Chapter Text
Luffy was hugging Zoro, hanging on his back like the little monkey he was.
Zoro didn't even try to listen to his persistent talk about how great his big brother was, who, from what little he had heard was strong, brave, and amazing.
Zoro could hear the words and see someone, just like Luffy's description pointed out.
Sanji was cooking with the door open and Zoro could see him moving in deep concentration, he seemed to know perfectly what he was cooking, because really, he did.
He rarely had the opportunity to see Sanji cooking, it was usually a task he did alone.
And in reality he was still doing it as he was not aware of the gaze upon him.
But he did seem aware of the open door, he closed it barely stretching his leg out without even looking as he continued to mix in a bowl with one of those things that Zoro didn't know but looked like the structure of a hollow metal eggplant.
Zoro lost sight of the object, and who was using it.
He had no choice but to stroke his captain's hair to let him know he was still there and listening to him.
When Luffy was called by Ussop the boy left, Zoro settled his Haramaki and sat down on the deck, he had stolen some alcohol from the storehouse earlier, and was able to sit and drink, it was what he was about to do before the straw hat arrived to converse with him.
Zoro couldn't say that he and Sanji were friends, not even very close, they didn't know much about each other, but they were something more important, stronger, they were Nakamas.
Even how much they had shared seemed to be almost scattered in his mind.
Zoro held no grudges against Sanji, despite the constant bickering. He knew better than anyone that Sanji would lay down his life for any of them, and Zoro would do the same, that made them have in common the strong feeling of loyalty to Luffy, the crew, and the Going Merry.
Zoro undoubtedly believed that Sanji would give his life for him, and he would do the same for the cook.
And Sanji was strong, uncommonly strong, his kicks were like big cannonballs at full speed, he was also fast.
And, also, he was a good cook.
Sanji cooked copious and delicious meals every day for the entire crew, he made sure it was good food, not just something to fill them up, but something they enjoyed.
Anyone could see how Sanji enjoyed cooking, and he enjoyed cooking for his ship.
Sanji enjoyed cooking immensely, after all, it was what Zeff had given him, the gift of cooking.
And he knew he did it well, that he was useful on the boat, useless and weak were things Sanji could never afford to be again.
As I continued to whip the egg whites that refused to fluff he heard someone enter his kitchen.
He turned around ready to yell at Luffy to go away and wait like everyone else if he wanted to eat.
Zoro entered with his usual impudence, leaving the empty bottle of liquor on the table, expensive liquor, it was worth mentioning.
"You could at least drink the cheap stuff, you're not going to feel the difference stupid mozzaro head" he didn't abandon his task of churning, the movements enveloping and steady.
Zoro was watching him.
"Believe it or not, I do differentiate, besides you're stupidly pretentious and always buy expensive alcohol" Zoro simply watched amused at what the cook was doing.
"Because it's meant to be used in the kitchen, and I only cook the highest class dishes fifth class swordsman" Sanji added some yellow colored mixture to the now white foam the egg whites turned into.
"Besides I doubt you know about alcohol, who knows what dirty cantinas you drank in before you found you could steal like a rat my alcohol" Zoro simply shrugged his shoulders.
"You could cook a piece of shit and Luffy would still eat it without complaint" the swordsman had sat down on the small stool in front of the counter.
"There's no way I'm giving anything undercooked to any of you, and if you're just coming to annoy me get the hell out, the kitchen is my place, and I like to cook in peace."
Sanji felt a little irritated, he was trying his best and didn't understand why Zoro seemed to want to belittle his dishes.
"Cook do you hate me?" The question made Sanji stop the thorough breading of his shrimp and look at the swordsman, who looked serious as hell about it.
"I can't hate you, you're my nakama" sanji replied quickly before pulling his perfect shrimp out of the oil again.
"That's not what I mean, we are nakamas, but you, you hate me, not how nakama, but how me" Zoro carelessly started drinking from the bottle of wine that moments before Sanji used for his red berry reduction.
