts and even a voicemail, but the stupid fucking idiot turned his phone off and is probably going to come all the way back before he remembers to turn it on again, so obviously he still won’t have a clue about what happened.
Sanji just shakes his head in exasperation and throws himself into his ingredient prep, chopping up onions, carrots, and potatoes to make katsu curry. He’s just started on shucking the peas and marinating the chicken when he hears the sound of little footsteps approaching the kitchen.
Sanji bites back a smile as he sets down his knife. He knew Ryu would get hungry before dinner and come looking for a snack, so he’s already got a plate of apple slices and peanut butter waiting for him. He reaches for them now, turning just as the boy rounds the corner and appears in the open doorway. “Hey sweetheart, you hungry? I have some apple slices for you!”
For some reason, Ryu doesn’t come crashing into Sanji’s legs like he usually does when racing to retrieve his snack, doesn’t blink up at him with gleeful brown eyes as he makes grabby hands at the plate Sanji’s holding. Instead, Ryu is hovering in the doorway, unable to meet Sanji’s gaze, shifting his weight from side to side nervously as he holds his arms behind his back.
“Ryu? What’s the matter?” Sanji puts the apple slices down. “Is there something wrong?”
“Um…Sanji, um,” Ryu’s voice is small, meek and hesitant in a way Sanji hasn’t heard in a long, long time. “I have, um, I have…for you. Um. I want, um, I…”
Sanji crouches down to get closer to Ryu’s eye-level. “Hey, it’s okay. You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Ryu nods his head and shuffles his feet, toeing at a small crease in the tiles of Sanji’s kitchen floor. “…I know.”
“Then, what’s up? What do you—”
“HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!” Ryu blurt out. He shoves something at Sanji, a paper of some sort, and squeezes his eyes shut, his chin pressed tightly against his chest as if he’s bracing for impact.
Sanji blinks. Blinks again. He takes the paper from Ryu’s trembling hands and looks down at it.
There, held loosely between his fingers, is a Mother’s Day card. It’s made from a folded sheet of light blue construction paper, the texture firm yet soft. On the front of the card, at the top, in his lopsided, slightly slanted handwriting, Ryu’s written ‘To my momy Mommy Sanji’ in purple crayon. The S is a little crooked and darker than the other letters, as if Ryu went over it carefully, multiple times, trying to get the shape of the letter just right. Sanji feels a pang in his chest. He helped Ryu practice his S’s many times after school and Ryu always wrote them backwards by accident. But this time he got it right—for Sanji.
Sanji opens the card with shaky hands. On the inside left, there’s a message.
‘deer Mommy Sanji
thank yu you for taking kare of me and luving me. you make yummy food and i like it a lot. i like yore noodels and ramen best. you ar the best cooker ever. allso you ar really nice and i am allwayz hapy happy with you.
i luv you :)
from
Ryu’
On the right side, opposite the note, there’s a drawing of two stick figures holding hands and standing in a garden of red and pink flowers. One is small and the other is big. The small one has green spikes for hair while the big one has wavy yellow lines. Both stick figures have two black dots for eyes and wide Us as smiling mouths. The big one has prominent swirls above its eyes. As soon as he sees the drawing, Sanji knows who the stick figures are supposed to be.
Him. And Ryu. Them together. As family.
“Ryu…I— what—” Sanji stutters, unable to believe what he’s seeing. “You— This is…”
Ryu tugs at the hem of his shirt anxiously, voice whispery and sad. “…You don’t like it…?”
“No!” Sanji yelps, frantic, “No, no, no! I love it, Ryu. I promise I do, I just…” Sanji swallows thickly, his throat and eyes burning with an overwhelming emotion rising up from deep inside him. “…Do you really…Is this really how…” Sanji takes a breath and centers himself. He can’t be a hot mess right now, damn it! “Do you really mean this, Ryu?”
Ryu looks up at Sanji, face glowing with sincerity. “Yeah,” he says shyly, rocking back and forth on his heels, “Ms. Nico said a mommy is like a daddy, someone who loves you and takes care of you. Someone who makes you really happy.” Sanji’s heart feels like it’s twisting into a pretzel between his ribs, folding itself into a tight knot of joy, tenderness, and a tiny bit of apprehension. Ryu gives him a wide, gap-toothed smile, one that lets Sanji see the little dimples that indent his cheeks. They appear in the same places as Zoro’s. “That’s you! You’re the best mommy ever, Sanji!”
