Chapter Text
The atmosphere was tense in Zoro’s old as shit red pick-up truck, this is a modern au besties get with the times. The Going Merry is like a minivan or something you know the drill. Zoro gets his own car because he’s the only one who knows how to drive.
“Hey, can we-” Sanji started.
Comfortable with the uncomfortable silence, Zoro swerved into a pothole and Sanji smacked into the window.
“-talk about this?” Sanji hissed out, rubbing his head.
“Nah,” Zoro replied. He nonchalantly adjusted the pine tree shaped new car smell air freshener on his rear view mirror.
“Angelcakes-”
Zoro took a sharp left turn, slamming Sanji into the window again. Cracks were forming. One more hit and Sanji would fly out like a napkin. Looking behind them, Sanji saw cars skewed left and right. More victims of Zoro not using his turn signals.
“Are you mad at me?” Sanji asked. He put on his best pretty boy face. Zoro, normally a responsible driver, refused to take his eyes off the road. He turned the radio up instead. “Zoro, baby cuddlepie-”
Zoro turned the radio up even louder. Commercials blared through the speakers. “Damnit, don’t they play music anymore?” Zoro slammed his fist on the dashboard. The two of them heard a click and a whirr as the CD player started up. They heard the opening notes of Mother Mother’s Verbatim.
“My little pistachio jello mold…this is our mixtape. This is our song. ”
Zoro grimaced, blindly slapping at the buttons on the radio. He only managed to skip the song before he gave up and tried to tune things out completely instead. Hopelessly Devoted to You (Glee Cast Version) started to play.
“No wait, this one is our song!” Sanji said. He started singing, a bit lightheaded from the bloodloss, “Guess mine is not the first heart broken, my eyes are not the first to cry,” he started belting it out, high and way off tune,”I’m not the first to know, there’s just no getting over yoooooooou.” (I don’t own da lyrics 2 dat song)
“We’re here,” Zoro said stoically.
“Mr. Sexy Bottoms-”
“Get out of the car before I kick you out.”
“Ah, come on-”
Zoro swung his legs up and wrenched to the side, bracing himself against the car door, ready to kick. “I’m serious.”
“Fine! Okay!” Sanji turned and pulled out the door handle. As soon as Zoro heard the door pop open, he kicked Sanji out on his ass and drove away, the door swinging in the wind.
“Fuck!” Sanji lifted himself up and dusted off his crumpled suit. He didn’t have time to iron it like he wanted because he was too busy crying about being dumped and the dust wasn’t helping matters. He lit a cigarette and it was sexy I don’t know. He looked at the banner on the side of the building. It read “Speed Dating Event 5:30 - 8:30.” Sanji groaned. People were already filing in. Stranded, Sanji had no choice but to follow suit.
Fifteen minutes later, Sanji sat on an uncomfortable folding chair, waiting for the event to start. Luckily, all the dates would be coming to him. He could just sit down the whole night, at least.
The first bell rang, and Sanji went from slunched and looking up at the ceiling to sitting straight up. He locked eyes with the second most miserable man in this place after himself. While the guy was clean shaven and in a presentable enough button up and tie combination, nothing could mask the overwhelming amount of disheveled vibes emanating from him. Plus his hair was kind of greasy. Dead give away. The nametag on his shirt read Aizawa. The scar under his left eye reminded him of Zoro, the scars on his body mapping out a lifetime of life or death encounters that Sanji could trace with his fingers night after night as he explored his lover’s body. Sanji started to tear up, he couldn’t be burned by another man with scars. He blinked. His tears would start falling anytime if he didn’t change the subject.
“So nice scar!” Sanji said loudly. “How’d you get it?!”
“Protecting my students,” he murmured.
“A teacher, huh? Nice!” Sanji said with the intensity of a thousand suns pouring out on the cracked and brittle desert land, no oasis in sight for weary travelers. He still sounded choked up. Without thinking, he leaned forward, hands on the table, half standing and staring the guy down.
Aizawa nodded hesitantly. He declined to say anything else.
“Me? I’m famous! Did you ever hear of Hell’s Kitchen? Yeah I didn’t win but I could have, it was rigged. It was about a decade ago so you might not have recognized me but! I’ve been on a ton of cooking shows, yeah, I’m pretty much a Masterchef, even if they never gave me an apron when I auditioned.”
When Sanji paused to breathe, he only heard snoring from Aizawa’s end.
The bell rang, warning the two of them that their time together was almost over! Sanji panicked, grabbing Aizawa by the shoulder and shaking him awake.
“See? See, I’m a reliable guy! Consider, if you need a good night’s rest, my chest is always here for you 🥺,” Sanji said quickly, pointing to his flat ass chest.
Aizawa blinked. He reached into his pocket slowly. Sanji nodded, getting ready to accept his phone number. Aizawa pulled out some eye drops and stood up just as the bell rang. Sanji collapsed on the table, clutching his head.
Sanji heard footsteps approaching his table. He lifted his head up, sniffling a little. An extremely tall man glared him down. He clutched his hat and grimaced.
“Hi-” Sanji blurted, dabbing at his eyes.
“Yare yare,” the man said and walked away.
“Hey wait!” Sanji cried, but it was as if the man disappeared in an instant.
Sanji put his head back down on the cool table, trying to compose himself for the next time the bell rang. This time he would be ready for anyone. He started doing deep breathing exercises. “Okay, okay, I’ve got this, I’ve got this. I’ll show Zoro, I’ll make him jealous and he’ll come crawling back to me,” he said under his breath.
After a few more deep breaths, Sanji slowly lifted his head. He opened his eyes and was greeted with a facefull of projectiles, stinging his already watery eyes. He yelped, trying to wipe them from his eyes.
