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It starts with Sanji's bright idea to go to the group chat for help.
snooji: alright, assholes (not nami) i need a christmas tree, and i need it FAST.
god of snipers: thought you already had one? don't you put it up wayy too early every year?
snooji: STFU, i need a real one for the restaurant this time
moneyandtangerines: y tho.
snooji: hey nami! thank you for asking! :) a certain celebrity rented us out for saturday night and i want the decorations to impress… this could make or break us, so it HAS to be perfect.
meat_now: that's awesome sanji!! who is it??
snooji: boa hancock!!! <3 :D
meat_now: never heard of him.
snooji: ANYWAY. all the tree farms are sold out so i'm gonna try the woods. who wants to help? we may have to camp overnight… nami? :)
moneyandtangerines: nope. you couldn't pay me.
snooji: luffy? usopp?
god of snipers: sorry, i'm allergic to the woods at night.
meat_now: oooh me!
Roronoa: aren't you out of town with your brother?
meat_now: oh, yeah.. hey zoro!
snooji: so, no one can help?
Roronoa: i can…
snooji: no.
Roronoa: ??? i thought you needed help, dumbass
snooji: i– guys, are you really gonna make me go alone with the moss?
meat_now: :'(
moneyandtangerines: yep
god of snipers: sorry
Roronoa: shit, go by yourself then, asshole.
snooji: FINE. OKAY. we leave at dawn.
Roronoa: you're welcome, curly.
Sanji tosses his phone onto the coffee table and groans, sprawling himself out across his couch. Zoro is the last person he wants to take a camping trip with, especially alone.
The two of them have known each other since middle school where they’d gotten stuck as unwilling lab partners who could never quite agree with each other on anything. During that time period, they both somehow ended up with the same group of friends and have been, at this point, stuck with each other much, much longer than they had initially expected.
They don’t hate each other. They're friends after all, but… there’s just something about Zoro that gets under Sanji’s skin and he has to assume he gets under Zoro’s as well, with the way he’s constantly giving Sanji shit.
That’s beside the fact, of course, that Zoro is the first guy Sanji ever had a crush on. A huge, stupid, paralyzing, incomprehensible crush that somehow, despite everything, still exists to this very day. If anything, it’s grown into a full-blown infatuation that he has absolutely no control over and no hope of getting rid of anytime soon.
It’s awful. He can spend all day, every day thinking about what an absolute idiot Zoro is, then go weak in the knees like some hormonal teenager the moment he sees him smile. It’s involuntary and completely unfair.
Now, the problem here isn’t that he's attracted to a man. Sanji’s never actually had much of an issue with that beyond the initial confusion it caused and has been out to his friends and his dad since high school.
No, the issue here is that he’s attracted to Zoro. Someone who is excessively quarrelsome with him. Someone who will rile him up over petty things and someone who he’ll irritate right back. Someone who is devastatingly soft with nearly everyone he calls a friend— except for Sanji.
Someone who—Sanji realized early on—couldn’t possibly feel the same way about him. Not with the way he acts toward him on the best of days.
So of course, any time spent alone with Zoro proves to be confusing as all hell. Luckily, they aren't alone often—usually only seeing each other at group gatherings or with at least one other friend present as a buffer. And if he were to be completely honest with himself, Sanji would say he doesn't actually know how to be alone with Zoro.
He’s never trusted himself enough to be alone with him. Sanji doesn’t have a clue what they would even talk about.
So it’s with more than a few reservations that Sanji begins packing his bag that night for their little expedition over the next two days. Warm clothes, toothpaste, deodorant, sleeping bag, definitely the first aid kit. And he knows most of their camping gear is going to come from Zoro, so he doesn't have to worry on that front, at least.
It’ll be a four-hour drive to get where they need to be and then another four hours to drive back with a tree in tow.
Eight hours alone together—and that doesn’t even include the two of them having to camp in the woods overnight. The only saving grace is that they’ll be peacefully asleep in separate tents for that amount of time.
But eight hours.
Sanji has half a mind to call the whole thing off. Give Ms. Hancock a mediocre dinner venue with mediocre decorations and run a mediocre restaurant for the rest of his mediocre life. All to avoid being alone with Zoro and his special mossy way of sending Sanji’s emotions into a whirl.
But, no. Zeff entrusted this restaurant to him, and there’s no fucking way he’s going to let that old man be more successful with it than he is.
This could make or break us, so it has to be perfect.
“Shit,” he groans.
Yes, this little trip is going to test him in more ways than one, but Sanji wants—no, needs that damn tree, no matter what it takes. He'll just have to grit his teeth and deal with his raging emotions in the meantime.
