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Carefully, slowly, with all the care the man could muster, Sanji lowered the last cherry into place, atop the parfait. And…
“Perfect.”
He smiled to himself in satisfaction and took a few moments to admire his handiwork. Not a single piece of fruit or dollop of yogurt out of place. Gingerly, he scooped the glass into his hand, even more cautiously, and headed towards the door. Upon kicking his way through, both desserts were held high. “Nami-swan!” he called out. The blond was already making a beeline for the navigator, taking no time in locating her.
Sanji barely made it a few steps, just a couple feet before all his hard work...ruined. He stared, breath caught, as strawberry yogurt dripped and trailed down the bare chest of a certain swordsman. His brow and eye twitched, and he barely heard the words muttered.
“The hell, watch where you’re goin’, dumbass!”
Sanji didn’t respond right away, he was still too busy watching as the pink treat splattered to the deck. “Me!?” he finally snapped. “You’re the damn klutz, always sauntering around like an oaf!” His hands raised to ruffle either side of his hair. “Do you know how long those took?” he asked, dropping his arms to his sides. “So much work…”
Zoro hummed lowly. “Just make another,” he replied, nonchalantly and took a step to walk around the blond. But, he had to pause in order to raise an arm and block a kick aimed at his head. “Hey!”
“You cause me to drop desserts that I slaved over, and all you have to say is ‘make another’?” He lowered his leg in order to kick with the other.
Sanji’s eyes narrowed when he caught the sight of the other’s sly grin as he cut his attention back. “You know,” Zoro said, one hand reaching for one of his swords, “I was just thinking it’s about time I get some more combat practice in.” There was barely any hesitation before he slashed out, forcing the blond to back-flip out of range. He could still feel the breeze from the blade, narrowly missing him. He didn’t give Zoro much of a chance to strike again. He was sure to go on the offence first. And, for the first few kicks, the swordsman was pushed back, too busy dodging.
However, after the third, the roles were swiftly switched when Zoro took out a second sword. Then, it was the blond moving from side to side, barely avoiding the bite of the metal. Watching the larger man’s movements, he was finally able to block one of the swords with the bottom of his shoe and managed to duck under the other.
He ground his teeth as he saw a few strands of hair drift in front of his face, severed. Placing one hand on the deck, the chef swung his other leg around. But Zoro was easily able to jump over it and landed behind Sanji. By the time the blond could look back, he already had his third sword out. This time, when the man charged at the cook, there was barely time to react. He took a step back, but he was afraid it was a second too slow on the reaction.
Sanji felt the sting of the blade as it sliced into his forearm. The pain didn’t register instantly, but the look of shock on the other’s face immediately reflected the events that unfolded. Slowly, the blond looked to the blade as a couple drops of crimson dripped, joining the puddle of pink. Then, to his arm, where more of the liquid blossomed.
“Zoro!” he heard Nami call out, voice teetering on anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”
The swordsman teeth grit together. “Are you serious? He’s the idiot that started i-” His sentence was quite literally kicked away when a foot connected with the side of his head, knocking him cleanly off his feet.
“The fuck…” he muttered, pushing himself up, hand rubbing his cheek where he could already feel a bruise forming. He looked up, greeted with the chef looking down on him, one hand clasped over the fresh wound. He could see blood seeping between his fingers and he bit his bottom lip. Zoro didn’t think he’d actually hit him...and even so, he didn’t think he’d actually cut deep enough for that amount of blood.
The swordsman staggered to his feet, sheathing his weapons and took a step towards Sanji.
The cook put up his stained hand. “Don’t,” he muttered. Then he looked to the mess around them. “Clean this up. After all, it’s your damn fault.” He turned and headed back towards the kitchen, muttering under his breath. Zoro didn’t quite catch it, but it sounded something along the lines of ‘fucking moss head’.
Sighing heavily, face set in a scowl, Zoro threw his head back. The mop was in the kitchen. “Dammit,” he said between grit teeth before sauntering after the other man. The moment he crossed the threshold, he announced, “Don’t worry, I’m just getting the mop.” He still glanced over though to see the blond rinsing his arm off over the sink, and he managed to get a good look at the cut. Even with a lot of the blood washed away, it still appeared pretty bad.
