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sanji looked into the mirror. stared at himself, still half asleep, trying to right his tousled hair.
being half blind had become, unbeknownst to him, a comfort he needed and couldn't live without.
it was a reassurance, of sorts: he wasn't so easily identifiable as a vinsmoke when both signature curly eyebrows weren't visible. most of his siblings had only one eye visible as well, but that was their lame choice of style - they were only ever found as a collective anyway, easy to name as "vinsmoke" or "germa 66".
trying to make his hair obey him in the mirror, sanji thought he could use a haircut. it had grown quite long, the front almost reaching his shoulders, and that wouldn't do. sanji had, at some point, decided to make it a point that his hair could never grow too long, purely out of fear that it, already having the same color, would resemble that of his biological father.
he sighed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and splashing his face with some water.
the sunny was quiet, the crew still sleeping.
they were currently at sea, but the island up next would be a stop for leisure and mostly shopping, as the food supply was running thin.
sanji spun, trying to shake himself awake, and reached behind himself into the drawer for the scissors. he was just about to start cutting when someone knocked on the door.
weird, sanji wondered, who could possibly be awake this early? sanji always woke up at least an hour and a half before everyone else, in order to prepare a succulent breakfast for the crew.
lost in thought, he just froze, until the knocking became a banging.
"woah there, calm down, i'm opening up," he said in a raised voice as he hurried to turn the key in its lock.
he found himself only slightly surprised when the open door revealed a sleepy zoro.
"... yes?"
"needa piss."
with that, the big green man shoved himself into the small bathroom and wasted no time at all getting to his urgent task. sanji squeaked, scrambled out the door, scissors still in hand, and slammed it shut behind himself.
he'd gotten up literally ten minutes ago, and moss-for-brains had already managed to piss (lmao) him off, sanji angrily thought to himself.
"guess i'm not cutting my hair this morning," he mumbled under his breath, and went to continue about his routine in the kitchen.
zoro, however, was already done relieving himself, and came trotting after sanji with a delay of just a few seconds.
"mosshead, it's early. i'm not in the mood for this, and you want your breakfast, so get. out. of my kitchen. now."
blinking the sleep from his eye, zoro yawned, then focused his gaze on the scissors in sanji's hand and asked: "what're those for?"
"huh? oh. didn't know i was still holding them, sorry. i was gonna cut my hair, but someone interrupted me."
zoro smiled.
"ahhh. heh, i think it's not bad when it's long. don't hafta always cut it. matches your whole getup, you know?" he gestured with his hand, mapping the length of sanji's body, from messy blonde curls down to polished dress shoes.
he then swiftly grabbed himself some sake from the counter and strode back out of the kitchen, leaving sanji dumbfounded and staring holes into the door.
did zoro just tell him he likes the way sanji's hair looks?
sanji couldn't make sense of it.
he'd always assumed their routinely bickering was the most affection he would ever get out of the green haired idiot.
irritated, he went to simply resume doing what he did best, what brought him more joy than anything in this world: preparing food for his friends.
in the evening, after brooding over the decision thoroughly, sanji decided he still wanted to cut his hair, but was gonna use it to test zoro: did the mosshead really mean what he said this morning?
and so, because he was already making a light evening snack for the ladies anyway and totally not because he loved seeing zoro's expression whenever he was presented with food made specifically by sanji, he made one extra and delivered it to where he knew the swordsman would be training in the evening.
"hello there, special delivery for mr. gorilla," sanji sing-songed as he kicked the door open, carefully holding the tray with the sweet delight on one hand.
and zoro, turning, setting down a dumbbell to wipe the sweat off his forehead, made that wonderfully joyous expression upon taking in sanji - he'd sighted the treat on his expertly outstretched hand.
sanji's heart did a flip, and it felt like a punch to the gut. an admittedly flowery, warm one.
"what brought this about?"
sanji stared at him blankly, until zoro seemed to use his brain at last.
"oh. thanks. still, why? since when do you-"
"there were leftovers. i made snacks for the ladies and had leftovers. here you go, you're welcome."
zoro approached with a smirk, taking the tray from him and nodding before taking a bite.
"mmf, delishioush."
sanji could not have suppressed his smile even if it had meant death.
