it gets so hard to breathe (when you're looking at me) - Resacon1990 (2024)

Sanji doesn’t get sick often.

He doesn’t know why. For a long time he thought it was because of the experiments of his youth, that some lingering chemicals had been churning beneath his skin, chewing away at his very core despite how he clearly wasn’t anything like his siblings, how he obviously didn’t have the enhancements they did with their steely skin and unsettling coldness.

Although, he wondered if maybe some of the more minor ones had taken root in the pit of his lungs or the depths of his stomach, reinforcing him in an inhuman way that the very thought of sends shivers down his spine. He doesn’t want the enhancements, he never has, and the very idea of becoming so callous and ruthless as his siblings is something that still has him waking up at night in a cold sweat, his heart thumping so violently in his throat that he fears it might spill out onto the sheets.

But, slowly so slowly, it became obvious over time that he didn’t inherit those enhancements, those critiques as Judge used to call them… and Sanji never felt more human than the very first time he fell sick.

He was with Zeff by then, only a year into his apprenticeship with the man as the two of them lived in a half-built Baratie anchored off the edge of Loguetown. Sanji hadn’t know Zeff well at that point, still unsure of the man who only looked with harsh eyes and spoke with a vicious tongue. His head always smarted from sharps kicks from a wooden leg and his ears burned from the scoldings he got every day.

Then he’d woken up one evening, his head pounding and his breathing raspy, struggling to breath through a blocked nose and his eyes watering so much it was hard to see. He remembers feeling like he was dying, unable to fill his lungs with enough air to stop his ragged gasps, his entire body burning so hot he’d been drenched in sweat, his weak fingers clinging to his sodden sheets as he’d tried so desperately to stay quiet so Zeff wouldn’t hear him on the other side of the room.

He hadn’t succeeded, a stray whimper had caused the dark figure bundled on the floor to stir, and Sanji had squeezed his eyes shut as he’d prayed to whatever gods were out there that Zeff would at least drop him somewhere in Loguetown where he could find help instead of casting him out on one of the dinghies attached to the ship. He’d held what little breath he could manage as Zeff crossed over to him, his peg leg loud as it’d thudded through the room, and Sanji hadn’t been able to stop the cough that ripped from his irritated lungs.

But then. “Little Eggplant,” Zeff had muttered, and Sanji’s eyes had popped open as he’d felt a gentle hand fall to press against his forehead, pushing back his sweat-drenched hair with a gentle brush. “I was worried the garaner flu would reach you.”

Sanji hadn’t know what that was at the time, not caring either as Zeff had sunk down to kneel beside him. He’d expected to be met with a cold indifference, to be looked down on and scolded for being so weak, to be cast aside and reminded of how pathetic he really is.

What he didn’t expected was for Zeff to tend to him with a gentleness he hadn’t been sure the man was capable of. For him to press cold wet rags to his forehead and offer him tiny sips of lovingly made chicken broth, to help him drink sweet teas of honey and lemon and tuck him into bed with warm hands that soothed the wrinkles out of the blankets. Sanji had watched Zeff with glassy eyes and a small frown, always waiting for that other foot to drop, always waiting for the sudden and inevitable catch.

But it didn’t happen, and the moment Sanji could stand on no longer wobbly feet, Zeff had grinned so hard that Sanji was sure his face would crack right before he’d picked Sanji up and swung him around the room with a relieved laugh that Sanji had felt right down to his very bones.

Since then, Sanji can count how many times he’s been sick on one hand, and even then that’s too many fingers. Each time though, those large hands had been there brushing the wrinkles out of his blankets with a care Sanji never dreamed would be directed at him. It had sent him to his knees when Zeff had called out to him before he left the Baratie, broken the resolve settling over his shoulders as he’d looked up to see that same smile on Zeff’s face, the rare quirk of lips that burned with a fondness Sanji never deserved.

His time after the Baratie though, through the East Blue and on the Grand Line, travelling with both the Merry and the Sunny… he never got sick again. He watched it happen to the others, Nami in Arabasta the most memorable, and Sanji had tried every time to be what Zeff had been to him. He brewed pots of honey and lemon tea for Robin when she had the flu, her smile fragile as she’d accepted each cup with unsure hands. He held Chopper in his arms and soothed him to sleep when his blocked sinuses left him with the most horrendous motion sickness. He hand fed Zoro chicken broth when his chest infection left him so tired he could barely get out of bed, both of them red cheeked and avoiding each others eyes as Sanji had patiently fed him spoonful after spoonful. He stayed at Usopp’s side changing the cooling cloths on his forehead and helping him choke down the vile medicine Chopper gave him when he’d had a violent bout of appendicitis.

And then one day, it happens.

They’re docked on some winter island, nameless as far as Sanji is concerned. It’s only a brief stop over, the log pose will reset in merely a handful of hours, and Nami has placed down a blanket ban on leaving the ship for the duration of that time.

The others keenly agree. The waters have been frigid in the lead up to the island, the air a thick heavy cold cloak with a strong wind that finds all the gaps in their clothing whenever they’re on deck. Usopp’s teeth have been chattering for days, Chopper’s hooves can’t find a grip on the icy wood on deck, and even Zoro has resorted to wearing extra layers to cover up any bare skin. It’s the coldest island they’ve come across, making Punk Hazard look like a tropical vacation, and the crew has mainly stuck to the heated warmths of the galley and library, only venturing on deck when darting between them and their quarters, or for the begrudging climb up to the crows nest for watch.

Only Luffy has a problem with staying onboard, whinging dramatically as he wriggles in Jinbei’s firm grip as he bars the door to the deck, trying desperately to tug his ear out from Nami’s pinched fingers and rolling his eyes as she hisses at him all the cons of venturing out to the island. It clearly doesn’t occur to their captain to actually listen to their navigator for once, and Sanji regards their squabble with relative disinterest where he leans against the kitchen bench, scribbling down a grocery list on the back of one of Usopp’s instruction manuals, their sniper seated across from him as he tinkers with a collection of nuts and bolts.

“You know I might need that later,” Usopp mutters to him, not looking up from where he’s twisting something together with an obnoxiously sized wrench. Sanji snorts and flicks a stray bolt at him, grinning when Usopp lets out a yelp as it smacks him in the elbow.

Whatever retort Sanji was about to shoot back though is cutoff as Luffy lets out a loud wail and falls out of Jinbei’s arms, hitting the deck flat on his back, his neck stretching as his head stays in place thanks to Nami’s tight grip on his ear.

“But Naaami,” Luffy whines, pouting with wide puppy dog eyes that does nothing to budge the glare Nami is directing at him, “how come Sanji gets to go but we don’t?”

Sanji’s back straightens at the mention of his name, and he glances over Usopp’s shoulder in time to see Nami let go of Luffy’s ear. Their captain’s head snaps back to his body with a crack, his straw hat bouncing off and rolling under the dining table.

“Because,” Nami stresses the word, kicking Luffy’s legs in agitation, “you convinced Franky to pick the lock on the fridge and now we have to send Sanji out in this stupid weather so we don’t starve to death before the next island!”

Sanji’s eyes flicker over to the mentioned cyborg where he’s sitting on the couch with Robin despite still being very much in purgatory. At least he has the decency to look sheepish as he meets Sanji’s gaze, his smile slightly apologetic. Sanji doesn’t believe the bastard for a second though.

After all, Luffy wasn’t the only one lying on the dining table in a food coma when they found them this morning.

“But Naaami-” Luffy tries again, and Sanji is thankfully relieved when a delicate hand suddenly sprouts from his shoulder and locks over his mouth, cutting him off. Luffy’s eyes widen briefly, and Sanji wrinkles his nose and turns away when he sees their captain immediately start licking Robin’s disembodied hand.

Barbarians. He’s surrounded by barbarians.

At least it’s stopped the ruckus, and Sanji clears his throat as he rips the back page off the instruction manual, ignoring Usopp’s gasp of disbelief as he comes out from the kitchen into the galley.

“Is there any more requests?” he asks the room in general, tapping his pen against his bottom lip as he skims the already written lists. There’s Chopper’s turmeric, Usopp’s blackcurrant juice, and Robin’s arabica coffee beans. Franky’s requested porridge has been crossed off with two sharp black lines, Nami’s handiwork, but Sanji already knows he’s going to get some for the idiot, even if he might hide it for a few days.

Brook calls out from where he’s lying in front of the heater in the corner, surprisingly the one who has felt the cold snap the most considering he’s not actually got any to speak off. “May I ask for some more milk, Sanji?” he asks politely, and he turns his head to tap at a crack that’s formed over his cheek bone, having appeared after he slipped on the deck a couple of days ago and faceplanted one of the Sunny’s railings. “I see we no longer have much to speak off, and it would be nice to fix this up if possible.”

Sanji blinks at him once before smiling. “Of course,” he says as he quickly jots it down, nearly sticking the tip of his pen through the paper as he dots the ‘i’. “Anything else?”

Luffy’s hand shoots up but Nami promptly stomps on it, grinding her heel into Luffy’s palm. “Thank you, Sanji,” she says delightfully, and Sanji can’t help the warmth that trickles over his shoulders as she gives him a swoonworthy smile. “Are you sure you’re happy to go on your own?” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder to where Zoro is dozing by the entrance to the infirmary. “We can wake the caveman up to go with you, if you’d like?”

Sanji glances over at the swordsman. He’d been on the early morning watch, having dragged himself into the galley for breakfast before slumping down on the ground and passing out with mussed hair and heavy limbs. Chopper is in his lap now, curled up in Zoro’s loose arms, the steady rise and fall of Zoro’s chest matching the little reindeer’s quiet snores.

Just quietly to himself? Sanji is loathed to wake either up.

Instead he just waves a hand at Nami as he shoves the list into one of his coat pockets, zipping up the thick puffer jacket as he beelines towards the door. “Not to worry, my darling.” He gives her a brilliant smile as he steps over Luffy, shaking off his captain’s grabby hands. “I wouldn’t want to bother you all.” She opens her mouth but Sanji doesn’t wait for a reply as he snags his scarf and beanie from Jinbei as he passes him, nodding his head in thanks at the fishman. “Back in a tick!”

He opens the galley door, the frozen air immediately blasting him, and he grits his teeth as he quickly slams it shut behind him to stop it reaching the others. He crams his beanie down over his ears and buries his face into his scarf as he shuffles down the Sunny’s stairs and gangplank to the cobblestone streets, wincing when he realises it’s started to snow. It’s not too bad really, only a gentle fall as the snow dissolves the moment it hits his coat, but it’s still unpleasant as Sanji hits the dock and asks the first person he comes across for directions to the market.

Thankfully, it’s not too far, only a couple of streets away. The town isn’t that busy, the streets nearly empty as Sanji carefully navigates them, glad he choose to wear his snow boots as the cobblestones are slick with a small layer of ice. Everyone is rugged up in coats and scarves, hustling from door to door in small hurried gaggles. Every window Sanji passes by seems to glow from within, no doubt from the numerous fires that cause white smoke to billow out from every chimney, and it makes Sanji immediately miss the Sunny’s own warmth.

The market itself consists of multiple shops gathered in a single courtyard. Sanji stands in the middle of it for a moment, right beside the large fountain that has completely frozen over, glancing around at all the wooden signs hanging out the front of the gathering of brick buildings. Snow has started to pile out the front of them in small white piles and were it not below subzero temperatures, Sanji would think it was a scenic winter wonderland.

But alas it is awful, and Sanji lets out a breathe that curls into a small cloud in front of his lips before he heads for the shop with a giant purple turnip on its sign.

It doesn’t take too long to gather the items on his list. After all, it’s not a full shop despite Luffy’s utter decimation of his fridge. He intends to restock properly at their next layover in a couple of days time. Nami had pointed out the next island on a map she’d picked up a few islands back and from what she said, it’s supposed to have a giant market district… not to mention a spring island that Sanji frankly can’t wait for.

So he trails between the small gathering of shops, smiling brightly as the vendors seem happy to have his clientele, almost all of them commenting on how terribly mad he must be to be out in this kind of weather. Sanji just laughs, telling them a brief story about hungry captains and gullible crew mates, and one sweet older lady with weather-withered cheeks and warm eyes tucks a large bottle of red wine in beside the arabica coffee beans before scribbling a mulled wine recipe around the edges of Sanji’s shopping list.

They’re a lovely people. Were the weather better, Sanji thinks the crew would have enjoyed to be out amongst them all. Each shop leaves him feeling warm, the quiet ring of the bells over the doors make him smile softly, and he keeps his nose tucked into the folds of his scarf as he carries armloads of bags and shuffles between them.

However, by the time he’s finally finished, appallingly enough Franky’s porridge being the trickiest item to track down, the weather has gotten much worse. The gentle snowfall has given way to a torrential rain, and Sanji stands glumly on the doorstep of the final shop as water splashes against his boots and soaks the hems of his pants, the downpour so heavy that he nearly can’t make out the lights of the shops on the other side of the tiny courtyard.

“Well, sh*t,” he mutters to himself, well aware his scarf, beanie, and coat are going to do sh*t all against the rain.

There’s not much to be done for it though and Sanji steels himself before he steps out into the weather, gritting his teeth as he’s practically soaked before he even reaches the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. The bags he’s carrying are fairing only slightly better, and he’s thankful the vendors all insisted on wrapping his items in a plastic film before stowing them away in nylon like bags. It cost a bit extra, but he’s sure that Franky and Usopp will have some ideas on how to reuse the film and nylon after he’s packed the groceries away.

The streets are completely deserted now as he hurries down them, the rain having scattered what people were on them. It’s almost a little eery but Sanji doesn’t blame them at all. The rain is just getting worse and worse and by the time Sanji finally reaches the Sunny, he’s completely and utterly drenched to the bone.

His teeth chatter as he stomps ungracefully up the gangplank, his boots filled with water and his clothes hanging heavily off his body. He can’t quite feel the tip of his nose, his fingers ache where they’re almost frozen solid around the shopping bag handles, and he’s not entirely sure it’s a good thing that most of his body is nearly numb.

Nevertheless, he eagerly pushes into the waiting warmth and chatter of the galley, letting out a relieved sigh as it hits him like a solid wall of sheer heat. He kicks the door shut behind him and shakes his head furiously to try move the hair that’s plastered over his forehead and eyes before he raises his head to blink at his crew.

Who have all fallen silent and are staring right back at him.

There’s a pause as they all gawk, even Zoro looks up at him from his and Chopper’s spot by the infirmary door, the dripping of water onto the wooden deck from Sanji’s clothes and the bags the only sound in the room. Robin breaks the silence though as she leans forward where she’s migrated from the couch to the dining table, her eyebrows raised high enough to nearly meet her hairline.

“Oh dear,” she says demurely, tilting her head slightly to the side, “are you alright, Sanji?”

Sanji shudders, the sudden warmth of the galley a stark contrast to the cold that’s settled over his shoulders like a weight blanket. “Never better, my darling,” he manages to stutter out, his chattering teeth gnashing over the words, “just a little wet is all.”

It’s a hell of an understatement but Sanji doesn’t want to bother any of them as he glances away from Robin’s beautifully arched eyebrows to shuffle through the galley to the kitchen. He can feel some eyes on him as he does so, but the crew seems content to turn back to whatever it was they were doing before he arrived. From what he can gather, they’re playing some sort of extravagant board game at the dining table, and he hears a sharp shout from Brook followed by Luffy’s cackle before the silence snaps and the ruckus continues.

His boots squelch as he crosses to the kitchen, and he brings the bags up to dump them on the counter top once he reaches it. Usopp is still sitting up at the bench and he moves his kit out of the way to drag the bags over so Sanji can fit the rest on, already starting to helpfully unpack the bags for him. It gives Sanji a moment to shuck his soaked coat, beanie, and scarf, piling them all on the barstool next to Usopp before he heads around into the kitchen to start storing everything away.

“Sure you’re alright?” Usopp asks him when he reaches for Chopper’s turmeric, eyes a little wide as he regards Sanji with a frown. Sanji doesn’t blame him, wincing when he sees his hands are a sickly white and trembling as he picks up the small box off the counter.

“I’m fine,” Sanji mutters, wiping his cheek on his shoulder as he feels the drops of water from his hair trickle down his face. “I’ll just put these away then sort myself out.”

Usopp doesn’t look too happy with that answer but doesn’t protest. Instead he just keeps unpacking the bags for Sanji, and Sanji is thankful for the help as he tucks Chopper’s turmeric to the side and turns to the rest of the groceries.

Only to freeze as a towel suddenly hits him in the face.

He frowns, reaching up to drag it down with a glare ready to direct at whoever it was that threw it at him, but he pauses when he realises it’s one of the towels Chopper keeps in the infirmary. It’s soft and dry against his numb hands, and he slowly looks up just to see Zoro leaning against one of the cupboards, arms crossed and stoney faced.

“At least dry off, dartbrow,” he grumbles with a roll of his eye. “You’re a walking slip hazard.”

A retort is on the tip of his tongue but before he can say anything he feels a cold drip of water slide down the back of his neck, giving him a full body shiver. The bastard is unfortunately right, and Sanji roughs the towel through his hair quickly, ruffling it until it sticks up at all angles, before he drapes it down around his neck and gives Zoro a haughty look.

“Happy?” he asks, and Zoro just sniffs before he pushes away from the cupboard, turning to slide into the empty seat beside Jinbei at the table. Sanji watches him go, a strange twisting feeling in the core of his stomach, before he shakes his head and turns back to the groceries.

Once they’re all packed away, Sanji glances over to the chaos emanating from the table. He still isn’t sure what game they’re actually playing, but from the way Nami has her hair gripped tightly in her hands and Zoro is holding Chopper back from crawling across the table to strangle a grinning Franky, he thinks it’s something he’d rather not get involved in. He does notice that they haven’t got any refreshments though, and despite knowing he should probably be changing his still sopping clothing, he decides it won’t hurt to settle his crew with some snacks and drinks before he slips off to the bathhouse.

It doesn’t take long to whip up a tray of warm drinks, each one to his crew’s specific tastes and he unlocks one of the top cupboards, his unofficial baking cupboard, to pull out a few containers full of various biscuits. He artfully covers two plates with them before he balances them on one arm and scoops up the tray of drinks in the other, ignoring Usopp’s narrowed eyed stare as he heads to the dining table.

“For you, my sweets,” he coos as leans between Robin and Nami, placing down the smaller of the two plates in front of them before handing each a teacup of orange blossom tea. Nami lets out a delighted noise, cupping the teacup with her delicate hands, but as she accepts her own, Robin gives him a look.

“You should be taking care of yourself first, Sanji,” she scolds gently, and Sanji gives her a grin as he nudges the plate of biscuits her way, her favourite earl grey shortbread right on top.

“All in good time,” he tells her before he whirls away, placing the larger plate down in front of an excited Chopper and distributing the rest of the mugs on his tray amongst the boys. Luffy lets out a too loud cheer at the hot chocolate he’s given, Brook gives Sanji a sincere thank you over the rim of his warmed milk, and Jinbei’s smile is soft at the edges as Sanji hands him a large mug of chai tea.

Zoro, however, snags Sanji’s sleeve when he tries to pass the swordsman his usual green tea, hauling Sanji to a halt beside him. “Seriously, Cook,” he says, his voice sharp enough to make Sanji’s eyebrows raise, “you’re going to get sick if you don’t go warm up.”

Sanji waves him off. “Never been sick a day in my life, Marimo,” he assures him, tugging his sleeve from Zoro’s grip before swanning back to the kitchen, dropping Usopp’s chilli hot chocolate down by the sniper’s elbow before putting the tray away and locking the cupboards up once more.

He contemplates joining the others with a hot drink of his own, but decides that Zoro might pitch an actual fit if he does so. Once again the swordsman is unfortunately right, and Sanji gathers up his soaked clothes from beside Usopp before gritting his teeth and braving the weather outside to head to the mens quarters. The rain has stopped at least, but the wind is fierce and glacial as it slips amongst the cracks of Sanji’s wet clothing, causing him to shake and shiver as he treads carefully across the Sunny’s deck.

With some fresh clothing in hand and a newly acquired umbrella he pillages from Brook’s locker, Sanji makes for the bathhouse, bypassing the galley to scurry the ladder up to the observation deck. He becomes frightfully aware just how cold he actually is when he finds his hands don’t quite grasp the ladder rungs as they should, but he doesn’t worry too much as he finally crashes into the bathhouse.

Not that he has much success at first. He turns the bath taps on after he’s peeled his wet clothes off his body, yelping when the water comes rushing out nearly boiling hot despite it being on only a lukewarm setting. He twists the handle down to a colder temperature, frowning as it seems to do absolutely nothing, the water still hot enough to make him wince.

He’ll have to let Franky know the temperature system is a busted, and he decides that maybe a bath isn’t the best way to warm up if it’s just going to boil him alive. Shutting off the taps, he instead uses the towel still slung around his neck to dry off his body before he reaches for the clothes he’s brought with him. He forgoes his usual suit, instead pulling on an old blue hoodie he hasn’t worn in a long time and a pair of Usopp’s sweatpants, sure the sniper won’t mind considering how often the bastard steals Sanji’s suits when they have some fancy event to attend, before shoving his feet in fluffy purple socks who’s owner he’s not entirely sure of. It’s a mismatched look he normally wouldn’t be caught dead it, but it’s comfortable and he can already feel himself slowly starting to warm up as he tosses his wet clothes down the laundry chute and heads back downstairs.

His reappearance isn’t quite noted as it was before. It seems the game has been called to a stop, considering Sanji sees the board has been upturned with a bunch of the pieces now littering the ground. No one seems upset though, in fact the couch is now crowded with Luffy, Chopper, and Brook all dozing with soft snores, Franky has joined Usopp up at the kitchen bench, Nami is drawing something on a large sheet of parchment at the table, and Sanji had passed Robin and Jinbei in the library as he’d come down, the two of them discussing the tome Robin’s been reading from all day.

Zoro meets his gaze though where he’s sitting beside Nami, Wado on the table in front of him, an open little oak box beside him and the smell of choji oil in the air. Sanji has told him a million times not to clean his swords at the dining table, but he doesn’t quite have the energy right now to remind him again.

Despite a strange ache that’s starting to settle in his bones, Sanji heads back to his kitchen, already thinking about what to make for dinner. Something warm and simple, maybe a hearty soup with crusty bread rolls. Minestrone would be perfect, especially since he’d picked up some beef cutlets from the market earlier that will go well in it. He taps his fingers on the bench top as he trails between the cupboards to pull out the ingredients, trying to ignore a new gnawing feeling that’s beginning to build in the back of his head.

It’s not unusual. He gets headaches every now and again, but this one that is starting to pull at the skin between his eyebrows feels a little different. His brain feels foggy, almost thick and heavy as he tries to blink it away while he peels carrots over the sink with hands that have finally regained proper feeling. His movements are frustratingly sluggish though, and Sanji can’t help but feel irritated.

And then, just as he’s stirring the beef chunks into the large pot of soup on the stove stop, Sanji sneezes.

It’s sudden and violent, ripping up the back of his throat in a roar, and he barely steps away from the food in time to catch the sneeze in the crook of his elbow. He feels light headed straight away and he wonders if the seas outside are getting choppy as he feels the Sunny sway under his feet.

Not that the others seem to sway with him as he glances over to see Franky and Usopp staring at him with wide eyes, Nami peeking at him from around the corner of Franky’s shoulder, and Zoro leaning on his chair’s back two legs to stare at him. The first three all look horrified while Zoro seems unsurprised, and Sanji sniffs at them right before he feels another sneeze tingle at the back of his nose.

“Oh no,” Usopp says as Sanji sneezes again before he blinks watery eyes at their sniper, “that’s not good.”

Sanji clears his now scratchy throat, shaking his head. “What’s not good?” he rasps, reaching up to scrub furiously at his nose with the back of his wrist. It itches something fierce, and Sanji dreads his next sneeze as he feels it starting to build.

“Chopper!” Nami suddenly bellows, standing up to hurry over to their little doctor, shaking him where he’s drooling over Brook’s afro. “Sanji’s sick!”

Sanji swears as he frowns at his crew. “I’m not sick,” he mutters, wincing at his croaky voice. “I don’t get sick.”

Zoro snorts loudly and Sanji half-heartedly flips him off. His head is pounding right now, feeling like it’s been stuffed full with wads of cotton, and is it just him or have the lights in the room suddenly gotten that little bit brighter?

Choosing to ignore Usopp’s ogling and Nami’s attempts to wake Chopper, Sanji turns to the sink to wash his hands quickly before returning to the soup bubbling on the stove top. It’s all but done and he chokes back what feels like a cough to flick off the stove and start to ladle the soup out into the various bowls he’s spread over the bench top. He hears Chopper groggily waking up and can still feel the others eyes on him, but he presses on with serving dinner before anyone can move to stop him.

Luckily, by the time Chopper is all but flying into the kitchen, Sanji has gathered two giant plates of crusty rolls and is wobbling his way out towards the dining table, Usopp hot on his heels with the bowls of soup as he mutters something unflattering towards Sanji under his breath. He doesn’t care, he has to serve dinner before Chopper starts to hold him down and examine him.

Which, he clearly is trying to do. “Sanji!” Chopper calls as he sidesteps around the little doctor, trying not to kick him as he stands with his hooves firmly planted on his hips. “Are you alright? You look feverish!”

Sanji isn’t sure what that exactly means, but he just gives Chopper what he hopes is a winning smile as he stumbles to the table. “I’m fine, doctor,” he manages to say, his voice sounding bloated and far away to his own ears, and Zoro scoffs hard enough that Sanji clips him around the back of the head. “Lets eat before it gets cold, yeah?”

Chopper looks uncertain but the others are already scrambling over one another to get to the table, Robin and Jinbei sliding down the ladder at the other end of the room. “Alright,” Chopper mutters unhappily, “but you’ll let me examine you after?”

Sanji gives him an indulgent smile. “Absolutely,” he says before he promptly collapses in the chair between Zoro and Brook, dropping his head into his hands and tugging at his still damp hair. His head is killing him, but he grits his teeth and forces a smile as he convinces himself that he’s totally fine and his headache will go away if he just eats something.

Dinner is as raucous as usual. Sanji is left alone besides the worried looks the crew think they’re subtle in sending his way, but he keeps his head down and slowly chews his way through one of the crusty rolls. The soup tastes good even if he finds he can’t inhale any of the usual smells. His nose is blocked and embarrassingly, it’s started to run. Sanji has a moment where he wonders if he’s gotten another nose bleed although his sleeve comes away wet not with blood, and he screws his nose up in disgust.

“Right,” Nami declares when dinner is slowly coming to an end, standing from her seat and shaking her soup spoon in the air. Some soup splatters on the table top and Sanji tries not to groan at the thought of having to clean up even more than usual. “The log pose has set, so after dinner I want all hands on deck to get us out of here.” She pauses before pointing her spoon at Sanji. “Except you. You need to-”

“Clean up,” Sanji mutters solemnly, nodding his head along.

Nami frowns. “No, that’s not what…” She trails off and shakes her head. “Look, just stay put until Chopper can come back in to check on you, okay?”

Sanji can’t dredge up the energy to argue so he just gives her a thumbs up before hanging his head back into his hand. He gently massages his temples with his middle finger and thumb, closing his eyes as he flinches against the sound of chairs scraping back across the wooden floor as the others start to get up, all trudging to the door after Nami. He feels Brook’s hand on his shoulder briefly, the skeletal fingers squeezing just once before he lets go, and Sanji finds that its a little easier to breathe once the door slams shut behind them.

He cracks open his eyes, winces at the bright lights, swallows past the lump in his rough throat, and thinks that maybe… maybe he might be just a little bit sick.

The table is still covered in plates and bowls, drops of soup splattered between and crumbs on nearly every surface possible. It’s an absolute mess and Sanji isn’t sure if he can bring himself to clean it up right now. He just wants to lie down, if he’s completely honest with himself, and his eyes slide past the messy table to the couch on the other side.

Surely a small rest couldn’t hurt?

Convinced it’s going to be better than sitting here feeling miserable, Sanji drags himself out of his chair to stumble around the table towards the couch. He keeps a hand on the chairs as he goes, using them to steady himself. His brain feels like its hammering into his skull and he finds it hard to walk straight even though its only a short distance. The sigh of relief he lets out as he sinks down into the lumpy cushions comes from somewhere deep and personal. Although Nami’s decorative pillows aren’t exactly comfortable, Sanji thinks he could find a rock soft right now as he tilts over sideways to smoosh his face into one of them, tucking his legs up close to his chest.

He isn’t too sure how long he lies there. All he does know is that the world stops feeling like it’s too much as he closes his eyes and relaxes his exhausted body into the couch, the Sunny’s gentle sway as she sets back out to sea simply calming. He’s too tired to feel guilty about cleaning the kitchen, well aware it’ll still be there later when he can find the strength to get up.

