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Zoro was desperate to fight Sanji and not in the way that many of their friends assumed. It had become clear to everyone early on what kind of relationship the two of them had; antagonistic and potentially sexual. Therefore Zoro itching for a fight was no surprise to anyone, really. What might’ve thrown some would’ve been the nature of the fight he wanted. He was in the mood for a full on spar. No pulling punches, no protective gear, and no referee. Just two men genuinely fighting like they want to kill each other, but not out of rage or spite. They’d fight just to see how strong the other was.
Ever since that first party at Nami’s when Sanji had kicked Zoro across the yard on pure reflex the thought had been plaguing him. Obviously the kick had immediately turned him on. The dull ache of spots that would’ve bruised if he hadn’t been as quick in a fight as he was haunted his every interaction with Sanji that night. The burning desire to see and feel more of that strength nearly doubled when he finally got to feel those legs and the hard muscles beneath his skin. He quickly forgot, however, as other things took his attention.
Still, the thought had been at the back of his mind everyday since then. He wanted Sanji to throw him around a little. Zoro was a big guy so few people could move him if he decided he didn’t want to move. He wanted to know if Sanji was one of those people. If Zoro was pinned by those impressive legs, would he be able to wiggle out? Would he have to be careful breaking the hold so as to not hurt Sanji? Would the fight be quick and leave Zoro more or less unscathed? He hoped not.
He wanted it to ache. Wanted it to bruise him where he’s held. He wanted to leave the fight sore and sweaty. He wanted Sanji to land as many hits as he took. When two people who were evenly matched sparred it seemed more like a dance than a fight. It’s been so long since Zoro had gotten to experience that. Maybe he never got to experience it. Oftentimes his fights were too easy. He never went pro for Kendo like Mihawk had told him to. That wasn’t the point for him. There were too many rules in official matches for him. Sucked all the fun out of it. They only showed who was the best at following rules, not the best at swordsmanship. Therefore, when he would fight in the odd tournaments he would always drop out before he met an opponent on his level.
If Zoro fought outside of tournaments it was more like training than anything. His opponent was always just strong enough that he was at a slight disadvantage. Mihawk was a master and nearly impossible to defeat with where Zoro was currently. Koshiro hadn’t picked up a sword in at least a decade. His role in the dojo was administrative now and he only taught Tai Chi. Luffy was hard to spar with. The guy was strong, but he didn’t use weapons so Zoro had to leave his swords behind for safety reasons which put him at a disadvantage. You might think that it would be alright if Zoro used wooden swords, but those things were far too flimsy to keep up with the energetic boy. After breaking nearly ten swords in one week they decided to forgo them at all. They would’ve tried using real swords, but Luffy had a nasty habit of grabbing or blocking the edge of the swords instead of deflecting. Sometimes the dumbass would straight up run into the damn thing. Even when Zoro used to spar with Kuina he would always lose fast enough that it wasn’t really fun. Looking back, it could’ve been, but he was far more competitive and childish back then. It’s always been a regret he’d carried.
Thinking about it, Zoro doesn’t think he’s ever been able to spar with someone on his level. He’d seen it before though. He remembered once when he was young watching Mihawk and Shanks fight each other. It was before the redhead had lost his arm. Before the two men drifted apart. When Mihawk would still occasionally smile. The fight had been incredible and a major reason Zoro had wanted to take up kendo. Mihawk had used Yoru while Shanks had his own sword, both sharp as hell. It didn’t matter. They were both so quick they seemed to dance around each other. Each blow was met with a block or parry which was quickly followed by a counter attack. There were rarely any pauses in the movement. When there were, they were filled with smiles and laughter.
As Zoro watched, barely seven years old, he thought, “This must be what love looks like.”
~~~
“Why am I doing this?” Zoro asked despite knowing that he would only end up making a certain blonde chef more angry then he already was.
“Because you're a reprobate and that has to change if you want me to stick around,” Sanji bit at him from where he was digging through the fridge nearby.
After Hiyori had found out she’d lost the bet, Sanji had been adamant that Zoro had to do something to apologize. It made no sense to the swordsman. Why would he apologize when she lost a bet she made fair and square? Still, Zoro had apparently been ‘unnecessarily cold’ and ‘extremely rude’. That’s why Sanji was currently making him build a fruit basket. The idea was Sanji’s and he’d picked out all the fruits, the basket, and the decorations, so Zoro had argued this wasn’t necessary if the greenhaired man was the one meant to be apologizing while putting in little effort. His point was ignored since Sanji claimed he ‘could’ve stopped it’ from happening so it was partially his fault.
