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“Oi, Sanji!”
Sanji glanced up from the produce he was prepping, his knife freezing mid-slice as his brain tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Luffy, all confidence and smiles, was attempting to enter the Sunny’s kitchen, hindered only by the enormous, moss-haired swordsman who was literally hanging off of him . Normally, Sanji didn’t have time for shenanigans, not with an entire crew that needed feeding and a captain with a blackhole where his stomach should be. But there was something about the look on Zoro’s face, about the desperate way in which he was trying - and failing- to keep Luffy out of the kitchen, that piqued Sanji’s curiosity. Precious few were the things Zoro put that much effort into, which meant whatever the swordsman was trying to prevent was absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, worth Sanji’s time.
And even then, even then, Sanji was going to ignore it. Dinner wasn’t going to cook itself, and he wasn’t about to subject Nami and Robin to a hungry Luffy. He would have just let it go and gone back to work, had Zoro not opened his stupid mouth.
“Luffy, leave it! Sanji’s busy !”
Sanji’s busy. Sanji. Not cook. Not idiot. Not some half-assed nickname that worked in a jab at his eyebrows. Sanji.
The cook set his knife down with a smile and turned his full attention to the tangle of crewmates in front of him.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “What kind of cook would I be if I couldn’t spare a few moments for my captain?” And then he watched, with thinly veiled enthusiasm, as all of the color drained from Zoro’s face.
“We want to know what your tattoos mean!” Luffy said, paying absolutely no mind to Zoro. “Usopp and Chopper said they probably all have a meaning, but Zoro said they didn’t.”
Sanji raised an eyebrow, his smile growing as Zoro avoided his gaze. “Oh, they definitely mean something .” Sanji began to unbutton his cuff, watching as Zoro zeroed in on the motion. Like a moth to a flame, he thought with a chuckle. His own eyes dropped to his arm, taking in the intricate designs that danced up to his elbow.
He’d gotten the first one for no reason other than he’d simply wanted it. Had ever since he’d first laid eyes on one of the cook’s ink during his Baratie days. It had taken him a while to actually get it and for a while he’d been convinced he never would. But, as the years went on and he crossed paths with more and more people who bore elaborate and, honestly, beautiful tattoos, the desire grew until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Still, it had been a spontaneous choice; the opportunity presented itself and he took it, no questions asked. It was just a simple design that wrapped around his arm just below the elbow. No bright colors, no deeper meaning, nothing really special about it.
But that was before he’d rolled his sleeves up to cook and Zoro promptly walked into a wall trying to get a better look at the ink peeking out from underneath the fabric. He’d tried to play it off, tried to act like nothing had happened but at least three people had seen it (Sanji himself hadn’t been paying attention until he heard the bang) and Zoro’s eyes were still glued to Sanji’s arm, even as he fumbled out an excuse.
At the time, their “relationship” - if you could have even called it that - had still felt so new and strange to Sanji. It felt like he was constantly trying to gain his footing to no avail, while Zoro seemed completely unbothered. That, more than anything else, had frustrated Sanji to no end, because Zoro knew and would take every opportunity to leave the cook a blushing, embarrassed mess. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the tables turned and Sanji found himself staring down a very red, very flustered Zoro.
He immediately took back every awful thing he’d thought about the swordsman’s constant efforts to leave him blushing and rattled because yeah, yeah, he understood the appeal. It was borderline intoxicating, seeing Zoro stare at him with such blatant want, and in front of other people, no less. Sanji took the chance to tease him a bit and made sure Zoro was present when he changed later that evening (potentially a poor decision on his part, he wasn’t entirely sure yet, it all happened so fast ), being sure to drink in every ounce of attention he was given.