He’s not sleeping but just dozing when he hears the door to the galley open again, and he hears the familiar sound of Chopper’s hooves clomping over the deck, surprisingly accompanied by the heavier tread of Zoro’s boots. The two of them are talking quietly, and Sanji can’t be bothered opening his eyes as he hears them getting closer.

“Oh,” Chopper murmurs once he’s reached the couch, and Sanji feels his small hooves pressing down on the cushion in front of his chest. “He’s asleep.” There’s a beat of silence as Sanji tries to keep his breathing regular. “I won’t wake him. He needs his rest.”

“Definitely think he’s sick then?” Zoro asks, sounding rough and, heavens forbid, worried.

Chopper clicks his tongue. “Most likely a something he’s picked up from town, or residual effects of hypothermia. He should’ve gotten warmer quicker.” A soft sigh as Chopper’s hooves disappear. “I’ll go make him some medicine to take when he wakes up later, but sleeping is the best thing for him. We should leave him be.”

Zoro doesn’t respond but Sanji hears the two of them walking away from him and the infirmary door open and close. He thinks he’s all alone again, his shoulders relaxing from the tenseness he didn’t realise he’d grown, his jaw unwinding slightly from where he’d been holding it taunt.

But then he hears the clinking of crockery, and Sanji cracks open one of his eyes to see Zoro is still in the room.

His back is to Sanji as he moves down the table, efficiently stacking the plates and bowls and collecting the utensils. Sanji is completely stunned as Zoro carefully picks up the piles of dishes before he heads around to the kitchen. He’s facing Sanji now, and Sanji quickly closes his open eye until it’s just a slit, not wanting to get caught staring.

However, he’s even more shocked as Zoro turns on the tap over the sink, disappearing under the bench to dig around in the cupboard only to come back up with a dish rack in one hand and a bottle of dishwashing liquid in the other. Sanji wasn’t even sure he knew what those items were, let alone where they were kept, but those thoughts trail away as Zoro promptly starts to clean the dishes.

It’s always been a strangely soothing sound to Sanji, the water lapping at the edges of a metal sink and the clinking of the crockery together, and it’s even sweeter as Zoro carefully cleans each dish, giving them proper inspections before he places them on the dish rack. He’s methodical as he works, carefully measured as he pays each item the attention it deserves, and Sanji fights down a smile at the sheer concentration on Zoro’s face.

Expecting it to stop there, Sanji is further surprised when Zoro drains the sink and turns to the full dish rack, snagging a tea towel from off the handle of the oven before he starts to dry each dish with just as much precision. Sanji opens his eye a little further, utterly captivated as Zoro doesn’t just stack the dry dishes to the side to be put away by Sanji later as everyone normally does… but instead moves about the kitchen with an easy confidence to tuck each dish back in their correct spot.

Their correct spot. Sanji’s stomach flutters and his chest tightens as he watches with utter rapt attention as Zoro clearly knows where everything belongs in his kitchen. It’s just fascinating, and Sanji blames his lightheadedness on being sick and not at all on the strange glowing feeling burning in that little spot tucked between his heart and ribs.

It only grows too as Zoro finishes putting away the dishes and begins wiping down the bench top, even the inside of the sink like Sanji normally does and that makes Sanji contemplate pinching himself just to see if this is all just some sort of fever dream, but he quickly closes his eye as Zoro comes towards him with the dish rag in hand. Sanji finds himself holding his breath as he hears Zoro move about in front of him, risking it once to peek out through his eyelashes just to see Zoro cleaning up the soup splatters and abandoned crumbs on the table in front of him, before he closes his eye properly this time as Zoro turns to him.

There’s a strange sort of pause where Sanji waits to hear what Zoro is going to do, only to hear him let out a deep sigh that tugs at Sanji’s heartstrings.

“Never get sick, huh, Cook?” Zoro mutters, and Sanji tries not to frown as he hears the swordsman steps get closer. “Bullsh*t. You spend too much time looking after everyone else that you forget to look after yourself.”

Sanji has half a mind to argue back, but that would mean showing he’s been awake this whole time, and he sure as hell isn’t going to out himself like that.

He hears some rustling but isn’t too sure what it is until he feels something heavy and warm suddenly rest over him. A blanket, maybe, but Sanji thinks it’s a bit too ridged to be one of the blankets lying around the galley.

“Idiot,” Zoro murmurs, surprisingly close, and Sanji’s breath hitches in his throat quietly as he feels a large rough hand cup the back of his neck. A shiver runs down his spine as Zoro’s thumb gently smoothes over the delicate skin behind his ear.

Just as quickly as his touch appeared though, it’s gone, and Sanji forces himself to lie still as he hears Zoro’s boots thumping back across the deck, followed by the creak of the door opening and the quiet click of it closing. He waits for a few moments, listening for any other sounds in the room, but when all he hears is the soft ticking of Robin’s pendulum clock, he opens his eyes.

He’s all alone again as he thought, and he raises his head just slightly to look around, getting a proper look at the now sparkling clean galley. His mouth drops open, unable to believe his eyes, before he turns his head to see just what it is that Zoro has covered him with.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes widen when he sees its the swordsman’s own green coat.

Of course it is, the stiff material of the coat nothing like Usopp’s afghan blanket that hangs on the back of the couch, nor Chopper’s knitted throw that Sanji can see is piled on the floor in front of the heater. It makes him pause, wondering why Zoro didn’t choose either of those to cover Sanji with, why he even covered him up in the first place… but then that raises other questions about why Zoro was able to clean the galley to Sanji’s exact specifications without even being asked, and Sanji thinks his head hurts too much to even start going down that train of thought.

So, instead, Sanji sags back down into the lumpy couch, drags Zoro’s warm coat up over his shoulders, and is thankful that at least his nose is unblocked enough for him to inhale the comforting scent of steel and choji oil that lingers on the material.

He can’t help his small smile as his racing heart lulls him to sleep.

…

Quite often, the islands they come across aren’t inhabited.

It had been a bit of a surprise to Sanji. He’d always had it in his head that the Grand Line was a bustling place filled with pirates, marines, and islands that absolutely thrived with trade and life. In fairness, his only exposure to the Grand Line before travelling with Luffy had been when he was a child in Germa, and even then he was trapped down in the dungeons when Germa journeyed across it to the East Blue. He’d escaped when they’d attacked Cozia, boarding the Orbit and, well… it’s history from there.

But just because the islands are uninhabited though doesn’t mean they explore them any less. Sanji will happily admit that he prefers bustling towns he can find markets to buy and trade in, but he also enjoys the novelty of traversing the mystery of a new island, especially with their incredibly excitable captain that can make anything into an adventure.

So Sanji isn’t too fazed when the first island they come across after his cold has subsided, something he still vehemently denies having because he doesn’t get sick, is uninhabited. They’d stocked up on the previous one a week ago, the spring island with a large market district that Chopper had accompanied Sanji around, badgering him nonstop to rest and return to the Sunny as soon as possible, so Sanji isn’t worried about their supply levels. This time, he can just enjoy the island, take the time to explore and see what Luffy inevitably gets up too.

It’s a summer island they’re approaching, Sanji is starting to get a bit of whiplash with the seasons, and the gentle waters around the island are serene and inviting as they sail towards it. Sanji finds himself on deck, leaning back against one of the railings with a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he soaks in the warmth from the sun. He’s loathed to actually light it, to tarnish the pleasant smell of salt from the ocean and the teak oil of the newly stained observation deck with the bitterness of his smoke.

He’s not alone. Some of the others are playing on the lawn in front of him, a desperate attempt to keep Luffy occupied so he doesn’t launch himself towards the island with whoever is unlucky enough to be standing beside him at the time. He’s not entirely sure what game they’re playing, but Luffy is currently tied upside down to Franky’s back while Chopper and Brook lob paint bombs at them with cackles that border on maniacal. Usopp looks put out where he’s sitting on Chopper’s swing, his face turned down unhappily and his arms crossed firmly over his chest, but Sanji had seen the direct hit he’d landed to Luffy’s face earlier, staining Luffy’s grin a vibrant pink, so he doesn’t have much sympathy for him being put on the sidelines.

The other four look like they’re having a wonderful time though, Luffy and Franky in particular smeared in bright colours as paint drips from them onto the grass. Sanji smiles at them, finally bringing his cigarette up to light before he inhales deeply, the smoke sliding with a slight burn down his throat to nestle in his lungs before he releases it in a long breath. Despite the yelling and screaming, it’s somehow still calm on deck, and Sanji glances around to see where the others are.

Jinbei is nowhere in sight, but Sanji knows he and Nami are up at the helm. Considering the island has neither a settlement or a port, they’ll be looking for a safe place to dock the Sunny. Meanwhile Robin sits primly on the bench around the foremast with a book in hand, her glasses hanging precariously from her nose as she reads with an impressive speed, and Zoro occupies the steps leading up the to the galley, Wado on his lap with Enma and Kitetsu resting against his side as he meticulously cleans them with the small oak kit at his feet.

Sanji watches him for a while as he smokes, his eyes drawn to the methodical strokes of choji oil that Zoro applies to Wado’s blade. He has such care for the swords, handling them with a finesse that Sanji often forgets the swordsman possesses. It’s so easy to think of him as an unruly barbarian, an absolute caveman with a lack of class and courtesy that makes Sanji red in the ears from sheer anger… but moments like this? Where there’s that soft look on his face as he carefully tends to his swords with a near reverence?

It reminds Sanji there’s so much more to him than meets the eye.

Suddenly very aware that standing here staring at Zoro isn’t going to go unnoticed by some of the more perceptive members of the crew, Sanji pushes off from the railing and starts to head across the lawn towards the galley. His cigarette is nearly just a stub in hand so he decides he might as well start to do something useful before they dock. Soon enough, Nami will come down from the observation deck to call for a crew meeting, or a ‘family’ meeting as Usopp sarcastically dubs it each time, and Sanji thinks perhaps a few refreshments will go a long way soothing the tempers that may just flare when the topic of who’s on Luffy duty inevitably comes up.

So he crosses the lawn, mindful of the paint bombs that lob his way from a cheeky Brook, and he takes one final drag of his cigarette before he reaches the stairs Zoro is perched on. He pauses at the bottom for a moment, not wanting to disturb the swordsman, but Zoro slowly drags his gaze up to arch an eyebrow at Sanji.

“Cook,” he greets, and Sanji smirks as he starts up the steps, his hand dropping down to ruffle Zoro’s hair as he passes him.

“Swordsman,” he says, and he laughs as he darts further up, avoiding the fast swipe of Zoro’s hand as he tries to catch Sanji’s ankles.

The galley is empty when Sanji pushes into it. He lingers in the doorway for a moment before he keeps the door open and nudges the lion-shaped door stop Franky had woodturned for him under its edge. While the noise from the others down below is loud and shrill, Sanji can’t bring himself to shut it out as he heads for the kitchen to raid his baking cupboard.

He easily sets out a giant plate of biscuits, ensuring there’s plenty of the ladies favourites on one, and makes up huge jugs of iced tea. He’s just settling the jugs down on the table with an assortment of glasses when Nami’s sharp voice cracks out down below, and Sanji is treated to the sound of thundering feet as the crew descend on the galley.

He steps back into the kitchen as they pour in. Luffy is still strapped to Franky’s back and covered in a rainbow selection of paint as their cyborg stomps through the door, letting out a delighted noise as he bends down to admire the door stop. Sanji doesn’t have time to warn him about getting paint everywhere before Franky is pushed very firmly out of the way by various hands that sprout over his body as Robin calmly glides in behind him. Usopp trundles in with Chopper hanging off his shoulders, still looking morose as ever, and Sanji picks up the largest plate of biscuits before swinging around the bench to make a beeline for their mopey sniper.

Usopp, of course, grins when he sees the collection of extra spiced gingerbread on the edge of the plate, and Chopper falls flat on the table in his haste to snatch up a handful of sugar cookies, even though he’s foiled from reaching more than one as Zoro breezes past and drags the little reindeer off the table to plant him in the seat furtherest from the treats. Brook lets out one of his yohoho laughs as he trails in behind Nami, clearly amused by something she’s muttering under her breath, and he plucks up two glasses of iced tea for them as they take up their own seats side by side.

Sanji rolls his eyes as he waits for them all to settle down, the war over who gets what biscuit beginning as Franky purposefully keeps a whinging Luffy strapped to his back, even if paint-stained rubbery fingers are still reaching around him to fish blindly at the table. He notices Jinbei isn’t present though, although he’s no doubt guiding them somewhere to dock, and Sanji makes a mental note to put some treats aside for the fishman.

Now, however, he picks up the last plate with three simple green matcha biscuits neatly arranged on it and tries very hard not to let his cheeks burn as he places it down in front of Zoro without making eye contact before sinking into a seat between Brook and Robin.

Thankfully, Nami clears her throat as she stands up, a map spread out on the table in front of her and a piece of half eaten shortbread wielded in hand. All eyes snap to her, including Luffy’s where he’s stretched up to twist his head around and rest his chin on Franky’s shoulder.

“Alright everyone,” Nami says, her authority only slightly undermined by the clear excitement in her tone, “the upcoming island is the uninhabited one they were talking about at the last port. It’s not very big, but I have spotted some anomalies as we’ve travelled around it and the map here has a few other notes of interest.”

Admittedly, Sanji doesn’t listen very well as Nami gives a run down of the approaching island. He gets distracted by the way Robin’s eyes shine when Nami mentions an abandoned set of ruins near the centre of the island, and Franky practically bounces out of his chair when he hears about the unusual trees on the island with some sort of flexible bark. Sanji isn’t interested in either, but Nami does point out that the trees do sprout a strange fruit Sanji might enjoy taste testing.

In any case, they’re soon splitting off into groups. Jinbei has apparently offered to remain behind to watch the ship, having sighted some nearby reefs to where they’re docking to explore, while Franky and Usopp quickly agree to go lop down some trees for experimenting on. Luffy and Robin are typically already committed to finding the ruins, Robin keen for the history and Luffy determined for adventure, and Nami has berri signs in her eyes at the thought of there being some sort of treasure amongst the rubble when Robin muses on it.

Sanji glances around at who’s left, his eyes lingering on Zoro when he reaches the swordsman. He notes that the matcha cookies are all gone, not even crumbs left behind, and Sanji can’t help his smile as he meets Zoro’s gaze.

Zoro arches an eyebrow at him when he does, and Sanji can’t help the sudden rush of confidence he feels as Zoro angles his head just slightly to the side.

“I’ll be looking for whatever foods this island has to offer,” he says in a bit of a rush, nerves still lapping at his words, and he feels his heart beat up into his ears as the corners of Zoro’s lips start to twitch up into a smile. “I might need a pack mule to carry it all for me.”

Zoro’s mouth opens just slightly, a small parting of his lips, and Sanji can feel a strange sort of excitement flipping in the pit of his stomach as he sees the words forming on the tip of Zoro’s tongue, an offer no doubt wrapped in a weak insult, and the thought of traveling the island with Zoro has Sanji’s heart starting to beat louder than usual.

Only. “I’ll come, Sanji!” Chopper suddenly volunteers, leaning over the table with a beaming smile as his eyes sparkle with excitement, and Sanji feels a lump form in his throat as he forces himself to tear his gaze from Zoro to their little doctor. “There might be some herbs around I could put to use in my medicines!”

“Yohoho,” Brook chortles from beside Sanji, leaning around him to wave at Chopper. “Perhaps you two will allow an old man to accompany you?”

Chopper lets out a cheer as he claps his hooves together and, even as Sanji feels his stomach sink like lead, he knows he can’t say no Chopper, not as he laughs with crumbs all over his shirt and the fur around his smile damp from iced tea.

He glances back at Zoro, surprised to see disappointment on his face and his once lax arms crossed firmly over his chest, but both of their attentions are pulled back to Nami as she announces Zoro will be her own pack mule in case there is any treasure to be found at the ruins.

Soon enough, Sanji finds himself disembarking the Sunny with the others. She’s been docked in a small cove, barely an indent into the side of the island, and the gangplank has been dropped down onto the white sand that seems to span it’s entire edge. It’s only a few meters though before the sand gives way to endless forest in front of them, and Sanji barely has time to move to the side before Luffy thunders past with Zoro under one arm and Nami under the other, both yelling a barrage of insults that fall on their captain’s deaf ears.

Robin is a little more sedate as she follows suit, Franky’s arm looped with hers as they stroll off together, Usopp trundling behind in a haphazard kind of walk as he gawks up at the trees. They’re quickly swallowed up by the forest, leaving Sanji, Chopper, and Brook on the beach, and a heavy splash behind them signals Jinbei jumping down to his reefs.

“Well,” Sanji says as he rocks on his feet, hearing the sound of tiny seashells crunching under his jungle boots, “I think we should stick to the coast for a bit. Does that suit?”

Chopper and Brook agree from beside him, and Sanji leans down to scoop Chopper up onto his shoulder before he sets off to the right of the Sunny, happy to follow the coastline of sand as Brook falls into step with him. It doesn’t take long before their musician starts humming a tune that Chopper struggles to whistle along too, and Sanji finds himself relaxing as the three of them wander together with no particular aim or direction.

Eventually they do stumble across some trees hanging over the sand that have a strange looking fruit amongst the branches. They look like seafoam blue apples, only twice the size with gaudy orange pits covering the whole thing, and Chopper reaches out to pluck one off a tree with deft hooves from his spot on Sanji’s shoulder before he offers it down to him.

“Different,” Brook muses as he leans over Sanji’s shoulder, and Sanji snaps the fruit in half sharply to reveal a soft pink inside of a sorbet-like consistency.

“Looks delicious,” Chopper says, “but maybe not safe?”

Sanji just huffs before he scoops out some of the inside to eat with the tips of his fingers. Chopper lets out a horrified gasp but Sanji ignores him as the sweet and salty texture explodes over his tongue, the fruit delightfully cool against the warmth of the sun beating down on them. It would be a wonderful fruit to make into a dessert of some kind, especially since the inside could probably do with being eaten with a spoon, but Sanji makes do with his hands before he holds the two halves out to his crew mates.

“Are you sure?” Chopper asks nervously, but Brook has no hesitancies as he takes the fruit from Sanji and starts to scoop the insides out with his long skeletal fingers, wiggling them at Sanji before he pops them in his mouth. Sanji rolls his eyes at his behaviour but gives Chopper a reassuring smile as he jiggles the fruit at him, although Chopper still seems uncertain as he cautiously leans forward to risk a little lick.

Only for his pupils to blow wide as he lets out a crow of sheer joy before he rips the fruit from Sanji’s hands, and Sanji thinks they’re definitely going to have to harvest a whole lot more as Chopper downs the rest of the fruit with a shocking speed.

Luckily Brook is the perfect height to start plucking fruits from the hanging branches, handing them down to Sanji who pulls out neatly folded paper bags from the satchel at his waist to store them in. They don’t have to step far from the beach, Sanji noticing very quickly the fruits seem to bloom closer to the sea, their subtle salty tang maybe explained by the sea water that laps at the exposed tree roots. Chopper bounces around with excitement after dismounting from Sanji’s shoulder, leaning into the bags and coming back up with orange seeds in his fruit-matted fur, and Sanji is about to scold him when Brook comes back down from one tree with horribly bright pink stained teeth.

Sanji pauses, his eyebrow arching as the two guiltily avoid his stare. “Impossible,” he mutters, “you two are impossible.”

There’s plenty of bags to fill though as Sanji keeps unfolding them, and Chopper helpfully shifts into jumping point to reach the higher branches alongside Brook. They tower over Sanji and he can’t help but feel just a little uneasy at being the smallest of their trio. He’s not the tallest on the crew at all, in fact he’s firmly in the middle with Franky, Brook, Jinbei, and even Robin taking out the top positions there, but being so blatantly reminded of it is a little disconcerting.

However it does also remind him of how Zoro likes to point out the quite literal centimetre difference between them, the swordsman taking too much delight out of trying to look down his nose at Sanji, and that distracts Sanji long enough for those stupid feelings of unease to go away as he crams fruit after fruit into the paper bags.

Brook sings as they work, a cheerful tune from the East Blue that makes Sanji’s lips tug into a smile and a familiar blanket of contentment fall over his shoulders. He remembers it well, remembers Zeff’s old croaky baritone butchering the same lyrics, how he’d spun Sanji around the empty kitchen in the early hours of the morning, a rare laugh filling the room with a joy Sanji had hardly experienced. He hums along with him, and Brook is inspired by his joining in to sing louder, his voice needing no instrumental to sound musical.

Brook pauses once though, throwing one of the apple like fruits up and down in his hand, and Sanji raises his eyebrows at him as Brook seems deep in thought. “Something on your mind?” he asks, and Brook catches the fruit with a tight hand, the points of his skeletal fingers pressing into the soft blue skin.

“I’m quite suddenly reminded of a time with Yorki…” Brook says, his voice oddly quiet, sounding far away. He doesn’t continue though, and Sanji steps forward to dig an elbow into his bony ribs.

“Go on,” he encourages, interested to hear what is deserving of a rare mention of Brook’s previous crew, and Brook turns sightless eyes to him for a long moment.

Then his cheekbones rise, making his eye sockets that little smaller, the closest approximation of a smile that Brook manages these days, and he hands the fruit to Sanji before reaching up for another.

“Yorki was a terrible chef.” Brook continues. “He was supposed to be only our captain, but it turns out that recruiting based on musical talent and not actual useful talents meant we were short of a cook. After all, musicians aren’t exactly interested in anything outside of music.” He lets out a laugh, a little more genuine that his normal one. “He always tried his hardest but Madaisuki used to save the galley from fires more often that not.”

Sanji is admittedly horrified at the thought, but he swallows down any comments. Instead, he turns to his satchel to pull out the small packed lunches he’d made for everyone, flopping under a tree beside Chopper as Brook folds himself neatly down in front of him before accepting one of the proffered sandwiches.

“One time he decided to try and bake an apple pie for Madaisuki and Mawaritosuki’s birthday,” Brook murmurs, twiddling the sandwich between his hands distractedly. “It took a while to find the ingredients. We stewed apples for days until he decided they were just right. Laboon ate most of the ones we messed up.” Brook’s cheekbones rise again, that smile back. “It was the most hideous pie I’ve ever seen. The apples were all goopy and the pastry was burnt and black.” He glances up at Sanji, and for a moment Sanji imagines what Brook used to look like, tanned skin and suave glasses, a hooked nose and sideburns down to his chin. “The Mizuta twins loved every piece of it, god rest their destroyed tastebuds.”

Sanji can’t help but smile back, tilting his head just slightly to the side as he watches Brook pick at the sandwich in his hands. “I’m sure it was delicious.”

Brook snorts, shaking his head. “It was disgusting.” He lifts his sandwich to chomp on, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before he gestures to the fruits in front of them. “Perhaps you might make us a pie out of these?”

Sanji will damn well try, and he gives Brook a nod that has Brook laughing that soft laugh again. They fall silent then, the three of them chewing their sandwiches, all deep in their own individual thoughts. Sanji thinks briefly of the others, wonders if Luffy managed to sniff out the food he’d stored in the backpack he’d forced on Zoro before they’d settled for their own lunch, or if Franky and Usopp have remembered to stop for their own.

They decide to head back to the Sunny after their impromptu lunch. They’ve managed to accumulate eight bags of the fruits despite Chopper and Brook’s attempts otherwise, and Chopper shifts into arm point to scoop up six of them, leaving Sanji and Brook with one each. They tramp back down the beach line to the cove they docked in, Brook again starting up another tune that’s much too saucy for Chopper’s ears, made worse when Chopper joins in with a grin that makes Sanji want to bury his head in his hands, already thinking about Robin and Zoro’s faces if they hear about it.

Jinbei is in the water when they return, floating in lazy circles just to the side of the gangplank, and he offers a wave as they stomp up to the deck. Sanji isn’t surprised when Chopper abandons the full bags on the bench top in the galley before he’s gone back outside, undoubtedly to hop onto Jinbei’s stomach. More often than not, Chopper and Luffy will scramble to join Jinbei in the water, his large comfortable tummy the closest they’ll ever get to actually swimming in the sea.

Brook wanders off too, propping open the galley door as he goes and Sanji hears the pleasant sound of his violin trickling in not long after. It’s a wonderful accompaniment as he potters around the kitchen, packing most of the fruit away to be frozen but leaving a few out to experiment with. They’re surprisingly easy to work with, and Sanji fixes jams and chutneys, sorbets and ice cream, before stewing them on the stovetop as he works rolls of pastry into two different pie tins.

He’s just storing said pies into the fridge for later tonight when he hears the arrival of Luffy back on the ship, his signature cackle as always accompanied by Nami’s yelling. There’s a crash and a bang, Brook’s violin playing suddenly cut off with a high pitched screech followed by yohoho laughter, and Sanji rolls his eyes affectionately as he reaches for the last of the fruit strewn across his bench top to turn into glasses of smoothies.

Franky and Usopp are just coming up the gangplank themselves, a frightening amount of wood carried over Franky’s shoulders, when Sanji makes his way out onto the deck with a tray of smoothies in one hand and his cigarettes held in the other. They’re excitedly chatting between one another, Usopp’s hand gestures wild enough to nearly knock Franky’s glasses off his nose, and they pay Sanji no mind as they head past him straight down towards their workshops.

Sanji doesn’t overly care, depositing the tray of smoothies down on the table under Nami and Robin’s large parasol, content to let everyone trickle past to collect their drinks at their own discretion. In the meantime, he trails over to the side of the ship, fishing an ashtray from his pocket before lighting one of his cigarettes, leaning forward to rest his elbows down on the Sunny’s white railing. As he thought, Jinbei is down below with Chopper lying on his stomach, flat on his back and cheerfully waving his hooves in the air along to something the fishman is saying.

He stands watching them for a while, lazily smoking and hiding his smiles behind each drag of his cigarette as the sounds of Chopper and Jinbei’s quiet conversations drift up to him. There’s chaos behind him, yelling and screaming that he doesn’t want to investigate at all, the odd sound of cracking wood and something that sounds eerily like gunshots, and yet somehow Sanji’s shoulders remain relaxed… finding a sort of peace in the mayhem.

That is, of course, until Usopp sidles up beside him.

The smell of gunpowder reaches his nose before the sniper does, stronger than the smoke curling from the cherry red tip of his cigarette, and Sanji is already exasperated well before Usopp even speaks.

“Hey Sanji,” Usopp starts, his greeting ending in a squeak as Sanji rolls his head around to glare at him, and Usopp holds his hands up as if in surrender. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“I’m preparing myself for disappointment,” Sanji drawls, tapping the end of his cigarette into the ashtray. Below them, Chopper lets out a shriek, making Usopp jump. Sanji’s eyes narrow. A jumpy Usopp doesn’t mean good things for him.

“That smoothie was amazing,” Usopp deflects though, aiming for casual as he leans against the railing beside Sanji and falling far from it. “I didn’t know what to expect but it was surprisingly salty as well as sw-”

“Long nose,” Sanji mutters, reaching out to tug on the end of said nose, causing Usopp’s eyes to go as wide as saucers. “Cut to the chase.”

Usopp bats his hand away, but his irritation is thwarted by his clear nervousness as he wrings his hands together, looking anywhere but at Sanji. “In my defence,” he starts, and Sanji lets out a groan, “it wasn’t me that lost him.”

Sanji pauses. “Lost him?”

Usopp swallows with a chagrined look. “Fun story that.” He clears his throat. “Luffy and the others maybe kind of came back without Zoro?”

Ash falls from the tip of his cigarette, and Sanji just stares at Usopp for a long moment, the words ticking over in the back of his mind. Without Zoro. Luffy came back without Zoro. Luffy came back from his inane f*cking adventure on an uninhabited island… without Zoro.

“You’re f*cking joking,” Sanji hisses, and Usopp winces, his face screwing up with the movement. “You’re telling me that idiot swordsman is currently lost on this stupid f*cking island?”

Usopp gives an awkward laugh and scratches the base of his nose. “It sounds worse when you put it that way.”

Sanji shakes his head and runs a hand down his face, taking a frustrated drag from his cigarette, puffing the air away with an annoyed blow. “Dammit,” he mutters, only for his irritation to be pushed away but a dawning sense of realisation. He turns back to Usopp. “And you’re telling me this, why?”

The sheepish grin Usopp gives him is answer enough.

“Nope,” Sanji snaps. “Hell no.”

Usopp shrugs. “It’s not me asking,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, that grin turning into something a little more smirk-like. “It’s Nami.”

f*ck. Sanji grits his teeth. He never can say no to Nami, no matter what she asks, even if it’s to go stomping around this forsaken island looking for a shred of mossy hair.

“Why is it always me?” he mutters, taking a long drag from his cigarette with misery. Usopp looks a mix of sympathetic and pitying as he reaches out to pat Sanji’s shoulder, snatching his hand back when Sanji glowers at him.

