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“Damn, this fucking forest and its fucking trees and Mihawk and his fucking family dinners,” Zoro grumbled under his breath as he weaved through the thick woods.
He knew his cottage was here somewhere. This is exactly where it was when he left it. If the trees could just stop moving and the forest trails weren’t such a maze, he’d be home by now.
Scanning the area, he contemplated just tearing every damn tree down until he saw his house. He glared into the darkness as if willing the trees to show him the way. Then, with a sigh, he scratched behind his head. He couldn’t cut down the forest, or it would ruin his hunting grounds.
He took a deep breath, breathing in the chill of the night, the scent of dirt and leaves, and somewhere beneath all that, a faint sense of home. His nose flared slightly as he picked up the scent, following it.
Twigs snapped under his boots as he darted through the terrain. A moment later, he caught a light flickering in the shadows and aimed in that direction. Soon, he would be cracking open a beer in the comfort of his own home instead of sipping some disgusting wine at Mihawk’s too-long table.
He picked up speed, only to come to an abrupt halt in front of a castle almost freakier than old man Mihawk’s.
This wasn’t here before. Where was his house? Zoro’s gaze flicked from side to side, but the fence around it seemed to stretch and merge with the darkness.
There was a faint rustle behind him; his ears immediately perked up, flicking slightly to catch any additional movement, any disturbance in the air. Alert, he turned around slowly.
Up in a tree behind him, a black cloak fluttered in the wind around a man sitting leisurely on a branch. Legs crossed, elbow propped up on his knee, and his bearded chin resting in the palm of his hand.
“What brings a mutt to my home?” the stranger asked, voice low and cautious, sharp fangs glinting underneath the smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Or eye, the other covered by a curtain of golden hair.
A vampire.
Zoro stared. Then the words registered, and heat flared up his neck.
“I’m not a fucking mutt!”
The vampire made a show of inspecting Zoro. The gaze lingered—piercing and scrutinizing, as if it traced every inch of him. Clenching his jaw, Zoro stood tall, refusing to give this bastard the satisfaction of making him shiver under those crystal blue eyes.
“Looks like a mutt to me,” the vampire decided.
Zoro bristled. Teeth bared in a snarl, pointy canines on full display, ears folded back, and his tail straightened in anger.
“And you look like a fucking rat,” Zoro snapped back. “With wings.”
“Don’t you mean a bat?”
“I said what I said,” Zoro scowled, crossing his arms.
The vampire sighed. “Whatever. Why are you here?”
Holding his glare, Zoro said nothing.
“Are you lost?” the rat asked after a moment's silence.
“No,” Zoro answered immediately.
A stupid curly brow rose.
“My cottage is right here.”
“This is my castle,” he gestured with his arm. The motion revealed the fancy suit he wore, not black like the cloak, but a dark red, like the color of dried blood.
“I know that! I mean, right here—” Zoro glanced from side to side, “—somewhere.”
He grinned, amused. “Oh, you really are lost!” The cloak flapped soundlessly in the wind as the vampire gracefully slid down to land in front of Zoro.
“I’m not fucking lost!” Zoro barked, leaning into the vampire’s face.
“The only cottage in these woods is five miles in the opposite direction.”
Zoro’s head snapped to where the vampire was pointing. Then he turned and narrowed his eyes at him.
“You’re fucking with me?”
“I’m really not,” he shrugged.
Zoro opened his mouth to call bullshit, but quickly closed it again. His gaze scanned the treeline once more. No flickering light in a window. No crooked fence. Not even the smoke from the chimney.
Yet behind the vampire, the castle loomed, solid and undeniable.
“Tch,” Zoro clicked his tongue, averting his gaze.
Annoyingly, the asshole before him didn’t even look smug about it. Instead, he seemed pretty genuine.
Pretty, his mind helpfully emphasized. Genuine, Zoro reminded himself.
“Great,” Zoro groaned. “Well. I’m leaving then.”
Without another look back, Zoro took off, only to barely make it a few feet before—
“Oi!” The vampire yelled, frustration coloring his tone. “Are you an idiot?”
“What?!” Zoro barked back.
“I said that way,” he pointed to the right of where Zoro was going.
Heat crawled up his face, and Zoro clenched his hands into fists. “I was just about to go there!”
The vampire did not look convinced, but Zoro just ignored him and turned, briskly walking ahead to leave this idiot and his stupid castle behind him.
After another 50 feet or so, there was a faint rustle next to him, followed by a voice he now knew all too well.
“Really,” the vampire sighed. “It’s impressive how terrible you are with directions.”
“This is a shortcut,” Zoro tried with fake confidence.
“It’s not,” the vampire said matter-of-factly. “Come on, this way, idiot.”
He took Zoro by the arm and led him into the darkness of the woods.
