Archive of Our Own

The first time Zoro woke up that night was when he heard Sanji’s body hit the floor. His eyes shot open and he looked down, seeing that the idiot had fallen out of his hammock. Zoro sighed in annoyance and turned over, listening to the cook shuffle around and eventually disappear out of the boy's cabin. Zoro was still awake when he returned twenty minutes later, smelling a bit stronger of cigarettes than he normally did. The swordsman peeked out of his good eye to get a look at Sanji, the light from the hallway giving him a decent view. He snorted. Sanji was in his usual silk pajamas and robe, and he even had the matching eye mask up on his forehead. The pajamas would be enough for Zoro to make fun of him on their own, but the robe and eye mask made it too easy. Zoro always made a point to step on his robe or pull his eye mask and snap it on his face every chance he got. He would relish the way Sanji’s face would twist in aggravation. Zoro opened his mouth to give Sanji a quiet verbal jab, but tonight, the chef’s face looked pained. Sanji rolled back into his hammock and Zoro turned away, silently wondering what was going on between those curly brows.

The second time Zoro woke up was when Sanji shot up with a loud gasp, bordering on a quiet scream. He was muttering and panting for a few minutes until he left the cabin on quiet feet. Zoro felt a pang of curiosity creep into his mind. He rolled over with a huff, trying to get Sanji out of his thoughts so he could fall back asleep. A part of him wondered if everything was okay, but Zoro tried to mash that thought down as far as it would go.

The third time Zoro woke up that night, Sanji still wasn't back. Zoro exhaled through his nose and crossed his arms over his blanket. He peered down from his hammock, looking to see if his other crewmates were just as restless tonight. Usopp and Luffy were fast asleep, snoring and muttering against one another. They were sprawled out on top of Franky on the floor, making a massive dog pile of limbs. They looked comfortable enough, so Zoro didn’t bother them as he rolled out of his hammock and headed out of the cabin. Zoro figured he'd look in the kitchen first, as it made the most sense. It wasn't a far walk, but he made it exceptionally longer as he kept second-guessing why he was checking on the man in the first place. As he got closer, he saw that the kitchen light was turned on. Zoro peeked inside.

The kitchen table and the breakfast bar were all covered in plates with dozens and dozens of cookies. There were plates of thin swirly ones, thick cake-like ones, and a few towers of macarons. He spotted Sanji, hunched over the kitchen counter, beating a mound of dough to death with flour covering his pink apron. Next to him was an ashtray with about a dozen cigarette butts, all smoked down to the filter.
“Cookies?” Zoro asked, tilting his head.
Sanji gasped and dropped the dough in his hands. It hit the counter with a deep thud as Sanji spun around and saw the swordsman, then sighed. “Hell, don’t scare me like that.” The chef’s hair was disheveled and his one visible eye was rimmed with dark circles. “If you came for liquor, it’s where it always is. No need to bother me.”
“You’re building castles out of food, now?” Zoro asked, gesturing to one of the macaroon towers as he walked into the kitchen.
“That’s just how you present them,” Sanji said, wrapping his mound of dough in a towel and putting it in the fridge. He wasted no time, immediately grabbing a piping bag off the counter that was stuffed with pink, sugary goop.
“What’s this one?” Zoro asked, pointing towards a cookie.
“White chocolate.”
“This?”
“Zested bredeles.”
“Huh?”
“Orange.”
“Oh, ew.”
“Don’t say ew, they’re for Nami,” Sanji said. He gave the spread a quick glance and picked up a swirly cookie, holding it by Zoro’s mouth. “Here.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a vanilla palmier with pecans and cardamon.”
“What?”
“Eat it.”
Zoro snatched the cookie from Sanji and took nearly half of it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Looks like your eyebrows,” Zoro said, giving the rest of the cookie a good look before he popped it into his mouth.
“I’ll make one that looks like mold next,” Sanji said, piping small pink circles onto the cookie sheet in front of him. “Maybe it’ll remind you of your ugly hair.”
“How long have you been in here?” Zoro asked, browsing the extensive collection of cookies and picking up another swirly-shaped one.
