Archive of Our Own

Fat drops of rain tapped insistently against the round porthole windows of the infirmary. The sudden summer squall was intermittent with bouts of sunshine that cut through the deluge so abruptly it made the head spin. It was dizzying, nonsensical weather—the norm on the Grand Line.

Sanji stared out at the lashing water, mind somewhere between the small streams and his own personal storm. The collection of drops between the metal frame and tar seal was becoming a pool that distorted the churning horizon outside the window. He thought he saw the angular bulk of another ship at one point, tiny red pennant whipping against the doleful blue of the sky, but then it was gone.

His eyes drifted down, not for the first time, and he touched his shoulder. It was certainly his imagination, but the spot still felt warm. He looked back out the window.

“Sanjiii…!”

Chopper bounded into the infirmary, arms full of freshly washed bandages. The little doctor carefully stowed them away then rounded on his patient. His hindquarters wiggled back and forth in his excitement.

“How are you feeling?!”

Sanji blinked rapidly, blindsided by the cheerful force of the reindeer. His muddled thoughts scattered even more, and Chopper mistook his hesitancy for pain.

“Does your head hurt? How’s your vision? Are things blurry? Do you hear any ringing? How many hooves am I holding up?”

He waved his hand. “I’m fine, really. My head’s fine. Can I go?”

“How many hooves?” Chopper persisted firmly.

“Two.”

Chopper clambered onto the stool by the bed—Sanji’s hand wandered to his shoulder again—and motioned him lower for a look. He obliged and answered patiently as the reindeer checked his head and back.

“Can I leave now?” Sanji asked again.

Chopper gave a reluctant huff. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to keep you in bed, but if you feel even a little sick, you need to come see me.”

“I’ll be fine, Chopper. I have a great doctor taking care of me, after all.”

“Like I’m happy to hear you say that, you bastard!”

He smiled faintly and threw the covers back.

“I’m serious, Sanji. The shot may have just grazed you, but it’s your head. It’s not an injury to take lightly. You’re probably going to feel a bit strange for the next few days and be dizzy and tired, so take it easy. If you need to pick up anything heavy or move stuff, just ask Zoro or Luffy, okay?”

Sanji paused with his legs halfway over the side of the bed. There was a ringing in his head that had nothing to do with bullets.

Chopper put a hoof on his knee. “Just take it slowly,” he said in his best doctor’s voice.

Sanji looked at the floor for a moment, then nodded.

After a quick change in the men’s bunk, Sanji warily emerged above decks and tried to slip into the galley unseen. This was rather difficult to do on a ship the Merry’s size even on a good day, and on this occasion, many eyes had been waiting for him to emerge from the infirmary to check on him—or in Luffy’s case, wrap himself around him and whine for snacks.

His chief concern didn’t make an appearance, however, and for that he was grateful. He ensconced himself in his workspace, his territory, and shelved his thoughts behind the flour and baking powder as he made bread. He had many visitors and well-wishers that afternoon as he kneaded the dough, but eventually he had the kitchen all to himself.

Sanji lit a cigarette and sank down onto the stool by the stove. He stared at the soft rounds of rye and sourdough slowly rising under the blue and green chequered tea towels. The scent of yeast and flour suffused the air—comforting, familiar smells. He’d only been in the infirmary for a day, but he’d missed this, missed his routine.

The much used and somewhat tatty towels made his mind drift to the newer set of dish cloths he’d bought and kept separate from the rest.

Next time we’ll have to bring a towel.

He put his face in his hands. He was an idiot. They were both idiots. He’d been stupid to think everything would stay the same. Zoro’s nonchalance and seemingly single-mindedness had convinced him. It was simple, he’d said.

“Liar,” Sanji muttered.

Nobody had acted any differently when they’d dropped by the galley before, but they knew. Everyone knew now, he was sure of it. Had there been a hint of amusement in Robin’s greeting? Was Nami’s touch on his arm concern or charity for a guy who…

His head was pounding. He stood up from the stool quickly, too quickly, and the world slid sideways.

