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Thousand Suns Building had started as a project of Grand Line University to enhance life on campus. It seemed like a normal student housing at first glance, though it was a little smaller in design. It had been built as connection of student and teacher housing, holding communal areas, small bedrooms for students, a shared kitchen and laundry area, as well as bigger appartements for teachers with some amenities for the staff. That had been the idea GLU had presented to the city, and to the architect firm, after the university had been presented with a storm of negativity when the last housing report had been less than stellar. It had been planned as a test, a somewhat cheaper alternative to renovating each existing building, and a way of appealing to new professors.
That was before engineering professor and architect enthusiast Franky saw the idea on his brother’s desk and had decided to run with it.
Now, the only room on the ground floor was an area designed for lounging and learning. Cheap, but comfortable couches and tables with barstools in front of them lining the walls. It had still needed a more personalised touch, maybe a TV and gaming systems, but at the start of the semester, when the students selected to live here arrived, Franky’s priority had been to make it functional for university life first and foremost. The first floor held two small bedrooms for students, one equally small bathroom, the laundry room and the open kitchen and dining area. Above that, on the second floor were the last four student bedrooms, with the two small bathrooms the occupants of the floor had to share. Above that, on floors 3 and 4 were the four appartements for teachers. Above all of those was the small, but rather well-equipped gym and wellness area, though the latter was mainly two small saunas and a small area of cool down showers. Crowning the building in a glorious green canopy was the roof garden above the gym, rumoured to have been funded by the city as a publicity stunt for climate change, with a healthy dose of green washing. All floors were connected with hallways, stairs and a small but functional elevator. The walls had been bare, just painted white, to make it as cheap as the university could make it. Franky hadn’t protested, when he found out about it. He thought it would be a good idea to let the students decide how the walls should be painted further, anyway. There was, in his opinion, no better way to make a space a home than decorating it as one saw fit.
Everything had been bland the first time Zoro had stepped foot into Thousand Suns Building. Boring white halls and linoleum floors had been the defining features. He had pretended not to care too much, just glad to be one of only a handful of randomly picked new students to settle into the single student rooms. As long as he had some space for himself and could have some quiet during meditation, he could deal with everything else. He did not come here to make friends, after all. He came here to train, study and get farther with his swordsmanship. That plan went out of the window just after he had finished unpacking his meagre belongings. He had been told to just chose a room as he saw fit, so he had settled in the first one he saw: The right room on the 1st floor. He had taken just enough time to set up his bed, set up the dresser Kuina had ordered for him together with a table he could sit at for his homework and place his swords above the dresser. He had still been exhausted from the flight a few days before. Just glad to have found his way to the building quickly, he had barely laid down to take a nap when the door to his room had been thrown open and a boy with a strange, beat up old straw-hat had smashed into his room. Zoro had shot up, expecting a fight, already half annoyed at having been interrupted in his nap, when the brightest smile he had ever seen had turned on him.
“Hey! Someone is already here! That’s great! My name is Monkey D. Luffy, I’ll study politics!” Zoro had never seen someone actually smiling so much while still talking. And it had been a long while since he had seen someone with that much enthusiasm. He wanted to be annoyed, but it didn’t really come.
“OK?” He had frowned at Luffy. “And that is my concern how?”
“We will be friends, of course!” Luffy had proclaimed, arms crossed over his chest. “And I also need help carrying some of my stuff to my room, I am directly above you.”
Why exactly he had agreed, Zoro was still unsure, but it had been one of the best decisions he had ever made. And that was not just because he had found the end of the red string around his right pinkie ending on Luffy’s right thumb. It had not been long before more students trickled in, Usopp being next, and choosing the room across from Luffy, then Nami had commanded all three of them to help her get her room set up. Zoro had found himself continuing to help as their youngest housemate, Chopper, had shyly asked if any of them could help him as well. There had been a moving van parked outside at the time and some older men moved boxes into the house as well, but Zoro had been too focussed on not losing his way in all the chaos to spare them a thought. Nami had told them at some point after her arrival and before Choppers, that she had seen a guy claiming the empty room across from Zoro, but they had all been mostly focussed on the second floor at that point. So, when they were all done and the smell of food had drifted up the stairs, they hadn’t hesitated to trickle into the kitchen, hoping to find the source of the smell and maybe meet the last of the arriving students.
That was how he met Sanji. The blonde had been a bit sweaty, as he flew around the kitchen in a whirlwind of precise movement as if it had been his all along. He was stunning. Annoyingly so.
It took about one week, until everyone living in the building had met. One week, and suddenly Zoro had new friends. Their group worked somehow, though with the amount of soul bounds within, it probably shouldn’t have been surprising. A month later, Usopp had taken to painting the halls, Franky had started to build more comfortable furniture for the common areas, Zoro had moved his weights to the gym for everyone to use, Chopper had made sure to install first aid-kits on every floor, and Sanji had finished sorting the kitchen. Two months, and they had started calling their new home the Sunny, and themselves the Straw Hats. Luffy had laughed until he had tears in his eyes the first time Usopp had slipped up and referred to them as such, and that had decided it. They were stuck with the name.
Life at GLU had been good to them so far. Routines had established themselves. They ate together in the mornings, if possible, and the evenings, definitely. They had group nights on Friday evenings. And Sanji and Zoro fought every time they could fit in between.
A year after they had all clashed together in the Sunny, they had decided to use the summer vacation to rent a house at a beach, in a small town on the coast. “Destressing after finals” is what Nami had called it, and because it was Nami, and Nami was perfect, her idea had to be too. Never mind that Sanji had never been on a vacation for longer than a weekend before or been away from work for that long.
He'd make it work, he thought, and it helped that he would be cooking for everyone anyway.
And it did work. For all of 6 hours, until Nami had told them that she had explicitly chosen this house not only for the secluded beach, but also for the attached sauna. Sanji remembered a creeping feeling of dread crawling up his chest and had immediately pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He liked to flirt, sure, but being in a room with all of his naked friends, sweating, already sounded like his personal hell. Throw in his newfound realisation of his own bisexuality, and the fact that most of his friends were not hard to look at, and he would just be staring at the floor the entire time anyway. But it was Nami who had asked, how could he ever disagree to something she wanted from him.
What he had missed in his equation of how badly he would be fucked in the situation was the fact, that Nami never spend more money than she thought necessary. So of course, the sauna was there for a reason. The reason being Zoro’s newly finished extracurricular: The sauna master course he had told them all about when the talk of summer vacation had come up the first time. And Sanji, even with smoking all of an entire pack in the span between arrival and afternoon, had not been prepared.
He had managed to hold out until Zoro had announced the second round of infusion, and then fled the little cabin, got under the ice-cold shower outside and breathed through the panic of realising that he wanted to lick the beads of sweat from Zoro’s chest and neck. It did not help that the two of them were sharing a room as well.
