Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I'm Coiled up like the venomous serpent, Tangled in your trance and I'm certain,
You have got your hooks in me - Rain, Sleep Token

Sanji, nineteen, working as a junior chef at The Baratie.

“What are you doing back here, eggplant?” Zeff sighs as he enters the kitchen to start the dinner shift.

“What does a chef do in a kitchen, I wonder?” Sanji snarks back, already washing his hands.

“You are not working brunch, lunch, and dinner tonight,” Zeff counters.

“I don't think you have a choice, old man. Carne called off,” he dries his hands.

“We managed before you, we'll manage without you now,” Zeff pulls his pen from his breast pocket and looks over the papers attached to his clipboard.

“Zeff—”

“Get the hell out of my kitchen. I'm not going to have some kid fuck up the basics because he's too tired,” he makes a long mark on the paper.

“I'm fine!”

“When was the last time you had a night off, huh?” He checks his clip board, flipping the papers on it, “You worked open to close the last two days and you haven't had a day off in a week,” he glares at Sanji, “Did you think I wasn't going to notice? I don't want to see you for twenty four hours,” he taps the papers, “Minimum.”

“But—”

“Go! Get drunk or whatever kids do these days!”

Sanji groans and storms out the kitchen, plucking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it the second he hits the back alley. He stomps up the back stairs, up to the front door of his apartment where he flings it open and slams it shut like a pissy teenager. The fire escape window sticks when he throws it open, old paint gunking up in the heat. With it open, he falls into the folding chair he keeps next to the window; Zeff hates when the place smells like smoke.

The nicotine floods his system, softening his nerves and ironing out his anger into a manageable simmer as he takes deep breaths filtered through tobacco smoke. He shucks his uniform shirt off and chucks it across the room to his bed. 

Zeff’s probably right. He's working too much. But, how is he supposed to get better without experience? He's only been allowed in the kitchen for a year, he has so much to learn and so much missed time to make up. 

He puts out his cigarette butt and rubs his eyes. Well, if he wasn't going to be in the kitchen, he might as well get laid. Or at least talk up some pretty girls. With that decision, he gets himself dressed up and sneaks out the back so Zeff doesn't know he took his advice.

The bar he ends up at is fairly busy for a Tuesday night. He orders an old fashioned because he thinks it'll make him look sophisticated. It kind of works, but mostly no one notices. He sits and sips, taking in the atmosphere and scouting.

“Can I get three shots of your cheapest vodka and a vodka cran,” comes a lovely voice from beside him. He turns his head to find the woman matches her voice. Red hair and a face like a pixie. Mini skirt, and tits he could drown in. 

“Hello beautiful,” he opens with his signature charm.

She giggles, taking him in and leaning on the bar, “Can I help you?” She asks, voice sweet. He can see the swirl of a tattoo on her shoulder.  

“I was just wondering if your name was as pretty as you are,” he asks, sliding in just a touch.

The bartender sets her three shots and vodka cran out on the bar and she grabs the cocktail. She drinks from the straw as she bats her eyelashes at him, her mouth opening to speak.

“Nami, this fancy weirdo bothering you?” comes a gruff voice barging into their conversation. A man with green hair cuts in-between them, taking one of the shots and throwing it back. He eyes him, sizing him up, and Sanji’s anger starts to bubble as his eyes watch the bobbing of his throat.

“No, Zoro,” she grabs him by the back of the head and yanks him down so she can say something in his ear. Sanji does his best to keep his face cool as the man, Zoro, nods his head in understanding. She releases him, smiling back at Sanji in that perfect way girls do that has his heart soaring.

Zoro gathers the two shots, stares at him and then blurts out, “She's using you for free drinks, dude.”

“Zoro!” Nami smacks him in the arm and Sanji's smile twitches.

“I'm more than happy to buy a pretty girl drinks just so she can have a good time,” his calm is forced as he sets his glass down before he shatters it in his hand.

“What are you? One of those freaks that gets off on women using them?” Zoro scoffs.

“And what are you? You're not her boyfriend, that's for sure,” he shoots back 

Zoro’s playfully incredulous, “No, thank God,” he looks to Nami with a smirk, “Can you imagine?”

“What's your problem with her?” Sanji takes a step closer. His ego is bruised and he doesn't like the way this idiot talks to Nami.

“My problem with her is my problem,” he grunts out with a shrug, “I'm just trying to help you out.”

“Hey! Zoro— Big guy!” a second interloper appears, hand on Zoro's shoulder and blocking his view of Nami. He turns to Sanji, a practiced ease to him, “I'm sorry, about my friend here. Zoro's got the tact of a gorilla,” he laughs, nerves splitting through just a touch.

Zoro rolls his eyes, “I'm drinking your shot,” he announces as he walks away.

The new guy shoots the gorilla a glare and turns back to him with a forced relaxed air, “I'm Usopp, how about we go back to our table and we'll buy you a drink?”

His eyes go back to Nami sipping her drink and watching through doe eyes, “Yeah, I'd appreciate it.”

“Awesome,” Usopp ushers him towards their table, “What's your name, friend?”

“Sanji,” he plucks his old fashioned from the bar and follows the man to one of the booths at the back of the building.

Zoro sits at the booth with two empty shot glasses, and a dark haired guy who looks a little younger than them. The guy is pushed up against Zoro, face flushed and whining when they walk up.

“Luffy,” Usopp addresses the guy, “This is Sanji. Zoro tried to fight him so we're going to buy him a drink.”

“Zorooo,” the kid is clearly sloshed as he pouts at the brick wall of a man, “You can't do that, Zorooo!”

Zoro ignores him and looks to Nami, “See, I told you he didn't need another shot,” he ruffles Luffy's hair, causing him to wobble in his seat. 

Nami rolls her eyes, “Scoot,” she waves at him and Zoro pushes Luffy farther into the booth so that Nami can sit next to him, “If I didn't get him one, he’d find a way to get it himself.”

Usopp climbs into the seat across from them and pats the space next to him for Sanji to sit. He does, setting his drink on the table and suddenly feeling a little lost. This friend group is well established and what right does he have to interject? He's not sure how to pick up a conversation in this situation.

“So, Sanji?” Nami's voice makes his doubt disappear, even if she won't sleep with him, he's content with her smile and attention on him.

“Yes, darling?” He asks, kicking up the charm. It falters with a twitch when Zoro snorts.

“What do you do?” She asks, leaning over the table and putting her cleavage on display. Sanji, respectfully, keeps his eyes on hers, even as the back of his nose starts to tingle as he thinks of how soft they look. If he plays it cool, he wont get a nosebleed and embarrass himself this time.

“I’m a chef at one of the most highly rated restaurants on Dawn Island,” he smirks, knowing how his profession tends to impress.

“Fancy cook mannn,” Luffy groans, reaching over the table at him, “Make me foooood!”

Sanji moves his hand so the drunk can't touch him.

“Ugggh...” He cries out, trying harder to reach him. Zoro pulls him back by his shirt collar. Luffy pouts, wrapping his arm around Zoro's and rubbing his face into his bicep. Zoro shakes his head, glaring at Nami who he seems to blame for their friend's inebriation. 

She ignores the meat-head, “Are you in culinary school?” She directs to him.

Sanji sips his drink to try and maintain his calm facade, “I didn't need to. I've been training under my head chef since I was a kid,” he brags.

“Oh, that's kinda like Zoro,” Usopp lights up. Sanji frowns at the comparison, catching the way Zoro's lip curls. Seems mosshead didn't appreciate it either.

“Yeah!” Nami adds, “Zoro's been at his dojo since he was a kid, too.”

“Martial Artist?” He acknowledges, and then more towards Nami, “I’m a mixed martial artist myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro’s face cracks into a dangerous and sharp grin that has Sanji hesitating, “So we could actually fight?” he leans over the table, Luffy at his side slumping with him, “What do you do?”

Sanji's teeth click together as he grinds them into a smile, “Capoeira, Muay Thai, and general kick-boxing. I like to keep my hands reserved for cooking,” he shoots a look Nami's way, “And for the ladies.”

Zoro snorts a laugh again and Sanji is getting real tired of his attempts at flirting being undermined.

“What do you do, moss for brains,” he glares back.

“Swords,” Zoro grunts out, “I'm a swords master trained in East Blue one, two, and three sword style with some carry-over from Wano Standard style.”

Sanji blinks, “Three? Where does the third sword go?”

Zoro smirks, “Wanna find out?”

Despite himself, Sanji’s face prickles with heat.

“Ew, Zoro!” Usopp laughs.

“It goes in his mouth,” Luffy says, half asleep against Zoro.

“What?” Sanji's struck dumb, unwelcomed thoughts floating into his mind.

“He holds the sword in his mouth,” Nami clarifies, but not really.

“How does that even work?”

“Guess you're just going to have to find out,” Zoro's tongue slides over his teeth and Sanji feels hunted.

Nami smacks the muscle-head, “You're so gross when you flirt,” she teases.

“Shut the fuck up, witch,” he grounds out, “I don't flirt with shitty womanizers.”

Sanji's frozen in his seat. What a strange night he’s having. 

“Zorooo” Luffy whines, restarting his head rubbing, “I want burgersss!”

Zoro sighs, hand coming up to smooth Luffy's hair down. They might be dating? Sanji isn't sure, but Luffy definitely seems to be the one Zoro's kindest to.

“If we ignore his stomach any longer, he’s going to start eating the table,” Zoro mutters.

“Ugh, you're probably right,” Nami complains, sucking down the last of the red from her glass, “I'll go close out, did you still want a drink, Mr. Chef?” She asks, her fingers brushing his elbow. His heart swells at the nickname.

“No, I'll be turning in after this, thank you, darling,” he swirls what's left of water down whiskey and ice in his glass. She giggles and heads to the bar.

“Well, when Usopp makes a promise, he’s going to keep it,” Usopp puffs up next to him, “Can we buy you a drink some other time?”

Sanji considers whether he actually wants to see these people again. Part of him wants to; he's never had friends under the age of thirty-five, not that the kitchen staff really count as friends. More like a collection of strange uncles, than anything else. He thinks it’ll be worth a shot, even if Zoro pisses him off.

“Alright, I’m not against it,” he agrees, choosing not to look at Zoro.

“Awesome! When are you available? Restaurants tend to have hectic schedules, don't they?” Usopp asks, pulling out his phone, “Do you use S-Chat?”

Sanji asks Zeff for Saturday off and he swears the man almost cries. It's annoying, the old man taking such an interest in his new social life, but it means he willingly gives him a day off without any fuss so he can't really complain.

They're meeting at a park in Foosha City. The Strawhats, that's the name of the group chat he was added to, like to spend a lot of time in the area so it looks like Sanji's driving outside the walls for the first time in months.

He's borrowing Zeff's car and when he gets in, the chat pings as Usopp asks for his coffee order. Sanji requests black coffee and sets his phone's GPS to Windmill Park.

It doesn't take long for him to get out of the capital, passing through the reclaimed fields of Gray Terminal and the short burst of forest before he's in Foosha City. As he comes over the hill, he can see the large arms of the windmill stretching up into the sky. He parks, collects the cooler of food he's prepared and texts the group that he's there. Usopp directs him to a large field directly in the shadow of the massive windmill and as he approaches, he finds they've laid out a blanket and Luffy is smacking Zoro with a stick.

Luffy catches sight of him approaching and Zoro uses the distraction to yank the stick out of Luffy's hand, breaking it over his knee.