“Grab it and go then.”
“I am.”
“Well then, move faster,” Sanji shot back, voice raising slightly.
That’s when Zoro nearly lost it. Mop handle in hand, he thrust it back against the wall and sauntered over, placed one hand on the other man’s shoulder and forced him to spin around. “The hell is your problem? Don’t forget, you’re the one that picked the fight to begin with.” He paused and glanced to his arm again. “Now, let me have a look, will ya?” He went to reach for his wrist, but Sanji snatched it away. But, not before Zoro had the chance to see something that had his eyes widening.
“I’ve got it, alright?” Sanji blurted, a slight panic in his eye.
For a few seconds, Zoro was caught off guard. He knew what he saw: scars. And a lot of them. The man’s arm was nearly covered. He expected some on his hands from years of inexperienced cooking, but those were far too high, going in multiple directions.
“I told you, just clean the mess up outside…” His voice was a little softer, and he turned back around, easily getting himself out of the other’s grasp. Though, to be fair, Zoro didn’t try to stop him.
“R-Right.”
He reluctantly stepped back. There was a slight nagging deep down that urged him to stay, to ask questions, but his mind was buzzing too much to focus. He was too taken aback to focus properly. And, so, he just walked away, left Sanji to tend to himself. Though, it was likely for the better; he doubted his presence was exactly welcomed at the moment. Prying would do nothing but cause more problems.
Zoro snatched the mop back up, and cast another wary glance at Sanji on the way by. He was still hunched over the sink, and he wasn’t sure, but he thought he could spot a slight tremble in his shoulders.
Almost as if on autopilot, the swordsman made quick work of mopping everything up. He did so silently, eyes occasionally flicking back to the doors, but the blond never showed himself. Was it really taking him that damn long to clean and wrap a wound? The more he thought about it, though, the more a voice in the back of his head whispered the worst case scenarios to him. There was quite a lot of blood…
Finished with his task long ago, Zoro was merely standing there now, leaning to the side, watching and refusing to admit to himself that he was actually concerned. Still, a few more minutes passed by and his impatience was starting to get the better of him. He couldn’t wait any longer. Besides, he had to return the mop, that was all the excuse he needed to be in there. However, as soon as he took a step towards the door, it swung open, and out stepped the blond, once more his usual self.
“Nami-swan!” he called out, another parfait held gingerly in his hand.
Zoro instinctively looked to the man’s left arm. Sure enough, the jacket and shirt were sliced clean through, showing hints of white wrapping underneath. The blond didn’t even bother looking his way. It really was just like nothing had even happened. The swordsman scratched the back of his head. He really didn’t get the guy.
For the time being, he strolled to his usual spot and sat down. For a few minutes, he watched the cook go about his normal routine. If it weren’t for the obvious tattering of his sleeve, he’d think he’d imagined the whole thing. He stared for just a few minutes more before allowing his mind to drift and falling into a deep trance.
Zoro tried to concentrate on his thoughts and block the world around him out. However, every time he was close to that desired state, his mind was filled with blood, those scars- His eyes twitched and he was torn from his reverie. He was getting nowhere, he needed something else. Maybe some more training. He reached for a sword, only to find himself pausing right as his fingers touched the hilt. His hand fell back to his side with a sigh. Dammit, this was constantly going to nag at him, and he knew it. All those marks, the way they were angled, not at all constant. He had no idea what they were about, but they sure as hell weren’t there by accident.
And how uncomfortable Sanji was when he saw them…
That was it, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He knew exactly where the man was around this time. It was the middle of the day, so he was more than likely slaving away in the kitchen. With determination in his step, Zoro made his way there, telling himself he wasn’t leaving without some sort of explanation this time.
He thrust the door open, accidentally startling the other man in the process.
“Damn, ever learn how to open a door properly?” Sanji scoffed, never turning from the pot he was stirring. He just automatically knew who it was based on the weight of his steps. “Come to finally put the mop back?”