-*-*-*-
They’re to meet at Zoro's house that Thursday morning, because he’s the only one with a truck, and Sanji’s practical-yet-not-so-sturdy sedan isn't going to get them anywhere with snow on the ground outside the city. When Sanji pulls into the driveway though, he’s a tad concerned to find Zoro banging around shoulder-deep under the hood of his truck, grumbling and letting curses that could peel paint fly every few seconds.
Sanji puts his car in park and quietly walks up to the truck before rapping on the hood a few times loud enough for Zoro to startle and hit his head on it.
"Fuck, Curly!"
"Morning to you, too. Something the matter here, mosshead?" Sanji asks, smoothly and expertly concealing the worry from his voice. "Or are you just tuning this old thing up for our drive?"
"Nah, she… she’s fine," Zoro says far too hesitantly for Sanji’s liking before slamming the hood. He spares Sanji a quick glance. “I think.”
"Whoa, whoa, whoa– What do you mean you think?" Sanji asks, a bit more manic than intended; all pretense of calm, cool, and collected flying right out the window. “This truck’s like a hundred years old, are you sure it's going to get us into the woods and back safely?”
Zoro sighs, wiping his oil-stained hands off onto his jeans.
"Yes," he answers resolutely after a moment. “She’s old, but… She can make it.”
Sanji groans, running a hand through his hair and gripping onto it. The rust on the old thing doesn’t quite fill him with confidence, but he knows Zoro isn’t the type to lie about something like that. If he wasn’t sure about it, he would’ve said as much, and that’s enough for Sanji.
"Okay." He takes a slow breath and releases it before settling his gaze back on Zoro. "If you say this hunk of junk can get us there and back, then… then I'll trust you on it.”
"Listen, whatever happens, I'll get us back safely with a tree," Zoro says, picking up on Sanji's slight hesitance. “I promise.”
Sanji feels his chest squeeze at the clear confidence and resolve in Zoro's voice and he steps away to grab his bag out of his own car before he can make a fool of himself, turning his back on the smile that just barely tugs at Zoro’s lips while he continues packing.
After locking his car, Sanji strides back over to what has to be the most ancient truck hooked up to the most dilapidated trailer he's ever laid eyes on just as Zoro finishes stowing everything away in the back.
"You sure you packed all the camping gear we need?" Sanji asks, eyeing the small tarp-covered pile suspiciously. "Plus the ax for the tree?"
There isn't a lot there, and while he's never actually been camping before, Sanji still thinks maybe there should at least be… more.
"Yes, curly, I'm completely sure," Zoro says with an unnecessary eye roll. "Don't start trying to tell me what we need and don't need when you haven't set foot outside the city in your entire life."
Sanji opens his mouth to argue, but Zoro cuts that line of thinking off before he can.
"And no—going fishing with your old man one time doesn't count, either."
Sanji snaps his mouth shut and quietly takes his seat on the passenger side of the truck.
Zoro rarely misses a chance to make fun of him for being a city boy. And so what if he is? That doesn't matter as much when Sanji’s the one in charge of their food. He hand-cranks his window down and yells over to where Zoro’s still locking his house up.
"You're acting real bold right now, mossy, but we'll see what happens when we get into the deep woods and I don't have any dinner for you."
Zoro snorts as he heaves himself into the driver's seat right next to Sanji. The truck is a single cab, not tiny by any means, but not exactly spacious, either. The small amount of space between them is occupied only by a stick shift, and Zoro's hand bumps into Sanji's leg for a moment when he throws the truck in reverse.
"Right… You've never kept a meal from anyone before in your life and I doubt you're gonna start today," Zoro says with a total, irritating confidence that makes Sanji want to scream. But he doesn't.
For one, because Zoro isn't wrong, and Sanji’s too occupied thinking about just how well the other man knows him if he's been paying attention to his personal values with regard to food.
And two, because he has some navigating to do, or else they'll never find their way out of the neighborhood, much less the city.
Unfolding the map in his lap and giving it a good shake, Sanji scans up and down the route he'd marked in pen the night before, checking and double-checking once more for good measure.
He's decided to keep his phone turned off as much as possible to conserve energy, plus he’s always wanted to use a paper map for nothing more than the sheer novelty of it these days.
“Project 'The Beautiful and Talented Ms. Boa Hancock's Holiday Extravaganza' is now underway—turn right at the next light, please."
A scoff from Zoro that slowly turns into a chuckle has Sanji marking their spot on the map with his thumb so he can give him the side-eye.
