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“Hey, Usopp.”
“Hm?” Usopp asked, still staring out at the ocean as he fished.
“Who do you think Nami likes better, me or Zoro?”
Usopp flinched at the question, “W-why do you ask, Sanji?”
Sanji frowned as he leaned against the railing, watching the ripples around the Sunny as they sailed toward a winter island.
“So today I brought some mulled wine to the goddesses to help them keep warm in this weather. I come back thirty minutes later to deliver some hot turnovers in case they were hungry. And Nami had shared some of her wine with Zoro.”
“I’m sure Nami charged him for it, don’t worry,” Usopp said, “Of course she likes you better. You’re a gentleman and you’re clean and you give her things and stuff.”
“I dunno, Usopp,” Sanji sighed, “They were joking around and everything. Nami had the most beautiful smile on her face, even the marimo was laughing.”
“Nami usually just yells at Zoro, I wouldn’t think too much about it, they were probably just a little tipsy from your excellent mulled wine. Which by the way, can I have some? I’m a little chilly myself.”
“Thanks Usopp, you’re right,” Sanji said, confidence renewed, “I’ll see you around.”
---
Sanji hummed to himself as he finished decorating cups of eggnog with patterns made out of ground cinnamon for his queens. On the last island they’d visited, Robin had said a strange slug creature was cute, so Sanji painstakingly cut out a stencil to dust the slug/pineapple hybrid onto Robin’s drink. Satisfied, he whirled out of the kitchen to find his ladies.
As he neared the library, he heard Nami’s sweet voice and sighed happily to himself. Then he heard it, the dull, grating bark of a laugh from the idiot swordsman. He nearly dropped the drinks in his hand. Looking around to make sure no one was around to see him, he quickly ran to the door and put his ear against it, straining to overhear what nonsense the mosshead was speaking to his idol.
“You’re fucking crazy, witch,” Zoro said. Sanji was just about to break the door down to defend his good witch’s honor when he heard Nami’s reply.
“I try my best. Blackmailed him for 10,000 in the end, then haggled down the merchant selling knock-off Doskoi t-shirts on the pier, which I look fucking cute in by the way. What do you think?” Sanji almost broke down the door a second time just to be able to see Nami posing in her new t-shirt.
“It’s okay. I’ve seen better.”
“Fuck you, no you haven’t,” Nami laughed. The door survived a third time when Sanji melted to the floor hearing his beloved’s laugh, cutting off his rage at Zoro’s lack of appreciation.
“Maybe I’ll lend this shirt to Sanji, it’d probably fit him,” Nami mused. Sanji’s ears perked up. Borrow his darling’s shirt? He couldn’t, oh but he could, no but he couldn’t.
“Hi Sanji,” Chopper chirped, walking past him.
Sanji quickly put his hand on the door of the library as he tried to pretend he hadn’t been standing creepily outside. “Just here delivering some drinks to Nami,” he said loudly. He whipped the door open to see Nami and Zoro sitting side-by-fucking-side on the couch. Zoro had an arm draped over the back of the couch behind Nami, and Sanji resisted the urge the take one of Zoro’s stupid swords and stab his hand.
He turned to Nami and felt his eyes bungee out of his head at the way her t-shirt flattered her thin waist and showed off— No no no, he shook his head, be a gentleman, no looking. He quickly spun forward and placed a cup of eggnog on the coffee table in front of her, throwing one baleful glare Zoro’s way before smiling at his precious navigator.
“For you, my love,” he said, waiting eagerly for her approval as she took a sip.
“It’s delicious, Sanji, you’ve outdone yourself again,” she smiled. Sanji wiggled a bit at the praise, but couldn’t help but notice her smile wasn’t nearly as wide as the one she had on when he first entered the room.
“Where’s mine, cook?” Zoro grunted. Sanji was about to tell him to fuck off when an idea came unbidden to his head. If Nami somehow liked Zoro, then maybe he could earn some points in her book by being nicer to the idiot marimo. He placed the cup meant for Robin (apologizing to her a million times in his head) in front of the undeserving bastard.
