Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The rain started before Zoro realized it. One moment the sky was just gray and quiet. The next, water poured like someone had tipped over a bucket.
Zoro stepped under the narrow awning of a closed shop. It barely covered him, but it was enough. He still had about seven hundred meters walk to the nearest bus stop. He had accidentally gotten off at the wrong stop and taken a bus going in the opposite direction. Luckily, he noticed before he got too far.
In his defense, it was his first time in this district. Anyone could’ve gotten it wrong, right?
Saw the rain fall reminded him how he hated rain. People rushed. Cars splashed through puddles. The air smelled like wet asphalt.
Zoro leaned against the wall and waited for it to pass. But it didn’t.
Then someone ran under the awning beside him. Blond hair. Black suit. He slightly out of breath. The stranger shook rain from his coat, took a cigarette pack from his pocket, and took one. He lit the cigarette like he did it every day.
Zoro turned his face, deciding to ignore him.
Then the man looked at the folded umbrella in Zoro’s hand. Zoro noticed the look immediately.
“…What?” Zoro asked.
The blond tilted his head, studying the umbrella, cigarette dangling from his lips as he spoke to him. “I believe that’s an umbrella”
“Yes.” Zoro answered shortly, still trying to ignore the stranger.
Sanji frowned slightly. “Aren’t you going use it?”
Zoro looked down at it. “It’s broken.”
Sanji raised an eyebrow. “It still has price tag on it, it’s new isn’t?”
Zoro glanced at the blonde man beside him, annoyed “It won’t open.”
The blond leaned closer, and before Zoro could react, he grabbed the umbrella, “Wha--?!”
“…You’re kidding.”
He pointed at the handle. “There’s a button.”
Zoro frowned.
“A what?”
The blond pressed it.
Click
The umbrella opened automatically.
Zoro stared at it. “Who puts a button on an umbrella?” Said Zoro unimpressed.
The blond looked back at him with complete disbelief. “Unbelievable.” He chuckled.
Thunder rumbled overhead.
The blond stepped closer, still holding the umbrella.
Zoro glanced at him, he was about to grab his umbrella, but the blond held it tighter.
“Just until the restaurant at the corner,” he said. “Five minutes.”
“No.”
They stood there for a moment, both hands holding the handle, silently fighting over the umbrella like two idiots.
Then the wind shifted and blew rain directly into their faces. Zoro exhaled a long breath.
“…Fine.”
He tilted the umbrella slightly.
The blond grinned instantly.
Zoro just grunted.
They stepped into the rain together.
*****
Sanji talked the entire walk, about the weather, about the terrible drainage on the street, about how umbrellas were apparently meant to be shared. Zoro barely responded.
After a few minutes, Sanji glanced at him. “You’re quiet.”
Zoro shrugged. “You talk enough for both of us.”
He smirked. “Fair.”
Not long after, they reached the corner where the restaurant lights glowed warmly through the rain. Sanji stopped.
“Well, here it is” he pointed at the sign, ‘Baratie’
Then he held out his hand casually.
“Sanji.”
Zoro looked at the hand. Then at him. For a second, it seemed like he might ignore it.
Sanji sighed. “Ok, Mr mysterious I won’t—"
“…Zoro.” he said, a bit too late.
Sanji blinked. Then smiled. He stepped toward the restaurant door.
“Alright, Zoro, thanks for sharing the umbrella.”
Then he paused and glanced back.
“…Even if you had no idea how it worked.”
Zoro scowled.
Sanji waved once and disappeared inside.
...
Zoro stood there a moment longer than necessary. The street suddenly felt quieter.
“…Sanji,” he muttered.
He wasn’t someone who liked remembering things, especially not the names of annoying strangers. But for some reason, he wanted to remember this one.
*****
2 weeks later
Zoro told himself he was only here for the food. That was the explanation he settled on after walking past the same corner restaurant more times than necessary.