Sanji can’t contain himself anymore. He lunges forward and yanks Ryu close to his chest, where the boy immediately nestles himself under Sanji’s chin. Sanji’s fingers are curled harshly into his back and there’s wetness on his face that seeps into the kid’s hair, but Ryu doesn’t complain. He only burrows further into Sanji with content hum.
Sanji is so overjoyed with Ryu’s surprise gift that he almost doesn’t notice the worry and nervous energy lingering underneath the elation. Almost. But no, they’re there, as they always are, leering over his shoulder. His two old childhood friends, fear and anxiety, ready to give him a reality check with questions Sanji needs answers to but can never hope to get without ruining everything.
What will Zoro think of all this? How will he react? Will he be as happy as Sanji? Or will he be…angry? Upset? Betrayed?
Will he think Sanji’s trying to steal his child away?
After all, Zoro told Sanji himself, didn’t he? He wants to prove to everyone that he has what it takes to raise Ryu himself, to be a good father without needing anyone’s support. What else, then, could this be than an affront to everything Zoro’s worked so hard for, everything he’s strived and struggled and sacrificed for? What right does Sanji have to just swoop in after only two months of knowing them and pretend like he’s actually part of their family? Like he’s worthy of being one of Ryu’s parental figures?
Sanji doesn’t need Zoro to answer that question for him. It’s already pretty apparent. He’s not worthy. Not at all. Not when he hasn’t even done anything more than watch the kid, feed him, and maybe have fun together— the bare fucking minimum. Nowhere close to what Zoro—Ryu’s real parental figure—has done for the kid. Sanji doesn't deserve this. Not at all.
But he can’t say any of that to Ryu. Not now. Not when he looks so goddamn happy to have given someone a Mother’s Day card. He won’t ruin this for his kid.
Zoro’s kid, he scolds himself.
So Sanji holds Ryu extra tight, extra close, feels the soft prickles of his hair and pressure of his cheek squishing against his shoulder. Sanji tells him the card makes him so happy and that he loves Ryu so, so much, too. Because it’s still the truth, even if it’s not the whole truth.
And when Zoro comes back and they’re all sitting together at the dinner table, eating and laughing and sharing about their days like normal, Sanji carefully doesn’t mention anything about Mother’s Day or the card or even the meeting in Robin’s office. He doesn’t know if Zoro’s seen his messages, but he doesn’t say anything about it either so Sanji supposes he thinks Sanji’s taken care of it. And Ryu is too engrossed in telling Zoro about playing Power Rangers on the playground to remember to tell him about the card. Sanji hopes that’s the end of it.
The card doesn’t get pinned up on the fridge or to Sanji’s wall. Instead, it goes to the bottom of Sanji’s sock drawer, where he’ll take it out from time to time just to look at it, to read and reread the message Ryu wrote, to run his fingers over the drawing of them together in the flower garden. Sanji thinks it’s okay to afford himself that much. It can’t hurt as long as no one ever finds out. As long as Zoro doesn’t find out.
And surely, if Sanji keeps quiet about it and pretends this never happened, he won’t find out.
…Right?
✦ ✦ ✦
Wrong.
It all unravels on a Thursday in June.
Sanji is standing alone by the curb in front of Cocoyashi Elementary School, watching as a stream of parents and children pass through the rainbow-painted gates, following fluorescent green arrow signs toward the check-in table for the school’s annual open house. The air is buzzing with voices—laughter, pleasantries, and idle chatter exchanged between people—and beyond the fence Sanji can see fairy lights strung up around the school buildings, their golden glow bright in the evening hours, lending the grounds a warm ambience that makes them seem even more magical and welcoming than during the day.
Except Sanji doesn’t feel all that welcome.
Despite wearing one of his simpler outfits, a maroon dress shirt that Nami says ‘makes his eyes pop’ tucked into pressed black slacks that ‘accentuate all his best features,’ Sanji feels woefully overdressed. And with how everyone is walking into the school in close-knit clusters—either as families or friend groups—Sanji feels uncomfortable and out-of-place too, embarrassed to stroll in there all by his lonesome.
