Chapter Text
Zoro crossed his arms and leaned forward against the railing of the Going Merry’s crowsnest, sighing contentedly. The night was mild, with a warm breeze sending the ship gently onward in the direction of the Grand Line.
The Straw Hats had left Cocoyasi a few days prior, and Zoro was finally back to his normal routine. He'd needed so much rest while healing from the duel with Mihawk that he hadn't been able to take the night watches. After a nice long stint recovering in the village after Arlong’s defeat, the swordsman eagerly volunteered to resume taking the lion's share of the overnight shifts. He looked up at the millions of stars overhead and breathed deeply, enjoying the relaxed alertness that came to him at night.
Zoro crossed the few steps over to the opposite side of the crowsnest, looking aft and watching the reflection of the Merry’s rear lantern bobbing in the ship's wake. His sharp ears caught the click of a door, followed by a few quiet steps on the deck below. He turned back towards the front of the ship and peered over the railing, just catching the kitchen door closing behind someone.
Zoro smirked slightly. If Luffy was foraging for a late night snack, he'd catch hell from the cook in the morning if he made a mess. As annoying as their new cook was, he took no shit as far as his kitchen and their food was concerned, which Zoro grudgingly respected. And not that he'd ever admit it, but the snacks that the cook prepared for the night watch were a huge improvement over Zoro's previous strategy of ignoring his hunger until morning.
Zoro's smirk faded as he realized that if that was Luffy in the kitchen, his own chances of getting to enjoy those snacks were now zero. Just then, he heard footsteps on the deck again, then to his surprise, the creaking of rigging as someone began climbing up.
Sanji vaulted gracefully into the crowsnest, straightened his tie, and handed a bento box to a nonplussed Zoro.
“What…why are you here?” he asked, eyeing Sanji's suit. The cook was impeccably dressed as always, with no concession to the fact that it was past 2 in the morning.
The cook shrugged, tapping a cigarette out of his pack. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Zoro's confusion didn't abate. “And so you got up, put on a suit, and climbed up here to bring me a snack?”
Sanji huffed dismissively, focused on lighting his smoke. He took a drag before answering.
“I woke up, knew I wouldn't fall back asleep, got dressed in my normal, socially acceptable clothing, and went to the kitchen to clean or prep or whatever. Saw you hadn't come down to get the bento and figured I'd stretch my legs,” he corrected.
Zoro shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He placed the bento on the floor next to him, then turned back to the railing, gazing out at the sea. Maybe if he ignored the cook, he'd leave.
“I guess you don't know this because you've been recovering from that little papercut,” said Sanji, gesturing vaguely in Zoro's direction, “but it's not unusual for me to be up at night. I'm not a very good sleeper.”
Zoro's confusion returned in full force. “How can you be bad at sleeping?? Isn't that, like, a basic human instinct?” He scoffed derisively. “Man, Luffy picked a real gem, didn't he? Shitty waiter, shitty cook, shitty sleeper. What else are you bad at? Need help breathing?”
A dangerous smile flashed onto the cook's face. “I don't need to be well-rested to kick your ass.”
Zoro cocked his head, gauging the size of the crowsnest and the distance between him and the cook. As if reading his mind, Sanji went on.
“Not much room up here for you to swing a sword, with that mast in the way.”
“Not much room for your fancy kicks either,” shot back Zoro.
“Aww, you think they're fancy?” The cook's smile widened and he placed a hand on his chest, acting flattered.
“Waste of energy, more like,” grumbled Zoro, rolling his eyes. Sanji snorted, amused, and took another drag on his cigarette.
The moment of tension ebbed away as they stood in silence for a few minutes, both accepting that a fight in the crowsnest wasn't really an option.
“I still don't understand what you mean. About being a bad sleeper,” said Zoro eventually.
“Not understanding seems to be your natural state, hmm?” Sanji's tone was light but then he sighed. “It's rare for me to sleep through the night. I wake up easily and it's hard to fall asleep again. By now I can tell if it's worth trying again when I wake up, or if I should just get up. Hence…” He trailed off, gesturing with his cigarette in a way that encompassed his suit, Zoro, and the crowsnest.