“What, you don’t agree with my directions?” he asks.
“No, that’s–” Zoro laughs harder, “Project whatever it was you said… Please never say that again–” He breaks off with more laughing.
“Excuse me? You’re not—I SAID RIGHT, ZORO—You’re not one to talk. You named your truck Kuina. What even is that?”
“Shit, don’t double down on it now, you’re just embarrassing yourself,” Zoro snickers, just barely swerving in time to make the turn, trailer skidding in a wide arc behind them.
“Fuck off,” Sanji grumbles and grips the dashboard for lack of anything else to hold onto. He leans into the turn and ignores the way his skin heats up when his shoulder brushes Zoro’s. “You just have no taste in names—now keep straight at the next light."
"Remember when we took that creative writing class in high school and you made up a superhero called 'Soba Mask?'"
"Yeah, and? I got a B on that story. "
"Mm-hm,” The smug look on Zoro’s face is insufferable. “One whole letter grade off just for that shitty name."
Sanji has to physically restrain himself from crumpling his map up and shoving it down Zoro’s throat. “Well, Mr. Silvers had no taste in names either– wait, why is your blinker on? I SAID STRAIGHT, DAMMIT!”
By the time they get outside the city limits, Sanji feels completely fried. He itches for a cigarette and he longs for a nice, restorative nap to keep him sane, but he can’t trust Zoro enough not to have them in a completely different country by the time he wakes up. So awake he stays.
They don’t talk much once they get on the open highway. Mostly just drive on in a silence that isn’t awkward, but isn’t completely comfortable either. Sanji ends up keeping himself awake mostly through smoking, switching the radio station every time it hits commercials, and sheer will.
About two hours into the trip, Zoro pulls over at a small gas station that looks to be almost completely abandoned if not for the sad string of Christmas lights strung haphazardly around the roof and the single set of tire tracks in the snow that lead to the front door.
It’s an old type of place that doesn’t really look like a gas station at first glance, but more like a single-story house with a metal roof and junk in the yard. If it weren’t for the two rusty gas pumps out front, Sanji would think it was just that. He’d have driven right past it.
“Do you think there’s a bathroom in there?” Sanji asks somewhat skeptically. Even if there is one, he isn’t sure he wants to use it.
“There is,” Zoro says, tossing his wallet to Sanji without warning. He catches it, but just barely. “We’re gonna need to fill up here anyway. Can you give the old man a 20?”
As much as it irks Sanji to have Zoro literally throwing money at him for any reason, he recognizes that it'll save time since he's going inside anyway.
“Fine,” Sanji grumbles. “But don’t start thinking I’m your errand boy or whatever.”
“What’s that, errand boy?” Zoro grins like he's the definition of irritating. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you not paying for our gas expenses.”
“You–” The snappy retort Sanji had ready dies in his throat as the full extent of what Zoro's doing finally dawns on him.
It hadn’t quite occurred to him until just now that Zoro is taking time out of his week—nearly two whole days—to help Sanji with this. Not only that, but they're using Zoro’s truck, Zoro’s gas money, Zoro’s camping gear to make this happen. Hell, Sanji can’t even drive the fucking truck because he never learned how to drive a stick shift. Zoro's doing everything.
And for what?
Why is he doing all this? Zoro doing anything for Sanji is so out of character it's almost suspicious. He certainly isn’t getting anything out of it, and their friendship isn’t the type where they just do things for each other for no reason at all.
It's one of the reasons Sanji knows he can never have that type of relationship with Zoro. The type he wants. The type he won't let himself want. He knows Zoro doesn't think of him that way.
“I’ll pay you back…” Sanji says, stuffing the wallet into his pocket. “When we get home, I’ll pay you back for all of this. I promise.”
He walks away before Zoro can say anything else about it.
The inside of the store is just as tacky as the outside (tropical decor in the middle of winter?) and Crocus, the old man running the place, is even weirder. He seems to recognize Zoro’s truck though, and gives Sanji a five-cent discount on gas because of it.
“That boy always stops here on his way out to the woods,” he says. “Real nice to see he’s finally got someone with him this time.”
He says it politely, but the wink he gives Sanji after saying those particular words has a knot forming in his stomach at the implication, and he tries to hide his blush as he stammers out the door.
It brings Sanji back to his previous line of thought. Zoro's just helping him out as a friend, right? He has to be. That’s all this is. Maybe he's maturing as an adult just like Sanji is, and wants to change the quasi-hostile nature of their friendship. It seems plausible enough.