“You just seem to have some sort of inbuilt Zoro detector,” Usopp says, flapping his hand in the air. “You’re always better at finding him than we are.”

Sanji arches an eyebrow at the sniper and blows a plume of smoke out of the corner of his mouth, tapping the fingers holding his smoke against the Sunny’s railing. “You realise it’s because I use my observation haki, right?” Usopp opens his mouth, but Sanji keeps talking. “Something that you also have, idiot.”

Usopp looks completely unremorseful, rubbing the back of his neck as he gives Sanji a sideways grin. “Yeah,” he agrees, “but yours is so much better. We wouldn’t want to be wasting anyone’s time by having me try to find our lost swordsman.”

Sanji narrows his eyes in irritation even if he does have to admit that Usopp does have a point. Their sniper could be the best on the crew at using observation haki should he bothered to put effort into it, but as it currently stands Sanji’s observation haki is the strongest, second only to Luffy, and while on most days Sanji is exceptionally proud of this fact… right now, he’s just annoyed by it.

“Fine,” he mutters, taking one last pull from his cigarette before grinding it out in the ashtray by his elbow, screwing his nose up in distaste. “Let Nami know I’ll be back as soon as possible, and apologise for the inconvenience that mossy sh*thead has cause.”

Usopp grins at him, and Sanji rolls his eyes as he shoves the ashtray into Usopp’s chest before he turns to saunter down the gangplank, shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets as he steps back out onto the island. He pauses for a brief moment, trying to decide where to start, before he lets out a huff of exasperation and heads straight into the forest in front of him.

It’s calm and quiet as he follows the barely there trail that’s been stomped through the undergrowth, signs that many have docked in the same spot they have, and likely many have walked this same path. The dirt is beaten down and smooth underfoot, all shrubs and greenery long since trampled over and pushed to the side. Sanji wonders how long it stretches for until it disappears altogether, if Zoro might be at the other end following the same trail back to them. He doubts it though, imagining that the swordsman is probably in some godforsaken part of this forest, accusing the trees of moving as he turns himself in hopeless circles over and over.

Nevertheless, the forest is pleasant to trek through. Sanji avoids tripping over roots and pushes aside the odd stray branch from hitting him in the chest or face, and he inhales the pleasant smell of damp dirt and woody bark. His observation haki flares out around him to blanket the forest, picking up the auras of the woodland animals as he walks, the darting brown of a rabbit or the tempered grey of a startled deer. He’s seeking out Zoro’s familiar green aura in particular though, always accompanied by the swords at his hips, Wado’s soft white, Kitetsu’s harsh black, and Enma’s hellish purple. Sanji doesn’t move quickly, trying to remain calm and centred so his haki can spread further than usual, even as he can feel himself starting to grow more and more titchy the further into the forest he goes, the beaten trail long since ended behind him.

He has to remind himself that this isn’t Zoro’s fault, not exactly. Chopper and Robin had tried to explain it to them all once, just why Zoro can never seem to orientate himself or find his way. Topographical disorientation, an inability to navigate ones surroundings, often due to some sort of brain damage. None of them were surprised at the diagnosis, and Sanji knows he wasn’t the only one that was running through a brief history of all the knocks to the head Zoro has received… and growing up in a dojo? Travelling the East Blue as a bounty hunter? Sanji has always wondered how many they’ve not seen.

In any case, the diagnosis and recognition that it’s something Zoro can’t actually help has done wonders to the crew’s overall frustration towards him. Sure, Sanji stills rolls his eyes and gnashes his teeth when the others insist he go find the directionally challenged swordsman, but as Usopp had pointed out it makes sense for it to be him. Luffy would just exacerbate the problem, both captain and first mate each other’s worst enablers.

The flare up of his haki drags him from his thoughts, and he glances towards it to see Zoro is nearby, that familiar green outline visible through the mess of trees and bushes. Sanji can see he’s wandering around in a vague sort of pattern, no doubt completely lost, and he lets out a slightly amused sigh before he blinks his haki away and quickly picks through the undergrowth towards the swordsman.

The rushing of water meets his ears before he pops out from between a couple of trees to see Zoro is standing right beside a large river, his back to Sanji and his arms clearly crossed over his chest. Sanji comes to a halt, staring at the swordsman as Zoro doesn’t even flinch at his arrival. Haki aside, Sanji didn’t exactly avoid the branches that snapped under his boots, nor the rustling of the bushes he pushed past, so he knows Zoro knows he’s here.

There’s a bit of a pause though where neither say a word, then Sanji huffs before he leans back against one of the trees behind him. “Lost, Marimo?”

Zoro’s shoulders stiffen but he still doesn’t turn around. “No,” he says, sounding more petulant than anything, and Sanji smothers down a co*cky grin. “I know exactly where I am.”

“Sure you do.” Sanji can’t help the slight tilt of sarcasm to his tone. “Although I’m not sure there’s any river outlets near where the Sunny is docked.”

Zoro glances over his shoulder, giving him a slightly irritated look. “There isn’t,” he agrees, which makes Sanji’s eyebrows rise, “but rivers always lead back to the sea, and I figured that once I reached the edge of the island, I could just follow it around to the Sunny.”

Sanji’s mouth drops open, admittedly shocked. “That…” he trails off for a moment before he shakes his head, a disbelieving smile spreading over his lips. “That actually makes sense, mosshead. I’m impressed.”

Zoro rolls his eye at him and finally turns around, stomping over the short distance to stop in front of Sanji. “I did actually survive on my own before I joined this crew, dartbrow,” he mutters, and Sanji suddenly feels bad when he sees the way Zoro’s expression has twisted into frustration. “I’ve learnt ways to find my way back.”

It’s the first time Sanji has ever heard the swordsman even stray near an admission that he’s directionally challenged, and it leaves a strange sort of heaviness in the pit of his stomach. There’s just something in Zoro’s face that makes him want to leave it alone for once, to not poke and prod until Zoro is red-faced and fuming. It’s strange… but then Sanji thinks that it’s not the first time he’s felt that way recently.

No, not since that moment a few weeks ago when he’d buried himself under a rigid coat that smelt like steel and choji oil.

So instead he pushes himself off the tree and jerks his head towards the river. “Alright then,” he says as he starts to walk past Zoro, bumping their shoulders together as he does so. “Lead the way, mossy.”

Zoro doesn’t immediately follow, but he’s quick to catch up as Sanji starts to head down the river back towards where he knows the Sunny is. The river won’t take them all the way, but Sanji will cut them back into the forest when needed to get them to their ship without having to backtrack along the islands edge. There’s no harm going Zoro’s original way for now, and Sanji ignores the little voice in the back of his head that points out he’s only doing this because, well… he doesn’t want to acknowledge that just yet.

They don’t talk as they pick their way through the forest, Sanji making sure Zoro is always in sight lest he wander off. It’s a lot smoother walking beside the river, Sanji finds there’s less roots to trip over and despite the quiet it’s actually quite comfortable. Sanji never has had a problem with long silences with Zoro. The swordsman is definitely a creature of the quiet and there’s never been a need to fill them up with idle chatter. The other’s aren’t the same, Usopp and Nami especially had struggled when it was just the five of them in the East Blue and the silences would stretch for hours at a time between Sanji, Zoro, and Luffy.

Sometimes though, there’s nothing that needs to be said, and Sanji appreciates those moments just as much as he enjoys the never-ending bedlam that comes with being a Straw Hat.

Eventually, Sanji clears his throat and comes to a halt, Zoro stepping over a stray branch before he does the same. He arches an eyebrow Sanji’s way, and Sanji jerks his head towards the forest.

“Sunny’s this way, Marimo.”

Zoro’s eye slips past him to glance at the tree line, and Sanji expects him to either argue to continue following the river or to walk past and lead them inevitably the wrong way into the forest.

What he doesn’t expect though, is for Zoro to let out a huff before turning to the river, untying his swords to rest against a nearby rock before bending down to start unlacing his boots.

Sanji stares, not too sure what’s happening, and it’s not until Zoro slips his coat from his shoulders to drape over the rock and starts to tug at his pants that he finally finds his voice.

“Uh, Marimo?” Sanji manages to say, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the back of Zoro’s head as the swordsman drops his pants to the ground and steps out of them, left standing in only his underwear that leaves very little to the imagination. “What are you doing?”

Zoro doesn’t reply. Instead, he heads towards the river, and Sanji stands in utter confusion as Zoro wades through the shallows before promptly diving into the rushing waters, completely submerging himself.

“Oi!” Sanji yells as he rushes forwards to splash through the edges of the river, stopping short when Zoro emerges halfway out into the river, standing up with a flourish as he shakes his head like a dog, water flying everywhere. “Get out of there, sh*thead!”

Zoro turns to him with a brilliant grin, and Sanji’s breath is stolen at the sight of him like that, carefree and soaking wet, reaching out to carelessly splash water back towards Sanji, making shallow waves that lick the toes of Sanji’s boots.

“Come on, Cook,” Zoro calls back to him, not at all fazed as Sanji shoots him an annoyed look. “Relax a moment, would you?”

“We’ve got to get back to the ship,” Sanji insists, stepping back as Zoro moves towards him, dangerous intent in his eyes. “Nami wants to leave as soon as the log pose sets-”

“Which isn’t until tonight,” Zoro points out, and Sanji can’t fault his logic there. After all, it’s only mid afternoon at best. “There’s plenty of time to get back to the ship.”

“Zoro…” Sanji starts to say, only to yelp as Zoro suddenly lunges forward, throwing up a massive wave that manages to splatter the bottom of Sanji’s pants, completely soaking them. “Asshole!” he roars as he jumps back, swearing up a storm as he stumbles over the fine pebbles lining the edge of the river. He grits his teeth as he kicks out his legs, and he turns a furious glare to Zoro.

Only for it to immediately slip away as Zoro lets out a deep belly laugh, dropping back into the water until his shaking shoulders are nearly under the waterline, his eye closed as he tips his head back, one hand reaching up to press to his chest as the melodic sound of his laugh carries across the river.

f*ck, Sanji thinks as he blinks at the swordsman, he looks…

Nope. Sanji shakes his head. He’s not thinking those thoughts, not right now as he tears his eyes away from the swordsman to glare down at his soaked pants. They’re wet from the knee down, sticking uncomfortably to his shins, and he reaches down to try and peel the material off his skin.

Not that it does much. They’re going to be frustrating now the whole walk back, and if Zoro wasn’t still laughing to himself, Sanji would give him another filthy look.

In any case, he could slump down on the rock with Zoro’s clothes on it and wait for the swordsman to finish playing around in the water… or, loathed as he is to say it, he could join him. After all, it will give his pants an opportunity to dry some, and it’s warm enough that water is pleasantly inviting. Zoro’s right too, its not like the log pose is due to set for another few hours at least.

He reminds himself over and over, as he starts to shed his own clothes by toeing off his boots and shucking his jacket and dress shirt to drape overtop of Zoro’s coat, that this has nothing to do with the swordsman currently cavorting about in the water nearby. It just makes sense, and Sanji bites down the strange feeling of nerves that flicker in his chest as he slides out of his pants.

He’s been in his underwear in front of Zoro before. Hell, he’s been naked in front of him many times. How is this any different?

It just feels it, and Sanji shakes the thoughts from his head as he lies his pants out to dry on the ground next to Zoro’s swords before he turns back to the river. Zoro is back to floating in the middle, watching Sanji with a challenging look on his face, and Sanji puffs his chest out before he practically marches to the waters edge.

He dips his toes into the water, pleased that it’s actually quite warm, and he doesn’t hesitate to wade in, bracing himself as he sinks further and further in until he’s up to his hips. Zoro’s still nearby, and Sanji wrinkles his nose at him before he takes a short breath in and dives forward.

“That’s it, Twirls,” Zoro taunts him as soon as Sanji comes back up for air, having pushed himself out further into river until he’s nearly beside the swordsman. “I knew you had it in you.”

“Oh shut up, algae-brains,” Sanji mutters as he swipes a wave of water at Zoro, laughing as it hits him in the face. Zoro looks surprised, blinking through the water dripping down his cheeks, but Sanji has only a brief moment to feel satisfied before Zoro lets out a battle cry and flies forward.

Sanji nearly chokes as he’s tackle back into the water, not expecting to go under as Zoro attacks him, the swordsman holding him under with his body. Sanji kicks at his shins, squawking something that gets drowned out under the water, and he pinches viciously at Zoro’s arms until Zoro lets go.

He surfaces with a gasp to see Zoro grinning at him. “You ass,” Sanji snaps before he throws himself at the swordsman.

They grapple with one another for a while, yelling insults and swearing enough to make a marine blush as they shove each other under the water over and over. Sanji isn’t sure which way is up most of the time, but he grips Zoro back just as tightly as the swordsman grips him, and he can’t help the laughter that bubbles up his throat whenever he gets the air to do so.

He’s not entirely sure who stops first, but one minute Sanji’s trying to hold Zoro’s head firmly under the water, yelling something about watering houseplants, and the next the two of them are clambering up on a large nearby rock in the middle of the river.

It’s a bit more exposed up here, and Sanji lets out a small shiver as he tucks his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Zoro sits beside him, one knee bent up to rest his forearm on, his other leg extended out with his foot dangling in the water. The waterline reaches the scar around his ankle, and Sanji finds himself drawn to the way the water laps gently at the raised skin.

They’re silent for a moment, neither saying a word, and then Sanji finds this time he wants to break it.

“So,” he muses quietly, his fingers squeezing his calves, “what brought this on?”

Zoro doesn’t respond straight away. His other hand rests on his leg, his fingers sliding back and forth over the wet fabric stretched half-way down his thigh. His expression is unreadable when Sanji glances at him, the skin between his eyebrows slightly pinched as if he’s deep in thought.

“I like the water,” Zoro suddenly murmurs, his voice barely loud enough for Sanji to hear over the quiet rush of the river around them. “There was a stream that ran alongside the dojo where I grew up. We used to swim in it every day.”

Sanji rests his cheek down on his knees, turning his head to gaze at Zoro. The swordsman keeps staring at the water churning around them though, his foot bobbing slight along with the current. It’s kind of obvious, now that Sanji looks, the longing in Zoro’s gaze, the relaxed slump of his shoulders, the way he’s curled forward as if he’s ready to slip straight back into the water and not come back out.

“You miss it.”

Zoro shrugs, the movement casual but Sanji can see the way the muscles in his jaw are working. “Some days.”

Sanji hums. “And with our devil fruit crew mates, it’s not often we get to actually enjoy the water when we come across it.”

Zoro glances at him, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips. “You’re more observant than I give you credit for, Curls.”

Sanji huffs a laugh into his knees. “I get it,” he admits, wriggling his toes against the water that laps up over the edge of the rock. “Patty and I used to swim around the Baratie every morning, right up until I left.” He closes his eyes, remembering Patty’s blue hair, that stupid pink necktie that he wouldn’t even take off to swim, his strong backstroke as he would lap Sanji over and over as Zeff and Carne watched. They used to swim at dawn, the sun a hazy gold in the sky, matching the glowing end of Carne’s first cigarette of the day. “I miss it too.”

Zoro lets out a small noise, as if to say he’s heard him, and Sanji opens his eyes to see the swordsman is looking back out at the river. It’s peaceful here, nothing but the sound of the trees rustling in the slight wind, the water lapping at the edges of the rock, Zoro’s quiet breathing and Sanji’s own that slows to match. It’s just the two of them, and Sanji isn’t sure there’s ever been a time where they’ve been… like this.

Just the two of them, existing in a space without insults or jabs, without expectations leaving their shoulders heavy and tired.

He can’t help but take a moment to admire Zoro, how the slowly sinking sun casts the swordsman in an orange light, making his tanned skin nearly glow in its warmth. He runs his eyes down the sharp slope of his nose, over the strong angle of his jaw, up the scar that bisects his eye until he lingers on the golden earrings dangling from his ear that chime slightly in the weak breeze.

He’s always wondered if they mean something or maybe nothing at all.

“Your earrings,” he asks, the words forming too quickly for him to catch and swallow back down, and Zoro turns his head slowly to look at him with a small frown. “What do they mean?”

Zoro watches him with a guarded expression for a moment before he reaches up and runs the back of his fingers across the three golden bars. They ring against one another, and Sanji can’t help but be taken in by the way they sway as Zoro’s hand drops back down to his lap.

“Nothing,” Zoro responds, and Sanji’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Johnny bought them from a blacksmith on Mirror Ball Island saying it would look cool if we had matching piercings.” He shrugs one shoulder, and his guarded look melts into something more fond, more reminiscent. “Coward bailed though, insisting I should have all three to match my santoryu style. We got sh*t-faced on cheep booze and Yosaku pierced my ear using a hot needle over the campfire.” Zoro shakes his head. “Lucky it didn’t get infected, even luckier that the holes are even.”

Sanji can’t fight his smile, the edges of it pressed into his knees. “So they do mean something then.”

“Huh.” Zoro’s hand strays back up to the earrings, not quite touching. “I guess so.”

Zoro looks far away for a moment, like he’s caught up in a swath of memories. Sanji feels an urge to reach out bubbling under his skin, to run his fingers across the three golden bars just as Zoro had done, to hear them ring again. He doesn’t though, stamping down the temptation by turning away from Zoro, looking out over the river himself.

It doesn’t stop the next question though. “Have you spoken to them since we left the East Blue?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Zoro relax his knee down, dropping his foot into the water beside the other. Sanji can’t help but look, noticing that the scars around Zoro’s ankles are at different heights, the one on his right ankle deeper and thicker than the one on the left. He remembers sewing them up on Little Garden, how his hands were the only ones that hadn’t shook holding the needle and thread as they’d seen the amount of blood pooling from the wounds.

“Once,” Zoro responds, and Sanji rips his eyes away from Zoro’s ankles to look at the swordsman. “On one of Nami’s calls to her sister. Turns out the two of them decided not to be bounty hunters and are fisherman now in Cocoyashi.”

Sanji’s eyebrows raise, and he can’t help his laughter. Zoro’s head snaps to him, and Sanji gives him a grin. “Well, too be fair,” he says, thinking of Arlong Park, how Johnny and Yosaku’s bravery was greatly rivalled by their cowardice, “they really were awful at being bounty hunters.”

Zoro’s lips twitch, and Sanji is graced with a small chuckle as Zoro shakes his head. “You should’ve seen when I first met them,” he grumbles, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, something Sanji’s eyes are drawn too. “I watched Yosaku stab himself just drawing his sword. Idiot needed stitches too.”

Sanji laughs, unable to help himself, and Zoro’s smile grows wider as he joins him. It’s fascinating to Sanji, to hear Zoro’s laugh for the second time today. Something that’s usually so rare that they’d all wondered if it had been lost in their time away from one another, and yet here Sanji sits watching Zoro close his eye, his hand still pushing his hair back as he tilts back his head, a carefree laugh rumbling from somewhere deep and wonderful in his chest as he glows warm and golden under the setting sun.

It’s captivating, and as Sanji’s heart lurches deep down against his ribs, he isn’t entirely sure he can deny why.

He looks away as a jumble of unfamiliar emotions roar up his throat to the tip of his tongue. He swallows them back down, scared of their raw intensity. He tightens his fingers around his calves, squeezing them until it nearly hurts, before he clears his throat and relaxes his legs down back into the water.

“Come on, Marimo,” he says when Zoro’s laugh has trailed off, and he tries not to mourn the sound. “Lets get back before Nami sends out a search party.”

He slips off the rock back into the water, not waiting for Zoro’s reply. It’s colder now, he’s not entirely sure how long they’ve sat on that rock as he heads back to the shore, and he hears a splash behind him as Zoro starts to follow.

His pants are dry when he reaches them, even if the point of drying them is defeated when he tugs them on over his wet underwear, wrinkling his nose at the gross feeling. Zoro hands him his shirt and jacket from where they lie on top of his coat, and Sanji avoids looking at him for his own sanity as he wriggles into them, thankful they cut out the slight chill from the shade of the forest. The sun has completely dipped below the tree line now, and as they pull on their boots, Sanji glances around to see there’s at least still a little bit of light to navigate through the forest, and he reaches up to push his hair off his face, his wet locks easily tucking behind his ears, and he turns to Zoro.

Only to pause at the look on the swordsman’s face, something he’s never seen before, a sort of captivated wonder, and Sanji feels his cheeks start to burn as he quickly looks away.

The Sunny isn’t much further. They walk in silence again, Zoro seemingly content to trail behind Sanji as he leads the way through the undergrowth. They come across the small beaten track Sanji had found earlier, and it makes it easier to navigate back to the Sunny when there’s a direct path that Zoro can follow, Sanji not having to look behind himself constantly to make sure the swordsman hasn’t disappeared down some other imaginary route. Zoro rolls his eye when Sanji does glance back though, giving him a sarcastic little wave each time as if to prove a point.

Eventually, the Sunny pops up into view, visible between the endless rows of trees. Sanji can see Nami and Usopp gathered at the bottom of the gangplank, and he wonders just how accurate his search party comment actually was.

“Finally!” Nami shouts as soon as Zoro and Sanji step out from the tree line straight onto the sand surrounding the edge of the island, crunching small seashells under their boots as they make their way towards their crew. “The log pose is about to set! We were going to leave without you!”

“Sheesh,” Zoro mutters as he saunters up to Nami, reaching out to poke her side and snorting when she slaps his hand away. Usopp takes a healthy step back away from them with his hands in the air. “Nice to know you care, witch.”

“Oi,” Sanji calls a little half-heartedly, but his protest is drowned out by Nami turning to Zoro with a fire burning in her eyes.

“You’re so stupid,” she hisses, continuing to swipe at Zoro’s hands as he jabs at her with a co*cky grin. “I’m surprised you didn’t end up falling off some cliff and cracking your head on-”

She cuts herself off with a shriek as Zoro suddenly darts in and lifts her up, throwing her over his shoulder in one smooth motion. Her eyes are wide as she frantically kicks her legs in the air, pounding on Zoro’s back with closed fists as he spins on his heel to head towards the Sunny.

“Put me down you f*cking barbarian!” Nami screams, but her protests fall on deaf ears as Zoro hitches her up his shoulder unceremoniously before he starts to stomp up the gangplank.

Sanji watches them go, a small surprised look no doubt over his face, and he raises a hand to smother a fond smile behind it. Nami looks adorable where she’s hanging half upside down, her expression murderous and her cheeks a bright red, but Zoro’s stride doesn’t stop once no matter how hard she squirms, jostling Nami every time she hits him.

He has to tell himself that it’s Nami who has his chest squeezing tightly.

He’s distracted though as Usopp sidles up beside him, reaching out to nudge Sanji’s side with his elbow. “Alright there, Sanji?” he asks, and Sanji glances over at him to see Usopp’s eyebrows are raised, his eyes twinkling with same sort of mirth that Sanji has only ever seen directed at Robin and Franky.

It makes him freeze, horrified that Usopp might just be seeing through him, and he swallows thickly before he opens his mouth to respond.

“Oi, Cook!”

Zoro’s voice cracks through the air though, and Sanji turns to see him standing at the top of gangplank, looking down at him with a brilliant grin, co*cky and sure.

Sanji pauses, his heart lurching violently into the back of his throat, and Usopp nudges him again.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little strangled, “I’m fine.”

…

Strangely enough, the Grand Line isn’t as terrible a place as Sanji had thought it was.

It had surprised Sanji at first. Then again, most of his experiences of the Grand Line before traveling with Luffy has been restricted to what he saw before he’d left Germa. Even then, he and his siblings had never been given the freedom to see much of anything outside of the training halls and the lifeless grey stone that made up the many courtyards and towering castle walls. And after his mother died… well, Sanji saw even less.

So in his mind, the Grand Line is always this dark miserable place, filled with endless suffering and torment. He realises now that was probably more to do with all the same-faced troops that would march past him onto ships and islands, all in the name of Judge’s pillaging and glory hunting that he’d tried to pass off as justified wars. He stills remembers the sounds of death, the sharp screams followed by heavy silences, the way it used to make his skin crawl as those same-faced troops would stumble back, most of them not destined to reach the lone infirmary on Judge’s fleet.

There never had been room for weakness in Germa.

Even when he left Germa, he was already in the East Blue, the Grand Line long behind him. He never experienced it himself, never travelled between the islands and stepped foot on their shores, his haunted memories the only knowledge of the great expanse of endless sea. Zeff used to tell him his own stories from his time sailing, tales of the Cook Pirates and their adventures that Sanji could scarcely believe. He used to think the old man was full of creative lies until one day he showed Sanji his most prized possession, a leather bound journal bursting at the seams with pages of scribbled cursive writing and token mementos painstakingly pressed between them. Sanji had spent hours listening to Zeff talk, running a flat pebble from Fishman Island between his fingers, twirling a feather from some strange bird they’d captured on the sea, and carefully cupping the dried herbs from a nameless island that Zeff had never found again.

However, it wasn’t until Luffy came along that Sanji realised... the Grand Line was never a place to be feared or immortalised. It’s simply a place, a long stretch of ocean dotted with islands begging to be explored, and it hadn’t taken long for the anxiety that had caught itself in his chest the moment they travelled up Reverse Mountain to be replaced with an overwhelming pure excitement.

In saying that, Sanji’s usual joy of seeing a new island approaching dwindles quickly as the Sunny finally breaks through the unusual low cloud that it’s been travelling through for the last few hours. Even Nami had been surprised at the sheer lowness of the cloud cover, going so far as to swing her climatact around on the deck in an attempt to push it away and reveal at least some sort of distance in front of them. It’d done nothing though, the cloud remaining heavy and nearly suffocating in its thickness, however Jinbei has managed to directed the Sunny though with an unwavering steadiness.

When they finally break out the other side is when Sanji gets his first look at the island where he stands on the deck, the others scattered about behind him. It’s closer than he expected, the cloud cover nearly spreading right up onto the island’s beaches, and Franky’s roar to drop the anchor to slow them down before they beach themselves cracks out over the deck. Sanji grips the railing tightly against the Sunny’s sudden lurch, but his focus remains on the island.

Because there nestled amongst the rocky landscape is a small village, shadowed by the large peaks of the mountains towering over it, and Sanji’s stomach pitches suddenly when he sees the amount of unnatural black smoke billowing up into the sky, blending into the wall of cloud surrounding the island. He can smell the unsettling stench of burning, the kind that only comes with destruction and death, and Sanji can’t help the utter dread that nestles into the pit of his chest when he realises the island is clearly under attack.

It’s made only worse when he spots a familiar looking yellow submarine currently moored at the small harbour.

“sh*t,” he hears beside him, and he glances over to see Zoro has stepped up to the railing, his hands resting on the swords at his hip and his brow furrowed deeply. “Is that f*cking Law?”

Sanji doesn’t even have the opportunity to respond before twin rubber hands appear on either side of them, grabbing the railing with white knuckles, and Sanji swears under his breath. There’s no time to even think of moving as he hears Luffy let out a wild shout behind them, accompanied by a sharp snap as his captain surges forward, collecting Sanji and Zoro in his arms as he launches them off the side of the Sunny in one fell swoop.

“Idiot!” Zoro roars, his voice swallowed up by the wind as the three of them fly through the air. For a horrid moment, Sanji thinks they’re going to hit the water in a spectacular wreck, the Sunny still just a little too far out from the island, but somehow they manage to crash onto the very edge of the island’s dock, the wooden planks groaning painfully under their sudden entrance.

Sanji wobbles for a moment as Luffy lets go of him, his captain’s arm surprisingly supportive despite its rubberiness, but he feels a hand catch his elbow before he can teeter too far forward. He knows it’s Zoro before he even looks up, Luffy already halfway down the dock towards the burning town, but nevertheless he still gives him an appreciative smile as he finds his feet.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and he isn’t sure he makes up the splash of red that covers Zoro’s cheeks for a moment as he promptly lets go. Sanji misses the touch straight away, but doesn’t say a word as Zoro jerks his head in Luffy’s direction.

Together, they take chase, breaking into a run as they follow the sound of thwapping sandals and Luffy’s caterwauling of Law’s hated nickname. Their captain is a lot faster than them though, even if Sanji finds they’re considerably slower as Zoro keeps trying to turn down every alley and street they pass on their way through the harbour and town. He’s stopped only by Sanji’s firm grip on his haramaki as he takes the lead. Zoro doesn’t protest, and Sanji quickly pulls him after Luffy as the sounds of battle echo down the painted concrete streets towards them, letting his haki spread out in front of him to try get a gauge on the situation.

There’s people everywhere, the crowd growing thicker and thicker as they press forward after Luffy, their auras a stressed rainbow of colours that Sanji blinks is eyes against. His grip tightens on Zoro as they start to push through them, his ears ring as he forces himself not to stop to help. No one else is going the same way as them, all clearly fleeing desperately, and Sanji trusts that his crew will assist these people as soon as they make landfall.

