Chapter Text
Sanji doesn't know a lot of things.
That much becomes clear around their second week living together.
When the News Coo happens to drop off the newspaper next to him, he assumes it's garbage and throws it overboard. When they talk about seemingly normal things- marines, world leaders, known events, he always has that look in his eye, like he doesn't quite get what they're discussing. It's no wonder, with how long he was locked in prison for. Still, it’s strange to witness- like a baby bird finally coming out of its fucked up nest.
They try to help him as much as they can. Providing context, explaining things. Sometimes the information he's missing is funny and they can have a laugh about it together- like the time Sanji witnessed a shooting star and was convinced stars could move across the sky on their own.
Other times, they're reminded of the cruel reality of the situation, and mustering up a chuckle becomes near impossible.
It must be around one in the morning when he feels a panicked tug on his shoulder- the movement causing him to wake up from his stupor. Immediately, Zoro recognizes the familiar grip as Sanji's and he squints his eyes in the dark, attempting to make out the blond's obscured features. The bunk room is about as dark as it gets, and only the occasional creaking of wooden planks is audible. Still, with how close Sanji is, Zoro can just make out the staggering breaths and the frightened glint inside his eye.
“Wha-”
“I think Robin and Franky are fighting.”
The information takes a few seconds to register. Franky and Robin, fighting? It's..a bit hard to believe.
“As in..”
The vague blue shape that is the cook gestures with his hands, one forming into a fist to knock into the other.
“Cook- they aren't fighting.”
He can't see any possible reason for them to be. It's true that Robin and Franky are in the same room, he can feel it using his haki. But he doesn't sense any hostile intent from either of them. Either way, it doesn't make sense. Those two don't fight. If anything, they're like..the perfect couple. Always communicating, always- whatever it is that healthy couples do.
“But I saw Robin on top of him. I- I don't want Franky to get hurt.”
Oh. Oh.
A blush creeps up on Zoro's cheeks. He turns to the side, grabbing his pillow and shoving it over his face. The cook's obliviousness never fails to amuse him, but now it's only causing Zoro to want to disappear. He wishes Sanji would just fuck off and let him go back to sleep already.
“Rub those two brain cells you have, idiot.”
The mattress dips near his knees as Sanji takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Zoro won't see it but there's a stiffness in his posture, a jitter underneath his skin.
“I don't understand.”
His voice sounds lost, tired.
Fine. If he doesn't get it, Zoro will just have to spell it out for him.
“They're having sex, man.”
He says it through the pillow, lest he looks Sanji in the eye and has to reveal his burning face.
“Oh.”
Zoro grits his teeth.
“Yeah. Oh.”
At first, he assumes Sanji just never caught onto the nature of their relationship. It's not that they hide it, but they don't go out of their way to flaunt it, either. Zoro always admired that about them, that the respect they have for each other is so great it doesn't need to be constantly reinforced by meaningless public gestures.
And yet, something about that doesn't feel right.
Any person who supposedly walked in on two people -one on top of the other- would instantly assume something sexual was going on. It's not that hard to draw the two lines together, even for someone who's been alone for a good chunk of his life.
Any person would assume that. Unless, of course, they didn't know what sex was.
Instantly, Zoro shoves the pillow back onto the mattress and stares at Sanji in the eye. In the dark, every feature of his looks sharper. There's deep blue shadows etched into his cheekbones, navy highlights in the divots of his deep scar. It should make him look older, but at that moment Sanji looks like nothing but a lost kid.
“Do..you know what sex is?”
“Of course I do! I'm not a child!”
There's embarrassment in the cook’s expression, maybe a bit of hurt. The spike in his voice is evident as well, and Zoro just has to hope they're not waking the rest of the crew up by talking.
For god’s sake, he just wants to sleep.
Zoro throws himself back onto the mattress, more than ready to make his desire a reality. This conversation is way too weird for his standards, especially at this time of night.
“Go to sleep.”
He mumbles, just as the beautiful feeling of unconsciousness tugs at the corners of his mind. Gradually, his thoughts get quieter and his limbs turn light. Finally, sleep.
“Is it a good idea to have a baby on a pirate ship?”
He chokes.
“What?”
Fucking-
He doesn't even look guilty as he says these things- like it's completely normal to assume them. Not even Luffy is this bad at reading the room and that says a lot.
“I just-”
A long sigh leaves his chest. He tries to remind himself that Sanji's still learning, still getting to know the world outside of those four brick walls. What might seem self-explanatory to him may not even exist in the cook's thought process- but likewise, a recipe Sanji knows like the back of his hand is impossible for Zoro to conjure up all on his own.
What Sanji needs is patience. Someone to show him that the world isn't just cruel. That people can be kind and helpful- he wants to be that someone.
“So you don't know what sex is.”
It's a simple revelation, but an incredibly sad one. Being so neglected that he doesn't even know the basics of his own anatomy, his own body and its needs- he can only imagine how isolating that must feel. How terrifying.