“Fancy Chef Man!” Luffy yells and jogs over to him.

“Sanji,” he corrects, but he's impressed Luffy even remembers him considering how drunk the guy was.

“Sanji!” Luffy repeats with the same enthusiasm, “Is that food?” He asks, walking backwards in time with Sanji and eyeing his cooler.

“It is,” Sanji confirms as they reach the rest of the group. Luffy makes a move to grab the cooler, but Zoro's faster. He yanks Luffy to his side with an arm around his waist.

“Don't be rude,” he chastises a pouting Luffy.

“Rich, coming from you,” the quip is automatic, out faster than Sanji has control of.

The sound Zoro makes is mean spirited, “I won't stop him next time.”

“What did you bring?” Nami's sweet voice prevents any more snark. Damn mosshead distracted him so much he didn't see the lady sitting on the blanket. She's so cute in a little yellow sundress that pool around her thighs as she sits. Sanji risks a glance at at her chest, notices there's no way she could be wearing a bra, and decides that if he doesn't wanna ruin the food with a nosebleed, he needs to control himself.  

He sets the cooler on the blanket and kneels down next to her and Usopp, “First, let me tell you that I appreciate being invited out this lovely afternoon.”

“No problem, man,” Usopp says, picking up a coffee cup from a carrier and handing it to him, “Debt repaid!” He smiles and then narrows his eyes to Zoro who's taking a seat next to Nami. Zoro holds his hands up in surrender as Luffy squishes himself between him and Nami.

Sanji opens the cooler with one hand while holding his coffee with the other, “I made spicy sea king salad sandwiches, there's some cucumber sandwiches if anyone doesn't eat fish, cut fruit, and some petite fours from the restaurant that I helped make yesterday,” he explains, proud of himself as he pulls out the containers. Nami and Usopp help set everything out and distribute paper plates. And then his favorite part, he gets to sit back and watch people enjoy his cooking.

Luffy eats like a starved man, shoving sandwich after sandwich into his mouth with a single minded greed. “This is the best thing I've ever had!” he says between bites.

“I didn't know cucumber sandwiches could actually be tasty!” Usopp’s eyebrows shoot up, "They've always just been watery."

Nami hums around a bite of sandwich, swaying with her eyes closed, “Sanji, this is delicious!” Her praise warms his chest.

This truly is the best part of being a chef. Seeing his work appreciated by his new friends is a high like no other. Better than the first hit of his post shift smoke.

“I prefer onigiri over sandwiches,” Zoro's voice is like ice, freezing his high and shattering it, spreading the pieces over the grass.

“You're lucky you even got one, moss for brains,” Sanji shoots back.

“The fuck's your problem? I was just stating a preference,” he shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, tongue darting out to collect spicy mayo off his lip.

“You know what? You want a fight? You got a fight,” Sanji stands, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling them up.

“Hell yeah,” Zoro stands, that sharp grin on his face from the bar, “I'm going to kick your prissy ass!”

“Go Zoro!” Luffy calls.

“Hundred berri on the cook,” he hears Nami's hushed voice through the rush of blood in his ears.

“Damn it,” Usopp complains, “Fine, hundred on Zoro.”

They get distance from the picnic, Zoro cracking his neck and stretching his shoulders as they circle each other. Sanji can see the muscle flexing under his shirt, fully appreciating how big Zoro's chest is, how it fills out his shirt. Zoro's strong, he can see that in the man's body, but Sanji’s banking on the swordsman being weaker without his swords.

Sanji makes the first move, spinning a kick that Zoro catches, big hands easily encircling his ankle. Zoro yanks him forward, trying to get him off balance, but Sanji uses the momentum to help him jump. He sends his body in an arch, wrenching his ankle free. He lands low, kicking up in a half split and landing a hit square in Zoro's chest. 

Zoro grunts, hopping back to stabilize, “Flexible fucker, aren't you,” he sneers and Sanji smiles back, righting himself as the successful hit fuels his ego.

“Not that strong without your swords, huh, mosshead?” Sanji feigns nonchalance even as his vision narrows with excitement. He watches Zoro for his next move.

It comes in the form of a leading left and a hooked right that forces Sanji to duck back to avoid. Zoro feints his next left to the face, Sanji doesn't flinch, but he does dodge and that costs him reaction time. Zoro's right hook hits him right in the jaw. 

He tastes blood in his mouth, split lip most likely, but he can't dwell on it. Zoro's already continuing his combination, left fist coming in quick. He feels crowded, pinned in, as Zoro stays in close and Sanji knows it's to prevent his kicks.

Which means, Zoro's not expecting it when Sanji blocks with his forearm. Combo broken, Sanji springs up, using Zoro's arm as leverage he flips over him. He lands with his back to Zoro's and with enough space to kick his feet out from under him with a backwards sweep. Zoro barely avoids eating dirt by catching himself in a low plank. 

“Oh no!” A voice cuts through the little world Sanji had been living in for the last few minutes, “Sir! Sir, you're bleeding, Sir!” 

Sanji swings his head around, searching for the source and ends up landing on a kid in a pink hat running towards them. He's tall, but the baby fat on his face clearly screams fourteen. 

“Don't worry, Sir!” He says as he reaches them, “I'm a Sea Scout and trained in first aid!” His eyes land on Sanji's bleeding mouth, “D— Don't worry!” 

Zoro pulls himself to a sitting position in the grass as the kid starts digging through his back pack.

“Hey, I'm okay, kid! I promise!” Sanji turns on his award winning smile which only seems to make the kid more worried and redoubles his efforts.

“Please sit down, Sir!” He insists, “The effects of a concussion are immediate, and—” the kid continues to ramble as Sanji slowly sinks to the ground next to Zoro.

Zoro eyes him with a frown, “I don't think you're concussed,” he observes.

“I'm not,” Sanji agrees.

“You did lose, though,” Zoro's smug face flares his irritation.

Sanji launches himself at Zoro, struggling against him with his hands gripping the other’s forearms, “Your ass was down! I was about to pin you, you shitty piece of grass!”

Zoro pushes into him, “If you could! You're a little bitch bleeder!” His laughter is near maniacal and Sanji thinks the guy might be enjoying this shit a bit too much.

“Oh, no!” The kid cries out again, “Please stop!”

“You're stressing the poor kid out,” comes Nami's voice from behind them. Sanji immediately drops his hands to his lap, causing Zoro to momentarily lose balance. It takes everything for him not to snicker at his fumble.

“I'm so sorry Nami dear—” 

“Dang, he got you good,” Usopp whistles. Sanji sucks his teeth and considers lowering Usopp's ranking among his favorites. Nami's at the top, of course. Even if she betted against him.

“Please, just let me stop the bleeding,” the kid's voice cracks.

“Alright, fine,” Sanji sighs and holds still. 

The kid has put on a pair of gloves and opens a sterile wad of cotton. He presses it to Sanji's bleeding lip, gentle and attentive.

“Thanks for helping Sanji, kid,” Luffy’s voice is full of mirth as he squats down and observes the kid working.

“I'm not a kid and my name's Chopper,” he frowns, eyes not moving from Sanji's face, “Well, everyone calls me Chopper.”

“Chopper’s a really cool name for a doctor!” Luffy gushes, “Are you a doctor?”

“No!” Chopper’s face turns red, he rotates the cotton against Sanji's lip, “I'm just in highschool,” he pulls back, watching the cut to see if the blood has clotted. He seems satisfied and sticks the bloody cotton back into its paper wrapping, “I do want to be a doctor, but that's not for a while.”

Sanji goes to thank the kid, but Chopper shushes him, “Don't talk for at least thirty minutes so that the wound can close,” he grabs the alcohol wipe he sat aside and rips it open, “I'm going to clean up the blood on your face, okay?”

Sanji nods and Chopper starts wiping his chin and the area around his mouth, gentle hands mindful of the split. Once he's done, he holds the wipe and cotton in one hand and pulls the glove off so it's encased in the inside out glove. He does the same for the other glove and puts the entire wad in a plastic bag. 

“Pew,” he relaxes as he pours copious amounts of hand sanitizer on his hands, wrists, and arms, “You should go home and change your shirt, blood born illnesses are no joke!”

Sanji taps Luffy's leg and mimes eating while pointing to Chopper.

Luffy giggles, “You should eat lunch with us!”

Chopper stiffens, “No, I couldn't!”

“That's a great idea!” Usopp agrees, “Sanji made us all lunch. At least eat the cake things he brought as a thank you.”

Petite fours Sanji corrects internally.

“I doubt the cook can keep his mouth shut, anyway,” Zoro teases; Sanji glares, “You're going to have to fix him again, anyway.”

“Well, if you insist,” Chopper accepts, waving them off and hiding his embarrassed face.

Chapter Text

And just like the rain, you cast the dust into nothing - Rain, Sleep Token

Sanji, twenty-three, Pastry Chef at The Baratie.

Sanji has lived in the studio apartment over The Baratie since he ran away from home at sixteen. It was the first place he's ever felt wanted, the first place he could call home. He lost his virginity here, had his first cigarette here, took his first shot in the tiny kitchen and blacked out the same night. Woke up to Luffy chewing on his arm.

It's the place he first came alive after being denied humanity for so long. 

It didn't matter that the walls were yellowed, the linoleum peeling in his kitchen, the shower pressure terrible. This was his first home, and he was going to miss it.

He sits in his folding chair for the last time. Opens the fire escape window for the last time. Smokes a cigarette out the window for the last time. Tears prickle in his eyes, burn at the effort of keeping them in. The weight of it all crushing him now that he has time to just be. Seven short years ago, he didn't think he would see eighteen.

What a strange feeling, to be alive.

A knock at his door startles him, he puts out his half smoked cigarette, and crosses the room for the door. It's probably Zeff checking to make sure he's packed for the move tonight.

He opens the door to green hair and a shirt stretched too tight over well built pecs. Zoro's chest has been making an appearance in his dreams and Sanji is not ready to figure out what that means. He plans on taking it out on the man now that he's here.

“Why—”

“You haven't responded to anyone's texts in twelve hours,” Zoro grunts out and shoulders past him. 

“I'm moving, marimo,” Sanji stresses, gesturing to the boxes around them. He shuts the door, anyway.

Zoro looks around at the fully boxed up apartment, “You're not moving until tonight and it looks like you're packed,” he shrugs. Everything is so frustratingly simple with Zoro.

“I—” 

“Are your gym clothes accessible?,” he asks, lifting the flap on a box labeled ‘clothes’.

Sanji slaps his hand away, “What the hell do you want?”

“Let's kill time at the dojo,” he offers, swinging his car keys on his fingers. So frustratingly simple.

What right does this idiot have to come barging into his apartment and demand he take time out of very busy schedule to spar with him?

God, that sounded fantastic, actually. Bastard.

“Fine, hold on,” he grumbles as he grabs his work out bag from under the bed and checks that he still has clean clothes in there, “I have to be back by six,” he informs.

“It's not going to take that long to kick your ass, Cinderella,” Zoro baits.

“Says the guy who's lost the last two sparring sessions,” Sanji returns, hoisting the bag over his shoulder.

“Only because I'm working on something new,” Zoro's face cracks into that cocky smirk that's been haunting his late night thoughts, “It's not going to happen again,” he promises.

Sanji eyes the keys in Zoro's hand and grabs his own set, “I'm driving. I don't have time for your dumb ass to get lost.”

