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The (Almost) Forty-Year Old Virgin
Roronoa Zoro had one goal in life – and that was to get laid.
He’d be forty in a couple months, and being a forty-year old virgin sat wrong.
It hadn’t bothered him until recently, when Nami started questioning in concerned-yet-mocking tones if he was ever going to find someone to settle down with now that he was going to be forty. The crew all had their someone. Luffy latched onto Law despite Law’s vigorous – and false – protests. Chopper found love with a reindeer mink. Even Brook had a legion of superfans happy to show him their panties – and more – at the drop of a note.
But Zoro was still alone. His life had been filled with adventure, sailing with the Pirate King as they continued to strive to reach everyone’s dreams. One by one, they were fulfilled, Nami and Chopper’s dreams taking the longest. A majority of the crew still sailed together on the Sunny, along with their significant others from time to time.
Zoro’d always had a difficult time with romance. Not that he didn’t understand it, but he rarely felt that pull Usopp described to want more than just simple friendship. He hadn’t lusted after anyone since he was fourteen, before whatever happened landed him in the hospital. He had no memory of that night, but he’d woken up with his head swathed in bandages. Streets started moving on him after that and he’d stopped being horny all the time.
It helped, actually. He could focus on swordsmanship instead of on the other boys in the dojo. He still woke up hard some mornings, though that faded with age. Manual stimulation worked, but he’d never seen much point in it. Occasionally it happened during a fight, too. Usually when sparring with Sanji. Then he’d just want to strip off his clothes and keep fighting.
The Sunny was heading to the All Blue now, to pay the cook a visit. They’d swung through the East Blue, dropping off Usopp and Kaya at Syrup Village, Nami at Conomi, and Brook scheduled a series of concerts at Loguetown.
It’d been a few years since Zoro saw Sanji. Last time the Sunny visited him, Zoro’d gone with Jinbe and Franky instead to Fish-Man Island, to help build Jinbe’s new house for him and his brood. Sanji sailed with the crew off and on over the years, but stopped after he’d gotten married. Zoro hadn’t heard anything on that front for a while. He wondered if there’d be mini-curlies underfoot when they reached Sanji’s place.
Zoro was hoping there’d be opportunities for him to get laid, too. The floating restaurant seemed like a good place to meet people. He’d read the book Robin had quietly given him on forming intimate relationships. Franky gave him a bunch of pick up lines to try. Luffy had grinned and said he knew Zoro would achieve his new dream. The fact that his nakama supported him barely made up for the fact that they were all busy-bodies who had too much interest in his sex life. Probably because Nami had a betting pool. He’d put himself down to win before November 11th when they’d dropped her off.
Luffy launched himself across the water as soon as the restaurant was in reach. “Sanji! Meat!”
Law was with his own crew, aboard the Polar Tang II. They planned to meet up in Zou by the end of the year. Franky, Robin, and Zoro disembarked once the Sunny was tied to one of the branching piers that ran from the restaurant. Chopper was still visiting Kureha at Drum Island.
The restaurant floated steadily on the ocean built in several stacked tiers of glass, steel, and dark wood that stepped upward like wide decks. Each level held dining space, with railings and large windows that gave clear views across the water. Lights from inside reflected off the surface, broken by the slow movement of the tide beneath the structure. A short, functional pier extended from the restaurant’s lower deck to a neighboring floating residence built in the same multi-level style. The house rose a few tiers higher, its balconies and exterior walkways arranged for privacy rather than guests. Both structures shifted slightly with the water, the connection between them narrow but sturdy, linking the busy restaurant to the quieter private living space beside it.
Luffy was already stuffing his face when they walked in, ensconced in a private, curved booth on the restaurant’s second tier with an impressive spread of food piled in front of him. They wouldn’t inflict the gluttonous Pirate King on a restaurant they liked without calling ahead.