Zoro frowned. “Aren't you tired all the time?”
The cook shrugged. “Nah, I’m used to it. Don't worry about me, Mosshead.”
“I'm not worried about you, moron, I'm worried about what will happen to the crew if you collapse from exhaustion in the middle of a fight,” retorted Zoro.
Sanji grinned like a cat cornering a mouse. “Why? Are you admitting my fancy kicks are useful in a fight?”
Zoro groaned, realizing he was trapped. “Never mind, I don't give a shit. Never sleep again for all I care.”
The cook laughed, stubbing out his cigarette butt against the railing. He nodded at the bento box. “Don't forget to bring that down with you in the morning. And let me know what you think.”
“Don't tell me what to do,” muttered Zoro reflexively, but without much heat behind it. The cook rolled his eyes, climbed out of the crowsnest, and began descending towards the deck.
Over the next few hours, Zoro paced the boards of the crowsnest, stretched, meditated, practiced some of the more compact kata, and generally whiled away the night in his typical fashion. Through it all, the light shone through the window in the kitchen door like a second moon below his feet.
Zoro walked into the kitchen in the morning, yawning hugely, and tossed the empty bento box at the cook. Sanji snagged it with one hand while pouring coffee for Usopp, who yelped as the container flew past his face.
“Think fast,” smirked Zoro.
“Don't throw my dishes, you neanderthal,” scolded Sanji. “I can't believe I have to say that.”
“It's wood,” pointed out Zoro, flopping down next to Usopp and holding out a mug for coffee.
The cook rolled his eyes but poured him a cup. “Absolutely not the point, asshole.” He turned away, then turned back to Zoro and raised the bento box. “How was it?”
“Uh, fine?” Zoro honestly couldn't remember what he'd eaten. The cook shook his head and rounded the counter.
Zoro watched the cook bustle around the kitchen as he sipped his coffee. As Sanji filled and refilled plates and mugs and chatted and laughed with the rest of the crew, there was no sign that he was running on a few hours of sleep. In contrast, Zoro was shoveling his breakfast between jaw-cracking yawns, and quickly departed for his morning nap.
A few nights later, after Sanji's second late-night snack delivery, Zoro paused on his way toward the mast to begin his watch as a thought occurred to him. He turned back to the kitchen and grabbed the bento box that the cook had prepared after dinner, tucking it into his haramaki and then climbing up to the crowsnest.
It was so late that it was almost early when Zoro heard the bunk room door open, followed by the kitchen door. To his surprise, a few minutes later the soft click of dress shoes on the deck sounded, followed by the quiet squeak of ropes as the cook climbed up.
“Come on, man,” whispered Zoro under his breath, irritated, then at full volume as Sanji hopped over the crowsnest railing, “Can I help you?”
The cook straightened his already straight tie and levelled a critical look at Zoro.
“Certainly not.” He patted his pockets for his cigarettes, adding, “I'll let you know the day I need to smell like a swamp thing.”
“Better than cancer sticks,” grumbled Zoro, making a show of fanning away smoke as the cook lit one.
“I'm downwind, idiot,” pointed out the cook drily. Zoro, realizing he was right, made no reply, just turned away and stared out at the sea and stars.
After a few minutes of silence, the cook spoke. “I like the view up here.”
“I like the solitude,” said Zoro pointedly over his shoulder.
The cook chuckled. “Oh boohoo, you've been alone for hours.”
“And it's been great.”
The cook chuckled again and gestured at the empty bento box near Zoro's feet. “How was that?”
“Fine,” shrugged Zoro.
“Of course it was,” said Sanji tartly. He took a final drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out on the railing, then held out his hand. Zoro handed him the empty box and the cook climbed over the railing to leave, then paused.
“Coffee’ll be ready when you come down.”
Zoro nodded, and the cook descended to the deck. Despite his complaining, he supposed the cook’s visit hadn't been that annoying.