Across from him, a man shouted at the top of his lungs, “SALT SPLASH!”
“What the hell?” Sanji shouted.
“Oh, I’m sorry, wasn’t sure if you were possessed or not. It didn’t seem like you were having the best night so far, and you know, there are spirits who specifically ruin dates,” the man calmly pulled out the folding chair and sat down, offering Sanji his hand. “Reigen Arataka, exorcist. Whiskey or beer?”
“Huh?” Sanji asked.
“Whiskey or beer?” Reigen repeated.
Sanji paused. If sake wasn’t an option, Zoro was a beer guy. Sure if Sanji had to choose he would say whiskey, but they had gone out drinking a lot during their relationship and the taste of beer was the taste of Zoro to Sanji. “Beer,” Sanji said.
“What brings you here?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sanji pouted.
“Well I’m out of questions.” Reigen stood up.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“I’m out of questions so,” Reigen pointed, “I’m moving on.” And then he did.
Sanji didn’t even have time to regret losing the world’s best twink, DILF, and MILF before a bodacious babe stepped up to the table. Her child bearing hips swung in time with her booby boobs. Boobs. Her scarlet hair bounced along with her boobs. And her hips. And her boobs. Sanji grinned. His luck was turning around. No matter how pitiful he looked or how much salt he was encrusted with, he was guaranteed to score with the babe. Women were so much more compassionate than men. And she would be sure to take pity on this hunk, Sanji thought. Sanji thought all of that by the way, I’m a feminist. Sanji thinks he is too but well…
“Beautiful miss,” Sanji inhaled, putting one hand to his chest and offering the other to her. “Your hair tumbles down your back like spaghetti coated with the most vivacious marinara sauce off of a sterling silver fork! Your eyes are as deep and as complex as spicy meatballs-”
The woman swung her sword down on the table, looking him dead in the eyes.
“-and your sword is like,” Sanji was sweating now,”the uh, nose of,a, a swordfish! This is a seafood spaghetti, just like,” he coughed,” you.”
Sanji stared at the sword. It was nice, yes, but it was only one sword, and it was nothing compared to Zoro’s three. He remembered sharpening his kitchen knives after dinner, Zoro sharpening his blades at the table, the grinding of whetstones in time to the Jonas Brother’s Year 3000. Sanji sighed, standing up. “I’m sorry, Miss,” he looked at her nametag, “Miss Scarlet, but excuse me I need to be alone.”
Just as Sanji reached the exit, the doors flew open, barely missing his face. Two of what Sanji could only assume were bodyguards held the doors open. In between them was the most obnoxious man Sanji had ever seen. His entire suit was emblazoned with rhinestones and he sparkled like a disco ball in the dim community center lighting. Sanji desired him carnally.
Sanji ran back to his seat, doing his best to look unbothered and sauve. He crossed his legs and leaned back in what he hoped was a casual yet seductive pose. He lit another cigarette.
“Your last participant is here!” the man announced. “The great, magnificent, illustrious, sexy, and immaculate Pariston Hill!”
No one paid him any attention. No one except Sanji, who was staring him down. Zoro may be as good at drawing attention as this Pariston guy, but he usually ended up covered in his own blood afterwards. And Zoro would never wear a suit on their date nights, no matter how much Sanji begged him to look presentable for once. Even if this suit was goddamn tacky, at least he was wearing one. Pariston smiled, though it didn’t reach his deep brown eyes. Eyes Sanji stared into as Pariston approached, doing his best to keep Zoro’s even darker eyes off his mind. Erza Scarlet had long since vacated, leaving only a slash in the cheap plastic of the folding table, and it was the only open seat in the room.
Pariston sat down with a flourish, gazing at Sanji like a butcher looks at a cow. Sanji looked back at him with his best seductive gaze. He even threw in a wink.
“You look like shit,” Pariston said.
Sanji wasn’t going to take that lying down, even if it was true. He jumped up and grabbed Pariston by the collar. “You want to say that again?”
“This is kind of forward,” Pariston smiled even wider. “Save that for the second date, if you get one.”
“Second date, huh? I can do that.” Sanji grinned, ignoring the second half of that sentence. Zoro had never taken him on those date nights Sanji had begged him to wear a suit for as neither of them had been able to compromise.
“And what’s a guy like you doing here?” Pariston asked, looking Sanji up and down. He looks so pitiful, Pariston thought. But arrogant and disheveled in all the right places, just like…
Sanji thought about whether or not to answer honestly. But then he saw Pariston checking him out, looking at the creases in his shirt and the salt in his hair. He decided it was trauma dumping time. He shifted his hands lower on Pariston’s collar and leaned over the table, putting his head on Pariston’s chest and clutching at his shirt. He paused for effect.
“My boyfriend dumped me!” Sanji started crying in full force. “Even though he never listened to me and never helped me with the kid.” Pariston raised an eyebrow at this. “And he just dumped me off here, thinking it would help me, of all things! Help me move on from him like I could dump him like trash on the road like he did to me! He was never loyal to me the way I was loyal to him.”
“You have a kid?” Pariston asked.
“Oh not really, in case that’s a dealbreaker,” Sanji said casually. Also he’s a reindeer, he thought. He looked up at Pariston, judging his reaction. “I never spend time with him because I’m always working hard, being famous and all.” Sanji sniffled a few times, waiting for Pariston to respond.
Pariston didn’t answer him, but pulled out a business card and a pen. He scribbled out his number on the back and slipped it into Sanji’s breast pocket. Sanji let go of Pariston’s collar and put his hand on his pocket, cherishing the card in there. Pariston walked to the exit wordlessly, only breaking out a phone hand sign as he slipped out of the night and into Sanji’s heart.