The dining room carried the low, steady murmur of conversation and cutlery against porcelain, guests seated at polished tables while servers moved easily through the aisles with plates balanced perfectly on their forearms. Soft lighting reflected off the glass walls and the dark water beyond, giving the whole dining room a quiet glow.
Sanji stood beside the booth, one hand resting on the table while Luffy tore through another plate in front of him. Robin smiled warmly, as they joined the table. “It’s lovely to see you again, Sanji,” she said.
Franky clapped Sanji hard on the shoulder. “Yeah, bro! It’s been a while.”
Zoro pulled up short and could only stare.
Sanji had let his hair grow out. It tumbled around his shoulders like a waterfall of blond waves, parted on the opposite side. The curl of his eyebrow was at his temple again, his goatee a touch fuller, giving him a sophisticated air. He wore a deep purple shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the hints of dark blond curls on his chest.
The back of Zoro’s neck grew hot.
“Robin-chan, your presence is always a welcome blessing,” Sanji said. “And whatever, to the rest of you.”
Zoro took his seat, unable to tear his eye off Sanji. He wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers.
“Where’s the Missus?” Franky asked, glancing around, as he picked up a cola already set out on the table.
Sanji’s expression tightened. “I’m divorced. Four years now.”
Even Luffy paused between bites at that news.
“Sorry, bro. That sucks,” Franky said.
Robin tilted her head slightly. “That means you were already divorced the last time some of us were here, when you told us she was visiting relatives.”
Sanji winced slightly. “Yeah. I wasn’t ready to share that I–” he stopped himself, corrected. “–that it failed.”
Zoro caught the glance Sanji sent his way, likely expecting a catty remark. But Zoro’s throat was too dry to say anything. He reached for the glass of water on the table and gulped it down instead.
“You good?” Luffy asked Sanji, a trace of seriousness in his voice. The beard on his face gave the simple question a surprising weight, the kind of check-in that came easily between grown men who’d known each other a long time.
Sanji nodded reassuringly. “I’m good. It’s been long enough that I’ve been through a couple of rebound flings.”
Luffy smiled in response. “That’s great! Maybe you can help out Zoro, then.”
“Oh?” Sanji’s curled brow rose as he shifted his gaze to Zoro. “Moss is on the rebound? I didn’t realize you’d been seeing anyone.”
When Sanji looked at him directly, Zoro was suddenly aware of his own appearance. His size. His scars. His tattered robe. The scruffy hair in need of a cut. The fact that he hadn’t bathed since last Tuesday.
“Shishishi. Zoro’s trying to lose his virginity.”
“Luffy!” Zoro exclaimed, embarrassment flaring. Franky guffawed. Robin hid her smile behind her hand. It felt as though the whole dining room had turned to look up at the announcement.
“What? It’s the truth,” Luffy said, shoving a full turkey leg into his mouth.
Sanji smirked. “Still? You’re going to be forty in a couple months.”
“Shut up. I’ve been busy,” Zoro deflected, alternately wanting to dive under the tablecloth and draw swords.
“Busy being an uncouth, smelly ape with a fighting fetish, you mean.”
Swords it was. He half stood, flicking the seal on his katana. “You want to go?”
Sanji waved him off. “Later, marimo. Let me get everyone fed first, and make sure Luffy’s second course is nearly done.”
Zoro suddenly felt vastly disappointed. A scowl creased his face as he retook his seat.
“I’ll be back with your food, and I’ll grab a plate for myself and join you,” Sanji told the table, before walking off.
Robin watched him go, then immediately turned to Franky. “You’ll have a cola with him later, make sure he’s alright?”
“Sure, babe. Bros for life,” Franky told her. “Though he seems okay. Four years is a while.”
“Hn. But we know our Sanji likes to play things close to the chest,” Robin said.
Zoro reached for the bottle of beer on the table, set out for him. “He’s probably bleeding over the women in the dining room,” he muttered, though his heart wasn’t into the jibe. He was too busy wondering when the fuck Sanji got so good looking, and why he was noticing it at all.