“A few hours, maybe.” Sanji iced the cookies like it was nothing, flicking his wrist and making perfect pink peeks.
“Why’d you make so many?” Zoro asked.
“Why not? They’ll get eaten.”
“Well, I know that, but…why?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Sanji said. He brought two fingers up to his mouth and grabbed his dying cigarette, stubbing it out and flicking it into the ashtray. He sighed and immediately slipped another one out of his front pocket. Zoro swallowed the cookie in his hand while he listened to the tobacco leaves sizzle against a fresh flame. Sanji put the cigarette in his mouth and grabbed a small, round cookie.
“Try this,” Sanji said, holding it up to Zoro’s lips. Zoro bit it straight out of his hand, chewing inquisitively. “This one is with whipped brie and cranberry jam. They’re a bit less sweet, probably more suited to your palette.”
“Mhm,” Zoro grunted as he chewed, “So instead of sleeping, you’re baking and chain smoking?”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Sanji said, exhaling a long drag of smoke.
“Why can’t you sleep?”
“Try the matcha,” Sanji said, picking up a delicate green puff and trying to stuff it between Zoro’s lips. “If you like this texture better, there’s also coconut, caramel,-”
“You’re stress-feeding me, Curly.”
“Sorry,” Sanji said, gently putting the cookie back.
“I asked you a question.”
“Huh?”
“You said you can’t sleep. How come?”
“Just not tired,” Sanji said, turning back to his icing.
“Well that’s a load of shit,” Zoro snorted. “You look awful.”
“Thank you,” Sanji scoffed. “If you’re quite done, I’d like to get back to what I was doing.”
“Was just asking a question,” Zoro said, holding his hands up like the accused. “But if you’re gonna waste my time, I’ll go back to bed.”
“Waste your time? That’s funny, since I didn’t ask you to check on me.”
“You did, though,” Zoro said.
Sanji looked back at him, perplexed. “Did you forget to clean out the dirt in your ears again? You came in here all on your own.”
“I heard you gasping like someone stabbed you,” Zoro said. “Muttering and whimpering like a baby, waking me the hell up. That’s as good as asking for help when it comes to you.”
“What do you know about me?” Sanji asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I know that you’ve been sleeping like shit ever since you got back from that freakish island with the cakes.”
“You weren't even there. You don’t know what it was like.”
“I know enough.”
“You know nothing-,” Sanji said through clenched teeth, squeezing the bag particularly hard as he finished a frosting flower, “-about the things I see at night.”
Zoro picked up the matcha cookie and popped it into his mouth, chewing it in silence for a moment before saying, “So… you’re having nightmares, then?”
Sanji stayed silent for a moment. He could feel Zoro’s piercing gaze on his back.
“Yeah,” He said finally.
“Geez, you could have just said that.” Zoro rolled his eyes and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “It’s like pulling teeth with you.”
“Oh shut up,” Sanji said, squeezing the last bit of frosting out of the bag. “Like you’re such an open book.”
“For how long?”
“What?”
“How long have you had nightmares?”
“Since…well, since forever, I think. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have them.”
“Damn,” Zoro muttered, watching as Sanji plated the freshly frosted cookies.
“Growing up. My…well, family isn’t the right word.”
“Your captors?” Zoro said with a snort.
“Basically.” Sanji gave him a weak smile. “They’re in most of them. Sometimes they’ll have Zeff, too. Kind of a coin flip which one I’ll get at night, but ever since I went back to Germa, they’re…more graphic than they usually are.”
“How’d you deal with it when you were a kid?”
“Alone,” Sanji said, gently laying one cookie over another. When Zoro didn't answer, Sanji looked up at him and saw that the swordsman’s face had fallen a bit with sadness. “Uh, I mean,” Sanji stood up and brushed his hands on his apron, taking the cigarette out of his mouth with two fingers. “Actually, sometimes… a few times before my mother got really sick, she’d let me sleep in her bed with her.” Sanji smiled at the thought. He could remember the way her hair smelled like lilacs when she held him and he would put his head in the crook of her neck. “I can’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed. She smelled so nice, and she’d always hold me so gently. Those are…some of my favorite memories.”