"I can't hate you at all, the moss on your head is growing mushrooms, I don't hate you Zoro, I never have" Sanji pulled out the last of his precious fried ones and placed them on a bed of rice, a big perfect plate already done.
"You forget who was cooking your wounds before Chopper came along, you ungrateful moss" Zoro watched Sanji arrange a small leaflet over the plate of shrimp, he even cared about the presentation, even if the dish would be finished as soon as it was placed on the table and Luffy got his hands on it.
"Do you hate me?" the question was quick, and Sanji's nerves were palpable, his hands trembling as he chopped a couple of vegetables.
"No, never" Zoro stood up and walked out of the kitchen leaving the empty wine bottle, and Sanji alone.
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Sanji cooked with it rolling around in his head, over and over, like a mouse running in circles.
He couldn't, getting to thinking about it was going to fuck with his head, Zoro had come over because he wanted to form a good partnership, only that.
Still, it was the first time the man had ever approached him directly in such a calm manner, and that made Sanj uneasy.
Well he couldn't let it go, he never did.
Zoro's figure was something Sanji couldn't let go, he recognized him in every place, when they were together in it.
From the first time they met Sanji hated him, instinctively, it couldn't be otherwise.
Because Zoro seemed to do it too, Sanji couldn't give himself a chance to be anything but partners who fought a couple of times.
And he had to ignore the unbreakable will and bravery that Zoro had, how strong he was, not just how that strength that allows you to hit, but that which allows you to take worse blows for your conviction, for your comrades.
And he was to ignore Zoro's persistence, to become the best swordsman by training every day hard, training every moment, striving for his dream.
And he was to ignore his dog's loyalty, a stupid and foolish one, who would not part with his dream or his family, Zoro was the most loyal person Sanji had ever met.
Luffy could ask him to cut off his arm to prove his loyalty, and idiot Luffy would cut off his, and Zoro would do it.
And he had to ignore, all that stuff he felt every time he couldn't ignore it.
Zoro was awesome, also an alcoholic, ill-mannered with anger issues and little sense of direction, who wasn't interested in anything but his swords and drinking.
Sanji gave a sigh and continued baking dessert for lunch.
At first Sanji thinks it's admiration, admiration of what Zoro is, and how strong he sticks to his goal, how hard he fights to achieve it, and how protective he is of his crew.
Sanji knows that's not the case, and that he's still lying to himself.
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Mealtime was one of Sanji's favorite parts.
Watching his nakamas eat what he had so painstakingly prepared was something that made him feel appreciated.
Luffy ate as much as he could, and always seemed happy, with each plate, he would tell Sanji how tasty it was, and the others that they should try, what he had already finished, then he would find the straw hat asking for his plates from the other Mugiwara.
Sanji looked at Zoro, the man ate in a hurry and didn't even take the time to know what he was eating, he just did.
And Zoro looked at Sanji, the cook kept eating trying not to look at him.
Sanji retired after eating, to the kitchen.
And he started to wash the dishes and the dishes he used to cook.
Zoro walked in, back into his kitchen.
"I don't like you watching me while I eat" Zoro was blunt and direct with what he wanted to say, he left his swords on the kitchen counter, and sat down.
"Piss off if that's all you're here to say, you fucking Marimo" Sanji didn't feel in the mood to put up with Zoro, he was fucking looking at him because he was in front of him, not for the fun of it.
"I can be wherever the fuck I damn well please curly eyebrows asshole" Zoro was waiting for Sanji's kick, but the man seemed to be ignoring him, and that pissed him off even more than the punches.
Sanji wasn't particularly interested in starting a fight, he didn't want to destroy his kitchen, not that day.
There was no particular reason to be upset, he just was, he felt irritated.
Like one of those bad days where the water doesn't have the freshness it should and the air feels sultry and everything seems to suck.
Zoro stood up, Sanji heard him and ignored him he was still scrubbing a cup and didn't want to turn to look at him.