Sanji returned with a tray of food for Franky, Robin, Zoro, and himself, while staff pushed a cart loaded with a second course for Luffy. A third was already in the offing. Sanji pulled a chair over to the end of the table, putting himself between Luffy and Zoro.
Zoro was immediately arrested by Sanji’s appearance again. He watched the way the swirl of his eyebrow shifted, the way the crow’s lines in the corner of his visible eye appeared when he smiled. When Sanji pushed his hair over his shoulder, Zoro’s palm itched to find out if it was as soft as it looked. Sanji gestured with his hands while he spoke, muscle flexing visibly in his forearms beneath his shirt. His chest hair caught the soft dining light when the unbuttoned collar gaped slightly. Even his voice seemed richer, deeper, more graveled. Zoro didn’t get horny the way other people did, but his body still noticed things.
The last time he saw the cook, Sanji was overly neat and tidy. His hair brushed his chin. He’d served more than he sat, an almost nervous energy to him that had Zoro calling him out. They didn’t fight that time, which was odd, because fighting was a way they said hello, missed you, stupid. That had been five years ago. Sanji had been divorced for four. A sign Zoro could see in hindsight.
Sanji’s relaxed nature now, his easy smile, his casual posture and clothing, showed that he was, indeed, over the divorce. Zoro understood people by their actions, their body language, not their words. His letting his hair grow out, the facial hair growing in, made sense as a way to move on. Being single again at almost forty meant he wanted to appear his best to attract someone new.
Zoro didn’t know sexy from slutty, but he did have eyes – well, an eye. And Sanji looked good. And it was doing weird things to him.
Sanji turned his attention fully on Zoro, and Zoro suddenly found it difficult to breathe. "So, marimo, you're finally on the market."
Zoro hated that his voice cracked. "'M'not produce."
"More like a slab of beef." Sanji's eyes flicked up to Zoro's hair. "With a side of broccoli."
"Better than being a blonde curlique," Zoro said, and immediately winced internally at how lame he sounded.
Sanji's lips curved in a smirk. "At least I've gotten laid, a number of times. What's the pot up to now?"
"Seventy-three thousand Beli." Franky leaned back with a grin. “Man, Nami’s gonna be super mad if she loses that pool.”
Sanji laughed, and though he was making fun of Zoro, Zoro wanted to hear more of the sound. "I should call Nami-san, get back in on it."
"You already lost?" Frankly asked.
Sanji nodded, smirk returning. "Think I was the first one out. Thought for sure you and Mihawk did it during that separation."
Zoro sputtered in horror. "Me and Mihawk!"
Robin hummed thoughtfully. "I can see that. You did have an obsession with the man. "
"Because he was the World's Greatest Swordsman and my goal was to beat him!"
Sanji made a gesture with his curled fist, like he was stabbing himself in the stomach. "Beat him like this, you mean?"
Zoro stared at Sanji blankly. "I use swords not knives, shit cook. You know that."
Sanji's brow furrowed in confusion, then suddenly he laughed again. "Oh fuck, you are such a virgin."
Zoro felt his ears heat. "Shut up."
Franky whacked Zoro on the shoulder. "Don't worry, bro. My pick up lines are guaranteed to work."
Sanji's delight was evident. "These I’ve got to hear."
"No. Fuck off."
"C'mon, marimo, don't be a stick in the mud." Sanji shifted closer, leaning an elbow on the table. "Pretend you're trying to pick me up."
Zoro felt cornered, suddenly hot under that collar, and stabby all at once. He went for the feeling he knew best, hand on the hilt of his katana. "I'll cut you."
Sanji's eyes danced as he pushed his hair over his shoulder, smiling. His gaze dipped briefly to Zoro’s mouth before flicking back up. "Bet you say that to all the boys," he all but purred.
