Archive of Our Own

Sanji is, at his core, a creature of habit. He starts his day by stumbling out of bed, hurriedly grabbing a granola bar or some other snack for breakfast, and resisting the overwhelming urge to smoke on his way to class. His morning is a blur of back-to-back classes, TA meetings, office hours, or whatever it is he’s accidentally overbooked himself with.

He may have signed up for a little too much to do this semester, but it’s not like anyone said starting at a new university would be easy. Grand Line U is far bigger and more involved than the tiny halls of East Blue Community College, and Sanji is determined not to be the lost transfer student he feels like.

Thankfully, most afternoons leave Sanji with some respite in the small library hidden in the corner of the history department. It’s far enough from the science lecture halls and main campus library that there’s always room and enough quiet for him to focus on getting some work done. Graduate students flicker between old documents and their laptops, and the smell of old paper sets something in Sanji at ease.

Plus, a lovely grad student named Robin works at the front desk, greeting him with a nod and polite small talk every time he walks in. Even if it were the worst study spot in the world, Sanji would still come to the library just to swoon over her gentle smile.

But regardless, he’s pretty sure the tiny, old library is his favorite spot on campus thus far. No annoyances, no distractions – at least until some mold starts growing at one of the tables.

He’s a new face in the library, bright green hair sticking out like a sore thumb between the rows of light brown book spines and gray tables. Ordinarily, Sanji wouldn’t let himself get sidetracked so easily, but he just submitted his weekly biology assignment and wants to avoid looking at his email for as long as he can.

The guy’s wearing a shirt that looks too small on him, bunching around his biceps in a way that’s almost obscene. His muscles shift as he stretches, and Sanji’s torn between derisively wondering what kind of major allows for that much time to work out and somberly reflecting on how the soft and comfortable fabric of his v-neck frames his pecs.

Sanji finally came to terms with being bi a year ago, but he’s still not quite used to that flutter in his chest at the sight of a pretty face. Or, in this case, pretty muscles. Whatever. He’s okay-looking for a guy, at least.

Sanji squints at the textbook the brawny guy flips through, eye catching on a painfully long series of equations. Math? Physics, maybe? He wrinkles his nose in disgust at the thought, returning his gaze to the man’s face. He glares hard at his laptop, clicking through something with a deep frown.

‘Wonder what he’s working on.’

The young man mouths something to himself, repeating it a few times before a glimmer of recognition causes him to search his bag, letting out a victorious grunt when he finds something. The sudden motion causes the gold bars hanging from his left ear to twinkle alluringly, so at odds with the rest of his rugged appearance. The momentary attraction Sanji feels halts at the crumple of looseleaf papers.

Dear lord. He leaves papers freely floating around his bag? No folders or binders or anything? This man is unhinged.

The madness continues when Zoro starts writing something down on one of the papers, only to immediately write on another without looking at it. Only after he finishes writing does he look, frowning thoughtfully as he scribbles it out and writes something new.

‘What is he doing? How is he retaining anything?’

Sanji can feel himself becoming increasingly disturbed by the green-haired guy’s eclectic methods, at complete odds with how calm he looks. Most people working with that sort of frenetic, random energy are on the edge of a stress-induced mental breakdown – Sanji knows because he’s been there. But this man seems almost bored as he idly picks up his pencil just before it rolls off the table and starts writing sideways into one of his textbooks. It’s only now that Sanji notices the claw-like grip he has on his pencil, tight enough that he’s surprised the thing doesn’t break.

Sanji continues to stare at him, his entire train of thought lost as he observes what he genuinely thinks is a beautiful punk-rock caveman getting a higher education for the first time. History in the making, right before his eyes. At least until Sanji notices the guy staring back.

Sharp hazel eyes bore into him, paired with a slowly arching eyebrow. Sanji isn’t sure what his expression means, but something about this man’s demeanor and giant forehead makes his heart pound in anticipation and teeth grind in agitation. An interesting combination, to be sure – Sanji isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this immediately attracted/hostile to someone he hasn’t even spoken to.

A fierce blush crawls up Sanji’s face as he hastily averts his eyes, tapping away at his keyboard to pretend he’s busy focusing on classwork instead of the unique color of the other student’s eyes.

‘Get a GRIP, idiot. He’s just some guy. A really weird, really hot guy, but still just a random guy. Focus.’

Unbeknownst to Sanji, the young man’s gaze lingers on Sanji, head tilting as he studies the slant of his neck and the peculiar swirl of his visible eyebrow. He pauses for a moment before sheepishly looking down, a hand rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to remember what he’s working on.

-----

“Good afternoon, Robin! I hope that midterms haven’t been too terrible for you~!” Sanji sets a plate of homemade cookies on the front desk, feeling his heart skip a beat at the grad student’s surprise and the upward quirk of her lips.

“Oh – for me?” He nods, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck.

“I baked a lot and had some leftovers.”

“Ah. Stress-baking, I assume?” Robin nods knowingly, and Sanji’s shoulders tense up considerably.

“Is it that obvious?” He gives a half-hearted chuckle. Robin responds with a sympathetic look.

“It is that time of the semester, if I recall. Thank you for the lovely treats, Sanji.” She delicately takes a bite and nods her thanks.

“Anytime! I’m glad I don’t have to throw them away.” Even though Sanji knows he never would – he’d probably force himself to eat all of them on his own if she rejected them.

She gestures to a chair nearby. “Why don’t you sit and help me finish these?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly –”

“Please, I insist. I’m sure you’ve been preparing for your exams plenty.” Sanji catches onto her unspoken acknowledgment of how exhausted he must look. He hesitates, torn between the instinct to spend every possible moment cramming and his unwillingness to tell her no. He eventually sits down, stilted hands reaching for a cookie to gnaw on.

“My schedule is a little different than the undergraduate one – for now, I only have to worry about grading my students’ papers. I suppose I am the source of their stress,” Robin says, morbidly cheerful.

