Work Text:
Bigdaddy057: youre so beautiful
bearflash7: ur so sexy, wanna meet?
fatcock99: ur driving me insane, wanna come over?
Sanji rolled his eyes, sighing heavily as he threw his phone down on his bed. His phone pinged again, a flash of irritation ran through him. He scrambled to turn it to silent, the screen lighting up before falling dark against his patterned bedsheets. Why did he think that dating apps were ever a good idea?
He’d tried a few normal ones, sure, ones filled with women of around his age, like minded, but he could never seem to make a proper connection. He’d met a few as well; a nice suit in a nice bar with a nice glass of wine. Surface level conversation, a kiss on the cheek, and a promise to do this again that never came to anything other than being left on read.
After his divorce, Nami had suggested getting back out there. She’s shown him a few dating apps, helped him set up his accounts, recommended photos and answers for the ridiculous prompts given. He’d tried his best, made himself look nice in his pictures. One in his chef's coat, another from his trip to Paris, a few from bars when out with friends. He thought he gave nice, open answers that led to potential conversation. Something deep to get to know the ladies who gave him a chance. He’d been polite, encouraging, interesting, or so he thought. Eight dates without so much as a text asking to do it again. He tried not to be too upset, he was still getting back to his feet, still getting his life together.
It was lonely, of course it was, going from living with someone, having someone to talk to, to care for, cook for, trust, confide in. Someone to be there when he woke up, someone to smile at him over a meal he had cooked, someone to hold his hand, to talk to when he was feeling lost or low.
When he was served divorce papers, he felt like his whole world had been torn apart. He didn’t blame Pudding at first, she had been lonely with his long hours at the restaurant, starved of attention. When she admitted to cheating on him, his viewpoint flipped. She could have talked to him, begged him to slow down, screamed at him for all he cared. But she didn’t, she made a decision out of desperation and Sanji supposed he could understand, he tried to understand but it still cut him deeply. It kept him up at night, a cigarette clenched in his shaking fingers, thoughts running through his head. Was he not enough? Was he too much? He tried to make time for her, every hour he wasn’t working, he would dote on her, take care of her. Or he thought he was.
The first month was awful. Pudding had moved out, the apartment was his anyway, she said she couldn’t imagine staying a second longer and went back to live with her mother. Sanji helped her move her things but was stopped at the apartment door, saying she was okay, she had someone coming to help. Sanji had to bite down on his cigarette rather than ask who had come, was it the man she’d cheated on him with? Did she really have the nerve to bring him here? He didn’t ask, just nodded and continued moving boxes. He didn’t look for the man at the door, only heard a deep voice in the hallway and heavy footsteps. It didn’t take her long to get her things out. She took her key off her bundle, set it on the kitchen counter. She wouldn’t even look him in the eyes when she gave back her ring. The warmth lingered on the gold band, the diamonds glinting as he clenched his fist around the ring. She apologized, best she could through her shaking voice and tears. Sanji could only nod along, trying to remain collected.
When she left, he lit a cigarette, went out to the balcony and smoked. He stood outside for a few hours, tears running down his face. He came back in eventually, poured himself a large glass of wine, whatever he grabbed first, he didn’t care. He drank it on the sofa. He went to bed early, the bed cold and larger than ever. He woke early the next day, getting ready for work and heading in. After his third mistake, Zeff pulled him into the office, gave him a talking to.
Sanji broke down in front of him, head clutching his hair, snot and tears on his face. He told his mentor everything, the divorce, the cheating. Zeff didn’t ask any questions, just sat down next to him, a comforting hand on the back of Sanji’s neck, thumb rubbing gently. Zeff told him to take some time off, that he was no good to anyone here when he was a mess, told him that after work that night, he was to come over to Zeff’s and he’d made him something good to eat. Sanji agreed, sipping the ice water Zeff had gotten him. He gathered his things after he’d calmed down, ever grateful to his mentor who shouted at anyone who tried to stop him or bother him as he left.
He spent the day trying to get sorted. He did some laundry, emptied his fridge and restocked with a trip to the supermarket. The meditation of picking ingredients calmed him, his soft hands trailing over fresh fruit, crisp vegetables. He smiled at the butcher as he was passed the cut of sirloin he’d asked for. His basket quickly filled with the best ingredients and nicest wine, he needed a new olive oil as well. After spending probably too much money, he made his way home, spent the afternoon at the stove, making side dish after side dish, loading them in glass tupperware, and placing the bottles of wine in his tote bag.
Zeff still lived above the restaurant. His small but well-loved apartment reminded Sanji of better times. Photos stuck to the fridge of them throughout the years, Sanji at fourteen, eighteen, twenty three, thirty three. His wedding day, Pudding standing next to him, looking radiant in her white dress. Sanji in his black suit, his dark blue tie matching Zeff’s suit, Pudding mother’s on the other side of her, a frown on her face. Maybe it was doomed from the start, but he thought after seven years, he thought maybe her mother would have started to at least like him. Now, at fourty, Sanji had to start over. He felt his eyes well up but quickly dried them when he heard Zeff’s prosthetic banging against the floor.
They ate well that night, fresh stir fried veg, juicy sirloins,a clam chowder Zeff was testing out, fruit parfaits for dessert, beautifully rich wine, another dessert of mango rum baba. Sanji stayed over, stuffed and merry from their meal. He curled in his childhood bedroom, his bookshelf full of cookbooks, autobiographies from chefs, recipes tucked into each well worn notebook full of his own chicken scrawl. He shed a few tears into the soft pillowcase under his head, quietening his sobs so Zeff didn’t hear.
It took him a while to get back on his feet. He slowly went back to work. Zeff must have spoken to the staff, no one asked him why he had taken some time off, only telling him they were thankful he was back. He gave it his all at work, redesigning the menu for summer, their spring menu was slowly coming to an end. He spent hours on it, away from the pass, coming up with concept after concept. It was tough but he finally finished it, on the last weekend of spring. He handed it to Zeff after the restaurant had closed. He was tired, sweaty, his glasses were filthy as he shoved them up on top of his head. Zeff glanced down at it, then up at Sanji, then down again. He read it in silence before nodding.
“Good job, Eggplant.”
Sanji grinned.
-
“Babe, you have to put yourself back out there! You’re a catch, Sanji, honestly!” Nami tried to convince him over a glass of wine at one of their favourite bars. It was a more upscale place than they used to visit when they were younger; cheap beer being swapped for mid range wine.
“I want to, I’ve been trying! Nami, I’ve just been so busy with work, the new menu, I-”
“Don’t give me that. I know Zeff has been cutting you some slack. Your new menu is amazing, Vivi can’t stop talking about it!”
“And I’m so glad you and your darling wife enjoyed it but I can’t just sit back and relax now. I’ve got autumn, winter, then Christmas!”
“Sanji! You’re infuriating, you’re doing this on purpose.”
