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Nami insists on taking Sanji shopping that day.
Not that he'd ever complain about a day out with one of his two favorite ladies. He'll have to spoil her when they get back to the ship.
Nami keeps shoving clothes at him and saying, "This would look good on you," and pushing Sanji into the dressing room. Again, he can't refuse, especially when she puts it that way.
"That's the one," she says at last, when he comes out in a light pink suit and tie and a baby blue button down.
"Do you like me in pink, Nami-swan~?" Sanji wiggles and fawns.
It's not the first time he's worn pink. Unlike a certain mosshead, he has no qualms about the color, and doesn't view it as a strictly feminine one.
Nami shrugs and pays the clerk.
"You're paying for my outfit?!" He goes bug-eyed. "What's the occasion, Nami, dearest? Am I being bribed? Or are you that weird guy who changes faces!? Where is my sweet Nami and what have you done with her?!"
"Relax," Nami says, clapping his shoulders and sending his thoughts spiraling the complete opposite direction because contact with Nami spoils him in a different kind of way than baubles. "You…deserve it. You work so hard taking care of the crew, feeding that sinkhole we call our captain. You deserve a day for yourself."
Sanji isn't sure he's ever thought about himself. Not since he was pushed to the brink of death, and was a bratty kid who didn't realize he was the one being looked after, and then he vowed to himself he would never let someone go hungry, and he would always be the one looking out for everyone else.
"I'm fine, really. You're so sweet for thinking about me, though, Nami~" he jumps at her and she bars him away.
"Don't make me regret spending berry on you!" She growls and goes shark-toothed. "Let's head back to the Sunny."
"Of course, Nami, my sweet~!"
He trails after her in a whirlwind as he contemplates what he has on the ship to make as thanks for the gift. Strawberry shortcake, perhaps? For some reason, cake seems perfect for today.
When they arrive back at the ship, Sanji goes into the kitchen and screams.
"What have you done to my kitchen?!"
Luffy and Usopp stare sheepishly at him. There are used bowls and ingredients everywhere, messes all over his counter…including the leafy tops of the strawberries he'd just been contemplating using. Couldn't these hooligans keep things in order for ONE day?
"It wasn't us," Luffy says, despite being covered in flour. "It was Zoro. We just helped a little."
"Yeah, it was all Zoro's idea!" Usopp adds.
"I'll kill him! Where is he?!"
"Crow's nest," Luffy says.
"Shitty swordsman."
Sanji stomps off in that direction, steam practically coming from his ears all the way up to the crow's nest.
"Hey, moss-for-brains, what the hell were you doing in my kitchen?" He says as soon as his head is through the door.
Zoro stands facing away, silent and unmoving as a statue, just like that day Sanji doesn't like to think about. The day he had to carry Zoro in his arms to Chopper for help. The memory seizes his throat in a way he hates. His eyes sting at the mere thought. He'd been a blubbering mess the second he opened his mouth to try and say something to Chopper, even just a 'help him' too much.
His arms are in front of him, probably crossed, and Sanji hates that, too. He never wants to find Zoro like that again.
"Hey, mosshead, I'm talking to you."
He stalks forward and grabs Zoro's shoulder.
When Zoro faces him, he has pink across his cheeks, and his arms hadn't been crossed, instead holding something…something with his strawberries on top.
Cake?
"What the hell, marimo? You barge into MY kitchen while I'm gone and use MY strawberries to make some shitty cake, when you don't even like sweets? Is this some sick joke?"
"It's for you," Zoro blurts, and stuffs it into Sanji's hands so fast he has to struggle to grasp the plate without letting it fall. His brow twitches and he looks to one side, face still red.
"And why would YOU of all people bake ME a cake? Next time you want something, just request it. Don't waste ingredients."
Zoro stares at him as if it should be obvious.
"Out with it, you mossy log!"
He sighs and says, "Don't you know what day it is?"
"Of course I know what day it is. March the 2nd. What does that have to do with anything?"
"It's your birthday."
Still looking at him like a big, clueless, moss-covered log.
"So?"
Zoro sighs again. "You've never celebrated your birthday, have you?"