“You say that like it’s easy! I only have to help grade exams, and even that’s a lot of work,” Sanji replies. “I couldn’t imagine trying to grade entire papers.”

Robin offers a bemused smile. “No wonder you seem tired – you keep yourself very busy, don’t you?”

“Ah, well – I wouldn’t say that. Just enough to stay involved.” He falters, awkwardly unsure of how to get to know her better. “So – do you teach some classes as part of your degree?”

“A few – mostly writing and history courses. The archaeology department doesn’t have enough undergraduates to require help from their graduate students.”

“Archaeology?”

“Yes, I’m preparing for a dig in Iran next year, near the ancient city of Persepolis.”

“Wow.” Sanji’s brow furrows as he tries to summon what little knowledge of world history he learned in high school.

Robin sees through his struggle and not unkindly cuts it off: “It was the capital of the Achaemenid Empire, dating before the common era.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t know what that is.” He shrugs, painfully aware of how out of his depth he is.

Robin hums, a knowing glimmer in her eye. “I would have been very surprised if you did – would you like to learn a bit about it? It might provide some welcome respite from your studies.”

Sanji nods, and Robin takes another cookie before she launches elegantly into stories of Darius the Great and his long history of violence, paired with the wealth of art and poetry that arose from the city he created. To be honest, most of it goes straight over Sanji’s head – but Robin seems to be enjoying herself regardless.

As the conversation lulls, Sanji’s eyes wander – as they often do – to the mysterious green-haired student working in the library. The mosshead (as Sanji privately refers to him, along with a plethora of other nicknames) has become a staple in the corner of Sanji’s eye over the past few weeks, quietly flicking through schoolwork or napping the afternoon away. At this point, he’s more of a distraction to Sanji than his phone. He finds himself idly daydreaming minutes away, just looking at the curve of his back and the laser-sharp focus of his steel-gray eyes.

Today, it seems like the mosshead is working through some equation on a whiteboard, long strings of Greek letters and numbers that look more incomprehensible the longer he sees them. Sanji can feel his eyes start to blur – but the marimo doesn’t seem phased in the slightest. He switches between his work on the whiteboard and his textbook, occasionally looking at a notebook beside it before scribbling something else down.

“–Sanji?” He startles, nearly dropping the cookie he forgot he was holding. “It appears I lost you for a moment there.”

“Ah! Sorry, Robin, just – what do you think he’s working on?” It only dawns on him that he hasn’t specified who he’s talking about when Robin chuckles.

Her gaze follows Sanji’s to the mosshead’s workspace. “I haven’t the faintest idea, and I certainly hope I never find out. You would probably have a better idea than me.”

Sanji shudders. “I'm planning on being a nurse, so I'll never need to know whatever…that is, thank goodness."

So he's hot and smart, huh? Some people get all the luck.

"He is quite accomplished, isn't he?" Robin says, almost reading Sanji's mind. He whips around, only to see her mirthful expression.

"He could be, I guess. With that hair color he doesn't strike me as the type," Sanji grumbles. Robin lets out an actual giggle at that, and Sanji's heart skips a beat in his chest.

Words fly out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Robin, I know this is a long shot, but – would you like to grab dinner with me sometime? I know a few really great places downtown, or I'm actually a pretty good cook if you'd want something homemade –"

"I am terribly flattered, Sanji, but I have a partner already." She smiles at him sympathetically.

"…oh. Oh, that's alright! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, my mistake!" Sanji hastens his apology, the mild twinge of hurt at getting rejected infinitely softened by Robin's politeness.

"Don’t worry; I would make sure to tell you if you did. Although,” she takes another bite of the cookie in her hand, “these would be a very compelling reason to go out with you if I weren’t already with someone.”

Sanji’s heart lightens at the compliment, and he relaxes.

“Well, let me know if you’d want to try anything else – like I said, I’m an excellent cook. Always happy to make something for a friend. …and on that note, my dear Robin, I really should start studying. Thank you for your time – your company is always a pleasure!”

“Likewise. Let me know if you’d like another break.”

Sanji nods gratefully, pulling his backpack over his shoulders and striding towards his usual table. He chances a glance – just a glance – at the mosshead, only to find his eyes flickering between Robin and Sanji himself. He has that quirk in his eyebrows that means he’s particularly confused or frustrated by something. But he quickly returns to his work once he sees Sanji staring back at him, forcefully enough that the pages of his notebook (thank the heavens, the maniac has at least one organized way of taking notes) flutter.

Ah, well. Robin is a particularly enchanting woman, and Sanji can understand why she would catch the marimo’s eye. He sighs internally – it really is too bad that she’s already dating someone.

-----

As big as Grand Line U is, Sanji finds himself surrounded by friends and acquaintances more often than not. There’s Chopper, the shy and polite underclassman that helps him with chemistry; Viola, the lovely barista that works at the tiny coffee shop near the dorms; and Gin, a somewhat brusque but endearing student that lives on Sanji’s floor. And that’s just to name a few, a fact that warms Sanji’s heart if he stops and thinks about it.

All the students at East Blue knew each other from high school, so it had been tough to get a word in edgewise – not to mention that most of them were annoying enough to grate on Sanji’s nerves, so he never really had a reason to seek them out. It wasn’t lonely, per se – but it did feel strangely hollow, going home to Zeff every day with only his studies to keep him company.

Sanji shakes his head to clear his train of thought when he sees Usopp waving him over from the library’s entrance.

“Hey!” Usopp grins, throwing a hand out for Sanji to bump against in greeting. “How’d you even find this place? I’ve been here since freshman year and had no idea it existed.”

“That’s because you spend all your time rotting in the comp sci building,” Sanji replies, rolling his eyes.

“They have a free 3D printer down there. I’ve gotta use what my student loans are paying for, right?” Usopp replies sardonically. “Because they’re sure not paying for a quality education.”

Sanji grimaces. “That bad, huh?”

