Work Text:
Sashimi and Lights
Deft fingers skillfully sliced the raw salmon into paper-thin slices, the razor-sharp knife gleaming under the sole overhead lamp above Sanji's kitchen top. The entire kitchen was in darkness, save for the light shining from that single ceiling lamp. Sanji had replaced all the lights in their house with soothing, low-intensity glow lights, except for the kitchen where he used just one ceiling lamp when Zoro was lounging in there, watching him work.
Hah, Zoro smirked to himself smugly. Idiot Lovely thought he was being subtle about not wanting Zoro's remaining eye to be under strain. As if.
Sanji was an enigma to anyone who wasn't Zoro. To Zoro, he was an open book.
Zoro watched, enraptured, as Sanji delicately picked up the thin slices of fish and adroitly placed them on a wooden plate, shaping them in the form of a three-petaled rose. More than the rose, it was Sanji's hands that had Zoro captivated, the way they moved, nay, glided through the air and slid on the plate, arranging and then re-arranging, again and again till his fastidious nature was satisfied.
Zoro smiled again. Poor Sanji. The amount of time he spent in thinking of not-so-obvious ways to surprise Zoro would be halved, if only he knew that Zoro was less interested in the surprise and more interested in the person planning them. The three-petaled rose would register itself somewhere in the back of Zoro's mind, but Sanji's index finger and thumb coaxing the fish into place would very likely be branded into his memory.
Not that Zoro didn't appreciate what Sanji did for him, he just appreciated Sanji himself a little bit more.
At long last, Sanji straightened up, only to find Zoro sitting on a high stool right across his workplace, arms crossed in front of him on the granite slab, staring at the cook's hands, then looking up to meet Sanji's eyes.
"Is it done yet?" His eye seemed to ask.
Sanji's face softened, his eyes twinkled. Placing a little horse radish and some dipping sauce beside the sashimi, he picked up the plate and placed it in front of Zoro. Then he leaned back, lit a cigarette and took a slow, deep puff.
"Bon appetit", he said, waving his free hand towards the dish.
Zoro looked at the plate, then smiled as his hand reached out to entangle itself in his cook's hair, tugging his head down, bringing Sanji's face close to his.
"Itadakimasu", he breathed as they separated, heart delightfully squeezing at the way Sanji's face reddened.