Zoro stared at it, his face contorting into something foreign to Sanji.
“What is that?” he asked finally, pointing to the pattern Sanji had made for his beautiful Robin.
“It’s a pineapple slug.”
“Why did you put a pineapple slug on my drink?”
“Because it’s cute.” Sanji hoped this would somehow get back to Robin so she knew he shared her tastes. Zoro stared at it a moment longer before drinking half of it in one gulp like the uncultured heathen he was.
“That’s very kind of you, Sanji,” Nami crooned. Sanji wriggled a bit more. His plan was working.
“What do you say to Sanji, Zoro?” Nami asked.
“Thanks,” Zoro muttered, looking up at him briefly with an eggnog mustache on his face before licking it off.
Sanji blinked. That was pretty cute. He shook his head, no no no, that kind of thinking should be limited to his sweethearts.
“You’re welcome, mosshead,” he sniffed. “You look gorgeous in that Doskoi Panda shirt, by the way, Nami love.” Ha, he was better at complimenting Nami than Zoro was.
“Thanks Sanji,” Nami said, touching the fabric, “I was just telling Zoro though that I think it would look good on you. I bought a bunch today.”
“Oh I couldn’t,” Sanji protested, as Nami picked up her shopping bag and pulled out a soft-looking t-shirt.
“Try it on,” she insisted, standing up and holding the t-shirt in front of him, “This one is probably too big for me.”
“Alright,” Sanji relented, taking the t-shirt, “I’ll be right back.”
“You can just try it on here, Sanji, we’re all crewmates, I don’t mind, it’s just a shirt,” Nami said, a strange glint in her eyes.
Sanji looked helplessly at her until she sighed, “Fine, I’ll avert my eyes, I promise I won’t look.” She brought her knees to her chest and buried her head in her arms in a very adorable way.
The marimo was still staring at him, but he was just a man so Sanji didn’t bother asking him to look away as he busied himself taking his suit jacket and tie off. Zoro took another sip from his eggnog and then began coughing violently after Sanji quickly shed his shirt. Sanji frowned at him, “Don’t you know how to drink properly, you idiot?”
“Too much foam,” Zoro choked, his face red. Sanji heard Nami giggling and felt all was right in the world. He pulled Nami’s exquisite shirt on and adjusted it before saying, “Okay my sweet, you can look now.” Nami looked up and smiled brightly, “Oh it’s perfect on you.” She got up and combed her beautiful fingers through his hair, which must have gotten slightly mussed from his changing. She linked her arm in his (he could die happy now) and turned to Zoro.
“How does Sanji look?”
Zoro, still red from his coughing fit, said simply, “Looks good.” Sanji’s heart flipped at the words. Must be because Nami had only gotten an “okay,” how could the marimo be so fucking blind?!
“I agree,” Nami smiled, “It’s yours, Sanji. You should wear it the rest of the day.”
“It’s a little short on me, my love,” Sanji frowned, lifting his arms and noting how much the shirt rode up, exposing his stomach. Zoro had another choking attack; the dumbass really didn’t know how to drink anything but whiskey.
“I like it, Sanji, it’s sexy,” Nami said with a finality that Sanji loved on her. She whirled out of the library with her eggnog, leaving Sanji standing shocked from hearing the word “sexy” leave his dearest's mouth. Zoro was still sitting on the couch, looking slightly awkward.
“Maybe I should wear t-shirts from now on,” Sanji said aloud.
“Dumbass,” Zoro replied. Sanji kicked the now-empty cup toward Zoro’s face and stormed out of the room.
---
From then on, whenever Sanji made a special treat for his princesses, he made an extra one for Zoro too, waiting for moments where Zoro was with Nami (which now that he thought about it, was pretty often) to give treats to them both. Nami always smiled extra wide when Sanji gave something to Zoro, eyeing the two of them with fondness.
One afternoon, he couldn’t find his empress anywhere, but stumbled across the mosshead photosynthesizing near the back of the ship.