He had tried keeping his distance for a while, calming fraied nerves with tugging at his hair, cooking and continuing his chain smoking. He had found himself seated next to the Mosshead anyway later in the evening, their friends having erected a bonfire on the beach, both of them sitting on a blanket at the outskirts of the warmth radiating from the fire. And Sanji even remembered the moment he had glanced over, found Zoro smiling at their friends, their hands warm between them on the blanket, the string connecting them short and visible in its entirety, and thinking: I am doing this.
He couldn’t even blame the alcohol.
He had turned to Zoro fully, making the Moss look over as well, and had leant into his space, blinking rapidly between Zoro’s widening eyes and his lips, until he was so close he couldn’t focus on either. Their first kiss had been softer than Sanji had intended, and it had been short, their friends shouting had broken them apart. But there had been fire in the Mosshead’s eyes and Sanji had breathed harder than before, and when they all had returned to the house, everyone readying for sleep, Sanji had found out that Zoro’s skin still smelt of the sauna: Warm wood, fresh sweat and the chestnut and coffee infusion.
It had not been the only time they had fallen into bed together. Not on the vacation, and it had continued to happen at home as well. It helped that they lived door to door.
And it is not as if Sanji would want it to stop, either. It certainly had strengthened their bond, not just the string connecting them anyway, but their understanding for each other as well. And it was nice; it was nice, having the confirmation that their fights had never been an expression of true dislike, more along the lines of an outlet for frustration. Reassurance of their shared string, the constant contact giving them opportunities to see it shrink, literally spelling their connection out for them. And yes, maybe it wasn’t healthy that Sanji felt the need to see at least one of his soul bonds short enough to follow it completely, but he had never claimed to faire well with the topic anyway, still reeling from having found so many at once. He was also not really known for healthy coping mechanisms in general, but that was another topic.
Any way. It wasn’t that he wanted to stop sleeping with the Moss- or fighting him. It was just that he found himself feeling increasingly unsure if that would be enough in the long term. The vacation had been half a year ago at this point, and they had yet to talk about what the new development meant for them. What their expectations were.
“You know, it would be easier, if you just talked about this, right?” Usopp twirled a pen around his fingers, the both of them sitting in the kitchen, Sanji with his head in his hands, Usopp leaning above his textbook.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Sanji squeezed out.
“Sure. Really, man, I know talking isn’t what the two of you do, but you are not doing anyone any favours if you continue on like this,” his companion said matter of fact.
Sanji would love to deny anything happening at all, but Usopp had walked in on them on multiple occasions, the only one who did so far, and in the face of that it seemed like wasted energy. Instead, he glared at the other, even if he had just thought the same.
“No way will any fucking good come from us talking about it. Can we also not talk about this shit in the common areas, like fucking morons?” His gaze fell to the doorway connecting the kitchen to the hallway.
“Everyone is out today, remember?” Usopp pointed his pen at Sanji’s face, but shrank back with a placating gesture at the blonde’s sneer. “Alright, I’ll drop it. Just saying. Talking helps.”
Sanji snorted. “Sure. As long as you fix what we destroy when he tries to slit my throat for making things difficult, or me kicking him through a wall for laughing in my fucking face, I will.”
Usopp’s eyes had grown wider and wider with every word, regret painted obviously on his face.
Sanji breathed out heavily. “I need a smoke.”
Zoro breathed out harshly, setting down his weights on the spot he usually took for himself in Sunny’s gym and dragged his towel over his forehead. He balled up the towel still in his grip and took off his headphones for a quip wipe down of his hair and the earpieces, before letting the headphones slide around his neck. His water bottle was only a few feet away, at a bench, where he also kept his gym bag, and he trotted over to it, taking a few greedy sips. Still not better. Even after he had trained to a point where he could see his hands shaking just from holding the bottle, trying to meditate in his room before that and even letting his fingers run across the multitude of coloured strings on his pinkie before that, his skin still felt too tight. The sense of foreboding that had set in sometime during the last two days was still nagging at his brain like a hungry rodent, and not even the small fight with the Cook this morning could lessen its hunger. Usually, the tightening of their soul string during these fights brought him a sense of reassurance that Cook could take care of himself, it was one of the reasons why he loved to provoke the blonde. Today, all it did was intensify the sense of being on the wrong foot, bringing down his concentration enough, that he had to end the fight, not willing to risk actually harming his sparring partner due to lack of concentration. Unsatisfying. Humiliating.
Zoro shook his head free of these thoughts and started to pack his things. Maybe he should check if the gym wellness area was still running. If nothing else had helped out with this, maybe he could sweat through it in the sauna, use the time to refresh his fan techniques while he was already in there. He walked over to the disinfection station and started his cleaning process with the equipment. At this time in the night, the saunas should be empty, and he had the key, so no one should annoy him in there. The class for the sauna master programme did pay off, against his judgement and Nami’s prediction, when he told her about the extra credit he had signed up for last semester. And the combination of heat and repetitive movements while giving sauna infusions made for an interesting training ground for light meditation. Nodding to himself, Zoro took off his headphones, and went to the dressing room to get ready.
It took another hour, soaking in the dry heat and going through some stances with the fan, but when he left the wellness area and rinsed himself off with cold water, he felt the world bleed into his consciousness again, able to breathe deeper than he had the last day or so. He had found that he liked the smell of wood and heat that seemed to accompany most saunas he had visited, and it helped calm him down now as well, so he decided against scrubbing himself down, instead towelling off and dressing quickly. The heat still clinging to his skin was a tad too warm to be comfortable, but it too grounded him, and Zoro decided to hurry down to his room.
---
The call came when he had just closed his eyes after laying down. It had taken a little bit of time to relax enough to honestly think about going to sleep, but the laziness of the heat before helped.
So, when his phone went off, he was annoyed at first. He could have sworn that sleep had felt so close. It took him a minute to decide against ignoring the ringing, roll over and blindly feel for the phone, bringing it up to his face. The moment his fingertips hit the smooth plastic of the phone’s cover though, heat ran down his spine, while his fingers felt like they had been dipped in ice water. A slight tug at his right pinkie made his eyes go wide.
“Moshi Moshi,” he all but forced out, his chest so tight, it felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“Zoro…,“ Koshiro’s voice sounded tinny from the other end of the line, “I am sorry to call you so suddenly, it’s…”
“Kuina,” Zoro breathed out. The strange restless feeling, the tug right now. He reached for his side table, nearly knocking over his open water bottle in his frantic search for the light switch. He needed to see his string, it needed to be there. It needed to be fine.
“I am sorry. She was training and something happened.” Why did his Sensei sound so calm? How could he even be so calm?