Between the eyes, the hair, and the voice, Zoro floundered. His tongue got tied and he felt more stupid than usual. What was wrong with him?
"I believe we've tormented our poor swordsman enough for now," Robin said, seeming to take pity on him. "Any more and he might have an aneurysm, judging by his high color, and we'll be hosting a funeral instead of celebrating the loss of his virginity."
"Don't die, Zoro," Luffy said. "We need to celebrate, because that means a feast. Lose your virginity. That’s an order."
Franky smacked Zoro on the shoulder again. "Captain's orders, sword-bro. Want to borrow a pair of speedos? Chicks dig 'em."
Sanji grinned devilishly, tapping his lower lip with his finger. "A makeover might help this otherwise lost cause."
Zoro debated throwing himself into the sea. With nakama like these, who needed enemies? "I don't need a makeover," he growled. At least his tongue was working again.
Sanji reached out and his hand slid into Zoro's hair, brushing it back. Zoro had the urge to lean into it.
Sanji stilled for the briefest moment, fingers caught in Zoro’s hair, as if the contact had surprised him. Then he grimaced and withdrew quickly. "Disgusting. When's the last time you washed your hair, you filthy plant?"
"What does it matter?" Zoro said, even though it really mattered to him at this moment. He felt ashamed, which was rare and uncomfortable.
"No one's going to want you like this," Sanji said bluntly. The words came out sharp, but Sanji’s eyes flicked over Zoro again like he was reconsidering the statement.
And Zoro realized, with startling clarity, that he wanted to be wanted – by Sanji.
Shit.
"I'll go, um... shower, " Zoro said, pushing to his feet. He grabbed his katanas where they leaned against the table and made a hasty escape.
He heard Sanji's voice follow behind him, "Guess he really does want to get laid."
Except Zoro didn't. He still couldn't picture it, didn't have anything stirring in his trousers. But he wanted Sanji to touch his hair again. Wanted Sanji to smile at him a second time. Wanted Sanji to look at him like maybe he was more than just a dumb swordsman nakama.
Zoro found the kitchen, the door to the residence building, and three docks before he located the Sunny. He climbed the gangplank and went directly to his cabin.
Franky had long since divided the crew quarters down into individual rooms, with everyone coupling off. Zoro's was the smallest, but he still had a bunk he could sprawl out on, a locker, nightstand, and a small sink.
Zoro opened his locker and stared at the meager contents inside. All the clothing he owned either had permanent blood stains or were threadbare with holes. Clothing simply didn't matter to him. As long as his dick was covered, he was fine – and that was mostly because he didn't want it to get cut off. He never understood modesty, at least, not after the hospital as a teen. But that was 25 years ago, so it may as well have always been.
He took out his least patched trousers and black long coat which didn't show the stains he knew were there. He caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink. Same face as he'd had since his early 20s, with a few lines across his forehead and fanning his working eye. His skin was more leathery from the sea and sun.
"What am I doing?" he asked his reflection. Was he really going to clean up to try to impress Sanji?
He was. Shit.
With a resigned sigh, Zoro went to shower.
Zoro returned to the restaurant in clean clothes, damp hair slicked back. Luffy was unsurprisingly still eating. The others had empty dessert plates in front of them. Sanji had shifted to the booth, arm draped casually across the back, a cigarette dangling from his lips, hair tumbling softly over his shoulders.
Zoro's breath stuttered. Fuck, Sanji looked good.
A smirk tugged at Sanji's lips when Zoro took the chair at the end of the table. His eye swept briefly over Zoro’s damp hair and clean clothes before settling back into that familiar teasing expression. "It can clean itself, will wonders never cease."
For some reason, that comment made Zoro's cheeks heat. "Shut up."
Sanji chuckled, tapped his cigarette in an ashtray on the table. "The others filled me in on what everyone's been doing the last few years. You have any special marimo-only stories to share, or has your life still been train, nap, fight, drink, repeat?"
