Work Text:
It’s midafternoon aboard the Sunny. Sanji’s preparing supper, going through his recipe for seafood stew, accounting for what he’s taking from the pantry, keeping a list of what he needs to replenish at the next port. Usopp and Luffy caught him some white fish and shellfish, crowing when they’d pulled up their lines and nets, demanding a feast for dinner. It wasn’t on Sanji’s original plan for the evening, intending to make something out of a few of the vegetables that are starting to turn brown. But the look of pride on their faces when they’d held up their catches, the pleading they’d started when Sanji had hesitated for a moment.
It’s hard for Sanji to disappoint his crewmates. He wants so badly to please them, to make them as happy as they make him.
And well, it’s even harder to turn down the suggestion with all the fresh fish on deck.
He’s already scrubbed the clams and mussels, now working his way through peeling and deveining the shrimp, piling it into bowls. He’s set the stock on the stove to boil, filling the kitchen with the rich smell of butter and tomatoes, clam juice and spices set out already for later.
Sanji hums quietly under his breath, some old sea shanty Zeff always liked to sing whenever they were working on shrimp in the kitchen together. He claimed it helped the time pass whenever Sanji would whine about having to peel and devein shrimp for hours. Sanji just wonders now if it was a way for Zeff to pass on his own stories to Sanji, a way to keep the memory of his deceased crew alive through song.
Now, standing in his own kitchen, working on shrimp, Sanji finds that he misses Zeff so greatly he can feel the hole in his chest when he breathes, rattling his bones and setting his heart ablaze. He misses his rough singing, the way he used to give Sanji a compliment veiled under gruff words and ruffled hair. He misses having the old geezer next to him, pushing him to be his best.
Sanji hasn’t spoken to him since well before he left for Whole Cake Island.
He hopes Zeff isn’t too upset about what happened with the Vinsmokes, hopes the Baratie is mostly still intact after its run in with those monsters.
He’s been too afraid to call or write. Too afraid that he’ll be met with harsh words, bitter and angry as they hang up on him. That Zeff will finally realize what a burden Sanji’s always been, what a nuisance he’s been since the rock. Too afraid to be rejected by the only father that’s ever truly mattered to him.
Sanji’s lost in thought, hand on his knife, and the other squishing a shrimp, when he feels the weight of Zoro against his back, warm and heavy as he goes boneless. He huffs, resting his chin on Sanji’s head, arms coming up to wrap around Sanji’s waist, fingers hooking into his waistband. Zoro settled into place, shifting slightly as he gets into a better angle.
“Can I help you mossball?” Sanji asks as Zoro keeps squirming around. Zoro’s only answer is a huff as he finally gets comfortable, sounding very much like one of the cats that used to hang around the Baratie.
“Whatcha making?” Zoro asks, voice rough with sleep. His head slumps down a little, coming to rest on Sanji’s shoulder. Sanji nudges him, trying to get him to straighten up before he hurts his neck. He just tilts his head instead, chin hooked over Sanji’s shoulder, glancing down to see what Sanji’s working on.
“Stew for tonight. Usopp and Luffy caught some fish that I wanted to use,” he says, setting the last of the shrimp into the bowl. He moves to wash his hands, motion barely dislodging Zoro from where he drags his feet to follow Sanji. He adjusts his head, curling into Sanji’s shoulder and neck. Zoro hums, clinging on. Sanji sighs, moving to stir the stock a little, before shifting to the vegetables. He washes off the potatoes and red peppers, setting them off to the side.
He hums quietly to himself, dicing up his ingredients. He tosses them into a saucepan to heat up, watching them brown to his liking, pushing them around as they sizzle. He stirs them, adding a little more oil, keeping one eye on his stock as it bubbles.
Zoro goes with him throughout it all, feet dragging as he follows Sanji. He doesn’t let go of his hold, fingers tangling further into Sanji’s shirt. He’s starting to snore into his neck, ruffling the hair at the nape of it. Sanji sighs, just a touch too fond, shaking his head as he stirs the vegetables into the broth, tossing spices into the pot. Typical of Zoro, to fall asleep where he’s planted like the overgrown vegetation that he is.
