Archive of Our Own

Sanji is exhausted.

He’s doing his best to hide it, like the stubborn bastard he is, but it’s clear to Zoro that the man’s on his last (incredibly long) legs. If he’s honest, it’s gotten so bad that he’s pretty sure even the most unobservant people in the crew would be able to tell something’s up with their cook. Hell, he thinks even a stranger could tell the bastard is dead on his feet.

Sanji’s currently squinting through his glasses as if the things on the chopping board won’t stay still; his shoulders are hiked up around his ears, and his hands are shaking ever so minutely. Zoro figures that the last point is the main reason why his foul-mouthed cook is constantly cursing under his breath. The reason? From what Zoro’s gathered through the cook’s increasingly irate swears, his cuts are a single millimeter out and that’s apparently throwing the whole dish off.

Zoro loves the guy, something they have zero trouble saying to each other now, but he can be a little… intense– and that’s coming from him!

So yeah, even if you aren’t a self-proclaimed expert in Sanji (something that Zoro has smugly stated on multiple occasions, much to Sanji’s obvious chagrin), it’s not hard to see that he’s clearly ready to drop.

Sanji overworks himself constantly. It’s a known fact; Luffy will be the King of the Pirates; Usopp will lie at least 5 times a day; Robin will say something curiously morbid causing Franky to say something along the lines of “That’s my girl!”; Chopper will swear at you if you compliment him; Nami will swindle you out of money; Brook will ask to see anyone’s panties (seriously, anyone’s) – and Sanji still feels like he needs to prove his worth on the ship.

Don’t get Zoro wrong, Sanji’s working on blocking out those thoughts with the full support of the crew behind him, but it’s a slow process– one that seemed to take a big leap back after the events of Whole Cake Island. Whatever little progress had been made before has almost been completely reverted, despite the reassurances from everyone that they understand why Sanji did what he did.

And that includes everything that Sanji did.

But Sanji’s had a lifetime of feeling like his very existence is a burden on the people he loves and, unfortunately, that’s something that isn’t going to magically change– despite Luffy’s best efforts and his grand declaration that he can’t become King of the Pirates without him. So that brings us to the present, where Sanji is struggling through preparing a meal all because he feels like if he doesn’t then his worth on this ship drastically decreases.

Zoro clicks his tongue in annoyance, thinking about how wrong Sanji’s thoughts are. Like everyone on the ship doesn’t think he’s the heart of it, like how everyone missed him terribly when he was gone, like how if Sanji never cooked a meal again they’d be grateful that they got to experience his food but they wouldn’t care.

Sanji is Sanji and that’s all the crew could ever want.

The sound of Sanji cursing breaks him out of his tangled thoughts. He glances away at the spot on the wall he’d probably been glaring daggers at for the last few minutes to see a tomato falling to the ground after Sanji’s shaking hands must have dropped it. Zoro eyes Sanji with open concern when he picks it up and plops it into his own mouth– he wouldn’t dare serve something that had hit the (spotless, as usual) floor of his galley to anyone else on this ship.

Well, except Zoro himself.

It should be insulting, really, that Sanji will only serve himself and Zoro the cuts of food that maybe don’t quite meet the cook’s ridiculously perfect expectations but, Zoro doesn’t mind it in the slightest. In fact, it’s quite the opposite: it means Sanji trusts him to finish it, means that they’re equals even in this– that even in something as small as their meals they’re always willing to sacrifice their own plates so the rest of the crew get the best parts. It may seem silly, but Zoro takes pride in knowing that this is yet another thing that they work together as a pair to do.

And besides, it all tastes fucking delicious no matter what. Not that he’ll tell Sanji so much in words but judging by how often Sanji meets his eye, a smug grin plastered on his face, Zoro figures he knows already. Zoro may be a self-proclaimed expert on Sanji but, much to Zoro’s initial annoyance, it goes the other way too. Sanji’s able to tell what Zoro needs often before he himself knows. He knows when something is a bit too sweet for Zoro’s (fucking neanderthal, according to Sanji) tastebuds just by a minute twitch of his eyebrow, he knows when Zoro’s just a little too tired for his 12th night watch in a row and so the bastard volunteers himself– and if they end up cuddled up together in the crow’s nest that night then that’s what works for them.

Suddenly Sanji yelps, and all warm and, ugh, fuzzy thoughts of them cuddling vanish in an instant. In the less than half a second it takes for him to focus on Sanji’s figure, he’s already catalogued that there’s no-one else in the galley with them but this isn’t enough to set his nerves at ease. Not when he sees Sanji cradling his hand protectively to his chest. His face immediately drains of color and he’s on his feet within milliseconds as he briskly strides over to his wide-eyed partner, gently gathering the man’s smaller hand within his own.

It’s rare for Sanji to cut himself while cooking– Zoro isn’t even sure if it’s possible anymore after the events of Wano and Sanji’s genetic modifications sparking into life. But at that moment none of it matters. The only thing that matters right now is calming Sanji down– the exhaustion clearly heightening any emotions he’s feeling and ramping them all up to a ten.

Zoro wishes he could say he’s surprised at Sanji’s excessive fatigue, but truthfully? He’s had a feeling since this morning that the cook was ready to crash and burn.

Zoro was ready to haul the cook up to the crow’s nest after breakfast under the guise of cuddling (whereas in reality it was get Sanji to sit still for more than 10 minutes— the cuddling being a bonus), until during said meal some marines had the audacity to think it would be a good idea to attack them. The battle dragged on longer than usual only due to the sheer numbers of them and definitely not their competence (the most memorable thing about the whole shitshow being that Zoro defeated one more marine than Sanji). That nuisance coupled with the fact that Sanji’s been suffering with nightmares more often than not this week, it’s really no wonder that Sanji’s mental state is a little more fragile than usual. It’s part of the reason Zoro parked himself in the galley, forgoing his usual afternoon training session in favor of keeping an eye on Sanji. 