Zoro listened quietly, studying the way Sanji zoned out when he thought about his mother. The chef’s gaze was stuck on the table as he smiled softly and his eyebrows creased at the melancholy memory. Zoro broke the silence finally, saying, “Well, I’m not your mom, but you can sleep in my bed if you want.”
“What?!” Sanji snapped out of his daydream, mouth gaping at the suggestion.
“…What?” Zoro asked, shrugging his shoulders.
“What do you mean what?!” Sanji cried.“Did you hear yourself?!”
“Yeah, what’s the problem?”
“I’m not sleeping in bed with you!”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s gay!”
“Oh please,” Zoro scoffed. “Are you planning on sticking your hand down my pants?”
“Wh-?!” Sanji took a step back as he felt his face flush with heat. “Of course not!”
“Then what’s gay about it?” Zoro asked, rolling his eyes.
“Me and you?! Pressed all up against each other?!”
“Luffy and those other clowns sleep in a dog pile all the time. Most nights, Luffy won’t even sleep unless he’s sprawled out on top of Usopp.”
“Yeah, but that’s them,” Sanji said. “That’s not us.”
“What makes us different?”
“Because-!” Sanji bit his lip before he finished the sentence, averting his gaze to the ground. “Well…nothing, I guess. But I can’t imagine that you’d want me that close to you.”
“If it gets you to sleep, who cares? I’d rather that than have to deal with you being in a pissy mood all day because you’re tired.” Zoro crossed his arms. “You’re the one that said you sleep better with someone else. Unlike you, I try to fix problems, instead of crying about them and doing nothing.”
“It’s not, like…a weird thought for you?”
“You’re the one making it weird.”
Sanji looked Zoro up and down with a suspicious glare, asking, “You seriously wouldn’t mind?”
“Out of the guys, you’re the one I’d wanna sleep next to the most.” Zoro immediately scrunched his nose up as he heard the words leave his mouth and he blurted out, “Not because I like you! It’s just because you smell nice! Or-I mean-because you smell the nicest out of the guys, which really isn’t a compliment when you think about it. That’s what I meant. You don’t even really smell good, you smell like those shit cigarettes and your dumb perfume.”
“Uh, alright,” Sanji said, cocking his head. “It’s cologne, by the way.”
“Well it stinks and I hate it,” Zoro barked, clenching his teeth as his blush spread to his ears. “You comin’ to bed or not?”
“Well…I’ll have to get up in a few hours to make breakfast, so maybe I should just tough it out tonight.”
“I think they can survive on the 12 plates of cookies until lunch.”
“That’s hardly a balanced meal, though,” Sanji said.
“Cook, be serious.”
“Okay, but let me at least cut up some fruit for the-,”
“Cook.”
“Alright, alright.” Sanji undid his apron and tossed it onto the counter. He stubbed out his cigarette with a sigh and said, “I guess I’ll give it a shot, but if you drool on me I’m kicking you in the dick.”
“Try it, curly brow.”
Sanji followed Zoro back to the boy’s cabin, huffing and pouting the entire way there. Zoro pushed the cabin door open, dropping it on Sanji, who said some string of swears under his breath in response.
“This is stupid,” Sanji grumbled as he climbed into Zoro’s hammock.
“What are you bitching about?” Zoro barked, jumping into the hammock from the other side. The two rolled into one another from each side of the hammock and smacked heads.
“Argh, damn it!” Sanji hissed, shoving Zoro’s face away. “I knew your head was full of rocks, it’s hard as hell.”
“Oh shut up,” Zoro said, tugging at the blanket that was trapped under Sanji. “Get off my blanket, loser.”
“My pleasure,” Sanji said with a sneer, lifting his back for Zoro to snatch the blanket. “I wouldn't want your nasty blanket on me, anyways. Would probably give me some disease.”
“Good, because you’re not getting it.”