He took a large drink from his glass, setting it down and sighing softly. He loosened his tie slightly, leaning back against the back of the chair.
“If you aren’t ready, tell me and I’ll stop bothering you about it, it’s okay, babe,” Nami reached out, covering his hand with her own and squeezing gently, Her wedding ring shone in the low lights of the bar and Sanji couldn’t help but smile. He had been a bridesmaid at Nami’s wedding; she had called him her bridesman.
“I know you mean well, my dear,” he took another drink of wine, “finding someone who’s happy with my lifestyle is just hard, I suppose.”
“Maybe it’s time to branch out. You’re bisexual but you’re only trying women, why not get on one of those dating apps that are only men?”
“Because that is a whole new can of worms that I only seem to open when I’m drunk.”
“Maybe you just need to be brave, I could set you up with someone?”
“Oh, Nami, no, honestly, I can’t do another blind date.”
The last time she had set him up, it was with one of her colleagues from work. She was a nice lady, tall and beautiful, they had a pleasant evening but he could tell they hadn’t really clicked and it had jolted his confidence a little bit. She didn’t really like his clothing, how he acted. Maybe it was all too much. He thought he had looked nice. He had worn a pair of dark slacks, high on his waist, a white shirt open at his throat, a suit jacket, his hair long and curled. He wore a touch of eyeliner, some gloss on his lips. He felt confident, sexy. He thought he had been charming, interested in her, he asked lots of questions. He thought he had been a real gentleman. But she disagreed and that was that. She had found someone else and he was happy for her.
“Then let’s set up another app, I know you hate them, but they might work! Robin met Franky on one of those apps, even Usopp has used them a couple of times, please, let’s just try again?”
She batted her eyelashes, leaning forward in her seat, smiling at him until he finally gave in, handing over his phone and letting her go wild.
Since then, he’d only received horny, mindless messages from men looking for a quick fuck and it was starting to get on his nerves. He had thought about deleting them time after time. Every disgusting message pushed him closer to the brink.
Which brought him back to smoking on his balcony. He’d just come back from the gym, his bag left by the door. He’d showered quickly, getting ready for his evening shift. They were a waiter down so Zeff had volunteered him, bastard. He finished his cigarette, itching for another but deciding against it when he saw the time. He dressed in his usual black suit, a pinstriped blue shirt and a black tie. He pulled his shoes on, grabbing his phone, barely glancing at it when he saw a new message pop through.
Threesword: you look strong
Sanji frowned, strong? He’d been called many things by the men on this app but strong hadn’t been one of them. He clicked on the man’s profile. The first picture was the man in the gym, shirtless, small black shorts covering his thighs. He had a black cap pulled down low, covering most of his face. He could see three golden earrings on the left side of his head. His second picture, very similar but in the locker room, no cap on this time. A shock of green hair covering his head. His tanned skin highlighted by the white shorts he wore. His face was intense, strong features. Sanji would have guessed East Asian if he had to. He was handsome, annoyingly handsome in a way that the man probably knew he was. In another picture he was dressed this time, a white tank top, black shorts, laid back on a beach towel, a stupid smirk on his face, a beer in his hand. He was stupidly handsome. Sanji read through his profile but only got as far as the age.
“What the fuck does a twenty three year old with me?”
Sanji clicked back to the message, taking a deep breath and replying.
allblue: strong?
A reply came quicker than he was expecting, the phone buzzing on his walk to work. He pulled out of his phone, staring down at the screen.
Threesword: yeah, like you could kick my ass
What the fuck? He scowled, stepping out of the way of some passersby before replying.
allblue: I probably could
He shoved his phone away, ducking into the restaurant. The hostess beamed when she saw him, gushing about how thankful she was that he was helping the front out today. Sanji told her it was no problem at all, that he was happy to help. The kitchen staff teased him, telling him he looked so cute in his waiter’s uniform. He told them to fuck off, cheeks burning as he glanced at the specials list and whisked out of the kitchen.
The evening went pretty well, no major assholes, no major fuck ups from the kitchen. He managed to duck out for a cigarette near the end of the evening, letting the nicotine rush over him. He pulled out his phone, replying to a message from Nami about dinner later in the week. A new message from threesword.
Threesword: yeah? It’s hot that you think you could
Cocky bastard, Sanji grinned around his cigarette.
allblue: well I definitely could, so is that hotter or does that turn you off?
Threesword: nothing about you turns me off.
Sanji’s eyes widened, leaning back against the brick wall behind him. He glanced at his watch, he had time.
allblue: wow, so forward for someone so young. What’s a kid like you talking to someone like me?
Threesword: like i said, you look strong, you train?
allblue: yeah, kickboxing mainly, but bit of thai boxing as well
Threesword: fuck, maybe you could kick my ass
Threesword: i do kendo
allblue: like with swords?
Threesword: yeah, training to be the best
allblue: and you’ve got time to talk to old men?
Threesword: baby, i’ve got all the time in the world for you
Sanji couldn’t help himself, he flushed. He grinned down at his phone, his stomach fluttering. What the fuck was happening to him? One nice message from a guy and he turned into his seventeen year old self.
allblue: wow, a smooth talker, you always this bold?
Threesword: just for pretty boys like you
The door banged against the wall next to Sanji, Zeff poking his head out.
“You don’t get paid to stand out here and play on your phone, Eggplant, get your ass back inside!”
“Shut up, shitty geezer, I’m coming!” Sanji yelled, stuffing his phone back in his pocket, flicking his cigarette butt on the floor and stamping on it. He took a few seconds to calm himself, his red cheeks, his fluttering stomach. He blew out a long breath before heading back into the Baratie. Maybe the apps weren’t all bad.
Work flew by after that, people paid up, tables cleaned and reset for the next day, Zeff left him a bowl of seafood pasta to munch on as he sat by the bar, catching up with the staff. Patty talked through a new dish he’d like to try, Sanji giving him a bit of advice on how to spice it up, make it exciting. He left after he finished his plate and his glass of wine, shouting up to Zeff as he left. He lit a cig as he started his walk home, pulling his phone out.
Threesword: i’m not just talk btw, you wanna get a drink?
allblue: i’ve just finished work for the night, maybe tomorrow? I’ll be done by 5?
Threesword: sounds good, i can be done at the gym by like 4
allblue: okay perfect, you know the polar tang? The bar on 3rd?
Threesword: yeah think so, there at 6?
allblue: okay amazing, see you then x
Sanji had a date with a man that he was actually excited about. Dialling Nami’s number, he took a deep drag of his cig, excited to tell her what was happening.
-
Work the next day seemed to drag in the beginning. He opened in the morning, arriving around 10am with a cold brew from the coffee bar down the road. He got on with the prep as soon as he opened, cutting veg, checking the fridges. He had some random classical music radio station playing in the background as he worked, greeting the other chefs as he arrived, all looking tired but eager to have Sanji back in the kitchen.
