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Sanji’s in the process of distributing some afternoon snacks when a series of distinctive snickers reach his ears. He pauses where he’s halfway up the staircase that leads to the upper deck, and takes a fortifying breath before continuing onwards.
His heart beats a little faster as he catches sight of Nami and Robin, the both of them sporting form fitting swimsuits as they lounge in their matching lawn chairs. Or rather, Robin is lounging, reclined backwards with a book in hand and a small smile gracing her perfect lips. Nami’s sitting upright and staring avidly at this morning’s paper with Usopp, Chopper, and Brook clustered around her.
Even with the separate addition of his dear navigator, that’s a trio whose combined antics never mean good things for Sanji’s blood pressure. A fact that becomes all the more obvious when they shoot him a series of furtive looks upon spotting him.
Drawing to a halt, Sanji barely resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He can already feel the opening strains of a headache coming on, and wishes he’d stopped to light a cigarette before coming up here.
“Alright,” he says tiredly. “What is it?”
Nami turns to him, her eyes alight with mischief as she rustles the paper in her hands. “You’d better put the drinks down first,” she says, nodding at the tray he has carefully balanced in his free hand. “You know how much you hate wasting food.”
His alarm growing at the insinuation that whatever’s in that paper would cause him to drop the tray - something he hasn’t done in years unless an outside force had made him do so - Sanji takes heed of her advice and carefully sets it down on the table positioned between the lawn chairs. Then he takes a step back and slips his hands into his pockets.
“ … well?” He says after no one says anything for a moment. “Come now, dearest. You clearly have something to tell me, and nobody likes a tease.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Usopp, Chopper, and Brook draw back as one, with the first two trying to scramble behind the skeleton. Sanji suspects they’re hoping his height will help hide them, but of course he’s so thin, it’s a moot point.
Biting back a groan, Sanji does his best to ignore them and focus on the redhead instead. “Nami, please,” he says, trying to look pitiful, and suspecting he succeeds. “What is it?”
She chews absently on her bottom lip for a moment, before letting out a quiet sigh and extending her arm with the paper in hand. “The Navy’s updated our bounty posters. Not the amounts,” she’s quick to add when he starts to perk up. “But the posters themselves. Only - it looks like someone made a little typo somewhere along the line.”
“Try not to lose your temper,” she concludes as he pulls a hand free and curls his fingers around the paper. “You know how Franky feels about having to get scorch marks out of the deck.”
“He has made some rather dire threats about that, I must agree.” Robin comments without bothering to look up from her novel.
Not liking the sound of any of this, Sanji nevertheless takes the paper fully and cracks it open. The bounty posters are clustered in the middle like usual, and he searches through them for his own face before any others.
Somewhat gratifyingly, he finds it among the highest ones, but his happiness ends there. He’s not sure what to expect - perhaps an even worse image than the original drawing, or the return of the dreaded ‘Vinsmoke’ name - and if he’s being honest, it takes a minute for what he’s seeing to truly sink in.
Then it does, and despite Nami’s request he feels fire lance through him, starting in the soles of his feet and spreading all the way up to his knees.
“What the actual fuck?!”
*****
Sanji doesn’t stop or think or do any of the things he really should upon looking at the godforsaken paper. What he does do, is take a running leap across the deck, and ratchet up the main mast like the devil himself is after him.
With the paper still clutched in one hand, he bursts through the hatch for the crow’s nest, whirling like a dervish until he catches sight of his intended target. Then he charges.
Zoro doesn’t have a chance to so much as think about defending himself. Caught with one of his ridiculous training weights in hand - likely an overcompensation for something, Sanji’s always assumed - he can't even put that down, let alone reach for his swords before Sanji’s landing a kick that launches him across the room.
The swordsman hits the far wall with enough force that he leaves a crack in it, eventually sliding to the floor in a crumpled heap while his weight bounces away. He lies there for a moment, his attention clearly on just breathing, until he lifts his head in a jerky motion.
“What the fuck, Curls?” He demands, spitting the words with enough force that a lesser man would no doubt recoil. “Who pissed in your breakfast?”
Sanji ignores him. Stomping forward, he doesn’t pause until he’s standing mere inches away from the fallen swordsman, and then he leans down with the paper in hand, thrusting it close enough that Zoro’d likely go cross eyed trying to look at it if he still possessed enough eyes to do so.
“You algae-riddled moron,” Sanji seethes, shaking the paper for emphasis. “What did you do?”
“Huh?” Now sounding more confused than anything else, Zoro pulls back slightly, as if he’s trying to escape the ongoing invasion of his personal space. “What the fuck are you going on about? I was up here minding my own business, and then you tried to cave my ribs in.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, you itinerant cactus!” Sanji bellows, rattling the paper again. “I know you can read, so look at this! Look at it!”
“Alright. Alright, jeez!” Groaning, Zoro rubs at his chest as he shifts back around to do as he’s told. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s got your briefs in a bunch, but it can’t be all that … oh.”
“Oh,” Sanji repeats, drawing the paper back so that he can glare at it himself. “Ohhh, he says. As if this isn’t the worst thing to ever happen to me. What the fuck is this, and how the fuck did it happen?”
Zoro shrugs, looking far less upset than Sanji feels the situation warrants. “Misprint?” He suggests, the telltale signs of a smirk beginning to lurk at the corners of his mouth.
“Not fucking likely,” Sanji scoffs, his glare now hot enough that he’s surprised the paper doesn’t ignite. “Not even the marines are this fucking stupid.”
“Well, don’t look at me,” Zoro sniffs. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Momentarily pausing in his glaring, Sanji shoots him a dirty look before returning to his earlier task. Unfortunately, the posters remain just the same as ever, despite his hopes to the contrary.
A number of the crew’s images are still the same ones from after they’d left Wano, but not all of them. Franky’s is once again Franky himself as opposed to the General, and Nami must have submitted a posed one of her own again based on the new image that’s leering suggestively up at him. Sanji wishes he could take a moment to properly enjoy that one, but the other calamity staring back at him is simply too much to bear.
Or calamities, rather. Sanji’s never met the idiot responsible for taking wanted poster pictures, but he swears if he ever tracks the bastard down he’s going to demand answers for what seems like a personal vendetta right before he kills him.
Luffy’s first on the list, no surprise there. His happily grinning face is printed out for all to see, and Sanji has to admit this one’s not bad. Next to him, however, is Zoro’s. In it, the swordsman is turned to the side, clearly arguing with someone, indeed, he appears to have been caught mid-rant.
Exactly who he’s arguing with is evident to anyone who knows them. Firstly, because the tip of Sanji’s cigarette is present in his picture, and secondly, because Sanji’s own poster right next to his is a mirror image of the situation. It’s clear the photographer had caught them mid-fight, and the fucking Navy had just split the picture in half.
But that’s not the worst of it, oh no. The amounts are listed in their usual spots, right below the corresponding names - 1,111,000,000 berries for Roronoa Zoro and 1,032,000,000 berries for Roronoa Sanji.
“This isn’t happening,” Sanji groans, fisting a hand in his hair and tugging futilely. “This cannot be happening. There is no way the Navy issued a bounty poster where I have your last name.”
“Pretty sure it says it right there, actually.” Zoro says, pointing helpfully. “See? They spelled it right and everything.”
“I’ll kill you.” Sanji says flatly. “I’ll kick your feet out from under you, and stomp every single one of your bones to dust. Without hesitation.”
“So what else is new?” Apparently having grown tired of this conversation, Zoro bends to retrieve his fallen weight, and sets it back on the rack it’s normally stored on. After that, he sits down on one of the nearby padded benches, crossing his arms behind his head in a clear signal that he’s about to settle in for a nap.
“You can’t be serious,” Sanji says, affronted. “This is no time for sleeping, you oaf. We need to do something about this!”