Zoro grabbed the blanket and pulled it up over his body. Sanji looked at it through the corner of his eye. He grabbed the side of it and yanked it over, saying, “Well don’t hog the whole thing.”
“Fuck you!” Zoro said, pulling it back. “So it's gay to share the hammock, but it isn’t gay to share the blanket?”
“I get cold at night!”
“Then I guess you’re gonna be cold!”
“Don’t be such a dick!”
“You have your own blanket, moron!”
“I already climbed all the way up here!”
Zoro dramatically ripped the blanket off his body and whipped it to the side, beaning Sanji in the nose.
“Owww!” Sanji hissed, cupping his nose with his hands.
“Shut the hell up before you wake the others,” Zoro said.
“As if,” Sanji said, tucking the blanket under his chin. “Those three could sleep through a war.” Sanji looked at the dog pile of crew mates on the floor and raised an eyebrow, asking, “How long have they been like that?”
“All night,” Zoro said with a sigh. Sanji took half the blanket and bunched it over his body, lying on his side facing Zoro. He couldn’t remember if he had ever been this close to Zoro before. He didn’t smell as bad as Sanji thought he would; though his clothes smelled like metal and sweat, his skin smelled like saltwater and a musky throw, something Sanji assumed was just Zoro's natural scent. He inhaled slowly and softly as the smallest smile crossed his face. It was…nice.
“When’s the last time you showered?” Sanji muttered into Zoro’s chest. “You smell like shit.” Zoro scoffed and slapped Sanji upside the head.
“Yeah? I’m surprised I don’t have lung cancer just from lying next to you,” Zoro said. “I’m sure your whole hammock reeks like fuckin' smoke.”
“At least I wash my bedding, unlike certain sweaty brutes.”
“I sweat because I’m training all day, not sitting around baking cookies. That’s why my bounty is higher than yours.”
Sanji picked his head up and glared at Zoro. “You take that back!”
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Zoro hissed, pushing his head down. Sanji kicked him hard in the shin and the hammock swayed in response.
“Well your oafish body takes up the whole damn hammock,” Sanji said.
“Just like your eyebrows take up your whole damn face.”
“…That didn’t even make any sense.”
“Screw you, go to bed.”
Sanji huffed and closed his eyes with a scowl. He wriggled around, trying to find a comfortable position until he fell against Zoro’s body, suddenly finding a groove that he fit into perfectly. Zoro cleared his throat as he felt Sanji up against him. It’s not like he wasn't expecting the man to be close to him; he’s the one who suggested this arrangement, after all. But somehow, feeling the cook’s body heat so close to his was making his stomach twirl. Closing his eyes, Zoro focused his breathing and tried to get to sleep as quickly as possible.
.
Unlike the other guys, Sanji didn’t snore. He did, however, stir enough for every crew member combined. Zoro glared at the ceiling as Sanji turned over again and again in his sleep, scrunched his face up and let it relax, and slid his ice-cold toes around. Half of Zoro wanted to strangle him, but the other half couldn't help but wonder: Is he having a nightmare right now? Should I wake him up, or let him roll around? How will I know when he's having a nightmare or if he’s just being a fidgety annoying little bastard?
Suddenly, Sanji rolled over and threw his arms over Zoro's chest, squeezing him tightly. Zoro felt the cool silk of Sanji’s pants brush against his legs as the chef latched onto him. Sanji burrowed his head against Zoro’s shoulder, eventually resting it right on top of his chest. Zoro swallowed hard as he wondered if his heart slamming against his ribcage would wake Sanji up. The swordsman was frozen, aside from the full-body blush that was taking over his body as he felt Sanji’s hair tickle his chin. He hovered his arms above Sanji’s body for a moment, wondering where to put his hands. With a shaky inhale, he carefully wrapped his arms around Sanji, thinking, Well, if he’s comfortable here, he’ll stop moving around so damn much. Yeah, it made sense. Nothing more to it; Zoro just wanted to get to sleep. Zoro dragged his fingers gingerly across Sanji’s back as he relished the feeling of the silky smooth fabric of his pajamas.
.
