Work Text:
Even through the fogged up panes of glass in his windows, Zoro could tell that he did not want to go outside that night. The dark grey clouds hung low, heavy with unfallen snow, obscuring any hope of sun he'd had when he'd awoken that morning (a feeble hope but one he still harboured every day nonetheless).
He wasn't sure why he'd thought going to university in The North would be a good idea. He liked the sun too much, he liked the heat of his home, he liked the green of the trees and the warmth of sand between his toes and the warm, blue ocean.
The ocean here was grey and rough, cold at the best of times, freezing at its worst. The waves were too unpredictable to allow for safe swimming and storms raged more often than not.
It only got worse during the autumn and winter months. The sun disappearing for longer and longer stretches until Zoro was sure he'd forgotten what the rays felt like on his skin.
He was looking forward to the Winter Break, was excited to step off the plane home and be warm without having to be wrapped in blankets and a heating pad. Couldn't wait to feel the sun on his face and the warm breeze in his hair. Until he moved to the north for three quarters of the year, he'd never been excited to need sunglasses.
"You have to join," Nami stated while actively going through Zoro's closet, pulling him out of his thoughts of warmer places. He groaned as he watched her from where he was sitting on his bed.
"No." He refused, yet again. She'd been pestering him ever since they'd come back from the library (which they'd entered and left in darkness, what was up with that?)
“Please, please, I don’t want to go alone.” She tried again, holding out one of Zoro’s white shirts to him. “Plus you need to blow off some steam and it’s solstice, it’ll be fun!”
“Still no.” He pulled the blanket around his shoulders more tightly; the cold wind outside rattled his windows.
Nami sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.“I will pay for the cab.” Zoro raised an eyebrow just watching her. “There and back.” She sounded like that physically hurt her to say; Zoro grinned.
***
The party was already in full swing when they got there. Loud music and conversation spilling out of the open doorway along with a couple people clearly in a state of inebriation that spoke of the amount of drink being poured inside. Zoro felt a smile creep up on him as he considered the amount of free booze he could consume.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Nami stepped up next to him, arms crossed. “Just don’t overdo it, I cannot carry you home.” Zoro rolled his eyes dramatically before shoving her. She lost her balance, almost falling into the bared bones of the hedges lining the property; her loud protesting had Zoro grinning as he strolled up to the front door, flipping her off over his shoulder.
The house was massive - a northern-style mansion, the exterior decorated in dark grey slate, patterns integrated into the work. The windows were fogged up with how warm it was inside and Zoro sped up trying to get in himself. The freezing temperatures biting at his nose and arms.
“That’s no way to treat a lady,” came a sudden drawl from his right that had his heart miss a beat and his eyes roll.
“She’s no lady,” he fired back, turning to look into a familiar blue eye, the other hidden by blond hair. There was a flush on his cheeks that spoke of alcohol already consumed and Zoro wanted to roll his eyes again at how even inebriated the cook got on his nerves (if his pulse raced a little quicker taking in the width of his shoulders and the slender elegance of his fingers, that was between him and his non-existent diary).
Sanji just kissed his teeth in disdain. “Every woman should be treated as such, moss-head.” He took a sip of whatever was in his cup before adding, “but I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zoro roared, once again falling for the bait. Sanji smirked, like he’d known he would. (And maybe he was a bit predictable, always falling for it, always baiting him, always fighting.)
“You’d need a brain to retain the information, stupid.” He lunged for him, completely sober still, but he’d fought Sanji in all stages of being over their three years at university together.
“Zoro.” A sharp call of his name made him stop in his tracks, hand raised to reach for Sanji. “Please, we literally just showed up.” Nami. Completely unharmed by her almost-tumble into the branches looked thoroughly unimpressed by the scene she’d walked into.
“Ah, sweet Nami,” Sanji cooed immediately, his voice sickly saccharine; it made Zoro want to throw up. “I see you are unharmed, no thank to this brute.” The side eye Zoro received at this was enough to have a shiver chase down his spine; he shook it away with a snarl in Sanji’s general direction.
