Chapter Text
That night they stayed at the bar and chatted for what seemed like ages. The cook removed his drag and sat next to the swordsman for a huge chunk of the night. They talked about a lot of random things; Sanji taught him some more stuff about drag and queer culture in general, certain keywords and such. Zoro was patient and supportive through the moments where the cook would calm up for a minute, but then continue without trepidation.
It was a sweet experience in Zoro’s mind as he got to see the love cook open up in a way he didn't think possible. The excitement in his eyes when he talked about how liberating it felt to be and express himself without limitations, that was what the swordsman wanted to see more of.
Zoro thinks back to that night a lot. He misses that version of Sanji…
Sanji was different on the Sunny.
Some days he was the normal asshole cook, others he was more pissy and moody, and some he was nice, kind and gentle.
Zoro didn't mind his regular demeanor; their fights and quips followed by comfortable silence as the cook cleaned or cooked in the kitchen. It was their normal and it's what he appreciated.
Then there were days where Sanji would just be horrible. He was moody and talked less, a lot like those days before Zoro found the truth out. What made it worse was that it was more directed to just the swordsman. As if that damn cook had a vengeance out for him. He felt so distant and cold on days like these. The hate permeated throughout his being seemed to be for himself rather than the swordsman, but who was Zoro to make such a claim
However, there was something weirder. A new development.
The rare days when Curly would treat him… nicer. Something Zoro found extremely foreign. On days like these Sanji was softer, his eyes had something warm behind him as he smiled at the swordsman. The cook would always make his favorite dishes, like onigiri with sake. It was domestic… Zoro didn’t mind it, but he didn’t understand what it meant. In all honesty these days made the swordsman’s heart race, but he’ll never admit that. He doesn’t want to lose these interactions. He began to crave more of it.
Despite all that, he was certain that his cook had changed, and yet at the same time it felt like very little had changed. In the end, Sanji was still so far away and Zoro hated that.
He was laying out on the lawn of the Sunny when he felt a soft kick to his side. Opening his eye and grunting, he acknowledges the curlybrow idiot who delivered that kick.
“Hey, Mosshead, get up.” The snarky cook demands with no real heat behind those words. His hands are in his pocket and a cigarette hangs from his lips, a common sight. Zoro gives him a curious glance trying to figure out what kind of day today was.
It didn’t matter though, because he knew he’d do anything Sanji asked of him. However, he would never let him know that.The swordsman raises and follows the cook into the galley. Seemed like a better day so far.
Once they were both inside, Zoro sat himself on their green couch ready to relax again. Sanji walked to the kitchen counter, being there must’ve brought him comfort. The swordsman was silent waiting for the cook to start explaining why he brought him here. Instead he is met with more silence. Sanji’s hand fiddling with the cigarette he had in his mouth, it looks as though he was pondering the world’s most difficult question. Zoro just stares at the other, waiting.
Sanji then turns around to face the kitchen sink, obviously not ready to speak his truth. Zoro sighs at this, “What do you need, cook?” Sensing his anxiety and noting his politeness from earlier, the swordsman chooses not to insult him.
He notices the tension on the cook’s shoulders, after a little pause, they drop. With a big breath the Cook replies, “I wanted to thank you. You haven’t told anyone about what happened on that island. At least I assume you haven’t since nothing has changed.” He’s fidgeting. Curly reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cigarettes and lighter to replace the one he just finished. Something to ease the mind. It’s never a good sign when the cook is chain smoking like this.
Zoro gives him a curious glance. Then starts, “Yeah, of course Curly.” And silence fills the room again. Sanji still has his hands on the edge of the kitchen sink, looking down into it as if it’ll make everything less awkward.
“Is that all?” The swordsman prods.
“Uh, Yeah… I think. I don’t know” Sanji stumbles over his words.
Zoro wasn’t much of a talker, he listened. Listening was easy, actions were even easier. Words had weight, sure, but they meant very little if there was no follow through. That’s how he worked. Talking with Sanji in that bar, seeing the real Sanji, that changed something for Zoro. He wanted to see that version more, confidence in a way that lacked toxicity or anxiety. He wanted his cook to truly be free, free from these invisible shackles Zoro couldn’t understand. Since listening wasn’t getting him anywhere, it was time for action.