“Sex isn't always for making a kid. It can be a way to feel..pleasure, I guess. People just do it ‘cause it feels good, most of the time.”
To his credit, Sanji does seem to be listening intently to Zoro's words. His expression slowly shifts as he goes on- a furrow in his brow indicating he's deep in thought. The warmth on Zoro's cheeks persists.
“I'm no good at explaining this crap. You should probably ask Chopper about it.”
About half a minute passes before Sanji gives his response.
“Alright. Thanks, Mosshead.”
Zoro waves a hand dismissively. By the time his head has hit the pillow, he's already fast asleep.
By the end of their second week at sea, boredom has settled in and the crew is beginning to feel antsy. Though Sanji himself says it doesn't bother him, he too has taken to holing himself up in the galley and tinkering inside the kitchen. In the last two days alone, they've been served three meals a day, often lavish and perfectly calculated. That's not even mentioning the in-between snack breaks, garnished beverages and sweets. It's an odd change, considering they barely had two plain meals a day before Sanji showed up.
Not that anyone is complaining. Least of all Luffy.
The point is- their supplies dwindle. It's true that as Sanji burns through kilos of vegetables and meats their options get more limited, but they never seem to quite run out of food. Somehow, the cook always finds a way to preserve their supply- like he's been trained into doing so.
Not that Zoro would know anything about that. Something has shifted between them in the last few days, and when he attempted to ask Sanji about his cooking habits the blond made some lame excuse before running off. He's convinced it has to do something with that conversation they had the other day, the one in Zoro's bed.
Maybe Sanji's embarrassed about his lack of knowledge. He doesn't really know. Ultimately, he can't do anything about it either, so he decides to do the next best thing- ignore the problem entirely.
That's why he finds himself attempting to nap out on the grassy deck during a sweltering evening, one too hot to do anything else. The sea is shimmering as they drift along the lazy waves, and the air smells thick with salt and humidity. It seems that most of the crew had the same idea as him, with everyone pretty much deciding to take the day easy and not doing much except hanging about. All except the cook of course.
A different realization has struck him the past few days- Sanji can't sit still. He has to be doing something at all hours of the day or else he freaks out- gets scared and quiet. At the end of the day, they all have their coping mechanisms. And if Sanji wants to bury his fears under the piles of dishes in the sink, Zoro can't really blame him. Not when his are right along with them- inside the empty bottles and the dirtied cups.
A few meters away, a perfectly still Nami sits in her deck chair- sunglasses over her eyes and orange locks draped over her shoulders in a delicate manner. She's sunbathing- a handful of different lotions strewn about the floor next to her. In a similar but much less graceful fashion, Luffy has his own chair set up next to Nami's, but his is horizontal and he lets his head hang off the edge as he stares up into the sky.
Considering everything that has happened lately, it's peaceful. Boring, yes, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.
The calm doesn't last for long. It never does. Some time later, an overly enthusiastic cook bursts from the galley- a platter of drinks in his expertly positioned hand. He twirls along the ship, passing by and handing drinks to whoever happens to be closest. Eventually, that someone happens to be him.
“Oi, Mosshead. Made you something.”
When he cracks open an eye, the cook is standing above him- in all his lanky glory. Though Sanji has been steadily putting on weight with the help of Chopper, it seems that his long limbs and tall stature make for a naturally skinny body type. Nowhere is that more clear than in his legs, which from this point of view make him look like a long, awkward tree.
Sanji bends down and hands Zoro a glass- one of those tall curved ones they keep in the back of the cabinets. Inside is an orange drink of some kind, a slice of tangerine resting soundly above a handful of ice cubes.
He raises an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. He knows it's something the cook enjoys, talking about his dishes.
“Tangerine Spritz. Campari, Prosecco and freshly squeezed tangerine juice served over ice. A refreshing drink for a photosynthesizing moss.”
He doesn't dare comment on the fact that Sanji doesn't know what a newspaper is, but apparently photosynthesis is common knowledge to him. Zoro places the cool rim of the glass against his lips and takes a generous sip. It's good. Tangy and slightly bitter, not too sweet.
“Nice one.”
His chest does something funny when Sanji's mouth quirks up just the slightest bit. Before he can fully register the emotion the blond is already gone, drifting off to where Nami and Luffy are sitting. The bright blue t-shirt he's wearing makes his complexion look even paler, like porcelain. Despite the cracks, the scars etched deep into his skin, he continues on- a smile plastered on his face.
Training has been good for him. Not just for Sanji's body, but his confidence as well. He walks with a new sort of pep, and hands Nami her drink like he's proud of his creation, not just trying to justify being here.
“Oh- thank you, Sanji.”
“Thanks, Sanji!”
Luffy's glass is already empty before Nami has a chance to take a sip of her own. She throws the captain a disgusted glare before she brings the glass up to her lips and tilts her head back, trying the cocktail.
“This-did you use my tangerines?”
It's not accusing, exactly, but there's a twinge of tension between her words. Immediately, Zoro’s focus draws to the scene- to the way in which Sanji's shoulders immediately stiffen, to the way he curls in on himself like he's trying to become smaller.