“Oi,” he said, kicking Zoro’s legs, “Have you seen Nami anywhere?”
“Nope,” Zoro grunted, opening one eye to look lazily at Sanji. His eye moved toward the three bowls of red bean soup Sanji had with him. Sanji sighed. It would be pretty rude to not give one to Zoro just because he wasn’t with Nami at that moment. He hoped Nami would find out later. He sat down by the swordsman and handed a bowl to him, who muttered his thanks and dove in with relish.
Sanji pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing a stream of smoke into the air as he thought about the line of questioning he had been curious about for a while.
“Are… are you and Nami close?” he asked finally.
Zoro looked up from his bowl, eyebrow raised, “What?”
“You and Nami,” Sanji said, waving his hands around helplessly in the air, “Seems like you two are friends.”
“Aren’t we all friends, idiot cook?” Zoro asked, going back to his bowl.
“The two of us aren’t… friends?” Sanji said hesitantly. Were they? They were rivals certainly. Would he call Zoro a friend?
Zoro said nothing, continuing to eat. Sanji must have been imagining it, but he thought he detected a hurt look on Zoro’s face.
He sighed, “I guess we are friends, marimo. Otherwise why would I be making all this stuff for you?”
“Because you’re trying to impress Nami?” Zoro said. When he wanted to be, the swordsman was oddly insightful.
“Doesn’t seem to be working,” Sanji admitted, “She still likes you more than me.”
Zoro snorted, “The witch doesn’t like anything but money.”
“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s perfect in every possible way,” Sanji snarled, standing up and glaring at him.
“Have you considered not being such a dumbass about Nami? Then maybe she’d like you more,” Zoro bit back. Sanji kicked toward him and Zoro narrowly dodged so Sanji’s foot went slamming into the Sunny instead, splintering the wood by Zoro’s head. Gritting his teeth, Sanji left the swordsman. No fucking way were they friends. Zoro could go ahead and jump off the ship for all he cared.
---
“Nami and Zoro?” Franky asked, lifting up his welding mask and pausing his task to consider Sanji’s question, “Aren’t they dating?”
Sanji froze, feeling all sanity slowly drift out of his body through his open mouth.
“They’re always together, laughing and giggling about something,” Franky continued, “Zoro bro always has a big ol’ smile on his face and Nami sis looks like she’s got a little secret going on with him all the time. They seem like they would be good together, never seen anybody drink quite as much as those two.”
Sanji couldn’t move, couldn’t think, just stared at the small metal statue of Robin that Franky was making. Everybody had someone. Both his goddesses were taken, one by a man who couldn’t find his pants and the other by the world’s greatest idiot. How could this be? What had Sanji done wrong? Would he ever find love?
“You okay, Sanji bro?” Franky asked, a little concerned, “You look a little pale.”
“Fine, fine,” Sanji said weakly, turning around to exit Franky’s workshop, “I’ll just be in the kitchen if anybody wants me. Not that anybody does.”
---
Two bottles of wine in, Sanji was feeling infinitely sadder than when he started. Wasn’t alcohol supposed to make him feel better? He laid on his back on the dining room table, staring up at the whirls and pockmarks on the ceiling of his kitchen. He heard the door open and looked up blearily toward it. Zoro was standing there, looking shocked at Sanji.
“Oh it’s just you,” Sanji said, plunking his head back down.
“What’s going on, curly?”
“Oh, I dunno, just pondering the lonely, singular existence, the neverending absence of meaning and devotion on this tiny globe spinning exponentially more rapidly toward the end of all things good and beautiful.”
Zoro’s concerned face swam into view as he stood above Sanji, placing a cool hand on his forehead.
“You’re burning up, cook.”
“As I should be. I am stuck in a purgatory of want with no end to my fear of dying alone.”
“Eyebrows, you’re being melodramatic.”
“I always am,” Sanji croaked out, “That’s why everybody hates me. Don’t be so passionate, Sanji, don’t be so fervent in your desires, Sanji, don’t be such a dumbass, Sanji.”