Eventually, they break out into a giant plaza, filled with so many people that Sanji struggles to see the ground beneath them. The unbearable panic is tangible here, choking Sanji in a sudden wave and he has to haul his haki back to shut it down, spots dancing briefly in front of his eyes as the emotions threaten to drown him. He feels Zoro shift in front of him, the perfect block between him and the people, and Sanji wrangles his haki under control, shutting out the colours and the emotions until he can breathe without being strangled.

“Alright, Curls?” Zoro grumbles, and Sanji gives his haramaki a gentle tug in response before he lets go.

It’s a mess of townspeople scrambling over one another in their attempts to escape, and Sanji notices very quickly the Heart Pirates scattered amongst them. Jean Bart is large and imposing on the other side of the plaza, his arms filled with townspeople as he herds them away from the main battle where it’s exploded in the centre. Law is there, Luffy unsurprisingly already at his back, and Sanji spots Penguin and Shachi nearby locked in their own battle, a gathering of townspeople behind them being ushered away by a desperate-looking Bepo.

But it’s not the Heart Pirates that makes Sanji pause. No, it’s who they’re fighting, who is taking up the most space in the plaza. They’re wearing dark grey jumpsuits, white pointed cowls, thin goggles with black headphones, and a ridiculous yellow ascots… all adorned with a gaudy orange ’66’ on their chests.

All of them with the same-faced that Sanji remembers like some twisted nightmare.

For some reason, it never occurred to Sanji that he would see Germa again after Whole Cake. In a naive way, he thought that was it, that that chapter of his life had finally ended and been put to rest.

Gods. How stupid.

“It’s Germa,” Sanji hisses to Zoro as he bounces on the balls of his feet, scanning the plaza in an attempt to find the outlier. There’s always one, always one troop that’s a little different. They’re the leader, the one to take out to get whichever sibling is floating around’s attention. Sanji wants that like a knife to the back, but he has to help these people regardless of his feelings on the matter.

“Germa?” Zoro parrots back, and Sanji sees a momentary look of confusion flash over the swordsman’s face before its violently shuttered away but a sudden dark intent.

Sanji feels his breath catch, his eyes widening briefly as Zoro lets out a vicious growl to accompany the sharp ring of his swords as he draws them. He looks savage, wild, and Sanji’s heart thumps furiously against his ribs as he swallows down the swell of emotions that roar up the back of his throat before he rips his gaze away.

There. Sanji sees him suddenly, the outlier, the one troop that’s different. He’s a little taller than even the tallest, bulkier than even the bulkiest, and while the others wear those absurd yellow ascots, this particular clone wears a dark orange.

Without a word, Sanji streaks forward and kicks up into the air. He hears Zoro shout behind him but he doesn’t respond as he sky walks towards the clone leader, skipping straight over the mayhem and fighting beneath him. The clone leader doesn’t expect a thing, his arm outstretched as he bellows out orders to the ludicrously obedient troops around, which makes it all the more easier as Sanji brings his heel down in a single blazing arc.

The clone leader buckles immediately under the attack, the give of bone and meat cracking and squelching under Sanji’s heel. He follows him down to the ground, landing neatly beside him on one leg as the clone leader collapses in a heap of useless limbs. He doesn’t stop though, determined to be heard, so he turns in a sweeping pirouette to roundhouse kick the clones surrounding him, decimating them with one blow.

It’s interesting, he thinks mildly to himself as the clones tumble around him, all going down as easily as they if were feathers against a simple wind. He used to think these clones were unbeatable and recklessly determined killing machines with a pathological need for victory, a perfect representation of his family.

It’s obvious now, as he stands amongst their fallen bodies, just how incorrect he was.

Not that he blames himself. After all, he was only a child. What could be expected?

“Where are you?” he mutters to himself as he glances around, grinding his heel into the hand of a clone that reaches for his sword. He briefly looks for the others, unsurprised to see that Luffy and Zoro are slowly helping the Heart Pirates turn the tide of the battle. The sheer amount of clones is overwhelming, as according to Germa’s usual tactics, but Sanji sees the way Zoro carves through them like they’re nothing. He’s formidable, and for some reason it makes Sanji’s heart skip a nervous beat.

His tightly-restrained haki flares all of a sudden though, drawing his attention, and Sanji turns just in time to see a streak of green break out across the rooftops surrounding the plaza. His satisfaction at knowing his plan worked however falls away to dread when he realises just which sibling it is that’s here.

Despite whatever happened after Cacaco Island, despite his siblings stepping in to save Sanji and Luffy’s lives, Sanji doesn’t consider it to be anything more than repayment for saving theirs at the Tea Party. An eye for an eye, the only kind of justice Judge ever believed in. No matter what though, it doesn’t make up for the years and years of endless torment when they were younger, of the trauma that Sanji was subjected to as a child.

However now? Sanji isn’t sure what they separated as. Enemies? Reluctant allies? Perhaps just simple indifference.

Whatever it may be, seeing that green streak has Sanji unsettled. Yonji, while the dumbest of the lot, is also the one with the cruelest streak and the easiest to anger. Were it Ichiji, Sanji could at least appeal to his calculative side, and Niji had shown a thin form of respect towards him after Whole Cake, somehow always the more reasonable of his brothers. Reiju, of course, would have been the best of them, but Yonji?

f*cking hell.

Sanji waits impatiently as Yonji continues to dart over the rooftops, undoubtedly surveying the plaza to see whether it’s safe to step into. He doesn’t blame him, not with the sounds of battle tapering off from bangs to whimpers, although that seems just a little too smart for it to be Yonji’s idea, his little brother much too stupid to come up with something like actually assessing a situation before diving in head first. Nevertheless, Yonji finally seems to make up his mind as he passes one last roof before dropping down to land in front of him.

He looks no different to the last time Sanji saw him. His raid suit is still a hideous mix of green and orange, his hair is too slicked back, and his usually impassive face is betrayed by the slight wrinkle between his eyebrows. He wields a frankly dangerous looking sword in his hand, his grip on it clearly tight as Sanji sees the way his leather gloves are taunt over the knuckles.

“Yonji,” he greets in a drawl, dropping his hands into his pockets and leaning back on his leg as co*ckily as he can. “Can’t say it’s a pleasure.”

Yonji glares at him, twirling the sword in his hand, a clear threat. “You’re interfering in Germa business, brother.”

Sanji raises an eyebrow in response, although at least now he has an answer to his question. Perhaps it’s enemies after all. He can’t say he’s surprised. “And just what kind of business does Germa have with a bunch of defenceless townspeople?” He huffs, shaking his head. “Outside of preying on the weak, of course.”

“That’s none of your business,” Yonji hisses, his eyes flitting away. Sanji can see how he takes in the battle around them, undoubtedly seeing the carnage has played out not in his favour. “Withdraw, and I may just let you live.”

Sanji can’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of his throat before he can catch it. “Seriously?” he asks, inclining his head to the side as a disbelieving grin spreads over his face, images of standing on a table looking down at his helpless family flickering through his mind. “Yonji, for once in your life, use your f*cking head.”

The roar that rips from his brother is primal and guttural, and Sanji’s eyes widen only momentarily before Yonji surges forward, the sword in his hand glinting a sickening black as he brings it around in a swing for Sanji’s neck. Sanji is quick though, bringing his leg up in a flash of armament haki to catch it.

But it doesn’t meet, the shrill sound of metal meeting metal still rings through the air, but Sanji’s leg hangs alone.

Zoro, however, stands in front of him, Wado raised high to catch Yonji’s blade, his teeth bared in a bloodthirsty grin as he sneers over their crossed swords at a bemused Yonji.

“A Vinsmoke, huh?” Zoro snarls, pressing Wado forward enough that Yonji staggers against the force. “You’re less than I expected.”

Yonji’s face screws up in disgust as he shoves back against Zoro. “This doesn’t involve you, dog.”

Zoro doesn’t budge an inch, instead twisting Wado forward, slipping past Yonji’s defences in a spectacular move Sanji struggles to follow. Yonji lets out a choked noise as Wado suddenly graces his neck, the edge of her blade pressing against his hardened skin, his own sword knocked from his hand to clatter at his feet.

“Anything to do with the cook involves me,” Zoro growls, his face twisted up with a rage Sanji has never seen before.

Despite the sword at his throat, Yonji still manages to look nonplussed. “Interesting,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he appraises Zoro with cold contempt. “Everything on Whole Cake involved my dear brother.” He quirks his head to the side, Wado following the movement, and a smug smirk spreads over Yonji’s face. “And yet I don’t recall seeing you there.”

The silence is deafening.

Sanji freezes, his eyes widening as Yonji words filter through to him. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his heart pounds so furiously in his chest he can feel his ribs aching in protest, and he can’t help the way his breath draws ragged as he turns his gaze painfully slow to Zoro.

Zoro, who has gone stone still, his entire body coiled so tightly that Sanji fears just how he’s going to snap, the only movement the way his white knuckles shake just the slightest where they hold Wado in a punishing grip. Sanji knows that’s not a tremble from fear. The rage has gone from his face, his expression wiped clean into a pale impassiveness that makes Sanji’s skin crawl, the swordsman’s aura billowing out a contrasting dark black as it slams up against Sanji’s haki, and Sanji is surprised as Zoro finally moves only to withdraw Wado from Yonji’s neck and sheath her deftly back into her saya.

Right before he takes a single step forward and punches Yonji straight in the face.

Sanji winces at the sound it creates, the sickening crunch of flesh and bone meeting tough exoskeleton, followed by a loud crash as Yonji crumples to the ground in a stunned heap. Zoro doesn’t flinch though, in fact barely reacting at all before he hunches down over Yonji’s splayed out form, and Sanji watches with a rapt morbid curiosity as Zoro proceeds to punch and punch and punch his brother over and over again.

“Zoro…” he says weakly, his voice barely above a whisper, but Zoro doesn’t hear him. Instead he continues his assault on Yonji, each strike of his fist more powerful than the next, and Sanji’s heart surges into his throat when he sees the blood that starts to drip from Zoro’s split knuckles, each of his blows smearing brilliant red across Yonji’s slowly denting face.

It’s nearly clinical in its brutality, and Sanji doesn’t know what to do as he stands bearing witness. The already dwindling sounds of the fighting behind him completely evaporate, his senses tunnelling down to only what’s happening in front of him, and he can feel an unfamiliar beast starting to rear its head deep down in the confines of his chest, something born out of an odd mix of deep satisfaction and genuine affection.

Perhaps Zoro is doing this for himself, anger and pride culminating in a destructive way, but Sanji knows that’s not it. There’s no reason for Zoro to be so offended like this, to react in such a way, especially not when Sanji heard his words.

Anything to do with the cook involves me.

Sanji smiles, crooked and disbelieving as he co*cks his head to the side. Well well, Zoro does care.

“Zoro! Stop!”

It’s Luffy’s voice that cracks out across the plaza, making Sanji jump and whirl around in time to see their captain sprinting towards them, Law close on his heels as they push through what’s left of the fighting clones and Heart Pirates, the plaza more empty than it was when they entered. Luffy looks uneasy, his eyes narrow and calculating as he clearly takes in the scene, but Sanji still makes no move to intercede as Zoro ignores his captain, more surprised by that than anything else.

Luffy, however, has no such qualms. He shoots straight past Sanji to grapple with Zoro, wrapping his arms around the swordsman’s chest before heaving him off of Yonji. Sanji’s gaze slips past the two of them to look at his brother, vaguely interested to see what he looks like.

Beaten, is the answer. His face is dented to nearly unrecognisable, not that Sanji is fazed knowing the bastard will just have it knocked back out when he returns to Germa. However, he does notice that all of the blood covering him isn’t just Zoro’s, a single trickle of Yonji’s own dribbles down from the corner of his mouth. He looks awful, and Sanji is a little surprised at the surge of sick joy he feels out of seeing retribution in its ugliest form.

Zoro is heaving where he hangs in Luffy’s arms, further held back by Law’s hand pressed to his chest. Law is lucky that Luffy seems to have a decent grip on him or Sanji doesn’t fancy the surgeon’s chances of keeping that hand. Zoro looks practically animalistic, his teeth bared and eye feral, and Sanji can’t help the way that makes his stomach swoop with something embarrassingly close to desire.

Shaking his head, he steps forward to crouch down beside Yonji, reaching out to shove at his shoulder. “Still alive, little brother?” he asks, well aware he’s rubbing salt in a blistering wound. For once though? He doesn’t care he’s being petty or spiteful. Right now, he’s simply focused on a personal kind of vindication.

After all, saving his siblings and father on Whole Cake might’ve wiped the smirk from Judge’s face in a spectacular way, but Sanji has wounds from his brothers that have never fully healed. He never has been one to seek out vengeance, but then again, seeing Yonji like this makes the child in him he’d long thought he’d left behind let out a small cheer.

Yonji lets out a deep groan, turning his head slightly to the side. Sanji nearly feels sympathy, but it’s effectively shot down by the knowledge that this is all just temporary. He glances behind himself to see Luffy and Law have started to drag Zoro away in a tangle of limbs and muffled shouting, however his attention is turned from them completely when he sees a flash of blue on the other side of the plaza.

Looks like Yonji isn’t alone after all.

Sanji just has enough time to stand up and step back from Yonji before Niji materialises in front of him, already looking down at their little brother with a disgusted sneer twisted over his face, lessened by the ever present glasses over his eyes. He reaches out with his long blade, the tip crackling with blue electricity as he pokes it against Yonji’s thigh, receiving a moan in response.

“Idiot,” Niji mutters, shaking his head. He glances up, briefly staring at Sanji before he moves his head to look past him to the dwindling fight behind him. “Enough!”

The order is sharp as it cracks through the plaza and Sanji turns just slightly to see every single clone instantly halt whatever they’re doing, the Heart Pirates scattered amongst them stumbling in surprise. As one, all the clones turn away from their opponent, their identical faces flat and emotionless as they twist sharply on their heels, and Sanji’s eyebrows raise as they all begin to march towards him.

For a moment, he wonders if Niji intends for them to attack, and he shifts his weight onto his back leg in preparation. However, every clone instead passes by him, pointlessly collecting their injured comrades as they file past to exit out the other side of the plaza that Sanji and Zoro had arrived from.

Niji sniffs, jerking his head down at their brother as the clones walk by. “Take him with you,” he orders, and two clones immediately break rank to drag Yonji up onto their shoulders. His headphones fall off as his head lolls with the rough treatment, rolling to a stop at Sanji’s feet, and Sanji kicks them back towards the clones, one of them barely hesitating to scoop them up as they pass.

Sanji expects Niji to disappear along with the clones, but instead he stays, standing across from Sanji with his arms crossed, not even moving when the last of the clones begin to stagger past. Sanji can hear the others behind him, the sound of the Heart Pirates regrouping and Law shouting stiff orders at them, but he doesn’t look away from his brother as they stare at one another.

Niji is the one to break the silence. “That swordsman of yours is strong,” he muses, sounding mildly interested, and Sanji narrows his eyes. “Yonji isn’t weak by any standard, but he crumpled under the Demon of the East Blue.”

“Will this cause issues?” Sanji demands, and Niji smirks, tilting his head to the side as he clearly appraises Sanji.

“Worried?” he taunts, and Sanji’s hands tighten into fists where they’re clenched in his pockets. Niji flaps a hand in the air though, clearly indifferent. “Our quarry isn’t with you, dear brother.” He grins sharply. “In any case, he probably deserved it. He never has been the best at listening to orders.”

“Orders?” Sanji asks, and Niji shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly.

“He might not be fond of you,” Niji looks physically pained as he spits the words, “but our father has ordered you not to be touched. Call it a healthy respect.”

“Judge wouldn’t know how to respect me any more than I would know how to respect him.”

Niji’s lips twitch with something that looks a lot like amusem*nt. “Call it fear then.” He shrugs. “Not that he’d ever dare to admit it.”

Sanji’s eyes narrow, but Niji doesn’t seem bothered at all by his incredulity. Instead he glances around, clearly assessing what troops remain and the sorry state their battle has left the plaza in, before he lets out a long-suffering sigh. He reaches up suddenly, pulling his sunglasses off before he turns to look at Sanji again.

And Sanji feels the air rush from his lungs as he meets blue eyes, his mothers eyes. At some stage he’d forgotten that Niji shares them with himself and Reiju, deep blue eyes that should crinkle at the corners if Niji were ever to smile, just as their mother’s had. Judge never understood it, why Niji had inherited them instead of the mutated cold black Ichiji and Yonji share, and Sanji remembers well that Niji was forced to wear sunglasses from the moment he was born, punished severely if he were ever to take them off.

It makes Sanji pause. None of them really were safe from Judge in the end.

“Don’t take it for anything more than what it is,” Niji sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest, and Sanji wrenches his attention back to the present. “Germa is not your ally. It never will be.”

Sanji shrugs. “Wouldn’t accept it even if it was offered.”

Niji frowns for a brief moment before his gaze flickers away. “Pathetic,” he mutters, looking disgusted as he watches the last few stragglers limp past. Sanji doubts they’ll even make it to the flagship. “To be defeated by a bunch of lowly pirates… Father will be thrilled to hear it.” Before Sanji can respond, Niji glances back at him, those blue eyes haunting as they meet Sanji’s own. “Although I hear that captain of yours is an Emperor now.”

Sanji smiles, unable to help himself. “You sound almost impressed.”

Niji laughs, a sound that Sanji scarcely heard when they were children, so much so he forgot it was possible. There’s a lot of things he’s forgotten, he realises. Strangely enough, it makes something deep in his chest twinge unhappily.

“You and I both know that’s not something I would know how to feel even if I wanted too.” Niji huffs, shaking his head, his lips quirked up into a skewed attempt at a smile that doesn’t match the coldness of his eyes. “Nevertheless, it will be interesting to see what happens from here.”

Sanji already knows. “Luffy will be King of the Pirates,” he declares, his voice thick with the conviction that burns in his veins.

Niji snorts. “So I’ve been told.”

He steps forward then, and Sanji can’t help but flinch back, raising is leg in preparation for a fight he’s been wondering would happen. Niji pauses though, his hand outstretched between them, and Sanji watches in fascination as those gloved fingers slowly curl into a fist before it drops back down to hang at Niji’s side.

There’s a moment where they look at one another, twin blue eyes, one burning bright and warm while the other is frozen with unnatural coldness, before Niji bows his head just slightly. “Good luck, brother,” he says, voice filled with something Sanji doesn’t recognise, something that sounds an awful lot like sentiment. “Although, I doubt this will be the last time we see one another.”

Sanji hesitates before he inclines his head back. “Niji.”

Something flickers in Niji’s eyes, something achingly familiar in its inexplicability, and Sanji has only a moment to wonder if there’s more of their mother in Niji than just his eyes before his brother is gone in a flash of blue, leaving Sanji standing still and alone.

He blinks slowly, drags some air into his tight lungs, before he turns on his heel. He faces back the way he’d come, unsurprised to see that the plaza is completely empty now, only one lone silhouette on the other side keeping him company.

Of course it’s Luffy, and as he walks back towards his captain, Sanji wonders just what he’s thinking. Luffy’s expression unreadable, his arms firmly crossed over his chest and his head slightly tilted to the side, always watching, always assessing. There’s more to Luffy than people realise, and Sanji comes to a halt in front of him, his own face falls as impassive as Luffy’s as he holds his captain’s gaze.

Luffy’s eyes narrow just the slightest,. “Okay?” he asks, the single word heavy in its implication.

Sanji pauses before he answers, thinks of everything that’s managed to happen in such a short time, how his brain is both still and overworking, how he doesn’t overly care how his brother is doing yet knowing that might just be a lie.

He thinks of Zoro, frenzied eyes and bloody knuckles, the way he’d stood between Sanji and Yonji without hesitation, the words he’d spat at his brother and how maybe, just maybe, he’d meant every bit of them.

Sanji smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “its okay.”

Luffy’s expression melds into a wild grin, his eyes lighting up as he reaches out to wind his arms around Sanji’s shoulders. Sanji lets him, rolling his eyes as Luffy all but crawls onto his back and he hooks his arms around Luffy’s knees to haul him up further, making sure he’s settled securely before he turns to exit the plaza. Luffy drops his chin down to rest on top of Sanji’s head, humming one of Brook’s songs genially as they go, kicking his feet as his hand comes up to playfully tug at Sanji’s hair.

The walk back to the dock is quick. They don’t come across anyone in the streets, although Sanji sees many curtains swinging back into place through the windows they pass. It’s obvious the townspeople are hiding, not that Sanji can blame them, but despite the emptiness there’s still a thick feeling of terror that lingers in the air, mixing with the smell of burning and black smoke. It’s almost suffocating even with his haki repressed as much as possible. He wonders just how Luffy is doing, and he’s answered when his captain buries his face into Sanji’s neck with a small whine, cutting off his cheerful singing. Sanji can’t help but be immensely thankful when they finally break out onto the open air of the dock, leaving the deserted streets and burning town behind.

At some point during the midst of the battle, the Sunny has been docked. She now sits proudly on the other side of the wharf to the Polar Tang, her crew scattered over the marina and mixing with the Heart Pirates. Sanji does a quick scan to see which of his crew are there, only to notice that neither Zoro or Law are present, and Shachi seems to be missing his other half as well with Penguin nowhere to be seen.

It’s a little unsettling, but Sanji trusts the Heart Pirates. He’s seen the way Law and Luffy are with one another, the connection between them having deepened to more than just allies, more than even friends. Law wouldn’t do anything to harm Luffy nor his crew, and Sanji knows the feelings are mutual.

Instead of worrying, Sanji crosses over to where Brook and Bepo sit on a pair of barrels at the waters edge, Brook strumming acoustically on his guitar as Bepo listens with drooping eyes. Nami is nearby with Shachi, the two of them talking to a terrified looking man, obviously the representative of the townspeople if the way he keeps glancing over his shoulder is anything to go by. Nami is clearly frustrated but she’s calmer than Shachi, who looks like he’s ready to step forward and throttle the man, and Sanji gives them a wide birth as he swings Luffy off his back to deposit him unceremoniously in Bepo’s very surprised lap before he sinks down to sit at Brook’s feet.

He isn’t sure how much time passes before the man disappears up back towards the town, staggering and scampering in his haste to get away from them. Sanji watches with hooded eyes, having nearly been soothed to sleep by Brook’s gentle playing as he leans back against Bepo’s legs, extremely comfortable pillows that he doesn’t seem to mind sharing. Luffy is definitely asleep above him, his drool a hairs breadth away from dribbling down over Sanji’s shoulder, his snores an unusual accompaniment to Brook’s music.

“Well,” Nami huffs as she comes to stand in front of them, the others from around the dock moving to join them. Shachi is beside her, his face like thunder, and that makes Sanji’s eyebrows raise. “Despite the help in saving their lives, we are not actually welcome in the town.” Nami shakes her head, glancing around at everyone. “We’ve been invited to stay for the night as long as we stick to our ships and the dock, but come morning we are expected to leave.”

“The log poses?” Jean Bart asks, and Nami flaps a hand his way.

“They’ll set by then. In the mean time,” she pauses to glance around, eyes lingering on Luffy for a moment before she smiles, “shall I suggest a feast for our crews?”

That wakes Luffy up in a hiss and a roar, and Sanji groans as their captain rockets to his feet, all energy and excitement as he grips a laughing Nami by the shoulders, spinning the two of them away and taking half of the others with them.

It doesn’t take long to organise the feast. Sanji isn’t aware who the cook of the Heart Pirates is until Hakugan steps forward, his brown hair sticking up in all manners of ways around the creepy white mask he wears, the drawn on smiley face just a little unsettling. He doesn’t speak a lot but he offers to help Sanji as much as possible as Sanji leads the way up onto the Sunny, already running a mental check of what food they can prepare. Although, Hakugan turns out to be very handy in the kitchen, not quite to Sanji’s exact standards but he sure as hell beats any of the Straw Hats whenever they try to assist.

The sounds of their crews filter in through the cracked open door of the galley as they work together, Sanji seamlessly moving through his kitchen as Hakugan sticks to his station and does whatever Sanji instructs, perfectly content to do as he’s told. He can hear the sound of a chainsaw revving, something that sounds disturbingly like Franky’s maniacal laughter, and the odd scream or two from people he doesn’t recognise. Sanji isn’t bothered by any of it, well aware none of it is his issue to deal with, although he’s treated to Hakugan’s strange gravelly laugh as he informs Sanji just who it is that sounds like they’re being slaughtered out on deck.

By the time they’ve finished the galley is packed with helpful Heart Pirates, all of them grinning and salivating as they pick up dish after dish to ferry out back down to the dock. Sanji and Hakugan take up the rear, Sanji with a plate of thinly sliced meats in one hand and Hakugan with a phenomenal amount of bread in his arms, and Sanji is surprised when they step out to see a collection of newly made tables littering the dock. The food looks delicious and decadent spread across them all, bright and colourful, and Sanji feels proud before he glances around for his crew.

Penguin has reappeared, back with Shachi as the two of them look thrilled to be listening to a boasting Usopp as he prattles on about some ridiculous tale where they linger at the end of the dock. Jean Bart and Robin are sitting together on a nearby bench, chatting rather animatedly as Robin gestures with a few too many hands. Franky and Brook are shredding their guitars at one another, Ikkaku swinging Chopper around in giggling circles in front of them, while Bepo trails behind Nami with a lovestruck smile as she directs sharp orders at anyone who will listen.

Sanji sees that Law has also come back, the surgeon already at Luffy’s mercy, his captain having managed to wind himself around Law as he had with Sanji earlier. However if Sanji didn’t know any better, he would say that Law’s protests are only half hearted at best, and that the brilliant splash of red across his cheeks stands out in an impressive shade. It’s keeping Luffy distracted though, enough to give the Heart Pirates time to settle all the food across the tables without Luffy’s rubbery fingers snatching it away.

However, Sanji pauses when he realises that if Law and Penguin are back, that must mean Zoro is too, and he spins around quickly to try and spot him, his shoe burning a streak into the wood with the movement. Hakugan stops beside him with a quiet question, but Sanji pays him no mind as he glances around trying to find a spec of green hair and sharp swords.

And he find him, he does, down by the waters edge, just a little further past the dock. Zoro stands facing the ocean with his arms firmly crossed and his back ramrod straight, and Sanji doesn’t hesitate for even a second as he shoves his plate of meats into Hakugan’s already full arms before hurrying to the end of the dock and striking out across the sand towards their swordsman.

It’s a little tough to cross the beach as the sand gives way to his stride, but soon it starts to harden under his shoes the closer he gets to Zoro. The tide is gentle as it rolls up to greet him, lapping at his soles and guiding him further down the beach. He stops just before he reaches Zoro, lingering a handful of steps away as he feels a deep knot form in the centre of his chest, tightening every second he stands taking Zoro in.

Zoro, who Sanji last saw being dragged away by Luffy and Law, feral and wild with bloodied hands and snapping teeth. Sanji’s heart squeezes as he finds the air a little hard to breath at the memory, trying to place the calm and sullen man in front of him with the raging creature that had taken to his brother with an animalistic fury… only to find himself struggling to blur the lines.

But then he forces all those thoughts to the back of his mind and takes those last few steps, finally coming to a halt beside Zoro. There’s not a word from the swordsman, but Sanji sees the way his shoulders tense out of the corner of his eye and how his hands tighten into fists where they’re crossed over his chest, a sign he’s well aware Sanji has joined him.

However it’s those hands that catch Sanji’s attention. He can’t help himself as he turns slightly, reaching out with a hand that shakes just the slightest, his eyes locked on the starkness of the bandage wrapped around Zoro’s right hand where it’s fisted against his chest. The cold white looks wrong compared to the warm tan of Zoro’s skin, and Zoro doesn’t move as Sanji’s fingers grace the top of the coarse fabric, trailing up from Zoro’s wrist to follow the lines of the bandage to his wrapped knuckles.

Carefully, and with nerves that fire rapidly under his skin, Sanji pulls Zoro’s hand towards him. For some reason, Zoro lets him, and Sanji cups Zoro’s bandaged hand with his own gentle ones, resting Zoro’s fingers in his palms as he runs his thumbs across bumpy knuckles with a near reverence.

A lump forms in his throat, impossible to swallow past. “How bad?” he asks quietly, breaking the careful silence between them. He glances up to see Zoro looking at him, his face unreadable, his gaze guarded and reserved.

Zoro never bullsh*ts him though. “Three broken fingers,” he says, voice hard and clinical as Sanji winces, his hands tightening just minisculely around Zoro’s.

“Zoro-”

“Law fixed them,” Zoro cuts him off before he can say anything, and that explains their absence before when Sanji and Luffy had returned to the dock. “They’re stable. He said it shouldn’t take long for them to heal.”