He made them some omelettes, nothing special but something to get them started. They all took a few minutes to eat, Sanji tying his hair up and out of his face as Zeff entered, greeting them and instantly complaining about the cut on the carrots. They opened at 1, ready for the lunch service. As soon as orders came in, the day picked up. The fast-paced nature of the kitchen allowed Sanji to relax into it, the familiar rhythm of the kitchen settled him, made him forget about his nerves, allowed him to do something he knew, something he was good at.
When the clock struck five, Sanji stepped away, unbuttoning his chef's jacket. He wished everyone a good evening service, smiling as he heard people call goodbye to him. Grabbing his bag, he ducked out of the restaurant, lighting a cig as he walked. He checked his phone but saw no message from threesword. Maybe he was busy, he did say he was working all day, he was probably home getting changed or eating or something. He got home quickly, he didn’t have long to get ready. He definitely needed a shower after being on the line all day.
Throwing his bag down as he got in, he ran to the shower, forgoing washing his hair and washing himself. He dried himself once he was out, covering himself in a vanilla body oil, applying his cologne. He took out a pair of dark blue slacks, a pale yellow shirt, the matching double breasted jacket. He chose not to wear a tie, keeping the top two buttons open. A few rings, a pair of small gold hoop earrings that fit snuggly against his lobe. A touch of eyeliner, some gloss, another quick spray of cologne. He tugged his shoes on, checked his watch, fuck he needed to leave. He grabbed his keys, slipped his phone and wallet into his pocket before dashing out the door.
The walk over made him both more nervous and less worried. Of course he was nervous, he hadn’t really dated men before. Sure, when he realised he was bisexual, he had gone to a few clubs, had a few one night stands, but that wasn’t him. He couldn’t just give someone such an intimate part of himself and never see them again. He was a lover at heart, he needed someone to take care of, someone to look after him in turn. He needed a presence in his life. On the other hand, what did he have to lose? It was just another date. If it went well, who knows? If it went badly, then he wouldn’t see this man again. A man that he didn’t know the name of, only as Threesword, a man who was seventeen years younger than him. What really did he have to lose?
He finished his cigarette before going in. The Polar Tang was somewhere he and his friends would go for a night of heavy drinking. It had been their usual haunt for many years. Law, the owner, was a miserable bastard, but seemed to get along with them all in their own right. It was a mix between gaudy and classy, a high end nautical bar, if you could imagine it. Plus, they made a mean whiskey sour.
Sanji went in, raising a hand to Law, who stood with a scowl that lightened slightly when he saw Sanji. He started on his usual, the famed whiskey sour. They made pleasant small talk, both asking about work, about life in general. Sanji hummed when he took a sip of his drink, it went down too smoothly. He mentioned he was meeting someone, said he’d be in the booth near the window. Law nodded and let him go, he’d send the lady over. Sanji didn’t correct him.
Settling in the booth, he checked his watch, 5:48pm, he was early. That was okay, early was fine, so was on time. He checked his phone but still no message. He thought about just sending a ‘hey i’m here’ but didn’t, he didn’t want to seem desperate. Was desperate the right word? Was he so desperate for a nice date? He didn’t know, he just took another drink of his cocktail, savouring the flavour.
Ten minutes, then fifteen, then twenty. Sanji checked his watch again, 6:08, he still had time, right? Traffic was always bad this time of day. He got another drink from Law, who didn’t ask about the person he was meeting. Another bartender stood with him, Penguin, he didn’t know the man’s real name. He smiled and chatted, paying for his drink before heading back to the booth.
allblue: you still on for our drink?
Sanji waited another thirty minutes. His glass sat empty next to his phone. His phone that hadn’t buzzed, hadn’t lit up. No new messages from his date, no excuse, no apology. No nothing. He fiddled with the glass, with the napkin his drink was on, his fingertips painting circles in the condensation. Sighing heavily, he stood, taking his two glasses back to the bar. Law looked like he wanted to ask, Penguin nearly did but Law sent him off to clear some tables. Sanji was grateful for the lack of questioning, maybe he didn't appreciate the pitying stare but he could deal with that. He said his goodbyes and left. Pulling out his phone as he walked, he opened up their messages.
allblue: thanks for the fucking heads up that you just weren’t coming. asshole. Looks like you were all talk.
It felt good to send it, felt good to finally get to be angry at something other than himself. He took the long way home, smoked too many cigarettes. He spent a long time getting ready for bed. He took his makeup off slowly, staring into the mirror, tears welling in the corner of his eyes as he smeared the eyeliner off. He showered, scalding hot as he washed his hair, applying creams and conditioners. The shower helped cover his upset. He pulled on his nicest silk pyjamas, a birthday gift from Nami and Vivi when he turned forty. He lay in bed, sipped a decaf tea and tried to forget about it all.
He woke early the next day. He spent the morning before work deep cleaning his apartment, changing his bedsheets, sweeping and mopping. He opened all the windows and let the warm summer air in. He made himself eggs when he’d finished, with some of the fancy sourdough he splashed out on, a coffee. He sat and ate, trying not to think about last night. He showered, changed and went into work early. Carne asked if he was okay, Patty did as well. He said he was fine.
The day was long, tiring. He got snippy because he was tired, frustrated. He checked his phone and still saw no reply. He made stupid mistakes. Zeff dragged him into the office again after one stupid shouting match he had with Patty. He gave him another talking to. It made Sanji feel like he was fourteen again, fourteen and desperate to try and show that he was good enough to be in the kitchen, desperate to prove his worth to someone who wanted him. He got sent home, told to stay out of work until he was sorted. With Zeff, that meant at least a week. He tried to argue but felt his throat closing up, tears threatening to overflow, voice waiting to crack. Zeff asked if he wanted to come over for dinner, but he declined. He felt angry, vulnerable, he didn’t want Zeff to see him like that when he could help it. He promised he’d come over this week, that he’d call him when he was ready. Zeff just nodded, patted him on the head as he walked past to the kitchen.
Sanji sniffled, rubbing his tears away on the cuff of his shirt. He walked the long way home, smoked too many cigarettes.
-
It took him a few days to get himself sorted. The first full day off work, he stayed inside. He smoked, he drank some cheap wine he had in his cupboard, watched some stupid cooking show that he shouted at when he was paying attention to it. He scrolled on his phone, he flicked through dating apps. Still no reply from Threesword.
The second day, he woke early, got changed and headed for the gym. He grabbed a cold brew from the coffee bar, smiling at the barista as he paid. He tightened his track jacket around him, the summer mornings still held somewhat of a chill. He finished his drink as he arrived at the gym, binning the cup and scanning his membership card. He moved through his warmup, his headphone blasting europop as he stretched. Sanji stood, looking at himself in the mirror and froze. Stood behind him, facing the squat rack, was Threesword. The shock of green hair, the tanned skin wrapped around stupidly large muscles, his black hat pulled low over his face. He had a pair of headphones sitting around his neck, pulling them up as he approached the rack. Sanji couldn’t read the weight but it looked a lot.
