Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Day one-hundred eighty-five.

The cold had started masking the smell of them for the most part. That putrid, metallic sweetness had faded as the days grew shorter. Only when you sliced them with a knife or bludgeoned them up close did it touch your nostrils. What had not changed was the sound. That dry wheeze, that clicking of teeth as they shuffled by was as bad as ever. The older ones were decayed enough that they had taken to scooting, or pulling themselves along on broken hands or stumps of shoulders. The scratch of bones on concrete had become like the sounds of traffic outside a city window.

Sanji crouched at the corner of what had once been a city market, facing east with his back to the cement wall. Shops stood empty and dark as far as he could see. Windows were broken, signs hung limp with letters fading. Nothing lived here now, nothing but ghosts and the memories of a civilization.

Glancing to his left, Sanji nodded to his partner who had taken position across the street. Law nodded in return, his dark eyes flashing just beneath a thick, wool cap. He twisted his body, leaned out into the street, and whistled—three short twitters—a simple bird call.

Dry, lifeless heads turned and milky eyes rolled in Law’s direction. Fingerless hands reached out and bones scraped as the Deadies clicked and creaked and started shambling or pulling themselves in Law’s direction. Law stood and backed away slowly, giving his pursuers time to get a little closer.

Sanji watched. He waited. He checked his grip on the knife in his palm and slowly counted to ten. He breathed in, let it out, and stood. The Deadies nearest to him snapped their jaws; reached for him wildly, but Sanji was calm and his body moved with confidence.

He brought the knife up under the first Deadie’s jaw, severing the spinal cord and almost taking its head clear off. The second practically walked right into it. Blood and mucus ran down the thing’s face as Sanji found what was left if its brain through its eye socket. Three more like that, and then on to the group that was following Law. An arrow found the back of a hairless skull, and Sanji waved a thank you over his shoulder to Usopp, who was situated on the roof of what used to be a Starbucks. Two more dropped as arrows hit, the solid thunk and the clatter of a body falling to the ground was music to Sanji’s ears.

Law continued to wave his arms and back away down the street. Not slow enough for any of the Deadies to get close, but not fast enough to get away either. Sanji followed, dropping one after the other with his knife. Usopp supported from above, hit after perfect hit.

There had been twenty-three of them walking when they started, and the whole thing had taken maybe four minutes. Sanji and his team had killed hundreds in the last few months, this was nothing.

“You all right?” Law asked, his mouth turned up in a grimace as he wiped his blade clean.

Sanji nodded.

“Cool,” Law stepped over the bodies, making his way back towards him, “Let’s see if we can’t find something to eat.” He unclipped the walkie from his belt and spoke softly into the receiver. “Usopp, are we clear?”

The walkie crackled and Usopp’s voice came through. “Yeah, unless they start coming up from the subway, you’re good.”

“Roger.” Law turned to Sanji and grinned, “Let’s go.”

Deadies tended to mass together in large groups, clumping around closed doors of supermarkets and down in the subway tunnels as if waiting for the trains that no longer ran. No one was sure if it was because those places had once been highly traveled and still held a lingering smell of the living, or if maybe the Deadies were following some sort of inherent muscle memory to familiar things. Sanji didn’t think it was either, especially now since it was so cold, and if the Deadies really had any muscle memory at all, they would have seen at least a few return to their homes.

No, the swarming was more than likely mindless and the groups just happened to bunch up in places they couldn’t find a way out of. Like now, the few they had just put down had been stuck in an ally, shambling in circles, not realizing the way out was behind them towards the open street.

“Sanji, you coming?”

None of that mattered now. Things like psychology and philosophy were useless in regards to the risen dead. Life now was kill or be killed; pray about it later.

Moving into the ally, Sanji retrieved a crowbar from Law’s duffle and pried open the door to what they hoped was dry storage for the restaurant around front. Entry from that direction had been impossible after the bombings, but this side of the structure was still intact. Sanji went in first, his knife at the ready, and Law followed close behind.

It was not what he saw that made Sanji’s heart ache, but more the memories that were awoken at the sight of such familiarity. A full kitchen untouched by the horrors of the outside world surrounded him, tidy, with only a thin layer of dust upon the metal surfaces. Pots hung above the wide prep table, knives hung gleaming from a magnetic strip on the wall. Bins of flower and rice sat beneath long counters, and containers of spices sat organized on a rack in the center of the space.

Such care and attention to organization, such a love for the craft, it was only a memory now. Only a ghost.

“Sanji?” Law’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Not wanting to appear weak or overly sentimental, Sanji quickly pulled his eyes away from his first love and headed towards the back area of offices to what he was sure was storage. The door opened easily with the crowbar and what they found inside was nothing short of a miracle.

“Damn,” Law whistled, “Dead Day must have happened like, the day after a delivery huh?”

Sanji nodded. The shelves were stocked with canned goods: tomatoes, hominy, peaches, and cherries. The racks below held unopened bags of wheat and rice. Sanji moved to one of the bags and tore it open, checking for weevils or other signs of decay or contamination.

“Holy shit, there’s ketchup,” Law had started to pull things off the shelves, filling his duffle with whatever he could get his hands on. “Jesus… mustard, sauerkraut, salt and pepper! Sanji you’re a fucking genius!”

Sanji’s lips pulled up into a half smile at that and he unhooked the empty duffle from his shoulders. He located all the salt he could find, and took all the boxes of tea and dehydrated milk. Cans of beans, tomatoes, and tuna filled most of the bag, and he managed to cram a few containers of peaches in as well. Happy with his load, Sanji moved to close the duffle, but from the bottom shelf, tucked back behind cans of olives, a bottle of chocolate syrup caught his eye. He happened to know someone who would appreciate that more than ketchup or salt, so he quickly slipped it into the bag before he closed the flaps and tied it shut.

Law was practically vibrating as he held up a container of coffee for Sanji to see. “Do you have any idea how great this is? This is better than gold.”

Rolling his eyes, Sanji hoisted the duffle over his shoulders and hooked the chest strap. It was heavy, but it would be worth it to get it back to camp.

The walkie at Law’s belt crackled. Law froze to listen, but Usopp relayed no message. He looked at Sanji, “You good?”

Sanji nodded and started for the door. The walkie crackled again, this time longer. Sanji turned and watched as Law unclipped the device and held it up.

“Usopp, what’s going on?” he waited a moment, nothing.

“Usopp? Are you okay?”

Another crackling but no distinct words came through. Sanji motioned with his head and moved back out into the kitchen. Law followed, speaking into the receiver.

“Usopp, we’re coming back out. We’ll be there in a few seconds.”

Crackling answered, and this time Sanji could make out Usopp’s frantic voice. What he was saying, however, was still garbled. Law shook the walkie; hit it against his palm once. “Reception?”

Sanji shrugged and motioned for Law to follow him for the door but as he reached for the handle, Sanji froze as Usopp’s voice finally came through the receiver. It was muffled and the static was harsh, but his words were clear.

“They’re right on you guys! I can’t take them all! What the hell are you still doing in there!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Law growled back.

Sanji pulled a stool out from underneath a prep table and dragged it over to one of the high windows. He climbed up and peered out over the sill. At least thirty Deadies had found their way into the ally and were blocking the door.

“I’ve been calling for you guys for like ten minutes!” Usopp whispered frantically through the walkie, “They came up from the subway all at once. I don’t know what set them off!”

Law groaned and removed his cap to scratch at his forehead. “Can you get them clear? You can lead them down Third and we can go around to Birch and meet you at the corner.”

“I got it.”

“See you in a few,” Law re-clipped the walkie to his belt and slid his cap back over his dark hair. “This is gonna be a bitch to run with,” he said, readjusting the duffle on his shoulders.

Sanji agreed, circling around and meeting back up at the corner of Birch and Third meant that both of them were going to have to sprint several blocks. Sanji was okay with that, however. Whatever it took, he would get this food back to their friends at camp. This was his mission, his responsibility.

An arrow struck the left temple of a Deadie standing directly outside the window. As it fell, several others turned and started shambling away, down the street. Usopp was more than just a good shot, he was a quick thinker and a fast runner. He would be fine until Sanji and Law caught up with him.

“Good man, Usopp,” Law murmured as the terrible clicking sounds moved out of the ally.

Sanji jumped to the floor and put his hand on the door. He glanced at Law, waited for his nod, and opened it.

Out on the street, a few Deadies had lagged behind and turned around at the sound of the door hinges. Sanji was ready with his knife, as was Law, and the two of them quickly dispatched the stragglers before they turned and headed towards Birch Street. A mass of cars were clumped together at the corner, some stacked precariously like a barricade. Slipping between the remnants of an old Chevy and a crushed Toyota, Sanji turned the corner and almost collided with a large, putrid body.

“Fuck!” Law cursed behind him.

There were at least fifteen Deadies on Birch between them and the intersection with Third. The one standing before them had to have been at least three hundred pounds in life, possibly more. Rolls of sick, rotting flesh hung out over sagging pants. Slimy, bloody jowls flapped as yellow and black teeth clicked in Sanji’s direction.

They had seconds. Law tossed Sanji his crowbar and Sanji took out the Deadie’s legs. It fell to the ground with a heavy, wet sound, but neither Sanji nor Law wasted any time taking out the brain. They ran. They weaved their way through the group of wandering dead, taking out one or two as they passed. As they neared the corner, Usopp came into view. His camouflage jacket and his mass of dreadlocks a welcome and terrifying sight. He turned his head, eyes wide, and his finger on the trigger of his crossbow.

“We’re screwed you guys!” Usopp cried, “I don’t know where they all came from!”

Sanji skidded to a stop beside his friend. Usopp was right, there were no longer thirty or so heading their way. There were at least fifty now, mostly Newdead, blood still rust-brown on their mouths and bodies mostly intact.

Law grabbed Sanji’s shoulder and pushed him onward, “We gotta move!”

They had no options. Behind them, Third had been blocked by a barrier of cars and other debris, and the rest of Birch was now a mass of creaking bones and gaping mouths. They had to continue down to where Birch turned into Express and look for a way to get up on high ground. Deadies didn’t climb, so drainpipes and scaffolding were ideals for escape. It was a gamble, but it was either take this chance or die.

Sanji grabbed Usopp’s collar and pulled the smaller man along with him as he ran.

“Ack! Sanji! Wait, where are we going?”

“We’re going the direction the Deadies aren’t!” Law shouted, “Shut up and run!”

The duffle bag’s weight pulled painfully at Sanji’s shoulders, but he would not give it up. He would get this food back even if it got him killed.

Buildings on either side of the street loomed dark and menacing as the three tried to make space between them and the advancing swarm. Demolished cars and overturned garbage bins forced them to run through a zigzag path. Broken down military vehicles and piles of trash slowed them down, keeping the Deadies only meters behind them. Sanji scanned the walls looking for anything they could use to climb, but so far he saw nothing.

“I’m out!” Usopp screamed as he shot his last arrow. He slung his crossbow over his shoulders and turned to fully focus on fleeing.

Express was blocked at the intersection and there was still no way to get to high ground. There were fire escapes on the buildings on the north side, but the lowest levels had been torn completely off. There was no way they could reach them. Sanji turned right and started to head up the cross-street, but slowed at what he saw before him.

Law skidded to a halt as well, “Aw shit…” he murmured.

Usopp nearly tripped over Sanji and let out a small whimper when he realized why his friends had stopped.

“Oh, please God, no…”

Deadies lined the street for at least the next three blocks. Yellowed eyes rolled wildly in their direction. Mouths with blackened, cracked teeth snapped, eager to tear into warm flesh. They were completely surrounded. There was absolutely no way out.

“Oh God… oh God… oh God…” Usopp clutched at Sanji’s sleeve, his hand trembled violently.

“This… this is not fucking happening,” Law growled.

Sanji turned, watching as the pursuing swarm turned the corner, a wall of decay and death heading straight for them.

This was it. He was finally going to die.

TBC

Chapter Text

Above them, a loud metal clang rang out, echoing over the sound of shuffling bodies and clicking teeth. Sanji looked up and found the third floor fire escape ladder being lowered to the second. A man in a long, dark green trench coat and wide-rimmed hood kicked the metal bar until the latch broke, releasing the ladder and sending it sliding down.

“This way!” the man called to them.

The bottom of the ladder was still out of reach, but not if someone gave them a boost. Sanji didn’t hesitate and crouched down, locking his fingers together and motioning for Usopp to set up.

“Thank you!” Usopp cried and put his boot into Sanji’s hands. Law assisted and the two of them pushed their young friend up high enough to reach the bottom of the ladder. He climbed and the hooded man pulled him up the rest of the way.

Sanji crouched again, motioning for Law to go next.

“What about you?” Law’s eyes were wide.

Sanji shook his head and held out his hands. The swarm was coming closer and the stragglers in front of them had started moving in as well.

“Come on!” the hooded man called from above.

Law put a hand on Sanji’s shoulder and placed his boot into Sanji’s palms. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Sanji took a breath and lifted. Law was taller than Usopp, but thinner, lighter. However, that made no difference as Law had a bag strapped to his back that probably weighed a few hundred pounds. Sanji’s muscles ached, the tendons in his shoulders and elbows burned as he lifted. His back almost gave out, but he got Law up, high enough that his friend could reach the bottom of the ladder.

He did not wait to see if the hooded man pulled Law up and unbuckled the bag from his shoulders. It was more important that the camp got this food than if he made it back, so he pushed the straps from his shoulders and gripped the thick nylon in his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing, man!” the hooded man roared, “Leave the bag, save yourself!”

Sanji shook his head and glanced at the Deadies to his right and left.

“He’s not coming ‘till the food is up!” Law cried. “I got it, Sanji! Throw it up!”

Law held out his hands and Sanji threw back, swinging with all his might. The bag sailed up passed the ladder and directly into Law’s arms. Usopp leaned over the railing and caught the other end and the two pulled it up onto the fire escape.

“Come on, Sanji!” Usopp called frantically, his eyes watching the Deadies closing in on both sides with wild eyes, “Get up here!”

“It’s too high!” the hooded man ducked under the railing and started to climb down the ladder, “Jump up I might be able to catch you!”

“Wait! No!” Usopp pulled at the hooded man’s coat, “He’s got this, come back up!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Just get up here!” Law ordered.

The hooded man looked down at Sanji, his dark eyes shone like polished stone as they locked gazes for a single moment that seemed to stretch for hours. Sanji nodded his head then, smiled, and turned to the swarm that was almost upon him.

He breathed in once and let it out slowly. He cleared his mind of that terrible clicking, of the dry, rasping moans, and focused on the large Newdead coming straight for him. It’s parts were still intact, it’s arms were still flesh and muscle. Sanji waited until the swarm was only a few feet away. He could almost smell the coppery stench of blood and bile. He backed up a few steps, took another long breath, and bolted.

Sanji’s legs moved swiftly, his strides were wide and precise as he turned toward the brick wall of the building. He jumped, set his foot on the brick and pushed off. He twisted his body, bringing in his legs and sailing straight for the large, still fleshy Newdead, and found purchase with the bottom of his shoes directly on the thing’s shoulders. He had only one shot, one chance to reach the ladder.

He took it.

He pushed off, reaching for the bars. He could feel the tips of dead, rotting fingers brush against his legs, sharp bones and jagged fingernails catching on the denim of his jeans, but he was up, away from the swarm. He was far above them now, flying, soaring.

His hands found the metal of the ladder and he gripped it hard. He hung there for a few moments, breathing, letting his heartbeat catch up, his wits return, his hearing come back to him. He could make out voices shouting his name, but he didn’t want to move yet. He didn’t want to open his eyes.

Reality came back to him in the hard grip of a strong hand on his wrist. Sanji looked up and found the hooded man on the ladder ready to pull him up.

“Come on,” he said softly.

Sanji came. He let himself be heaved up onto the fire escape and dropped onto the metal platform. Usopp practically fell into his lap, throwing his arms around Sanji’s shoulders.

“Holy crap,” Usopp’s voice wavered, “I thought you were a gonner…”

Sanji hugged his friend tightly, relaxing into the warm embrace. Law ruffled his blond hair and picked up the second duffle bag. “No way, Sanji’s fucking Spiderman.”

Turning to their rescuer, Law put out his tattooed hand. The man didn’t hesitate and shook it.

“Thank you,” Law said, “We owe you one.”

The man shrugged, “Whatever. Let’s get up top. What the hell were you guys doing on the ground anyway?”

“Food storage was on the bottom floor of one of the buildings back there,” Law said as he followed, “Didn’t have any other choice.”

Usopp pulled Sanji to his feet and the four made their way up the last few floors and pulled themselves up onto the roof. The man removed his hood, revealing rough, handsome, features and olive skin. He looked like a mixture of something, maybe Korean or Japanese, but Sanji wasn’t sure. A scar decorated the left side of his face, directly over the eyelid, but his eye seemed to still be intact. He also had short, grey-green hair. Why someone would take the time to do that, with the world like it was now, Sanji couldn’t guess, but it looked good. The green suited him.

“What’s your name?” Law asked.

“Zoro,” the man replied.

Law nodded and pointed to himself. “I’m Law, this long-nosed guy here is Usopp. Spiderman’s name is Sanji.”

Zoro’s attention turned to Sanji. His one dark eye studied him intensely enough to make it seem like a challenge, so Sanji stared back.

“Where’d you learn to do that back there?” Zoro asked.

“He doesn’t talk,” Usopp said.

Zoro frowned at him. “Doesn’t? Or he can’t?”

Usopp shook his head, “We’re not sure.”

Zoro’s eye turned back to Sanji, but Law’s voice interrupted any more interrogation their new acquaintance had for him.

“You a drifter? Or do you have a camp somewhere?”

Zoro shook his head, “No camp. Been on my own for a while.”

“We’ve got a place a few miles north of the city,” Law offered, “We can set you up for a while if you want. It’s safe. There’s water, shelter, stuff to trade. Least we can do since you saved us and all.”

Zoro glanced at Law, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he thought about the offer.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “Okay.”

Law nodded, “All right, let’s get outta this shithole.”

Sanji grabbed the second duffle and heaved it over his shoulders. He buckled the strap and followed the others as they made their way across the rooftop. When they came to the edge, they crossed from the building they were on to the next by a series of planks that had been nailed together and was straddling the seven to eight foot gap. Makeshift bridges like this one had been fashioned together between structures in most of the larger cities. Traveling over rooftops was infinitely safer than trying to brave the streets where hundreds, sometimes thousands, of Deadies roamed.

When they neared the rural area where Usopp had parked their truck, Sanji fell into step behind Zoro. He noticed something strapped to the man’s back underneath his travel pack. A sword, white with gold trim and held in a white sheath. A sword was a good weapon against Deadies if you knew how to use it. Sanji began to wonder if this Zoro had merely found it, or if it was his and he actually had some skill. Someone like that would be valuable to their group. Maybe Law had noticed the weapon and had come to the same conclusion. Maybe that was why he had been so quick to offer shelter.

Of course, there was also the possibility that Zoro was a maniac and he planned on being led back to the camp so he could kill everyone in their sleep, but Sanji didn’t think that was the most likely scenario. However, one could never be sure. Stranger, more fucked up, things had definitely happened.

TBC

Chapter Text

“A few miles” turned out to be almost ninety. That was fine, he had been moving north anyway.

Zoro wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he did know that a walled-in community was not even close. The dirt path they had driven in ended at a gate manned by a few guards with crossbows. When the gates opened, they were ushered inside to a second gate, and this one did not open until the first was closed. Smart. Inside the setting was like one of those religious compounds you used to see on the news or bad horror movies. A church stood central, surrounded by buildings that looked like community areas. There were several other structures, no doubt being used as living quarters, plus what looked like a library, and towards the back was a large garden, and a stone well. The best part was the entire complex was surrounded by a twenty foot brick wall, reinforced with barbed wire and a guard tower every two-hundred or so yards.

“Nice set up.”

Law grinned at him from the passenger seat. “Found it empty a few months back. Well, besides the cult that had all committed suicide in the church together.”

“Jesus, don’t talk about that,” Usopp muttered.

“Anyway, we have about sixty people, give or take a few drifters here and there.”

“A little dangerous, isn’t it?” Zoro asked, “Bringing in people you don’t know?”

Law waved his hand dismissively, “Yeah, but the alternative is not bringing in people.”

Usopp pulled the truck into a spot between another two vehicles and killed the engine. “I’m gonna head over to the armory, I’ll meet up with you later.”

Nodding, Law opened his own door, “Got it.”

Zoro put his hand to the door handle but hesitated when he glanced over at Sanji. The blond was curled up in his jacket, the lower half of his face hidden under his scarf. The man was fast asleep.

“Just give him a nudge,” Law said as he pulled himself out of the truck and stretched. “Stay with him and help get those bags to the mess hall, then he can show you where you’ll sleep. I’ll be around.”

With that, Law slammed the door shut and Zoro was left alone in the truck with the strange, sleeping mute. He turned back to watch dark eyelashes flutter beneath pale eyelids and he sighed softly. What was here doing here? He had enough food and water to last a while, a few things to trade, he didn’t need anything from these people. What was the point of coming here, to this compound? Zoro was a drifter, a wanderer. Staying in one place for too long had proved time and time again to be dangerous and stupid. Movement kept you alive, and people were almost always not to be trusted.

So what was he thinking now?

Zoro watched Sanji’s chest rise and fall in that steady, rhythmic way that only true sleep can manage. He began to wonder if his sudden interest in persons other than himself was because of this man. This Sanji had demonstrated a physical ability that was almost supernatural. He obviously had training in gymnastics, martial arts, or something of that nature, and Zoro was interested in finding out what it was.

It was also hard to ignore the fact that Sanji wasn’t at all hard to look at, definitely handsome, especially when those blue eyes were fixed on you. The fact that he didn’t speak also kind of added to the allure.

Reaching out, Zoro carefully nudged Sanji’s arm. The blond stirred and opened his eyes, turning to look at Zoro quizzically.

“We’re here, and I guess I’ve sort of been assigned to you.”

Sanji nodded and rubbed his eyes. He opened the door and pulled himself out of the truck, stretching his long legs and rotating his waist and shoulders. Zoro followed, pulling his pack from the backseat and keeping a steady hold on his sword. He surveyed his surroundings with far more interest than he showed, noting reinforcements of either logs or steel pipes had been added onto the walls in several places. There seemed to be a lot of children and older folks out and about too. How had they managed to save so many kids?

Sanji set one of the duffle bags at his feet, and Zoro lifted it without hesitation. “I’m assuming this is all food.”

Nodding, Sanji turned and started toward one of the long, wider buildings that surrounded the church. People waved to him as he passed, shouting greetings and welcome returns. The blond waved back but did not stop. He seemed to have a kind of single-mindedness when it came to that food and it made Zoro wonder if maybe he was in charge of this group’s supplies.