***

“Now can I go?” Sanji asked.

It was closer to begging at this point, but there would be no budging the reindeer unless Chopper was satisfied this time. The little doctor blamed himself for Sanji’s embarrassing blackout in the kitchen days before and had confined him to the infirmary under no uncertain terms this time. He felt fine, but the bruise on his cheek from where he’d connected with the side of the table was yet to completely fade, and Chopper no doubt saw it as a reminder of a mistake.

“I promise not to stand up quickly again. Ever.”

“Mmm…”

“I promise to walk slowly.”

“…”

“I won’t kick anyone for at least a day.”

Chopper’s little chest puffed up. “Okay. Just…”

Sanji had to restrain himself from leaping out of the bed. With a show of exaggerated care, he turned and stood at a glacial pace. “I’ll take it easy, all right?”

He ruffled Chopper’s fur, and the little doctor finally relented.

Once again, he found himself in the galley. This time he stayed standing, winding his way around the familiar space and trailing his fingers over the well-worn wood of the counters and cabinets. As he investigated the pantry to see how much damage had been done in his absence, the door to the galley squeaked open. He froze, ears straining to identify the tread and praying it wasn’t a certain someone who he wasn’t ready to see yet.

Relief coursed through him when he recognized the footfalls. Easing his way out of the pantry—the damage was surprisingly minimal—he calmly greeted Usopp as he filled a canteen in the sink.

“Hey!” the sniper called, beaming. “Welcome back-back!”

Sanji rubbed at his cheek self-consciously. “Hoping to stay back,” he grumbled.

Usopp laughed. “Chopper was ready to tie you to the bed after that. He’s done it to Zoro before, so you better watch out.”

Sanji winced at the mention of the swordsman. It didn’t escape Usopp’s notice.

“Uh, hey, sorry about that before.”

Sanji suddenly discovered that he needed to check the cabinets under the sink thoroughly.

“I mean, it’s really not a big deal. Seriously.”

They were completely out of tinned beans. And tomatoes.

“I think it’s nice.”

He should really clean in there again too. There was a hint of dust in back he must have missed somehow last time.

“To be honest, I’m a little jealous.”

More borax wouldn’t hurt eith— He started in surprise and his head banged into the underside of the sink’s basin. He rubbed it as he emerged.

“What?”

Usopp was looking out the porthole window with a wistful expression. He took a drink of water, but as he turned, his smile was bright. Sanji abruptly felt very small under that sincere cheer.

“I said I’m jealous,” the sniper repeated firmly. “You’ve got someone to share this with.” He raised his arms and gestured grandly.

Sanji ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not…”

“Isn’t it?” Usopp grinned at him.

He retreated slightly under the force of the smile.

The sniper’s warm brown eyes softened. “Look, even if it’s not that, it’s something, and I’m still jealous. Stop stressing about it.”

Sanji frowned, and his fingers unconsciously felt for a smoke even though he had one in his mouth.

Usopp headed for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. “Seriously. Just try not to bust up the Merry too badly.” With a chuckle, he left Sanji standing in the galley trying to shove a second cigarette in his mouth.

***

“It’s a lovely evening.”

Sanji glanced up. The end of his cigarette flared as the night breeze swept over the deck. The weather had abruptly turned cold when their course brought them through this peculiar stretch of ice-choked water, and his scarf did little to cut the chill.

Robin joined him by the railing. She folded her arms gracefully onto the salt-worn wood and looked out over the horizon. He nodded at her, always delighted to have the company of a beautiful woman but a bit too lost in his own thoughts to pay her the compliments she so richly deserved. She seemed to sense this and didn’t say anything for some time.

As the ship rocked and water burbled around the prow while it cut through the frigid sea, Robin scooted a little closer until their elbows just brushed. It was the lightest of touches, but something in him unknotted a little.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she said.

Sanji’s shoulders stiffened. After a moment, he gave a mirthless laugh.

“There really are no secrets on a ship, huh?”

She gave him a genuine smile. “Not many, at any rate. But, secrets are a heavy thing. I’ve read that they can get lighter if you share them.”

