Work Text:
Sanji's life in no way provided a lack of adrenaline.
Every day, pure fire was pumping through his veins, the air was filled with spicy excitement, voices yelling in different languages, the sizzle and smoke of the work he prided himself in. Working in East Blue Garden's best restaurant's kitchen definitely brought along enough stress for a lifetime, between yelling servers, boiling pots, complaints and a red-faced owner who liked to rile the team up just right, long shifts reaching up into the dephts of night and the indestructible, inner urge to just fucking get out of here already.
Sanji burned for cooking, he put food out with all his heart melted into it, loved the tastes and flavors and smells and creating art out of ordinary ingredients, elevating the job, but god fucking damn it- did he hate having to listen to someone higher up the pecking order than himself. His dream of his own place, filled with only the most amazing dishes on his refined palette, wonderful, gracious women and white tablecloths laden with silverware wasn't stepping any nearer, in fact it seemed as if every day by now was a wasted day.
So no, Sanji's daily life was in no way short of stress, but it lacked all forms of excitement.
Excitement that made his eyes light up and his feet restless, excitement that caught in the depths of his lungs and pushed through his hair like a hurricane.
Another tireless service past him, the chef stumbled into the direction of his home that he still shared with his college friends, unable to get a place of his own with the shitty pay and student loans on top. As he numbly pushed open the door, as always having to lean against it with his shoulder forcefully because Usopp hadn't managed to fix the crooked frame in all the 2 years of the bunch living there, more overly loud sounds filled his ears.
After the shouting and cursing at the Baratie, Nami and Luffy's screeching in front of the PlayStation really wasn't doing his pounding head any favors now, but that's just what his friends were like. Usopp was the only quiet one in the group, rummaging through a pile of papers on the shared living room desk.
With a sigh, Sanji put down his bag and hung his jacket, took off his shoes and proceeded to make a beeline to the bathroom, when Usopp's head popped out of the doorway behind to stop him.
"Yo, Sanji! Do you remember where I put the tickets?"
The word 'ticket' set off traumatic flashbacks in the back of his skull, having lost a customer's ticket today which had resulted in a heated argument with old man Zeff.
"You have to be more specific than that. Do you mean the gig, the movies or that outdoor festival?"
"Neither, those are Nami's. I'm talking about the race!"
Sanji furrowed his brow. He really needed to pee. "I don't know Usopp, sorry."
As he moved along and finally screwed the bathroom door shut behind him (for some reason the only one in the apartment with a glass panel), he could only hear a disappointed noise from outside.
Poor Usopp.
Even after a late dinner that Sanji had thrown together for the pack, the dark-haired man continued his frantic investigation, as Nami left with a big yawn and Luffy had long passed out due to exhaustion.
The sink had started to fill up with soapy foam ("I'm so sorry Sanji-kun, I really meant to unload the dishwasher today!"), the only light source illuminating his rolled up sleeves was the stale tube light under the cabinet, and Sanji had even turned on the radio in a low volume to whistle along, when finally, the nervous rustling behind him stopped.
"Found them!" Usopp's triumphant voice cut through the sombre quiet.
"Congrats."
"The race is tomorrow night, so you'll only have to cook for two then."
"Three, I bet Luffy's inviting himself over again" Sanji mumbled around his cigarette.
"Yeah, you're probably right... Anyways, I'm going with Franky, you want me to give him a message or sum' from you?"
Sanji looked over his shoulder for a second, thinking about it. He wasn't particularly close with Franky, Usopp's eccentric co-worker at the repair shop, but few times a year, he'd let his long-nosed roommate pass along a list of kitchen tools he would like, and Franky always delivered the most amazing, handmade quality for just a few bucks.
It was a good deal.
Now, however, Sanji couldn't rake his brain for anything he needed at the moment.
"Nah, I'm good. Have fun, you two."
"Will do, boss."
With a friendly pat on the shoulder, signaling a silent 'good night, don't stay up too long', the last one of his companions vanished into their room to go to sleep, and Sanji was left alone with his numbing thoughts.
