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Zoro knew he would never have him. Watching Sanji lounge against the lower deck railing, sun bright and blinding in his hair, mouth open in an easy, warm grin, he knew that look would never be aimed at him. Sanji was chatting with Nami, heart in his eyes and devotion on his lips. Cigarette dangling in long, graceful fingers flicking ash into the ocean. With a fawning bow, Sanji turned and hurried into the kitchen, calling out assurances of a fruity drink to Nami.
Zoro knew this. He knew the cook would never look at him with anything other than annoyance, anger and derision. There were moments, when they were fighting together, that Zoro had seen a grudging respect for his sword skills. An acknowledgment of knowing those skills would help keep the crew alive on their Luffy led adventures. That had to be enough for Zoro. Any scraps he could take.
Fuck, he hated that he needed those scraps. Hated that he needed anything from that curly-browed piece of shit. Hated that his heart would race when those long fucking legs would attack him, absorbing as much of the violent warmth that he could. When their foreheads would grind together and bitching, bitter words spewed between them.
Grunting, he shook his head and refocused on his training, weights heavy and demanding. Shirt off in the heavy sunlight, he swung his gargantuan makeshift weighted sword with determination. Surely, surely this would pass. This infatuation that snuck up on him and kicked him ass over tea kettle.
Zoro isn’t used to infatuation. Lust, sure. Lust was easy and fun, turning a night of satisfying drinking into a night of satisfying fucking. Infatuation, that’s not satisfying. It makes things feel heavy, weird and complicated, which is great for training, but with emotions? Fuck that. Zoro doesn’t have time or the patience to deal with that.
But Sanji persisted. Not doing anything other than simply existing, and yet…
“Fuck.” Zoro muttered, eyes hard and frustrated. He’s supposed to be focusing on his training. Not that idiot cook. A comforting anger and annoyance came over him. This he can deal with. Anger is safe and easy. He lets himself stew in it as he trains, pretending his down strokes are knocking that idiot on his ass. So focused that he didn’t smell the cigarette smoke before it was already near him.
“Oi, smelly swordsman.” Sanji said, holding a tray with a drink on it. He was looking out at the ocean, bored and dismissive. Cigarette resting lazily at the corner of his mouth.
“What?” Zoro grunted, not taking his eyes off of his weights. His jaw was tense, anger that was already present beginning to bubble and froth. Sanji didn’t deserve this anger, but he could take it. That was part of the problem, he was strong as hell and Zoro was weak to his strength.
“Drink this.” Taking the drink off the tray and holding it out to him, Sanji finally looked at Zoro. Zoro glanced over at him, his visible eye was brighter, bluer than the ocean. The cook’s eyebrow quirked in annoyance. What the fuck did he have to be annoyed about? Zoro didn’t ask him to bring him anything.
“I’m not thirsty.” He lied. He’d been out here for a few hours, and sweat was dripping off of him and darkening the deck. Zoro knew he was being stubborn, stupid. He’d been keeping hydrated with water, but Sanji was holding what looked to be coconut water with slices of strawberries in it. Something that replenishes electrolytes much quicker. Something with sweet slices of a fruit that Zoro liked. Something that took a little thought, a little care. A scrap.
Sanji eyed the sweat beading off of him, the state of the deck, and rolled his eyes. Placing the drink down near Zoro, Sanji turned to leave, cigarette held between his fingers. “Shitty Marimo.” He mumbled. It was too calm. Zoro had just turned down a drink from Sanji, and he wasn’t attacking him with flurried kicks and jabs. Wasn’t fired up and spitting mad. The fuck?
Zoro watched him walk away, brow furrowed. That was weird. Setting his weights down, he flopped to the deck, letting his muscles relax and unclench. Glancing over at the coconut water, he sighed. He savored the drink a little too much, closed his eyes when he bit into the strawberry slices. All the anger and fight drained out of him, leaving him with the scraps.
----
“You’re acting weird.” Zoro said bluntly, slamming down the empty glass of coconut water on the counter. Sanji didn’t look up from his dinner prep, slicing tomatoes at top speed. The galley was cool after the hot sun.