The dining hall was clean and orderly and the kitchen was spotless. Zoro had never been in one of these full service kitchens before, but he could tell by the state of the machinery and the cleanliness of the tiled floor that it was well kept. Sanji did not turn on the lights, so Zoro had no way of knowing yet if this compound had power, but the windows were high and wide, giving the area sufficient lighting. Sanji led him to the storeroom in back and with a box of matches he retrieved from a shelf, lit a large oil lamp.

For a moment, Zoro could only stand and stare. He had not seen this much food in one spot in a very long time. Cans of soup, beans, and even corned beef lined the shelves. There was a bag or two of rice, and boxes of bread mixes stacked on crates in the corner. He was still gaping as Sanji opened his bag and started unloading his haul.

It took almost forty minutes because Sanji had to keep stopping and making notes on his clipboard, but the two of them unloaded the bags and completed the inventory without a fuss. Before he knew it, Zoro had decided that he liked Sanji’s company. He was smart and no nonsense, and despite the fact that he couldn’t speak, he communicated easily with gestures and nods or shakes of his head.

“Hey,” Zoro said as they put the duffle bags away, “How do you… I mean what do you do when you want to tell someone something? Or ask someone a question?”

Sanji opened the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small notepad and pen. He scribbled a few words on the paper and then showed it to Zoro.

Smoke signals, obviously. Was written in a neat, all capitol scrawl.

Zoro chuckled. “Okay, smartass. What’s with the curly eyebrows?”

Sanji scribbled a few words and set the pad down on the prep table in front of Zoro with a smile.

What’s with the green hair?

“It’s not dyed.”

Bullshit.

Zoro sighed, no one ever believed him when he told them it was natural. “It’s a trick of your own eye. I have some kind of rare amino deficiency in my scalp. It kills the red, turns it yellow. It reacts to the blue-black I got from my Japanese mother and makes it seem green.”

Eyes narrowing, Sanji crossed his arms and moved in close. Zoro tensed; he was not expecting that. The only bodies he had been close to in the last few months had been rotting, clicking, corpses, and he had taken care of those in a swift, bloody manner. This was different. This was strange and somewhat exciting. Zoro had almost forgotten what it was like to be in this proximity to something that was just as alive as he was. He swallowed, gripped the edge of the table behind him and watched Sanji’s blue eyes study his hair up close. Holding his breath, Zoro was suddenly and inexplicably conscious of the fact that he had not bathed in several weeks.

Finally, Sanji shrugged and picked up his notepad.

Stranger things have happened.

Letting out that breath, Zoro could only nod in agreement. His mouth had suddenly gone very dry.

TBC

Chapter Text

Pocketing the pad of paper Sanji turned to head back into the store room. He pulled a box from the shelf and after making a note on the clipboard, brought it out and passed Zoro to head towards the front of the kitchen. He took a tall small kettle from a shelf and filled it with water before setting it on a small campground gas grill. After flicking the switch he pulled the notepad from his pocket again.

Coffee or tea?

Zoro smirked, “Whiskey.”

Sanji grinned and scribbled furiously.

Agreed. But not until you’re assigned a bunk, a job, and you’ve seen our doctor.

“Why do I need to see your doctor? I’m not sick.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. Rules.

Zoro shrugged, “Whatever. I don’t have anything that can’t be cured with a little soap.”

Smiling, Sanji pulled a container down from the shelf above them and retrieved a small packet. He then grabbed a mug from the rack behind them. He emptied the packet’s contents into the mug, and filled it with a small amount of hot water from the kettle. After crushing and stirring the mixture with a spoon, he filled the mug the rest of the way and handed it to Zoro.

Mildly surprised, Zoro took the mug and brought it to his lips. He breathed in that familiar, earthy, aroma before taking a sip. He let it sink in. That warmth, that soothing taste of roasted bean attacked his taste buds causing a shiver to roll pleasantly down his back.

“Wow,” Zoro murmured, “I haven’t had coffee in... a long time.”

He downed another swallow, uncaring that it burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He watched absently as Sanji opened the box he had brought from the store room and milled about adding powder and sugar and some kind of extracts to the mixture. His hands moved with such a precision, such knowing and care to the craft that when the realization hit Zoro it seemed almost stupidly obvious.

Sanji was a cook.

That’s why he cared so much about the food. That’s why he was so attentive with the recording of the supplies. It was why he seemed so at home in the kitchen, and why this coffee was the best damn thing Zoro had ever tasted.

He did not ask questions as Sanji worked, and said nothing as Sanji took his empty mug and placed it in the sink. He followed without a word as Sanji took the kettle, a clean mug, and another spoon and stepped back out to the outside. The blond headed in the direction of the church and Zoro followed like an obedient dog. It couldn’t be helped though, not only had Sanji given him coffee, but he had also alluded to the fact that there was whiskey. Zoro was resigned to do whatever his new friend wanted him to do if it meant there was a chance he would be given alcohol.

The company was not at all unpleasant either.

The church’s sanctuary was empty. There were none of the classic rows of pews and no pulpit for the pastor or priest to stand. The religious paraphernalia had been removed, for the most part, and the entire area smelled faintly of lemons and disinfectant. Sanji led him through to the back and opened a door labeled “Offices”. Down a short hallway and to the left, Sanji slowed and rapped his knuckles on a large wooden door standing wide open.

“Come in,” said a light, but still obviously male, voice.

Sanji motioned Zoro to follow and entered the office. Sitting behind a wide desk was a young man with curly brown hair and large, brown eyes. He smiled wide when they entered.

“Hi Sanji!” he said brightly, “Who’s this?”

Sanji set down the kettle and made a few small motions with his hand.

“Zoro?” he stood and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Chopper. I’m one of the doctors here.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow as they shook hands, “Hey.”

Chopper made another small gesture to Sanji, and the blond nodded. It took Zoro only a moment to realize what they were doing. He should have guessed that Sanji would know something like sign language. It was just another something to add to the list of things that made Sanji different and extremely interesting.

“He says you saved his team,” Chopper said, not bothering to hide is awe.

Zoro shrugged. “I just lowered a ladder for them, that’s all.”

Sanji might have sniggered and Chopper eyed the cook with a small smirk, “You’re right.”

“Right about what?” Zoro asked.

“Nothing,” Chopper shook his head, “So, rules are if you’re here, I have to examine you.”

Zoro might have tightened his grip on his bag. Just a little.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-six,” Chopper said as he moved to a filing cabinet along the back wall, “I know I look pretty young but imagine what people were thinking when I was practicing at twenty.”

“Shit,” Zoro hadn’t meant to be so crass, but that was impressive.

“Are you going to be staying?” Chopper asked as he opened a drawer and pulled out a thin, green folder.

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe a little while?”

Chopper nodded as he came back to the desk. “That’s good, we can always use another set of strong hands—woa, Sanji what is this?” The doctor’s eyes widened as Sanji pressed a mug of something steaming and sweet-smelling into his hands. Chopper sniffed at it and took a small sip. “Holy shit… oh my God, Sanji, is this chocolate!?”

Zoro glanced at Sanji who was smiling softly behind his fringe of blond hair. The cook left the kettle on the desk and moved out of the office. He made himself comfortable in one of the chairs in the hallway and rested one ankle on the knee of the opposite leg. He saluted Zoro before settling back and closing his eyes.

“Oh wow…” Chopper’s eyes fluttered closed as he blew on the hot drink and took another careful sip. “Oh my gosh, okay hold on, I just need a moment.”

Zoro took another glance at Sanji who might have been hiding half of a satisfied smirk underneath his scarf.

“Thank you, Sanji!” Chopper exclaimed before he returned his attention to his patient. “Okay now you, Zoro, close the door and take off your jacket. Oh wow, do you have some kind of phaeomelanin mutation?”

An hour later, after being poked and prod and basically manhandled by the pushy doctor half his size, Zoro was released. As he strapped his sword to his back and pulled his pack on, Chopper opened the door and ushered him out with a sweet smile and instructions to bathe. When the door closed he turned to Sanji.

“He’s a… firecracker.”

Sanji showed off perfectly white teeth as he nodded, then he rubbed at his eyes and pulled himself slowly to his feet. The notepad came out of his pocket and he scribbled a few words before he flipped it around to show Zoro.

Gotta find you a bunk before I make dinner.

Zoro nodded, “And a shower, doctor’s orders.”

TBC

Chapter Text

Day one-hundred ninety-one.

It was like a dance.

Sanji watched as Zoro’s blade sliced through another rotting, walking corpse, and the thing fell gracefully at his feet like some kind of choreographed waltz. A second, and then a third went down, all from a smooth series of short, flowing strokes. Zoro was a master at his art, the blade being just an extension of his body. It was incredible to watch, soothing really, enough that Sanji had started to wonder about his mental state. What did it mean when, besides cooking, your favorite pastime became watching someone cut through dead bodies like they were made of butter?

Usopp pulled the truck through the gates and Zoro started loading Deadies into the bed. Once the group was gathered up, Usopp and Zoro would take them to The Pit, an eighteen foot trench about a mile up the road. There they would unload the bodies and burn them. This process had to be done a few times a week to prevent the Deadies from piling up outside the compound. The more Deadies in one place, the more likely there would be more coming. Best to keep the numbers under control.

Zoro had volunteered for gate duty, which had not surprised Sanji once he really thought about it. Zoro was good at what he did, and so it made sense for him to have a job where he could excel.

“Hey there, Sanji!”

Turning from his perch on the wall, Sanji plucked the cigarette from his lips and waved down to his friend Ace as he passed by. The man’s dark hair fluttered in the gentle breeze as he grinned underneath what seemed like a thousand freckles.

“Zoro!” Ace called, “Hey, I got it!”

Zoro stopped in the middle of situating a body in the back of the truck and turned to meet Ace’s enthusiastic greetings.

“Hey, Ace.”

Zoro had only been with the camp for a week, but he had fast become something of a celebrity, first, with the story of how he had saved their beloved leader and the rest of his team, and then with the element of his hair being actually green. Apparently, most people had thought that was a biological impossibility until recently. The fact that he could kill a Deadie quicker than most was a nice bonus.

All of those things were great, the green hair was interesting, and Deadie-killing skills were definitely a nice bonus, but Sanji’s interest in the camp’s newest addition was a little different. To Sanji, Zoro was a breath of fresh air. He was tactful and minded his own business when it came to certain personal matters. Zoro had never asked Sanji about why he didn’t talk. He had never mentioned the fact that Sanji wore a scarf twenty-four hours a day, and had never asked him why. That small bit of space, that tiny bit of privacy in a world where telling your life story to strangers was sometimes a way to keep yourself alive, was so important. Sanji was so grateful for it.

Puffing on the last bit of cigarette, Sanji crushed the butt out between his thumb and middle finger and watched his friends talk excitedly over a new sword sling Ace had made for Zoro.

“This way it won’t slide down when you reach up,” Ace explained. “This part here will go across your chest and hold the whole thing in place.”

Smiling, Sanji tossed the butt and climbed down the ladder.

“Sanji?” a small voice made him turn around. One of the camp’s children, a little girl by the name of Apis, was waiting for him at the bottom of the ladder.

Sanji hopped to the ground at her feet and waved a hello.

“Hi Sanji. Miss Robin sent me out of class to see Dr. Chopper because I have a cough. He gave me this.”

She held up a small slip of paper and Sanji took it.

She needs lemon tea. – Chopper

Sanji nodded, smiling at Apis and motioning for her to follow him to the kitchen. He gave her a few bags of the dried lemon tea and brewed a cup to take back to her bunk. After writing a note for her mother he sent her off with a hug.

“You sure like kids.”

Sanji turned and met with Zoro’s soft smile. He had his sword strapped into the new harness. The buckles across his chest and the thick leather of the straps, combined with the black, long sleeved, military sweater, made him look nothing less than completely bad ass. It wasn’t fair.

Glancing over to where Usopp was parking the truck, Sanji pulled out his notepad and scribbled a few words.

That was fast.

Zoro shrugged, “Ace helped. He said Law wanted to talk to us as soon as possible.”

Eyebrows lifting, Sanji turned and started to head toward the infirmary, writing as he walked.

We in some sort of trouble? What did you do?

Zoro scoffed, “I didn’t do anything. If anyone’s in trouble it’s you, shit-cook.”

Law’s office was in the infirmary and down the hall from Chopper’s. Before Dead Day, Law had also been a doctor, but his area of experience had been pathology and so his medical role in the camp was more of a backup. He tended to injuries and was available for consultations, but his days as a full time practitioner were over—especially since the people of the compound thought of him first and foremost as their leader.

Zoro knocked on the office door but Sanji paid no mind to interruption and went right in. Sitting on the cushioned chair in front of Law’s desk, Sanji slipped his hands into his pockets and hunkered down. Hopefully this would be interesting enough that he wouldn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t that he had no respect for Law, quite the opposite in fact. Law and Sanji had the utmost respect for each other. It was just that Sanji was alive because of Law, and Law was alive because of Sanji. Relationships like that tended to look past basic formalities. Besides, he was tired. Sanji was always tired.

Zoro however, waited politely at the door until Law invited him in with a smirk and a tilt of his head. He sat down next to Sanji and rested his elbows on his knees.

Rubbing at his eyes, Law leaned back in his chair. “We have a small problem.”

Sanji straightened. Law was very understated most of the time and so it was possible “small problem” could mean “small catastrophe”.

“There’s a minor lung infection going around. Chopper and I didn’t think anything of it at first, it was just a cough, but five people are bedridden already. We need antibiotics and we need them fast. This thing is going to spread until there’s no one left to properly defend this place.”

“Where the hell do we get antibiotics?” Zoro asked.

“Most of the pharmacies in the big cities have been cleaned out,” Law said, “we’ve checked. Chopper says there are clinics in some of the smaller towns north of here that might have what we’re looking for.”

Dreading what Law was probably about to tell them, he pulled out his pad and scribbled a few words before flipping it around for Law to see.

“Yeah,” Law nodded after he read what Sanji wrote, “Red Brook or North Grove is exactly what I was thinking.”

Sanji sighed and nodded as he slipped the pad back into his pocket.

“What’s wrong with those towns?” Zoro asked.

“Nothing’s wrong with the towns,” Law explained, “It’s getting there that’s a bitch. Between here and where you need to go is pretty much badlands, nothing but biker gangs and doomsday cults. That’s why I’m only sending the two of you. A group of people would attract too much attention. You’d have to take a car or a truck and most vehicles can’t get anywhere on the interstates. If it’s just you both, you can take Sanji’s bike and travel the I-5. A motorcycle can get through most of the jams, and if it can’t, you can off-road it. You’ll be harder to track and even harder to follow.”

Sanji let his head fall against the back of the chair. Travelling through the badlands was not his favorite pastime, but there were worse things. He glanced over at Zoro who was staring thoughtfully down at his knuckles. What kind of things had Zoro seen since Dead Day? What kind of events had shaped the swordsman’s current life?

“What about East?” Zoro asked.

“It’s all Deadie territory. Nevada is completely overrun. And if you manage to get past that you’ll head straight into high radiation zones in Utah and Arizona.”

Zoro nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, so north is the only option. What if these clinics Chopper is thinking of have been cleaned out already? What if we get all the way up to Washington and there’s nothing?”

Sighing softly, Law lifted his hands in surrender. “You’re just going to have to keep going until you find something.”

Sanji watched the two as they talked. Throughout the conversation, Sanji had detected a tension setting into Zoro’s shoulders and now that tension was so strong the cook could feel it himself. It was almost as if it radiated off Zoro’s body like heat.

Struck with a thought, Sanji sat forward and wrote something on his pad. He flipped it around for Law to see and waited impatiently as Law took it in.

What about Zoro? He’s not obligated to do that for us. How can you ask him to do something like that?

Sighing, Law ran a hand through his hair. “He has a choice,” he murmured, looking from Sanji to Zoro.

“What?” Zoro asked, frowning.

Slumping into his chair, Law held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “You’ve only been here a week, and you sure as hell don’t owe us anything, but I can’t ignore the fact that you handle yourself well. So I’m asking you if you’d go on this mission with Sanji. Asking. You can say no.”

Zoro’s eyes were dark and faintly intense as he turned to look at Sanji. The cook held his gaze for several long seconds. He didn’t want to sway Zoro’s decision, and he in no way wanted to make the swordsman feel like there was any obligation on his part, he had after all saved them, but he couldn’t keep himself from pleading silently. He had felt more comfortable in the last week with Zoro than he had in months. He felt safer, happier.

Zoro seemed to understand him better than anyone else since the world had gone to shit, and Sanji wanted him to stay. He had already lost so much; he did not want to lose that too.

Pulling his gaze away from Sanji, Zoro turned back to Law and nodded.

“I’ll go. Cook’s a fucking idiot and would probably get himself killed.”

Sanji leaned back in the chair and hid the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth behind his scarf.

TBC

Chapter Text

They pushed through northern California and made it into the southwestern part of Oregon the first day. Law had been right, the motorcycle made it easy to bypass parts of the highway clogged by obstacles such as collections of abandoned cars or bridges that were all but completely collapsed.

For most of the drive Zoro just leaned back and enjoyed the sun and the wind in his face. It was cold, maybe thirty-five or forty degrees, but the swordsman didn’t care. It had been a long time since he had been on a bike; a long time since he’d had the freedom of relaxation during travel.

And an even longer time since the warmth of another body had been pressed up against him.

Having Sanji this close was an unexpected problem. He was lean and hard all over, and the way his body moved as he drove was extremely distracting. Sexuality had never been a consideration for Zoro. He had always just liked who he liked and never questioned, so he had no reservations about being attracted to a man. The problem was timing. Things like the way Sanji’s hair fell into his eyes, or the way his lips curled up into a smile when he thought no one was looking, where getting difficult to ignore.

Lobito was not a problem Zoro had figured he’d have to deal with in the aftermath of the world ending, but apparently, it was still a thing.

As the sun started to set, they turned off the interstate and headed down the curve into what should have once been Cedar Creek, a small town along the Oregon coast. It was unlikely there would be anything they would need there, but it would be stupid not to at least check.

Chopper had given them a series of maps pinpointing the exact locations of several clinics and pharmacies. Now, Zoro pulled the map for Cedar creek from his bag and unfolded it to check the roads. However, even though Chopper and Law had given him a quick rundown, he could not make heads or tails of anything. English was his second language and although he was technically fluent, for some reason, maps had just never made sense to him. Not that maps in Japanese were any easier.

“I have no idea where we are,” he muttered.

Snickering, Sanji lifted the visor on his helmet and reached around to take the map from Zoro’s hands. The cook studied the indiscernible cluster-fuck of red and blue lines for perhaps fifteen seconds before he handed the map back to Zoro and kicked the motorcycle into first.

“Are you kidding me?” Zoro growled.

Sanji snickered again and pointed east behind a supermarket.

Zoro shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

Sure enough, behind the supermarket, one street over, was a small pharmacy. As they pulled up Zoro noticed the windows had been knocked out and most of the merchandise was missing. Hopefully, there was still something in the back, but it wasn’t very likely.

“You want me to watch the front?” Zoro asked.

Sanji nodded and handed the swordsman his helmet. He pulled a flashlight from his pack, climbed over the broken sill, and disappeared inside.

Zoro leaned against the bike, watching the sun slowly sink behind the top of the church a few blocks away. This had probably been a nice place at one time. A quiet neighborhood where kids could play in the streets and there were block parties and barbeques on weekends. Zoro could remember times like that back home in Hokkaido, when the summers were hot and the old man down the road made shaved ice for him as his friends at the dojo.

Shaking his head, Zoro pushed those memories back where they couldn’t haunt him so loudly. According to the news reports right before the nationwide outage, Japan had been all but decimated. The last thing Zoro needed at that moment was to think about home.

Quiet footsteps and a rustling of paper pulled the swordsman’s attention back to the pharmacy. Sanji was climbing back through the broken window, his pack in his hands.

“You find anything?”

Sanji nodded and showed him the inside of his pack. A few bottles of pain killers and several boxes of feminine products filled the outer pocket.

Zoro nodded, “Wow, not bad, cook. At least you’re covered for your next period.”

Sanji gave him the bird and they both climbed onto the bike. They were out of Cedar Creek and back onto the highway just as the last sliver of sun sank behind the horizon.

The next town they fared better, but only slightly. Sanji was able to recover a few boxes of nasal decongestant, and six bottles of cold remedy. It wasn’t much, but it was definitely better than nothing.

As they traveled farther north, the highway became less and less of an abandoned car graveyard. It was a blessing really, because a thick fog had set in and it was getting difficult for Zoro to see his hand in front of his face. The motorcycle’s headlight illuminated only a few yards in front of them, so Sanji slowed to around twenty miles per hour until they reached the next stop on their list.

Roseburg was not, by definition, a small town, but neither was it a large one. There were three pharmacies and two clinics Chopper had marked on the map, easily accessible from the main drag. However, when they entered the town, Zoro realized right away that they were going to have to search on foot. The streets were barricaded with all manner of things: cars, large wooden crates, and other debris. There was no way the bike was going in. The people of this town had gone down, but they had gone down fighting.

Sanji parked the motorcycle behind a dilapidated tackle shop and motioned for Zoro to follow him. They kept their flashlights off and let their eyes adjust to the darkness. The fog wasn’t as bad as it was out on the highway, and so the faint moonlight was sufficient in lighting their way.

They climbed the barricade and dropped silently onto the ground. Zoro drew his sword just in case, and Sanji pulled a wicked looking knife from his belt. Sanji indicated a side street with a nod of his head and Zoro followed.

When they neared the corner, a soft clicking stopped them in their tracks. Sanji adjusted his grip on the knife and crouched low to the pavement. Staying silent, Zoro moved and pressed himself up against the side of the building.

A quick look around the corner and Sanji turned back to him, indicating “four” with his fingers. Zoro nodded and stepped out into the street.

The first “Deadie”, as he found Sanji’s group liked to call them, had once been a woman, small in stature, with dark, brown hair. Zoro swung and dropped her easily, the only sound was her body hitting the pavement. The second was a man, wide, with a beard down to its chest. Zoro’s blade found a way out through the top of its head from underneath its chin. The swordsman lowered this one to the ground easily before retrieving his blade.

Sanji had moved across the street and was taking out the Deadie with blond, curly hair. Its massive body mad a soft splattering noise when it hit the ground. The fourth was easy, as its body was so rotted that its legs had come off somewhere long ago.

When they regrouped, Sanji was wiping the blade of the knife clean, and his eyes had a shocking brightness to them. Interestingly, Zoro couldn’t decide if that was disturbing, or maybe just a little sexy.

The first of the marked pharmacies was just down the street a few yards. Sanji led the way, Zoro close at his heels, searching the shadows and open doorways for movement. Nothing appeared, so Zoro sheathed his blade and followed Sanji through the door.