“Like what?” Zoro asks, cracking his eye back open from where he’s closed it. “Send a letter to the editor and ask them to print a retraction?” He snorts. “Fill your boots if that’s what you want, Cook, but I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“Like hell you do,” Sanji snaps. “Marimo, even your pea-sized brain should be able to grasp the potential consequences of this fuck up. The average Joe Blow off the street is going to think that you and I are - urgh, I can barely bring myself to say it - involved.”
“As in romantically so,” he clarifies when Zoro’s sole response to this statement is a shrug. “People are going to think we’re literally married. And that I took your last name, no less!”
“So?” Zoro asks, rolling his good eye when Sanji flings his hands up in exasperation. “People who see these posters have also thought Chopper was harmless, that Usopp was dangerous, and that Franky’s a literal machine. They’re bullshit, Swirls, and anyone who matters knows the real truth.”
That is … surprisingly reasonable of him, or rather infuriatingly so. If Sanji wanted logic in dealing with this disaster he’d have gone to Robin, or maybe Jinbe. He doesn’t want to look on the bright side, he wants to destroy things and set the remains on fire.
“You’ve failed me in every conceivable way, Moss.” He declares, jabbing a finger in Zoro’s direction. “And I won’t forget it. You’d better hope we track down the fucker who’s responsible for this mess soon, otherwise I’m going to take my frustrations out on you again.”
“Can I finish my nap first?” Zoro asks, and Sanji’s pretty sure his answering scream can be heard all the way back to the Red Line.
*****
Sanji locks himself in the galley. Well aware that his crew mates are going to have a field day with this latest round of government idiocy, he hides away in the safety of his kitchen, surrounded by his pots and pans as he chops vegetables with considerably more force than necessary.
He stews the entire time, his mind going a mile a minute, even as he loses himself in the repetitive motion of a task he’s done a thousand times before. The crew’s mockery, he knows, will be of a limited duration, and without any genuine intent to cause him harm. The rest of the world, however, that’s another story.
There’s no doubt in his mind that the Navy will be having a field day. Whether the mixup had been deliberate or not, he’s positive it’ll become the talk of the barracks, with everyone from common soldiers to admirals getting in on the joke.
And, of course, from there it’s going to spread. The damn thing’s already made the news, and few items are more heavily circulated these days than bounty posters - especially ones as high as the Strawhats’. That poster is going to decorate every news bulletin in existence, a fact that very nearly sends Sanji weeping into his cooking pot.
Strangers are going to see it. Non -strangers are going to see it. Beautiful ladies who might otherwise fall for his charms are going to see it and think he’s abandoned them in favor of a piece of barely sentient plant life with a sword fetish.
As if - as if - there was even the slightest possibility that he and Roronoa Zoro would ever enter into a relationship, much less holy matrimony. Zoro’s a brute, an oaf, an absolute lout. He drinks too much, bathes too little, and could get lost in a broom closet. He’s nothing but brawn where Sanji has brawn and brains and beauty combined. The fact that he could probably bench press the Sunny and might just do it if he thought it would somehow help him protect the crew does not make up for everything else.
This is a disaster, Sanji thinks, throwing a handful of carrots that aren’t so much chopped as they are minced beyond recognition into his pot. The whole world is going to think he’s off the market, and that he’s lost his mind to boot.
Groaning under the weight of the day’s events, Sanji throws himself into his cooking with renewed vigor. He prepares more food than he knows what to do with, inevitably ending up with a pile that even Luffy might have a problem getting through by the time he calls everyone in for supper.
The captain is the first one across the threshold after Sanji unbolts the door, and judging by the fist shaped bruises on his head, the cook suspects he has Nami to thank for keeping the rubber idiot out of his hair all afternoon. He shoots their navigator a grateful smile, his cheeks heating when he receives a pitying look in response.
He’s certain his crew mates haven’t been able to resist the urge to gossip while he was hiding, and for that he can’t really blame them. Much though he’s loath to admit it, the poster will be fodder for the rumour mill, even if it is a load of absolute drivel.
Doing his best to resign himself to at least a few days of overbearing teasing, Sanji gestures at the food laden table, making it clear that everyone should help themselves. He then stands back and watches as they all shuffle inside.
Zoro’s the last one in, no surprise there. He frequently has to be hustled out of the crow’s nest if he’s training, and today is likely no exception. Sanji supposes he should be grateful the big bastard hasn’t been down here causing chaos, but it’s hard to maintain that thought when the swordsman shoots him a sunny smile as he closes the door behind him.
“Hi, Honey,” he rumbles out with a shit eating grin etched across his face. “How was your day?”
Silence descends. People stop breathing. Outside, Sanji suspects the very ocean itself stops moving. Inside, he locks gazes with the still grinning idiot across from him, contemplating the most gruesome form of murder he can come up with in a short timeframe.
Then someone coughs nervously - Usopp from the sound of things - and the moment passes. Sanji settles for just trying to glare a hole through Zoro’s head rather than actually doing it, and they all sit down to eat without further fanfare.
The meal is both awkward and not. Half the crew seem to be walking on eggshells, while the rest appear not to have noticed that anything is amiss. Luffy eats whatever he can get his hands on, Robin asks for coffee refills, and Franky talks with his mouth full. All of this is normal, and Sanji tries to let that feeling wash over him and calm him down.
Halfway through his own plate, he absently asks someone to pass the butter, realizing only belatedly that the dish is currently resting next to Zoro’s elbow. Bracing himself to therefore have to stand up and get it, he’s surprised when the other man picks it up instead.
“Sure thing,” Zoro says, the corners of his mouth turning up just as Sanji curls his hand around the proffered container. “ … Babe.”
Chopper’s eyes go wide, while Nami buries her face in her hands. Brook hums a few bars of portentous music under his breath, and next to him Usopp seems to be considering crawling beneath the table for cover. Everybody else keeps eating, despite the notable chill in the air.
For his part, Sanji slowly counts to ten in his head, and then does it a second time for good measure. Proud of his restraint, he also reminds himself that starting a fight now will result in a whole bunch of food being destroyed, and thus keeps quiet as he draws the butter dish towards himself.
The room feels like it lets out a collective sigh of relief as he sets the dish down with a faint clink and begins scraping some butter onto a knife. He can practically feel Zoro’s disappointment at not getting a rise out of him, but when he risks a glance over, the moron just smirks back at him.
The rest of supper passes without incident, and then it’s time to start clearing the table. After years of practice, Sanji’s got everyone trained in the art of bringing their plates to the sink, but any other help with clean up will come from whoever’s been assigned that task on the chore roster.
“Oh crap,” someone murmurs, while Sanji has his back turned to fill up the sink. “Should we maybe … ?”
“No.” He hears next, and that’s definitely Nami talking this time. “I’m not humouring anything like that. Besides, the sooner they get it out of their systems, the sooner everything can go back to normal around here.”
“Tell that to the Sunny,” Franky mutters, sounding put out. “I’m gonna head to my workshop and get my tools in order. I figure the poor girl’s gonna need me at my best before this is over.”
Sanji wonders what all this is supposed to mean until he hears a familiar heavy tread coming towards him, as opposed to exiting the galley like he’d so been hoping for. He then takes a quick glance at the chore chart where it’s hanging nearby, and groans.
“Something wrong, Sweetheart?” Zoro asks, his voice dripping with faux innocence as he comes to a stop in front of the counter. “You sound stressed. Did you have a rough day?”
The sound of scurrying feet signals the rest of the crew heading for the hills, and Sanji contemplates his desperate need for a cigarette or three as he stares into the sudsy water that’s now filling the sink.
“Angel? Darling? Cupcake?”
There is a thundering in Sanji’s ears and a pounding in his head, but he grips the edge of the counter, trying to stay resolute. “I will pay you to shut up,” he rasps weakly. “I’ll wipe out your entire debt to Nami if that’s what it takes.”
Zoro, no surprise there, laughs at him. A big, loud guffaw that echoes around the room, practically bouncing off the appliances as it simultaneously destroys Sanji’s will to live. “Are you kidding me? This is the most fun I’ve had in ages . I’m gonna milk it for everything it’s worth.”