"well yes. glad you like it. anyways, i'm gonna go cut my hair now, so if you would be so kind as to hand me the tray back, please."
zoro did not look like he was about to hand sanji anything back.
"i told you," he swallowed his last bite, "it looks good, so keep it."
now sanji had not expected that in the slightest. he could feel his brain short-circuit.
"excuse me?"
"i said 'keep it', shit cook. you deaf?"
"no, i'm not deaf, you big ape. just," sanji decided to be communicative because, what the hell, "at a loss for words, i guess. i didn't know you cared."
"oh. well, i do. i'm about done for today, by the way, so if you really do insist on cutting it, i could come help you. must be hard seeing what's in the back. and maybe then you'll let me not cut it so damn short."
it never failed to stun sanji just how outright zoro stated his exact thoughts when he actually articulated himself for a change.
"well i, i guess. that's an offer, alright. follow me then, mossy."
after, of course, cleaning and putting the tray away properly in order to keep his sacred kitchen clean, sanji led zoro to the bathroom, where he promptly sat down on the fluffy toilet lid cover.
"hurry up, mon petit monsieur coiffeur vert."
"what the hell did you just call me?" zoro asked as he picked up the scissors and wasted no time getting to work.
"just 'mister green hairdresser'. you can relax, mossy."
sanji was absolutely not going to enlighten zoro about the part where he called him 'his' and added 'little' in front of the hairdresser bit. no, that was not happening.
he could not ponder his little slip-up further, however, because all of a sudden, he felt zoro's calloused fingers comb through his hair in order to even it out.
his thoughts slipped. it was heaven.
sanji had never in his life been massaged, and so feeling zoro's fingers tenderly scratching over his scalp stirred a sensation almost akin to an orgasm within him. every stroke flooded him with a warm wave of relief, like someone was cradling him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
quickly, he dug the heel of his right shoe into the tip of his left, hoping the pain would distract him enough to refrain from letting out any of the unwelcome noises suddenly hanging on top his vocal chords.
the pain subsided quickly, zoro's fingers left his scalp and the snip snapping of the scissors continued - sanji was relieved, thinking he was now in the clear.
but zoro had noticed the way sanji's entire body deflated, tension leaving him, whenever his fingers would gently stroke through the long, blonde strands of hair, and so, naturally, he was already plotting the return of his clumsy fingers.
he continued to innocently cut away at sanji's hair, until it looked like he, decorated professional and experienced hairdresser roronoa zoro, had envisioned: not too short, not too long and nicely layered.
"i think you'll like it," he simply stated, eyeing his work proudly.
"get me the small mirror from that cupboard over the- AH!"
zoro had commenced his second ambush on sanji's scalp, startling the poor unsuspecting cook. he'd put away the scissors, and instead, all ten of his fingers were now in sanji's hair, massaging his scalp delicately.
"feel good?" zoro asked calmly.
"mhm. yeah," sanji answered begrudgingly because fuck, just why did that feel so heavenly?
it took sanji another few seconds of fingers in his hair and a leaping jump over his pride to utter his next sentence: "please don't stop."
and since sanji had finally caved and admitted what his body gave away, zoro grinned contentedly and answered: "why would i stop? this is clearly doing something for you. i've never seen you like this before, damn. it's like you've turned to putty!"
sanji couldn't even respond with a witty remark. his thoughts had long been obliterated by a strong inner voice, telling him "this feels so good" and "i wish he'd never stop", which is why all he could do in response was to finally let out a satisfied moan.
he felt the blood rush upwards, his face a crimson red, but when zoro didn't even acknowledge it save for a small chuckle, some of his embarrassment and especially the fear of his massage ending sooner than he'd like, dissipated.
zoro was, naturally, a man of his word, and continued on for what felt like eons.
sanji loved every second of it.
however, since all good things must eventually come to an end, sanji lay in his hammock a few hours later, wide awake, his brain filled with mushy thoughts of zoro and zoro's hands in particular.
luckily for him, this particular evening should mark the start of a new habit: from now on, sanji would go to zoro whenever he needed a recharge of gentle fingers on his scalp, and the swordsman would - without protest or any of their usual teasing but instead a fond smile - comply.