That idea flies right out the window, however, when Sanji walks back outside to find Zoro’s truck nowhere in sight.
“You’re fucking kidding me– We don’t have time for this shit!” Sanji yells, knowing fully well that the bastard is still somewhere within earshot, probably laughing his ass off.
He spins around looking but can’t find anything until a faint honk draws his attention a little way up the road.
There. Zoro gives a curt little wave out the window.
“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
-*-*-*-
They pull into a deserted clearing that's covered in a blanket of snow with Sanji down almost an entire pack of cigarettes and with Zoro sporting a few fresh bruises.
“There’s a whole grove of spruce trees about a 30-minute walk from here,” Zoro says from up in the bed of his truck as they unload the supplies. “We’ll have to find it tomorrow though. Think the sun’s gonna be setting here in about an hour.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Sanji stands with his arms crossed—somewhat unsure of what to do with himself at this point—while absentmindedly rubbing at his shoulders to keep from shivering. Fuck, is it cold out in the woods.
“So I should probably…” Sanji shivers again when Zoro looks down at him (from the cold, obviously). “I should probably find us some firewood, right?”
“I usually don’t when I’m by myself, but if you don’t want to freeze your ass off for the rest of the day, then yeah.” Zoro looks out at the snow-covered clearing before hopping down from his truck and shouldering all their gear on his own. “I did bring a pot to boil water for coffee in the morning, so it couldn’t hurt. You can go do that while I set everything up.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sanji scoffs before walking away to do exactly that, chuckling at the "you were the one who asked, dipshit!" he gets in return.
-*-*-*-
During both his expedition for firewood and his return to the camp, Sanji notices three things.
The first is that the spruce grove Zoro told him about is not a 30-minute walk away, but is, in fact, a mere five minutes away from the clearing. Not too surprising that it would take Zoro longer to find it, though, with his idiotic nature.
The second thing is that Zoro seems to have gotten everything set up in record time as he is, at the moment, nearly finished building what looks like a mutated snowman that has a bandana on its head, no face, and three arms sticking out from one side.
Why is that so cute, Sanji thinks, smiling to himself in a way that catches him completely off guard and he mentally squashes down the unwelcome warmth swelling in his heart.
The third (and most distressing) thing Sanji notices is the complete and total lack of a second tent. His smile falls.
“Gotta say, marimo, I’m a little annoyed you didn’t set mine up too while I was out getting all this for us,” Sanji says, dropping the fairly hefty branches (and one dry log) he’d collected on the ground next to Zoro. “You couldn’t take care of mine too while you were at it?”
Zoro looks at Sanji like he’s just started speaking to him in Latin.
“What are you talking about?” he asks before Sanji can say anything else. “We’re sharing mine, idiot. It’s a two-person tent.
"We're–" Sanji's brain shutters to a halt. "We're sharing a tent?"
"It's gonna get below freezing tonight and I only brought the one tent, so unless you want to die of hypothermia," Zoro says, giving him that confused look again, "we have to share."
Well. This had not been part of the plan for Sanji. At all. Sleeping with Zo– No. Sharing a tent with Zoro for the purpose of sleeping.
He can't decline, obviously; that would look even weirder than acting excited about the situation.
But sleeping next to the one guy he's had a crush on for years—hell, Sanji would've at least appreciated a heads up. Would've been great if he'd had some time to emotionally prepare himself in advance.
"Okay," he barely manages to choke out. This is fine. He can do this. He can spend one night in a tent with the mosshead. It's fine.
Sanji watches as Zoro goes back to his snowman, sticking a single bottle cap in the middle of its otherwise blank face and grinning like a kid at his atrocious creation.
Fuck, is he cute.
"I set your sleeping bag up for you, so all that's left is dinner," Zoro says suddenly, yanking Sanji out of his trance.
"Huh? Oh–" Dinner. Food. That he can do.
As he sets to work putting their meal together from what he packed, Sanji mentally prepares himself for what lies ahead.
Tomorrow they have to cut down a tree, sure, but tonight… Tonight they would have to share a tent.
-*-*-*-
Sanji has no clue what he was so worked up about earlier.
The tent is spacious, his sleeping bag is comfortable, and Zoro isn't trying to talk to him at all. Truly, if there's anything Sanji couldn't have handled at the moment, it would have been pillow talk.
So it's sort of a small blessing that Zoro is the type to fall asleep fast and heavy, his soft snores vibrating throughout the tent—and right into Sanji.
