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“Holy shit,” Zoro groans, slamming his head back against the bathroom wall.
He looks down at the drag queen with his cock currently in her throat and feels his thighs shake with the effort of not slamming inside her tight mouth.
He hadn't planned on exchanging blow jobs with a drag queen when he had come out to the bar at Nami's behest, and yet he can't pretend he’s not enjoying it. It might be one of his better decisions actually.
If he decides to sleep off the late night, he’ll probably be late to his 8 AM class but he’s struggling to care at the moment. It’s a problem for tomorrow anyway.
It's not like Zoro is always out picking people up or having sex in bathrooms in bars, but he's done it a few times. It's messy and annoying and not worth the trouble more often than not, but this is definitely worth the trouble. Those shining blue eyes looking up at him, rimmed with tears of effort and overwhelm, the dumb drawn on curled eyebrow that Zoro is forced to admit he thinks is cute. The candy red lips stretched around his dick do it for him too. She'd said that's where she got her name. Candy. They’d tasted like candy too. Sweet strawberries. Her obviously fake banana curls swing with every bob of her head, and she's making Zoro’s brain leak out of his ears with every move of her tongue.
It’s surreal that he ended up here. One minute he was watching a mediocre drag show and the next Candy was pulling him into the employee bathroom and locking the door behind them.
Zoro is rarely attracted to people the way he is to this mouthy drag queen who came up to him apropos of nothing and demanded to know what he was doing in the bar, mocked his outfit, and then bought him a drink.
If you’re going to be at Momoiro, at least try one of the cocktails, she had said.
And Zoro hadn’t protested, distracted by her glittery eyeliner and the way she had drawn her eyebrows to swirl over her forehead. At least the one eyebrow he could see. The other was covered by the fall of her ostentatious blond wig that fit right in to the vibe of the bar.
It was when the horrible drink made Zoro choke at its sickly sweet flavor that she laughed and took it from him, happily drinking it down and rendering the fact that she had bought it for him moot. Zoro’s pretty sure he said something mean—probably flirtatious—and she’d said something mean back. Zoro doesn’t flirt. He’s bad at it and it’s embarrassing and he’d rather pluck out an eyeball than be honest about some stupid soft feeling.
And yet here he is. Because he flirted.
“Fuck, careful,” Zoro warns when Candy pulls off with a particularly filthy suck that make his balls draw up tight. He doesn’t want to come yet, but it’s getting too hard to hold back.
“Are you gonna come down my throat, big guy?” Candy asks, still stroking his cock with her hand in a languid rhythm as she blinks up at him, her heavy mascara clumping with tears from the way she’d been pushing herself to take him down her throat despite how it made her choke and gag. Her voice is soft and husky from sucking cock, and Zoro’s still stuck in the disbelief that they ended up here.
He’s pretty sure Candy kissed him first. There had been gentle fingers drifting down his chest as she’d leaned in to say something in his ear. Right now, he can’t remember what. But he does remember when she pulled away, the way his eyes had drifted to her mouth. He’d been thinking about the red shine of her lipstick, if it would be sticky, and if the plush lower line of it would give at all under his teeth. The shape of it reminded him of—
She’d fisted her hand in his t-shirt then and answered the question for him. Her lip gloss was sticky. It was also ever-so-slightly sweet. And her mouth was somehow softer than it looked.
“Would you want that?” Zoro manages to say, every neuron in his brain failing to connect. He doesn't remember the last time someone sucked him off, and it was certainly not like this.
“Why don't you tell me?” she says before swallowing him down once more. Her mouth is intensely hot and it’s the sort of blow job that has Zoro on the very edge for too long, teetering until the final moment when he crashes all the way down. His orgasm reverberates through him with a shattering intensity and Zoro has a feeling that he’s never going to have it as good as this again.
A little bit of come and spit connects the corner of Candy's lips to his flagging cock when she sits back and opens her mouth to show Zoro the pool of spend on her tongue. Zoro’s dick throbs uselessly as she swallows the mess down. He doesn't waste another second before hauling her to her feet so he can switch positions; right down on his knees while he drags one of her legs over his shoulder.
“Oh, shit,” she says, bracing her hand behind her on the wall. Her voice is deeper suddenly and oddly familiar, but Zoro is too focused on getting his head under her frilly pink skirt to question it.
Her thighs are gorgeously muscled, smooth too, and Zoro has the out-of-nowhere thought that he wants to be choked by them. One of her hands cups his head through her skirt as he gives her hard cock a suck through the white lacy scrap he would hesitate to call underwear.
“Fuck, I should have known you'd be filthy about it.”
Zoro's happy to be filthy about it. In fact, he responds by groping the underside of her thigh, pulling back slightly and spitting on the lace covering her cock.
She groans, all deep and earthy and turning Zoro on more and more. His own dick is still exposed, dripping and covered in streaks of lipstick and he wishes he could be inside her with a viciousness that aches. He hasn’t had his dick sucked in ages, but it’s been even longer since he’s fucked anyone. It’s always so much effort. It’s too much effort now too, but that doesn’t stop the heat Zoro feels at the thought of fucking her against the wall. Zoro settles for pushing his fingers into the crease of Candy’s ass over her panties, toying with her hole through the fabric. He wants her cock in his mouth now and the best way to get it is to rip the fabric to the side with his teeth.
The violence of it earns him a whack on the head, but Candy doesn't stop him as he finally manages to give her an indulgent lick. It tastes of musk and sweet perfume, clean sweat and strawberries.
He groans as he shuffles slightly to suck her deeper into his mouth.
Her hips jerk and she moans, the twitch of her cock against Zoro’s soft palate has him feeling dizzy. She's not small by any means, but the angle prevents Zoro from taking her entirely. He still imagines the stretch of his and his dick pulses with renewed want.
“Like that,” she gasps as Zoro suckles on the very tip, precome spilling onto his tongue.
Zoro takes the direction and doesn’t let up. Heavy wet kisses pressing down her length, each trail ending with another pull of the head into his mouth. The limitations of her underwear which are only partially pulled aside, making it difficult to get her off the way he wants. He doesn’t mind though. She keeps making this soft whine that won’t stop ringing in his ears, that he wants to chase and memorize because it might be one of the more arousing things he’s ever encountered in his life.
Her little huffs increase in pitch and Zoro knows what’s about to happen. He welcomes it with another press of his mouth to the very tip of her cock as her come floods her underwear and wets his tongue. It takes a moment to suck her through the twitching pull of her orgasm and when he lets her legs down, she smacks his shoulder once in reprimand.
“Fuck,” she says as Zoro stands and she tries to rearrange her skirts. “You made a fucking mess. You owe me new panties.”
Zoro smirks, pleased with himself and how wrecked she sounds as he rises to his feet. He won’t tease her more though because he feels too satisfied. Anything but honesty is too much effort in the face of the contented feeling in his belly. “You’ll have to tell me what kind. I’m not much of a panty guy.”
Candy gives him an odd look. “You're more obedient than I thought you’d be.”
Zoro huffs out hard through his nose and bullies her against the wall of the bathroom. He feels lucky that they have a private space, but he thinks he probably would have sucked her off in the main bathroom, in a rickety stall where everyone could hear. He doesn’t understand this rising desire inside him. He wants to smile as much as he wants to break something. He doesn't know her, not really, and yet she feels familiar in a way that makes it hard not to want her.
Candy lets herself fall back under the push of Zoro’s hands, meeting his eyes with open curiosity, but all Zoro does is wipe a streak of lipstick from the corner of her mouth. She’s so hot. He wonders if it’s the crystal blue of her eyes making her so attractive or if it's the smart twist to her lips, the way they look like she has something incisive to say at any moment if Zoro just pushes her the right way. It’s not like he has a thing for drag queens. At least he doesn't think he does.
“I’m can be pretty good at following instructions if the right reward is on the table,” Zoro offers, still grinning.
Candy's face flushes a brilliant red in response before she scoffs. She’s still obviously embarrassed as she shoves him away and says, “Shut up, you're such an oaf.”
Zoro’s phone starts to buzz in his pocket, and he stifles a groan. The sound is loud in the bathroom and Candy cocks an eyebrow in curiosity. Zoro can only imagine one person who would call him past midnight.
“Sorry,” he says, dropping back to slip his phone free from his pocket. Sure enough, it’s Luffy. Zoro’s mouth thins in disappointment. “I gotta go.”
Candy's face twists and it makes Zoro wish that he could stay, invite her back to his mess of a dorm room and fuck her until the mask of confidence she’s been using all night breaks.
The reason Zoro hasn’t fucked anyone in months is because he got tired of people making themselves at home in his space, staying over, asking for his phone number, wanting to go to brunch together. It was all so saccharine and annoying and Zoro was so fucking tired of it.
Which feels pretty ironic because he’s thinking now about how nice it would be to take Candy to breakfast, out of makeup and dressed in her day-to-day. Zoro wants to get to know her outside a drag bar bathroom.
He doesn’t know how to say any of that, but the question pops out of his mouth anyway. “Can I see you again?”
He tries to tell himself it doesn’t matter too much if she says no, but it’s hard to lie about how fast his heart is beating.
Candy looks at him askance, confusion in her voice when she says, “Of course you will.”
Under the sudden release of tension in his chest, Zoro grins and taps her on the forehead. “Thanks for the fun night, curly. See you around.”
With that, he goes to leave, fairly satisfied by the flash of red on his mouth that he catches in the mirror. He thumbs open one of ten texts from Luffy and it tells him to come get him from the student health center.
Zoro hopes he didn't break anything. They have a game this weekend and the last thing they need is Luffy on the bench.
Zoro sighs, chucking his his sneakers in his locker before dropping down onto the bench to change into his cleats. He was right. He is really fucking tired after the night he had but it was still worth it.
Sure, he had to haul Luffy home after he'd lacerated his arm by running into a fence, but everything leading up to that was well worth his current exhaustion.
“Fancy seeing you here. Get up to anything fun last night?”
All of Zoro’s back muscles lock up and he grits his teeth.
Sanji Black. Starting winger, ladies man, and all around pain in the ass.
Zoro has known Sanji since they both joined the soccer team freshman year and ever since then, Sanji has been the thorn in his side, always mocking him and finding time to spare a word that prods at all his weaknesses. It pisses Zoro off that Luffy is friends with him too because it means he's forced to see Sanji at house parties when Zoro would rather be enjoying himself.
A very, VERY long time ago, Zoro had had the stupid thought that Sanji was attractive but then he'd opened his mouth and Zoro quickly revised that assessment. He might be all legs with what Franky calls a slutty waist, but he has a rancid personality and a tendency to drool in the presence of a girl. An all around idiot.
“You trying to ruin my day, blondie?” Zoro asks, not even looking at him. “You're already halfway there just by showing up still breathing.”
He finishes tying his cleats and jerks his head up to glare at Sanji. What he sees there surprises him. Sanji stares at him, mouth agape and eyebrows rocketed up to his hairline.
“What did you say to me?” he replies and Zoro rises to his feet to loom over him, using their centimeter height difference to his best advantage.
“I said that you're a waste of space,” Zoro says, moving past Sanji and shoulder checking him on the way.
If Zoro had to trace back the origins of the animosity between him and Sanji, he'd point directly at the first day of practice. They'd been left behind to clean up and Sanji had told Zoro he wouldn't be able to keep up on the field. Zoro had responded to the challenge easily. He'd probably been flirting if he's honest with himself. But he's always been a little mean when he flirts. Nami tells him to knock it off all the time. She says he’s going to die alone if he doesn’t find a better way to show that he’s interested.
But Sanji had taken the teasing personally—what had Zoro even said to earn that response? — and had insulted Zoro to his face. Called him an ugly gorilla with soup for brains. Told him he didn't deserve to play on the same team as him. And when they went through a few less than friendly drills and Sanji scored more goals than him, he'd also crowed over Zoro’s failure.
Zoro could have gotten over that but the very next day he'd stumbled on Sanji with his tongue down some girl's throat in the bathroom of a house party when Zoro had just needed to take a piss. Sanji threw a bottle of lotion at his head and they'd gotten kicked out of the party when Sanji smashed Zoro into a bookshelf in the hallway outside the bathroom.
Needless to say, they don't get along.
Sanji keeps looking at him weird and it's pissing Zoro off.
“Is he looking at me weird?” Zoro asks, lowering his voice and leaning over towards Usopp.
“Who's looking at you weird?”
“Black,” Zoro says with an annoyed gesture in his direction. Sanji is in the middle of a serious conversation with Franky and he does that stupid thing where he pushes his damp hair back like he knows he's attractive and wants to showboat a little. It pisses Zoro off.