He wouldn't call himself depressed, necessarily, but he felt stuck in place, tired and spent, wry. The grey shade of the night sky didn't help to lift his mood, as there weren't even stars to captivate his awe, so the chef just focused on getting those dishes spotless again that, after their use, had been carelessly dumped into the sink by his friends.
No matter how late the evenings would get sometimes, he loved taking care of the bunch of 'em.
Besides the distant dream of someday becoming something more than a line cook, those kids were the only thing that kept him going, that motivated him to get up in the morning, even when it was freezing outside or pouring down horribly, or any kind of uncomfortable weather that Sanji just wasn't cut out for. Luffy lived down the street with his older brother who worked in politics, but as Sabo was almost never home, the trio of old friends had decided to take him in as one of their own.
Sanji put food on the table for him, Nami kept track of his calendar and wardrobe, Usopp was the best entertainer. Luffy was by no means a little kid, but terribly unconcerned with the chaotic way his life was falling apart if no one looked after him from time to time.
Sanji sighed deeply as he felt the soles of his feet ache and his hands sting from the water, remnants of his day at work that ripped him out of his thoughts forcefully.
Three more mugs and the pot, then he'd finally allow himself to fall into bed as well.
When the day was finally over at close to midnight, the blond fell into a dreamless sleep, tossing and turning under the covers until the unyielding alarm clock screamed at him to get up again.
The whole day had been a murky soup, bleak, sloppy and terribly drab. Sanji waded through the tasks like water, tuning out everything around him completely.
Just one of those days.
The last one before his day off was always the worst, it just couldn't seem to end, time was dragging on and the clock hands wouldn't move.
When he lit his ninth cigarette of the day outside the back, poorly shielding his body from the downpour by seeking refuge under an awning, it was barely mid-day, and he was dead on his feet. The harsh air made him shiver through the dress shirt, a stark contrast to the overbearing warmth inside the kitchen, but it breathed some life back into the cook.
His eyes followed the glimpses of people walking by on the other side of the fence, chattering and cursing at the weather, all kinds of colorful umbrellas passing by. Sanji didn't take one with him this morning, despite having seen Nami's sticky note saying "Forecast predicts rain around 1PM! Take an umbrella!".
Oh well. Just his luck his mind had been too stuffed with dread already.
Sanji puffed the last bit of his cig before not having anything left to grip it, then ashed it and threw it away.
It was back to work for underpaid slaves.
Just as he took a step back to throw his shoulder against the front door as per usual, it already opened up for him. Sanji felt silent relief, his back was really starting to feel like an open wound after today, and the only thing he wanted was to take a shower and not move for his three days off afterwards.
Usopp peered at him through the doorway, still holding onto the knob from the inside.
"On a scale of zero to dead, how tired are you?" He asked.
The blond sighed. Luffy had made a mess, hadn't he? This was the mental preparation for what he was to see as soon as he stepped foot into the apartment. It had happened the time the 19-year old had accidentally shredded the TV screen with one of his sandals, also that time Luffy's friend Shirahoshi had tried to use the rice cooker (and failed) and when Nami had thrown away his birth certificate in an over eager rush of spring cleaning.
He really could never guess what sort of disaster to expect, so he just shrugged it off.
"Between 9 and dead. Why?"
"Well..."
"Out with it, Usopp. Don't make that expression like a kicked puppy."
"So, you remember that race, right, the one I wanted to go watch with Franky? Well, uh, turns out he had to drive his wife to the airport today because she had this super spontaneous but well-paying job on a site in Alabasta,... You remember her I think, Robin, she's an archaeologist, and-"
"Usopp."
"Wouldyougototheracewithme?"
His roommate held up the two glossy cards from yesterday in front of him, head bowed, equal in stance as if offering a sacrifice to a deity, and was obviously nervous to ask. He knew the extent of what "9 to dead" could result in if Sanji didn't get his rest.
"No."
"Please!"
"No!"