Sanji opens his mouth to reply but no words come out. Zoro doesn’t look away though, holding his gaze firmly, and Sanji swallows thickly as he reluctantly lets go of Zoro’s hand. He misses his touch almost instantly, but he knows there’s only so long he can hold Zoro’s hand before it becomes necessary to explain why he won’t let go. Instead, he just flexes his fingers before shoving them down into his pocket, wrapping them around the box of cigarettes in there and squeezing it tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he starts to say, surprised when Zoro lets out an annoyed huff, and Sanji arches an eyebrow the swordsman’s way as Zoro’s drops that unreadable look for something more frustrated.

“What for?” he asks, words sharp enough to cut. “You didn’t cause any of this.” He shakes his head and crosses his arms again, his jaw clenched and working hard. “You need to stop trying to take on the responsibility of other people’s actions, Cook.”

Sanji wants to deny that he does but he finds the words die on the tip of his tongue. Instead he drops his head, scuffing his shoe into the wet sand beneath him, trying not to feel like there’s a weight settling itself over his shoulders.

Zoro doesn’t say anything more though and Sanji can’t blame him. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise him if Zoro is probably standing there wondering why Sanji is over here with him instead of back at the dock doing his damn job of being the cook, especially with an extra crew to attend to. His one duty and he’s fobbed it off to Hakugan just to come and standing with a swordman who doesn’t overly seem like he actually wants his company.

So Sanji is just about to drop all pretences and scurry away with his head hung in shame… when Zoro breaks the silence, his voice slicing through the growing doubt roaring at the front of Sanji’s mind.

“Your siblings,” Zoro practically grumbles, and Sanji turns to him with wide eyes, wondering where this is going. Zoro isn’t looking at him though, back to glaring out at the ocean.

“What about them?” Sanji prompts, frowning as Zoro tightens his arms over his chest.

“They’re not what I expected.”

Sanji’s lips twitch “No,” he agrees. He thinks of Niji, his mother’s blue eyes, the strange attempt at what could’ve been a smile on his brother’s face. “They’re not what I expected either.”

Zoro turns at that, his eyebrows raising. “Oh?”

Sanji shrugs, the movement hindered slightly by his hands still being in his pockets. “I think a lot of things have changed in thirteen years.” He sees flashes of Cacao Island, his brothers and sister stepping in to save him and Luffy. “They have. I have. Maybe things will be different now.”

He’s not expecting Zoro to whirl around to face him, his hands tightening into fists as they fall to his sides. Sanji’s eyes are drawn to his right hand, the stark white bandages. His heart thumps violently in the back of his throat when he sees a splotch of red start to bloom over Zoro’s first knuckle.

“They tried to kill you,” Zoro snaps, his voice dark and violent, and Sanji’s eyes drag up to see Zoro’s own is blazing, burning. “They haven’t changed, Cook. They won’t ever change.” His eye narrows. “What they did on Whole Cake proved that.”

Sanji isn’t as black and white as Zoro is, not anymore. Instead he sees only shades of greys, right and wrong just words that try to narrow down actions into small boxes. He heard the sentiment in Niji’s tone and he heard the genuine amusem*nt in Niji’s laugh. He saw the way Niji’s hand hovered between them, as if he was going to reach out and touch, to offer Sanji the one thing that little boy in the dungeon always yearned for.

But the thought of what his brother could be, gods forbid, feeling is quickly shoved away by the realisation of just what Zoro is saying.

After all, Whole Cake is unspoken territory for them. Not once has it ever come up. Sanji wasn’t sure it ever would.

“Are we…” Sanji hesitates, he pulls his hands from his pockets and flexes them at his side, feels the sea start to spill over the top of his shoes, the tide rising higher and higher. “Are we actually talking about this?”

Zoro doesn’t answer straight away, his face dropping back into that unreadable look. Sanji is beginning to hate it. “You haven’t before,” Zoro points out, and Sanji bites back the urge to roll his eyes. “We never talked about what happened with Whole Cake.”

Sanji frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t think you would want to.”

Zoro seems confused, mimicking Sanji with his own arms. “Why would you think that?” he asks.

Sanji blinks.

The sudden swell of emotions that roar up from the pit of his stomach is overwhelming, ripping up his spine and dragging his shoulders down in one big upheaval. His throat closes, his head aches, and Sanji has to squeeze his eyes tightly shut for a moment against the absolute onslaught.

Because despite how long it’s been, despite Luffy’s assurances otherwise, despite Nami’s trust in him having been slowly restored… Sanji has never known where Zoro stands on everything to do with Whole Cake, on what Sanji did. It’s never been spoken about, instead turning into a raging open chasm between them that Sanji wouldn’t even begin to dream of knowing how to cross. Zoro has never brought it up and Sanji has taken that as a sign that it’s never to come up. He’s assumed for so long that Zoro is disappointed in him, that Zoro has only let him stay on this crew because of Luffy’s decision. Sanji has always figured were it otherwise, he’d never see the Sunny or her crew ever again.

And then there’s also what Brook had said offhandedly one day on the way back from Whole Cake, when he and Sanji had been tending to Nami’s tangerine trees together with dirt around their knuckles and the sweet smell of fruit in air… when Brook had quietly mused to him about how Zoro had said that they should have left Sanji to his fate on Whole Cake, how he hadn’t been interested in coming to save him at all. He will admit that it had stung and burn to know that Zoro was content with letting him leave the crew, no matter the circ*mstance.

But the thing is… Sanji still doesn’t disagree with him.

However he doesn’t say any of that, not a single word, most of it caught and lodged in the pit of his lungs anyway. Instead, he simply shrugs again, opening his eyes only to look down. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, unable to meet Zoro’s gaze. “I don’t blame you. What I did was selfish.”

There’s a pause, long and horrible, before Sanji jumps as he feels warm calloused fingers slide under his chin, tilting his head up gently until Sanji is forced to meet Zoro’s frown.

“It’s not selfish to put the crew ahead of yourself.” Zoro tells him, and Sanji’s mouth falls open only for Zoro to push up on his chin until it closes again, the rough pad of his thumb brushing briefly over the edge of his bottom lip. “Stupid, maybe, but not selfish.”

Sanji stares at him until Zoro drops his hand away. There’s a lump in his throat, hard to swallow around, but Sanji speaks shaky words nevertheless. “You’re not mad at me?”

He isn’t expecting the small smile that quirks up the edges of Zoro’s lips, nor the way the swordsman lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head as if exasperated with Sanji.

“No.” Zoro says, and Sanji’s heart f*cking skips a beat. “For a time, yes. But not because of what you did.” Zoro looks uncertain for a moment, glancing away from Sanji as he takes in a deep breath, Sanji’s eyes following the exaggerated movement of his shoulders as he does. “After all, I understand what it’s like to put your life on the line in the hopes that it saves your nakama.”

Thriller Bark. The memories are violent and sudden. Sanji can’t help his gasp, the way it tears from his throat leaving bleeding scratches behind. He has to look away, blinks at the burn in his eyes, tries desperately not to remember thick blood coursing down Zoro’s face, his trembling body and wretched breaths, the thick tang of iron in the air and the heart-stopping moment Zoro had collapsed in Sanji’s arms with a still chest and sightless eyes.

“Cook.”

Zoro drags him back, and Sanji grits his teeth painfully as he forces himself to look at Zoro, his jaw aching at the strain. Zoro is alive though, his eye soft as he gives Sanji a smile that tears at the very seams of his his heart.

“I was mad, Curls,” Zoro murmurs, stepping forward into Sanji’s space, his movement causing a splash of the slowly rising water that sways around their ankles, soaking through their shoes, “because you didn’t believe that we would want to do the same for you.”

Sanji shakes his head in disbelief, hearing the words but unsure if he’s listening right. “You didn’t come to Whole Cake.”

Zoro huffs, shaking his head. “Not because I didn’t want to.” He shrugs one shoulder, a simple movement. “Luffy needed someone to lead the crew to Wano. It would have been different if that hadn’t been the case.”

Sanji isn’t sure what he’s hearing. His mouth opens and closes, his brain scrambling to find words, trying to understand just what the actual f*ck Zoro is saying.

“You…” The words catch. Sanji clears his throat. “You would’ve…?”

Zoro’s hands come up to grip Sanji’s upper arms. He smiles and it transforms his face, his eye crinkling, his teeth showing, his head tilting just slightly to the side as Sanji finds all the breath ripped from his lungs. Zoro’s grey eye is so warm, filled with an affection Sanji didn’t think would ever be directed at him, and his heart beats so furiously against his ribs he thinks they’re about to shatter.

“Always, Cook.”

Sanji isn’t sure who moves first, but one moment they’re standing in front of one another and the next his face is pressed into the hollow of Zoro’s neck, Zoro’s arms warm and strong as they wrap firmly around Sanji’s waist, holding him tightly enough that he wonders if he’ll be snapped in two. His own arms cling to Zoro’s broad shoulders, their knees knocking together as they stand chest to chest, hip to hip, and Sanji lets out a ragged breath that makes Zoro squeeze him as his own tickles Sanji’s ear.

They stay together for some time, Sanji inhaling the sweet scent of choji oil that lingers on Zoro’s skin as Zoro soothes his fingers around and round in the small of Sanji’s back. The moment is still and warm, endless in its sweetness, until finally a sharp shout and a loud burst of laughter from the dock cuts through like a hot knife.

Sanji stiffens before he pulls back from Zoro, his hands falling to his sides and he knows his cheeks burn red. He doesn’t meet Zoro’s gaze as he glances over to the noise that broke the moment, his heart firmly lodging itself in his throat. The sky is a deep purple now, ripples of orange slowly fading on the horizon, and Sanji can see the others moving about lighting torches on the dock. They seem like they’re having fun, the tables Franky had made ladened with food with lots of them crowded around it, the cyborg himself still with Brook as the sound of their instruments start to drift out to where Sanji and Zoro stand, and another peal of laughter breaks out of the smaller group at the very end of the dock as one of Usopp’s fireworks suddenly launches up into the air only to splutter out with a weak fizzle.

Sanji shakes his head, his lips curling up into a fond smile before he glances over to Zoro… only to falter when he sees Zoro is already looking back at him.

There’s a beat, a moment, Sanji’s heart stutters.

“Come on, Twirls,” Zoro says with a grin, turning to face the dock, and Sanji’s feels the world go solid beneath his feet once more. “We should get back before Luffy eats everything.”

Sanji huffs. “I did make enough to feed at least three of him,” he says, and Zoro lets out a snort as he shakes his head, his hands on his hips as they hear another shout followed by a loud splash and shrill scream. Sanji decides that’s not his problem.

“You know he’ll just take that as a challenge,” Zoro points out, and Sanji can’t fault him for that logic. Zoro glances back to him, his grin a little more daring, and Sanji’s eyebrows raise as he jerks his head back towards the dock. “Bet I can beat you there.”

Sanji laughs, surprised at how the noise just spills out of him. “You can’t be serious-”

He’s cut off though as Zoro suddenly turns around, bolting off with surprising speed considering the water swirling around their ankles, and Sanji’s mouth hangs open for a moment before he realises what’s happening.

“Oi, you sh*t!” he bellows as he takes chase, his eyes narrowing as Zoro lets out a brilliant laugh. “That’s f*cking cheating!”

…

The thing with Sanji is… he’s not as smart as he pretends to be.

He’s intelligent, perceptive, resourceful as Robin had once said after Enies Lobby, watching him over the rim of her teacup as Chopper had badgered him into explaining what had happened with the Gates of Justice. His Mr Prince persona from Arabasta still astounds most of the crew to this day, an exhausting tale Usopp continues to spin every time the drink starts to flow and the demand for retellings of their bizarre adventures gets higher.

It’s been that way since he was a child. Being physically weak left him with no choice but to develop in other ways. He had to be crafty to avoid his siblings, determined to see his mother despite being told otherwise, smart to outthink his father. He had to survive somehow, and it just so happened that he has a natural talent for doing so.

It didn’t change when he left Germa either. An eight-year-old boy alone on the sea wouldn’t survive very long without being somewhat savvy. Relying on the kindness of strangers has never been an option, after all most people on the high seas are pirates and they’re not famed for their generosity, so Sanji learnt and learnt, often times failing to learn some more.

By the time he was with Zeff, Sanji believed whole-heartedly that he was smarter than the old coot, able to out think him in ways that Zeff couldn’t even dream of. He was brilliant and clever, and he hated it to his very core whenever Zeff would refer to him as just a childish brat, rolling his eyes and nudging Sanji out of the way with his peg leg, grumbling unflattering things under his breath that would make steam rise from Sanji’s ears. He never could understand why Zeff insisted Sanji to be otherwise.

After all, people would look at him with surprised smiles all the time. They would call him sensible, complimenting Zeff for raising such a responsible young boy. Sanji would growl and glare later when it was just him and the old bastard, but he’d never say a word otherwise in front of customers or vendors, determined to be seen as an adult, as a man. He would puff out his chest, smile widely and charm people with his brilliant words and cheeky wit, laud being called dependable by the other staff at the Baratie as Zeff would watch him with narrow eyes.

Sanji remembers the first time he ever smoked a cigarette. He’d been on the deck of the Baratie with the early morning sun just peeking over the horizon, holding a half-pack of cigarettes in hand that he’d stolen from Carne’s back pocket the night before. Zeff stood with him, regarding him with an unreadable expression as Sanji had pushed a cigarette between his lips before struggling to light it with futile clicks of the lighter. When Sanji had dragged in that first lungful of smoke, he’d choked on it, coughing violently over the banister as the smoke burnt the back of his throat and ripped out his nose.

Then he’d grinned up at Zeff, eyes watery and bright. “Now I am a man!” he’d declared, waving the lit cigarette in his fingers, the orange glow of its tip bright in the early morning haze.

He’d been surprised then when Zeff had yanked it from his fingers, throwing it deftly overboard before he’d dropped to his knees in front of Sanji. Sanji hadn’t expected those big hands to grip his scrawny shoulders, swallowing them up as Zeff had shaken him sharply.

“No,” he’d said, his voice thick and rough, and Sanji hadn’t known then just why. “You’re a child, Sanji. You’re just a child. You don’t need to be a man yet.”

At the time, Sanji had waited until Zeff left him alone before striking another cigarette, swallowing down the burn as he’d forced himself to smoke it to the very end. At the time, Sanji had thought Zeff had been mocking him, pointing out how young he was with a callous disregard. At the time, Sanji hadn’t understood what Zeff had been trying to tell him.

Now? Now Sanji does.

Sensible, responsible, dependable.

It’s all short-hand, Sanji realised very quickly when he grew old enough to understand, for traumatised.

Because what he never grasped was that while he might have been more mature in the ways he thought counted, his wisened eyes filled with more devastating experiences than a child should ever know, he was spectacularly naive when it came to anything less practical than pure survival.

The first time Sanji ever felt butterflies in his stomach was when he was twelve, two years after the Baratie opened. A girl his age with brown curls that bounced on her shoulders had smiled at him from around her menu, batting long eyelashes at him, and Sanji had promptly spilt his jug of water all down his front before he’d fled to the kitchen. He couldn’t explain the feelings in his chest, the unnatural itch under his skin, and he’d screamed so hard at Pattie for dropping a knife later that evening that Zeff had to bodily carry him out of the kitchen to his room.

The second time was when he was shopping for supplies on Onaka Island, aged fifteen and already smoking enough cigarettes to fell a grown man. He’d been leaning against a crate on the dock, lazily supervising some of the Baratie’s staff as they’d carried the supplies onto their boat when he’d meet the most stunning pair of green eyes, a young boy his age smiling a toothy smile where he sat on the other side of the dock. He’d winked at him and Sanji had choked on his cigarette, his eyes burning with tears as he’d coughed hard enough to wretch. Zakao had stopped to ask him if he was okay, patting him gingerly on the back, and Sanji’s face was a blazing red as he’d yelled at them all to hurry up just so he could get the f*ck out of there.

It didn’t take long after that to realise he wasn’t exactly capable of dealing with those kind of feelings.

So Sanji locked them away, a rational response at the time. He shut down anything and everything to do with feelings and emotions, hiding them behind bland grand gestures and empty flowery words. He got a reputation, of course he did, after all Zoro isn’t the first to have ever referred to him as the ‘love cook’, however there was never any sort of purpose behind any of his actions.

A wink and a smile, a small poetic compliment, a free dessert or drink. They all go hand in hand to make him appear as suave as possible, flirtatious without any of the commitment. Sanji feels safe like that, comfortable even, with no intention on ever lingering long enough to see if there could ever be something more.

But then Zoro happened.

Sanji wasn’t expecting it. He’s not daft, he’s well aware that he doesn’t particularly mind the gender of his partner. Women are easier, they come with less risk of having his ass handed to him because someone takes umbrage to some casual flirting, but Sanji admits that he might just lean a little more towards men. He’s drawn to strength and bravery, someone who is tough enough to handle Sanji’s own wild sea of thoughts and emotions. After all, he knows that he’s a walking contradiction of stoic impassiveness and bleeding heart syndrome.

There’s only ever so much that one can take before they snap, before the carefully built and maintained walls start to crack and crumble, it’s barely restrained insides finding even the smallest of imperfections to trickle out from.

You’re too much, he was told once. You’re too hard to love.

He remembers the girl who told him. She’d always smelt like freshly baked bread and her smile made her eyes crinkle at the corners. Sanji had thought she might’ve been different, might’ve been the one to push at those forming cracks in his walls, but after she’d said those words, looking down her nose with anger burning in those beautiful blue eyes… Sanji realised it never was them that was the problem.

But Sanji hasn’t forgotten that, those words etched into the back of his mind as a painful constant reminder that he’s too damn much. So now? Now as he looks at Zoro and feels things he didn’t realise he was capable of? Things that make his chest warm and his hands shake, that make his heart beat a little too loud and his blood rush a warm glow through his veins?

It’s scares the sh*t out of him.

Because despite his walls and his hesitance, despite not even knowing where to begin breaking them down… Sanji is willing to try if it means that Zoro will look at him the way Sanji knows he looks at Zoro.

However, that’s the thing. That’s the thing. Sanji isn’t sure if Zoro does feel the same way about him. There’s moments where he thinks he might, moments when Zoro meets his gaze and there’s more than a competitive burn in them, something softer and sweeter, something that pulls the edges of Zoro’s lips up into a breathtaking smile that leaves Sanji’s knees weak.

And then there’s the moments when they wash the dishes together and Sanji’s heart swoops as Zoro carefully places every item back in their exact spots, still the only crew member that does so. There’s moments when it’s just the two of them out on deck and Zoro stands close enough for their arms to brush, resting the heel of his boot against the side of Sanji’s dress shoe as if it doesn’t make Sanji’s breath hitch in his lungs. There’s moments in the middle of battles where Zoro follows so closely behind Sanji that it’s as if they’re one, beginning and ending in the same spots, flawless and compatible in a way Sanji never could have even dreamt of.

Moments, moments, moments.

But that’s all they are, and Sanji can’t build something out of simple brief moments.

So he’s hesitant, fearful if he’s brutally honest with himself. He watches and waits and wonders if he’s reading into something that’s not actually there. He needs answers, even just a small sign from Zoro to let him know he’s not as completely batsh*t as he feels.

Luckily, it happens sooner than expected… which isn’t hard considering he never did expect in the first place.

And the sign? Well.

They reach Chest Island not long after their adventure with the Heart Pirates, aptly named considering its location was derived from the map Nami found in the box Law gave Luffy before they left the previous island. Luffy, of course, had immediately ignored the shiny gold lock on the front, choosing to bypass Usopp and his lock picks to instead smash the box to smithereens. Sanji had to give Law some kudos for not even flinching, his face remaining as impassive as ever as Luffy had left Nami to rummage through the splintered wood while he beamed at the other captain as if waiting for approval.

So the map had been found, a giant red circle in the middle of it indicating some sort of treasure that made Nami’s eyes turn to Berri signs. Luffy just seemed interested in the adventure of it all, and Sanji had simply blown a long stream of smoke into the air as he begrudgingly recognised their crew didn’t have a chance after that.

Chest Island is bustling when they finally reach it after a handful of days, days in which Sanji spent alternating between avoiding Zoro and finding any excuse to be around him, but eventually the island appears within sight of Usopp’s spyglass. The city spills out onto a giant dock, wooden wharfs connecting to a cobblestone street lined with an array of many small carts and vendors. The idea of perusing the shops has Sanji leaning beside Usopp at the railing, his eyes trailing over the colourful awnings of the carts, but he knows he’s probably going to have to wait until Luffy has hauled them off to who knows where in the middle of this giant island before he has a chance to taste any local cuisine.

True to form, Luffy is barely able to be held back by an exhausted looking Chopper in arm point the moment the Sunny docks, but at least Nami is quick about their meeting where they’re spread out on the Sunny’s lawn. The drawcard of treasure has Nami determined to go on this trip, Zoro quick to be volunteered by her to join, while Sanji is always willing to accompany one of the ladies on whatever task they’re doing. Chopper is interested even if his current interlock with Luffy all but guarantees he’s going to be launched across the island with their captain at some stage, with or without his permission, and Usopp’s sh*tty excuses are ignored as Nami glowers at him and pointedly twiddles one of his lock picks between her fingers.

Robin and Franky, however, politely bow out and Sanji watches from where he’s packing tramping supplies away into various backpacks as they slip away down the gangplank to the town, arm in arm and completely wrapped up in one another. Both Brook and Jinbei volunteer to stay behind and watch the ship, and the rest of them leave the two drinking tea together and playing cards on the lawn underneath Nami and Robin’s parasol, neither of them overly interested in the heavily protesting Usopp as he’s dragged rather forcefully along by Nami’s strong grip on his ear.

It’s a lovely autumn island, Sanji realises when their small ragtag group breaks out the other side of the town into the forest behind it. There’s a slight chill to the air, the wind just enough to make Sanji thankful for the windbreaker coat he wears. The forest floor is littered with leaves of various shapes and sizes, a mesmerising mix of orange, yellow, and red that flutter down from towering trees, crunching under their heavy hiking boots as they trek over raised roots and fallen logs.

Luffy leads the way with Nami holding him back by the scruff of the green jacket he wears, something Sanji had scavenged from his own locker and forced his captain into. She’s doing a decent job of multi-tasking, reading the map and managing Luffy, meanwhile Usopp trudges along behind them sprouting an unrelenting torrent of complaining that Sanji would find impressive if it weren’t threatening to make his ears bleed. Luffy starts up a horrible warble of a chant though and Sanji doesn’t doubt Usopp will be sucked into that soon, their sniper never able to resist an opportunity to bless them with his own awful screech.

Sanji trails along at the rear of the group alongside Zoro, Chopper hanging from their swordsman’s shoulders. His little hooves are buried in green hair, gently tugging each time Zoro so much as looks in the wrong direction. Sanji hides his smiles behind his cigarette, although there’s not much he can do for the way his stomach lurches every time he catches sight of the embarrassed red blush spread over Zoro’s cheeks and nose.

“I don’t understand,” Usopp whines from up front, and Sanji fills his lungs with smoke in an attempt to stop himself throttling the sniper. “I shouldn’t have to come on these stupid excursions if I don’t want to.”

“What you want is of little relevance to me,” Nami calls back, barely heard over Luffy’s attempt at singing, the wailing scaring the birds from the trees as they go. “I might need your lock picking skills and they’ll be of no help if you’re moping back on the Sunny.”

“You could at least pretend you care.”

Zoro snorts, and Sanji glances over to see him shaking his head, Chopper swinging with the movement. “You’d think he’d have learnt by now that Nami doesn’t do sh*t for free.”

Sanji is about to respond with a sharp retort, only Nami snaps her fingers over her shoulder and points back at Zoro, flashing them a wink and a poke of her tongue. Zoro rolls his eye but he looks at least a little affectionate, so Sanji lets it ride just this once.

Luckily, Usopp is soon predictably dragged into Luffy’s caterwauling, joining their captain for a mangled rendition of Binks Sake that Brook is thankfully not around to hear. Nami is relieved of Luffy duty, taking the lead as the other two sway together behind her with their arms around each others shoulders, and she sets a much faster pace than Luffy had.

Sanji walks in silence beside Zoro and Chopper, listening with half an ear to their quiet conversation. He only catches little bits, deciding it’s not something to focus on when he hears Chopper asking about how Zoro’s hand is faring after his surgery with Law. It makes a lump form in Sanji’s throat, one he can’t even drag smoke in past, the memory of Zoro hunched over Yonji seared into the front of his mind. It makes his fingers shake, and he lets his cigarette fall to his side to naturally burn out, blowing his last puff into the air in a perfect smoke ring.

He keeps himself busy by looking around, taking in the forest around them, keeping little mental notes so he can remember how to get back in case anything goes wrong. With Luffy, it’s bound to happen, so Sanji makes sure not to forget about the strange tree thats grown into a knot and the pile of rotting logs that nearly reach his waist in height as they pass them.

He gets distracted though at one point when Chopper lets out a shriek beside him, and he glances over to see the little reindeer barely holding onto Zoro’s hair, belly-laughing so hard that it’s only because of Zoro’s tight hold on his legs that he doesn’t fall off backwards. It’s a good look on Chopper, something that makes Sanji’s own lips quirk up at the edges… but it’s Zoro that catches his eye.

Zoro, who’s head is half turned towards Sanji enough that he can see his smile is so soft and indulgent, that there’s unrestrained adoration twinkling in that eye as he tilts his head up as if to try catching a glimpse of Chopper’s joy. He looks stunning out here, his green hair a brilliant contrast against the falling reds and oranges, the tan of his skin radiant and warm despite the chilling wind around them, and Sanji can’t stop the way his blood rushes in his ears, his heart thuds in his chest, his skin tingles and his fingers twitch with the need to reach out and touch…

But then Zoro catches his gaze, that grey eye almost knowing as it meets Sanji’s own, and Sanji feels his cheeks burn a furious red as he looks away.

Moments, he thinks.

Eventually, after Luffy and Usopp have made their way through half of Brook’s discography, they stumble across a crumbling set of ruins, supposedly the one that’s been surrounded by the bright red circle on Nami’s map. They stand outside it for a moment, taking it in with various emotions, Nami and Luffy excitedly, Chopper and Usopp nervously, and Sanji and Zoro impassively. The ruins are covered in a mess of moss and vines, the front entrance an uninviting dark pit amongst the stone, and Sanji wonders if this is really a good idea at all.

Not that Luffy gives them time to think about it. As anticipated much earlier, he reaches out for Chopper with a wild grin and promptly launches the two of them straight into the ruins with a roar of excitement from Luffy and a shrill panicked scream from Chopper.

There’s a moment where the rest of them stand still, Sanji personally trying to decide if it’s too late to turn back now, before Zoro sighs and nudges forward to lead them after their captain and doctor. Begrudgingly, Sanji follows suit, snatching Usopp’s arm as he goes to ensure their sniper doesn’t choose then to bail.

Thankfully, Luffy’s cackles are easy to follow as they trudge down a long stone corridor, a few smaller ones leading off it into dark alcoves that feel damp and abandoned. Sanji doesn’t like this place, the feel of it more similar to a dank cold dungeon than a historical ruin, and his grip on Usopp’s arm grows just that little bit tighter the further into the ruin they move, the sunlight behind them fading away and making it harder to navigate the debris lining the corridor in piles of dusty rocks. Usopp clearly notices, his attempts to rid himself of Sanji’s hold stopping abruptly, but he doesn’t say a word even if his normally straight walk becomes wobbly enough to bump Sanji’s shoulder repetitively.

The ruins stretch on and on, the sound of their heavy footsteps dull in the echo chamber around them as they walk. Nami and Usopp eventually pull torches from their packs, the yellow lights that flicker to life enough to ease some of the tension in Sanji’s shoulders, his grip on Usopp loosening. Ahead of them they can see that Chopper has pulled out his own, his torch the only sign of him and Luffy as they spring ahead, and Sanji can’t help the bad feeling that starts to swell in the pit of his stomach.

Maybe its to do with the way the ruins groan around them, how the stone seems to shake and crumble, showering small pebbles down from the roof. It doesn’t feel safe or stable, and Sanji has to fight the urge to turn back now, to grab the others and haul them far far away from this place. No one else seems fazed though, Nami and Zoro striding ahead confidently as Sanji and Usopp follow at a more sedate pace.

“Does this…” Usopp murmurs to him though, flicking the torch around a little erratically, not at all helping Sanji’s nerves, “does this feel as unsafe to you as it does to me?”

Sanji wants to roll his eyes and call him a coward like usual, but the fact is he’s not wrong. Sanji flinches as there’s a crash further up ahead followed by Luffy’s sharp cackle, the walls of the ruins around them shuddering as a result. A cascade of rock rains down in front of them, and Sanji gingerly steps over it.

“Unfortunately,” he mutters under his breath, keeping a close eye on Nami as she picks her way through the debris lining the corridor, “it does.”