It makes Zoro's face fall and Sanji is pleased at getting the upper hand, “I'm not going to get lost going to my work,” he grumbles.

“Maybe from your apartment, but from Edge Town?” He winces, feigning sympathy, “Do you even know how to get on the main road from here?” He opens the front door.

“Oh, fuck you! That was one time and the GPS kept rerouting weird!” Despite his complaints, Zoro exits his apartment.

“It kept rerouting because you kept making wrong turns,” he locks the door behind him.

“It never tells me to turn fast enough!” Zoro shoves his hands into his pockets, a surprisingly cute almost-pout on his face, “By the time I'm at a light, I'm in the wrong lane,” he follows Sanji down the stairs.

Sanji makes a split second decision and hops the railing. He gets one step into his sprint to his car and Zoro lands with a thump behind him. The thrill of their race has him barking a laugh as he runs full force to his car, repeatedly clicking the door unlock on the key fob. Sanji slams into his driver side door, flings it open, and lays on his horn to signal his victory. 

Zoro glares from his car, door half open. Sanji sees him ready to speak and hits the horn again which makes Zoro slam his door shut. He sulks over to Sanji's car and gets in.

“You're a fucking cheat—” Sanji honks to cut him off, cackling when it results in Zoro trying to grab him over the center console. His elbow hits the horn as he attempts to strangle him.

“I'm going to—” honk “—and they'll never—” honk “—feed you to—!”

The back door to The Baratie clatters open, echoing in the alley. Patty storms out, eyes scanning the small lot before his fierce glare lands on them. He's pissed.

“Fuck—”

“Go! Go, go, go—” Zoro smacks his arm repeatedly as he gets the key in the ignition. They peel out the little lot as fast as they can, Patty approaching steadily the entire time, welding a wooden spoon.

Sanji's changed and on the mats in record time. He stretches as he waits for Zoro, head already swimming with anticipation, adrenaline loaded and chambered; just waiting for the right target to go off on.

It's just enough time for his mind to start straying back to anxious. For his eyes to land on Zoro's training swords laying in their case on the floor. Just enough time for his thoughts to remind him of their training session last week. Zoro had said something about their new friend Robin being weird and it ended in them grappling on the floor. It triggered something in his brain that he wasn't ready to confront, but he couldn't forget the way it felt to be forced down. 

Zoro wasn't able to do that before. He wasn't able to physically lift him and restrain him with one goddamn hand. He remembers how it felt. How warm Zoro's hand was on his wrist, the bruising strength keeping him pinned, the heat on his back as his face hit the mats. 

Part of him wants to instigate until it happens again and the other part is in full panic mode. Alarm bells ringing as his mind desperately tries to find a normal explanation for... Whatever the hell this is.

When Zoro comes out of the changing rooms, Sanji feels like he's moving too slow. Standing off to the side and carefully pulling his training swords out of their cases. The rustling of fabric falling to the floor is too loud in the quiet training room and Sanji thinks Zoro needs to hurry up.

Finally, fucking finally, Zoro stands in front of him, moving in that slow and calculating way he does when he’s not going to be pulling punches, spinning his right sword and sinking low into his stance. Two-sword Style today.

Sanji readies himself, fixing his posture and waiting for Zoro to make the first move. 

It comes in a flurry. Zoro alternates left and right as Sanji flips out of the way, dodging until he's nearly at the wall. He uses it as a spring board, flipping over Zoro and giving himself space. He kicks out, making contact with the middle of Zoro's back and forcing him to stumble forward.

Sanji laughs, “How are you gonna try that new move if you can't land a hit?” He taunts.

Zoro swings around and Sanji launches into a series of kicks to prevent Zoro from regaining ground. But it's as if his attacks are sliding off Zoro's blocks, like they can't get purchase to even start a power struggle.

It's Zoro's turn to laugh, “Don't assume it's an attack I was working on.”

Sanji varies his angle and still he struggles to find an opening. Zoro twists his stance, puts power behind it, and Sanji falls to the floor. He just barely gets his hands under himself so he can flip up when Zoro's foot lands on his chest, pinning him back on the mat. 

“Told you I would win,” Zoro smirks over him. Sanji's breathing hitches but it's probably from the pressure on his chest. It probably doesn't have anything to do with how pretty Zoro looks in this light, backlit and hazy. No, couldn't be.

“Again,” He growls and Zoro retreats to his starting spot, allowing him to get up.

Sanji gets lost in their back and forth. Feels his problems melt away, the pressures of the world lighten as his focus is solely on Zoro. How he moves, how he responds, how his eyes shine when he thinks he has the upper hand.

The intensity of their sparring wanes the longer they go, conversation filling in where rapid hits previously fell. This is how they communicated, how Sanji learned about Zoro and how Sanji vented his problems. The first few fights to get the anger and anxiety out of his body and the last few to get his thoughts out of his mind.

“And then she never texted me back,” he complains as he ducks out of the way of Zoro's two sword swing.

“I keep telling you,” Zoro starts, his arms flexing when he blocks Sanji's kick, “That you come on too strong.”

Zoro's right, he knows he's right. But he literally doesn't know what else to do. It used to work, when he was nineteen and bitter and angry. Maybe he's lost his edge. Maybe that's what was attractive about him. Maybe he needs to get tattoos. He looks to Zoro, his three earrings chiming as he moves. Maybe get a piercing, it looks good on Zoro, although, he's not sure he could pull it off.

Of course, he's not going to tell Zoro any of this.

“Like someone as undatable as you gets it,” he mutters instead.

Zoro shrugs, “Unlike you, I don't get my validation from the attention of romantic partners,” Sanji hates when Zoro says shit like this, proves his intelligence with one well thought out sentence that simultaneously drags Sanji. It's unfair.

“It’s not the only source,” he huffs back, “It's just nice to feel needed by someone,” he watches Zoro's circling steps, judging when he's going to come at him.

“Our friends need us,” Zoro swings, grunting when Sanji’s foot glances off the sword. He notices the adjusted instep and mirrors it.

“It's different,” Sanji counters as he swivels out of the way of Zoro's swords.

“Is it?” Zoro straightens, looking over his shoulder. The conversation has become more important than their spar, but Zoro's still aware, waiting for Sanji's move.

“Yes, marimo,” he scoffs as he gives Zoro the chance to practice his back block by swinging his leg at the back of his head, “Friendship is different from dating.”

“How?” Zoro asks when his body whirls around, swords crossing and catching Sanji's ankle between them, “Where do you draw the line?”

Sanji huffs and moves with Zoro, forcing his leg higher to free it,“You wouldn't sleep with your friends, for one,” he says when his foot hits the ground.

“I would,” Zoro pauses, “I have, actually.”

“What?!” the faces of their friends flash in his mind as Zoro spins his swords idly.

“Luffy was my first when we were teenagers,” he informs. Says it so easily it makes Sanji's face go red. He knew Zoro slept with men, but Luffy?

“He's not—?” he sputters, “ He knows what sex is?”

Zoro laughs, “Oh yeah, he’s—”

Sanji unleashes a series of kicks, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” He does not want to see Luffy as a sexual creature. He's perfectly happy living under delusions if it means he never learns that information.

Zoro just cackles, blocking each kick and allowing himself to be pushed back with the blows.

He's pleasantly tired by the end of their session. Not exhausted, but like his anxiety has been beaten out of him, like his mind has finally settled. He's sweaty and he's weighing the option of taking a shower knowing he's just going to get sweaty again during the move. 

Zoro checks his phone,“Luffy just texted me that he and Usopp are heading to your place,” he gathers his things from the floor, “They're probably gonna get food if you want anything,” he notes as he slings his swords cases over his shoulder and turns to the changing rooms.

“Probably a good idea,” he agrees, his eyes landing on the back of Zoro’s mossy head. 

Sanji stares after him. Momentarily overwhelmed by what Zoro had done for him. Somehow, Zoro knew he was spiraling. Somehow, Zoro knew the best way to get him to stop. He watches his back disappear into the changing room and wonders how Zoro got so good at reading him.

Chapter Text

The mouth of the wolf, the eyes of the lamb - Rain, Sleep Token 

Sanji: Twenty-five, Recently Promoted to Sous Chef at The Baratie

Sanji had been working on a choux when Zeff came up behind him and muttered something while peering over his shoulder. 

The pastry chef doesn’t lift his eyes from the dough forming in his pan, “Speak up, old man.”

Zeff clears his throat, “I’m promoting you to Sous Chef starting tomorrow,”  he says in the same tone one might discuss trying a new drink from the convenience store. Mild interest and with the assumption that the person you're talking to doesn't actually care.

If Sanji was a lesser man, he might have burned the choux, “Now? You tell me now?!”  he struggles as the choux starts to form a ball in the pan. He cuts the heat and turns on Zeff, glaring as he continues to stir the choux.

“You should be grateful,” Zeff holds his head high.

“Of course I’m grateful, I just wish—”

“Don’t get a big head about it, you’re still my pastry chef until we close.”

Once the shock wears off, Sanji doesn't even care. He's on cloud nine, finishing his lunch shift and setting on dinner prep in a pleasant haze. This is one step away from his life’s goal. The last promotion he's getting before Zeff retires. The guarantee that the old man plans on giving him The Baratie, entrusting to him his life's work. It won't be easy, Zeff will make sure of that, but he's never been one to take the easy route.

He puts it in the group chat once he's in his car and the entire ride his phone is blowing up. It makes him giddy, proud and anxious all at once. He doesn't bother getting inside to check it, sitting in his parking spot, grinning like an idiot at his phone as his friends all offer congratulations. Usopp suggests they go out to celebrate and the conversation quickly turns to planning as everyone discusses their schedules.

After texting his own schedule for the week, he finally gets out of his car. He checks his phone again when he's inside, it seems Saturday is going to be their best bet.

“To Sanji!” His friends cry, glasses clinking in the low light of the bar. He flushes at the acknowledgement, throwing back his first shot with everyone and slamming it back on the sticky table. 

God, it's been forever since they've done this. The lot of them preferring to get shit-faced in the comfort of their own homes now that most of them were in their mid-twenties. But it was good to get out. Good to get dressed up, to feel lingering glances on his back and to feel desirable. It's been a while since he's taken someone home, now that he thinks about it. Might be a nice way to celebrate.

“I'm going to get an actual drink,” he tells the party.

He doesn't get to the bar, a pretty brunette with a nice ass and legs for miles stops him before he can even consider what he's going to order. She's at a standing table alone, her tight dress cutting off dangerously close to the swell of her ass. Her eyes land on him when she flips her long hair from shoulder to shoulder. They trace his body from bottom to top, skating over his well fitted shirt before finding his eyes. She smiles, and Sanji feels his body light up.

“Care for some company?” Sanji asks as he leans and arm on the table.

Her eyes are playful as they dip to his open collar. He's already in, all he has to do is not fuck it up.

“Wouldn't mind it,” she says coyly, her voice low and sultry, “My friend ran off with some guy.”

“All alone then?”

“For the time being,” she wraps her lips around her straw and Sanji's body is flooded with endorphins. Oh, how he's missed this, the high he gets from a woman showing interest, playing a calculated game of push and pull. The chase is almost as good as the sex and he can see the intelligence in her game, she'll stick with him, but first he has to prove himself.

“It's Sanji, by the way,” he leans over the table to match her easy elegance.