Shit.
“I- I didn't mean to- I didn't know they were yours, sorry, I'm sorry.”
It's true that for a few seconds, Zoro can sense the anger bubbling underneath Nami's skin. And he gets it, he understands. God knows he'd raise hell if someone decided to take Wado from him. But watching Sanji like this- it's like something is calling for him to go over there, to help him, to protect.
Luffy turns his head and stares at Zoro. He shakes his head.
Captain's orders.
Luffy can see something here that Zoro isn't able to. And he'd never go against Luffy.
An audible sigh cuts through the tension.
“It's fine, please don't apologize. The drink is lovely.”
Sanji hugs the empty platter onto his chest and stands nervously.
“I really didn't mean to offend you. I should've asked.”
“Sanji, really. There was no way you could've known. I'm just a little overprotective because..the trees were my mother's.”
A realization flashes across the cook's eyes, then a deep quiet understanding.
It takes a lot for Nami to talk about her past, for any of them, really. It's not something they like to linger on- not when they have the present. It's perplexing in a way, but she's always been a bit unpredictable and he likes that about her most.
“I lost my mother too.”
Sanji's voice cuts through the silence, soft and filled with pain. There's a kindness in his ocean eyes, and Nami takes off her sunglasses to throw him a quick smile.
“I'm sorry. I was just surprised, is all. But..it makes me really happy to see everyone enjoying them like this. Please, feel free to use the tangerines any time you want.”
The pair stare at each other, a newfound understanding formed between the two. It's funny how in the end, things have a way of working themselves out.
“Thank you. If you have any requests, I’d be happy to make them.”
A few seconds pass in which Nami looks deep in thought.
“My mom, she used to make tangerine tarts. Do you think..I mean- if it's easy-”
“Of course. I'll get started on them right now, I'm not doing anything.”
Luffy giggles by himself, turning over onto his stomach to stare at Sanji.
“Can you make me some meat, too?”
A laugh escapes the cook's lips.
“Sure.”
Before he leaves, Sanji shoots Zoro a look of acknowledgement. It's not anything big, just a small smile. And yet- something about that moment causes him to freeze, causes the image of Sanji walking off to remain etched into his memory.
He's only been here for two weeks, and yet things seem so..different. Livelier. He fits into the crew like he was always meant to be a part of it, and the thought of him leaving causes a pain to fill Zoro's chest, something crushing.
Nami shares this quiet moment alongside Zoro, her thoughts visible on her own face. Confliction, then acceptance.
“He can stay.”
Luffy just grins.
It hits him quick, and it hits him hard.
During a night on watch, he happens to catch a person on the deck out of the corner of his eye. At first he struggles to make out who it is, and with his brain lagging from lack of sleep, he almost presses the emergency signal before he realizes that oh- it's just Sanji.
With Zoro only being able to look at the top of his head and all, it's hard to make out what the blond is up to at first. From above, it seems as though he's pacing back and forth in a frantic manner- before he finally settles on leaning against the railing of the ship. He stays there for the better part of ten minutes, unmoving. Though the moonlight does make for beautiful reflections on the rocky waves, at some point he begins to wonder how long Sanji is planning on staying there. He's not concerned- just curious.
It's fine. It's just five minutes.
The chilly night air rips through him as he climbs down the ladder leading to the crow's nest. Once he reaches the deck, he's greeted by Sanji's back turned to him- shoulders shaking. There's a light blue where the moonlight hugs the cook's silhouette, light wrapping around his trembling body.
When he turns around, shock in his eyes, that same light hits the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and causes them to glimmer. It's beautiful. It's painful. Zoro wants to reach a hand and wipe those tears away, wants to run his thumb along Sanji's sharp cheekbone.
He doesn't do any of that. The only thing wiping away Sanji's tears are his own hands as he turns his gaze away, clearly embarrassed.
“Mosshead. I didn't know you were on watch.”
Zoro swallows.
“Yeah. You..you okay?”
A shaky breath leaves Sanji's lips, a clear attempt to hold back his crying. In the quiet moonlight, Zoro can even hear the sound of him swallowing- trying to keep everything together.
“I'm fine. It's just..a lot, y’know?”
He knows. He knows better than anyone the state Sanji was in before they found him. Imagining him, a little kid, alone in there is horrible enough- but thinking about him right now almost seems worse. A man shunned aside, caged, beaten and stunted so badly he would gladly welcome death just to get away from it all.
And yet he's still here, still fighting. Still clawing for the chance to make a life of his own.
“I know. But you've been handling it better than anyone else would've. You're strong, Curly.”
Zoro steps to meet Sanji on the railing. This way they're sitting side by side- the skin on their arms meeting, their hands next to each other.
Sanji's still looking away, still avoiding him as he scoffs, clenching the railing.
“You keep saying that. But I'm..I'm not. I was born weak. I'm still weak now.”