Usopp lets out a weak little laugh, more fear than joy, and Sanji squeezes his arm tightly before tugging him forward in an attempt to catch up with Zoro and Nami as they turn down one of the side corridors, the large one they’d been in coming to an abrupt end from a clear cave in. It clearly hadn’t stopped Luffy, the little light ahead from him and Chopper still bounding forward, only to disappear around another corner.

“For f*cks sake, Luffy,” Nami mutters, and the four of them take chase.

Sanji admittedly gets a little lost the further on they go, losing track of the twists and turns as they carry on down different corridors. There’s nothing to remember here like there was in the forest, all the stone blending into one big blur of crumbling walls and dark corners. There’s nothing different until they finally come to the end of a corridor that leads out into a large room, nearly crashing into Luffy and Chopper in the entrance where they’re waiting.

“Oi!” Usopp squeaks as he collides into their captain, the only one not quick enough to hit the brakes, and Sanji lets go of him as the two of them grapple with one another trying to not hit the ground. Chopper at least has the mind to move to the side, his hoof snapping out to wrap in Zoro’s pant leg as Zoro steps up beside him.

The room in front of them is large and cavernous despite half of its roof missing. It looks intentional though, light streaking down from between the thick forest canopy above to illuminate a giant dais in the middle of the room… and on top of it?

A giant treasure chest.

Sanji doesn’t even need to look at her to know that Nami is practically glowing, excited noises spilling out of her beside him as she claps her hands together with glee. She’s saying something to Luffy and Usopp, not that Sanji pays attention, because while Luffy and Usopp right themselves in the doorway… Sanji has a very sudden bad feeling.

It rips through him, lurching up from the pit of his stomach, a wave of haki so strong it makes him glance up to see a rather heavy slab of stone hanging just on the otherwise of the doorway. He swallows as he stares, spotting an old frayed rope tied to the top of the slab that he follows down right to where it runs to the ground. It takes a moment to spot what it’s connected to, a thin piece of string that lies right across the threshold leading into the room.

A trap. “Guys,” Sanji starts to say, his voice thick with warning, and he glances over in time to meet Zoro’s own wide-eyed stare from where he’s obviously seen the same thing. “We need to stop for a-”

He’s cut off as Luffy steps out over the doorway, his arm tightly wound around Nami, and their excited chatter lurches to a stop as Luffy promptly rips the piece string with a wayward foot and a loud graunching noise splits through the air, the groaning sound of stone grinding on stone. There’s a momentary pause, like the world runs still, and Sanji’s mouth opens in a silent cry just as the large slap of stone comes loose from where it’s hanging above.

He only just gets a glimpse of Luffy and Nami’s shocked faces before the stone slams down between them.

There’s silence for a long moment, Sanji staring at the stone wall alongside the others. It’s suddenly deafeningly quiet, the only sounds their strained breathing, the only light in the pitch black corridor from the torches held by Usopp and Chopper.

“Well,” Usopp mumbles, reaching out to poke at the rock separating them from Luffy and Nami, “sh*t.”

Sanji groans as he reaches up to scrub his hands over his face, biting back the frustrated scream he wants to let out into his palms. Usopp is still talking, his voice progressively sounding more and more strangled, only made worse as Chopper begins to join in with a worried chirp. It’s not helpful, adding to the suffocating panic starting to choke Sanji, wrapping like a hand around his throat and squeezing until he can feel spots starting to break out behind his closed eyelids.

It’s fine, he tries to tell himself, breathing through his nose thinly, refusing to let the feelings seep out around him. They’re going to be okay. They’re all going to be okay.

But when he peeks out from between his fingers its only to see cold stone walls, the air damp and chilled enough to find all the gaps in his clothing, and he swears for a moment he sees a small familiar child wearing an iron mask staring at him from the corner.

And then. “Cook?”

Zoro’s voice cuts through his thoughts, severing them as neatly as he would with his swords, and Sanji blinks until the corner is empty before he raises his head and squares his jaw. Beside him, Zoro’s shoulder brushes his and Sanji feels the panic slowly start to reside, Zoro’s touch enough to quell its monsterous hold on him.

“Right,” he says, loud enough to carry over to the other two who’ve progressed to pounding on the stone desperately, his words barely wavering. “Lets get the f*ck out of here.”

Usopp stops and turns to stare at him, his surprised expression only just lit up by the dull yellow light of the torches. “Seriously?” he gasps, flicking his torch around to point at Sanji, making him blink and throw his hand up to try block the bright light. “We can’t just leave them!”

“Put that down, idiot,” Zoro grumbles from beside Sanji, stomping forward to rip the torch from Usopp’s hand. Usopp squeaks but doesn’t resist and Zoro moves past him to take a closer look at the stone, dragging the torchlight up and down the edges as he runs his hand over it.

Sanji leaves him to it, focusing instead on Usopp as he places his hands firmly on his hips. “What’s the alternative, long nose?” he demands as Chopper spins around, lighting the two of them up. “I don’t think this was designed for there to be a way around it.”

“You’re not worried?”

Sanji gives Usopp a reproachful look. “Of course I am,” he snaps, and Usopp has the decency to look chagrined, “but worrying about them doesn’t do anything to help them. We’re better off going back and returning with proper equipment and a plan.”

“That’s if they don’t get out themselves,” Zoro muses, and Sanji looks past Usopp to see the swordsman step back from the rock, his hand dropping to rest on his swords. Sanji wonders if he’s considering cutting through it, but Zoro doesn’t make a move to do so, instead glancing back to look at Sanji. “You saw the hole in the roof too, right?”

Sanji nods. “They’re probably already in the forest, chest and all.” He sighs, dropping his hands into his pockets, his fingers wrapping around the pack of cigarettes he finds in there. It’s only his promise to Chopper to not smoke around the others that stops him from pulling one out to light. “Lets head back to the Sunny. They might just meet us there.”

Usopp and Chopper look uncertain, but Zoro just gives him a firm nod before he hands Usopp back his torch and reaches down to scoop Chopper back up onto his shoulders. The little reindeer squawks at the rough treatment but quickly latches onto Zoro’s hair as he strides past Sanji, and Sanji waits until Usopp gives the stone wall one last forlorn look before he snags his sleeve and pulls him after the other two.

Unsurprisingly, it takes a long time to navigate out of the ruins. Sanji can’t remember the way at all. The corridors have blurred into endless lines of greyish purple stone with the oppressive darkness barely lit by the two torches flickering around, and Sanji tries not to see shapes in the shadows. Usopp ends up hurrying forward with Chopper leaping off of Zoro’s shoulders to land on their sniper’s, already throwing out suggestions to navigate the maze like corridors, and Sanji is more than content to let the two of them lead the way.

It means Zoro falls back to walk beside him, their shoulders brushing together repetitively. He wishes he could focus on the touch more instead of the suffocating fear that’s still braying at the corners of his mind, threatening to overwhelm him. He struggles to hide it too, flexing his hands into fists over and over at his sides, trying to regulate his breathing as they traipse down endless corridors.

And then Sanji feels a warm hand brush his before taking it, battle-worn fingers entwining with his own. He nearly trips in surprise, his eyes widening, but it’s too dark to see Zoro’s face when he glances over.

He squeezes Sanji’s hand though, and Sanji feels the last tendrils of panic fade away.

Chopper and Usopp’s quiet conversation isn’t loud enough to compete with the dull echoing thud of their boots as they wander back down the corridors, avoiding the debris on the ground as they go. Luffy’s missing presence is enough to make the ruins ring hollow with silence. It’s a little unnerving, but Sanji remains grounded as they twist and turn through the myriad of interconnected corridors, the darkness not quite as unbearable anymore.

And then finally, after what feels like an age, they reach the entrance once more.

It’s dark outside, the sky a deep inky blue with scattered twinkling stars. The silhouettes of creaking trees rustle with the strong wind, and Sanji’s shoulders hunch to his neck as it chills the back of his neck. They linger just outside of the ruins, the torchlight too weak to illuminate past hulking tree trunks, and Usopp’s hand darts down to catch Chopper’s shoulder when he slips on the wet coloured leaves littering the forest floor.

They don’t even have to discuss whether they continue, all four of them in silent agreement that it’s too dark and too dangerous to keep going. No doubt, they could figure it out… it’s not even the worst thing they’ve ever done and Sanji is more confident about navigating through the forest than he was with the ruins, but Usopp starts to pull out one of Franky’s portable campfires from his pack alongside an assortment of small gadgets and Sanji reluctantly lets go of Zoro’s hand to swing his own around to drop to the ground.

Thankfully, Sanji had prepared for the inevitable moment they would stop for food, constantly having to factor in the black hole that is their captain. They stay just tucked inside the entrance of the ruins, using it for shelter from the weather as Sanji manages to cook up something reasonably tasty using what he’d tucked far away in the bottom of his pack, safe from Luffy’s greedy guts. The others seem happy as they spread out around the campfire, Chopper grins around a mouthful of cheesy pasta while Usopp goes back in for seconds, and Sanji picks quietly at his own as a feeling of deep exhaustion starts to settle over his shoulders.

It’s been a long day and when Zoro gently nudges him, making Sanji’s drooping eyes flicker back open, he blinks at the proffered blanket in the swordsman’s hand. He stares at it for a moment, the well-worn green one with fraying edges that he knows Zoro normally keeps in the crows nest, before he glances around at the others.

Chopper is already curled up nearby, bundled in a familiar red haramaki with his head pillowed on his ever-present blue backpack, his shoulders rising and falling slowly. Usopp catches his eye when Sanji looks his way, giving him a small smile before going back to digging through his pack with vigour, his tongue sticking out in concentration, and Sanji nearly jumps when the blanket is suddenly thrown roughly around him.

“Get some sleep, Cook,” Zoro says, his hands heavy and comforting where they rest on Sanji’s shoulders briefly, and Sanji tilts head back to catch just a glimpse of Zoro’s soft look before he takes the bowl from Sanji’s hand and steps away.

He watches him go back to Usopp, folding himself down beside the sniper who turns to him with a grin, and Sanji reaches up to clasp the ends of the blanket in one hand. He didn’t realised how cold or tired he is, and he feels torn for a moment leaving Usopp and Zoro alone before the fatigue wins out. He reaches out to snag his pack to use as a pillow, rearranging the blanket around himself so there’s a little under him as a barrier against the stone floor, before he curls up into a tight ball.

He’s just about asleep, eyes closed and breathing even, when Usopp speaks.

“Is he alright?” he asks, his voice barely loud enough for Sanji to hear. His eyes pop open as he frowns, but he doesn’t chance moving to look in case it disrupts them.

There’s a bit of rustling, the sound of the fire cracking and popping, before Zoro answers. “He’ll be fine,” he murmurs, voice hoarse in its quietness.

“You sure?” Usopp sounds upset, and Sanji knows he’s probably picking at his fingernails, a habit he does unconsciously. “For a moment there he looked-”

“Usopp.” Zoro’s tone holds no room for argument, and Sanji can almost hear the sound of Usopp’s mouth shutting with an audible click. “He’s stronger than you think.”

“I know.” Usopp sighs. “I just… I worry about him, you know?” He clears his throat. “Sanji… he’s had it worse than most of us.”

Sanji’s eyes widen, and he can’t resist the urge to angle his head just slightly down to look at the other two. They’re huddled together, Usopp predictably picking at his fingernails with his head bowed, his knees hunched to his chest while Zoro sits cross legged beside him, glaring into the fire as he drums his fingers on Wado’s wooden saya where she rests in his lap.

Sanji’s swallows thickly. It didn’t occur to him they were talking about… about him.

“He has,” Zoro acknowledges, his voice rough compared to his impassive expression, the flickering flames casting shadows over his face. Usopp glances up briefly, and Sanji isn’t too sure what that particular look means before Usopp focuses his attention back on his lap.

They lapse into silence. Sanji thinks that’s it, that the conversation is over with as they sit side by side, and he isn’t entirely sure what he just overheard. He knows Usopp picked up on his hesitance in the ruins, obviously Zoro did too, but he never imagined that the two of them would share some sort of kinship over it.

He’s about to shift his head back up, his heart thumping erratically in his chest as thoughts swirl through his mind, but then Usopp moves, dropping his legs down to mirror Zoro.

Their sniper looks hesitant for a moment, glancing between the fire and Zoro with pursed lips, before he reaches out to nudge Zoro with a bony elbow. “It’s sweet, you know,” he says, smiling at Zoro with a wide grin. “I honestly never thought you two would ever get over yourselves.”

Zoro looks confused for a moment before his face shutters back down to his usual impassiveness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Usopp snorts, shaking his head. “Whatever,” he teases as he rolls his shoulders back. “Deny it all you want, Zoro, but I’m not blind.” He wiggles his fingers at Zoro, his smile turning mischievous as Zoro’s mask cracks to give him a reproachful look. “It’s not a bad thing, idiot.”

Sanji can’t see Zoro’s face as he turns his head entirely towards Usopp. “It’s not a thing, long nose.”

Sanji can’t help feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest, something sharp and barbed. His hands tighten around the edges of the blanket, his teeth catch his bottom lip until it hurts, and he’s just about to close his eyes to try block out whatever is happening in front of him when Usopp suddenly laughs.

“Zoro,” Usopp stresses his name, and Sanji glances over to see his eyes dancing with barely restrained mirth, “if you can say that without looking like a lovestruck puppy, I might just believe you.”

Sanji’s heart leaps at the sentence, quite unable to imagine just what Zoro would look with such an expression. He wants to get up, rush over and turn the swordsman just to see, but then Zoro is huffing and turning back around to glare at the fire. If Sanji’s isn’t mistaken, then he’s sure the light flush to Zoro’s cheeks isn’t at all from the warmth in front of him.

He smiles, his stomach fluttering something fierce, and he nudges his nose down into the blanket, well aware his cheeks are burning just the same.

“You know he cares for you too, right?” Usopp asks, and Sanji frowns when he hears the genuine concern in Usopp’s tone, matching the confusion pulling at his brow. “This ‘thing’ isn’t one sided.”

Zoro doesn’t look convinced though, and Sanji’s heart squeezes as the swordsman’s usual control over his expression slips, his lips thinning as he continues staring straight into the flames. “He doesn’t…” Zoro trails off, looking irritated as he folds his arms over his chest. “He doesn’t treat me like it’s mutual.”

Usopp huffs, his lips twitching into an amused smile. “What? With poetry and flowers?” He reaches over and shoves at Zoro as he growls at him. “Do you want Sanji to do that? To treat you like some pretty lady to be fawned over?”

“No.” Zoro’s tone is hard enough to make even Sanji’s back straighten, but Usopp doesn’t seem to buckle as he just tilts his head to the side, regarding Zoro as his smile softens.

“Neither does he,” Usopp says calmly as he rests a hand on Zoro’s shoulder, and Sanji can’t look away from Zoro’s stony face. “Because you mean something more to him that just a fancy fling or a throwaway affair.” He leans forward as he brings his hand up to turn Zoro’s head towards him, making the swordsman meet his gaze, and Sanji admires his bravery. “He’s scared, Zoro. You are too. But I think, with a bit of patience and time, you’ll be just fine.”

Again, Sanji can’t see Zoro’s face, but there’s something warm and glowing that floods his veins at Usopp’s words, and Usopp holds Zoro in place as Zoro’s hand comes up to grip his wrist. They stay like that for a long beat, and Sanji glances away to give them their privacy, not wanting to intrude on such a rare moment between the two nakama. Instead, he burrows further into the blanket around him and tries to quell his pounding heart, tries to force it to stop thundering so loudly that he’s sure they’ll hear it.

f*cking Usopp, Sanji thinks, admittedly fondly. Always sticking that stupidly long nose into things, always having a bloody point while he’s at it.

When he glances back over, Usopp and Zoro have separated. Usopp still looks completely endeared though as he reaches out to sling an arm around Zoro’s shoulders, jostling him despite Zoro’s unimpressed look. “Alright, big fella, I’ll take the first watch,” Usopp says with an easy smile. “Go get some sleep.”

Surprisingly, Zoro doesn’t insist otherwise. Instead, he shoves Usopp away hard enough to nearly send the sniper sprawling in the dirt before he stands. Usopp rolls his eyes as he rights himself, that smile still on his face, and while Sanji expects for him to walk away, Zoro instead lingers for a moment.

In one fluid movement, he shucks his long brown fur coat, pulling it off easily only to lean down and wrap it firmly around Usopp’s shoulders, surprising the sniper who automatically reaches up to hold it himself.

“Keep warm,” Zoro mutters gruffly, and Usopp blinks up at him with a slightly open mouth before he gives Zoro a bright smile and firm nod.

Sanji isn’t exactly surprised, but he can’t help the way the small gesture makes his heart skip a funny beat. It only worsens too as Zoro steps away from Usopp after scooping Wado up, moving to rest her down where Kitesu and Enma lie against the ruin’s wall, before he carries on over to Chopper.

Sanji watches as the swordsman crouches down beside their little doctor, reaching out to tug his haramaki up where it’s slipped down Chopper’s shoulder. His expression has changed, his lips soft at the edges and his eye filled with warmth as he brushes a hand over the top of Chopper’s head, fingers running through the soft fur. Chopper lets out a soft noise, burrowing further under the haramaki, and Zoro gives him a small smile.

It makes Sanji’s heart f*cking burst, and he finds it hard to breathe as Zoro soothes down the haramaki one more time before he stands.

However, Sanji doesn’t expect him to turn around to face him. He freezes, caught in the act of watching, his entire body going rigid where he lies. They stare at one another, nerves rushing through Sanji’s veins so intensely he has the urge to get up and run, unsure just what Zoro will do as his expression shutters down into something more guarded.

But nothing happens, he just stares, and Sanji swallows down all those raging nerves before he slowly lifts up the edge of the blanket.

It’s enough to break the moment, and Sanji sees a flicker of unfamiliar doubt on Zoro’s face before the swordsman rolls his shoulders back and takes those few steps between the two of them.

They don’t say a word as Zoro settles, nudging in beside Sanji and stretching out his arm to tuck under Sanji’s bag as he pillows his head on his bicep. Sanji waits until he’s still before he drags the blanket over to cover him, his arm wrapping around Zoro’s chest as he does so, and it’s only because of a sudden surge of pure raw courage that he leaves it there.

Zoro raises an eyebrow at him in question, and Sanji offers him a smile in response. It seems to be enough, seems to be an invitation as Zoro reaches out with his spare hand to grip Sanji’s waist, hauling him in closer as their knees bend and bump, and Sanji’s eyes widen as he finds himself nearly pressed chest to chest with the swordsman.

He lets out a shaky breath and meets Zoro’s gaze.

There’s a pause. “Is this okay?” Sanji asks, his voice a little strangled.

Zoro stares. “Is it?”

Sanji rolls his eyes, unable to help his scowl. “I asked first, asshole,” he mutters, and Zoro grins at him as he pinches Sanji’s hip. It sends a jolt right up Sanji’s spine, makes his chest squeeze, and he tries hard not to feel dizzy.

Slowly, he shifts his leg, carefully slotting it in-between Zoro’s own as he moves even closer to the swordsman. He hears Zoro’s breath hitch, feels his hand tighten around his hip, and Sanji tries to keep his own breathing steady as he leans forward until his head slips off his backpack to rest against Zoro’s arm, their noses nearly brushing.

“Yeah,” Sanji says, “its okay.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a long time, their chests rising and falling in perfect sync, and Sanji’s skin is practically alight with the burning beneath it. Zoro shifts once last time, bending his arm to allow Sanji more to lie on, before he gives Sanji a tired smile.

“Night, Curls,” the swordsman murmurs, his voice barely loud enough, his hot breath fanning over Sanji’s cheeks, and Sanji can’t hear anything past the blood rushing in his ears as his heart pounds so furiously against his ribs he’s sure they’ll be bruised by morning.

But then he smiles back.

“Night, Marimo,” he whispers, and Zoro lets out a pleased hum as he closes his eye.

…

The thing about sailing with Luffy, is there’s never a dull moment.

Sanji should’ve guessed the moment he met him. It was obvious right from the start, how the long stretch of monotony on the Baratie was completely shattered the second a rubbery boy with a well-beaten straw hat and mischievous smile had flung himself right through those imposing front double doors. His laugh was the first thing Sanji had heard, bright and unburdened, so loud and carefree that it had made something deep inside of him ache something fierce.

Of course, trailing behind him had been a crew consisting of a directionally-challenged swordsman with a confusing amount of swords, a beautiful navigator with a sharp smile and a secret clearly weighing her down, and a faint-hearted sniper whose tall-tales matched his impossibly long nose.

Colourful, Zeff had called them, muttered it under his breath to Sanji as the two of them had watched Luffy carelessly clean plates in the Baratie’s kitchen sink, breaking every single one of them without fail. Sanji had snorted as he’d rolled his eyes, having already decided that it was Zeff’s problem to deal with, nothing to do with him.

How wrong he’d been.

The arrival of the Straw Hat’s set a precedence that hasn’t let up since though. Sanji still remembers the whirlwind of his last few days before leaving Zeff, of the starving Gin and the vicious battle with Don Krieg, Mihawk’s unexpected presence and the devastating one-sided fight with Zoro, not to mention the utter destruction of the Baratie by Luffy’s own hands… relentless havoc in the most unsettling and startling of ways.

Naively, Sanji had thought perhaps it was a one time thing, a series of unfortunate predestined events that collided all at once with Luffy just being the strange catalyst. It took only a single day for Sanji to realise that wasn’t the case. It took Arlong for him to realise that this was somehow what he unwillingly signed up for.

And it hasn’t changed. Not once as they left behind the home of the East Blue for the adventure of the Grandline, not once as they’ve hopped between endless islands, waged wars on countless governments, and established new ones in their wake. It hasn’t changed. Even if there isn’t something to do, Luffy manages to find trouble, to create it sometimes out of thin air.

In saying that, it’s not always expected. Sometimes it sneaks up on them out of the blue, a hurricane of madness that sweeps the feet out from under them.

The day was supposed to be uneventful. When Sanji woke up in the morning, it was to their third day out at sea, not a land mass in sight, and as he’d climbed the stairs to the helm to press a warm cup of coffee into Nami’s hands where she stood over the log pose, she’d sighed as she’d taken the mug, eyes firmly on the still arrows.

“A few more days,” she murmurs, Sanji isn’t sure it’s aimed at him, but she gives him a small smile before taking her first sip of the coffee, her beautiful face easing into something sweeter as she lets out a pleased him, the warm horizon from the slowly rising sun causing her hair to glow a stunning red.

Of course, Luffy isn’t thrilled when Nami tells him later, and the rest of the crew have to hide their groans. Ideas for keeping their captain occupied have fizzled out after yesterday, the rather destructive distraction involving Usopp’s gunpowder hadn’t been the worst decision Sanji’s ever seen but its still firmly up there. Chopper’s swing is still a burnt mess, the tangerine tree it was attached to scorched, and Sanji’s ears still ring from Nami and Franky’s combined lectures even if he wasn’t part of them.

Sanji manages to corral Luffy into fishing for him though once breakfast is over, promising that whatever he catches will be grilled for lunch. Luffy’s eyes light up with excitement, and Sanji gives Usopp a pointed look that has the sniper hurrying after their captain as he barrels out of the galley at a great rate of knots. The rest of the crew follow suit, Franky grinning ear to ear when Sanji offhandedly mentions it’ll be him doing the grilling, and Robin gives Sanji a pleased look that makes him glow as she sweeps out after her partner.

Somehow, it’s all thats needed to make the morning peaceful. Once Sanji has finished cleaning up after breakfast and prepping everything but the meat for their lunch, he heads out on deck as well, drawing his cigarettes from his pocket as he goes. He pauses on the deck just outside the galley, looking down to see the others spread out on the lawn underneath, and he brings a cigarette up to light, dragging in the bitter taste of nicotine as it tickles his lungs.

Down below, Franky is readying his grill near the foremast while Luffy and Chopper sitting on either side of a vigilant Usopp as they fish off the Sunny’s railing. Robin and Nami are under their parasols, heavy in discussion over a large map spread on the table between them. Brook and Jinbei are missing but Sanji can hear that yohoho laugh coming from the open door to the aquarium beneath him, and he smiles as he pulls his cigarette back to his lips, wondering just what the two of them are up too.

Not that he gives it much more thought when he spies Zoro. The swordsman has settled over on the opposite raining to the fishing trio, sitting cross-legged with his swords in his lap. Sanji sees the small oak stained box with his sword cleaning supplies beside him, and he smiles at the thought of the choji oil, the smell so intrinsically Zoro now that he feels his heart give a small lilt at the thought of it.

He has half a mind to go join him, to maybe sit beside him until their shoulders bump, to lean into the swordsman knowing he might just lean back. Things are different between them now, have been since the moment they woke up and tramped through the forest back to the Sunny on Chest Island over a week ago. There’s still a hesitance, like the two of them don’t really know what they’re doing or how to go about this new way of being around one another.

The fact of the matter is, that’s exactly it.

Sanji wouldn’t have the first clue how to start a relationship, let alone continue one, and he has a small feeling that Zoro is the same. They dance around each other, linger and touch, but there’s something that stops them from doing more, some sort of barrier that Sanji doesn’t know how to start breaking down.

So he doesn’t join Zoro, instead just leans against the railing and smokes lazily as he watches him start to methodically clean Kitesu, leaving Wado and Enma still buckled at his side. There’s something mesmerising about Zoro cleaning his swords, how he treats them with a special kind of reverence, giving them the attention they both deserve and desire. Sanji knows how it feels to wield a sword, beaten into his muscles from a young age, but he wouldn’t know the first thing on how to actually care for them.

Not that it matters. Sanji’s hands aren’t for fighting, they never will be, and any thoughts he has on the matter are disrupted by the celebratory howl he hears from Usopp below. He glances over in time to see all three of the fishing trio fall from the rail flat on their backs, a phenomenally big ridge-backed mako floundering on top of them, and he lets out a final rush of smoke.

Well, that will do lunch just fine.

He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray he pulls from his jacket pocket before he heads back into the galley to fetch his knives. Franky might be grilling, something the cyborg takes too much pride in and joy out of, but despite acquiescing the role to him, Sanji adamantly refuses to let him actually prepare the food.

Soon enough, the mako is grilling nicely as Franky hums a cheery tune in a gaudy ‘kiss the chef’ apron. Brook appears in a flurry of feather boas to land one on Franky’s blushing cheek, getting catcalls from the others, especially Robin who’s laugh is the loudest. Sanji rolls his eyes at the crews antics as he ferries out the rest of the food down to the deck with Jinbei’s help, spreading it out over the wooden trestle tables the Usopp rustles up from the workshops in a spectacular displace of culinary art. The crew descend on it like locusts as soon as the mako is dished up, and Sanji steps back only after ensuring the ladies have full plates as they retire back to their parasol.

Zoro, however, remains over by the railing, Enma in his lap now getting the same attention that Kitesu had, and Sanji toys with the idea of yelling for him to come join them. The swordsman is clearly deep in concentration though, enough so Sanji feels wrong interrupting, so instead he moves to pick up a second plate from the end of the tables.

Usopp stands beside him as he adds fresh grill cuts of the mako over the rice he’s carefully spooned out on both plates, his eyebrows raised as he looks between them, Sanji, and Zoro, before his eyes light up.

Sanji holds up a fork in warning, nearly stabbing Usopp in the cheek. “I suggest you don’t finish that thought, long nose.”

Usopp’s mouth falls open briefly before he reaches up and mimes zipping it shut. He’s still laughing with his eyes though, and Sanji huffs a scowl his way before he picks up the two plates and turns to head towards Zoro, treating himself to stomping on Usopp’s foot as he goes.

His pained whimper follows Sanji as he crosses over the lawn to Zoro, trying not to let his nerves get the better of him. It’s not like this out of the ordinary, he’s taken food to the swordsman before, even eaten with him many a time… in saying that, he knows this is a bit different.

“Marimo,” he calls out when he’s close enough. Zoro stops mid-stroke of Enma’s blade to lift his head up, and Sanji raises the plates in his hands when he sees the frown marring Zoro’s brow. “Lunch.”

Zoro doesn’t respond, just watches him approach, and Sanji feels self-conscious as he takes a seat beside him, sitting cross-legged down on the grass before offering Zoro one of the plates. There’s a moment where Zoro just looks at him, his face as unreadable as usual, before he turns away.

Sanji thinks it might be a snub, his heart jackrabbit up into his throat in panic, but Zoro simply tucks away the cloth back in that little oak box and sheathes Enma carefully back at his side, before wiping his hands on his coat and reaching out to take the plate and utensils from Sanji.

“Thanks, Cook,” he murmurs, and the sincerity makes Sanji’s heart leap. He feels his cheeks start to burn, and he quickly looks away, settling his food down in his lap, digging in before he says something embarrassing in response.