Down, up, rest. Down, up, rest. Eight squats, blowing out a large breath through gritted teeth on his last rep before rereacking the weight. He unbuckled his lifting belt, slipped his headphones off, reached for his water. It was one of those ugly gallon plastic bottles. Sanji watched as he drank deeply, wiping his mouth on his wrist.
Was he really about to cause a scene at six in the morning? Sanji clenched his fists, stalking over. You bet his fucking ass he was.
He stormed over, fury building with each step. He stopped next to the man, who was only a few inches shorter than he was. Fuck, what now?
The other man seemed to still, glancing at Sanji very briefly before looking back at the rack.
“Look, there’s other racks, idiot, and I’m not slamming my weights either so what-”
“You fucking asshole.”
The man jolted, neck snapping to look at him properly. Both men stared at each other, Sanji’s visible eye squinted, the man’s grey eyes wide.
“What?”
“What, he says, you stood me up. Remember? Two nights ago, Polar Tang. I would normally let this slide but I’ve had a really shitty year and I’m done letting people treat me like I’m this thing to beck and call when they please.”
“Wait.. wait what?”
“Is that all you can say, huh? What? What?”
“You.. you’re allblue?”
“Yeah, asshole.”
“Ah, fuck, wait, let me explain.”
“Why should I?”
“Because my excuse is actually real and I’m not just making it up.”
Sanji laughed, an ugly barking laugh that escaped him, “Sure, go on, explain yourself.”
“My sense of direction is awful, so I set off early to get there, but I got lost and when I got my phone out to put it in maps, some asshole knocked into me and it broke, I’ve got it in my bag right now if you wanna see it? I was gonna get it fixed today and text you because I felt like an asshole. I even asked someone for directions but they sent me the wrong way, it took me two hours to get home.”
Sanji’s eyes widened as the man spoke, finding himself.. Believing in him. The man held up his hands and squatted down, digging through the duffle bag that sat next to the rack. He pulled something out, handing it to Sanji.
It was his phone, completely shattered. He pressed the lock button on the side and the screen didn’t even turn on. An immense wave of relief washed over him. He hadn’t been stood up. Then the guilt hit him, he had just lost his shit at a man over a first date they didn’t even go on in a public gym.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry,” he ran a hand through his fringe, handing the man his phone back, “fuck, sorry, I’m such an asshole.”
“No, no, I get it, think I would react like that too,” the man had the decency to try and appease him, throwing his phone back in his bag and standing back up.
“No, this was so.. God you must think I’m insane, ambushing you at the gym or something, which I didn’t do. Oh God, I come to this gym normally, I’m not some stalker that-”
“It’s fine, Curls.”
“Curls?”
“Y’know,” the man vaguely gestured to his own face, the eyebrow specifically.
“My name is Sanji.”
“Nice name.”
“And you are? I keep calling you threesword in my head.”
“Zoro.”
“Nice to officially meet you, even if I did just act like I’m insane.”
“S’alright, I don’t mind getting shouted at by pretty guys.”
“I wasn’t th- what?”
The man, Zoro, grinned, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the safety bars of the squat rack, “I said, I don’t mind getting shouted at by pretty guys.”
“Pretty guys, I’m seventeen years older than you, y’know.”
“So?”
“So.. so..” Sanji was lost for words.
“So, how about we try again? Let me take you out, and I’ll do my very best to get there on time with a working phone.”
“Okay, sure, I’ll let you make it up to me.”
“That’s all I’m asking. You free today? Tonight?”
“Yeah, tonight works, how about we meet here? At the gym? The Tang isn’t too far, we can walk?”
“6pm?”
“6 works for me. Wait here, 2 seconds,” Sanji ignored the confused look on Zoro’s face as he rushed to the receptionist desk. He asked if he could borrow a pen and post it note. He quickly scrawled down his phone number, adding his name and a kiss. He made his way back to Zoro, handing him the post it.
“Just in case, yeah?”
Zoro glanced down at the post it, that same annoying smirk on his face like in his pictures, “yeah, just in case.”
Sanji grinned, nodding once and returning to his spot, bending down and grabbing his bag. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Zoro was watching. Of course he had been, his eyes trailing over Sanji as he started to walk towards the exit. The other man raised a hand in a wave, still leaning on the rack. Sanji waved back as he ducked through the exit. He didn’t feel like working out anyway.
He spent the day getting ready. Maybe it was a bit too much. After a long shower, he moisturized every inch of his body, applied oils to his skin. He made a quick lunch, eating as he watched some random wildlife show. He had already text Nami about what was happening, she had called him a diva and wished him luck. Sanji curled his hair, pinning it up to keep the soft curls. He wore the same outfit as he last time, swapping out the yellow shirt for a pale blue. He kept the navy suit, it fit the curves of his body. He slipped on his shoes, spraying cologne and checking his reflection in the mirror. He took a picture for Nami, sending it to her. He applied his eyeliner, his gloss.
nami<3: beautiful, gorg, amazing, sexy!!!!!! Ur gonna kill him tonight
Sanji: hopefully not but thank you <3
He checked his watch, time to go. He grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, smokes. He checked his hair in the mirror one last time before setting off, lighting a cig as he left. It did help calm his nerves but he felt even more nervous than the first time. Nameless man he had met on the app was fine, man he saw in the gym and learnt the name of and flirted with? He’d had to ask Law for his first drink to be extra strong. The gym wasn’t too far from his apartment, maybe ten minutes. He finished his second cig as he arrived, smiling when he saw Zoro standing outside, doing something on his phone.
He looked good, a tight red henley, a black leather jacket, dark jeans, black boots, his three earrings glinting. As Sanji approached he felt his phone buzz.
Unknown: I’m here curls
“Thanks for the text this time,” Sanji grinned, his smile widening when he saw Zoro look up, slipping his phone in his pocket. The man raked his eyes up and down Sanji, stepping to meet him.
“Thought I’d be more courteous this time,” Zoro replied, shoving both of his hands in his pockets.
“Well it’s appreciated, shall we go?”
Zoro nodded, falling into step with him as they walked towards the Tang.
“You look good, stupidly good,” Zoro told him, glancing up at him.
Sanji flushed, he couldn’t help himself, “thanks, so do you, all those hours in the gym have done you some good.”
“I’m amazed we’ve never run into each other.”
“I usually go later in the day, I was up early and couldn’t just sit around waiting.”
“You not working?”
“I’m just taking some time off, I’m a chef.”
“Oh?” Zoro turned to look at him, “like personal or in a restaurant?”
“Restaurant, my old man owns the Baratie.”
“No shit! I love that place, I go when I’m feeling fancy.”
“It’s not that fancy.”
“It’s like seventy dollars for a steak, it’s fancy.”
Sanji smirked, “I could have gotten it you for free if I’d have known you were coming.”
“That a promise for next time?”
“Next time? How forward, we haven’t even started this date, y’know.”