Another night. Zoro was starting to begrudgingly accept the fact that if the cook got up in the night, he'd make the climb to the crowsnest, and there didn't seem to be much that Zoro could do about it. At least he got his snacks delivered.
“How accommodating,” grumbled Zoro as Sanji arrived and handed him the night's bento box.
The cook raised an eyebrow. “I didn't know you knew any five-syllable words.”
Zoro's eyes narrowed. “Here's four more for you: go fuck yourself.”
The cook laughed. “That's more like it. You should stay in your lane, Mossbrain. If you can find it.”
“I can't believe you got out of a nice warm bed in the middle of the night, put on a full suit, and climbed all the way up here just to talk shit,” said Zoro, shaking his head.
“Well, you know what they say.” Sanji took a long drag of his cigarette. “If you can't be nice, look nice.”
Zoro threw his head back and laughed long and loud. Sanji eyed him, a little surprised, and eventually cracked a small grin.
“You got a kick out of that, huh.”
Zoro, still chuckling, said, “That actually explains so much about you.”
“Doesn't explain you, though. Because you don't look–”
“I don't look nice or act nice, yeah, yeah,” interrupted Zoro, grinning. “Got it.”
Sanji smirked in return. “You're catching on. Soon you'll be able to insult yourself instead of me having to do it all the time.”
Zoro straightened up off the railing and puffed out his chest, pretending to fix a tie. He draped a hand over his forehead so that his fingers partially covered his eyes, and adopted his best Sanji voice.
“Idiot mosshead, you wouldn't know the difference between a beautiful woman and a bowl of soup if I kicked your ass into the ocean!”
“What is that?? What are you even doing?” said Sanji, aghast. “Is that supposed to be my voice??”
Zoro wiggled his fingers, still posing. “And your dumb hair in your dumb face.”
“Brutal. That was so stupid. I'm stupid now because of you.” Sanji shook his head and tamped out his cigarette butt on the sole of his shoe. “I'm leaving. Have a bad night.”
“I'm leaving. Have a bad night,” echoed Zoro, Sanji accent worsening as he tried and failed not to laugh.
The cook shuddered dramatically, swung his long legs over the crowsnest railing, and began the climb down. Zoro cackled in victory. For the rest of the night, he grinned whenever his gaze wandered over the light in the kitchen door.
Another night. Zoro swore silently as he listened to the kitchen door open and the cook climbing up to the crowsnest. They'd been at each other's throats all day, and he had multiple fresh bruises from their three separate fights. The last had only ended when Luffy looped his rubber limbs around them and held fast, firmly declaring the fight over. They had pointedly ignored each other through dinner, and Zoro had been sure that even if the cook woke up, he wouldn't be making a visit.
And yet. Sanji climbed into the crowsnest and held out the bento box, glaring at Zoro, who rolled his eyes.
“You don't have to bring–”
“Well aware,” snapped the cook, waving the box slightly for Zoro to take it.
“So why–”
“Can it, shit-for-brains.” The cook wiggled the bento insistently.
Zoro made an exasperated noise but took it. He glanced down at the box in his hand.
“Poisoned?”
The cook snorted, lighting a cigarette. “Not today.”
Zoro thought about this, setting the box down on the crowsnest floor. “If not today, then when?”
Sanji stared at him, then burst out laughing. Zoro felt the ghost of a smile creep onto his face, despite himself.
“I'm actually curious what it would take.”
“Why would I tell you how to piss me off even more?” retorted the cook, still laughing.
“Fair enough,” admitted Zoro with a half smile. “Shitty cook.”
“Idiot mossball.”
Maybe it was the lack of room to physically fight, or maybe the velvet dark softened the friction between them. Something approaching an unspoken truce began to form in the crowsnest. In the light of day they traded barbs and insults, kicks and slashes as much as ever. Nights weren't exactly friendly, but they were getting easier. Mocking words felt more like jokes than attempts to wound. Silence felt less like calm before a storm, and more like calm.