“Velara,” she looks to the neighboring table where Nami and Robin are splitting a pitcher of what looks like margarita, “What are your friends celebrating?”

Sanji preens at the opportunity to brag without looking conceited, “My promotion to Sous Chef,” he manages to stay casual about it even though the excitement still hasn’t waned

Her eyes light up, “My, that is a promotion,” her dress is high neck, but the fabric is thin and pulled tight across her breasts. When she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, the fabric catches in her cleavage, “Sounds like you work hard,” she says it with innuendo, looking up through her lashes.

“It's always nice to relax with good company after working so hard,” he counters as a shadow comes up next to him.

“Hey, cook, do shots with me,” Zoro interrupts, hand on his shoulder like he might drag him if he refuses.

Sanji sets his face in a polite smile at Velara who giggles into her drink, “I would like to actually enjoy my night,” he offers a quick glance Zoro's way, but the mosshead isn't getting it.

“Come on, Usopp and Luffy ain't shit,” Zoro presses. Velara’s eyes trace down Zoro, pausing where his arm is flexed as he keeps a grip on Sanji's shoulder.

Sanji tries to shake him, “Go ask Franky.”

Zoro's hand falls to the table as he continues to crowd him, “He’s already in, but I know he's dropping early because Robin’s drinking,” Velara's gaze follows his arm up to his chest. Sanji isn't even mad she's checking out Zoro right in front of him; Zoro always looks incredible when he wears these tight T-shirts.

Sanji drags the oblivious idiot by the back of his head away from the table, “Mosshead, I’m trying to get laid,” he stresses.

Zoro just smiles, that sharp and dangerous grin that sets Sanji's teeth on edge, “What, love-cook? Afraid I'm gonna beat you so bad you're not going to be able to get it up?”

His anger flares as he flushes, “Fine, you shitty piece of grass, but you're paying.”

“Always,” Zoro smirks.

Zoro was right, Franky left the challenge after, like, three shots when Robin, drunk off tequila, dragged him off to the dance floor. So it was just him, Zoro, and eight shots between them. They do not finish the rest of the shots, Sanji doesn't even remember who won. Luffy came over at some point, stealing one of the shots, hanging off Zoro and babbling about a ‘talking skeleton' before fucking off to God knows where.

Any hope of finding Velara again is out the window, his mind struggling to conjure what she looked like.

Sanji sways when he stands and Usopp props him up, “Whoa, careful!”

Kaya’s face comes into view, concerned and pretty, “I think you should head home, Sanji,” she suggests with her soft and caring voice.

“I'm okay, Miss Kaya, but thank you for your concern,” he tries to be charming, but he's not sure if he accomplishes it. Kaya giggles anyway, so he’ll take it.

“Zoro,” Nami's voice has him turning his head too fast, not knowing she had come up next to him, “This is your fault so you take him home,” she commands and Sanji thinks she's beautiful when she tells them what to do.

“Not my fault he can't handle his liquor,” Zoro says, Nami glares, Zoro rolls his eyes, “Fuck, fine.” 

“Zoro's going to take you home, okay?” Nami tells him, sweet face and voice soothing.

“Okay,” he smiles at her.

“Let's go, shit cook,” Zoro pushes him forward and he stumbles before catching himself.

Zoro hides his intoxication well. Appearing from the outside to be steady on his feet, voice even and unslurred. But Sanji knows. He knows it in the slow way his eyes move, the half lidded quality they take when the conversation gets lost on him. Zoro's shit-faced and no one but him knows it.

He giggles, swaying as they walk down the sidewalk.

“What’re you laughing at, curls?” Zoro's voice lacks its usual edge.

“You're drunk,” he giggles again and then snorts at the glare Zoro gives him, just a hair slower to process than usual.

“The fuck are you then?” Zoro bumps him and Sanji nearly goes down, but Zoro grabs him around the waist and holds him up, “You can't even walk,” he teases.

Sanji flushes at the contact but can't deny he enjoys the warmth of Zoro's body next to his in the cold night air. 

“I can walk,” he protests, “I'm walking.”

“Alright,” Zoro says, pulling his arm back. He wishes he'd put it back.

Sanji walks, unsupported and perfectly fine. The sidewalk seems to stretch infinitely out in front of them, lit by the flickering flame of the gas lights attached to the old buildings as they pass through the historic district of Edge Town. He loses time in the tranquility of it until the face of Velara floats up in his foggy mind.

He groans, throwing his head back and staring up at the clear night sky.

“What?” Zoro asks, a little more irritated than before.

“I was supposed to go home with a pretty lady, not a moldy marimo,” Sanji pouts.

“Too bad,” Zoro shoves his hands into his pockets, eyes staying on the walk ahead.

“It's your fault,” he kicks a rock down the street, listening to the way it skips over the cobbles.

“You didn't have to keep drinking,” Zoro shrugs.

“You made me mad.”
 
“Everything I do makes you mad,” Zoro kicks his own rock down the road and Sanji feels it settle in his stomach.

“Not everything,” he tries, feeling the need to reach out.

Zoro's quiet, waiting.

“Sometimes you can be helpful,” it's an aborted gesture, not getting anywhere close to how much Zoro means to him.

Zoro barks a laugh, “That's all I get?”

“That's all you deserve!” he covers.

“Whatever, shit cook,” Zoro shakes his head, but he’s smiling so Sanji thinks he won.

They reach his apartment, and Zoro pushes him up the stairs when he insists he doesn't need help getting inside. He unlocks his door, and Zoro follows in, locking the door behind him. The mosshead keeps step with him, even as he reaches the bathroom.

“You gonna help me piss, too?” He raises an eyebrow and Zoro rolls his eyes, continuing down the hall. When he exits, he makes his way to his bedroom, nearly forgetting about Zoro.

His mind screeches to a halt when he sees Zoro sitting on his bed. He's not doing anything, just waiting for him there with that slow and lidded expression that has Sanji freezing. Images float through his head uninhibited, thoughts of Zoro in his bed, that lazy look focused on him.

“You okay, curls?” Zoro asks as he stands, his voice low in the quiet of Sanji's apartment, “Come on,” a guiding hand falls to his lower back, lighting his body on fire, “Just sleep it off, alright?”

There's a lump in his throat that he might choke on if he speaks so he just goes. Lets Zoro lead him to his bed. Lets him push him to the bed and lets him walk out his bedroom door, flicking the light off behind him. Sleep comes eventually, but not before his mind is flooded with images of what could have happened if he had just reached out. If he had taken Zoro’s hand. If he had pulled him down with him.

Sanji wakes with a pounding headache and vague memories. He rolls over, feeling constricted still in his slacks and button-up.

God, he feels gross. He's gonna kill Zoro.

He strips, finding pajama pants and not bothering with a shirt. The lights in the bathroom make him wince, and his brain is a bowling ball in his skull, but he managed to avoid nausea. He pops a couple ibuprofen and washes his face. 

When he steps back into the hallway, a loud snore rips through the early morning of his apartment.

“Fucking marimo bastard,” he mutters and continues down the hall.

And there he is, stripped down to his boxers and face down on Sanji's couch. Sanji takes one (1) second to appreciate Zoro's broad and well built back and, maybe, one (1) more second to stare at his ass, before dragging himself into the kitchen and getting coffee ready. He's going to be driving Zoro back to get his car while they both feel like shit and isn't that going to be fun?

Chapter Text

So touch me again, I feel my shadow dissolving, will you cleanse me with pleasure? - Rain, Sleep Token
Sanji: Twenty-seven, Sous Chef at The Baratie

Sanji stares at the newest addition to their crew, a doctor in his early thirties with tattoos and piercings and tired eyes that seem to constantly be screaming, ‘what did I get myself into?’ Traffy, is what Luffy had introduced him as to which he quickly corrected that his name was Law. Luffy's boyfriend, the one he had been gushing about for a month straight, had finally shown his face and came with an offering of some fancy IPA that tasted like shit. In Sanji's opinion, at least. The guy seems to be drinking it and so is Zoro and Franky, so maybe it's just him. 

Luffy's ecstatic, though, taking the man on a tour of their friends and Zoro's backyard. They're talking to Robin and Franky, and Law seems to relax a little at the presence of people closer to his age. It doesn't last, his expression faltering as Robin speaks, a peaceful smile on her face telling Sanji she just said something morbid in that casual way he finds so delightful.

“It's strange, isn't it?” Nami says as she comes up beside him. She's about halfway through her peach cocktail Sanji had made her and he makes a mental note to check back in ten minutes.

“I didn't think he’d ever actually pick someone,” he agrees. He always thought Luffy's love was too great to be focused on one person, that it would be overwhelming. If Law’s face is anything to go by, he's probably right.

“I didn't think Luffy would find someone before me,” she pouts and sips her drink, “Or you, for that matter.”

“I'm still waiting for you, Nami dear,” he smiles at her.

“Not a chance, love-cook,” she waves off in good humor, using one of Zoro's old nicknames for him.

He chuckles and they fall into comfortable silence as they watch their friends continue to make Law uncomfortable.

“Think he’ll stay?” She asks.

“I hope so, for Luffy's sake,” he's never seen Luffy heartbroken but he can't imagine it would go over well, “He’s had plenty of time to run if he's not into—” he gestures at Luffy hauling Law to Brook and Jinbei. The doctor seems to be dealing well with a giant, walking, singing skeleton. Law nods along to whatever Brook is talking about before he starts staring into the middle distance with a concerned frown. Nevermind, looks like he's disassociating.

“True, you don't need a lot of time to determine if you can handle Luffy,” she says with love and takes a long drink, “Still, does he have to be so hot?” She mutters.

Sanji groans into his own vodka seltzer, “I wasn't going to say it,” but she's right. Even if you ignore how big of a deal his accomplishments as a doctor are, he’s just hot.

Nami giggles beside him, “Luffy gets all the luck,” the sound of her sipping the last drops of her drink draws his attention. She went through that faster than he expected.

“Let me refill your drink, Nami dear,” he bows, exaggerating his charm.

She brushes hair behind her ear, batting her eyelashes, “Thank you,” she giggles. 

Sanji's heart soars at her dramatic and cutesy act. He takes her drink and heads into Zoro's house. 

Inside, the silence of the house is stark to the buzz of the backyard, Brook’s guitar filtered to a soft strum. He's familiar with Zoro's kitchen, moving about easily, knowing where he keeps everything. Just as he grabs the cocktail shaker from the dish rack, the sliding glass door opens, flooding the silence with voices and Brook’s singing before shutting it back out.

Zoro enters the kitchen, paying him a brief glance before chucking the IPA can in the recycling and going to the fridge. 

“You want something?” He asks with his head in the fridge.

“From your fridge? No,” he starts measuring out the peach liquor he brought for the girl’s drinks.

“Right, you have those shitty fruit drinks,” Zoro snorts.

“They're more alcoholic than those cheap beers you drink,” he bites back.

“Yeah, but they taste like overly sweet garbage,” the fridge shuts.

“Maybe to a barbarian like you,” he sets the bottle down.

“At least I don't have an inflated ego,” Zoro shoots back.

Sanji slams the shaker on the counter, he takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.

“I'm getting way too old to let you keep pissing me off,” he grumbles.

Zoro goes quiet, the fridge closing as Sanji continues to work, “I was thinking—”

“Don't hurt yourself,” he smiles to himself, not having to turn around to know the dry look Zoro's sending him.