Sanji curses his entire existence, clenching his clammy hands into fists. He wishes he’d just taken Zoro up on his offer of carpooling together instead of making up a bullshit excuse about having to arrive late. Honestly, the only reason he said that was because he was half-considering not showing up at all, but as soon as Zoro hit him with the ‘Ryu really wants you to be there’ Sanji knew he couldn’t refuse. So now here he is, hovering on the outskirts of the school, probably looking stupid as hell as he debates turning around and heading back to his car.
God-fucking-damn it, Sanji knows he has no right to feel this miserable. After all, he did this to himself.
Ever since Mother’s Day, Sanji has been trying to put some distance between himself, and Zoro and Ryu. He’s decided it’s not good for them all to be so intertwined, their professional relationship blurring into something all-too-personal. Sanji is just a babysitter, for fuck’s sake. Zoro paid him to watch Ryu—nevermind that he stopped accepting payments once the Baratie reopened. He cannot be constantly reinforcing Ryu’s perception of him as a mother figure. It’ll only hurt and confuse the boy more if Zoro finds an actual partner—someone to be a real parental figure for Ryu. Sanji is just an extra, something superfluous, an awkward piece that doesn’t fit into this puzzle.
So their weekend outings were the first thing to go. Zoro would text him about visiting the zoo or going to the beach or watching a movie, but Sanji would find a reason to decline, claiming he already has plans with his friends or he’s supposed to spend the day with his dad or he has errands to run that he can’t put off. And when Zoro inevitably sends him a picture of Ryu petting a giraffe or building a sand castle or looking adorably ridiculous in a pair of 3D glasses, Sanji will have to pretend like his heart isn’t breaking more and more each time, like it’s enough for him to watch his kid’s Ryu’s life go by in photographs instead of being there with him every step of the way.
Next went their regular dinners. Sanji still cooks for them, because he will never say no to anyone who comes to his door hungry, but they don’t eat together as much. Sanji will whip up some quesadillas or carbonara or stir fry while Zoro’s still at work and pack it all up so Zoro and Ryu can eat it in their actual home rather than in Sanji’s dining room, excuses ranging from work calls to migraines on his lips. And when Zoro responds to his blatant lies with a disappointed look and a forgiving smile—Ryu with whining and even uncontrollable tears sometimes—Sanji will have to sit alone at his table, head in his hands and a plate of cooling food beside him, and tell himself that he’s doing the right thing. He’s doing the right thing.
Sanji even considers ending the babysitting arrangement entirely once the Baratie fully reopens. God knows it would be painful, but it can’t be more painful than this, this slow destruction that feels like he’s ripping himself apart at the seams. It would be a quick, clean break, Sanji tries to persuade himself, he would just need to tell Zoro he doesn’t have the time anymore, not when he has a demanding full-time job of his own and professional aspirations to pursue. Yet, he can’t bring himself to do it. Every time he tries, he thinks of the joy glittering in Ryu’s eyes when he gave Sanji his Mother’s Day card, thinks of the sleepy-soft look of raw affection on Zoro’s face when he kissed him all those weeks ago. And the thought of losing that fills Sanji with so much agony he instantly casts the idea aside. Instead, Sanji reconfigures his usual work schedule so he can still watch Ryu on Mondays and pick him up after school, trying to keep their core routine the same while cutting out all the excess. But Ryu is a smart kid and he can feel Sanji pulling away, though he’s too young to understand why. Sanji wishes he could explain it to him in a way that wouldn’t make him feel unwanted or unloved.
I promise it’ll be better this way, Ryu, Sanji says silently, his gaze still fixed on the school gate. You deserve a real mom. I won’t be selfish and take that from you.
Sanji sees a woman bend down to tie a little girl’s shoe. They look as alike as Sanji and Ryu—which is to say not alike at all. The girl lets out a howl of laughter when the woman swings her up onto her shoulders before ambling down the cobblestone path deeper into the school. Sanji watches them until they’re out of sight, the little girl’s giggling fading in the distance. Somewhere deep inside, he aches, so much so he can hardly bear it—
“Sanji?”
The blonde jumps, whirling around to find Nami behind him. She’s wearing a purple dress that contrasts nicely with her hair, orange locks in a half-up half-down style, hand resting on a popped hip as she looks him up and down with confusion. “What are you doing out here? You know the open house has started already, right?”