“Oh, no, definitely no. I'm not getting dragged into that,” Usopp says, skipping a few steps away from him. “I like my head still attached to my body.”
Zoro sends Usopp a glare that he has no intention of following up on but the effect is ruined by the sudden attachment of Luffy to his back, arms slung around Zoro’s neck so he can climb up higher.
Zoro grunts under the impact. “Luffy, what the hell?”
“What are you guys talking about? Are you talking about Sanji?”
Zoro reaches back and whacks him over the side of the head. “Shut up. Not so loud.”
“Is it a secret that you're talking about Sanji?” Luffy stage whispers which is still loud enough that Sanji trots over.
“Did you need anything?”
Zoro groans as he shrugs Luffy off. “For you to get out of here.”
“I was asking Luffy,” Sanji says, prickling and cold.
Zoro hates this guy. Instead of responding, he turns and marches off the field. Practice is over anyway and the less time spent with Sanji the better.
He’s only halfway to the locker room when Sanji calls after him, “Hey, mosshead! Hold on!”
Zoro very seriously contemplates walking faster but ultimately comes to a stop. Luffy would give him that disappointed look if he knew that Zoro was that rude. He can usually cover up the pointed mean words as the prickly banter of a robust rivalry, but fully ignoring Sanji would be a bridge too far, and Luffy would make him do some sort of bonding exercise. Or lock him in a room with the blond freak.
He sighs as he turns to find Sanji jogging after him.
“What do you want?” Zoro asks flatly. He’s not interested in being held up so Sanji can get a final potshot in. In fact, it’s not normal for Sanji to chase him down just to say something biting. Usually, he prefers to avoid Zoro when he’s pissed enough.
Sanji’s expression has a jittery, almost nervous quality when he slows to a stop a few feet in front of Zoro. He’s still got a sweaty glow, cheeks rosy and neck shining. Zoro has the absolutely repulsive thought that he’d like to see what other parts of his body turn that color and he forcefully shoves the urge into the dirt. It’s annoying to be reminded how attractive Sanji is. It happens at least once during every practice and it makes Zoro want to scoop his own brain out so he can bang it like the bottom of a shitty ketchup bottle.
“Is that really all you have to say to me?” Sanji asks, crossing his arms over his chest. The black shirt he wears to practice has a few mud stains and there’s another streaked over his forearm. Zoro tears his eyes away from it.
“What else would I have to say?”
Sanji sucks in a breath, eyes darting to the side. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Yeah, well, takes one to know one,” Zoro retorts and, not interested in waiting for some stellar comeback, he leaves Sanji alone in the grass.
“Did you get another concussion or is there a particular reason you’re not paying attention?” Nami asks, throwing a pencil at his head.
They’re meant to be working on a presentation for their shared geology class but Zoro couldn’t give less of a fuck. He tips back in his chair and shoves his knees into the edge of the library table so he can balance on two legs.
He’s still in a slightly bad mood after being forced to interact with Sanji at practice, but he can feel it fading now that it’s just him and Nami. She has her own irritating qualities but everyone does, and through the years, Zoro has found her reliable and fun to be around so she is allowed to be irritating from time to time.
Zoro yawns and scrubs a hand over his hair. “I was out late yesterday. More tired than I thought I’d be.”
“Yeah, you disappeared,” Nami says. It’s clear to Zoro that she’s a little irritated at that. It’s hard for him to feel bad thoug. Given the way things turned out. “Then Luffy ran off. Did he really end up in the student health center?”
Zoro lets his feet hit the floor, making the table rattle and earning him a dirty look from Nami. “He scraped up his arm, but he’s fine. He was at practice today anyway. You know Luffy. He doesn't let much take him out of commission.”
“And where did you scuttle off to before Luffy called in a rescue?” She has this sly look on her face as if she knows exactly what Zoro is going to say. Some part of him balks. He’s not one to kiss and tell and certainly not when someone is looking at him like Nami is looking at him, but he gives in to the tickling urge at the back of his mind that he hasn’t been able to shake.
“Did you know any of the drag queens at that bar?”
Nami’s expression makes it clear that that is not what she expected him to say. “A few. Why?”
Nami had been the one to drag Zoro out in the first place, promises of half-off pitchers of beer and a good time had him showing up to a rare weekday outing. They don't go out as much as they used to now that they are juniors and their coursework is harder than it used to be. More often than not, Zoro finds himself at Luffy and Usopp's place if his friends want to hang out. Which he doesn't mind. It's significantly quieter.
The drag performance itself had been a whole experience and not one that had interested Zoro. At least not until her. Until she sidled up next to him at the bar and got his attention with a few teasing words. He had no idea if she’d performed and if she had, what it had been like. He regretted not paying attention because then he’d know more about her.
Zoro has no idea what his face does but Nami gasps and throws another pencil at him. It bounces off his face and he frowns. “Stop that.”
“Did you hook up with a drag queen?”
Zoro crosses his arms over his chest, defensive. It's not that Nami can't know, it's more that Zoro doesn't want to put up with the shit he knows she'll give him. “What of it?”
Nami breezes over him and adds, “Are you interested in a drag queen? You never ask me about anyone. Hell, you’ve never hooked up with anyone.”
Zoro has, but he’s better at not spreading his shit around than Nami thinks he is.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Zoro says dismissively. “I just wanted to know what she was like, you know, out of the whole get up.”
Nami's grin grows wider, cat-like. “Does Zoro liiiike someone?”
Zoro rolls his eyes so hard that it makes his head hurt a little. He'd been the recipient of an excellent blow job. And sure, he feels sort of fuzzy about it, but he knows it will pass. It's not like he knows anything about her. So what if he's attracted to her? That doesn't mean anything. He's attracted to Sanji and he still would rather strangle him than willingly spend time with him.
When Zoro doesn't reply immediately to her question, Nami leans back and taps her pencil against her chin—Zoro has no idea where she got so many pencils. Her nose twitches and she drops her hands onto the table, suddenly serious.
“If you want information, you’re gonna have to pay for it.” Nami sucks her teeth. “Did you get her phone number or anything?”
“Why would I be asking you if I had?”
Nami makes a face that says fair enough. “Well, drag night happens every Tuesday,” she offers. “You could go back and get it.”
It's an unsatisfying answer, but it's probably the right one.
His gut response is to frown and tell her it’s not worth the effort. But that feels cowardly, like he's running from the potential of anything more than a bar bathroom hook-up. He never thought he was the sort of person to run from anything but maybe this is the thing that breaks him.
“Whatever. I'll figure it out,” he huffs, frown still tugging at his mouth.
“Good,” Nami says with a decisive nod. “Now pay attention to the assignment. We have an essay to write.”
Zoro spends the next two weeks telling himself he's not actually interested in some drag queen who sucked him off in the bathroom. But then he masturbates three times to the memory of her opening her mouth to show him his own come and realizes he might be in the shit. He never masturbates that much. It's unheard of.
Under the weight of that, he's forced to admit he might have to put in some type of effort if he wants to see her again. She's not going to miraculously show up on the soccer pitch and Zoro's brain was too stirred up after the blow job of a lifetime to remember to ask for her number.
Zoro would handle all of that better if soccer practice was the outlet it usually is instead of what he's starting to think of as Sanji nuisance hours. He didn't know that the guy could get any more annoying, but it turns out he was wrong. He’s constantly being a dick for no reason, picking fights where he used to let things go. Zoro is even more tempted to punch him in the face than usual just so he stops talking.
“You'd think you'd learn how to block a ball,” Sanji says on a Friday afternoon. “It's been long enough.”
Zoro seethes silently and chooses not to engage. He's not here to fight with Sanji, he's here to improve his skills and fighting with Sanji doesn't help with that in the least.
“Then again we all know how little information you're able to keep in that mossy head.”
Zoro dyed his hair green once on a drunken dare two years ago and Sanji hasn't let it go since. Grasshead this. Marimo that. Sometimes he calls him a mold spore and Zoro thinks about choking him to death.
In retribution, Zoro makes sure to never say his name within earshot. Instead he makes up his own nicknames. Everything from shithead to blondie to dick for brains (that last one was in response to finding him flirting with a girl in Luffy's kitchen, all grins and subtle brushes of a hand and Zoro wanted to ruin his night the same way Sanji did by simply showing up to the party).
“Shut up,” Zoro snaps, breaking as he throws a soccer ball at Sanji’s head and gets the whistle blown on him.
“Did I hurt your feelings?” Sanji coos, more cruel than he usually sounds, jogging after Zoro when he makes his way to the bench. Usopp takes his place at the goal and Zoro drops onto the bench, full of a frustration he has no direction for.
“No,” Zoro grinds out, reaching for his water bottle. “Your voice is just pissing me off.”
Sanji’s mouth twists. “Your voice is pissing me off.”
“You're the one who started it!” Zoro shouts and it's loud enough that their coach comes over to break it up.
Zoro doesn't mind. For the first time in a long time, he just wants practice to be over so he doesn't have to deal with this anymore.
Zoro can finally relax. It’s Friday night, he doesn’t have practice in the morning, he’s planning to go over to Luffy's house for a small get together, and he’s going to have one too many beers. That should help him forget the fact that no matter what Zoro does, Sanji Black keeps making him lose his temper.
But Zoro’s life is a joke because he's only half a beer deep when the apartment door opens and Sanji slides in. He's wearing one of his stupid button-downs like he thinks a house party with ten other people requires dressing up. It's a light blue with decorative cuffs, visible only because Sanji has rolled his sleeves up to the elbow. Zoro hates him.
“Sanji!” Luffy cries from his spot on the floor beside the coffee table. He scrambles to his feet, all lanky limbs, before climbing over the back of the couch to engulf Sanji in a hug.
Sanji’s eyes go wide, but he laughs as he pats Luffy's back, only faltering a little under his weight.
“Thanks for inviting me.”
His gaze flicks to Zoro, and his mouth pulls thin as Luffy releases him. He murmurs something quiet to Luffy which Zoro can only assume is along the lines of ‘why didn't you tell me the mossball was here,’ forcing Zoro to bare his teeth.
Usually, Sanji comes to these parties and Zoro tolerates him. He might go so far as to say that they are civil to each other after a few beers, friendly even. Zoro has a few decent memories of ending up on Luffy's porch with a beer and idly sharing a cigarette. But Sanji has dialed up their typical shared animosity to unbearable levels over the last few weeks, and Zoro somehow doubts they'd be able to sit in peace for any length of time given the current state of their relationship.
Usopp claps his hands and draws Zoro’s attention. “Sanji!” he croons, a little drunk already. “Did you bring any snacks?”
Sanji laughs through his nose, one sharp snort. “No, but I can whip something up.”
“He’s not your personal chef,” Zoro says as he stands to make his way into the kitchen for another beer. He shouldn't have said it. It puts him in the line of fire, but all Sanji does is eye him for a moment before Usopp starts to apologize.
“It’s fine. Don't listen to that asshole,” Zoro hears Sanji say while Zoro is halfway into the kitchen. He says something else, but it's drowned out by the distance between them and a wave of laughter from the couch.
It's a typical party at Luffy's. Small but raucous in its own right. The problem is that they all end up staying up too late and having too many drinks which almost always ends with some stupid party game that Zoro gets strong armed into.
This week is never have I ever and Zoro decides immediately he's not drunk enough for it.
“If we have to play a game, can it be something less dumb?” Zoro isn't the sort of person who needs an activity to help him drink. Sitting around and shooting the shit is fine. It’s peaceful.
“We could do truth or dare,” Usopp offers and immediately winces when Luffy whoops.
“Truth or dare?” he asks, leaning forward where he's seated on the floor. “Somebody dare me to eat the whole gallon of ice cream in the freezer.”
He sounds way too excited about something that would make Zoro puke.
Nami steps in. “No,” she says firmly. “Last time we played truth or dare, somebody called the cops.”
That had been because Luffy tried to climb down off the balcony. On the fourth floor.
Luffy pouts but doesn't press the issue.
“It’s your turn,” Nami says to Usopp who makes a show of considering his next words.
“Never have I ever broken a bone,” Usopp says and when Nami whips around to correct him—Usopp has definitely broken several bones—he amends quickly, “Someone else's bone. Never have I ever broken someone else's bone.”
Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji take a drink.
Soccer can be a violent sport.
But Usopp still makes a face at them. “You guys are terrifying.”
“It’s fun!” Luffy insists and no one questions whether he means the game or breaking other people’s bones.
Nami closes her eyes and breathes out slowly. For how often it seems they test Nami’s patience, she still comes around to every single party so Zoro doesn’t take her show of irritation too seriously.
