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It’s been a dance Sanji never thought he’d find himself in. A strange quick quick slow of an emotional waltz. His heart being pushed methodically across the floor, and it’s almost dizzying if he lets himself lose focus.
And he almost has. Twice now.
Hands nearly slipping from their positions during a turn. His feet stuttering beneath and each time it sent him slamming forward. Straight into his chest. Straight into Zoro.
Zoro’s face twisting into bemused confusion each time Sanji has done it. The first time came when he was serving lunch. He was quickly placing things where they needed to go and Zoro decided to help, grabbing a plate Sanji was already reaching for.
It ended up shattered.
Zoro paid no mind, didn’t even tease, just collected the pieces and tossed them away with a neutral expression. Sanji reeled for a week. Smoking two packs a day like it were his life source.
Like the hazy burn in his chest could give him clarity.
The second time is this morning. He woke earlier than the others, slipped out without a sound, and thought he could enjoy the time alone. Potentially get a start on his day before he began cooking.
A simple request.
Walking onto the deck of the Sunny, sunshine starting to peer over the edge of the ocean, he sees him. Zoro. Perched on the railing, knees tucked into his chest while he looked out into the ocean. Calm eerie in his bones keeping him planted in place.
Sanji stands silent and watches the sun slowly rise over the swordsman. The purples blending into his hair and clothes, making him into something completely different. Almost someone entirely new—yet not.
Sanji knows what this feeling in his chest is at that moment. That hard tug of desire he gets at odd times. One that is far beyond the lust that overwhelms him with the women.
One that feels impossible to obtain.
Sanji stutters forward just a step as his knees buckle, and he tries to stand back up undetected, but the noise is enough to alert Zoro. His eye is half closed in its gaze; sending cold straight down Sanji’s spine.
Stomach stirring with irritation, he walks forward with an insult already stewing in his mouth, but before he can say it Zoro holds up a hand.
“Just watch.” Zoro says. His tone softer and lower than his usual baritone. “Sit and watch.”
Sanji walks up to the railing and gingerly climbs over, letting his feet dangle in the free air. The sun is coming up faster now, with red that is starting to claw its way into the sky. It’s breathtaking, and while Sanji has watched the sunrise hundreds of times, this one is odd.
“Oi, Marimo.” Sanji says and Zoro grunts a recognition at his side, “Why are you up?”
Zoro shrugs in Sanji’s peripherals, “Couldn’t sleep, figured I’d watch the colors.”
Sanji can’t argue with the answer. There are nights he too cannot sleep, but it’s often in the opposite direction, leaving him to gaze at the stars. Their shine is old, he knows, and the thought that the light takes thousands of years to reach his eyes always leaves him breathless.
The sun, though, only takes minutes.
Warmth laying on his skin in the early hours, and when Zoro touches his arm with his own warmth, Sanji nearly falls forward. Zoro keeps his hold while Sanji settles back into a balance on the railing, and a smile quirks at his lips.
“Trying to fly off, eh?” Zoro asks and Sanji jerks his arm out of his hold, “You’ve been jumpy lately, you sick or somethin’?”
Sanji feels his stomach stir again, and sickness would be a better explanation, but he knows it’s not true. He knows why he’s acting the way he is. That the source of his wavering and confusion is sitting next to him, casually perched on the edge.
Does he feel the same? He couldn’t, acting like this, right?
Sanji digs a cigarette from his breast pocket and flicks open his lighter. The fire from it blends with the red of the sun and he hesitates. Zoro’s hand reaches out and shuts the lid, killing the flame, but the orange of the sky still sits behind it.
“You really shouldn’t smoke so much, you know.” Zoro tsks and keeps his hand firmly on it, “You’ll die early and then who will we have to cook? Luffy?”
The cigarette nearly falls out of Sanji’s mouth as it stays open in surprise. Hanging by a thread in the corner of his mouth, stuck against his dry lips. The music has sped up now, and it’s gotten louder at the same time.
It’s boastful, and proud, almost regal. The sun rises higher and Zoro’s face is now coated in the warm glow of the new day. He shines, almost like the star itself, and Sanji is suddenly reminded of a story he once read.
About a man and his father trying to escape, and how when they flew out of their prison, the son became enticed with the sun. That his wings melted, and he plummeted to his death. All because he wanted to get a little closer to the light.
Sanji understands that now as he’s staring Zoro down. How enticing it must have been to eagerly get so close to something so gorgeous. Reaching out his free hand, Sanji hovers in the air between them before closing it into a fist and brings it back down to his side.