Sanji opened his eyes to gray. The gray of his cell, the gray of his helmet, the gray of the hallways that seemed to never end down in the dungeon. It was time for dinner soon. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew. He wriggled a bit in excitement. That was the best time of the day, since Sanji could not only stretch his jaw, but he also got to cook. He stood there for a moment, but nobody had shown up yet to undo his helmet or give him his food.

Something didn’t feel right. His cell didn’t smell like it used to; it didn’t smell like anything. Sanji walked forward in a haze as an uncanny feeling of dread filled his body. He took a breath, but the air was thick with an aura of unnerving doubt. He heard a scuff of feet and smiled, thinking that his dinner had just arrived. Sanji wondered what he might get to cook the rats tonight.
“Hey.”
Sanji heard a voice behind him. He spun around and suddenly, Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji were standing in the cell with him. How…did they get there? Sanji gasped, nearly tripping on his legs as he tried to scramble backward.
“It’s Sanji,” Niji said.
“Sanji’s back.”
“Good thing, I was gettin’ bored.”
“No,” Sanji said, desperately shaking his head.
“Can we rough him up a little?”
“A little? How about a lot?”
“We can do whatever we want,” Ichiji said, answering his brothers. “Who’s going to stop us?”
“Get away from me,” Sanji cried through his iron helmet. Ichiji snickered and shrugged, saying,
“Nah, Sanji’s right, bros. We whale on him every day.”
“Ichijiiii,” Yonji whined.
“Let’s try this instead.” Ichiji pulled a frame out from behind his back. Sanji squinted, trying to make out what the photo was. When he saw the long blonde hair, his heart sank.
“Don’t touch that!” Sanji screamed, lurching forward. Ichiji pulled back, holding the frame up high.
“Aww, he’s gonna cry!”
“You’re right, this is better,” Niji said with a cackle.
“They both look so stupid in this,” Yonji laughed. “Look, Sanji’s got her stupid face!”
“And her stupid hair,” Niji said. “A dumb blonde, just like his mommy.”
“Stop it!”
“Hey Ichiji, don’t you think she’d be pissed at him?” Niji asked, leaning over towards his brother. “I mean, wasn’t he the only thing that dumb woman lived for? She put all her hope in him-,”
“And what has this freak accomplished?” Yonji cried, slapping his knee. “Learning how to make rice? Give me a break!”
“We’re the ones fighting and winning actual wars, conquering kingdoms…but she had the highest hopes for Sanji.” Ichiji clicked his tongue and shook his head. “What a shame. She died for nothin’.”
“You’re sick,” Sanji choked out as he felt his lower lip wobble. “You’re all fucking sick!”
“Us?” Niji asked. He reached behind his back and in his hands spawned a mirror. “Take a look at yourself.” Sanji leaned forward and nearly threw up; the face staring back at him was his mother. She looked despondent and ashamed, glaring back at him with cold, icy eyes.
“Sanji.” The voice rang clear in his mind. “Giving birth to you was my biggest regret in life.”
His three brothers burst into an uproar of laughter, dramatically falling onto one another as the hysterics consumed them. Sanji’s chest heaved with labored breaths as he blinked hot tears out of his eyes. He swung at the mirror and missed, as Yonji yanked it back with a snicker.
“I’m gettin’ sick of holding this ugly thing,” Ichiji said. He threw the frame on the ground and stepped on it, smashing the glass. Rubbing the sole of his foot into the photo, he ripped Sora’s face right down the center. Sanji watched in horror as his last memory of his mother was driven into the floor of his cell. The laughter of his brothers was piercing through his mind and guilt and agony were coursing through his body. He scrambled backward and placed his hands on the bars of his cell, but they didn’t feel cold like they should have. Suddenly, the bars to his cell began to wither like old, decaying bones as he fell through the floor. A dizzying haze of darkness filled the thick air around him and Sanji shook his head, rapidly blinking his eyes and swinging his arms out to feel anything. The air thinned out a bit, and somehow, Sanji knew he had stopped falling. He opened his eyes, squeezing them shut a few times to see past the sea of tears. His brothers and his cell were gone.