The light flared bright in the dark room. Zoro resisted the urge to blink as he held up his hand, pinkie stretched out. He could barely hear anything over the sound of his heart, beating so loud in his chest, that it nearly hurt. Count the strings, he thought, where is it?
“The doctors say she may have fallen while practicing,” his sensei continued.
1, 2, 3, 4, there. He had once told Kuina that the string connecting him to her had the same off white as Wado’s saya, but it shone as silver as her edge. Now, the white seemed darker, he had nearly missed it, with the slightly red tint to it. Its silvery shine seemed dull, as if it needed a good polish.
“What happened?” Zoro barely got the words past his throat. The entire world seemed to be spinning around where the now slightly pink string was bound on his pinkie finger. Everything seemed to blur.
“I am not sure. I found her, on the floor, with Kitetsu through her stomach.”
No. That could not be right. It just- it could not be. She was so strong, not even a blade like Kitetsu could overcome that. Not Kitetsu, which should have been just under Wado’s white saya, above Enma’s violet, in the place where his training bokken now rested, a symbol of his promise to return. It did not make any sense. That was his katana. Kitetsu was his, not hers. Just as Wado was hers, not his. He had entrusted the blade to her and her to the blade, he KNEW that they would work, he KNEW that she could-
“The doctors say that there is a good chance that they will be able to help her.” Koshiro’s voice sounded far away and way too close at the same time.
Zoro focussed back on his hand, away from the swords in their stand. He forced himself to hold the phone with his shoulder, as he ran his trembling left hand through the bundle of soulmate strings on his right. Red, for Luffy, orange for Nami, bright pink for Chopper, blue… he stopped, twisting the blue string around the fingers of his left hand, weaving them mindlessly while focussing back on the formerly white string. It seemed to glisten with blood. Or maybe that was just his imagination. He hoped it was just in his head.
“I will keep you updated, they are still in the operating room.” Now Koshiro’s voice finally sounded tight, a sliver of emotion in his perfect façade.
“I can come home,” Zoro felt his voice nearly break as he muttered the words. Already trying to remember his finances. Already trying to figure out how much money this would cost. What he would need to organise to be able to do this. Maybe Nami could help him.
“Don’t,” his sensei commanded. “She would want you to stay there, to work on your studies. It would be of no help for her if you were here instead.”
That hurt. It hurt to hear that his presence would make no difference, even if he knew that his sensei was right. Kuina had wanted him to go, study physical therapy, see more of the world and practice more swordsmanship. She had given him Wado for that exact reason. And yet. He felt sick, not being there, not being the first to know how she was. Still, he forced his voice to remain steady.
“Alright, sensei. Keep me updated, please.”
“I will.” Then the line went silent.
Zoro barely slept the night, his hands tangled in strings of blue and white, which was stained a sickly, glistening pink.
The thing was, now that Usopp had also said to just talk about it, Sanji couldn’t get his brain to shut up again. He felt himself hyperaware of the Moss whenever they were in the same room, monitoring slight changes in his usual behaviour and over analysing them when he was alone. Was the Mosshead trying to tell him something when he ate his porridge slower than usual this morning? He had come home later than usual two nights ago, was he avoiding him?
The crawling anguish did not help the tension the two of them had fallen into over the last months, and certainly didn’t help with his mood. Sanji knew he was snappier than usual, thinner skinned, more in need of reassurance. He knew he smoked more, too. All of which was… not ideal. He was sure the Mosshead also used their fights as some form of reassurance, had seen him glancing at the string between their hands more than once when swords and shoes met, but that didn’t mean that Sanji was ignorant to the fact that it might not be the healthiest of coping methods. Combine it with the other side effects of his focus and you had a perfect recipe for disaster. Sanji was a chef, after all, perfection was what he expected of his recipes.
He couldn’t stop nearly vibrating out of his skin from anxiety though when Zoro showed up one morning, shadows under his bloodshot eyes, carrying with him the same smell of warm wood and something indistinguishable but human that he had learned to mean the Moss had been in the sauna the night before. Which wasn’t usually accompanied by the tired demeanour he showed this particular morning. Sanji found himself turning to grab another mug and pouring coffee to pass it on, carefully trying to recount the time the door opposite his own had shut yesterday and found himself unable to place it. Late, then. He placed the mug into the Moss’s hands and bullied him into an open seat at the table when the other man didn’t seem to be understanding how to do it on his own. Turning back to his kitchen he decided to fry up some more eggs and bacon as an addition to the Moss’s morning rice with vegetables. He seemed like he might need it.
“Hey, Zoro, you ok?” He heard Luffy ask behind him, the perfect picture of innocent inquiry.
“I’m fine, Captain,” Zoro rumbled back. “Just a long night.”
It felt wrong. Something Sanji couldn’t put his finger on felt wrong, they all experienced rough nights, so it couldn’t be that. And yet.
“Ok!” Luffy smiled, and Sanji decided to listen to him- their captain had shown incredible depth of empathy and could read people best out of all of them. So, if Luffy believed the Mosshead, then so would Sanji.
---
They were fighting again, and Sanji was pretty sure that it had been Marimo who had started this one. It clearly was more of an excuse to be close, to reassure; Mossy hadn’t even bothered to get his swords on the way to the gym. He was also constantly looking at their bond, so Sanji treated it with the same energy, letting each exchange of kick, block and hit drain the tension in his shoulders. Letting himself forget the need to talk, the desire to see where this could go. Instead, he focused on keeping insults above the belt, not even in the vicinity of their usual banter.
“Maybe you should train more, Cook, I barely feel these kicks,” Zoro smirked up at him from where he had crouched to block Sanji’s latest high kick. Sanji sneered in his face.
“You are barely complete without your swords, I am not using my full strength against only a quarter of you, idiot.”
“Bullshit, I don’t need my swords to win this, Curly.”
“Is that so?” Sanji grinned deviously and flexed the leg currently holding the Marimo in his crouched position. “So don’t come crying when I make you eat those words.”
In a sudden burst of strength, the Marimo broke free, and managed to elbow him in the side. It didn’t hurt as much as expected, the Moss was pulling his punches still, and Sanji really didn’t need to feel as if he was treated like glass.
Turn on your supporting leg, swing out your right, send the Marimo’s ass flying. Sneer.
“What was that Marimo, too scared to send me on my back? Don’t worry, I am not so weak for a little fall to hurt me.”
Lower the leg, huff your hair out of your face. Brace for the mockery for getting so transparent in your demand for equal treatment.
The Marimo mumbled something under his breath, still on his back, sprawled out on the ground of the gym.
“Speak up, Marimo, or have I knocked out more than just your breath? Did the root-covered mess you call a brain also go flying?” Are you okay?