Sanji throws the onions and peppers into the broth, tossing in some extra pepper flakes while he waits for it to simmer. He adds his basil and parsley and the rest of his spices, tasting to make sure it’s hot enough for Usopp, but not too hot to upset the girls and Zoro. It had made it immensely hilarious to realize Zoro hates spicy things, preferring simple seasoning in his food lest he pout about it burning his tongue for the rest of the evening.
Zoro lets out a huff, hot against Sanji’s skin, nosing in closer. Sanji lets out a laugh, squeezing Zoro’s arm where it’s resting on his stomach. Zoro barely notices, still curled around Sanji as he moves. Zoro shifts a little, mumbling as he gets comfortable again, chin resting on top of Sanji’s head.
Sanji throws in the clams and mussels, covering the pot before he cuts the fish into chunks. He can feel Zoro snoring, ruffling the top of his hair with each breath. Sanji pats his hand, smiling when his hold tightens around Sanji. He tosses the fish into the pot, setting the lid on top while it cooks.
He drags Zoro across the kitchen to grab a loaf of sourdough bread, crusty on the outside and soft on the inside. Tossing oil into the pan again, he drizzles some onto the bread before putting a couple slices in the pan to toast them. He pushes them around, listening to the crackle of the oil, the soft bubbling of the pot, the way Zoro keeps snoring, the rise and fall of his chest against Sanji’s back.
It’s comforting, standing in the kitchen as his bread toasts, stew boiling, salt air blowing in through the open window above the sink, to have Zoro this close to him. He was worried after leaving the crew, his family, his home, to keep them safe, that Zoro would be furious with him. Instead he had simply grumbled that Sanji was too nice to let the Vinsmokes live and pulled Sanji into a hug. He’s been almost inseparable from Sanji’s side since then, always close to him, pressed to him.
Like he’s scared that if he lets go Sanji will vanish again.
It makes Sanji squeeze his hand, leaning back into the embrace as he watches the oil bubble in the pan, relaxed, lulled by the movement of Zoro’s chest, the breaths he takes, the way he feels so real against Sanji. A reminder of all that he has.
All that he almost lost.
Eventually though, the bread is toasted and the stew is ready for the crew to eat, sun sitting low in the sky and Luffy yelling from the deck about Sanji, I’m so hungry I could starve out here before Nami bonks him upside the head.
“Mosshead, I need to get the dishes,” Sanji says, nudging Zoro, loath to wake him but knowing he has no other choice. Zoro rouses, blinking groggily at Sanji.
“What?” He mumbles, still clearly waking up. Sanji presses a kiss to his cheek, delighting in the way he blushes at the sudden movement.
“Help me get the dishes and cups,” is all Sanji says. Zoro obliges, helping him gather what he needs to set the table. He even reluctantly brings the plate of bread over, stealing a slice before Sanji can stop him from where he’s close behind with his stockpot of stew, calling the rest of the crew for dinner. Sanji only lightly bats at his hand, pressing a kiss to Zoro’s nose when he pouts about it around a mouthful of hot bread.
After dinner, Zoro joins Sanji at the sink. He takes up his usual place with a dish towel, taking dishes from Sanji’s hands as he finishes washing them. Sanji can already see the way his eyelids droop just a little, the slump in his shoulders. He nudges Zoro, rousing him with a bump.
“If you manage to stay awake for chores, I’ll bring you sake to the crow’s nest for watch,” he promises when Zoro looks over at him. He sees the way Zoro perks up just a little, straightening up his posture to glance over.
“Really?” Zoro asks. He takes another dish, drying it a little too hastily. Sanji huffs, rolling his eyes.
“Yes. Only if you do a good job with it though.”
“Will you come with the sake?” Zoro teases, bumping his hip against Sanji’s as he laughs. He leans over, pressing a kiss to Zoro’s cheek before turning back to his dishes.
And if later, Sanji falls asleep against Zoro’s chest, sake cup falling from his fingers and Zoro’s hand in his hair well, no one but the sea and Zoro has to know about it.