Usopp looked up, doing his hardest to appear close to tears, lips wobbling and all, and Sanji's much too gentle heart almost cracked at the sight. But it was late, and his back was fucking killing him, and he didn't even like races and that sort of stuff.... He looked into those eyes for a second too long, before he tore his sight away and huffed in indecisiveness.
"What kind of race was it again?"
"Modded cars. It's legal! Eh... I think..."
Hm. The blond frowned to himself. Cars? Really? For a craftsman like his friend it made perfect sense, he probably could list off all the parts of the different cars and in which ways they had been enhanced, knew all the models, knew all the people there as they tended to frequent his repair job in search of cheap spare parts...
But Sanji had never been interested in any part of that particular scene. And it was cold outside...
"Sanji, c'mon. The most exciting thing that happened to you all week was when Luffy microwaved my taco and accidentally killed the power! You need the thrill, man!"
Sanji wavered. Should he actually try something new for once? Even despite his feet hurting and his messed up back? Was this worth a shot, when all he wanted to do was to crawl into bed and stay there forever?
Fuck it.
Why not. The evening couldn't get much worse anyway, and maybe there was some food or alcohol that made it somewhat enjoyable.
"Sure. Let me just put away my stuff."
The sky was a gown of raven and blue, few remnants of reds and orange still flickering over the horizon, but telling by the rising blanket of a million stars, it was clear to spectators that soon, the last of daylight would be entirely gone. The blond preferred it that way, as nighttime always brought along fresher air and brighter thoughts, although he felt bone-deep fatigue settle over him as the darkness proceeded.
Usopp was practically giddy beside him, bright smile on his face and he babbled continuously as the two of them made their way to where a crowd had formed in the parking lot. The location wasn't new to the blond, he noted with surprise, it was a closed car wash just down the main street, next to the drug store and supermarket he frequented for shopping. While the road was fairly busy for this time of the day, or rather night, the planned route for the street racers was the parallel street less travelled by that led out of the city and into nothing but corn fields.
The town's farmers allowed this kind of shenanigans for a small fee, but when the racers were caught, they'd rat them out anytime. Legal my ass, Sanji thought, the more Usopp explained about this niche sport.
They drew closer to the crowd, mostly people his age with various chaotic hairstyles in all colors of the rainbow, lots of piercing jewelry to be spotted on them, leather jackets and washed out baggy jeans. Suddenly, Sanji felt self-conscious, even more out of place than he had imagined to be, and drew his coat around himself a little tighter.
The cars were gleaming tiredly under the neon lights above, mostly polished and bedazzled with chrome everything, but some were so called 'rats' - purposely ugly, rusty, without window panes even or any kind of luxurious touch, covered in graffiti and colorful stickers.
I don't know what I prefer, he thought, as they wandered past green, canary and black vehicles to find a spot closer to where the action was about to start, the pretty upcycled ones or the adorably modded rats.
"You have to meet Zoro!" Usopp exclaimed besides him, hands flailing as his voice does in excitement, "He's the one I'm betting my money on this time. Gave him a new speaker to build into Kuina last week, yep, so that should be installed already!"
Sanji had no idea what any of that meant, only gathered with disappointment that Kuina was not a pretty lady but instead a car, judging by that last sentence, but he could not ask Usopp for more information as his friend had already disappeared from where he had stood. Silently cursing, the blond looked around himself, taking in the hairdos of the people behind him to spot the unmistakable afro, when he was saved the trouble by a voice calling out from under the roof of the car wash, coming closer.
"Oooi, Sanji! Look, over here!"
Sanji turned his head, expecting to see nothing of real interest but he didn't want to let down Usopp. Machines, robots, cars and such just weren't his thing, again.
He turned his head- and his eyes widened on their own.
There he was.
Green hair flowing in the breeze, choppy but speaking of self-expression and freedom, three golden earrings gleaming in the amber twilight, sun-kissed skin raking up his face, shining as a bronze statue would.
The most beautiful man Sanji had ever seen stood before him, muscles shifting and rippling in a gentle pull under the tattered jacket, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Roronoa Zoro emitted an air of pure golden glow, confidence and relaxation at once leaving Sanji's gut in bubbles, butterflies in his throat.
