Archive of Our Own ^beta

Leg idly bouncing along to the music blaring from the beat up cassette player, Zoro mumbled along under his breath while focusing on his work. His other foot eased up on the pedal of the pottery wheel. Vibrations from the machine hummed pleasantly underneath his hands as he finished the lipping on a custom vase before pulling away to inspect the symmetry.

His lips twitched––pleased.

Visually, Zoro was content with the outcome, but he still snagged the nearby gauge and began to meticulously check every angle to make sure it was perfect. He was halfway done before being interrupted. A delightful chime filled the cramped workshop – the bustle of the street momentarily pouring in – before the door shut and music once more filled the din.

Zoro glanced up to greet the patron, but the rehearsed greeting quickly transformed into a smile at the sight of a familiar face.

Sanji.

Owner and operator of the tea shop across the street – the All Brew – Sanji had introduced himself several months back when he had poked his head into Zoro’s cramped workshop to buy a teapot. He had obviously just been being neighborly, but a week later the brewer was back politely enquiring about commissions—and the rest was history.

“Hey, Mosshead!” Holding up a branded paper bag – the bright, bubbly blue words All Brew emblazoned across it – Sanji grinned, “Got another for ya.”

Despite Sanji’s shop running as a typical cafe – sweet aromatic teas, rich coffee roasts, and light heavenly pastries – most of the patronage was actually made selling unique tea blends. He was always making something new, especially during the holidays. And they’d accidentally cultivated a fairly symbiotic friendship…

Zoro drank more than his body weight in Sanji’s coffee monthly – especially on late nights catching up on his work – and in return Sanji always had custom jobs for him to do—not to mention the dozens of customers that asked about his tea sets that Sanji sent in his direction.

Almost every container, pot, and tea cup in that cafe was custom work – the free advertising alone had Zoro booked well into next year – but he always made time for Sanji...

Every time Sanji came up with a new mix he’d bring it over to Zoro to get a custom jar made for his shop – never asked or requested anything – just allowed Zoro to smell the mix and become inspired. Each container had a unique shape and colour scheme as exceptional and vibrant as the brewer that concocted them.

A fact that was becoming harder and harder for Zoro to keep to himself…

Pushing himself off the stool and snagging the cloth currently hooked over his shoulder, Zoro took a moment to wipe off his hands before reaching for the nearby stereo. He twisted down the volume. Flicking the rag to once more hang over his shoulder before finally making his way over to the makeshift counter-turned-register.

“Also,” Lifting a large ceramic mug – another that Zoro had made for the brewer’s store – Sanji gave it a small waggle before setting it down on the counter, “Coffee.”

“Thanks, Curly.”

Picking up the drink, Zoro took a sip and fought back a smile – perfect, as always – before setting it aside and turning to Sanji. He held out his hand. Fingers flicking in an impatient gesture before ordering, “Alright, give it.”

Sanji handed off the bag, “It’s—”

Zoro made a shushing sound causing Sanji to roll his eyes.

Opening the bag, Zoro stuck his nose in and took a long drag from the new blend of tea leaves before pulling back. His senses overwhelmed with a variety of greens—and subtle reds. A tinge of black… and white. The richness had Zoro already picturing the glazing—and the subtle sweetness had him envisioning a stout shape.

“Got it.”

A bright smile lit up Sanji’s face, “I can’t wait to see it.”

At Sanji’s wistful tone, Zoro wanted to give in and tell him, but held his tongue – he didn’t want to ruin the surprise – and gave a cheeky smirk instead. He set the bag aside. Picking up the coffee with a playful shrug, then proceeding to take another happy sip from the smokey roast.

“When do you think you can do it?”

“When do you want it?” Zoro countered.

There were endless contracts, projects, and commissions, but there was only one Sanji…

“Next Friday would be ideal,” Sanji scratched at his cheek with a bashful glance away, but quickly reprimanded, “but there’s no rush.”

Zoro didn’t hesitate, “Sure.”

“You’re not too busy?”

“Nope.”

Sanji didn’t look convinced.

With a shrug, Zoro dismissed the topic before gesturing to the bag with a tilt of his head. He arched a brow. Then asked before Sanji had a chance to press anymore about Zoro’s current workload, “So, what is it?”

“It’s a matcha watermelon medley,” Again, Sanji’s face lit up like fireworks in the night sky – his smile summer-sweet – gushing with a shrug, “I don’t know what to call it yet.”

Zoro’s thumb rubbed nervously at the handle of his mug.

“I– uh…” Floundering for a moment, Zoro coughed and managed, “I like it.”

“You do?” Astonished blinking accompanied Sanji’s question – it was rare for Zoro to give his opinion on anything Sanji made – but the brewer recovered with a confident affectation and flourished hand, “I mean, of course––I made it.”

Zoro rolled his eye fondly.

“Do you wanna keep it?”

As flippant as Sanji’s tone was meant to be, Zoro could detect the slight vulnerability beneath – hopeful, yet cautious – all the jeering, mockery, and vulgar language couldn’t cover for the fact that Sanji took pride in his work. Zoro appreciated that about him. It was one of the many reasons he had become so enamoured with the tea maker in the first place.

Zoro nodded––unable to deny the other.

Lips twisting into a relieved smile, Sanji preened before asking, “You still have that infuser I gave you?”

Zoro nodded again.

“Good,” Sanji chuckled, but arched a brow, “I still expect your brutally honest opinion on it though.”

A pause then hung between them.

One Zoro wished he could fill with something other than pleasantries, but was still clueless on how to accomplish it. He supposed some of that brutal honesty would be helpful. However, all he could manage – like every other time – was a drawled promise, “Always.”

With a grateful smile, Sanji nodded and then turned to make his way out of the shop. He gave a needlessly dramatic gesture that was probably a wave, but also could’ve been a reenactment of someone throwing a graduation cap. Either way, the man liked flailing his arms around far too theatrically for a normal conversation, “Bring by the mug when you’re done.”

Zoro nodded a third time.

Standing at the counter with his coffee, Zoro watched Sanji carefully glance about the street before jogging across – his hair bounced with enchanting finesse – reaching the other side and falling into a casual strut before disappearing inside his teashop.

Zoro took a final, wistful sip of his coffee before turning away.

Heading back to his workspace, Zoro set down his coffee and upon noting the sudden quiet of the workshop – not just from Sanji’s absence – made his way over to the stereo to put on something new. He flipped through his cassettes. The soothing slide of the plastic cases filling the tiny shop, until Zoro eventually settled on something more mellow to continue the day.

As the soft music began to fill the shop, Zoro returned to the wheel and plopped down to finish his measurements, but his mind was elsewhere—already imagining the jar he had in mind for the brewer…

~X~

A happy trill rang out in the teashop—purchase complete.

Double checking the crisp fold along the top of the paper bag, Sanji placed the final selection of tea with the others in a large canvas bag. He snagged the straps. Handing it off with a bright smile, “Here you are, Sunshine.”

Tittering laughter shaking the elderly woman’s shoulders, she waved a hand, “Thank you, dearie.”

“Ah, and let me get the door for you,” Sanji practically twirled from behind the counter—and had the door held open before she even left the counter. He bowed low as she walked out giggling, “Have a wonderful day, Darlin’.”

As he let the door fall shut behind her, Sanji’s gaze drifted out the window and to the shop across the street. Zoro’s studio – The Twisting Dragon – sat happily wedged between a flower shop and a bookstore. The worn ‘Open’ sign and dim lighting always left people questioning whether anyone was inside, but the rustic charm of its front drew people in anyway.

Sanji’s sights lingered as he slowly walked back behind the counter.

It was about time for Zoro to come in for a second cup of coffee, and as though answering his thoughts, the door was suddenly thrown open—and Zoro stepped out.

Watching with a smile as the wayward artisan exited his store with a mug in hand before proceeding to walk off down the street in the wrong direction. Sanji gave a hopeless sigh. Hand coming up to catch his chin as he leaned against the counter and waited for the perpetually turned around potter to realize his mistake and inevitably find his way over.

It was baffling how the man could get lost when they were quite literally across the street from each other, but Zoro had his head in the clouds—no doubt thinking about work. That was about the only thing that was ever on the potter’s mind.

Months of Sanji thinking he had been obvious with his flirting had just been met with awkward dismissals and poorly executed segues. Sometimes, Sanji was certain the potter was interested, and others, not. Which had ended in them reaching an odd stalemate, but that didn’t stop Sanji from taking what he could get.

By the time Zoro made his way back to the cafe, Sanji had a coffee waiting on the counter and a smile on his face. Zoro stepped through the door and froze. Catching Sanji’s look – knowing he’d been caught in the act – Zoro’s hands tightened around the mug he was holding before slowly walking up to the counter.

“Nice detour?”

“I—” A faint blush pinched the tips of the potter’s ears – gaze darting away momentarily – before Zoro managed a poorly executed lie, “I needed to see something.”

Sanji’s grin widened, “Like?”

“Like…” Zoro trailed off, then snapped through a snarl, “shut up!”

“Smooth.”

“Whatever—here.”

Slamming the mug down on the counter – making a few patrons jump and glance over – Zoro grimaced as Sanji gifted a smile to put everyone at ease. He turned back to the blushing potter, “Easy there, Muscles. You might break it.”

“It won’t,” Zoro grumbled; blushing, but confident, as he affirmed, “I made it.”

Snagging the mug with another eye roll, Sanji put it in the dish bin while rolling his eyes, “Cocky.”

“Confident,” Zoro countered.

“Whatever,” Sanji echoed Zoro’s dry scoff, then pointed at the other coffee, “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Scooping up the coffee and heading for the door, Sanji barely suppressed his disappointment at Zoro leaving so quickly. He watched as Zoro turned before blurting, “I can’t wait to see the jar.”

Zoro paused, then glanced back.

“It’ll be ready tomorrow,” Zoro promised with an excited grin—and Sanji had to fight a hopeless sigh. The potter had a lovely smile. And really only saved it for when he was talking about his work…

It always felt like a privilege whenever Sanji got to see it, as Zoro’s permanent scowl and scars left most people with the impression he was always in a bad mood. Sanji figured out fairly quickly that wasn’t the case. And it might’ve been part of the reason he couldn’t bring himself to stop requesting work from the guy.

