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Sanji wanted to state for the record that he didn't care for Zoro.
Okay, that wasn't entirely true. He respected him as a fellow crew member, but that was hardly unique. He respected all of his crewmates, especially Nami. Their dear, sweet navigator guided them over the seas with grace and precision, and she looked like a goddess while doing it. Luffy and Usopp often jostled for second position in his head. Luffy, of course, was his captain and Sanji would follow him to the ends of the earth. However, Usopp was a calmer presence in Sanji's life and he rarely irritated the cook. Zoro came dead last every time, and Sanji didn't see that changing any time soon. The swordsman was rude and unrefined and perhaps worst of all, an alpha . The only alpha Sanji had ever accepted fully into his life was Zeff, and that had taken years of patience and effort. Not something Sanji could see Zoro committing to. Not that he wanted the mosshead to commit to it or anything.
Said mosshead was skulking into the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes, obviously collected from the table after the crew’s dinner. What wasn’t obvious was why he had done so. The crew often left Sanji to clean up the galley after meals, per the cook’s request. It was his space; he liked to take care of it and he was very particular when doing so. At this point, he didn’t trust anyone to meet his standards when helping out. In addition, not that Sanji cared , but the swordsman had been oddly quiet ever since their hurried departure from Loguetown. So it wasn’t like he was about to explain himself either.
Zoro had set down the dirty dishes on Sanji’s side of the sink, then picked up a towel and waited by Sanji’s side, his offer to help silent but clear.
Sanji considered this as he started running the sink. Zoro had helped out before, in fact, probably more often than anyone else. Often enough that, okay yeah, he’d admit it. The swordsman actually did a passable job. It was the only reason Sanji tolerated him helping out, because the smell of the alpha still pricked at his nerves. Although, speaking of the scent, Zoro's smell was currently… different. The note of lily that was usually barely there was overpowering, the usual green tea aroma of the swordsman now hardly even an afterthought.
Sanji was not willing to examine what that might mean for Zoro's emotional state.
The cook turned off the tap and began washing up. “Here, mosshead. Don’t drop it,” he said, passing Zoro the first plate.
Zoro said nothing, and silently took the plate.
Sanji’s brow pinched slightly. It wasn’t unheard of for the pair of them to work in silence, but Zoro rarely let a jab like that go with no retort. He glanced over at the swordsman as he washed the next dish.
Zoro was staring off at nothing, clearly thinking hard enough about something that he didn’t feel the need to engage with the cook. Sanji ignored the slight twinge of disappointment he felt about that.
“Thinking hard, marimo? Don’t wear yourself out.”
Nothing. Literally, nothing. Not even a scoff, or a roll of the eyes. Zoro just kept drying the dish in his hands. Like Sanji hadn't said anything at all.
It was fine. Sanji didn't have the energy to argue with the mosshead anyway. If he didn't want to fight, then that suited Sanji perfectly. It didn't matter how the pair of them passed the time, either in silence or constantly bickering. The dishes would get done anyway.
The kitchen stayed quiet as they worked, and it wasn’t long until everything had been washed up. Sanji emptied the sink and then moved to put away the now-dry dishes Zoro had neatly stacked on the bench. Apparently the swordsman’s directional challenges extended to remembering where everything lived in the kitchen. That fact almost irritated Sanji, but as usual, Zoro was now moving to wipe down the benches and sink. As if to make up for his failure. As if he cared to do an equal amount of work. Like he cared about what Sanji thought of him.
He shook his head as if to clear it of those thoughts. Who ever heard of an alpha being so courteous? Zoro probably just wanted to avoid Sanji telling him off later.
Zoro finished up and slipped out of the galley without a word, a sound, or even a look. Sanji might've felt offended, but again, that would imply he cared. Instead, he took the opportunity to re-scent choice parts of the kitchen. It was partly to assuage his omega by maintaining a space that belonged to him. It was mostly to help dissipate the lingering smell of alpha. Sanji stretched up to the ceiling, his back creaking, and he looked over the kitchen a final time. Everything was in order, and there was nothing left to do until tomorrow. With a satisfied sigh, he headed for the bunkroom.
Upon reaching the bottom of the ladder, the dim lamplight revealed Usopp and Luffy crammed together in the sniper's hammock. Sanji allowed himself to smile fondly as he approached them. Luffy was tucked securely into Usopp's side, while Usopp had a sketchbook lying on his stomach, pencil still loosely grasped in his hand. Sanji gently picked the book up. It featured many sketches of what he guessed the Great Captain Usopp looked like in the sniper's head. Usopp had drawn himself in a number of improbable situations, and Sanji could almost hear the stories he invented to go along with them. Luffy would've been absolutely enraptured, eyes wide and shining like stars.
Sanji eased the pencil from Usopp's grip, then set both items aside. He then grabbed Usopp's blanket and settled it gently over the pair. Luffy snuffled softly as he did so, and Usopp reflexively tightened his arm around the captain, both of them fast asleep.
Sanji crept over to the other side of the room to fetch sleeping clothes from the wardrobe. He scanned the room for Zoro as he did so. The swordsman wasn't in his hammock, and that's what concerned Sanji. Zoro could fall asleep anywhere, and Sanji had quite literally stumbled upon the mosshead lying on the floor a couple of times. The resulting fights had taught Sanji to be extra careful where he walked in the evenings. Thankfully Zoro seemed to be absent tonight, and Sanji got changed with little fanfare.