There's a long pause, as if Zoro's considering not continuing, “Do you want— What if we—” the words get caught in Zoro's mouth and Sanji finds his irritation flaring at the uncharacteristic dithering.

“Just say it, mosshead.”

Zoro grumbles and Sanji can hear him tapping his head on the wall in that way he does when he’s thinking too much, “We should be fuck buddies.”

And the world screeches to a halt. The already muted music non-existent over the blood rushing to his ears. It’s shockingly similar to the adrenaline rush he gets before a fight.

“I'm sorry?” Sanji chokes, spinning around to face Zoro. He’s empty handed, crossing his arms, his head leaned against the opposite wall.

“I was thinking about it,” he shrugs, forced casualness, Sanji can see it in the tension he holds him his shoulders, “It just makes sense; to fuck instead of fighting,” he seems to catch himself on something, “Or fight and then fuck, that sounds good, too.”

Sanji gapes at him, it just makes sense? He's in shock at how sure he is that this is the obvious solution. Sanji's face floods red, his heart beating sporadically in a way that's concerning. Thank God there's a surgeon, a med. student, and medical resident outside because Sanji's about to go into cardiac arrest.

In a horrifying realization, he wants it. 

Zoro seems to sense his hesitation, “Think about it,” he says head cocked to the side as he watches Sanji for a reaction, “If you want it, hang back inside when everyone leaves.”

Sanji adverts his gaze, glaring at Zoro's shitty vinyl countertop as the other man, finally, grabs a fresh beer from his fridge. The space between them shrinks, Zoro’s hand on the counter by his hip and if they were just slightly closer— Sanji can't allow himself that thought.

“I need the bottle opener, cook,” Zoro breathes, fingers twitching and eyes lazily tracing the features of his face. He doesn't need shit, Zoro's more than capable of getting that cap off in a variety of ways 

“Mhm,” is all Sanji gets out, Zoro’s body heat caging him in. The marimo opens his beer, leaving the bottle cap and opener on the counter.

“Just let me know, alright,” Zoro grunts, waving him off and exiting through the sliding door.

Sanji deflates, falling to the faded linoleum and grabbing at his hair.

“Ahhhh— What the fuckkk,” he hisses, back hitting the cabinets. He wasn't ready for this, he never expected Zoro to proposition him. Nevermind ask him to change the nature of their relationship to accommodate it.

Fuck buddies. Fuck buddies?? 

He wants it. He's wanted it. He's thought about it since his early twenties when he came to terms with his sexuality. It was never something he thought he would act on, but he's always thought, if Zoro asked, he would hit it. At least once. Just to know, right? 

Because if he fucks like he fights... Shit, if he fucks like he fights Sanji might never recover.

It was dangerous. Because Zoro, under everything, was an amazing person. Not just loyal, but protective. Constantly checking on everyone’s comfort levels when they're out, willing to put himself in an awkward situation to help. He's reliable in a way he's never seen in another person, the first one to call when something goes wrong and the last to leave.

If that's how he is with his friends, how would he be with a partner? Even thinking about Zoro as someone's boyfriend, assigning that label to him, feels wrong. Makes his stomach swirl with nausea at how not right it is. Zoro's never dated anyone, never showed interest, never discussed what he would want in a partner. 

So it's just sex. He can do just sex. It doesn't have to be anything else. He doesn't want it to be anymore than that, after all, Sanji's known for a long time he wanted a family. He wanted to fall in love with someone as devoted to him as he was to them. He had always pictured a wife, a modest house, and at least one kid. Maybe two if they had the time.

And why not have some fun, some stress relief, while he waits. 

He regulates, calms his heart, his mind, and makes Nami's drink in a meditative state. He's a lost soul the next few hours, moving on auto pilot through the night, makes a couple more drinks until people start filtering out. And if he smokes more than usual, no one comments on it.

He hangs back as Zoro says goodbye to their friends, puts out the fire, cleans up some trash. Sanji sits on his couch, waiting, anticipation building and building until the sliding door opens.

And Zoro steps into the house, expression quirking into amused surprise. He flicks the lock behind him, “You actually stayed.”

Sanji's teeth click, “Can't hold up to your bluff?”

Zoro shakes his head and steps closer, crossing the dining room, “I wasn't bluffing. I just wasn’t sure you would go for it.”

Sanji blanks on what to say to that, so he doesn't speak. Just keeps his sight on Zoro as he moves to stand in front of him on the couch. His face is starting to burn as he has to crane his neck to look up at the other man. Sanji sets his jaw, glaring up through his rising embarrassment.

“Calm down, shit-cook,” Zoro says easy, “I'm not going to hurt you,” he smiles and Sanji finds his glare wavering. It's been a long time since he was touched if Zoro is starting to look charming, “You've been with men, right?” He asks.

Sanji's eyebrows shoot up, the surprise must be evident on his face because Zoro continues, “I know you have a strict ‘no kiss and tell’ rule, but I've seen you leave with guys before.”

His gaze becomes evasive, “Yeah.”

“Good, nothing worse than a twink who doesn't know what he's doing,” Zoro’s acting cocky and Sanji wants nothing more than to take him down a peg.

“Excuse you!” Sanji sputters, standing and knocking Zoro back so they're chest to chest, “We're the same damn height.”

Zoro's amusement doesn't waver, “Yeah, but I bet my fingers touch when I wrap them around your waist.”

Sanji blood might boil over, anger, lust; it’s the same at this point, “Try it, fucker,” he challenges, and then regrets it.

Zoro's hands come to the small of his waist, bearing down on his sides, stretching around his back while his thumbs press into his stomach. The thin material of his button up does nothing to filter the heat radiating from Zoro's hands. It takes everything for him to keep his breathing normal, to not react. 

And Zoro's fingers don't touch. They're big, squeezing around his middle and doing their best, but they don't touch.

“Ha—!”

Sanji's laugh gets cut short, lips crashing into his and strong hands holding him in place. Somehow, he didn't think it would actually happen. Like he hadn't been lusting over Zoro, quietly, privately, since he was twenty-three. Running through scenarios late at night, one after another, on how he might instigate Zoro enough to break the seal. God, he's an idiot, isn't he?

It's over too fast, but still leaves him breathless.

“Not terrible,” Zoro smirks and Sanji is about to start mouthing off.

He's shoved into the couch, the indignity of it fueling his outburst, “Are you going to just push me around?” He feels nineteen again, angry and lashing out for control just to watch the reins slip through his fingers.

Zoro stares at him for just a second before dropping down with him, knees on either side of his legs, strong body seated in his lap. Zoro's hand brushes hair behind his ear, eyes flicking back to him, “If you don't like it, go,” he cups Sanji's face— he can't breathe— callused fingers ghosting over his jaw, “I know you can throw me off. You've done it before.”

Sanji is rooted to the couch, blood rushing and painting his face a patchy red. The full weight of Zoro in his lap, no fight as a pretense, no hiding what he really wants. He’s stripped bare without the security of their usual aggression.

“Okay?” Zoro asks, and when Sanji struggles to find words— because he can't fucking breathe—, he taps his cheek, “Give me something here, curls.”

“Okay,” he manages, air finally flooding his lungs.

Zoro chuckles, “Are you usually this freaked out with your partners?”

No, Sanji's usually suave, charming, and in control. But there's something about Zoro that has his mind struggling to catch up. Because what do you mean his friend— fuck, he might be his best friend if Sanji was honest, and he's not— is sitting in his lap, wanting to kiss him, wanting to sleep with him.

Sanji shakes his head ‘no’ and Zoro snorts a laugh again. He's glad Zoro finds this funny because Sanji is one step away from a crisis and the closest doctors just left.

“All for me, then?” Zoro’s voice is just above a murmur and then teeth are gently tugging his bottom lip into a warm mouth, tongue laving over it and sucking. Sanji breathes air through his nose, trying to remember how to function; failing. He lets his own tongue poke out, and runs it over Zoro's upper lip. The muscle of Zoro's thighs flex as he surges forward, licking into his mouth, over his teeth, and it should be gross. Zoro tastes like shit beer and uses too much tongue, but Sanji still finds his eyes rolling back when Zoro’s tongue strokes his.

Zoro kisses as if he wishes to consume him. Strong hands holding his head exactly where Zoro wants him. Sanji can't fucking breathe again and when he twists his head to break it, he’s pulled right back in. It's everything he knew it could be, possessive in the way a house is haunted, single minded, so fucking simple and yet it could drive him to madness with its complexity. 

His hands come to Zoro's thighs. They slide over his athletic shorts, the shiny material stretched over his thick thighs making it hard for him to really get a good grip, but he can feel the muscle under his hands and wants to feel skin. Needs to have that warmth that's been teasingly out of reach. 

Sanji's fingers dip under Zoro's shirt and he might be shaking, just a little. The skin under his fingers is soft, muscles flexing as he drags his hands over hips.

He gasps for breath when Zoro finally releases his mouth. kisses are tracked down his neck and when Zoro's tongue licks his pulse, he squirms, lungs having little time to refill. Has his neck always been this sensitive? His fingers push up under Zoro's shirt, digging into his back and skating higher as Zoro's teeth graze his skin.

Zoro grunts at the contact and starts shifting in Sanji's lap as he keeps nudging his shirt higher, lips doing their best to stay on his neck, but ultimately finding it impossible. But that's okay, because when Zoro sits up, he throws his shirt behind him and Sanji is faced with tan skin, scars, and pecs that might as well be tits. Perfectly formed muscles that look like it would squish so beautifully under his hand. He wants them in his mouth, wants to taste skin.

“Did you break?” Zoro asks, amusement in his voice and Sanji flushes as he's caught.

“Can I—?”

“Do whatever you want, curls,” Zoro dismisses. He can hear the quirk of his lips, but Sanji can't focus on that.

There's a half second of hesitation, knowing he's not coming back from this without revealing too much of himself, but this is Zoro. These aren't the lovely breasts of a giggling and shy lady, this is the chest of the man who throws him to the ground with no remorse. The lady might be worthy of restraint and respect, but Zoro? He's never held back before.

So he dives in, hugging his face to Zoro's sternum, hands grabbing palmfulls of flesh. It's so warm, fills his hand so well, his breathing stutters as he takes in the unexpected addition of Zoro's smell. If he was a weaker man, his nose would be bleeding.

Campfire and the smell of summer sweat overwhelms him as he squishes his face closer, placing kisses over scars. When he finds a nipple, the noise that flows out of him is down right vulgar as his fantasy comes to life under his hands. 

“Pervert,” Zoro chides, but he can hear how it gets strangled in his throat, feels the hand coming to his head, holding him, encouraging him.

He licks, drawing the nipple into his mouth and sucking. Fingers tighten in his hair, hips bucking, seeking friction. Sanji bites, he wants to leave marks; wants to see them the next time this happens. Because it's going to happen again, Sanji's going to make sure of that.

“F—Fuck,” Zoro gasps and Sanji looks up, tounge still out as he teases the nipple pinned between his face. Zoro's red, face screwed up as he watches Sanji lose himself in the pleasure of shoving his face between his tits, “Why do you look like that,” he’s near panting, almost coming out as a whine. Sanji has a new goal. A nasty, entirely selfish goal.

He drags Zoro back into a kiss. It's sloppier this time, wet and slick as he licks into Zoro's mouth. Sanji knows Zoro could make pretty sounds if he works him right, if he makes him feel good. He might be going insane.