“Oh, uh, um, Nami! I was just, uh,” Sanji’s eyes dart around as if he expects to find a reasonable answer written in the concrete of the sidewalk or in the bark of a tree. “…hanging out?” He gives her a tense smile that he’s sure looks as fake and plasticky as it feels.
Nami stares at him for a moment. Then, she rolls her eyes so hard her whole head follows the motion. “Riiiiiiiight,” she drawls, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Just…come with me before someone kicks you out for loitering.”
She turns and marches off without even glancing over her shoulder to make sure he’s following. Sanji hurries to catch up with her, all thoughts of bailing out the window now that Nami’s seen him here. She leads him down a narrow path toward a side entrance into the school, unlatching a smaller, steel gate and beckoning him through it. The side entrance opens up into a small outdoor courtyard with rows of lunch tables on the left and school buildings on the right, strings of colorful paper lanterns criss-crossing the space overhead. There are dozens of people milling about—some walking in and out of classrooms whose doors are set open to welcome curious visitors, some sitting at the lunch tables talking or eating with their families, and some hovering by the buffet table situated on the other side of the courtyard, picking and choosing food to put on their plates.
Sanji spins in a slow circle, taking in the decorations and the happy faces. “I must say, Nami dear, you’ve organized all of this so well!”
Nami finally looks back at him, a pleased smirk on her lips. “Oh, I know. All in a day’s work for the PTA President!” She sends him a wink and a peace sign. “Thank you for offering that discount for the catering, by the way. Baratie's food has been a real hit!”
Sanji chuckles, satisfaction blooming in his chest as his gaze flickers over the bustling crowd by the buffet table. “It was my pleasure, darling, truly…”
He trails off when he catches a glimpse of green hair, his eyes following the short-cropped strands down to meet the strong column of a tanned neck, wide shoulders, broad back. The man turns around. It’s Zoro, standing just a couple yards away near the teriyaki chicken. He’s flanked on both sides by older women Sanji recognizes from PTA meetings, their faces pink and cheerful as they talk to him, or rather, at him. Zoro’s wearing a black shirt and blue jeans under a disinterested, mildly annoyed expression— the rude bastard —mouth barely moving as he replies to whatever those lovely ladies are saying with clipped, one-word responses. Fucking hell, Sanji inwardly curses, if the brute put in just a little bit of effort, he could probably have anyone he wants. Those two PTA moms are already smitten with him, Sanji can tell, though he cannot fathom why. God knows Sanji would never dare question a woman’s taste, but right now he’s mighty tempted.
That is, until Zoro locks gazes with him from across the courtyard. Time seems to stop. Sanji’s breath stills. His heart skips a beat. The transformation takes only an instant, but for Sanji, it’s almost in slow motion. He sees Zoro’s face brighten and his posture straighten, his brows raise and his lips part, his expression crumbling into something softer and lighter. A smile spreads across his face, gradually, like the sun cresting the horizon, one side of his mouth pulling up, then the other, his eyes crinkling at the corners to match.
He looks so, so gorgeous.
“Cook!” Zoro calls out, his voice carrying through the space between them. He pulls away from the two women and takes a step toward the blonde.
“Sanji!” Ryu squeals, scurrying out from where he had been hiding behind Zoro’s legs, his eyes the size of saucers, his grin so wide it splits his face in two. For once, the kid’s not dressed like a walking Christmas ornament. Instead, he’s wearing new clothes—Sanji would know because he bought them. Even with the distance, he recognizes the baby blue t-shirt and denim overalls, the dark blue bucket hat with little embroidered fish and the black light up sketchers. His kid looks so damn adorable Sanji wants to cry.
Quicker than Zoro, Ryu races forward, and Sanji can’t help but catch the boy as he leaps into his arms, hoisting him up and spinning him around and around. With the sheer happiness that he feels in this moment and that he hears in Ryu’s wild laughter, it’s as if no time has passed, as if Sanji hasn’t spent the last few weeks trying to shatter this very bond.
“You’re here,” Ryu whispers against his ear.
Sanji holds his kid tight against his chest, forgetting about all the worry and the guilt and the fear and allowing himself to just revel in this, if only for a few seconds. “Of course I am,” he whispers back.
“Curly.” Sanji opens his eyes to see Zoro in front of him, his gray eyes glowing gold under the fairy lights.