Sanji was on an island, sitting in the remains of what used to be the Thousand Sunny, surrounded by his crewmate's lifeless bodies. Luffy stood at the horizon.
“I wish you would have kept it,” Luffy said, refusing to look Sanji in the eye.
“Luffy-!” Sanji tried to run towards him, but no matter how much he ran, he couldn't get any closer.
“If you had the raid suit, maybe you would have been useful. You could have saved at least one of them.”
“I…I thought about it, I really did.” Sanji said, wrapping his arms around himself, “But it would have made me like them. I thought you’d want me how I am.”
“Why would I want that?” Luffy asked, glaring at Sanji, “What use is someone like that to the pirate king?”
Sanji blinked, mouth agape as the tears continued to stream.
“I thought…I thought that you liked me best when I was myself.”
“Then you really are as stupid as you look.” Luffy shook his head and scoffed. “The left wing of the pirate king? You aren't even fit to be the throne I sit on.” Luffy pulled his hat down over his eyes. “A wing would be strong. They’d be obedient and take out anyone I asked them to.”
“I try to-!”
“You’re too soft. You always have been.” Luffy walked towards him and Sanji backed up, tripping over his legs and falling into the sand. Luffy stood above him, looking down at him with an angry, disappointed stare.
“I’m useful, I promise! I…I, uh…”
“You…what? You cook? So can anyone else.” Luffy grabbed Sanji by the chin and yanked him forward. “I’d eat food covered in dirt. I don’t need some fancy sous chef, anybody would do.”
“There’s gotta be something,” Sanji pleaded, eyes wide and terrified. “Please, tell me there’s anything good about me.”
“I’m not a good liar,” Luffy said, shoving Sanji’s face away. “Maybe you should ask your Nakama.” Luffy pointed to the pile of his dead friends. Sanji turned his head in horror, immediately feeling his stomach drop when the lifeless bodies started to twitch. His crewmates' skin started melting off in layers, going from skin to muscle to bone that dissolved into the sand. Sanji could suddenly feel them all in the sand that he sat on; every particle was full of shame. He screamed and pushed his hands into his eyes, crying out, “Please, no, I can’t do this!”
“Why not?” Luffy asked with a deadpan tone. “It’s your fault. You need to feel their pain.”
“No, I can’t!”
Luffy kicked him in the nose. The front of Luffy’s sandal rammed into his septum and he fell backward from the force. Cracking bones echoed through Sanji’s ears as he was slammed into the ground, face wet with tears. Before he could get up, Luffy kicked him in the stomach and Sanji’s breath left his lungs. Luffy grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him forward towards the water without any hesitation. Sanji couldn’t fight back; he didn’t even want to. He let Luffy wind his arm back and smash it into his face, sending him soaring towards the water. The punch didn’t hurt his skin or his bones, but it hurt his heart. When he reached the ocean’s surface, the water wasn’t cold like Sanji thought it would be. It didn’t feel like anything. It didn’t sting his nose or his lungs, it just felt like despair. He opened his mouth to scream, but water started to stream down his throat and suddenly he was suffocating, thrashing against the endless force of the ocean, desperate to fight against the mysterious weight that pulled him down. Looking up, he could see the reddish outline of his former captain, watching to make sure Sanji stayed down. Sanji screamed, but his voice didn’t make it to the surface. He just kept sinking lower and lower, gasping and sputtering into the water, eyes wide as he realized he was
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“No!” Sanji shot up in the hammock with a strangled gasp, blinking hard as he looked around the dark cabin. His heart was beating in his ears as he labored breath after breath. He brought a hand up to his face and feverishly wiped his eyes, surprised to feel an excessive amount of tears spilling out from them. A hand touched his shoulder and Sanji flinched, snapping his head around and staring at the hand with wild eyes.
“You’re fine,” Zoro mumbled, his voice low and gruff with sleep.
“I was-!” Sanji shook his head as his eyes scanned Zoro up and down, desperate to figure out if the person in front of him was real. “I couldn't-! Everything, I’m-!