“I’m being optimistic.”
They chatted as they walked, arriving at the Tang after about ten minutes. Zoro held the door open for him and Sanji tried not to gush. He stepped in, Zoro’s hand gently touching the small of his back as they entered. Sanji felt his stomach flutter as they walked up to the bar, the hand never leaving his back.
Law glanced up at him, eyes widening when he saw he was standing next to a man but kept his mouth shut. Sanji always did like Law.
A whiskey sour was placed in front of him, a beer in front of Zoro. The younger man pulled out some bills, handing them over and mumbling something about keeping the change. Law nodded, thanked him, and moved off to serve.
Sanji led them to the booth he had sat at a few days ago, sliding in, Zoro following him. Silence settled over them for a few moments, both men taking a drink.
“What made you want to be a chef?” Zoro asked, his hands coming to rest on top of the table, clasping them together.
“It’s always been my passion. I was adopted when I was about thirteen and Zeff, my old man, owned a restaurant. I was pretty passionate about it before he took me in but he really took me under his wing. He’s a tough old bastard but he’s the reason I carry on. I just love it,” Sanji glanced up and saw a fond look on Zoro’s face.
“You making fun of me, huh?” Sanji asked, “what’s that look for?”
“What? Idiot, no, it’s nice that you’re passionate about something!”
“You call all of your dates idiots?”
“Only when they’re being idiots.”
“Fine, how’d you get into kendo?”
“Similar story, my dad got me as a kid when we lived in Japan, he was super into kendo and took me the second I could hold a wooden sword. I’ve just carried on.”
“Do you compete?”
“I compete, I train, I teach it. I own a dojo, other side of town, lots of kids classes but I’ve got some older kids too.”
“Wow, I would never have guessed there would be that many people interested.”
“We get more in summer, kids have nothing to do in summer so parents send them to me. Good way to keep them doing something and learn a bit of respect.”
“You a hardass with them?”
“No, I’m disciplined.”
“I like a disciplined man.”
“You’re gonna fucking love me then.”
The rest of the evening was surprisingly delightful. Zoro was genuinely interested in what Sanji had to say, asked questions, listened and asked more questions. He shared parts of his own life. He lived alone with his cat, Enma, he went to the gym five days a week and ran on days he didn’t go. He moved to the US for college and liked it enough to stay. He liked baseball, sake, hiking in summer but he got lost most of the time.
It was really a nice night. Sanji maybe got a bit too merry, so did Zoro, the pair squeezing in close together at the end of the night. Law had to come and kick them out. Zoro paid for all of their drinks. He offered to walk Sanji home, letting to man slip his arm in his, keeping him tucked close to his side.
“You sure you’re gonna be able to find your way home?” Sanji asked, standing on the front step of his apartment.
“Phone works now so I should be fine,” Zoro smiled up at him, stood just off the step at the bottom.
“Text me when you get home safe?”
“Course.”
“I had a really nice time tonight.”
“Wanna go for dinner this weekend?”
Sanji grinned, nodding, his curls falling forward over his shoulder.
“Good, you trust me enough to let me book the place?”
“God no, sorry, darling. I’ll sort it.”
Zoro huffed a laugh, shaking his head, hands stuffed into his pocket.
“Fine,” he lingered for a few more moments, about to say something.
“You want a kiss? For being so gentlemanly this evening?” Sanji tilted his head as he asked, smiling down at Zoro, who flushed and nodded slowly.
Sanji leaned down, the added height of the step forcing him to bend lower. He cupped Zoro’s cheek, thumbing over the tanned skin. He leaned down slightly more, pressing a kiss to Zoro’s lips, who returned it gently.
He pulled back slightly, kissing him again quickly, thumbing the lip gloss off his mouth.
“I’ll text you, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Bye, honey.”
“Goodnight, Sanji.”
-
Sanji couldn’t believe how well the night had gone. The second he stepped inside his apartment, he called Nami. He gushed to her about the night, how handsome Zoro was, how attentive he was. She was thrilled for him but she reminded him of the time and he instantly apologised. He hadn’t realised how late it was. He let her go after promising her they’d catch up tomorrow.
Waiting by the kettle, he checked his phone, no message yet but it had only been twenty minutes. He made his tea, carrying it to his bedroom. After a quick shower, he settled in bed, letting out a slow exhale. His phone buzzed and he tried not to grin when he saw Zoro’s number pop up.
Zoro: just got back, thanks again for the date x
sanji: I should be thanking you, I had a lot of fun
Zoro: still wanna go out for dinner?
sanji: of course, you will let me pick the place though?
Zoro: course, you’re the expert
sanji: amazing, i’ll text you when and where, okay?
Zoro: okay, i’ll let you get your beauty sleep
sanji: think I need it?
Zoro: absolutely not, goodnight x
sanji: goodnight x
Grinning in his bed like a teenager, Sanji set his phone down. He quickly finished his tea and grabbed a notepad from his bedside table. He pushed his wireframe glasses on to his face, writing down a few places he thought would work for their next date. The Baratie was out of the question, maybe the new seafood restaurant downtown? Or the steakhouse? He twirled the pen in his fingers, humming slightly as he wrote a few more names down. He’d figure it out. Sleep came easily to him that night.
Sanji rose with the sun, the warm light streaming in from the gap in his curtains. He spent a few minutes just laying in the sun, warming and stretching like a cat before slowly getting out of bed. He pulled his hair up and out of his face, a scrunchie keeping his golden curls up. He brewed himself a strong coffee, sipping it on the balcony, a cig in his other hand. The nicotine and caffeine woke him up, smiling in the morning sun. He’d book a table somewhere today, he thought he had the right place.
Switching on the tv, he laid out his yoga mat, going through his morning mobility routine. The stretch and burn of his muscles woke him up fully, breathing through a particularly tough stretch. His mind wondered to Zoro, what was his morning routine like? He was at the gym early, so maybe a 4am wake up? 5 and he’s there for 6? Was he a coffee guy or tea? Maybe he had those awful energy drinks that got him psyched up for his workout. Did he shower before or after? Did he eat before or after? He was still young, needed the calories so maybe both?
He poured himself another coffee, taking it out onto the balcony again. He lit another cig for himself. Oh, he said he’d call Nami. He ran back in to grab his phone, heading back to the balcony. He text her, asking her availability for coffee. She replied pretty quickly, she was free after 1. He quickly agreed, scrolling through some of his other messages.
Zeff had asked about dinner, asked if he was okay. He did feel guilty about putting Zeff in a difficult position, it wasn’t his father’s fault he was a little bit unstable at the minute. The snapping, the mistakes, he needed to get his act together. He replied, saying he was okay, that dinner tomorrow would be great. Zeff just sent a thumbs up in response.