Feeling more than a little bit ornery about the fact that Nami forced them to play this stupid game, Zoro goes in for the kill. “Never have I ever blackmailed a teacher.”
“Hey! I told you that in confidence,” Nami protests. Then she grumbles, “And it wasn’t blackmail.”
“What's the difference between blackmail and extortion?” Usopp whispers, leaning across the arm of the couch towards Sanji who bites back a laugh. His face is a little flushed from drinking. He’s on his second glass of wine—who drinks wine at parties? Sanji even puts ice cubes in it. It’s absurd.
Nami huffs, shooting daggers at Zoro with her eyes as she concedes and takes another drink.
Despite her little dramatic, put-upon show, Zoro doesn’t miss the wicked curl of her mouth as she swallows.
“Well, Zoro,” she says with an egregiously annoying bat of her eyelashes. “Never have I ever hooked up with a drag queen.”
Zoro’s face starts to grow hot as Nami gleefully adds, “Or should I say, never have I ever had a crush on a drag queen?”
“What if I didn’t drink?” he counters. “Would you be happy with yourself?”
Nami shrugs, clearly pleased and Zoro capitulates. He earned it. The beer is lukewarm as it goes down his throat.
Sanji makes a horrible squeaking choke of a noise from his spot in the armchair. He's got his legs curled up in that impossibly flexible way of his. A spider dying on its belly with its limbs retracting.
“You hooked up with a drag queen?”
Sanji’s voice sounds strange, sends goosebumps rocketing up Zoro’s spine.
“I might have,” Zoro says, daring Sanji to give him shit. To say something homophobic.
It's probably an unfair assumption to say that Sanji is going to be a bigot, but it's hard for Zoro to imagine someone so painfully, disgustingly straight being anything but horrified by something that flaunts the gender binary. And Sanji’s also a dick so he’d probably say something mean regardless of his views.
“What's it to you?” Zoro adds with a sneer.
Sanji has unfurled from the chair and his feet are flat on the floor as he leans forward, elbows on his thighs. He looks dumbfounded.
“When he picked me up at student health he was all cranky and covered in lipstick,” Luffy adds unhelpfully. A nail in a coffin that's been built specially for Zoro by Sanji Black.
“Can we stop talking about who I have or have not hooked up with?” Zoro grates out, rescuing his bottle and getting to his feet. “I'm gonna grab a beer. Does anyone want anything?”
“Vodka soda?” Nami asks. Honestly, Zoro admires the gall of asking for a favor after telling the whole group something Zoro would rather have kept quiet. He considers flipping her off but lands on a brief salute before stepping over Chopper who is asleep on the floor despite not drinking anything at all. Then again, pre-med is stressful even for a freshman so he's probably just conked out.
The kitchen is empty when Zoro walks in which shouldn't surprise him since the whole gang was sprawled in various positions throughout the living room. He’s more accustomed to running into Luffy eating his weight in pizza rolls whenever he walks in so the silence is a new sort of refuge. Zoro is grateful for the quiet moment to calm down. He's more embarrassed than the situation warrants. None of his friends care about what he gets up to. Some of them are probably happy for him. It’s just that Sanji doesn't need more shit to sling at him.
“Hey, mosshead.”
Zoro grits his teeth and his hand goes tight on the handle of the fridge door. He rips it open and pulls out a can of seltzer and a beer.
“What?” he grinds out, and he hears Sanji snort as his feet pad softly across the linoleum. Sanji always wears stupid patterned socks and today they’re covered in tropical fish. Zoro can picture them without even turning around.
And he doesn’t turn around, instead focusing on the process of making Nami's vodka soda. He wants to pour the vodka over Sanji’s dumb blond head or toss a drink in his face or maybe shove him against the counter and—
He hears Sanji pop open the bottle of wine on the counter behind him and a strange shiver passes up his spine. Sanji can only possibly be a few feet from him and Zoro’s hackles so immediately rise that he has to take a breath before turning to leave the kitchen. Sure enough, Sanji is there observing him like Zoro is some sort of bug in a terrarium.
“If you keep staring, I might think you want something,” Zoro says and immediately regrets it. It sounds too flirtatious, and Zoro has gotten so good at tearing that tone out of his words around Sanji. It used to be more difficult and he’d find himself at parties teasing Sanji instead of mocking him the way Sanji does in return. The way Zoro is certain he’s about to do now.
Sanji takes a step closer, that thoughtful look still on his face. Zoro has nowhere to go, crowded against the counter as he is. He definitely feels like a bug.
“Did you really hook up with a drag queen?”
Zoro grits his teeth. “I don't want to hear it.”
Sanji holds up his hands in surrender. “I'm not trying to give you shit. I'm just curious. I guess I thought you didn't do that sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?” Zoro asks and he knows he shouldn't take the bait and engage but that look on Sanji’s face has him stuck where he stands. Zoro wants to know more about it, wants to know what put it there.
“Random hook ups,” Sanji explains.
“It’s—” He breaks off. “Different.”
“You wanted to see her again,” Sanji offers. He takes another step forward, and the space between them shrinks further.
“I—” Why does it feel difficult to breathe? Why are his hands tingling? “Yeah, I did. I just fucked it up.”
It’s more than he would usually tell Sanji. Or anyone really. Then again, if anybody could give him any advice about pursuing someone it would probably be Sanji. Zoro doesn't want to think of anybody as a fuckboy, but he doesn't know how else to describe Sanji's tendency to leave every party with a different girl. Zoro doesn't know if he's ever been in a relationship. The fucking confidence on the guy is mindblowing.
Sanji takes a long drink of his wine, eyes darting off to the side. When he brings his cup away from his mouth, it’s pink and shiny in a way that’s completely distracting. “What do you mean by that? Fucked it up how?”
“I wanted to see her again,” he says carefully, treading through a minefield of Sanji making fun of him. “But I didn’t get her number. I’ve never asked for someone's number before and I forgot.”
Sanji works his jaw like he's trying to pop his ears and then looks at the ceiling as if asking for patience which pisses Zoro off. He regrets saying anything at all.
“So you liked it—her. You liked her.”
Zoro doesn't want to say that a thirty minute conversation and a life altering blow job sunk those sort of hooks inside him, but it did. He's thought about Candy at least once a day ever since he met her. It's only been two weeks. He'll probably get over it. He's not sure if he wants to.
He might think that, but he's definitely not going to say it to Sanji. “I guess? She was hot. And mean. And—”
He cuts himself off. He was about to say blonde and Sanji doesn't need to know what Zoro likes.
Sanji lights up suddenly, a huge smile pulling over his face. It's a look Zoro has only briefly seen before. Usually when he's explaining some food thing to a captive audience and one time when Luffy dragged them all to an aquarium and Sanji stood awestruck in the glass tunnel, staring up at the manta rays.
“What?” Zoro demands, unsure if he's being laughed at.
“Nothing,” Sanji says quickly before clearing his throat and schooling his features into their usual nonchalant lines. “I’m just wondering why you don’t see her again. If you know where she works.”
And maybe it is that simple but Zoro is still at a loss. “Right. I guess you’re right.”
Zoro takes a breath and realizes he has nothing shitty to add. It was helpful. Sanji was genuinely helpful. Zoro only hesitates for a moment before grabbing his drinks and pushing past Sanji so he can go back to the living room.
He hears Sanji’s brief snort of laughter as he leaves and ignores the heat creeping over his own ears.
Zoro goes back and forth for the next two weeks. What if he doesn't like Candy as much as he thought? What if it was just the low light and the solitary beer Zoro drank that influenced his feelings?
But Nami said he should give it a shot. Sanji said he should give it a shot. It could all be a waste of time but Zoro won’t know unless he tries and he refuses to be afraid of something that hasn’t even happened yet.
“You’re really okay doing this?” Nami asks from where she’s sprawled out on Zoro’s bed.
A month has passed since his first Tuesday Drag Night and Nami has made the decision for him. They are going back to Momoiro and Nami is choosing the right outfit to help him sweep Candy off her feet. It all feels stupid. It feels like something Sanji would do. And yet Zoro has no other ideas for how to meet her again. Or tell her that he wants to get to know her outside a dark bar and a dirty bathroom.
“You’re the one who told me I should,” Zoro reminds her and Nami huffs as she sits up.
Instead of replying to his barb, she leans back on her hands and cocks her head. “I think that outfit works.”
Zoro frowns down at the tight black t-shirt and pair of jeans that Nami had shoved in his hands and demanded he try on. “I look like a bouncer.”
“Yeah, but I'm pretty sure people are into that,” Nami points out.
Last time he went to the bar, he'd been wearing an old graphic tee that he thinks he found in his dorm when he moved in. He's not sure why else he would own a shirt with a soda brand logo on it. He doesn't even drink soda. It also had a hole in the hem.
“Just wear it,” Nami insists, obviously sensing his hesitation. She hops off his bed and claps her hands. “Are you ready, lover boy?”
Out of his depth, Zoro scrapes a hand over his face. “Fine. Yes. Let's go.”
They find Luffy in the dorm’s communal kitchen, eating what looks to be a second apple given the core on the table in front of him. He grins at them, a difficult feat given his chipmunk cheeks.
“‘Oo ‘ook ‘ice,” he tries to say through his full mouth and Zoro flicks his forehead.
“Swallow before you talk, dumbass.”
Sometimes, he doesn't know why he listens to his friends at all when this is the sort of shit they do.
The bar is just as pink as Zoro remembers and the lights are just as dim. There are flyers up that Zoro very obviously missed last time advertising Tuesday Night Drag Cabaret. He feels a bit stupid for being taken by surprise last time. Then again, last time, he really didn't want to be there.
He has a beer as soon as he arrives, and Luffy scampers off to track down someone he says he recognizes. Nami, however, stays with him, sipping her drink and looking thoughtfully out over the growing crowd.
“So what should I be on the lookout for?” Nami asks, propping her elbow on the high top table they've managed to snag. When Zoro doesn't immediately answer, she adds, “What does she look like?”
Zoro hesitates to answer. For some reason, it feels exposing. “Blonde. Uh, curly eyebrows. She had red lipstick last time.”
Nami stares at him for too long, and he eventually bristles under the scrutiny.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Nami says immediately. “I think I've…seen her around.”
It sounds like she wants to say something else but her words are cut off by a loud shift in the music as the lights change.
“Good evening, my lovelies!”
A few people cheer as the crowd parts and a person in fishnets and a pretty revealing corset struts across the floor.
“I'm sure you're here for my beautiful princesses. My gooooorgeous harem of girls. Don’t worry. They’re all here tonight and they’re all as delightful as usual. I promise you’ll have a good time here at our Big Gay Show!”
Zoro’s stomach twists oddly, and he grips his beer tighter than he should. It’s the same anticipation he feels before a game he knows is going to be tough. A thrill that he enjoys because of what it means.
“To start things off, I'd like to introduce a sweet little number. She’s sexy. She’s stylish. She’s the incomparable…Candy!”
The person sweeps out of the way and Zoro thinks he hears Luffy chirp a greeting that cuts through the shifting bass as a new song kicks up. The rhythm matches the choking pace of Zoro's heart in his chest.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Then she comes out from the back room, dressed in a baby pink slip and white thigh highs with little matching pink bows and every thought leaves Zoro’s head in a rush. She lip syncs to some bubblegummy tune that Zoro barely hears because he's caught up in the wry twist of her mouth and that drawn-on, curling eyebrow. She moves with a certain grace that Zoro can't pull his eyes away from. It tingles a strange sense of deja vu at the back of his mind that he attribute to how fucking obsessed he is. Her waist, her slim hips. Fuck, her calves. Her biceps too. She's the only thing he wants to look at in the room and he feels stupid for falling so hard, so fast for this person he's had one conversation with. But apparently that's how crushes work. They come down on you hard and fast as a rainstorm and leave you just as uncomfortable for as long as you’re stuck in it.
It goes by in a blur that Zoro wishes he could find a way to slow, but there's so much about it that his mind struggles to pin any one part down. He wants to talk to her. To see if he's blown this all out of proportion in his head.
Candy does a final something with her hips and kicks one leg so high in the air she might as well be doing vertical splits. It reveals a pair of fluffy bloomers under her skirt, and Zoro’s blood rushes so fast that he can hear it.
The crowd applauds when she falls into a final pose, arms up, a single cocked hip. She grins and winks before strutting through the crowd and out the side door.
Zoro takes an involuntary step forward, and Nami grabs his arm to stop him. He’d forgotten she was there.
“She'll come back,” she says, tone firm. “Give her a second.”