“Dude, you have no idea. We finally got our exams back, and only six people in the class got one of the questions right, but the professor refused to drop it because, and I quote, ‘The students who got that question right had higher test scores overall.’”

“…so he was basically calling the rest of you stupid.”

“Yeah!”

Sanji lets Usopp rant, nodding along in sympathy and outrage at whatever teaching committee gave Dr. Queen tenure.

“I swear, he’s so close to retiring that he just wants to watch the world burn.” Usopp sighs as he drops his bag into the chair next to him. “I’ve never seen a guy so unwilling to work with his students. Y’know one of my classmates got into an actual car accident on her way to class, and he wouldn’t give her the lecture recording?”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish, man. He wouldn’t because she ‘didn’t get injured.’ As though totaling your car isn’t enough.”

“Unbelievable. Thank god none of my professors are like that.”

“No, you just have to deal with the super obnoxious pre-med students.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sanji hisses. “Some of these little dickheads don’t understand boundaries. That’s why I started studying here in the first place – so none of them could bother me outside office hours.”

Usopp gives an appraising nod, glancing around the space. “It is pretty nice, isn’t it?”

Sanji makes a noise of affirmation before unconsciously looking around for a now-familiar spot of green hair. He finds it, but it’s further away from him than usual. The mossbrain has sequestered himself into a corner of the library, uncharacteristically surrounded by old parchment and several open books. Sanji squints at some of the titles, recognizing them from the library’s bookshelves.

“What the…”

‘I thought this guy was a physics or math major. Why’s he looking at history now?’

The urge to know more distracts Sanji from his friend, who waves a hand in front of his face.

“Hellooooo? Sanji? You good?”

“Huh? Shoot, sorry.” Sanji clears his throat, trying to shake off his curiosity. “Have you started working on the problem set yet?”

“Absolutely not. I’m allergic to calculus, actually,” Usopp replies. “If I look at it for too long, I’ll die.”

“Fuck outta here. You’re literally setting our class’s curve.”

“Listen, I don’t know what happened on our last test! One minute I had the test in front of me and then it was over. I have no idea how I managed to get the high score. I do better when I don’t think,” Usopp huffs, long nose sticking out with pride.

Sanji rolls his eyes affectionately. “Alright, don’t think about how to do this problem set, and I think we’ll be golden.”

“Now that you’ve pointed it out, it won’t work. I guess you’ll just have to carry me through,” Usopp heaves, dramatically draping himself across the table. Sanji lets out an honest laugh before redirecting to their assignment.

They work through a couple of the problems before Sanji feels his focus wane, eyes once again tracking across the library to find the mosshead. He’s glaring more than usual, a rough hand carding through his hair. He flips through a printout of some kind and lets out a frustrated huff when it doesn’t give him the answers he seems to be looking for.

For the first time since Sanji’s encountered him, the marimo looks…stressed.

“So you’re coming, right?”

“Yeah, I’m – wait, what?” Sanji zones back into his friend, who looks a little exasperated.

“Luffy’s party! He really wants to meet you.”

“Luffy…? Oh, your friend from high school?”

“He’s Nami’s friend too. Honestly, he’s friends with like half of campus, so I’m sure you’ll see someone other than the two of us that you recognize.”

Sanji shies away a bit, grimacing. “Ehhhh, I’ve got a midterm coming up after that weekend and –”

“Oh, absolutely not. You’re not bailing on this one,” Usopp hastily cuts Sanji off, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Listen, school isn’t going anywhere, but – well, it’s not like we’re going anywhere either, but still! You spend way too much time studying. Come loosen up for a weekend!”

“Listen, I really appreciate the offer, but I don’t wanna impose or anything. Like, we’re friends and that’s cool, but I don’t want you to feel like you gotta integrate me into your friend group.”

“Believe me when I say it’s not just me, man – Luffy has been seriously gunning for you to hang out.”

“I don’t even know Luffy, though?”

“So? That doesn’t matter. You will when you come to the party this weekend!”

“I don’t…think that’s how it works.”

Usopp gives a solid nod. “You’re right. That’s not how it usually works. But those rules don’t really apply since we’re talking about Luffy.”

Sanji snorts. “What is this guy, an alien?”

For a mortifying second, Usopp looks like he’s seriously considering the possibility. “…no. But he is – well, it’s kinda hard to describe him. You’ll understand when you meet him.”

“You talk about this guy like he’s a cryptid or something.”

“Honestly? He’s closer to a cryptid than an alien. But!” Usopp continues cheerfully, “he’s awesome. You’ll like him. And he’s gonna love you. When Nami told him you can cook, he nearly marched to your dorm.”

“Huh?!”

“Yeah, it was pretty funny. Two of our friends had to bar the door to stop him.”

Sanji makes some choice incredulous curses under his breath. “Are all your friends this insane?”

Usopp hums thoughtfully. “Nah, Luffy takes the brunt of it. Although…” he taps his chin. “Nah. Zoro can still pretend to be sane.”

“Dear lord, what am I getting myself into…” Sanji mutters. “Alright. Fine. I’ll come.”

Usopp lets out a cheer, only to immediately get shushed by some other students nearby.

“Awesome! And hey, while you’re there, maybe you can meet someone.” Usopp lets out an exaggerated wink.

“Ha ha ha, very funny, dumbass,” Sanji retorts. Usopp giggles, the bastard. “I’m not looking to date anyone right now, anyways.”

“Oh, is that why you flirt with every single girl in every class we have together?”

“That’s not even flirting, that’s just – y’know. Girls should be told they look nice.”

Usopp gives him a flat look, and Sanji scowls.

“Uh-huh. I believe you.”

“Shut it.”

They work through the next few problems, and Sanji finds his mind unintentionally wandering to dating. Damn it, Usopp.