He rested his chin on his arms, not able to meet her eyes.

“Does it bother you so?” she asked.

“What?”

“Him.”

Sanji looked up warily. “What about...him?”

Her eyes were the color of still waters in the dark. “That he cares for you.”

He felt heat creeping up his neck under her steady gaze.

“He…doesn’t really know me.”

“He knows enough.”

Sanji tapped his cigarette out over the railing. The ashes glowed a brilliant orange before disappearing over the side, eaten by wind and water. “Does he?”

“I don’t believe him to be the sort of person to attach himself lightly. To anything or anyone.”

He glanced up at her as she straightened.

“Sometimes…” she added as she walked away, the wind snatching at her words, “...it’s hard to feel worthy, but we must try.”

Sanji watched her go, not entirely sure if she was talking about him anymore.

***

The next morning thawed into a pleasantly warm, spring-like day as the Merry sailed past a ring of small islands dotted with green and purple scrub. The breeze was light and sky unobscured by clouds, so Nami called for a day of chores and repair to take advantage of the calm weather. Robin and Chopper organized the storage rooms while Usopp and Luffy sat on crude swings over the side of the ship as they shucked the hull, shucking off barnacles and scrubbing the wood free of clinging seaweed. Zoro was given the task of swimming beneath the hull to get the harder to reach spots, armed with a mattock and hammer. That particular job was usually Sanji’s, but he was grateful to not have to look the swordsman in the eye more than he had to just yet. Meal times were already an awkward, somber affair as it was.

For his part, Sanji was finally allowed to remove the bandages around his head, and he joined Nami in washing and hanging out the laundry—a Chopper-approved task. They worked in companionable silence, though occasionally he’d catch her sneaking glances at him. He kept his head down and spoke little as embarrassment and unease swirled in his gut.

From under the diaphanous folds of a sheet that smelled of lemons and soap, he thought he heard a murmured question. He pushed the flapping edges away.

“Did you say something?”

She blinked at him and he realized again, as he had many times in the last few days, that his manners were sorely lacking in his distracted state. 

“Sorry, my sweet mellorine,” he said. “I meant, do you need something?”

Her warm brown gaze was kind and lightened to an apricot hue under the climbing sun.

“I said, did you need saffron?”

It was his turn to blink.

“I…do actually. It’s been hard to get lately. Why do you ask?”

Nami hung a T-shirt on the line, carefully pinning the sleeves with their faded set of blue and white clothespins.

“Zoro asked me for extra allowance the other day. He said it was for ‘some stupid little red flower you can eat’.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow, perplexed. “Why?”

She smoothed a pair of tattered shorts over the line by the shirt.

“No idea. He’s been guarding the kitchen since you were out, so I suppose he noticed you were low on it.”

Sanji swallowed and bent to pick up a sock up off the deck where it had fallen out of the basket. He looked down at the worn garment in his hand. Like the shorts, it was in need of darning. He added it to his repair list.

“You know,” she said brightly, startling him from his excruciatingly thorough examination of the sock. “I think I do need something. From you, that is.”

He looked up. Her expression was bright and full of the vivacious cheer that he loved so much to see.

“I’d love one of your parfaits if you feel up to it. Your food never fails to make a nice day even better.”

“S-Sure,” he stammered, surprised all over again and pleased.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you.” She smiled and the genuine affection in it cleared some of the air in his head. He felt lighter as he made his way to the kitchen.

***

That afternoon, they entered a stretch of sea that Nami’s maps ominously dubbed, “The Sinking Pillars.” It was a strange mile of deceptively still water punctuated every couple of hundred feet by enormous, jagged towers of black rock. Their formation or purpose, if there was one, was a complete mystery even to their resident historian. Robin thumbed through her books as they slowly passed the imposing stone sentinels, but the only information she could find on them related to the sea below; an ominous passage of water so deep that ships unlucky enough to fall there could not be salvaged, as the bottom was unreachable by any current human means.