Mossy sat up but didn’t look at him. “I said: What did you just say, asshole?”
The tone in his voice was off, the air between them was suddenly charged, and Sanji did not know why. Frantically, he went over his last few words, but nothing in them was anything they hadn’t thrown at each other before, certainly nothing that should change the mood so viciously.
“I said no point in pulling your punches, Algae-brains. It’s not like you can seriously hurt me without your swords here.” Sanji leant back on his supporting foot, trying to diffuse the sudden tension with thinly veiled reassurance. It didn’t seem to work. Mosshead was still refusing to look at him, instead focussing on the right hand that supported his weight.
The tension from before their fight slowly returned to Sanji, like maggots eating away his flesh. In an instant he was above his green haired annoyance of a soul mate, a hard, but carefully placed kick to the right shoulder forcing Zoro on his back again, as a softer flip under the right elbow bounced the right hand up, string between them pulling tight in full view. It was still green, no sign of decay. It even looked more vibrant, the strand seemingly thicker than before they had tumbled into bed. Maybe that was all the answer he really needed anyway, at least regarding the needed talk.
“What the fuck, Cook?” Moss seemed to have snapped out of whatever had been going on for the time being.
Sanji grinned down at him. “Well, since you are obviously not in the mood to get some serious sparring in today, how about we call it a day and get something to eat? I need a cigarette anyway, and you could definitely use the shower.”
Zoro looked up at him for a moment, then his eye strayed to the string. A small, barely there smile crossed his face before the Mosshead sat up. “Yeah, yeah, Cook. You and your sensibilities.”
“Sensibilities?” Sanji bristled playfully. “Just because you lack any concept of hygiene or class doesn’t mean you should expect the rest of us to be like that as well.”
They fell into step on the way to the locker room, playfully shoving their shoulders against each other. It didn’t happen often, moments when their banter could find a careful, content outlet, and it had Sanji’s heart beating high up his throat, his eyes darting towards Zoro no matter how much he wanted to keep them focussed straight ahead. Even through the contentment settled on the Algae’s face, tension was still visible in his shoulders, and Sanji found the words tumble out of his mouth without his conscious input.
“You ok, Moss?”
He felt more than heard Marimo’s chest expanding on a sharp inhale. For a moment, their eyes met, Zoro’s contemplating, Sanji’s hopefully free of any judgement.
Then the Moss exhaled and looked away.
“Yeah. You should go down, I can shower up here.” He ran a hand through the sticky green strands of his hair and chuckled. “We both know how much you hate these showers.”
Sanji joined in on the chuckle, nodding. “Alright. I’ll make us some leftover stir-fry afterwards. Might even still have a beer in the fridge.”
He resisted the temptation to see the grin that surely graced Mossy’s lips, instead hurrying to grab the few things he had brought at the beginning of their spar and hurried down the stairs.
Maybe Usopp had been right, it certainly seemed like time to talk, and if he had read the room right, the mood between them might just allow an honest one without too much awkwardness.
Sanji was not a fan of short showers, he liked to use the hot water to relax, but he did try not to take too much time today. And when he started heating up some leftovers in the kitchen not half an hour later, it was excitement making his skin tingle, instead of the anxiety of the days before.
But Zoro didn’t turn up. Not 10 minutes later, when the smell of the perfectly heated food should have alerted him, and not 30 minutes later when doubt started to settle into Sanji’s mind. The 45-minute mark found Sanji at the Mosshead’s door, knocking and annoyed that he had to keep the food on low temperature, which was slowly destroying its texture. No answer, and as he opened it in a fit of rage, the room was empty too. Sanji closed the door, feeling doubt spread, as he went into the kitchen to turn off the oven, leaving the food to turn as cold as his insides.
He really had read the room wrong.
Zoro knew that he was being strange, but he couldn’t help it. With barely any sleep and the constant thrum of worry for Kuina buzzing away in him, it took all of his concentration and restraint to keep going, and not be too much of a mess. He still checked his soulmate strings more than regularly, finding little comfort in the tainted white of Kuina’s.
So, when the Cook coerced him into sparring, he jumped on the opportunity to work out until he couldn’t think anymore, while also doing the thing that always showed the growing bond the two of them had. It helped seeing the string thicken, at least a little bit. It even helped that he found himself on unsteady footing around the cook since they started to have sex, and closer quarters shook the ground up even more. He had thought that Sanji was attractive, even beautiful, from the moment he had laid eyes on him. His character took more getting used to. When he had realised that there had been more to his feelings for the blonde than there was for the rest of his soulmates, he had wrangled them down, deep down, not seeing a reason to act on them when it could very well disturb the dynamic of their whole friend group.
Kuina had laughed at him when she had called him out on it, while he had tried to convince her of his reasoning.
“You are so stupid, Zoro. What are you, twelve?” She had teased, her face on his phone screen slightly red from the training she had just been doing.
“Oi! Shut it, you don’t know him,” he had answered, also red, also from training, and not at all from embarrassment at the topic they were talking about.
Kuina had scoffed at him, the grin on her face never leaving, only turning more arrogant as the conversation went on. “I call it as I see it- and I see you being stupid and a coward. Just tell him you want him.”
Zoro had looked around panicked, but there was no one in the gym close enough to be able to pick up what little sound escaped his headphones. And even then, they also had to understand Japanese, he reminded himself.
“I said shut it,” he hissed anyway. “How are you that annoying so early in the morning anyway? How early is it over there?”
Kuina had turned, walking with him to the doors of the dojo, and turning the phone so that he could see the early morning touching the leaves in the calm gardens beyond the terrace. “Around 5, felt like training while watching the sun rise. Not like your lazy ass could ever do that.”
He had not really felt homesick since moving here, even if it was across half the globe. But watching the leaves sway in a breeze, the stone gardens and the little rivers that bubbled between the different garden designs and hearing her voice above all of that, it had hurt.
“You know, you should visit me sometime,” he had said, not really in control of what came out of his mouth. “Meet everyone, see where I’m living. I’m sure we can figure something out with the flight and the costs.”
Zoro pulled himself out of his train of thought, purposefully turning the shower temperature to cold and controlling his breathing when the water hit him.
She would laugh at him now, too. He knew she would have told him to get his head out of his arse and talk to Sanji, but in his defence, he had tried. He had tried to talk to Curls in many moments about the sex-and-feelings-thing that they had going on. It couldn’t be only his fault that he found himself in bed with the blonde on every occasion instead.
Maybe they could talk about it over dinner. Maybe he should tell the blonde about Kuina as well, if they were already talking.