“Oh, it’s fine, please,” Nami waved him off. Zoro watched her for a second as she fended off more of Sanji’s “care,” before he turned and stomped off, deeper into the house.
He hated how much he let the other man get under his skin like this. He’d found the kitchen. The culinary student wasn’t even worth it. He grabbed a bottle of beer, opening it on the side of the counter, the clatter of the metal lid on the floor drowned out by the heavy bass vibrating the walls. Stupid cook and his stupid over-the-top love for women - it made Zoro want to punch him and pull his own hair out at the same time.
“Fucking shit, fuck shit-cook.” Hr grumbled into the bottle before draining half of it in one gulp. He was used to cursing the man out as he drank. Came with the territory of being somewhat-rivals with the man since their first semester together. He couldn’t even remember how it had started, only knew that he’d been haunted by blue eyes under furrowed curly brows ever since.
“Would you like some of this?” A guy he vaguely recognised had sidled up to him. He was holding out a slim glass bottle filled with a milky, yellowish liquid that Zoro had never seen before.
“What is it?” The guy’s bright eyes crinkled with the grin on his mouth and he leaned in conspiratorially.
“Alcohol - it’s tradition.” Zoro downed the rest of his beer and accepted the tiny cup of the mystery liquid that he’d been handed.
“Prost.” The man shouted as he raised the glass to the heavens and then knocked back the liquid inside. Zoro followed suit.
The drink was strange. Smooth but strangely spicy, with a kick to it that left him gasping for air for a second as it hit the back of his tongue.
“Good?” He nodded at the question and before he knew it, his tiny glass was filled again. Any protest died on his tongue as he shouted out ‘Prost’ again and knocked the drink back just like he had before. Zoro took the shot.
He learned quickly who the hosts were - the people with the bottle of the mystery drink. They called it “Eierlikör” though he wasn’t sure what that meant. He thought he heard someone call it eggnog but he hadn’t heard of that before either. They had given him a bottle of it to pour himself (and others) drinks though and it was getting him to a pleasant level of tipsy relatively quickly though, so he was not complaining.
Especially when he seemed to run into Sanji every other minute as well. The blond popped up in the kitchen, on the dance floor, in the living room, he was sprawled over couches Zoro went to sit on or chatting with friends he was looking for.
It was starting to grate on him like a stone in his shoe that he couldn’t seem to shake off.
He poured himself another glass of the drink.
“Are you on the Eierlikör as well?” Zoro sighed deeply, taking the shot, eyes closed as it burned its way down his throat and only opening them after he’d turned to face him.
“Are you done being pretentious?” He poured another one, filling Sanji’s glass regardless. “Heard someone call it eggnog in common dialect. Y’don’t even speak Northern.” He knew his words were slower than usual, his head a rush of sounds and his eyes were slow as he watched Sanji’s easy smirk die to give way to a more annoyed expression.
“I’ll have you know, that while I may not speak that specific dialect of Northern, I am Northern so I know enough. My native language might be a different one but we learn the other local dialects here.” The unlike you went unsaid but not unheard.
Zoro leaned in close, swayed - fuck, too close. Sanji’s eyes were big and round and blue like the ocean back home. He had a pretty mouth, Zoro mused as he stared, unabashed and open, the liquor breaking any barriers he may have had. Sanji’s lips were kinda thin but a pretty sort of pink colour; Zoro wanted to know if the colour bled into the skin around his mouth if he bit into them.
“Didn’t know you were Northern.” He mumbled instead of whatever he’d actually meant to say. He was sure he’d had a jab ready, something mean and cutting, something about languages and- it was gone. His head fuzzy, vision blurry except for Sanji’s face too close to his (his nose was dusted with red flush).