They don’t talk as they eat. While Sanji doesn’t mind the quiet, the rest of the crew clearly do, and they provide more than enough noise with their hooting and hollering to fill the silence between Sanji and Zoro. Not that it’s uncomfortable, after all Sanji rather likes these moments with Zoro, but it is rather interesting to watch their crew horse around while they sit shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee.

“Was good, Curls,” Zoro murmurs when they’re finished, both sitting with empty plates and dirty utensils in their laps.

Sanji is surprised by the compliment, but smiles nevertheless. “Franky did the grilling. I just threw everything together.”

Zoro huffs, and Sanji glances over to see him looking right back with a fond exasperated look on his face. “You could learn to take a compliment.”

Sanji doesn’t point out that he’s not overly used to receiving them, although these days that might just be a lie. That’s the thing about the Straw Hat pirates, they’re a considerate bunch.

Instead, he co*cks an eyebrow at him in response. “You could learn to give a compliment, sh*thead,” he retorts, and Zoro narrows his eye back at him.

“That was one.”

Sanji snorts, shaking his head. “For a caveman.” He smirks, leaning forward into Zoro’s space, Zoro not even flinching as Sanji pushes into his space. “Use some adjectives. I’m assuming you learnt some.”

There’s a flicker in Zoro’s eye, something fierce and hot, and Sanji sees how his hand drops down to tighten around Wado’s hilt. He feels a sudden surge of excitement at the challenge, the dare, and he quickly leans forward to scoop the plate out of Zoro’s lap.

“Lets not wreck the crockery, shall we?” he says dismissively as he stands, seeing how Zoro seems confused out of the corner of his eye, but it doesn’t last long as Sanji simply steps away to rest the plates down, making sure they’re not going to fall off and break.

Before promptly throwing a sharp kick back at Zoro.

The sound of heel meeting wood cracks through the air, ricocheting over the lawn towards where the others don’t even flinch. Sanji glances back over his shoulder to see Zoro kneeling, Wado shaking as she holds back Sanji’s attack, and Sanji gives him a co*cky grin.

Zoro’s gaze darkens. “f*ck, Twirls,” he growls before he surges up off the ground.

Sanji can’t help but laugh as he dodges a swipe from Wado, her wooden saya slicing through the air over his head as he falls into a crouch, grinning up at Zoro as he towers over him.

“That the best you got, Mossy?” he taunts, lashing out with a leg as he drops a hand down to balance himself, his foot only just missing Zoro’s ankles as the swordsman dances back, a matching grin stretching out over his lips.

“Try me, Curls,” he calls back, twirling Wado co*ckily at his side as he draws Kites in one fluid motion, saya and all, and Sanji doesn’t hesitate for a moment before he lunges forward, taking chase after Zoro.

It’s so easy to fall into their usual rhythm, dancing back and forth across the Sunny’s lawn with practiced ease, too in sync to ever surprise one another. It’s comfortable, the trading of blows that lack any heat behind them, the push and pull as legs fly and swords soar. He finds himself unable to look away from Zoro’s grace, his fluid movements as he effortlessly guides his swords through the air, the perfectly controlled strength that ripples through his body with every swing. It’s breathtaking, the sheer control that Zoro has, every single step carefully calculated.

“Come on, Marimo,” Sanji calls out, stepping back to avoid a sharp jab from Kitesu, his shoes sliding on the grass as he twists to the side, “at least try to impress me.”

Zoro huffs, his eye flashing with something as he charges forward, making Sanji have to drop back further. “Like I need to try to do that,” he growls, and something in Sanji’s stomach flips, made only worse by Zoro’s arrogant grin.

“Asshole,” he swears, punctuating the word with a sharp kick to Zoro’s side. He blocks it with Wado, the impact vibrating up Sanji’s shin violently. “You’re so full of sh*t.”

Zoro just laughs, twisting Wado suddenly so Sanji stumbles. His eyes widen as Zoro snaps Kitesu out behind him to whack her sheath straight into Sanji’s lower back, pushing him forward until he’s flush against Zoro’s chest, Kitesu bracketing him in.

Zoro hums, his breath ruffling Sanji’s fringe as he leans forward, Sanji’s hands pressing against his stomach the only thing stopping him from getting closer. “Am I though?” he asks, voice unreasonably sultry, and Sanji swallows thickly as Zoro’s grey eye meets his.

It doesn’t stop him though. “Absolutely,” he grumbles before he hooks his leg around Zoro’s, dragging it forward and yanking the swordsman’s legs out from under him. Zoro’s eye widens for a brief second before he’s ungracefully thrown to the ground, ass and back slamming into the lawned deck beneath them as he lets out a pained grunt, his swords clattering down on either side of him.

He’s quick to recover though, and Sanji doesn’t have time to gloat as a hand snatches his knee before he’s dragged down beside the swordsman, hitting the lawn flat on his back with a startled yelp, the air shoved from his lungs in one sharp breath. He swears as Zoro moves to tackle him, kicking out carelessly as the swordsman’s body settles over his, managing to avoid Sanji’s wild legs simply by slotting between them.

It’s enough to make Sanji’s brain short-circuit, his entire body freezing as Zoro’s hands slam down on the grass on either side of his face, the swordsman leaning over him as he presses his chest down against Sanji’s, catching Sanji’s hands between them.

Zoro’s grin is bright, his cheeks dusted red, his eye warm and filled with something that turns Sanji’s insides into knots. “Conceede, Twirls?”

Sanji lets out a slow breath, Zoro’s body falling further down onto him with the movement. “You wish,” he grumbles, and Zoro lets out a disbelieving huff, shaking his head.

He doesn’t respond though, instead he shifts his weight as he lifts one of his hands, bringing it up to Sanji’s forehead. Sanji’s breath hitches as scarred fingers trail across his forehead, as Zoro gently brushes his fringe aside until Sanji blinks up at him with both of his eyes.

“Zoro…” he murmurs, and Zoro’s lips curl up just slightly at the corners as he cups Sanji’s cheek, his thumb running over his cheekbone slowly. He takes his time until he meets Sanji’s gaze, and when he does, Sanji feels all the air just vanish from his lungs.

Because Zoro looks… Zoro is looking at him like…

“Marines!”

Usopp’s shriek destroys the moment, ripping through it with zero finesse. Sanji sucks in a huge breath as Zoro’s head snaps up, his expression shuttering back down into something much more serious, and he lets go of Sanji’s cheek to brace himself on the lawn beside his head instead.

f*cking hell.

“Zoro!” Luffy calls out the swordsman’s name over top of Usopp’s squawks and the clamouring of the crew, Nami’s calls of direction the loudest. Sanji can hear the pounding of feet on the deck, the urgency in the air electric, and he presses a hand up against Zoro’s chest.

“Go on,” he says, and Zoro’s gaze drops back down to him as Sanji smiles. “Go attend to your first mate duties.”

There’s a pause as Zoro stares down at him with an unreadable expression, as if he’s searching for something, before he nods his head in a quick jerk and stands. Sanji misses him the second he goes, leaving him lying staring up at the cloudless sky as he tries to catch his breath, the loss of Zoro’s weight on his chest somehow not helping in the slightest.

He’s not alone for long though, and his heart skips as Nami’s beautiful face appears, their navigator standing over him with her hand outstretched in offering, wiggling her fingers in his face.

Knowing it won’t come for free, Sanji still accepts her hand, letting her haul him to his feet.

“So,” Nami says the second he’s standing, and Sanji winces at the teasing tone, unwilling to meet her cheshire grin head on. “I’ve not seen that particular strategy before.”

“Nami,” he whines with embarrassment, trying not to meet her gaze as he brushes his hands over the grass stains on his pants.

Surprisingly, she pauses. Sanji glances up with a frown only to see her grin has slipped into something more gentle, her eyes slightly crinkled at the corners and her lips soft around the edges. She looks beautiful and wistful, her gaze slightly far away even as she meets Sanji’s.

“It’s a good look on you, Sanji,” she murmurs, and Sanji feels his cheeks start to burn something furious.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Nami, darling,” he responds warily, ignoring the way his stomach clenches tightly at the dismissal. He glances down, grips his trousers, and glares at the grass stains.

He jumps though when a small hand comes down on his shoulder. Where he would normally swoon and faint over Nami’s touch, instead he feels a lump form in his throat, impossible to swallow around.

“You know,” Nami murmurs, squeezing his shoulder, “he looks at you the same way I look at Vivi.”

Sanji’s head snaps up, the rare mention of their Alabastan Princess enough to get his attention. Nami isn’t looking at him though, instead staring off out over the ocean, and her fingers tighten around his shoulder before she drops her arm back to her side.

Sanji catches the way her hand forms a shaking fist before she hides it in the pocket of her overalls, and it makes something in him ache. His poetic side wonders if somewhere far away, Vivi is looking right back. He hopes wherever she is, she’s safe, and he knows that their paths will no doubt cross soon.

Before he can say as much to Nami, offer some sort of reassurance, Usopp’s voice cracks back out over the Sunny once more.

“There’s a second ship!”

Nami’s head snaps around to where the some of the others are clustered on the other side of the lawn, Sanji following suit. Without a word, the two of them hurry over, Nami snatching Usopp’s eyeglass from him to look out at the approaching ships. Sanji just sees two specs on the horizon, but he doesn’t doubt they’ll close the distance soon if they don’t hurry the Sunny along.

Which isn’t likely if the feral grin on Luffy’s face is anything to go by, their captain practically vibrating with sheer excitement. He turns to them with his mouth wide open, and Sanji winces at whatever it thats about to come out.

It’s solely aimed at Zoro though, their swordsman turning from where he’s been leaning over the railing to meet Luffy’s grin with a raised eyebrow.

“Challenge?” he says, and Nami lets out a groan as she drops the spyglass to hang her head, Brook sympathetically patting her on the back as he lets out a nervous laugh.

Zoro grins back though, wide and confident. “Accepted.” He pauses. “Conditions?”

Sanji winces as Luffy’s expression morphs into one of deep thought, not liking where this is going. Luffy grins and clicks his fingers though before pointing down at Zoro’s swords.

“Fists only?”

“You can’t be serious!” Chopper squeaks from the railing as Franky lets out a deep baritone laugh, but both Luffy and Zoro ignore them as Zoro talks over top of the noise.

“Agreed.”

“You guys are f*cking idiots,” Nami mutters, running her hand down her face before she shoves the spyglass back into Usopp’s arms, the sniper looking completely unsurprised. Sanji is concerned Nami is about to explode though with how flushed her face is, but she just gives Zoro and Luffy a withering look before turning to Chopper, offering him her hand. “Fancy some ice cream, Doctor? Away from these two?”

Chopper looks between Zoro and Luffy for a moment before he nods his head, taking Nami’s hand as he hops down off the railing and walks with her back across the lawn. Sanji watches them go, Usopp quickly scrambling after them but making a beeline for the crows nest instead, and he glances around to see where the others might be. No doubt Jinbei is up at the helm, especially as he feels the Sunny suddenly shifts in direction, putting the marines that were coming at their side now firmly in front of them, and he thinks Robin might’ve gone to join him since he can’t see her anywhere.

“Oi, Cook.”

Sanji turns as Zoro calls his name, only to see the swordsman standing right in front of him with his three swords held carefully in his hands, a frown marring his face as he tilts his head slightly to the side.

Sanji just arches an eyebrow at him in response, and Zoro raises his right back. “You coming?” he asks.

For a moment, Sanji is tempted to follow after Nami and Chopper, the idea of spending the afternoon serving the two of them the various ice cream flavours he has stored in the freezer in the galley. He already knows Chopper’s favourite will be the brilliant pink cotton candy one, and he personally can’t wait to see the look on Nami’s face when she finally tries the tangerine ice cream he’s so carefully prepared.

But then the thrill of oncoming battle wins out, and Sanji grins at Zoro. “Of course.”

There’s a flash of something primal in Zoro’s eye and his own grin is borderline animalistic, and Sanji shouldn’t find it as attractive as he does, his heart shouldn’t skip and his stomach shouldn’t swoop, but they do and Sanji has to force down the intense urge to step right into the swordsman’s space and…

“Brook,” Zoro calls, and the sudden change is enough to jar Sanji from his thoughts. Instead, he watches as Zoro turns to their musician, Brook spinning around from where he’s been leaning against the Sunny’s railing to meet him halfway.

With a near hesitance, Zoro offers his three swords out to Brook. There’s a moment where Brook only stares at Zoro, his mouth hanging slightly open, and he glances briefly at Sanji before he turns his attention back to Zoro, his skeletal face not betraying a single emotion.

“Zoro…” he starts, before he clears his throat and reaches out with thin boney fingers to wrap them around the three sayas carefully. “I will protect them with my life,” Brook murmurs solemnly, bowing his head towards Zoro, “until you or Sanji return, of course.”

Sanji frowns, his mouth opening slightly in confusion as to just why he’s included in this, but Zoro just grins at Brook and nods. “Thank you,” he says before letting go of his swords and returning back to Luffy’s side at the railing, their captain immediately slinging his arm around Zoro with unrestrained excitement.

Sanji stays where he is for a bit longer though, glancing back between Brook, Zoro, and his three swords as he tries to piece together that little bit of information in his brain, but just as he thinks he’s realising something thats doing exorbitant things to his heart, the roaring sound of cannons going off cracks through the air.

“Cannons!” Usopp screeches from the crows nest, his voice shaking and scratching through the speaker so sharply that Sanji nearly claps his hands over his ears.

Somewhere beside him, he hears Franky snort derisively, and Sanji has to hold back his own sarcastic comments as a cannonball suddenly rips right through the air just over the Sunny’s figurehead, barely missing taking off one of the angles of her mane.

“Don’t you f*cking dare!” Franky roars, and Sanji’s eyes widen as the furious cyborg goes streaking past, barrelling up the stairs towards the helm at a frightening pace. Brook disappears too, heading in the opposite direction towards the galley, and Sanji glances up to see Usopp cracking open windows of the crows nest with Kabuto poised in the front of them.

All hands on deck then, Sanji supposes.

Unsurprisingly, Luffy doesn’t even wait for either marine ship to get close enough for appropriate boarding, instead his arm tightens around Zoro before his other snaps out over the ocean. Sanji doesn’t so much as blink as the two of them rocket off the Sunny, disappearing in the vague direction of the marines, although going by the sounds of the dulled shrieks and Luffy’s wild cackle from the distance, Sanji gauges that they’ve landed.

However, he follows them at a more sedate pace. While the call of battle is desperate to be heard, he’s also happy enough to let the two of them have their fun with this ridiculous challenge of theirs. He steps up onto the railing, his hands firmly in his pockets as he leans over to see where the marines are. A few meters out from the front of the Sunny as it turns out, two large galleons with plenty of fire power and hundreds of personnel. It would’ve been a difficult fight for them were they back in the East Blue, but now?

It doesn’t even rank of the scale of things, and as Sanji hears the whirring of the Sunny’s own defense mechanisms roaring to life beneath him, he kicks off the railing straight into a sky walk.

He all but meanders his way through the air towards the marines, flicking his hand in greeting at Usopp as he passes the crows nest, trying not to laugh at the disbelieving look their sniper gives him in return. It’s accompanied by a rather rude gesture, and Sanji rolls his eyes as he picks up the pace a little, darting over top of where Franky has taken over the helm and the soldier docking system, and Robin waves up at him from where she and Jinbei stand on the Sunny’s figurehead. There’s two giant hands sprouting out from the lions mane, catching the cannon balls that fly towards them, and Sanji makes sure to stay high enough to avoid them as Robin easily slings them back towards the marines.

The closer he gets, the sharper the cries of the marines get. It doesn’t take long to spot that Zoro and Luffy have split up, and Sanji sees flashes of green hair on the deck of one galleon and hears Luffy’s cackling rising from the other. It makes him pause, wondering if joining in would actually ruin their fun, but just as he’s hovering over top of the two galleons trying to decide, he spots a flurry of movement from the very back of Zoro’s galleon, right on the top deck at the helm.

Sanji grins. Surely the Marine Commander is fair game?

He streaks through the air, passing over the majority of the fighting beneath him before dropping from the sky to land neatly on the railing of the observation deck right behind the Commander and his gaggle of minions, his hands still in his pockets as he leans forward casually.

“Afternoon, boys,” he drawls, enjoying the way it makes the Commander nearly leap out of his skin, the man spinning around wildly to look at Sanji with a horrified expression. “Fancy meeting you here.”

There’s a pause where Sanji and the Commander just look at one another, the man’s incredibly thin moustache twitching nervously on his ashy face, before it breaks just as suddenly as the Commander straightens up and swings his obnoxiously large sabre around to point it’s glinting tip right at Sanji.

“Blackleg,” the Commander says, his voice wavering only just the slightest, and Sanji arches his eyebrows at him. “A welcome surprise.”

“Is it?” Sanji can’t help but ask, glancing over at the five marines clustered behind their Commander, all of them looking like they’re two seconds away from fainting. He can’t help but feel a little proud over having that affect on them, even if it still takes him a moment to register that he and his crew have become all but household names to the marines.

If only Zeff could see him now… Sanji imagines he’d be proud beneath all the bluster and puff.

The sounds of the marines fighting below swallows up the Commander’s reply, not that Sanji is overly interested in it when he spots Zoro fighting his way up the stairs leading to the top deck on the other side of the ship. He’s a sight to behold, nothing but pure power behind his movements as he mows through the hordes of marines barrelling towards him from all sides. Admittedly, he looks a little odd without his trusty swords in hand, but it’s clear that hasn’t even slightly reduced the amount of carnage he’s creating.

Sanji is ripped from his thoughts though as the Commander in front of him lets out a sudden shout, and his attention snaps back to him just in time to dodge a wild swing of the Commander’s sabre, the sharp weapon slicing cleanly through the air where Sanji’s chest had just been. He hits the deck instead, rolling forward with the movement into a crouch as the other marines charge forward, their own sabres flying clumsily through the air.

With only a handful of marines and a particularly uncoordinated Commander, Sanji doesn’t find the fight to be particularly hard. He keeps his hands firmly lodged in his pockets as he all but toys with them, unable to keep the grin off his face as he dances between them all, dodging blows and avoiding swings with a careless sort of grace.

“Fight back, you coward!” the Commander roars as Sanji avoids another swipe of his sword, simply leaning backwards as he balances on one leg and raising the other. He promptly uses it to kick the Commander smartly in the ass, sending him careening forward straight into one of his marines, the two of them crashing to the ground in an ungainly mess.

“Not a coward,” he calls out, dropping again to avoid another marine’s attack, his leg snaking out to kick the other’s out from under him. “Just an asshole.”

The second marine falls, barely managing to avoid stabbing himself with his own sword and Sanji tries not to groan as another marine promptly trips over him, hitting the deck with a loud enough thud to make Sanji wince. He straightens slowly as he takes in the sheer uselessness of the group he’s fighting, the other three marines left standing trying to rally around their Commander as he drags himself up off the deck, and Sanji sighs.

“World Government’s finest, huh?” he asks, co*cking his head to the side. The marines shoot him dirty looks as they start to rally, picking themselves up as they regroup. Sanji gives them a moment, glancing behind himself briefly to see where Zoro’s at. There isn’t much movement below, most of the fighting having moved up to the top deck, and Sanji thinks it might be time to finish whatever this little excursion was and head back to the Sunny.

He’s just turning back around though when he sees a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and he squints towards it briefly just as one of the marines behind him lets out a shrill scream.

“Incoming!”

Sanji barely even has time for his eyes to widen in surprise before a cannonball comes rocketing straight towards him, shattering through the ships heavy wooden masts and railings as if they’re made of glass. Sanji hits the deck, collapsing down onto his belly and tucking in his head as the marines nearby follow suit, the cannonball blasting past in a sinister wave of destruction as Sanji is showered in splintered wood and metal debris. It winds him, a large piece of wood driving him down face first as it slams into his back, and he grunts as he’s flattened into the deck unceremoniously.

As quick as it happens, it’s over though, and Sanji gasps for breath as he lies still for just a moment, trying to reorientate himself. His face hurts from where it’s been smashed into the deck, a wet trail of what must be blood trickling down from a smarting wound on his temple, and his entire body aches. He can feel the debris where it’s still lying over his lower back, long enough to cover his legs completely, and he grits his teeth as he forces back a wave of nausea before he starts to move.

Only… he can’t.

The debris is too large, too heavy, and Sanji is strangled by a sudden wave of panic as he twists his upper half around around to see just what the f*ck it is that’s holding him down, that has him utterly and alarmingly pinned.

A large segment of the foremast, as it turns out, and Sanji’s rearing panic is only made worse by the sound of metal scrapping across wood and a dark chuckle from somewhere above him.

“Not so tough now, are you, Blackleg?”

Sanji swings his head around to see the Commander limping towards him, teeth bared and bloodied, his white cloak now missing along with his marine cap. He looks feral, dragging his sabre along behind him, and Sanji swallows thickly as he focuses back on the debris, desperately trying to arch his hips and bend his legs.

But no matter how much he strains, the mast won’t budge, his lower body completely pinned, and Sanji’s breath lurches to a halt in the back of his throat as a dawning terror settles through his bones.

“Who’d have thought,” the Commander continues to taunt, and Sanji glances up to see he’s hovering right over him now, a vicious sneer curving over his face, “the Great Sanji Blackleg, killed by a lowly Commander.”

Sanji swears as the Commander lets out an unhinged yell and brings his sabre down in a brutal stab. He throws himself sideways, far enough that the sabre stabs into the wood where he was moments ago, his back bending in an unnatural way as he contorts to avoid it. It makes him hiss in sharp pain, but it’s not nearly as painful or deadly as a sword to the neck, and the Commander lets out a furious shout before he starts tugging at the embedded sabre.

“You sh*t,” the Commander hisses, and Sanji tries lifting the debris again, his awkward position only making it harder even as the wood shifts slightly under his struggling. It means he can twist a little more onto his side though, but it’s just in time to see the Commander wrench the sword from out of the deck and lunge forward to stab him again.

Sanji tries to dodge back the other way. The rough movement saves his neck, but he lets out a cry as the sabre meets flesh anyway, piercing down into the soft tissue of his side as the Commander changes his target at the last second. It’s not fatal, but the sudden burst of agony as his side is torn open leaves Sanji swallowing down waves of nausea, the hot slick of blood already soaking through his clothes.

Disgustingly, the Commander steps back, leaving Sanji pinned to the deck by the sabre. Sanji glances up past the black spots breaking out in front of his eyes to see the Commander holding out his hand, one of the bedraggled marines from before appearing to give him another sabre.

“Die, Blackleg.” The Commander grins as he towers over him, and Sanji freezes as he feels the cool sharp tip of the second sabre graze his neck, leaving a sharp sting in its wake before the Commander brings it up, grinning wildly with bloodthirsty victory.

Sanji can’t move, can’t pull away with the sabre dug into his side and the debris heavy on his back, and a sickening realisation starts to rear its ugly head as his body begins to tremble with barely repressed horror, the world slowing dramatically as the Commander starts to bring the sabre down in it’s final swing.

There’s only one option left… it’s either catch the sword with his hands, or lose his head.

The feeling of sheer nausea and devastation that rips up from the pit of his stomach nearly has him throwing up then and there. Sanji is a practical person, he always has been, but these are his f*cking hands, the most precious things in the world to him. He can see Zeff now, shaking his head and red with rage.

One job, he’d say, you had one job. Protect your f*cking hands, Eggplant.

But now, as the sword swings down in that deathly arch, Sanji’s hands tremble and his gut rolls as he drags them up to catch the blade, his eyes squeezing closed in a desperate bid to save himself from whatever irreparable damage he’s about to cause, desperately trying to reassure himself that they will heal.

But his hands meet nothing, just empty air, and Sanji hears a achingly familiar sudden grunt and curse.

His eyes flash open in disbelief, his head tilts back in shock, only to see that while his hands remain flawlessly in tact where they hang in the air above him… Zoro’s own grip the Commander’s sabre, the swordsman on his knees beside Sanji, his body arched protectively over him.

There’s a frozen moment, Sanji’s heart thumps brutally in his throat as the world falls completely silent, and a single drop of blood drips from Zoro’s palms to land on Sanji’s cheek.

“Zoro-” Sanji gasps, but he’s cut off as Zoro lets out a volatile roar, surprising both Sanji and the Commander as the swordsman surges up off the ground, ripping the sabre gripped in his bloodied hands from the Commander’s grasp with a furious jerky movement, the Commander stumbling forward awkwardly with a look of pure and utter shock on his face.

In one smooth motion, Zoro twists the sabre around in his hands, the blade glistening slick with blood… Zoro’s blood, before he rams it straight into the Commander’s chest, a silent gasp leaving the marine’s lips as the attack drives the air from his body before he crumples to the deck.

Zoro stands still for a minute, his shoulders heaving with the large breathes that Sanji can hear him dragging up from his lungs, his hands flexing into fists at his sides. Sanji stares at them, the way slick red blood gathers between Zoro’s fingers and drips in thick droplets to splatter on the wooden deck, before Zoro whirls back around in a flurry before collapsing back down on his knees beside Sanji.

Sanji opens his mouth to speak, but Zoro beats him to it as he leans over Sanji to reach for the sabre still in Sanji’s side, the jostling of the weapon enough to make Sanji hiss at the shooting pain that rips through him in response.

Zoro’s eye flickers to his, steely and determined. “Ready, Cook?” he asks, and Sanji chokes down any words as he nods in return, coiling his muscles up as much as he can in anticipation.

He can’t help but cry out as Zoro drags the sabre out of him with one fast pull, the squelch of blood sickening as Sanji sees black dots flicker in front of his eyes. He forces himself to breath, laboured and difficult as he gasps into the deck beneath him, willing the stabbing pain away.

“Not done yet,” Zoro says above him though, and Sanji grits his teeth until they ache as he nods again. He glances up in time to see Zoro throw the sabre to the side carelessly before moving up to grip the sides of the mast with his damaged hands, not even wincing as he closes them around the splintered wood.

With a heave, Zoro lifts the mast, grunting heavily with effort as he drags it up off the ground and Sanji. It’s just enough for Sanji to wriggle out from under it, gritting his teeth and using his elbows to drag himself forward, ripping his legs out from under the mast as Zoro clears it from his lower body. It’s not easy, and he ignores the screaming agony in his side as he hauls himself out from under the debris, his muscles protesting violently with each movement. Even so, he manages to just heave himself forward enough to escape it before Zoro lets out a muffled shout and drops the mast back to the deck with a thunderous bang.

Sanji rolls onto his back, panting heavily as he stares up at the vividly blue sky above him, his arms spread out as his body flops ungracefully over. He swallows air greedily into his constricted chest, worried his pounding heart will shatter his ribs, although he’s not left lying for long as hands grip his arms and Zoro drags him upright.

Sanji hisses, giving Zoro a withering look as his side pangs, but Zoro just narrows his eye as he runs it over Sanji. It takes Sanji a moment to realise he’s looking him over for injuries, and it just reminds him of Zoro’s hands.

He reaches up to take hold of Zoro’s wrists, pulling the swordsman’s hands off his arms to look at them better. They leave ruby red stains on the white sleeves, and Sanji forces his hands not to shake as he turns Zoro’s own over slowly.

They’re a gory mess, Zoro’s tanned skin vanished beneath a coat of thick blood oozing from the twin deep cuts sliced through his palms, eight shallower gashes marring the insides of his knuckles to match. Sanji feels sick, his fingers shake where they dig into the thin skin of the underside of Zoro’s wrists, and his eyes burn as his heart lurches to a painful stop.

“Zoro…” he murmurs, the word wrenching itself from somewhere deep and dark in his chest, coming out strangled and hollow.

Zoro’s fingers twitch before he pulls his hands from Sanji’s hold, and Sanji glances up to see the swordsman looking anywhere but him, the muscles working in his tightly clenched jaw as he drops his clenched fists to his sides.

“Better mine than yours,” Zoro mutters, and Sanji feels the world shatter beneath his feet.

He’s speechless. He feels his breath hitch and catch, his heart lodges itself firmly in the back of his throat, blood rushes so loudly in his ears it drowns out the sounds around him and he can’t find a single f*cking word to say as Zoro refuses to meet his gaze after completely and utterly decimating Sanji with a single sentence.

He swallows thickly before he glances around the galleon, needing a moment to pull himself together. The ship they’re on is deathly still, nothing to be heard but the creak and groan of wood as the ship is rocked by the sea, but Sanji can still hear Luffy’s laughter and the roar of battle from the galleon beside them.

“You need to see Chopper.”

Zoro interrupts Sanji’s thoughts, and Sanji turns back to see him vaguely waving at Sanji’s side. The wound spasms as Sanji remembers it, but he’s quickly distracted by seeing Zoro’s bloodied fist once more.

It spurs him into action. “So do you,” he says firmly as he steps forward, and Zoro doesn’t have time to react as Sanji loops his arm around the swordsman’s waist, dragging him closer and holding on tight before he promptly kicks up into a sky walk.

