Work Text:
The Merry bobbed gently, her hull singing softly with creaks and groans as she slid through the calm seas. Zoro leaned back against the salt-stained planks of the crow’s nest and closed his eyes to better catch the night noises. The pulleys clicked and rattled against the yardarm. The network of rigging stretched and the canvas sail rustled. He heard the squeak and click of the gunport on the starboard side closing and knew that Usopp was turning in for the night.
As he settled in, the mast murmured beneath him. A light, steady vibration—the familiar tap of dress shoes on the rungs—could be felt making its way up. The unmistakable scent of steamed rice and soy-cured seaweed drifted from below and mingled with the briny night air.
Zoro’s mouth filled with saliva. How the cook knew what the food from his island tasted like he’d never figured out. He’d not told him, and Sanji had never asked. He was watchful, though, in the same way Zoro was watchful when he fought. The sea-blue eyes tracked reactions and catalogued eating habits like strokes of the sword. Before long on their journey, Zoro found the taste of home creeping into the dishes the cook made particularly for him. The hours of the night watch became something of a daydream on those evenings when Sanji made onigiri.
His stomach gurgled in anticipation. When the crown of golden hair appeared through the trapdoor and he got a glimpse of pale lashes against an even paler cheek, something else kindled in his gut.
Sanji set a tray of plump rice balls dusted with roasted sesame seeds and seaweed carefully by the trapdoor and pulled himself through. From his inner suit pocket, he produced a small bottle of the sake they’d picked up on their recent island stop.
He leaned forward and passed it into Zoro’s outstretched hand. “That’s the last of it,” he warned. “Can’t imagine we’ll find another one any time soon, but I figured it’d go best with this kind of dish, so...” Then he raised a hand in farewell and turned to go.
Zoro snagged the back of his collar and pulled. The cook made an inelegant sound as he tipped back onto Zoro’s crossed legs.
“Stay and have a drink,” he said.
Sanji scowled up at him. “I’ve got dough resting, and last time you invited me for a drink I couldn’t sit for a day.”
Zoro grinned down at him.
“And you mauled me.”
Zoro’s smile grew even wider.
Sanji sighed. “Seriously, do you ever think of anything else?”
Despite his grumbling, Sanji’s head still rested on his legs. Zoro took the small saucer off the tray and filled it. He pushed it to one side meaningfully and took a sip directly from the bottle. The cool liquid slid down his throat sweeter than any water, any wine.
“What else is there?” he said. What could be better? it meant. Zoro held up the bottle, indicated the food with his chin, and swept an arm up at the star-studded sky. It was a sable-black, cloudless evening, and the gentle breeze from the East was very inviting. He leaned down and caught the stubborn lips in a leisurely, almost lazy kiss laced with the clear mellow notes of the alcohol.
The other man didn’t kick him, so he pressed harder, tongue darting in and looking for a partner. He made a pleased sound when Sanji responded more enthusiastically than his demeanor would have suggested. Ever coy with his interest, the cook. At least until Zoro reminded him how good it felt, anyway.
Zoro pressed his advantage and began unbuttoning the cream-colored shirt. He slipped a hand underneath the stiff material but only got to run his palm partway down the flat stomach before Sanji seized his wrist.
“I told you I have dough waiting,” he murmured into Zoro’s mouth.
“Let it wait, then.”
He felt rather than saw the roll of the eyes.
Sanji let go of his wrist and sat up. He turned and the moonlight caught in his hair and washed the pale expanse of chest showing through the unbuttoned shirt in pearl and white fire. He seemed an ethereal thing until he spoke.
“Listen, shithead. I have maybe 20 minutes.”
Zoro grinned. “It’s enough for me, but are you sure it’ll be enough for you?”
“I should just leave you up here…”
Zoro took another drink from the bottle, unconcerned. The heat in the other man’s eyes was all he needed to know the threat was baseless. He watched as Sanji picked up the saucer and drank it, eyes devouring the slight movements of the muscles in the long neck as he swallowed. The cook looked at the empty saucer thoughtfully.