From that point forward, Sanji added a new tattoo at nearly every port they stopped at, until his entire forearm was decorated from wrist to elbow. Zoro did his best to act unfazed by the ever growing collection of ink, but he was about as good with that as he was with directions. Anytime the tattoos were exposed (which was often; Sanji knew how to play the game), Zoro’s eyes were glued to him, desire rolling off of him in waves regardless of who else was present. When they were alone, the swordsman studied the ink with his mouth as well, so thoroughly that when he needed to, Sanji could close his eyes and still feel the burn of those lips against his skin, a steady reminder that whatever they had wasn’t as fleeting as he’d originally feared. Zoro was, for some reason, very serious about him. Something that came as a relief to the cook, who’d realized with far less despair than he’d expected that he had grown rather fond of the idiot.
“It would take too long to go through the meaning of each of them,” Sanji said, turning his arm over to take in the various designs. “All you need to know is that basically,” Sanji’s eyes flicked up to meet Zoro’s, “they all mean that no matter what, I’ll make sure you’re well fed and happy, for as long as you’ll have me.”
Luffy’s smile grew. “So cool,” he said, before shrugging Zoro off of him and turning on his heels. “Chopper! Usopp! You were right, they mean something!” The door swung shut behind him, muffling the rest of his yelling and leaving Zoro and Sanji in the quiet of the kitchen.
Sanji gave the swordsman a small smile before once more grabbing his knife and returning to his dinner preparations. It wasn’t long before he felt Zoro wrap his arms around his waist and press a kiss to the back of his neck. Normally, Sanji wouldn’t allow displays of affection in the kitchen, mostly because it limited his movements and made it difficult to prepare meals in a timely fashion, but something about the strange interruption had left him feeling somewhat sentimental. He would let Zoro stay, at least until he began cooking. Then he would definitely chase him away, he was sure of it.
“Out of curiosity,” Sanji said, his voice quiet so as to preserve the rare bubble of quiet they’d somehow managed to secure. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“I don’t know,” Zoro said. His grip around Sanji’s waist tightened slightly as he rested his forehead against the cook’s back. “I...had a feeling they had something to do with me, and you get nervous when they pay too close attention to us. Or at least you used to; it hasn’t happened much lately but I didn’t wanna push it.”
Sanji didn’t fight the warmth that spread through his chest at the thought of Zoro being concerned for him. Instead, he leaned into his embrace a bit, smiling as Zoro’s grip tightened still. “Come with me,” he said suddenly. “Next town we reach, come with me. Pick out my next one.” He could feel Zoro’s smile against his skin as he pressed yet another kiss to the back of his neck.
“You sure you wanna trust me with something like that?”
“I did, until you asked me that.”
Zoro laughed loudly, the sound sending a jolt through Sanji’s whole body. “I can pick anything?”
“Your line of questioning has done nothing to inspire confidence but...yes.”
“Hmm…” Zoro thought for a moment, resting his chin on Sanji’s shoulder as he did. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Green.”
The swordsman didn’t hesitate. “What’s your real favorite color?”
“What, I can’t like green?”
Zoro chuckled. “Fine, be that way.” He pressed his lips against Sanji’s ear, smile growing as the cook leaned into the touch, the knife falling limp in his grasp. “You can trust me,” Zoro whispered. “I’ll pick something good.”
Sanji shivered slightly before coming to his senses and jerking his head away. “Y-you better!” He swatted at the hands clasped against his stomach. “Out, now! You’re distracting me! Dinner--
“isn’t gonna cook itself,” they said at the same time.
As if on cue, Chopper’s and Luffy’s voices rose up from behind the door, declaring themselves malnourished and on the verge of death.
“Out, ” Sanji said again, ignoring the butterflies that kicked to life at the sight of Zoro’s smile.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”
Sanji watched him go, his eyes lingering on the door as his thoughts drifted to the next town, and the promise of a new tattoo chosen carefully by the person he trusted more than anyone. That annoying warmth spread through his chest again and Sanji turned back to his prep with a shake of his head. He needed to focus; his captain was hungry, after all, and dinner simply wasn’t going to cook itself.