Sanji leaned against the taffrail and watched as they wove their way past pillar after pillar. The air here was almost as still as the water, and the going was so slow that it felt as though they were tip-toeing by.  

After his third cigarette returned to ashes, he heard the slap of sandals on wood approaching. Luffy joined him at the railing, eyes wide with undisguised wonder.

“So cool!” he crowed, folding himself far over the wood for a better look.

Sanji reflexively grabbed a handful of the red vest, not wanting to have to dive in after their captain. Luffy laughed in delight as a dark shape passed beneath them, its wake gently nudging the ship to the side. He grinned.

“It’s so big! I wonder what it is… I wonder what it tastes like!!!”

“Sea king maybe…” Sanji mused, though his heart wasn’t in it.

Luffy’s smile disappeared and was replaced by a faint line between the dark brows.

“What’s wrong, Sanji? You haven’t been happy since the fight. I mean, it’s not nice being shot, but you should be happy. Zoro sank the ship.”

Sanji blinked. “He did what?”

“After they shot you, he sank their ship. He was really mad.”

His face grew hot. No one had really given him any details after he’d woken up. He just assumed they’d gotten away as they usually did.

“Good for him. He likes sinking ships.”

Luffy frowned. It was an odd, unpleasant expression on the young face. That it seemed to rob him of some of his innocence made Sanji feel suddenly ashamed. 

“He did it because they hurt you.”

The cold uneasiness that had followed him all week crept up through his gut and filled him until he thought it would overflow, blinding his eyes, spilling over his teeth, and roaring out his ears. He bit his lip, trying to hold it at bay under that wide, assessing gaze. Luffy said nothing, but the perplexed look deepened. 

“Don’t you like him?”

What are we?

“It’s…complicated.” The greasy knot in his chest squeezed painfully.

“Is it? I know he likes you.”

“That simple, huh?”

“Yeah!”

Sanji raked a hand through his hair, unable to suppress a small smile at the brutal purity of Luffy’s thought process. His hand wandered up to his shoulder where the ghost of a warm forehead still pressed into it.

“I guess I just need to think about it a little more.”

Luffy looked surprised. “Well, don’t take too long. I’m hungry!”

Sanji let out a genuine laugh, and the brightness returned to the young captain’s face.

That afternoon, the meaning behind the strange location’s moniker became very clear. 

The dark shapes Luffy had spied under the ship began to gather in greater numbers. Their gargantuan bodies were but blurry shadows beneath the surface, and they did not bother the ship, but their increased numbers began to create miniature currents in the water that pulled and pushed the Merry this way and that. Nami tried valiantly to steer them safely through the forest of black stones, but there was no predicting which way the water would take them. The first time they brushed up against one of the great pillars, Sanji understood what the “Sinking” part of the name referred to.

It was the barest of touches, but the Merry shuddered and groaned when her portside kissed the rock. Usopp cried out in dismay as the paintwork and some of the hull was scraped off by the razor-sharp jags.

Nami had them bring up everything and anything from storage that could be used as a buffer, and the crew spent the next hour running back and forth across the ship putting whatever they could between themselves and rocks. Soon, even the mattresses from the women’s beds had been used and torn to shreds, but they were nearing the exit.

Two stones away from clearing the strange field, a swirl of water heralded another sucking current. It tugged at the ship, drawing it inexorably towards one of the rocks. Nami called out a warning and steered hard, but a second whirlpool erupted next to it that shoved them in the opposite direction. The crew ran to the starboard side with the tattered remains of the mattresses—the only option left, even as destroyed as they were—but the force of the water was too strong. They would crash, and it was not an impact the ragged bedding was likely to reduce.

Luffy dropped his end of the mattress and threw himself over the side of the ship, swelling into a balloon even as he curled his sandaled feet around the railing. The Merry rocked hard against his inflated body and sandwiched him between the hull and the rock. He bit his lip as the sharp stone tore into his skin, but he held his shape until the Merry rebounded safely back. They pulled away, but the cutting stone held him, and his legs tugged free of the railing. Usopp lunged for the flapping limbs, but they snapped back out of his reach and he pitched over the side, arms flailing. Sanji surged forward and caught the sniper by an ankle before he could fall into the water while Chopper anchored him from behind. Without the ship or helping hands to hold him, though, Luffy slipped free from the rock’s grasping edges and plunged into the swirling sea.