It’s not like he’s currently interested in anyone. Honest. He doesn’t have time to worry about a relationship – first, he needs to get his degree, go to nursing school, get a job –

He senses motion out of the corner of his eye. A head of green hair sits defeated on the table, eyes glazed and listless in a way that viscerally reminds Sanji of himself when he hits academic rock bottom. Hazel eyes meet blue, seemingly unintentionally, and Sanji feels something in his throat tighten at how tired the guy looks.

He offers a wave and what he hopes is an empathetic look. The marimo blinks and slowly puts up a hand to wave back. He smiles – just barely – before he drags himself off the table to tap away on his laptop, apparently reinvigorated by their momentary connection.

Sanji feels the overwhelming urge to look down, or giggle, or do something else equally ridiculous. He clenches his fists and resists, but that doesn’t stop his heart from stuttering in his chest.

Yeah. He’s totally not interested in dating anyone right now.

-----

The morning after Luffy’s party feels…weird.

Sanji wakes up in his own bed, dressed in street clothes but with his shoes off, and has no idea how he got home.

He remembers getting to the party, meeting Luffy, immediately trying to get Luffy not to eat all the cinnamon rolls he brought, and then…nothing.

See, Sanji doesn’t drink often – in fact, since he lived at home until recently, he rarely drinks anything aside from a small glass of wine. And even then, it’s more for the taste and pairing with food than the alcohol itself.

As he drags a hand down his face, fighting off a vague feeling of motion sickness and a headache, Sanji comes to terms with a terrible, terrible truth:

He’s a lightweight. And must get ready for the day instead of sleeping off the rest of his hangover.

He picks up his phone to check the time – ten-thirty AM – and lets out a painful groan at the screen’s light. There are a few new texts:

TY FOR COMING YESTERDAY! Hoope u had fun, ur cinnamon rolls were super good :)))))))) we’re all grabbing dinner on tues, usop will send u the details

That must be Luffy? He’ll make sure to check the number with Usopp later.

Hey this is zoro. Hope your hangover isn’t too bad

Sanji studies the text for a moment – he must’ve met someone new at the party, then. Weird for him to give him his number, though – Sanji isn’t that kind of guy.

‘Maybe drunk Sanji is, though,’ Sanji thinks, grimacing through another wave of nausea.

Hey, hope you’re not too hungover xoxo <3 we’re still meeting at the library at 10:30, right?

He bolts upward at that one – it’s from Nami. Shit, they’re meeting up to plan out an event for student government.

His stomach gives a nasty lurch as he rises from bed, muttering curses under his breath. He is never drinking ever again.

He bursts into the library, giving an apologetic nod to the person (not Robin, not on weekends) working at the front desk. A quick scan of the library reveals Nami sitting at a table near the back, tapping away at her laptop.

“I am so sorry I’m late, my sweet!” he exclaims, dropping himself into the chair across from her with significantly less grace than he intended. “I think the party yesterday got the better of me.”

Nami gives him a knowing smirk. “I’ll bet. Did you have fun?”

“I – I think so?” Sanji furrows his brow, awkwardly fidgeting with his bangs. “To be honest, I only really remember the beginning.”

Her expression shifts into surprise and amusement, and she laughs, delighted. “You didn’t even drink that much!”

“Apparently I’m more of a lightweight than I thought,” he grumbles. Nami giggles, and Sanji smiles despite himself.

“Wait, I didn’t do anything…weird, did I?”

Nami immediately shakes her head. “Nope! Me and Usopp were keeping an eye on you, don’t worry. Although,” she continues, dramatically tapping her chin, “you were flirting pretty hard with some of the people there. One guy in particular.” She looks absolutely devious.

Sanji can’t help himself – he lets out a bone-deep groan of agony. At least Nami seems to think it’s funny if her deep belly laugh means anything.

“Oh, come on, it’s not too bad,” she says, encouraging. “He’s a good-looking guy! If you’re into the whole,” she gestures vaguely, “meathead, sword-obsessed vibe.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, there’s just someone–” Sanji’s mind flashes to a head of obnoxious green hair and an exceedingly messy workspace. “Uh – never mind. Hey, let’s go ahead and finish planning everything for this speaker, then we can grab lunch after your next meeting?”

Nami raises an eyebrow at him but goes along with Sanji’s abrupt subject change anyways. He internally breathes a sigh of relief.

As though he has a sixth sense, Sanji’s head snaps up to the library entrance just in time to meet with steel-gray eyes. The mosshead startles a bit before giving Sanji a tiny wave. Sanji can’t help the smile that creases his features and waves back.

The marimo looks like he’s going to walk over, and Sanji’s heart thuds unconsciously in his chest. Maybe this will finally be when Sanji can learn the guy’s name and ask him out properly instead of pining across the room like an idiot. Sanji barely tunes into what Nami is saying, an unforgivable but undeniable fact, tapping his foot in anticipation as the mosshead comes closer and closer –

Until he looks at who Sanji is sitting with and immediately veers in a different direction.

Sanji blinks.

Then blinks again when the mosshead nearly runs into the table he eventually sits at, an incredibly noticeable flush crawling across his features. The ruddy color stands out against his tan skin, making him even more attractive than usual.

He subtly shakes his head before forcing himself to zone in on what Nami is saying, pushing the marimo’s odd behavior to the back of his mind.

“So, do you think we should get boxed lunches or a buffet-style setup?” Nami questions. “The boxed lunches will be more expensive, but the buffet style will be messier, and it’ll take more time for everyone to get their food.”

“I’m leaning towards the buffet style because we need the money to…help…”

Is…is the marimo looking at him? Sanji squints in his direction to confirm. He’s looking at their table with an expression that Sanji can’t parse for the life of him. It’s almost – hopeful? A soft tinge of red still lingers around his ears, and he keeps glancing at Sanji like he’s expecting something from him.

“Hm?” Nami stops tapping at her keyboard to look at Sanji. “Help…?”

“Uh! Help pay for the town hall in a month,” Sanji replies, harried.