Zoro kept it to himself in an act of self preservation, but he was secretly very pleased to know that Sanji had actively avoided giving in that evening. The fool was as stubborn as an ox when he set his mind to something and even that couldn’t keep Zoro away. It made him all the more determined to stick around and wait for the cook. Sanji was clearly into him, so when he said he wasn’t ready to date he really meant it. If this was important to Sanji then it was important to Zoro.
Sanji passed over more fruits for Zoro to clumsily arrange, “You’re lucky Hiyori is a literal angel who can forgive with just a mediocre fruit basket and some manual labor.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro rolled his eyes.
The basket was soon finished and the two of them hopped into the car to drive to Hiyori’s apartment. It was a nicer place than Zoro was used to, but that didn’t surprise him. Her family were very well known swordsmiths. They could afford fancier places than this. He respected their decision to leave here, however. They didn’t need any more space since the only people who lived here were Hiyori, her brother, and a little girl named Toko that he still didn’t understand the importance of. Hiyori said she wasn’t her sister, but had not followed up with a further explanation. Zoro knew that Sanji would say he was equally at fault for not asking any follow up questions either, but he didn’t care. If it was a sensitive topic the cook would be equally annoyed if he did ask questions, so his opinion seemed void here. Zoro ignored the fact that Sanji had no idea the conversation had happened in the first place so all his opinions were purely ones Zoro had made up in his own head.
The two of them stood before the door as Sanji knocked, Zoro holding the fruit basket and a tool box. It was only a moment before they were let in. Hiyori opened the door in paint stained overalls and her green hair in a messy bun. She clearly had just been neck deep in a very hands on craft of some kind, regardless she was still undeniably beautiful. Zoro thought, not for the first time, that if he’d been straight he would’ve asked her out ages ago. She had told him that first night they met that most men would’ve been beside themselves to have her over at their place and he could see why. Hiyori was effortlessly beautiful and kind. She had this air about her that drew you in with a promise of safety and fun. The way she spoke to you made you feel secure in both yourself and your relationship with her. Hiyori made you feel like she genuinely liked you and was interested in what you had to say. She wasn’t boring either. When she cared about something it was easy to get swept along with her. In fact, it was almost impossible not to. She was a catch by any definition.
But Zoro thought all those things also applied to Sanji so he didn’t feel like he was missing out.
“I hope we’re not interrupting, my dear,” Sanji crooned obnoxiously, leaning in to kiss Hiyori’s cheek.
“Oh, not at all,” she said, stepping out of the way to let the two men slip inside, “I was just mixing some paint for the walls.”
“I assume that means you want us to jump right in, then?” Sanji passed the fruit basket over.
“Figured Zoro would prefer it that way.”
“Well, this isn’t about what the buffoon prefers, this is about what you want.”
Hiyori laughed lightly, “Let me set this down in the kitchen first. Then we can get started painting.”
“I brought some things to make lunch, if you’d like,” Sanji suggested, following Hiyori into the apartment.
“Isn’t this meant to be my apology?” Zoro quipped moodily as he trailed behind, “You’re doing more work than I am.”
“You learn pretty quickly that it's almost impossible to stop Sanji from cooking,” Hiyori said, cutting Sanji off before he could begin scolding, “It’s easier to just let him do his thing.”
Just like that the matter seemed settled. Hiyori placed the fruit basket on the counter before moving aside so Sanji could take over the room. It seemed this wasn’t the first time he’d cooked there since Sanji quickly began his usual flitting about. Without another word to the cook, Hiyori guided Zoro deeper into the apartment. Today they were doing some work to remodel Toko’s bedroom. Hiyori pointed Zoro towards an IKEA desk-shelf thing before returning to mixing the paint. It was already unpackaged so Zoro picked up the directions and began building it. They worked in silence for the most part. It was nice.
They‘d been working for about thirty minutes when Hiyori finally spoke, “You two seem to be really getting along.”
Zoro just grunted in affirmation. He had no idea where this was going.
“I really didn’t see that coming.”
Zoro just grunted again.
“Sanji’s been pretty tight-lipped about this whole thing, which isn’t really like him. When he first started dating Pudding he wouldn’t shut up about her!”