Part of him wants to feel slightly responsible for Sanji’s exhaustion, his own issues with inadequacy rearing their ugly head, but another louder voice in his head sounding suspiciously like the man currently standing stock still in front of him chastises him for thinking something so stupid. That this is no fault of his own, just a series of shitty events.

Thoroughly reprimanded within the confines of his own head, he gives his full attention to Sanji. He strokes the back of Sanji’s knuckles in a way he knows the other man finds soothing, softly starting to pull the cook’s hand away from his chest.

“Let me see, curly.” It’s not a demand. Never a demand, but instead a soft plea.

With noticeable reluctance, Sanji looks away as he lets Zoro open his hand. He gently inspects each finger, carefully looking for a sign of any new nick, any lines that he’s not already aware of, but only sees scars that show Sanji’s clumsy history of learning how to cook.

“You’re good, nothing there,” Zoro says, placing a kiss to the centre of Sanji’s palm.

Sanji sighs in clear relief, visibly collecting himself. The whole scenario is something the man would usually brush off, saying how it’s nothing more than a hazard that comes with the job; and this fact only adds to Zoro’s growing worry. After another beat of silence Sanji takes another deep breath, but suddenly it’s like a switch is flicked as he wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Gonna have to wash my hands again now. Can’t have moss spores infecting all the food now, can I?” Zoro notices he doesn’t make any move to pull his hand away, though.

Sanji’s deflecting, Zoro knows this. He’s trying to fall back on their usual banter in the hopes that Zoro bites. And a lot of times he would. He doesn’t like pushing Sanji to talk about things when he’s not ready, and more often than not the man would come find him later where they’d share a quiet conversation.

But that’s not gonna happen today. Sanji’s shoulders are tense and there’s crinkling around his eyes, which is a sure sign that he’s trying (and failing) to fight off a headache.  Zoro can’t remember the last time he’s seen Sanji so highly strung, and he needs to do something before the man snaps in two.

So instead he says nothing, going back to stroking the other man’s knuckles with his thumb but never taking his eye off him. He watches quietly as Sanji becomes more and more squirrely, his eyes darting all around Zoro’s face but never meeting his gaze. Finally, after a minute or so, the silence becomes too much for Sanji.

“I know I’m handsome as hell but you’ve been staring an awfully long time there, marimo,” Sanji laughs nervously, bringing his free hand up to adjust his glasses in another display of unease. “Reminds me of how we finally got together.”

Zoro resists the urge to roll his eye at yet another obvious deflection but he allows himself the smallest of smiles as he remembers the moment that they finally, finally, sorted their shit out and kissed for the first time. Because yes, there may have been copious amounts of staring involved, while Zoro was trying to figure out why Sanji occupied nearly every fucking thought in his brain, and yes Sanji may have gotten a little defensive feeling like Zoro was watching his every move after his return from Whole Cake. Then when Sanji eventually confronted him about it in the galley after Zoro was caught staring for the god knows how manyth time, and after a few (a lot) of heated words, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s collar and smashed their mouths together in what started off as heated but quickly turned into a soft, but no less passionate, kiss.

And that’s exactly when Zoro realized that he was in love with the prissy bastard who looks too damn hot in his stupid suits, and who he never wants to be without again. A few months later he told Sanji those exact words, and he was met with an equally ‘sweet’ confession when Sanji admitted he felt the exact same way about a guy who needs to shower more and who he was convinced is ‘swordsexual’– whatever the fuck that means.

Anyway, yes, he’s staring again. And as much as the bastard in front of him is beautiful, his attention is currently drawn to the prominent dark bags behind Sanji’s (stupidly sexy) glasses. Later on, he’ll blame those damn distracting glasses and the suitcases under his eyes on the words that he says next.

“You need to take a fucking nap,” he blurts, immediately wincing and wishing he’d phrased it differently when Sanji’s hackles rise. “I mean. You look tired. So take a nap? With me?” he says, trying to save this conversation and doubling his efforts in stroking Sanji’s knuckles.

Sadly, it’s to no avail as Sanji yanks his hand free and promptly stalks over to the sink to wash his hands. “I know your head is only filled with moss,” Sanji snips while turning the tap on with a little too much force, “but it’s quite obvious that I have dinner to prepare. So if you could please make yourself scarce so I can actually do my fucking job I would greatly appreciate it. Or I can simply kick you out myself, but if I’m quite honest I don’t really want to dirty my shoes. Your choice, moss.”

Now, Zoro knows Sanji isn’t actually angry at him despite his words seemingly saying otherwise. No, he’s angry at himself for showing weakness and for, in his words, “being incapable of doing the one thing I was brought onto the ship for” which Zoro knows is complete bullshit. Like he said before, it’s a slow process trying to get Sanji to understand that everyone loves him for just being him. Looking at the way Sanji is currently hunched over the sink with wet hands clenched into a tea towel his heart aches something fierce.

How can a guy whose heart freely gives out so much love feel such hate towards himself? Zoro long ago vowed to spend the rest of his life trying to give Sanji the love and kindness he so thoroughly deserves and so, despite Sanji currently acting like a cornered cat, he knows they need to talk this out. 

Something needs to give today and although they’re both stubborn bastards on the best of days, he will not let this go to a stalemate. For Sanji’s sake.

“Sanji.”

That single word, the forgoing of one of the usual nicknames that have become so dear to them both, is enough for Sanji to choke on the cigarette smoke that he’s apparently been inhaling at a worrisome rate. Zoro figures it can’t have been more than 30 seconds since the cook yelled at him, but a quick glance at the near stub in Sanji’s hand is enough to have Zoro’s eye widen slightly in surprise. He knows how the blond smokes more when he’s stressed but this is extreme, even for him. He quickly schools his expression into something resembling indifference when the coughing fit ceases, Sanji glaring at him through his bangs.