“Oh! I completely forgot about that; thanks for the reminder. That makes this easier.” Nami clicks through something on her laptop, “If we’re going for the buffet option, I have a few places in mind that last year’s director recommended.” Sanji nearly audibly sighs in relief when Nami’s attention is directed away from him, muttering something about her laptop freezing.

He chances another glance in the mosshead’s direction. Okay, yep, he’s definitely looking at him something fierce; and his expression has become even more muddled. Now he seems…bashful? And a little confused. His eyes keep flicking between him and Nami, and he looks increasingly frustrated the longer he does.

Hopelessly confused, Sanji shrugs. The marimo appears to think for a moment before his eyes light up with a thought. He searches through his bag and pulls out…nothing. He clicks his tongue and pushes the contents of his bag around. When he still comes up empty-handed, he raises a shoulder in an uncharacteristic helpless shrug.

Sanji can feel a hint of annoyance peeking through his confusion, aggravating the headache that’s been lingering at the back of his skull for the entire morning. What’s this guy’s deal? He looked like he was gonna come over to talk to him but decided against it when he saw Nami.

Was Nami being here a problem? Did he not like her? Unlikely, since Nami is one of the most beautiful and put-together people he’s met at the university. It’d be pretty impossible not to like her, Sanji thinks.

Unless…

Oh, you’ve got to be joking.

The pieces fit together in Sanji’s mind, edges jagged against his now-pounding headache. The blushing. The embarrassment. The extremely uncharacteristic bashfulness. The immediate discomfort upon seeing him and Nami together.

This guy has a crush on Nami. And is now trying to get Sanji to leave so he can talk to her alone.

Sanji feels a swell of rage build in him, deftly working to cover the sinking feeling in his gut. Of course. Of course this incredibly built, incredibly handsome, incredibly stupid guy wouldn’t want to date Sanji.

Really, it’s Sanji’s fault for being an idiot and getting a crush in the first place. He doesn’t even know this guy’s name, but he still thought he would be interested in him.

‘Get over yourself, moron,’ Sanji internally retorts, unsure if he’s directing his thoughts to the confused-looking piece of moss across the way or himself. Either way, he’s pissed.

Some of how he’s feeling must be showing on his face because the mosshead looks confused and more than a little hostile. His flush has returned full force, and he crosses his arms defensively.

But he won’t stop looking at Sanji. He’s not even pretending to focus on anything else, perfectly content to glare at Sanji as though the force of it will convince him to get up and leave.

Well, fuck that. Sanji can be petty and annoying for as long as it takes for this guy to leave Nami alone. He’s pretty sure Nami has a girlfriend already, anyways. What a jerk.

Sanji returns the mosshead’s glare full force and very slowly, very deliberately, gives him the finger.

A beat passes. And then the mosshead bares his teeth and returns the gesture.

What, is this overgrown manchild gonna start growling at him like a dog? Sanji isn’t deterred and uses his other hand to enunciate the gesture.

The marimo scowls, keeping one hand free to continue flipping Sanji off while the other haphazardly crams his things into his backpack. He uses the other hand to continue flipping him off when he pulls his bag over his shoulders, maintaining eye contact as he backs away toward the library door. Only when he’s about to swing it open does Zoro put his hands down, but the force of his constant glare is enough to convey his meaning.

“Sanji? What the hell was that?” Sanji snaps out of the weirdly competitive headspace he was in and back into reality to find Nami’s unimpressed look.

“Ah – sorry, my dear, there was some green-haired asshole who kept looking at us and being weird. I was just telling him to leave us alone,” Sanji replies sunnily, regaining some of his composure. He can deal with the hurt later– right now, he’s in polite company.

Nami’s eyes bug out of her head as she leans forward. “Wait…did you say green hair?”

“…yes?”

Without looking, Nami pulls out her phone. She seems a little deranged as she does it.

“Yeah, do you know him? Is this guy following you around or something?” Sanji feels his blood boil again, even though that’s the last thing he could ever see the mosshead doing.

‘Well,’ Sanji thinks, more than a little bitter, ‘it’s not like you even know him, anyways.’

“No! No, this is just –” she’s rapidly typing into her phone without looking. It looks like she’s using all caps. “You’re sure he was looking at me?”

Sanji nods, increasingly perplexed by her behavior. “Um, yes? Who else would he be looking at?”

Nami makes a noise like she’s dying and covers her mouth. “Oh my god. Sanji, I have to go to my meeting, but you should talk to that guy the next time you see him. Oh my god.” Nami sounds like she’s about to choke on something, and her fingers slip to reveal an enormous grin. “Vivi isn’t gonna believe this…” she mutters.

“Sorry, what did you say? You were talking a little –”

“Nothing! It’s nothing! Make sure you talk to that guy the next time you see him, okay, I’ll text you when I’m done, bye!” Nami more or less flies out of the room, tapping at her phone like her life depends on it.

That was…weird. Sanji slumps in his seat, winded at the unexpected hit of angry adrenaline. Maybe Nami’s just feeling stressed?

Yeah, that must be it.

-----

There are a few character flaws that Sanji will admit to having but doesn’t really care about changing. One: he has a fierce, hair-trigger temper inherited directly from his old man. Two: he maybe spends too much time admiring women and letting them walk all over him.

Three: he is as stubborn as a mule.

See, he really likes the library in the history building. He likes the high windows and the slightly dusty smell of the air. He likes that it’s mainly grad students quietly working on individual projects. He likes that Robin works there. So he really isn’t willing to try and find a new spot to study, especially this close to the end of the semester.

Unfortunately, a particular green-haired idiot doesn’t seem to want to move either.

Every time their eyes meet, it becomes an intense staredown paired with rude gestures. Sanji glares as hard as he can, and the marimo glares back just as fiercely. Honestly, Sanji isn’t even upset about him not being interested in him anymore – it’s not like it’s the mosshead’s fault that Sanji read too much into their tiny interactions. Even if it does sting a bit.