Inside was like a storm had swept through. Nothing was on the shelves, and any supplies or materials that were left were broken or scattered across the floor. Sanji took a quick inventory, searching the shelves and climbing over the pharmacy counter to check the back. There was no obvious threat to face, no time constraint, but Zoro felt an inexplicable urgency, and he was sure Sanji felt it too. Something was coming, and they needed to get what they needed and get out fast.

Climbing back over the counter, Sanji shook his head.

“Damn,” Zoro muttered.

Heading back to the front, Zoro was hit again with another sense of intense urgency. It was a crawling, itching, almost painful wave of dread that came over him so suddenly it took him by surprise. He slowed, and grabbed Sanji’s sleeve.

“Wait.”

Sanji turned to him, confusion in his eyes, but he stopped.

“Be careful, I got a weird feeling.”

Nodding, Sanji crouched low and peered around the edge of the isle. Zoro slipped in behind him and looked towards the entrance.

There were at least twenty Deadies pressed against the glass of the pharmacy’s front side. Their dried, blood-caked fingers scratched absently at the window, and their open, slack lips flapped as their teeth clicked together.

“Holy shit,” Zoro whispered, “where the hell did they come from?”

Sanji stood and looked up, searching. He turned and motioned Zoro to follow him towards the back of the store. Zoro followed the cook through the “employee only” doors and out into the freight bay. Sanji pointed to the far side of the bay were a ladder led to a door above the scaffolding. With any luck that door would open to the roof.

Zoro clapped Sanji on the shoulder and started toward the ladder.

Cold hands came at his face and Zoro recoiled. A Deadie shambled out of the shadows, teeth yellowed and eyes sunken back into hollow sockets. Sanji took out its legs and the thing met its end on the tip of Zoro’s blade. It had all happened within a span of a few seconds, but the swordsman was sure he would feel those dead, chilled fingers on his skin for a long time.

The door was locked, but Sanji made that seem sort of trivial as he kicked the thing out with minimal effort. Another set of stairs awaited and beyond that was thankfully the roof.

“Shit…” Zoro murmured as he looked over the side. Deadies had swarmed, almost completely surrounding the building. They were trapped unless they could get over to the next structure, but the gap was easily over twenty feet.

Where had they all come from? How had they found them? Had they all just been sitting around silently waiting like some sort of impossible beyond the grave trap?

Sanji ran a hand over his mouth as he turned around, searching for another escape.

“Do you think we could…”

At that moment, when it seemed like things couldn’t get any worse, Zoro heard a sound that froze his blood, a sound that he had never expected. Sanji turned to him, his pale skin turning to ash, his eyes wide in alarm.

The sound was the rev of a motorcycle engine.

Someone was stealing their ride.

TBC

Chapter Text

The motorcycle revved again, the sound echoing through the streets, bouncing off the high brick walls and tumbling down towards the town square.

Zoro took another glance over the side of the building. The Deadies were still massing, pushing against each other trying to get up and into windows. There was a steady flow, no opening to drop down into without risking being overtaken immediately. Not to mention possibly breaking a leg. It was a good thirty-five feet to the street.

“Okay, well,” Zoro said, “I thought I saw awnings above the windows at the front. You wanna try jumping from those? Making a break for it?”

Sanji moved with him to check the front of the building. The awnings were about halfway down, so they could easily land on them and springboard off to the ground. Unfortunately, the Deadies had swarmed into a big enough group that it was unlikely either one of them would clear it.

“Shit.”

There was really nothing they could do, short of jumping anyway and taking out as many as they could, or possibly waiting it out. Looking at Sanji, the swordsman met his friend’s gaze and knew that was exactly what the cook was thinking as well. Hell, there were worse ways to go, right?

But then something changed. Sanji blinked, frowning thoughtfully into the space beside Zoro. His head tilted, his ears listening for something Zoro had been too preoccupied to hear moments before.

Singing.

Someone was singing. Loudly.

“I'm Henry The Eighth, I am!
Henry The Eighth I am, I am!”

The singing, along with the hum of the motorcycle engine, was coming closer.

“I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before
And every one was an Henry HENRY!”

Zoro was caught somewhere in uncertain territory between angry and slightly amused. What the hell was going on?

“What is that?”

Sanji just smiled and pointed down the road.

Coming towards them, riding Sanji’s bike, was a large figure in what Zoro thought might have been a blue leather jacket. He had on a pair of triangle sunglasses and a Santa hat that blinked red and green. He road slowly, singing loud and merrily as he neared the mass of Deadies.

“She wouldn't have a Willie or a Sam-no Sam!
I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry
Henry The Eighth I aaaam!

Second verse, same as the first!
I'm Henry The Eighth, I am!
Henry The Eighth I am, I am…”

Bloodied fingers stopped scraping the brick and sunken eyes turned from the pharmacy building. Several Deadies started to break away, shambling after the noise and flashing lights. There were a few that stayed, still trying to climb to the roof, possibly because they were so decayed they no longer held the capacity to hear the noise, but the majority of the swarm pushed from the wall and followed Sanji and Zoro’s rescuer down the street.

“Sanji!” a voice called from the ally, “Sanji! Over here!”

The cook sprinted toward the edge and motioned Zoro to follow. When the swordsman leaned over, he was met with bright eyes and a wide smile beneath a mop of black hair.

“Hi, Sanji’s friend!” the young man said, “I’m Luffy!”

Zoro nodded cautiously, “Zoro.”

A tall figure next to Luffy looked around and motioned with a jerk of his head. “Hurry up!”

Luffy’s companion was well hidden underneath a black jacket and hood, but when he glanced up Zoro noticed metal gleaming from the man’s nose.

“Jump down here!” Luffy exclaimed, “I can catch you!”

Sanji might have snickered as he climbed over the side and hung off the ledge. He slid down and into the pierced man’s arms, toppling them both to the ground.

“Oof! Ow, Sanji you’re heavy!”

“Come on, Zoro!” Luffy called.

Zoro readied himself, but stopped when several shambling figures rounded the corner. Luffy’s cries must have alerted the Deadies still clinging to the front of the building.

“Behind you,” Zoro said.

Luffy glanced down the alley, noting the four figures headed towards him, and nonchalantly closed the distance. His fist went through the first, splattering what was left of brain and skull onto the street. The next two he kicked the legs out from under them and crushed their heads underneath his foot. The fourth met the brick of the building with his face.

It was efficient, even if it was messy. Zoro was impressed; he had never seen anyone kill Deadies with their bare hands before.

“Come on down!” Luffy called.

Without another hesitation, Zoro climbed over the side and jumped onto the shoulders of the young man beneath him. Surprisingly, Luffy held his weight just fine and stayed steady so the swordsman could drop to the ground. How that was possible, Zoro was not sure. He easily had a hundred pounds on his smiling rescuer.

“All right, let’s get the fuck out of here!” the pierced man whispered, before he turned and made his way towards the back of the pharmacy. Sanji followed him, and so Zoro followed Sanji. Several sprawled and partially decapitated Deadies lay strewn about as they rounded the corner, but nothing moved except another tall figure in a dark jacket.

He seemed to have been waiting for them, his blond hair stood in spikes, and a large scar in the shape of an X decorated his chin.

“Hey, Sanji,” he grinned.

Saluting, Sanji grinned at the blond man as he fell into step with the cook. They were apparently being led toward the water tower at the edge of town, and so Zoro gripped his sword and watched their flank as they sprinted across the street. A small swarm of Deadies was making their way towards them from the east side. The west side was barricaded.

Pushing through an overgrowth of hedges, Zoro spotted another three bikes. Not classic style like Sanji’s, but more modern, probably modified versions of Hondas or Kawasaki. They seemed like they were in good shape, just dusty from the roads.

“Sanji, you ride with Bartolomeo!” Luffy instructed, “Zoro, you can ride with me!”

Sanji climbed up behind Bartolomeo and the pierced man kicked into gear. Zoro threw a leg over the machine behind Luffy and held on as the kid revved the engine and pulled out into the street. They turned east, heading straight towards the wall of clicking, creeping death.

“Luffy,” Zoro growled, “what the hell are you doing? There’s like fifty of them!”

“Hey, man,” Luffy called over his shoulder, “you got a sword! Cut ‘em down!” His hair whipped against his forehead as he spoke, his teeth flashed from between his smile. He was apparently enjoying this.

It was stupid, and it was reckless, but Zoro couldn’t deny that on some level, he was enjoying this a little as well. As they neared the swarm, Zoro repositioned himself, readied his katana low and behind him, and braced for impact. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Sanji doing the same thing, readying his knife to strike as they blew through.

Three shots rang out and three Deadies fell to the ground, giving their group strategically placed openings to weave through. Zoro glanced to his left, surprised to see the man with the X scar holding a pistol. Guns, or more specifically—ammo, were a rarity and were usually more dangerous than helpful. However, in a situation like this they were invaluable.

Cold, thick, blood sprayed across Zoro’s chin as his blade sliced through rotted flesh. He came around and swung again, this time high enough to reach a second Deadie’s throat. A trachea collapsed and a spinal cord gave like a cheap bamboo post.

Luffy maneuvered the bike through the swarm, bending and weaving, effectively avoiding grasping hands and broken, clicking teeth. Unfortunately, as they closed in on the edge of the group, the Deadies started to cluster, packing in, making it difficult to keep their speed. A large one, mostly intact, came at them with arms flailing, jaw missing, and tongue hanging down into a bloody mess of torn flesh. It reached over the pressing form of two other Deadies, stumped fingers reached for Luffy’s head.

Zoro cut it down. Two decayed hands flew, one was lost in the swarm, the other rolled below and was trampled by the back tire of Luffy’s bike.

“We made it!” Bartolomeo shouted. “Luffy are you okay!?”

“I’m awesome!” Luffy exclaimed, “Zoro’s a badass! Drake?”

“I’m good.”

Zoro looked over at Sanji. The cook was a mess of dark blood, it was splattered across his face and in his hair. Something had gotten ahold of his jacket; Zoro could see that one of the outside pockets had been ripped off. He was wearing a smile however, and when he looked up to meet Zoro’s eyes, that smile widened.

Sanji had enjoyed that too.

They slowed to a crawl to move safely through the street. There were less abandoned cars and felled telephone posts as they neared the town’s limits, but there was more of the smaller debris. Crates and garbage cans dotted the concrete, as did tires, piles of stone or brick, and broken fences.

“Oh, shit.”

Drake’s voice could barely be heard over the roar of their engines, but the awe in his tone was obvious. Their group stopped and Zoro looked to where Drake was indicating.

Another wall of Deadies was headed for them, being led by the eccentric with the Santa hat. He was still singing, riding slowly enough that the swarm could follow him. When the man spotted them, he waved.

“Hi Franky!” Luffy shouted.

“Come on Luffy!” Bartolomeo growled, “Let’s do this! They’re waiting!”

“All right! Let’s go!” Luffy revved his engine and took off down the street. The others followed and the fourth man, whom Zoro surmised was Franky, pulled out and joined them.

When they passed the town’s limits, a man with long blond hair and a black mask covering most of his face was waiting for them. He pulled out, joining their group, and raised a flare gun over his head. Zoro watched behind them as the man aimed high, and the flare shot out of the barrel and into the sky.

For a few short moments, Zoro watched as the town was illuminated in bright, artificial light. It was nostalgic, seeing the buildings and streets clearly in the middle of the night. It was something Zoro had not seen in a long time. Something he never really considered he would miss.

A roar sounded from ahead of them, and when the swordsman turned back, he was momentarily stunned.

A truck had pulled out, apparently from behind the nearby gas station. It sat high on tractor tires, and by the sound of it, boasted an engine that was not made for so small a vehicle. All manner of rails and spikes had been added as either a flamboyant protection, or possibly just an intimidation factor. Either way, it was a sight to see.

Luffy slid to a halt, and Bartolomeo and Drake followed suit. The truck met them on the road, turning slightly at an angle to the town. Zoro took a quick note of something like a smiley face with a stitched mouth painted on the driver’s side door before out of the bed, a hulking figure with blazing red hair and a fur-collard coat rose up.

The man pulled a large metal tube from beside him and placed it on the railing. From what Zoro could see, there was some kind of makeshift lever and trigger system set up. The redhead pulled it, and the distinctive sound of a weapon being cocked rang out over the rumble of motorcycles engines.

“Oh shit,” Zoro breathed.

He felt a hand on his arm, and then he was being pulled off the bike. It took Zoro a moment to realize it was only Sanji, and that they were moving towards the truck. The swordsman wasn’t entirely sure that was where he wanted to be at the moment, but he found he trusted Sanji enough that he just let himself be pulled along.

A beautiful woman, also with flaming red hair, opened the truck’s bed and smiled down them.

“Hey, Sanji,” she said.

Sanji hoisted himself up and kissed the woman on the cheek. She chuckled and pushed him away.

“Gross, you’re covered in blood.”

Smiling, Sanji turned and gave Zoro a hand up. When they were situated in back, the tall redhead with the fur-lined jacket lined up his rocket launcher monstrosity. His teeth were white against red lips as his face pulled up in a maniacal grin.

“You ready, Kidd?” Luffy exclaimed.

The man with the launcher nodded. “Killer with you?” his voice was smoother than his looks.

“He’s here!” Luffy reached out and clapped the masked man on the back.

Zoro looked from Kidd to the town. Deadies had swarmed together and were pouring out between what looked like a supply warehouse and an unnamed factory. If what he thought was about to happen, was indeed about to happen, then this group was insane.

“This isn’t going to work,” Zoro grumbled.

The woman patted him on the back, “Just watch. We know what we’re doing.”

Kidd situated the launcher on his shoulder, took a careful aim, and fired. There was a pop and a loud bang! and the shell was off. It took maybe six seconds to reach its target, and when it did, all hell broke loose.

The initial explosion wasn’t much. A few Deadies were knocked to the ground, some body parts went flying, but then the fire of the explosion seemed to intensify. It spread, gaining ground, licking at the concrete and tearing through the entire mass of walking corpses. The Deadies continued to pursue their prey, oblivious to the flames that were consuming them, but eventually, they all fell to the ground, their bodies charring black and burning down to nothing more than bones.

Luffy let out a whoop, and the others of the gang cheered. Zoro stood confused for a moment before he realized what had happened.

“Gasoline,” he said simply.

The woman nodded her head. “We doused a good section of the ground over there. It doesn’t burn for long, but anything caught in the blast is pretty much barbeque.”

Zoro nodded as well, “Efficient.”

“All right men!” Luffy called as he climbed back onto his bike, “Let’s get moving! I’m hungry!”

Sanji sat, making himself comfortable next to Kidd, and so Zoro followed suit. The swordsman had no idea where they were headed or how long it would take to get there, but he was content to just sit next to the cook and go with the flow. Of course, this defeated the purpose of just the two of them alone on a bike, but it was also very unlikely any other gangs were going to attack them. Not with this crazy redheaded motherfucker and his tank of a truck. And bazooka.

Zoro turned to Sanji. The cook was wiping at his face with the sleeve of his coat. There was still red in his hair, but he had gotten most of it off his cheeks and chin.

“So,” Zoro said as he folded his arms over his chest, “didn’t know you were friends with The Road Warrior.”

Sanji just flashed a toothy grin in his direction and, to Zoro’s delight, rested his head against the swordsman’s shoulder and promptly fell asleep.

TBC

Chapter Text

The red headed woman had introduced herself as “Nami” and had spent almost the entire ride, to wherever the hell there were going, staring at Zoro. That in itself had not been particularly disturbing, but the scrutinizing attention had finally gotten on the swordsman’s last nerve when realized that freak Kidd was doing it too.

“What the hell are you staring at?” Zoro growled.

Kidd just glared at him, but Nami tilted her head to the side as she answered.

“We’re just wondering who you are that you can get Sanji to do that.”

“Do what?” Zoro asked.

“Sleep,” Nami said.

Rolling his eyes, Zoro adjusted himself, and Sanji against him, as the truck hit another bump in the pavement. “I’m not even sure what that means. The shit cook sleeps all the time.”

Nami’s eyebrows lifted and her voice was breathy as she murmured, “Really?”

Chuckling, Kidd leaned in close to her and whispered.

“He called him ‘shit cook’.”

“Who are you people,” Zoro asked, “How do you know Sanji?”

The corners of Nami’s mouth turned up in a small smile. “Some of us go way back with Sanji, some even before Dead Day. He’d probably be running with us if he didn’t feel so obligated to feed all those people that Law’s saved.”

That was interesting. Zoro was momentarily surprised to find himself a little jealous. This group had known Sanji before the world ended, and that meant that they probably knew a lot of things about the cook that Zoro did not. For example, what had Sanji been like before? Had he worked in a restaurant? Where had he lived? Was he seeing someone? Had he been able to speak at one time?

“Where are you taking us?” Zoro asked, trying to get his mind on something else.

“We have a temporary camp set up in the center of the Badlands,” Nami said. “It’s way out in the open; you can see Deadies coming for miles. We’re almost there, actually.”

Zoro didn’t bother trying to look because the truck was already slowing. The shift of the gears jarred the bed, waking Sanji. The cook stirred, slowly sat up, and wiped at his eyes with the back of his wrist.

Zoro nudged Sanji’s foot with his own and frowned when the cook looked at him. What was he supposed to do now that he knew Sanji had some kind of sleeping disorder? Was it a mental thing? Was it physical? Was it even a problem anymore? All the cook seemed to do when he was around Zoro was sleep, so none of this even made any sense. What else was the cook going through that Zoro was unaware of?

He couldn’t ask those things though, not now. Not when there were crazy redheads watching them. But Zoro couldn’t say nothing either.

“You okay?”

It was lame, but Sanji seemed not to mind. The cook smiled at him and nodded, running his fingers lazily over his eyes in a way that was just short of fucking adorable, before he turned to Nami and Kidd. He waved to them.

“Sleep well?” Nami grinned.

Sanji gave her thumbs up.

When the truck stopped, they got to their feet and climbed out of the bed. Sanji hit the ground and immediately turned to help Nami down. She smiled at him and accepted his offer with a soft “thank you.” It was a ridiculously chivalrous gesture, extremely old-fashioned in Zoro’s opinion, but the swordsman also had to admit to himself that it was rubbing him the wrong way only because he was a little jealous. Not that he wanted Sanji to be helping him down from places or anything. That would be stupid.

Luffy and the others had parked the bikes and were headed toward a campfire surrounded by tents and another couple of vehicles. A small group of people were waiting for them, all sporting their own various ideas of what badasses wore during the apocalypse. Leather jackets mostly, steel-toed boots, bandanas, a few of them had swords. Zoro wasn’t sure if they were going for the classic biker gang look, or possibly pirates. Either way, Zoro didn’t care. As long as they could kill Deadies, they could be wearing pink, frilly, tutus and Zoro would be cool with it.

“Sanji! Bro!” the large man with the Santa hat fell into step with them and clapped Sanji on the back. “Bike’s runnin’ great! You’ve taken real good care of her!”

Sanji pulled his notebook and pen from his pocket and scribbled a few words. Zoro didn’t get a chance to see them or hear Franky—was that his name?—’s response however, because Nami had slipped her arm into his and was pulling him toward the campfire.

“Come have a drink while Sanji catches up,” she said, that smile still pulling at her lips.

A drink sounded good. Actually, a drink sounded really good. Maybe this gang wasn’t so bad after all.

With some good whiskey in his belly and a fire to keep his hands and feet warm, Zoro found it was a lot easier to be civil. Nami introduced him to another seven or eight members of the gang, members whose names he promptly forgot, before she sat beside him and started to unbutton and unzip various layers of clothing. Zoro had to admit she was a very attractive woman, even when she wasn’t baring all that skin, and he could see why Sanji might have a thing for her.

“So what are you doing all the way out here?” Luffy asked once the gang had said their hellos and settled down around the fire.

Zoro glanced at Sanji. There was no way he was going to talk about their mission unless Sanji explicitly told him it was all right to do so. Going way back with someone didn’t automatically mean you could trust them with things like food or meds in an apocalypse. Maybe Sanji wanted to keep what they were really doing a secret? Zoro didn’t know.

However, Sanji seemed okay with handing the reigns over to Zoro. He sat on the crate next to the swordsman’s, wiping his hands and face with the rag and bottle of water Drake had given him. When Zoro looked his way, he merely shrugged and nodded his head.

“There’s a bad lung infection going around our camp,” Zoro said slowly. “We’re making our way north, trying to get ahold of some antibiotics.”

“You got a list?” Kidd asked.

Sanji nodded again and pulled the paper Chopper had given them out of his pocket. He handed it to Kidd and the redhead stood, glancing over the list of things that may as well have been dinosaur names, as far as Zoro knew anyway.

“Killer,” Kidd said, motioning with his head.

The masked blond moved close, glancing at the paper over Kidd’s shoulder.

“Look through our supplies and see if we have any of these.”

Killer nodded, taking the paper and heading toward the largest of the vehicles. Zoro watched him, not exactly sure how he felt about this whole thing. It would have been understandable if Sanji and he had something to trade. Trading was common practice now that money was no longer a currency, but Zoro was fairly sure they had nothing.

And he would die before he gave up his sword.

Leaning in close to Sanji, Zoro whispered as casually as he could, “Is this a good idea? I mean, how well do you actually know these guys?”

Sanji took his pad and wrote a few words for Zoro to read.

Don’t worry, they’re all crazy but they do what Luffy says.

“And you trust Luffy?” Zoro asked.

With my life.

It was ambiguous comfort, but the way Sanji looked at him then calmed the swordsman’s trepidations. If Luffy was the kind of someone who had the cook’s complete and utter trust, the least Zoro could do was try and play nice.

“Okay,” Zoro whispered.

Sanji grinned and turned to watch Kidd and a few others as they spoke to each other in low voices. Luffy was nodding, listening intently to Drake and another man with long, blond hair—Zoro had forgotten his name of course. They seemed intent in their discussion and focused on whatever it is they were trying to convey. Zoro hoped it wasn’t something like they were trying to talk Luffy and Kidd out of helping.

When the group broke up, Luffy and Kidd came to sit with him and Sanji by the fire.

“The towns north of here have been picked clean,” Kidd said quietly. “You’re not going to find any of those meds even if you go all the way to Seattle. I think we might have a little doxycycline, but that other stuff on your list is some serious medical shit.”

Zoro ran a hand over his mouth. “So, what are you suggesting we do?”

Kidd turned to Luffy, his eyes betraying the excitement he was no doubt feeling. For Zoro, that was both interesting and completely disconcerting because who the hell knew what kinds of things got Kidd excited?

Luffy took a breath and crossed his arms over his chest.

“We have an idea that will get you all the meds you need and more.”

Zoro glanced at Sanji and the cook nodded, shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay,” Zoro said, “What’s the catch?”

“Well,” Luffy smiled, “It’s not so much a catch as it is breaking into a heavily guarded compound and possibly starting a war. And possibly dying.”

Sanji snickered at Zoro’s side and the swordsman turned to watch as his friend wrote a few words on his pad of paper.

