Chapter Text
Her love is in your head
You lost your earrings in her bed
You couldn't tell her that you lost 'em
'Cause you're scared and you're not talking
So you think of what to say
Then save it for another day
'Cause you just never had the heart
Now they just drift further apart
From you
- Earrings by Malcolm Todd
"Sir?"
The young man he'd just taken on as his newest waiter last week stands at his side. Sanji doesn't have to look over to sense his presence there. Unsure and awkward. A sore thumb amidst the well oiled machine that makes up his kitchen. The few staff he keeps go silent though at their different stations around the bustling room. Sensing the oncoming disaster. The poor kid doesn't know the ins and outs of the restaurant yet, it's not his fault he doesn't know not to disturb the head chef. Though it should be pretty obvious.
But Sanji's feeling lenient. He already humbled the guy when he first came in demanding a place in his restaurant. So he would give him a chance to walk his ass back out before making another example out of him.
"Unless a fight has broken out or someone's died in the parlor, I recommend you not distract me in my kitchen," Sanji says smoothly as he keeps making even cuts of streak to be thrown in a simmering pan. The threat is obvious just between the words and the edge to his tone, if the kid is smart enough to pick it up.
Sadly common sense seems to be lacking these days.
"Oh- um, there's no fighting or dead people," he stutters to his right. "But-"
"Then get out and tell Tori whatever you're about to waste my time with," Sanji casts a quick glance at him that could make even the strongest man wither.
His hands move on autopilot. Flicking the knife around and cutting through the raw meat in practiced motions that are second nature. Then promptly dumping the cuts in the pan over a lit burner to be sautéed.
All things considered, he's letting him off easy. He's cut people from his staff for far less years ago.
But give a man an inch and he'll take a mile.
"But s-sir, there's a man requesting you-"
A sigh falls from Sanji's lips and his grip on his knife tightens. Was this how Zeff felt all the time? Probably.
He turns on his heel, annoyance in his eyes and intent on teaching this kid a lesson on kitchen decorum when someone bursts through the swing doors.
"Roronoa's here!" Tori, his head stewardess, shouts.
…
The doors squeak shut noisily behind her. Something pops and fizzles at one of the ovens. A ladle clatters to the floor and a muffled curse follows. And the naive man in front of him gapes like a fish.
That son of a-
In a blink his knife is set on his cutting board, the burner set on low, and he's shoving past the young man who's now spluttering a mix of an apology and explanation.
"Can it!"
As he storms through the kitchen his blessed staff carry on with their own tasks. They know the drill. When he gets to the swing doors Tori is there to stop the newbie from following him anymore.
The bastard has a lot of nerve showing up here. Again.
But like clockwork he appears at random. And Sanji can never predict when.
"Marimo!" he bellows as he rounds the corner into the main dining room. The few patrons eating at their tables jump at the sudden noise, he'd have to apologize later. But for now, his eyes are set on the bastard all but lounging at one of his tables with his feet kicked up like he owned the place.
He's all broad shoulders and sun tanned skin. Stupid earrings and stupid slutty outfit. Who even goes around like that? Same old mint green hair that's a little longer since he last saw him that's brushed back haphazardly. And that singular sharp eye burning through him since the other is scarred shut.
Sanji's going to murder him for real this time.
As if he hasn't thought that every time before now.
"Ah, cook, its good to see you're still as spirited as always," the intruder drawls with a smirk. Those stupid swords rest on the table and Sanji can feel a vein pulse at his temple.
The audacity.
He doesn't entertain the bastard with a witty remark or banter. Rather, he marches right up to him and grabs him by the collar.
"You will either walk out dignified or I will drag you," Sanji practically hisses in Zoro's face and gives him a solid yank in warning.
The man doesn't budge an inch, not even a flinch to grab his precious swords, and his smile only grows into an all out grin.
"That's no way to greet an old crewmate, cook."
Sanji sees red. It's like Zoro wants to die at his hands.
He growls and hauls the swordsman from his seat with ease. Just because they weren't nearly as young as the used to be didn't mean shit. Sanji is perfectly capable of putting belt to ass still. And he drags the cursing bastard through the dining room between the tables. Absolutely fuming as he did so and stopping to give a small apologetic smile to a few patrons.
Zoro, for all his stupidity, at least has the decency to go along begrudgingly until they're out of sight and shoves Sanji off.
"Leave."
Sanji points at the door like Zoro doesn't know where it is.
He does. This isn't a first.
"No, I think I'll stay a while."
A single sword unsheathes with a soft click.
"Marimo."
"Cook."
Why does this have to be happening right now? It's the middle of the lunch rush.
Sanji pinches the bridge of his nose. He could bodily remove the idiot, but that would devolve into a fight. And that would essentially be giving in. As bad as just letting him stay a while.