“I thought I told you to leave, Zoro,” he rasps, injecting as much spite into his voice as possible which, admittedly, isn’t much when he’s still occasionally clearing his throat.

“You did.” Zoro replies easily, already going over to the cupboard where Sanji keeps the special glasses for his precious ladies. “But I think I’m needed here more.”

Sanji eyes him warily as he steps up beside him, reaching for the tap and filling the glass up. He wordlessly hands it to Sanji, who begrudgingly accepts it with a muttered “thanks”.

Zoro watches him drain half the glass before setting it none too gently on the countertop– not hard enough that it could possibly damage his precious kitchen, but just enough to let Zoro know he’s still pissed.

Sanji crosses his arms in a gesture that can only be seen as defensive as he looks down at the floor, avoiding any possibility of eye contact. “I don’t need you here.”

Zoro hums, settling back against the counter. “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be here. I want to be with you right now,” he clarifies.

Now that catches Sanji off guard. He’s so used to people giving up on him in the past that when something strays from the norm, it doesn’t make sense to him. His eyes snap to meet Zoro’s as his arms fall limply to his sides. His mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find a rebuttal. It would typically be amusing to watch the usually suave, smooth-talking cook flounder, and Zoro has about five different fish insults that he could quite easily tease the other man with– but instead he keeps quiet. He focuses on the way Sanji’s brows knit together, how one of his hands has come up to fist his own hair, how he looks lost of all things.

He lets Sanji work through his thoughts in silence, not wanting to disturb the man. He doesn’t dare reach for Sanji’s half-drunk cup of water even though his throat is parched and he resists the urge to grab hold of Sanji’s hand, stopping it from its instinctual response. It’s not a pleasant experience by any means but it’s rewarded in the end when Sanji mumbles a shaky “Why?”.

And that’s his cue.

That’s all he needs to bridge the distance between them, delicately removing Sanji’s palm from his hair and keeping hold of it as he uses his other to guide Sanji’s head into the crook of his neck. There’s little resistance– a sign that he’s too far gone in his own head to be angry anymore.

“‘Why?’” Zoro repeats, stroking gentle circles into the back of Sanji’s neck. “Because I want to be there for you when you need it the most,” he states simply, continuing his ministrations even as Sanji shakes his head.

“But why?” Sanji stresses, his hands clenching the back of Zoro’s haramaki. “I’m a fucking mess today. I’m no good to anyone like this, let alone my partner. You shouldn’t have to see this.”

Zoro barely manages to hold back a sigh– not in frustration at Sanji, but at the way he feels he’s not allowed to be anything less than perfect. That he’s not allowed to cry onto Zoro’s shoulder when some days are simply too much.

“Hey. Look at me,” he says. When Sanji shows no sign of moving he tries to pull back slightly, only for the other man to stubbornly bury his face into Zoro’s neck, his glasses digging in a little uncomfortably. And if that wasn’t enough already, he tightens his grip on Zoro so he can’t move away. That’s fine, they can still have this conversation like this, and he doesn’t want to add to Sanji’s already distressed state. “Ok, you don’t have to look but will you listen? Please?” It shows just how rarely he says please when Sanji jolts minutely at the request, but he acquiesces with a nod a second later. 

“You look after everyone constantly. You even look after enemies before you look after yourself for fuck’s sake. So what I wanna know is who’s gonna look after you?” When he receives no response (not that he was expecting one) he carries on. “I know how much extra shit you do for everyone without them even realizing; I know you keep Chopper’s herbs stocked up; I know you oil Franky’s machines; you give Usopp small tasks to do to keep him distracted from his own thoughts; how you take note of how everyone’s feeling and cook their favorites if they’re feeling down; how you’ll suggest a game when Luffy’s been quiet for a bit too long.

He pauses to catch his breath, noting how the collar of his shirt is ever so slightly damp. “I could go on for hours talking about the amount of shit you’ve done for me both pre and post-relationship. And I haven’t even mentioned the tailor-made diets you have for everyone every single day-”.

“That’s my job.” Sanji interrupts, the words tickling Zoro’s skin.

“Yes it’s your job,” Zoro huffs. “But you already go way beyond what anyone expects of you and you still somehow don’t think it’s enough. Someone’s gotta be there for you to make sure you don’t crash and burn under the unattainable expectations you set for yourself.”

“But I’m so fucking weak. Wing of the Future Pirate King? Yeah fucking right. What a joke. Luffy doesn’t need someone who can’t do their fucking job on the crew. You certainly don’t need another burden added to the already huge pile you’ve taken on by yourself. So tell me what good am I, truly, if I can’t do the one thing I’m good for?” Sanji sneers.

Zoro takes a moment to think about Sanji’s words. It won’t do either of them any good if he acts on instinct and throttles the guy until he understands how needed he is.

Eventually, he settles on: “Do you think Luffy is weak when he asks for our help?”

Zoro feels Sanji lips curl up in a snarl. “What? No! Of course not!”

“Well… what makes you so different then? Why aren’t you allowed to ask for help?”

“Well that’s-” he stutters, “because I-”

“Because you’re what, Sanji?”

“Because I-” he swallows harshly before steeling himself. “Because I still don’t think I deserve it! And I know it’s stupid and you think I’m stupid but I can’t help it. I simply don’t deserve it because I’m me…” he trails off weakly.

The urge to throttle Sanji is back with a vengeance. Although this time it’s battling with wanting to hold him as tight as possible just for the near impossible chance that Zoro’s thoughts about the man he loves can reach him through fucking diffusion.

However, some miracle isn’t what Sanji needs right now. What he needs is someone to tell him straight how wrong his tainted thoughts about himself are. And who better to do that than the ‘stoic straight-laced swordsman’ who by now knows Sanji better than anyone else. 