They’d never really talked about Zoro’s aptitude for associating colors with his senses, but Sanji had caught on fairly quickly with his unique way of taking a tea and making a jar that so distinctly captured its essence; it was a wonderful thing to watch. Always feeling exceptionally privileged to be able to view Zoro’s process and witness muse sparking to life before his very eyes.

Every new tea Sanji made had him darting across the street—eager to see Zoro’s reaction. Sanji could admit that he had made more than a few extra blends just as an excuse to go over there.

For Zoro’s jars, and simply for Zoro.

“Okay…” Sanji gushed, but Zoro had already left.

As the bell jangled shut, Sanji found himself face to face with one of his regulars currently seated across the shop. His coffee and laptop poised in front of him, but a dry look on his face. Staring Sanji down with nothing short of judgement—Usopp.

“What?” Sanji scoffed.

“When are you gonna ask him out?” 

Caught between a grimace and a sneer – Was he really that obvious? – Sanji snagged the dish bin and huffed, “I did.”

“And?”

“‘And’,” Sanji echoed the word with an exhausted mockery. He made his way out from behind the counter while sighing, “What’s it look like?”

“A lot of unresolved sexual tension.”

“Yeah, one sided,” Sanji snorted.

“Not from where I’m sitting,” Usopp muttered against the rim of his mug. “What’d you say?”

Busying himself with collecting some stray mugs and plates from nearby tables, Sanji avoided the customer for as long as he could. He cleared the table next to him, then set the bin down. Carefully stacking some plates to make room for a few more mugs, Sanji scoffed, “Whaddya mean?”

“When you asked him out,” Usopp clarified with a short glance out the window, “What were your exact words?”

“‘Do you wanna go get a coffee sometime?’”

“And?”

“And,” Sanji huffed again. Snagging the rag off his shoulder and slapping it onto the table, Sanji began wiping down the hardwood. Not particularly enjoying reliving the brutal rejection, “he said, and I quote, ‘Why the hell would I go get coffee somewhere else when you can make it?’”

Usopp started typing.

“Ah,” Sanji waved the rag, “No! Stop that—what're you writing?!”

“Nothing,” Usopp muttered, but nothing was still a whole lot of typing. Sanji glared at him until he finished his furious note taking before glancing up. Adjusting his round glasses a little further up his nose before stating, “Also, you're both morons.”

Sanji rolled his eyes, then hefted the bin off the table and walked away.

~X~

Making his way downstairs – there was a certain convenience to living above one’s work – Zoro took his time opening up shop; flicking on the lights, pulling aside the window gates, and popping in some music to wake himself up. He also swept. Only after he was satisfied that the place looked presentable did he finally make his way over to open up shop.

Unlocking the front door, Zoro suppressed a yawn while casting a glance out the window to the All Brew that was already open and bustling with morning coffee drinkers lining up before work. Zoro was always impressed with how early Sanji managed to open. Not to mention how energetic and bushy tailed he normally was.

Zoro failed to suppress a second yawn.

Flipping the sign around to open, Zoro headed back to check on the latest batch that he’d been letting cool in the kiln over the weekend. He double checked his cooling times on the board – erasing it with a swipe of his hand afterward – then popped the latch on the kiln and hefted the lid off.

Zoro peered inside.

Inspecting the array of jars that had been in for glazing and happy to see all of them had turned out exactly as he’d been hoping for––especially Sanji’s.

Reaching in and scooping up the stout jar – glazing cool to the touch – Zoro held it up until it caught the morning light and the subtle orange highlights beneath the red practically glowed. He lowered it with a smile. Hand dragging across the polished surface with a smidge of reverence – another perfect jar for the brewer – it had turned out even better than he’d wanted.

All the greens had mixed into a soothing swirl – akin to the first tendrils of tea leaching into water – spiralling hypnotically up the jar. Streaks of black highlighted the more effervescent greens. Along with splashes of red that slashed through the darker colours vibrantly without mixing and creating any unfortunate browns.

Sanji was going to love it.

At his work bench, Zoro very carefully set it down before grabbing his paints to fill in the already carved initials on the bottom with black ink. He then let it dry while carefully applying the metal plaque to the oval of unglazed clay on the front. That way Sanji would be able to write and erase the names with ease in case he changed them.

By the time Zoro was done, morning had properly settled and when he cast a glance out the window he could see that the early rush had died down at Sanji’s shop. It was the perfect time to head over. Bundling up the jar – and grabbing his empty coffee mug from the day before – Zoro made his way across the street and let himself into the quaint tea shop.

A jangle of a bell announced his entrance—and Sanji’s cheery voice filled the shop, “Be right with ya!”

With his back to the door, Sanji called the greeting while balancing precariously on the rolling ladder mounted to the shelves on the back wall that housed his enormous collection of teas in their specialty jars. All of them handmade by Zoro. It was an impressive collection, and Sanji was very quickly running out of space to accommodate all the new blends he was making.

In the past year Sanji had to install another shelf atop the old ones – soon the shelves would not only be wall to wall, but floor to ceiling – however that was unlikely to slow down the brewer. Sanji was obsessed with creating. Always finding new things to be inspired about and excited over.

Sometimes Zoro found it hard to keep up, but he wasn’t complaining––the busier Sanji was, the more frequent Zoro got to see him…

With a leg hooked in rungs, Sanji leaned over to fill up a bag from one of the higher up jars and Zoro politely looked away. The brewer favored high waisted slacks. And they were disastrously well-fitting…

Zoro scratched at his cheek bashfully.

Glancing aimlessly about the All Brew, Zoro noted the nautical items adorning the walls – anchors, ratlines, and sextants – accompanied by a few paintings––one of a large naval vessel, and another of a lighthouse on a foggy morning. All of it topped off by the large ship’s wheel that hung from the ceiling that had been transformed into a unique form of chandelier.

Everything else in the charming shop was fairly standard––there was the barista counter that housed all the brewing equipment, espresso machines, and coffee roasters. And various tables and chairs were scattered spaciously for dine-in patrons––but Sanji had done his best to make the place warm and inviting with a very rustic coastal feel. There was a reason people loved coming to Sanji’s shop… and it wasn’t just for the tea.

A clatter of a lid being replaced on a jar had Zoro glancing back over to Sanji, the brewer carefully folded the top of the paper bag, then grabbed the ladder once more and swung himself around to gaze down into the shop. He had a greeting on his lips, but halted at the sight of Zoro. Something far more natural that his typical customer service face fell into place – Zoro smug at knowing the difference – as Sanji gifted him a deeply genuine smile.

“Hey, Moss,” Sanji jeered. “Right on time.”

Hopping off the ladder, Sanji made his way back to the barista counter and set the bag of tea leaves down for the waiting customer. He rang them through, then bid them farewell. As the customer made their way out of the shop, Sanji was already pulling a steaming mug of coffee out to place on the counter between them.

“I was just about to come see you.”

Zoro gave a short nod in thanks, but held out the jar instead. 

Sanji’s jaw went slack.

And Zoro smiled.

It was all worth it just for that look…

After a moment of staring, Sanji recovered long enough to close his mouth with a click and reach out to pick up the jar. He rotated it in his hands for the full effect before a delirious smile curled his lips. He looked up. Eyes shining happily and giddy excitement already trembling in his shoulders.

“It’s perfect.”

Zoro’s smirk only widened.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji rolled his eyes, but despite his dry tone refused to stop cradling the piece of pottery, “Whatever, shithead––one day you’ll fail to impress.”

“Not possible,” Zoro scoffed while picking up his coffee.

“What about the tea?” Sanji pressed, “Did you like it?”

Freezing with the brim of his mug to his lips, Zoro swallowed a painfully large gulp of scalding coffee before lowering it and doing everything in his power to not flinch from the burn. He swallowed awkwardly. Unsure how to admit that he’d gone through it in a matter of days without sounding lame.

Zoro nursed his coffee for a moment before managing, “Uh, yeah… actually.”

“Oh?” Sanji perked up.

Zoro knew he was a hard customer.

“Yeah…” Zoro repeated while meeting Sanji’s excited gaze––it made him foolishly honest, “I finished it.”

“You––” Sanji balked before recovering, “You finished it already?”

Zoro’s lips twisted – embarrassed – before admitting with a grumble, “I like watermelon.”

“You do?”

Zoro nodded.

“That’s…” Sanji trailed off with a curious shake of his head – looking at Zoro critically – before crooning, “adorable.”

“Shut up,” Zoro grumbled, “Fuck you.”

Sanji’s grin only widened.

Zoro didn’t like how the brewer had turned the tables.

Snatching the dry-erase marker that had been clipped to his suspenders, Sanji uncapped it with his teeth before cradling the jar and scrawling out a name on the front in his typical, loopy handwriting. Zoro waited patiently. After adding some embellishments, Sanji recapped the pen before turning the container proudly towards Zoro so he could see the label.

Mosshead Medley

Caught between embarrassed and flattered, Zoro managed a groaned, “Don’t––”

Sanji was already grinning cheekily.

“Too late~” Sing-songing the words happily, Sanji turned away to place the jar on the back counter to be filled and shelved later before turning back to Zoro, “Besides… it’s only fitting that the first tea you like gets named after you.”

“I––” Zoro balked, his hand clamping on the back of his neck irritably before grumbling, “like other teas too…”

“Sure, but this is the first time you've finished one… to my knowledge.” Sanji chuckled, “Widdle watermelon boy.”

“I’m leaving,” Zoro announced loudly.

“Aw, no…” Sanji reached after the potter playfully, “Come back––I’ll stop, I swear… Melonhead.”

Zoro flipped him off good naturedly.

They both chuckled – neither were good at saying goodbye in a mature fashion – as Zoro extended his cup of coffee in gratitude while turning to leave, “Bye.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Sanji teased before giving a wink, “You’ll see me again soon.”

“Too soon,” Zoro bit back.