He wonders, how many times has Sanji been told that very thing? That he's weak, fragile, unlovable. How harshly were those teachings beaten into him, how much has he endured? At that moment, seeing him so small and uncertain, Zoro wishes he could beat the Vinsmokes into the ground a second time.
But he can't and he won't. All he has is this moment, all he has is Sanji.
“No- that's what your family put in your head. Look at me. Come on.”
When he doesn't budge, Zoro grabs him by the shoulders and forces Sanji to look at him. There’s still tears running down his face, they're just silent now. Zoro almost wishes he would sob, spill his heart out, anything, just so he isn't quiet anymore.
“You're one of the strongest people I've ever met.”
He expects denial. Embarrassment. But nothing could've prepared Zoro for what comes out of the cook's mouth next.
“I don't want to be!”
A wracking sob escapes his mouth.
“I don't want to be. I don't want it all to have been for nothing.”
He doesn't get it. As much as he tries to figure it out, figure Sanji out, he doesn't think he'll ever understand. And yet..he still wants to be there anyway, still wants to try.
“They locked you away ‘cause you were weak?”
After a few seconds, the cook nods. He rips his shoulders away, then turns back to the sea.
“My father..wasn't a good person. My siblings, they were perfect, y'know. I wasn't. I was the only one that didn't take. So he locked me away and forgot I existed. Said that even if I was a failure, he couldn't bring himself to kill me.”
The low creaking of the ship fills the silence, the distant call of a sea king seeming all the louder in the quiet void. Still, at that moment there is nothing louder than Zoro's frantic heartbeat as he listens to Sanji recall his haunting past.
“If I could've been strong this entire fucking time, what was it all for?”
He feels frozen. Like he can't move, even when Sanji's curling over the railing and his tears are falling onto the icy water below. How does one go about comforting another when there is no solution to their worries? When the things they've gone through seem like distant nightmares, when there's no enemy to cut down?
In the end, he doesn't really understand Sanji's struggles, no matter how much he tries to see where the cook is coming from. For him, strength is the solution to his problems. His goal. Why be afraid of it, when it can be used to take, yes- but most importantly to protect.
Then again, he's never been much of an emotions kind of guy. There's probably some grandiose explanation to both their issues, but it doesn't really matter either way.
All he knows is that Sanji is crying.
So he puts his hand on the cook's back, and he stays there. Waiting, watching the waves rock them like the ship is nothing but a cradle, a big, damaged thing holding them all together.
And he knows. When Sanji finally looks up at him with those downturned, sapphire eyes, he knows it like the calling of death itself, coming to claim him.
Fuck.
The journey ends both quicker and slower than any of them expected. The shore creeps up on them like a forgotten melody lazily humming on Brook’s violin. It’s as harrowing as it is comforting knowing they've left Germa behind- that officially, they're onto the next island, the next adventure to be had. Still, the distant harbor of Stag does nothing to ease his bitter worries.
They make landfall during the evening, when the first lights are starting to turn on, the harbor glimmering like a hundred tiny stars scattered across the night sky. It should be a beautiful scene, but all he can think about is the fact that this might be the harbor that Sanji parts ways with them. That the dock they're next to might be the background of their last goodbye.
Either way, this island isn't really one he's particularly excited about. It's one of those tourist spots- with bars and clubs open along the shoreline, casinos over the hills. Luffy seems more than excited, but Zoro thinks that's just ‘cause the place is named after a beetle.
“Whoah.”
Sanji exclaims just as the captain jumps overboard and lands onto the dock with a loud thud.
“Luffy, don't run off- Luffy!”
Usopp's voice lands on deaf ears. Luffy's already running into the harbor before the sniper even has the chance to finish- avoiding the people passing by with a cat-like agility.
“Sorry, Usopp! I gotta go find the beetles!”
“There's no-! Ugh. I don't even know why I'm trying.”
Shaking his head, the sniper turns back to the rest of the crew who's gathered on the deck.
“Well, someone's going to have to come with me for supplies. We're almost out of cola. Franky?”
Franky hisses and scratches the back of his head with a small, retractable hand.
“Sorry, bro. I'm on for a date with my super lady tonight.”
Said lady flashes them an easy smile, a faint blush across her cheeks.
In the past few days, his own trivial love affair has put him off romance entirely. He can't even bring himself to finish the book Robin lent him. Still, seeing his crewmates happy, he can't help but feel the same way. He sighs and leans back onto the railing.
The opposite seems to be true for Usopp, who crosses his arms and taps his foot impatiently. Zoro does feel a bit bad, considering without Usopp they probably would've starved thirty times over by now. Still, it's not his fault that they guy took up the unofficial job of stocker all those years ago.
“Um, I can go with you.”
He doesn't expect to hear Sanji's voice but it finds him anyway, nervous but filled with conviction.
“Finally, someone who cares about the state of things around here.”
And so, the two men set off to restock the ship- or at least they try to. There's just one tiny detail that they all seem to forget- one small problem that reveals itself when Sanji faceplants straight onto the wooden dock not even a few minutes later.
“You've never been on land before?!”