'Baratie'
He stared at the sign for a moment before pushing the door open. Warm air hit him immediately--garlic, butter. The place was loud, just like how restaurants during dinner hours. People talked, laughed, he saw the restaurant was almost full.
Zoro sat at the counter where the only empty seat he could find, pretending to read the menu even though he had already decided he’d order whatever was cheapest. From where he sat, he could hear plates clattering from the kitchen. His eyes drifted toward the kitchen door.
Blond hair.
That was what he remembered most clearly.
That, and the way the guy had looked at him like he was the dumbest man alive for not knowing umbrellas had buttons.
Zoro frowned slightly. He didn’t even know why he remembered that. People came and went in his life all the time. He wasn’t the kind of person who thought about strangers weeks later. Yet somehow that rainy night kept replaying in his head. The way they had walked under the umbrella together. The way the blond had introduced himself.
Sanji.
...
Zoro tapped his fingers on the counter, waiting for anybody to ask his order.
Yes, anybody.
I’m not here to see him, he told himself.
The kitchen door swung open. And there he was. Blond hair falling into side of his face, sleeves rolled to the elbows, moving quickly between the stove and the counter with an unlit cigarette balanced between his fingers. Sanji was protesting about plating, of course.
“Don’t put the sauce like that!” he snapped. “It looks like an accident, not a dish!”
Zoro stared before he could stop himself.
Sanji looked up.
Their eyes met.
And for the first time, Zoro noticed his eyes. Blue, clear, sharp blue.
Then his eyebrows shot up.
“…You.”
Zoro felt oddly caught.
Sanji walked over slowly.
“You’re the umbrella thief,” Zoro said before thinking.
Sanji nearly dropped a bowl, which he then placed on the counter with a light force.
“I borrowed it! Soupe à l'oignon gratinée for table 24!” he shouted, a waiter boy approached him, moved fast put the bowl on his tray, and left for the designated table.
“You grabbed it.”
“You shared it!”
Zoro watched him closely. Sanji looked exactly the same as he remembered. But something about seeing him here, in his white chef jacket, under the warm restaurant light, Zoro’s chest thumped-just a little.
Sanji crossed his arms.
“You came here to argue?”
“I came to eat.”
“Sure you did.”
Zoro shrugged.
“Food smelled good.”
Sanji stared at him for a moment,
“…Have you ordered something?”
Zoro pointed at something on the menu, not sure how to pronounce it.
Sanji sighed, because what Zoro pointed at literally translated as ice lemon, and he turned back toward the kitchen.
“Alright, I’ll bring you something.”
...
Zoro watched him walk away. Two weeks ago, he hadn’t expected to see this guy again. But now, he was glad he came.
******
Zoro finished the last bite on his plate and leaned back slightly.
The food was good.
Better than good.
He stared at the empty plate for a moment, wondering if he should order another dish.
But before he could decide, another plate landed in front of him. Zoro blinked.
“…I didn’t order this.”
Sanji didn’t look at him while setting it down.
“You look like you haven’t eaten a real meal in weeks.”
“I ate yesterday.”
Sanji snorted. “That explains a lot.”
Zoro glanced down at the dish, a fried rice with chuck of octopus and shrimp. The plating was not exquisite, just some vegetable garnish set neatly at the side of the plate. But the smell was extravagant.
“For the umbrella” Sanji added quickly.
Zoro raised an eyebrow. Sanji finally looked at him.
“…Don’t make it weird.”
Zoro picked up his spoon and start to eat the food.
“You cook like this every day?”
Sanji paused.
“…Yeah.”
“This one’s even better” said Zoro casually.
Sanji clicked his tongue to hide a slight smile and walked back toward the kitchen like the conversation never happened.
...
Zeff leaned against the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed. He watched the man with green hair devour one of Sanji's signature dishes, then he watched he walked past him. He noticed the faint pink at the tips of his son’s ears.
He grunted quietly.
“…Hmph”
The old chef turned back to the kitchen.
-tbc-