He drank the rest of his coffee, setting his phone down on the kitchen counter as he went by. He needed to shower and get dressed for his fate with Nami. A simple outfit of jeans, a sleeveless babytee, some stupid logo of a bar they used to go to. He let his hair down, smoothing it out with his fingers. He grabbed his sunglasses, his boots. His phone buzzed, thinking maybe it was Nami, he checked.
A picture came through from Zoro. He was in the gym, a small pair of shorts on, black with a stripe running down the side. His hat pulled low over his face but shirtless. Sanji swallowed audibly, eyes racking over Zoro’s bare torso, the sweat glistening on his tanned skin.
Zoro: not training this morning? Slacker
Sanji smirked, a wave of heat rushing through him.
sanji: busy this morning, meeting a friend for coffee. You working hard?
Zoro: always
sanji: looks like it, your hard work is paying off
Zoro: that your way of saying i look good?
sanji: stop fishing for compliments
Zoro: ):
sanji: yes you look good, sexy even
Zoro: (:
sanji: shut up idiot, im gonna be late for my coffee date
Zoro: have fun x
Sanji left the apartment, throwing his things in his tote and slinging it on his shoulder. He sent Nami a quick text saying he was on his way. He was hoping the walk would calm him down but his heart was still racing from his interaction with Zoro. Maybe he was throwing himself into too quickly, maybe he was getting his hopes up.
Nami was already sat down when he arrived, rushing over and hugging her in greeting, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She’d already bought him a cold brew, giving him a second to settle in his chair under the umbrella of their outside table.
“Tell me everything, Sanji! I can’t believe it went so well, what did I tell you!” She was grinning, waving her hands around as she spoke, “babe, honestly, I knew you could do it!”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed as he spoke, “calm down, it was only one date!”
“But you’re going out again, right?”
“We are, this weekend, I need to book somewhere.”
“You have somewhere in mind? Not the Baratie surely.”
“God, no, I don’t think I could handle Zeff hovering and being a jerk.”
“So where?”
“I think that new seafood place, by the harbour.”
“That place is amazing! Vivi loves it there, she’ll be so jealous you guys are going.”
They spent another few hours catching up. He asked Nami about her work, she was a meteorologist for a news station, asked about their new house, how Vivi was. Sanji divulged some information about Zoro but said he’d rather keep it quiet until they had been on a few dates. He offered her another coffee but she declined, saying she was meeting Vivi and Kaya later. She extended the invite but he said he was going to get sorted booking the table and go shopping for his dinner with Zeff.
They hugged goodbye, Nami pressing a kiss to his cheek. She wished him luck with Zoro, begging him to tell her how it went this weekend. He promised he would, squeezing her hands.
They parted ways, Sanji already feeling lighter for their catchup. They had been friends a long time, meeting after she visited the restaurant when they were both younger. He rang the restaurant, managed to get them a booking for 7pm on the Friday. He text Zoro the confirmation, smiling when he got a response.
Zoro: can’t wait
Sanji spent the rest of the day in various markets. Hand picking fruits, vegetables, meats, fish was what he was good at. He spent many early mornings with Zeff, being dragged around each stall, being told what was good and how to pick the best ingredients. Sanji had hated it at the time, the 4am wakeup was awful but he had actually learnt something. Not that he would ever admit that to the old man. It was a delicate art, combined with gentleman’s charm, he usually got pretty good prices.
He assembled everything he had at home, prepping a few things in advance to take to Zeff’s the next day. The TV blared some stupid cooking show as he prepped, his hair tied up and a cig hanging loose in his mouth. He stuck his glasses on to read a recipe he was learning, some seafood ceviche that he would cook at Zeff’s. As he read on his phone, it buzzed.
Zoro: what are you doing
sanji: cooking, why?
Zoro: bored, want a beer?
sanji: i have beer here, if you want
Zoro: you inviting me over?
sanji: im in the middle of cooking, i’m not going anywhere
Zoro: let me shower and i’ll be right over, send ur address
Sanji felt a sudden rush of panic. He saw his reflection in his shiny fridge. Some old workout shorts and some stupid ‘gentlecook’ t-shirt Zeff got him. His hair was a mess, his glasses were dirty. No make up on.
“Fuck sake.”
He did a mad dash, applying deodorant, changing his ugly shirt into the same white babytee he wore earlier today. He left his hair up but managed to clean his glasses. He kept the shorts on, they weren’t that ratty. He put a few of the beers in the freezer, opened all the windows, stuck on some random playlist. He took a few deep breaths before continuing cooking. The knock at the door made him jolt. He pushed his glasses up into his hair, taking a few seconds before answering the door.
Zoro had his gym bag with him, the strap hung on his shoulder. A loose white shirt, those same tight shorts from the picture before. He had another bag in his other hand, bottle clinking as he lifted it slightly.
“Didn’t know what you had so I just brought some, just in case.”
Sanji smirked, opening the door wider and letting him in, “I told you I had some.”
“I know, just, I don’t know,” Zoro strode past him, his ears slightly red. He took a few seconds to look around Sanji’s apartment. It was clean, with black leather sofa sat in front of his tv, a dark wood coffee table sat between them. The TV sat between the door to his bedroom and the door to his bathroom. The open plan kitchen behind them, a small dining table with two chairs tucked underneath the window. The balcony door stood just to the right of that. The white curtains shifted in the wind, a few pictures hung on the walls, the bookcase near the dining table housed hundreds of recipe books, some romance novels that he wasn’t too ashamed of. His more unsavoury ones were in his bedroom. It was his oasis, his calm away from work and his busy life. Zoro seemed to glance at every inch, eyes roaming over every new part of Sanji’s identity. He saw the photo of him and Nami on her wedding day, the shopping list stuck under a fish magnet on the fridge, fuck, even his full ashtray on the little metal table on the balcony.
Sanji stayed silent as the man examined, the soft jazz flowing from the speaker tucked on his bookshelf. He tried to make himself busy, picking his knife back up, pretending to chop, stirring a pan that was off the heat. His hands shook slightly as he tasted the dressing for the salad.
“Y’know, you’d hate my apartment,” Zoro started, coming to stand next to him, watching Sanji chop some chives that he tossed into the bowl.
“Why’s that?”
“It isn’t homely at all, like this is, it’s nice, calm.”
“What’s wrong with your apartment?”
“I’ve got a tv and like one chair.”
Sanji laughed, turned to look at him, felt his face flush at the look Zoro was giving him. He felt seen, maybe too visible under his steel gaze. He turned back to the chopping board, quickly finishing off what he was doing.
“There’s some beer in the freezer, grab me one, please?”
“Since you asked so nicely,” Sanji could hear the smirk in Zoro’s voice, could see him slip away in his periphery. He heard the freezer door opening, a bottle being cracked open. An icy beer set down next to the board, Zoro wandering off to look at his bookshelf.
“You okay with steak and potato salad? It’s too hot for anything else.”
“Sounds great, I was gonna have shop bought onigiri so I appreciate the upgrade.”
“You’ve been training all day and that’s all you were gonna eat?”
“Yeah, I’m an awful cook.”