“Fuck you, I’m not.” Sanji finished slicing the tomatoes and turned to glare at Zoro. He was leaning back against the counter, hands braced on the surface behind him. Hip and eyebrow cocked he noticed the empty glass of coconut water. Raising his eyebrows pointedly he took out a cigarette and lit it. “You gonna wash that, or am I going to have to kick your ass?”
Zoro ground his teeth at the weak attempt of normalcy. Since Thriller Bark, there have been more scraps. More thoughtful kindness on the cook’s part, and Zoro hated it. Hated the tiny sliver of hope it gave him, that maybe, maybe Sanji felt anything other than annoyance for him. It was best to cut it off now, not let it fester into anything deeper than infatuation. It was too late for that, but Zoro could pretend.
“Stop it.” He said bringing his glass to the sink, turning the water on and dousing the single glass with dish soap. Sanji squawked at that, yanking the soap away from Zoro.
“Stop what? Don’t fucking waste soap like that, asshole.” He muttered, grabbing the glass from Zoro’s hand and began washing it himself. Grumbling about the excess suds that were bubbling up, his slender hands expertly and quickly washed the glass. The sun shone through the porthole, catching his eye and turning his hair gold. Zoro's throat caught, his chest tight.
“Just stop, whatever you’re doing.” He choked out, turning and storming out of the galley.
“Zoro!” Chopper wailed across the deck, fuzzy face dismayed. “Don’t take your bandages off! You’ll never heal if you keep doing that!” Angrily tapping his way across the deck, the little reindeer came to stand in front of Zoro, hooves on his hips. “Come on, I’m gonna rebandage you and this time you’re going to keep them on.”
Zoro followed Chopper to his office obediently, sullenly acknowledging that his body felt like shit. He couldn’t take time off from training, though. He had to be stronger, tougher. Because of him, Sanji had stepped in front of Kuma, willing to accept death. That could never happen again. That would never happen again. The fear that had raced through him at seeing the cook stand in front of him, protecting him, was too similar to Kuina. Too close to hearing of her death.
Sinking down onto the bed, Zoro let Chopper fuss over him. He let himself relax a tiny bit, as he listened to Chopper excitedly tell him about how Usopp had once caught a fish so big, it nearly sank the entire galleon he was sailing in. Zoro smiled at the little reindeer, feeling a safe kind of protectiveness.
Chopper finished his examining and wrapping, sitting down on his stool with a little huff. “I know you said nothing happened, but…” Fidgeting with his hooves, Chopper looked at Zoro with big brown eyes, too earnest. “ You’d tell me, right? If you were hurting more than usual?”
“I’m fine, Chopper.” Zoro assured him, placing a hand on Chopper’s hat, patting it. “You’re an awesome doctor, so I don’t have to worry about that sort of thing.” Chopper’s eyes went wide, then he shooed Zoro away, wiggling happily.
“Like that matters, you idiot!” Zoro laughed as he left the infirmary, feeling a little bit lighter. He felt bad not telling the doctor the whole truth. How his body feels like it’s constantly being crushed with the weight of Luffy’s injuries, like he would never be able to breathe deeply again. But that would just lead Chopper to saying something, accidentally, and then Luffy would know what Zoro had done. That couldn’t happen.
Climbing up to the tangerine grove, Zoro settled between two of the trees. He’d rest, at least. Take a few more naps during the day, maybe train with less weights. Listen to his body, not his mind or heart. He could pretend for a minute that he’d do that, feeling the warm breeze and smelling the salty air.
----
“Oi, Mossy.” A light tap on his forehead, and the smell of cloves and cigarettes. Waving off the hand tapping him, Zoro squinted up at Sanji, feeling soft and malleable from the sun. The sun was behind the cook’s head, crowning him with light. He tipped his head back to blow smoke away from Zoro, his neck sleek and mouth soft. Fuck. Zoro sat up, running his hands through his hair.
“What, curly?” He sighed, tired even though he’d just been napping. Sanji sat on the deck in front of him, legs stretched out along Zoro’s, almost touching. With a drag of his cigarette, Sanji looked at Zoro, gaze solid and soft.