Zoro acknowledges that he might be over eager. There's an animal heat in his gut squirming for release, and he wants to know if it will be as intense when he finally talks to her. He wants to know if this feeling is only because of the life-altering blow job or if there’s more to it than that. A real attraction. A real interest.
That anticipation is back. This time it has a sharper edge and his palms are sweating. He doesn’t like this feeling as much. It’s too close to anxiety and Zoro is not an anxious person. He’s a controlled person. Disciplined and focused in every part of life.
He grasps the concept tight as he reminds himself that all he can do is talk to her and see how it goes. Maybe his discipline falls apart when it comes to all this romance shit.
He shakes off Nami's hold and heads to the bar. He needs another drink for this.
As he waits for the bartender to pull his beer from the tap, he feels a little calmer. Less on edge. He doesn't do this shit and there's a reason for that. It's not fun, and there's no benefit in the end. Or at least not one he gives a shit about. Who wants to embarrass themselves willingly? It's a whole lot of effort for something Zoro has no interest in. Or he didn't anyway. He's learning what that interest means.
“Fancy seeing you here,” a sugary voice says. “Did you get up to anything fun since you left me in the lurch?”
Zoro’s heart heaves up into his throat, tightening his vocal cords. He forces out some words so he doesn’t get stuck like that. “Not really.”
Then he turns to look at the object of his fantasies for the last month. She's grinning at him like she has a secret she won't tell him, like she's amused for her own sake and no one else’s.
“I didn't think I'd see you here again,” she says, slipping in next to him to rest her elbows on the counter. “When a boy leaves you in the bathroom covered in come, a girl starts to get certain ideas.”
“I said I was going to get you new panties.” It's a dumb response but a true one.
“I guess you did,” she says with a laugh. It's such a pleasant sound, rich and sweet. Zoro’s heart thuds again. Fuck.
“Did you bring them at least?” she asks. She’s teasing and it’s making Zoro’s stomach flutter in a way that’s terrifying. He’s heard about butterflies and he’s not sure he likes thm
“I forgot,” Zoro admits as if he hasn’t been relishing the memory of the way come dripped through her lacy thong since the last time they met.
“I’m not surprised.” A glass of white wine with two ice cubes is set in front of her. She takes a sip before turning a smirk on him. “You don’t look like you have enough brain cells to store that much information for a month. It probably flew right out of your head the second you left.”
Her words spark the thrill of a challenge Zoro wants to rise to. It’s a slow growing annoyance that makes him grin. He loves this feeling. This promise of a fight.
“You seemed pretty into me. Do you just like stupid guys?”
“Are you admitting you’re stupid then?” she asks, smile matching his.
“I’m letting a pretty girl have her opinions,” he says and she snorts in response. It’s an honest, raw sound and Zoro has the absurd thought that he likes making her laugh. Pretty is the wrong word. The garish make-up is a sort of art but it's more about the way her blue eyes squint up and the cute way one of her front teeth hooks slightly over the other. It’s sort of like—
“You could have come back any time,” she says. “I'm here every week.”
“I don't really go to drag shows,” he admits.
“So you're boring.”
He knows he's being teased, but he still replies, “Going out is boring.”
“Are you secretly an old man dressed up as a hot bouncer?”
Zoro wishes Nami were there to hear that assessment. He'll rub it in her face later.
“You think I'm hot?”
Candy rolls her eyes in a way that's familiar too. Deja vu again, images layering over themselves. Maybe Zoro remembers it from last time. “No. I sucked you off because I was bored.”
“Were you?” Zoro asks, a little more serious as he turns to lean into her space. She smells sweet, and this close he can see the sheen of sweat on her throat from performing. He wants it on his tongue.
“A little,” she offers with another one of those secretive grins. “But I also thought you were hot. Even in that disgusting graphic tee.”
Her eyes drag over him now, and she smirks. “This is a better look, you know. Did someone dress you up? Should I be jealous?”
Zoro wishes he were capable of responding, but he's stuck with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.
Her hand trails over his bicep and comes to a stop on his chest. “Or did you wear it for me?”
“So what if I did?” Zoro replies and he's proud of how normal he sounds. It’s a little mean, a little teasing, but Candy doesn’t look angry about it. She looks pleased. He’s trying to show his interest in the only way he knows how and against all odds, it works.
With that, she fists her hand in Zoro’s shirt and leans in close to ghost her gloss-tacky lips over the edge of his jaw. “Are you here for a repeat, tiger?”
“I wanted to see you again,” Zoro says, too honest. It’s so fucking embarrassing but that’s probably how romance works. No risk, no reward.
She gives him another smirk. This feels familiar too, a known expression, but he can’t place it either. Whatever it might be, he thinks it's gorgeous and he can't stop himself from reaching up and thumbing her cheek.
“I like your smile,” he says, and Candy's eyes flutter.
“I'd never take you for a sweet talker,” she says as she curls her hand around his wrist, ducking her face a little further into his touch. Then she looks at him from under her eyelashes. “Maybe I should have though. You’re not very good at keeping your thoughts in your head.”
She hooks her free hand around the back of Zoro's neck and tugs him into a kiss. He's so shocked that his breathing stutters. It sends sparks up his neck and his stomach goes entirely hot. He’s kissed people that he’s hooked up with. His first boyfriend in high school loved kissing but he was too lovey dovey in general and got bored with Zoro’s ‘unfeeling responses.’ It’s hard to call what’s happening inside him unfeeling by any stretch of the imagination.
Candy's kisses are firm. Like she knows what she wants and she will find a way to get it, guiding Zoro into a soft exchange of breath as she strokes their tongues together. Not just kissing. Making out. Making out where people can see them and judge them and where Zoro should be embarrassed but all he can muster is a horrible sense of arousal at the idea that Candy wants him so much that she’s kissing him in the middle of a crowded bar.
Zoro’s hand curls around the side of her neck and the other abandons his drink so he can grab her by the hip and yank her against him. Her dress is silken soft and her skin is warm where it’s exposed. And more than all that, Zoro can feel her cock against him, growing hard. His focus fizzles out until there is only the sensation of Candy’s tongue against his and the warm heat of her thigh pressed between his legs.
The kiss barely breaks and Candy puts a little distance between them, hand still curled on Zoro’s chest. There's something off in her facial expression, an odd nervousness that Zoro didn't expect.
“Zoro,” she begins and damn, his name sounds good in that voice of hers. “I need to tell you something.”
It sounds so serious and Zoro doesn't know why. He has a few serious things he'd like to say — Can I have your number? Want to go out sometime? — but this seems to have more weight than those questions.
He frowns and grips her wrist, peeling her hand from his chest so he can tangle their fingers atop the bar.
“What is it?” he asks, leaning in closer.
Candy's eyes drop to their hands and her breath comes short. “Shit.”
That's not exactly what Zoro expected, but before he can ask again, his phone vibrates in his pants. It's his turn to swear.
Releasing her fingers, Zoro fishes his phone out of his pocket and frowns as Usopp's name flashes across the screen. It's nearly midnight and Zoro has a feeling this only means one thing.
He glances at Candy and murmurs an apology before picking up.
“Usopp,” he growls into the receiver. “I'm busy.”
“Zoroooo, buddy, my man, my guy,” Usopp slurs and Zoro’s suspicions are confirmed.
“Ask him!” Zoro hears Chopper chirp in the background and any remote chance of him saying no shrinks to zero. Zoro is terrible at saying no to Chopper.
“We need a riiiiide. Franky ditched us for some girl and we're stuck,” Usopp croons out the last few words as if that might do anything to convince Zoro to help him out.
Zoro rubs his forehead. “Fine. Stay where you are and send me an address.”
Usopp makes some kissy noises through the line. “I love you, Zoro. You're the manliest man that ever lived.”
Zoro hangs up. He turns his attention back to Candy. “Sorry about that,” Zoro says with a grimace. “One of my friends needs a rescue.”
Zoro expects disappointment or frustration from Candy— it's how he's feeling anyway— but she just regards him with a soft expression.
“Go,” she says, shooing him with her hand. “Save your friends.”
Zoro really doesn't want to go, but if Usopp called then that means he doesn't have any other options. Zoro’s had one beer and feels entirely sober. On nights like this, he always ends up picking up one of his friends who got on the wrong side of wasted.
Before he turns to go, Candy reels him in for another kiss. It's brief and sweet and Zoro’s stomach flutters again. Yeah, this is definitely a crush.
“I'll see you around,” she says with a slow blink of her false lashes.
Zoro's so caught up in it that he can't find the right words. He nods tightly before forcing his way through the dense crowd to find the exit.
It's only when he has Usopp and Chopper in his back seat, firmly buckled in and equipped with barf bags, that he realizes he forgot to get her number. Again.
Zoro frowns as he tosses the tennis ball in the air, watching it come down so he can catch it. It’s a nice day out and lounging on the quad with his friends isn’t such a bad way to pass the time usually. But today, Zoro is frustrated and agitated and wishing he weren’t such a dumbass.
“Why are you sighing over there?” Nami asks, sitting up from where she’s laying on a spread out picnic blanket in little shorts and a bikini top. She says she's tanning, but Zoro thinks she likes when people come up to flirt with her.
Zoro considers not answering. But Nami is the one person who knows the most about what’s going on and the only other person present is Luffy who happens to be snoring against the trunk of an oak tree a few yards away.
“I talked to Candy again,” Zoro says, still piecing together a way to say the rest.
“And? Wasn’t that what you wanted?”
Nami’s voice is hesitant as she speaks and Zoro isn’t sure he wants to explain what happened because it makes him sound like an idiot.
“I forgot to get her number,” Zoro says with a wince.
Nami bursts out laughing just as Zoro fumbles the tennis ball into his chest.
“Hey,” he grumbles. “It’s not my fault.”
“Are we laughing at the mosshead for any particular reason?”
Zoro groans internally. Sanji would show up now.
Nami’s laughter peters out and she’s silent for so long that Zoro tilts his head to look at her. She’s glaring at Sanji meaningfully and Sanji stares back in some unreadable silent communication.
“Zoro,” Nami begins slowly, eyes still on Sanji, “forgot to get his drag queen’s number.”
Sanji sucks on his teeth and rocks back on his feet. He’s dressed in his usual too-fancy, job interview appropriate outfit. The way his hands tuck into his pockets draws attention to the tight line of his belt and the narrow notch of his waist. Zoro is uniquely mad about it.
“That’s too bad,” he says and there’s an odd note in it which Zoro only recognizes when he drops his eyes to where Zoro is laying in the grass. There’s a distinct spark in them, like Sanji knows something Zoro doesn’t. A smugness that pisses him off. “Did you meet up with her again?”
“I’m not telling you,” he huffs. It’s petulant, but Zoro doesn’t know how to change that.
Sanji laughs and for the first time in a while, it’s not cruel. “You sound pretty disappointed down there. That bad, huh?”
Zoro sits up, not wanting to talk to Sanji lying down. “I’ve never asked for someone’s number before. I forgot. I’m not some prince charming like you.”
Sanji squats down next to him and gives him an idiotic grin. “You think I’m charming?”
Zoro immediately shoves him into the grass and Sanji grabs him, dragging them both down as they struggle in the stupidest wrestling match Zoro’s ever gotten himself into.
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment,” he hisses, shoving Sanji’s arms down into the grass as he hovers over him and tries to get him to stop moving.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Sanji coos, wrapping his legs around Zoro’s waist and doing a horrifyingly attractive thing that flips them, Zoro slamming into the dirt so hard that the wind is knocked out of him. Sanji sits on top of him, still smiling like a carrion bird about to enjoy a rotting dinner.
Zoro doesn’t hesitate to dislodge him, hating the twist in his gut and the tightness in his jeans. It’s not his fault Sanji is hot. Zoro doesn’t think of him that way. He refuses to. So he knocks Sanji off and rises to his feet. Sanji looks up at him from the grass, all laughter erased from his face and earnest in a way he rarely is.
“I’m sure she’d understand,” he says even as Zoro stalks past him, done with the interaction. “Especially if she likes you,” he calls after him as if that wins him the argument.
Zoro huffs and stomps off. He’s in a bad enough mood. He doesn’t need to add Sanji Black to the mix.
Zoro tells himself he will go back to the bar eventually and make up for his mistakes. It's a resolution that softens his frustrations with himself. An attitude that persists until the team loses their game against Davy Back Tech in the stupidest way. Zoro knows it's half his fault but it's also half Sanji’s. Zoro should have passed the ball to him but he'd refused to until his hand was forced. By that time, Sanji had been surrounded by the opposite team and couldn't manage a receive. Zoro can't help but be pissed at him. He's pretty pissed at himself too.