There’s just something about the idiot that triggers every instinct for pettiness that Sanji has, something about the way he smirks whenever Sanji walks in and gives an annoyed huff at seeing that painfully familiar head of green hair. Something about how when he stretches, his shirt rides up a little bit and pinches his pecs in an unfairly attractive way that makes Sanji feel a tinge of heat on his cheeks. Something about how he keeps trying to annoy Sanji with paper balls and annoying taps at his table. It’s like the marimo somehow knows exactly how to get under his skin without even trying and relishes in it.

Even though they still haven’t spoken. Even though Sanji desperately wants to know his name, if only to send him further bad vibes.

Maybe it’s the end of the semester getting to him, or his homesickness finally pushing him into insanity – but Sanji looks forward to their petty squabbles. Of course, he would never admit it, but there’s nothing quite like the thrill of seeing the mossbrain’s ears turn red when Sanji throws a paper airplane at him. It’s perfectly childish – but, well, Sanji never said he was an adult yet anyways.

But it can only last for a couple of weeks before finals hit – and they hit Sanji like a train.

Whatever semblance of control Sanji has had over his classwork is gone in an instant. He has a final communications project due, three cumulative final exams, and two different three-hour review sessions to host for the class he’s a TA for. Not to mention he has to prepare end-of-year reports for his student government responsibilities.

The days start to blur together in the worst, most stress-inducing way possible. Even Robin’s soft admonishments aren’t enough to stop him from camping out in the library from one in the afternoon to ten at night almost every day. And it still feels like he’s not doing enough.

It finally comes to a head when Sanji wakes up with a snort, a final exam review sheet stuck to his face. He squeezes his eyes shut against the light before they adjust, cracking open in displeasure. He remembers thinking that reserving a study room would help him focus (and provide some much-needed privacy if he finally hit his breaking point), but he didn’t think he was so desperate to use it as a napping space. Not consciously, at least.

Disoriented would be a polite way to describe how he feels. A headache pounds at the base of his skull, and crusties have formed in the corner of his eyes. His laptop screen is black – out of charge. Unsurprising since he forgot his charger today. Sanji huffs in a breath and roughly scrubs a hand down his face before checking his phone.

2:33 AM. He groans.

After he’s pulled his things together, he stumbles to the front of the library, ready to make the arduous trek back to his single dorm. He loudly yawns while reaching for the door – only to stumble when it stays firmly in place.

He tugs it again with the same result. He tries the door next to it with an increasing sense of desperation.

Locked.

He tries every door in the library – all locked.

After a few choice curses under his breath and general damnation of finals season and everything it stands for, Sanji slumps into his usual table near the front and considers his options.

He can’t hope to fall back asleep anytime soon. And his laptop’s out of battery, so he can’t study. Plus, any studying he could do would be completely useless with how tired he is right now.

Sanji starts roaming the bookshelves, looking for something boring enough to lull him to sleep until Robin comes in to open tomorrow when he notices a conspicuous piece of algae hidden among the rows of books.

Sanji has seen the mosshead napping in the library before – with the number of times he’s seen it, Sanji is surprised that Zoro doesn’t just go home to sleep. But seeing the marimo cross his arms and sleep sitting upright during the day is very different from seeing him slumped over a table, dead asleep, at nearly three in the morning.

His shoulders rise and fall evenly, tiny puffs of air escaping from his barely open mouth. His head lies pillowed on his forearms, one cheek squished against them. All the tension seems to have left his body, and his face looks relaxed in a way Sanji hasn’t seen before.

There’s even a bit of drool on his sleeve. Cute.

…wait. No. Not cute.

Sanji shakes his head vigorously to free himself of the sleep-induced thought before he roughly jostles the marimo awake.

He snorts out of sleep, startling so badly at the sight of Sanji that he nearly falls out of his chair, a wave of concern propelling Sanji’s hand forward to steady him. He catches himself at the last moment, awkwardly hovering over the mosshead’s shoulder.

Dear lord, he needs to get it together. He got over this crush ages ago, didn’t he?

His traitorous heart sings its denial at the sight of the mosshead scrubbing sleep out of his eyes. Ridiculous.

“Hey mossy. Do you have a key out of here?”

“Hhh?”

Sanji sighs. “Do you have a key, or card access?”

The mosshead doesn’t answer for a moment, head swiveling to get his bearings.

“No. And what did you just call me?”

Sanji curses under his breath, willfully ignoring the marimo’s question.

“Well, shit. Looks like we’re both locked in here until morning, then.”

Zoro blinks. “…huh. Alright, then.” He yawns and slumps back over, fully intending to go back to sleep.

“Oh hell no,” Sanji mutters, shoving at the mosshead’s shoulder. “Nope! You’re staying awake. I’m not suffering through this by myself.”

He gives Sanji a fierce, half-asleep glare before making some disgruntled noises and stretching.

“Ugh. Fine. What do you want?”

The question throws Sanji for a bit of a loop – what does he want?

It dawns on him that this is the first time they’ve actually spoken. And that Sanji couldn’t have imagined that this would be the scenario where he finally learns the marimo’s name.

“Uh. What’s your name?”

“…are you kidding me?”

“What?!” Sanji retorts, clearly flustered. “I don’t know about you, but I usually like to learn people’s names before I try and start a conversation.”

A peculiar expression creases the marimo’s features for a moment before they smooth into indifference. He looks away.

“Zoro.”

It sounds vaguely familiar for some reason. Sanji dismisses the feeling with an internal shrug.

“Nice to meet you, Zoro. I’m Sanji.”

There’s a beat where Zoro looks like he’s going to say something, but thinks better of it. The resulting silence makes Sanji squirm in his seat.

“So…what’s your major, anyways?” Sanji figures that he might as well get to know the guy he’s been antagonizing for the past few weeks.

“Physics.”

“What’s with all the history stuff, then?” Sanji internally cringes. What is he doing, interrogating this guy? This is maybe the least smooth Sanji has been in his entire nineteen years of being alive.

“It’s my minor.”