“Mosshead.”
Zoro huffs out a laugh. “Took you long enough, asshole. For a minute there, I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“And miss out on seeing everything the kid’s done over the past year? Not a chance!” Sanji sniffs. “Only a real artist can appreciate Ryu’s work. I couldn’t leave him here with you.”
“As if you would know ‘art’ if it slapped you across the face! Who even let a weirdo like you into this school?”
“The only ‘weirdo’ here is you, stupid swordsman,” Sanji says hotly, setting Ryu down when the boy starts wiggling in his arms. “And my dear Nami did, if you must know. Right, Nami —wait where’d she go?” Sanji looks around, but Nami’s disappeared, not even a flash of orange or purple to be seen. Sanji frowns. He can’t believe he was so focused on Zoro of all people that she slipped away without him even noticing.
The green-haired brute shrugs. “Eh, doesn't matter. That witch is probably yelling at someone somewhere right now.”
“Oi, don’t call Nami a witch, you barbarian!”
“I’ve known her longer, I’ll call her what I want!”
Sanji scowls, stomping over to poke a finger into Zoro’s chest. “Ugh, you really have no idea how to treat a woman. What about those ladies you were talking to earlier, do you even remember their names?”
“No? Why would I?”
“Because they were obviously flirting with you?! Why else?!” Sanji ignores the sting of that knowledge, channeling it into more fire and fury he can spit in Zoro’s face.
Zoro snorts, “Flirting? They just wanted to recruit me for the PTA or some shit. I told them to get lost.”
Sanji facepalms. He is appalled, really and truly appalled. And maybe the teeny-tiniest bit relieved that this idiot is entirely useless with women. “Oh my— For the record, this is why you will never get a girlfriend.”
Zoro gives him a perplexed look. “Why the hell would I want a girlfriend?”
“Why? Because you—”
“Saaaaaannjiiiiiiiii,” Ryu whines, yanking so insistently at Sanji’s pant leg he’s practically bending over backwards, “Can we go now? You didn’t see my room yet!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ryu,” Sanji says, immediately softening, “Your dumb daddy was distracting me. Yes, let’s go!” Ryu giggles at the insult and wraps his little hand around three of Sanji’s fingers, tugging him toward his classroom. Sanji makes it about ten steps before he realizes the throng of people around them is rather thick and Zoro—directionless bastard that he is—might lose them in the crowd.
“Hey, wait a second, Ryu,” Sanji says, pulling on the boy’s hand to get him to stop, “Grab hold of your daddy, too. Otherwise, he might get lost—” Sanji chokes on his words when a large, warm palm slides in beside his own, rough fingers intertwining with his, calluses scraping against his skin. Sanji turns and sees Zoro right behind him, his eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth.
“What?” Zoro asks slyly, “You don’t want me getting lost, do you?”
Sanji opens his mouth—maybe to protest, maybe not, he doesn’t really know. But before he can, Ryu yanks on him again hard, forcing Sanji to move forward. Sanji’s jaw clicks shut and he decides to not fuss over it as they meander along through the crowd. The feeling of Zoro’s hand in his is a heavy, heavy weight and it makes him feel grounded, even though his body feels so light he could float away.
Eventually, they find their way to Ryu’s classroom. It’s busier and louder than it was when Sanji was here last, filled with parents and children who are either hunched over the tiny preschool desks or admiring the student artwork on the walls or chatting with Carrot who’s standing in the back of the room by the bookshelf. Ryu leads Sanji and Zoro over to his desk, where a variety of his art and projects and assignments are neatly arranged over the surface.
For the next several minutes, Ryu shows Zoro and Sanji everything he’s learned, created, and accomplished throughout the year. He passes Sanji a Thanksgiving turkey he made out of a paper plate and multi-colored feathers, and Sanji smiles at the typed text in the center that says ‘I’m thankful for…’ followed by Ryu’s handwriting listing ‘Daddy, noodels, krayons, ise kreem, green.’ Ryu puts a Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese pasta necklace on Zoro and hands him a piece of paper with seven painted leaf prints, enthusiastically babbling on and on about all the different leaves he gathered for the project. Then, he presents them with a worksheet where he’s drawn a circle, a square, and a triangle under the appropriate labels, proudly pointing out the gold star at the top. Zoro and Sanji squish him in a hug as they smother him with praise.