Masking how the teasing words affected him – rolling his eye while pushing his way back outside and making his way across the street back to his workshop – Zoro easily kept his feelings hidden behind a thin veneer of sarcasm and biting remarks. However, it did nothing to quell the ache he felt.

Already missing that happy buzz that fluttered in his chest while getting to make something for the avid brewer––and knowing he’d have to wait weeks until he got the chance again…

~X~

Adding a splash of cream to the dark roast – pale edges curing almost magically – Sanji snagged a nearby stirring stick and quickly blended it with a flick of his wrist. He gave a few extra twirls for good measure. Removing and tapping it along the rim happily once the coffee was the exact hue the potter preferred.

Sanji glanced at his barista, “Camie, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Busy with a customer, she gave a happy wave to dismiss him, as Sanji skirted out from behind the bar and headed for the door. He’d just gotten to the door when the nosy customer piped up, “You going to ask him out?”

Rounding on the man, Sanji countered, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Usopp swept a hand across the table he currently sat at.

“Not that it's any of your business,” Sanji sighed, “but yes.”

Shouldering out of the store – and pointedly ignoring Usopp’s cheerful cry of, “Good luck!” – Sanji darted across the street while carefully balancing Zoro’s morning coffee. Sanji paused at the door to The Twisting Dragon to take a final glance at himself in the window before throwing open the door with all of his usual gusto. An exuberant jangle of the bell announcing his arrival.

“Oi, Melonhead,” Sanji jeered, “I—”

All of his biting jest fell away the moment Sanji saw Zoro; the potter was standing over his kiln with a hand hooked morosely at his nape. Even with his back turned, Sanji could tell from the line of his shoulders that something was wrong.

Glancing up as the door to his shop was flung open, Zoro’s hand fell to his side and he forced a muted smile, “Hey, Curls.”

“What’s up?”

A shameful grimace twisted the normally prideful and stubborn man—and instead of forcing words, Zoro stepped back with an indiscernible grumble and gestured stiffly to the kiln. He was embarrassed—and that was a rare thing. Rarer still, the fact Zoro was willing to be honest about it with him…

Sanji set the coffee down.

Making his way behind the counter and over to the back of the shop, Sanji came to stand next to Zoro – hands clasped politely behind his back – then peered into the kiln. His face immediately fell at the huge mess of exploded pottery. A whole set of cups and a teapot was completely destroyed; there were a few larger fragments – a handle that had survived, and a couple bases – but most of it was crumbling mounds of clay.

And it was obvious why Zoro was upset, he was mourning not only the lost time on the commission – and the time he’d have to take remaking them – but also how genuinely beautiful the set had been.

“Yikes,” Sanji grimaced, “that’s shitty.”

“Yeah,” Zoro grunted, and was clearly internally reprimanding himself, “I forgot to account for the change in humidity two days ago—it’s gonna put me back a few days.”

All of Sanji's previous plans fell by the wayside—and he gave a sympathetic smile, “How can I help?”

“Uh…” Zoro floundered, “you don’t—”

“Shut up,” Already rolling up his sleeves, Sanji sent Zoro a pointed look that said it would be easier on both of them if he just accepted the help. He finished the second cuff with a dramatic flick of his hand. Then looked at Zoro expectantly, “What can I do?”

Zoro stared for a bit before giving in with a sigh.

Sanji grinned victoriously.

Retrieving a plastic tub and handing it to Sanji, Zoro had him hold it at the ready while leaning inside the kiln and scooping out the loose bits of pottery. They worked quickly, and soon had the kiln cleaned out. While Zoro finished wiping down the inside, Sanji hefted the tub up and asked, “Where do you want it?”

“Large bits over there," Zoro gestured towards a large plastic bin in the corner, “Rest in the bucket—I’ll repurpose it.”

Sanji turned away with a nod.

“Be careful,” Zoro added while grabbing a cloth, “It’s sharp.”

“Will do,” Sanji trilled while heading across the shop. He found the bucket Zoro had been referring to, then began sorting. As he started with the largest pieces first, Sanji asked absently, “How do you reuse this?”

“Save ‘em for mosaics,” Zoro murmured; his voice echoing a bit from where he leaned inside the kiln.

“You make many of those?”

“A few,” Zoro grunted. “Usually just give ‘em to my friend—she works with kids.”

Freezing with a large, broken plate in hand, Sanji imagined the burly man taking the pieces to a daycare and making mosaics with children. Sanji barely refrained from biting the broken pottery to stifle the urge to scream. It was becoming impossible not to fall for the man…

Sanji tossed the broken plate into the bucket, then reached back into the bin to grab a mug.

It was one of the few that had managed to mostly survive the incident; it was damaged – a large chip was taken out of the lip, and the side had gotten scratched – but it was definitely usable. The scarring even gave it a bit of charm. Almost as though intentionally crafted that way…

Sanji set it aside.

After sorting through the rest of the shattered pottery and returning the small bin to the shelf it had been taken from, Sanji made his way back to the kiln with the mug in hand. Zoro had just finished shutting the lid. Watching Sanji approach with a curious look at the mug, Sanji interjected before he could ask, “Can I buy this one?”

Zoro frowned, “It’s broken.”

“Naw,” Sanji disagreed with a polite shake. “It just has personality.” 

Raising it proudly, Sanji held it out next to Zoro's face before lining up the chipped rim with the notable scar over his left eye. Sanji had never asked, but had a hunch or two. The man had plenty of scars—and a penchant for not talking about them. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

“That felt like an insult.”

Sanji lowered the cup with a flat look, “It was a compliment.”

Zoro matched, but it quickly cracked.

Gaze shifting back to the mug that Sanji had cradled against his body, Zoro looked strangely unsure – it was a rare look on the guy – but eventually arched a brow at Sanji skeptically, “You—You sure you want it?”

Sanji nodded.

“Alright,” Zoro sighed and held out a hand, “at least let me finish glazing it.”

Clutching it protectively, Sanji’s eyes slowly narrowed, “And you aren’t going to throw it out?”

Zoro huffed, “No.” 

“‘No.’ What?”

“‘No, I’m not going to throw it out cause it’s going to be broken over your head in a minute.’”

Sanji deadpanned.

Zoro flicked his fingers impatiently.

“Jeez,” Scoffing and rolling his eyes, Sanji gave in and handed the mug over. Chuckling while following after Zoro as they headed for the front of the store, “I certainly hope this isn’t how you haggle with all your customers.”

“Nope,” Zoro enunciated the word heavily. "Just the annoying ones.”

Shelving the cup with the others that needed glazing, Zoro turned back to Sanji who had stopped near the modest service counter. His hands slid into his pockets. Leaning forward with a sharp smile and mischievous look, Sanji pressed, “More than one? Are you cheating on me?"

Zoro stared.

And Sanji decided to risk a bit more teasing, "Cause it better just be me," then added, "Only I get to irritate you."

"Oh, yeah? How's that?"

With a shrug, Sanji said smugly, "I'm the best at it."

"Whaddya want?" Zoro scoffed, "A medal?"

"At the very least," Sanji drawled, "Yes."

Zoro rolled his eye.

A bright smile lit up Sanji's face – always far too proud to get Zoro to stop talking and just make a disgruntled face – before finally backing off. The potter grumbled something while picking up the coffee Sanji had brought earlier. Taking a long swig before shooting Sanji an irritated look that had absolutely no heart in it, “Do you need something?”

Glancing at the mug, then back at Zoro, Sanji was reminded of his earlier intentions; he debated following through on the initial reason he’d come over, but noticed the whiteboard beside Zoro that was covered in scrawled orders that needed redoing. Reluctantly, Sanji decided to leave it for the time being…

“No,” Sanji segued with a sigh, beginning his tactful walk backwards while tipping an imaginary tophat to the potter, “Suppose you need to get to work—I’ll get out of your hair.”

Zoro looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

Pausing at the door, Sanji pointed at the mug, “How much?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Zoro muttered, then raised his coffee with a tilt, “It’s a thanks for all the free coffee.”

There was an entire wall of pottery that already made up for it, but Sanji could tell he wasn’t allowed to argue…

"Fine,” With a playfully exaggerated sigh, Sanji spun on a heel and pulled open the door – bell ringing happily – while extending his hand out in a cheerful farewell, “See ya, Moss.”

Tilting his coffee amiably, Zoro's pointed farewell was accompanied by a second jangle as the door fell shut, “Bye, Curls.”

~X~

Three days – or was it four? – of practically no sleep and Zoro was nearly back on schedule. The clients had all been fairly understanding. Luckily, Zoro rarely agreed to rush orders for this exact reason, but he still hated not being able to deliver on schedule.

It was a point of pride, more than anything else…

Lifting back the lid of the kiln, Zoro looked over the finished pieces seated with a satisfied smile – they were better than the first batch – but his gaze fell to a mug near the top—Sanji’s.

Zoro reached in and plucked it out.

Turning it over in hand to inspect the finish, Zoro fought with a smile at how perfectly the blue had come out; he had gone with a similar glazing to the watermelon tea jar, but exchanged blue for red. The greens were a bit more vibrant and the streak of gold in the handle practically glowed.

As flawless as Zoro always strived to achieve—except for that chip in the rim Sanji had been adamant about keeping. Zoro stared at it as a blush crept up his face at the words Sanji had said. The brewer really had a way with flattery. And while he wasn’t self-conscious of his scars, there was something about the ease in which Sanji acknowledged them that left him reeling.

It was enough to make Zoro say something foolish, but at the risk of ruining this thing they had he always chose not to. The brewer was clearly head over heels for any lady that walked into his teashop—and whatever kindness directed Zoro’s way was a byproduct of Sanji’s generous nature.

The least Zoro could do is return the favor when he could.

Checking over the mug a final time, Zoro made his way over to the workbench to fill in his signature on the bottom with crisp, black ink. He emptied the kiln of the rest of the projects while waiting for it to dry. And by the time he had the next batch loaded – and the kiln back on – the paint had set.

Zoro grabbed the mug, locked up shop, and headed across the street.

