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7.
Please sleepwalk more often
Is he really here? Hell yes! Flickers through Zoro’s mind, when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a dream, feeling a warm body quietly slip next to him in his bunk. Sharing the bed is starting to feel quite natural to that blond fool, Zoro thinks with a satisfied sigh as he hugs Sanji immediately.
He’d only wish it would happen more often. It’s just so damn nice to have the stupid prince this close at night, to feel his relaxed body curled against him, finally quiet, finally at ease.
Not away, not anywhere else, not in a damned sad castle.
But home.
Home, with him.
And usually when Sanji falls asleep – and he often does quickly, which Zoro takes as a kind of honor – Zoro lets himself caress him a bit, pressing his lips to the fine fabric of the blue shirt, feeling the cook’s tired muscles beneath.
He can’t do much more though even if he’d love to.
Just… not yet, Zoro thinks as a tiny smile plays on his lips.
Sanji loves to kiss him already and that already makes Zoro a happy man.
Mine. Mine! He feels like shouting it to the whole world from his lungs anyway, whenever he holds the pretty cook in his arms. So close, unknowingly enveloping Zoro with his personal scent, with his aura, with his core being, bare and vulnerable, leaving Zoro hopelessly touch-drunk.
And whenever Sanji shifts in his sleep, his body seems to seek Zoro’s on its own, a tender brush, a lingering squeeze, or the warmth of an embrace. When he sleeps beside him, he simply pretends no one else exists, his face tucked into the pillow or pressed to Zoro’s neck, shoulder, or back.
Quite the progress from when Sanji used to overthink what might happen if anyone noticed them sharing a bed, almost too afraid to even let himself commit.
But later when Usopp asked the fool why he hadn’t slept in his own bed but in Zoro’s, Sanji murmured nonchalantly something like he “wanted to suffocate the green gorilla with his pillow in his sleep”. Or when Luffy laughed, all excited, saying that Zoro was watching Sanji even during the night so he wouldn’t run away again, Sanji rolled his eyes, trying to ignore his own blush and said, “Please, it was the other way around. I was making sure he didn’t drink all the cooking wine, genius.”
And finally one time, Zoro overheard Sanji exaggeratedly explaining to curious Nami that “he had no choice but to sleep with the marimo, because an exceedingly disgusting spider had crawled in his own bed.”
She watched him for a few moments, and slowly, her expression shifted from terrified to giggling into her palm. Sanji hurriedly offered her a drink to change the topic, and for once, Nami was smart enough not to tease him.
That night, Sanji came to sleep with Zoro again after several days, hugging him tightly.
As he does now.
Silent and soft, even… cuddly.
Zoro’s breath hitches.
Cuddly and gentle.
And yet… something feels off. Zoro focuses more on the cook, noticing a slight tremble from his hand on Zoro's waist, an alarming tension in his body.
He’s fucking frightened, Zoro realizes.
“Oi, Curly. Had another nightmare? You’ve–”
“Shut up, stupid Marimo, you’ll wake them up! The fight with the enemy… so intense…” Sanji sounds harsh at first, but the last words come out too raspy.
“Come here,” Zoro whispers, drawing him even closer as he pulls the blanket up to the cook’s ear, covering them and shielding the blond idiot from cold, from anxiety, from the outer world, wanting to give them more privacy in the dark cabin.
Sanji's palm is immediately all over his torso, stomach and even his hip, poking, caressing and groping as if touch really helps him to calm himself down from the stress.
“Oh, my god… fucking god. Fuck. Fuck!” Quiet curses escape his lips and Zoro wonders what happened to his usual confidence. And yet, he has no doubt Sanji will be back to his bravado by morning.
“It’s alright, cook. You know that. We’re strong. We kicked their asses,” Zoro mutters. The slight stir of Sanji's other hand at his side of Zoro's body tickles something in Zoro's subconsciousness as his instinct leads him into grabbing Sanji’s palm in his own hand in a tender touch. A touch full of emotions as for the first time… they are actually holding hands.