Against his better judgment, Sanji turns his head to look at the man next to him. He knows it's a bad idea the moment he starts, but the myriad of dreams he’s had of nothing more than lying next to Zoro at night weigh heavy on his mind. And, dammit, he just can’t help himself.
It's almost too dark to see anything, but with what little moonlight is making its way through the tent's fabric, he can just barely make out the outline of Zoro's chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Sanji’s eyes move up to the profile of his face, tracing over the sharp edge of Zoro’s jaw, his chin, his nose, his lips.
A shot of want rockets through Sanji; hits him like a tidal wave and he has to force himself to turn away, roll over with his back turned to the one person he’s wanted for years.
He scoots over as far as he can to his side of the tent, as far away from Zoro as he can get. It's much colder here so far removed from the only other heat source available, but at least he can breathe properly. At least he can think (and repeat to himself all the reasons he can never have what he wants).
Sleep, dammit, he thinks. Just fall unconscious and you’ll be fine.
-*-*-*-
Sanji wakes up to birds chirping, faint light, and more warmth than expected on a chilly December morning in the woods. He cracks his eyes open and his blood runs cold at the sight of messy green hair mere centimeters from his face.
Zoro's— fuck.
Zoro is holding him.
Somehow, during the night, Sanji seems to have turned back around and Zoro's stupid strong arms have wrapped around him and his stupid soft head of hair is stuck under Sanji's chin. He's tangled around him like a fucking root.
Fucking— fuck.
Sanji's heart is jackhammering in his chest and it's some type of miracle that the violent rhythm doesn't wake Zoro up, especially considering how his head is positioned.
But Zoro needs to wake up. Because Sanji can't handle this.
"Mosshead," Sanji says, pushing Zoro's face away from his neck. The occasional warm puff of air on his skin is doing a damn number on his thought processes.
"Zoro, wake the fuck up," he says at full volume, lightly slapping his face a few times for good measure.
Nothing. The idiot keeps snoring away like nothing is amiss as Sanji becomes increasingly more frantic. If anything, his arms tighten around Sanji's waist and that—that isn't something Sanji can have.
An idea pops into his head; a sure-fire way to wake Zoro up in any situation, only to be used in emergencies. And fuck if this one isn’t an emergency. Sanji isn't particularly proud of what he's about to do, but well, desperate times, desperate measures, and all that.
Sanji wiggles his left arm out from where it's pinned underneath him and pinches Zoro's nose closed with it. With his right hand, Sanji seals Zoro's mouth shut and waits.
It only takes a moment before Zoro starts coughing and gasping in the middle of the tent and Sanji is completely free from his iron grip.
"What the— ugh —fuck did you do that for, asshole?" Zoro chokes out.
"To wake you up! You sleep so damn heavy, nothing short of attempted murder would work, and you know it," Sanji responds, finally feeling his heart rate starting to slow to normal again. "You were… cuddling me!"
Zoro's face goes red.
"And?" He responds indignantly. "I was just helping you out, you ungrateful ass."
"Helping m– with what? That makes no fucking sense!"
Zoro just looks at him after he says that and suddenly Sanji feels like he's missing out on something very important. Zoro sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
"You… don't remember what happened last night," he says carefully as both a statement and a question.
Sanji frowns. All he can remember from the night before is a bit of painful, pathetic pining before drifting off to sleep and then waking up in what was simultaneously the first and last place he ever wanted to be.
"You were shivering like crazy," Zoro says, "and your skin felt like ice when I touched it, so I–" his shoulders fall and he looks away. "That was the only way I could think to warm you up."
"...Oh."
"Thought you were awake for that, though," Zoro mumbles. "Guess it was kind of weird you didn't try to fight me."
Sanji wants to say something but his mind is spinning. It really shouldn’t be affecting him like this, but… He'd gotten cold so Zoro held him all night long to warm him up? What the fuck?
How– why? Obviously, Zoro doesn't want him freezing to death, but surely there's something else he could've done that isn't nearly as… intimate.
So, why then? Does he want Sanji to owe him something? No, that doesn’t make sense. Fuck, does he know how Sanji feels about him? Is he taunting him?
Zoro clears his throat and pulls Sanji out of his thoughts before he can start to spiral. Whatever's going on with him lately, Sanji will have to worry about it later.
His emotions might be in turmoil, but right now, finding his tree and getting it back to the restaurant takes priority over everything.
Except for maybe breakfast.
"Whatever. Thanks for…" Sanji shakes his head and pushes his way out of the tent. "Come on. I'll get you something to eat."
-*-*-*-
“This one must be different,” Zoro grumbles as they step into the spruce grove Sanji found earlier. “I swear it was at least a 30-minute hike last time.”
