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Sanji wakes up just as the sun is rising, as is his habit. His joints and bones creak as he stretches after his long slumber, only to find a warm weight pinning him to the mattress.
It’s Zoro of course, draped over him like a blanket as he snores right into Sanji’s ear.
He should be used to it after forty years of marriage, after much longer of waking up next to the man, but even after all that time he can’t help the soft feeling of awe that comes over him seeing Zoro so relaxed and vulnerable in his arms during these early morning hours.
Still, he’s awake now, and he’s got things to do.
“C’mon, Marimo,” he says softly as he shoves lightly at Zoro’s bare shoulder, “I gotta get up.”
Zoro lets out a high pitch whine, and instead of letting go so Sanji can go about his morning, he holds him even tighter, shifting his head down so he’s laying on his chest instead.
“C’mon,” Sanji sighs, exasperated, “We do this every morning, you know the drill.”
“You sure are a cranky old man,” Zoro murmurs as he nuzzles against his chest hair.
“Takes one to know one,” Sanji chuckles as he strokes his husband’s hair, “But seriously, it’s time for me to get up.”
“You’re retired now,” he reminds him as his arm wraps around his waist, trapping him in the bed completely, “Stay with me a while.”
“Semi-retired,” he reminds him. It’s true that he has been giving his sous chef and the rest of his staff more and more responsibilities of late, taking a back seat to running the restaurant and freeing up more time for himself. But he’ll never give up the title of head chef at Baratie All Blue. At least not willingly.
Zoro hums as he settles further into his chest, almost falling back asleep.
Sanji knocks their knees together, “No, c’mon, up. You want breakfast don’t you?”
“I’d rather just stay here with you.”
His heart melts at that, and he leans down to kiss the top of his head.
“No one skips a meal here,” he says softly, running his fingers up and down Zoro’s unscarred back, “not even the sentient plant life.”
“Just have one of your minions bring it up here,” Zoro shifts his head, the light scruff on his chin scratching against his chest as he cracks his eye open, “Isn’t that why you have them? To do things for you?”
“They’re called staff,” he says, smacking him lightly, “And I am perfectly capable of making breakfast for us myself.”
“Well, yeah, obviously,” Zoro scoffs, “But just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.”
“I want to,” he insists.
“But I want you here,” he groans, his arms wrapping around him completely, his fingers playing along the old scar on his lower back, “Now that you’re retired-”
“Semi-retired.”
“Working less,” he reluctantly concedes, “You can do all the things you couldn’t do before, like lay in bed for a late morning with your husband.”
Sanji’s hand pauses where he’s rubbing the back of Zoro’s neck to think about it.
When they were young and traveling the world with their friends, Sanji’s days started even earlier than this. He’d wake up at the asscrack of dawn and have to drag himself out of Zoro’s warm embrace to go make breakfast for his insatiable crew. He would always glance back at Zoro while he was getting ready, sleeping so peacefully on the bed, and yearn to be back there, surrounded by his warmth and his love, relaxed and content.
But he’d had a job to do, so instead he’d pull himself away and continue on with his morning.
Now though he has a staff. They can handle making breakfast for everyone and all the morning prep the sea restaurant needs. Sanji hand picked them himself after all, and after years with them he knows they’re up to his standards.
So why can’t he indulge a little, give into his wants for once? Why can’t he stay in bed with his husband?
“Fine,” he relents with a groan, slumping further into the bed and the warmth as he holds Zoro tight, “I’ll stay in bed, but I won’t like it.”
Zoro hums, content and already half asleep again as he melts under Sanji’s hold. Sure enough, the next moment he’s snoring again, fast asleep once more.
A smile spreads across Sanji’s face, hearts in his eyes as he watches his husband sleep. He strokes his back again and takes Zoro’s hand in his free one, the matching rings clacking together as he brings it to his lips and places a reverent kiss on his knuckles.
Sanji sighs as he closes his eyes, letting the love and warmth surrounding him lull him back to sleep.
Zoro stands behind the bar as he watches Sanji flit about the dining room. Even though he is technically retired and certainly working less than he did in his youth, he’s far from taking it easy. Sanji takes pride in the restaurant he’d built, and still does his best to make sure everything is running smoothly, that everyone who enters is happy and well fed.