Sanji is halfway through a flip book detailing all the things Ryu wants to be when he grows up—including a ‘drawer,’ a lion, and a fireman—when Ryu tells them he has something ‘super duper duper special’ to show them.
Sanji glances at Zoro curiously, but he just gives him a shrug and gets to his feet, the pasta necklace rattling as he takes it off and sets it back down on Ryu’s desk. Ryu skips over to the left wall, Zoro and Sanji coming up behind him at a more sedate pace. The left wall hosts the largest display in Ryu’s classroom, covered end to end in artwork pinned under cut-out pink letters that spell ‘My Family Portrait.’ A tiny knot of apprehension tickles the pit of Sanji’s stomach when he sees the title, but he shoves it down because there isn’t anything to worry about. Nothing at all. What are the chances Ryu drew this after Mother’s Day anyway?
“Look, look, try to find mine!” Ryu says, pointing up at the portraits.
Sanji forces himself to relax as his eyes scan over the pictures depicting families of all shapes and sizes—big ones and small ones, ones with moms, dads, grandfathers, grandmothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, dogs, cats, there’s even one with a pet duck. That’s Mika’s drawing, Sanji can tell even without looking at the name, his eyes drawn to the bright orange and blue of her mothers’ hair. Mika’s is one of the bigger portraits. She’s drawn not only her moms, but also a grandfather, a grandmother, an aunt, a few uncles, and the pet duck, each member lovingly labeled.
Sanji’s eyes flit to the right of Mika’s picture, catching on something green. It’s Ryu’s drawing. His family portrait is much smaller. It has only three members, standing on a field of grass with flowers, a tree, and a circular orange sun.
Three members.
On the left, under the label ‘daddy’ is a stick figure that’s obviously Zoro. His hair is drawn on as a mess of green spikes, his face sporting slanted eyebrows and a lopsided smile that’s uncentered and longer on one end, giving the impression that the stick figure is smirking. One of the figure’s arms is extended outward and up, a lump drawn on that Sanji thinks is supposed to be a muscle, while the other arm is extended down, holding the hand of a smaller stick figure beside him. The smaller one is labeled ‘Me’ and looks similar to the larger one, except the shade of the spiky green hair is lighter, his smile wider and more U-shaped. He’s in the middle, so he’s holding the hand of the third stick figure too. This stick figure is as big as Zoro’s and it’s one Sanji knows well. It lives in his sock drawer, so he’s seen it many times before.
It’s unmistakable—the wavy yellow lines for hair, the swirly eyebrows, the gently curved arc for a smile, all topped off with a label that reads ‘Mommy Sanji’ in bold blue letters.
Sanji swallows thickly, that tiny knot of apprehension growing into a jagged lump of dread in his gut. He dares to glance to his left, at where Zoro stands beside him. The other man has already found Ryu’s picture, silent and stone-faced as he looks at it. Eventually, his gray-eyed gaze slides over to Sanji.
“...Curl—”
“I’m sorry!” Sanji spits the words out like they’re acid in his mouth, like they’d burn straight through him if he didn’t say them quickly enough.
Zoro blinks. “What?”
“I’m— I’m sorry.” Sanji’s voice is strained, frayed at the edges. He ducks his head, his fingernails biting into his palms. “I promise I wasn’t trying to… I mean, I don’t know why he… Look, I— I know this isn’t what you want.”
“What isn’t what I want?”
Sanji seethes internally. Fuck this ingrate for making him say it. “This.” He gestures at the portrait, at himself, at the whole room around them. “ Me. ”
Zoro looks taken aback for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise, his lips thinning in displeasure, before all his features draw back together into the deepest scowl he’s ever sent Sanji’s way.
“Ryu,” Zoro says. His voice is dark and allows no room for protest. “Go to Vivi. I need to speak to Sanji.” Without taking his eyes off the blonde, he tips his head over to where the blue-haired woman is crouched by the bookshelf with Mika.
“Huh? Why?” Ryu clutches on tightly to Zoro and Sanji, one arm around one of their legs each.
“Now, Ryu. Please.” Zoro’s face is stern, but it gentles for just a moment as he nudges the kid. “I promise I’ll explain later, bud.” Hesitantly, Ryu lets go of them, his eyes glistening and sad under his bucket hat. He begins to trudge over to where Vivi and Mika are.