“Can't you fucking focus for ten seconds?” Zoro snaps at Sanji as they make their way to the locker room.
Sanji growls in response. “Me? You're the one who missed that opening. We would have won if you weren't such a selfish idiot.”
Zoro ignores him as he marches off to his locker, in need of a shower after being in the rain and hoping the break will be enough to cool his temper. Sanji makes him angrier than anyone else he knows, angrier than is reasonable. Today was evidence enough that their bullshit puts the team at risk.
He tears his clothes off with more violence than necessary if the way Usopp squeaks down the bench is anything to go by. And once he’s got a towel, he takes himself off to the shower where the water is as soothing as he'd hoped it would be.
“Fuck,” he groans, bracing his arm on the wall so he can drop his forehead against it.
The corner of the locker room where the shower stalls sit is quickly filling with body wash scented steam. Most of the guys do a quick rinse after games but the field was so muddy today that they all need a genuine scrub down.
Zoro is usually so good at schooling his reactions, at keeping cool. Sanji is the only one that gets under his skin in a way that matters. He gets frustrated with Luffy and sometimes with Nami but not like this. Not this all consuming anger that he can't contain.
Really, at the moment, he is frustrated with Sanji for fucking up the pass. But more than that he's annoyed with himself because he was distracted. Sanji distracted him. His shirt was wet with rain and there were drops of water running down the back of his neck that Zoro wanted to lick away.
Zoro growls into the tile which hardly absorbs the sound and the way it echoes back at him makes him want to scream and punc the wall. You’d think that having what has to be a crush on someone else would quash those sorts of thoughts for good and yet here he is, stuck with his cock a little too interested in someone who would throttle him if they ever found out about the thoughts in Zoro’s head.
He slams off the spray and rips his towel off the stall door to wrap it around his waist, not caring about the way he drips onto the concrete floor.
The last of the team is straggling out of the locker room, making Zoro realize he lingered too long in the shower. Usopp and Franky give him matching thumbs up as they leave and Zoro wonders what sort of face he’s making if they feel the need to give him moral support.
He sighs and lets the long exhale bring him down. His frustration has been closer to the surface ever since he fucked things up with Candy. What if he made it all up inside his head? Zoro has been trying not to think about it too hard, but he's never been skilled in the art of letting go.
Sighing again, Zoro pulls open his locker to find his change of clothes and is immediately interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing.
“If you're here to start some shit, save it,” he growls, slamming his locker shut and fixing his eyes on Sanji Black.
He expects a pissy expression, a Sanji ready to fight him the same way Zoro is gearing up for something mean. But Sanji is standing there, damp from his own shower, his bubblegum pink t-shirt sticking to him in places. His hair is starting to curl as if he hadn’t been particularly meticulous about drying off. Zoro’s chest clenches horribly at the sight.
“I wanted—” Sanji breaks off and his eyes skitter to the side before he visibly steels himself, clenching his jaw. “I said some shit earlier I shouldn't have.”
Zoro’s so taken aback that he nearly drops his towel. “What?”
“I was angry about how the match turned out and I took it out on you. What happened was my fault too. I was—” Sanji clears his throat again. “Distracted.”
Sanji looks at him through half-lidded eyes; an expression that reminds Zoro of something. Zoro’s seen it at parties when Sanji is approaching some girl he's trying to fuck.
Zoro cannot possibly be reading that look correctly because he knows with certainty that Sanji is straight. Despite that, Sanji has this expression that makes Zoro think he wants to bite him. And not in the normal way. In a sexy way.
Zoro’s stomach lurches up into his lungs. No way. Not happening. Any other hot guy and sure. But Sanji?
“Leave me alone, shithead. You can shove your apology up your ass.”
At the moment, his frustration is born entirely from nervousness. He doesn't know how to handle a Sanji that looks at him like that so he’d rather be left alone entirely.
“Can't you be nice for once?” Sanji asks and there's the lightest drop of annoyance in it. That's what Zoro wants. Normalcy. Not some weird flirtatious look that makes Zoro worried his dick is going to start poking through his towel.
“You're not worth the effort,” Zoro sneers.
Sanji slams the locker door shut next to Zoro and gets into his personal space. “You're such an asshole,” he says through gritted teeth. “Stop being a baby and take the fucking apology.”
Zoro’s had it. He shoves Sanji back two steps and Sanji’s eyes widen briefly as Zoro advances on him. He has Sanji pushed against the lockers, and he’s not sure what he’s going to do about it but it’s nice to have the upper hand even if it’s only for a minute.
It turns out he doesn’t have to decide on his next move because he’s stopped by the sudden crash of Sanji’s mouth on his.
If Zoro is honest with himself, he freaks out. Alarm bells ring in his head, practically klaxons of warning telling him to slow down or stop or anything, but then Sanji sinks his hands into Zoro’s hair and tugs and Zoro’s resolve disappears as he moans in response. He can't help it. A hot guy—Sanji Black—is trying to press their tongues together, trying to kiss him like he wants to fuck him. Zoro melts like so much butter.
Sanji makes a noise too, deep in his throat, sexy and warm and Zoro needs to hear it again. So many shoved-down fantasies flicker through his mind. His lips on Sanji’s neck. His cock in Sanji’s mouth. Bending him over and fucking him so hard he begs.
He’s so distracted by the pornographic images currently consuming him that Sanji manages to get Zoro against the lockers, hands drifting down his bare chest to thumb his nipples. Zoro instinctively grabs Sanji’s waist, tugging him closer.
The kiss draws out, long and needy as they both fight to take control. Zoro’s desire to mess Sanji up is being washed away by the feeling of Sanji’s tongue against his. Zoro can only imagine Sanji has kissed a lot of people. He's annoyingly good at it.
Zoro can't manage to grasp that annoyance because Sanji’s hands have fallen to his waist, fingers gripping the ridge of his hip and dragging him closer. It's as if Sanji wants to seal their bodies together, fuse them from head to toe as he presses their chests together and his thigh sinks between Zoro’s legs.
His dick is harder than it's ever been in his life. The scratch of the towel against it makes him moan into the kiss and dig his fingers into Sanji’s back, crinkling the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Zoro would probably be okay if Sanji pressed in harder, took more. He doesn't know what more is. For the moment, he just doesn't want this to end. Sanji must feel the same because he breaks the kiss with a gasp, breathing hard, flushed and prettier for it, before sinking his mouth down onto Zoro’s throat.
Zoro shudders under the line of kisses Sanji presses beneath his jaw. He hasn't put his earrings in after showering but Sanji still draws his pierced earlobe between his teeth so he can flick it with his tongue and Zoro’s cock kicks in response. A horrible noise wrenches itself from his throat. He yanks Sanji back by the hair and pushes their mouths together once more, trying to take back control and failing because every inch of him feels like charged dynamite. And when Sanji moans again, Zoro thinks he might explode.
Sanji breaks the kiss. He lets out a soft huff of expectation and bites his lip as their eyes lock. It’s the perfect opportunity for a shitty comment from him, and Zoro expects one. What he gets is Sanji tugging his towel free and dropping to his knees as he looks up at Zoro through his eyelashes. It's disgustingly sexy. It’s a porno Zoro’s watched a thousand times in his mind now come to life.
“What the fuck is happening?” Zoro asks, struggling to hold on to his own sense of reason. His cock is bobbing next to Sanji’s flushed cheek. Reality might be breaking apart right in front of him in the midst of Sanji’s hooded eyes. Zoro experiences that brief sense of deja vu again, like he's seen this before. It must be the way all his shoved down fantasies are crashing together.
“I'm sucking you off, mosshead. Get with the program.”
Then he takes Zoro into his mouth and Zoro can't stifle the surprised grunt that catches in his throat. Sanji’s hands grip his thighs, holding him in place as Sanji sucks him down, tongue doing something ungodly against the underside when he pulls off with a slurp.
“Fuck,” Zoro groans, sinking a shaking hand into Sanji’s hair. He’s already drooling, making a mess of Zoro’s dick and apparently loving every second. “How are you so good at that?”
Sanji hums as he pulls off again, spit and precome stringing from his lips to the tip of Zoro’s cock. The shining tether breaks when he speaks. “Practice.”
The word is a firm hit to the chest, and Zoro struggles to process what that means as Sanji laps at his shaft like it’s the sluttiest candy.
“I thought—” Another groan is pulled straight from his mouth when Sanji starts to stroke him with a firm hand. “Aren't you straight?”
Sanji snorts and he pulls off again, rubbing his cheek down Zoro’s wet length before kissing an open-mouthed path up the furrow of his hip where he sucks a mark into the skin.
“Do I seem straight?” Sanji asks, still stroking Zoro’s cock next to his face.
The pace of it pings on a fuzzy memory in the back of his mind. Sanji isn't supposed to be good at this. He's a skirt chaser. He shouldn't know how to suck cock.
It drives up all these competing urges inside Zoro. He wants to mess Sanji up and make him fall apart. But running up against that, he feels a fizzing excitement. Because Zoro knows, he really knows, that he doesn't hate Sanji Black as much as he tries to tell himself he does. In fact, he's spent the greater part of two years trying not to likeSanji because Zoro isn't the sort of person who lets himself crush on a straight guy. Sanji was off limits so Zoro drew a line between them every way he knew how. That line is shattering with every pull of Sanji’s mouth around his dick.
It reminds Zoro of the way Candy worked him so expertly. And fuck, Zoro doesn't want to think about Candy right now. He was so certain he liked her, but those sparkling first love feelings are so miniscule compared to the light show Sanji is setting off in Zoro’s chest.
He sinks down and pulls back up in a rhythm that feels specifically designed to ruin Zoro. Every time he reaches the tip, he sucks and licks and makes a deeply satisfied noise that Zoro can’t possibly ignore. Sanji is enjoying this. There’s an effortless quality to the way Sanji takes him that has Zoro stuck in some thrall dictated entirely by Sanji’s mouth.
With a small moan, Sanji sinks deeper on his length until Zoro bumps the back of his throat. He feels the convulsions of his tongue against him and moans. It's all dragging him down, dragging him under, threatening to drown him where he stands.
“Fuck, I'm gonna come if you don't—”
Sanji takes him back down with a pointed, loud suck. It's so confident, so certain, that Zoro's orgasm hits in the next moment hard as a punch in the gut.
Sanji moans when Zoro fills his mouth and that winds Zoro up even more. He’s desperate for the sounds Sanji makes, wanting to hear as many as possible and capture them in his memory for as long as he can.
Sinking a hand into Sanji’s damp hair, Zoro savors the soft feel of it, waves of his orgasm pulsing down his legs as he shudders through it.
Sanji tilts his head up and locks eyes with him as he opens his mouth to show Zoro the pool of come he hasn't yet swallowed.
Two things happen simultaneously. First, the image of Sanji on his knees, mouth pink and used and full of come as his blue eyes catch the fluorescent lights sinks into Zoro’s brain as so devastatingly familiar that he knows where he's seen it before. Second, his cock twitches.
Zoro shoves Sanji onto his ass, putting distance between.
“Fuck, are you—”
Candy. Sanji is—
Sanji swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he rises up to his feet, casting an accusatory glance in Zoro’s direction.
“If you try to say you weren't into that, then you're a fucking liar.”
Zoro has so many emotions at once that he can't untangle them, but overshadowing them all is a heavy embarrassment burning up his face. He snatches his gym shorts from the bench and holds them in front of his crotch as a blush overtakes his face. His ears are hot.
“I'm not the liar here,” Zoro spits, fighting back to cover up the vulnerable way he feels.
Surprise flickers over Sanji’s face before it falls into more familiar contempt. “You finally figured it out then?”
The shame and embarrassment rise up another inch and Zoro tugs his shorts on. He needs to leave.
“Oh, so you're just going to go,” Sanji sneers. “Now that it's me, you don't want it.”
Zoro bullies his shirt down over his head in messy movements. Hands on the hem, he glares at Sanji, trying not to lose ground.
“Why do you want it?” Zoro bites out. “Were you having fun laughing at me? Another thing you can toss in my face and call me an idiot for?”
“You are an idiot,” Sanji snaps. His face is turning red too. “If you weren't, you would have noticed that I was into you at literally any point over the last year.”
Zoro smashes his hand on the inside of the locker as he tries to grab his shoes. “Into…me.”
“Yes,” Sanji says, setting his jaw even though he's blushing as hard as Zoro. “I thought you finally made a move at the bar. After seeing me that way.” He hesitates. “Or something.”
Zoro abruptly remembers Candy coming up to him first. The way she had said, This doesn't seem like your kind of place. She'd been blushing then too and now Zoro realizes it was Sanji, embarrassed and on edge and probably thinking Zoro would mock him for wearing a dress.