Zoro's hands scramble for Sanji's pants, undoing his belt and fly with frantic hands. Sanji shoos them away, reaching instead for Zoro's waistband, pulling at the elastic.

“Sanji,” Zoro's affected voice saying his name has his heart and dick pulsing in the same beat. Big hands take his, “Let me suck you off.”

Sanji’s teeth nearly bite through his lip in an attempt to avoid the noise that wants to escape him. 

“Please,” Zoro begs, voice deep and husky, and Sanji fails to suppress the groan he makes this time.

“Okay,” because he really doesn't know what else he's capable of saying anymore.

Especially when Zoro gives him that shit eating grin that has always, always, made his neck prickle in anticipation. He slides out of Sanji's lap, settling between his legs and going back to undoing his pants. Sanji lets him this time, unsure hands doing their best to grab hold of the couch cushions as his dick is exposed to the cool air. He shutters, at the temperature change and at the way Zoro’s tongue licks over his teeth.  

Sanji's never seen this expression on Zoro. This wide-eyed and hungry look as he stares at his dick. He raises to get closer, leans on him, and then takes Sanji in his right hand. Zoro's eyes shutter close as he places a single kiss to the tip. With each kiss trailing down his shaft, Sanji falls further and further from sanity. And when Zoro shoves his face into the hair at the base of his cock, tongue working in an open mouth kiss around his girth, his mind gets rewired.

His hands find Zoro's hair, his body is already wound tight and they've barely fucking done anything. 

Zoro falls back, tongue dragging back up to the tip. Sanji almost screams, biting into the meat of his palm just to keep it in. Because of course! Of fucking course.

Zoro doesn't have a gag reflex.

And he takes Sanji's cock deep and easy. When his hand flexes in Zoro's hair a bit too tight, Zoro moans, his own hands grabbing onto Sanji's pants as if he's trying to get closer. He doesn't know how he can because Sanji can feel his nose prodding his happy trail. He can feel the vibrations of his moans deep in his core.

Zoro doesn't give him much time to adjust, bobbing in a slow rhythm. Sanji tries to keep breathing, tries to keep it together. But Zoro keeps doing something with his tongue that has him gasping each time, bringing him closer to hyperventilating.

His stomach’s winds tight and it could be his quickly building orgasm or an anxiety attack. 

A particularly delicious drag of tongue has his hands yanking on Zoro's hair again, regretting it when the nasty fuck starts sounding even more pitiful.

“Wait—” he gasps, tears starting to well up, “Zoro! I can't—!” he slaps Zoro's shoulder to try and give him a chance to pull off, but he just swallows him down.

Sanji comes down Zoro's throat, body coiling over him as his hips jerk up out of his control. It's so good it's bad. An incendiary round through his core.

And he's crying.

Tears break as Zoro's throat works to swallow around his cock head, his voice hiccuping both from overstimulation and the sob trying to force its way past his lips.

Zoro pops off him, lips red and shiny with spit and cum. He looks up at him, face fucked out as he sucks air in like he was drowning. He looks pretty like this, clearly having enjoyed the process of suffocating on cock. Sanji can see the moment he’s able to process what he's looking at, his brow furrowing as panic washes over his face. 

“Sanji—” Zoro scrambles to get up, hands coming to hold his face, “What—?”

Sanji pants, turning his wet face into one of Zoro's hands, “Fuck—”.

“I'm sorry— Shit, what happened?” His voice is rough from his throat being fucked and that isn't helping him keep his sanity.

“S’good,” he gets out, chest heaving with his calming lungfuls of air, the anxiety fading and being replaced with a syrupy post-orgasm bliss. 

“No you're not,” Zoro stresses.

He shakes his head, Zoro's hands still holding onto him, “It was good,” he enunciates more clearly, turning to kiss Zoro's wrists in an attempt to prove that he's okay.

“Oh,” Zoro sighs, seemingly understanding.

“Mhm,” Sanji agrees, continuing to nuzzle into Zoro's wrist, enjoying the smell of his skin.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks, eyes tracking his mouth.

“Yeah.”

Zoro kisses him, holds his head still and licks into his mouth. Sanji's struck by how dirty it is, the taste of himself lingering on Zoro's tongue. 

He readjust, moving up farther and bracing himself with a knee on the couch. Zoro licks up from his chin to under his eye, placing a jarringly sweet kiss to his eye lid. He continues kissing the corner of his eye, thumb petting over his temple. It's when Zoro switches sides that Sanji connects that he's licking up his tears. Fucking freak. Why is it turning him on?

Before he can even process what that means, teeth are at his neck again. It makes him squirm, thigh jerking up before he realizes his mistake. Zoro’s voice in his ear is a siren call as Sanji's shifting grinds his thigh against his cock.

“You look good like this,” Zoro groans into his neck, voice still rough, “I wanna fuck you so bad,” he sighs with a drag of his hips.

Sanji's hands go to his hair, his resolve is breaking.

“Everytime I get you under me it's all I can think about,” Zoro takes in thick gulps of air as he ruts against his leg. Sanji presses his thigh up with purpose this time. The purpose being that Zoro needs to stop reflecting his desires for the past ten-ish years. 

“You could do it,” he says just above a whisper because part of him isn't ready to accept Zoro's words as anything other than dirty talk.

The noise Zoro makes is sinful, “I’d make you feel so good,” his hips stutter as he chases his bliss.

Nevermind, he's irredeemably stupid.

Sanji grabs Zoro by the face, “Fuck me, idiot.”

Zoro blinks, “Now?”

“Yes.”

“But, what about—”

“Can you wait the ten minutes it takes for me to shower,”

Bless his mossy head, Sanji can see him thinking it through, his dick pulsing against his thigh.

“Okay.”

This was a mistake. Removing himself from the heat of the moment, letting reality set in as he stands in Zoro's en suite shower, fingers up his ass, Zoro sitting just beyond the door. His anxiety is spiking again, making this the least sexy prep session of his life. He should have asked Zoro to join him, lord knows Zoro could use the shower. It's the first time in a long while he's wished he could smoke in the shower.

When he exits the bathroom, towel around his hips, Zoro is nowhere to be found. A myriad of emotions course through him, an odd sense of relief, but also frustration at having to be with his thoughts for longer than necessary. 

Footsteps come from the hall and Zoro appears holding two water bottles. He freezes when he enters, gaze immediately going to where the towel sits low on his hips.

“I brought water?” He sounds conflicted.

Sanji snorts, “You did,” he agrees. There's a flush settling on Zoro's face, threatening to spread to his still exposed chest. Sanji lets it calm him, arousal slowly seeping back under his skin as he looks at the bite marks and red bruises forming on Zoro's chest.

Oops.
 
Sanji gets closer, taking one of the water bottles from Zoro's hand.

“Are you sure?” Zoro asks, eyes finding his again.

Sanji inspects the bottle of water, “Pretty sure,” he smirks, anxiety being overwritten by Zoro's sudden hesitation. Seems he wasn't the only one freaking out during their time away from each other.

“No, I mean—”

“I know,” he gives Zoro an incredulous look, “I didn't spend ten minutes fingering myself in your shower just to leave.”

Zoro sucks his teeth, his voice doing a cute little stutter, “I'm just giving you the option—”

“Oh my Goddd,” Sanji complains, grabbing Zoro by his waistband and pulling them hip to hip, “I’m more than capable of stopping you if I don't like something, you said it yourself.”

Zoro glares at him, not liking being interrupted, “Fine. Get on the bed,” he grabs the water bottle from his hand and sets both aside.

Sanji goes with no argument, eager to have his mind distracted. He watches Zoro dig through his side table until he produces a bottle of lube. It starts settling in what he's about to let Zoro do to him, the anticipation bubbling up.

Zoro runs a hand over his thigh, sliding higher until it starts bunching up his towel. He crouches, hooking his arms behind Sanji's knees and hauling him to the edge of the bed. It knocks him down on his back and he suppresses his protests in favor of letting Zoro get on with it. The towel gets properly shoved aside and warm hands are caressing his thighs. They tickle his leg hair as they go higher, thumbs skirting over his hip joints. He’s starting to fill out again as the attention sends a pleasant hum of arousal up his neck with each brush of fingers against his skin.

The flesh of his ass gets spread, and Sanji tries to relax as he readies himself for the cool, wet touch of lubed fingers. Instead, he gets the hot pressure of Zoro's tongue flat over his hole.

The first touch is always too much, has him choking down sounds unbecoming of how he sees himself. But he wasn't prepared for this, and his voice has no filter as he writhes on Zoro's bed.

“F—uck,” he moans as Zoro's hands hold him in place.

Zoro eats ass like a starved man, groaning into his sensitive skin as his mouth licks and sucks as eagerly as he had deep throated him.

A finger joins, thrusting into him as Zoro's head leans against his thigh. He's breathing hard, content to give up oxygen just for a few more seconds of his mouth on Sanji. He files that away for later: asphyxiation.

“Oh,” Zoro mumbles from between his legs, “You could take two right away.”

And he does, pushes two fingers in with little effort. Sanji hisses at the sudden intrusion but quickly relaxes as Zoro finds an easy pace. Or he could, but Zoro has taken his cock in his other hand, pumping him with sure strokes.

There's a break where Zoro lubes up his fingers and then he's stretching on three while Zoro’s tongue licks stripes up his balls. 

“You stretch open so good,” Zoro kisses his inner thigh, shockingly tender, “You're gonna take my cock beautifully.”

Sanji whines at the praise, and then chokes on it as Zoro changes his angle. No longer pleasantly brushing past his prostate, but hitting directly with an overwhelming effect.

“You— Fucking—!” He tries to curse Zoro out, but the words get lost in his sharp breaths as his orgasm hits hard. His hands are in his own hair, unable to meaningfully grab at Zoro like he wants to, as he arches into the fingers still working in his ass.

Zoro rubs up his thighs as he pulls himself up, kissing up his legs and to his stomach where he, mortifyingly, laps up the cum pooling there like it's the best thing he's ever had. 

“Gross,” Sanji gets out as his lungs beg for air and eats his words when Zoro looks up at him through his lashes. He's confronted with the fact that he's inadvertently edged Zoro by making him wait and this will either be the best or worst decision of his life. 

Zoro is a predator and Sanji is finding himself more and more willing to be prey.

“Sit back,” Zoro commands and Sanji goes, giving the man space to get on the bed. He slots himself between Sanji's legs, fingers constantly in contact with his skin, his calves, his outer thighs and his inner thighs. Sanji sits up on his elbows because his desire to watch is strong and the image is powerful. Zoro's lost his shorts while he was distracted and it's just bare skin and Zoro's flushed, uncut cock leaking as Zoro manhandles him into position. Once satisfied, he ruts next to his dick, velvet skin brushing against his. His cock jumps at the contact.

“Shit— you're hard again?” Zoro asks, staring between them.

Sanji flushes, "I'm just—,” he never got soft, but his embarrassment isn't about to allow him to admit that. If Zoro missed it, that's his loss, "It's always like this,” he evades, “It's not just because of you.”

Zoro tilts his head, inspecting where their skin meets, “How many times do you usually cum?”

Sanji hesitates, watches the way Zoro drags his cock over his balls, feels the wetness it leaves in its wake, “At least twice,” he doesn't add that it's because his partner is usually tired and done by his second orgasm.

Sanji swears he can hear the gears turning in Zoro's mossy head, “How much—,” his throat hitches as he rubs his cock head on Sanji's waiting hole, “How many times can you—?”