“It tastes like—”
Zoro grabbed a fistful of collar and pulled him into another kiss—a forceful, harsh meeting of mouths and chins. He sucked Sanji’s lower lip between his own and sank his teeth into it. The startled snarl he got in response made his blood sing.
He pushed him down, pressing the other man between the floor and curved planks of the low wall. The cook was at a disadvantage in such a tight space, and Zoro gleefully used it to bully him into a position he liked. The leaner frame lay splayed out beneath him, held in place by his heavier bulk and at his mercy.
Zoro first attacked the throat he’d been admiring earlier with reckless abandon. He followed the drumming pulse eagerly with his mouth, tongue tracing the taut lines and drawing red marks in its wake. His hands returned to their exploration of the marbled flesh beneath the shirt. Unable to undo the buttons fast enough, he simply pulled the entire thing out of the black slacks and shucked it up. Sanji squirmed beneath him as he ran his hands up and over the ribs. He grinned and brushed a nipple with his thumb, earning him a groan and an arch of the back that pressed their bodies together. Zoro slipped an arm under the other man and held him there as he nosed into the opening of the shirt.
It was a trick, though. The cook’s little bridge gave him room to maneuver, and the long black legs snapped around his waist lightning quick. With a powerful twist of the hips, Zoro found himself flipped viciously onto his back. Sanji had done something similar in the cave, but he’d forgotten in the heat of the moment, much to his chagrin.
The floor of the crow’s nest shook with the impact, and the cook’s flushed, triumphant face leaned over him from his new vantage point on top.
“When are you going to learn, muscles-for-brains? ‘You won’t win this one.’”
“So you keep telling me…”
Unlike at the cave, though, this time when he rolled his hips up, Sanji rocked into it, riding him with a kind of languid grace. Zoro rumbled low in his throat and reached up to grip him by the hips. He moved again and Sanji hummed consideringly.
“Why do you always do this when I’m busy?”
“You’re always busy.”
“Someone has to work on this ship.”
“I work.”
Sanji snorted.
Zoro ran his hands down the firm thighs admiringly. “Whatever. Did you come up here to get fucked or what?”
The cook’s glare was scathing, but his cheeks colored bright red. Zoro took it for assent and undid the rest of the shirt buttons then the studded leather belt before nudging the other man off and reaching for his sword cleaning kit. Sanji watched as he pulled out the choji oil. His lips quirked up in a wry half-smile, but the visible blue eye was dilated and intent. He shed his pants and shoes willingly enough, at least.
Zoro caught his wrist as he stood to work his foot free from the slacks. He pulled him forward and trailed hot kisses down the firm stomach, pausing to nip at the sharp hipbones. Sanji sighed and leaned into the attention with an eagerness that did all kinds of terrible things to Zoro’s concentration. When the long fingers wove into the green hair, it was all he could do to remember how to open the damn bottle.
One hand slick with oil, he dragged the boxers down and off and pulled the other man roughly onto his lap. Sanji buried his face in the tanned neck as one hand found his cock and the other began to carefully work him open. His own cock twitched in appreciation as the cook palmed him through his pants while they moved. Zoro pulled him closer, almost possessively, and slid another finger inside.
Sanji shivered, hips hitching and one arm coming up and around the burly shoulders to brace himself. “Give me some room to work,” he complained, his own hand half trapped between their bodies. His voice came out ragged and breathless which only made Zoro hold him tighter.
“N’a minute,” Zoro murmured, too taken with the minute ways Sanji moved against him to care about his own arousal at the moment. He closed his eyes and savored the small, needful sounds slipping between clenched teeth with every stroke, every glide of fingers. He breathed deeply and held the scent of ocean and smoke underneath the fragrant cloves of the oil as long as he could. It was the flash of the smile he gave when Zoro licked every errant grain of rice off his fingers at dinner time. It was the stinging retort of dress shoes against the sheath of his sword when they fought. It was the way he said his name like a curse and a benediction when he came. Zoro crushed him to his chest and hid these thoughts in a kiss that left them both panting.
Sanji suddenly rose up on his knees, thighs trembling as Zoro brushed a finger against that spot inside. The abbreviated gasp the cook made riveted him to the core. He did it again, fingers curling, desperate to hear the sound one more time. Sanji gratified him with an airy swear, and he bore the other man down, need suddenly overriding anything else.