“Marimo,” Sanji says. “I’ll kill you. You realize that right? Even your thick head has to be able to process the fact that eventually I will snap and rip you limb from limb if you continue on in this vein.”
Shrugging casually, Zoro reaches up to snag a dry towel from the rack where they’re kept, and moves to accept the first plate Sanji hands him. “Worth it,” he says idly. “You know how much I love it when you get all red in the face and shriek a lot.”
Sanji’s not sure which of them moves first, it’s almost as if they do it in tandem. One minute they’re both focusing on the dishes, and the next his own smoldering heel is pressed against Zoro’s haki-coated forearm.
“I’m shocked, Curls,” Zoro drawls lazily. “Fighting in the kitchen.”
“Burn in hell,” Sanji says succinctly.
“You first,” Zoro replies with a grin. “Can I have my arm back now?”
“That depends,” Sanji says. “How likely are you to shut your damn mouth at this point?”
“Aww, Sugar, are you saying you don’t like me showing you how much I care?”
The sound of the galley door snapping off its hinges as Sanji kicks the green idiot through it is worth even the inevitable lecture he’s going to get from Franky.
*****
The next few days are absolute hell. Zoro reaches previously unknown heights of irritation, spewing pet name after pet name, each one getting increasingly ridiculous the more Sanji rages at him. No amount of bodily harm seems capable of making him stop, and they do more damage to the Sunny in three days than they had in the previous three months combined.
Likewise, the rest of the crew are varying levels of awful. The usual suspects such as Luffy, Usopp, and Brook delight in poking fun and cracking jokes about the whole mess, but everyone gets involved to some degree. Even Jinbe and Robin make the odd teasing comment.
It’s terrible. Sanji physically shreds the original bounty posters and takes his lighter to the confetti that remains, but it’s not enough. The newspapers arrive each day, and every time the same godawful images are still there.
“It appears this is more than a case of a simple misprint,” Robin says when she catches him glaring balefully at the most recent paper on the morning of the sixth day. He’s taken to grabbing them directly from the news coo to try and keep them out of the others’ clutches. “The Navy must truly believe that you and our swordsman have been joined in wedded bliss.”
Sanji’s heard a number of horrifying statements come out of Robin’s mouth over the years, but that one is hands down the worst. Barely managing to hold back a shudder, he turns to her with the posture of a haunted man.
“But why?” He croaks, desperate to know how even the Navy could have been stupid enough to make such a colossal mistake.
Much to his dismay, Robin just shrugs. “I’m afraid I wasn’t any more privy to their thought process than you were,” she says with a tiny smile. “Perhaps you can ask them if we happen to come across someone with a sufficiently high rank to know the answer.”
At this point, Sanji’s throttle Akainu himself if he thought it’d get him anywhere. He doubts it will, though. His life has always been something of a cosmic joke, so this is simply the latest in a long list of cruel punchlines.
He says as much to Robin, who does a poor job of hiding a tittering laugh behind her hand. Telling himself that at least he’s made her smile, he tries to channel his energy into getting breakfast ready before the rest of the crew arrives. Nami had mentioned they’d be reaching a new island today, but that the log pose would be taking virtually no time at all to reset. That means everyone’s bound to be busy, and will need the fuel.
In the end, Sanji thinks no one’s going to be busier than he himself. After he’s finished preparing the morning meal, he goes to do inventory on their foodstock. It’s been a while since they’d last made landfall, and even some of their more basic staples are running low. Given that Nami says they won’t even be here overnight, that means he’s got his work cut out for him.
By the time they’ve reached the island and safely docked, he’s come to an unfortunate conclusion. He’s going to need an extra set of hands if he’s to have any hope of getting his shopping done on time, and most of the others have already scattered to do their own resupplying.
He could ask Luffy, or maybe Brook, since neither of them appear to be overly busy, but letting the former come along will be more of a hindrance than a help when it comes to purchasing food, and the latter simply can’t haul around as much as his best option. Even though it pains him to do it, Sanji sends a silent prayer for patience to any gods who might be listening and trudges in the direction of the mikan trees.
As expected, he finds his intended target lying in their shade, already snoring loud enough to raise the dead. Once again wondering how anyone could think he’d ever settle for this, Sanji rolls his eyes and then kicks the stupid brute in the thigh.
“Oi,” Zoro barks as he comes awake. One hand drops down to rub at the spot where a bruise will no doubt be forming, and he glares balefully up at Sanji from his reclined position. “What the fuck, Cook? I didn’t even do anything.”
“Yet.” Sanji says flatly, well versed in the inevitable. “And I don’t care. Your face offends me.”
Zoro’s scowl deepens for a moment, before melting into an expression of saccharine sweetness that Sanji’s come to know all too well in recent days. He opens his mouth to say something hideous, but this time Sanji beats him to the punch by pressing a foot to his throat.
“Don’t squirm,” he directs as Zoro’s face contorts with fury. “And for god’s sake don’t open your stupid mouth. If one more insipid pet name comes out of you, I will not be responsible for my actions. Is that clear?”
His eye still narrowed, Zoro nevertheless nods as best as his current state will allow.
“Good,” Sanji says, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. “Now then, I have a grocery list longer than Franky’s arm, and very little time to complete it in. Since we both know you have jack shit of importance to be doing, you are going to come with me and help. Furthermore, you’re going to be a good little pack mule and not say a single damn thing that’ll make me cave your moronic head in. Is that clear?”
Much to his surprise, Zoro doesn’t immediately contest the idea. Instead, he stays where he is, slightly red in the face, as he swallows with Sanji’s foot still pressing down on his throat.
“What’s in it for me?” He finally asks gruffly.
Sanji considers this. Asking Zoro to be on his best behaviour without any reward at all probably is too much to hope for, he knows, so he supposes it makes sense if he sweetens the deal.
“I need a drink,” he says, after taking a moment to think it through. “Actually, after the week I’ve had, I need several. If you can pull your head out of your ass for the rest of the afternoon, you can come with me, and I’ll pick up the tab.”
“Deal.” Zoro says, capitulating with surprising speed. “Can I get up now?”
“Obviously,” Sanji snorts, drawing his foot back. “You’re no good to me if you’re just lying around up here.”
*****
Luckily, once they get going, Zoro really is on his best behaviour. He doesn’t complain as Sanji loads him down with more and more bags of food, just hauls the whole mess along quietly without even having to be directed which way to go more than five or six times.
By the time they’re finished and the groceries are safely stowed away aboard the Sunny, Sanji’s in the best mood he’s been in for ages. There’s very nearly a spring in his step as he traipses back down the walkway with the swordsman in tow.
Lighting a fresh cigarette, he takes a moment to suck back a heavy drag before expelling a cloud of smoke. Then he points towards a road they’d walked along earlier, nodding when Zoro quirks an eyebrow at him.
“We passed a bar up there this afternoon,” he says in answer to the unspoken question. “I’m afraid it didn’t look quite as dingy as you usually like them, but if I’m paying, you’re going to have to accept something that’s up to my standards.”
“D’you hear me complaining?” Zoro asks, snorting when honesty forces Sanji to shake his head. “Didn’t think so,” he says, hooking his right hand around the hilts of his swords and resting it there casually as they walk. “Lead the way, Curls.”
“Well, obviously.” Sanji snorts, taking another drag from his cigarette. “If I left choosing the route up to you, we’d get there a week from now.”
“Tch - it’s a straight line!”
“That says more about you than it does me,” Sanji says coolly. “Hurry up, Mossball. The sweet sound of alcohol is calling me.”
As he’d hoped, the bar appears to be of a decent quality when they step inside. Oh, it’s nothing to write home about, but it looks perfectly serviceable, not to mention reasonably clean. Zoro might be willing to drink whatever and wherever he can, but Sanji has standards.
For a minute he considers just sitting at the counter, but ultimately decides against it. He plans to be here for a while, so it makes sense to grab one of the cushy booths as opposed to an uncomfortable looking stool.