“I didn’t mean that, curly,” Zoro sighed, “I don’t think you’re a dumbass.”
Sanji rolled over and curled into a tiny ball, feeling his stomach turn over a few times and wondering how quickly he could get to a bucket to avoid throwing up on his precious kitchen counters.
“Well I think you’re a dumbass. How did someone like you get someone like Nami?” he moaned.
There was a silence, followed by, “What the fuck are you talking about, shitty cook?”
Sanji turned his head (whoa dizzy) to glare at him, “You and Nami are dating, aren’t you? Keeping it a secret from all of us, all giggly with each other, tiptoeing around probably kissing in broom closets and sneaking touches under the dining room table.”
Zoro stared incredulously at him, “Okay, um, I take it all back, I do think you’re a dumbass.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sanji wailed and curled up tighter. Uh oh. He practically fell off the table as he dug through his cabinets, thankfully finding a bucket and emptying out all the contents of his stomach moments later. He heard quick footsteps and Zoro was crouching next to him, gently rubbing circles on his back as Sanji gagged over the bucket until he had nothing left to give it.
Zoro stood up and filled a glass of water, holding it to Sanji’s lips as he drank shakily. He had fallen onto his butt and Zoro was supporting him from behind, a warm strong arm at Sanji’s back. Under normal circumstances, Sanji would have quickly pushed him away. But it felt nice right now. Sanji relaxed into Zoro as he felt marginally better having gotten rid of most of the offending liquid in his stomach. Still drunk. But less nauseous.
He heard a sigh as Zoro adjusted himself so Sanji was practically sitting in between his legs.
“How much did you drink, cook?”
“Two bottles,” Sanji hiccuped.
“You know you don’t have the tolerance for that, curly.”
“You and Nami do, that’s why you’re perfect for each other,” Sanji said sullenly.
“You’re still on about that?” Zoro chuckled, and Sanji felt the reverberations at the low sound. “Nami is the last person in the world I would date. She’s just a friend.”
“Oh,” Sanji said, feeling slightly better, “Then why do you spend so much time together?”
Zoro sighed, “She found out a secret and spent a few weeks making fun of me and then we became friends and she’s the only one I can talk to about it.”
“You can talk to me,” Sanji said quietly.
“Trust me, I can’t.”
“Why?” Sanji asked, turning around to glance at him.
Zoro was looking at him with an intensity Sanji thought was reserved only for his dream to become the world’s greatest swordsman and occasionally for a really excellent bottle of bourbon.
“Because it has to do with you,” he said finally. He slowly got to his feet and picked Sanji up bridal-style. Sanji was too shocked to protest.
“Let’s get you to a bed, curly,” Zoro said, walking out of the kitchen, “Sleep it off, I’ll leave some water and have Chopper give you some medicine.”
“My bucket,” Sanji said miserably.
“I’ll clean it up and leave it next to you in case you have anything more to throw up.”
“You’re a nice marimo,” Sanji muttered, as he felt himself being gently placed into his bunk. Zoro helped him remove his shoes and suit jacket (Sanji was wearing a soft t-shirt underneath as per Nami’s preference). He felt Zoro pat him on the shoulder. Moments later, Sanji was asleep.
---
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Sanji muttered as he slowly woke up. His head felt like it was the size of Reverse Mountain. He groped around beside him until he found a glass of water and drank the whole thing before lying back down. What the fuck happened? He tried to gather his memories as they ran away. Wine. Lots of wine. Loneliness. A bucket. And… Zoro? He groaned. The door to the men’s quarters slowly opened and Robin peeked her head in.
“Hello, lovely,” Sanji croaked.
“Zoro mentioned you were under the weather,” Robin said calmly, her quiet voice soothing his headache. She walked in with two bowls on a tray that smelled heavenly.
“Just a momentary thing,” Sanji tried to smile, “What time is it, Robin?”
“8 PM.”
Sanji groaned, “Dinner, what did you eat for dinner? I’m so sorry, my beloved.”