“Good thing you have me here, then,” Sanji knew was he was flirting, maybe pushing the boat a bit too far out.
“Definitely a good thing.”
He knew his face was red, knew his fingers shook when he heard the reply. His heart raced. He itched for a cigarette but didn’t want to get ash on everything. He quickly plated up, just about managing to make it look nice. His fingers were still shaking.
“Here, come sit.” He set the plate down at the breakfast bar, grabbing some cutlery before sitting down with his own plate, “I’m assuming medium rare is okay?”
“Sanji, you heard what I was going to have for dinner, anything is fine.”
The pair ate in silence, Zoro humming after every bite. He ate quickly, like he didn’t have a lot of time, like he was rushing. He washed it down with his icy beer. He cleared his plate far quicker than Sanji, loading his plate with more potato salad, another huge swig of beer.
“It’s not going to run away you know.”
“S’good,” Zoro spoke with his mouth full, glancing at Sanji before flushing red, like what he had done was wrong, manners that had been weaved into him suddenly forgotten in the space of a few minutes.
“I know,” Sanji grinned in response.
“Cocky.”
“I’m good at what I do, I know it’s good, just wasn’t sure you were expecting anything fancy.”
“I kind of just invited myself over, whatever you had would have been fine.”
Sanji finished his plate. More salt for the potatoes, steak needed basting just a bit longer with the garlic butter, maybe a harsher sear on the fat. Instantly critical.
“Not my best.”
Zoro rolled his eyes, picking up their plates and heading to the sink. Sanji watched him wash the plates up, “you don’t have to do that.”
“My dad would bust my ass if I let someone else wash up their own plate.”
“Noble of you.”
“Not really, it’s alright.”
Sanji stood, collecting his smokes and his lighter. He made his way over to Zoro, standing behind him. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Zoro’s cheek. He felt the other man still, his hands going slack in the soapy water.
“Thank you, anyway, mosshead.”
He walked away before Zoro could react, lighting a cigarette on his balcony, the sun washing over him.
“What the fuck did you just call me?” he heard the shout, snickering around his cig. He leaned down against the railing, pushing his weight on to his forearms. He heard Zoro stepping out on to the balcony, felt him lean down against the railing, their skin brushing.
“No, seriously, mosshead?”
“It’s the green hair, you called me curls, I needed a nickname, too.”
“Curls is way better than mosshead.”
“Carrot top? Broccoli, turnip, your choice.”
“Fuck off.”
Sanji laughed, taking his cig out his mouth, ashing it over the edge of the railing. Zoro dipped away for a few seconds, returning with two more beers. He set one on the table, gripped the top and yanked it off, handing it over the Sanji.
“I didn’t buy screwtops,” Sanji frowned, taking the beer.
“Nope,” Zoro smirked, popping the other one off with his bare hands.
“Was this your attempt at showing off?”
“Did it work?”
“A little.”
“You should see me competing, you’d be more than a little impressed.”
Sanji rolled his eyes, a blush covering his face that he tried to hide by taking a drink of his beer.
“How do you even make enough money to keep your dojo open?”
“My dad keeps it afloat really.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s rich I guess, pays the bills for me if I’m short.”
“Rich or famous?”
“Both? Dracule Mihawk, if you know him.”
“If I know him? Are you stupid? He owns Kuraigana? The fashion brand?”
“Yeah, my sister fronts it now though.”
“Perona? Your fucking sister is Perona?”
“Yeah, director or something, I don’t know.”
Sanji turned to stare at him, cigarette burning in his grasp. He took another long drink of beer, ashing his cig again.
“Do you know what I would do to own a Kuraigana suit? They’re so expensive!”
Zoro shrugged, looking down at the street then back at Sanji, “I don’t know anything to do with it.”
“Wait, wait, what the fuck? Your Mihawk’s national kendo champion son? I read about it, like in a magazine, when your sister took over the brand, I remember reading about his son, that’s you?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Wait, we’re blowing over this too quickly. So you’re the kid Mihawk took in, trained up, and had won two national titles in a row?”
“Well, I’ve won four, that magazine must have been old, hoping to make it five.”
“This is insane. This is crazy. I read about you in a magazine when you were nineteen.”
“Yep.”
Sanji felt like he was spiraling. He suddenly felt the age difference between them, he was thirty six when he read that article, Zoro had been nineteen. Basically still a teenager. Basically a child. His hands shook again as he turned away, sucking on his cig to try and calm himself down. Zoro seemed to notice, glancing over at Sanji, reaching a hand out and placing it on the man’s lower back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just.. I feel weird, you were nineteen when I read about you, I was thirty six.”
“So? I’m not nineteen.”
“I know! I just.. God, Zoro, don’t you think this is weird? I’m an old man! I’m nearly double your age! You aren’t freaking out every time I flirt with you? I kissed you!”
“And I wanted you to. Why the fuck does your age matter? I’m an adult, you’re an adult, why does it matter? I wanted you to kiss me.”
Sanji shook off his hand, taking a step away from him. Guilt, shame, embarrassment. He couldn’t look at him, his eyes finding the floor, his beer, Zoro’s socks, anywhere but his face.
“Sanji. Sanji, look at me.”
He couldn’t. He couldn’t raise his head, the flush on his cheeks heating his whole body up. His hands shook, one of them raising to tug at his hair, turning himself away from Zoro.
“Do you think I would have messaged you if I hadn’t have wanted this? I saw your age, I don’t give a fuck. Do you think I would have met you at that bar after you shouted at me in the gym? Huh? Think I would have come here if I didn’t want to? Didn’t want you?”
Sanji felt his eyes welling up, his hand tugging on his hair more harshly, his breathing shaking his body now. He felt Zoro step closer, his hand coming to rest on the small of Sanji’s back again.
“Forget the magazine, forget all that shit, okay? You met me on some stupid app and you gave me a chance after I sent some shitty message about you looking strong. You gave me a chance for some reason, why did you reply if you were just gonna freak out?”
“I don’t know,” Sanji croaked out, wiping his eyes on his wrist. He felt Zoro move closer again, his other coming to rest on his waist, both sliding and gripping him tightly.
“Yes you do, you’re not stupid.”
“I feel it.”
“Shut up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“I know, maybe that’s why you replied. I’ll go, alright? But I’m gonna be at that restaurant on Friday, at 7, fuck, I’m gonna get there early. Do some thinking, you still wanna see me, be there. If you don’t, then it’s my loss, okay?” His voice got softer, the closer he moved to Sanji, his forehead coming to rest between the man’s shoulder blades. Sanji felt him press a kiss against his back, his heat seeping through his shirt.
“So I’ll see you on Friday, I’ll wear something nicer than my ratty gym clothes, okay?”
Sanji couldn’t respond. His throat closed up, his face wet with tears. Zoro kissed him again, squeezing his waist gently before slowly letting go, his callused fingers dragging against the soft material of his babytee. Sanji heard him step away, heard him halt before heading towards his front door. He heard it close behind him. Sanji heard himself sob, collapsing down into the metal chair on the balcony, pressing his face into his hands as he cried.