A waitress arrives to take their order, and it’s obvious from the look on her face that she recognizes them. She doesn’t seem frightened, however. In fact, if anything, he gets the sense that she’s excited. She gushes something about having to tell the owner about their special guests, and promises them that they’ll enjoy their visit.
Sanji watches her go with a smile on his face, always happy to be on the receiving end of a lady’s kindness. He makes a mental note to say something extra flattering when she returns, only to frown when Zoro nudges him under the table.
“Must you?” He asks, turning to look at the other man where he’s sitting across from him. “If you want my attention that badly, basic manners suggests you can just say so.”
In answer, Zoro prods him again, no doubt leaving a smear of muck along Sanji’s pristine pant leg from his constantly filthy boots. He then smirks once he’s satisfied he has his companion’s attention, before nodding at a board hung on the wall not far from where they’re sitting.
“Look, Curls,” he snickers. “We’re famous.”
Following his single eyed gaze, it takes Sanji only a moment to realize that the board is plastered with wanted posters, and the big names at that. He can see exes crossed over Kaido and Big Mom’s, while others like Shanks and Mihawk’s contain the usual ‘dead or alive’ line.
The Strawhats are there too, although Sanji can’t tell from this angle if all ten of them are present. He can see his own no problem, however. It’s the most recent one, and it’s located in the center of the mess, sitting right beside Zoro’s - the both of them with the name ‘Roronoa’ proudly on display.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sanji groans, burying his face in his hands. He debates with himself whether it’d be better to risk drawing attention to the mess by getting up and snatching the damned thing off the wall, or if he should just stay where he is.
“I don’t know what you’re so pissed about,” Zoro suddenly says out of the blue. “It’s the least embarrassing picture you’ve ever had on one of those things, so you might as well look on the bright side.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Sanji snarls. “You’re not the one who keeps getting fucked over every time a new one comes out.” As much as it pains him to admit - hence why he won’t do so out loud - Zoro’s wanted posters have never made him look like anything other than a total badass. Combine them with the cool nicknames he tends to pick up after major battles, and obviously he’s got nothing to complain about.
If Zoro has a response to this, Sanji never finds out what it is. The waitress returns with their drinks, placing a large mug down in front of Zoro and a glass in front of Sanji himself. She brushes off Sanji’s enthusiastic thanks with a wave of her hand, and happily tells them to let her know when they’re ready for the next round.
“And just give a shout if you decide you want something to eat to go with it,” she says as she moves to step away. “Our menu’s not huge, but I’m sure we can find something you’d like.”
“Good service,” Zoro remarks once she’s out of earshot. He then takes a gulp from his mug and smacks his lips together appreciatively. “Good booze too. I like this place, Curls. You chose well.”
“It was more an issue of convenience,” Sanji says. Although, when he takes a sip from his own glass, he’s forced to admit that it’s some top quality wine. “Damn,” he says, holding the glass up for a closer inspection. “I wouldn’t have expected to find this kind of high end taste on such a small island.”
Zoro’s too busy knocking back more of his beer to comment.
The waitress returns several times over the course of their stay, repeatedly bringing with her high end selections that Sanji doesn’t think are being offered to anyone else. He’s not sure what’s going on, but after the third such incident, he starts getting a little suspicious and holds up a hand before the charming woman can scamper off again.
“My dear,” he says once he’s certain he has her attention, “not that I want to impune the status of your lovely establishment here, but I’m afraid we only have so much money on us so there’s a limit to how much of your finest choices we can afford.”
She blinks at him for a moment, and then it’s like a switch flips, causing her to chuckle. “You mean you didn’t pick this place deliberately?” She asks, laughing again when they both shake their heads. “Right, I guess that makes sense since you’re not regulars.”
“It’s the newlywed special.” She adds - a statement that causes Sanji’s brain to short circuit and then begin dribbling out his ears. “Folks who’ve just gotten hitched always get everything for free the first time they visit us after the wedding. I know no one seems to know when exactly you boys tied the knot, but consider it a belated gift thanks to your bounty posters.”
“Awesome - that’s, wow. That’s great, thanks.” Someone says, and Sanji has just enough wherewithal to realize the torrent of almost babble is coming from Zoro, as opposed to him. “We’re so lucky we stumbled over this place. Cool.”
The waitress gives him a funny look, but nods amicably enough. Sanji watches as she heads off yet again, having not yet regained his faculties thanks to her comments.
“ … Cook? You okay?”
Sanji holds up a hand. “I’m not ready to hear your voice yet,” he says weakly. “Don’t speak.”
“Right.”
Rather than point out how this single word is a blatant disregard of what he’d just told the other man, Sanji slides out of the booth, and climbs unsteadily to his feet. A quick glance around serves to indicate the employee only area, and he points himself towards it.
“The witch’ll be pissed if you burn down the building!”
Nodding as much for something to do as to show he’s heard, Sanji walks jerkily forward until he reaches the door to the back room. Shoving it open with one hand, he feels a small lick of shame flutter through him when he winds up startling the poor waitress.
“My apologies, dear,” he says as contritely as he’s currently able. “But would the owner happen to be around at the moment? I was hoping to … say thank you in person.”
The waitress eyes him a little warily, but in the end nods and points to the side. “The owner’s in today,” she confirms. “He’s down in his office right now.”
“Thank you.”
Nodding at another staff member, Sanji heads where he’s been directed, not stopping until he spots a door that must lead to said office. It’s closed at the moment, but opens easily when he grips the handle.
He’s greeted by the sight of a portly man with a haphazardly trimmed beard when he steps inside. The man looks up in surprise at first, but that melts into a pleased grin when he spots who’s come to greet him.
“Well damn,” the man says, gleefully. “I didn’t believe Anastasia at first, but it’s really you, isn’t it? Blackleg Sanji, in the flesh. Or,” and here the man pauses to let out a happy little chuckle. “I guess it’s Roronoa Sanji these days, isn’t it? Congratulations.”
In answer, Sanji steps all the way into the room, and then closes the door with a pointed click.
*****
“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Zoro asks a little while later. “Only … it was an honest mistake, and I liked the spot.”
“I know that,” Sanji mutters around the cigarette he’d lit the moment they’d exited the bar. “If I thought they’d done it deliberately, the whole place would be a pile of rubble right now, but that’s not what happened, so I didn’t.”
Looking slightly uneasy, Zoro glances back the way they’d come. The bar’s almost out of sight by now, but it’s definitely still standing. “So. What’d you do then?”
Sanji exhales a cloud of smoke. “What do you think I did?” He asks. “While you were busy knocking back as much free booze as you could under false pretenses, I set the record straight with the owner.”
“I also,” he notes with a pointed grunt, “suggested that he do himself a favour and pass the same message along to anyone who might be dumb enough to believe that stupid poster means anything. Why?” He asks when Zoro doesn’t say anything further. “You got a problem with that, Mossball?”
“No.” Zoro says, sounding strangely subdued. “No problem at all.”
*****
Zoro knocks off the stupid nicknames after that, and most of the crew quickly get bored as well. Now that they’re back at sea, it’s almost as if Sanji can forget about the whole sordid affair, and get back to his day to day living.
Of course, day to day living for them often means clashing with rival pirate crews who’ve also made it this far on the Grand Line. The Strawhats’ reputation may be enough to make a lot of people wary of them, but plenty of others see them as an impressive prize to try and bring in.
Sanji’s in the middle of reorganizing the pantry when Usopp sounds the alarm using the loudspeaker in the crow’s nest. It’s something he does from time to time, always seeking new ways to improve his efficiency in the kitchen, and he grumbles under his breath at the thought of being interrupted.
Unfortunately, Usopp’s increasingly frantic shouting is soon accompanied by the sound of cannon fire, so Sanji stomps his way out of the galley, fully intending to see what all the fuss is about.
The ship that’s found them is several times larger than the Sunny, and swarming with pirates who all appear to be armed to the teeth. A quick examination with his observation haki doesn’t result in any cause for concern on Sanji’s end, however, so he saunters casually over to the railing with his hands shoved in his pockets.