Sanji's palm feels a little bit cold against Zoro’s but it doesn't matter at all, because Zoro's is warm. Warm enough to warm them up both…
He’s ready for Sanji scolding him or even leaving the bed for Zoro doing this. Well, at least he tried it out and it was–
But to Zoro's surprise, Sanji doesn't jerk his hand back immediately.
On the contrary, he squeezes Zoro's palm, keeping holding his hand firmly in his own.
“I know! I fucking know!” He says, leaning his forehead into Zoro’s hair.
“So that’s it.” Zoro does a good job to sound resolute, at least he thinks so, yet inside, his heart beats like a wild bird trapped in a cage.
That idiot cook is holding his hand!
He actually keeps his precious fingers relaxed against the back of Zoro's hand.
Like a lover…
“Yes. Yes, you’re right! We’ll always protect them, of course.” Sanji declares, sealing his promise by entwining his fingers with Zoro's and then he just simply… falls asleep.
“Right,” Zoro whispers, hopelessly and totally emotional, staring upwards, a few tears appearing in his eye. He lets them run down, lets them soak in his pillow, thinking not only about the people he has lost in his life, but also about the tight hold of Sanji's palm, realizing his hand feels a lot warmer now.
He tilts his head toward the blond one next to him and as the hot breath on his cheek dries up the wet mark, he drifts off to sleep too, squeezing Sanji’s hand in his own.
He won't allow anyone else he loves to die.
Zoro feels great the next day. The sun is shining, he trains and naps a lot, even gets dragged into a storage room by the idiot cook for a heated kissing session.
Cupping his face, he kisses him ardently, feeling Sanji’s long fingers on his shoulders. Sanji licks in Zoro’s mouth and soon they french kiss, caressing each other’s tongues and lips. The blond fool is so damn inviting, not moving away an inch when their hips meet in intimate touch, leaving no questions unanswered. He’s open, fiery, his gasps and grunts music for Zoro’s ears.
“I want you to come sleep with me tonight again, cook…” Zoro breaths into Sanji’s hot mouth.
“I’m not doing any of this with you in the bed,” Sanji pants between kisses.
“I know. Don't worry. I just wanna have you close…” Zoro explains, resting his forehead on Sanji’s shoulder, hugging him tightly around his torso.
“Oh… Really? Well then, you little lost mosshead–” Sanji says, the promise of later cuddles seeping into his voice, only to be interrupted by a calling from the deck.
“Shit. I have to go, sorry, Zoro,” he blurts out, shoving his messed up shirt back into his pants, making himself look perfect again.
Zoro sighs, his arms feeling so empty already as he watches the cook disappear, Nami’s voice now clear through the open door.
But that night, the cook doesn’t come to Zoro’s bunk.
And he doesn’t come the next several nights, either.
Other than that everything seems alright. They bicker, they fight, they smile at each other too. They find themselves in embrace somewhere behind a closed door more and more often.
So what’s wrong with the sleeping together thing, Zoro wonders when he walks into the galley one sunny afternoon, finding Sanji there alone, working on dinner already.
“Cook, I wanna talk to you,” he takes his chance, closing the door shut behind himself.
“Uh-huh, okay,” Sanji murmurs, the knife in his hand making a steady clicking sound as he is focused on slicing some meat into very thin pieces.
“I have invited you to sleep with me when you have nightmares–” Zoro begins, coming closer. The cook looks so pretty, he thinks. The apron’s white string around his lovely neck stirs something in him, as the way the pink fabric drapes over his pronounced waist and grabbable hips, setting off his ass…
“Yeah, so? Say what you want and go away already, Marimo!” Sanji barks.
“–and I’m glad you do it. You come in my bed also after every tougher battle and two or three times maybe even without a specific reason. And–” Zoro rips his sight from the perfect body in front of him, making himself focus on the topic. He needs to sort this out.