He slept in the next morning. Wallowing in the dark, getting ash in his sheets. He had barely slept the night before, a mix between crying and getting angry at himself. He heard his phone go off a few times but he ignored it. He had promised Zeff a meal tonight. He needed to get himself sorted.
It was well after noon when he dragged himself out of bed. He wrapped a robe around himself, making his way to the bathroom. The water was scalding when he stepped in, scrubbing himself til his skin turned pink and raw. He dried his hair when he was out, trying not to look at the dark circles under his eyes. He managed to dress himself; jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers. He tied his mostly dry hair up. He threw his ingredients in his totebag. Keys, wallet, tote. He knew he would be too early but he didn’t care. He finally checked his phone, a message from Zeff.
Zeff: four pm
Sanji: I’m coming now, I’ll wait upstairs.
Zeff: everything okay?
Sanji didn’t respond, his eyes welling up again. A deep breath to settle him, a cig in his mouth, his sunglasses covering up his circles. He set off to the Baratie. He managed to slip in the back door, avoiding the staff and heading upstairs. Zeff’s apartment sat empty. The familiar smell of spices, salt calmed him instantly. He opened the living room window, leaning on his forearms as he smoked a fresh cig. He managed three before he heard Zeff’s prosthetic banging up the stairs.
“Eggplant? You here?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I’m cooking. Come sit,” Zeff called, moving behind the island in the kitchen.
“What? No, I’m cooking.”
“Shut up and sit down.”
Sanji huffed, making his way over and settling into one of the high chairs, resting his elbows on the table. Zeff poured him a glass of chilled white wine, setting it in front of him before he got started.
“What’s going on? You’re worrying me, Eggplant,” Zeff didn’t look up from his prep, knife moving without even a moment of hesitation.
“It’s nothing, just.. Not been sleeping well.”
“Don’t bullshit me, I raised you.”
Sanji took a sip of his wine, resting his cheek in his open palm. He stayed silent for a few moments, glancing up at Zeff, who was gutting an octopus. Their eyes met and Sanji turned his gaze away.
“Would you be mad if I started dating men?”
That made Zeff freeze. The knife coming to a stop. Sanji kept his eyes down, on his glass of wine, on his clenched fist.
“Mad? No. Eggplant, who you date is none of my business, long as they treat you well, that’s all I want.”
“What if the man was a lot younger than me? Like.. seventeen years younger than me.”
Zeff was silent for a few moments before he answered, “I’d trust your decision. You’re not some idiot, you’re my son. Whatever makes you happy, Sanji, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
He felt Zeff’s hand enclose around his, strong callused fingers gripping his hand tightly. He let go slowly, patting the top of his hand before turning away to heat the wok, adding oil to it as Sanji cried at the kitchen table.
Sanji calmed himself down enough to appreciate the spicy seafood rice when it was set down in front of him, a tight hug from Zeff following it. He pressed his wet face into his father’s shoulder, just like he had when he was a boy. A large hand patted the back of his head, a quiet voice telling him to eat. He suddenly felt a horrid weight shift off his chest. The first bite of rice tasted just as he remembered it, even through his tears and watery smile.
-
The morning of the date came quicker than he had hoped for. Sanji still trying to make up his mind about what to do. Should he go? Should he risk it? Did he abandon the chance? He checked his watch religiously throughout the day, the hours ticking closer. It got to four, the sun still shining on him as he sipped his coffee. Maybe getting ready would make him feel better. He showered, washed his hair, covered himself in fancy creams and oils. He curled his hair. His sharpest black suit, orange shirt. He wore a tie this time. His watch, rings, a silver tie pin. He shined his shoes and slipped them on. A few sprays of cologne. 6:48p. He’d be late. If he set off now, he’d be five minutes late probably. That wasn’t like him at all. He threw his phone down on the bed, running his hands through his fresh curls. Fuck sake. He tried not to spiral.
6:53. Okay, definitely late. So there was no point. Why bother?
Zoro’s words rang through his head, you still wanna see me, be there. The tight heat of his hands on Sanji’s waist, their kiss.
Fuck, Sanji wanted to see him. He grabbed his phone, his keys, his smokes. He sprinted out of his apartment, barely managing to lock the door before rushing downstairs. He tried to hail a cab but gave up after a few minutes. Fuck this. He started running. He definitely needed to cut down on the cigs, his chest heaving as he ran. He checked his watch, 7:02, please, God, still be there.
He arrived at the restaurant, 7:14pm, chest heaving, slightly sweaty. He took a few seconds to compose himself, dabbing his sweat on the collar of his jacket, running a hand through his curls. He looked a mess, he saw himself in the reflection of the window. He wanted to go home. He nearly did.
Sanji saw Zoro through the window, his green hair sticking out like a sore thumb.A well fitted black suit jacket covered his shoulder. A bouquet of flowers lay next to his joined hands on the table, fiddling with the strap on his watch. Nervous, worried that he wasn’t going to show. Sanji could have cried, but he was fucking sick of crying. He took a few more deep breaths before pushing the door open, smiling at the host and explaining he was meeting someone. She let him walk through the restaurant, arriving at Zoro’s table.
“Please, I know you said fifteen minutes but can’t I just wait a bit longer?” Zoro sounded like he was begging, his eyes staying locked on the flowers in front of him.
“If I had kept you any longer, you would have left.”
Zoro’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he stared at Sanji. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, mouth moving like a fish.
“Sorry I’m late, I had to run here,” Sanji sat down in the seat in front of him, pushing his hair off his shoulder and behind him.
“You’re here, I.. I didn’t think..”
“I know, I’m sorry. I should have text you or called or did something other than make you worry but I was scared. You were right, annoying as that is. I was being stupid and feeling sorry for myself and an idiot.”
“Sanji, I-”
“Wait, please. I’m sorry I made you feel like I was wasting your time and that I was treating you like a child and for bringing up that stupid article, it wasn’t even good.”
“Sanji-”
“Please, Zoro-”
“You look beautiful.”
Sanji froze, finally looking up at him. Their eyes met, a stupid fond smile on Zoro’s face, a flush of pink on Sanji’s.
“Thank you, is that a-”
“Yeah, asked Perona if I could borrow a monkey suit.”
“Do you know how jealous I am right now, asshole?”
“I can guess,” Zoro grinned, a bashful shy grin. He pushed the bouquet closer to Sanji, “got these for you.”
“Perona let you borrow these too?”
“No, asshole, I got them for you at that stupid flower market that’s only open at the fucking crack of dawn. You had the same flowers in the vase on your kitchen table.”
“Amazingly observant for a mossball.”
Zoro rolled his eyes, reaching forward and taking Sanji’s hand.
“I’m really glad you came.”
Sanji grinned, “so am I.”