His whole being was tingling at the thrill the whole scene sent up his spine, and when the man came over to him with measured steps, oozing masculinity, his poor heart didn't let his head catch up.
"Hi, I'm Zoro. Usopp mentioned over text he was gonna bring you."
No word escaped the chef, instead, he felt a blush bloom heavily on his cheeks, and he only managed a star-struck nod.
Zoro's brow furrowed.
"Usopp, is he.. you know.. mute?"
Well that pretty much destroyed the picture-perfect atmosphere that had been filling the night sky so far.
"I'm not a mute!" "He's not a mute!"
"Oh, sorry..." The taller man scratched his head self-consciously, but the feigned awkwardness didn't last too long.
"Well, wanna see my car, pretty boy?"
Kuina was indeed a car. Zoro's car, a black Hyundai to be exact. She was one of the sleek ones, the ones that were clearly well taken care of by loving hands and proper cleaning tools, and Sanji could not help but raise an eyebrow at the fact.
"Would've taken you for a rat kind of guy." He tried to ignore the way his knees weakened from the grin he got in return.
"Usually am, but I couldn't do this to her. She's... The car was my sister's, best racer I've ever seen. It was named Ichimonji before, but when she- when I took ownership, I had to name it after her. Can't do this kinda shit to my sister." He made a little nudging motion with his head, gesturing to the graffiti and rust on the ratty race cars.
"Huh. I can imagine that."
Usopp had given him a curious look when he took off with Zoro just minutes ago, but at the sight of Sanji's scarlet face, his dear friend had had the decency to not follow the pair.
Now, Sanji realized the absence of that chatterbox heavily, as his hands became sweatier and sweatier and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sharp slope of Zoro's face and the man's frame under his well worn jacket. He fiddled for something more creative to say, but the racer beat him to it.
"Wanna take a ride?"
"Huh? Won't the race start in a few minutes?"
"You'll ride shotgun. I'll take you along on the race, and after I win you'll give me a kiss."
Sanji could only stare at the uncouth... stranger, not sure whether to start a lecture on consent and relationships and how he was sure as hell not gonna kiss anybody tonight, or become a blushing puddle melting into the asphalt.
"You- I- That's not- What makes you so sure you're gonna win?"
Zoro shrugged, his cocky grin never wavering. "Dunno, I just know I'm gonna."
"Okay."
"So you're gonna climb in or what?"
After a night of questionable decisions, surprises and out of character behavior, Sanji couldn't even say no to offers like this one anymore. He stepped forward, was briefly flustered as he watched a huge hand pull open the passenger door for him, and let himself fall back into the soft leather of Kuina's seats.
When the tall woman with the pistol positioned herself next to the START/FINISH line, under a lamppost so she was clear for everyone to see, Sanji glanced at the man to his left nervously, picking at his nails out of habit.
"So how fast are we gonna go?"
In the quiet neon emitting from Kuina's customly lit stereo, Zoro's joyous face seemed out of another world, only adding to the faintly burning feeling in Sanji's stomach. "Only thing I'm saying is... I paid for the whole speedometer."
Blue eyes wandered back to the front again, out of the window to where the starting shot was about to go off, not missing the way the other drivers around them, maybe 20 in total, shouted out of their sunroofs and let their engines roar as if in impatience, eager to hit the road and flatten the competition. He could smell gasoline and beer through the crack in the window, could make out Usopp's cheers from the sidelines, and even though his own foot wasn't on the accelerator, his heart dropped into his pants.
He gulped.
Kuina's engine roared to life, Zoro put in a gear with a satisfying THUCK and tapped his free hand onto the wheel,
One time, two times, three-
BANG!
The race was on.
As the car suddenly shot forward with a jump, a sharp rasping sound, engine screaming as Zoro drove the capacity of first gear out to the max, to the point that the pointer was in the deep red zone, Sanji was pressed into his seat. He barely managed to suppress the urge to hold onto something, but still buried his fingers in the fabric of his trousers.