The swordsman stands up and walks over to the kitchen counter, next to the cook. Sanji turns to face him when he notices the invasion of his personal space. Zoro is close, closer than is appropriate and Sanji is like a deer in the headlights. He just looks at Zoro with wide eyes, his cigarette hanging loosely on his lips which are slightly agape.
Zoro then slowly reaches for Sanji’s right hand, once connected, the cook stills. And yet he doesn’t flinch or back away. Zoro takes this as a sign to continue. He presses their palms together and then slowly intertwines their fingers. At the same time he brings up his right hand to the thin waist of the cook. Lightly he touches the man, as if he would catch on fire if he was too quick or rough.
Zoro’s heart is beating a million miles per minute. He never gets to touch the cook like this, never so gentle and purposefully like this. It’s always been in combat, yeah that meant a lot to the swordsman, but this was different. He was risking a lot with this move but it was all he could think of to get through to this thick skulled love cook. It’s a shot in the dark…
Sanji’s eyes had a hint of fear behind them. Almost like he could die right here, being held so gently by another man. And not just any man, Roronoa Zoro, the bastard Mosshead he fought daily. But he lets it happen, he's letting it happen, why?
They stand there, one set of coupled hands up by their chests and the other on a waist. Zoro nods at Sanji’s free hand, expecting him to follow up on what the swordsman started. The cook looks frantically between his free hand, Zoro’s arm that rested on his waist and Zoro’s face. Then he lifts it. Placing it on Zoro’s arm as if it belongs there.
Zoro smiles, something small but smug as if he won. Sanji pouts at this, he opens his mouth to complain but then…
Then they move. Slow, small steps. They just move together as if this is natural for them. Truth be told, Zoro doesn’t know much about dancing, but he could fight. That was enough for him at this moment. That’s all he needs when he is with Sanji. They fought daily, religiously. Their fights were their dances. It was beautiful and succinct and it seemed to be translating well into this real dance. He smiles at that thought, as if they were made for each other in every sense of the word.
The cook moves with him, he seems nervous but eventually... He eases, his face softened, Zoro prefers that look on his face. When his wrinkles of worry fade away and all that’s left is his soft eyes and plumped lips.
“You look beautiful.” Zoro couldn’t help but say it. Seems like something that was becoming a recurring phenomenon.
Sanji looks at him with wide eyes and a deep blush forms quickly across his pale face. Shocked at the notion of a man calling another man such a thing, yet still finding it flattering.
Zoro laughs at that. This causes the cook to shake his head and smack the swordsman side, but he doesn't stop dancing with him. Zoro smiles at his attack, something so soft and sweet. There must be something there, Sanji must be feeling something too. However, Sanji looks down when he sees the smile Zoro gave him.
“You can't keep on saying things like that Mosshead.” It’s a whisper. Zoro grunts out in response, “Why not curly?” He meant the question as well. Sanji is beautiful, make-up or not. Sanji or Melany, the person in front of him is beautiful and he would scream it loud enough that the heavens could hear it
The cook hesitates, “You have to say that stuff to a woman.” His voice is still weak as he hid his face. Zoro scoffs at that answer and looks to the side, trying to hide his annoyance at that notion. It’s dumb and is part of this toxic mindset Sanji just won’t let go of. That action got an angry looking pout from Sanji.
“What about dancing? You slow dance with a lot of men?” The swordsman couldn’t help himself, he just had to prod and poke at his rival. That was their relationship after all. It’s a lame excuse, because truthfully he was getting frustrated. Why can’t Sanji just accept this? Accept them… It’s obvious he wants this, at least Zoro thought so.
Sanji gives him a look of true anger and pushes away from the swordsman . “No, I don’t.” He hisses.
Zoro sighs, rubbing his face in his calloused palms. The cook is sensitive, he fucked up trying to fight with him when he is in a state like this. Volatile and in need of support. He just wants to be let in, “Sanji. I’m just trying to-“ God this was all too familiar. The swordsman is human too, he falters and ruins things, he just hopes he can hold himself together long enough to be let in. He has to be strong for his cook. Sanji needs a pillar of hope and Zoro will be that for him.
At his name Sanji stills, seems like he recognized the scenario as well. There’s silence between them.