“You got that fucking right- yes, you’re you. You’re Black-leg Sanj; you’re the Strawhat Pirates chef; you’re the left wing of the future pirate king; you’re Zeff’s son; you’re the love of my fucking life. You, in all your prissy, caring, foul-mouthed glory are one of the best things to happen to this crew. I can go out there right now and ask everyone and they’d all say the same thing: how they don’t know what they’d do without you. How they’d do anything for you.” 

He pauses, praying to a god he doesn’t believe in that something he says will get through to Sanji. “So just because you have an off day or two, or three– or even if it were a fucking year that wouldn’t diminish your value in the slightest. We love you, Luffy loves you, I love you. Nothing-” he says, injecting as much truthfulness into that one word as he can, “and I mean nothing is going to change that. We care about you and will always want you to lean on us if you need anything.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as Sanji processes Zoro’s words, broken only by Sanji’s slightly uneven breathing before he finally speaks.

“I don’t need protecting,” Sanji spits as if the word itself is a curse, but Zoro catches the way his voice trembles, betraying his true thoughts.

“No,” Zoro agrees. “You don’t. It’s part of the reason why I love you– the fact that we’re equals in everything. The fact that I don’t have to constantly watch my back with you around. But protecting and being cared for are different. You give so fucking much to this crew and-” he takes a breath, ready to admit something that he’s yet to voice out loud, “I will spend the rest of my life trying to give you even an ounce of that care in return.”

He feels more than hears Sanji’s sharp intake of breath, and in the next second he’s met with a shiny-eyed Sanji looking at him as if he’s lost his damn mind.

Which, ok, is slightly reasonable considering the emotional vulnerability on display right now, but he doesn’t think it quite warrants the look of absolute disbelief that Sanji is currently pinning him with.

“Did you-” Sanji splutters. “Did you just propose to me?”

Zoro’s brain short-circuits and his whole face erupts into flames as Sanji’s question bounces around in his head. Did he just propose? He didn’t mean it as one! But looking back it sure as hell sounded like one and, well, he doesn’t exactly hate the idea of being married to Sanji. They’ve been together for a while now and– oh god should he already be looking for a ring? Does Sanji want a ring when he cooks all the time? Who is he kidding of course the stupid love-cook wants a ring. But that means he’s gonna have to go to the witch to borrow money and he really doesn’t want her knowing about why he needs the money.

And the biggest question is– would Sanji even accept? He looked pretty spooked just then. Maybe Sanji doesn’t want to marry Zoro, which is fine! Totally fine. Marriage is stupid anyway and-

“Earth to mossy. You ok there?” Sanji asks, barely stifling a giggle at Zoro’s obvious distress. Oh how the tables have turned.

“No! Yes! No!” Zoro groans and plants his head onto Sanji’s shoulder– a near mirror image of their earlier position.

“Relax, darling. We can talk about it another time. I think we’ve had more than our fill of deep conversation for the day, wouldn’t you say? But just for the record,” he adds, pressing a brief kiss to the side of Zoro’s head, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Just maybe after I’ve slept for more than 10 hours a week.”

Well. That clears that up then. 

Zoro’s mouth is dangerously dry and, not trusting his voice right now, he nods into Sanji’s neck which earns him a chuckle from the other man. How it turned from Zoro comforting Sanji into the opposite in the space of 30 seconds Zoro still can’t quite fathom. But comforting people has always been more Sanji’s forte. It’s not that Zoro is bad at it himself, people just tend to find an overly friendly cook more welcoming than a brooding swordsman. Not that Zoro cares– this way he can comfort the people that mean the most to him; the ones that know him the best. And speaking of…

“S-so. About that nap?”

Sanji rolls his eyes at him, a faint smirk at the edge of his lips at Zoro’s indiscreet attempt at a topic change, but in the end still takes pity on him. 

“I suppose I’m a little tired,” Sanji admits, which is a small victory in itself. “But I really do have a lot of prep work to do for tonight’s dinner. It’s-” he pauses, a small frown overtaking his features. “It’s not something I’m comfortable skipping tonight. I’m sorry,” he finishes, hanging his head in what Zoro suspects is shame.

He ponders this for a second, thinking of a solution that will benefit Sanji in every way. And when he comes up with one, he almost laughs at how stupidly simple it is. “That’s fine. I can do the prep work for you while you have a nap.”

Sanji looks on at him in stunned disbelief.

Zoro continues, unamused at Sanji’s expression. “Oh come on. It’s not like I haven’t helped you before. Maybe it’s time for the apprentice to have some unsupervised practice, don’t you think?”

It takes all of Zoro’s willpower to not burst into laughter at the look of disgust that briefly flashes across Sanji’s face– like he can think of nothing worse than leaving Zoro unattended while handling his food.

“We can set it up so that you can rest your head on my lap. It’s been too long since we last did that.” Zoro sees the moment he’s won when the briefest of smiles upturns Sanji’s lips before he masks it into indifference. However, it doesn’t hide the way he subconsciously squeezes Zoro’s hand tighter.

“Fine.” Sanji sighs. “I suppose just this once can’t hurt too much. And wipe that smug grin off your face,” he threatens. “I may be tired but I can still kick your ass right now.”

Considering the condition Sanji’s in right now Zoro highly doubts that but, for once, he lets it slide not wanting to rile the man up again.

“Right then. It’s nap time.” Zoro says, grinning wide despite Sanji’s earlier warning. Sanji nods in reluctant acceptance, but not without that small smile adorning his face once again.

An agreement reached, he quickly marches over to the fridge, grabbing some snacks that Sanji prepared earlier (he’d finally gotten Sanji to give him the code after continued pestering and one spectacular blowjob). Ignoring Sanji’s questioning gaze on him, he strides over to the galley door and yanks it open, apologizing to Franky in his head as the door hits the wall with force. Oops.