Another THWACK as Zoro finally shifted gears, jumping straight into third, and the whole process of torturing the crankshafts started all over again.
By the time they had reached the sixth gear, town was already left behind them in a flash, barely more than a rapidly shrinking knot of lights in the rearview mirror. The road throughout the corn wasn't all that narrow, but certainly too narrow for this kind of race, and with a rabbiting pulse, Sanji noticed that the two cars flanking them -that had been able to perform just as impressive of a jumpstart as Zoro- were so close he could touch the one on his right through the open window. He looked at the man in the canary sportscar, an individual sporting sideburns, a goatee and two golden hoops on the ear Sanji was able to see, then he worriedly glanced at the second competitor, a giant of a man with a messy scarlet mullet who drove one of the heavily modded rats. All three men looked scarily determined, and the corn was heard ripping left and right, green bits flying around in the race's wake, as Kuina roared to live up to her victory.
As the sharpest curve yet came into view, one that marked the hot spot for serious crashes and that decided the whole outcome of races on its own some days, the yellow car on Sanji's side fell back a little, clearly as the driver realised he was gonna risk his life if he went after the kill now, and as Zoro ripped around the steering wheel end cranked it, cranked it, cranked it again with both hands flying over themselves, while still speeding up at the highest point of the sling, the spray-painted rat had to let off as well, leaving them miles at the front as they turned to approach Grand Line City again.
The skyline grew bigger, one curious glance at the speedometer told Sanji that Kuina swallowed the road up under her wheels with around 99 mph, and it was already clear that the green-haired man beside him had won.
At their entrance to the brightly lit main road, Zoro shifted back down and braked down by a good fraction, much to Sanji's relief, who felt his knees shaking, having feared they were just gonna fly past potentially dangerous street corners and cause a crash or two. Instead, they met no other vehicles on their road, thankfully also no police, and soon enough the car wash came back into view, with a blurred mass of drinking, cheering, jumping people flocking the sidelines.
A chorus of differently pitched whoops and cheers welcomed Kuina's sleek form as they passed the FINISH line, and the sound of the pistol thundered through the air a second time, just for good measure.
The race was won. At incredible speed, they had mastered the slim road just outside town, avoided getting pushed into the corn, had drifted through zig zag courses of turns and finally had come to a stop with smoking wheels.
It had been exhilarating. Thrilling. Exciting to the point that it rushed like air into his lungs. For all he knew, this thing inside his core that fluttered with a promising hope could mean that he was either experiencing an adrenaline rush from the race, or he was in love. Or both. Not that he cared which one.
Sanji's hands were jittery, so he pressed them onto his kneecaps, and he felt like hyperventilating but then Zoro turned to him, all pretty faced and with an amused glint in his silver eyes.
"So," he said, drawing the word out, "I won, may I ask for my reward?"
Sanji met his eyes and stared.
"Huh?"
"A kiss from my co-pilot should do."
He grinned, again, that exasperating bastard. Did he ever stop grinning?
"Fuck you."
"We agreed on it, remember?"
"The hell we did!"
Sanji wanted to tear his eyes away nervously, itched to get out of the car, open the door and get back to safety, but he noticed his neck and face growing hot and his ribcage hammering with the desire to kiss that smug grin off the racers face, and he couldn't do it.
"I- I-..." He swallowed.
Slowly, very slowly, he leaned over the middle console, hands still sweaty but he dared to take one and fumble it into the crease of Zoro's stupid jacket, and he allowed his gaze to focus on the soft lips he was just about to kiss. He could only imagine the heat in Zoro's eyes as his every action was watched, but could very well perceive how the man leaned into the touch, his whole upper body shifting to accommodate him.
Closer, closer, closer...
Sanji was able to feel Zoro's breath on his face now, warm and even, caressing his sensitive skin, could smell the man's laundry detergent and a hint of peppermint gum.
The car somehow grew smaller around them, stifling, filling the breadth of air shared between their close proximity with heat.