A green blur shot past them all and leapt over the side. The crew looked on anxiously as Zoro fought against the current and dove under the churning water after their sinking captain. Sanji gripped the railing hard, ready to jump in too if he was needed. His relief when the swordsman reappeared with Luffy draped over a shoulder was immeasurable.

Nami called instructions to Robin and steadied the ship as best she could as they waited for Zoro to swim back over. The eddying currents around the pillar didn’t want to let them go, though. Again and again, he was pulled back against the rock. Zoro made no complaint, but the white foam took on a pink hue, and his teeth were bared and set.

Usopp ran to the storage room and quickly rigged up a line and float. He threw it, and his aim was true. Zoro grabbed the looped end and Chopper began to haul them back to the ship. Sanji was about to add his own force to the line when he saw Zoro’s head whip around, lips parted, eyes wide. Luffy still rested comfortably over his shoulder and no great shadows moved beneath them, but then he saw it: a flash of white beneath the surface, a glint of gold tumbling end over end behind them. The sea drank deeply and greedily.

***

Zoro dropped onto the deck, his back a bonfire, chest burning, and limbs achingly heavy, but he felt none of it. He gave Luffy over into Chopper’s waiting arms and knelt there in a growing puddle of water mixed with his own blood.

Usopp said something and ran off while Nami shouted directions up to Robin who was manning the rudder. It was garbled, nonsensical background noise.

He’d felt it happen.

The sharp edges of the black stone had cut them again and again as he tried to escape the flow around the pillar. The current was too strong and the rock not what he’d call a fair fighter. It was annoying and exasperating, and Luffy’s insensate weight over his shoulder made staying above the surface a juggling act. When the line finally came and began towing them back to the Merry, he realized his skin wasn’t the only thing the rock had shredded. There was a tug, and then a pull–a steady drawing at his waist as though small hands were plucking at his clothes from behind. Then the pressure was gone. Zoro had turned and seen the clean white line of Wado drifting lazily down into the open sea behind him. He thought he’d heard her then.

Our dream, huh…?

Something soft pressed against his back. Usopp yammered a stream of unintelligible words as he staunched the blood seeping from the myriad of gouges, cuts, and scrapes mapped across his shoulders and sides with a towel from the bath. Nami came down from the galley level and said something then stopped. He could feel her eyes traveling over his back and pausing at his side where the frayed remains of his belt loops were. Yubashiri and Kitetsu lay crisscrossed by his knees.

“Zoro…”

He’d wanted to go back. He’d wanted to twist around and dive until his lungs burst. Anything to stop that inexorable descent. But he could not, would not lose his captain. And so, he’d turned away.

His throat burned with the urge to empty his stomach onto the planks of the deck.

Nami knelt down next to him, her fingers pressing into the deck beside his own, not touching but close enough to feel their warmth. 

She said something again, but like everything else it was just noise.

He shook his head. He’d made his decision. The “No Return” Robin’s books had dubbed it. A seemingly bottomless stretch of sea. There would be no salvaging that which it took.

Usopp’s chatter died away when it dawned on him what had happened. The sniper’s hand on his shoulder was light and uncertain. Nobody spoke. Zoro swallowed painfully and inhaled deeply through his nose. He closed his eyes as he looked up at the sky. When they opened again, he shrugged off his crewmate’s hand.

“Go check on Luffy,” he said gruffly.

“But…”

Directionless anger surged through him. “I said g—!"

“Hey, moss for brains,” a voice cut in.

Zoro ground his teeth. It was too much. Too many things pulling at him, cutting him. His hands curled into fists and he whirled, ready to take it out on the source of one of the greatest of his current frustrations. The shapeless rage and loss stuttered and fell away when he beheld the other man.