“Spit it out,” Zoro says and moves off the top of the lighter to instead tighten it around Sanji’s hand, “Sanji.”
Sanji’s words come up like the rush of the ocean folding over onto itself. Like the way rain starts trickling, but then pours all at once. All of it coming to fruition in his head when Zoro makes his simple demand, and yet — his mouth is closed.
The thoughts swirl trapped in his mind and he struggles to sort them out. All while Zoro looks at him, awaiting an answer that Sanji is unable to give. He sits there, staring at the sun both on the horizon and in front of him, panicked.
“You.” is all Sanji can muster out, and Zoro raises an eyebrow, “You’re what is making me so ill.”
Zoro scoffs, releasing his grip and before he can take back his hand, Sanji has it. How, or when he thought to grab it, he isn’t sure; all that matters is that he has it. His hand isn’t shaking like he thought it would when he held Zoro’s. He was so sure that it would.
Instead, it feels right.
Like the stabilizer that he’s needed this whole time. That the waltz he’s been clumsily doing has been with one hand tied behind his back, and that if he had just used another, he would’ve been fine. To admit the need for it being a far greater task than Sanji anticipated.
Now, the music softens. It’s gentle, rounding down to a close, and for the first time he strains to hear it. He doesn’t want the waltz to end, can’t let it, not until he knows his answer. Does Zoro feel the same way? Or is he simply dancing alone with a figment of his imagination?
“Do you feel something?” Sanji asks and Zoro’s eye widens in surprise, it’s then that all the words held back in Sanji’s mind pour out, “We fight, we bicker, but none of it is without feeling, right? We both are sworn to Luffy, it’s the tie that binds us, but is there something more?”
Zoro sits still as the sun continues to pull up beside them. Shadows dance on his face, each more intricate than the last, and Sanji nearly reaches to touch them. Time seems to pass agonizingly slow as he waits for him to answer.
If he’ll even answer.
“Of course.” Zoro replies, and Sanji glances down to ensure he’s not actually on fire regardless of how he feels. He’s not. His pants leg is normal and Zoro lets one of his legs fall down to touch his foot, drawing his attention back, “Did you just figure that out?”
“How long.” Sanji says as a statement, no question found in his voice, and he doesn’t sound like himself to his ears. He sounds far away. Somewhere over the horizon, chasing the sun. “How long have you known?”
Zoro hums, letting his leg swing and Sanji nearly kicks him. How dare he be so casual about something like this? How dare he let Sanji sit and stew in his emotions if he knew? Even for a day, a week, a-
“Two years.” Zoro says and Sanji nearly passes out from his sharp inhale, “I knew when you threw yourself in front of me at Thriller Bark. Something clicked that you weren’t who I thought you were, and suddenly it all made sense. I could finally see you.”
I could finally see you.
The words seem so simple, coming from Zoro’s mouth like fresh honey, but they strike Sanji like a kick to the chest. Two years. How on Earth hasn’t he found out until now? Sanji wants to run through every encounter they’ve had since then, but the task is too complex, too dizzying.
Zoro’s hand curls beneath Sanji’s chin and it forces him to meet his eyeline. The single unscarred eye stares at Sanji, and he swallows. He doesn’t know anything about what happened to Zoro. He never bothered to ask.
“You just realized it.” Zoro says, and Sanji knows he’s right, “Tch, shitty cook can’t even figure out his own feelings.”
Sanji wants to bite back, to throw his usual comeback at the marimo man, but he stays quiet. Zoro is right. He couldn’t figure his own feelings out until right now. Thought that it was something else, assumed it was a form of hatred unlike anyone else he had encountered. It’s almost laughable.
But Sanji doesn’t laugh.
He sits, held in Zoro’s hand, and they wait. The sun climbs higher yet into the sky and brings the day along with it. Sanji is soaring right now, thrusting his wax wings downwards trying to catch up, and he starts to melt.
Still, he fights towards it, trying to get a better look, knowing it could be his end. But what is life if you didn’t see beauty? What is adventure if you didn’t try it all? He spits the cigarette out of his mouth towards the deck, but Zoro’s gaze doesn’t leave his.
Sanji blinks and they’re kissing. Mouths presses against each other’s and Sanji’s mind is a flash of light. It’s warm, rough, and everything he ever thought it would be during the times he let himself think about it. To question it and to be right…it’s too much.
He achieved what that boy in the story could not. Sanji dangerously flew, melting away into a puddle as he neared his goal, but as he fell back towards the Earth, the sun saved him. It curled arms around him, protective, warm, and sheltering.
Instead of meeting his end, he started a new beginning.