When Zoro drops down onto the dock, Usopp is already frantically wiping Sanji's bleeding nose with a handkerchief, frayed and oil stained. The cock grimaces- blood between his teeth.
“Did I not mention that?”
He approaches them and crouches down, helping Usopp sit the man up.
“Tch. Dumbass.”
“You're one to talk, Mosshead.”
It seems as though the blood loss hasn't gotten to Sanji's head though, not enough to stop him from insulting Zoro at least. He scoffs and attempts to hide his embarrassment when Usopp chuckles at the name, helping instead to bring the blond to his feet, wobbly as they are.
When it seems that Sanji might fall again, Zoro places a hand around his shoulder and helps keep him upright.
“Shit- why is it so-?”
Before the cook has the chance to finish, a third person lands onto the dock gracefully, like a feather drifting along the steady breeze.
“I had quite the trouble getting used to land again, myself. Perhaps going for a walk could help.”
Brook smiles politely, twirling his cane as he approaches.
“Yeah, sorry Sanji. I don't think you carrying a bunch of crates is a good idea. Maybe next time?”
A surprising amount of disappointment paints itself onto the cook's face. Zoro doesn't get it at first- none of them are ever particularly excited to be on stocking duty, so he doesn't really understand why Sanji would be. But when he looks at the blond’s knees buckling, he thinks he gets it. Or at least part of it. Sanji doesn't want to be seen as a burden. And well- he'd be a hypocrite if he said he didn't relate to some extent.
“Brook, can you go with Usopp?”
The skeleton laughs, then places a bony hand on top of Usopp's head.
“Certainly. Are we off then?”
The sniper takes a second, a single moment where he scans Sanji with his gaze as if he's decoding something- lips furrowing slightly in that way they do when he's concentrating on something particularly puzzling.
“Sanji, I want you to make sure Zoro doesn't get lost. He's uh..not the best with directions.”
He's about to yell at the jab before he sees it out of the corner of his eye- the smile returning to Sanji's face.
“Sure.”
There's something else in those faint laugh lines- relief.
Fine. Just this once, he thinks, and swallows his pride.
Brook and Usopp set off, a tune leaving the musician's mouth as they disappear into the crowded harbor. There, the flow of people is steady and constant, their voices loud. It reminds him a bit of the streams back in Shimotsuki, how the goldfish would crowd and knock against each other.
“There’s so many people.”
He chuckles, then slowly lets go of Sanji's body. When the blond doesn't fall, Zoro allows his hands to rest against the hilts of his swords- ready to catch him at a moment’s notice.
Sanji's gaze is on the lively crowd, his star-struck eyes reflecting the yellow lights like tiny flakes of gold. With the warm light engulfing him, it seems as though he's glowing- a golden statue with sapphire eyes, a treasure.
Damnit- he needs to stop.
“..Yeah. Wouldn't blame you if you just wanted to stay on the sh-hey-!”
A warmth engulfs his hand- a grip firm and tough. With shaking steps and a rickety determination, Sanji puts one foot in front of the other and walks- dragging Zoro behind him.
It takes a second to register- they're holding hands.
And compared to everything else it should be mild- should be nothing more than a formality, than contact. So then why can he focus on nothing but the back of Sanji's head- the way his locks bounce with every step- as they merge into the crowd?
It's as if the people around them blur- like every face disappears. There is only Sanji and him, treading through the harbor. Sanji and him, walking up the stone steps with their hands tangled together. Sanji and him, stumbling into the square where the busy stalls emit all kinds of smells. Oil, spice- something that burns the eyes.
And when Sanji trips, when his feet forget they're not countering inertia, Zoro is there to anchor him, to keep him steady for as long as he needs.
Near the far end of the market, there's a particular stall which seems to catch Sanji's eye. It's decorated with a bright blue sign and fairy lights- strung up on the top of the tent.
Ice cream.
“Ever had it?”
There's a moment in which Sanji hesitates, then begins to speak.
“Once. They wouldn't bring me a churning machine so I was never able to replicate it quite right.”
He adds that to a mental list of things they'll need to get for Sanji. If he decides to join the crew, Zoro reminds himself.
“Come on. Let's get some.”
He tugs on Sanji's hand one final time before letting go. It pains him a bit to do so, but he doesn't want to take advantage of the cook's vulnerability for his own wants. More than anything, it's probably best for Sanji to explore on his own- figure out the world on his own terms.
The cook approaches the stall tentatively. He looks down at the glass display filled with various flavours, all charms and sprinkles and bright colors. He's never been into that kind of thing himself- but seeing Sanji's smile makes him consider otherwise.
“Hello there.”
A woman that looks about their age- if not a bit older- approaches the display, greeting them with a polite smile. Her chestnut hair falls over her broad shoulders, and her golden piercings glimmer under the colorful lights.
“Can I get you anything?”
Sanji's eyes flicker- going back and forth between the woman and the ice cream.
“Um. Hello.”
Immediately, he can sense the cook's anxiety. The woman waits patiently as he looks over the flavours. Finally, he presses a finger against the glass- leaving a clear spot where cool glass meets skin.