“Oi! Luffy!“ he shouts, waiting for the other man’s attention to be on him. It only takes a second for Luffy to redirect his gaze from whatever game he’s playing with Chopper and Usopp to Zoro, a questioning gleam in his eye. As soon as his captain’s eyes meet his, he chucks the pilfered snacks at him, only wincing slightly at Sanji’s outraged gasp. Luffy’s arm stretches and snatches the food out of the air, rapidly bringing them to his already drooling face.

“Luffy!” he yells to drag the man’s attention away from the food– which is no small feat in itself. “Dinner will be in 3 hours! Do not-” and he stresses the word with a pointed glare and finger directed at the man, “come into the kitchen at any point until you’re all called for dinner.” He loves the man dearly but his bottomless pit of a stomach has meant that Sanji and Zoro have been disturbed on more than one occasion.

And, unfortunately, he doesn’t just mean napping.

Luffy mumbles something like “runderstoof” as he tears into the food. Despite his best efforts, Zoro’s pretty sure the glutton has already forgotten what he said. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and instead turning to make eye contact with Robin and Nami. A look passes between them and something (not quite desperation) on his face must show, since they give him a short nod in understanding, promising to keep Luffy occupied for the time being. He returns a nod in thanks and turns back into the galley. The galley that currently occupies a fuming cook.

“You didn’t have to do that!” Sanji yells, hands flailing all over the place. “And I can’t believe you just threw my food! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Zoro rolls his eye, “You know Luffy wouldn’t let a crumb go to waste even if he dropped it. I knew what I was doing.”

Sanji softens slightly at that, although a scowl still remains on his face– something that Zoro needs to fix quickly. He cups Sanji’s face, placing a brief kiss on his lips and reveling at the way he blushes. The cook, now thoroughly distracted, is easy to maneuver towards the benches with Zoro’s hands on his shoulders.

As soon as Sanji’s sat down, Zoro pointedly ignoring the groan of relief that slips from the other man’s mouth, he pulls up the table that he usually uses for his sword cleaning materials– something that Sanji surprised him with when Zoro found himself spending more time in the galley than in the crow’s nest.

“Ok cook, whaddaya want me to do?”

Sanji points to different vegetables that are currently strewn across one of the counter tops as well as some that are still in the fridge. He wasn’t kidding when he said he still had a lot of prep work to do– Zoro really doesn’t know how he does it all.

“Alright. That should be everything.” Sanji hums as he throws a quick glance toward Zoro’s pile of collected foods.

“You sure? Because I’m not gonna be moving until you wake up.”

Sanji clicks his tongue, focusing his attention on something just past Zoro’s left shoulder. Zoro watches as he bites his lip in contemplation before slowly, and rather shyly, meeting Zoro’s gaze once again. “I suppose there’s one more thing,” he mumbles. “You can use my knives.”

Zoro blinks at Sanji in disbelief, the significance of Sanji’s offer not lost on him. “Your knives? You sure, curly?”

“When have I ever done something that I’m not sure about? On second thought don’t answer that,” he quickly adds after Zoro quirks an eyebrow at him. “But I’m sure about this. Go ahead, Zoro.”

Permission granted, he makes his way over to them and tries to select the ones that he’s seen Sanji use for the current food selection. Bringing them back, he presents them to Sanji to check. He’ll deny it to anyone who asks but waiting for Sanji’s approval had his heart beating faster than usual.

“Not bad, marimo,” Sanji nods. “Maybe there’s more than one brain cell in that scary head of yours after all.”

“Managed to get that right even with a shit teacher. I’d say I’ve got more than enough brain cells.”

Scowling at Zoro’s playful insult, Sanji threatens, “You fuck up either my knives or my food and I’ll be chopping your dick off and feeding it to you.” Zoro has the distinct image of him brandishing a wooden spoon as a weapon. “Although I suppose I’ll still need to give you a main, since that would barely even class as an hors d'oeuvres.”

Zoro’s not sure exactly what that means– Sanji’s fancy-ass language something he’s still learning, but he’s sure it’s an insult.

“Whatever, shit-cook. Will you go to sleep already? I want some peace and quiet and your nagging is kinda ruining it,” he teases. “And besides, you love my dick too much to ever even think about chopping it off.”

Not bothering to dignify Zoro with a response other than a pointed roll of his eyes, Sanji places his glasses atop Zoro’s head for safe-keeping before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Wake me up in a couple hours so I can actually cook dinner?”

“Sure, curls.”

Sanji eyes him critically for a second, looking for a sign of any dishonesty. Seemingly finding none, he waits for Zoro to take his own seat before immediately stretching out. He rests his head on Zoro’s leg, giving it a quick squeeze and wiggles around a bit to make himself comfortable.

“Remember– I want the carrots julienned, onions diced, potatoes sliced…” he slurs, already drifting off. It’s not cute.

Zoro only has to wait another minute before Sanji’s out cold. He knew the man was tired but this is a new record– even he doesn’t fall asleep this quickly. He quietly chuckles to himself and begins to get to work.

It ends up not taking as long as Zoro had planned, and soon enough he’s sat with a table of chopped, diced, and juli-whatever vegetables in front of him. Sanji is thankfully still fast asleep, although soon after the man’s eyes had fallen shut he’d burrowed closer into Zoro. It really isn’t cute.

Now Zoro’s in a predicament. While settling down for Sanji’s nap they both failed to remember a tea towel for Zoro to wipe his hands on, so now Zoro’s stuck with the uncomfortable feeling of dried juices on his fingers. He also kinda really wants to card his hands through Sanji’s hair right now– something Sanji once quietly admitted helps after he’s had a nightmare.