Which is fine with Zoro. Sure, he’d like Sanji to fully relax for once in his life, but working, doing something, helping people, makes Sanji happy. As his trophy husband of forty years, Zoro’s main job is to make sure Sanji’s life is as easy as possible, including making sure he actually does relax from time to time.
Sanji is wearing his customary suit as he tends to the guests, and he looks just as classy and well put together as he always has. Zoro takes a swig of his bourbon as he watches him run about, catching the glint in his ear from his earring when his long hair is brushed aside.
He fingers the two still in his own ear as a smile spreads across his face.
“The head chef is gonna yell at you if he catches you sampling the wares again, Mr. Roronoa.”
Zoro’s eye narrows as he turns to face the bartender Sanji stuck him with for the evening. Throughout most of the world he’s known and feared as the great Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro, King of Hell, the wing of the Pirate King, and undisputedly the greatest swordsman the world over. But here at Baratie All Blue he’s simply Mr. Roronoa, Head Chef Roronoa Sanji’s husband.
It’s taken some getting used to, but Zoro doesn’t hate it. After years of being notorious, it’s nice to simply be.
“If he doesn’t want me sampling the booze, he shouldn’t have put me behind the bar,” he says as he takes an even larger sip out of spite.
“If I recall correctly he didn’t,” they reply with a roll of their eyes, “You just planted yourself behind the bar one day and refused to leave.”
Zoro smirks. Sanji had spent ages trying to get him to help out more with the restaurant, and booze is what he knows best. It had just seemed natural for him to take over the bar.
“I haven’t heard him complaining.”
“I complain all the shitty time.”
Sanji appears at the bar, and the bartender immediately goes back to work. Zoro turns to face his husband head on.
“Hi, honey,” he smirks and takes another sip, “How’s business?”
“It would be better if someone wasn’t scaring away my customers and drinking all my merchandise,” Sanji says with a scowl.
“I’m taste testing. Can’t let us serve subpar drinks,” he says as he takes another sip, just to watch his scowl deepen, “We do have a reputation to uphold.”
Sanji glares at him, and Zoro teases him more by leaning in and kissing his cheek, “Love you.”
Sanji’s still glaring when he pulls away, but the corner of his lips are twitching as if he’s trying to hold back a smile, so Zoro considers it his win.
“The couple at table nine requested scotch,” Sanji sighs, “Can I trust you to bring it to them?”
“Not at all,” he answers honestly.
“I’ve got it, boss,” the bartender says, grabbing a bottle and some glasses off the shelves and rushing over to what he assumes is table nine.
Sanji turns back to Zoro, “How do you still have a job here?”
“Easily,” he laughs playfully, “I’m sleeping with the boss.”
Sanji scowls, but there’s a light dusting of pink across his cheeks, and Zoro’s stomach flips, still delighted to get that reaction out of him after all these years.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Sanji grumbles as he leans in to kiss him once more.
“I’m lucky I’m yours,” he shoots back.
Sanji’s face softens, and he reaches out to tangle their fingers together.
“I’m just about done down here for the night,” Sanji says, his grin turning seductive, “Wanna head up to bed?”
“I don’t know if I can,” he heaves a heavy sigh even as his smile grows, “My boss is kind of a hardass. He would hate it if I abandoned my post.”
“If you’re just going to stand here making goo goo eyes at each other,” the bartender says as they return to behind the bar, “please go. I’m begging you.”
They grin at each other. Keeping hold of his hand, Zoro walks out from behind the bar and guides Sanji upstairs to their bedroom.
They fall onto the bed together, making love well into the night. It isn’t as aggressive and competitive as the sex of their youth. Instead, without the pretenses and denial they’d had when they were young, they are soft and tender with each other, unafraid and unashamed to let the other know how they feel.
When they are finished and exhausted, they collapse against the sheets. Zoro gathers Sanji in his arms and holds him tight, waiting for the soft snores and the steady rise and fall of his chest that indicates he’s fallen asleep before drifting off himself.
If someone had told him when he was young that by age sixty this is where he would end up, holding his love close as they fall asleep, he would have scoffed and called them delusional. He never expected to make it to sixty, let alone be married and in love at it.
But now that he’s here, now that this is his life, he can’t imagine it being anything else.