Well, if that’s all then sign us up.

Shit. Just when Zoro thought he couldn’t crush any harder on someone, Sanji had to go and do that.

“Great!” Luffy’s smile widened into a grin and he clapped his hands together.

“Kidd, go find Bartolomeo and Bellamy! This is gonna be awesome!”

TBC

Chapter Text

Sanji adjusted the collar of his jacket, wiping the last bit of the blood from the outer nylon. The down inside was probably destroyed, but there really wasn’t anything he could do about that at the moment.

Glancing over at his friends, the cook felt a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Luffy was standing in the back of the truck, arms crossed over his chest, smile wide as he excitedly explained to his men what they were about to do.

Having already been informed what this mission entailed, Sanji knew he was going to have to be on his toes. Luffy’s brand of awesome had always been a little different than your average person’s. He wasn’t crazy, no. He wasn’t a sociopath like a lot of his gang, but he did march to the beat of his own drum. When something was declared “awesome” by Luffy, it usually meant there was going to be a fight. Or something was going to explode. Or some other kind of shenanigans that ultimately ended in a mess and mayhem were inevitable.

This was the very reason why, after their group had found the compound several months ago, Luffy had taken a few of their group’s more unconventional members and branched off. There was no way he would have ever been content growing crops and taking care of orphaned children. He needed to be free.

Kidd was much the same. He had been a little more hesitant to leave, but in the end, his spirit for adventure, and especially trouble, and won.

Taking a swallow of water from his canteen, Sanji watched the way Kidd delegated tasks to the rest of the group. He was such a mystery to Sanji, in so many ways. On several occasions, Law admitted that he and Kidd were very close, but Sanji couldn’t figure out how that was possible. They were such opposites. Law was so serene; so calm and poised. Kidd was loud, fierce, and larger than life. Sanji had always thought Kidd was a raging fire next to Law’s still water, but perhaps that was what made them such good friends. It was also probably what made Kidd the perfect person to be riding second to Luffy.

Well, that and the fact that Kidd was bat-shit crazy.

When Luffy had branched off and left the compound, others besides Kidd had followed. Over time, the gang had grown to almost thirty. They had picked up another few insane people, like Bartolomeo and Buggy, but they also had gained a few characters that were just plain weird. Hawkins, for example, was one of the strangest people Sanji had ever come across. Cavendish was another Sanji couldn’t really figure out.

However, it seemed to work. They were like the country’s most dangerous freak show, traveling the land in their caravan, killing Deadies and randomly rescuing people to take back to Law’s compound.

A cheer rang out. The gang was apparently expressing their excitement for the impending “smack-down”. Sanji just chuckled silently and took another swallow of his water.

This meet up was good, even if it was unexpected. Sanji would never have guessed they would run into Luffy on this mission. Back in November, roughly four months ago, Luffy had told him the gang was headed southeast until springtime. The warmer climate was going to make traveling on bikes and sleeping in tents easier. But now here they were, back in their northern territory. Why hadn’t they come by the compound? Wouldn’t Law want to know Kidd was back?

Well, whatever the reason, Sanji had more important and confusing things to think about. After loading his pack with the supplies Drake had given him, Sanji strapped it onto the back of his bike. He made a good show of looking like he was actually focused on what he was doing, but he was actually watching Zoro out the corner of his eye.

Zoro had been talking with one of Luffy’s men, another swordsman named Ryo or Ryuma or something, for a while now. The two had noticed each other while the group had been gathering their things and had started talking about swords and kendo and all things samurai. Or, at least that’s what Sanji thought they were talking about anyway. Sanji did not speak Japanese. The cook was beginning to understand what people must feel like when he spoke with Chopper or Nami in sign language.

Sanji was not jealous, but he had started to wonder if maybe when the mission was over Zoro would want to leave the compound and join Luffy. The gang had more to offer the swordsman than Law’s group did, and Zoro definitely seemed like that type, the type that needed to be free. And really, if Sanji was being completely honest with himself, he could admit that there was absolutely nothing tethering Zoro to the compound at all. If he wanted to leave, it’s not like he needed permission. He had no family to separate from, and no loved ones he would need to discuss it with first. If Zoro wanted to he could just go, and Sanji wouldn’t try to stop him.

Even if just thinking about that made the cook want to kick something.

“Hey, Sanji!”

Nami was out of breath and her cheeks were rosy as she pulled Sanji from his spiraling thoughts. She took his arm and turned him around, busying herself with straightening his scarf and jacket. Nami was the only one allowed to do this, partially because she thought since the scarf had once been hers, it was still hers, but mostly because Nami knew she really could do almost whatever she wanted to Sanji and he would just take it like a man.

“He’s pretty cool,” she said softly, her smile repressed but still obvious, “You two a thing?

Sanji rolled his eyes, assuming she was speaking of Zoro. He lifted his hand to sign.

No.

“That’s too bad,” she sighed, “He’s hot, you’re hot…”

I’m pretty sure there are other factors that come into play when it comes to relationships.

Feigning confusion, she shook her head, “What? Really? Like what?”

Well, the fact that neither he, nor myself are gay presents a problem.

"That's never stopped you before," she laughed. "Besides, aren't you the one that told me it's more about the connection and less about the biology?"

Sanji scoffed and watched the ground at Nami’s feet. He had probably told her something along those lines at some point. It sounded like the stupid lovey-dovey crap he used to spew all over the place. He did believe it, in a way, but things were different now. Very different.

Shaking her head, Nami moved in closer and spoke even softer than before. “I’ve see how he looks at you. You’ve noticed, right?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Sanji shifted his gaze to watch the place where one of Nami’s thumbs had started to caress the skin of his palm. A familiar sadness pulled at him from deep inside. A terrible ache that was never truly gone welled up and threatened to overtake him.

“Sanji.”

Yes. Yes. He huffed. I’ve noticed okay? And yes, I like him a lot, and I know he likes me. But I can’t do that to him, you know that I can’t. If he finds out? If he sees? It’ll scare the shit out of him. At the very least he’ll be disgusted.

“So, you’re not even going to try? You’re not even giving him a chance? That doesn’t sound like you.”

Sanji sighed again and ran a hand over his face. Nami’s eyes were gentle even if her words were harsh. She wasn’t trying to make him angry, she was just trying to help.

Is this really the best time to be talking about this?

Nami shrugged, “You want to save it for later when we could be dead? This is the apocalypse, babe. Take the chance while you can.”

She was right, of course she was right. Sanji let out a breath and closed his eyes. He had effectively pushed these particular thoughts to the back of his head, but Nami had always been very intuitive when it came to these kinds of things. She understood that it was bothering him, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and she understood that he needed to at the very least examine his feelings before they became something that would distract him.

Sensing his distress, Nami came still closer and ran her hands up his arms comfortingly. She rubbed her thumbs in circles, gently massaging the tense muscles in his biceps and shoulders.

“Hey, you deserve to be happy more than anyone.”

Sanji scoffed and lifted his hands to sign, Like you said, this is the apocalypse. Who can expect to be happy?

It was Nami’s turn to scoff. “I’m happy! I would appreciate more showers, but this is pretty much the life! I get to kill rotting dead people, I treasure hunt every day, I have two men fighting over me—”

Woa, wait, Sanji interrupted, They’re fighting over you now? I thought—

“It’s a long story,” Nami groaned, “Why do you think we haven’t let the compound know we’re back yet?”

Sanji ran a hand over his eyes and laughed. The things that were still an issue during the apocalypse never ceased to amaze him.

“Why hello, Zoro,” Nami’s voice was honey, “You ready to go bust some skulls?”

Sanji turned to find the swordsman approaching a few feet away from where they stood, and watching Nami’s hands as they rubbed his shoulders. It was almost awkward. Like they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been doing, which was stupid, since he had stopped thinking about Nami like that several years ago.

“Luffy said I should ride with Sanji,” Zoro said, “but if you want to, I have no problem hopping in back of the truck.”

Nami smiled and pulled away from Sanji, but not before giving his shoulders one last affectionate squeeze. “Not to worry, my friend. I ride with Kidd.”

Zoro’s eyebrows lifted at that and his stance changed. He was always so wary of people, much like Sanji was if he didn’t know them. It was a good thing though, with the world being the way it was. The cook had to admit it was kind of sexy the way Zoro always seemed to be ready to take on anything.

As the swordsman looked down at Nami’s smiling face, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, but then again might have shone with a little interest at the same time.

“Kidd your man or something?”

“Yes,” Nami nodded and patted Zoro’s cheek with her palm.

“One of them.”

Sanji wanted to laugh at the look that passed over Zoro’s face. As Nami walked away, heading toward the truck and the excited shouts and cheers of Luffy’s men, Sanji found himself moving closer and grinning like a lunatic at his swordsman friend.

“She’s uh…” Zoro deadpanned.

Sanji nodded. Yes, he understood.

Taking out the pad of paper, the cook wrote a few words and flipped it around for Zoro to read.

So? Are you ready for this?

Zoro blinked once, focused his attention, and folded his arm across his chest.

“Of course I’m ready, shit-cook. Are you?”

You want to drive?

“Hell yes.”

TBC

Chapter Text

The group road through the late afternoon and into the evening before the truck turned off the highway and climbed a third of the way up a ridge. Luffy hopped off his bike and signaled for the men to cut their engines before he went the rest of the way to the top on foot. Kidd pulled a bag from the passenger side of the truck and signaled with a jerk of his head for Sanji and Zoro to follow.

Sanji made his way up but slowed just as he neared the brow. The sun was setting behind the mountains on the other side of the valley, and the last golden rays of sunlight were trickling down through the trees. Large parts of the landscape were slowly being blanketed in shadow, but that seemed to only make the sunlit surfaces shine that much brighter. The cook took a moment to take in the sight. He let the fading warmth of the sun’s rays settle on his skin and pulled the clean mountain air deep into his lungs.

He felt Zoro at his side, and even though it was more likely that the swordsman was also watching the scenery before them, Sanji was fairly sure Zoro was watching him instead. The cook felt a strong urge to reach out his hand and brush his fingertips over Zoro’s, just the barest of touches would show that he was thinking of the swordsman. Sanji knew that Zoro would respond, he would take his hand. The cook was sure of it.

“Damn, it’s up and running now.”

Kidd’s voice pulled Sanji from his thoughts and effectively broke any kind of spell that had been cast by the beautiful morning. He turned to Zoro but the swordsman was already looking to where Drake was pointing.

In the valley below them, spread out over a square mile, was an industrial complex. Large portable buildings were connected by wide dirt roads that had once accommodated large vehicles. Smoke poured from several of the large chimneys that lined the central building and piles of steel and lumber were organized and stacked high in several places, but Sanji could see that none of it was actually being used.

Nami took the pair of binoculars Kidd had pulled from the bag, and moved to stand beside Luffy. “Yeah, the machinery is back on, but they’re not using the steel mill.”

“What does that mean?” Kidd asked.

Shrugging, Nami murmured, “It could mean a lot of things.”

“Can I see?” Zoro asked.

Nami tossed the swordsman the binoculars and turned to Sanji. “We call this place the Red Line.” When the cook looked at her funny she shrugged, “Luffy misread where it was on the map and thought it was the subway system in Portland.”

Zoro snorted from behind the binoculars, “I can understand that.”

“Anyway,” Nami continued, “this place was taken over by one of our rival gangs a few months back. We’re not sure what they do with it, but there’s been a lot of nasty looking groups coming through here lately.”

They stockpiling? Trading? Sanji asked.

“We think so,” Nami said, “something like that anyway. They come in with trucks filled with supplies, crates, and some other stuff every couple of weeks. They’ve raided everything from here and north, cities, houses, farms, you name it.”

You know how many there are?

“No.”

Oh good, Sanji sighed, Well, at least now I understand what Luffy meant about starting a war.

“We would always try and negotiate.”

Right.

“What’s he saying?” Kidd asked.

As Nami explained, Sanji turned to Zoro, who happened to be in the middle of a quiet conversation with Luffy. They stood close together, speaking in low tones, something Sanji had never actually heard Luffy do before. It was a little endearing seeing the two of them conspiring together, but at the same time, it sent a pang of regret through Sanji’s heart. This was one more thing that Luffy could give Zoro on a regular basis that Sanji could not: adventure.

Pulling out his notepad, Sanji scribbled a few words and plastered a smirk on his face as he showed his friends his thoughts.

I have a feeling we’re not negotiating, are we?

Zoro looked at him and shook his head. His teeth flashed white against his dark skin as he answered,

“No, we’re not.”

* * *

Their timing was ideal. The sun slipped behind the mountains as the group made their way down the east side of the ridge. Darkness came around them slowly, effectively concealing their movements. Sanji followed Bartolomeo as the pierced man sprinted across old train tracks and a wide, dirt road. Zoro and Hawkins were right behind him as they rounded a building and pressed up against its metal walls.

“Does this feel off to anyone else?” Hawkins asked.

“Which part?” Zoro asked, “Attacking a large camp with less than forty people? Or that their security is shit?”

Hawkin’s sharp eyes turned to the swordsman and narrowed. “It’s too loud here to be so quiet.”

Sanji tried not to laugh at the look that passed over Zoro’s face.

“What?” the swordsman deadpanned.

“This place isn’t exactly inconspicuous, you can hear it for miles. But, when is the last time we saw a Deadie? There are towns surrounding this valley, and a large city just to the north. Where are all the walking dead?”

“Holy shit, Hawkins,” Batolomeo growled, “shut the fuck up. Who the fuck cares?”

“It’s a legitimate question.”

Bartolomeo turned and leaned over Sanji to get in Hawkin’s face. “My boot shoved up your ass is a legitimate question too, but you don’t see me doing that shit while we’re on Luffy’s mission, now do ya?”

Sanji put a hand on Bartolomeo’s chest just as Zoro came between the two gang members.

“Okay, now’s not the time for this,” the swordsman said softly. “Yeah, it’s weird that there’re no Deadies around, but we can chalk that up to this group clearing them out. Maybe we should just take that as some good luck and get on with this.”

Sanji watched the muscles in Zoro’s jaw flex as he eyed Bartolomeo. His gaze was cold and dark, menacing in a way the cook had never seen before. When Hawkin’s shifted at his side, Zoro’s grip tightened on the hilt of the blade he held in his left hand.

The tension was broken however, when Bartolomeo sniffed and spit on the ground at Zoro’s feet.

“Man, I should ’a taken a shit before we left.”

With that, he turned and peered around the corner, signaling to another group down the street.

Zoro glanced at Sanji and rolled his eyes. The cook smirked, thinking how great Zoro was going to fit in with this group. He not only could hold his own with the rest of them, but he could keep them under control. That was not something that just anyone could do.

When Zoro moved to glance down the street, Sanji turned to Hawkins and signed, OK?

Those strange, mahogany eyes rolled towards the cook, and Hawkins shook his head.

“This is not a lucky day for us. There’s no such thing as ‘no Deadies around’.”

TBC

Chapter Text

There were three entrances to the main complex, two of which were on the east side. The west side had one small door above a wooden platform, occupied by a lone guard. Bartolomeo volunteered to take him out, but Hawkins reminded him that the plan was not to kill anyone until they knew what was happening inside. The hilt of Zoro’s sword was enough to incapacitate the sentry, and Sanji disposed of the unconscious man beneath the platform.

Inside, Sanji and the others found themselves on the second floor of a large warehouse. It was a labyrinth of metal walkways over great piles of steel. As they made their way towards the east side, Sanji’s nose picked up an underlying scent of rot and decay. It was unsettling, but not distracting enough to pull his focus from their goal. Most everywhere smelled of rot and death nowadays.

As they made their way through the shadowed second floor, trying to stay as close to the south wall as possible, a chorus of shouts and cheers rang out, echoing through the rafters.

“What the fuck is that?” Bartolomeo whispered.

Zoro’s eyes were dark and narrow in the soft light. “Sounds like the crowd at a sports game.”

“What, they take this place over so they can have indoor fucking basketball championships?”

“I don’t know,” Zoro growled, “I just said what it sounds like.”

“Be quiet,” Hawkins whispered, “There’s movement up ahead.”

Sanji slipped past Zoro and Bartolomeo and moved silently down the metal steps and onto another platform. Two men stood at the railing, watching whatever was happening beneath them with such focus, they did not notice Sanji until he tapped the first man on the shoulder.

One swift, lower kick, and both the men’s legs flew out from underneath them. Zoro was on the men immediately, knocking them out cold with the hilt of his sword.

“What was your name again?” Bartolomeo asked.

“Zoro. For the third time.”

Sanji tried not to react, but the way Bartolomeo was looking at Zoro made the cook want to tear some arms out of their sockets. Why was that? Sanji knew it wasn’t like he and Zoro were together, Zoro didn’t belong to him. Bartolomeo could make worshipful, googly eyes at whoever he wanted. Sanji had no right to get possessive over someone he hadn’t outwardly shown any romantic interest in.

Still, the thought of knocking Bartolomeo out and wiping those stupid looks of his face with the bottom of a shoe sounded really good.

“What is happening down there?” Hawkins murmured.

Sanji turned and looked out over the balcony. Beneath them bleachers were set up in a colosseum style, filled with spectators shouting and cheering as people fought against each other in a central pit. There were maybe one hundred men, possibly more.

“Woa, what the fuck?” Bartolomeo’s voice wavered, and Sanji understood why.

The dirt floor was stained dark red, almost black in places. Three mutilated bodies lay strewn across the space, pieces of them splattered across the makeshift walls. In the center of the pit stood two men and one woman, all impossibly thin and standing unbalanced on trembling legs, and armed with nothing but crude weapons of broken pipes or pieces of wood.

Also inside the pit, surrounding them, were at least two dozen Deadies.

“Uh…” Zoro murmured, “what exactly are we looking at right now?”

“This like, a fight club or somethin’?” Bartolomeo asked.

Hawkins pushed away from the railing and continued down the platform. “It looks to me like some kind of torture-death sentence. It is unfortunate, but there’s nothing we can do from here except follow the plan.”

Sanji’s heart raced in his chest and cold dread started to crawl up from his gut. There was something sinister here, something dark and evil, and it had nothing to do with what was happening below. Sanji was certain, he could feel it in his bones.

Checking over his shoulder, Sanji found Zoro’s face set in a deep scowl. It was unclear whether the swordsman was feeling the same trepidation as Sanji, or if Zoro was merely disgusted by the display in the pit. In any case, when the swordsman glanced his way, Sanji saluted and mouthed “good luck” as the four split into two groups. Bartolomeo and Zoro headed towards the east side service entrance, while Sanji and Hawkins climbed down a ladder that led to the maintenance office and machinery control room.

The door flew inward from a swift kick and rocked on loose hinges. Hawkins cocked an eyebrow and smirked at Sanji.

“I don’t think it was even locked.”

Grinning, Sanji merely shrugged.

Inside, the control panels for the heating and cooling units, as well as the older steam and exhaust systems, ran along the farthest wall. Hawkins advanced, looking over the levers and checking the read outs on the display screen.

“The place is self-efficient. All you have to do is keep the fires burning. The steam that’s produced by the furnaces runs the mill, which in turn provides the power for the generators.” Moving across the room, Hawkins motioned to a map of the piping mounted on the wall. “If we reverse the steam from these two pipelines, it should overload these systems here, and possibly the furnaces as well.”

Sanji nodded and moved toward the lever Hawkins indicated.

Across the room, Hawkins gripped another two levers and might have smiled.

“Ready?”

* * *

The explosion was unexpected, but then again, Zoro was not really sure what he had been expecting. It probably should not have come as such a surprise, his life had been filled with a lot of explosions in the last few days.

“All right!” Bartolomeo cackled, “Come on, Zoro! Let’s get this fucking thing open!”

The “fucking thing” was a fifty foot service door, weighted down by a few hundred pounds of cement blocks and held in place by locks on a banded metal chain. When the explosion hit, the mill went dark for a few seconds. A loud hissing noise sounded from somewhere toward the back where they had come from. Zoro’s initial thought had something to do with being impressed with the overkill, but then he immediately thought about Sanji. Was he okay? Where was the source of the explosion? The idiot cook would know how to blow some shit up without killing himself, right?

“Yo! Zoro!” Bartolomeo’s voice sounded over the hissing. “Take it out!”

Gripping the sword in his palm, Zoro swallowed his anxiety. Of course Sanji was okay, it would take more than an explosion to take him down.

He swung the sword once, bringing it down on the loop of the lock. Steel screamed as Zoro’s blade shattered the loop into countless pieces. Bartolomeo whooped and reached up, pulling the chain down and lifting the giant door. Outside, the half of Luffy’s gang not breaking in through the windows and vents at the moment, came rushing in, Luffy at the front.

Zoro helped Bartolomeo secure the door and followed the group back toward the makeshift arena.

Chaos had broken out. The men surrounding the pit had been taken completely by surprise. Luffy’s gang had surrounded and overtaken them in just a few short moments. It was a straight up brawl, a confusion of limbs and fists and bodies toppling off of bleachers.

And there was Sanji in the middle of it, defending those three souls in the center of the pit. He had backed the prisoners up against the wall and was fending off each Deadie as it came forward. The cook’s eyes were cold and calculated as he felled one rotted walker after the other. Blood soaked his jacket and ran from his hair and down over his temple.

Moving quickly, dodging a flailing arm and a wayward knife, Zoro weaved through the fight and dropped into the ring. There were less than ten Deadies left, and Zoro made quick work of them. Even with only one sword, it was easy enough. Cutting through partially rotten flesh was a little like cutting through old fruit.

As the last Deadie fell, Zoro straightened and turned to meet Sanji’s eyes. The cook stood a few feet from him, still shielding the prisoners. His hands rested at his sides, his right still holding his knife tightly clenched in a bloody fist.

To Zoro, time seemed to stop in that moment. Every movement, every breath, every drop of blood as it dripped from the strong line of Sanji’s jaw, seemed to last forever, caught in this perfect point of time and space. The fight raged around them, but the swordsman found a certain quiet, a peace he had not expected.

Zoro stood in the eye of the storm, suspended. He hung in the balance, watching cool blue eyes stare back at him with relief, and with trust. In that moment, Sanji fixed him with a look of absolute admiration and longing so powerful, that the swordsman felt himself incapable of anything but mirroring it.

A wild shout from Luffy broke the spell. Zoro blinked, caught off guard, and glanced around at the fight as it started to slow. Luffy’s group had either killed or incapacitated almost all of the other gang’s men, and Luffy now stood at the top of the bleachers, arms folded over his chest and his face set in a wide, shit-eating grin.

Glancing back at Sanji, the cook smiled at Zoro and wiped the trickle of blood from his own jaw with the heel of his palm.

Zoro just focused on not blushing.

“Okay!” Luffy roared. “Who’s your boss! I have a thing I gotta do!”