“Woah, hey,” Zoro said, gently reaching out and taking the blonde’s wrist. He squeezed it tightly, saying, “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
Sanji stayed motionless aside from his chest heaving. He touched his nose and relief fell over him once he realized it hadn't been snapped in half by his captain. Trailing his fingers from his face down to his neck, he sighed at the familiar sensation the dream had robbed him of. His senses were returned to him, albeit in an anxious, shaky state.
“Do you…uh, want me to…” Zoro trailed off, exhaling loudly out of his nose. “What can I do?”
“It’s alright,” Sanji said, his voice cracking at the end.
“You cryin’?” Zoro asked. He slowly moved his thumb up to Sanji’s cheeks and smudged the tears away.
“No,” Sanji whispered, though after saying it, he had the urge to cry even harder. Zoro reached out cautiously and put his hand on Sanji’s head, just barely touching him. He lowered Sanji’s head back onto his chest slowly and mindlessly ran a hand through his blonde hair. Sanji held his breath as he felt Zoro’s fingers gently make their way across his scalp. Images continued to flash in his head of Luffy, of his Nakama, of his old home in Germa. He clenched his teeth as he stifled a sob, trying his hardest not to absolutely soak Zoro’s shirt with tears. Zoro gave his hair a particularly hard ruffle and whispered, “You're shakin’ like hell, cook.”
Sanji didn’t answer. Instead, he brought his shaky arms around Zoro and focused on the warmth coming from the swordsman’s body. There wasn’t enough room in his head for shame or embarrassment; it was all filled with trepidation. He squeezed his arms around Zoro as he tried to catch his breath. Zoro didn’t chastise him. He pulled his other arm around and placed it firmly on Sanji's back, holding him in place.
“Nightmare?” Zoro asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Yeah,” Sanji panted, roughly pushing his cheek into Zoro’s chest to ground himself. He was here, not anywhere else. He was on the Sunny, in his cabin, safe with his crew “Sorry, I must have woken you up”
“Shut up,” Zoro said, taking the blanket off his chest so he could tuck it under Sanji’s body. “Quit yappin’ and breathe.”
Sanji savored the way that he could feel the air coming and leaving as he breathed, which was something the nightmares always stole from him. Zoro stayed silent, running his fingers through blonde locks.
“This is embarrassing,” Sanji said against Zoro’s chest.
“Nah,” Zoro said, shaking his head. “You were right, I don’t know about the shit you’ve been through. It’s not honorable to gibe at someone that’s clearly seen hell.”
“I’m sorry,” Sanji said.
“If you say that one more time I’m gonna shove you outta this hammock.”
Sanji’s breathing began to even out as he lay there, eyes squeezed shut.
“Thanks,” He whispered into Zoro’s shirt. Zoro didn’t answer, but he continued to gently pet Sanji’s head with calloused fingers.

Through the cabin window, the sun was climbing up to the horizon, its golden rays spilling into the room slowly. As the sun rose higher, Sanji fell back asleep, breathing softly with his cheek pressed against Zoro’s chest. Zoro, however, wasn’t tired. He lay holding Sanji, relishing the way it felt to run his hands through the man’s hair. Every brush made Zoro’s stomach flutter, whether he wanted it to or not. He craned his head forward a little, curious to get a look at the man who was sprawled out over him. Sanji’s face was finally relaxed, hair askew, cheek squished up against Zoro. Zoro was holding his breath, leaning forward, watching the way Sanji’s lips stayed slightly parted as he breathed. He was close enough to feel Sanji’s breath, to feel the heat coming off of him, to smell the way his skin naturally smelled. Realizing how close he had gotten, Zoro swiftly pulled away, eyes wide as he settled back against the pillow. His heart was thumping out of his chest as he shifted slightly in the hammock, careful not to jostle the cook. Zoro bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at the top of Sanji’s head as he brought two fingers up to his lips. He gave his fingers the softest kiss before gently pressing them against Sanji’s squished cheek. Drawing a shaky breath in, Zoro quickly drew his fingers back, painfully aware of the butterflies beating their wings inside of his stomach.