“I’m not going to stop.” He said, smoke rising from his lips as he spoke. “I’m gonna do what I want to do and you’ll just have to live with it.” Could Zoro live with scraps? Little teases and pokes at his heart? He could, but fuck it. Maybe it was time to rip off the bandage, and let things happen one way or another.
Surging forward, hands reaching up to grab Sanji’s face, Zoro kissed him. He always thought that if they’d ever kissed, it would be harsh and violent, like their fights. It wasn’t. It was slow, dry and so soft. Sanji tensed, stunned. Zoro knew he was about to get kicked in the face and into the ocean. Maybe this would convince the cook to stop with the pity, the scraps.
With a sharp exhale, Sanji’s hands scrambled to Zoro’s shirt. Not pushing or pulling, just anchoring. Zoro slowly pulled away, his hand had migrated to the nape of Sanji’s neck, fingers finally feeling the soft golden hair. Pushing his luck, he rested his forehead against the cook’s, eyes closed, soaking in the moment for as long as he could.
“I’m still not stopping.” Sanji breathed, eyes wide, cheeks flushed and rosy. Zoro’s eyes snapped open, pulling back he stared at the cook, heart thumping in his chest. Sanji’s hand slowly reached up to Zoro’s earrings, nudging them to hear them chime. Feeling gently fingers trace up the shell of his ear, Zoro let out a shuddering breath.
“Don’t tease me, cook.” He forced out softly, eyes roving over Sanji’s face. His eyes were darker, with the sun at his back, but still bluer than the sky, bluer than anything in the world. Sanji looked from where his hand was delicately stroking, and with mouth open and flushed cheeks he grinned. Bright and beautiful and the most gorgeous thing Zoro had ever seen.
“I’m not teasing, Zoro.” With that, Sanji leaned forward, kissing Zoro with an unexpected urgency. Zoro couldn’t help but let out a soft groan, arms moving to circle around Sanji’s back and neck. The moment Sanji’s tongue touched his felt like lightning, sharp and tingling. Even with the urgency, the kiss was still so soft. Both giving the gentleness to each other that life overlooked.
Zoro pulled Sanji into his lap with a brief grunt, wrapping those long legs around his back with firm hands. Sanji stuttered, eyes fluttering in embarrassment. The angle was new, and Sanji had more leverage, and he took advantage of it, wrapping his hands in Zoro’s hair, angling his head with a deep groan. Zoro was on fire, his hands roaming over Sanji’s legs and back, groaning at the feel of the muscles. God, he knew this would be amazing. He knew that they’d be evenly matched, like they are in most things.
“What happened with Kuma can’t happen again,” Sanji gasped, tongue trailing over Zoro’s bottom lip. Grunting, Zoro sucked the cook’s tongue into his mouth, making Sanji curse and thump his fist on Zoro’s shoulder. “I’m serious, you shit fuck. Try that again and I’ll kill you.”
Zoro dragged sharp teeth into Sanji’s lower lip, tugging it roughly as he pulled away. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, Curly.” He said, eyes firm and unyielding. With a flush on his tan skin, and lips red and glossy from kissing, Zoro brought their foreheads together again. “I’m gonna do what I want to do, and you’ll just have to live with it.”
“Fuck you. Goddamnit, Zoro, next time I’m knocking you the fuck out.” Sanji hissed, hands gripping Zoro’s hair and pulling it sharply. Zoro wanted to counter with harsh words, rough hands, but he knew Sanji wouldn’t listen that way. Instead, he brought his hands gently up to cradle that infuriating face, thumbs stroking Sanji’s cheeks softly.
“Not gonna happen, Curly.” Zoro said softly, brushing Sanji’s bangs aside so he could look into both of his eyes. So goddamned blue, and laced with something soft and vulnerable and angry. Zoro’s gentleness seemed to disarm Sanji, his weight resting more fully in Zoro’s lap, his grip on Zoro’s hair softening. “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you, so just fucking deal.”
Shaking his head in a sort of baffled affection, Sanji kissed him again. Chaste and lingering, fingers petting through Zoro’s hair. “This isn’t over, but I have to finish dinner soon, and I’d rather spend the few minutes I have making out than fighting.”
“Hell yeah.” Zoro grinned, bright and sharp. This day turned out pretty great, scraps and all.