For some reason, the city had placed a random alleyway where the street had been, but after wandering for a bit managed to locate Sanji’s store front once more. He headed inside to find the place relatively empty. The regulars were seated at various tables – sipping their respective drinks – while Sanji and Camie were puttering behind the counter.

“Melonhead!”

Zoro rolled his eye—and held out the mug.

There was a tense, nervous moment where Sanji actually registered what Zoro offered, before taking it and turning it over in his hands in awe. Zoro knew Sanji would love it – he always did – but held his breath anyway. After properly inspecting every side of it, Sanji held it reverently while gushing, “I love it.”

Zoro pointedly kept his gaze to the side while muttering something under his breath, “You say that about everything.”

“And I mean it,” Sanji countered—and his tone was clear Zoro wasn’t to argue. He turned to set it down safely on the shelf on the back wall with the other specialty mugs that Sanji reserved for himself, and regulars he liked, before finally turning to Zoro with a much more concerned expression, “So, when was the last time you had a shower?”

Zoro’s eye widened, “Do I smell?”

“No, but you, uh—” Sanji motioned to his own face before faltering, “got a lil’ something…”

Rubbing the back of his hand against his cheek in the general area Sanji had motioned, Zoro then looked at Sanji expectantly, “I get it?”

Sanji just stared.

And Zoro knew the answer.

“Ah…” Sanji held his tongue before sighing, “Yeah, most of it.”

Setting the mug down, Sanji grabbed a spare cloth at the sink – running it under cold water, and wringing it out – before making his way out from behind the counter. Zoro took a step back on instinct, before realizing Sanji might view it as fear. Immediately course correcting by crossing his arms and leaning back into the step to affect an air of curiosity.

Sanji stopped in front of him and gestured with the rag, “You okay if I…”

Zoro stared for a moment.

Colors popped happily in Zoro’s periphery as they stood close enough that Sanji’s natural aroma filled the air around him with bubbly blues and crisp ceruleans. His presence bringing a delightful array of summery spices. A wonderful mixture of all the blends from his shop, but also something that was just uniquely Sanji.

It was distracting enough that Zoro didn’t feel nearly as nervous when he nodded his consent—and was just thankful the shop was mostly empty, except for a man nearby furiously typing on his laptop.

Snagging Zoro’s chin – thumb rubbing across prickly stubble that he hadn’t had time to shave – Sanji held him in place before scrubbing a particularly bad spot on his cheek. Zoro immediately knew the spot. It was one he regularly touched unconsciously while working—and only found out it was dirty later when looking in a mirror.

Sanji was quick and polite, but Zoro caught Sanji’s gaze lower a fraction – likely to the dark patch under his eye – before noting, “You look tired.”

Mumbling around Sanji’s grip, Zoro explained, “Been stayin’ late to make up the work.”

“How much sleep you getting?”

“Naps here and there—just a few more days,” Zoro managed through a yawn, “then I should be caught up.”

Sanji clicked his tongue in disapproval, but knew better than to argue.

After a bit more scrubbing, Sanji finally finished, “There.”

Releasing Zoro’s chin and flicking the cloth to hang over his shoulder, Sanji’s hands fell to his hips as he looked Zoro over critically. He knew his hair was still a muddy mess – as were his clothes and arms – but he did feel cleaner. And a bit more awake, especially with Sanji practically washing his whole face.

Zoro touched his cheek, “I feel like you washed my whole face.”

“I washed your whole face,” Sanji deadpanned, “Yeah.”

“Ah…” Lips tightening – fighting a blush – Zoro muttered an embarrassed, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Quick to brush it off, and even quicker to look away, Zoro glanced to the side while Sanji made his way back behind the counter. The brewer disposed of the cloth in a wash bin, then – without a word – set about making Zoro a coffee. It was impossible not to let his gaze wander back, however, to Sanji’s hands—and as they worked Zoro could still feel the faint sensation of his touch.

Zoro knew it meant nothing, but his fingers kept buzzing.

For a split second, Zoro could feel himself starting to drift off at the comforting thought before blinking hurriedly and looking back up. Looking at Sanji, who was in the process of steaming the milk, and asked, “Can I just have a mug full of espresso?”

Sanji stared, “Do you want to die?”

“Can you do it, or not, Curly?”

“Just sign a waiver saying I’m not responsible for your impending heart attack,” Sanji drawled, “and yes.”

“Done.”

Rolling his eyes, Sanji muttered fondly. He finished mixing the latte, then slid it across the counter, “Drink this first—and if it doesn’t kill ya, I’ll bring you some more.”

“Fine,” Zoro huffed.

Taking the coffee, Zoro waved farewell and headed out of the shop. He caught sight of the other regular seated in the corner, still typing away.

~X~

Another two days passed with Sanji seeing almost nothing of the horribly reclusive potter. His schedule had been off ever since the failed batch. Even when Sanji had found a minute to pop over, Zoro had been in the middle of something he couldn’t put down, so Sanji had been forced to leave the coffee and the potter without a word.

Zoro had come over for a few refills, but Sanji had been busy with his own clientele—like passing ships.

As Sanji put the finishing touches on this morning's next coffee for Zoro, Sanji was already resigned to delivering it with much conversation. He then grabbed a fresh pastry as well knowing the potter was definitely forgetting to eat.

Locking up shop, then heading across the street, Sanji could see a few lights on inside which meant the potter was likely busy at work. He tested the door to find it open, then pushed gently inside. Mindful of the bell to not startle the man, but quickly froze in his tracks at the sight that met him.

Soft snores filled the shop as Sanji found Zoro fast asleep slumped over his wheel; the remnants of whatever he had been working on was now just a deformed slump of clay acting as a temporary pillow. Arm hanging limp at his side, the other was braced precariously on the edge of the wheel and only a minor jostle away from falling.

A fond smile replaced Sanji’s surprise—the potter had overdid it.

Flipping the sign around to ‘Closed’ and locking the door, Sanji made his way over to the counter to set aside the coffee and pastry. He tried, and failed, to stop a sigh. All week he could see the potter had been pushing himself too hard.

“C’mon,” Sanji urged with a poke, “You’re done for today.”

Zoro didn’t move.

If not for the heavy rise and fall of the man’s back, Sanji might’ve been concerned that Zoro was lost to the world, but he was clearly just overworked. He shook Zoro a bit harder—still nothing. Deciding on a more effective method, Sanji reached out to swat Zoro’s remaining arm off the wheel causing him to drop the last few inches and smack his head on the bare portion of the wheel.

Zoro finally managed a grumble.

“Oh,” Sanji feigned surprise, “he’s awake.”

Barely conscious – severely out of it – Zoro pushed himself up with a hand braced to his head while looking around in confusion. He clearly didn’t recognize his surroundings. Upon registering Sanji’s presence, it seemed to only perplex him further.

Hoarse from sleep, Zoro's – already deep – voice grumbled, “Where—”

“Studio,” Sanji clarified while stepping close, “but you’re going to bed now.”

A slow blink—then Zoro appeared to be coming back to himself, “But I—” Zoro glanced down—realization clipping his voice, “Damn it.”

Whatever beautiful, inspired creation Zoro had been working on was now completely unsalvageable; disappointment was palpable from the potter, but Sanji knew no good would come from Zoro trying to attempt to recreate it in his current state.

“Nope,” Sanji argued before Zoro had a chance to even start, “Nap—then I’ll bring you another espresso and you can finish everything tonight.”

Zoro appeared to be too tired to even argue.

A first.

Accepting with yawn and a nod, Zoro pushed to his feet and pulled off his apron. He tossed it atop his wheel. Then shuffled blearily towards the front of the shop, “I need to—”

“Already closed,” Sanji smirked, “c’mon.”

Snagging Zoro by the elbow and swinging the half-asleep potter around – with shockingly little resistance – Sanji shoved him towards the stairway at the back of the shop. Zoro shuffled like a zombie towards it and Sanji followed. He went without complaint, until halfway up. Finally awake enough to realize he was being shadowed.

“I got it.” Another yawn, then, “You can go.”

“Just wanna make sure you get there safely,” Sanji rolled his eyes, “and stay there.”

Zoro’s only reply was a sleepy grumble.

Once upstairs in Zoro’s eclectically decorated apartment – a gorgeous, organized chaos to it that reflected the man that lived there – Sanji only got the barest glance around before guiding them to the bed located in the corner of the modest flat. Tucked away in an alcove of books and plants. A patchwork quilt was bundled across eggwash linens that looked like they’d be soft to the touch—a book lay open, face-down on the pillow.

Stepping around the potter, Sanji snagged the book to move it aside on the nearby nightstand—joining an empty tea mug and a vintage alarm clock. There was also a tattered notebook whose edges were peeling and stained; a pencil stuck as a bookmark causing its spine to bend unhappily. Its contents, Sanji could only guess at.

Sanji barely stepped out of the way before Zoro face-planted onto the bed.

“Oi, Moss,” Sanji sighed, “Shoes.”

Zoro started snoring.

With a fond sigh, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s foot to begin unlacing the sneakers. The potter double-knotted his shoes. Sanji struggled with the overly tightened knot before wrestling the shoe off, then threw it aside somewhat irritably—Zoro had tied them like he’d been expecting to run somewhere. Starting on the next shoe only to find it just as strangled.

“Do you think someone is gonna try to steal your shoes?”

Sanji got the other undone, then dropped it to join the other on the floor by the bed, then glanced down at his hands.

Even the man’s shoes were coated in clay, and Sanji's hands were now filthy. He made his way over to the modest kitchen tucked in the corner. Washing his hands, then looking about for a towel which he found on the counter near the fridge.

As Sanji dried his hands, his gaze wandered over the fridge that was filled with various magnets, slips of paper, and photographs from over the years. He paused on one that was old and faded.

It was Zoro – much younger – in military gear with two people; a woman with fiery red hair and a young man with erratic dark hair. The other man stood in the middle with his arms slung around the other two. And had a smile that was frighteningly infectious.

There was another photo of Zoro in a daycare. He was seated on a plastic chair entirely too small for him – his knees comically high – while helping a kid rearrange pieces of painted clay to make a butterfly.

Sanji smiled.