He scrubbed the soap into his scalp viciously, trying to quiet his mind, when his phone rang. Panic made him jump out of the shower, trying to get the soap to stay out of his eyes, as he fumbled with the touch screen, glad to have brought it into the room with him. It took him two half blind tries to pick up, and he had yet to see who called him when he held it to his ear, blinking against the foamy rivers slowly making their way down his face.
“Hello?”
“Zoro. You might need to sit down.” The voice on the other line told him.
Koshiro had never sounded so pained. Zoro stopped blinking.
“The doctors are still trying everything, but something went wrong in the operation room yesterday. They only found out this morning. She is back in there now.”
Zoro couldn’t breathe. He sat down on the ground of the shower room, feeling the world spinning. He should have booked the ticket; he shouldn’t have listened to Koshiro. He should be there.
“Nothing is decided yet, Zoro, but I need you to be prepared for the worst.” His sensei’s voice sounded drained. Pained. “Again, I will keep you informed, but it might be good if you give notice to your school.”
---
Zoro really didn’t know where he was. After hanging up with Koshiro, he had gotten dressed and started to walk. He had needed to get away from the building for a bit, physically away from the phone call, from the image of his best friend in a hospital bed, so far away from him.
When he came to again, he was cold. There was sand under his hands and nothing under his feet. He shivered, blinked, and slowly tuned into the view in front of him: rolling waves and blue, as far as the eye could see. He didn’t know anywhere in the city that looked like this. It was also cold, and his body had gone stiff, so he probably hadn’t moved in a while. He was seated on a cliff. That explained the nothing under his feet. He was still shivering. His scalp felt itchy. When he rubbed his hand through his hair, the texture was off. Had he even showered off the soap? There should be a hoody in his gym bag.
He looked around himself, and found the bag an armlength to his left. Once he was dressed and slightly warmer, he tried to orient himself. First, he needed to find his phone.
Carefully tapping himself down, he did not find it on his person, so he turned over the gym bag. A few spare training clothes, a slightly damp towel, his water bottle, still mostly full. His wallet and his phone, at the bottom of the pile. The screen was dark. It stayed dark, when he pressed a button to get a read on the time. No battery then, shit. Zoro knelt back on his heels.
How the fuck was he supposed to get home now?
Noone had seen the Mosshead in two days. He certainly hadn’t been in his room, Sanji wasn’t proud to admit that he had kept his door ajar to make sure he would catch him, if he came home.
He wanted to be mad, to be sad that he had gotten the answer he wanted in the way that he had- by being ghosted. But even his self-torture-loving mind couldn’t convince him that he was the reason for the Moss’s disappearance act. Something was wrong, and everyone knew it. Usopp had talked about informing the police when no one could reach his phone, Robin had asked about knowledge of any relatives or contacts that Zoro had, but none of them had any information about social contacts that the Marimo kept, not outside of their circle. And now, Sanji was so worried, he felt his stomach trying to twist in on itself. He had started keeping lunchboxes of onigiri in the fridge and a thermos of miso soup in his cupboard space, and even Luffy hadn’t tried to eat them. He wanted to be annoyed that the Marimo obviously didn’t trust them enough to tell them about what had been on his mind, but he couldn’t even bring himself to do that.
He was supposed to be at the Baratie right now, but Zeff had kicked him out yesterday for being 'too distracted' and had told him to 'not come back until you have sorted yourself out again, Eggplant. Or until you’re willing to talk.' Instead of busying away in a kitchen, he now sat on his mattress, smoking inside his room, bouncing his leg from the pent-up energy of worrying his mind away, and tried to find a solution, that didn’t involve police. They had unanimously decided that that would be the last resort, as they had all had run ins with the authorities before and were all slow to trust them.
Sanji flexed his fingers, they had started to feel a little numb a while ago, a sensation of pins and needles that he really didn’t want to think about too much. He had no time for yet another thing to worry about. They could still hold his cigarette, they needed to be fine. Instead of getting better, though, the feeling intensified.
Huffing, he looked down at his hands, moving his fingers in a slight wave to test their flexibility. Everything seemed to be in order, but the feeling didn’t let out, and then it changed. It felt like a tug, and if he focussed on it enough, he could see the green, thick string of his mossy soulmate rising out of the strands hanging off his pinkie and pull tight in the direction of his wall. Sanji sat up straighter. This shouldn’t be possible. Then again, that had never stopped the Marimo before.
He jumped up, barely remembered to grab his backpack, before he sprinted to the kitchen to grab the food he had made as well as a bottle of water, just to be sure. Then he fled the building, pulling out his cell phone on the way to the bus stop, and dialling.
“Finally ready to talk to me, Eggplant?” Zeff grunted instead of a greeting. Sanji felt his face split in a grin.
“No, but I need the van, don’t know for how long,” he panted.
“What the hell do you need that for?” was the reply.
“I’ll explain later, I’ll be there in 20,” Sanji spat out, just as the doors to the bus closed behind him. “I’ll just grab the keys and be out of your hair again, geezer.”
For a moment there was no reply, and he was just about to hang up, when Zeff’s voice carried out over the speaker. “Fine.”
---
Seventeen minutes later, Sanji ran up the back alley behind the Baratie, already thinking about where he had last seen the keys to the small delivery van his father had bought when Sanji had moved to university. He had claimed to need it for possible future expansions, but Sanji knew that it was mostly to help him move and for emergencies. Like this one was. The tugging on his pinkie had stopped, nearly sending him into a panic attack, but the string had stayed taunt, showing a direction that Sanji was happy to try and follow. Once he got those damn keys.
He slowed down, when the back door of the Baratie came into view. The van was parked there, already moved from the garage Zeff had rented under the building next door, and the man himself stood next to the driver’s door. Sanji stopped in front of him, his face burning from running from the bus stop to the building, and he had difficulty catching his breath. Zeff gave him a long, hard once over, then held out his hand, the keys dangling from them.
“Drive carefully, brat, you hear me? Nothing is worth risking yourself over.”
Sanji nodded and made to grab for the keys, but Zeff held on tight.
“Look me in the eye and promise, Eggplant.” His old man sounded agitated, and Sanji took the time to breathe deeply once, twice, threetimes, then looked him in the eyes.
“I promise.”
Zeff let go of the keys and turned to the backdoor of his restaurant. “There is some warm food and a few blankets in the back, if you need them. I’ll call those friends of yours.”
Warmth spread through Sanji’s chest at the words, and he felt a grin splitting his face, as he turned to open the driver’s door. He had the best father.
“Come on, Mosshead,” he mumbled to himself as he started the engine, “Show me where I’ll find you.”
---
His phone rang when he had just left the city behind. Carefully pulling it out of his jacket pocket, he clipped it into the phone holder with one hand, and then scanned the name, before answering.
“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHY DID YOUR DAD CALL ME TO TELL ME NOT TO WORRY???” Nami’s voice rang through the car, panic clear in her tone, and it hurt to know that he was the cause of it.