Sanji rolls his eyes and hefts his coil of rope higher on his shoulder. How oblivious can the grass head possibly get?
“Sure,” he responds as sarcastically possible. “Since you’re such a great explorer, then, how about you keep your eyes peeled for a good tree?”
Zoro sticks his foot out to try and trip Sanji, but he sees the retaliation coming and expertly side-steps the attempt, flipping Zoro off in the process.
“What are we even looking for?” Zoro asks with a huff, gripping the ax thrown over his own shoulder. “How am I supposed to know the exact type of tree you want?”
“Well,” Sanji considers that for a second as he surveys a cluster of saplings. “It definitely needs to be a tree worth bringing home to the restaurant, so—perfect in every way?”
“Curly, what the fuck does that even mean?”
“It has to be the perfect size,” he says, trying again to put exactly what he wants into words. "Not too small that it won’t fill up that empty space in the Baratie’s lobby, but not too big that it won’t fit through the front doors. You’ve been to my restaurant enough that you can kind of picture that, right?”
“I think so.” Zoro nods, eyes sweeping the landscape.
They walk in silence for a while, slowly sizing up each tree they pass by and rejecting it.
As they walk, Sanji thinks about a few things. Zoro, mostly. He thinks about the past and present; about the odd, antagonistic relationship they have with each other that somehow still works as a friendship.
He thinks about what he always wanted their friendship to become, deep down. About the way Zoro makes his heart flutter when he smiles. About the deep timbre of his voice and how it sounds raspier in the morning. About how kind he really is.
How Zoro is the type of man to stop his truck in the middle of a highway to help a turtle cross the road, then turn around and punch someone out for looking at him funny later that same day.
Above all, Sanji thinks about what he can’t have.
An elbow to Sanji's ribs pulls him out of his reverie.
"Hey, what about that one?" Zoro asks, nodding to the tree in question.
And Sanji gasps, audibly.
When he first spots the tree, there is what looks to be a light shining down on it from the heavens. Of course, that's probably just the sun making its way through a clearing in the canopy, but that small slice of logic doesn’t detract from the utter perfection of this tree.
“Moss,” Sanji says, barely cognizant. “This is the one. Get the ax. Now.”
He hears a huff somewhere to his right but is too caught up in the fullness and green-ness of this magnificent tree he's about to have killed. Almost a shame, really.
A hand on Sanji’s shoulder moves him out of the way and he almost objects to being manhandled, but then Zoro's hacking away at the trunk by himself and Sanji has no room to complain. He'd been fully prepared to help, but the way Zoro's handling the ax is strong and precise and Sanji knows there isn’t going to be anything he can do to help.
Sanji spots another felled tree just a ways off—opposite from where Zoro is steadily chopping—and figures it's as good as any place to sit and wait.
That’s when he hears it—the telltale crack of wood, and he locks eyes with Zoro, briefly wondering why he looks so terrified out of his mind before experiencing the freezing horror of a tree falling toward him in all its snow-laden glory.
Sanji's often heard that when faced with a possibly dangerous situation, most people will have one of two responses: fight or flight. They can either stand up to whatever’s threatening them and maim it before it can maim them, or they can run as fast and as far away as their legs can carry them.
Sanji is normally the type to fight.
There are special occasions, however, where fighting just doesn’t work. Namely, against a fucking tree that’s seconds away from crushing him with its trunk.
So he takes the lesser-known third option.
He freezes. Like a deer in the fucking headlights, his body refuses to move.
Sanji freezes until suddenly, he realizes he's lying on his back in the snow and that the tree didn't crush him at all.
He realizes that it somehow crashed to the ground next to him, where he was standing before and where–
"... Zoro?"
"It's okay–"
"Zoro, what the fuck?!"
"Listen to me, I said it's–"
"Oh my god, your legs!"
"SANJI, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN TO ME," Zoro yells from where he's trapped under the fucking tree.
Sanji's mouth snaps shut. The initial shock of almost dying is beginning to wear off and he feels himself starting to panic, but Zoro's calm voice brings him back.
"Are you listening? My legs are fine, curly," Zoro says slowly and steadily. "Nothing's broken, nothing's crushed, they're just stuck, okay? Do you understand?"
Sanji takes a shaky breath and forcibly removes his hand from his scalp. He nods and his whole body seems to sag with relief.
"H-how stuck?"
"I can just barely move them," Zoro grunts, still trying and failing to pull his legs out from underneath the tree. "I'm not sure how, but—I must be fucking lucky.