After that, Zoro doesn’t waste a single second. He grabs Sanji’s wrist, ignoring the blonde’s strangled yelp at his unyielding grip, and drags him out of the classroom. Sanji tries to fight it, scrabbling at Zoro’s hand in an attempt to pry him off because he feels like his wrist bones are going to crack and shatter, but it’s no use. The damn brute is too strong and he’s moving like a man on a mission. Except Sanji doesn’t know where they’re going and doesn’t think the Mosshead knows either.
Zoro pulls him somewhere deeper within the school, taking random turns, left, right, left, left, right, until they reach what seems like a deadend. Zoro finally lets him go. Sanji snatches his wrist back, rubbing at it gingerly. His lips curl into a snarl and he opens his mouth to ask this stupid man what he thinks he’s doing, but the words wither and die on his tongue before he can.
Zoro looks hurt, devastated, in the shadows of the creeping night. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” he says.
Sanji’s mouth dries. His throat closes up. He can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t do anything but stare at the pained expression on Zoro’s face.
“When have I ever— Fuck, Curly, how could you possibly think I don’t want you?”
“Because you don’t.” Sanji’s voice sounds too loud, like it doesn’t even belong to him. “I’m just your babysitter, Zoro. I’m not— There isn’t anything more to this.” He points between them. “I’m not part of your family. God knows I’m not Ryu’s fucking mom—”
“What if I want you to be?” Zoro snaps, taking a step toward Sanji. “What if I want you to be, huh? What then?”
Sanji lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Don’t fuck with me, bastard.”
“I’m not fucking with you.” Zoro’s mouth is set in a grim line as he advances on Sanji. “You ever stop and think maybe I actually like having you around?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sanji says resolutely, shaking his head, “I can’t be Ryu’s mom, Mosshead. I’m not… mom material.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” Zoro growls, “Have you even seen how you are with him? You could kidnap him and he’d be happy to go with you!”
Sanji grimaces, his face twisting with guilt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…impose myself on your role like that.”
Zoro’s features screw up in confusion. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that…” Sanji trails off, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggles to find the words to articulate what he wants to say. “He’s your kid, Zoro. And I know he’s your kid. But somewhere along the way, I— I crossed a line. I don’t know when or how or why, but things aren’t professional anymore. I can’t keep them professional. I started to think of him as…as my kid and I know that’s unfair to you—”
“It’s not unfair to me, Curly.” Zoro’s voice suddenly sounds right in front of him. Sanji opens his eyes and his breath hitches. Their faces are inches apart. He didn’t realize he’d let Zoro get this close. “He’s still my kid. But he can be yours too.”
“No, he can’t,” Sanji says, scowling, “What if you get a partner someday? It’ll just confuse him.”
“There you go again with that partner crap. What fucking partner?” Zoro snags Sanji’s elbow, yanking him back in when he attempts to put space between them. “Why are you so concerned about me getting a partner?”
“Stop flattering yourself, asshole, I am not concerned about that—”
“Yes, you are. Tell me why.”
“I told you I’m not—”
“Tell. me. why. ”
“Because I want it to be me !” The words are practically ripped from Sanji’s throat, shards of glass that tear into his flesh and make him bleed the truth.
They stare at each other for a horrible moment. Sanji’s heart sinks into his shoes.
“I want it…” Sanji says, his voice raspy and choked with tears, his ears burning red with mortification “...to be me, okay? Are you satisfied now?”
Sanji doesn’t give Zoro the chance to respond. He spins on his heel, fully intending to run away from this. From Zoro, from Ryu, from the school, from these stupid fucking feelings that just won’t go away. From everything.
But he can’t. Because Zoro wraps his arms around his waist, steel cords that squeeze him tight against the hard body behind him. He buries his face in the side of Sanji’s neck, the tip of his nose cold, but his lips warm and soft and gentle as flower petals. He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to commit Sanji’s scent to memory and it sends a rush of breath ghosting over Sanji’s skin, making it light up with prickles. The sensations are heightened in the thickening darkness, so it knocks the air right out of his lungs, makes his legs turn to jelly so he cannot flee.
“No, I’m not,” Zoro murmurs, answering his question, “Not until you agree to stay with me, to be mine.”