Zoro breathed deeply; he knew he forgot something. “Not exactly.” He could see the blond’s shoulders tense as he drew closer, and he half considered leaving again. But, his hands balled at his sides, and he refused to back down. Straightening up, he paused just behind the chef, who finally stopped his task. Slowly, carefully, the swordsman placed a hand on his shoulder and gently turned him around. It was more than a slight surprise when Sanji just went with it. His head was lowered though, golden locks covering his gaze.
Sanji never said a word, and Zoro had a feeling he already knew what this was about. As if to clarify those suspicions, the blond tugged at his sleeves, as if making sure they covered his arms completely. Then, after a few moments of quite unease, he lifted his attention to look the other in the eyes.
“Well?” he asked. “You gonna ask, or just stand there?”
Zoro winced slightly at the hint of sting in his tone, and he was again questioned if he was overstepping boundaries. But, at the same time, it was clear something was up, something was bothering him about all this. All this time, the whole time Sanji had been a part of this crew, not once was any of this mentioned.
Still, he was here now, and he made it this far. “T-Those scars...they’re not…?” he muttered, unsure how else he was supposed to ask.
Just as he expected, something snapped in the other. “What!?” Sanji blurted out, snatching himself away from the swordsman’s touch. “No, I didn’t...I wouldn’t, alright. It’s not what you think, and it’s honestly none of your damn business anyway.” He took a step back, his right hand gripped at his other arm as he started to turn back around. “Now, get the hell out of here, you’re in my way.”
The larger man stood there for a few seconds, taken off guard by the sudden shift in mood. Though, he had expected as much. With a deep breath, he gave an unseen nod and went to take his leave. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone.”
He should have known he shouldn’t have tried to get involved. He saw the backlash coming from a mile away, and yet, he still had to try and stick his nose in it. He barely knew the guy, what business did he have even trying to get involved. He closed his eyes and swore under his breath. Zoro just kept fucking things up one after another.
Song: Christina Perri - Arms
A couple days had come and gone, and not so much as a single mention of their previous encounters. From the looks of it, Sanji’s arm was healing fine. That or he just didn’t show any signs of discomfort. Either way, things were carried out as per usual. They crossed paths occasionally, one or both trying to pick a fight with the other, but nothing beyond that. It wasn’t until the third night when Zoro was passing by the shower that something caught his attention.
Was that sniffling?
It definitely was. And there was the frequent hitch in breathing. So either the blond was coming down with something, or… Zoro never said anything, but he stood outside the door, back against the wall with his eyes closed and head lowered. For the full amount of time Sanji was in there, the swordsman waited patiently outside. Which was actually quite a while longer than it normally took him.
He kept his position when the water finally stopped and he heard a deep, shuddering breath before the door slowly opened. All Zoro did was glance over as an arm reached out, plucking the towel off its hook. And, again, he saw all those marks decorating light skin. And then there was the wound he caused, one that was sure to add another to the mix. Just as Sanji’s hand retracted, his eyes widened when he finally realized why all those scars were so uneven, jutting in various directions.
They weren’t random marks...it looked like a word.
Too caught up with this new discovery, he was barely aware of the cook finally stepping out, towel tied tightly around his waist. As if not surprised at all to see the man leaning there, the cook paused just next to him.
“How long were you standing there?”
Zoro bit his lip and forced himself to look away. “Long enough.” He glanced the scars again, trying to subtly make out what they said. But he could only make out a couple: an ‘F’ and an ‘L’.
He glanced over as Sanji lifted his arm and scanned the scars before the blond quietly muttered, “It says ‘Failure’, if that’s what you’re wanting to know. And, no, I did not do these myself. If you have any other questions, then keep them to you-”
His breath caught, a strong hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back. Zoro had the cook’s arm held in front of his face as he took a good look for himself. And sure enough, that’s exactly what it said. “Who did this?” he asked, voice deceptively calm.
Sanji froze, enough for the other to feel his muscles tense. For the first time, it didn’t appear as though he actually wanted to walk away. He could have easily yanked his arm back and left, but he didn’t. He merely watched as the swordsman held his arm in place. After a moment, he finally met the blond’s stare, waiting for an answer.
The moment Zoro loosened his grip, Sanji slowly brought his arm to his chest. Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself to sit on the floor and was shortly joined.