Tucking the towel over the bar of the oven, Sanji made his way back to the door, but paused to offer a quiet, but habitual, “See ya tomorrow.”

Zoro was fast asleep.

~X~

Getting the last mug done, Zoro triple checked the measurements before adding it to the drying rack with the set. He then let out a sigh of relief. Finally, chancing a glance out the window to find the first traces of grey light easing through—and the All Brew wasn't even open yet.

It was a rare sight as Sanji – and the shop – were usually always open by the time Zoro trundled down from his apartment, but these past few days Zoro had gotten the privilege of seeing it before the bustle of the day. He also had gotten to see Sanji open twice. Having looked up from his work just in time to see Sanji walk up, unlock the door, and duck inside.

Even though the closed sign was still in place, Zoro knew Sanji was already setting up—the man always showed up ridiculously early to start on all the pastries. And with the last of his projects finished, Zoro figured there was no better time than now to pester him…

Snagging the empty mug from Sanji’s previous visit, Zoro locked up and headed over—and hadn’t even stepped foot on the sidewalk before the door was thrown open.

“Heeey,” Sanji crooned. “There’s the sleepyhead.”

Zoro scowled with a blush, “Fuck off.”

Sanji snickered, but let Zoro in.

While Sanji locked the door, Zoro glanced around the strangely empty shop. The lack of ambient music, chattering customers, and whirring machines made the space feel bigger.

“Thanks for… locking up,” Zoro placed the mug on the counter. “And y’know, checking in on me.”

“‘Course,” Sanji grinned. “Somebody has to.”

A weird flutter accompanied the words—and Zoro could admit that the thought of Sanji being that somebody would be nice. He wasn’t entirely certain how to say it, but settled for a scoff, “You’ll do, I guess.”

Sanji deadpanned, then said drily, “Thanks.”

Zoro shrugged, then grinned.

Snagging Zoro’s cup, Sanji placed it in a wash bin, but instead of getting started on a fresh coffee, Sanji asked, “You have a minute?”

Zoro was taken aback, “Uh, yeah?”

“C’mon,” Sanji tilted his head, “I wanna show you something.”

“Why?”

Sanji immediately burst out laughing, “Why are you asking like I’m gonna show you a dead body?”

“‘Cause that’s what it feels like?”

“Relax,” Sanji scoffed, then continued heading towards the back. And – notably – did not deny the whole dead body thing, but Zoro followed regardless. Sanji pushed open the double doors to the back kitchen. And Zoro stepped in Sanji’s workspace.

Slowly glancing about the large kitchen, Zoro tried to focus on the impressive equipment, ovens, and various drying racks, but couldn’t help the distracting scents that were beginning to overwhelm him. He made an effort to breathe through his mouth. And focused on Sanji who was currently pulling one of the herb and garlic pastries off the tray and scooping it onto a napkin.

“Here.”

Zoro accepted it—and took a bite.

It was incredible – like everything Sanji made – and Zoro mumbled around the bite, “You brought me back here for food?”

“No,” Sanji scoffed, then inclined his head. Continuing through the kitchen, “I get to see your process all the time. Figured I should show you mine.”

Zoro followed while continuing to eat the pastry.

At the back of the kitchen there was a massive weighted door that looked like it could’ve been for a freezer – or a pantry – that Sanji wrenched open and ushered him inside. The room was warm and dry—and massive. Stuffed full of various plants – all in various stages of drying – hanging in bundles from the ceiling while others lay on trays in large drying racks against the wall.

A large table nearby had some bundles set out that were in the process of being plucked and sorted for various tea mixtures. Colors quickly began to form in his vision. Starbursts of different flavors from teas he recognized from past jars he'd made for Sanji.

“You don’t use ovens?”

“I use ‘em for emergency batches,” Sanji inspected a few of the bundles nearby, “They’re quick, but the leaves don’t retain their flavour as well, so I like to air dry as much as I can.”

Zoro nodded slowly.

The deeper into the room they wandered, the headier the smells—and the colours began to spiral in a distracting array. He shook out the napkin from the pastry, then held it over his mouth as he continued to look around the impressive dry room. He could feel how low the humidity was. And Zoro marvelled at how similar the process was to his pottery…

“It’s a lot like pottery,” Zoro mumbled.

And surprisingly, rather than being taken aback by the comment, Sanji smiled; it was a knowing, almost bashful thing. His gaze traveled away while ducking under a large bundle of tea leaves, “Yeah… that’s what I thought too…”

Zoro smiled into the napkin.

Sanji appeared on the other side of the tea leaves with a smile, “They complement each other well…”

And Zoro felt his heart skip.

It was an enlightening sentiment, especially when Zoro thought about the nature of their relationship; the jars, and mugs, and tea sets would all be useless without Sanji…

“Here’s more Mosshead,” Sanji gestured to several bundles. “It’s selling really well, so I've already had to start on more.”

Zoro nodded.

Stepping closer to smell each of the different bundles, Zoro could detect hints – and the corresponding colors – that he recalled from the tea. The hardness of the oolong and the soft green of the mint. The summery swirl of the watermelon was missing, but Sanji likely prepped that differently.

“It's a good tea,” Zoro remarked.

Sanji smiled brightly, then shrugged, “I know.”

Zoro rolled his eye. 

Walking around a bit more – careful to not actually touch anything – Zoro took his time with the aromatic room—and tracked the read he recognized from past jars. He could see the colors pop in his periphery. And he might not have known the names, but every smell and color had a corresponding tea and jar that he knew well.

After a while, Zoro stopped back in front of Sanji and – despite the napkin still over his mouth – attempted a sincere smile, "This is really cool, Curls.”

It was clear the compliment flustered him a little – they weren't normally this cordial – so Sanji gave a happy nod, then gestured to the napkin, “You good?”

Through a deep breath, he huffed, “It’s a lot.”

Sanji chuckled, “C’mon.”

Heading back out and shutting the door behind them, Zoro slowly lowered the napkin and took a deep inhale of the much more manageable air. The colors lessened to something much less distracting. And he followed Sanji back through the kitchen, and then out into the coffee shop.

“So,” Sanji broached while stepping behind the counter to begin prepping an espresso, “everything really does have color to it, huh?”

“Sorta,” Zoro crumpled the napkin and tossed it in the nearby trash. His gaze flicked to the jars, then back, but Sanji was busy packing the espresso. “It’s more like an aura—or like it’s… breathing.”

Sanji glanced up with that bright smile, “What about me?”

Zoro could feel his cheeks heat up, but luckily Sanji had already looked away.

“You’re like…” Zoro trailed off. Trying not to stare at Sanji, but unable to peek a glance anyway. Not that he needed to, he memorized Sanji’s colours a long time ago, “all blue.”

“Well,” Sanji chuckled, “I suppose I would—I spend almost all day here.”

“Mn,” Zoro shook his head, “No.”

“Hm?”

“Not ‘Brew’.” Zoro wandered over to the other side of the counter to watch Sanji begin to steam the milk, “Blue.”

Sanji glanced up at Zoro’s earnest emphasis of the word.

Extending a muddy hand towards Sanji’s face, Zoro waved it about lazily – gesturing to sparkling ripples that Sanji couldn’t see – before murmuring, “You’re all blue. Like… every shade—all of ‘em.”

“O-oh,” Sanji stuttered, before nodding, “Gotcha…”

Quickly turning back to what he was doing so he wouldn’t burn himself on the steamed milk, Sanji failed to hide his blush this time. The tips of his ears and cheeks just the faintest pink. And Zoro wasn’t entirely certain why, but he felt like he’d said something right—and maybe he had a chance…

More than once Zoro had been tempted to ask, but at the risk of ruining this comfortable normalcy they had fostered he’d refrained. He didn’t want to drive Sanji away. A misplaced confession could put Sanji in an awkward situation that Zoro would loathe to be the cause of.

Zoro chewed on the words indecisively.

While Zoro watched, Sanji quickly finished pouring the espresso, then set it down on the counter for Zoro—in the chipped mug that he had insisted on keeping. Zoro’s gaze wandered up to the wall of jars, then back to Sanji with the silent knowledge that Zoro wanted to make anything Sanji asked for.

“So,” Sanji broached. Leaning his arms comfortably on the counter while looking at Zoro hopefully, “Are you almost caught up?”

A confirmation was on the tip of his tongue, but Zoro stopped as the mug caught his eye; he thought everything that had just happened—and everything that had happened since the first day Sanji had curiously poked his head inside his shop and requested a tea set. And about how right Sanji was about the harmonious nature of tea and clay.

“Almost,” Zoro nodded. “There’s just one more project.”

A kind, wonderful smile softened Sanji’s features—and Sanji nodded happily, “Good—I miss our schedule.”

“Your schedule, you mean,” Zoro drawled, “I never got a say in it.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that,” Sanji scoffed. “You’d wither away and die without me.”

“That’s not tru—”

Sanji arched a brow.

“Oh, whatever.”

A knock at the door had them both glancing over to see Camie outside waiting to be let in; she had a bright smile on her face and was waving in excitedly. Zoro offered a short wave while Sanji thrust both arms into the air exuberantly, “Camie, my favorite employee!”

Sanji practically twirled from behind the counter to throw open the door—and Zoro took that as his sign to head out. He followed Sanji to the door. Nodding politely to Camie as she ducked inside, Zoro moved after to slip out the door.

“See ya, Curls.”

“Bye Moss.”

With a final wave, Zoro headed across the street and back to his shop; he immediately headed to the fridge, then dug a ball of red clay out of the back that he’d been saving. At his workbench, Zoro flipped open his tattered sketchbook to the page he’d been working on for weeks now, then sat down and started to work.

~X~

Today was the day—and Sanji was far more determined this time than last. He’d given the potter a few extra days to finish his final project – just to be safe – but was finally going to ask out the guy. Properly.

With a final swirl of the steamed milk, Sanji picked up the coffee for Zoro – and a pastry – before heading for the front door. Usopp glanced up as Sanji walked by his table, “Are you—”

“Yes,” Sanji huffed.

“For real this tim—”

“Shut up.”