As if it had been rehearsed, at Luffy’s call Kidd dragged a large figure out from the mess of people on the bleachers and tossed them into the pit. The man landed at Zoro’s feet and wheezed what sounded like a painful cough as he hit the ground.

The man’s face was frightful, long and pale with unnaturally red lips, and his teeth had been filed into points. When he rolled his round body to the side and stood up, Zoro was surprised to hear him actually laugh.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, kid,” he cackled.

Luffy’s grin widened, “Oh yeah?”

The greasy man’s grin widened. “You just signed death warrants for you and all your pathetic gang.”

Bartolomeo hopped from the edge of the pit to connect his fist with the man’s face. A satisfying crunch echoed through the warehouse.

“Yeah well, maybe,” Luffy shrugged. “I don’t know what you do here, but it can’t be anything good. Thought now was as good a time as any to take you out. My friends need supplies.”

The man spit blood on the ground and cackled again, his belly jiggling. “Who are you punks?”

Luffy cocked his head to the side, and the straw hat he always seemed to be wearing slid up his forehead, unveiling his eyes.

“I’m Luffy.

“Well, Luffy,” the fat man grinned, “I’m Moria, and when my superior finds out about this, he’ll bring down everything on you. You’re fucking dead! You and all your friends!”

Zoro saw the gun before anyone else because he was so close. When Moria pulled the piece from the inside of his jacket, the swordsman moved, bringing his blade up and around, slicing through leather and flesh. Moria screeched and grabbed at the wound, dropping the gun in the process.

Growling, Zoro moved closer and pointed the tip of his sword at Moria’s throat.

“Who’s your superior?”

Moria said nothing. He merely gripped his bleeding hand and leveled Zoro with a burning gaze.

“Maybe you didn’t hear him?” Kidd barked. “Go ahead, Zoro. He’s got enough skin to spare a little.”

Zoro huffed a laugh and sneered, pressing the blade against the sweaty, rolled flesh beneath Moria’s chin.

“Aaarrg, fine! Fine! Doflamingo! His name’s Doflamingo!”

Kidd sighed and turned to Luffy.

“I knew it,” Nami muttered from the bleachers.

Moria’s face went even paler than it already was. His jaw dropped at the lax attitudes of his captors and he tried to pull himself to his feet. “Wait! Wait, you know him!? How do you know him? Who are you people!?”

Kidd pushed Moria back down with a press of his heel. He put a hand on Zoro’s shoulder, letting the swordsman know to step aside, and leaned in close to their trembling prisoner.

“Two words, dipshit,” Kidd snarled.

“Trafalgar Law.”

Zoro was mildly surprised to hear gasps and curses from the subdued gang. The tension heightened tenfold through the space as everyone who was not with Luffy started to either cower or struggle.

Moria’s face grew red. “What!? Don’t be stupid! Law is dead!! You’re supposed to be gone!! You’re supposed to be down south until the weather got warmer! What the hell are you doing here!!?”

Kidd and Bartolomeo lifted Moria by his arms and started to drag him back out of the pit, saying something about medicine and supplies. Zoro sighed, mildly confused and a little disappointed that the takeover had been so easy. When he turned back to Sanji, the cook was wiping the rest of the blood from his face with a blue handkerchief.

“Are you guys famous or something?” Zoro asked.

Sanji grinned and pulled the notepad from his pocket.

Dolfamingo + Law = big underground business before Dead Day. Post Dead Day Dolf’s been doing the same job but Law didn’t like it so he faked his death so he could live quiet somewhere and take care of people.

Zoro stared at the simple explanation, stunned. Of course he would get himself into something like this.

“So, we didn’t really start a war just now, we made a war that was already going on… worse.”

Sanji glanced away for a moment, thoughtful, and then turned back to Zoro and nodded.

Zoro sighed, “Okay.”

“Excuse me,” a soft voice interrupted, “e-excuse me?”

Zoro turned and found one of the prisoners, the woman, reaching out for Sanji’s jacket. The cook turned and caught her as she started to collapse.

“Woa, ma’am, are you okay?” Zoro asked.

The woman clung to Sanji’s collar, tears streaming down her dirt and blood-stained face. “Please help… please help my son…”

Zoro moved closer. “Your son? Where is he?”

“Behind…” the woman whispered through parched lips, “behind this building… in the containers…”

Sanji looked at Zoro, his eyes intense and urgent.

Zoro turned and spotted Nami at the edge of the pit. “Nami! Come with me! I think there are more prisoners!”

* * *

Outside, only a few yards from where Zoro and the others had entered the man building, sat two large, metal containers about thirty feet long. Sanji approached the first one and hovered over the lock with a small flashlight. Zoro drew his sword and gently moved him aside before cutting it off.

When the swordsman opened the door, a rush of putrid air hit him so hard he staggered.

“Oh God!” Nami exclaimed. “What is that!?”

Turning around, Zoro reached out his hand to Sanji, palm up. “Lemme see your flashlight,” he said.

Sanji handed him the light and the swordsman aimed the beam inside the container.

What Zoro saw there haunted him for a long time afterward.

Glazed, sunken eyes stared back at him from the darkness. Hollow cheeks and lips as dry as paper stood out starkly against skin as pale as a ghost. They were not Deadies, that much was certain, but for the life of him, Zoro could not figure out how they were still breathing.

“Oh my God…” Nami murmured.

“They’re just holding them here until they starve to death?” Zoro growled.

“Wait!” Nami’s voice was frantic. “Wait, Sanji don’t! You don’t want to see that!”

Confused, Zoro turned to the cook, but the look on Sanji’s face froze the swordsman’s blood.

Sanji was trembling, shaking with fury. His teeth were clenched so hard Zoro could hear his jaw creaking. Lips pulled back into a snarl, breath coming heavy and harsh, Sanji’s eyes burned with a rage that Zoro had never encountered before.

“Sanji,” Nami said softly, “Sanji, hey, calm down. Don’t do anything—”

But Sanji was not listening. He turned away and headed back toward the main building.

“No! Wait! Zoro get him!”

On instinct, Zoro reached out for Sanji, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. Sanji turned back to him, his blond hair falling into cold, blue eyes that were no longer calm, no longer relieved or trusting. Before Zoro could react, the cook twisted and took out the swordsman’s legs. The back of Zoro’s head hit the ground and stars danced across his vision.

“Zoro!” Nami dropped to her knees at his side.

“We have to stop him, Zoro! You have to help him!”

TBC

Chapter Text

“Come on, Zoro!"

The sun was warm on his face and the air was crisp and fresh. A beautiful morning spread about before him as he watched the sakura petals fall from the trees outside the dojo’s porch.

“Zoro, we have practice, let’s go!”

Smiling, his grip tightened around the bokken in his hands and he stood. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of dark hair and pale, beautiful skin before he closed his eyes. He readied himself and turned. He brought his weapons up, prepared for an attack… but nothing came.

Opening his eyes, he saw only the empty dojo and a lone sword lying on the polished floors a few feet from where he stood.

“Zoro!”

He whirled, expecting her to be behind him, but there was nothing. Where had she gone?

“Zoro, come on!”

That was not her voice. It may have been once, but not anymore. He turned and eyed the sword lying on the floor. Its gleaming gold and polished white finish shone in the morning sunlight, a precious memory of a time and place that was far away.

“Zoro! You have to help Sanji!”

Zoro opened his eyes.

Rubbing the back of his head, the swordsman sat up and turned just in time to see Sanji’s silhouette disappear back into the mill. He knew something was happening, something wrong and terrible, but Zoro was confused and his head hurt so badly he couldn’t think.

“What the hell is going on?” Zoro groaned.

“Come on! Get up!” Nami cried as she pulled at Zoro’s arm, dragging the swordsman to his feet.

Zoro’s head was still spinning as he regained his footing and headed back into the building. He knew his disorientation was not only from the blow he had taken when he had fallen, it was also from all of the questions that were suddenly swimming behind his eyes.

They moved through walkways between metal piping as Nami directed him through confusing turns and passages. Was this place getting bigger? How the hell had they found their way through the first time?

Zoro spoke over his shoulder, “Where’s he going?”

“Probably to find Moria.”

“What’s he going to do?” Zoro asked, “Rampaging killing spree, or what?”

“I don’t give a shit if he kills any of these mill assholes, but last time this happened his lung collapsed and he nearly killed himself!”

Zoro’s steps faltered and he found his breath catching.

“What?”

Nami turned to him, her eyes a strange hybrid of furious and terrified, and she growled, “I’ll explain later but right now, we have to stop him.”

They reached the bleachers and scanned the surrounding area but there was no indication of where Sanji had gone. Luffy’s men had gathered Moria’s gang into small groups and zip-tied their wrists. They sat in clumps around the pit, waiting for whatever it was that Luffy had planned for them, but Moria was nowhere to be seen, as were Luffy and Kidd. Zoro’s heart beat heavily in his chest, not from excursion, but with dread. What if they couldn’t find Sanji in time?

Drake spotted the two of them and waved as he came closer. “Nami, what’s up? You look like you just saw Franky naked. Again.”

“Have you seen Sanji?” Nami asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Drake frowned, “he just blew through here, wrote that he was looking for the Moria guy.”

“And where is that?” Zoro growled.

Drake pointed towards the loading dock where Luffy’s gang had entered. “Outside actually, Bartolomeo found a gutted portable that we can use to hold him. What’s going on?”

Zoro didn’t stick around to hear what Nami told Drake, he didn’t care. He just wanted to get to Sanji and try to stop whatever it was that was about to happen. His feet pounded the ground as he headed toward the loading doors, his heart raced with a kind of fear he had only felt once before in his life.

He had already lost someone important to him. It was not happening again, not when he could help. Not when there was something he could do.

The cool night air hit Zoro as he ducked underneath the doors, and he almost collided with Kidd before he could rebalance himself.

“What the hell,” Kidd said, “what’s got your panties in a wad?”

“You okay?” Luffy popped his head out from behind Kidd’s frame.

“Where’s Sanji?” Zoro asked.

Bartolomeo snorted at Luffy’s side, “Damn, calm down, man. Your boyfriend’s back that way,” he indicated behind him with a jerk of his thumb, “We just passed him; he signed the smoke sign at us.”

“What’s wrong, Zoro?” Luffy asked with seriousness that startled the swordsman.

“I don’t know,” Zoro said, “Nami sent me after him. We found a container out back full of prisoners that, I guess, were being kept for the fights. Sanji took one look inside and hulked out.”

Luffy’s expression darkened, and even in the dim lighting of the single bulb above them, Zoro could see the tension coiling through his body.

“Zoro,” Luffy’s voice was soft, “were the prisoners injured?”

Zoro shook his head, “I don’t think so, besides being starved I don’t think—”

“—Come with me!” Luffy grabbed Zoro’s arm. As he pulled Zoro down the road, he shouted over his shoulder, “You guys find those containers and get those people out!”

Zoro heard Bartolomeo shouting something back, but he didn’t really care to listen. He was more interested in following Luffy and finding out what he knew.

“What’s wrong with Sanji?” he asked.

“Sanji hates seeing people hungry,” Luffy said, “he goes crazy. We gotta stop him before he gets to Moria. If he lays into him like he did to that guy a few months ago, he could reinjure himself.”

“Re-injure himself?” Zoro asked.

Luffy had no time to answer. As they turned the corner, a shrill scream rang out through the night, piercing through Zoro’s ears and into his head. One of the portable buildings stood before them with the door wide open and hanging from broken hinges. The shrieking was definitely coming from inside, and Luffy was already racing towards it at full speed. Zoro followed and vaulted over the railing, flying through the doorway and almost colliding with Luffy’s back.

“Woa, Sanji!” Luffy called out.

Zoro had been prepared for violence, but what he was met with, was carnage.

One side of the room was covered in blood. Lines of crimson ran jagged as rivulets dripped down to the floor. Moria was on his knees, trying to get to his feet and wiping at the mess that had once been the left side of his face. Sanji stood a few feet from him, breath heavy and eyes burning with rage. Before Luffy or Zoro could move, the cook reached out and lifted the larger man to his feet. He then brought his leg up to connect with Moria’s chest, sending him flying across the room. Moria hit the metal siding with a sickening crack and more blood splattered across the wall, adding to the gore already there.

Sanji braced to attack again, but Luffy stopped him. “No! Sanji!” he moved in and grabbed the cook from behind, wrapping his long arms around Sanji’s and bracing his feet firmly on the floor.

“Stop, Sanji. Stop, you’ll hurt yourself again.”

The cook’s breathing was raspy, gurgling, as if his lungs were filled with a bad cold. Zoro watched as Luffy spoke softly into his friend’s ear, tried to soothe him with quiet words and a firm grip on his body, but Sanji still struggled, still tried to wrestle free.

Zoro took a breath and moved. He was not sure why he did it, only that he felt it was the right thing to do. He came close and slid his hand over one of Sanji’s fists. The cook’s fingers were rigid and cold to the touch but Zoro wrapped them in his own palm and held him tightly.

“Sanji…” he said softly.

Blue eyes found Zoro’s and they were lost and furious. The swordsman felt a pang deep in his heart and squeezed the cook’s hand, not enough to hurt, but enough to let Sanji know he was there.

Finally, that rattling, wet breathing started to calm. Those blue eyes lost their fire, and the cook’s body slumped against Luffy’s. Zoro offered his support and Luffy let Sanji go, gently passing the slender, blood-splattered man into Zoro’s hands. The swordsman took hold of trembling shoulders and carefully helped the other man to the door.

Once they were outside, Sanji pulled out of Zoro’s hold. He turned away and leaned against the wall of the portable, coughing into the sleeve of his jacket. Zoro stayed where he was, letting the cook have a few moments to recollect himself, knowing this was not the time to be prying, but he found the things that had been building up inside of him start to push and press, clamber up his throat and force their way out past his tongue.

“Are you gonna be all right, or do I need to knock you out or something?”

Sanji turned his head, looking at Zoro over this shoulder. His lips might have twitched into a ghost of a smile, but Zoro was not sure, because the cook quickly turned away again and nodded.

A loud thump from inside the portable pulled Zoro’s attention from Sanji. When Luffy appeared in the doorway, the swordsman felt his heart skip, just once, at the look in the young man’s eyes.

“Well,” Luffy said quietly, “we’re just not gonna worry about that guy anymore.” He shut the door behind him and descended the steps, wiping his bloody hands on a black piece of fabric that may or may not have once been a part of Moria’s jacket. “You breathing okay, Sanji?”

Sanji nodded again and pushed off the wall. He did not look back as he slowly moved away and pulled his cigarette pack from his pocket, but he did wave over his shoulder after he had put a stick between his lips.

Turning back to Luffy, Zoro made a face, “I’m no doctor, but should he be smoking?”

Luffy’s eyes were dark and unreadable when they found Zoro’s.

“If you’ve got a death wish then you can go tell him that right now.”

Zoro took a breath and looked up at the night sky, understanding, but not exactly happy about it.

“Come on,” Luffy said, pushing past Zoro, “I think there’s some things you need to know about Sanji.”

“I don’t think he wants me to know them,” Zoro murmured.

Luffy stopped and turned to speak over his shoulder. His eyes did not reach Zoro however, they scanned the darkness of the roads to the east of them.

“Do you care about him?”

Hearing those words said aloud, a strange kind of heat filled Zoro’s chest and spread out to his limbs, climbing up into his neck and touching his cheeks. The question was not what made him uncomfortable; it was his answer that gave him pause.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re gonna shut up and listen to what I have to say,” Luffy said easily. “If you want to support him, you need to understand.”

Zoro took only a moment to consider before he took another deep breath, and forced his heart rate down.

“Okay, tell me everything.”

“Good, now come on,” Luffy instructed and started walking. Zoro followed, jogging to catch up and fell into step beside the younger man.

“Sanji and I are from Chicago, so are a lot of the others you’ve met, like Nami, Law and Usopp. When Dead Day hit, it hit Chicago hard. Nami thinks the plague came to the US through O’Hare International—that’s how fast it was. A few of us held up in an old library for a few days in the beginning, but we knew we’d have to find something safer, so we packed up what we had and tried to find more of our friends. We knew where Sanji would be, he was a chef at a pretty famous restaurant and it seemed like he lived there. When we got there though…”

Luffy stopped walking and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Zoro stopped as well and watched a haunted look pass through the young man’s dark eyes.

“What happened?” he asked.

Luffy took a breath. “The restaurant had collapsed. There were parts that were still up, but other parts… I don’t know how to describe it. When we went inside, we found Deadies all over the place, torn to pieces, and Sanji’s step dad in the middle of it.”

Something terrible dropped into the pit of Zoro’s stomach, “What?”

“It looked like he had taken out like, fifty, by himself. It was crazy. But then when the place had come down, a beam had fallen on him. Crushed him. We weren’t sure what to do, and we didn’t see Sanji anywhere, so we almost gave up. But I couldn’t leave until I knew for sure. I wanted a body. I wanted to see a body more than I wanted to see nothing.”

Zoro nodded, understanding completely, but not saying anything to interrupt.

“We searched for a long time, and finally, Law found the door to their cellar, storage thing. There was a bunch of cement and concrete that had fallen on it, so we were pretty sure there was nothing in there, but I wanted to check anyway.”

When Luffy didn’t continue, Zoro asked gently, “Sanji was in the cellar?”

Luffy nodded, and his voice was airy and far away when he murmured, “Yeah…”

A chill rolled down Zoro’s spine and he wasn’t even sure why.

“What happened to him?”

Luffy took another slow breath and closed his eyes. Such seriousness in someone that had, up until now, been such a jovial, maniacally enthusiastic person, was more frightening to Zoro than anything he had ever seen before. Whatever Luffy was about to tell him, Zoro had no doubt it was going to haunt his dreams like the faces of those prisoners stuck in the containers.

“When we opened the doors, I remember the smell. I remember thinking there was no way my friend could be alive down there. There was just blood smell and death smell, and it was just too strong. But then Nami pointed her flashlight down there and I saw his eyes. And I saw what had happened to him.”

Zoro was trembling. His hands were shaking. He balled them up into fists and shoved them deep into his pockets to keep himself from grabbing Luffy and shaking answers out of him.

“What?” he growled, “What happened to him?”

Luffy looked at him then, and Zoro was shocked to see tears. They welled up in the younger man’s eyes, but did not fall. They merely shone above dark lashes and threatened to escape.

“We almost killed him, Zoro,” Luffy said. “We almost put him out of his misery.”

Unbelievably, Zoro almost felt like crying himself. He moved in close and growled desperately against Luffy’s anguished face.

“Luffy, if you don’t tell me what happened right now, I might just kill you.”

Luffy blinked, the tears fell, and the young man’s voice came out in a harsh whisper.

“They tried to eat him. They had torn him up around his neck and on his shoulder and his ribs and stuff. He was so bad. I mean, if he hadn’t looked right at me, I would have thought he was a Deadie.”

Zoro’s heart hurt, his gut hurt, everything hurt, but he tried to understand. He tried to makes sense of what Luffy was telling him.

“Eat him? If he was bitten by Deadies, how is he still alive?”

Luffy shook his head, “No, not Deadies. People. The people that were locked in the cellar with him. They’d been down there for more than a week and there was nothing but wine. They had started to starve and go crazy, so they attacked Sanji and tried to eat him.”

Nauseous, Zoro backed away and shook his head. “That’s… that’s fucking insane.”

Luffy nodded, sniffing and wiping at his eyes. “He killed them all, all thirteen. He hates himself for that, even though he was defending himself. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he won’t… Anyway, we found him and Law sewed him up. We got him out of there but he’s never been the same. He sees people that are starving or hungry and it takes him back there.”

Zoro breathed deep, watching the ground at his feet. That explained why the cook was so religious about keeping everyone fed. That was why that duffle bag of food had been more important than his own life. That was…

“That’s why he’s always wearing long sleeves and jackets. Why he wears that scarf.”

Once again, Luffy nodded slowly. “Nami gave it to him to cover up the scars. They were scaring people.”

Dizzy, Zoro’s hands found his knees. “Jesus…”

Luffy came closer, putting a hand on Zoro’s arm. “Now you get it. There’s only a handful of us who know because for some reason, he’s ashamed of it. I told you because I know I can trust you to him.”

“To him?” Zoro scoffed.

There was a moment of silence that stretched on for long enough that Zoro had to look up. Luffy’s eyes were dry, and his gaze was penetrating, intense. It balanced the swordsman, erasing his nausea and bringing back his focus.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Luffy asked quietly. “You want to belong to him, don’t you?”

Zoro straightened slowly bringing his eye level back to just above Luffy’s. He reached over his shoulder and straightened the strap on his sword’s harness. He might have touched the line of her tsuba for comfort, but if he did it was a reflex.

“Yes, I do,” Zoro said.

Luffy’s eyes brightened then, and his face lit up with his wide, toothy smile. Gone was the serious and anguished young man. Gone were all traces of that sad, helpless boy that wept at the memory of his friend’s horrific past. Where it had gone was a mystery, and how it had vanished so quickly was a puzzle that would probably never be solved.

“Okay!” Luffy clapped him on the back. “Then we’ve got work to do. We gotta clean up this mess here and get the meds to the compound.”

Zoro watched Luffy’s back as the young man—or, the young gang leader, made his way back into the mill. There were many different kinds of people he had met throughout his life, people that had changed him, made him think differently, made him see things in himself he had never seen before; people that inspired him, shaped him, but Zoro was sure that Luffy was nothing like any of them. Luffy was in a category all of his own.

Hearing gravel crunch underneath shoes, Zoro turned and met with Sanji’ tired, bloody, but still handsome face. The cook had his hands in his pockets and his eyes straight ahead, looking directly into Zoro’s without fear. He held his notebook in his hand and he tore a page out and thrust it into Zoro’s palm. He held on to the swordsman’s gaze and coughed wetly, turning once to spit blood onto the ground. Zoro took that opportunity to glance at the paper.

Don’t pity me.

Zoro looked back up, but he didn’t know what to say. How could he convey what he was feeling? It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t revulsion or horror or any of those things. How could he tell Sanji that while he didn’t completely understand what Sanji had gone through in the past, there was still a good chance that he understood the Sanji now? Zoro had his own past, and his own tragedies. There were people he had lost and things that he could have done better.

He was about to open his mouth and say those things, tell the cook how he felt and how they were similar in so many ways, but Bartolomeo’s voice broke the connection as it rang out through the night.

“Hey! Assholes! You can do your eye-fucking later! Let’s get this shit back to that loser Traffy-guy so he can do his doctor bull-shit!”

Zoro turned back to Sanji, but the cook was already heading back to the mill.

He didn’t even look back to see if Zoro was following.

TBC

Chapter Text

It turned out the mill storage was packed with more than just starving people. There was food, ammunition, tools, and even clothes. The meds that Sanji and Zoro had been sent to find were also part of the loot. It seemed Moria—or more accurately, Doflamingo’s—gang had been stockpiling for longer that Nami had first calculated.