“I don't know,” he forces himself to breathe through his nose, the press of Zoro's heat hard against him doing unspeakable things to his psyche.

Zoro groans, eyes glossy as his cock breaches the tight rim of his hole, “Can we find out?”

Sanji doesn't know what to do about the way his body goes all tingly at Zoro's words, at Zoro getting off on this, at the fat heat slowly splitting him open.

“The highest I've gotten is five,” he takes his own cock in hand, just to ease the ache, “But that was by myself, and two of them were,” the memory hits him hard, choking on his words as Zoro keeps inching in.

Zoro must be able to feel the way he clinches around half his length, “Tell me, baby,” he coos as he falls over him, cheek bumping his as Zoro bottoms out.

Sanji swallows at the pet name, that feeling of too much coming back as Zoro’s cock stretches his hole in a way that seems made for destroying him.

“Two of them were dry,” he’s trying very hard to keep his hips still as he wraps his arms around Zoro's neck, pulling him closer.

Zoro drags his hips back and Sanji catalogs every inch of it. 

“I was fucking myself,” his hole flutters at the memory, at how over sensitive he had become, how Zoro's currently fucking back into him far better than he could fuck himself.

“Shit—” Zoro curses as he gets his arms under Sanji. He can feel his nose press into his neck before teeth and lips threaten to mark him, “I bet you looked so good like that.”

Sanji's only response is to make pathetic noises as Zoro's pace picks up, his hips canting just right and making thoughts difficult.

“I’d let you ride me until your legs give out,” Zoro's hand hooks behind his knee, pinning it back and testing his flexibility as his cock keeps forcing gasps from his mouth.

“Then we’d switch,” he pants, the idea affecting him just as much as Sanji, “I’d let you cum in my ass as much as you could.”

The image of Zoro fucking himself on Sanji is plastered behind his eyelids when he squeezes them shut. Would he be semi-coharent like he is now or would Sanji be able to turn him into a whining mess?

“You’d be so perfect for me,” Zoro reaches between them, sitting back so that he can properly stroke Sanji off. He mourns the loss of Zoro's warmth, but he's placated by the improved angle and hand on his cock. 

Zoro's free hand slides down his thigh, lifting Sanji's leg until it's over his shoulder. His thumb rolls over his ankle and Sanji opens his eyes just in time to see Zoro's blissed out face as he places a soft kiss to his ankle, hips never faltering.  

Sanji can't fucking handle that. It's disgustingly intimate, it's embarrassing in ways he doesn't know what to do about. It makes his cock leak over Zoro's fingers.

“You're being so perfect for me,” Zoro's sex incarnate and his words are overwhelming him, surrounding him with sentiments that don't make sense coming out of his best friend's mouth.

Tears start threatening to fall and he really can't deal with Zoro seeing him crying a second time this night, so he reaches out. He doesn't expect Zoro to scoop him up and take them both vertical. He scrambles to get his arms around Zoro's neck, holding tight as Zoro starts fucking up into him.

He tries to muffle his rising moans, but his dick is crammed between their stomachs and Zoro is doing such a good job at fucking him silly. The noises that do make it out are high pitched and embarrassing.

That is until Zoro forces his thumb into his mouth, prying his jaw open and letting his voice fill the room, “No one but me is going to hear you,” Zoro whispers in his ear as tears start falling down Sanji's face.

Sanji cums for the third time that night, vision blacking out as his nails dig into Zoro's back. His fingers skate over tanned skin, welts raising as what might be the best orgasm of his life dismantles everything he thought he knew.

“There you go,” Zoro manages to keep composure for two more seconds before his own release shocks his body. Sanji relishes in watching his face screw up in pleasure before he jerks forward and sloppily kisses him, just barely slipping his thumb out of Sanji's mouth in time.

Zoro's cock pulses inside him, painting his insides white while spit starts running down his chin from the uncoordinated tongue in his mouth. Zoro sends him backwards, collapses on him, his weight a blanket over his chest as they fall into the bed.

Zoro’s soft and warm as he lays boneless on top of him, face buried in his neck as his chest slows. Sanji’s arms lose their strength, falling from Zoro's shoulders and flopping open beside them. Flooded and useless. 

“I think that was a success,” Zoro mumbles as he sits back, his cock slipping free.

“Why don't you have a gag reflex, that's not fair,” Sanji complains, but what he really means is that he’s going to be having wet dreams about this every night for the rest of his life.

Zoro huffs a laugh, “That's all you got to say?”

‘Where did you learn to eat ass like that?’ Is another question, maybe ‘Was that as earth shattering for you or is that your normal’

Sanji looks down as the night air starts cooling his sweaty body. He tries not to feel anything about the way their soft dicks are occupying the same space. He also doesn't have any particular feelings about how Zoro's cum is starting to leak out his ass. 

“Get me a towel,” he says instead of the insane shit his post-nut mind provides.

Zoro grunts, climbs off him, and heads to the en suite. Sanji immediately misses his warmth, he could go again. He wants to follow Zoro to his bathroom, wants to know what sounds he would make if Sanji got him under him. He wants to know what other sweet words Zoro will whisper in his ear while he holds him in his arms.

But he can’t, so he listens to the water running and tries to not think too hard about how this is going to change them.

Zoro reappears with a towel and wordlessly, as if he doesn't expect any push back, sits himself between Sanji's legs and nudges his thighs apart.

“What are you doing?” It comes out a lot more suspicious than he means to, but his heart beat is kicking up again.

Zoro looks at him like he's stupid, “Clean up?”

Sanji's stomach does something weird, “I got it,” he takes the towel and gets to cleaning himself. 

Fuck, he needs a smoke. The edge of his anxiety is starting to come back. Especially with the way Zoro watches him.

 “We should probably set rules, right?” Zoro suggests as he grabs one of the water bottles on the nightstand.

There's that stupid pang in his stomach, leaching irritation into his blood,“Probably should have done that before,” he throws the towel through the bathroom door, hearing it splat on the tile.

Zoro rolls his eyes, “I'll start then,” he takes a drink, his throat bobbing in a way that makes Sanji want to bite it, “Whatever happens, it's not going to affect our friends.”

Sanji nods, finding that understandable. He provides his own, “We’re allowed to date outside of this.”

Zoro hands him the other bottle, pausing briefly with a frown, “I'd rather this stop if you start dating someone.”

If you start dating isn't lost on him, but he can't argue so he just accepts it, “We're not telling our friends,” because the idea of them knowing they’re fucking makes this too real and how would they react if he started dating someone else? Too much.

Zoro blinks, a little surprised, “If that's what makes you comfortable,” Sanji doesn't like him just agreeing with it when he clearly has thoughts about it, but he's got no right to say anything. He drowns what other words threaten to come out with water.

“No marks above the collar,” he says as his last rule.

Zoro's eyes drop to his neck and zip right back to his face.

Sanji steadies himself, “How bad?” He asks, phantom teeth on his neck.

“I won't do it again,” Zoro both looks guilty and unremorseful.

Sanji stands, tossing the water bottle on the bed and nearly running to the bathroom. He had seen the redness of his neck when he went to take a shower, but this is significantly worse. His stomach drops at the multiple love bites up and down his neck, the bruises, the clear bite marks; he looks like he was mauled.

“You’re a monster,” he glares at Zoro who's peeking through the door.

Zoro, rather smartly, keeps his mouth shut. His eyes, however, roam over Sanji's red and bruising skin as if he's remembering the feeling of causing it.

It makes Sanji shiver. Very aware that he is standing naked in Zoro's bathroom as the man looks at him like a piece of meat. Thoughts of being taken on the vanity flicker through his mind.

“I should get going,” he pushes off the counter even though he wants Zoro to tell him to stay. Wants him to be the one person who says they can handle him and mean it.

“I'll walk you out,” Zoro says instead.

Chapter Text

And I can see you in my fate - Rain, Sleep Token

Two years Later

Sanji pushes Zoro against the sink in the bathroom of the wedding venue, hands on his hips as he kisses him breathless. He's not going to be proud of this later, in fact, he's going to be downright embarrassed that he let his base instincts take over like this. But Zoro's arms are around his neck, and his hair is already fucked up, and Sanji can't think about anything other than how good it feels to have Zoro's body pressing against his. 

Zoro pulls away which only gives Sanji access to his neck, “What the fuck set you off?” He complains but still tilts his head to give Sanji more room.

“Your fault,” and it is his fault. It's Zoro's fault for being sweet and looking so fucking good in his suit. The way his boyfriend had watched Kaya walk down the aisle, the way his eyes twinkled when he saw Usopp take her hands at the altar. Then he fucking looked at him like he had put the puzzle together, bright and excited and so goddamn sweet. 

He just watched his boyfriend make the decision to marry him and he was supposed to just go back to the reception? 

No, he’s going to show Zoro exactly how he feels about that idea.

Sanji grinds his already hard cock against the growing erection in Zoro's pants.

“I'm going to ruin you,” he groans into his neck. He shifts up on his tip toes to lick in between Zoro's earrings, tasting gold and skin as he rolls them over his tongue. 

Zoro cants his hips forward and Sanji starts undoing his belt, shuffling his trousers down just enough to pull out his mostly hard cock. He strokes him to fullness, still kissing the available skin of his neck and letting the sound of Zoro's breathing getting more and more uncontrolled wash over him.

Once satisfied that they're on the same level, Sanji frees himself from the constraints of his too tight trousers, sighing in relief. He's been on the verge of being indecent since the ceremony had wrapped up and the reception turned into a proper party. Since he had time to truly process that look in Zoro's eyes, since Zoro had loosened his tie and fluffed up his combed back hair.

Since Zoro started looking like sin and unspoken promises.

He presses himself into Zoro, rubbing his leaking dick against his. He takes a second to thumb down Zoro's foreskin, exposing the wet and reddened head and kissing it with his own cock head.

“I think you're ruining yourself,” Zoro counters and pulls Sanji in for a kiss. He lets Sanji lead it, letting him lick into him, his tongue running over teeth.

It becomes mindless, the way Sanji holds their cocks together, bucking and letting Zoro swallow his moans. He breaks away, and the sight of Zoro makes his heart beat desperately in his chest. The sweat dripping down his temple, his rumpled collar, the lidded way his eyes watch him back. Lustful and searing and so, so fond.

“You'd make such a pretty wife,” he coos as his hands pump them together.

Zoro's eyes go wide, breath hitching unexpectedly. Sanji feels his dick pulse against his, dribbling precum over his finger tips. 

Sanji grins, wild and wicked, at this new information, “You like that, marimo? You wanna be my pretty wife?”

An ugly and splotchy blush falls over Zoro's face as his head falls back, his jaw tight. What he wouldn't give to be able to hear his voice.

“You’d look so good in white,” Zoro grabs the counter as his breathing gets heavy, the other hand twisting into Sanji's suit jacket, “My pretty little marimo bride,” Sanji pants with him.

The feeling of Zoro's cock twitching against his sends him over the edge, barely able to catch their release in his hand. His head falls to Zoro's shoulder, but his boyfriend hoists him up into a nasty kiss that promises a continuation when they get back to their hotel.

They clean up and Sanji does his best to fix Zoro's suit and smooth out their lapels, but the wrinkles in their clothes and Zoro's sweaty hair paint a pretty clear picture.

It's made worse when the first person they run into after leaving the bathroom is Luffy.