But that hardly explains the rest of it.
“I came back,” Zoro says. “I came back because you told me to.”
“I was going to tell you,” Sanji insists, face twisting. “But you left.”
“It's not my fault my friends needed help.”
“That's not what I'm saying!” Sanji snaps. “Of course you left. You should have left. And I wanted to tell you but I couldn't. Can't you fucking understand that?”
He can't. He knows that no matter what Sanji says, it’s so painfully obvious that this was a ruse. That Sanji found this opportunity to play him for an idiot, to get what he wanted and leave Zoro to look like a fool in his wake.
Sanji has feelings for him? Yeah, right.
“Fuck off,” Zoro says, shouldering his bag and halfway to the door before Sanji can respond.
To his credit, Sanji doesn't stop him.
It takes less than an hour for Zoro to realize that there's no way Sanji sucked him off just for the sake of having something to make fun of him for.
It takes three days for Zoro to work up the courage to do anything about it.
The fact that it’s drag night at Momoiro doesn’t help.
Zoro’s splayed out on his bed after writing a term paper and desperately trying not to think about what Sanji might be doing. He hasn't stopped feeling like an idiot since he realized how much he overreacted. Sanji has been avoiding him at practice in a way that’s so pointed it’s painful. Zoro kept trying to figure out how to talk about what happened while still pretending that it hadn’t and coming up blank.
It's late enough that the whole dorm is quiet. When Zoro lifts his phone to check the time, a weary 12:56 greets him in bold letters. Tomorrow is going to suck.
Not for the first time since his fight with Sanji, Zoro thumbs open his screen and swipes over to his contacts list. It doesn't take long to scroll down to Sanji’s name. He wishes it did because then he might have more time to berate himself.
He only has Sanji’s number because their coach forced them to input the whole team's contact info ‘just in case.’ And now he's stuck staring at the little numbers on the screen and prodding at the memory of what happened like a particularly interesting toothache. He’s had Candy’s number this whole time and he didn’t know it. That’s as embarrassing as the rest of it.
The advice Sanji had given him a few weeks ago—when Zoro still didn't know he was Candy, that Candy was Sanji— had been that he could try again and that maybe he'd like the outcome if he gave it a shot. Zoro had thought that it was Sanji being considerate but he'd wanted something out of it too. Zoro doesn't understand what. If it wasn't to rub it in his face, then what?
Sanji had tried to give him a reason. Zoro just doesn’t believe it. Why would he believe that Sanji Black has feelings for him? It seems impossible to Zoro, but the more he looks at it, steps back and considers, he sees a trail of interactions that can only lead to one thing.
Sanji always finding him at parties. Zoro had thought he wanted to pick a fight. Sanji checking in after losing a game. Zoro had thought he wanted to pick a fight. Over and over again, Sanji reaching out only for Zoro to assume he was going to be a dick. Then Zoro would be a dick and that assumption would come true.
Zoro groans and drops his phone to his chest. This might be the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened in his life and one time he got stuck in a doggy door. Thank God that Chopper was the only one around for that.
All this attraction, all this want, Zoro has been stuffing into a box and putting it where he doesn't have to consider it because considering it meant holding up his own sticky heart to be weighed and measured.
What is he meant to do with the fact that Sanji is smart and mean and kind all at once? That he remembers everyone's favorite things and tries to bring at least one of them to every party. Zoro's included in that. Sanji sometimes brings the low end lager that Zoro likes because it brings on only the slightest buzz. What is he meant to do about the fact that despite every insult they have ever exchanged, Sanji still smiles at him when he thinks Zoro is funny or when he reaches some new height on the pitch?
Not even to speak of the way his joy spills out, infectious and sweet, just as much as his annoyance can quell the most obnoxious group of people. Sanji has a charisma that Zoro could never master, as awkward and unsure of the right thing to say as he is. Sanji always knows the right thing to say.
Zoro picks his phone back up and squints at Sanji’s contact information. They’ve never texted before so the screen is blank when he opens a new message thread. There's something intimidating about that but Zoro refuses to let that stop him. He doesn't know what he's meant to say but the momentum carries him through to send the message.
Hey stares back at him.
He slams the screen off and smashes his phone down against his chest. Fucking pathetic.
He doesn't know what to say. Hey, we should talk. Hey, would you want to suck my dick again sometime? Hey, I think I like you and have for a long time.
Or maybe he should just go to sleep.
But that's a coward's way out.
Zoro forces himself to lift his phone back into his hand so that he can type out at least a few more words.
It's honestly mortifying. Embarrassing enough to heave his stomach somewhere up towards his heart. This is why he hates feeling vulnerable. It fucking sucks.
Maybe we should talk.
He resists the overly strong urge to throw his phone across the room and takes a deep breath. With a tight leash on his impulses, he rolls over and plugs in his phone before clicking off the light. He's going to sleep. There's no point in waiting for a response this late. He ignores the twist in his stomach when he thinks about the fact that Sanji is performing and could meet someone to hook up with, like he did with Zoro. He has to remind himself that Sanji only did that because he likes him.
That reminder makes his stomach twist further as another wave of embarrassment passes over him. Do his friends know? Does Luffy know? Zoro suddenly remembers the look Nami gave him when she saw Candy. She definitely knows. He's so fucked.
Zoro stares at the ceiling and knows deep in his bones that he's not falling asleep any time soon. Usually, he's out as soon as his head hits the pillows but right now, he feels like total shit.
What he needs is to get the jittery energy out. He'd normally go to the gym, but it's the middle of the night so he’s stuck inside and he needs to move.
So he rolls out of bed and drops onto the floor to do as many push ups as he can until his body gives out.
Eventually, his muscles start to burn and sweat drips from his temple to form a small dark patch on the carpet. The dorm doesn't have the nicest carpet, rough under his palms and with a thin pile that hardly feels good to sit on. But maybe that’s good too. One more thing to focus on so he can clear his mind.
Zoro doesn’t know how many push ups he does, but he’s starting to feel the exhaustion in his body that tells him he may be pushing himself too hard. It’s a burn he’s used to and often pushes through. So he pushes through now too.
Or he would if someone didn’t bang on his door. The sound surprises him enough that he drops face first onto the carpet with a loud grunt.
“Shit,” he groans, eyes darting up to see the time on his microwave. 2:03 AM.
Zoro lifts himself to his feet and marches over to open the door. Drunk students tend to stagger down the hall to Zoro’s room at least once a month. His door is the first off the stairwell and it’s no surprise to him that they end up banging on the first door they see.
Scrubbing a hand through his sweaty hair, Zoro pulls the door open to tell whoever it is to fuck off and also to make sure they’re not going to die standing up.
Except there’s not a drunk student outside his dorm. There’s a Sanji. One that Zoro has never seen before.
He’s wearing one of his usual button ups and a pair of dark wash jeans. But he doesn’t look put together in the least. One sleeve of his green button up is rolled to his elbow, the other hangs loose and unbuttoned, covering his wrist. Not to mention how open it is at the throat. Zoro can see the dip of his collarbone and the suggestion of chest hair peeking out of the open space.
That’s not all though. That’s not the thing that freezes Zoro where he stands.
Sanji still looks like Candy. Or some strange hybrid of himself and Candy. Makeup coats his face, the bright red lips and glittery eyeshadow topped off with those impossible eyebrows.
“Curly,” Zoro breathes before he can stop himself.
Sanji leans forward to brace one hand against the doorframe as he says, “Let me in.”
“It’s 2 AM,” Zoro says in response. It could be a protest and it could also be about the fact that this was the last thing Zoro expected when he opened the door.
“I got your text after the show. I wanted to talk,” Sanji says quickly. He looks uncharacteristically nervous. Zoro doesn’t know what that means. Or, he does but he doesn’t want to think about it that hard. Sanji has feelings for him. Has a crush on him. All the mortification from earlier floods back in and he does the only thing he can do: disguise it with sarcasm.
“One text got you across campus that fast?”
“It was two texts,” Sanji points out but his face is turning pink enough that it shows through the cake of his foundation.
Zoro’s heart beats as if he’s just come off the worst of the drills their coach puts them through and he presses a hand to his chest, realizing then that he’s not wearing a shirt. Sanji’s eyes drop and he seems to realize it too. The extremely obvious once over he gives Zoro makes him wonder if he’s been missing looks like that this whole time.
“I don’t think it’s different,” Zoro replies, resisting the urge to cross his arms. He won’t be self-conscious around Sanji, no matter what’s happened between them
He must not be too successful at hiding his discomfort because Sanji’s expression softens. “I know, marimo. Now let me in.”
Zoro caves under the nature of the look on Sanji’s face. He’s not sure anyone has ever looked at him the way Sanji is looking at him. He backs away and holds the door open, not so much inviting Sanji in but simply not stopping him from coming inside.
As Sanji walks in, he briefly runs his fingers over Zoro’s bare chest, a tiny, ghost of a touch. It sends goosebumps over Zoro’s entire torso and he’s forced to grip the edge of the door extra hard before shutting it. He clearly didn’t do enough push ups or else his body wouldn’t be reacting the way it is.
Sanji has been to his dorm before. Sometimes after practice while hanging out with Luffy and Usopp, Sanji tagging along. One time he came over to give Zoro homemade soup when he was sick. Fuck. Sanji had made him soup. How had Zoro forgotten that? Zoro’s pretty sure he also came in and tidied up a little before leaving Zoro with the best chicken noodle soup he’d ever tasted.
“How long?” Zoro asks, staring at Sanji as he sits on the edge of the bed in the corner of the room. Zoro’s bed.
He has more feelings about that than he thought he would.
Sanji cocks his head “What are you talking about?”
“How long have you liked me?”
“You want to start there?” Sanji asks with wide eyes.
“Did you want to start somewhere else?”
“Not if that’s what you want to know.”
It’s achingly sincere, and Zoro's off balance before they even begin. The two of them don’t do sincere, but if Sanji wants to try, Zoro can try too.
“I do,” he says as he moves to sit on the floor across from the bed so he can lean against his dresser.
Sanji turns his face away as he sighs. “I guess I realized it about a year ago.”
Zoro swallows down his immediate retort. Sanji is being earnest, and Zoro can try to believe him.
“But I probably should have noticed sooner,” Sanji adds. “It was a lot of things. Piling up before I’d noticed I was in over my head.”
“Are you a masochist? I’m a dick to you. On purpose. All the time.” Zoro’s blood is pumping in a way it never has before. This conversation feels full of trick questions that Zoro was meant to know the answer to but never managed to figure out.
Sanji looks at him like he’s crazy. “Yeah, sometimes, but you’re a lot of other things too. And it’s not like I’m nice to you all the time either.”
“What other things?”
Sanji sighs again, but he doesn’t evade the question.“Do you remember the first time we met?”
“At practice freshman year,” Zoro says with some certainty and Sanji nods like they’re finally getting somewhere.
“We didn’t hit it off very well,” Sanji admits.
“I thought you hated me.”
“I sort of did,” Sanji says, “but it was pretty hard to ignore the fact that I wanted to climb you like a tree.”
Zoro’s cheeks grow hot. Enough people have told him that he’s attractive that it shouldn’t embarrass him, but there’s something about the fact that it’s Sanji saying it that has Zoro wanting to hide his face.
“We don’t know each other. We barely talk,” Zoro insists. “You’re just a guy on my team who calls me an idiot all the time.”
“Excuse me,” Sanji sniffs. “There’s more than one way to get to know someone besides heart to hearts.”
Zoro knows that is true. He knows because if he was pressed, he’d probably be able to say all the things he’s learned about Sanji over the years and the list wouldn’t be short.
“There was this time at a party where some guy was hitting on everything that moved and at some point he had a girl cornered in the kitchen. You grabbed him like he was a stray cat and threw him onto the lawn. You did that and I had this realization that maybe you didn’t suck as much as I thought you did.”
“This is nice, blondie. Keep insulting me.”
“It’s not an insult,” Sanji insists. “It made me realize I wanted to know more about you. That maybe I was wrong. And then we went to Law’s house after that big win against Red Line and Kidd was making fun of Law’s sister for making rainbow cupcakes so you ate three of them while glaring at him and demanded Law tell his sister how much you liked them despite the fact that I know you hate sweets. You’ve told me you hate sweets a thousand times."
Zoro does remember doing that. He’d had a stomach ache for nearly twenty four hours after eating them and still gets nauseous when he sees funfetti cake.
“So me beating up a creep and giving myself a sugar high really did it for you?” he asks. None of this should feel vulnerable but it does. It’s as if Sanji is looking through him and sees him down to the very core. And worse than that, it’s as if he’s been doing it for a very long time.