He eyes his hand warily, tongue darting out to clean some of the sticky mess. He internally debates whether Sanji would prefer Zoro’s spit or carrot juice in his hair– the carrot juice winning when he pictures Sanji’s affronted look at having “Zoro germs” in his hair.

As if he doesn’t have them half way down his throat basically every day.

Decision made, he drops his hand into Sanji’s hair, waiting a second to see whether the man stirs or not– he doesn’t want to wake the man when he’s finally getting some rest. After Sanji shows zero signs of waking he starts his ministrations, tenderly running his fingers through those always-soft blond locks.

With the promise of no one disturbing them for the next hour or so, Zoro quickly slips into a meditative state of his own. He’s not asleep. No, he’d rather treasure this moment with Sanji than catch up on a little shut-eye. He syncs his breaths with Sanji’s, his other hand coming to rest atop the man's chest. He relaxes back into the sofa, feeling Sanji’s ribcage rhythmically expand and deflate with his heart beating steadily along.

His thoughts seamlessly drift to the man below him, the one who occupies his mind more often than not recently.

He’s pleasantly surprised at how quickly Sanji backed down today. Zoro was fully prepared to spend the rest of the time arguing before dinner, and even after that too. Sure, there were a few nasty comments thrown his way but he paid no attention to them– they glanced off before they even had a chance to sink their claws in. He’s not stupid enough to think that Sanji meant any of it– when someone feels threatened they’re bound to lash out. And Sanji feels threatened by receiving the love he believes he’s so undeserving of.

But anyway, he’s not sure whether it’s because Sanji really is that exhausted (he is) or whether he’s made another step in looking after himself for once that made him accept Zoro’s terms so easily.

Truthfully? He thinks it’s a bit of both. And Zoro couldn’t be more proud of him.

He’s already come so far. And what Sanji’s asked of him today? He doesn’t take it lightly in the slightest. Sure, it may only be cutting up some vegetables in (too) many different ways, but for Sanji? It means a whole lot more than just that, and it’s why Zoro feels so fucking honoured that he’s here right now. That Sanji trusts him with the things most precious to him.

Because that’s the first part: Zoro’s being trusted to look after the crew right now. Sanji’s cooking is one of the the only things that the stubborn man actually prides himself on, even despite his hang ups on perfection. But right now Zoro’s taken over that role in Sanji’s stead. He’s the one providing for the crew, as little as it may be, but even that’s something not to be scoffed at. 

Food is vital for the crew and Sanji trusts him enough to take care of that, which brings him to his second musing: Sanji trusts him not to waste any food. He won’t lie, it took a while of watching the cook, well, cook, and a bit (a lot) of hands-on coaching for him to get to this point. But now he knows how to make use of all the scraps so there’s zero waste.

He’s never questioned the cook’s penchant for not wasting food, simply writing it off as another one of the blond’s strange quirks. It was only after one particular conversation in the crow’s nest that involved Sanji learning about how Zoro and Luffy met, that Sanji told the story of how he met Zeff.

And the long months that followed.

So no, he never questioned Sanji, but now he makes sure to all but lick his plate clean– an action that only Luffy is allowed to get away with. A smile overtakes his face, remembering their first dinner after said conversation; Zoro, determined to show Sanji just how much sharing that story meant to him, did in fact go to lick his plate clean. Only he was stopped rather abruptly with a kick to his head and the cook cussing like a sailor about manners and ‘how dare you do that in front of the ladies’.

When Sanji interrogated him about it later in the confines of their own room, and after Zoro explained his reasoning, he was kissed senseless. So all in all the minor concussion was definitely worth it.

And that brings him to his final thought: Zoro prides himself in knowing that he’s safe for Sanji. That for once in his life Sanji can relax knowing that Zoro is there and that he’ll do anything to keep him and the crew safe. It took a while to get here, and there’s still a long journey ahead, but Zoro relishes in the fact that he gets to see Sanji’s vulnerable side. He feels so incredibly lucky that he’s one of the only people that Sanji can truly let go and be himself around.

There will always be days like today where he puts up a complete front, feeling like he’s unworthy of showing his so-called ‘weaknesses’. Thankfully, however, those days are becoming rarer by the week and Zoro endeavors to keep that going. Sanji deserves a place to feel seen, and while the Sunny in general is often that place, Zoro wants for himself to be a constant for Sanji. 

Someone that Sanji never has to hide anything away from.

Zoro knows that their relationship is special— they take care of each other in a way that no-one else ever could. Zoro wouldn’t change a thing about it and, despite his occasional griping, he knows Sanji feels the same way.

He’s broken from his meditative state by Sanji stirring beneath him. A quick glance at the clock tells Zoro that Sanji doesn’t have to start cooking for another 5 minutes, and he’s secretly glad that he doesn’t have to wake Sanji up– the thought of disturbing his peaceful sleep settling wrong in Zoro’s stomach.

Sanji wakes slowly, blinking blearily up at Zoro while snuggling into Zoro’s hand some more. Zoro loves Sanji in every state but he’ll admit that the unguarded expression Sanji wears right after he’s just woken up is one of his favorites. The way he sleepily smiles, often pressing little kisses into Zoro’s skin just because he can. It’s all so domestic which is something Zoro could never see himself enjoying, but now? Now he doesn’t know if he could go a week without Sanji’s sleep-filled voice in the morning.

“Mmmm what time issit?” Sanji murmurs, said sleepy voice in full show.

“Good morning to you too, sleeping beauty,” Zoro replies. “You’ve got about 3 minutes until you asked me to wake you.”

“That’s good. Feels like I slept for hours.”

“The wonders of a good nap. I’ll remember this if you ever complain about my sleeping habits again.”

Sanji, rather childishly, sticks his tongue out at him.

Zoro, rather not childishly, sticks his own out in retaliation.

After a tense stand off with their tongues out, Zoro eventually gives in. There’s more pressing matters at hand than being more of a stubborn bastard at the moment. 