"Fucking stupid, more like," Sanji grumbles, still unable to stop his body from shaking. "What the hell possessed you to do something like that?"
"Are you kidding?" Zoro fixes that bewildered glare on him once more. "You were just standing there, Sanji, it was gonna crush you!"
"And what about you, idiot?!"
"I–" Zoro lets out a steady breath and rests his forehead on the back of his hands in the snow. "Can we just get this goddamn tree off me for right now?"
"Fine," Sanji says, kicking at the snow in frustration before examining the tree once more. "Do you think if I lift this thing just enough, you could slide your feet out?"
"What, with your scrawny ass?" Zoro laughs, despite the fucking situation he's in right now. "You think you can lift a tree by yourself?"
He cackles even harder and Sanji honestly considers just leaving him there to rot. Instead, he grabs the rope they brought with them and begins tying it around a section of the tree.
"Shut it. Do you want this thing off you or not?" Sanji says with just enough threat in his voice to sound serious. Zoro goes silent. "Now. I can definitely lift this tree, marimo, I just have to use my legs."
"I really hate to break this to you, curly," Zoro replies in his most annoying voice, "but it's not gonna work. You can't grip a tree with your feet."
"Just fucking watch."
Using the rope, Sanji has already fashioned a harness around the tree that will serve to evenly distribute its weight and allow him a better grip while trying to lift it.
It's an old useless trick he figured out as a kid while lifting boxes in his dad's restaurant. It used to make shipment days take twice as long with half the effort back then, but now it's going to help him lift this tree.
Sanji clears as much snow from around his feet as he can and takes a wide stance before going down into a deep squat and thanking every god he can think of for his innate lower body strength.
Then Sanji lifts the tree—just enough—and Zoro scrambles out from underneath.
As he drops it back to the ground, Sanji falls back into the snow and buries his head in his hands. So many things are flying around his head right now and the shock of what just happened has finally left his mind clear enough to be upset about it.
He wants to ask Zoro why the fuck he would do something like that. He almost got himself killed. He wants to scream at him, make him explain everything that's gone through his moss-filled head over the past two days.
But goddammit, he’s afraid.
Afraid of what, he doesn’t quite know, but something deep, deep inside him wants to keep him from asking that question. Wants to stop him from having that conversation.
But while 'not talking about it' may be the option his gut is leaning toward, Sanji's still running on an adrenaline high and just can't quite stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.
"Zoro… Why?" he groans into his hands. "What was that about?"
Zoro looks at him across the tree trunk lying between them but glances away again before answering.
"What was I supposed to do, curly, let you get crushed? I cant–"
"Can't what."
Zoro sighs, heavy and harsh. "I can't have you getting hurt."
"That's beside the point," Sanji argues despite the heat rising on his cheeks. He gets to his knees and places both hands on the tree trunk, leaning forward so he can see Zoro better.
He’s been weirdly helpful and thoughtful for this entire trip, and Sanji will be damned if he doesn't find out why. No more overthinking this shit.
So he asks.
"Why do you keep helping me, Zoro? You get that this isn’t how things are between us, right?” Sanji gestures between them, a jerky flick of his wrist. “So? What are you trying to prove? That I need your help? That I’m weak? Because I’m not–”
"No!" Zoro slams both his hands down on the trunk as well, getting right at Sanji's level.
"I want to help you because I care about you, dumbass," he says, almost to the point of yelling, and Sanji startles slightly. "I have for a while now. And I want to make sure this thing goes well for you because you deserve it, dammit."
"Because I…?"
"You've worked so hard to make that restaurant yours and to make it successful," Zoro still isn’t looking at Sanji, but instead at where their hands rest on the tree trunk, inches apart. "I just… I guess I wanted to do everything I could to make it work for you."
Sanji shakes his head in disbelief. Where is this coming from? Up until yesterday, he'd believed Zoro thought of him as nothing more than an unfortunate (albeit relatively close) friend of a friend.
“So—so you care about me? Okay,” Sanji laughs nervously. “Sure. We’re friends, aren’t we?
But he never thought it went deeper than that. At least not on Zoro’s side of the aisle.
Zoro says nothing. What Sanji can see of his expression is utterly unreadable.
“I don't understand, marimo,” Sanji pleads.
And he thought he’d understood, but he didn't. He really, truly didn’t. Not until Zoro looks him right in the eyes for the first time since that tree came down on them.
And that’s it. That’s when Sanji, obtuse as he is, finally understands.
Every tiny, near-insignificant act of kindness, every interest Zoro has shown in Sanji’s life can only add up to one thing.