“Listen, Zoro. I’m really just… confused.” The cook spoke up, his anger burnt out. He rubs his temples as if trying to ease a headache. Zoro listens eagerly. This is his chance to be let in again. He wants to be in that inner circle. He wants to be a support for Sanji. He needs to be there.
Sanji shifts, as if uncomfortable, “I- It meant a lot to me, that night… You became something else in my mind.” Then he rushes out, “but at the same time I don’t know what that is and it fuckin pisses me off!” The cook’s anger is more directed to himself as he glares at the floor. It is evident that Sanji is battling something Zoro doesn’t quite understand.
The swordsman’s face falls at the broken man in front of him. Zoro admires this man, Sanji was the closest thing to an equal the swordsman was ever gonna get. He’s never met anyone as stunning and strong as him. He wants Sanji to just look in a fucking mirror and see what he sees for once. Seeing him struggle with himself and what that means hurts him.
Zoro steps back up to the cook and grabs his face. It’s gentle, hard hands on a soft face. He guides Sanji’s face to his, they’re so close. “Sanji, I am here. I’m here for you.” That’s all he can say. It’s what his heart is yelling, screaming, crying out. So his mouth followed suit. It’s a truth that the cook needs to hear.
He gets to see the shock then pain in Sanji’s eyes as he processes those words. The cook’s eyes well up. Thick globs of tears gather at the corners of his beautifully deep blue eyes.
Sanji rushes into Zoro, burying his face into Zoro’s shoulder so that his sobs can be muffled. They hold each other. Sanji gripping onto Zoro’s back as if he was going to disappear if he loosened his grip. Zoro holding the small of Sanji’s back lightly as if he would break if there were any more pressure.
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Zoro stayed in the galley that whole day. Sanji needed him nearby. The swordsman didn't do much, he just sat on the couch and slept. When lunch came the crew didn't question why Zoro was there and why he didn't leave with them. Zoro did help with the dishes though, he could do that much. They did this in silence, but it was what they needed. The reassurance that they will both be there.
By diner time eyebrows were being raised, but no one said anything. There were no noisy fights, so no one really could complain. When everyone left, they washed the dishes again. It’s been quiet between them since their encounter earlier in the day.
Sanji is preparing for breakfast tomorrow when he starts, “Hey Mosshead, can I ask for something from you?” Zoro is sitting on one of the stools at the bar, watching the back of his cook as he preps.
With a brow raised at the strange request, “Anything Curly.” Zoro is positive it wasn’t anything stupid. This was serious and it was tied to their new development he could tell based on Sanji’s demeanor. Hell, he even gave him some extra beer to drink as he sat here, that never happens at least not without a fight.
The cook turns to face the swordsman, “Can I sleep with you tonight?” Sanji asks with such confidence and laissez-faire attitude that Zoro chokes on his drink. It’s his turn to blush and stutter.
“I-I- uh um y-yeah.” His response is so lame he might just die from embarrassment. The cook laughs at the sight. Zoro pouts.
“When I say sleep, I mean sleep dumbass. No funny business… I’ve been. It’s been hard for me to sleep for a while now.” Sanji’s smile transforms into a pitiful look, so much so that it hurts the swordsman somewhere deep in his being.
Zoro may be moss, but he’s not stupid. He understands that all these struggles stem from the cook’s queer identity and his inability to accept himself. However, to the swordsman none of that mattered, Sanji is still everything to him. He just needs a way to get that damn curly brow idiot to understand that too. Maybe if he understood how much he meant to the swordsman, he’d also accept all of himself.
Filled with gusto the swordsman scoffs, “If you need a teddy bear to sleep with, just say so, shit cook.” This gets Sanji blushing like mad. He might as well catch on fire with how red his face became.
“Damn you moss for brains!” The cook gives a heated yell. The sight before him makes Zoro laugh. Sanji’s heat immediately dies down at the sound. The cook smiles and joins in with a small laugh, till they both keel over in laughter. It’s dumb but at that moment they both felt at ease. They were both in sync, and Zoro knew this was what they were meant to be.
Once the laughter dies down the swordsman begins, “We can rest in the crow’s nest if you want some privacy.” It’s genuine and soft. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Sanji replies in a whisper.
Zoro finishes his drink and heads out to the crow’s nest in order to prepare for their night.