“You never asked.” Sanji was drunk, too. He could tell. This close, he could see how his eyes were slightly unfocused, pupils blown, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat. He fought the urge to stick his tongue out and lick it, to taste the salt on his skin.
He was going to say something else, something like a question, something nice, but then someone rammed into him from the left and he knew he had had too much to drink when it actually managed to move him, make him lose his footing and crash into Sanji. He knew Sanji had had too much as well when the man could not catch him and they tumbled into a heap onto the ground together.
“Shit, sorry,” whoever had caused this conundrum mumbled before moving away from them.
Move, they should really move. The longer they stayed like this (Zoro sprawled out on top of Sanji), the longer Zoro would have to look at Sanji closely like this, feel his body against his own and know that this would be what it felt like to not fight with him. Impossible, of course, but Zoro was honest enough (and drunk enough) to indulge the fantasy.
Sanji’s eyes were wide with surprise still and Zoro lost himself in them for a minute, a moment, a slight of fancy - imagined them crinkling with a genuine smile, or fluttering lashes before he rolled them in affectionate judgment.
A fancy. Reality looked very different.
“I-” Sanji started, eyes narrowing, harsher suddenly as his breath came shorter. “Get off me, you gigantic moss-haired rock.” Zoro didn’t, he was still lost in the individual pores he could suddenly make out on Sanji’s skin and maybe it was the alcohol but he was sure there were freckles faintly scattered across his cheekbones and nose.
“You weigh tons, I can’t fucking breathe.” That had him moving. As much as he hated the guy, he didn’t want to accidentally suffocate him like this (no, he’d had quite vivid day dreams about doing that with his own bare hands).
Sanji let out a quite ‘oof’ when Zoro pushed his weight off him, lungs suddenly able to expand again as Zoro hovered above him, hands on either side of Sanji’s face.
“I’m gonna- fresh air.” Zoro muttered and pushed up so he could sit back on his haunches. He was still practically straddling Sanji’s slim form which brought a whole new set of imagery to his mind that he would rather not explore here, on the floor of a solstice party. So, he slowly rose to standing, light-headed and a bit wobbly, surprised the liquor had managed to make him this unstable and took a step towards the exit.
A hand closed around his knee. “Wait,” Sanji said quietly enough that Zoro could have pretended not to hear him over the loud music. “I’ll come with.”
Strange. It was strange to be walking side by side with Sanji without either of them trying to knock the other off-balance, or trip them up, or make them spill their coffee.
They made it outside without an incident. Zoro pulling Sanji out of the way of a flying drink which had him look at the green-haired man, confused and even utter a thank you. Sanji was definitely drunk, Zoro concluded, even as he grabbed another bottle of eggnog off one of the hosts.
The air outside was cold, entirely too cold. Zoro could see his breath fog up on every exhale, thick and white as if he was smoking. Sanji was much the same until he pulled an actual cigarette out and his breath and the smoke of it mingled imperceptibly.
“Drink?” Zoro asked in lieu of trying to come up with a conversation topic. He was pleasantly buzzed and wanted to stay that way, happy, floaty, strangely at peace (even though he was still too cold). In all the years he’d known Sanji, he wasn’t sure they had ever had a conversation which didn’t end up in a fight, whether verbal or physical. The alcohol humming in his veins was enough to make him more pliant though, more pleasant. For once, he didn’t want to fight.
“Sure,” Sanji muttered around the cigarette in his mouth, holding out his glass. The liquid made satisfying glug noises as it poured slowly, thickly into the two glasses and Zoro held his up to knock against Sanji’s once he was done.
“Santé.” Zoro had heard that one a few times before, mostly from Sanji whenever they’d been dragged out drinking together by Luffy, but he stayed quiet, averting his eyes.
“No,” Sanji scolded before their glasses could touch. “You have to look the other person in the eye or it means bad sex for seven years.” Zoro almost choked, eyes going wide as he stared at Sanji, who’d gone bright red. “Not for us, as if I’d ever-” That one stung a bit. “Just in general, do you want seven years of bad sex?”