“I think I know where Marimo is,” Sanji replied calmly, while speeding up and checking the string on his finger. Still going in the right direction.
“What?” Nami breathed, obviously taken aback. “Where? How? And why didn’t you call any of us?”
“Sorry, my flower, I don’t know where exactly. Our string is showing me, I can’t really explain it right now. But I don’t know how long this lasts, and I need to get there before the idiot forgets how he’s doing it.” Sanji would have been proud how unwavering his voice sounded, if it didn’t take all of his concentration to stay on the road and keep an eye on his compass.
“I’ll keep you posted though,” he added after a heartbeat of silence.
“You better,” Nami replied, but she sounded tired instead of angry, so he took it as a win. “As soon as you find him, please tell us where you are. We’ll get there.”
“Alright,” Sanji smiled. She was such a sweet person, always so worried for all of them. It was one of the things he liked most about her.
A click informed him that she had hung up without saying goodbye. He let out a deep breath and turned on the radio, just now realising how quiet it was, alone in the car. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, nervously craving a cigarette, but knowing that he couldn’t smoke in the food delivery van.
The string pointed steadily to the west, so he followed the highway, leaving behind the city, and noticing how the landscape shifted to a beachier setting the longer he drove.
A while later, he started to recognise town names and slowed back down to the speed limit. An idea formed in his head, and he scanned the signs on the side of the road with more intent now. When the town name he was looking for appeared, the string on his finger slowly seemed to correct course. How Marimo had found his way there, he was unsure. He should probably call Nami, tell her he thought he knew where the idiot was, but he didn’t want to get her hopes up, not until he had Marimo back in his sight.
Leaving the highway, it didn’t take him long to drive onto the main road of the small beach town they had vacationed at last year. He slowed down enough to keep on the lookout, but the string pulled him along until he could see the ocean. He parked the van haphazardly in the small parking lot that lead to small secluded beach where they had spent most of their nights, grabbed his backpack and the keys to the van and jumped out. As an afterthought he grabbed a blanket from the back, before he jogged to the small path leading to the beach.
Eyes on the string, he followed its direction for a while, until he could see a lone figure in the distance, sitting near where the waves pushed foam up the sand. Relief surged through him, so strong his knees buckled and it took effort to stay standing and keep walking. Even with the hood of his pullover up, the figure was unmistakably Zoro. The Mosshead sat on the beach, feet in the sand, his shoes and his gym bag carelessly thrown behind him, his arms on his knees. Something in Sanji ached at the posture; defeated, so unlike the Moss. Shaking his head, he kept his steps light as he closed the distance. Mosshead didn’t look up, not even when Sanji was close enough that he should have heard him coming. His face was turned to the ocean, expression unreadable, but his hands were moving between his knees: The left hand weaving its fingers around their soulmate string over and over, never letting it go lax. The movement was careful, almost reverend. His right hand held his phone. He was also shivering.
Sanji unfolded the blanket in his hands quietly and dropped it unceremoniously over the Mosshead’s shoulders, then dropped to sit beside him, just close enough that he could feel the jump as Zoro finally looked at him.
“You know, Mossy, missing for 48 hours is a new record, even for you,” Sanji mumbled. He wanted to be so angry, but the anger just didn’t come. He also couldn’t look Marimo in the eyes, not yet. So, he turned his face to the water instead, but watched the Mosshead from the corner of his eyes. The idiot had a surprised look on his face. He had also turned even more towards him.
“You found me,” came Marimo’s reply, only a few moments of silence later.
Sanji hummed, agreeing.
“How?” Zoro’s voice was rough, probably a result of not eating or drinking since he had gone missing. Sanji pulled his backpack towards him and began to unpack what he had brought.
“I brought you food, and water. You neanderthal probably didn’t eat or drink enough in the last 48 hours.”
Instead of answering his question, Sanji shoved the lunchbox, thermos and water bottle towards the man next to him. The Moss looked at the offerings as if he didn’t register what they were.
“Go on, Moss. I swear, it’s not poisoned.” Sanji pulled out a cigarette and his lighter next, flicking it and breathing in a long, well deserved drag.
Zoro looked at the food for a moment, without pulling the boxes towards him. “D’you have power bank with you?”
Sanji frowned, he was about to question the Moss’s priorities, when the other looked at the phone in his hand, back to Sanji and breathed: “Please.”
Letting the smoke curl out between his lips, Sanji started sorting through his backpack again, pulling out what he had been asked for and handing it over.
The Mosshead was quick to plug in his phone, staring at it for a moment, until the screen showed that the phone still worked. Then he repositioned himself into a cross-legged position, his phone on one leg in his line of sight, and grabbed the bottle of water, nearly draining it in one go.
The onigiri were next and even through the exhaustion and worry, Sanji smiled at the small noises of content the Moss made when he bit into the first. He quickly hit behind the hand holding the cigarette.
“Eat slowly, Moss, your stomach might need some time to get on board with food again,” he advised, trying for an acidic tone and landing more in the vicinity of watered down lemonade.
Zoro hummed in response.
“Wanna tell me what the fuck you’re doing here and why we haven’t heard from you in two days?” Sanji probed, still not looking or turning towards the other.
Mosshead shook his head for a moment and picked up his phone from his leg while sucking rice grains from his fingers. Instead of answering, or continuing to eat, he pressed the button to turn it back on. Then, phone still in hand, gaze still locked on it, he reached for the next onigiri.
“Seriously, Moss, you need to tell me something here,” Sanji breathed out, the annoyance finally able to take a hold now that his soulmate was eating and had had something to drink. “Because the others were worried sick about you, Usopp nearly called the police, and it was a really shitty wakeup call, that none of us know anyone else in your live.”
Finally, the Moss seemed to understand the gravity of what had happened, as Sanji watched him curl slightly more into himself. It was not the angry outbursts with which he usually handled being confronted with his short comings, but it was better than no reaction. The newly awoken phone started to buzz, and Sanji felt it resonate within the annoyance and hurt slowly starting to unfurl in his chest.
“You know, we couldn’t reach you, knew no one who could, at some point everyone thought I had done some fucking shit to make you run off like that. You know, since I was the last fucking person that saw you,” he talked louder, to be heard over the still ongoing buzzing from the phone, anger joining his emotions, when all he got as a reaction was Zoro starting to tap the message app on his phone.
“I mean, at some point even I thought I had done something unforgivable. Which is fucking unbelievable, because we didn’t even fight like usually,” Sanji raged at the water, then wished he could take the words back in. He breathed hard, and still no reaction from his mossy companion. Oh shit. He had been right, hadn’t he? He had done something.
“Did I?” He asked quietly.
