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Sanji hummed as he ate. He hadn’t had the opportunity to sit by himself and enjoy a meal in a while. Most days he would drag himself home from a long shift at work and cook himself something simple. He hardly had the time to do much, given how busy the restaurant was. Lately, the rush of the Baratie was even more overwhelming, given the growing popularity of the place. Not a day went by without the flurry of food flying through the kitchen and out to customers and the shouts of cooks bouncing off the walls. The place seemed even more packed the past few weeks, tables nearly always full. Sanji supposed the growing popularity of the Baratie had its positives and negatives.
He took the last forkful of the seared meat and let it sit on his tongue for just a moment before he began to slowly chew and to savor the flavors. A faint aftertaste of rosemary, perfect. The steak’s meat was tender, filling his senses with the juicy tang of the filet. A smile graced his lips. Flawlessly prepared, as always. Sanji hadn’t overcooked a steak in years, after all.
It was a wonder why the bastard who ordered it hasn’t finished his goddamn meal. The thought made Sanji’s smile wilt into a scowl. What kind of moron would toss a perfectly good steak? At the very least, he should have taken the leftovers home with him. Though, Sanji supposed he was enjoying those leftovers far more than that filthy rich asshole would’ve ever had. It wasn’t like Sanji would have been able to afford such a nice cut of meat on his own. Maybe he should be thanking the guy for his generosity.
Sanji scoffed and rolled his eyes. Yeah, right.
Picking up the plate, he absently looked around at the empty restaurant. The last patrons had left an hour ago. He had already cleared off the tables and swept the floor. The counter—or what was left of it—had been wiped down and the place was as clean as it was going to get. All that was left was taking out the garbage. Sanji gazed at the bulging trash bags abandoned near the back door and groaned. God, he hated closing. He was a sous chef, not a busboy. He should be home right now, cooking himself dinner and getting ready for bed. There was a glass of merlot waiting for him, and stupid Zeff was keeping him from it.
Unfortunately, he was stuck with closing duty for the next month. Sanji had gotten into another fight with Zeff and the old pain-in-the-ass was making him close the restaurant by himself for the entire month.
All he’d done was get into a little scuffle during his shift. It’d been worth it, too. Some slimy thirty-something year old had been hitting on a woman who’d clearly been uninterested. And that was putting it mildly. Sanji, ever the gentleman, had told the guy that he wasn’t welcome in their establishment anymore. It wasn’t his fault that the bar’s counter had gotten fissured in the scrap. It was quartz; it should’ve been more durable. Anyway, it’d been in the way. Sanji had aimed the kick at the dude’s head. It wasn’t fair for Zeff to blame it on him!
Well, the longer he pushed off taking out the shitty garbage, the longer he would be stuck here. Making his way slowly to the back door, Sanji dragged the trash bags behind him with some effort.
The dumpster wasn’t far from the door—just a few meters into the alley. However, The lack of lighting and the stray noises caused by the scurrying critters made it eerie. Sanji was much happier to take over this task if it meant that none of their female employees had to go into an alleyway at night, but he still preferred when Patty took over the task..
Sanji steeled himself. With one hand he clutched the bag, keeping it upright. It would be a nightmare if any of the food inside spilled. If only people would just eat their damn food instead of throwing it away…
Sanji managed to unlock the back door with his free hand. He stumbled a little as he pulled the door open with some effort. It slammed against the wall when he stumbled. He winced at the sharp bang but froze when a pair of startling dark eyes darted towards his own.
Gray eyes, green hair, thick arms and a sturdy built chest. The man was a masterpiece.
That is, if Sanji didn’t count the katana in his grip stabbing clean through another man’s chest.
“Nope,” Sanji said. He closed the door. The garbage could wait until tomorrow.
“What the hell!” A voice called from the alley. Most likely it came from the man who wasn’t dead.
“Nope!” Sanji said louder so the man could hear it from the other side of the door.
The loud banging of fists pounding against the metal door rang through the restaurant but Sanji ignored it, walking towards the bar and grabbing a bottle of gin.
“You can’t just walk away! You saw me messing this guy up!”
“I didn’t see anything! Just two men chatting in the alley! Nothing suspicious.”
Sanji poured himself a glass and considered if he should grab the tonic water from the fridge. The banging continued.
“What are you talking about? This guy is totally dead!”
Sanji drank the gin straight.
“I would have ignored it!” He snapped, glaring through the door, hoping the other man could feel his scorn. The drink had given him confidence. The second drink that is. Sanji was in the middle of pouring his third.
“You just said me and this guy were just talking…That’s not true, we didn’t talk at all. I just killed him.
“LA LA LA LA! Not listening!” Sanji stood up after his fourth drink and swayed for an instant on his feet.
“Just—at least come out so we can talk!”
Sanji scoffed, stomping his way back towards the door.
“No way!” He shouted angrily, “I’m not talking with a thug!”
“I'm not in a gang, I’m in the mob, you ass,” the other man added helpfully
Sanji groaned and slammed his head against the door separating the two. He was sure the other could hear it, but he found that he didn’t really care.
“Why the hell would you tell me that?! Gang, mob, I don’t care! Either way, you’re just making me more of a target!” Sanji bit back.
“You were a target the second you opened that door and laid eyes on me.” The low growl was menacing, but for some reason, Sanji couldn’t help but feel rage replace the fear in his heart.
“You smelly bastard! This is my alleyway! Behind my restaurant! Don’t kill people on my property next time!”
The silence that spread through the restaurant was thick. Sanji waited, jaw clenched, waiting for something. Anything. Even the sound of the door breaking open.
