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Time seems to stand still in the low lights of the kitchen.
Sanji's been mindlessly rubbing the plates they'd used for tonight's meal. She feels the soap falling off her hands and gathering above the water that fills the sink. Today was one of the rare, chilly days in which dinner was a quick affair. One by one, the crew left for their bedroom to try and enjoy a cozy night inside. Sanji sent them off not without a mug of hot chocolate first.
The galley doesn't stay empty for too long, though, as it enters someone Sanji doesn't even need to look up to know who it is.
Zoro walks up to Sanji without much fanfare and sets her mug on the sink. Not saying a word still, she starts taking some of the plates from the rack and returning them to where they belong inside the cabinets. Sanji doesn't mind the help nor the company — although that would never willingly come out of her mouth — since it's not at all surprising that Zoro helps when needed, and in this case, even when not needed. Sanji probably had it covered. More twenty minutes would've been enough for her to finish and walk off to her quarters. But she assumes it might be restlessness, the need to be active when everything around them feels way too still. Although they've been in the Grandline long enough to technically be used to it, the turn of weather, especially the unexpectedly harsh ones, are dealt differently by some of her crewmates. Familiar and most welcoming of the warm sun on clear skies days. That's what Sanji craves.
Sanji spent eleven years of her life on the floating restaurant Baratie, in the midst of the calm waters of the East Blue, working efficiently as sous-chef. Most of the days there were sunny and the patrons were lively and hungry for fresh meals. Right now, however, is cold enough for the memory of the cloudy weather on a farer land up north to stray from the safe shadows of her mind. She knows she's safe and the cold can not reach her in the same uncaring and isolating way it once did in the dungeon, but her body already responds with small shivers. The porthole jolts, the wind outside unforgiving.
Franky worked on heaters that could sense the temperature and relative air humidity to then adjust it accordingly. Inside the kitchen, it's warm and calm, but the sheer force from these snippets of recollection are enough to stop her in her tracks, a deep long sigh leaving her mouth. She didn't even realized she'd started shaking.
Sanji is suddenly reminded she's not alone when her right hand gets wrapped by a warmer one. Zoro stands behind her like a wall, not unbreakable or overpowering, simply steady and grounding; ready to stop any forces from getting through — even if they stand in the confines of Sanji's mind. She doesn't turn around to meet her gaze, but drops the sponge in favor of letting herself be held. Zoro speaks low but firm besides her ear, "It's okay, I'll finish it."
"No, I'll do it," Sanji answers, instintcs kicking in when restricted from doing what she knows is her duty. It's not convincing and it sounds strained to her own ears. Zoro doesn't relent though, a palm now secured on her waist. She's close enough Sanji can feel her body heat. It was a lost cause from the start because if she is able to understand Zoro without needing a single word uttered, it was only safe to say her crew mate could do the very same. Zoro also is some stubborn bastard that doesn't give up anything and doesn't let down any promises, if she means her words, as simple as they might sound, it's done no matter how long it takes. Sanji doesn't feel as if she can one up to it today, so she steps aside reluctantly.
She knows Zoro won't hold it up against her. It isn't weakness. It isn't lack of force of will. Zoro had told her that many times before. In fact, stressed how it couldn't be anyone but her to take care of Sanji because only she knows where her true strength lies. It's a strength that very much mirrors her own and drives her to train even harder each day.
The dishes get cleaned after only a few moments. Zoro has spent enough time hanging around to have picked up what has to be done after every meal, and while it's not done with the same trained efficency Sanji has, it's a well done job.
Zoro doesn't waste time. She sets aside the last pots and goes over to Sanji, now leaning on the table, arms crossed and expression shaken. It's one rare night in which the past gets up to her before she can start running away from it. But, as quickly as it was for her heart to hurt from all the frost coming from outside, it melts when Zoro pulls her into her embrace. It's soft, warm and feels exactly where she wants to spend all of her life.
The swordswoman starts their small ritual: she takes off the upper part of her kimono and keeps the white t-shirt underneath. She moves to take off Sanji's hoodie, a blue one Zoro's pretty sure was hers, leaving only the small bra. There's barely any distance between them the whole time, and the skin-to-skin contact feels heavenly. Zoro slowly kisses behind her ear, a seal of the same promise. To take care, to love, to be there. It's perfect and Sanji wants to show she will give her just as much, whenever she needs it, wherever they are.
She takes Zoro's face into her hands, thumbs caressing her cheeks for a moment before she leans in for a kiss. It goes slowly, a careful brush of lips that allows a little more closeness, to simply forget about time and space, focusing on each other only. At occasions such as these, Zoro leads, but always at Sanji's pace. She lets the blonde touch and sweetly peck her as much as she'd like. Zoro matches her happily, and pushes further when she's able to determine when to do so.
It looks pretty much like this, when Sanji seeks Zoro's mouth without even looking where it is, eyes closed and curly brows furrowed. She smirks. Cute. The intensity is nice, but Zoro feels the need to put her reels in and slow down, it's early evening and she doesn't want Sanji to feel overwhelmed. So she breaks the kiss and goes back to lightly mouthing her shoulder, up to her neck and ears.
The perfume that fills Zoro's nose intoxicates her with the feeling of being home. She didn't realize what it meant before, back in Kuraigana with Perona, when the pink haired girl said that home is sometimes not a place, but a person. Zoro hadn't felt that ever. Looking back, it should've been obvious. It only clicked when she saw her crew back together for the first time in two years, and the person who stood at the forefront of her mind was a blonde cook with an attitude. Zoro would finally feel then that there was no place she would rather be. Or, actually, she could be anywhere, as long as Sanji was there to make it complete.
Zoro moves her hands up to touch Sanji's lengthy silky hair. It's around her waist now and reaching her hips. She sets a motion and keeps the caress until Sanji moves to look at her and say, "thank you. I don't say this much, but this happens and I—really, thank you."
A pink blush spreads across Zoro's cheeks. "There's nothing to thank me for, cook. You have me, I'll always be here for you."
Sanji smiles for the first time that night, eyes glistening. "Yes, Mossy. I know you will."