“Hey, Sanji, if you're done having sex can you make me a snack?” Luffy sits on the floor at the end of the hallway, tilting his head back to look at them.

Sanji freezes and Zoro slams into his back.

“Luffy—!”

Four Years Later

Sanji hums as he grabs a glass container of preprepared baby food and a bottle of breast milk from the fridge. He goes to his notebook, marking the time and contents of the jar. Notes taken, he sets both the bottle and the jar in a bowl of warm water. 

He shoots Nami a text, letting her know they're running low on milk and that he's so thankful for her still supplying them six months in. Nami had been a wonderful surrogate, beautiful in her pregnancy and willing to be as involved as they wanted her to be. She had spent her maternity leave living with them and the extra hands were very appreciated as the three of them learned how to be parents.

He tidies the kitchen as he waits for the containers to heat through, wiping down the countertop and putting away the dishes. Tests the water, finds it agreeable and makes his way to Uzura's room.

He expects to find his six month old daughter blissfully asleep as she hadn't made much noise for most of her nap. Instead, he finds an empty crib. His heart sinks, immediately nauseous.

“Zoro! Where's the baby she's not in her—” Sanji's words get cut short as he flies into their bedroom. Zoro's asleep, upright on the floor with his back leaning against the bed. His mossy head is slumped over and in his big arms softly snores their daughter. 

Sanji's stomach twists around the love that wells up in him, soothing his anxiety. He kneels next to them and kisses Zoro on the cheek. It's enough for him blearily open his eyes and grunt as he stretches his neck.

“Hey curls,” he murmurs.

Sanji smiles, unable to be mad when his husband looks so cute, “It scared me when she wasn't in her crib.”

“She woke up when you went to get the mail,” Zoro yawns.

“Why are you on the floor?”

Zoro shrugs, “I knew I was tired and didn't want her rolling off the bed,”

Sanji can't help but kiss him properly, the stubble on both of their faces scratching, “You're a good dad,” he hums when they part.

Zoro huffs at the praise and changes the subject, “Is her bottle ready?”

“Needs the nipple, but yeah,” he looks at Uzura and brushes the wispy, blond hair that covers her head, “Does she need a diaper change?”

Zoro lets his head fall back against the bed, “Oh, probably.”

“Here,” Sanji says as he makes to scoop their daughter from Zoro's arms, “I’ll get her changed and you can get the bottle ready, alright?”

“Alright,” he agrees and gently gives up the still napping baby. They stand and Zoro groans as he stretches, body stuff from the awkward nap.

Sanji smiles at Uzura sleeping in his arms, he wants to wake her up, see her gummy little laugh, but knows she’ll quickly get cranky without her bottle. 

He expects Zoro to have already left, but he stares a second before roughly grabbing Sanji by the back of the head and jerking it down. Sanji's about to complain when he feels a kiss placed to the top of his crown.

Zoro mutters against his head, “You're a good dad, too,” and leaves them for the kitchen.

That overwhelming feeling of adoration takes over his being and he kinda might cry. But he's got a diaper to change and a baby to feed who's still getting used to eating solid food and gets fussy when they try to get her to actually swallow her food.

So he doesn't cry, he takes Uzura to her room where she wakes up mid-change and the worst of her grumbles are mitigated by him telling her that she's a perfect little princess and tickles to her chubby legs. Then, when he meets Zoro in the living room, bottle in hand, she reaches for him and he scoops her one handed.

“Go take a shower or something,” Zoro waves him off as he falls into the couch, positioning Uzura in his arms and giving her the bottle. She's starting to not need help eating anymore.

“But—”

“You've been buzzing around all morning, go take care of yourself,” he glares.

Sanji rolls his eyes, but goes.

Twenty Years Later

The garage door opens and Sanji peaks his head out the kitchen.

“I got Eddie and we picked up a cucumber and some beer,” Zoro announces to the space.

“Good, you sure you got a cucumber and not a zucchini again?” Sanji asks.

Zoro frowns, offended, “Of course I got—” he sets the beer down on the table next to Robin and opens the shopping back. He glares at the vegetable and returns his eyes back to his husband, “Of course I got a cucumber,” he says smugly.

“Alright, bring it here,” Sanji indicates and Zoro grabs the beer again and meets him in the kitchen.

Eddie, freshly eighteen and still gangling, shuts the door behind him.

“How are you, Eddie?” Robin asks from her spot at the table next to Takoa, Usopp and Kaya’s boy.

“I'm good, thanks Miss Robin,” his scarred eyes land on the fourteen year old, “What's up, Takoa?” 

The boy smiles and turns his book around to show Eddie, “Robin's teaching me about Grey Terminal. Did you know that it used to be a huge trash heap?” 

“I heard about that in school. Did you get to the fire yet?,” he leans across the table to better see the picture in the book.

“No!” He flips the pages forward until a picture of a great fire takes up the page.

“How's work been?” Robin asks and Sanji’s ears prick up as he dries off the cucumber he just washed 

Eddie sighs, “It's been hard, but I'm learning a lot. Mr. Sanji's a good boss, so that helps.”

Zoro kisses the side of his head and flicks his braid over his shoulder. Sanji glares and flips it back out of the way, going back to prep for their Founder’s Day barbecue.

“How's the apartment?” The archeologist continues her questions.

“Oh, it's perfect! I’m so thankful—”

Zoro ruffles the kids hair a bit too roughly, “I had to rip out the toilet and the typhoon made shipping take nearly two weeks, so he had to stay here and sleep on the couch,” he says as he uses one of the two beer bottles in his hand to pop the cap off the other.

Robin giggles and Eddie stutters. When the kid had turned eighteen a few months ago, they had made an agreement with his foster parents for him to move into the studio above the Baratie. Unfortunately, the place needed more work than they anticipated as no one had lived there since Sanji in his early twenties.

“Come on kid, let's go get the grill going if Franky hasn't already,” he hands one of the beers in his hands to Eddie, “Here, you're old enough now, or something.”

Eddie nearly drops it, “Right! I have never had this before.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and heads out the sliding glass door as Eddie pops the cap with the bottle opener attached to his key-chain.

Sanji falls into the meditative headspace of his kitchen, backed by Robin explaining the history of their island to Takoa and the chatter floating in from the open kitchen window. It's broken by the his text notification going of, specifically Uzura's text tone. He checks it and just finds a single text asking him to come to her room. He washes his hands and hurries down the hall.

He knocks, because he's respectful and polite, and Uzura's voice welcomes him in. Her room is messy, it's been messy since she turned twelve and lost the ability to keep a clean room, but this is a searching sort of messy. The girls must have been trying on clothes.

In the middle of her room, Uzura sits with Jacki, Usopp and Kaya's daughter.

“What did you need, sugarplum?” Sanji asks, leaning on the doorframe.

“Papa, do you think Auntie Nami will bring over her foundation for me to try? Jacki’s is too dark for me,” she asks. 

Sanji takes in her appearance; Eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, and lipstick. Oh lord, his baby is wearing makeup! She’s taken after Zoro so much he was starting to think this day wouldn’t come. But here she is!

He needs to talk to Usopp about what he did when this happened, but for now, he’s got to handle this right.

Sanji takes a steadying breath and sits on the floor with them, “Do you need foundation?” He asks, even though he wants to scream for someone to help him.

She tilts her head in question, “You're supposed to wear foundation when you put on makeup, Papa,” she says flatly and Jacki nods in agreement.

“It's your base,” Jacki clarifies because the seventeen year old doesn't know about Sanji's brief stent as a drag queen in his early thirties.

It was a year or so after Uzura was born. Luffy made friends with a queen that owned a queer bar and one of the headlining girls got hurt during practice. Sanji had been exploring other queer aspects of himself at the time, marrying a man does that to you, and saw it as a perfect opportunity.

“Not all make up styles need foundation,” he corrects.

Uzura laughs, “I'll just ask Auntie Nami when she gets here.”

Sanji sucks his teeth, “Wait here.”

He leaves the girls and bee lines to his bedroom where he starts digging through the linen cabinet in the en suite. He hoists out his makeup bag, not as unused over the years as one might assume, and heads back to Uzura's room. 

“Did you know,” he starts as he sits back on the floor with them, “That I used to do drag?”

Uzura's eyes bug out, “No way!” She looks to Jacki who looks just as surprised.

“Now, I won't pretend to know about current trends, and drag is very different to everyday makeup, but your Papa knows more than you think.”

He ends up having a very productive conversation about makeup with the girls, how to wear it, when to wear it, and how much to put on. Uzura's eyeshadow is a bit harsh, and she trusts him to show her how to blend it out properly. Each time she defers to him, his heart grows with the satisfaction that he's done it. He's earned the trust of his teenage daughter and what an achievement that is. 

There's a knock on the door and Uzura calls out for the person to come in. Zoro pops his head in, piecing together the scene in front of him before speaking.

“I was looking for you. Luffy and Law just got here so we should probably put the meat on the grill unless you want him eating it raw.”

Jacki and Uzura giggle but Sanji knows how real of a threat that is.

“Okay, you girls finish getting ready,” he pats Uzura on her strawberry-blond head, grabs his bag, and joins his husband in the hallway. He motions for Zoro to follow him to their room.

Zoro squints at his face, “Why do you have your makeup out?”

“Marimo,” he chokes as tears overwhelm him.

“Hey, hey! Curls, what—” Zoro panics, hands squeezes his shoulders.

“Our baby girl is trying on makeup,” he cries.

Zoro yanks him into a tight hug, hand holding tight to his head. He breaths in his husband, the familiar smell of his warm body and arms around him grounding him.

“She looks so much like Nami,” he sighs into Zoro's shoulder.

“She looks like you, too,” Zoro pets his hair, undoing his braid so that he can run his fingers through his hair.

“It's just— Jacki's going to be eighteen next year; Eddie's already eighteen. Uzura—,” his voice cracks, “My Zuzu.”

“Are they growing up too fast for you?”

“I met you in a fucking bar at nineteen. You had snuck in Luffy and we continued to sneak in Luffy until he was eighteen,” Sanji dabs under his eyes with his sleeve, gentle so as to not irritate his skin.

Zoro has the gull to laugh.

“Zoro, I'm serious! She's going to get herself in trouble!”

“First of all,” Zoro holds his face between his hands, “Uzura can handle herself, we both made sure of that. Second, the only thing Uzura cares about is getting strong enough to beat me.”

“That's not true anymore, she cares about makeup,” he counters.

“She's allowed to have multiple interests,” Zoro shrugs.

“What if she gets a boyfriend?” Sanji's stomach floods with toxins at the barest thought.

Zoro shakes his head, tucking hair behind Sanji's ear, brushing the earring there that means more to him than his wedding band,“What if she gets a girlfriend? What if she never dates? Curls, you're worrying about things we have no control over.”

“But—”

“Sanji, breath.”

He does, in and out as Zoro re-braids his hair, tying the ends with the elastic. He kisses his head and smooths over the hair that hangs in his face.

“Here's what we're going to do,” Zoro looks him in the eye while holding his hands, and he nods that he's listening, “We're going to go back out to our friends, you're going to cook your best Founder's Day Barbecue yet, and we're not going to get stressed out about things that haven't happened yet, and we're going to have a good time.”

Sanji chews his lip and Zoro kisses it.

“And you're not going to break your no smoking streak.”

Sanji huffs, “Fine, but you're not allowed to have more than three beers.”

Zoro glares, “Fine.”