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Sanji never meant to get into a habit of sleeping with Zoro, it just sort of happened.
Zoro was there, literally, on a ship out in the middle of the ocean where partners were limited to women who either outshone the sun or glowed brighter than the moon at its fullest, and thus far out of his pathetic reach.
Or a man who had a nose made out of metal, a chest shaped like a turbine, and possibly a valve replacing his heart.
Then there was a talking reindeer, his Captain who talked about poop and bugs, and a cowardly sniper who had a nose that would make most liaisons a logistical nightmare.
It was a ship of untouchable beauty and fantastical fools. The swordsman was the one option for him.
The days were boring and repetitive, the nights were long and filled with tension, waiting for enemies that appeared just enough to justify the unending watches and the low hum of dread they all carried.
Sanji told himself the sex was just a way to pass time, a way to feel good when there were too many times of broken toes and ribs and pinky fingers.
When he spit out blood and it was dark enough to scare himself and when he fell asleep picturing the time Robin bled from her eyes after being hit in the head by a mace.
It was nice to be warm in bed with someone else.
That was all.
After a few months something changed.
As Sanji's eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and he felt Zoro's warm breath on the back of his neck slowing down, Sanji heard the unmistakable mutter "love ya" flutter against his skin.
Before he could think of what to do, Sanji tensed up for a second before realizing he should just relax and pretend he was asleep.
He hoped Zoro didn't notice.
And over the next few weeks, it kept happening. Not every time, but often enough.
And every time, Sanji pretended he was asleep.
At first, the love ya made him angry. Zoro had put him on the spot and it wasn't fair. Sanji had never said he wanted a relationship.
What they were doing was just a matter of necessity, of what was available.
Out of the nonluxury goods, Zoro was the best of the leftovers. That was all.
But then, love ya mellowed into something else. It became a compliment. Sanji's anger turned into compassion, even empathy.
He tried to see it from Zoro's perspective. The man fell in love. He couldn't help it.
Sanji started storing away the love yas into a special little spot in his chest the way children gather pretty seashells and place them on a windowsill to look at later.
Finally, after weeks, the love ya became hope.
It occurred to Sanji that maybe what was happening wasn't because of isolation, but because of fate.
Perhaps this was his romantic story, to find his one true love while they both traveled the Four Seas, each trying to achieve their dreams.
The shells on the windowsill now became tiny little embers in a campfire.
He just needed to build it up, he just needed a little more from Zoro, before he was ready to believe in it.
That night, Zoro didn't say it.
For the next few days, Zoro didn't seek out his company for the later hours, though he agreed to meet when Sanji sought him out.
They meet up again over the next month, always at Sanji's initiative.
And not once does Sanji hear love ya.
All the embers are dead.
And this is how they break up even though they were never dating.
Sanji and Zoro simply stop asking to meet up in the hold. It's as if it never happened.
Nami and Usopp give both of them long looks but Zoro walks out of the room or to the other side of the deck as soon as he notices.
Sanji just pretends he doesn't understand.
Because the truth is, he doesn't understand.
It's a month later and they are in a decent sized port. Sanji has Usopp with him, returning with the supplies. It's not something he does with Zoro right now and no one has brought it up.
He sees Zoro, soaking wet, standing on the pier. He had been swimming when Sanji left. He said it was to train, but Sanji knew it was an excuse to avoid talking with him.
No, Zoro would rather talk with the shirtless local, some guy with his finger a couple of inches away from touching Zoro's scar.
The scar he used to kiss as gently as he could.
Sanji's ears fill with a ringing noise and his teeth ache. It's not until he's in the galley putting away the food does he realize he's clenching his jaw.
Once all the supplies are sorted, he pours himself a double shot of whisky and checks his reserve stash, his just in case it all goes to hell money.
He promises himself he'll just use a little bit of it; he deserves a respite.
Sanji heads to the part of town where the stray dogs aren't kicked but aren't well fed. He finds the brothel sign and enters.
The madam brings out the young women, some of them girls if he was being honest.
Sanji looks across the line of them. They're bored, but trying to pretend they're not.
He chooses a girl for her broad shoulders rather than her pretty face.
And he pays extra for an extra hour.
All so he can take a nap next to her afterwards.
Because after he's finished, Sanji snuggles his face against her neck and whispers love ya.