Without preamble or wasted time, Zoro undid his own pants and urged one of the steel-like thighs back. Carefully, but with an urgency barely held at bay, Zoro eased himself in and began to move.
Heat and pressure, sweat and the delicious feel of those long legs wrapped around his waist. Sanji’s fingers dragged at his shoulders while he groaned into a collarbone. He felt the other man’s hips snapping up to meet him with each thrust, driving him deeper, urging him on. An animal-like whine built between them, and he thought it might be him.
He hit the spot again—he was beginning to get a sense of Sanji in this way—and pursued it relentlessly. If the cook wanted to prioritize bread, he’d oblige him…right into the rough planks.
Zoro curved an arm under him and lifted, nearly bending Sanji in half. He pushed forward, using the punishing angle to grind himself in deeper and harder. Thrust after thrust into that greedy, molten heat until Sanji’s hands were fisted in his own hair, blue eye squeezed shut and mouth hanging open.
“…Fuck…Fuck…Fuck, Zoroyousonofa—”
He grinned and hit the spot again with force. One of Sanji’s legs kicked out reflexively and punched right through the wall of the crow’s nest. A black shoe tumbled end over end through the ragged hole. There was a muted clunk as it hit the ground. Zoro laughed and bent low to snatch a bite of lip.
“I’m going to ki—”
Zoro leaned back and wrapped a hand around Sanji’s arousal, effectively cutting him off. The blue eye fluttered shut as he began to stroke. He held his position without moving for a minute, then slowly began to build up speed once again. Sanji turned his head and buried his face in the crook of an arm as the torturous pace increased by increments.
A door clicked from somewhere below.
Zoro’s ears tracked the light tap of soled shoes on the deck. The footsteps made their way to the portside railing and there was a clatter of metal and wood. He continued his firm strokes and measured thrusts while he listened curiously.
Sanji froze beneath him as he finally noticed. His eye snapped open, and the look he gave Zoro would have been comical if not for the way it shifted into a dangerous glare as Zoro rocked into him again.
You idiot! that look said.
Zoro’s smile grew sharp. He adjusted his position and snapped into him again, hand matching the action. The cock in his hand twitched and tight heat squeezed around him.
Sanji’s hand flew to his mouth to muffle the stuttered groan he couldn’t quite supress. Zoro held his own rumbling desire behind his teeth, too engrossed by the rosy flush spreading across the pale chest with every roll of the hips and the dark, dazed look in the blue eye to stop.
“Huh?” Usopp’s voice said from below. “What’s this doing out here…?”
Sanji’s eye was pleading now, though whether it was for him to stop or for his release, Zoro couldn’t quite tell. He was excruciatingly hard, and the tip was slick and wet. When he ran his thumb over the top, Sanji threw his head back, mouth issuing a string of whispered curses. Zoro decided therefore to interpret it as the latter, and began moving in earnest, though with more care so as to make a minimum of noise. If they were discovered, it would be because the cook wasn’t biting his lip hard enough. He personally didn’t care if people knew, but the risk of being caught thrilled in his veins. And if that wasn’t enough to put him over the edge, the struggle on the other man’s face would have made it impossible to stop anyway. He wanted nothing more right then but to wreck the cook and pull his name from those tightly pressed lips.
He spread the taut thighs wider and braced his arms. Sanji’s hands scrabbled at the wood, trying to hold himself in place as Zoro pounded into him. His forehead was dripping and the burn in his shoulders became a fire, but he didn’t care.
The footsteps began to retreat to the belowdecks area.
Zoro pressed his damp forehead into the stiff collar of the cream-colored shirt and moved his hands to grip the sharp hips. The cook was gasping and writhing now as he ground deeper. A fluttering hand tangled in his hair while the other slid between them, knuckles scraping against Zoro’s stomach as Sanji took himself in hand.
The faint creak of the door hinges mingled with the almost inaudible rising pitch reverberating through the cook’s chest and traveling up his throat.