"I'm not giving you a fight if that's what you're after," Sanji says lowly and crosses his arms. But he thinks better of it and uncrosses them to fish out his cigarettes and lighter.
There's plenty of people willing to fight the worlds greatest swordsman. But the mossheaded idiot always winds up back here looking for a fight. The sick fuck.
But it's not really a fight he's looking for.
They both know that.
"I was just passing by the area. Thought I'd pay a visit," Zoro huffs with an annoyed roll of his eyes.
Sanji lights a cigarette and takes a heavy drag from it before puffing the smoke in Zoro's face. "You know it's more than that, don't play dumb."
He knows the bastard didn't just conveniently pass by. No. It was the same excuse every time. A pathetic attempt at an excuse honestly.
The swordsman blows the smoke out of his face with a roll of his eyes and lets Enma slide back into its sheath. "I miss screwing with you. Is it such a crime?" he says casually and steps closer. Far too close, and in Sanji's space.
But like always, his brain short circuits whenever he's in such close proximity to the heathen. Doesn't react at all. Even as Zoro reaches a hand out and tucks some of his long hair behind his ear.
The whisper of those thick fingers along the shell of his ear sends warmth through his entire body.
He blinks once, then twice, and it finally computes that his fringe isn't covering half his field of vision like usual. That does the trick.
"Stop that!" he steps back with a incredulous scoff and swats Zoro's hand away.
The man is so brazen and crude. Always toeing the line of what he can get away with. Nothing like the suppressed dumbass he used to be that didn't know what he wanted besides beating Mihawk. Yet that was long ago like many other things.
Zoro mirrors his scoff and crosses his arms over his chest. His very exposed chest at that.
That's not important.
"Still got that stick up your ass," he grunts. Not so much a question but a statement.
"You're still not welcome here. You better not be loitering around when we close," he says with finality and puffs one more cloud of smoke in Zoro's face for good measure. He has food to cook and customers to apologize to. And the swordsman knows it'd be a death sentence to enter the kitchen without permission.
Sanji brushes past and reenters the dining room. The patrons are eating quietly but obviously a bit on edge, if not curious, about whatever the hell just happened. He takes the time to go up to each table and gives a heartfelt apology for the disruption and offers free wine to make up for it. Then heads back to the privacy of his kitchen.
All eyes flick up to him and he sighs. His staff are a good lot and care a lot for each other. That includes him. It's like an oddly functional family unit. Much like his first family, the Stawhats.
He really needed to check in on some of the old crew. It's been too long. Usopp visited just a couple months ago and Robin came by with Franky just a while before that. But he hadn't seen everyone else in a while. Of course he keeps tabs on them. It's hard to miss the headlines when Luffy gets into some debacle every other month or Brook's going on another world tour.
But least of all there's Zoro. The thorn in his side that only shows up once a blue moon and leaves him angry and bitter without fail. He's the one person he didn't want to see but came around the most. The bastard's fights get broadcasted everywhere and talk of his prowess reaches far and wide. Like Sanji can't escape him even if he tries.
And his wonderful kitchen staff know unfortunate visits from the Roronoa Zoro leaves him in a sour mood. Like now.
Jamison, his sous chef, hesitantly walks up to him. "We just got a fresh haul of fish from the All Blue. I can have someone else deal with it or…" he trails off.
The offer is clear and Sanji's chest squeezes a little.
"I'll handle it. Take over my oven and direct everyone else accordingly," he says with a tight grin and gives the man a grateful squeeze to the shoulder.
Selecting the best fish and dressing some in preparation for tomorrow sounds like a perfect destressor.
The kitchen bustles back to life as he leaves and closes himself in the back room where their deliveries are left. Fresh fruits and vegetables sit in sacks to be sorted through as well as the new load of fish. One of his kitchen porters could do this but he didn't mind it. Sanji used to do every task in a kitchen for a time so he had no problem doing prep work. Actually missed it from time to time.
All the hustle and bustle of cleaning, prepping, cooking, and serving for his crew. It was a hell of a lot more work and tiring, but so gratifying because it was his. His work from beginning to end.
But he's gotten older and grown to accept help. His restaurant, and subsequently his kitchen, are his by every right. He calls all the shots, what meals are served, and how things are done. But it's been equally as gratifying to see others flourish at his craft under his careful guidance.
Things are good this way. Satisfying.
Does he miss the high stakes of his early 20's?
A little.
Does he miss adventuring with his old crew and fighting shitty pirates?
Of course?
Does he miss him?
But it couldn't last forever. The one piece was found, Luffy became King of the Pirates, and everyone else followed suit in pursuing their dreams.
Still bound by the same jolly roger but disbanded as life takes them all where the sea dictates.