“Zoro made some rice and soup. It was good,” Robin smiled, pointing to the two bowls she placed next to him, “He found one of your cookbooks and made the simplest thing in it.”
“The marimo made dinner?” Sanji asked incredulously, peering at the two bowls that looked surprisingly normal.
“And he cleaned up the kitchen afterwards,” Robin smiled.
“Why did he do that?” Sanji sighed, “Should have just woken me up, I would have been fine.”
“Because he cares about you.”
Sanji stared at her, “He doesn’t care anything about me.”
“I think he cares about you the most,” Robin giggled.
“He cares about Nami the most,” Sanji muttered.
“They’re bickering siblings at best,” Robin said, “Whenever we’re together, those two just talk about you.”
Sanji bit back his annoyance that Zoro spent time with both his queens together to contemplate this.
“What… do they say about me?” Sanji asked.
“Not my place to say, you should ask them instead,” Robin smiled, getting up, “Do you need anything else, Sanji?”
“No, my love, thank you,” Sanji said, slowly sitting up and putting the tray on his lap. Robin nodded and left the room, gently closing the door behind her.
Sanji took a tentative sip of the soup. His eyes widened. It wasn’t bad, slightly saltier than he would have made it himself, but it tasted like all the proper things had been added (he saw a bayleaf floating around and would need to tell the marimo that those needed to be removed) and the right procedure had been followed (the marimo had definitely not sautéed the onions long enough but he still got a pass). He finished the soup and rice, putting the bowls to the side as he contemplated the crew’s first mate.
Zoro was the one who had taken care of him earlier. He remembered the warmth carrying him to bed, the gentle firmness of the swordsman’s hand on his back as he puked his guts out. Sanji flushed. Not his best moment. Zoro probably thought he was an idiot. He couldn’t remember if he had said anything embarrassing, so he would just play it off when he went to thank the mosshead later. He sighed and closed his eyes, the warm food in his belly forcing sleep back onto him.
---
When Sanji woke again, Luffy and Franky’s snores filled the cabin around him. He tottered to his feet and went in search of more water. As he padded back from the kitchen, sipping his water, he saw a lamp on in the crow’s nest. He made his way to the ladder and called up quietly.
“Marimo.” No response.
“Oi, mosshead.” Still nothing.
“Zoro,” he said louder this time. And Zoro peeked his head into the opening to stare down at him.
“Curly,” he grunted.
“Are you on watch?”
“Nami is, she’s at the helm.”
“Cool.” Sanji hesitated, then said, “Thanks, mosshead, for… taking care of me and cooking dinner and stuff.”
Zoro came down, sliding down the ladder to land inches away from Sanji. Sanji took a few steps back, suddenly nervous.
“You’re welcome,” Zoro said, a small smile on his face.
“You did a… um… a good job with dinner,” Sanji continued.
“Thanks, I followed your recipe,” Zoro shrugged.
“Great, anyways, you can carry on with… whatever it is you do up there,” Sanji said, turning around to flee this uncomfortable conversation.
"You’re not going to die alone, curly,” Zoro said. Sanji paused.
“Who said I was going to die alone?”
“You said it, yesterday, when you were drunk out of your mind lying on the kitchen table spewing your existential dread and then the contents of your stomach,” Zoro said smugly. Sanji blushed. Fuck, he was usually pretty talkative when he was drunk. What else had he said?!
“Well, thanks for the encouragement, mosshead, but I probably am going to die alone,” Sanji said, preparing to run. Zoro grabbed onto his arm and Sanji glared at it.
“I’ll be there,” Zoro said simply, “You’re not going to die alone cause I’ll be there.”
Sanji stopped staring at Zoro’s arm to stare at Zoro’s face.
“Hwa?” was all he managed to get out.
Zoro let go of his arm, now also blushing, “So anyways, stop worrying about stupid stuff. Nami was worried about you earlier, you should let her know you’re okay.”
For once in his life, Sanji did not feel a rush of joy at the idea that Nami was even thinking about him.