Zoro’s drawn Kitetsu, but hasn’t bothered to pull either Wado or Enma from their sheathes. Instead, he runs his thumb along the blunt edge of the cursed blade, looking more bored than anything else.
“This doesn’t need both of us,” he says as Sanji comes to a stop next to him. “Especially not with Luffy involved.”
“Nope,” Sanji agrees, pulling a cigarette free from his latest pack and lighting it. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it when Luffy slingshots himself across to the enemy ship to begin wreaking havoc. “You can feel free to stay behind then.”
Zoro snorts, no doubt having noticed the same thing despite it having occurred on his blindside. “Not fucking likely,” he says. “I want a bottle of the good sake if I take down more of them than you.”
“Fine, but you’re helping me scrub out the walk-in freezer if I get more.” Sanji replies, offering up a typical wager in return.
“Deal.” Zoro says, and they leap as one.
Sanji lands on the enemy ship with his usual catlike grace, his legs absorbing most of the impact. Meanwhile, Zoro hits the deck with considerably more force, at least two planks cracking beneath his boots when he comes in too hard.
“Oooh, off to a poor start, Marimo,” Sanji says upon noticing this. “Just so you know, there’s a lot of ice built up in the back of the walk-in, and I expect you to help me get it all out.”
“Whatever,” Zoro scoffs. “Meet you back here in a few minutes.”
“Wait, what?” Sanji starts to demand, but it’s too late. The swordsman takes a running start, and then proceeds to launch himself into the ship’s rigging, apparently having decided that’s where he feels like doing the most damage today.
Sanji wastes precious seconds contemplating going after him, but in the end decides it’s not worth it. Not even Zoro can get too turned around when there are only two ships in the entire vicinity, so they’re bound to be able to find him eventually. His mind made up, he therefore turns his attention to the crowd of pirates who’ve noticed his arrival and are massing around him.
“Evening, folks,” he says, even though it’s mid afternoon at best. He takes another drag from his cigarette, but ultimately decides to toss the rest so it won’t get in the way. “How’s everybody doing?”
“Better than you’re about to be, pretty boy.” Says a grinning pirate who’s somewhat lacking in the teeth department. “What’s with the fancy suit?”
“It’s called having class.” Sanji replies, rolling his eyes. He’s not even in one of his better outfits today, but of course he can’t expect louts like this to realize as much. “I’d say you should try it sometime, but the odds of you living to see tomorrow are slim to none.”
The pirate snorts, sounding unimpressed. “You’re that Blackleg fella, aren’t you? The one who just got hitched to the Pirate Hunter, right?” He sniffs. “Was that your hubby who came over with you? He looked like someone who could hold his own in a fight.”
“Excuse me?” Sanji shrills. “Am I hearing you correctly? Did you just have the unmitigated gall to stand there before me and imply that that directionally challenged neanderthal is somehow more of a threat than I am?”
Belatedly, it occurs to him that this was arguably not the most egregious assumption the pirate had made. “Also, we’re not married,” he adds, wanting to clarify that as well. “We’re not even dating. The Navy just can’t work a photocopier correctly, and I’ve been suffering the consequences for weeks now.”
“I mean, really,” he says, getting more worked up as he continues to think about it. “You said it yourself,” he says, gesturing at the pirate, who now looks confused. “I’m handsome, sophisticated, and well-mannered. I have impeccable fashion sense, and a higher education that’s second to none. Meanwhile, Mosshead thinks personal hygiene is something that happens to other people, and he wouldn’t know the difference between a salad fork and a desert spoon if you stapled one of them to his forehead. I mean - what the fuck? In what world would we make a good couple?”
Silence descends over this area of the deck, although he can hear the sounds of battles being waged elsewhere. The pirates currently surrounding him share a series of baffled looks, before finally the first one clears his throat awkwardly.
“Trouble in paradise, is it?” He asks, and to Sanji’s horror, he now looks like he feels a little sympathetic for him. “Don’t worry, lad. It’s perfectly normal to have the odd rough patch every now and again. ‘Specially once the honeymoon period wears off.”
Sanji sputters, his mouth dropping open as his supposed enemy gazes back at him with an expression of benign helpfulness. “I - you - what?!” He finally demands. “How the hell did you get that from what I just said?”
Much to his chagrin, the pirate just shrugs. “It’s called reading between the lines,” he says. “You’ll likely get better at it when you’re older. Truth be told, I don’t think we ever realized quite how young most of your crew is.”
His companions all nod around him, and Sanji’s pretty sure he’s suffering through some kind of out of body experience. Either that or he’s hallucinating in the middle of a fight, which can’t be good for his health.
“What the fuck, Curls?” Zoro’s voice - because of course the idiot would choose now of all points to return to the scene - jerks him out of his reverie. “You haven’t dealt with any of them yet. What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Oh, don’t you be demanding explanations from me, asshole!” Whirling on him, Sanji jabs a furious finger in the swordsman’s direction. “You’re the one who took off without so much as a goodbye, and left me here to sort things out all on my own. What did you think you were doing?”
“Aye, that’s it lad!” Sanji’s new personal nemesis pipes up while a number of his crew mates nod in agreement. “Proper communication’s key to a healthy relationship, so you tell him when he’s done wrong.”
“Hah?” Says Zoro, both eyebrows climbing up to approach the bandana he’s tied around his head while out of Sanji’s sight.
“Don’t. Ask.” Sanji grits out. “And stay out of my way.” He says, shifting to pin the enemy pirates with the full force of his glare. “These morons are mine.”
*****
Days pass, during which they reach more islands and run into more pirate crews. Each one is different, yet they all have one thing in common - they’ve all seen the never-to-be-sufficiently damned bounty poster and drawn the same never-to-be-sufficiently damned conclusion. Everywhere Sanji goes, people think he and Zoro are married, no matter how many times he shrieks out the contrary.
He makes a point of setting the record straight every chance he gets, hoping against hope that enough people will spread the word for the truth to reach the masses. It may be a forlorn hope, but, short of storming Marineford and demanding that someone in a position of authority do something, it’s the only one he’s got.
By the time it’s gone on long enough that even Zoro seems to have stopped finding the whole thing funny, Sanji’s officially at his wits end. He takes to holding himself up in the galley even more than usual, retreating to the sanctity of his personal space in a vain attempt to reclaim some level of normalcy.
It’s during one such evening when yet another hit is struck to his increasingly fragile psyche. He’s standing by the sink, scrubbing down a pot that’s already in pristine condition, but for once he’s not alone while he does it. Zoro’d scammed his way into a bottle of rotgut rum earlier under the guise of helping carry some new supplies onboard, and he’s sat at the counter drinking it when a shrill blaring shatters the tranquility they’ve managed to achieve.
Dropping the pot back into the sink, Sanji wipes his hands off on his apron as he glares at the screaming transponder snail. A quick glance at Zoro confirms he has no intention of getting up, however, so he sighs and reaches for the receiver.
“Yeah, what do you want?” He asks without bothering to check and see who’s on the other end of the line.
“First, I want you to answer the damned snail with something approaching the manners I taught you.” Snaps an enraged voice. “And second I want to know why in the hell I didn’t get an invite when you up and decided to get married again, Eggplant.”
Sanji pulls the receiver away from his ear so that he can stare at it with the proper level of horror it deserves. The snail glares back at him, the hefty mustache it’s now sporting bristling so as to further showcase its ire.
“Well?” There’s not a receiver that’s been invented yet that can dampen Zeff’s voice when his temper’s properly roused. “I’m waiting for an explanation, Eggplant!” He snaps. “I understood the first time, since it happened under duress, but this is too much. Did it not even cross your mind that I might want to attend the festivities?”
“And also,” he snarls, coming in for a final blow. “I want to talk to that damned husband of yours. What, he didn’t think he should at least broach the subject with me before popping the question?!”
“Old man,” Sanji warbles, feeling faint. “There is so much wrong with everything you’ve just said, I don’t even know where to start to counteract it. For the record, though, I am not married or engaged or dating, and even if I was any of those things, I certainly wouldn’t be doing them with Zoro.”