Sanji makes a noise of acknowledgment, and they once again fall into an uncomfortable silence.

“…and you?” Zoro sounds like the question is physically painful to ask. “What’s your major?”

“Biology, but I’m planning on going to nursing school.”

“Huh. Thought you didn’t need a bachelor’s to go.”

“Eh. You need prerequisite classes. Plus, my old man was really insistent I finish college and get a degree, so.” Sanji shrugs. “Figure I might as well go the full nine yards or whatever.”

Zoro grunts in affirmation. “Same. Didn’t think the whole college thing was for me, at first.”

“Yeah?”

“But my sister chewed me the hell out when I basically flunked my first year,” Zoro continues, a bemused glint in his eye. “My old man didn’t really care – just as long as I was in good enough standing to stay on the fencing team.”

Sanji leans forward in surprise. “Fencing? With how you’re built, I would think you were a pro wrestler or something,” Sanji chuckles. A charming tinge of red appears on Zoro’s ears.

“’s not that big a deal,” he grumbles.

“So why physics, then?” Sanji continues. “Because I can’t imagine anything worse, to be honest. No offense.”

Zoro huffs out a laugh. “None taken. I’m good at numbers, and Rona said I’d probably get a better job with a physics degree than a math one.”

“Rona?”

“My sister.”

“She seems pretty instrumental in keeping your life on track,” Sanji murmurs.

“Eh, she thinks she’s hotter shit than she is. She’s super obnoxious about it, just because she’s in grad school or whatever.” A small smile plays at the corners of Zoro’s lips – there’s a hint of affection under Zoro’s harsh words.

Cute.

Ridiculous.

“So how about you, then? Why nursing?”

Sanji stops to consider Zoro for a moment. When most people ask that, it’s accompanied by some unintentionally rude comment about how he should go to med school or some other nonsense. But Zoro seems genuinely curious, considering Sanji with an appraising eye.

“…honestly?” Sanji’s voice is quiet. Zoro leans forward with attention. Maybe it’s just because it’s almost three AM, or maybe it’s because Sanji’s been nursing a crush on this guy for the entire semester, but Sanji feels more willing to share something other than the generic answer he usually gives.

“I was a sickly kid. Spent a lot of time in the hospital. Made going to school and making friends real tough, so I was constantly pissed off. But the nurses were always nice to me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Sanji wrinkles his nose in disgust at the memory of Judge shoving needles in his arms, then yelling at him when he cried. “The doctors were always shitty, though.”

Zoro hums thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. For the first time through the night, Sanji is grateful for the silence, just until he feels compelled to break it.

“Almost went to culinary school, though.”

Zoro considers this for a moment. “Seems like it’d suit you, being a cook.”

Sanji feels a hint of irritation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Zoro laughs, immediately diffusing whatever tension Sanji could feel building. “Nothing bad. You just bring a lot of stuff in for Robin and everyone you study with.”

“It’s – it’s not that big a deal,” Sanji mumbles, a little flustered. “I just make too much. And besides, how would you even notice that?”

“What, for all the times you’ve looked at me, you didn’t think I was looking back?” Zoro smirks, and Sanji feels a hot blush crawl across his face at getting caught.

“So you noticed, huh…” Sanji deflates, defeated.

“You weren’t exactly subtle about it, to be fair.”

“I – alright, excuse me for being curious, then.” Sanji sniffs haughtily, trying to figure out how to return the conversation to solid ground that isn’t Sanji’s private admiration for the other student. “You study like an absolute maniac, by the way.”

“The fuck’s that mean?”

“Oh, don’t give me that. You have all your papers in a crumpled-up pile at the bottom of your backpack. It’s a miracle you can even find anything,” Sanji grumbles.

“Hey, I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?” Zoro replies, easy and unbothered as anything.

“What I wouldn’t give to have your attitude,” Sanji says, deadpan. “Truly. The most inspirational student I’ve ever met.”

“Oi.”

“No, please teach me how you write directly in your rented textbooks. It’s an art form.”

“Oh, that’s rich. I bet you’re the type to color-code everything with –” Zoro gestures vaguely with his hands, “stupid little post-its.”

“Hey, at least I’m organized!”

“Do you have a multi-color pen for different notes, too?”

“That’s just efficient, you –”

Sanji cuts himself off when he realizes Zoro looks like he’s having the time of his life. “…you’re having fun making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“You just make it too easy, curly.”

“Curly?!”

“’s the eyebrows! C’mon, you called me a dumb nickname. It’s only fair that I get one or two.”

Sanji…really doesn’t have a response to that. Not knowing Zoro’s name doesn’t really count as an excuse at this point.

“…fine. You get a pass. But my name’s Sanji, you got that?”

“Alright, curly.”

“I swear to god, I will beat your ass into the ground.”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try, with your skinny-ass arms. Pro wrestler build, remember?”

“You–! You’re the worst, y’know that?”

Zoro laughs, a loud guffaw that breaks through whatever remains of the tense atmosphere from before. “You ain’t doin’ too hot yourself there, either, curls. Who’s been throwing paper at me for the past week and a half?”

“Yeah, well – that’s ‘cuz you started it,” Sanji replies, petulant. He is not being childish.

Zoro exaggerates his face in deep thought. “Hmm. That doesn’t sound right.”

“You were! You were trying to hit on my friend while I was right there. Real charming of you.” Sanji puffs out a breath, blowing his bangs out of his eyes.

“I was…what?” Zoro tilts his head in confusion. Sanji refuses to find the motion endearing.

“Listen, I know Nami is really pretty, but you shouldn’t just be waiting to ask her out as soon as she’s alone. And I’m pretty sure she has a girlfriend already too, so –”

“Hold up a second,” Zoro cuts Sanji off, “You…thought I was trying to hit on the witch?”

“Oh, I sure hope you’re not referring to Nami, you troglodyte –”

“Sanji,” Zoro says, and Sanji immediately quiets at the urgency of his tone. “Do you…do you really not remember what happened at Luffy’s party? Not even a little?”