Just as Sanji was about to close his eyes and finally crash his lips onto the other man's-
"Fuck. I think I'm gonna vomit."
"I'll kill you if you do that in here."
"I'm sorry this isn't exactly what you asked for. "
The walk upstairs was awkward, as well as the moment when Sanji had to throw himself against that goddamn door under watchful eyes, but finally they were here and the man he had only met this evening stood in their hallway. He looked a little lost in between the laden coat hanger and the corner overflowing with shoes of different sizes, clearly belonging to four different people.
"Like I said, don't worry. Food 's just as good as a kiss. I'm not much of a chef myself."
"If you say so. Right through here-"
The blond motioned to his spontaneous guest to follow him into the kitchen, and the bulky man complied, trailing after him kind of like a small puppy. Adorable, really.
He had also been polite enough to remove his shoes right upon entry to the apartment, as Sanji noted with a warm feeling. Even Luffy seldomly cared about Sanji's rules of cleanliness for this household.
"So, what kind of food am I gonna get? Take away pizza?"
The blond snorted in offense. "No. Home-cooked ramen. I told you, I make everything myself. I just hope you don't mind that it's not entirely fresh, I prepared it earlier this morning, before work..."
Zoro made a gesture as if taking a look onto an invisible watch. "This morning? Well it's around midnight, so that's.. what, 19 hours old? Nah, that's not fresh enough, sorry mate."
Sanji paused in his steps and threw him a look, stone-faced.
"I'm joking, I'm joking!" The green-haired man said in defense, holding his palms up. "That sounds great, really. I can't even remember the last time I had home-cooked food. My sister tries sometimes but..."
He shrugs. "Anyways, thank you, I mean that."
After the horribly humiliating moment right after the race, when Sanji had jumped out of the car seat with panic and had emptied his stomach onto the surface of the car wash parking lot barely a second later, they both hadn't really been in the mood for any kissing. Sanji had rinsed his mouth with a beer someone handed him, which didn't make the inside of his mouth taste any better but sure felt a tad bit cleaner, and Zoro hadn't been too keen on kissing lips that smelled like vomit, so Sanii had offered up the only thing he could think of in exchange as the award- food.
A searching look around to locate Usopp had told him that his dear friend was hopelessly drawn into a heated discussion about which sound-repelling material was the most effective to use for various purposes, so Sanji just gave him a wave and pointed to Zoro next to him, signalling that he was gonna go with him.
Usopp had smiled in an entirely non-innocent way, and as a reply gave two thumbs up.
That's how they ended up here, Zoro in Sanji's old college commune, in the middle of the night, surrounded by the daily filth and chaos his lovely roommates chose to keep around. Nami was asleep already, small mercies.
Heating the contents of the pot took a while, but the blond kept his eyes trained on the stove, fearing he'd die of shyness if he turned around to face Zoro. The rustling of fabric and scraping of a chair told Sanji that the other man had seated himself and may be watching him.
At some point, the radio was turned on, and Zoro hummed along with the music quietly (and entirely off-key).
It was nice.
He could almost see the tall man sitting there in the future also, by his side. Becoming a part of this life, in his home.
Maybe- Maybe it would turn out to happen that way, given some time.
After about ten minutes, the cook deemed the meal ready with a satisfied nod, but he had the dark premonition that he would not find any clean bowls to put two portions in - not in this apartment and not after he had had to do the dishes by hand the last days because Nami was on dishwasher duty this month.
So, with footsteps as inconspicuous as possible that felt heavy to him, he walked over to where said dishwasher was waiting, not even fully closed.
That could mean one of two things.
Sanji peered into the half-open hatch of the machine in passing, then opened up the cupboard with low expectations, searching for anything at least halfway bowl-shaped.
Fuck.
He took a step back, peered into the machine again, and...
Indeed, there it still sat untouched since the last wash, full of dirty dishes that Nami promised five times over to take care of soon.
Fuck.
He turned around to Zoro with a blinding smile.
"So, do you want your share inside the cake tin or the potato press?"