Drips pattered onto the deck, steady and incongruously loud against the sucking of the sea around the ship. The water seeping out of the black dress shoes began to pool and expand until it merged into Zoro’s puddle. The cook’s gray slacks and pale blue shirt were molded to every damp inch of him. The skin peeking through the open necked shirt was almost translucently pale. Blood leaked slowly from his nose and ears.

Whatever Sanji saw in Zoro’s face made his lips twitch. They were blue with cold and oxygen deprivation. He swayed, held something out.

Zoro dropped back down to his knees.

The blue lips quirked up.

“You dropped something,” Sanji said, proffering the white sword again.

Zoro accepted it with trembling hands. He stared at the other man as he pressed Wado across his knees. Sanji stared back, still wearing that little smile as he rocked gently on his feet. Zoro stretched forward and took the now empty hands into his own. He pulled the cook forward until the tips of Sanji’s shoes touched his knees. Slowly, reverently, he lifted the hands and kissed the palms of each one. Color rushed into the other man’s cheeks, chasing some of the blue away.

Luffy was sitting on the steps by the storage door while Chopper fussed with his back, watching. He looked at Nami and pointed at Zoro and Sanji. “Are they married now?”

She and Usopp turned to him as one, eyes wide, faces aghast.

“No, you idiot!” she screeched.

Sanji sat down hard on the deck but didn’t pull his hands away. Zoro’s head stayed bowed over them, silent in his supplication.

She looked back at the pair. Sanji leaned forward and said something, knocked his head lightly against Zoro’s.

“…Maybe,” she amended.

Luffy nodded and grinned under the dappled shade of his hat.

***

“All of you!” Nami declared. “Morning. Here. Tomorrow. DO NOT BE LATE.”

She looked meaningfully at Luffy and Zoro as she handed over their room keys. The rest she distributed without fanfare and they all parted ways, eager for a break after the stress of the marine battle and the previous day’s misadventures in the Pillars.

Once they’d sailed clear of the foreboding area, they’d beelined straight for the nearest habitable island—in this case, a pirate-friendly, medium-sized seaside town with beautiful white-walled stone villas nestled in and amongst the rolling cliffs of the harbor. They’d resupply, set the log pose, and try and forget how near a thing disaster was on their journey sometimes. Only Luffy seemed unbothered by it all, but he never said no to exploring new places.

As the group dispersed to their respective desires, Sanji grabbed Zoro by the back of his haramaki and dragged him towards the market area. Zoro made a grumble of protest but didn’t complain as Sanji led him up and down streets, stopping here and there to check things off of a long list he kept in the breast pocket of his pale cream button-down shirt. Soon, Zoro found himself marched back to the ship like a pack mule, complete with a heavily smoking, irate and muttering driver. They’d not found a few items on the cook’s list, and though Zoro wasn’t fussed about whether or not they had the right kind of weed for some random dish the women liked, Sanji had seemed personally affronted when the stall owner had tried to offer some other green thing instead. Once he’d offloaded the many packs, he rounded on the cook with an irate question of his own half spilling out before he saw the bottle of liquor.

Sanji held it out. It was one of the nicer stash, if he wasn’t mistaken. But whether it was payment, apology, or an invitation, Zoro couldn’t tell. The cook’s eyes were unreadable, obscured by the long bangs as he lit himself a fresh cigarette.

Zoro accepted it wordlessly, curiosity smoothing out the irritation at the cook’s non-verbal game. They hadn’t talked about what had happened before or anything since that day in the infirmary either for that matter. He didn’t care much for talk himself, but he’d been patient enough.

He took a moment to appreciate the fine bottle of booze that it was and then set it down. He then folded his arms and looked at Sanji. The cook had the good grace to look chagrined.

“I just… I still don’t… I still don’t know exactly what…this is. What we are,” the other man said eventually. “I don’t know what you want.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “It seems clear enough to me, but fine. I’ll lay it out since you still don’t get it.”

Sanji took a drag on his cigarette and put his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t want a nice room with sheets or a house with a white picket fence. I want to fight with you over stupid shit, I want to fight beside you like we always do, and I want to bend you over the table. Clear enough?”