Suddenly remembering the company he’d had when this call had first come in, he starts to turn around. “In fact, I can get him to tell you as much himself because he’s right … here.”
Sanji trails off when all he’s greeted with is the sight of the galley door swinging shut. “Great,” he mutters, as much to himself as to Zeff. “All your yelling scared the big lug off, and now I’ve got no one to back up my story.”
“Hah!” Zeff snaps. “It’s a weak man who runs from his own father in law. What’s the matter? He too much of a chickenshit to fight for what he wants? I knew he was punk from the moment I laid eyes on him back on the Baratie, but now I wish I’d drowned him in the East Blue when I had the chance.”
“Are you being serious right now?” Sanji demands. “Is this actually happening, or am I trapped in a nightmare? Because if I am, I’d really like to wake the hell up.”
Zeff snorts over the line, the sound making the snail’s mustache rattle. “You’re not dreaming, brat,” he confirms. “Not anymore than I was when I found about this mess through the damned newspaper. Good to know I’m not even worthy of a private letter in advance. Me who raised, fed, and clothed you for over a decade - who put a roof over your head and taught you my trade. This is how you repay me? What’s next? Are you going to conveniently forget to tell me when I become a grandfather and then never visit?”
“Oh my goddd,” Sanji groans, practically clawing at his own face in agony the longer this conversation goes on. “Do you hear yourself, you crazy geezer? More importantly - do you hear me? I’m not married! I promise if I was, I would have told you.”
A suspicious silence emanates over the line. Sanji can practically hear the wheels in Zeff’s head turning as the chef considers what he’s being told, until finally, “ … you’re not married.”
“No!”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes!”
“Absolutely sure?”
“Yes,” Sanji insists a second time. “Old man, I assure you, had I up and gotten married to somebody, anybody, I’d have noticed. I am not married! I am, in fact, as tragically and painfully single as ever!”
“Hmm,” Zeff says, still sounding like he doesn’t entirely believe what he’s hearing. “Then how did this nonsense with your latest bounty poster come about? That’s a hell of a typo, kid. Especially once you combine it with the picture.”
“The picture?” Sanji echoes. “What’s so special about the picture? We’re arguing in it like usual - because we hate each other!”
“Oh please,” Zeff scoffs, sounding pitying. “You two have been pulling each other’s pigtails from the start, and that picture’s just more of the same. You’ll have to forgive me if I thought you’d finally pulled your heads out of your asses.”
“What are you talking about?”
Zeff sighs. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, it’s clearly not the time to press matters. You should have warned me the second the poster came out, though. I’m too old to be getting a shock like that at my time of life, Eggplant. You could have done me some serious harm.”
Sanji pinches the bridges of his nose between thumb and forefinger, wishing for a cigarette. “The devil himself couldn’t take you, you old coot, and we both know it.”
“Tch!” Zeff says helpfully, but at least he’s calmed considerably since Sanji had first answered the snail. “Whatever you say, brat. Now then, since we’ve already established that you don’t call enough, why don’t you tell me what you’ve actually been up to while I have you here.”
*****
He talks to Zeff for the better part of an hour after that. As much as it pains him to admit it, he misses the man, and he doesn’t call him often enough. He therefore takes this opportunity to make up for lost time, and only sets the receiver back in the cradle once they’ve run out of things to say.
Then he goes to find Zoro.
Franky’s supposed to have the watch tonight, but the cyborg’s in the men’s bunkroom, snoring away with everybody else when Sanji goes to check there. Seeing as Zoro’s not present and adding to the usual cacophony, he can only assume that means the two have switched shifts and goes to check the crow’s nest next.
Sure enough, Zoro’s planted on one of the padded benches that line the room when Sanji pops his head through the hatch. He’s discarded his swords somewhere, and is sitting with his legs tucked up against his chest and his chin resting on his knees.
“There you are,” Sanji grumbles, climbing the rest of the way into the room. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Moss. Thanks ever so much for sticking around to help me talk my old man off the ledge tonight. I really appreciated the way you had my back.”
“Fuck off, Cook.” Zoro mutters, sounding for some reason like his heart’s not really in it. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Good for you,” Sanji snarks. “I wasn’t exactly in the mood to have to defend myself all on my lonesome, and you could’ve saved me a lot of hassle if you’d just stuck around to utter the roughly three sentences I needed from you. Since when do you run away from a little yelling?”
He’s expecting his words to piss Zoro off, well aware that the swordsman will likely take them as a slight against his honour and respond accordingly - IE by reaching for his swords. He’s therefore surprised when Zoro gives him an incredulous look instead.
“You really think that’s why I took off?” He asks. “Really? Fuck, Curls, I knew you were oblivious, but that takes the fucking cake.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sanji demands, bristling at the implication that he’s missed something important. “Why else would you have run off and hid up here?”
“Because I can’t fucking do this anymore!” Zoro snaps. “It was funny at first - watching you get all worked up is always good for a laugh - but now …” Zoro trails off with a sigh, his posture defeated as he slumps in his seat. “Now it just hurts.”
“Say what?” Sanji frowns, having no idea what he’s talking about. “What hurts? Make sense, Moss.”
“No,” Zoro shakes his head tiredly, sagging even further into the padded bench. “I said too much already.”
“Screw that,” Sanji says, barely resisting the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Zoro’s been increasingly subdued as of late. Not liking the thought of that, he pins the other man with the sternest look he can muster. “Start talking. I’m not going away until you do.”
Zoro shifts to look at him then. His single grey eye is piercing, and Sanji almost takes a step back due the weight it pins him with. Then the swordsman groans, long and low, as he slowly unfurls himself until he can swing his feet over the edge of the bench. He doesn’t stand, choosing instead to sit with his hands folded in his lap, and Sanji suspects that if he dares to look close enough, he might see a faint trembling where they’re clasped together.
Sanji swallows heavily, suddenly feeling like he’s made a mistake, but equally certain that he’s in too deep to back off now. Planting his own feet, he shoves his hands in his pockets, determined to stand his ground.
“Well?” He says once the silence has stretched on for too long. “I’m waiting.”
Zoro’s mouth works, and he lets out an explosive breath that’s just this side of ragged. “Do you have any idea,” he finally forces out, “how it feels to see you be more pissed off about the Navy giving you my name than you were when they called you Vinsmoke?”
Sanji feels like he’s been slapped. “ … what?” He croaks.
“You heard me,” Zoro replies, palming one hand over the back of his neck, now refusing to meet Sanji’s eyes. “Like I said, it was … funny … at first - watching you get all riled up about the bounty posters. But it’s been over a month now, and I guess it’s not so funny anymore.”
“That’s why I took off when your old man called,” he admits quietly. “I didn’t need to hear you do it again.”
“But - ” Sanji barely recognizes the sound of his own voice thanks to the way he stutters. He clears his throat, trying to switch it back to normal. “I don’t get why that would bother you. In fact,” he adds, as a thought he can’t believe has never occurred to him before crosses his mind, “I don’t get why the posters don’t bother you. I mean,” he tries to joke weakly, “it’s not like you’d ever want me to have your name for real, right?”
Zoro laughs then. It’s not a pleasant sound, but rather one that sends an uncomfortable shiver down Sanji’s spine. “You really don’t know, do you?” He says, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. “Fuck, everybody else figured it out ages ago, but it actually never sunk in for you, did it?”
“I’d give you my name, Cook.” He says tiredly. “I’d give you everything I have, anything you asked for if I was able. And I know you don’t want it, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, or anything like that. I just …” He shrugs, trailing off with an expression on his face that Sanji can’t read. “I just could have done without the reality check, is all.”
“But that’s - you’re saying that you want …” unable to properly articulate himself, Sanji points at his own chest, his heart lurching when Zoro nods.
“Yeah,” the other man says. “All of it. I want the whole damn package.”
“For how long?” Sanji demands, needing to know.