“Could I get chocolate?”
“Sure thing. Anything for you?”
Zoro thinks it over but ultimately settles on the least sweet option of the bunch.
“Lemon.”
She hums and begins preparing their orders, gathering scoops of ice cream with a repetitive motion.
“So, have you been down to the beach yet?”
Her casual tone implies familiarity, like they're supposed to know what she's talking about.
“The beach?”
Upon hearing his question, the woman pauses for just a second- before continuing. She's finished placing Sanji's chocolate ice cream in a small paper cup and after washing off the scooper in a tub of water, begins gathering up Zoro's order.
“Yeah, Stag is famous for its glowing beach on the south side of the island. Sorry, I kinda just assume everyone who passes by has heard of it.”
After she finishes up, the woman proceeds to hand them each their respective orders.
“We’re not really here on vacation.”
She smirks- a knowing glint in her eye.
“Oh, I know. Roronoa Zoro, right?”
He has to admit that it does shock him a bit- he sometimes forgets people know who he is. Even back in his bounty hunting days, Zoro was always surprised to see how many people recognized him simply on appearance alone.
Regardless, he can't help but feel annoyed at the words.
He’s not really in the mood for fighting a bunch of marines right now. For once, it feels as though he's having fun and actually relaxing- here with Sanji by his side.
“Don't worry, I won't tell. My sister- she lives in Dressrosa. She told me what you guys did. So..thanks.”
He huffs out a laugh.
“We didn't do it for Dressrosa.”
It's staggering how often they have to remind people that they're not heroes, nowadays. All they wanted was to take down Doflamingo, purely for their own, selfish dreams. And yet- he can still sense the woman's gratitude, even through the roll of her eyes.
“Whatever. Ice cream’s on me. Just don't tell my manager.”
They thank the woman and head to a bench to sit down for a minute when Sanji's legs begin wobbling again. The cook doesn't talk much through the whole affair, seeming somewhat wistful. He does however flash Zoro a stupid smile when he asks how his ice cream is, before proceeding to devour the whole thing in an uncharacteristic display of messiness. Zoro figures he must've done something right, if the way the cook licks the chocolate off his lips is anything to go by.
His own ice cream is equally appetizing. He enjoys the sour flavour- relishing in the cooling feeling after so much time spent between the humidity of hot bodies crammed into small streets.
“I've never been to the beach.”
The cook blurts, using the little plastic spoon to scoop up whatever is left of his now melted ice cream. Zoro recognizes the implication between the words, the question Sanji's too afraid to ask.
“You're not missing much. Just a bunch of sand, mostly.”
The disappointment is apparent in the cook's features.
“Oh.”
He smirks. Shoves his shoulder into Sanji's, and pretends the contact is nothing more than that- tells himself the buzz underneath his skin is just impact.
“I'm kidding, Eyebrows. You're going to love it.”
Sanji sputters, bringing a hand up to his eyebrow and turning away to hide the pout of his rosy lips. The stubble on his chin has been growing in nicely, and with the added weight, Sanji finally looks healthy- about his age instead of a lanky teenager stuffed into an adult body.
Handsome, his brain tells him, then immediately snuffs the thought out.
“Come on. We gotta find out how to get to that beach.”
The first thing he notices once the horizon comes into view is the reflection of the moon against the pitch black water. It's a bright periwinkle mixed with aquamarine, shifting stripes glimmering, untouchable, distant. His initial thought is that this is it- the reasoning behind the name. The glowing beach. It's fitting, with the way the moonlight shines over the smooth waves.
Then he takes a step onto the sand, and he realizes that waiting for the expected is a fool’s game, at least in the Grand Line.
Like a million tiny lights, the grains of sand glow under his footsteps- a vivid, neon, blue. Reflexively, Zoro pulls his foot away, only to find the grains turning back into their normal color- a standard beige.
“Huh.”
Sanji gasps, and his voice finds Zoro like an echo, something he always expects to be by his side. The cook steps into the sand and his body lights up in a beautiful vibrant blue- most prominent on the bottom of his chin, and on the tips of his golden hair.
“Holy shit-”
A giggle rips out of his throat and Sanji drops to his knees, running his fingertips along the sand to create two symmetrical rivers of blue. He almost can't believe it either- Zoro's no romantic, but in all his years travelling the Grand Line, he's not sure he's ever seen something so beautiful.
A voice whispers out, dripping with amazement.
“Zoro.”
“Come on.”
A hand curls around his own, and he pulls Sanji up to head near the shoreline- their footsteps glowing underneath them and their smiles just as bright. They stumble near the water and kick their shoes off- their clothes follow. Next thing he knows Zoro's in nothing but a pair of underwear, waist deep in glowing blue water. Sanji draws him in like a siren, like a creature sent to bury him underneath the secrets of the sea. Even in the dark, Zoro can spot the endless scars across his pale body, a map of all he's endured.
“Fuck, it's cold!”