Ignoring the nosey customer, Sanji strode out of the tea shop and across the street. He transferred the bag with the pastry into his other hand and grabbed the door. Swinging it open just in time to startle a woman on the other side who had been reaching for it.

The bell above them chimed loudly.

“Oh,” she startled.

Sanji immediately put her at ease with a smile. Sweeping open the door and holding it for her, “Allow me.”

With a near regal formality, she smiled and nodded graciously, “Thank you.” then stepped through the door with a final glance and wave back into the shop. Her voice dripped with unrestrained adoration, “Can’t wait ‘till tonight!”

Sanji nearly let the handle slip.

As she swept out of the door and down the street, Sanji stood for a moment as a cold stone of realization plummeted through him. He was too late—or never had a chance at all. The latter of which feeling the far more likely option given how politely disinterested the potter always was to his bolder attempts at flirting.

Sanji felt like a fool.

Forcing his feet to move, Sanji stepped numbly inside to find Zoro already at the counter with a smile on his face, “Hey, Curls.”

Jealousy shifted to envy, then resignation, as not a single person on this planet could allow him to hold contempt for a woman. She had no way of knowing any of this. And it was likely that Zoro didn’t either. It was Sanji’s ridiculous burden to bear.

Sweeping aside his misgivings, Sanji put on a practised mask of casual indifference. He approached the small counter – that barely had enough space for the ancient cash register – and set down the coffee and pastry.

After giving his hands a final scrub with the rag that was arguably dirtier than his hands, Zoro whipped it up to rest on his shoulder before smirking at Sanji, “What?” Zoro jeered while picking up his coffee, “No scathing commentary today?”

It was only then, Sanji realized he’d yet to say anything. He braced an elbow on the counter, “A guy can’t take a day off?”

Zoro looked at him funny, then grunted, “You never do.”

Sanji supposed that was true—and felt a little bashful Zoro had noticed.

“So I’m a little off my game,” Sanji drawled. “Sue me.”

“You sick?”

“Yeah, sick of you asking me all these questions.”

Zoro rolled his eye, then pointed to the bag, “New tea?”

“Just a pastry,” Sanji corrected—and immediately lamented not having another tea ready. He had several experimental batches drying, but nothing solid yet. The potter had that excited look on his face that had become one Sanji was desperate to see, and yet, never got to see enough. It had only been a week, but Sanji already missed seeing Zoro light up like that.

And yet, Sanji hadn’t considered it could happen with people too.

It would explain the way Zoro’s gaze always seemed to drift when they were talking, or how his eye would dart about Sanji’s face hurriedly. Sanji had always assumed Zoro was just a distracted listener. Now, it appeared that Sanji’s smell had been snagging Zoro’s attention. There was a color palette just for Zoro – and Zoro alone – to witness.

Suddenly the thought of Zoro seeing color around him whenever they were together was strangely, and embarrassingly, intimate. Which was ridiculous; it would happen to everyone Zoro spoke with, especially that woman. She smelled of flowers. And Sanji could only imagine the wonderful array of colors Zoro saw while speaking to her…

“You’re off the hook for now,” Sanji muttered.

“Shame,” Zoro took another sip, then set the coffee down.

Turning his back on Sanji, Zoro selected a tape of the shelf and flicked it out of its case; the clattering of the plastic filling the silence. Zoro popped the latch open on the cassette player and swapped it. Smacking it shut, only for it to pop open again.

Pressing and holding it shut, Zoro held down the rewind button – silence filled the shop as both men waited patiently – until the reels began turning. Whirring of the cassette player filling the din as Zoro turned back around and picked up his coffee.

With a condescending smirk, Sanji crossed his arms upon the counter. His head tilted. Eyes flicked over the cassettes when he informed, “Did anyone tell you we’re in the twenty-first century now? You don’t have to live like this.”

Zoro flipped Sanji off, “Why are you still here?”

“Just…” Sanji shrugged, “Doing what you asked—and making fun of your questionable life choices.”

Zoro inclined his coffee with a thoughtful moue, “I am friends with you.”

“Excuse you?” Sanji placed a dramatic hand to his chest, “You mean to tell me you don’t enjoy the pleasure of my company?”

“I’m just using you for your coffee,” Zoro’s bantering tone was delightfully flat.

“Ouch,” Sanji pretended to wince.

Sanji knew Zoro didn’t mean it, but it hurt all the same. Perhaps it was just the reminder that this playful banter was really all this would ever be…

Zoro smirked, then took a smug sip of his coffee.

Sanji’s eyes flicked to the old boombox.

Muddy fingerprints speckled the black plastic – a much denser pocket of them located near the control switches and the volume dial – but other parts had still managed to get coated. And it still worked—questionably. As if to prove Sanji’s point the tape suddenly jammed with a horrendous noise which prompted Zoro to reach out and force the latch open.

“A little… faulty, huh?”

A filthy, clay covered hand came up to rub at his nape – swirls of dust puffing up from the motion – while little bits of clay crumbled to the floor. Zoro didn’t seem to notice how often he touched himself while working. It wasn’t just the back of his neck that was covered in dried mud. A myriad of smudges decorated his face – as well as lined his jaw and adorned his neck – not to mention all the mud and dust in his hair.

And Sanji couldn’t help but admit the tape player and the potter were a lot alike…

Occupied with the cassette player – having finally managed to get the tape back in and the rewind function going again – Zoro turned to Sanji with a shrug, “It doesn’t have to be perfect—I like it.”

Sanji looked over the clay covered artisan fondly; his lips twitched—and he caved, “‘Suppose I can’t argue with that.”

And, he supposed, he really didn’t need much more than this…

~X~

Leaning against the counter, Zoro clutched the brand new teapot in his hands while drumming his fingers on it nervously. He’d been at it for several minutes now. Watching through the front window as the evening light steadily waned while waiting for The All Brew to close.

Zoro’s fingers froze as Sanji appeared.

Broom in hand, Sanji reached down to flip the lock, then spun the sign around – the curly cursive reading: Closed – before walking away. Zoro steeled himself and headed out. He locked up the studio before making his way across the street.

As he reached the sidewalk, Zoro’s pace slowed as he caught sight of Sanji once more; the brewer currently traipsing about the cafe in a lazy waltz – pausing here and there to correct a chair – while sweeping.

Sanji was in his own little world.

Extending a hand, Zoro rapped a knuckle politely on the glass to get Sanji’s attention—and froze when those bright eyes turned on him. He gave a coy wave. A dopey smile crooked Zoro’s face as Sanji’s lit up just as well before darting over to unlock the door and throw it open.

“Hey,” Sanji grinned, “I thought you were done burning the midnight oil.”

“I am,” Zoro assured.

Stepping inside quickly so Sanji could let the door close, Zoro waited as Sanji locked it again, then set the broom down to snag another chair. He hoisted it up and flipped it over to set on the table. Finally, after grabbing the broom once more, turned his attention fully onto Zoro.

“If that’s the case, then,” Sanji’s tongue clung to the word, almost as if intending to sing it, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Zoro stared.

A million rehearsed lines—and Zoro forgot every single one of them. His tongue felt fuzzy, his knees felt weak, and his vision was filled with blue. Sanji smelled particularly nice right now. Maybe it was because all the machines, customers, and food were absent.

Always preferring actions to words, Zoro carefully revealed the teapot – cradled gently in both hands – for Sanji to get a proper look at it. He let Sanji stare at it for a while before explaining, but Sanji beat him to it, “Is that a yixing teapot?”

It wasn't a surprise that the tea fanatic knew about, but Zoro was still chuffed…

“Yeah,” Zoro smiled, “It’s…”

Sanji leaned on the broom patiently.

And suddenly, Zoro realized he should've put a bow – or something – on it to indicate it was a gift, because now Zoro had to explain himself. He stared for a moment, before deciding to go blunt, “It’s a gift.”

“Shit,” Sanji gushed in adoration. “That’s a hell of a present.”

Zoro frowned at Sanji's odd reaction.

“You’re here for the dedication tea, right?” Sanji continued, “What’s her favourite?"

Zoro blinked stupidly.

A beat passed as Zoro was beginning to realize Sanji hadn’t understood the implication – and for some reason thought it was for a woman? – so Zoro held it out a bit further and pressed, “It’s for you.”

Sanji’s eyes bugged.

Elbow slipping off the broom handle, Sanji nearly took his eye out on the top before fumbling it a few times and eventually dropping it. He managed to catch it in the crook of his foot though. And attempted to kick it back up into his hands but instead just launched it – skittering – across the floor.

After all the theatrics, they both stood staring at the broom before Sanji rounded on Zoro with a blush; pointing at himself and demanding incredulously, “For me?”

“Yeah,” Zoro frowned, “Who the hell did you think it was for?”

“I…” Sanji pointed towards the door. He looked baffled, “She…”

“What?”

Mouth hanging open, Sanji continued to point towards the door while clearly working through something profound. He frowned, then slowly brought his hand to scratch his cheek. Whatever was confusing him, still had him befuddled, and he reaffirmed, “For me?”

“Did you hit your head?!”

And Zoro began to wonder if he’d made a mistake…

Just as Zoro was debating if he should leave, the insult seemed to knock something loose—and Sanji blinked dumbly, “I thought it was for that lady.”

“What lady?” Zoro frowned. He idly wondered if Sanji meant Nami, but tha—it finally clicked, “Hiyori?!”

“Is that her name?” Sanji gushed, “Stunning.”

“Why would you—” Zoro balked at the ridiculous notion, “No. Our families are close.”

“Ah,” Sanji leaned back with a sigh of understanding, that quickly morphed into a grimace. He coughed awkwardly, then gestured back to the teapot, “Sorry, ruined your moment—go on.”

“‘Go on.’?!” Zoro blurted. “You kidding me?!”

“Well…” Sanji threw his arms up defensively, “What was I supposed to think? You turned me down every time I tried!”

“Turned you—” Zoro felt insane, “When?!”

“I asked you to go for coffee like… three different times!”

A beat passed—and Zoro remembered one of the times, but certainly not the way Sanji was implying. And it didn’t even make any sense anyway because, “Why the hell would we go for coffee someplace else?” Zoro scoffed, “Are you stupid?”