“No, Curls,” Zoro drawled, trying to go for annoyed but honestly unsure if he managed. Though Sanji didn’t make a comment. “Just- fine, again - Santé?” He tried to imitate the way Sanji had said the word but his tongue, unused to the Northern dialects still, did not fully cooperate. Sanji let out a soft laugh (one Zoro thought he might keep tucked away behind his ribs for a while) and repeated the word.
This time Zoro looked at Sanji, eyes locked on his. Once again he was reminded of the ocean at home: Sanji’s eyes were blue and sparkling, bright as if the sun was out instead of the heavily overcast night that had fallen. The golden light that was spilling from the house made his hair a softer blonde, like the last of the willow leaves in his father’s garden during the autumn. Zoro could see his cheeks were flushed red despite the light trying to wash the colour away, smoothing it out by painting his skin more golden than pale but he was looking at Sanji for too long, too intensely not to notice.
It was the longest he’d looked at him maybe ever.
It was too much.
As soon as he felt the impact of glass against glass, heard the clink of it, he averted his eyes, looked away to the stars as he drank it, draining it in one swallow, one click of his throat.
“Ugh, they made it too strong,” Sanji complained.
“Maybe you’re just too weak,” Zoro shot back, but it held nowhere near the bite he had intended it to. It was almost… Zoro could practically hear the smile that he was hiding escape with those words. He wanted to run. A glance back at Sanji showed him glaring, so maybe he hadn’t heard, maybe he hadn’t spotted the bare, vulnerable underbelly of the words, maybe he wouldn’t bury his heel in it.
“Shut the fuck up,” Sanji said, except it sounded more like shudda fugup the way his tongue was too heavy, too big for his mouth, weighed down by alcohol. Zoro giggled.
“What was that?” Sanji was staring at him with wide eyes, disbelieving; Zoro turned away from him, averted his eyes.
“Nothing,” He grunted, voice rough, keeping his eyes on the ground resolutely. He wasn’t about to give himself away over something trivial like Sanji slurring his words. “Let’s just go back inside.”
But Sanji shook his head. “I need to finish my cigarette.” Thankfully, though Zoro wasn’t sure why, he let the giggle go. Zoro shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a grumble.
“Fine.”
“You-” Sanji paused, Zoro could see him looking at him out the corner of his eye but he didn’t turn. The alcohol was making his limbs feel heavy and he could feel his tongue grow heavier but looser at the same time (afraid what might tumble from his mouth if he turned around). “You don’t have to wait with me.” Sanji’s voice was small, impossibly small, like he was unsure.
He couldn’t help but feel off kilter at the realisation. Sanji was many things, but never small.
“It’s snowing.” Zoro’s head snapped up just in time for a cold speck of white to hit his nose. It melted immediately, felt wet on his skin, a tiny freezing spot on his face. He hummed, closing his eyes. He did love the snow. It was the one thing that made these winters tolerable. The world was softer blanketed in white, sounds muffled, dark trees outlined in stark contrast, flora taken out of time under the protection of icy frost and gentle snow.
“I like snow.” It slipped out before he could think better of it, his mind as fuzzy as windows during the first ice night of the year. Whatever was in the eggnog was keeping him warm, but making his tongue more than happy to move without his input.
“You do?” The exhale of Sanji’s smoke didn’t look much different from Zoro’s air. “I only ever heard you cursing out the cold.”
“The cold and snow are two different things,” Zoro heard himself say. “I hate the cold. It dries out my skin, my lips chap and I have to wear too many layers. The snow makes it bearable because at least it’s nice to look at. It’s pretty to see the world all covered in white, snowball fights are fun, too. Just, yeah, snow is different.” He trailed off, stretching a hand out to catch one of the fat flakes tumbling out of the sky. It melted as soon as it hit skin.
“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak.” Sanji sounded incredulous somehow.