“How are you feeling?” Zoro asks. That’s a normal question to ask someone who had a breakdown earlier, right? He’s not expecting everything to be magically fixed but he wants to at least know if Sanji is feeling the tiniest bit better.

Sanji winces.

Shit. Maybe it wasn’t a normal question. Maybe he should have just kept his tongue out until it went dry. Zoro’s spiraling– he’s really been hanging out with Sanji too much. Before it can get too bad, and much to Zoro’s surprise, Sanji takes hold of the hand that was resting on his chest. He begins stroking his thumb over Zoro’s knuckles, reversing their roles from earlier.

Zoro watches in slight trepidation as Sanji takes a deep breath, clearly trying to dispel some nerves, before his visible eye snaps to Zoro’s.

“Hey. I’m really sorry I was shitty to you earlier. You were only trying to help and I threw it back in your face. I’m sorry, truly.”

Zoro should have known that this was coming. The way the man is so unbelievably harsh on himself means that this was almost a given, and Sanji’s got another thing coming if he thinks Zoro’s gonna let it stand.

“You weren’t shitty to me– only to yourself.” He pokes Sanji in the middle of his forehead, causing the other man to go cross-eyed. It’s definitely not adorable. “Besides, if your grumpy ass attitude wasn’t a turn off before then how could it possibly be now when I really know what’s going on in that curly overthinking head of yours.”

Sanji huffs, half in amusement and half insulted. “My love, I’ll never know how you say the most romantic things while also being kinda insulting?”

“It’s one of my many talents,” Zoro says, punctuating it with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Speaking of talents, does the cook want to inspect his sous-cook’s work? Make sure it’s up to his royal fussiness’s standards?”

Much to Zoro’s surprise, Sanji’s brows crease in thought. He’d thought the man would be chomping at the bit to point out each and every mistake he’d made. So when Sanji burrows himself further into Zoro’s lap (something he wasn’t sure was even possible), he discretely pinches himself to make sure he didn’t accidentally end up falling asleep. That this isn’t some weird vivid dream where Sanji’s been replaced by a just-as-hot doppelgänger.

Sanji sighs into Zoro’s stomach, clearly content not to move for the moment. Zoro often likens him to an angry cat, but now he’s really going for the pampered-as-hell type now. Not that Zoro’s complaining— it’s about time, really.

“I’m thinking I'll spend 5 more minutes here with your strangely talented hand in my hair. I must admit it’s doing wonders at getting rid of this god awful headache.” Zoro doesn’t bother with a response, instead going back to gently running his hand through Sanji’s blonde locks. “And then I’m thinking I’ll finish dinner, do the dishes, head up for a long bath, and retire early for the night.” He turns his head even further into Zoro, giving him a clear view of the red tips of his ears. “You’re welcome to join me for any of that, by the way.”

Zoro snorts a laugh. “Oh am I now? Should I be feeling honored?”

Sanji lazily swats at him, “I know you didn’t nap today, and I saw how you’re favoring your right arm slightly. Ah- don’t lie to me,” he quickly adds when Zoro goes to interrupt. “I figured I could give you a quick massage in the bath, which most definitely isn’t a ploy to make you have one, stinky marimo,” he smirks. “Plus I figured I could get Usopp to take over your night watch since he owes me one.”

Sanji draws back from Zoro, turning to look at his face which he has no doubt is doing little to mask his surprise. “But I suppose if my partner doesn’t want to spend time naked together and then go to our soundproof room early in the night, then I suppose I can get started on tomorrow’s meal prep,” Sanji laments dramatically, hamming up the theatrics even more when he presses the back of his hand to his forehead.

Oh he’s a real fucking bastard isn’t he? Well, two can play at that game.

“Sounds good to me, curly. In fact, Brook owes me a favor so why don’t we get him to do the dishes today so we can have an even longer bath. Ya know, one where you can really dig in.” He cringes slightly at his poor attempt at dirty talk, something the cook has no trouble with, but instead as he watches Sanji’s eyes glaze over for a brief moment he feels just a little smug.

Sanji comes back to himself a second later with a prominent sniff before barking a laugh. “That was fucking awful, marimo,” he lies.

“Shut the fuck up! I’m trying here!” Zoro defends, putting on an exaggerated pout and looking away in defiance.

At Sanji’s silence he glances down at the man in his lap, worried for a second that he’s done something wrong. In actuality, his breath is almost knocked out of him when he sees his partner looking up at him with a gaze that can’t be described as anything else than adoring.

Sanji’s hand comes up to softly cup Zoro’s cheek which he quickly nuzzles into. “I’m only asking this because I know my shitty brain won’t shut up about it otherwise, despite already having an inkling of your answer.” At Zoro’s questioning raised brow he continues. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? My shitty behavior I mean.”

Zoro clicks his tongue. It figures the stupid cook still feels like he needs to make amends for earlier. “And you call me the dumb one?” He mocks, earning himself a soft pinch to the cheek but no verbal interruption. “No, Sanji, there isn’t anything you can do. That’s not how this relationship works, and I know you know that.”

Sanji glances off to the side, Zoro’s intense gaze overwhelming him slightly.

“I do know that,” he sighs, a small sad smile adorning his face. “I just needed the reassurance I think— my mind is still whirring just a little bit. Thank you.”

Not wanting Sanji to be distracted by those thoughts any longer, Zoro makes the quick decision to break the tension.

“Anytime. I know you’d do the same for me too. And besides-” he says, using two fingers to gently tilt Sanji’s face back towards him. He doesn’t know when it started, but being able to look into Sanji’s bright blue eyes always makes his heart skip a beat. Damn Sanji and his shitty romance novels rubbing off on him. “I’ve heard that kissing is scientifically proven to kick unwanted thoughts out of overthinking curlybrowed heads.”