It felt like the silence was eating away at him.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” the voice finally replied, a huff of indignance in its tone.
Sanji opened his mouth to reply and then closed it again.
“Not like you seemed to mind giving me a good look over in the first place,” a mutter traveled through the thick metal. “Maybe if you hadn’t looked me up and down, I’d be able to ignore it.”
“Shut the hell up, you bastard!” Unbeknownst to the other, a blush rose on his cheeks. “How could I not look, when you had a bloody sword in your hand!”
And thus began Sanji’s longest shift ever. Because the damn bastard refused to leave.
Sometime during the night, Sanji found himself with his back to the door. He rested his head against the cold metal. What could have brought him to this?
He thought back on the guy’s huge chest and arms and pretty green eyes and the blood on his face and…
No way am I getting out of this alive.
“Do you have enough food in there?”
Sanji rolled his eyes. It had been four hours and he was starting to think this meathead was more of an idiot than a real mafioso.
“I’m in a restaurant, moron,” he called, making sure he could be heard through the door. “Of course I have enough to eat.”
Sanji wished he would just leave. He had no idea why the man had stayed by the doors for this long. Most likely he was going to kill Sanji the second he stepped foot out of the place.
“Why do you care anyway?” Sanji mumbled.
“I dunno. Should I not?”
That was the thing. The other seemed like a pretty nice guy. If you didn’t count the killing. Which Sanji did.
“You’re in the mob. You should be off killing people. Not sitting around here asking if I’m hungry. Unless you’re hoping the food will run out and I’ll starve to death.”
“I can get you something to eat if you’re hungry.”
“No way! You’re just trying to get me to open the door so you can kill me.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because I saw you kill a guy.”
“Hmm…good point.”
The two sat in silence for a minute longer until a long sigh interrupted the silence.
“Ah well,” the idiot sighed. “It was worth a try. I’m gonna take a nap now. Enjoy rotting in this dump.”
“This what?!” Sanji stood wondering if he heard right. “This ‘dump’ has a 4.9 star rating! And I’m apprenticing with the owner. I would know if it was anything less than the best!”
No response.
“There is no way you already fell asleep. Answer me already!”
A snort sounded from behind the door. It only made Sanji fume even more.
“You said it was 4.9 stars…” The other said finally.
“It is! What of it?”
“If it was perfect, wouldn’t it be a five-star joint?”
Sanji blanched. The other only laughed. The cocky bastard.
“It probably got a point knocked for its belligerent staff. The owner’s mentee was just a little bit too much of a hothead, huh?”
Sanji sputtered.
“Sh-shut up, idiot! What the hell do you know!”
The other laughed even louder, the sound coming from deep within his belly. It was a happy sound. Sanji pictured the face from the alley smiling, the other wiping a tear from his eye. Stupid idiot probably looked handsome right now.
The man’s next words took Sanji by surprise.
“What?” Sanji asked, incredulous.
“I asked what your name was. It’s not a secret is it?”
Sanji hesitated. He supposed it wasn’t a secret. The man could find his name easily in the paper. The up-and-coming sous chef at Baratie, Sanji, hadn’t managed to keep his name clear from the press.
He sighed.
“It’s Sanji.”
“Sanji…”
There was something in the other’s voice. Sanji wasn’t quite sure what it was. It sounded affectionate. Warm.
Sanji must be mistaken. He was probably just glad to get the name of his next target.
“And what about you, mosshead?”
A snort.
“Name’s Roronoa Zoro.”
A pleasant silence followed the declaration. At least Sanji would know the name of his killer. Maybe he’d write it down so the police could get a lead.
“So, Roronoa Zoro…why haven’t you killed me yet. I wouldn’t expect a man in the mafia to have so much trouble with a simple door.”
Instead of scoffing, another laugh tickled Sanji’s ears.
“I’m not really going to kill you.”
Sanji huffed, crossing his arms, forgetting that the other couldn’t see his expression.
“Then why are you still here?”
Finally, the other seemed to be at a loss for words. Sanji waited patiently.
“I guess…I just wanted to see if you were alright.”
Sanji waited. He certainly didn’t expect that.
“I…I didn’t mean to kill the guy on your property. I was just passing by and saw him lurking…I killed him here without thinking.”
Sanji cleared his throat.
“What could he have possibly done to deserve a sword through the chest?”
The man mumbled something. Sanji strained his ears.
“I can’t hear you, Mosshead.”
Zoro snorted but sobered quickly.
“He hurt his kids. They didn’t deserve it. I don’t like bastards who hurt kids. This wasn’t a mafia hit or anything. It was for me, alone. If you wanna call the police, whatever. I probably won’t serve that long in the first place. But I don’t regret killing the guy. The only thing I regret was making you watch.”
Sanji remained silent. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t expected the man on the other side of the door to be so honest with him.
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“You don’t, I guess.”
“And how do you know that I won’t phone the police?”
“…I don’t, I guess.”
Sanji huffed.
“You really are a moron, aren’t you.”
It came out more affectionate than he meant it to. He didn’t regret it, though.
“I guess,” the other huffed.
“If the guy hurt his kids, I’m glad he’s dead.”
Sanji put a hand on the door. It must have been his imagination, but it almost felt like warmth was seeping through from the other side. Like the mosshead was placing his hand there as well.
“Can I see you again sometime?” The other asked softly.
Sanji huffed.
“Whatever. You better be willing to pay though.”
“Pay for what?”
“Your meal, dumbass. I’m a chef at this restaurant. Come by again tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”
Sanji smiled at the laugh that bellowed from the alley. His chest felt warm. He couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or from the laughter bubbling up in his own chest.
Maybe today wasn’t the worst day, after all.