“Fuck off,” Zoro bristled. “I know you like to call me dumb but I’m not actually incapable of speech.” In his periphery he watched as Sanji recoiled.
“That’s not what I said, asshole.” Zoro kicked at a stone on the ground. “You always do this, you twist my words into things I never meant to say.”
“No, I don’t.” Sanji threw his hands in the air which Zoro only kind of caught, eyes still resolutely focused on the ground in front of him. The snow was sticking, the dark stone already beginning to be covered in a thin layer of white.
“Yes, you do! Look at me, marimo, if you’re claiming you’re not so dumb, fucking listen to what I’m saying and look at me.”
So, he did. Sanji’s cheeks were red, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold, the alcohol or the anger that he could see swimming in his ocean blue eyes.
“What.” He cut himself off before his good-for-nothing tongue could get him into more trouble. Sanji, on the other hand, seemed taken aback that he’d actually listened. It allowed him to regain some of his footing, made him roll his shoulders back to stand at his full height and stare him down.
“Fuck, you - ugh!” Sanji screamed into the air before pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You’re impossible, do you know that?”
Zoro rolled his eyes. “Anything else you wanna throw at me, Curly?" The red on Sanji's cheeks was spreading down to his neck.
"I'd love to throw several things at you, actually. Matter of fact, if you're ever in my vicinity while I'm in a kitchen, I'll have a hard time choosing between a pan and a knife." His voice was vitriol, acid thrown in his direction with the intent to burn and hiss and eat at his flesh. But Zoro laughed.
The whole situation was ridiculous. He didn't want to fight. Snow was falling around them and all Zoro really wanted was to lie down and watch it dance around them as it did, carried by one gust of wind or another. In front of him Sanji spluttered.
"Why are you laughing, you imbecile?" The insult didn't deter him. The air around them grew thicker with snowflakes, denser, they were falling faster. "One minute you claim you're not dumb and the next you break out into laughter for no fucking reason after I threatened you with a knife?"
"You wouldn't actually do it," Zoro stated. Drunk, he was drunk - and cold, it made him do and say stupid things.
"Fucking watch me," Sanji hissed in return, eyes still vicious and fierce. Zoro just shook his head as his laughter slowly began to ebb away.
"You wouldn't." he said again, conviction colouring his words like unyielding steel. He took another swig of the eggnog, this time straight from the bottle.
"Stop." Sanji lurched forward to reach for the bottle. "Stop drinking even more." Zoro sidestepped him easily, even while inebriated his reflexes kicked in. "You're clearly already too drunk."
Zoro evaded his next attempt for the bottle as well, stumbling a little as his feet tangled but he caught himself before falling. Sanji swayed as well as he moved, hands clumsy, legs heavy. Zoro started laughing again as he kept the bottle a safe distance away and Sanji's curses filled his ears.
"Right, fine, fuck it, let's make a bet." Zoro froze where he stood before slowly turning towards the other man. Sanji was breathing heavily, hands on his hips, a sour expression on his face.
"A bet?" Snow continued to gather on the ground.
"A bet." He repeated before loosely gesturing in Zoro and the bottle's direction. "If I win I get the bottle and you stop drinking for tonight." Zoro scoffed.
"And if I win?" Sanji fumbled. The music from inside the house grew louder, then died away again.
"I don't know, what- um, what do you want?" Zoro paused to consider, but it didn't take him long.
"A secret."
Sanji cocked his head in confusion.
"A secret?" He echoed, much like Zoro had earlier. Zoro leaned forward with a smirk (close, close enough to see the blurry edges of red staining Sanji's cheeks).
"If I win, you have to tell me a secret. One that you've been holding close, hiding." He watched as Sanji froze at his words. Deliriously, he thought maybe the falling snow would land on his skin and turn him to ice right along with them. But the tiny flecks continued to melt on his skin much like Zoro's.
"Fine, fine, whatever. You're not gonna win." Sanji grumbled.