Hiyori froze like she said something wrong. Zoro supposed she probably had. It's taboo to talk about an ex like that. Especially one as recent and long term as Pudding had been. Most people would immediately start to compare themselves, but Zoro wasn’t really like that. Besides, he sort of liked this particular difference between himself and Pudding. From what he gathered Sanji was constantly giving when they were together, doting on her as he’s wont to do. It didn’t seem like she gave much in return. The fact that he’s not gushing about Zoro to others seems like evidence that this time is different. Sanji won’t lose himself to Zoro’s needs like he did to Puddings. But Hiyori can’t read minds so she doesn’t know that and is still panicking which Zoro supposes he should remedy.
“We’re taking it slow,” he finally spoke up, drawing her attention, “Seems like things with her were pretty intense and neither of us want that.”
She sagged slightly with relief before returning to painting, “I’m glad. He deserves something slow. Also bodes well that you’ve put that much thought in. No offense, but you seem a little dense about feelings and stuff like that.”
“None taken.”
“So, things are going well then?”
Zoro grunts in affirmation.
Hiyori smiles down at him, “Good.”
They spent the rest of their work time in silence. Halfway through Sanji interrupted them for lunch. It was some simple fried rice with some lemonade that for some unexplainable reason seemed different (and better) than any lemonade Zoro had before. After lunch Sanji insisted on Hiyori sitting down while he painted in her place. She watched on, snacking on the fruit basket and sipping lemonade, as they worked and bickered.
Soon they were done, bidding polite good-byes before leaving, covered in sweat and paint.
~~~
The time had finally come for their first spar. Zoro was nearly vibrating out of his skin in excitement. He’d seen flashes of Sanji’s strength a few times since he was launched across Nami’s lawn. A kick to the ankle, which always hurt more than he expected, when he was out of line was not uncommon. Unfortunately, Sanji was always careful to mitigate his strength. It left Zoro alone to imagine just how much damage those legs could do.
Until now.
They were currently in workout gear in Koshiro’s dojo after close. Zoro had pulled some shinai out and placed them off to the side. Across the room Sanji was stretching, distracting the swordsman from his own stretching. Every move seemed to end in Sanji bent in half on the mat, which wasn’t all that new to Zoro. He’d bent the other in half plenty of times at this point, but this was different. Most people could survive having a knee pushed up by their ears while in bed. Sanji could apparently do it while standing. The flexibility was staggering. He couldn’t ogle forever, though, because soon Sanji was bouncing on the balls of his feet while eyeing Zoro expectantly.
“You always take this long, shit swordsman?” Sanji quipped, looking pink and bright and beautiful.
“Just waiting for you,” he said instead as he stood up and grabbed a shinai.
Sanji stood in a defensive position that was more open than any Zoro had seen before, arms in his pockets with both feet solidly on the floor. The swordsman took the obvious shot and swung his sword toward the other man’s side. Sanji just shot his leg up, bare foot stopping the motion. The two made eye contact and the cook smiled smugly. Zoro was sure his own face was open in shock, but he didn’t let it last long. He quickly jumped back to grab a second shinai from the floor as Sanji’s leg dropped.
“One not enough?”
“Just seeing if you can handle two.”
Sanji launched forward with a spinning kick which Zoro easily blocked with his shinai. Undeterred, the cook sent the leg he was standing on up, knee aiming for the swordsman’s chin. Zoro moved his head just in time to avoid the impact, swinging towards the leg that had stabilized him. He made contact with Sanji’s thigh before jumping back.
They were both slightly panting as they stared each other down. Sanji had a wild look in his eye. A challenging fire Zoro had only seen him have before in bed. It sent a thrill up his spine and not just because of the memories that it brought forth. There was promise in those eyes.
They leapt back at each other, going blow for blow. It wasn’t long before Zoro had a third shinai between his teeth. Sanji had laughed for only a moment before Zoro was attacking him again and he was forced to focus. The fight was thrilling. There was a hum in the air that made Zoro feel electric. He was purely focused on keeping up with Sanji, but there was also something mindless to it as well. Each move felt like the natural next step. The whole thing almost felt more like a dance than any fight he’d been in. His muscles sung with the sweet ache of a work out and the dull throb of forming bruises. The room warmed his skin and his heart. He felt more than knew that his face was split in a feral grin. Sanji seemed to be in a similar state. His hair had begun sticking to his red face due to his sweat, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were lit up in a way that only magnified the thrill Zoro felt. Everything else fell away in the wake of their spar. No one else and nothing else mattered as each kick and swing was met by shinai or legs as easily as breathing. All thoughts faded leaving only one floating above Zoro like a balloon tied to his wrist.
“So this must be what love feels like.”