It had still been that, with the occasional visit with friends on various islands and lending a helping hand. Was he really that uninteresting? "Just... sailing with the Pirate King."
"Your ambition astounds me," Sanji said drolly.
"Hey, I still fight and shit, while you're here playing with food," Zoro scowled. "Probably got weak."
Sanji's eyes snapped at that. "Care to step outside so I can prove you very wrong?"
"Glady." Finally. Maybe getting into it with Sanji would put an end to whatever this weird reaction to the cook was.
It didn't. In fact, it made it worse.
Sanji had not gotten any weaker, and he tied his hair up in a messy bun that did things to Zoro's concentration. They clashed across the open space at the top of the floating residence. Zoro's blades rang loudly each time they connected with the sole of Sanji's shoe.
Stars winked overhead while the sea lapped against the hull. Guest ships rocked gently in their moorings. The roof deck’s post lights flickered with shifting shadows whenever Sanji or Zoro moved past them.
It had been way too long since they'd done this. Adrenaline, excitement, and the thrill of a challenge pumped through Zoro's veins. They were still evenly matched when they sparred, pushing each other in skill and defense.
But that hair, the fact that almost forty-year-old Sanji looked so good and could still fight made something in his chest draw tight. He wanted to capture this feeling, hold it close, protect it, and he didn't know why.
The fight ended with Sanji's foot against his neck and his blade pressed to Sanji's side. Sanji's grin was infectious. "Not bad for an old man." His gaze lingered a beat longer than necessary, drifting over Zoro’s shoulders and chest before he stepped back.
"Tch. You could barely keep up." Zoro sheathed his katanas.
Sanji clapped Zoro briefly on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's go see if Luffy's finally finished. And I'll buy you a drink."
Warmth lingered where Sanji had touched him. "You own the restaurant. Drinks are free."
"Who do you think buys the drinks for the restaurant?"
The moonlight turned Sanji's hair pale gold. Tendrils had escaped the bun and framed his face. Zoro's heart kicked.
"I like fighting you," he blurted.
"You mean, you like getting your ass kicked." Sanji grinned again. "Don't worry, we'll have a few more opportunities to throw down before you leave "
Sanji headed downstairs, back to the restaurant. Zoro watched him go and realized something that sat strangely heavy in his chest. He didn’t just want a few more fights before they sailed away. He wanted this forever. The arguments. The sparring. The stupid insults. Sanji.
Later that night, when Franky went off to have Bro Time with Sanji while Zoro and Robin rolled Luffy into bed, Zoro stopped her before she repaired to her room. "Hey, Robin. You think that the cook might be interested in someone like me?"
Robin's lips curved in a soft, knowing smile. "I believe anyone would be lucky to be with you."
Zoro paused. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes, Zoro. That's a yes."
"Okay." Zoro took a deep breath, looking in the direction of Sanji's restaurant, and nodded to himself. "Okay."
Zoro slept in after taking watch overnight. Without a steady cook on board, meals rotated between whoever was willing to handle the galley, simple self-cooked food, or eating out whenever they stopped at an island. Over time they had all gotten reasonably decent at it, though Luffy was still banned from the job. Since they were docked at the restaurant, the others had probably already gone to eat.
Zoro took his time getting ready, wanting to make a good impression like Robin’s book had advised. The problem was he couldn’t picture what might happen. His mind didn’t work that way. He could replay memories clearly enough, but imagining outcomes was harder. It applied to fights, too. Zoro lived in the moment, not in the what-ifs. All he could do was show up and hope he didn’t make a fool of himself.
He made his way to the restaurant. He had Franky's pick up lines folded in his haramaki, but those were to help him get laid. Not that that wasn't still a goal, but he was more interested in seeing if Sanji might like him.