His laugh causes Zoro's stomach to twist with want- desires that he could never possiby think about, let alone utter out loud. Thankfully he doesn't have to, because a second later a spray of water flies into his eye, causing it to sting with pain.
“Asshole!”
He yells and blindly swats water Sanji's way, finally erasing the blue-tinted shit eating grin he can't seem to take off. A genuine, unapologetic display of laughter instantly erupts from the cook as Zoro tackles him, causing them both to fall into the freezing water.
Despite his instincts telling him not to, Zoro opens his eyes. And there he can see it clear as day- Sanji's body under his own, surrounded by a dream-like blue.
The oxygen hits him faster than his thoughts are able to catch up. He sputters and so does the cook, falling into each other's arms- a tangle of limbs and bodies. Every point of contact feels like it burns- the contrast against the cold water all the more apparent.
He knows they're teetering over a line they shouldn't cross. A line that they won't be able to come back from.
The sand around them settles. As it does, the world turns dark, its edges blurry. He can't see Sanji but he can see the man's dark outline, ever so slowly inching closer and closer.
“Cook-”
He says, but it's too late. He can already feel Sanji's breath against his skin, burning- and a second later the pressure of lips against his own.
It's nothing more than a peck, really. Something so innocent it wouldn't even be considered a kiss by most people’s standards. And yet it causes static to burst all across his body- from the base of his spine to the tips of his freezing fingers.
It feels like taking in oxygen, like the first breath after almost drowning under the harsh waves and the hissing seafoam. Relieving, satisfying, right.
Which is exactly why Zoro can't accept it.
With a gentle tug on Sanji's shoulders, he pulls the man away. The movement causes sand to kick up again- revealing the blush which has spread across the cook's cheeks.
“I-”
“I'm sorry, cook. I..I can't.”
Watching Sanji's hopes crumble and his body flinch feels worse than taking a knife to the gut. It feels worse than lightning striking his body and worse than flame burning his skin.
Because this- it's something they both want, and yet they shouldn't have. Sanji's barely begun to form into a person of his own- the person his family never allowed him to become. Yes he's strong and yes he's capable of making his own decisions but-
“I just- I thought you liked me. I..I'm sorry. Sorry- I shouldn't have-”
He's just not ready. That's what it comes down to. If Zoro allowed himself to get with the cook now, he'd feel no more happiness than he would feel guilt.
“Sanji. Listen. I like you.”
The knots twisting in his stomach can't seem to let go. He watches Sanji's face twist in confusion and wishes the ocean would swallow him whole, drown him where he's standing.
“But I can't..be with you. You've only been outside for three weeks. There's more important things for you to focus on right now.”
“Oh.”
Zoro swallows. Before, the cold water felt fresh, lively. Now it just causes his joints to ache and his skin to prickle.
“I'm sorry.”
Sanji sniffles, bringing a hand up to wipe the water from his face. Zoro gives him grace- doesn't point out the tears slipping from his eyes.
“It's okay. Sorry. Fuck, I'm pathetic.”
He wishes he could take Sanji's pain away, wishes he wasn't the cause of it. But wishing’s never done him any good before, and neither does it now. He does the only thing he can think of, and takes Sanji's hand into his own, a comforting presence. If nothing else, at least Zoro can give him this.
“You're not.”
The cook nods, trying to hide the wobble in his shaky lip.
He fucked up. Majorly.
The thing is, when he turned down Sanji he didn't think about the implications it would have on him joining the crew. Now it's two days later, they've stocked up on everything they need, and are getting ready to set off.
And Sanji is nowhere to be found.
“What do you mean you lost him?!”
Usopp blurts, his hands planted on Chopper's shoulders and his knees against the grass.
Tears are streaming down Chopper's furry cheeks, as they have been since Zoro returned to the ship with the ammo. That must've been around twenty minutes ago, and yet the doctor’s sobs show no sign of slowing down, nor does the twitching of his ears or the shaking of his shoudlers.
“We- we were just sitting in the galley and he said he needed some air and now he's gone!”
For the first time in two days, concern overcomes guilt. Suddenly, nothing about that conversation on the beach matters to him more than finding Sanji and making sure he's okay.
“Are you sure he isn't on the ship? Maybe he's hiding. He has been kind of weird lately.”
Chopper shakes his head at Nami's words, a solemn look on his face.
“He did seem kind of upset. But he's not on the ship. I- I searched.”
Zoro's thoughts quickly spiral to the worst case scenario- Sanji being so upset by his rejection that he ran off and decided not to join the crew at all. It leaves such a sour taste in his mouth, he struggles to tame the scowl overcoming his features. Because it can't possibly end this way. Not by something so idiotic, and not with a moment so anticlimactic.
An uncertain silence washes across the deck, stronger than any wave. No one seems to quite know what to do, what to say.
Eventually, the sound of skin hitting skin erupts from beside them. Luffy's fist meets his palm, before he begins to speak.
“Okay! We’ll just have to go around the island and find him.”