Sanji blinks, his smile softening into something Zoro could happily see every day for the rest of his life. “Scientifically proven, huh? And who exactly has done these experiments, marimo?”

“Me.” Zoro doesn’t miss a beat. “But I think I need some more data. Just to really make sure the results are conclusive and shit.”

“‘And shit.’” Sanji chuckles to himself once more, his visible eye softening as he crooks his finger at Zoro. “Come here then, you unbelievably big softie. Let’s get you some more data.”

And who is Zoro to refuse a request like that?

Their lips meet in a gentle kiss— the angle making is slightly awkward, but Zoro doesn’t care. And he knows Sanji doesn’t either when the man arches off of Zoro’s lap to get closer to him. To deepen the kiss as if he’s trying to pour his emotions into Zoro directly.

Which is kinda stupid because Sanji both shows and tells Zoro every single day what he feels for him. It’s in each and every little action the man does.

But still, he reciprocates the kiss as best as he can. He smooths Sanji’s hair down as his tongue swipes over his lips. He lets their tongues entwine as Sanji gently strokes Zoro’s cheek— it’s in such stark contrast to the rest of the kiss that it makes Zoro’s breath hitch.

He reluctantly pulls away, but not far; never far. He presses their foreheads together as they catch their breaths, one of his arms supporting Sanji so he doesn’t fall back down. He selfishly wants to keep him closer for just a moment longer.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Sanji whispers after a few seconds, breaking the silence. He’s toying with Zoro’s earrings in the way he does when he’s feeling a little bashful. It’s really definitely not adorable.

Zoro doesn’t ask for Sanji to elaborate on what he means. He doesn’t need to— he already knows exactly what it means.

I’m glad it’s you I fell in love with. I’m glad it’s you I’m learning to be myself with. I’m glad it’s you that I can show my vulnerabilities to. I’m glad you’re always going to be by my side and at my back.

I’m simply glad it’s you.

Zoro knows this. He knows this because he feels the same way– right down to not being able to fully put it into words either.

Sanji knows Zoro understood when his eyes crinkle in the way they only do when he’s truly happy, and he presses another chaste kiss against his lips.

“I love you, Zoro,” he murmurs against his lips, a smile evident.

“I love you too, Sanji,” he replies, his smile mirroring the other man’s. 

He allows them a few more seconds of the lovey-dovey shit that Sanji enjoys so much (and that Zoro may not hate as much as he claims), before deciding that’s more than enough.

“Now get the fuck off, bastard. You’re heavy and my arm is going numb.” He promptly shoves a spluttering Sanji off his lap and onto the floor.

Sanji looks up at him in stunned silence, betrayal almost making its way into his expression. “What the fuck, marimo? What the hell is wrong with you? Were we not having a moment?”

Zoro snickers at his partner’s indignant expression. He shrugs. “Like I said, you’re heavy.”

Sanji raises a disbelieving eyebrow, “Me? Heavy for the guy that lifts double my weight with his fucking pinky finger?”

“Didn’t realize you were paying attention, curls. I’m flattered.”

Sanji mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “hard not to when you’re parading your goddamn monster set of tits around” before he says, louder this time, “Then why the fuck are you calling me heavy?!”

“I think you’re underestimating your weight here. I’m pretty good at guessing that kinda stuff– numbers and all that shit. You’re the one that makes me calculate your shopping expenses all the time,” Zoro boasts, holding back another snicker as Sanji’s mouth drops open in shock.

“Are you-? Surely you’re not-? Are you calling me fat?!”

This time, Zoro doesn’t manage to hold his laugh in, letting out a snort before quickly collecting himself. He stares down at the love of his life, who’s currently still glaring daggers at him and clearly waiting for an answer.

“Hmmmmmmm,” he pretends to mull over the question to the tune of Sanji’s increasing ire. “Nah that’s not it.”

“Then what the fuck is it?” Sanji all but shrieks.

“Must be all your emotional baggage,” Zoro deadpans, never once breaking eye contact.

Zoro has to look away as he covers his mouth to stifle yet another laugh in response to Sanji’s gaping fish expression.

“Did you just-” Sanji trails off in disbelief.

“I believe I did.”

Sanji’s lips tremble until he can’t help it. He breaks out into a giggle of his own, one that merges with Zoro’s own laughter. “You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that shithead? Your bold insensitivity is astonishing.”

Zoro grins, holding out a hand for Sanji to take and smiling wider when Sanji grips onto it with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah but you wouldn’t have me any other way,” he says as he pulls Sanji up against his chest.

“Ugh. I have terrible taste,” Sanji groans, plucking his glasses off the top of Zoro’s head and placing them on his own face. Zoro notes that he makes no move to extract himself from his arms though.

“Pretty shitty for the so-called best cook in the world to have terrible taste. Kinda sounds like fraud to me.”

Sanji thumps his chest lightly, “Oh my god will you shut up?”

Zoro presses a fleeting kiss to the man’s temple. “Hey, you’re the one that chose this,” he says, gesturing to himself. “We both knew what we were getting into– we both chose to be each other’s. So your answer? Never. Although I can think of some rather effective ways that you can try.” At Sanji’s rapidly reddening face he decides to tease him just a little more. “Oh and cook? Since you’re clumsy as hell and just took a nasty fall, let me give you a massage too. I’ve been told my hands are ‘strangely talented’.”

“Oh.” Sanji flushes. “Oh that was kinda smooth for a sword-for-brains asshole.”

“I’ve learned from the best around.”

Sanji puffs his chest out proudly. “Damn right you have.”

“Yeah. The best asshole around. In more ways than one-”

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence as a pair of angry lips crash into his own, finally shutting him up. 

Their arms tighten around each other and Zoro smiles into the kiss– glad that Sanji’s finally learning to listen to him.