“It’s just a coincidence!”
“Don't lie!” Zoro rumbles and then jerks a bit to a sudden clatter as Sanji drops his knife on the kitchen counter angrily.
“What do you want me to say?! Sleeping next to someone else just calms me down! It’s so embarrassing,” Sanji finally faces him, irritated, all red as a tomato.
“If it helps, then it’s not, cook. Someone? You sleep only with me, Curly. Don’t get so worked up,” Zoro says, doing everything he can to keep his tone steady.
“Who else, you stupid bastard! I wanna feel that you're alive. I– No! No, I can’t say it… Just… Stop asking me!”
“That I’m alive? Of course I– Oh… Cook… A-anyway… I will ask you! Shut up and listen. You know the bed is kinda small–” Zoro steps forward, still a bit perplexed. The blond fool cares so much about him that it even makes Sanji blush, and somehow the realization stirs something deep in Zoro’s chest.
“I got it already! Lately I feel like I might bother you there. I won't–” Sanji now begins to sound almost… regretful? How could he not realize Zoro wants him there?!
“Let me finish, idiot! The bed is kinda small but I don’t care! It’s no bother for me. Feel free to come anytime. And I mean anytime. Even if you're not stressed out. Seriously.”
“Why would I? Maybe I’m just sleepwalking!” Sanji shoots back, his beautiful eyebrows raised as he crosses his arms on his cute chest.
“I sleep better too when you're with me. Please sleepwalk often. I miss you there,” Zoro confesses, the bare honesty raw in his voice.
“You sleep like a baby! What do you need me for?!”
“That's what you think. But sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and can't fall asleep again. Because you’re not with me. Usually it bothers me so much when I see you in your bunk. Alone and… too far away.”
If the truth doesn't work then Zoro doesn't know what would.
“Oh, Zoro…” Sanji turns away with a blush. “Alright. It might be chilly tonight anyway,” he pretends that he’s busy with the meal preparation again, casual and unbothered, but the softened edge in his voice speaks for itself.
In the blink of an eye, Zoro is beside him, desperate to touch, to kiss… Yet, he forces himself not to look too eager, too greedy. Instead, he takes Sanji’s elbow, firmly and gently at once, turning him toward himself.
“I hope most of the nights are gonna be chilly from now on, Curls…” He says softly.
“You… Marimo… I… Ugh. Get out of my kitchen!” Sanji begins to wave his knife at him for some stupid reason.
Silly dart boy.
So cute…
“Don’t be annoying,” Zoro mutters, his fingers tightening just a little around Sanji’s elbow. He doesn't really feel threatened, secretly loving the way the blond troll glares at him.
“I need time to adjust your meal for better quality sleep, shitty swordsman. Fuck, I cut myself!” Sanji flinches and stares in fascination at the crimson beads of blood on his finger.
“Give it here,” Zoro blurts out, and Sanji immediately obeys, holding out his injured finger toward him, making Zoro’s chest swell with pride.
And it does even more when Zoro flicks his tongue over the tip of Sanji’s finger, licking off the blood, looking Sanji straight in the blue eyes – and the gorgeous man doesn't move away at all.
“It’s alright, cook, you don’t have to adjust anything. The only thing I need is you. I'm gonna take a bath.”
“Why?” Sanji whispers, then looks at his bleeding finger still at Zoro's lips. “Is it good? Am I–?” He gulps, face red again.
“Yeah. Yes, you are, cook. I’ve licked your blood already, remember? I’d do it again. I’ll dip in the bath so I smell nice for you. Even if we are… cuddling… only a bit,” Zoro promises, expecting Sanji to protest over the expression 'cuddling', and yet Sanji’s next words surprise him.
“Just use a basic soap, please. No fragrances. I wanna smell your scent, idiot. Um… I mean when you're clean, of course… not sweaty… only…” Sanji blabbers.
And Zoro has no better answer than to kiss him.