…
So why did the sea have to keep bringing Zoro back to him?
"Kid, adding such a big fish tank in the parlor is impractical. Also gaudy."
"You are the last person on the grandline I plan to take advice on interior design from, old man."
"This is supposed to be a restaurant, not an aquarium."
"It adds character," Sanji fondly rolls his eyes, "you wouldn't know."
Zeff grumbles and hauls another barrel across the empty room.
Maybe he should call Franky to install another even bigger tank just to spite the old man. Franky would do it in a heart beat for Sanji.
The restaurant is still in its infancy but at least it's a sea worthy vessel. It just needs made into a restaurant worth its namesake.
The All Blue.
It's going to take time but he's got all the time in the world.
He flips through the pages of dining room layouts and floor plans for the kitchen. The future right here at his finger tips.
"By gods- the hell are you doing here?"
Sanji looks up at the growl in Zeff's voice to see what he's so upset about. Or who.
…
"Zoro?"
He hadn't seen him in weeks. Not a single word.
One day they're promising to do this crazy thing called life together, to chase their dreams together, then he vanishes.
But here he stands like a fucking ghost. Pale for his usual tan complexion and wrapped in so many bandages Sanji would've mistaken him for a mummy if not for his mop of green hair.
Sanji's on his feet in an instant.
"What the fuck?"
He's in front of the swordsman in a few quick strides, hands gripping the front of his opened coat.
"Where have you been? You just fucking disappeared!"
…
"What happened?"
His voice sounds so meek to his ears. Desperate.
But he's so angry. So fucking outraged but worried at the same time he can't quite bite back the frustrated tears that burn his eyes.
Zoro doesn't say anything. So Sanji doesn't either. And at some point Zeff makes him self scarce. For his own sake or Sanji's.
For all he's worth, Zoro looks a little guilty. But the pride is unmistakable on his face.
After a drawn out minute does he finally speak.
"I beat Mihawk."
"What?"
"I said, I beat Mihawk, cook."
"No- I fucking heard you Marimo. What do you mean you've beat him? What happened to doing this shit together?" he lets go of him and waves his hands around at the empty space.
Zoro scoffs and shifts on his feat with a small wince. "You know it was my fight alone. What did you want me to do? Invite you along so you could be some shitty cheerleader?"
"No! But I at least thought you'd tell me. Not just up and fucking disappear!"
"Well I'm here now, cook. What more do you want from me?" he huffs. Obviously too injured still to match Sanji's rage fully.
What do I want? It's such a laughable question.
"For starters, to be here for my dream. But oh- you missed that while bleeding out somewhere. So I guess we're even," he jabs Zoro's bandaged chest not too gently.
"How was I supposed to know you'd find the All Blue when I was gone?"
"By talking, you fucking idiot! I would've put everything on hold and waited for you if I'd known you were off to the fight of your life!"
Silence falls between them and the ship creaks gently.
He went and did it. All but professed his feelings with that very admission. Sanji wouldn't just put his dream on hold for anyone. Did the bastard even know?
Zoro stares and stares. What did he see that had him so quiet? Looking at him like that? Sanji can't begin to guess.
Maybe he's the one that made something of nothing. Maybe the promise to stick together after the crew disbanded didn't mean the same to Zoro. Maybe Sanji was foolish enough to believe someone would love him for once.
The humiliation settles in slow, like rot. And he masks it the only way he knows how.
Sanji's foot connects with Zoro's chest and sends him sliding back a couple feet.
"Get out," he says lowly. Tears burn at his eyes now for a completely different reason.
Zoro doesn't even try to defend himself, but confusion fills his gaze.
"Get out!"
His head falls from his hand and smacks against the counter.
"Shit!" he hisses and comes back into awareness. He must've fallen asleep in the back.
Stupid dream. Stupid memory.
He rubs at his forehead to ease the sting, then his eyes. Hopefully he doesn't end up with a bruise. There's a heaping pile of skinned onions on the counter ready to be diced. And off in the cooler there's a variety of the best fish dressed to be cooked tomorrow.
Sanji gets up and stretches. His back cracks in a couple spots that has him sighing happily and he rolls his shoulder to relieve the tension settled there.
It's definitely late, there's no light coming in from the portholes. Jamison probably got everything closed up for him and let him sleep. Or he didn't want to deal with whatever mood Sanji would inevitably be in if woken up. He can't blame the guy. So there's no need to worry about the restaurant.
He trusts his staff enough to maintain the place without burning it to the baseboards for an afternoon.
He tidies up some of the supplies on the counter before flicking off the lights and walking back into the kitchen. The lights are already off and everything is clean. Every counter and stove top is clear and the floor is spotless. Pride bubbles up in his chest.
He could almost forget he came by just earlier. And the feelings long since left to fester in his chest.