Most of them share a skeptical look, all except Zoro, who can't bring himself to tear his gaze away from the grassy deck. Still, he feels a pair of eyes on him- no haki needed. Robin's stare is as piercing as it is knowing- and when she begins speaking, Zoro knows he's already been found out.
“Did something happen between you and Sanji, Mr. Swordsman?”
It doesn't even take a second for all eyes to land on him.
A melodic hum fills the air, before Franky points an oversized metal finger at him.
“Now that you mention it, he did seem upset after you two went on that walk together.”
Zoro cringes. As much as he appreciates Robin, he sometimes wishes she would keep her weirdly accurate observations to herself. The spotlight’s on him now, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's sure as hell not explaining what happened- not when they're looking at him like that, and not when he's this sober.
“Nothing happened.”
He scowls and crosses his arms, avoiding their clearly disbelieving faces.
At the end of the day, what happened between him and Sanji is theirs to keep. If it's the only piece of the cook he gets to have, he wants to hold it as close as possible, selfish as it is.
“Perhaps..we need to consider the possibility that Sanji decided not to join us.”
Jinbei's voice finds them like an anchor, steady and reliable amongst the rocky waves. And it says what they've all been thinking- what they've been too afraid to say.
He hates that it might be true, that it might be entirely his fault.
“No. Sanji wouldn't just run off. He'd face me if he really wanted to leave.”
The sun shines above them, and barely any clouds drift along the bright blue sky. The beautiful weather feels like a twisted contrast to Zoro's emotions- maybe a cruel taunt from the universe.
“We’ll spread around the island. Whoever finds Sanji first will bring him back to the ship and wait until sunset. If he doesn't want to come with us or we don't find him, we set off.”
The Captain's voice has a serious tinge to it, one that's instantly ruined the second opens his mouth again.
“Zoro should watch the ship, unless we want to be searching for two people.”
“Hey!”
Despite his complaining, Zoro decides to stay. Not because he thinks he's going to get lost or anything, he just doesn't trust those idiots with the ship, that's all.
Maybe a part of him doesn't want to face Sanji either, after everything that's happened.
It feels like in just a few weeks, his entire world has been turned on its head- new and unfamiliar emotions seemingly taking over his life in a matter of days. He's a prideful man, but if he can admit one thing, it's that those emotions scare him.
Not just the speed with which they developed, but the intensity of them.
He sits on a crate overlooking the dock, hugging his swords close. There, he can almost imagine Sanji's skin underneath his fingertips. The texture of it, the heat. If he focuses enough, he can even hear the cook's voice yelling at him- itching for a fight.
The minutes pass, and as they go the sun begins tilting- etching shadows into the surface of the earth. With every second that goes by Zoro's heart feels like it's straining more and more. He can't decide if he wants to hold Sanji as close as he can and never let go, or if he'd rather never see him again.
And then, he spots it out of the corner of his eye- a person at the end of the dock, a man with a choppy golden fringe and two unmistakable curly eyebrows.
He shoots up, not even bothering to hide his surprise as he jumps down to the dock. Zoro hits the wooden planks and for a moment the world tilts- the sun hitting his eyes and causing everything to blur, to scatter like the burning edge of a paper.
A few seconds later, a figure steps into it and the light gets swapped out for a shadow which hugs Zoro's entire body. He squints and there he is- not gone, not hurt- just confused.
“Zoro? Where's everyone else?”
It throws him off so badly- he doesn't even know how to respond at first. But as he looks into Sanji's eyes, he doesn't find any malice.
“You- weren't you supposed to be on the ship?”
Sanji hums, then fiddles with the scruff on his chin thoughtlessly.
“Well, I went down to the docks for a breather and some ladies took notice of me. They offered me a cigarette and we got into quite a long conversation-”
Zoro can't believe it. He can't fucking believe him.
This whole time, Zoro was worrying Sanji left, or was kidnapped or-
“Moss?”
The panic must show on his face because Sanji approaches him tentatively, how one approaches a wild animal at a zoo. His eyes scan Zoro up and down as if he's the one who ran off and let them think he wasn't coming back.
“I’m- I'm sorry.”
Zoro swallows, and yet the lump inside his throat remains.
“I thought you left.”
He knows how desperate he sounds but at that moment, he can't bring himself to care. All he can do is watch Sanji shift awkwardly and tell himself it's real- that he hasn't slipped away from them.
From him.
“..You're overestimating how much you matter, Mosshead. I wouldn't leave over something stupid like that. I've got an ocean to find, remember?”
The words hit him like a blow to the chest- like a promise made and followed. And at that moment, Zoro realizes how stupid he truly is. How little faith he placed in Sanji, his crewmate.
A knowing look flashes across the cook's eyes, then. He doesn't say anything, but he does briefly place his hand on Zoro's shoulder as he passes by.
“Come on. I've got to make dinner. Might slip you some sake if you're good.”
And when the last fingertip slips from Zoro's shoulder, when Sanji's footsteps echo across the docks and head for the ship, he knows it doesn't matter what they are.
As long as Sanji is there by his side, Zoro will be grateful.