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The time stretches with every day they spend on Skypiea. Not only that, every single attempt to leave seems to be met with a failure sooner or later. There are really not many upsides to their current predicament. Well, maybe except for one… The crew’s finally reunited, and despite said event taking place by the sacrificial altar, the spirits seem to lift, even if just slightly. They earn the opportunity to ensure everybody’s health, to regroup.
Zoro hangs around the same spot the Cook chose for his cooking. He’s unwilling to move any further away, simply enjoying the subtle heat coming from the flames flourishing under the pot. Surely, that’s the only reason.
This small detail doesn’t escape the blonde’s attention either, as he smirks over the boiling broth while adding some freshly chopped vegetables to it.
“What’s this, Mosshead?” He asks, clearly in the mood for a healthy confrontation. “Scared you’ll get lost if you don’t stick to my side?” His tone is clearly teasing, inviting Zoro to try and fight off the accusation.
The Swordsman doesn’t have to be told twice.
“As if,” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. He shoots the Cook a glare. “More like keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re not being useless for once.” A pang of satisfaction grows within his chest upon noticing a familiar grimace settling in the latter’s features as a reaction to the greenhead’s comment.
Just like always, this back-and-forth between them continues for a while. Both the Cook and the Swordsman enjoy the little verbal altercation as their way of passing the time. Meanwhile, Sanji continues to cook; his movements well-practiced, smooth, clearly conveying that he knows exactly what to do and how to do it. Yet, Zoro chooses to keep his eyes half-lidded, paying little to no attention to the other’s skill—as per usual.
It’s only when the Cook’s chatterbox shuts off abruptly, that the greenhead decides to check what the hell is going on. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to notice the issue. Sanji’s usual grace vanishes in an instant as a huge black beetle flies past his face, only to land at the top of the now-covered pot. But instead of doing anything to get the insect away from the precious dish he’s preparing, the blonde stays frozen in the spot as his gaze, appearing fearful, locks in.
Zoro stares in disbelief at the scene unfolding in front of him. That’s definitely not a reaction he would expect even in his wildest dreams. He’s not looking at the furious, annoying chef that he’s so used to seeing, but rather a frightened child, remaining still as a rock in fear of seeing the bug move.
He blinks a few times, making sure he’s not just seeing things. But sure enough, the Cook is just as panicked as he witnessed him to be just a few seconds ago.
“There’s no way,” the Swordsman speaks up finally in amusement.
Sanji’s shaky gaze glances at the latter briefly, taking in his facial expression before immediately returning to keeping watch of the insect still lounging on the lid.
“Don’t.”
His voice is all choked up, as if there was something in his throat, blocking the natural flow of air. He keeps his arms tugged against his chest, his hands gripping the collar of his shirt. And Zoro would be lying if he said he doesn’t see the other man’s knuckles turning completely white at an alarming rate. For some reason, however, all of that still isn’t enough to make the greenhead realise just how serious the whole thing is. At least, to the Cook.
“Are you telling me the big bad cook is scared of a little bug?” The Swordsman continues to mock him. His gaze falls on the plot, his attention shifting to the contents. “Isn’t whatever’s in there going to overcook soon?”
To that, Sanji makes a distressed noise. Up till now, all he could focus on was just the huge beetle in front of him. But now, the thought of messing up the food, of the disgusting little creatures being anywhere near his dish… He almost wants to cry.
“It’s going to overcook,” he mumbles, panicked.
Zoro shrugs. “Take off the lid, then.”
“I can’t.”
Zoro hums, enjoying the sight of the Cook being vulnerable for once in his life. “I guess it’s going to overcook,” he states indifferently, making no move to take the lid off himself.
The blonde lets out another noise but this one makes the Swordsman freeze. He glances at Sanji properly, eyes scanning the latter’s face. The sound sounded eerily similar to a sob…
“Take off the lid,” the Cook chokes out, very obviously distressed. He doesn’t really know what to do, the rational part of his brain telling him to stop wasting the ingredients on a failed dish, while his instincts scream bloody murder and turn on all the alarm bells at the sight of the huge insect moving across the covered pot. He’s on the verge of panic, ready to drop to the ground, curl into himself and pray all of this turns out to be just a nightmare.
“Please, Marimo,” Sanji’s tone is desperate. At this point, he no longer cares how pathetic he must look right now. “Please, take it off.”
Fortunately, Zoro finally understands. Not only the plea but also the severity of the latter’s state.
He approaches the pot and with one swift movement catches the beetle in one hand, the other gripping the lid and carefully taking it down. He glances briefly at the Cook before turning on his hill to go dispose of the insect elsewhere.
For the few moments he’s gone, Sanji simply focuses on his breathing. In and out. In. Out. He feels himself slowly growing steadier, his body not as shaky anymore. In fact, after another beat, he’s enough of himself to shoot a venomous glare at Zoro, as soon as the greenhead appears in his field of view again.
“I know, I know…” The Swordsman keeps his hands up in surrender, grimacing apologetically. “I was kinda being an asshole.”
“‘Kinda’?” The Cook repeats dryly.
“Maybe a bit more than just ‘kinda’,” Zoro agrees after a moment.
Sanji only rolls his eyes but doesn’t say more, just stirring the broth, hoping to save it. He can still feel the latter’s gaze boring holes in his person and it doesn’t take that long to get him to break.
“Fine! What??” He exclaims, irritated. After Mosshead’s previous stunt, the last thing the blonde wants is to have a conversation. He’s not entirely back to his normal self just yet, and it shows in the way his voice cracks a little at the second word.
Zoro shifts. He knows he’s in no position to offer but the suggestion in his mind seems like the least he can do to make it up to the Cook. Instead of saying anything, he approaches, the movement so abrupt that it makes Sanji flinch. But the Swordsman tries to ignore than, more focused on the task at hand.
“What are you doing…?” is the only thing the blonde manages to mumble before his body is suddenly enveloped in warmth, feeling a sensation of muscular arms against his back, while his face gets pressed into a firm shoulder. He stiffens, unsure of what’s happening. His mind is a mess, conflicting thoughts racing all around, screaming over each other.
It’s unfamiliar and yet feels so natural.
Slowly, hesitantly, his own hands reach up to grip the back of Zoro’s shirt. Only now does he feel his own body shaking, his knees going weak… He swallows around the lump in his throat, not trusting his vocal cords to function properly yet but desperately needing to say something to make this situation seem more like usual.
“Hey, Moss?” The Cook limits himself to a murmur, hoping to keep his tone steady.
“Hm?”
He swallows again, taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna kick your ass to the next damn island if you tell anyone about this.”
There’s a pause during which Zoro seems to be thinking about a reply, most likely one that wouldn’t upset Sanji any further.
“Yeah?” he mutters, eventually. “Guess I can live with that.”