"Why would I celebrate that? All it means is getting older. Being…" No, he won't think about the past.
"You should. Because," he hesitates, face constricting like this is painful to say, "Your life is worth celebrating. Without you, I—the crew—would be lost."
"Well I know you'd be lost, marimo. Your sense of direction is terrible."
"Shut up and eat your cake, cook," he growls and goes red.
Sanji examines the cake more closely. It looks edible. Good, even. Strawberries line it and his name is scrawled on top in pink icing.
"You made this?"
"Yeah, so?" He is covered in ingredients.
"Shitty swordsman," Sanji grouses, but his eyes are burning for some reason.
He'd never told the geezer his birthday. He'd never told anyone. So, how'd the mosshead figure it out?
"You're not supposed to be nice," Sanji says, wiping his eyes.
"I can be nice. When I care about someone."
"You—what?" He blinks away his tears and stares agape at Zoro.
"Besides, I owed you one. For what you did back on Thriller Bark. I never thanked you."
"What the hell, marimo? Thank me? For what?"
Zoro gives him that look again, like it should be obvious. It's a look that pisses Sanji off. Zoro never says enough, and then out of nowhere, all this. What is he even supposed to do with that?
"You carried me to Chopper. If you hadn't found me, I probably wouldn't have survived."
"It's not—" He was going to say it's not a big deal, but it was, at the time, and it still is.
"I'm bigger than you. It couldn't've been easy."
"We're within a centimeter of each other in height," Sanji counters, out of principle.
"You know that's not what I mean."
"Why don't you ever say what you mean?! Out with it already, seaweed-brain!"
"Thank you for saving my life. Happy birthday, Sanji."
Whatever Zoro could have said, he hadn't expected that—whatever that was. Manners? Using his actual name? Zoro never used his name. Ever. Maybe he's the imposter.
"Now stop crying and eat your damn cake."
"I'm not," Sanji growls, but a tear hits his hand as he seizes the fork from the plate and stubbornly shovels a bite of cake into his mouth.
It's…actually good?
Damn shitty swordsman actually making a not shitty cake when he doesn't even like sweets. It shouldn't be possible.
Sanji grumbles as he finishes off the small cake—it was just big enough for one. He wipes crumbs and tears away with his hankerchief.
"Okay. We're even, or whatever, mosshead."
His heart is doing infuriating things in his chest. He isn't sure what to say. Everything is coming out in jilted jumbles. That will have to do.
Sanji starts turning around.
"There's one more thing I have to give you."
Zoro grabs him by the tie, stopping him and reeling him in like a fish in a line.
"What the—"
His response is cut off by Zoro's mouth covering his, and every last thought leaves his brain. He drops the plate.
Shitty, shitty marimo, making him feel all these things he doesn't want. He hates that he wants this, hates that his fingers cling into Zoro's shirt desperately and a pathetic mewl escapes him.
"Now we're even."
Sanji is red-faced and displaced. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"For Thriller Bark. You stole a kiss from me then."
His face goes from hot to inferno. Zoro had been out cold for days. There's no way he remembered that.
Sanji stared down at Zoro with a trepidation he didn't know he could possess on the mosshead's behalf. The feeling hadn't left him since he found Zoro standing still as a knight in a vigil.
"You'd better wake up, shit-swordsman." No, not shit-swordsman. "Zoro."
He glanced around before leaning down and slotting his lips carefully over Zoro's, wondering what it would feel like if Zoro kissed him back.
"You weren't supposed to know about that."
"It can be our secret." Zoro smirks, and Sanji wants to kick—or maybe kiss—that cocky look off his face.
"Like what actually happened at Thriller Bark?"
"Like what actually happened at Thriller Bark," he parrots.
"Bastard," he says under his breath, then hauls Zoro against him again by his shirt, kissing him just as rudely as he'd kissed Sanji a moment ago.
Zoro makes a surprised sound but returns the gesture.
He pulls away after only a couple seconds and says, "Now we're uneven."
Sanji snorts. "Guess you'll have to kiss me again, then."
And Zoro did.