"How would you know? We haven't even come up with a competition yet." Zoro grinned when Sanji spluttered, again. "We fight?" Sanji shot him a look.
"No, absolutely not."
"Afraid you'll lose?" A kick to the shin, that Zoro knew was supposed to hurt more than it did, landed on him; he hissed at the sting of pain.
"No," Sanji growled. "I'm not 'afraid I'll lose.' Shithead." Zoro wanted to giggle at the air quotes Sanji used to emphasize his point but he swallowed it. One giggle under the influence was enough, he wasn't sure his pride could take another (or that Sanji would let it go as easily the second time). "We are in public and drunk. That's a recipe for disaster and hospital trips. Gods, and you claim not to have moss for brains."
Zoro threw a weak punch in Sanji's general direction that the other evaded easily.
"Then what?" Silence lapsed between them as they tried to come up with a competition they could both compete at right now that did not involved a grievous amount of bodily harm.
"Snowflakes." Sanji said, suddenly. Zoro tilted his head in confusion, nodding his chin for Sanji to go on. "We catch snowflakes. With our tongues." The expression on his face had morphed, Zoro was sure, from not understanding to imagining Sanji with three heads. But the more he thought on it… It was stupid, silly, a literal child's game but… surely it'd be easy to win.
"You're on." It was ridiculous, and Zoro should have said no, but the eggnog was making him stupid tonight, making him a little reckless, tongue loose, ribs broken wide open and vulnerable, revealing a heart much too easily hurt.
"Okay, um, first one to ten?" Sanji offered, Zoro's mind was swimming, hands heavy at his sides.
"That sounds reasonable." He shook his head slightly, unsure if it actually was reasonable. But he wanted to keep his eggnog to keep drinking (keep avoiding) and, really, how hard could it be to catch ten snowflakes on his tongue?
More difficult than anticipated.
They both looked like lunatics. Running around the front yard of the house, faces lit up occasionally by the orange street lamps, mouths wide open, tongues sticking out. Randomly, one of them would shout a number and the other would curse.
The competitiveness that ran through Zoro's body like blood was thriving, rushing. He felt high off it, though that might also be the alcohol. He wasn't cold, except for his tongue as it was constantly exposed to the freezing air, but that might have been the alcohol as well.
"Nine," Sanji exclaimed - they were on equal footing. Zoro growled low in his throat in response. His eyes scanned the dark sky, the thick white flakes that were falling much quicker than either of them had thought and moved, tongue still out .
Cold. Perfect.
He felt the snowflake hit his tongue with a sharp blooming of sensation that spread as the ice melted and he snapped his mouth shut, whirling around to face Sanji -
A curse slipped out of his mouth instead of a number, unbidden and surprising, but Sanji, Sanji looked cute. His tongue sticking out of his mouth, skin orange where the streetlamp light hit it, strong jaw and cheekbones and nose accentuated by the sharp shadows it was casting.
Zoro wanted to kiss him.
He needed to not think about that.
"Ten," he blurted out just as Sanji's tongue disappeared in his mouth and he said: "Ten."
"I was first." Zoro griped immediately (he had been, would have been if he hadn't got distracted, but Sanji couldn't know that).
"We said it at the same time," Sanji argued back, stomping towards him with fire in his eyes.
"But I was first." Zoro held fast.
"No." Sanji crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his chin in defiance. Zoro closed his eyes to pinch his nose (and maybe stop the light fucking with his vision for a second).
"Well, what do you propose?" He let his hand drop and looked at Sanji again, exasperation colouring his words. He knew he'd won, he wanted to keep drinking and he really wanted to escape Sanji's unwavering gaze. It was too much, too intense, Zoro felt like Sanji was trying to look straight into his soul (and he was afraid of what he'd find there).
"We could… do it again?" The way Sanji cringed as he said it had Zoro rolling his eyes.