“Sanji,” Zoro says, and this time he doesn’t look away. “Haven't you figured out yet that I'd do anything for you?"
(And some tiny, yet strong part of himself tells him he doesn’t deserve it. That he isn’t worth any of it.)
“How…” Sanji grips Zoro’s wrists, needing something, anything to anchor him. “How long?”
“I honestly can’t remember,” Zoro says softly, laughing to himself. “But now that I’ve said it–”
“But– you never said anything,” Sanji shakes his head slowly, hearing the hypocrisy in his own words as he says them. “How come you never said anything?”
“Because look at us,” Zoro responds, pulling his arms out of Sanji’s grip. “You can't stand being around me. We can barely get along for an hour at a time, do you really expect me to think I have any sort of a chance with you? I don’t lie to anyone, Sanji, and that includes myself.”
No. No, no, no, that isn't– that can’t be right. Zoro thinks he doesn’t have a chance? With Sanji?
Zoro. Strong, talented, confident, beautiful Zoro thinks that Sanji isn’t madly in love with him?
Sanji reaches out across the tree and cradles Zoro’s face in his hands because, well. If Zoro can do it, so can he.
“You listen to me, marimo, and you listen good,” Sanji says, putting every ounce of emotion in his heart behind every word. “I’ve loved you for years, and I never said anything either. Years. Do you understand me?”
“But– I thought you–”
“I thought you hated me too,” Sanji laughed, tears pricking at his eyes even as his soul was bursting with joy. “Shit. Which is exactly why I kept it to myself.”
And Zoro laughs. He sits back in bewilderment and laughs at the two most oblivious people in the world.
“We’re both idiots, curly,” Zoro chuckles, bowing his head in disbelief. “Fucking idiots.”
It’s at those words, then, that the space between them becomes too much for Sanji. Without warning, he jumps to his feet and climbs over the tree trunk before tackling Zoro into the snow. Settling straddled on top of him, Sanji looks down and sees something he’d only ever imagined in daydreams—Zoro looking up at him. Expectantly.
Sanji doesn’t keep Zoro (or himself) waiting. Pressing both hands into the snow on either side of Zoro’s head, Sanji bends down and kisses the one man he’s wanted for as long as he can remember.
It’s perfect. Warm, giving, firm—yet soft. It encapsulates everything that Zoro is and Sanji is certain no other kiss will ever come close to this one. (Unless it comes from Zoro himself.)
Sanji starts to pull away then, but hands tangle into his hair and those firm, demanding lips press against his own again, stubborn as an oak, and it’s clear he won’t be moving from this spot any time soon. It’s clear he doesn’t want to.
-*-*-*-
It's nearing two in the afternoon by the time they get the trailer backed up as close as they can get it to the tree. By the time they get it tied down, Sanji is nearly passed out in the snow with Zoro collapsing right next to him soon after.
They lay in silence for a moment, both far too tired to waste their energy on trivial things like talking or moving.
Sanji's soaked to the bone from melted snow, but the effort it took to get that tree loaded up has kept him warm until now. That, along with the occasional distractions Zoro’s been providing have him feeling almost downright toasty.
“We should probably get back,” Zoro says, not sounding at all excited about the idea, and the way he keeps looking hungrily at Sanji does absolutely nothing to help his case. “Your thing’s tomorrow night, right? Don’t we still need to set up?”
“We? Already assuming the boyfriend role, huh?” Sanji laughs, sparing a glance over at Zoro, and loving the way his face looks flushed the way it has been for the past few hours. He pats him on the shoulder. “Don't you think it's a bit early for that?”
“I mean–”
“I’m kidding, calm down,” Sanji says, propping up on his elbows and returning that same hungry look he’s been getting. “I actually set everything up before we left, so…”
“So…?”
“We could… stay another night out here?” Sanji asks more than says. Despite everything, he’s still apprehensive. “Only if you want. There’s still plenty of time to take care of the tree if we leave in the morning, so I just thought–”
“Yes,” Zoro interrupts, getting to his hands and knees and all but dragging himself over Sanji to plant sweet, soft kisses all over his face. “Yes, please. I’d love that.”
A shiver runs up Sanji’s spine that has nothing to do with the snow.
“I did say I'd pay you back for all your help, didn't I,” he murmurs and returns one of countless kisses to come. As innumerable as the leaves of a tree.
-*-*-*-
moneyandtangerines: hey, um. weren’t you guys supposed to be back by now?
god of snipers: gettin kinda worried here…
[three hours later]
god of snipers: we’re calling search and rescue