The prisoners were rounded up and given blankets and jackets from the supplies. There was no telling how each individual would take to solid foods, so Sanji ordered only small sips of water and a fast track back to the compound where Law and Chopper could conduct a better diagnose. Before sunrise, most of the prisoners were loaded into the back of both Kidd and Franky’s trucks, and those that didn’t fit were placed on any motorcycle seat that was available. There were twenty-three in all, eleven of them children. It was going to be a long, hard ride, but Luffy continued to assure them that they would all be okay. He would keep them safe.

After Zoro helped load the last truck with the medicine and a few extra crates of food, he saluted to the small group of Luffy’s men that had volunteered to stay back and guard the remaining supplies. Luffy had promised they would return quickly, or they would at least try, but it was still an enormous danger to be left behind like this and Zoro acknowledged it.

“You good, swordsman?” Kidd asked when Zoro started making his way toward the caravan.

Zoro nodded, “Supplies are loaded, let’s get going.”

Kidd’s hand fell on his shoulder before he could move away.

“You should probably drive,” Kidd murmured.

“What?” Zoro frowned and turned to where the red head was indicating.

Sanji stood about twenty feet from them, adjusting a makeshift harness around Drake and his passenger’s chests. The harnesses had been Nami’s idea since most of the prisoners were too weak to hold on for more than a few minutes. The rigs would keep them securely on the motorcycles and behind their drivers and allow them to sleep if they needed to.

At first, Zoro was not sure what Kidd was talking about, but then Sanji turned his face and Zoro could see. The cook’s eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his face was ashen. His hands were steady as they tightened the straps around Drake, but Zoro could tell from his bearing that he was almost ready for a harness himself.

He said nothing but nodded to Kidd as he moved away. When the cook met him at his bike, Zoro held out his hand, palm up.

“Give me your keys,” he said gently. He didn’t want it to sound like an order, but he did mean for it to be insistent. He also didn’t want to have to knock Sanji out but he would do it if he had to.

Surprisingly enough, Sanji didn’t argue. He merely pulled the keys from his pocket and tossed them at Zoro’s chest before he took a step back and waited for Zoro to climb on. Zoro might have wondered for half a second if this was some kind of trick, but quickly decided that was stupid. He climbed on and revved the engine.

When Sanji slid on behind him, Zoro’s grip on the bars faltered.

There was no space between them, only the press of Sanji’s damaged body against his back, and few layers of cotton, leather, and down between them. As he settled, it seemed all the energy and all the fight the cook had left in him bled out, leaving him a heavy weight against Zoro’s frame. The swordsman was still for a few moments, gaging the dynamics and trying to judge what would be acceptable and what would not.

Then, as Sanji’s head came down on his shoulder, Zoro decided to just fuck it.

He reached behind him, took Sanji’s hands, and pulled them around his waist. Sanji’s stiffened, but he either appreciated the warmth of Zoro’s pockets, or he just didn’t really give a fuck either, because he relaxed after only a few heartbeats. Then he nuzzled into Zoro’s neck and tightened his hold.

Zoro felt relief wash over him and his heart lift, released from the terrible darkness of the possibility that Sanji no longer trusted him.

“Hang on, shit cook,” he murmured, and kicked the bike into gear.

* * *

It took a week before all the prisoners were eating solid food again. It was almost two before they were all up and out of the church, getting assigned bunks, and being put to work with jobs around the compound.

And it was two weeks and one day before Sanji collapsed.

Usopp had found him in the kitchen late that night, propped up against the door to the office like he had slid to the floor and decided to take a nap right there. Chopper’s explanation of what had happened had been given in a hushed whisper behind a pulled curtain. Zoro had stood there with Law and Luffy, listening with his arms folded tightly across his chest to stop himself from grabbing the nearest living thing and strangling it to death.

Exhaustion. Sanji had passed out alone in the kitchen because he had spent a sold two weeks helping to feed and nurse twenty-three people that he didn’t know back to health. He had worked himself into a near coma, and they all had just let him do it. Zoro had been so angry he literally wanted to kill someone.

Not that Sanji could have been stopped, no, Zoro knew that would have been impossible. However the swordsman did feel like he had done something terribly wrong. He should have tried harder; should have insisted that Sanji rest. He had seen the tired lines of Sanji’s face; he had seen the dark pockets underneath the cook’s eyes. He had seen what had happened back at the mill and all that blood that Sanji had coughed up but Zoro had just stood back like everyone else and let the idiot work himself almost to death.

Chopper had told him it wasn’t his fault. Usopp had reminded him that everyone was overworked and overstressed. Law mentioned repeatedly that Zoro had almost collapsed himself after six days straight defending the wall from the recent herds.

Excuses. It was all just a bunch of fucking excuses.

Now he sat by Sanji’s bed in the cook’s private room, arms folded tightly and jaw clenched hard against the fatigue that pushed against the back of his skull. It was late, probably close to midnight, but Zoro couldn’t sleep. He wanted to be there when Sanji woke. He had to tell the cook he was sorry and try and make things right. Zoro knew it was stupid; Sanji would probably not wake for hours, and when he did he probably wasn’t going to be in the mood for talking, but no matter how he tried to rationalize it, Zoro could not make himself leave. Watching Sanji’s chest rise and fall slowly underneath the patchwork blankets, Zoro felt a kind of desperation he didn’t know he was capable of.

Standing, Zoro moved to the window and pressed his forehead against the glass.

“You’re such a moron,” Zoro said softly.

Behind him Sanji stirred.

Zoro turned so fast his neck might have popped. He watched as Sanji’s brow furrowed and the cook ran his tongue over his teeth. The swordsman said nothing and moved closer, lowering himself back down into the chair. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands so he settled for just folding them across his chest again and leaning back, waiting for Sanji’s eyes to open.

The cook coughed once, a dry, rasping sound, and his eyes fluttered open. He squinted against the lamplight and looked around blearily. When his gaze fell on Zoro, he blinked once, seemingly confused.

Suddenly embarrassed, Zoro shifted and murmured, “Hey.”

Sanji lifted a hand and gave him a small wave before he pushed himself up on his elbows. It was then that he froze, his eyes widening for a moment and his hand flying to his throat, no doubt searching for the scarf that was always wrapped around his neck. He did not find it, but his fingers did find his skin still covered. When Chopper had changed his clothes, he had put Sanji in one of his long sleeved, turtlenecks. Relief washed over the cook’s face and his shoulders relaxed as he settled back against the pillows.

Zoro felt a profound sadness well up inside him as he watched feelings he was all too familiar with dance across the cook’s face. For a moment, Sanji had looked so young, so frightened, so lost and alone. Zoro understood those feelings better than anyone could possibly understand, and he wished he could find the words to explain why. He knew it wasn’t the right time, however. There were other matters that needed attention at the moment.

Sanji smacked his lips again and pointed to the water canteen on the table beside where Zoro sat. The swordsman handed it to him obediently and Sanji opened it, swishing the water around in his mouth for a moment before he spit it, unceremoniously, on the floor. It was pink.

“Gross,” Zoro huffed.

Sanji shrugged and swished again, spitting it out onto the floor. It wasn’t as pink that time, and so the cook put the canteen to his lips once more and drank. When he finished, he tightened the lid and set the canteen on the bedside table. After readjusting himself again, the cook began searching the area around him, the bedside table, behind the pillows, in the folds of the blankets.

“What do you need?” Zoro asked.

Sanji made a sign like he was writing, so Zoro reached behind him to grab the notepad and pen from the table. The cook took them with a nod of thanks and scribbled a few words.

How long was I out?

“About a day,” Zoro said. “Usopp found you last night in the kitchen.”

Huffing a sigh, Sanji wrote, I swear if Patty and Carne fucked up the kitchen I’ll kill them.

The corner of Zoro’s mouth turned up into a small smile as he read. Of course the idiot would be more worried about his kitchen than himself.

“Terracotta took over while you were out,” he said softly, “she kept the other guys in line.”

Sanji let out a breath and nodded, seemingly satisfied.

Grinding his jaw, Zoro braced himself for what he was about to say. This could go down a lot of ways and he hoped that Sanji wouldn’t fly off the handle.

“Law’s scheduled a food run tomorrow,” he said, almost flinching when Sanji’s head snapped up. “He doesn’t want you to go, but he knows he can’t stop you.”

Scratching furiously at the paper, Sanji held up the pad for Zoro to read the words DAMN RIGHT HE CAN’T.

Zoro looked evenly at Sanji over the rim of the notepad.

“I don’t think you should either.”

Sanji huffed, his eyes blazing as he reached for the coffee mug sitting on the bedside table. He pulled back, readying a throw at Zoro’s head, but the swordsman was there, catching Sanji’s wrist in a firm grip. The cook hissed at him through his teeth and struggled against him. He was very strong, even for someone that hadn’t eaten in a day and had only minutes before been recovering from exhaustion, but Zoro was stronger.

“Let me finish,” Zoro growled. “Law and I both know we can’t stop you. So would you please stop trying to kill me and just listen to what I have to say?”

Sanji’s eyes were still furious, and his breath was still heavy, but even then Zoro was relieved to hear that it sounded like his lungs were clear again. The awful rattling that was so prominent just a few days ago was gone.

Slowly, carefully, Zoro released Sanji’s wrist and put his hands up in a show of surrender. He backed away and sat back down on the chair.

“I think we need you on the food run,” he said. “You’ll know what’s good to take and what stores best and what goes better with what. No one else that’s going is gonna know that.”

Sanji’s face softened as he listened and his eyes widened a little at Zoro’s words.

“I know that you’re not in the best condition right now, but I also know it would be foolish to not take you with us. So… come with me. Usopp’s lending me the truck. I’ll carry whatever you want or do whatever you want me to so you don’t have to strain yourself. Just let me do the work. That way you’re still in charge of the food, but don’t have to… I mean you can rest, sort of. That sounds stupid now that I’m saying it out loud.”

Again, that embarrassed feeling came back and Zoro had to shift around again and rub the back of his neck to ease the tension that pulled through his body. He watched Sanji’s face go from slightly surprised and thoughtful, to something that looked a little like amusement. The cook flipped his pen between his fingers and wrote something on the paper before he turned it around to show Zoro.

Is this going to fulfill some samurai bodyguard fantasy of yours?

Zoro’s head fell between his hands and he groaned. “Oh my God, no. I’m just trying to help you get better.”

He wanted to grab the cook by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. This whole thing was so frustrating.

Feeling a tap on his forearm, Zoro looked up to find Sanji tapping on his skin with the click end of the pen. The cook’s face had grown serious and when their eyes met, Sanji nodded solemnly. Yes, he agreed. He would let Zoro watch out for him.

Zoro let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding in. “Good. Okay.”

Sanji’s eyes, however red-rimmed and underlined with grey, were still so blue. They sparkled under the fringe of the cook’s shaggy blond hair and turned mischievous as they studied Zoro’s face. He wrote on his pad and flipped it around for Zoro to see.

You’re blushing.

Zoro ran a hand over his face. “No I’m not.”

Sanji smiled, apparently pleased with having the upper hand, and scribbled a few more words.

When are we leaving tomorrow?

Sitting back, Zoro absently smoothed the front of his sweater. He was still embarrassed and his cheeks were still hot, but at least he could focus on something else for now.

“We’re heading out the same time Luffy’s group leaves, probably after breakfast. Ace and Brook are heading south towards the water; we’re going southeast. There’s residential stuff and a few rich neighborhoods out that way.”

Suddenly Sanji’s eyes went wide and his smile widened. He scribbled and held it up.

You just want me to go with you so you won’t get LOST!!

It wasn’t true, but damn did Sanji know how to get under his skin. Not only was Zoro embarrassed enough to be practically squirming in his seat, he was also surprised to find himself a little turned on. He scoffed and stood, trying desperately to look like he was as non-pulsed as possible, but aware that he was probably failing miserably.

“Whatever helps your ego, shit-cook. Get some sleep; I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned and headed toward the door, but just as his hand closed around the doorknob, something hit him softly between his shoulder blades. Zoro turned around and found Sanji’s notepad lying on the floor. He eyeballed the cook, who had already turned away from him and hunkered down underneath the covers, but then stooped to pick up the notebook and flipped to the last used page.

Thank you.

A feeling started to whirl in Zoro’s gut, a feeling not unlike those he would get before a tournament. Some people called them butterflies; some said they were knots. Zoro didn’t know what they were, but they tumbled and swirled around inside of him like a summer breeze. He took one last look at Sanji’s back before he set the pad on the window sill and stepped out into the night.

* * *

The next morning Sanji was in the kitchen and delegating jobs out to the other cooks like nothing had happened. His staff was as loud and rambunctious as ever, but Sanji noticed they were a little more careful than usual and didn’t really cross him. He knew it was for his own good, and he understood that the people he lived and worked with cared for him, so Sanji just let it happen and took no offense.

One of the former prisoners, a young man by the name of Tajio, slipped into the kitchen early during prep and asked if there was anything he could do to help. He told Sanji he had been a short order cook in Portland before Dead Day and Sanji immediately found a place for him. Tajio thanked him and fell to line beside Patty, who welcomed him as warmly as a person ever could.

As soon as the line was set up and people began to trickle in, Sanji caught Zoro slipping in through the back.

“Can I just get some rice? I’m still loading the truck.”

Sanji kicked him out of the kitchen and set him down at a table with Ace and Luffy. The brothers were stuffing their faces with Bartolomeo and Franky, while Kidd and Nami spoke softly together near the head of the table. Zoro pouted but Sanji shook a finger at him like a father scolding a misbehaving child.

You will eat before we leave Mr. Samurai Bodyguard. You’re going to need your strength to keep up with me.

Zoro felt his cheeks heating as Sanji headed back into the kitchen. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the scolding, or because he was in fact a little excited about playing bodyguard and Sanji had noticed. Either way, the bottom line was he was having an embarrassing physical reaction, but thankfully only Kidd and Nami seemed to notice.

Oatmeal, fruit, and three slices of cured ham later, Zoro found himself surrounded by children begging to be taught how to swordfight. He fended them off with promises to teach them when he got back, and managed to get out of the dining hall to finish loading the truck. When Sanji left the dining hall and threw his pack in the backseat, he took stock of enough water and other supplies for at least four days. He nodded to the swordsman in approval and turned to say goodbye to Luffy and the others.

Law got to him first.

“You know,” he said quietly, “this is really stupid of you.”

Sanji smiled at his old friend and signed, I know.

Law took a breath and glanced behind the cook to where Zoro was saying goodbye to Chopper.

“What’s up between you two?”

Sanji shrugged and signed as nonchalantly as he could, I want his dick. I think he wants mine too.

A rare smile pulled at the corners of Law’s mouth which he quickly smoother over with his fingers. “I thought you swore off men.”

You did ruin me for them for a while.

Law shook his head. “I couldn’t handle you.”

Sanji’s smile widened to a grin. What about you?

“What about me, what?”

Raising a hand, the cook pointed to the group of people crowded around where Luffy was standing, smiling, and hugging folks goodbye. Kidd stood in the bed of his truck, Nami at his side. Both redheads were watching them, their eyes sharp with longing.

Law let out a breath and turned back to Sanji. “I don’t know.”

Nami said you two were fighting again.

“We’re not really fighting. I just don’t know how much longer I can do this. They’re gone for months at a time and I hate not knowing if they’re okay.”

They’re bad ass fucking redheads man, they’ll be fine.

Shaking his head, Law huffed, “You say that now. They’re coming back in a few weeks to try and get Zoro to join the gang. What if he does? Will you be able to stand not seeing him and not knowing if he’s even alive for months at a time?”

Sanji took a breath, moved a little closer. I believe in Luffy. I believe in his crazy crew. If anyone’s going to be okay, it’s them. If Zoro decides to go with them, I know he’ll be safe. He will help keep them safe.

Law sighed again and rolled his head from side to side. Sanji pulled a cigarette from his pocket and slipped it, unlit, between his lips.

You love him. It was not a question.

Dark eyes studied the pockets of Sanji’s jacket for a few long moments before Law finally answered.

“Both of them…”

Sanji smiled. Then why don’t you stop being a fucking tight-ass and go say goodbye? Right now that’s all they want.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, Law studied the ground for a moment before he nodded and moved away. “Fine. Good luck. Bring me back some scotch.”

Sanji saluted and waved to Luffy before he climbed into the truck. Zoro was waiting for him and started the engine as Sanji slammed his door shut.

“Everything okay?” Zoro asked quietly.

Sanji merely nodded his head, watching as Law made his way over to Kidd’s truck. Nami moved to the back and smiled softly as Law lifted his arms and slid his hands over her waist. He lifted her easily out of the bed and lowered her to the ground. They spoke quietly, heads close together and bodies pressed against each other. When he lifted his hand, took her chin between his fingers, and kissed her once, softly on the lips, Sanji smiled. Nami was tough, she was hard and strong on top of being extremely intelligent, but when it came to Law, she was gentle.

“Oh…” Zoro murmured from the driver’s seat.

Sanji turned to him. The swordsman was leaning on the steering wheel, arms folded and his chin resting on his bicep. He watched Law and Nami with a strange combination of surprised annoyance; a small quirk of his eyebrows and a downturn of his lips. It was charming.

When Sanji turned back, Kidd had moved to the edge of the truck’s bed and had dropped to one knee to speak to Law. He stoked Nami’s hair as she stood leaning into Law’s embrace, and a look of affection came over the read head’s face. His eyes softened and his mouth turned up in a gentle smile. It was easy to think of Kidd as some kind of wild dog, but it was obvious that assumption was wrong in the way he looked at Law; the way he treated Nami. When he leaned in and met Law’s lips in another soft kiss, his movements and body language were unmistakable. The admiration and the fondness and love were obvious.

Sanji had always thought that Law brought out the good in both his partners without even trying, and the cook liked seeing his thoughts proven like this.

Zoro apparently agreed, because he snorted into the crook of his elbow and murmured, “It’s like he’s tamed them.”

Sanji turned to the swordsman with a grin on his face. He pulled his notepad from his pocket and scribbled a few words.

You don’t think it’s weird?

Zoro read it and shook his head. “No. Why? Look how happy they are.”

Somehow, Sanji had known that Zoro would say that. When the cook looked out the window again, he watched as Law backed away and Luffy’s gang loaded up and started their engines. His tattooed friend waved once, solemnly, but seemed to have shed a heavy weight from his shoulders and he stood with a much straighter posture than he had only a few minutes before.

Returning to his notepad, Sanji wrote, It’s funny that it took Kidd and the end of the world for Law to finally say something to her.

Zoro glanced at the notepad before he smirked and shifted into gear.

* * *

They followed the caravan of trucks and motorcycles for about half a mile before they went their separate ways. Luffy’s crew went northeast while Zoro and Ace drove south. Another few miles down the road and Ace pulled to the side and waved them up. As Zoro pulled up next to him, Sanji rolled down his window.

“We’re on channel three,” Ace said holding up a walkie. “Usopp says we can use them up to seventy miles apart, so as long as you don’t cross over into Arizona we should be fine.”

Brook’s sunglasses hung from the tip of his nose and his afro jutting out in a perfect circle as leaned over Ace and smiled excitedly. “This is my first food run, Sanji! I’m so excited!”

Sanji chuckled and scribbled on his notepad. He held it up for the occupants of the other vehicle to see.

Be careful. Gather as much as you can. Winner doesn’t have to do dishes until the next run!

Ace’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s on.”

“Goodbye, my friends!” Brook waved excitedly, “Take care!”

“Good luck,” Zoro said.

Sanji rolled up his window and the two trucks pulled out, Zoro and Sanji to the southeast, and Ace and Brook towards the water.

TBC

Chapter Text

They drove for another two hours, heading due east along a highway that wasn’t too overcrowded with broken down vehicles. Zoro left the pavement once to avoid an old collision involving a semi-truck that blocked all for lanes, but other than that it was fairly smooth travel. Sanji rolled the window down and smoked a few cigarettes, enjoying the breeze against his face. Zoro didn’t talk much and just enjoyed the quiet, the stillness of the road, and appreciated the fast and easy travel of an actual vehicle.

By midafternoon, Zoro turned off the highway where Sanji instructed and headed northeast toward a minor city line. A few buildings pushed at the sky in a clump surrounded by smaller, more industrial type structures. The scene had probably been beautiful once, with the greens of palm trees dotting the landscapes contrasted with the infinite blue of the sky. But not now, now, everything was gray. The buildings were run down, some were crumbling. There was no color, no life, only the remnants of what had been and a memory of what might never be again.

“What city is that?” Zoro asked.

Fresno.

Clumps of cars and barricades were more prevalent near the city making travel harder than it had been out on the highway, but Sanji navigated Zoro through a series of back and service roads that got them through and past. When Fresno was in the rearview, the roads turned residential and the way cleared again somewhat.

After twenty or so minutes of travel through gray streets and dead, drooping palm trees, Sanji tapped the map excitedly and guided Zoro into a turn. The swordsman hmm’d at the houses that lined the intricate walkways. This place had been rich with gated, three story houses, two and three car garages, and no doubt a large pool in every backyard.

“You think we’re gonna find food here?” Zoro asked.

Sanji nodded.

They chose a property set back from the street, with a high wall and metal gate. The gate had been padlocked, but Sanji remedied that with the bolt cutters from the kit in the back seat. Zoro pulled the truck onto the property and Sanji closed the gate and wrapped the chain around the bars just to be safe.

Parking right up front by the doors, Zoro cut the engine. When he stepped out, he stood for several long minutes listening, checking for anything that would indicate they had alerted someone or something in the area. But there was nothing.

Sanji grabbed a few duffle bags from the back and tossed one to him. As they made their way up the steps, Zoro slid his sword from her sheath and readied her at his side.

“How do we get in here?”

When Sanji thrust his notepad in his face Zoro read, No power. No security.

Zoro cocked an eyebrow, “You know how to pick a lock, cook?”

Don’t you?

Not only did Sanji know how to pick a lock, he happened to have an entire lock-picking tool kit with him. As the tumblers clicked and he pushed the door open, Zoro gave him a look that must have translated as something terrible because the cook chuckled silently and mouthed “Usopp”, holding up the kit.

“Ah,” Zoro muttered, “not surprised.”

Zoro moved inside first, blade at the low ready. He heard Sanji close and lock the door behind them, but his footfalls were silent as he followed the swordsman into the dark house. A long entryway greeted them with a wide staircase rising to the second floor from the left side. Zoro could make out a set of dark wooden chairs around a long dining table through a doorway at the end of the space. It was incredible, just this entryway was bigger than the entirety of his apartment back home in Japan.

“Going up,” he said softy, and Sanji tapped an affirmative between his shoulder blades.

The staircase curved, taking them from the left side, to the balcony on the upper right. Zoro moved swiftly from the apex and bent around the corner of the first doorway on the right. Sanji moved to the opposite side and peered into the first room on the left. A quick sweep through the small study and Zoro was back in the hallway, meeting Sanji with a nod to continue on to the next set of rooms. The two of them cleared the upstairs in only a few short minutes, working efficiently together with simple hand signals and quick nods of the head.