And was he trembling? Sure, he was starting to panic, but usually it took a while before the trembling set in. No, it was also too one sided to be him, it was…
Sanji whipped around, now on his knees, towards Zoro. For the first time since he had found him, he really took the Moss in. He looked exhausted, his hair peaking out from under his hood was dull and strangely crusty, as if he had left foam in there for too long, the bags under his eyes had been bad before he had vanished, now they were even darker than that. And he was crying. That more than anything else shocked Sanji out of his own panic, out of his own head and back into his body. He had never seen so much as a single tear roll down those sculpted cheeks, and now there were streams. And Zoro still didn’t look at him, his gaze still fixed on the phone in his hand. Sanji nervously followed his eyes, but the only thing he could see was a chat in what he assumed to be Japanese, which he didn’t speak, and a text from just a few hours ago that read 'Idiot 🖕' in English. The name at the top didn’t mean anything to him either.
“What’s going on Moss, talk to me,” he pleaded.
Still, Zoro didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, he started squeezing his phone and the half-eaten onigiri. Sanji reacted before he could fully crush either. He carefully took the onigiri from Zoro’s hand, placing it quickly back in the lunch box, then, just as carefully, took his phone from his hand and held it in his instead, before pulling the Moss into his arms. Sure, they had never really done this before. It was always either fighting or sex, but now was not the time to think about their fucked-up relationship, because whatever that would turn into, it came second to their friendship, and Sanji was always there for his friends. Arms around his middle crushed the breath out of him for a second, before he was pulled into Mossy’s lap. He curled his fingers into the hood on his head, pulled the thing off and then started massaging the back of the Moss’s head, playing with the green hair. They sat like that for a while, the Mosshead trembling and crying, while Sanji played with his hair and shielded his face from the world. He really hoped that he read this right, and it wasn’t his actions that had fucked the Moss over so badly. But then, Zoro probably wouldn’t have allowed the hug if this was his fault.
When the trembling in his arms stopped, Sanji slowed the fingers in his soulmate’s hair, and started carefully pulling away. Marimo let him, but just far enough that Sanji could pull the edges of the blanket slightly closer around the mess of a man in front of him, but not enough to see his face.
“Ok Moss,” Sanji whispered between them, “Wanna tell me why-“ he glanced at the phone still in his hand- “Kuina- am I pronouncing that right?- calling you an idiot gets this reaction from you?”
Zoro tensed again, and Sanji expected to be left in the dark for a good while longer, when finally, the Moss mumbled an answer.
“Kuina’s my soulmate.”
Well, that answered nothing.
“She gave me Wado when I went over here to study, and I left her my sword, Kitetsu. I had the feeling something was gonna happen a few weeks ago, but nothin’ came up. Her dad called me a day or so before we fought in the gym.”
Sanji held his breath, as strong arms pulled him closer to the other man. Oh shit.
“She had an accident, fell in the gym. They found her with Kitetsu through her stomach and-“ Zoro’s breath hitched but he braved on- “it didn’t look too good.”
Oh shit indeed. Hadn’t he taunted the Moss with something about falling? Was that why he had acted so strange for a bit there? He wove his fingers back into green strands, tugging slightly, massaging little circles.
“After you went down to cook, he called again. Something had gone wrong, seemed like she might not make it. I had to get out.”
Sanji glanced back at the phone, furrowing his brow. That was understandable if a bit extreme, but the text, it had said-
“Next thing I know I was here, no battery on my phone, couldn’t reach any of you or get infos on her- “
-it had said today.
“And then you find me, and I turn the phone back on, and she texts me.” Zoro pressed his head into his chest with more force, and Sanji gasped in understanding.
“She’s ok, cook. Don’t know how, but she’s fine” And now, finally, Sanji could hear the relief in the Moss’s voice. He felt himself sag in relief as well. “She’ll be fine,” Mossy repeated, and then he lifted his head to look at Sanji and smiled. It was watery but so bright, it hurt to look at it. And how had Sanji ever thought he had a chance in hell of keeping it casual between them? How could he ever have stood a chance of resisting the tug that had brought him into Zoro’s orbit.
He folded around his soulmate and tasted the tears from his lips. Mossy breathed in, probably shocked, but before Sanji could pull away, one of the arms around his waist shot up into his hair and pulled him more firmly against the other. Time seemed to stop. Sanji curled closer to the man in his arms, as Zoro pulled him closer as well. The Moss tasted like salt, and onigiri, and a bit off putting from going without proper mouth hygiene for the last two days, but Sanji wouldn’t have traded this kiss for the world.
They kissed and kissed, relaxing against each other, letting everything fall away for a few breaths longer.
When they parted, Zoro didn’t let him go far. His eyes bore into Sanji’s searching for something, before they developed the determined shine he usually only encountered during their spars.
“I love you, Cook.”
Sanji choked on his next intake of breath, he could feel the heat crawling up his face and down his neck. He nearly dropped the Mosshead’s phone.
“You don’t have to say it back, or feel the same,” Mossy continued, clearly starting to feel uncomfortable, but still pushing through. “But I needed to say it.”
“Shut up,” Sanji squeaked. “How long?”
At that, Mossy grinned. “Which one? Should I shut up or answer your question?”
“Both,” Sanji squeaked back, then shook his head. “No, forget that, forget it. Let me try again.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that would bring him back to calm or at least calmer. It only worked so far.
He heard Zoro chuckle, and rallied against the obvious tease that would follow.
“Me too,” he ground out before the Moss could say something stupid.
Zoro’s sharp intake of breath was a perfect mirror to Sanji’s just some moments ago. “You mean that?”
Sanji opened his eyes to glare at the Moss. “I just kissed you, through tears and snot and even after you haven’t brushed your teeth in two days. Yes, I am sure.”
Zoro’s wide grin made it worth the embarrassment that threatened to rise out of his chest. He returned it with a small smile on his own.
His hand flexing around Zoro’s phone reminded him of the text on it probably waiting for a reply, and that reminded him of the promise he had made Nami. He hoped she would find it in her heart to forgive him that he had not immediately told her where he was as soon as Zoro was in his sight.
“Moss, I think you might need to answer your friend, I am sure she is worried as well. And I need to call Nami. But after that we will talk about this, alright?” He brought the hand with the phone back in front of Zoro’s face, who crossed his eyes to try and look at it, before he nodded.
“And you need to eat some more. There is Miso in the thermos, maybe drink that first, you are cold to the touch,” Sanji continued while standing up to pull his phone out of his pocket.
The Moss was still nodding but had changed the keyboard settings on his phone and had started to type out a message. Sanji smiled, and decided to walk a few steps away, leaving him some privacy to figure out the words he wanted to say.
Nami picked up at the first ring, and Sanji talked before she could rightfully scold him: “I found him, he is fine.”