Sanji flushed bright red. “Don’t mince words, do you…”

Zoro shrugged.

“And what if I want a nice room with sheets? Or a house with a white picket fence?”

“Do you?”

“I…don’t know,” Sanji admitted.

“What do you want right now, then?”

The bright midday sun suffused the galley with warm, soft light. Seagulls gabbled outside, wheeling and diving into the sparkling green sea as Zoro closed the space between them. He leaned in and let his lips brush the other man’s jawline, soft but full of violent promise.

Sanji shivered.

“Well…?”

The smell of cigarettes, cologne, and something not unlike greed was electric in the air.

“...”

“Hm?”

“You,” Sanji ground out, teeth bared. He flicked his cigarette into the sink and loosened his tie. “You, you stupid moss-headed, muscles-for-brains, shitty swordsman!”

Zoro grinned and seized him by the belt. “See? Simple.”

“You sound like Luffy,” Sanji sighed, as Zoro nosed into his hair.

“That’s why he’s the captain.”

“Uh huh.”

Zoro stepped forward and bullied the cook back until they bumped up against the sink. He kissed him hard, and Sanji had to brace his hands on the basin to keep from tipping backwards into it. His aggression earned him a bite that made him laugh.

“We have rooms…just in town…” Sanji gasped, as Zoro moved on to his neck.

“I’ve waited long enough. And you made me say all that unnecessary shit, so my pick.”

“Fine, but why is it always in the—”

Because it’s yours , he almost said. Because it’s where you’re the happiest, where I love to watch you do battle in your field, where you’re honest. Be honest with me here…

Instead, he ended all conversation with another searching kiss that left no breath for arguments and let the play of his fingers across the sharp collar bones and curve of the spine speak for him. Sanji arched into the touch, his body, as ever, more plain in its speech. Zoro drank it in eagerly and pressed harder, reaching for that push and pull he so loved. He bent his head and bit hard into the muscular swell of a shoulder. The material bunched under his teeth as Sanji hissed.

“Don’t you dare…ruin this shirt!”

“Then take it off.”

Sanji complied with a glare. With complete access now,  Zoro’s hands traveled over the firm muscle roping the other man’s arms and down to the lean flanks until he had a grip on the cook’s hips. He used his leverage to lift the other man onto the rim of the sink, startling a laugh out of him that smoothed some of the tension from the twitching jaw.

As his mouth worked its way over the now bare chest, his hands worked swiftly at the belt. Sanji snorted at his fumbling, and Zoro told himself it was just impatience after being made to stew so long, but a small part of him worried that despite the firm, very real body under the pads of his fingers, it was a dream or Sanji would suddenly declare it a mistake. 

A smell of iron and brine bloomed in his mind and calmed his jittery hands. A patter of droplets on the deck by water-logged dress shoes drowned out the doubt. A warm sun buffing the white of a sheath into a blinding glow washed away the fear and signaled him on.

Zoro pressed his face into Sanji’s chest as he had in the infirmary and took a deep breath. It was still there. Sunshine and smoke. A steady heartbeat thrummed through the flushed skin, quickening as he dipped his hands below the waistband. Sanji curled over him as he took hold and languorously stroked up once, and then again. The soft breath by his ear became rougher.

Slow at first, then building to a steady rhythm, Zoro worked the last of the reservations from the lean body perched on the sink. The room grew hot and all sound fell away except the pants and small hitches that escaped. When Sanji finally cursed out an order, Zoro obeyed–just this once–and lifted him the short distance to the table. The wood creaked as their combined weight pressed into it. This time, Sanji made no complaint when an empty napkin holder clattered to the ground. He was too busy biting the inside of his wrist as Zoro ground against him.

The pants were discarded next, followed by professional dignity when Zoro stretched and grabbed a green bottle from the counter. He held it up for Sanji’s approval. The cook groaned as he read the label, but Zoro couldn’t be sure if it was the idea of using the contents or because Zoro was tracing his inner thigh with his teeth.