"Curls, I entertained you once catching snowflakes on our tongues like children." (Never mind the fact the sight had truly disarmed him.) "But I'm not doing it again." Mask up, even drunk - he knew better. Sanji had never liked him, ever since they met and though Zoro's heart may not have caught on to that fact, his brain surely had. He was not putting himself through that again.
"A tie then!" Sanji shouted, both hands flying up in the air, less graceful than he usually moved. Zoro kissed his teeth and shook his head.
"A tie?" Sanji nodded. "And how do you think that's gonna resolve our bet?" Sanji paused, contemplating. His face scrunched up, nose pulled up, curly brows down. Zoro wanted to reach out and pinch his cheeks, maybe bite the tip of his nose, maybe kick him in the stomach to lace the expression with pain.
"All or nothing." A new fire of challenge had risen in Sanji's body language as he built himself up in front of him, shoulders back, chest out, daring Zoro to shoot him down. "You were barely upright catching those snow flakes." Zoro went to argue but Sanji shushed him (and maybe he did remember the world kind of turning a bit funky on its axis when he'd been staring up too much).
"So," Sanji continued. "Either, we both win or neither wins." They were locked in a weird kind of stare down.
Zoro knew the trade wasn't fair. His bottle of eggnog for a secret.
Sanji was a man full of secrets. None of their friends seemed to know anything about his family, or where exactly he was from, or where he'd been before uni. He only ever gave vague answers or simply evaded the question by offering food instead.
The others hadn't noticed; Zoro had.
"Really?" It slipped out before he could stop it,simultaneously too fast and too slow. While he'd definitely sobered up a bit in his mind, his tongue was still heavy and saturated with it.
"Yeah," Sanji said and there was something breathless about it, like he was realising something, like he was talking himself into it.
Zoro shrugged, feigning indifference and held out the bottle of eggnog. "Bet."
Watching Sanji's eyes go wide as if he hadn't expected that, knocked him off-kilter like a ship held in the grasps of the sea, knocked sideways in the chop. Sanji spluttered making more noise than sense, leaving Zoro to watch as he sorted himself out.
"But… you love alcohol?" Sanji's voice was small, soft like a baby chick or.. the first snow.
"I want to know your secrets more." Too honest, too much, Zoro wanted to run but his feet were rooted to the ground. He wasn't sure it was possible for Sanji's eyes to open wider but he was trying - Zoro was half-afraid they would fall out of their sockets. The surprise (panic?) mirrored in them was what had Zoro slowly lower his arm after a beat.
"Or… not, I mean," he faltered, fumbled, thoughts too slow, too tangled. "We can just- not?"
"No," Sanji interrupted. "A bet's a bet." A heavy sigh escaped him, painted into the air in a thin fog. Zoro was reminded of his cigarettes. He wondered if Sanji could do the smoke rings.
"I like you."
Zoro choked.
Sanji's hands were on his shoulders, his back immediately as he tried to calm him down, help him somehow. Zoro coughed like he was trying to hack up his lungs, turn them inside out and leave them somewhere in the snow.
Three words echoing in his mind as he was losing oxygen and his throat began to burn.
Three words echoing in his mind as he listened to Sanji's voice in his ear, close, too close, trying to figure out how to make it stop.
Three words echoing in his mind as he lost his own.
"You wanted a fucking secret, marimo, and you got it," Sanji hissed, one of his hands rubbing at his back while Zoro finally began to stop coughing. "Don't go dying on me just because of this revelation. You can just say 'no thank you' and move on."
"What?" He croaked, his voice was wrecked but he managed, mind still trying to catch up.
"Reject me," Sanji repeated, making Zoro's eyes grow wide. "I know you don't like me, Zoro."
"Real names…" He muttered but trailed off when Sanji glared at him.
"Whatever. It's no secret that you dislike me." Zoro went to say something but Sanji barrelled on. "You're not very good at hiding it. Always glaring at me and insulting me, fighting me."