Zoro shrugs. “For a while,” he says quietly. “Since probably … Little Garden. Yeah.” He adds, nodding firmly after taking another moment to think about it. “Since at least then.”
Three years. Sanji reels, having no idea how to process what he’s hearing. “You never said anything.” He insists, and he doesn’t mean for the words to come out sounding as accusatory as they do, but he also can’t help it.
He feels bad for Zoro’s resulting flinch, and his gut churns as the other man seems to fold in on himself. “I know,” he says quietly. “But I also knew there wasn’t any point, and I didn’t want to fuck up what we already had. Figured something was better than nothing.”
“I - ” Sanji wavers where he stands, feeling uncomfortably helpless. “I don’t know what you want me to say here.”
Zoro gives him a smile that doesn’t reach his eye, a horrible brittle thing with no true trace of levity in it. “Don’t worry about it, Curls.” He says. “I’m not asking for anything you’re not willing to give.”
“You can go if you want,” he adds softly. “I’m sure you want this conversation to be over as much as I do.”
And Sanji, coward that he is, flees.
*****
The next few days are awful. Sanji doesn’t have a clue what to do or say, and Zoro makes it worse by actively avoiding him. The swordsman trades off his shifts of chores in the galley for extra night watches, effectively giving himself every excuse possible to hide away in the crow’s nest. Sanji only lays eyes on him during meal times, and even there he’s the last to arrive and the first to leave. There’s no opportunity for them to talk, even if Sanji had any idea what to say.
Of course, the crew notice, but much to Sanji’s dismay, none of them seem overly surprised. If he had to guess, he’d say they’ve all been waiting for something like this to happen, which just serves to further indicate how far he’s had his head shoved up his own ass during the whole bounty poster mess.
Sanji laughs mirthlessly as that thought enters his head. Over the past seventy two hours, his botched bounty poster has been the least of his worries, and at this point he has a hard time remembering why he’d been so worked up about it in the first place.
“Did you say something, Sanji?”
Having forgotten he wasn’t alone, the blond jumps. A quick glance over at the seating area confirms that Robin’s still present and drinking from the fresh cup of coffee he’d brewed her upon request. As he watches, she takes a careful sip now, but her eyes never leave his face.
He’s still trying to work up the nerve to say something, when a hand sprouts from the back of the chair across from her, flower petals shimmering briefly before they disintegrate into nothingness. “Why don’t you come have a seat?” Robin suggests. “We can chat if you like.”
Sanji feels his throat tighten. “Thank you for the offer, dearest,” he manages to choke out. “But I’m afraid I have a bunch of chores to get through, and then I - ”
A sharp sound rings out as she taps the seat more pointedly this time. “Sanji.” She says firmly, but not unkindly. “Come sit.”
His legs start moving without permission, and the next thing Sanji knows he’s pulling the indicated chair out and dropping down into it with an exhausted groan. He hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep since The Incident, and he doubts he can expect one anytime soon either.
Robin’s eyes roam over him for a moment, and the corner of her mouth turns down in the smallest of frowns. “You look tired,” she assesses. “And I suspect you feel worse than you look. We all know how good you are at hiding the extent of your struggles.”
Guilt surges through him at what can only be a reference to the Whole Cake Island situation, and Sanji drops his gaze down to the table’s surface. He stares at the polished wood grain as if it might somehow be able to fix whatever’s wrong with him.
“I’m fine.” He says, once it’s become clear she has every intention of waiting him out. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself in worrying over me.”
“And yet here I am,” she replies, leaning forward to rest her elbow on the table and prop her chin in her hand. “Me and the rest of the crew, if you want to be technical. It’s obvious that you’re unhappy right now. Zoro too.”
Sanji flinches and sinks lower in his seat. “Did he tell you what happened?” He mumbles.
She surprises him by chuckling at that. “Of course not,” she says. “Ignoring the fact that Zoro is hardly what I’d refer to as ‘forthcoming’ when it comes to his personal life, you and I both know he wouldn’t dream of spreading idle gossip.”
“Then how’d you know?”
Her smile widens. “Not much happens on this ship without my knowing about it, and even if that weren’t the case, it’s impossible to miss the fact that the usual dynamic is off between the two of you. I can only surmise that the issue of your new wanted poster has finally come to a head.”
Sanji hunches so far in on himself that he’s sure he must resemble some kind of mutant turtle. “I hurt him,” he rasps, shame flooding through him. “I didn’t realize I was doing it and I don’t think he blames me, but … I still did it.”
“Mhm,” Robin agrees. “That’s true, and you’ll have to figure out what to do about it. Before that, however, might I suggest working out why the poster made you react the way that it did first.”
“What do you mean?” Sanji blinks. “That poster made the whole world think that Zoro and I are - you know - and we’re not! He’s the most frustrating man on the planet, and he irritates me to no end.”
“So much so that you’d rather be known as Vinsmoke Sanji again, as opposed to Roronoa Sanji?” Robin’s tone remains unchanged, but there’s a feeling in the air that suggests she’s somewhat skeptical of this claim.
“I mean, of course not,” Sanji scoffs, his own voice more sharp than he’d usually let it be around her. “Obviously I’d take even Zoro ’s name over that. I just - I don’t know, alright?” He finally forces himself to admit. “I don’t know why it bothered me so much. It just - it just didn’t feel … fair.”
One of Robin’s coal black eyebrows goes up, and Sanji himself needs a minute to try and parse out why he’d said that. It had made sense when the word had slipped out of his mouth, but he can’t for the life of him articulate why.
The realization, when it comes, hits him like a lead balloon.
“It’s because it wasn’t mine to take,” he says dully. “Zoro’s name is too important to him, it’s one he’s carved out all on his own. I don’t deserve to have it just because some idiot at Marineford made a typo. I didn’t earn it.”
“I thought as much,” Robin replies, and the pleased look she gives him makes Sanji squirm uncomfortably. “For all the antics you and Zoro like to engage in, I’ve never thought there was genuine repugnance involved.”
“He said - he said not for a long time on his end,” Sanji murmurs, feeling like he’s revealing a dark secret. “And maybe - if I’m telling the truth - not for a long time on mine either.”
“No?” Robin says, humming thoughtfully when Sanji shakes his head. “Well, what do you want then?”
Sanji thinks about this, really thinks about it. First and foremost, he wants his friend back. He wants to erase the past three days and make it so that Zoro’s around, getting underfoot and bickering with him as he tries to work. Beyond that, though, he isn’t sure.
“I don’t know,” he says helplessly. “But not this. Definitely not this.”
“Then it sounds like you two need to talk,” Robin says simply.
*****
Sanji means to take Robin’s advice, he really does. Partly because he hates the thought of denying her anything, but also because in this instance he’s confident that she has the right of it. She usually does, after all.
Unfortunately - and also somewhat ironically given that the origins of the whole mess start with them - the marines have other ideas. Sanji spends all night and a portion of the next morning trying to work out what he wants to say to Zoro, only for a small fleet of ships to arrive before he can turn words into action.
He doesn’t recognize the commander who’s at the helm of the lead ship, and the group’s insignia is foreign to him as well. They’re a target for him to vent his frustrations on, though, and he launches himself into the fray with that in mind.
The next few minutes are a blur. He lands on the nearest enemy ship, and immediately throws himself into a spin kick to create some room to maneuver in. By the time he’s back upright, he’s surrounded by a circle of groaning bodies, many of them looking like they wished they’d never joined the Navy in the first place.
Allowing himself a faint grin, Sanji surveys the area for new targets. He finds them in a group of about half a dozen marines, all of them looking fairly junior and like they’re about to wet themselves as he approaches.
“That’s Blackleg Sanji. He hears a frightened voice murmur, only for this comment to be followed by a quiet thump.
“Idiot!” Another voice thumps. “It’s Roronoa Sanji now, or didn’t you hear that he and the Pirate Hunter got married?”
“Nonono,” Says the first marine, and Sanji’s close enough now to be able to pick out which one is speaking. “Someone made a mistake somewhere, and rumour has it Blackleg’s pissed about the whole thing. He’s been taking down anyone who fucks up and calls him by the wrong name.”