“No,” Sanji says, some irritability creeping into his tone. “It made me realize you were a good guy. And then you kept being good. You’re the person everyone relies on and you literally always come through. Do you know that? You should know that.”
Zoro buries his face in his hands with a groan. “Shut up.”
“Are you disagreeing or are you embarrassed?” Sanji asks, sounding a little smug and also, Zoro now realizes, a little affectionate. Has he always sounded that way?
He grunts and refuses to reply.
“So if you ask how long, I don’t have a good answer. One day there were all these things about you that I liked and it turned out I just liked you.”
Sanji stops talking and looks at him expectantly. That’s it, Zoro realizes, and he doesn’t have a good response.
“A year. You’ve felt that way for a year,” Zoro repeats, still struggling to let that sink in. He can’t count the number of times over the last year he’d had very explicit thoughts of bodily harm as it relates to Sanji. To be fair, a lot of those urges came directly on the heels of some other type of explicit thought. He forces himself to meet Sanji’s gaze, heart fluttering in his throat.
“And you…” Sanji hesitates. “You liked Candy.”
“I think I liked you when you were Candy,” Zoro says, trying to find some sort of way to explain to Sanji what's been going on in his head. “You flirted with me.”
“I flirt with you all the time!”
“You mean by calling me an idiot and making fun of my hair which isn’t even green anymore?”
“Have you ever flirted with anyone before?” Sanji says, exasperated.
That might be true but he’s better at it than Sanji. “I’ve seen you flirt with girls. You go all—” Zoro makes a kissy face. “You don’t do that with me.”
“You’d hate it if I did that to you,” Sanji insists. “I’m working with what I’ve got and you like when I’m mean to you.”
Sanji pauses for a heavy moment and Zoro doesn’t speak. There’s something on the tip of Sanji’s tongue and for once, Zoro wants to hear it.
“That’s why you liked Candy.”
Zoro rises up on his knees. It’s a short distance to end up at Sanji’s feet so that he can clasp one hand over his knee. Sanji stares at his hand, stupefied.
Zoro doesn’t let that phase him. He can’t. He’s going to have to admit something that he hasn’t even admitted to himself if he wants this conversation to go anywhere.
“I liked Candy because she reminded me of you,” he says. The words feel like a struggle given how hard his heart is beating. Like they might smash up before they leave his mouth.
Sanji grimaces and points at his own face. “This reminded you of me.”
The question makes sense. Sanji’s face, caked in make-up as it is, bears very little resemblance to how he looks in the day to day. Zoro shuffles in between Sanji’s legs and lifts his hand up to brush the underside of Sanji’s jaw. His little inhalation in response to the touch makes Zoro’s cock kick in his shorts, but he’s more focused on the words he should probably say.
“Your mouth does the same thing when you say something smart.” He touches Sanji’s lips and watches them part. “I don’t think anybody else has eyes this shade of blue. Even with this dumb eyebrow, I should have recognized them sooner.”
Sanji looks like he’s torn between tearing up and kicking Zoro out of the window. “Hey, I chose these eyebrows.”
“Why the hell would you do that?” Zoro says as he gives in to the urge to trace the line of it.
Sanji knocks his knee against Zoro. “Every girl has to have her signature move.”
“I thought yours was dick sucking.”
There’s no tenderness in the whack against the side of Zoro's head when Sanji makes a noise of deep offense.
Zoro lifts his arms to defend himself against the blows as he says, “Stop it. I didn’t say I wasn’t into it.”
The consternation drains from Sanji’s face and he drops his hand into his lap a few inches from where Zoro is touching his knee.
“I thought I’d really fucked it up,” Sanji admits. “I was so mad when I thought you were too drunk to remember what we did the first time. Like I’d fucked up my one shot.”
With warm hands, Sanji drags Zoro up to his feet, fingers drifting down his forearms before he tugs, encouraging Zoro to crawl up on the bed beside him. He tugs so hard that Zoro’s forced to place his knee beside Sanji’s thighs, one after the other and it’s barely a breath before he’s got Zoro on top of him.
“I didn’t though, did I?” Sanji says, trailing his now free hand up the line of Zoro’s arm in a light tickling touch that makes Zoro’s stomach clench.
“You didn’t,” Zoro says, starting to fall into that almost hypnotic aura Sanji has when it comes to sex and that, against all odds, Zoro is now capable of recognizing. Sanji grins again, threading his fingers through Zoro’s hair so he can drag him down into another kiss. It’s sweeter somehow than any kiss they’ve shared but all the sex they’ve had before this has been in some barely hidden place. They’ve never had a bed, never been able to take their time.
“Fuck,” Zoro says when Sanji pulls him down to kiss over his throat.
“What?” Sanji asks, a little breathless.
“You’re so annoying.”
Sanji’s arms come up around his back and squeeze. “Wow, Zoro, tell me how you really feel.”
The way Zoro really feels is tucked beneath years of telling himself Sanji hated him and that he hated Sanji. So he just kisses him instead, mindless of the smear of lipstick and the way Sanji’s makeup is going to leave streaks on his dark green sheets.
“I don't think I can,” Zoro says into the curve of Sanji's neck. He smells like strawberries.
His hands come to scratch through the hair at the nape of Zoro’s neck and he says, “That's okay. I know mossballs struggle with emotions.”
Zoro growls, soft feelings swiftly replaced by annoyance. “Okay no. I don't like you. You're a shithead.”
Sanji laughs, bright and full of a certain type of promise. It's distracting enough that Zoro finds himself surprised to suddenly be on his back, guard down enough for Sanji to flip them.
“Oh,” he manages, staring up at Sanji as he starts to unbutton his own shirt.
A grin reappears on Sanji’s face, smug as ever. “Tell me you want it, mosshead.”
Zoro’s hands are already resting over Sanji’s hips, enjoying each inch of bared skin. Sanji grabs his wrists and guides his palms up to circle his ribcage before letting one land on his chest.
“I like you a stupid amount,” Sanji admits as Zoro tracks the rabbiting of his heart through his palm. “It’s been really inconvenient.”
“Sorry,” Zoro croaks when Sanji rocks their hips together. Zoro was only in gym shorts when Sanji barged into his dorm and the fabric is hardly any protection against the slow grind of Sanji’s body. His hips twitch up of their own accord, and Sanji huffs out a little gasp that makes Zoro want to bite down on his throat.
He releases Zoro’s hands and shrugs off his button up, revealing his toned chest. Zoro likes to tell himself that he could beat Sanji in a fight but right now he can admit that it would be a close call. His biceps are insane. Their bodies only differ in the wiry nature of Sanji’s build and Zoro likes that too. It means his hands can grip his waist that much better which he does immediately, trying to encourage his movements and to touch him just a little bit more.
Sanji groans appreciatively as he chucks his button-up off the side of Zoro’s shitty dorm bed. Zoro responds by sitting up and slipping a hand around the back of Sanji’s neck so he can drag him into another kiss. Sanji grunts in surprise and Zoro hums against his mouth as Sanji loops his arms around his neck. It’s a teasing amount of contact, hips pressed together, chests brushing with every movement and Sanji’s warm hands drooped over his spine. It urges Zoro to slip his hands up Sanji’s back, to tug him closer. It’s so fucking satisfying to have Sanji like this, warm in his lap. Satisfying in a way he hardly expected and now wants to keep.
Letting go of his own instinct to say something mean, he kisses Sanji again, open and wet and coaxing him into a deeper kiss with a short flick of his tongue over his lips. Sanji responds in kind and it reminds Zoro of all the things he likes about him. The way he doesn’t take anything lying down, that he gives as good as he gets.
Sanji presses him down onto the mattress, one hand on his chest and the other dropping beside his head as their kiss continues, grows filthier. Zoro can’t stop the mortifying sound that breaks between them, a whine cutting off in his throat, a sharp noise that earns him a grin against his mouth as Sanji comes to cup the side of his neck, thumb running over the sensitive skin.
The kiss slows to a honeysweet pace and that does something new in Zoro’s stomach, a missed a step on a stair or a stumble off a cliff to find himself in freefall. Sanji pulls back with a soft sticky noise as their mouths part. His face is flushed under his makeup and his lipstick is smeared across his chin. Zoro imagines he’s also a sight to see, that he’s just as much of a mess.
“Have I said that you’re gorgeous?” Sanji asks, thumbing the line of Zoro’s bottom lip.
Zoro grabs Sanji’s ass and urges him to keep rolling his hips down. “I don’t need you to stroke my ego. You’ve already got me in bed.”
Sanji’s face screws up in annoyance even as his breathing stutters. “See if I ever compliment you again.”
“As if you’d be able to resist.”
It’s said absently. Zoro is too busy hooking his fingers beneath Sanji’s belt, a silent question.
Sanji responds immediately by sitting up and tearing at his belt. “I’ll take off my pants but you have to take off yours.”
“You going to suck me off again, blondie?”
“I had something else in mind, actually,” Sanji says as he peels himself off Zoro so he can take off his jeans.
Zoro’s body heats from his toes all the way to his scalp. Sanji’s words have a certain implication that Zoro struggles to believe. “So you want to—you want—”
“You to fuck me?” Sanji asks with a laugh. “Yeah, marimo. Think you can manage?”
“Oh, fuck you,” Zoro says but it’s weak under the reality of what Sanji has just asked for.
“Exactly,” Sanji says coolly before chucking his pants and underwear off the side of the bed. Zoro’s heart leaps. Sanji is naked in his bed. He knows logically he’s seen Sanji’s cock before, covered in lace and dripping under the shadow of his skirt, but now it’s just there, flushed and slick. Zoro wonders with some regret how wet Sanji's boxers had been when Zoro left him in the locker room, if he’d leaked while Zoro’s dick was in his mouth.
Arousal cresting, he reaches for Sanji and Sanji doesn’t hesitate to push his hands away, focused instead on tucking his fingers into the waistband of Zoro’s shorts and pulling without remorse. It forces Zoro to lift his hips and he only briefly feels self-conscious as Sanji drags them down off his legs before remembering Sanji has seen him entirely nude and sucked him off twice. That reminder is enough to make his cock visibly twitch, lifting off his belly briefly before slapping down against his skin.
Whatever discomfort he feels is swiftly pulled away by Sanji’s hand on him. He immediately leans over Zoro and starts to jerk Zoro off, a heavy intent in his eye as he works him over, mouth dropping to Zoro’s hips before kissing up his chest. His mouth is wet and so so hot. Every kiss marks Zoro with another honest show of feeling. He’s filling up with it, threatening to spill over.
Sanji comes to his throat, kissing over his pulse as he lines up their cocks, thrusting up against Zoro’s length and drawing a heavy groan from his throat. “Do you know how turned on I was the first time I saw your dick?”
Zoro can’t even respond because his brain to mouth connection is breaking under the feeling of Sanji stroking them both off with his hand. His dick leaks down over Zoro’s shaft, slicking the way and tugging at the pleasure unspooling in his gut.
“It was better than I’d imagined. Felt fucking amazing in my mouth. I kept thinking about how it’d feel in my ass,” Sanji gasps between the effort of fucking his own hand and destroying Zoro in the process. The pace of his movements as he thrusts against Zoro seems specifically designed to take him apart and it’s working. Probably a little too well if Sanji wants this to end a certain way.
“Fuck,” Zoro groans, hands on Sanji’s hips and desperately trying to remember that he’s trying to stop Sanji and not urge him on. “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”
Sanji moans into the skin of his throat. The sound echoes in Zoro’s ears and he does almost come, but Sanji lets up. He uncurls his hand and risesup to look at Zoro, eyes focused and hungry.
“Tell me how you want me then,” he says, tone sending a shiver down Zoro’s spine.
Zoro wraps his hands around Sanji’s waist, thumbs dipping into the crest of his hip bones. Sanji looks golden and gorgeous, makeup a mess and handsome enough that it makes Zoro’s heart ache in the way it has been since they met. In the way that he ignored and pretended was anger twisting up his ribcage.
“On your back,” he says without hesitation. He knows that if he gives up the opportunity to see Sanji’s face the first time they do this that he will regret it for the rest of his life.
Sanji leans down and kisses him softly. When he pulls away, his eyes are brilliant and shining in the moonlight that drowns the bed in blue as he looks down at Zoro. They are thick with liner and that dumb eyebrow twitches. Zoro presses his thumb down against it. “Is that okay, curly?”
Something sweet and surprised passes over Sanji’s face. “Curly?”
“What would you call this?” Zoro asks with a pointed trace of the line on Sanji's forehead.