“I’ll take your lost ass home.”
Zoro had heard all sorts of stories about vampires.
About victims seduced by their charms. Cold fingers closing around throats. People disappearing into castles just like this one, never to be seen again.
His steps slowed without him meaning to.
Yet the grip on his arm didn’t tighten. Didn’t pull. Just…held him. Warm and solid.
Glancing down, the vampire’s hand rested gently against his skin. Neither sharp nor clawed.
Maybe following him wasn’t the smartest move.
But his hands were warm against Zoro’s bicep, his smile soft behind the exasperation, and his blue eye glittered like aquamarines in the moonlight. A warm, comforting scent surrounded him. It was nothing like death.
Maybe the stories were full of shit.
“Name’s Sanji, by the way,” the vampire suddenly said with that warm smile of his.
Zoro side-eyed him. “Like I care,” he huffed, his tail swaying slightly behind him.
Zoro wouldn’t call it a routine. But after that night, it kept happening.
He’d be somewhere in the woods muttering about moving trees and disappearing paths, when the fluttering of a cloak would disturb the air.
And just like that, Sanji would appear with a tired sigh, call him an idiot, and take him by the arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Zoro would click his tongue and protest. Sanji would ignore him in favor of lighting a cigarette.
They would walk.
Sometimes arguing the whole way, sometimes not speaking at all. And on rare occasions, even laugh together. And if Zoro’s tail would wag a bit more than usual, no one would see it in the darkness.
Every time, Sanji would smell faintly of smoke and spices and a secret third thing that Zoro couldn’t name. Without thinking, Zoro would match his stride.
And, Sanji never stayed. In the faint light spilling from Zoro’s windows, he’d offer one last insult and turn away before Zoro could even figure out how to stop him.
Every time, Zoro told himself it didn’t matter.
Until one night, it did.
“Mosshead,” Sanji drawled, gracefully jumping down from a tree. “We gotta stop meeting like this.” The lighter clicked open and lit in his hand, illuminating their surroundings for a brief moment.
“As if I even wanna meet you,” Zoro shot back.
“Kinda hard to believe with you showing up in these parts every week.”
“It’s not my fault that—”
“Don’t,” the vampire interrupted him, “say that the trees are moving.”
“Whatever,” Zoro scoffed, easily falling into step beside the vampire. “Stupid curlybrow.”
“But really,” the blond continued, he wasn’t smiling his usual smile. “You have to stop coming here. If my family found you…” he trailed off.
“Think I’m scared of them?”
“No. I think you’re too stupid to realize the danger of them.”
“I could take them. I could take you too!”
A curled eyebrow rose, his gaze trailing down Zoro’s form, making him shiver. “Hmm,” Sanji hummed, but didn’t elaborate.
“I could,” Zoro pushed for an affirmative response.
“Sure, you could,” Sanji said, unconvinced, making Zoro frown.
The rest of the walk passed in silence, and when Zoro’s cottage came into view, Sanji stopped at the edge of the light. Even with his expression hidden in the shadows, Zoro thought he could feel the lack of a smile on his face.
“This is the last time I do this,” Sanji said, voice a tad lower than usual.
“Yeah?” Unbothered, Zoro just grinned. “Sure.”
Sanji huffed a short breath, almost a laugh, yet there was no joy in his eyes. It caught Zoro off guard, and he was just about to tease him for it when Sanji’s hand grabbed his shoulder. It lingered, just for a moment. But long enough for Zoro to notice.
“Try not getting lost again,” Sanji murmured.
Then he was gone.
Of course, Zoro kept getting lost after that. Yet there was never that disturbance in the wind, never the rustling of leaves or fluttering of a cloak. Just a lingering scent of smoke and a familiar warmth.
But no blond hair. No ocean blue eyes. No soft smiles.
Following a scent was more instinct than thought; Zoro’s nose would lead the way, and his feet would follow, no questions asked. It’s how he always found game when hunting. Yet finding home was a whole other feat, and he would end up walking for hours without stopping.
And still, no curly brows in sight.
Weeks went on like this, his eyes unconsciously scanning the trees and his ears straining for any familiar sounds.
It was too quiet.
Tonight, his senses brought him past a river he swore he’d never seen before, and he strode down an unfamiliar path when he spotted a flickering light between the trees.
Finally, he thought as he came face to face with his own cottage.
Swinging up his door, he took one step into the hallway before he froze.
That scent.
The warm scent, with a hint of spice and smoke that Zoro associated with home, was suddenly overwhelming.
Images of a quirked smile and curly brows suddenly flashed in his mind. Then it hit him.
“C-Curly?” he called in surprise.
There was a whimper from his bedroom, and Zoro dropped his groceries as he broke into a dash.