“What do you mean, you’re going to be there when I die?” he asked faintly, “Like we’re going to die in battle and we’ll be together then? Cause I don’t plan on dying in battle, at least not until after I find All Blue and then I have to start my restaurant and cook every type of fish in all the seas—” He was babbling now, Zoro cut him off.
“I’ll be there too, when you start your restaurant in the All Blue. If I haven’t become the world’s greatest swordsman yet I’ll go and do that first, but then I’ll be there.
“Doesn't this sound strangely stalker-ish?” Sanji asked.
Zoro shrugged, “Maybe.”
“You’re not going to stick with your captain or your best friend forever Nami?” Sanji asked.
“Nope, gonna stick with you.”
“What if I don’t want you there?”
“I’ll maintain a little more distance.”
“Why?” Sanji choked out.
“Because I care about you the most,” Zoro said simply, reminding Sanji of what Robin had said.
“Is this what you and Nami talk about?” Sanji asked quietly.
“Yup, she mostly just teases me about you.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“So you’re not sad and lonely anymore. So you have some hope.” Zoro’s eyes were pools of grey, solid fog on water.
“I need… a second to process this,” Sanji said, stumbling backwards.
“Sure,” Zoro said, “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.” He cocked his head, “Well not exactly right here, I’ll probably be in the crow’s nest.” With that, he was clambering back up the ladder and disappeared from sight.
Walking slowly, Sanji made his way to the helm and sat on the ground next to Nami in a daze.
“Did Zoro tell you then?” Nami asked, one hand gently on the wheel as she stared out at the ocean.
“Yup,” Sanji replied in a voice that was not quite all there.
“Maybe he’ll stop moaning about you to me now. Sanji’s so strong, Sanji’s so kind, Sanji’s so beautiful. Was driving me crazy.”
“He… says that?”
“Constantly. And then as soon as you show up, he puts on his grumpy face and pretends like he hates you. Ugh, men.”
“What am I supposed to do now, Nami?” he asked hopelessly, putting his head on his knees.
“Whatever you want. Nothing’s going to change Zoro. He’s like a stupid puppy. You could punch him and kick him away and he’ll still follow you like an idiot."
“I don’t like men.”
Nami guffawed, “Sure Sanji. Watching Zoro when you strip in front of him is amusing, but watching your eyes follow him around when he’s working out is downright hilarious.”
“Nami,” Sanji protested, trying to recall if that was the case.
“You two will figure it out,” Nami said, “Whether you remain rivals for the rest of your lives, platonic friends, or lovers that have amazing sex, I would pay to see that, you’re not getting rid of him. So might as well get used to it and take advantage of that dumb dumb’s stamina.”
As much as Sanji wanted to push back against the lovers and stamina bit, he felt something shift inside him at Nami’s words. I’ll be there, Zoro had said. Sanji thought back to the dark cell and the bright rock and the constant hammering in his mind of alone alone alone alone alone.
“I’m going to make some lattes,” Sanji said finally, the sky began to lighten as dawn approached, “Do you want some, my dear?”
Nami nodded, “Make some for Zoro too.”
“Of course,” Sanji said, already thinking about what foam art he could use to tease the mosshead.
---
“What’s this?” Zoro asked, staring at the cup Sanji handed him.
“It’s a marimo,” Sanji said, smoking next to him in the crow’s nest. He had made Zoro a matcha latte and drawn a fuzzy circle with matcha powder on the top.
“Oh,” Zoro said, “Thanks, I guess.”
Sanji laughed. The sun had just come up and the idiot swordsman was bathed in morning light that made his stupid perfect skin glow. Sanji took a toothpick and reached over, drawing a line in the foam design, attempting to turn it into a heart, albeit a lopsided one. Zoro flushed and quickly drank it, hissing as he burned his tongue.
“Idiot,” Sanji scoffed.
“Dumbass,” Zoro replied.
“You’ll always be there, huh?” Sanji asked, staring at the light coming in from the window.
“Yeah,” his stupid swordsman replied softly.
“I could get used to that,” Sanji said, shutting his eyes and letting the warmth from Zoro's constant presence wash over him.