"Sanji-"
"And I'm not even really sure why I like you to be honest. You're crude and ill-mannered. I've seen you eat, it's a travesty." He was still digging his fingers into the meat of Zoro's shoulders even though the other man had long since stopped coughing.
"Sanji-"
"And you treat women, especially Nami, horrendously, you're so rude." Zoro was trying to catch his eye but Sanji was steadfastly staring at his own hands on Zoro's shoulders rather than his face.
"Sanji." Finally, he went quiet, words petering out as Zoro took his face between his hands and spoke decisively: "I like you, too." Sanji went still, too still. Zoro kept going.
"Don't ask me why." He chuckled hoarsely, his throat aching. "You're fancy, stuck up and frankly pay too much attention to women, it's weird."
"Hey, I-" Sanji started but Zoro shushed him, let his thumb catch on his lower lip to quieten him. (It worked, and if Sanji's cheeks went from rosebud to full bloom, well, that was for him to know and Zoro to witness.)
"But you're also strong and infuriating and kind and hot, fuck me, you're so hot when you wield a knife." That startled a laugh out of the blond and Zoro smiled.
"Are you serious?" Sanji asked after a beat. "Or is this… is this a prank or, or the alcohol?" Zoro shook his head.
"I may be an asshole," he grinned when Sanji rolled his eyes and pressed their foreheads together. "But I'm not that much of an asshole. I would never lie about this. Never."
"I know," Sanji whispered. Zoro could feel his breath on his lips. "You're a better man than that."
"Never thought I'd hear you admit that I'm the better man." Zoro couldn't help himself. Marveled at the angry red splotches on Sanji's skin as he spluttered.
"That is not what I said, asshole-" Sanji started but Zoro cut him off with a kiss.
Lips on lips, they both froze, as if too much of the snow had landed on their skins, turning them to ice.
"Stop twisting words." Sanji muttered right against Zoro's lips which had him smiling, nudging Sanji's nose with his own as the kiss broke.
"Make me." The kick to his shin was expected, the hand in his hair pulling him back in for another kiss was not.
It was messier this time, no longer stationary. Zoro kissed back as good as he got, a different kind of battle, a different method of fighting. Their mouths met, warm and wet, lips slightly chapped from the cold. Open-mouthed and needy, their tongues met; Zoro could taste the eggnog.
Hands still on Sanji's face, Zoro kept him close, let his fingertips dip into soft, soft hair, meet at the back of his skull and pull him in closer, closer, until there was not much space between them at all. It was exhilarating, having him this close, knowing what he tasted like, knowing what he kissed like.
Sanji's hands were on Zoro's hips, pulling him into his body until they were standing chest to chest, hip to hip. Zoro could feel them both shift slightly as Sanji leaned in even closer his own shoulders dipped backwards, like something out of a romance film. But he couldn't really bring himself to care.
Under the orange light of the streetlamp, in the soft dancing of the first snow, he had the man he'd wanted for so long kissing him and holding him close.
In retaliation though, he snuck one hand down to Sanji's waist and hoisted him up so his feet could no longer touch the ground. Sanji let out a high-pitched squeal of surprise, breaking their kiss, hands readjusting to splay across Zoro's chest.
He connected their lips again before he twirled them around, making Sanji speak a litany of insults right into his mouth (and he breathed them in like air).
The room was warm around them, the blankets soft, and Zoro could finally feel his toes again. The half-finished bottle of eggnog stood abandoned on his desk. Sanji was drawing invisible patterns onto his chest, head resting on Zoro's bicep.
"How long?" He mumbled so quietly that Zoro almost missed it.
"Too long." He replied, expecting Sanji to fight him on it, to demand he tell him, slap the sensitive skin under his belly button to make him.
Instead, Sanji hummed quietly. "Me too." Before he stilled, leaning up, fingers curling around Zoro's chin to pull him down for another kiss. "Too long."
The snow continued falling outside, covering the earth in a blanket of iced white. The windows fogged up to hide it.