Sitting up again, Sanji shuffles forward to straddle his thigh. “I know. It’s just—that’s what you called Candy.”
“Do you not want me to—”
Sanji slaps a hand over his mouth. “No, shut up. It’s fine. I thought that it was…for her. You know.”
Zoro peels Sanji’s palm off his face. “You are her,” Zoro reminds him. He gathers himself. He can say it. It’s not foolish or stupid. “I like both of you. Or just you. Whatever you want to be.”
Sanji’s whole face twists up and Zoro would call it disgust if he didn’t immediately follow it up with, “I’m gonna kill you. For fuck’s sake. You can’t just say that.”
“You said it earlier!” Zoro counters, ears burning.
Sanji slams their mouths together hard enough their teeth knock. “Where the hell is your lube? If you don’t fuck me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna rip your dick off.”
Zoro doesn’t know what it says about him that the threat makes his cock throb. Probably nothing good.
“In my desk,” he manages and Sanji is out of bed in a flash, ripping open the drawer on the dorm-provided desk so that he can fish out Zoro’s lube in an impressive show of speed.
Then he chucks the bottle at Zoro’s head. Zoro can thank his reflexes for the fact that it doesn’t smash his face in.
“Hey!” he complains. “You almost broke my nose.”
“Maybe that would improve your dumb face,” Sanji replies as he climbs back in bed. He seems poised to snatch the lube back and take care of prepping himself but Zoro refuses to lay there the whole time, no matter how hot it is when Sanji shoves him around a little. Another thing he didn’t know he was into.
So he lurches up and grabs Sanji by that fucking sinful waist and dumps him onto his back. He makes a funny noise that Zoro finds unbearably cute as he comes to hover over Sanji’s body, dropping the lube onto his belly with a violent smack.
“Do you ever shut up?”
“You know the answer to that,” Sanji replies with one of those devastating smiles that say he knows something he thinks Zoro doesn’t.
Zoro drops down to bite his collarbone because it's really the only thing he can do in the face of this desire to ruin Sanji.
“If you want to use that,” Sanji says with a pointed glance at the lube bottle, “then hurry up.”
Zoro decides to toss his embarrassment the way of Sanji’s clothes. It's easier when pushed along by his own arousal. That stupid handsome face looking up at him is enough to forget that he feels like an idiot.
Snatching up the bottle he'd discarded, Zoro curls a hand around Sanji’s ankle and starts to press his leg back, hoisting it up against his shoulder. His cock bumps against Sanji’s thigh, a burning picture of what he's about to do.
First though, he wets his fingers, ignoring Sanji’s heavy gaze.
“You've done this before, right?” Sanji asks and Zoro sends him a withering glare.
“Yes,” he says with some poison. “Have you?”
Sanji bursts out laughing. “Let's just say I was surprised you didn't know I was bisexual. It's not like I was hiding who I hooked up with.”
“How about you don't brag about all the sex you've had while we're in bed together?” Zoro says with a scowl. He’s not jealous. He’s not. He just resents not knowing this about Sanji for so long.
“You're the one who asked—”
Sanji's words are cut off by a gasp when Zoro decides he'd rather not hear more of his bullshit, using his advantage to press his fingers beneath Sanji’s balls and massage the tight clench of his body.
Despite what he said to Sanji, he hasn't done this that much. But he's done it enough to know his way around the general area. If Sanji’s response is anything to go by, he's doing a fine job so far. His eyelids flutter and his mouth drops open as Zoro tries to relax him. He goes along easily, enough that Zoro barely has to wait before sinking a finger inside.
He's so overwhelmed by the warmth of it, the intimacy, that he can't help but to turn his head and press a kiss against the delicate bone of Sanji’s ankle where his leg is clutched against his chest. Sanji's response is entirely unexpected, a sharp gasp as his fingers grip the exposed sheets of Zoro’s unmade bed.
Zoro curls his fingers. He wants Sanji to be surprised and to fall to pieces beneath his hands exactly like that.
Sanji’s back arches under another gasp and Zoro repeats the motion, fucking in and out and savoring the way Sanji’s body tightens. His cock is making a mess of his belly. There's a little pool of precome forming near his belly button and threatening to run down the side of his waist. Zoro thinks about licking it up, smearing it, rubbing his cock in it.
There's such a strong throb in gut, a tightness in his cock. He wants to take his time with Sanji as much as he wants to wreck him. He can only think some sort of emotion must show on his face because Sanji untangles one hand from the sheets and reaches for him, managing to clutch his forearm where it works between his legs.
“Fuck, Zoro,” he says between difficult breaths. “I'm ready. Please.”
Part of Zoro doesn't want this part to end. There's a power he feels in having Sanji at his mercy and he knows that as soon as he's inside him, all of that will fall apart. Maybe he’s not ready.
He still pulls his fingers free and suddenly, he realizes he does not have condoms. A variety of opportunities present themself to Zoro— sucking each other off, fucking Sanji's thighs— but he wants this. And it's more than clear that Sanji wants it too.
“Condom,” Zoro says with a grimace. One word is all he can manage at the moment. Most of his brain is stuck in the desperate pressure between his legs.
Sanji’s eyebrows go up. “I have one.”
Zoro drops his leg.
“Don't make that face,” Sanji says. “I wasn't going to hook up with anyone. I always have them.”
Zoro climbs off the bed as he murmurs, “So you're a slut.”
Sanji throws a pillow at his back. It bounces off his ass and Sanji says, “It's in my pants pocket. The right front.”
Zoro fishes them free and returns Sanji’s earlier favor by chucking the three pack in his face. “I can't believe you.”
“You can't believe I'm such a casanova?” Sanji says with a dramatic fluttering of his eyelashes.
“Oh, I can believe it,” Zoro says darkly, climbing into bed only to have Sanji immediately grab his hips and drag him closer. He's already tossed the extra condoms off the side of the bed and ripped one package open with his teeth.
Sanji grasps his dick without even asking for permission, taking the moment to roll the condom down his length where Zoro is kneeling next to his hip. The heated touch of his hand nearly sends Zoro over the edge.
“Fuck,” Zoro breathes. “You really want this don't you.”
“You literally have no idea how much I've thought about this,” Sanji confesses, distracted as he pulls Zoro down on top of him. “I didn't know how much experience you had but I liked to pretend you were good in bed.”
Zoro glares at him as he slicks his cock with lube. Sanji ignores the pointed look and keeps talking. “I'd jerk off thinking about you fucking me. Sometimes I thought about you bending me over in the locker room showers. Dragging me off to the bathroom at some house party. Fucking me in your dorm after everyone left.”
Zoro’s heart clenches as much as his dick throbs in his hand. “If you don't shut up, I'm going to come before I get to do any of that.”
“Is the great Zoro Roronoa a two-pump chump?” Sanji asks, arching a dumb, curly eyebrow.
Zoro knows he's goading him and yet he doesn't care. In fact, he lets him. Heaving Sanji’s legs back, he earns himself another gasp which is so so satisfying that he has to force himself not to linger in it.
Still bracing Sanji’s legs on his shoulders, he pushes the head of his cock against his entrance. Goosebumps erupt down his back as he sinks the very tip inside. His stomach twists in the sweetest way, and he waits only briefly to let Sanji adjust.
He'd wait longer if Sanji didn't bend his knee and jam the heel of his foot into Zoro’s collarbone. “Do it. For fuck's sake, marimo. Do it.”
There's no stopping the heady drag of pushing into Sanji’s body, the way his hole clenches around his cock, so warm and slicked with lube. Zoro knows that no matter what happens after this, he's going to be jerking off to the memory of it for a long time.
Not just because it feels fucking amazing, but because Sanji tosses his head back against the pillows and his throat rolls on a swallow. His hair is sweat damp and his face is an utter mess of smeared makeup and Zoro thinks he's beautiful enough that he wants to keep him.
Without waiting, Zoro pulls out and presses back in. His balls go tight and he pauses to stave off the oncoming threat of orgasm. It takes a moment before he can sink in deeper, breath coming a little faster. This might be the most pleasure he’s felt in his whole life.
Sanji moans at a particularly deep thrust and reaches for one of Zoro’s hands where it’s curled around his leg, holding them up. He peels away Zoro's grip and then drops his thighs open, hooking his calves around Zoro’s back to change the angle. Zoro drops forward on top of him, bracing himself on his hands as he finds himself somehow driving even deeper.
Sanji keeps his hand clutched tight around Zoro’s and starts to rock his hips up into his thrusts.
“Oh, fuck, that feels—”
Zoro tries to keep himself up on his arms despite his sore muscles from his earlier attempt to knock himself out with push ups. But he refuses to stop. Not with Sanji below him, wanting him the same way Zoro does.
Zoro spent so long pretending he knew the outlines of their relationship—their inherent dislike for each other. He'd so willingly ignored that they got along under the right circumstances, that they had fun. He ignored all the ways he liked Sanji and focused only on his frustrations. He wishes now he hadn't and that he'd had his eyes slightly more open.
“Zoro,” Sanji moans again, drawing his arms around his neck and trying to pull him into a kiss.
Zoro doesn't put up any protest, relishing the taste of Sanji’s lipstick and sinking into how kissing Sanji runs away with his heart.
No matter what Sanji's implied, Zoro has fucked around. He's fucked fast and hard and made guys come with as little effort on his part as he can. But this isn't fast and hard. Zoro isn't sure what he expected it to be but definitely not the press of Sanji’s heels against his spine and the warmth of Sanji’s hands at the back of his neck as he begs for kiss after kiss. The slowness of it swallows him, drags him down, and he finds it's okay to feel like he can't breathe.
This way, Zoro can feel the smear of Sanji’s dripping cock across his belly every time he fucks in deeper and deeper. That turns him on too. It's intimate and filthy and Zoro loves it when Sanji digs his hands into his shoulders on a particularly deep thrust.
“I'm gonna—Zoro, please,” Sanji moans, almost begs, and the sound of it sends Zoro hurtling over the edge of his own release. He doesn't stop fucking into Sanji even as he shudders and curls himself down over his body, a hard groan huffing out of him. It's worth the oversensitivity to feel the way Sanji comes between them, hot and so slick as his body shakes too.
Zoro gives up, letting himself drop his forehead against Sanji’s collarbone as he flops on top of him.
Sanji untangles his legs and slaps his arm. “Too heavy.” He grunts when Zoro doesn't move immediately and hits him harder. “Too heavy, mosshead.”
Zoro takes the hint and pulls out before rolling over. The bed is too small for both of them and Zoro ends up tucked against the wall as Sanji splays out next to him.
“I need to take care of the condom,” Zoro says after a beat.
“I'm not stopping you.”
“You're in the way.”
Sanji huffs in annoyance before sliding to the side and letting Zoro crawl over him to toss the condom in the trash by his desk and use a dirty t-shirt to manage the rest. He has the presence of mind to toss a towel at Sanji who wipes down his own stomach.
It's only then that Zoro realizes Sanji is avoiding eye contact.
“Hey,” he says, tugging his shorts back on. “What's that about?”
Sanji wrings the towel in his hands and says, “I'm trying to figure out if I should make some excuse and leave or not.”
“Why would you leave?” Zoro asks. The prospect makes his stomach feel weird.
“Well, last time we hooked up, you told me to go fuck myself and stormed off,” Sanji snipes. “Forgive me for not being sure.”
Zoro squints at him. “Aren't we dating now or whatever?”
Sanji drops the towel on the floor. “What?” he squeaks.
“Didn't you just spend about fifteen minutes declaring your love for me? It'd be dumb for me to fuck you if I didn't…you know.”
“Not really,” Sanji says. “I don't know actually.”
Zoro isn't sure if Sanji is fucking with him so he focuses on picking up Sanji's pants off the floor. “If I didn't feel the same way,” he grumbles, embarrassed and hating the way his cheeks are going hot. “Put your pants on.”
Sanji is still staring at him like he’s never seen him before. “Why?”
“Because you shouldn't go to sleep with that shit on your face and the shower’s down the hall.” Zoro has been subjected to enough whining by Nami after a night out drinking to know that makeup will fuck up your skin. He can only imagine Sanji would complain at him even more if he didn’t have the opportunity to take care of it.
It takes a beat for Sanji to reply and when he does, it's tucked behind one of those smiles that now strike Zoro as sweet.
“Okay, mosshead, but only if you come with me.”
Zoro screws up his face and that makes Sanji laugh.
“I made a mess of you too,” Sanji says, standing up and reaching for the pants still in Zoro’s grasp. “So let me clean you up.”
Zoro thinks he might be getting better at this whole feelings thing because he's not even embarrassed when his stomach feels strange. It's just butterflies and he's getting used to them.