Sanji blinked—and Zoro suddenly realized that might’ve been a step too far.

A laugh bubbled up next – infectious and illuminating – as Sanji began to cackle; and – as embarrassing as the whole miscommunication was – it was a relief. Zoro chuckled softly while watching the colors around Sanji burst like fireworks while he laughed. Eventually tapering back into the smooth swirling blue waters that always lingered around him…

As Sanji’s laughter finally waned, he wiped away a tear, “You are terrible at this.”

“You ain’t exactly great yourself,” Zoro huffed.

They stared at each other as the reality of what just happened settled in, then Sanji finally moved—he stepped close and held out his hands with an expectant look, “Can I see it?”

Zoro’s hands were suddenly sweaty.

Reaching out to carefully transfer it over into Sanji’s hands, Zoro watched as he inspected it as reverently as anything Zoro gave him, but this time there was the faintest tremor in his hands while cradling it.

Even though Sanji hadn’t said anything – or even looked at him – Zoro could feel something shift between them—and knew the gesture had been enough. The feelings Zoro had manifested into something tangible. Something Sanji currently held in his very hands…

“What's this?”

Sanji ran his thumb over swirls of blue Zoro had added to the front.

And Zoro’s tongue felt heavy and awkward in his mouth, “It’s…”

Sanji’s eyes flicked up.

All the blues that Zoro had memorized popped like fizzing soda around Sanji—and Zoro’s gaze flicked down to confirm that he’d managed to replicate it perfectly on the teapot. He had purposefully left most of it unglazed for porosity, but wanted the signature to be reflective of the owner. It was exactly as he remembered, it was exactly what he saw right now, it was—

“It's you.”

Sanji stared, then smiled.

It was soft and special—and Zoro knew it was just for him. The question that had been lingering between them for months was finally answered without either having to say a word. And it felt ridiculous that they’d danced around this obvious conclusion for so long…

“So,” Sanji drew out the word with an excited, but bashful, glance to the side. He hefted the teapot gently so the lid clattered a little, “you wanna have a cup of tea with me? Here. Idiot.”

Zoro rolled his eye, “Well, I would, but it still needs finishing—I figured you should pick the tea… Dumbass.”

“Well, you—” Sanji reacted instinctively – a biting comment at the ready – before something clicked, “Oh!” and his face lit up, “Oh, right!”

Thrusting the teapot back into Zoro’s hands, Sanji darted over to the wall of tea and selected one of the bottom shelves without even having to pause to consider it. Sanji returned with a whole jar in hand. It was one of the first Zoro had made for him—a classic black oolong.

It was a good sturdy jar – and Zoro was still proud of his work – but he could see the tiny imperfections of where he had improved in the past few months. He knew Sanji probably didn’t see them, or if he did, liked them just the same…

“Lead the way,” Sanji waved excitedly.

They left the tea shop and headed across the street to the pottery studio. Zoro led the way while trying not to be nervous while digging his keys out to begin fiddling with the lock. He’d spent plenty of time alone in his studio with Sanji. This would be no different.

It wasn't like this was some sort of precursor to—

“I’ve never actually done this before,” Sanji leaned against the window with a suggestive smirk, “Kinda nervous.”

Zoro dropped the keys.

They both stared down at the keys sprawled pathetically on the sidewalk, then Sanji grinned at Zoro, “Guess you are too.”

“Fuck off,” Zoro grumbled through a blush.

Tucking the teapot safely against his side, Zoro bent down to retrieve them while Sanji snickered beside him. He unlocked the door properly this time, then strode inside. Sanji followed close behind as Zoro headed to the back of the shop.

Zoro set the teapot safely down on the table, then began to quickly grab everything they needed.

Getting a large saucepan off the shelf, Zoro placed it on the stove in the back corner of the shop. It might've seemed out of place in the art studio, but it was strictly for pottery—and sometimes boiling water for tea. He then retrieved the distilled water from the fridge. All the while Sanji stood nearby while watching with rapt attention.

As Zoro began to fill the pan, he could feel Sanji's gaze on him and was relieved he had something to distract himself with, “There needs to be enough water to submerge the teapot.”

“And how much tea?”

Sanji had set the jar down next to the teapot.

“Enough for all the water,” Zoro set the jug down, then gestured to the pot, “You’re probably better at guessing than me.”

Sanji shot him a cocky smirk.

And Zoro rolled his eye.

Following Zoro’s instructions, Sanji placed a decent amount of tealeaves into the teapot, then brought it over to the stove. He carefully lowered it into the wide pan. Allowing the cool water to pour down the spout and gently fill it, before submerging it – lid and all – beneath the surface.

Sanji stepped back as Zoro turned the dial up.

“Gotta bring it to a low boil,” Zoro remained pinned on his work, like always, but it was mainly just a saving grace. The first few bubbles formed on the bottom of the pan—and Sanji glanced back at Zoro.

Zoro slowly glanced over, until they were just staring at each other.

This close, it was impossible to not allow his gaze to drift a bit at the bubbling blues that floated around Sanji. The stunning blues and dazzling azures. It should’ve been distracting, but instead it was calming—and Zoro felt his nervousness fade to almost oblivion.

“And then?”

Zoro stared for a bit, then glanced back at the pot, “Let simmer.”

“Hm,” Sanji intoned.

It didn’t take long for the bubbles to begin to form and spiral to the surface—and just as the water was beginning to agitate the teapot, Zoro reached out and twisted the knob to bring the temperature down. He grabbed the plastic egg nearby and twisted it twice around to set it for thirty minutes, then set it aside on the table.

“And now we wait,” Zoro muttered.

Sanji’s gaze flicked to the egg, “For how long?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Hm,” Sanji hummed with an affable nod, then grinned. He braced a hand on the edge of the stove and leaned in with a devious smirk. Far closer than they ever typically were, “What should we do to pass the time?”

Zoro’s face remained passive – mainly out of shock – but internally he felt his heart drop into his feet and then up into his ears. Hammering there while Sanji grinned, then turned and walked off.

~X~

Leaving a flustered Zoro by the stove, Sanji took the opportunity to wander the back half of the shop that he rarely stepped foot into. He still couldn’t believe he was here—and that Zoro had beaten him to the punch. A minor annoyance in the grand scheme of things, as even if he lost to Zoro, Sanji still felt like he'd won…

Walking over to Zoro’s work bench on the far wall – where Zoro did much of his sculpting, carving, and painting – Sanji’s gaze wandered about before stopping on the familiar little journal that had been on his nightstand. It was propped open against the wall, and was clearly filled with notes on all his designs and concepts, but the page it was open to was the teapot.

He hadn’t just been working on it for a few days, but months. The pages were worn and tattered. Different pens had been used to scribble notes here and there—and just like everything else, dusty, clay fingerprints had stained the pages.

Sanji’s face softened with a smile.

Glancing over his shoulder, Sanji found Zoro watching him with a carefully blank expression, but Sanji could’ve sworn the man’s breathing hitched. Sanji refrained from smirking, and turned away to give Zoro time to recover.

It was exhilarating – being on the cusp of something certain – so Sanji was willing to take his time, especially with how tense the potter was. Zoro had been so focused on the task to keep himself distracted—and Sanji bit his lip at how unintentionally endearing it was.

Wandering over to the pottery wheel nearby, Sanji got an idea—and mused aloud, “All the times I’ve been over here. And I’ve never actually done this before.”

“You want me to show you?”

Glancing over his shoulder with a smirk, Sanji teased, “You gonna Swayze me?”

Zoro just stared, perplexed, “What?”

“Nevermind,” Sanji chuckled. “Show me.”

Plopping down onto the stool that Zoro usually sat on, Sanji started rolling up his sleeves while staring at Zoro expectantly. The potter stared, then moved. He grabbed an apron off the wall – which he handed to Sanji to put on – then headed over to the fridge that had the water and pulled out a pre-prepared ball of clay.

Zoro walked back over with purposeful determination.

And Sanji failed to hide a smile.

Sitting down across from Sanji, Zoro unwrapped the ball of clay, then held it out for Sanji to take. Sanji passed it back and forth between his hands. It was a little tacky and damp, but he quickly got used to the feeling as a thin grey silt started to cover his palms.

While Sanji continued to toss the clay back and forth between his hands, Zoro started setting everything up; turning on the wheel, sliding the pedal towards Sanji, then grabbing a sponge. He dunked it in a nearby bucket and wet the wheel, then tossed the brush back into the bin. Finally, gesturing to the wheel, Zoro ordered, “Throw it down.”

“Literally?”

Zoro nodded.

With a shrug, Sanji wound up – and putting a little bit of his anger issues into it – flicked it down on the wheel so it landed with a wet smack. The ball flared out into an amorphous pile. And Sanji was left with the distinct impression he overdid it.

“How’s that?”

“Perfect,” Zoro grinned.

Sanji could tell Zoro was lying.

“Start it up,” Zoro pointed at the pedal, then to the bucket of water, “Add some water, then slowly work it back into the center.”

Sanji followed the instructions dutifully.

It was a little disconcerting at first, but as the wheel turned, Sanji slowly guided most of the clay back towards the center until it was in a fairly even pile, but still firmly stuck to the wheel. He leaned back—and his hair fell into his face. And as he tried to swipe it away with the back of his hand, immediately understood why Zoro was always permanently covered in clay.

A few more attempts to blow the hair to no avail before Zoro reached out and tucked the strand out of the way. The action short and simple, but Sanji could feel where Zoro’s fingers had touched his ear. Shell burning not just from the contact, but the blush that was swiftly rising on the back of his neck and ears.

Sanji was pretty sure his jaw hit the floor, but Zoro wasn’t even paying attention. His attention was back on the wheel – and the clay – like he hadn’t even registered what he’d done.

“Now you gotta cone it,” Zoro instructed while nudging the bucket of water closer, “Wet it, then shape it up.”

Properly stunned, Sanji just did as he was told while trying not to let his hands shake; somehow the man that Sanji had been trying to romance for months was outdoing him in a single day. He didn’t know whether to be thrilled or infuriated. Eventually, settling on something in-between as he was committed to returning the favor…

Somehow.