There was silence for a second, before she audibly breathed out. “Thank god.”
Cheers rose behind her, probably all of the Straw Hats, as he thought he could hear their voices talking over each other. Then Nami’s voice rose above the rest and forced him to hold the phone slightly away from his ear.
“SHUT UP! I CAN’T UNDERSTAND A FUCKING WORD IF YOU’RE ALL TALKING ABOVE EACH OTHER!”
Sanji waited until she had said her piece, taking that time to light another smoke, letting the nicotine calm the last of his nerves, before continuing.
“We’re at Long Ring Beach. Might stay a little longer, before..”
“Long Ring Beach, done,” Nami answered, the strain of the last days was clear in her voice, but he could also detect the hint of relief and determination underneath it. “We’re coming too. Don’t let us catch you fucking.”
Sanji sputtered, his blush returning in full force, forcing a high pitched “NAMI-SAN” out of his throat, while he heard the others laugh on the other end of the line. He turned towards the Mosshead, who had looked at him for a moment, before returning back to the screen, seemingly also talking.
“What, you didn’t think you were subtle, were you?” Nami teased him from the other end of the line.
He continued to sputter, not knowing what to say to that. He had thought they were at least subtle enough with the physical side- apart from Usopp-, but apparently he had misjudged.
“Oh, come on. We’re all happy for you. Now, we’ll see you in two hours,” Nami continued, and then whispered, “Maybe sort the rest out until then, too, yeah, Sanji?”
Sanji could only whimper something that hopefully fell into the vicinity of agreeing. Then the line went dead. He took the opportunity to look at Zoro, sitting in the sand, wrapped in a blanket, sipping from the thermos with his phone held out in front of him. Yeah. He could fucking do this.
Slowly walking back to the Moss, he made sure to step in his line of sight when he was a few paces away. Zoro looked up from his phone, smiled, and said something that he couldn’t understand. Then he nodded his head at the space beside him.
“Hey, Cook. Come, meet Kuina.”
Sanji swallowed thickly but dropped into the space the Moss had indicated and looked at the phone. The screen showed the face of an exhausted and pale looking woman, her black hair was cut in an elegant bob, and her lips were twisted in a frown. She looked a lot like the Moss, in a very abstract way. Probably character shining through more than physical resemblance. Sanji smiled, taken aback by his own thought.
“Hi Kuina, it’s nice to meet you.”
The answer took a second to come through, then an unexpectedly strong voice came through the speakers.
“Your eyebrows are funny, I thought Zoro was kidding.”
Sanji slapped his hand over his forehead and turned furiously towards the Moss, who started laughing to the point of barely being able to breathe. Sanji wanted to strangle him. He took it all back. The Moss could die alone for all he cared.
“But it’s good to meet you, too, Sanji.”
He looked back at the face on the phone, and now she was wearing a small, tired smile, which melted away some of the hardness her features had carried before. He felt his anger lift.
“Thanks for finding and taking care of that utter idiot. It means a lot.”
He waved away her comment. “Ah, it’s not a bother, most times. I am glad to take over for you.”
He could see that she wanted to say something, and that Mossy had also leaned forward, but movement on her side had her looking away and talking to someone out of view of the camera. Sanji turned towards the Mosshead, a smile back on his features.
“The others will be here in 2 hours, Nami said. I’ll get some more blankets from the van, leave you two to talk some more.” He stood up again, to do just that, when a hand clasped around his wrist.
“Talk when you’re back?” Zoro looked at him, almost hopeful.
Sanji nodded.
“Sure.” He turned towards the camera again, and found Kuina eyeing the interaction with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smirk on her lips. He decided not to think too much about that.
“Goodbye for now, Kuina, I am sure we will see each other again soon!”, he bowed for dramatic effect, and heard a chuckle from the Moss and an amused huff from Kuina.
“Sure, take care, Sanji!”
He ruffled Zoro’s hair and turned to get the blankets and the food Zeff had talked about.
They had talked. After Koshiro had made Kuina hang up to rest, and Zoro had been teased relentlessly about blonde cooks and love-struck glances and I-told-you-so’s; after Sanji had returned carrying a ridiculous amount of blankets and they both had made the track to the van and back again to fetch the two giant heat retaining boxes of food that Zeff had apparently stocked for them- he would never be able to look the man in the eyes again- they had talked.
And then, because they still had had some time left, Sanji had basically shooed him into the cold water of the ocean to at least wash off the worst of the grime from the last days. Zoro had cursed at him, and maybe even whined, but had followed through with it, glad to find his towel in his bag afterwards, as well as a new shirt that didn’t smell like panic and sadness. Sanji had thrown a pack of gum at him that had been in the van, and while it didn’t help with his cotton mouth completely, he did feel better afterwards. Though that could also have been because of Sanji’s food. The blonde always had had a knack for making everyone feel better just from tasting what he had made that day.
Their friends had turned up shortly after Zoro had been what Sanji had deemed “as presentable as you’re gonna get”. They had first screamed at him, then teased him relentlessly, but finally everyone had left them to organise their space for the evening. They had built a campfire with wood they had brought, organised some blankets inside a pavilion Franky had hastily erected and when Brook had started the music, their party had started.
Now, lying on a blanket, another one pulled up to his chest, side by side with the curly browed menace he had thought he would never truly call his, Zoro felt the exhaustion of the last few days sink into his bones. A hand tugged teasingly at his hair, and he found just enough strength to open one eye and look over at Curly, who had turned towards him and was smiling brightly at him.
“Wanna drive home, Marimo?”
Zoro snorted. “Have fun convincing the others to leave now.”
“I wasn’t talking about the others. I have the van, need to bring it back to Zeff tomorrow morning at the latest anyway,” Curly replied.
Allowing himself a moment to think about the idea, Zoro finally nodded. Sleeping in a real bed sounded nice.
“Alright, I’ll tell the others and come collect you.” The hand left his hair. Zoro missed the touch already.
At least it didn’t take long for Blondie to reappear at his side, Franky in tow, who was carrying Zeff’s boxes. Zoro blinked in and out of consciousness until he was in the passenger seat of the van, and the rumble beneath him signalled that they were driving.
“Hey, Marimo, how did you do it?”, He heard the Cook say and turned his head towards him with a questioning hum.
“You showed me where to go with the string. How?” Curly glanced at him, before focussing back on the road. There was a cigarette precariously dangling in the corner of his mouth and smoke curled up from between his lips. He was beautiful.
“Needed you there, thought if I pulled hard enough, you might show up,” he answered, too tired to think too deeply about his words.
Curly snorted incredulously. “That’s not how soulmate strings work, you know that, right?”
Zoro smirked.
“Got you to me, didn’t it?”