Sanji gulps, his pulse racing. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he mutters.
“Does it sound like I’m being ridiculous?”
“It does, actually,” Sanji grits out, “What kind of dumbass kisses someone, never brings it up again, and then thinks it’s not fucking ridiculous to say shit like this?”
Zoro sighs and his arms loosen around the blonde. Sanji could take the chance to pull away…but he doesn’t.
“You’re right, that’s on me. I should’ve said something. But I was waiting for you to come to me, cook. I didn’t want to rush you and make you freak out.”
“I wouldn’t have freaked out!” Sanji whirls around in Zoro’s embrace to glare at him properly, “I would’ve handled it calmly! And maturely!”
“Like you’re doing now?”
“Like I’m doing n— oh fuck you.”
Zoro snickers, bringing one hand up to brush Sanji’s bangs back. “I’m sorry, Sanji,” he says quietly, firmly, looking at him squarely in both eyes, “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want you back. I do. I want you to stay. I want you to be with me and Ryu.”
“But…you said you wanted to prove you could take care of Ryu by yourself. Without anyone’s help. Like Kuina did.”
Zoro scoffs. “Yeah, and you showed me how fucking stupid that was. I don’t need to do things Kuina’s way. I’ll do them my way. And my way includes you.”
“B-But the PTA moms…” Sanji’s starting to fumble with his words. Zoro is so close to him and the proximity is starting to make him feel dizzy. “They’re all half in love with you—”
“The only PTA mom I want is you.”
Sanji flushes a deep red at those words, the heat crawling down from his ears to his cheeks to his neck. He covers his face with one hand while the other pulls at his hair. “Y-You dumb Mosshead brute, you’re not allowed to say sappy shit like that! You’re making it really hard to say no to you!”
“Good,” Zoro says, his voice brimming with amusement. He gently takes Sanji’s hands in his and tugs him so they’re standing chest to chest, hip to hip, noses bumping. “That’s just the way I like it.”
He kisses him, and this time, Sanji’s fully awake to enjoy it—the warmth of his mouth, the scalding hot slide of his tongue, the irresistible pressure of his hands on Sanji’s waist, fingers digging into his hips, steadying him, guiding him, pressing him closer, closer, closer, until Sanji can’t be sure where he ends and Zoro begins. The sturdiness of his shoulders under Sanji’s arms, the metallic tang of sweat on his skin, the gentle tinkling of his earrings in the background—Sanji feels like he could get drunk off of it, his body singing with it. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.
How quickly he could become obsessed.
When Zoro finally pulls away, it’s with the light smack! of their lips parting. His eyes are heavy-lidded and he keeps his forehead pressed to Sanji’s, as if he doesn’t want the closeness to end.
“That clear enough for you, Curly?”
“Hmmm, I dunno, might need a little more clarification,” Sanji hums, cupping Zoro’s face as he steals another peck. Then two. Then three.
“As much as I enjoy this,” Zoro says, his voice way too low and sexy for an elementary school setting, “We better get inside before the munchkin starts to worry.”
“Oh, fuck, Ryu. What am I even going to say to him?” Sanji laments, squishing his cheek against Zoro’s shoulder. “I’ve made such a mess of things.”
“You have,” Zoro agrees— way too easily , Sanji might add, “But he’s a smart kid. Just explain it to him. He’ll get it.”
Sanji nods slowly. “You’re right. He will. I guess I’m lucky he got Kuina’s brains and not yours. Then I’d really be doomed.”
Zoro’s fond expression flips into a scowl instantly. “Oi, at least I don’t have shit for brains like you!”
“Shit for brains? Me? Please.”
“Yes, you!” Zoro knocks his forehead against Sanji’s, harshly this time so it stings something fierce. “Only a real idiot like you would apologize for being loved.”
Sanji’s heart stutters in his chest. “... Loved, huh?” His voice still carries a teasing tone, but it’s considerably softer now. “By who? You?”
Zoro exhales against Sanji’s lips, his nose pressed against the blonde’s. “Yeah, me. And Ryu, too. You’re our family now, Curly. You’re stuck with us.”
Sanji grins and he bets Zoro can feel the curl of his lips against his mouth. “I can live with that.”
Then, they turn and walk together, hands interlocked, back to the classroom, back to Ryu.
Back to their kid.