Zoro’s ears were ringing. He gave up any illusion of control and thrust into the other man roughly, desperately, brainlessly as he reached his peak. Sanji suddenly went rigid beneath him, teeth clacking and hand pulling painfully at his hair. Zoro felt the wet heat clench all around him and then he was coming as dampness spread between them.
The door clicked shut.
They lay there trembling and breathless for some time. Sanji’s chest gradually relaxed into an even rise and fall, one leg lolling against Zoro’s thigh and the other splayed bonelessly on the floor. He dragged a shaking arm across his face to push hair soaked a dark gold by sweat out of his eyes. Zoro braved a glance and rolled off quickly under that hazy—yet baleful—gaze.
The cook sat up with a groan. “I need…” he said.
Zoro reached over and snagged the tea towel from the food tray. He tossed it over to Sanji while he peeled off his tank top and used it to wipe up the mess on his own stomach and groin. Shirtless but dry, his redid his pants and sat cross-legged against the rounded wall. The night breeze felt cool and soothing across his feverishly hot skin.
He heard shuffling and the whisper of material as Sanji stood to redress. There were a few bitten off curses as well as tender areas were disturbed. Zoro was about to stretch an arm out and grab the alcohol when something faster than the eye could track blurred past his face. He blinked as pain suddenly flared in his cheek and nose. Blood started to drip from one nostril. He turned to look at the long, black leg ending in a socked foot. It rested casually against the gently vibrating wood just by his head.
He pinched the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. The cook hadn’t kicked him, just kicked. The mere speed and force of the strike was enough to impact anything near it, though. It spoke volumes about his ire.
Sanji glared daggers at him from above.
“Hey, asshole. Are you trying to get us caught?”
Zoro flicked the blood away. “You said you were in a hurry.”
The blue eye narrowed. “I should send you down after my shoe with my foot.”
“Drink?” Zoro ventured, gathering up the bottle and saucer.
Sanji stared down at him, still radiating fury.
He grinned. “We still have some time left.”
The cook rubbed a hand over his face. “I hate you.”
“I know.”
He sat down gingerly and accepted the saucer.
***
The next morning found Sanji prodding his freshly baked bread with a resigned air. Thanks to the previous night’s activities, the dough had rested past the point he normally set for bread and the flavor had changed slightly. It wasn’t, however, bad. It was good, in fact. No doubt the swordsman would think it thanks to him. He sighed and covered the loaves with towels to wait for the breakfast rush. It was early yet, and he still had plenty of prep to do.
The door to the galley opened and Usopp came in with a yawn. The sniper tended to be Sanji’s only regular company before breakfast as anyone on the night watch generally headed straight to bed, and they had a comfortable routine at this point. He pushed the pre-prepared mug of sweetened coffee towards the other man and noted absently that he had his repair kit in hand. And Sanji’s shoe.
“Ah,” Usopp said, following his line of sight. “I found this on the deck last night. Sorry, I meant to bring it to the bunks, but I got side-tracked in the storage room and left it with my tools.”
Sanji stared at it.
“Speaking of,” the sniper said, “Could you guys, like, try to do less damage when you’re, you know...” He patted his toolkit. “I have to go and patch the crow’s nest now. I mean, it’s better than when you two used to fight all the time, but still. And—"
“When we’re…what?” Sanji interjected hoarsely.
Usopp blinked and looked up. He scratched his cheek nervously under the somewhat wild blue gaze. “When you and Zoro are…um…you know…doing stuff?”
Sanji paled.
“Uh, you okay?”
Shaking slightly, the cook asked, “Why… Why would you think that…?”
The galley door banged open, and Zoro strode in. He was bare-chested still and absolutely disheveled looking. Here and there faint marks were visible along his neck and one that was not so faint was on a tanned shoulder. He was holding the empty onigiri tray and balled-up tea towel and shirt.
He stopped when he noticed them staring. “What?” he yawned, jaw cracking.
Usopp looked at him, then at Sanji. “Uh…”
Sanji stared sightlessly ahead. “Who else knows…?”
“Uh…”
“Does everybody know…?”
“Uh…”
Zoro watched the exchange in some confusion.
Sanji slowly untied his apron and took it off. He folded it neatly on the counter. Mutely, he walked out of the galley as Usopp and Zoro watched in silence. When the door clicked softly shut behind him, Zoro turned to Usopp.