“We’re good up here,” Zoro said softly. “You want to search the bathroom?”

Sanji nodded and stepped over the threshold. The bathroom was long and wide, with two sinks set into marble countertops, and a bathtub separate from the shower.

“Damn,” Zoro murmured, “I thought the entryway was ridiculous.” When Sanji shot him a questioning look Zoro shrugged, “This bathroom’s bigger than my whole apartment back home.”

Teeth flashed and Zoro was sure he heard the cook snicker as the medicine cabinet was opened. Bottles of pills, toothpaste, and band aids went into the bag Zoro held open, and then the cook squatted to check under the sink. Cleaning supplies, an unopened box of feminine products, and trash bags followed.

When they finished cleaning out the bathroom, Sanji took out his notepad and wrote a few words for Zoro to read.

Where did you live in Japan?

“Near Takachiho in the Miyazaki prefecture. It’s about as far south as you can go.”

What was it like?

Zoro shrugged as they left the bathroom and returned to the staircase.

“I lived out in the country, so it was quiet. Hot.”

You train out under waterfalls and stuff?

Zoro cocked an eyebrow at the cook. “How do you know that?”

Sanji grinned. Saw it in an anime once.

Rolling his eyes, Zoro descended the stairs, moving quickly but carefully. Sanji stayed close behind, following the swordsman’s lead silently. When they returned to the entryway, Zoro got turned around for a moment. He wasn’t sure if the door he was looking at was the one they had entered through, or if there had been another door on this level that he had missed the first time.

Luckily, Sanji seemed to know where they were supposed to go. He touched Zoro’s arms softly and gestured down the space towards the dining room. Oh, that’s right, there was that dining room.

They moved through the wide doorway, Sanji going left towards the kitchen; Zoro going right into a dark living room. There were two large couches facing each other on either side of a low table. The walls were decorated with various forms of modern art and every flat surface served as a base for something either glass or crystal. Nothing had been disturbed, nothing seemed out of place or disrupted.

Through the living room were a set of double doors that led into a large library. It was circular, with no doors. Nowhere for anything to hide, and so Zoro closed them and headed back toward the kitchen.

Sanji met him back in the dining room, his face grave and his jaw clenched around an unlit cigarette. He held up his notepad.

Something you should see. Move slowly.

Zoro did not question and followed Sanji through the dining room and into the kitchen. The cook motioned to the large sliding glass doors leading to what looked like a balcony, and Zoro came forward around the large island cautiously.

The glass was smeared with finger and handprints. A few trails of crimson ran in tiny rivulets near the latch. Just outside the doors Zoro saw the wood of the patio was stained the distinct rust-brown of old blood. He took another few cautious, slow steps, his hip sliding along the edge of the marble countertop. It was obvious what had happened, the question was just how many of them were there?

When Zoro neared the doors, finally getting a clear look into the backyard, he froze. The scene before him was not one that he had been expecting. Not once since the world had ended had he seen anything like this.

A feeling of clear, cold dread welled up inside Zoro’s chest and moved slowly, heavily, down into his stomach. The swordsman had only known terror once in his entire life, but he remembered the sensation well. It had returned. What Zoro saw in the backyard that day was the single most frightening thing he had ever seen, and for a moment, he had no idea how to rationalize it.

“What the hell are they doing?”

Two figures stood on the porch only a few feet from where Zoro and Sanji were watching. There were three more on the steps, and one in the grass below. They stood with eyes wide and unblinking, mouths slack, hands hanging limply from their sides. Not a single movement, not a single wheeze or twitch, between the six of them. Nothing. The cold bodies stood like statues, staring up into the heavens as if pleading to be allowed redemption from the curse of forever wandering the earth undead.

He felt Sanji at his side and glanced down at the notepad when the cook nudged him.

Dormant?

It took a moment for Zoro to find his voice. “What?”

Sanji took back the pad, scribbling again. His hands shook and his face was paler than Zoro had ever seen it.

It’s like they’re hibernating or something.

Zoro turned back to the patio, his hand gripping his sword hilt so hard his wrist was creaking.

“But… can’t they see us?”

Maybe they’re triggered awake by smell or sound.

Zoro took a breath and started to get a handle on his thoughts. There was something here, he and Sanji were currently witnessing something important that no one else that they knew of had witnessed. Maybe there was something they could learn from this, something that could help them.

Sanji put his hand to the glass, glancing at Zoro out the corner of his eye, waiting for approval. The swordsman gave it, nodding, amazed that the cook had been thinking the exact same thing he had.

Attention returning to the glass, Sanji lifted his finger and tapped. Once. Twice. Three times.

The deadies did nothing. They did not move. Not one breath or even one click of their broken jaws.

Glancing at him again, Sanji reached for the latch. He moved slowly enough that if Zoro wanted to, he could easily stop him. But Zoro did not.

Hands still trembling, Sanji pushed the latch to the unlocked position, and grabbed the handle. He took a breath, and pulled. The seal broke and the cool air from the late afternoon slipped into the kitchen. For a moment, nothing happened. Both Zoro and Sanji stood so close, only two or three feet from bloody, rotting flesh, their hearts slowed to near stopping in dreadful anticipation.

At least thirty seconds passed, and finally, just as Zoro was about to tell Sanji to open the door the rest of the way, the deadie nearest to them twitched. It’s head lolled to the side and it’s jaws snapped in Sanji’s direction.

“Smell…” Zoro murmured.

Sanji nodded, the look of fear slowly ebbing from his features. He seemed focused now, determined, much like how Zoro was now feeling.

This explains how they appear out of nowhere. They go dormant when there’s nothing around, then wake up when we get close like back at the pharmacy.

A bloody hand slapped against the glass and both Zoro and Sanji startled. The deadies were all moving now, shambling toward them, fingers reaching and jaws clicking. Zoro readied his hand around his sword hilt and braced himself, ready for Sanji to pull the door open. Whatever woke them, smell, heat, magic, it was fast. The switch from the statue-like dormancy to the shambling undead things they were used to was merely seconds.

“Stay inside,” Zoro said.

Sanji pulled and Zoro moved, bringing his sword up and through rotting flesh. He pushed the twitching body out onto the porch, sending all six bodies tumbling down the steps. It was an easy dispatch. Zoro ended all of them before they had even regained their footing.

When it was over, he wiped the blade of his sword clean with a tattered piece of old shirt and turned back to the steps. Sanji stood waiting for him on the porch, hands in his pockets and his mouth a thin line of annoyance.

“What?” Zoro asked.

I’m recovering. I’m not an invalid.

Zoro nodded, “I know, but I got it. Let’s go find some food.”

Sanji rolled his eyes and headed back into the house. Sliding the door closed, Zoro flipped the latch and followed the cook through the kitchen and into a back room that served as storage.

“Shit…”

The place had been fully stocked at one time, and while there was not an abundance of food, there was enough to classify it as a lucky find. Canned and dry goods lined the walls and a few jugs of water filled the space on the floor underneath the shelves.

A thought struck Zoro as he started pulling cans from the shelves. “How’d you know these houses were gonna be stocked and empty?”

Sanji wrote, A lot of the higher-class, rich families were evacuated to the bunkers in the beginning. I remember watching the news when stuff first started going down, like before we knew what it was. And all the Hollywood types were paying big bucks to go underground.

“What about looters?”

Sanji shrugged. We got lucky with this neighborhood I guess.

They filled the duffle bags and brought them and the jugs of water out to the truck. As Zoro closed the bed he turned and found Sanji locking the house back up.

“Why bother?” he asked when Sanji descended the front steps, but the cook just shrugged and shook his head. Apparently he didn’t know. Maybe it was a habit.

They moved through another two houses without meeting any other dormant deadies. They talked a little, teasing and badgering each other as easily as life-long friends. By the time the sun started to set behind the high rooftops the supplies almost filled the bed.

“One more?” Zoro asked.

Sanji nodded. We’ll clear out one more and then rest. Take advantage of these king-sized couches.

Zoro agreed. Some of the furniture in the last place had seemed fit for royalty.

The next house in line was a three story, Spanish style. A high gate surrounded the yard, the same as the last few, and nothing seemed to be out of place or disturbed, but Zoro felt a strange sense of foreboding as they closed the gate and climbed the front steps.

Inside, it was immediately apparent that the occupants had not been evacuated right away. After moving through another long entryway, Zoro glanced into the living room and counted four mattresses set up on the floor. The family had definitely stayed here for at least a few days. Open packets of jerky and chips littered the floor and the fireplace was black and dirty.

Sanji tapped his shoulder and motioned for him to follow. The kitchen was enormous, with a high ceiling and beautiful dark wood cabinets, but it was dirty, cluttered. The island was covered in containers that had probably held water a long time ago, but now they stood empty and dry. Dishes and Tupperware were stacked on the counter, and bags filled with garbage were piled on the opposite side of the room.

“You think we’ll find anything here?” Zoro asked.

Sanji shook his head, but he pulled out his notebook and wrote, Probably not food, but I bet there’s medical supplies.

“Okay,” Zoro agreed, “Let’s clear the rest of the place. It’s likely they’re still here.”

Sanji pocketed the notebook and followed Zoro as they checked the rest of the first floor and then started up the stairs to the second.

The smell hit Zoro’s nostrils about halfway up. It was musty and metallic; old and stale. There was death in the house and it was definitely on this second floor. He held up a hand, motioning for Sanji to stop.

“You smell it?” Zoro asked.

Sanji nodded solemnly, understanding.

When they reached the second floor, Zoro held Sanji back and checked every doorway himself. If the cook was put out by it, he didn’t show it. He merely followed behind, putting a hand up to cover his mouth as they neared the end of the hall where the smell was strongest.

They situated themselves on either side of the master bedroom door. Sanji’s face was dark, his features tense as if he knew what was coming. Zoro might have known as well, but he chose not to actively think about it.

“Ready?”

Sanji nodded.

Zoro opened the door.

The smell hit them hard in a rush of putrid air that filled Zoro’s nostrils and burned his eyes. He covered his face, coughing against the urge to wretch. Sanji fared no better, covering his face with the sleeve of his jacket and turning away.

Inside lying on the master bed, were four bodies. The two larger forms curled around the two smaller in the middle. There was blood splatter on the headboard, and a handgun lying on the floor by the side table.

Zoro had expected something like this, but actually seeing it let loose a lot of unwanted and complicated feelings. He stayed in the doorway, taking in details that he did not want to process. The blue of a ribbon in dusty brown hair, superhero socks on small, decayed feet, the glittering gold of a wedding band hanging from long skeletal fingers.

The brush of Sanji’s shoulder against his pulled the swordsman from his thought. The cook moved into the room and over to the closet, pulling a sheet from one of the top shelves. Carefully, he unfolded the crisp, white cotton and motioned for Zoro to help him spread it over the family. Zoro obeyed, numb in his movements. As they covered the small bodies, Zoro felt that old despair pulling at him, the same misery he had felt when he had found himself alone, and thought that he might be the only person left alive.

But then he looked up and found Sanji’s blue eyes filled with such softness and compassion that Zoro felt himself oddly comforted. The cook smoothed out the sheet and then straightened, his gaze running over the bed one last time before he took a breath and stepped away.

Zoro followed, suddenly compelled. There was something about Sanji in that moment that seemed to fill holes and repair wounds that the swordsman had not even realized he possessed.

He shut the door behind them and followed Sanji down the stairs.

“Do you think…” he started, not entirely sure what he was trying to say.

Sanji turned around, and after studying the swordsman’s face for a moment, seemed to understand what Zoro was trying to ask.

He took his notepad out and wrote, They went together, and now they’re together in a better place.

Zoro read the words slowly, taking in the meaning of what Sanji was saying, and finally nodded. He looked back down the hall to the door, closed on a private tragedy. It was a terrible, incredibly heartbreaking thing, but somehow Sanji saw the beauty in it. Those children went in peace, probably in their sleep, never knowing the terrifying and agonizing deaths that so many had experienced over the last year.

He heard Sanji continue on down the hall, and the swordsman turned to watch his back. Calm settled over Zoro, starting as a gentle warmth in his gut and then spreading out to each of his limbs. He felt it in his chest, his heart.

Sanji was incredible. So many horrible things had happened to him, and yet he was still able to see the good where most would see nothing but death and hopelessness. He cared so much for people, friends and strangers alike. He was completely selfless underneath his scarred, haggard appearance. The kindest person the swordsman had ever known. There was so much to be admired that Zoro didn’t even know where to start. It was staggering.

Steadying himself against the wash of newfound feelings coursing through him, Zoro cleared his throat and followed the cook down the stairs. When they reached the ground floor, Sanji did not return to the kitchen. He opened the front door and stepped out into the cool evening.

“What now?” Zoro asked, locking and closing the door behind him.

Sanji scribbled and handed the notepad over.

I’m finished searching for today. Let’s find somewhere to stay tonight and I’ll make something to eat.

“Sounds good,” Zoro murmured.

When Sanji moved down the steps, he lifted the back of his jacket and slipped the handgun from the bedroom into the back of his belt. Zoro hadn’t even seen him pick it up.

“Aren’t guns dangerous to use against deadies? They can hear it for miles.”

Sanji smiled and hopped into the truck. When Zoro slid behind the wheel, Sanji already had his notebook out for the swordsman to read.

Guns aren’t for deadies. Guns are for people.

Zoro had to agree with that. Deadies were mindless. They didn’t really fight back so a knife or sword or any strong, blunt object was a good offense at close range. However, someone living was best dealt with from afar, with no risk of them taking your weapon and turning it on you.

Zoro started the engine.

“All right, cook, where are we sleeping tonight?”

TBC

Chapter Text

The house Sanji chose was another tall, Spanish style, with a red brick wall and a gate of thick, black bars. It was secure, locked up as tight as a prison, but with the power out a quick climb over the gate made entry relatively easy. Zoro drove the truck in and they closed the gate behind them and reinforced it with a chain and an extra padlock from the bed. Sanji rummaged around in the back for water and a few other supplies before they climbed the front steps and unlocked the door.

“Holy shit…” Zoro murmured as they entered. The space was wide and high. A large staircase greeted them in the foyer and led straight up to a railed balcony. A Chinese tapestry covered the full length of the wall to their left, depicting a small army of soldiers defending their city from a ruby-red dragon.

Whistling through his teeth, Sanji set the provisions by the door and pulled his knife from his belt. He motioned to the first floor and Zoro nodded.

“I’ll take the upstairs.”

Clearing the second and third floors was quick work. Everything was in place with no sign of anyone having been around after being evacuated, if, of course, that was in fact what had happened. The study was neat and organized and the master bedroom seemed almost unlived in, besides the bed being unmade. There were no other bedrooms besides a guest on the third floor and most of what Zoro saw was Spartan. There were no flowers, no decorative pillows or curtains, which lead Zoro to believe that this place was probably home to a single man. For some reason that made the swordsman care a little less that they were intruding.

Downstairs Sanji was already elbows deep in the pantry. When Zoro entered the kitchen, he was pelted with several packages suddenly. After being struck in the chest and face, Zoro batted them away with a huff.

“What the hell, cook?”

Sanji’s grin was shit-eating. He held up one of the packages for Zoro to see and the swordsman couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

It was ramen.

“Are you fucking serious?” Zoro bent to collect the other packages Sanji had tossed at him. “I haven’t had ramen in… hell, forever.”

Eight packages of ramen made it to the counter and Sanji rummaged until he found an assortment of spices and what looked like an unopened bottle of soy sauce.

“How are you going to cook this?” Zoro asked.

Grin still wide enough to almost be obnoxious, Sanji moved to the stove and pulled out his lighter. He fiddled with the knobs and after a few quiet clicking noises, the burner roared to life.

“Mm,” the swordsman hummed, “gas. That’s lucky.”

After scribbling on his notepad, Sanji slid it across the counter for Zoro to read.

There’s a big fireplace in the living room. See if you can find some wood and maybe a lantern or some candles for me in here. I got about ten more minutes of natural light.

Zoro saluted, “Yes sir.”

* * *

The living room was spacious, with a high ceiling and dark brown, texture plush carpet. The couches were indeed big enough to accommodate four or five people easily, so Zoro returned to the upstairs and grabbed a few pillows and a couple blankets from the master bedroom. When he returned, he made no claim and just tossed the bedding on one of the cushions haphazardly before going to find wood and kindling for the large fireplace. There were full length windows along the east wall of the living room but luckily the blinds were down and made of a heavy vinyl so they were shielded from anyone or anything that might be outside. There would be smoke from the chimney, but that would be hard to see at night, especially since most of the property was surrounded by palm trees.

It didn’t take long, there was wood in the garage and old newspapers by the pantry door. A quick flick of Sanji’s lighter and the living room was suddenly warm. The gentle light banished even the thought of the cold, eerie space it had been only moments before.

Zoro sat on the floor a few feet from the fireplace and shrugged out of his coat. He unbuckled his harness and laid the leather straps on the floor beside him, along with his sword. The thought of taking off his shoes crossed his mind but it was interrupted by Sanji coming through the door with a flourish and two large, steaming bowls in his hands. Zoro’s stomach growled so loud he could hear it over the crackle of the fire, but he ignored it and took the bowl from Sanji with an enthusiastic “thank you.” The smell was something divine.

Sanji set his own bowl down on the floor, along with a few bottles of water and his notepad, but turned and headed back into the kitchen. Zoro watched the doorway, starving, but interested in what else the cook had in store for them.

He was not disappointed.

Sanji returned with a bottle of sake, rice wine, and two pairs of lacquered chopsticks. Zoro grinned as Sanji sat across from him and handed over a set of chopsticks and held up the bottle for the swordsman to read.

“Wow, Daiginjo,” Zoro whistled, “that’s high end.”

Sanji scribbled, So served cold then?

Zoro shrugged, taking the chopsticks and weaving them into the ramen. “Usually cold, yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Tastes great either way.”

The moment the noodles hit Zoro’s tongue, the swordsman was bombarded by flavor and heat and that amazing, familiar texture. Memories of home rushed at him, filling him with nostalgia and warmth and old happiness. It was bittersweet, but not unwelcome. He slurped the noodles and swallowed, lifting his eyes to Sanji, who had busied himself with pouring sake into a glass.

“This is really good,” Zoro murmured.

Sanji nodded in thanks, and passed him the cup.

At first, they ate in silence, too hungry and too focused on their food for any real conversation. Then as the noodles disappeared and Zoro began to sip as his sake, Sanji’s notepad came up with a few words in that same neat, all capitol, scrawl.

Why were you in America during Dead Day?

Zoro paused, mildly startled, his glass of sake halfway to his lips. Was this happening? Was Sanji really asking him a personal question?

Clearing his throat, Zoro spoke softly, “I was here for a tournament. It was an international championship in New York. We got through two out of the three days but then… everything happened.”

Sanji’s pen scratched frantically at the paper.

Do you have family back home? Do you know what happened over there?

Zoro shook his head, “I had friends but not any family, well, besides my sensei. But he was here with me for the tournament.” He paused to take a long swallow of sake before sighing. “One of the last news reports I heard before the blackout was that there had been some kind of massive air strike. There’s not much of Japan left.”

It took several moments for Zoro to pull his gaze from out of his glass and back up to Sanji. When he did, he was met with sad, tired eyes. They were eyes that had seen as much, if not more, as him and understood what he was feeling. Maybe not completely but it was enough.

The cook’s hand hovered over the paper, his pen at the ready. He seemed hesitant, unsure, as if he was worried that what he wanted to write was going to be unacceptable.

“It’s okay,” Zoro said, his voice almost a whisper, “you can ask me whatever you want.”

Sanji’s eyes found his again.

Really?

Zoro met his stare as he reached for the bottle.

“I think it’s only fair.”

Taking a breath, Sanji nodded, and before his pen returned to the paper, he adjusted his scarf. Zoro wasn’t sure if the move had been unconscious or not.

Why were you alone when you found us?

“Ah well, it’s not really…” Zoro shrugged, “The tournament was postponed on the third day ‘cause everyone thought it was some sort of rabies outbreak or severe flu or something. Sensei and the other fighters I was with stayed in the hotel waiting for word that we could leave, but then stuff started happening. The news was crazy; we didn’t know what to do. And then the power went out.”

Sanji nodded, everyone remembered the national blackout.

“After that it’s just sort of a blur of getting what we needed and trying to stay alive. We went from town to town, camp to camp. We lost my team members over the first couple weeks. They were scared, they were… stupid.”

What about your sensei? What happened to him?

Zoro ran a hand over his face as flashes of blood and torn flesh danced behind his eyelids. Bones like bleached wood lay cracked and broken, drying brittle against a harsh wind. He had never told anyone what had happened to him. He had never wanted to tell anyone, he hadn’t trusted anyone enough.

But this was Sanji. He knew the most horrible parts of Sanji’s past, and in knowing them, they had seemed to grow a little closer. What could Zoro do if not tell Sanji about himself? Zoro knew he could trust Sanji.

“Sensei… Mihawk, was a force of nature. He was a Spanish noble, a cousin or second cousin to some important family that had relocated to Japan to learn and to teach swordsmanship. He was the definition of a natural. He knew and understood probably every form and every style on the planet. I met him when I was sixteen, alone and dumb and on my own. I offered everything I had—including my blood—for him to teach me.” Zoro paused for a moment, laughing softly. “He worked my hands to the bone. I ended up in the hospital more times than I can remember, but it was worth it. I kept at it because I knew if he taught me I could be better than him. I could be the best.”

To his surprise, the corners of Sanji’s mouth turned up into a small smile and he nodded. Again there was that understanding, that intrinsic connection that pulled Zoro in.

He was your savior. Your teacher and your father all rolled into one.

Zoro read the words and his chest tightened. He nodded, “Yeah…”

Putting the notepad back in his lap, Sanji smiled and nodded again, his eyes lost for a moment in his own memory.

Taking a breath, Zoro felt a pleasant shiver roll gently down his spine. But then his thoughts returned to his story and when he continued, he was quiet. “It was just the two of us for a long time. We didn’t understand what had happened. Neither one of us were doctors, we didn’t understand any medical shit, so this plague, this… outbreak—curse—whatever you want to call it, made no sense. We didn’t know how it worked or how to deal with it. So we just went with what we could figure out. You destroy the brain, they stop moving. You get bit, you die. That was it. We didn’t understand that you can get it in other ways, not just the bite.”

Sanji was watching him again, intently, his eyes focused and waiting.

“It had been weeks since we’d seen anything else besides kyonshi—sorry, dead people, undead—and the first contact we had with anyone who could actually speak was a small group of farmers outside a town in Iowa, or maybe South Dakota, I can’t remember. They were looking for supplies, so we helped them. It was a family, a father, a few teenage kids and an uncle. They looked so tired and worn down we couldn’t just pass them by. They took us back to their farm, shared some of their food, and let us sleep in the barn.