“…no? Were you there?”

Zoro deflates, awkwardly rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. The gesture is so uncharacteristic of his usual comfortable posture that it puts Sanji on high alert.

“Oh god. I didn’t –”

“No! Nothing bad, you just –” Zoro sighs, clearly embarrassed. “We talked for the entire time, almost. I mean, you were really drunk, but you looked like you were having fun. Even though you were just telling me the best way to sharpen kitchen knives and other stuff like that.”

Sanji slumps in his seat. Of course his drunk ass would talk about something so mundane.

“Jeez, I’m really sorry, you were probably –”

“I had a good time too,” Zoro rushes out, the statement clearly hurting him to say out loud. A rosy blush sits high on his cheekbones.

“…oh.”

“And you – you said you wanted to take me out sometime.” Zoro’s voice is almost a whisper now. “And you tried to kiss me.”

Sanji’s heart nearly stops in mortification. Not because he doesn’t want to kiss Zoro, but because he can only imagine how much of a mess he must’ve been at that party to try something like that.

Zoro looks like he might die of embarrassment but bravely pushes on. “And then you puked on my shoes, so Nami helped me get you back to your dorm in one piece.”

Sanji ekes out a noise of disgust. “I am – so sorry, that’s disgusting –”

Zoro waves off Sanji’s mounting apology. “’s fine. They were shitty old shoes, anyways.”

Sanji curls further into his chair, still reeling from the onslaught of information.

“…so you’re the one that texted me.” Sanji feels horribly guilty for forgetting to answer. “And when I flipped you off the next day for trying to get Nami – I mean, me, alone…”

“I figured that was your way of telling me you weren’t interested.” Zoro clears his throat uncomfortably. “Which is fine, by the way.”

Sanji lets out an agonized groan. “That’s – that was really shitty of me. I’m sorry.”

“Like I said – it’s fine. We all hit on random people when we’re drunk.” Zoro’s expression is trained into one of indifference, but the way he flexes his hand tells Sanji how he really feels.

“That’s not –” Sanji clicks his tongue. If they’re having it out like this, he might as well fully commit and deal with the consequences later. He takes a large breath, bracing himself.

“Look, I really like you. I’m pretty sure I’ve had a crush on you since the start of the semester. Like, you’re really hot and really intelligent, and I think your hair is – fucking ridiculous, but suits you somehow. And if you could sit through me talking about sharpening knives for that long, you’re even more charming than I thought you were, so – would you…uh…want to go out? For real this time – I’m one hundred percent sober right now.”

Sanji gulps in another breath, pretty sure he used his entire lung capacity to get it all out. He resists the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

Zoro looks – taken aback, first off. Understandable. But, like a saving grace for whatever’s left of Sanji’s dignity, a ghost of a smile crosses his features.

“…yeah. I’d like that.”

“Cool. Cool.” Sanji curtly nods, cursing himself for being maybe the most awkward person alive.

His head snaps up at the sound of Zoro’s laughter, full and unassuming.

“You’re really not good at this, are you?”

“Well fuck you, we can’t all be super suave and put together at three in the –”

Warm hands engulf Sanji’s face before soft, chapped lips press delicately against his own. The kiss is brief, chaste in the best way possible, and Sanji feels himself melt into it. The moment ends too fast, and Sanji has to resist the urge to pull Zoro back in for another.

“You seem plenty suave to me,” Zoro murmurs, breath scorchingly hot against Sanji’s cheeks.

‘Fuck it,’ Sanji thinks, and throws his arms around Zoro’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. And another. And another, until Sanji stifles a yawn against Zoro’s lips.

Robin finds them slumped against each other the next morning, dead asleep and hand in hand.

-----

“Okay…” Zoro files through the set of Sanji’s flashcards, pulling one from random. “What neurotransmitter is used by parasympathetic postganglionic neurons?”

“Acetylcholine?”

“Yep. And what’s the name of the receptor it binds to?”

“Postganglionic…is that nicotinic?”

Zoro’s face creases in sympathy. “Muscarinic.”

Sanji groans and drops his head onto the table. “I’m gonna fail this test.”

“You’re not gonna fail it,” Zoro replies, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been studying for three hours straight. You’ll do great.”

Sanji whines and avoids eye contact, thoroughly discouraged, before a hand reassuringly rubs his back.

“You know your shit, but you’re exhausted,” Zoro soothes. “Let’s take a break, and you can come back to it in a couple of hours or something.”

Sanji twists his neck to look sideways at his boyfriend of two months. “This class is literally killing me. Thanks for helping me study, marimo.” Sanji’s nicknames have stuck, much to Zoro’s displeasure.

Zoro rolls his eyes. “You’re being dramatic. C’mon, let’s meet up with Luffy and get some dinner.”

Sanji heaves a sigh, but concedes. Luffy would be a welcome distraction from cramming his brain with information on the nervous system.

Zoro’s hand waits in midair to help Sanji out of his chair, a tiny thrill shooting through Sanji’s chest at the now familiar gesture. Zoro’s hand is warm and comforting in Sanji’s own, and he twines their fingers together.

“I’ve never been dramatic in my life.”

Zoro scoffs. “You’re dramatic every day of your life.”

“Now that’s just untrue,” Sanji exclaims in faux offense. “And you’re one to talk – remember when you Luffy tried balancing your sword on the TV?”

“Hey! Her name is Yubashiri, first off. And if Luffy wants to touch my swords he’s gotta be willing to deal with the consequences.”

“The consequences being you threatening to cut his arm off?”

“Uh huh. Seems reasonable to me.”

“You’re an actual brute, y’know that?”

Zoro chuckles. “You gotta find new insults, cook. They’re getting stale.”

“You’re getting stale,” Sanji replies, harrumphing at Zoro’s resulting laugh.

Zoro’s hand squeezes his, and Sanji feels something warm settle in his stomach.