“What’s his problem?”
“Um, you, I think. Or, I guess, me knowing about you? Maybe?”
“Knowing what?”
Usopp gave Zoro a look. Zoro raised an eyebrow. Usopp sighed. “You guys are seriously the worst. I know you two are sleeping together or whatever, all right? Sheesh.” He rolled his eyes. “Why do I have to say this stuff out loud?” he added under his breath.
Zoro shrugged and then looked at him curiously. “Wait, how did you know?”
Usopp gaped at him. “YOU SAID IT YOURSELF WHEN YOU WERE TALKING TO NAMI THE OTHER DAY!!”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Oh, yeah,” the sniper repeated sourly. He coughed. “Anyway, I don’t think Sanji’s very happy about it.”
“Huh.”
Zoro went to the sink and deposited the tray. He looked down at the neatly folded apron.
“So, you gonna go after him or what?”
The swordsman frowned. “Is it that big a deal?”
Usopp folded his arms. “For him? Uh, probably, yeah. I mean, he’s all about the ladies, right? Of course he’d be a bit upset to be found shacking up with the world’s greatest swordsMAN.”
“It’s just…sex.” The words didn’t fit quite right in his mouth, though.
“I think you missed the Sanji part and the ladies part.” Usopp picked up his coffee and looked at him over the rim. “Seriously, how did you get him, of all people, to go for it?”
Zoro looked back at the folded apron. “I guess…I’m an exception.”
“Well, if you wanna stay an exception, I think you should probably go af—"
A huge shudder rocked the boat. Usopp pitched forward, coffee flying from his hands. Dishes rattled and something fell and smashed in the pantry. Zoro caught himself on a wall, then took off running through the door. He heard the high-pitched keen of cannon shot almost immediately.
Water erupted on the port side as he frantically scanned the horizon. There had been no ships within sight anywhere when he’d come down from the crow’s nest, but now a marine vessel was steaming forward, en route. The shots seemed to be coming from the thin scrap of rocky island they were skirting, though. It looked like nothing but barren rock and had seemed uninhabited. Trust the marines to have a hidden base there to catch pirates unawares.
He growled and drew Yubashiri as another barrage thundered from the concealed artillery on the island. Just as he was gearing up to tackle the two that seemed like they might land on target, a lean figure in trademark black and blue leapt from the yardarm of the main mast and sent them both flying off course with a vicious rotating kick. The vehemence behind it surprised him. He frowned as Sanji summersaulted gracefully back from the impact and landed on the forecastle.
Nami burst through the belowdecks door dragging a yawning Luffy behind her. She took a long look at the marine ship gunning for them and the island on the port side. She narrowed her eyes as the concealed cannons belched smoke and fire again.
“Chopper!” she called. “Hard to starboard!!”
The little reindeer zipped out from behind her and morphed into his human form as he dashed up the stairs to the galley. Nami began issuing orders, arranging the Straw Hats around the ship to lower and raise the sails at need and to protect it from the cannon fire. The Merry flew over the water under her direction, and they quickly outpaced the range of the island’s guns, but the marine ship was a newer model of frigate, sailing with the wind, and on an intercept course. She gave them all the news and had Sanji and Usopp draw the sail to avoid as much damage as possible for the impending clash. Within minutes of securing it, the frigate was on them.
Zoro wiped the sweat out of his eyes and whacked Luffy with the flat of his sword again. Usually, their captain was delighted for a fight, but he was not so enthusiastic before breakfast, it seemed. Zoro had to keep slapping him awake as marines tried again and again to board them. He, too, was annoyed at having to fight before he’d even had a proper moment in his bunk. He’d lost a bit of napping time fooling around with the cook as it was. Not that he regretted that. As he sleepily swatted another wave of uniformed men off the aft deck, he looked around for the blond head in the melee.
His eyes found him in the thick of the fighting by the mast. Nami had been right to set Usopp and the cook to guarding it. The marines were very deliberately targeting it in an attempt to cripple the Merry’s chances of escape. He wondered if word had gotten out that the Straw Hats were slippery prey on the sea or if it was standard practice. Either way, it looked like they had their hands full. He caught the cook’s eye over the mob, but the other man quickly looked away. His shoulders were stiff as he pushed the blond hair off his forehead and kicked a marine into orbit.