“Well what do we call him then?” Demands a third marine, and the second starts in with, “Uhh, I think his last poster said Vins - urk!”
The second marine freezes, mainly because he’s now pinned to a handy wall thanks to the foot Sanji has pressed to his chest. He stares at Sanji with terrified eyes, while his buddies mingle uselessly nearby.
Sanji takes his current cigarette out of his mouth, and blows a steady stream of smoke in the cowering man’s face. “For the record,” he says flatly, “Roronoa, while technically incorrect, is acceptable. Vinsmoke never is. You got that?”
The marine nods as frantically as his position will allow. Sanji then gives him a moment to think about what he’s done before launching him sky high and whirling around to face the others.
“Well, come on then!” He laughs as they shout and try to scramble away from him. “Who’s next?”
*****
“I saw you fighting those marines.”
Sanji looks up from where he’s been idling away the evening hours by planning out the next week’s worth of menus. His eyes immediately land on the form that’s just slunk into the galley, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart skip a beat.
Stalling for time, he plucks his latest cigarette out of his mouth, and stubs it out in the ashtray that’s resting not far from his elbow. Only once he’s satisfied that it’s been completely dealt with does he look up again.
Zoro’s standing exactly where he’d been when he’d first spoken, his good eye dark and hooded.
“We live on the same ship,” Sanji says when he finds his voice. “And we fight the same enemies. You seeing me dealing with those navy twerps is hardly that big of an event.”
“Maybe,” Zoro agrees after a moment’s pause. “I heard you too.”
“ … ah.” Sanji says. He’d been wondering if that was the case, having known thanks to his observation haki that Zoro hadn’t been far away while he was fighting. “Alright.”
Zoro eyes him for a while before snorting explosively. “I don’t get you, Curls.” He says, his voice plaintive. “You’ve been telling everyone who’d stand still long enough to listen that I’m the last thing on earth you’d ever marry, but then when you get a marine in your clutches - as in, the people who can actually do something about that stupid poster - you tell them it’s okay. What gives? Are you fucking with me on purpose now?”
“No!” Sanji snaps, shoving his chair back and climbing to his feet with an offended huff. “I just had some time to think about things, is all. It was pretty easy since you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder and avoiding me like a total chickenshit for days.”
The noise Zoro makes is one point groan, two parts growl. “I was doing what you wanted,” he says as Sanji stalks towards him. “You’re the one who left me all alone in the crow’s nest after I confessed. I was giving you space. ”
“Well stop it,” Sanji snaps. “I don’t need space, and I sure as hell don’t want it.”
Zoro rolls his eyes. “Cook, the day you figure out what you do want, there’s probably gonna be a fucking parade. You spend so much time overthinking things, it’s a wonder you ever get anything done.”
“Yeah, yeah, you know what? That’s fair,” Sanji says, his easy capitulation causing Zoro’s eye to widen in surprise. “But sometimes it’s the flip side and I don’t think about things enough. For instance, if I’d done so here, I might have caught on quicker as to why I was so pissed about the posters.”
“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?” Zoro asks, looking like he wants to take a step back as Sanji comes in close.
Undeterred, Sanji moves in regardless. “The Navy has no claim to your name,” he says flatly. “It isn’t theirs to give away, and it definitely isn’t mine to just take. I don’t want the name Vinsmoke, and I have no intention of using it again, but that doesn’t mean I can just steal yours instead.”
“That’s what I’ve realized over the past few days,” he explains. “Sure, I was pissed about all the jokes and the teasing, and lord knows I’d need to beat some manners into you to ever consider marrying you for real, but that was the real issue. I’m a lot of things, Marimo, but a thief isn’t one of them.”
Zoro swallows heavily, his gaze flicking back and forth over the minimal space between them before he speaks. “It’s not stealing if I say you can have it.”
Sanji feels his face heat at such a blatant declaration, but he wills himself to stay calm. Bringing his hands up, he places them first around Zoro’s shoulders, and then slides them along until they travel up the swordsman’s neck, finally coming to a rest cupping his jaw.
“I think that might be a case of a little too much too soon,” he murmurs, enjoying the way Zoro’s breath hitches. “Let’s try this first, why don’t we?”
Even though Sanji’s as good as telegraphed his movements, Zoro still lets out an aborted squeak as he leans in. That soon fades, however, and is instead replaced by a pleased hum when Sanji deepens the kiss.
Large hands land on Sanji’s waist, settling in like they belong there, and he doesn’t protest when Zoro uses his grip to haul him in the last few remaining inches until they’re pressed flush together.
For his part, Sanji uses his own grip to tilt Zoro’s head down the way he wants, allowing him to perfectly slot their mouths together until the need for air forces them to break apart. He then lets his hands drop down a bit, looping them loosely around Zoro’s shoulders as they stare at each other.
“That was - ” Zoro finds his words first, but only barely. “You - ?”
“Uh huh,” Sanji nods, surprised he can hear anything over the frantic beating of his own heart. “It was, and I did.”
“Why?” Zoro asks, and to Sanji’s chagrin, his expression turns wary. “If this is pity or - ”
“No,” Sanji cuts him off with a quick kiss, and then another for good measure as he tightens his hold in case the other man gets it in his head to try and shove him away. “No, Mossy, you know I’d never do that to you. Like I said, I’ve had a lot of time to do nothing but think, and the conclusion I’ve come to is that my life is better with you in it.”
“I’m not saying it’s going to be perfect, and I’m not saying we’re not going to fight,” he continues on. “Fuck knows, we wouldn’t be us if we didn’t. What I am saying is, I think there could be something to this if we tried. Maybe even something really good. So. I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”
Zoro’s already nodding by the time Sanji’s finished speaking, and the next thing the cook knows, those powerful hands are adjusting their grip to hoist him up into the air and start carrying him back to the space he’d previously vacated. Zoro sets him down on top of the table, and then crowd’s his way in between Sanji’s splayed legs.
“Forward, Marimo.” Sanji laughs, fisting a hand in Zoro’s hair as the other man starts leaving a trail of kisses along the column of his throat. “Very forward.”
“Don’t care,” Zoro grunts, nipping at a particularly sensitive spot when Sanji gasps, and then laving his tongue over it in a silent apology. “I never thought I had a shot. I’m not wasting it now.”
“Heh, I’ve created a monster.” Sanji says, or tries to rather. Zoro swallows down the latter part of the sentence by licking his way into Sanji’s mouth, making him groan.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Sanji gasps when he pulls back. “That’s so - it’s so unsanitary. We eat at this table.”
Zoro pulls back even further, his eye dark and the pupil blown wide. He takes a gratifying second to get his breathing under control, after which, he eyes Sanji carefully.
“Too fast?” He asks, and Sanji does him the courtesy of thinking about the question seriously, as opposed to immediately getting offended.
“ … yeah,” he admits after a moment, hating the way he can feel a blush spreading all over his face. “It’s not that I hate the idea, but …”
“But a little of that frou frou romance shit you love so much would be nice.” Zoro correctly surmises, albeit in a tone that makes Sanji want to kick him in the teeth. “I get it, Curls. I can be romantic.”
Sanji suspects his resulting exasperated expression speaks for him, but the way it just makes Zoro laugh leaves a lot to be desired.
“I can, I promise,” the swordsman insists, leaning in to nudge at the side of Sanji’s face in a move the blond categorically refuses to think of as a nuzzle. “You know I’m not afraid to work for what I want, and anything worth doing is worth doing well.”
“I suppose that’s true,” honesty forces Sanji to admit. After all, he’s known a number of determined people in his life, but few are as dedicated as Zoro when it comes to chasing after their dreams. “Alright, Mosshead. Show me what you’ve got.”
*****
They never do get around to correcting the mishap with the bounty posters, and about three years later it becomes a moot point anyway when Sanji lets his favorite grassy idiot put a ring on his finger. On the other hand, he figures it all works out in the end.