He climbed into his hammock and settled down. The room held the comforting scent of relaxed packmates; Luffy's electrical storm and Usopp's spicy sweet smell. There was a distinct lack of green tea in the air, but Sanji was adamant he didn't care. He pulled his blanket up to his chin and wiggled slightly to settle down. He would sleep. He would forget about the mosshead's weird behaviour and he would just sleep.
…
Except, he really was acting differently, wasn't he? And his inner omega wanted to whine at the thought. The thought of a packmate struggling with something, and him not doing anything to help? It didn't matter how much Sanji argued with himself that he didn't care, that Zoro wouldn't want him to care. Logic rarely, if ever, won out over instincts.
With a huff, Sanji threw back his blanket and climbed out of the hammock. He would just go and find the marimo, make sure he was still alive and on the ship. Then hopefully that would be enough to calm his omega. He didn't need to talk to the alpha or scent him or anything. Just a visual confirmation, then he could rest.
Once Sanji had climbed up onto the deck, it didn't take long for him to find Zoro. The swordsman was reclining on the stern deck, hands folded beneath his head as usual. Sanji may not like Zoro all that much, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to feel relieved when he finally laid eyes on him again. The brute was useful at times, even outside of battle. And Sanji would probably cop the blame if he went missing, so. Really, it was just better Zoro hadn’t randomly fallen off the ship without telling anyone.
He turned to head back to bed, satisfied that he had accomplished his goal. Except his omega was protesting. Sure, he had seen Zoro, but he hadn't smelled the idiot. The wind wasn't blowing the right way to carry his scent to Sanji. He sighed, then turned back towards Zoro.
“Did it finally happen, mosshead?” Sanji called as he approached the swordsman.
Zoro actually flinched at the sound of Sanji’s voice, which just went to show how hard the alpha was thinking. No one ever really got the drop on Zoro like that, he had this freakish awareness of his surroundings at all times. Still, his eyes slid over to Sanji, an eyebrow raised in question.
Sanji ignored how his heart rate picked up at the alpha acknowledging him for the first time in hours. “You get lost on your own ship?”
The swordsman snorted and rolled his eyes. “You wish.”
“No, I don’t wish, actually.” Sanji patted at his chest for his cigarettes and then belatedly remembered he had changed out of his suit for bed. “What happens if we get attacked by enemies and you can’t help fend them off because you’re lost below deck?”
“Not gonna happen, shitty cook,” Zoro replied, half-heartedly swiping at Sanji’s legs. The cook easily sidestepped him and kicked him in the arm for his trouble. Not nearly as hard as he should’ve, though; he supposed the late hour was making him soft.
An awkward silence reigned, neither of them speaking. Sanji could just leave. He’d gotten what he came for, confirmation that Zoro was alive and on the ship. And yet, he felt compelled to stay. Zoro still smelled like lilies, though it had eased slightly since they were in the kitchen a few hours ago. He had hoped the scent of Zoro would relax his omega and allow him to go back to bed, but it seemed it had caused the opposite reaction. Sanji idly wondered if he would find out why the alpha’s scent had changed. Not because he cared or anything, he was just curious.
The sound of Zoro shifting on the deck drew Sanji out of his thoughts. “I, uh. I saw someone that- that looked like someone I knew once.”
Sanji furrowed his brow. “In Loguetown?”
Zoro nodded.
“Okay?” Sanji was confused. “Is that- I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”
Zoro shrugged. “Don’t have to say anything. That’s just what happened to me today.”
Sanji rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, I don’t remember asking, so-”
Sanji didn't get a chance to finish as Zoro lashed out again, grabbing onto the cook's ankle and yanking. He did not yelp as he lost his balance. Nor did he grunt in pain as he crashed onto the deck. Most importantly, it was not sheer blind panic that threw Zoro off when the swordsman tried to climb on top of Sanji. It was, instead, a calculated move that used Zoro's momentum against him. Why had Zoro done that? They didn’t wrestle, that wasn’t their thing. Sanji didn’t think he’d have to worry about that with the mosshead, with him being such a dedicated swordsman and all. Sanji’s own fighting style probably gave him more of a skill advantage in grappling, but Zoro had sheer strength on his side. If Zoro was careful to trap his legs, as he almost had done, then… Well. It was for the best that he had bucked the mosshead off and scrambled to his feet.
“-ook? Hey, cook?”
“Hm?” Sanji looked up at Zoro from where he'd been blindly feeling for his cigarettes in a jacket he wasn't wearing. Again. Seas, he needed a smoke.
Zoro almost looked worried. “Are you-”
“Did you want something to eat?” interrupted Sanji, rather harshly. They were not going to have that conversation. He was not going to have Zoro pity him.
“Huh?”
“Food? You want?” he said slowly so the shithead would understand.
“Oh fuck off, I don't want any of your crap cooking.” Zoro’s face settled back into a familiar frown.
“Great, suits me just fine. Don't get lost on your way to the bunkroom.” Sanji waved dismissively and turned to head that way himself. That's what he got for checking on the brute. See if he ever did anything for Zoro again!
A shuffle of movement from Zoro alerted him to danger, and he ducked instinctively as a boot sailed over his head. He turned and flipped the swordsman off in retaliation.
Zoro returned the gesture, then flopped back down on the deck with a huff.
Sanji rolled his eyes and finally continued on his way. Idiot marimo.
It wasn't until Sanji finally climbed back into his hammock that he realised some of Zoro's scent had rubbed off on him during their brief tussle. He contemplated getting up to wash it off, but. Well. He was quite comfortable in bed and it was late and he was tired, and- And maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world, having a reminder that he'd gone toe to toe with an alpha and come out on top. Sort of.
With that thought, Sanji breathed in deeply, catching the traces of soothing green tea, and closed his eyes.