“That night, the uncle and two of the boys came and tried to get us in our sleep. They had shotguns and a cattle prod. They took us to the slaughter house and tried to feed us to their kyonshi mother and little sister. It wasn’t even a fight really, they were weak and sick and had no training. We tried to take their weapons without hurting them but we couldn’t. We killed them, and then we killed the two kyonshi in the slaughterhouse.”

Zoro’s gaze had fallen to the floor as he told his story, and when he heard the scratching of Sanji’s pen on the paper he looked up.

You probably saved a few people doing that. Who knows how many they had lured that way already.

“Yeah,” Zoro murmured, “I tell myself that sometimes.”

It’s the fucking truth.

Zoro shrugged, not wishing to go down that particular road of self-loathing yet again.

So your sensei?

“This is where it gets a little hazy. The other man, the father of the teenagers, came at us from the upper level. It was dark, we couldn’t have known, couldn’t have really prepared. He threw this thick metal slab down on us, knocked me out cold, and crushed sensei’s arm. When I came to, sensei had pulled himself free and had killed the father, but when the slab had fallen on us he had fallen on his knife. It wasn’t a bad cut, we stitched it up at the house, packed up, and we were on our way. It would have been fine but that knife happened to be the same knife we had just used to kill the kyonshi.”

Sanji’s sharp exhale was enough to let Zoro know the cook understood where this was going.

Zoro’s chest hurt, his cheeks were hot as he remembered those long, terrible, three days. The coughing and the blood, the vomiting, the soft whimpers during the night. It was a nightmare that would never go away, not as long as he lived.

“I can’t tell you why a bite works as fast as it does, and I can’t tell you why being stabbed with a blade doused with deadie blood takes longer, it just does. It takes more than three days I can tell you that. At first we just thought he was sick. He threw up everything and he got really pale, but he still could walk, he still had his wits. How were we supposed to know? I mean the farmer’s family was all sick too, we just thought he caught it.” He fell quiet for a moment, set his glass down and reached for the bottle Sanji held out for him. Taking a long swallow Zoro wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I was stupid, and maybe I didn’t want to see it. That second night he started coughing up blood. He told me I should probably kill him, but I couldn’t. I mean he was my sensei… he was still my sensei. When I woke up the next morning, he wasn’t in his bed roll. I searched for him and found him about a mile down the road. He was rabid, sort of feral—insane. He came at me, attacked me, screaming that I should have killed him.

“I paid for my cowardice. He opened me up from shoulder to hip, and I laid there for a day while crows picked at his bones.”

Zoro didn’t realize he had trailed off until Sanji’s hand slid over his jaw. Startled, Zoro pulled himself from the darkness of that familiar, spiraling nightmare and looked up. He focused on Sanji’s face, let Sanji’s bright blue eyes ground him where he sat. He didn’t want to remember that last day, his sensei’s last few hours. He didn’t want to remember the anger or the pain and the blood and the biting wind as it tore at his wound.

Sanji’s calloused thumb slid over his jaw once before he retreated to write in his notebook.

How did you survive?

Zoro shrugged again, “Military. They found me, patched me up and sent me on my way. Turns out I was near a small base. That’s when I learned there were still communications and small communities around.”

What did you mean by cowardice?

Zoro felt that same rage and despair creeping back into him. “I had never been scared of anything before. Nothing, not even when I was little. But that last day, that third day that sensei started to cough blood… when he told me I should probably kill him… I mean I knew deep down what was happening, but all I could think about was how scared I was to be left alone. I knew, after he died, it was possible I would be the last person alive.”

The cook watched him for a moment, and then again, that pen returned to the paper. After writing a few words, Sanji pulled the page from the book and placed it in Zoro’s hand.

You aren’t alone anymore.

Studying the words, Zoro’s heart started beating hard against the cage of his ribs. There was no way Sanji didn’t understand what he was doing; there was no way he didn’t realize how he was affecting the swordsman. These little things he would do, the little gestures, the gentle reassurances and support that bordered so close to a deeper intimacy, they couldn’t be misunderstanding. Zoro couldn’t be misinterpreting them, could he?

“Sanji…” Zoro whispered.

When Sanji’s eyes found his, when they looked at him with all of that kindness and caring and respect Zoro’s breath caught. He felt his strength returning, the rage and the loneliness and the despair he had felt for so long melted away. He looked at Sanji then and realized that he was indeed, not alone.

“I think love you.”

Sanji seemed neither startled nor surprised. The corner of his mouth turned up into a gentle smile as he brought his hand back up to run his fingers across Zoro’s cheek. The swordsman relaxed into the caress, placing the bottle on the floor. He closed his eyes, letting Sanji’s touch tooth him. He breathed out a deep sigh, harsh, as if he had been holding his breath for a long, long time.

He felt Sanji’s other hand on his opposite cheek; the cook’s gentle fingers ran over his rough skin and slid down to cup his jaw. It had been so long since someone had touched him like this and Zoro’s skin was so sensitive. A shiver rolled down his spine, it was similar to the one he had felt earlier, but this time it was much more intense.

Feeling warm breath ghost across his lips, Zoro opened his eyes. He found the cook watching him, waiting, and so Zoro tilted his head and pressed his lips against Sanji’s. They were cool and soft, chapped as he had expected, but they were perfect.

Immediately, Sanji responded. He pushed his hands up into Zoro’s hair, pulling the swordsman closer. He slid his lips over Zoro’s, coaxing the swordsman to open for him, and then gently pressed inside. His tongue rolled gently, pulling a moan from deep in Zoro’s throat. The swordsman felt electrified, dizzy with desire and sudden, powerful emotion. He loved the way Sanji kissed, forceful but still explorative, gentle but completely in control.

He felt Sanji shift, pulling himself closer. Hands ran down Zoro’s front and slid out over his hips. Sanji’s thumbs pressed slow circles into the muscles just inside and above the swordsman’s knees. Zoro’s breath caught and he shivered yet again. He leaned in, lifting his hands to touch soft, blond hair.

It was in the heat of the moment and Zoro wasn’t thinking. His hands were mapping out the lines of Sanji’s cheeks, tracing the curve of his jaw while the cook’s mouth plundered him. Zoro didn’t think, he just wanted to touch and to be touched, he never meant to slide underneath that scarf. He never meant for the pads of his thumbs to brush against scarred, gnarled flesh.

Sanji jerked away, pushing at Zoro’s chest. The swordsman froze for a moment, his breath heavy and his eyes blinking wildly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

The cook kept Zoro at a distance with one hand, and pressed the scarf against his throat with the other. His breath was also labored, his face was flushed and bright, but his eyes were shining and, to Zoro’s horror, were slowly filling with tears.

“Sanji…” Zoro murmured, doubt and regret and something close to fear started trickling back in, filling Zoro’s gut and tightening his chest.

Heaving a frustrated sigh and wiping at his eyes, Sanji grabbed for his notepad and pen. He scribbled furiously, stopping only once to push his bangs from his eyes.

I love you so much Zoro I’m fucking stupid with it. I’ve never wanted anyone more in my entire life but I know as soon as you see what’s underneath this scarf you’ll be disgusted and never want to touch me again. It’s my curse that I have to live with for killing all those innocent people but if you saw it and it made you not want me anymore I’d rather that we just never—

Zoro placed his hand over Sanji’s, interrupting his frantic writing. The cook took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, his hand turned upwards like he was going to grasp Zoro’s, but then he stopped and pulled away. He pushed at the scarf around his neck; pulled it tighter around his hidden scars.

“Do you really think I won’t want you if I see your wounds?” Zoro asked.

Sanji nodded.

Zoro’s heart was breaking for the cook. There was so much sadness, such a deep and profound loneliness buried under so many layers of bravery and kindness and everything else. What could he do? What could he say?

Huffing again softly, Sanji set down his notepad and stood. He wrung his hands out like he would shake off water and ran his fingers through his hair. Then without a motion or even a glance in Zoro’s direction, he moved to the couch and sat, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his forehead in his palms.

Zoro wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but sitting around was not something he was very good at. He stood as well, and slowly made his way over to the couch. He gaged the situation as best he could and felt that Sanji wouldn’t push him away again if he came closer, so he sat on the edge of the coffee table, his knees only a few inches from the cook’s.

“What you said,” Zoro murmured, “about how your scars were a curse you had to live with for killing those people…”

Sanji laced his fingers together underneath his chin and nodded.

“I can understand that. I thought that my scars were penance for not helping my sensei when I should have.”

Eyes dry and jaw set, Sanji leveled Zoro with a questioning frown.

Zoro continued, “I know a thing or two about terrible scars.”

Hands steady, Zoro took hold of the bottom of his sweater and t-shirt. He took a breath and slowly pulled them over his head in one smooth motion. He heard Sanji hiss and move forward on the couch cushions, but he didn’t look at the other man. He let it sink in, the scar, the gnarled flesh, the uneven tilt of his chest. No one but Zoro himself had seen it since the day the military had stapled it shut because the swordsman had been sure the sight of it would turn someone’s stomach.

“I thought this was my curse too.”

When he looked up, Sanji was focused on the jagged line across his chest. The cook’s eyes and face were a mixture of shock and sadness, but there was no horror, no fear, no disgust and it calmed something deep in Zoro’s soul. He had known he could show this to Sanji, like he had known so many other things about the cook without really knowing how or why.

Without another thought, Zoro reached out and took Sanji’s hand. He carefully took that calloused palm and pulled it up to place it on his chest, right on the gnarled flesh directly over his heart. Sanji let out a breath that was more like a sob than anything else and ran his thumb over a knotted staple mark. The movement was electric, sending shocks of sensation coursing through the swordsman’s body. Zoro wasn’t even sure how that was possible. How could the dead skin of a scar feel so alive?

“Sanji…” Zoro whispered. The cook looked up again into his eyes. They sat face to face, only the air that they breathed between them.

“It’s not a curse. It’s only a reminder of mistakes so they won’t be repeated.”

Sanji’s eyes flashed as he held Zoro’s gaze. An infinite number of moments passed as the two men watched each other, breathed each other in. Sanji’s hand was so warm, so strong and real; his eyes were so bright, his lips looked so soft and Zoro now knew they felt so amazing. Time seemed a fantasy as Zoro watched and waited for what Sanji would do. The world outside, the horrors of the reality they lived in, the pain or memory, and the terror of being alone, all seemed so far away and unimportant. Nothing mattered but Sanji. For that unmeasurable space of time as Zoro sat with that warm palm on his skin, those blue eyes boring into his, his world was Sanji.

And then the cook moved. His hand came away and slowly reached for his scarf. He hesitated, fingers frozen. Zoro held his breath and waited, not moving, not even breathing. He did not want to break the moment and cause Sanji to flee again.

Pale fingers pulled slowly at the grey-blue cotton, tugging it gently away from a pale neck. Sanji unwound the scarf and pulled the end from beneath the collar of his sweater. He unbuttoned the collar and pulled the fabric away to reveal the lower part of his throat and the top of his shoulder. He sat, unmoving, waiting, his eyes never leaving Zoro’s face.

It was terrible, horrific. How Sanji had lived through it was something that Zoro would never understand. The flesh was more than gnarled, it was twisted, mangled. There were clear, defined bite marks along his collar and up across his Adam’s apple. Obviously human, terrifying. A significant chunk of the muscle where neck and shoulder meet was missing. The two ends had been pulled together and patched but it did not make any sense how. There were ridges and pockets, knots where more than a few stitches had been required. Nothing was even, nothing was smooth.

It was now clear why Sanji hid himself. To any normal person, this would be too much. This mess of flesh and old wounds would overwhelm or terrify even the kindest souls; the bravest of hearts.

However, Zoro was not any normal person. He was not the kindest soul, nor did he have the bravest of hearts. He was just Zoro, scarred and smitten by a stupid cook who was so like him it was unbelievable.

Zoro thought the scars were almost beautiful.

Again, he moved without thinking. Zoro reached up and slid his hand over the skin just above where the scar started, right below Sanji’s jawline. The cook flinched slightly but let him. Zoro felt compelled, not only to touch with his fingers but with his whole body, everything. He moved closer and leaned in, bumping the underside of Sanji’s chin, urging the blond to lift his head.

Sanji knew what he was doing and dug his fingers into the swordsman’s hair. The grip was firm and rough, but even as he groaned when his head was yanked back, Zoro could tell the grip was less inhibiting and more for simple support. Sanji wasn’t stopping him.

He leaned in further as Sanji’s other hand dug into his bare shoulder. The cook’s body trembled, but if it was from fear or excitement, Zoro didn’t know.

Zoro’s lips ghosted over twisted skin and Sanji growled, breath harsh and uneven through his nose. The hand in Zoro’s hair gripped harder, but still did not pull him away.

Zoro’s lips touched skin, he kissed a knotted rise of scar tissue, and for a moment, Sanji’s breathing ceased.

Suddenly everything was easy.

Sanji pushed him back, but only far enough to find Zoro’s mouth with his lips and tongue. The cook kissed him with such a fever that for a moment the swordsman was too overwhelmed to even reciprocate. He caught up, however, sliding his hands over Sanji’s jaw, pushing his fingers again through blond hair. He kissed back, hungry, starving, wanting nothing more than to just melt into Sanji’s touch, his kiss.

Hands gripped his thighs and Zoro found himself being dragged off the coffee table and into waiting arms. He placed a knee on either side of the cook’s muscled hips and grabbed the back of the couch for leverage as Sanji effectively stole his breath away. Warm hands and even warmer lips covered the length of his scar. The electric sensation returned, powerful enough to bow his back. Zoro let his head fall forward and he panted, moaned into Sanji’s soft hair.

Sanji sat up straighter, pushing Zoro back slightly. When the swordsman felt the button on his jeans come undone and his zipper slide down he moved his hands from the back of the couch to the cook’s shoulders. He looked down and met Sanji’s eyes as the blond slid inside and palmed his cock. The swordsman let out a breath and lifted himself up on his knees to make room. Sanji’s hand wrapped around him and pumped him one, twice, and Zoro’s eyes slid closed. It was almost too much, too much sensation. Zoro’s conscious narrowed, focused on the feel of Sanji’s hand around him, jerking him off in such perfect, precise movements. Zoro clenched his jaw against a wail that built up in his throat. It had been too long and he wasn’t going to last.

“Wait,” he managed to whisper.

Sanji didn’t stop, in fact he might have tightened his grip. His tongue came out and he licked a warm line up Zoro’s skin just below his chin as a playful taunt.

Zoro shuddered uncontrollably and a trembling chuckle escaped through his teeth.

“No, I mean it,” he murmured, “wait.”

Zoro’s fingers took Sanji’s wrist and pulled the touch from around his length. The cook’s eyes were questioning, but they were no less trusting. Moving from Sanji’s lap, Zoro spread himself out on his stomach across the couch’s cushions, his back to the blond. After getting comfortable, resting on his elbows he turned and looked at Sanji over his shoulder.

“Come here.”

Sanji’s mouth dropped open slightly at the invitation. His eyes darkened and his face took on a hungry, almost predatory look. Moving immediately, without hesitation or any hint of insecurity, he came over the swordsman, hovered directly above him and breathed soft kisses along the thicker man’s muscled back. Zoro turned and let his head drop between his arms. Hands ran over his skin, caressed the planes of his lower back before slipping over the top of his jeans.

Lifting his hips, Zoro hissed at the sensation. He had not been exposed like this in a long time. Those hands ran over the curve of his ass, fingers dipped into that sensitive place at the top of his thighs. He lowered one leg to the floor and bent the other slightly at the knee to open himself. It was exhilarating, alarming, giving himself over to someone like this, but he was happy to do it. It was Sanji after all. For Sanji, he would do anything.

He felt Sanji’s weight over him and gentle fingers brush through his hair. Turning, he looked up into Sanji’s face, blinked slowly at the intensity of those blue eyes.

Then Sanji opened his mouth and whispered, “Zoro…”

The sound was strange, hollow without the voice behind it, but it was still his name, said in a whisper of air and breath—Sanji’s air and breath—and Zoro’s heart sang to hear it.

Closing his eyes, Zoro relaxed completely, giving the last bit of himself he had to give.

“Love you…” he breathed.

He felt the cook’s lips on his shoulder, and then the pressure as Sanji pushed into him. At first it was nothing, and then it stung. Pressure built up as his muscles rejecting the intrusion. He groaned and tried to change his position, but Sanji was already there. The cook was expert, he pulled back gently, spitting on his fingers and pushing back in slowly. The pressure was still great, but the sting lessened and the pain was almost nothing. The cook did this for another handful of long moments, slowly fucking into Zoro with all the gentleness and caring that the swordsman had seen over and over.

Finally, the pressure gave way and with each slow push inside, Zoro could feel the pleasure building. He moaned softly into his arms and reached down to jerk himself back to hardness. Weight came down over him again and Sanji’s lips left a few trembling kisses over the back of his neck. The couch dipped by his head as the cook braced himself on his hand and Zoro felt the heat of Sanji’s thighs settle against his hot skin. The last coherent thought the swordsman had was how there was no way he was going to be this gentle and this fucking perfect when he took Sanji, but he was going to try.

He heard Sanji’s voiceless moan against his ear and shuddered again. The cook rocked his hips and Zoro arched up to meet him. He pumped his cock slowly, lost in the feel of Sanji sliding in and out of him, of the hot pulses of pleasure riding through him. Stars danced behind his eyelids as Sanji’s pace quickened. The cook’s hips were shockingly strong and pounded into him with such a force that Zoro was too overcome to reciprocate. He felt the pressure and the euphoria of climax creeping up on him, tightening in his loins and so he let his head fall. He felt Sanji’s weight come down on him fully, felt fingers slide over his scalp. The cook’s lips were by his ear, whispering voiceless praises as he pulled mercilessly at the swordsman’s hair.

“Love you… love you… Zoro…

He was surrounded, Sanji’s arms around him, fingers curled into his hair, the cook’s weight pressing him down, that amazing cock pounding into him over and over, those lips, so sweet and soft, whispering those unbelievable things. Zoro was done for. He opened his eyes, lifted his head and found Sanji’s mouth. He kissed the cook sloppily, passion overtaking him. He pumped his cock furiously, riding out an orgasm that hit him suddenly and so powerfully he wasn’t prepared for it. Pleasure clouded Zoro’s senses, filled his body, his mind, and his heart.

Sanji held him tightly as he thrust another handful of times, violently, erratically, and then he buried his face into Zoro’s neck and cried out soundlessly, shuddering and shaking, his cock pulsing deep inside Zoro’s sated body.

They stayed that way for a long time, breath ragged and bodies heated. Zoro felt Sanji’s thumb running circles over his skin, a gentle and intimate touch that sent more feeling coursing through his heart than was rational. Finally, the cook lifted himself and kissed down Zoro’s spine. They separated and pulled up their jeans and underwear before settling down next to each other across the cushions. Zoro watched Sanji’s eyelashes flutter across his cheeks, and the way the flush of his pale skin revealed a spattering a small, light freckles across this nose.

Lifting his hand Zoro ran a finger across the collection and smiled softly.

He was so goddamn perfect. Was he even real?

Sanji’s eyes opened and regarded Zoro for a moment before he returned the smile. They lay like that for another hour or so before the fatigue of their bodies overtook them and they finally slept.

* * *

Zoro woke alone, the space beside him cold, as if no one had ever been there. He sat upright, panicked and tangled in the thick blankets, thinking for a moment that the previous night had been some kind of fever dream.

But his fears were for not. Sanji sat at the fireside, wrapped in another blanket, sipping from a mug. The cook turned and looked at him as he stirred, and a soft, sleepy smile stretched across his face when their eyes met.

Morning, he mouthed.

“Hey…” Zoro rumbled and pawed at his eyes. He threw the blanket off but immediately decided that was a terrible idea, and instead draped it over his shoulders.

The room was cold, even with the small fire Sanji had started. Zoro moved from the couch and went to sit beside the other man, coming close enough to press their thighs together. He huddled deeper into the blanket as he settled and accepted the warm mug from Sanji’s hand with a quiet grunt of thanks.

While he sipped at the coffee, Sanji pulled out his notepad and scribbled a few lines before flipping it over for Zoro to see.

We should get going. I need to tell Law about what we discovered yesterday.

Zoro nodded. “It’s… a big deal, isn’t it?”

Sanji scribbled. I don’t really understand it. I mean it might be nothing, but we still ha… He stopped then and looked up, his eyes pinched as he though hard about whatever was on his mind. Then he returned to the pad.

No way. It’s something, I can feel it.

Zoro reached out and put his hand over Sanji’s. “You’re right. It’s something. I feel it too.”

They sat for a moment, Sanji looking at their hands, and Zoro felt there was something he was missing. When the cook’s hand turned over and he slipped his fingers in between Zoro’s, the swordsman suddenly realized what it was.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Sanji’s face lifted and his eyes were hesitant when they met Zoro’s. The swordsman leaned in and brushed his lips over the cook’s jaw.

“I love you, Sanji,” he said softly. “I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

Sanji studied him for a moment, his eyes tracing the lines of Zoro’s face. Finally, he returned to his pad and wrote one line.

I thought you’d want to leave with Luffy.

Zoro smiled and looked back up. He had been spot on in what he believed the cook had been thinking.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

There was one moment when he was sure Sanji wasn’t breathing, and then the cook huffed out a silent laugh, or perhaps it was a sigh of relief, and then he kissed Zoro again. This time it was not as soft, not as gentle. Zoro kissed back, sighing softly as tiny shivers of arousal trailed down his back.

“Keep this up and we won’t make it back today.”

Sanji grinned and took the mug from his hands. When Zoro’s back hit the carpet, he was laughing.

* * *

Two hours later, they had packed, loaded the truck, and were on their way back to the compound. Zoro radioed Ace and let them know they were still a few hours out. When Ace responded with more than a little innuendo in his voice, Sanji took the radio and blew a raspberry into the receiver before he switched it off and tossed it on the dashboard with a laugh.

“He’s a good guy,” Zoro grinned.

Sanji nodded and pulled out his pad. He scribbled a few words but didn’t show it to Zoro right away. The swordsman adjusted his hands on the wheel and glanced over at the blond.

“What?” he asked.

Sanji looked down at the pad and smiled. He scratched his chin, and then lifted the pad for Zoro to see.

Move in with me.

Zoro’s heart thumped once, hard against his ribs before it started to pound merrily. He was so happy it was almost ridiculous.

“Okay.”

He was thrilled at the grin the spread across Sanji’s face, but he had to look away and watch the road. He felt the other man slide across the seat and then his warmth as he leaned into Zoro’s side. Without thinking, like it was a reflex, Zoro slipped an arm around Sanji’s shoulders and relaxed back into the seat.

They still had many obstacles to face. The horror was not over, but at least they both knew that whatever came about, they would be facing it together.

END