Sanji wet his hands, then focused on shaping.

After a little bit of struggle, Sanji finally managed to get the clay into a decently shaped cone–-and the distraction had been enough to allow himself to calm down. He glanced back up at Zoro. And the potter was still completely at ease, “Now what?”

“Gotta cycle it a few times to make sure it’s centered. Hand at the base to anchor it,” Zoro instructed. “then press down on the top.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sanji chuckled. “I’ve done this plenty.”

Zoro blushed—and Sanji grinned.

Snickering, Sanji kept his head down while repeating the motion a few times until it was back to relatively where he’d started a few minutes ago. The clay was a lot more evenly shaped and wet though. And Sanji could tell the action served a purpose.

“Now you can shape it,” Zoro muttered. “Thumbs first.”

“I’ve seen you do this a few times,” Sanji nodded.

Despite the casual tone, Sanji remembered every time, but especially the first; when he’d walked up to the shop and was uncertain if it was even open due to the old sign. He’d peered through the window before testing the door. And had frozen in place at the sight of the man in this very spot, in front of his wheel, with his hands poised in a jar.

In that peaceful trance that Sanji had come to learn was typical when he got into while lost in his work; hand sliding up with a dexterous flair of his fingers, coaxing the clay along with a careful press of his thumb. It was rare that Sanji got to see it as the bell on the door was apt to break Zoro’s concentration, but sometimes Sanji was still lucky enough to catch him working through the window…

Slowly easing both thumbs into the clay, and miraculously, Sanji watched it give way relatively easily to the motion. He could feel the spinning of the wheel naturally wanting to flatten the clay, but kept it in place with his hands. And after a few minutes began to get the hang of it.

“This is ain’t so hard,” Sanji chuckled.

Zoro scoffed softly.

“Really relaxing though…” Sanji murmured, “I can see why you like it.”

“Yeah, I…” Zoro slowly twisted a hand over the other. An anxious sort of energy to the motion as he began unconsciously cracking the knuckles while murmuring, “I started doing it to help with the tremors—found out I had a knack for it.”

It was rare that Zoro ever brought that stuff up – and rarer still to be so vulnerable about it – but Sanji had figured out a while ago that Zoro appreciated Sanji never made a big deal out of it. He kept his eyes down while asking, “You still get ‘em?”

“Sometimes,” Zoro muttered.

Slowly letting go of the bowl, the wheel spun to elegantly display the modest bowl Sanji had managed to execute. It looked pretty good, but then all of a sudden the edges gave out. And the whole thing fell flat as a plate.

Sanji stared for a moment in horror, then let his head flop back with a whine, “What’d I do wrong?”

“Thought you said it was easy?” Zoro chuckled.

“You sabotaged me.”

“Sure.”

Zoro held out the rag.

“Thanks.”

Scrubbing his hands, Sanji glanced down at his hands, then his clothes. Even with the apron, he’d still managed to get some water and clay on the cuffs of his shirt and on the insides of his knees, “No wonder you’re always a mess.”

Zoro scoffed, then reached out to begin scraping the clay off the wheel

“And I admit—harder than it looks. I have new found respect for you,” He tossed the rag aside, then held up his hands in defeat, “I can’t even imagine how you made a teapot.”

“I can teach you,” Zoro muttered. He gave a wry grin, “then you won’t need me.”

As typical and teasing as it was, Sanji’s stomach dropped at the thought; he hadn’t really thought about it, but couldn’t picture a scenario where Zoro wasn’t in it. The jars were lovely and unique, but they weren’t why Sanji kept coming back. Perhaps he hadn’t been clear enough…

Sanji moved.

Hands grabbing Zoro’s – clay squished between them (he hadn’t quite thought it through) – Sanji felt Zoro twitch, but didn’t pull away. The potter just stared at him—a little surprised, but mostly curious. And Sanji blurted, “I need those jars because they’re made by you.”

Zoro didn’t react, but a blush slowly crept up his neck.

And Sanji leaned in slowly – plenty of time for Zoro to pull away – but the potter just watched and waited until Sanji’s lips were slotted over his.

It was a sweet and easy kiss, exactly as Sanji had always imagined, until Zoro leaned into it—and then it was better. Zoro kissed like he did everything; slow, methodical, and passionate. Those sharp, smooth lips cutting a devastating line against his own as Zoro slanted his mouth with an appreciative hum.

And that was it…

Sanji reached up to cradle Zoro’s face.

A large, strong hand fell to Sanji’s knee as Zoro attempted to steady himself, causing Sanji’s heart to jump into his throat at the grip. His hand bracing on Sanji’s knee as he leaned across the wheel to deepen the kiss. A sense of urgency beginning to replace the sweet, tender relief as Sanji’s hands tightened to haul Zoro closer until—

The timer screamed.

Plastic egg bouncing across the table while trilling loudly, the ruckus was enough to bring them both back to reality and they let go. Sanji hoped he didn’t look as frazzled as he felt, but if there was any consolation it was that Zoro looked just as disorientated. His face was ruddy, his lips were slack, and his cheeks had matching muddy prints from where Sanji had grabbed his face. It was a delightful combination of adorable and hot…

“The, uh…” Zoro pointed with a croak.

Coughing through his blush, Zoro pushed himself up and moved to the table. He twisted the egg until it stopped making noise, then stood – frazzled – for a minute while trying to remember why they’d even set it in the first place. A beat passed, then Zoro made a noise, walked over to the stove, and turned it off.

Zoro stood frozen with a bright red blush creeping up the back of his neck.

Sanji snagged the previously discarded rag.

Wiping off his hands and pushing to his feet, Sanji approached while Zoro rounded on him with a watchful eye. He was a bit more composed, but still seemed in shock. Watching – almost hypnotized – as Sanji walked over, until they were inches apart.

Zoro’s eye flicked down to his lips, then back—and Sanji grinned.

Reaching out, Sanji hooked Zoro’s chin with a tender hand – Zoro’s expectant look devastatingly gorgeous – then attacked him with the rag a second later. Zoro sputtered and grimaced, but let him. Relaxing almost too quickly to allow Sanji to scrub off as much of the mud as he could before relenting.

“Thanks,” Zoro grumbled drily.

“You’re welcome,” Sanji smirked.

Tossing the rag aside on the table, Sanji glanced around Zoro at the pot, then at Zoro—and asked the obvious question to what had just happened, “Now what?”

“Now…” Zoro trailed off at the massive implication; the answer was obvious. They stared at each other for a long, quiet moment before Zoro gestured to the teapot absently, “we leave it.”

A playful smile twitched Sanji’s lips—and he leaned in, “For how long?”

“Until cool,” Zoro murmured. Words gushed against Sanji’s lips, “Overnight is best.”

Reaching out a hand to gently hook the potter’s nape – he could feel the dried clay there that he’d missed – Sanji paused to watch Zoro’s gaze dart around to look at the invisible colors. before inevitably meeting his eyes. And Sanji closed the distance with a grin, “I’m sure we can find a way to pass the time…”

~THE END~

~Epilogue~

A soft trilling of Sanji’s alarm had Zoro waking with a grumble. He kept his eye firmly shut while feeling the man stir in his arms and roll over to shut it off. They continued to lay in the comfortable silence over morning, before Sanji made a decisive grunt, then sat up.

Slipping from Zoro’s embrace, both arm and blanket fell to pool in Sanji’s lap, while the man rubbed tiredly at his face before throwing his legs out of bed. Zoro's arm tightened—and he grunted softly.

Sanji leaned back to press a kiss to Zoro’s lax lips.

Zoro hummed happily at sparks of blue behind his eyes; the taste and color lingering as Sanji pulled away.

“See ya later, Moss,” Sanji murmured.

Zoro grumbled a sleepy rebuttal, “Mhm, Curls.”

As Sanji got dressed and left, Zoro fell back asleep until gray light began filtering in through the window and he woke properly. He rolled over to the spot where Sanji had been – long since cold – and buried his face in the pillow. Basking in the faint scent of tea and sugar that Sanji left behind every morning since the first…

After several minutes drowning in the bubbly blues, Zoro finally pushed himself out of bed and got ready for the day. He puttered through his morning routine as the sky got steadily brighter, then headed down to the studio early.

Popping a tape into the cassette player, Zoro pressed play, then began to go through his routine as the comforting music filled the din. He checked his drying racks, the kiln, and the humidity charts. Then did some cleaning before getting ready to start on his next pieces.

Nothing had changed, not really, except perhaps his mornings when Sanji would leave early to get started on the pastries—and Zoro would be left in a bed that still lingered of blue.

While the rest of the city woke up, Zoro got to work on a few projects; he had just finished the lipping on a tea cup when he glanced up to see Sanji making his way across the street with a coffee in hand. The morning rush had ended. And Sanji had found his moment to break away for their daily ritual.

Zoro grinned.

Already reaching for a cloth to clean his hands, Zoro watched as Sanji neared the door, then paused as something off to the side caught his attention. He froze mid-step. A horrified – and mildly comical – expression wrought on his face while darting down the sidewalk.

Zoro pushed to his feet.

After finishing wiping off his hands, Zoro tossed the rag aside, then headed outside. He found Sanji standing in front of the book store. One hand planted on the window to support himself while the other held Zoro’s coffee at a precarious angle, Sanji’s mouth hung open while staring into the window display.

Zoro snagged the mug, then stepped in to see what had caught Sanji’s attention—and a laugh bubbled out before he could stop it.

A large display took up the entirety of the window for a new book that had a suspiciously themed title about tea and pottery. The area around the book was littered with aesthetically placed teapots and tealeaves. Another book sat next to it with the back cover facing out with a paragraph about the author—and a photograph.

It was a man with thick, curly hair tied back into a bun; his arms were crossed and he had an award-winning smile. He wore a tweed flat cap and distinct round glasses. And Zoro instantly recognized him as the man that was perpetually seated at a table in Sanji’s tea shop and always typing away on his laptop whenever Zoro was there.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Sanji gritted.

Zoro just chuckled—and took a sip of his coffee.