“F-Fine, just…ugh, we are getting something in town next time…”

Zoro reluctantly pulled back long enough to pour some of the oil into his palm. A fresh smell like new grass with a touch of bitterness filled his nose. He worked it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the parted lips half hidden under a curtain of blond hair. When he pressed the first finger inside, the mouth opened wider, revealing a hint of teeth. Zoro watched the line of white grow, mesmerized, as he slowly moved it in and out and added a second finger. By the time he added a third, they were bared in a snarl.

He leaned down until he could trace the shell of an ear with his tongue, fingers moving all the while.

“Shitty swordsman…” Sanji ground out.

Zoro pressed in, letting the rough fabric of his pants add to the slow, building friction. The long legs twitched where they brushed against his hips, and Sanji suddenly seemed to realize then that Zoro was still completely clothed while he was decidedly not.

“Zoro…!”

He met the flashing blue eyes with a grin and curled a finger inside.

Sanji’s head cracked against the table as he threw it back. Another napkin holder fell to the ground.

Zoro undid the front of his pants and borrowed some more from the bottle. He waited until Sanji’s dazed gaze returned to him before positioning himself and slowly driving forward.

There it was again. The name he so loved to hear, snarled out loud, breathless and needy. He snapped his hips forward and buried himself to the hilt, earning another blistering string of swears.

Tightness and heat, the glide of oil and burn of nails on his bandaged back. He bent low, losing himself in the flex of muscles and sweet ache growing in his shoulders. He pressed hard against the writhing body below his and crushed him into the grain of the table with every thrust. The powerful legs came up and wrapped around him. Alarms sounded up and down his spine and through his bones as they began to squeeze. It made his blood sing, and thought turned to molten red shot through with blinding light. 

Sanji’s mouth moved against him, all teeth and unintelligible sounds. There was a shape to some of them, but he wasn’t listening. Whatever furious words were trying to escape from the cook, they were swallowed by Zoro’s hungry mouth or muffled when he buried his face against Zoro’s neck.

The wave was coming now. From his toes through the straining tendons in his calves and up to his neck, it was a searing line sharper than any blade. Pulled like the tide, he couldn’t hope to hold it off. He could only lean in and gather Sanji to him.

Sanji hesitated, then reached up and wrapped his arms around Zoro’s neck, anchoring them both as he moved faster and harder, mindless in his urgency. What little space that had been left between them was closed, and something unraveled within Zoro. He bit down hard as he came, and a name spilled from his own lips. It was softly said and whispered into the golden hair behind an ear, but Sanji froze beneath him. Time stilled, then the rest was lost in the white-hot, formless burst of pleasure that razed his mind, deafening all senses but those turned inward.

When he came to, they were both breathing hard and the wood of the table was digging into his elbows. A breeze carried off the shore skirted through the open window and cooled the sweat on the back of his neck. Sound seemed to rush back in, and the cries of gulls mingled with their pants.

“Just…gimme…a minute…” Zoro mumbled reflexively.

Sanji turned his head slightly. “...Didn’t say anything, but get off…stupid. You’re heavy.”

After a moment, he obliged and moved aside, legs stiff and tingling.

Sanji sat up and ran a hand through his mussed hair. He glanced down at himself. “Left side, second drawer,” he said with a sigh.

Zoro did up his pants and walked unsteadily to the counter. He grabbed a tea towel from the pile and tossed it over. Sanji caught it and stared at the chequered pattern.

“What?” Zoro said with a jaw-cracking yawn. His back and sides were on fire. He wondered with some interest if he was as bruised as he felt.

Sanji pondered the neat square of cloth a moment more, then glanced at the scattered mess of napkin holders, discarded clothes, and bottles. He smiled crookedly. “I think…I know what we are now.”

Zoro stopped twisting around from trying to see if there were leg-shaped marks striping his hips. “Huh? ‘What we are’?”

“Yeah.”

“What are we, then?”

Sanji laid back on the table. He threw an arm over his eyes, but the smile remained. “Idiots,” he said. “We’re idiots.”

The End