Zoro huffed. Did it matter if the rest of the crew knew? He thought about his own words in the galley. It was just sex. An outlet. Mutual fun. An arrangement. An arrangement he really, really liked and wanted to continue, but still just… He glanced over again and saw a tall marine try to spear the cook unawares while he kicked another off the mast. His stomach felt leaden even when Usopp downed the opportunistic bastard. Yubashiri’s hilt creaked in his grip.
“Zoro, move it!” Nami shouted at him from the galley level. “The cannons, the cannons!” she said, gesturing vigorously at the marine vessel. The frigate had tacked its sails and was slowly turning its broadside towards them. The gunports were open and ready.
He grabbed Luffy by the collar and threw their dozy captain onto the enemy ship then leapt over. Together they started taking out the mounted weaponry and doing as much damage as possible. As he carved his way through iron and wood, his thoughts stubbornly returned to the cook.
The good times were good. That was true. He wanted that, wanted more of it. And if he was honest, it wasn’t just the sex that was nice. But, he couldn’t put things back in the box. Maybe he’d messed up by taking it too lightly, but what could he do now? No one cared about who slept with who except the cook. No one overthought this shit except him.
Zoro shook his head and absentmindedly cut down the frigate’s mizzenmast. He blinked as it crashed to the deck and tumbled part way into the sea. He’d meant to just blow away a few grunts. Those marines unlucky enough to be nearby were scattered like pins here and there on the deck. The bonesetter on the ship was going to have a day of it, he thought with a clinical eye.
He turned his attention to an officer wielding two interesting-looking curved knives with notches worked into the hafts.
At any rate, he didn’t need to overthink things. The damn cook was definitely rubbing off on him, but it didn’t have to be complicated. He’d just tell him…
Zoro’s ears pricked. Shouting from the Merry suddenly rose over the crash and rattle of battle on the frigate. He looked back over his shoulder and saw smoke billowing from the little caravel.
Nami was yelling up at the crow’s nest where Usopp batted frantically at a fire on the port side of the yardarm. It seemed the marines had given up trying to topple the mast and had mostly retreated under the combined efforts of Chopper and Robin, but gunfire and flaming shots were being lobbed from the frigate now in a last-ditch attempt to sink the ship. Drowning was the easiest way to deal with Devil Fruit users, after all.
Zoro growled and looked up to see where the shots were coming from. Unfortunately, that seemed to be everywhere. He reluctantly turned away from the officer and focused on the mainmast where he could see a large number of rifle and bowmen. Luffy also abandoned his fight with what looked to be the ship’s commander and swung through the rigging lines like a mad monkey, bowling marines off in droves. The Straw Hats generally didn’t like to completely leave even enemies at the mercy of the sea, but if the marines wanted to up the stakes, they’d find themselves swimming back to their base.
A blazing arrow caught in the starboard side of the main sail and the canvas started to smoke. Nami called out the danger, and Sanji swarmed up the rigging and ran across the yardarm. He laid on the great wooden post and stretched for the arrow. Shots cracked from the gunner perches on the frigate, showering the mainsail and crow’s nest with hot lead. Usopp ducked down into the nest and Sanji flattened himself as much as possible, but Zoro saw the lean form twitch as two bloody furrows appeared in the blue shirt. As soon as the barrage finished, the cook pulled himself back into position and reached down again for the arrow. He yanked it out and tossed it into the sea below as another volley tore through the mainsail. The blond head snapped back, and time turned to ashes as Zoro saw a thin spray of red paint the canvas.
The lean form slipped off the yardarm and fell. Sanji hit the rigging and his legs became tangled in the criss-crossing ropes. He hung there suspended, very still, and very exposed.
Zoro couldn’t move. He was vaguely aware of Luffy shouting something and a distant pain in his back, but nothing existed save the pounding of his own heart. His vision seemed to narrow to a pinpoint on the limp body dangling over the deck.