Zoro lets out a startled noise as Sanji pulls him with him. He flounders in the air briefly, nearly causing Sanji to drop him as he throws out his other arm to try counterbalance Zoro’s uneven weight, before he thankfully latches onto Sanji with one arm wrapping around Sanji’s shoulders and the other coming up to fist his hand in Sanji’s shirt. Sanji would assume they’re a strange sight to behold, the bulkier swordsman all but curled into his chest, but he decidedly doesn’t care as he streaks out across the sky back towards the Sunny.

“f*cks sake, Curls,” Zoro grumbles in his ear, and Sanji’s lips twitch at the annoyance in the swordsman’s tone. “A little warning would be nice.”

Like the idiot wouldn’t have insisted returning to the Sunny someway else. Sanji rolls his eyes as they break into the space over the Sunny, passing the others still gathered around the helm before he slowly starts to descend until they land on the deck just outside of the galley.

Zoro doesn’t immediately pull away and Sanji ignores the way it makes his stomach flip as he reaches out to throw open the galley door, already calling for Chopper as he manhandles them inside.

Nami’s gasps follow them through to the infirmary and the moment that Sanji lets go of Zoro it all turns into a bit of a blur. Chopper bullies the two of them onto the twin cots, calling out for assistance that Robin gracefully appears for, her eyebrows raised as she assesses the two of them with cool eyes. Sanji tries not to wilt under her stare as it lingers on his bleeding side, not that it matters when Chopper appears and forces him to lie down.

It doesn’t take long to get stitched up, Chopper muttering away about how lucky he is that the wound appears to be relatively superficial, a through and through on the fleshy part of his side. The jabs of local anaesthetic are worse than the actual stitching, and Sanji breathes thinly through his nose as he stares up at the ceiling, counting the wooden ingrains as he listens to Robin quietly chatting to Zoro beside him, forcing himself not to squirm as Chopper’s hooves grace over his ticklish sides.

He glances over at one point just to see Robin carefully cleaning Zoro’s hands with deft fingers, Zoro calm and impassive he watches with a straight face. It makes Sanji uneasy when he sees the real damage once most of the blood has been washed away, the raw flaps of skin cut cleanly. He has to look away though when Chopper moves up to tend to the cut on his temple, the sting of alcohol from his wipes making his eyes burn before he squeezes them shut.

“Chopper,” Robin calls after Chopper has finished dressing Sanji’s wounds, finishing with the scratch on his neck, and both Chopper and Sanji glance over to see her frowning at Zoro’s hands, her lips pursed as she tilts his hands side to side. “I think this will require your delicacy.”

Chopper immediately bustles over, taking Zoro’s hands from Robin with sure hooves. Sanji forces himself to sit up, swinging his legs over the side of the cot and leaning forward as he braces his hands on the cots edge. Chopper’s brows pull down as he assess Zoro’s hands, turning them side to side as Robin had, before he picks up a small blunt instrument from the suturing kit beside Zoro to prod at his palms.

Zoro flinches, and Sanji’s stomach drops.

“Sanji,” Robin calls out to him, her voice sounding far away as Sanji’s vision narrows down to Zoro and Zoro alone. “Shall we leave them to it?”

Sanji knows he should respond, but he feels like there’s a hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing until his vision is blurred at the edges and each breath snags before it can leave his lungs. He knows he’s shaking, his fingers ache with how badly he’s clinging to the edge of the cot, but he can’t bring himself to look away as Chopper reaches out for a glinting needle with a wicked curve.

“Sanji?”

Robin’s hand lands on his shoulder and Sanji sucks in a startled breath as he snaps his head up to look at her. She looks concerned, her lips turned down at the edges and her eyes slightly narrowed, and she squeezes his shoulder enough to hurt.

“Of course, darling,” Sanji says robotically, the endearment sounding lacklustre to even his own ears, and he carefully moves to stand, ignoring the pinch in his side as Robin steers him from the infirmary.

Her hand slips down to his elbow as she leads him through the galley down to the Sunny’s lawn until they’re outside the doors to the mens quarters. Sanji intends to go inside, thoughts drifting towards a clean pair of clothes even as the image of Zoro’s ruined hands stays vivid in his mind, but Robin holds him back when he starts to move forward.

He glances back at her in confusion, only to see her frowning right back. “Are you alright?” she asks him sincerely, and where Sanji’s heart would normally flip, right now it just gives a haggard beat.

His attempt at a smile must be terrible if the way she winces is anything to go by. “I’m fine, my dear,” he manages to say. “Simple in dire need of a fresh change of clothes.”

She looks unconvinced but Sanji knows she’ll respect his space. If he wanted to talk, he would, and she knows that. As expected, despite looking rather unhappy about it, she gives him a nod before letting go of his arm.

“I expect to see you for refreshments on the lawn in twenty minutes,” she instructs him, her voice holding no room for argument. Sanji still opens his mouth anyway as if to protest, but she holds up a hand as she starts to walk away, flapping it over her shoulder at him. “I’m afraid, I insist.”

Sanji watches her go, a small warm feeling starting to bloom in the centre of his chest, something that starts to soothe the edges of sharp worry he’s not stopped feeling since that bloody mast fell on him. Needless to say, Robin will undoubtedly send one of the others to drag him out if he isn’t back on deck within the fifteen minutes, and Sanji doesn’t particularly feel like being bodied by Franky for standing her up.

Thankfully, the mens quarters are empty as Sanji hurries inside. He stops first at the sink by the door to furiously scrub the blood and muck off his hands and arms before he shifts to roots through his locker for something comfortable to wear. He decides on a pair of his usual black slacks that cinch on his waist just below his stitches before digging out a familiar blue wave hoodie that should cover the bulk of his dressings, it’s softness a comfort.

He pauses when he shucks off his ruined white dress shirt though, his eyes landing on the bloodied handprints where they stain the sleeves. He runs his fingers over them where the dried blood has left the fabric stiff and hard. There’s no way he’s going to get them out, no way to recover this shirt, but a strange part of him feels wrong throwing it away.

He tosses it in his hamper anyway, deciding to deal with it much later before he drags the hoodie down over his head. A quick comb through his hair later and he feels slightly better, at least more prepared to take on the world, and Sanji shoves his hands into the kangaroo pouch pocket of his hoodie before he nudges his way back out on deck.

Robin is exactly where she said she’d be, seated at the dainty table and chairs underneath the large purple parasol near the Sunny’s railing. The late afternoon sun has tucked itself behind greying clouds as the blue sky ripples with hues of purple, casting long shadows over the lawn as Sanji slopes towards Robin. He takes the chair across from her, seeing its in front of a steaming mug of what smells wonderfully like roasted dark coffee, and he ignores the slight pull in his side at all of his movements, no matter how stilted.

She offers him a small smile when he’s settled, and Sanji returns it with a tired one of his own. “Better?” she asks him over the rim of her fine china tea cup, the waft of orange blossom sweet and strong in the air.

Sanji just nods, cupping his hands around his mug as the warmth seeps into his cold fingers. Robin doesn’t press for further conversation, seemingly content in just sharing the moment with Sanji as the two of them drink silently with one another. The sounds of their crew around them is a welcome background noise though, mostly the clamouring and yelling of Franky and Usopp as they set about repairing parts of the Sunny damaged from the marine attacks, and clearly Luffy has returned if Nami’s yells from up at the helm are anything to go by.

However, they’re not alone for long as Brook suddenly appears. He folds himself down into the chair at the head of the table, one of Robin’s disembodied hands sprouting out of the table to pour the musician some tea into a matching teacup and saucer she produces from somewhere, and Brook thanks her quietly before turning straight to Sanji.

Sanji doesn’t expect Wado to be held out to him, Brook’s white skeletal fingers nearly blending into the pure white saya, and his mouth falls open a little as Brook bows his head slightly.

“As promised,” he murmurs, his other hand holding Kitesu and Enma as he leans them on Sanji’s chair, their hilts against his thigh. Sanji swallows past the lump in his throat before he reaches out to carefully take Wado in hand before Brook lets go and he pulls the sword into his lap.

He stares down at her for a long moment, trailing his fingers down the saya’s length as too many thoughts rush through his mind and his chest swells painfully tight with emotions he can’t put a name too. He mumbles a thank you under his breath that has Brook just humming in response before he raises his head and rejoins Robin’s steady quiet presence.

Truthfully, Sanji isn’t even aware of how tense he is until the galley door opens up above to reveal Zoro and Chopper as they step out onto the deck. His attention snaps straight to them and he starts to rise from his seat with Wado gripped in hand, only to pause when Zoro’s gaze falls on him.

It’s not really a smile, just a small twitching of the corners of Zoro’s lips, but its enough for all the tension in Sanji’s body to drain out of him suddenly, leaving him feel bone-weary and exhausted as he slumps back down into his seat. He expects Zoro to make a beeline straight for him as he descends the stairs, no doubt keen to get his hands back on his beloved swords, so it surprises him when Zoro instead trails after Chopper as the little reindeer leads him to the mens quarters.

Sanji frowns deeply, his mouth opening and closing with bemusem*nt before he turns back around in his seat to stare down at Wado where she remains in his lap, righting Enma and Kitesu to lean back against his thigh from where they’d started to slip down from his movements.

Robin clears her throat across from him. “You seem confused, Sanji.”

Sanji shakes his head before he glances up at Brook, pinning him with a look that causes the musician to pause with his teacup halfway to his mouth as he stares right back.

“Brook,” Sanji says slowly, lifting Wado up with in his hand as if to show her to Brook. “Why did you give me his swords?”

Brook lowers his teacup back down onto its saucer on the table. “I apologise,” he says carefully as he glances over at Robin before tilting his head to the side. “Was I not supposed too?”

Sanji’s mouth opens before he has an answer, and he grips Wado as he finds himself back tracking slightly. “No, no,” he assures him, and Brook’s head straightens as his shoulders sink down from where they’d hunched up to his chin, “it’s just… why me?”

Brook stares at him blankly, and Robin chooses then to chime in. “I think what he means, Brook, is why not keep them yourself until Zoro’s return?”

“Oh!” Brook lets out the startled noise before he chuckles, shaking his head as his eye sockets narrow in the way they do when he’s trying to smile. “Well thats rather simple.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, dropping his chin down onto his interlocked fingers. “After all, who else does Zoro trust more with his swords than you?” He inclines his head down at Wado. “Had you not joined him and our captain on your excursion, I believe he would have left them in your care rather than mine.”

Sanji stares, a million thoughts racing through his mind, and he glances back down at where Wado rests in his lap and Kitesu and Enma lean against his thigh, their presence strangely calming. He drops his other hand to rest on top of the other two’s hilts, long since well-worn and shaped to Zoro’s hand, running his fingers over the grooves left by Zoro’s own.

Surely… surely Brook is mistaken?

It’s suddenly too much, and Sanji quickly stands up, wincing as his side protests at the abrupt movement. “Do me a favour please, Brook,” he says quietly as he gently places Wado down on the table. “Take them back to Zoro.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, instead turning on his heel and hurrying across the lawn to climb the stairs up to the galley, ignoring Robin’s soft call of his name as he goes. His brain is working over time, his chest pounding to match, and he grits his teeth hard enough to hurt as he thunks up the stairs rather ungracefully in his rush, ignoring the way his side protests viciously at the jarring movements.

Dinner, he decides forcefully, pushing all other thoughts from his mind as he crashes into the galley, slamming the door shut behind him. Time to make dinner.

It gives him space to think, to let the sudden shock of what has happened settle into his bones as he goes about dicing ingredients and frying rice. Sanji isn’t stupid and he doesn’t have a habit of lying to himself. He knows there’s something brewing between him and Zoro, has known since the moment he was tucked under Zoro’s green coat and was left looking at a beautifully cleaned kitchen with every damn little thing put back in its very particular place. He’s known since the moment he looked over at Zoro on that solitary rock and was left speechless at the way he had glown golden and warm under that sun, his head tilted back and his shoulders shaking from pure laughter. He’s known since the moment he stood on that beach on that stupid island, reeling from his brothers and yet unable to think about anything besides Zoro’s arms around him and the careful promise that he would’ve chased Sanji to Whole Cake had he the choice. He’s known since he lay entwined with Zoro, the crackling fire at their feet not nearly hot enough to excuse the way Sanji had burnt under Zoro’s touch.

He knows now, with the image of Zoro catching that sabre with his own hands to spare Sanji’s seared in his memory, with the knowledge that of all the crew… it’s Sanji that he trusts most with his swords.

His f*cking swords.

But knowing all of this doesn’t help Sanji with figuring out just what to do from here, what to do with the knowledge that clearly this is more than some sort of requited crush. He doesn’t know what it could be though. He can’t put a name to the thoughts in his mind and the feelings crushing his chest, and he desparately wishes he could.

It’s a question that lingers as he serves up dinner into three large bowls, lingers as he sets the table and crosses to the door, and lingers as he bellows out to the crew that dinner is ready.

The response is nearly instant, a series of excited calls chorus by the pounding of feet on the wood deck. Sanji leaves the door open as he moves back into the galley, plastering a smile on his face as Usopp and Chopper come sprawling into the room, Chopper babbling up a storm as Usopp holds him securely under his arm like a ball. He’s not entirely sure what the little reindeer is actually saying, but it doesn’t matter as Luffy slingshots into the galley with too much energy, collecting the other two from where they bar his path.

The others are a lot more sedate as they trickle in, taking their places around the table and joining in the chaos of a typical Straw Hat dinner. Plates are handed down the table, rubbery arms are swatted away, and Nami accidentally spears Brook’s afro when she misses Luffy’s sneaky hand. Sanji trails up and down the table serving drinks as he goes, a juice here and some wine there, but it takes until he’s standing with a bottle of sake in one hand for him to realise their swordsman hasn’t joined them.

Again.

Sanji glances up and down the table with a frown before deciding that yes, Zoro is missing, and he steps forward to tap Usopp on the shoulder.

Usopp turns to him with wide eyes and cheeks puffed with rice. “Where’s Zoro?” Sanji asks, and Usopp takes a moment to swallow his mouthful before replying, his lips set thinly as if he’s expecting Sanji to snap at him.

“Said he wasn’t hungry,” Usopp says, and both he and Sanji slap away Luffy’s hand as it tries to pull the sake from Sanji’s. “I think he’s out on deck.”

Sanji purses his lips but just nods in return, somehow not at all surprised. He takes one last check of the table to make sure everybody is sorted, rolling his eyes when he sees Luffy and Brook are shoving their chopsticks up their noses, before he snags a couple of leftover bowls to fill up. If he’s honest he’s not overly hungry either, but he knows Zoro will be starving once he does decide to eat, so he stows the two bowls away on the hotplate on the stove before heading for the door, sake still dangling from his fingers.

As Usopp said, Zoro is out on deck. He’s down below on the far side of the lawn, tucked underneath one of Nami’s tangerine trees. Sanji can’t see much of him besides his crossed knees, and he slowly makes his way down the stairs, mindful of his side as it pulls with each step, before he crosses the lawn to him.

He gets a sense of deja vu as he goes, remember this morning before lunch. This is different though, the air isn’t as light and the sun has nearly set. There’s a sense of worry that make Sanji unsettled, but he forces his shoulders back as he marches on.

Zoro doesn’t look up as he approaches. Sanji frowns to himself as he comes to a stop in front of him, running his eyes over the swordsman. His shoulders are hunched and his head is bowed as he curls around Wado in his lap, Kitesu and Enma lying on the grass beside him, and Sanji wonders just what is going on before he catches sight of the small oak stained box open by Zoro’s knee.

Oh. Of course. He’d interrupted Zoro this morning when he was cleaning his swords, and he clearly hadn’t gotten to Wado. It makes sense why Zoro has again refused to come to a meal call, the care and attention to his swords more important to him.

But he’s not cleaning his swords… and Sanji thinks of stitched stiff fingers and feels a pang so sharp in his chest that it nearly leaves him breathless.

Feeling brave, Sanji purses his lips as he moves to kneel beside the swordsman, his stomach lurching unpleasantly as he sees Zoro’s heavily bandaged hands where they rest on top of Wado. They’re a stark white against the black of her blade, and Sanji has a sudden flashback to a moment on a beach, of Zoro’s bandaged hand resting in his…

He pushes the memory back, instead shifting until he mimics Zoro’s pose, his crossed knee bumping into Zoro’s and he leaves it there without a thought. Zoro barely flinches at the touch, his fingers twitch around Wado but don’t close, and Sanji swallows past the lump in his throat before speaking.

“May I?”

Those two words get Zoro’s attention, the swordsman slowly lifting his head to look at Sanji. He’s expressionless, that heavy guard up like usual, before it dissolves slightly as Zoro just gives him a jerky nod in reply.

Carefully, Sanji reaches across to take Wado from Zoro’s grip, laying her out in his lap the same way she’d been resting in Zoro’s. The little oak box is just down in front of their pressed-together knees and Sanji thinks back to the hundreds of times he’s seen Zoro clean his swords, trying to remember each step with as much detail as his memory can give him.

He can feel Zoro’s gaze burning into the side of his head as he leans down to draw out a piece of nuguigami, running the thin sheet of paper up and down Wado to clean her, making sure to pinch it for groove carved down her blade, before he lays it aside and reaches for the uchiko ball. It takes him a moment to remember what to do with it, able to hear Zoro’s sharp intake of breath beside him as if he’s about to speak before Sanji starts to tap the ball up and down the blade, leaving behind a light film of the polishing stone powder that he gently rubs in with the soft blue cotton cloth he fishes from the box.

He runs his eye over Wado as he turns her over, making sure there’s no streaks or oily patches. Once satisfied, he draws out another piece of nuguigami to brush away the residual stone dust before he reaches for one of the eye droppers he knows Zoro filches from Chopper’s stores and the small glass bottle of choji oil.

The moment he unstoppers the bottle, he can’t help but smile, leaning forward to smell it as his eyes fall shut. He loves the scent of choji, the hint of clove with its warm spice and smoky wood, the slight bitter yet sweet tang to it.

It reminds him of Zoro, and his eyes flash back open when he remembers that he is in fact being watched by him.

He ignores the burning embarrassment in his undoubtedly fiery red cheeks as he sucks up a small amount of choji oil into the eyedropper. He places only a few little droplets along Wado, picking up the cotton cloth again to wipe it evenly down her blade, making sure to be mindful of her sharp edge as he goes, before turning her over and repeating on the other side. The choji oil wafts up around him, stronger than he’s ever smelt it before, and he feels the tension ease out of his shoulders and that small smile return, just creasing the corners of his lips.

It’s only when he’s using a final sheet of nuguigami to remove the excess oil that Zoro finally speaks.

“Where did you learn to clean a blade?” he asks, his voice raspy as if from disuse. Sanji doesn’t answer straight away, making sure to finish Wado to perfection before he turns to take her saya from where Zoro has moved it to his lap.

He slides her in neatly then returns her to Zoro, resting her back on his lap before meeting Zoro’s gaze. “You,” he says, and Zoro’s eyebrows raise. Sanji shrugs, wincing at the tug it pulls on his side. “I’ve seen you clean them a hundred times, Marimo. I picked some things up.”

Zoro tilts his head just slightly to the side. “More than some things.”

Sanji can feel his cheeks starting to burn again and he busies himself with packing everything back up into the little oak box. He isn’t sure what to say in response, everything that comes to mind ending up in a scramble as he tries to pluck words out of thin air, and he’s well aware that Zoro is right.

But thankfully he doesn’t have to say anything. The moment he straightens back up, Zoro moves, and Sanji isn’t expecting the sudden weight as the swordsman slowly rests his head down on Sanji’s shoulder.

It throws his heart violently into his ribcage, his eyes widening as his breath stills in his lungs. It’s so casual, so easy, and Sanji’s mouth falls open as words come roaring up from the back of his throat, only to die on his tongue as a heavily bandaged hand slips over to rest on his knee.

There’s a thousand things to say…. but instead Sanji just tilts his head until his cheek is pressed into soft green hair, and he closes his eyes as he listens to the soothing sounds of the lapping waves against the Sunny’s side and Zoro’s quiet steady breaths beside him.

…

In the end, it’s much more simpler than Sanji ever thought.

It takes another week and a half before they reach the next island along the Grand Line. Everyone is well and truly frazzled by then. Two weeks of solid sailing on an empty ocean, minus the incident with the marines, is enough to stress anyone out, but a crew as adventurous as the Straw Hats?

Well, there’s a reason they all clamour off the Sunny the moment she moors.

The island is small and inhabited only by a seaside village. It’s tucked into the mouth of a small port, the dock only just large enough to accomodate the Sunny and the crew make their way down the gangplank in a gaggle before splitting off into their different groups, most of them holding lists in hand of supplies to get while Brook just trundles along behind Luffy, having drawn the short straw of being on captain watch. Sanji himself carries a reasonable grocery list, especially considering Luffy had declared they would have a celebratory feast on the beach that evening.

Any reason for a party, Sanji had mused to himself as Luffy had given him a toothy grin as he’d rubbed his stomach.

The village is quaint as Sanji wanders through it. Brown clay roofs cover the weather-worn stone houses that line the dirt streets. There’s small wooden stalls with faded awnings over the top outside of the odd one, vendors with groceries and goods sale. Sanji loses Usopp to one of them, the sniper making a beeline for an older gentleman selling a collection of odd bits of metal, no doubt things that make sense to Usopp, but Sanji keeps going in his hunt for the food needed for the feast and to resupply. There’s not a lot for sale on the island, not nearly enough to fill up their stores that have taken a hit from their week of travel on the sea, but there’s plenty to tide them over until the next island.

“It’s only a couple of days sail away,” an older lady tells him as she bags up the fresh vegetables he’s bought from her, the leathery skin of her hands from years of sun exposure stretching over her bent knuckles. Her smile is bright and cheerful as she hands the paper bag to him. “I’m sorry we don’t have more to offer you, my dear.”

Sanji waves her off and instead asks questions about the produce, making mental notes to pass onto Usopp when she tells him her secrets for growing such large sweet potatoes. She adds a couple more to his bag despite his protests, as well as a scribbled recipe for sweet potato soup, and Sanji thanks her by slipping a couple of extra berri underneath her box of yams when she’s not looking.

He sees a few of the others as he passes down the small lanes. Robin has found a park bench alongside Chopper as the two of them eat some of the local delicacies Sanji’d seen at one of the stalls he’d stopped at, Usopp is still back at that first stall with a clamouring bunch of townspeople around him as the sound of heavy banging mixes with the oohing from the group, and Brook runs past looking harried and visibly missing their captain.

Not that Sanji thinks it’s his problem to deal with. Instead, he carries on filling his arms with groceries until he can’t hold anymore. He ropes a passing Franky into taking the ones he has back to the Sunny, and Franky gives him a funny look as he helpfully takes the bags.

“Missing your shadow?” he asks, but he doesn’t give time for Sanji to ask what he means by that before the cyborg wanders off, whistling a jaunty tune to himself as he goes.

Sanji knows though, how could he not? There’s an age old tradition in their crew now that Zoro is his pack mule whenever he goes shopping, the swordsman always able to keep up despite Sanji’s attempts to laden him with his bodyweight in groceries. It helps that Zoro is a dab hand when it comes to maths, his brain somehow just wired to understand numbers and figures in a way that Sanji just isn’t able too, and Nami has always been fond of any way to save a few berri.

But Zoro was dragged off by Nami the moment they reached the village, her demands that he be her pack mule for the day instead, and Sanji has to admit that he’s a little miffed about it. Not enough to say anything, of course not, Nami’s needs will always trump his own… but he had been looking forward to an afternoon with Zoro.

It doesn’t matter. Eventually, Sanji finds himself reaching the end of his list and he bids the last storekeeper farewell, hitching the final few bags up off the ground before following the beaten dirt tracks back down to the Sunny. He’s the first to return, not that he’s surprised, and he makes a beeline straight for the galley with all his groceries in hand, already running through the recipes in his head for the upcoming feast.

He hears the others trickling back to the Sunny as he works in the kitchen, having left the galley door open for the cool afternoon breeze. Banging and crashing, the odd shout and scream, peals of laughter that make him shake his head fondly. Never a dull moment on the Sunny, and he waves off Usopp when he sticks his head in to offer help, black grease stripped over his nose and missing a chunk of hair that Sanji doesn’t want to know the story behind.

But soon he’s finished cooking and Robin arrives to help him take it all outside, her multiple hands sprouting from Sanji’s back to lift the many plates he’s prepared. They walk together down the gangplank to the beach below where Sanji sees the trestle tables from the workshops have been set up beside a collection of fallen logs the crew are scattered over, a roaring bonfire nearby that Franky seems to be making bigger and bigger by the minute.

There’s a small cheer that goes up when the crew see Sanji and Robin approaching, and Sanji rolls his eyes as Brook and Jinbei wrangle Luffy back down on the log they’re sitting on, their captain whining miserably as he tries wriggling out from under them. He doesn’t make them wait long though, and the crew are quick to devour the food on the paper plates Nami forces them to use, calling them uncouth savages through her mouthfuls of rice.

It’s energetic and fun, and Sanji finds himself relaxing down on one of the logs nearest to the bonfire, a bottle of Zoro’s sake in hand as he stretches his legs out in front of him, tired after a surprisingly long day. The evening is breathtakingly picturesque as the last tendrils of the hazy purple and gold sky glance over the horizon, mixing with the orange glow the bonfire splashes over the sand… but its not what has Sanji captivated right now.

After all, it’s rare to see everyone so carefree as Brook leads the crew with a jaunty tune on his violin. Sanji doesn’t quite remember the last time he saw Nami giggling so hard as Luffy twirls her around and around in circles, kicking up sand into large clouds as they go. He’s missed seeing that brilliant smile on Robin’s face as Usopp leads her in a fast quickstep that has them skipping too close to the fire and tripping over one another. He delights in hearing Franky’s deep laughter as he catcalls Robin from where he’s sitting on another log, his arm thrown around Jinbei’s shoulders as the fishman desperately tries to shush him.

But it’s Zoro that catches Sanji’s eye. Zoro, who swings Chopper around in time to Brook’s music, the little reindeer’s peals of laughter loud in the air as he holds on for dear life. Zoro, who doesn’t stop when they suddenly crash into Luffy and Nami, the four of them clinging onto each other as Luffy wraps his arms around them and spins and spins and spins. Zoro, who throws his head back as laughter erupts from him, loud and joyous and so f*cking wonderful.

Zoro, who has such a firm grip on Sanji’s heart that for a brief moment, he thinks it’s going to stop.

He takes a sip of sake, feeling the sweet burn as it slides down his throat, his hands unsteady around the bottle. He dips his gaze, trying to keep his thundering heart under control, trying to reign in the messy thoughts that threaten to run rampant through his mind.

The log jars underneath him suddenly as someone crashes down beside him, and Sanji’s head shoots up in surprise, only for his eyes to widen when he sees its Zoro, the swordsman’s splaying out beside him so close their hips touch.

“Curls,” Zoro greets him, his grin brilliant as he bumps their shoulders, his hand darting out to snag the bottle of sake from Sanji’s grip. “Mind if I have some?”

Sanji shakes his head in disbelief as Zoro promptly tilts his head back and downs the last of the bottle, his Adams apple moving up and down with each swallow, and Sanji’s mouth runs dry at the sight. He forces himself to swallow, past the sudden lump in his throat, past the sudden nerves that surge up from the space in his chest between his heart and ribs.

Because gods, gods.

f*ck it.

Sanji leans forward to pull the sake from Zoro’s grip, ignoring the way the swordsman lets out a noise of protest to toss the bottle to the sand below, and Zoro follows the movement before turning back to Sanji with a frown.

“Cook, what the-”

Sanji kisses him.

And f*ck, f*ck, it’s soft and its sweet and he buries his trembling fingers in Zoro’s hair, tugging on it as their lips press together, as Zoro lets out a gasp of breath before his hands find Sanji’s jaw, cupping him so gently that Sanji feels something crack and glow warm and bright in the depths of his chest.

It’s intoxicating and perfect and Sanji’s mind is racing and still all at once.

They pull back achingly slow, panting quietly into the air between them, and Sanji leans forward to press his forehead to Zoro’s, refusing to open his eyes just yet.

“Zoro…” he starts, a million words on the tip of his tongue, but he’s stopped as Zoro lets out a small laugh.

His eyes snap open to see Zoro looking right back at him with a grin that makes Sanji’s stomach swoop from the sheer affection in it.

“Don’t overthink it, Cook,” he says, and Sanji nearly laughs at the absurdity.

But he’s right, he’s so bloody right, and Sanji swallows back all the thoughts and feelings and words that are playing havoc through him, shoves them to the back of his mind as his fingers fall to caress the hair at the nape of Zoro’s neck, as he feels Zoro tremble under his gentle touch.

And as their lips brush once more, Sanji's heart skips, beats... and he smiles.

…

Fin.