On his bed, under his blanket, was the lump of a curled-up form.
“Curly?” Zoro asked again, softer this time.
An ocean blue eye peeked out from under the duvet.
“What are you doing here?” His gaze flitted around the room for any clues. “Are you hurt?” he added when no reply came.
The lump shook its head.
Kneeling in front of the bed, Zoro carefully pulled down a part of the blanket to reveal a pale face, blond strands of hair sticking to the cold sweat on his forehead. Gently, Zoro brushed it aside.
“What’s wrong?” he tried.
“I’m—” Sanji began, voice raspy and dry, “hungry.”
Taken aback, Zoro blinked in surprise. Then, “Oh? Oh. Okay. Well, I’ve got meat and—” he stood up, ready to head for his kitchen when Sanji’s weak hand came to tug at his pant leg.
“Not that,” he said meekly.
“What about—”
“No,” Sanji said in a weak attempt to be firm. “You know…” he trailed off.
Stumped, Zoro stared. He didn’t know. But if it was something he didn’t have at home, he could run and get it. He didn’t know why, but he knew he would get this vampire whatever he needed and—
Oh.
Vampire.
“…Blood?” he asked.
There was a faint nod.
Zoro swallowed. Yet there was no hesitation, and maybe that should surprise him, but it didn’t. The mattress dipped underneath him as he sat back on the bed, tugging at his collar to reveal his neck.
“Then eat,” he said.
From beneath the duvet, Sanji stared at him with wide eyes, disbelief shaking his blue irises.
“You don’t—” His voice faltered. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”
Zoro couldn’t help but snort. “I’m just offering you dinner,” he said like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Sanji blinked.
“If someone’s hungry, they gotta eat, right?”
There was a slight twitch in Sanji’s lips.
“Besides,” Zoro added. “I know you won’t hurt me.”
As if all the resistance drained out of him, Sanji’s shoulders dropped. He shifted closer, the blanket sliding down from his back, revealing the disheveled state of the usually so pristine-looking vampire.
Grey eyes fell on messy golden curls, a face flushed with hunger, and a thin layer of sweat on his collarbones peeking out from his slightly opened button-up.
Zoro’s breath hitched.
Sanji’s movements were careful, almost reverent, as he reached for Zoro. When his hand found support on Zoro’s shoulder, it was trembling.
“You’re an idiot,” he mumbled.
“Yeah,” Zoro agreed for once, and meant just for you.
A warm breath ghosted over his neck, then a wet sensation.
“For pain relief,” Sanji explained, licking the area again.
All Zoro could do was nod.
The bite that followed was sharp, but more from pressure than pain. Tilting his head, his cheek burrowing into soft hair, Zoro relaxed. With a deep breath through his nose, golden strands tickled against his skin, and something settled in his chest. The scent, the warmth—Sanji.
It finally clicked.
Home.
It had been Sanji all along.
A smile stretched across Zoro’s lips, arms circling Sanji’s waist, hugging him close. Sanji didn’t pull away. He only shifted, without easing on the bite, he settled into Zoro’s lap as if it was the most natural thing to do.
With each wet sound Sanji gulped down, his trembling body gradually calmed. His body softened in Zoro’s embrace, the tension melting away with every swallow. Still, pressed against Zoro’s chest, Sanji’s heart was beating as rapidly as his own.
Zoro could only hope that it thudded for the same reason.
There was a subtle greed to the way Sanji clung to him, his fingers tightening around the fabric of Zoro’s shirt, and the slow, unconscious rocking of his hips drew them even closer. Heat surged from the bite, coursing through Zoro’s veins like he was on fire. The continuous friction of their bodies brushing against each other caused his pants to strain.
Zoro drew a quick breath, then bit down on his lip, holding back the sound threatening to spill from his throat.
When Sanji pulled back, lips stained red, Zoro couldn’t let go. Tugging him forward, he pressed their foreheads together.
“You can’t disappear like that again,” he said, voice strained, then in a more serious tone, he added, “Ever.”
“Bossy mutt,” Sanji laughed weakly, flicking one of Zoro’s furry ears.
With his hands cupping Sanji’s cheeks, Zoro leaned forward, his lips mere millimeters from Sanji’s as he mumbled, “Stay.”
Zoro’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second as warm lips suddenly pressed against his own. The taste of blood would be overwhelming if not for the even stronger sensation of Sanji’s tongue slipping past his lips.
It was a welcome intrusion, and Zoro eagerly responded. Pushing further to close the already nonexistent space between them, Zoro toppled over Sanji, whose hair spread like a halo on the mattress beneath him.
“Stay,” Zoro repeated, capturing Sanji’s lips again. They smiled against his, and Zoro's tail began to whip happily back and forth.
And for the first time, Sanji didn’t leave.