Gravity pulled at her prize and the legs slipped free of the rope. Zoro watched dry-mouthed as Sanji dropped like a stone. Just a few meters from the deck, the body jerked to a stop and swayed, held in place by a string of Robin’s interlocking limbs. Chopper cleared the space below, and she released him into the doctor’s waiting arms. Zoro thought he saw one of the long-fingered hands twitch as he was borne away belowdecks. He turned back to the frigate and its crew.
The hardened marines who were still on their feet had gathered on the main deck. Some were grouped around the downed form of the officer he’d been squaring off with before. The mark of Luffy’s fist was imprinted deeply into the man’s face. Zoro belatedly realized he had one of the officer's knives stuck in his back, tip caught in the bone of a shoulder blade. He pulled it free and threw it to the blood and smoke-stained planks. The marines looked on silently, frozen by whatever they saw in his face.
Luffy dropped down beside him. His expression was uncharacteristically serious. He glanced back over his shoulder at the Merry, then at Zoro. He patted the swordsman’s shoulder, and without a word, he jumped back over to the caravel. Zoro undid the bandana from his arm and put it on. He unsheathed Wado.
***
Something was digging into his ribs. He shifted on the hard stool, but it only created a new annoyance. His neck felt worse than his back at this point. Resigned to the reality of the cramped space that served as the Merry’s infirmary, Zoro opened his eyes and stretched. He ground his teeth as a stitch popped. Chopper was going to give him hell later.
He snuck a glance at the cot. The cook’s bandaged back still faced him and the steady movement of the chest remained the same. Still asleep, then. Chopper had assured them that he’d be fine, but as tough as they all were, misses that near couldn’t be shaken so easily. Zoro settled back against the wall and stared at his boots.
“Why are you here, mosshead?”
Zoro nearly slid off the stool.
When he didn’t answer, the cook rolled over and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He didn’t complain, but Zoro noted the tightness at the corners of the eyes and the strained set of the mouth. He’d seen the other man put through walls and shrug off blows that would kill others, but that was head injuries for you.
In his mind’s eye he saw the thin red spray as it hit the rough canvas of the sail. Even at a distance it had been so very bright.
Sanji slowly raised an arm and felt at the bandages circling his head.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said softly. “I’m not dead.”
Zoro had to consciously uncurl his fists. “You look like hell,” he said gruffly.
The other man regarded him wearily. The deep blue eye held no quarter. “Why are you here, Zoro?”
The naked uncertainty in the question caught him off guard. Something in his stomach felt cold and edgeless, like a river stone tumbling end over end in a stream.
It was just an arrangement. Red across canvas, wet and dripping.
“You got shot,” he said, trying to buy time.
The blue eye held his.
Zoro looked at his hands. “I thought you were dead.”
He got a faint smile for that. “Would you miss me, mosshead?”
“Yes.”
Sanji’s lips parted in shock at the unexpected frankness.
Zoro leaned over and grabbed a fistful of the bandages. The cook was still staring at him in astonishment as his fingers tangled in the soft cotton. He pulled the other man forward and pressed his forehead into Sanji’s shoulder.
“Yes,” he said again.
Sanji’s arms came up in surprise. They stayed there, raised and stiff as if it were a robbery and Zoro some kind of touchy-feely gunman. When he realized the swordsman wasn’t going to move or do anything else, they slowly relaxed to his sides.
“What…” he said. He swallowed and tried again. “What is this…?” What are we?
Zoro felt the stillness of a held breath in the lean chest. He heard the hesitation, the confusion, and the echo of dismay that had been there in the galley earlier. The strains of pre-emptive detachment in the other man’s voice scared him. He would run, this cook, if Zoro let him.
“It’s…” He caught himself. It wasn’t what it had started as and hadn’t been for some time. His grip on the bandages tightened and he pulled Sanji closer. “It’s whatever you’ll give me. Whatever I can have of you. It’s whatever you want it to be.”
Sanji was silent, but he didn’t push him away. Forehead pressed against the warm muscles, a steady heartbeat thrumming through his skin and the gentle rise and fall of breath in his ear, Zoro was happy to just stay there as long as he’d let him.
Not the End