“It was,” Sanji uncomfortably cleared his throat, “It was my brothers…” he finally replied.
The other opened and closed his mouth a few times to respond, but couldn’t find the right words. “Oh,” he finally muttered. “I didn’t know you had siblings.”
Sanji laughed dryly. “Well, I don’t exactly go around bragging about them. I guess you could say I’m somewhat disowned.” He glanced over just in time to see a flash of what looked to be sympathy. “Don’t worry, trust me, it’s for the best. Don’t want to be associated with those sons of bitches anyway. I chose to leave.” He took a deep breath. Why the hell was he saying all this? Once he started, it was like he couldn’t stop himself. “Every day, it was the same shit. As if I needed to be reminded how damn superior they all were.” He scoffed as he leaned his head back until it touched the wall. Slowly, he lifted his other arm, and on that one, Zoro saw just as many scars...deliberate ones.
“They did all of those, then?”
Sanji just nodded, lowering it back to his side. “Every damn one,” he breathed out. His voice was so steady as he spoke, calm. “Like I said, not a day went by where I wasn’t reminded in one way or another how weak I was.”
Zoro watched him with each word he relayed. And then, there it was, a subtle, yet definite, glisten that he almost missed. Despite that, his voice never wavered.
“But, that was years ago, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
The swordsman remained quiet. He didn’t know what to say in this situation, or what was appropriate to say in this sort of moment. So, he did the only thing he could think of. Again, he had no idea what came over him, or what beckoned him to do this, but he grabbed Sanji’s hand and held it tightly as he turned it over in order to get a better look at the wound.
“Wait here,” he said.
The blond did as he was asked, and didn’t budge from the spot as the other left him be. The swordsman returned about a minute later, a few medical supplies in hand. “Sorry, but I think I need to take another look. You did a piss poor job with those stitches...and the wrapping. Don’t think I didn’t notice your handiwork.
Sanji stayed silent as Zoro got to work, not even flinching when his arm was poked and prodded. He was slightly aware that he was being rather generous with the bandages, going as far as to partially cover the scars. When he was done, he made himself comfortable next to the cook. And, without any sort of warning, he wrapped an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders and pulled him close. His other hand grasped at his hand again.
The cook was completely taken aback; his breath caught in the base of his throat, nearly causing him to choke on it.
“Doesn’t matter anymore ‘my ass’,” he muttered, breath rustling golden strands. “You don’t have to pretend.” He gripped the man’s hand more securely. “If you need to talk about it, and let it out, then go for it.”
The other took a deep breath and slowly released it. Zoro felt his form finally relax against him. “Thanks, but I don’t really think I want to right now. ...I’m fine with just this for now. If you don’t mind.”
Zoro shook his head. “Not at all.” His hand resting on the blond’s shoulder rubbed up and down, and his other thumb made small circles on the back of his hand. “Take all the time you need, I’m not in any rush. And when you’re ready to talk about it, then I’ll be here.” He felt a sigh of relief, and he wondered just how long it had been since the man actually had a moment like this. If he’s ever even had someone to confide in, or just a shoulder to lean or cry on. From the sounds of it, he’s gone quite some time just depending on himself.
The swordsman glanced down at their hands, at the scars on the blond’s hand. All were small, insignificant, basically his battle scars. Then, the higher up his eyes traveled, the worse they got, more defined and violent. Just what exactly did they do to him? Seeing all those marks - reminders - just now made him realize why Sanji’s reaction was the way it was when he accidentally cut the guy, and he just wanted to slap himself more for not noticing sooner.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a soft, almost inaudible, “Thank you.”
The man never felt his face heat up so fast in his life. He nervously cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, don’t mention it. Just, remember, you’re not alone anymore. I don’t know what all you had to go through, and I’m not going to force you to tell me. But, know I’m here when you’re read-”
Zoro blinked, confused, as his words were stolen straight from his mouth; Sanji’s lips pressed against his and took away whatever else he was thinking of.
“Just stop talking now…” the blond muttered as he pulled away.
The swordsman couldn’t say anything else even if he wanted to, not with the way his heart was pounding and the way his entire body was lit aflame from the inside. His mouth went dry as Sanji pressed his head back into his chest.