Zoro aggressively squeezed his arm, Sanji didn't kick him, he forcefully grabbed the arm holding him by the wrist and stopped him from continuing to wash.
He turned to look at Zoro with annoyance, real, this wasn't one of their stupid routine fights, this was Zoro fucking up his life because he was an idiot who had nothing else to do, he hadn't even answered the insult, shit, Zoro was really pissing him off.
Sanji let go of Zoro's hand angrily.
Zoro let go too, the swordsman walked with noisy heavy steps out of the kitchen.
Sanji continued to wash the dishes in annoyance.
Zoro was training with his weights as heavy as a small boat, he was in a bad mood.
He had gone to see Sanji, like last time, but now the cook seemed defensive, he had ignored him and then looked at him with a look full of anger.
Sanji's blue eyes, so deep and dark, had taken it upon themselves to look at him spitefully, the corners of his eyes crinkled and his brow with those rare eyebrows furrowed.
Zoro struck an even harder blow with the dumbbell, simulating a sword.
Sanji was feeling much calmer inside the kitchen, he had prepared drinks for the Mugiwara, the heat was scorching, and he wanted to make something special with all the fruit they had stocked from the tropical island they had gone to last time.
Sanji prepared drinks for everyone, including the annoying swordsman who had been screwing with him moments before.
Pretty glasses with a white coconut drink and blue syrup, with some pineapple juice and pineapple chunks were set on a tray, the brightly colored umbrellas and straws glistening.
Sanji walked out of the kitchen in the direction of the tangerine trees, gave his drink to Nami-swan and Nami-swan thanked him briefly as she continued to plot something on a map.
Frank and Robin were together in the workshop and they both thanked each other for their drinks, Sanji didn't even dare to act in front of Robin who was resting on the armchair in the workshop while talking about his book with the big man who was welding something new.
Brook and Chopper were sitting on the deck, next to Luffy who promptly drank his drink.
Sanji made his way to the deck, he stopped before approaching, Zoro seemed to still be annoyed.
"Moss head" Zoro didn't turn to look at him.
"It's for you" Sanji set the drink down on the edge of the ship's deck.
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He went back to the kitchen, thinking, of Zoro training, Zoro was the definition of a strong man, they had marked muscles and fierceness when fighting, his mere presence was intimidating, you are a demon after all.
Sanji felt disgusted with himself, that part of him.
Sanji wasn't ashamed of being him, he never was, he knew he was strong, and a good cook, plus he was a gentleman to all the ladies.
However, he couldn't help but feel that especially that, he was deserving of everything that happened to him in Germa.
As a boy, a small one, he learned that he was worthless, he was a useless tool that could only be limited to receiving his brothers' insults, their blows.
Sanji learned to feel shame and fear, he should be ashamed of being the same, always, of being weak.
The shame still did not cease, although in the Baratie he was no longer ashamed of being him, he felt deeply ashamed of being the son of who he was.
A disgusting monster, whom, so young, he still feared more than anything else.
His hair was the same color as his father's, his eyebrows, to see himself in the mirror, before was his martyrdom, because who tormented him as a child, was there.
He never thought of forgetting his past, of course he didn't, but he decided to keep it in a remote corner of his heart, which made it come out in the worst moments, like this one.
Sanji felt stressed, he felt cursed, from the moment Judge Vinsmoke decided to procreate him, he was the son of a monster.
One who achieved great things, and those things, pigeonholed Sanji, he would never manage to be greater than his father, or surpass him, he would always live in his shadow, and everything he had done, was something Sanji shared.
That's what he believed, until he met his healer, Zeff Red Leg.
Growing up and being with Zeff, Sanji understood that he was his own person, his past could not define him, and if he let the only thing others knew about him was that stupid last name, the world would eat him alive.
Zeff of course, ignored his disgusting orientation, although, if he did, and seemed to be unbothered by it, Sanji believed Zeff had only accepted it, because he was Sanji.
The cook sat back and closed his eyes, clenching his fists and resting his forehead on them, on the verge of tears.
Not again.