The restaurant was in a late-morning lull, a few guests enjoying the quiet atmosphere. Sunlight streamed through the tempered windows, guests glinting of the polished brass, crystal ware, and polished wood. Tables were being set for lunch service, napkins rolled, and the bar being prepped.
Zoro didn't spot his crew, so he asked the server where he could find them. He was directed to the residence boat, and Sanji's private quarters at the top.
He ended up in the kitchen twice and the same supply closet three times before he managed to get to Sanji's. At least he saw old Zeff still clomping around, shouting orders to the prep cooks. Got called an idiot cabbage, demanded he take Sanji with them when they set sail. "Do my best," he said, and if things went right, maybe it'd be the truth.
He'd been in Sanji's quarters a number of times over the years, both before and after he'd gotten married. With the divorce, the place seemed sparse: a lack of knickknacks and throw pillows, less pictures and general clutter. It was a divided suite, with living space separate from the bedroom. A small but gourmet kitchen – as if Sanji would allow anything else – and a generous bathroom made up the remaining space. Franky and the Galley-La company had a hand on the build of both the restaurant and residence ships, making them both sturdy enough to survive storms and the occasional scuffle. And because it was Franky, both vessels contained a myriad of hidden artillery to fend off pests.
The crew was seated on Sanji’s balcony overlooking the All Blue. The morning sun hung warm but not yet harsh, light glinting off the slow swell of the water below while a mild breeze carried the clean scent of salt. Luffy was snoozing on the rail, tummy extended, one arm dangling loosely over the side. Robin and Franky sat with Sanji at a round table beneath an umbrella, coffee cups and empty cola glasses spread between them.
"The sleepy moss finally decided to join us," Sanji said, pushing to his feet. "You eat yet? I can throw something together for you."
"I could eat," Zoro said. Instead of sitting at the table, he followed Sanji into the kitchen. He was wearing the same least offensive outfit he'd put on last night, hoping it didn't smell too much like sweat from their fight and working out on watch. His hair was combed back, and he'd scrubbed extra well behind his ears.
Sanji looked at home in the kitchen, like always. He wore blue today, a soft pullover with a v-neck that exposed a tuft of chest hair. His blond hair flowed around his shoulders. Zoro's palms itched to touch. "What's with the long hair?" he asked instead, leaning against the breakfast bar.
"Wanted a change. Liked it enough to keep it," Sanji replied.
Zoro had courage in spades. Not as much as Usopp, but he could hold his ground. Which was why the sudden attack of nerves was unsettling. He watched Sanji throw together an omelet with a side of hash, wondering how he was supposed to ask Sanji if he might be into him, other than just outright asking.
"I like your cooking," he went with, because it was true and the book said to use compliments.
Sanji arched a brow at Zoro as he folded the omelet. "Think that's the first time you've ever complimented my food. You feeling okay, marimo?"
"Yeah." Zoro rubbed the back of his warm neck. The book said to also find common ground. "You, uh, like fishing?"
Sanji set a plate on the counter, dished the hash, and gave Zoro an odd look. "It's okay. Haven't been in ages. What's with all the questions?"
Zoro blew out a breath. “I’m trying to make a connection.” The whole thing felt awkward, and it made him uncomfortable.
"A connection." Sanji's expression grew confused. "Is this stage two of a divorce intervention? Franky talked to me last night. It's been years now. I'm fine."
"No," Zoro said. "That's good, but no."
"Then what is this about, marimo?" Sanji plated the omelet and pushed the food across the breakfast bar to Zoro, along with a fork. "Tired of eating your own crappy food on the Sunny and want me to sail with you guys again for a while?"
"No– well, yes, but this isn't about that."
"Then what's it about? I'm on the verge of annoyance, leaning toward kicking your head in."
Zoro looked down at his food, wiping his damp palms on his trousers. Fuck, he didn't get this romance stuff.
He remembered Franky's pick up lines and fumbled for the paper in his haramaki. He smoothed it out and squinted at the words scribbled on the page. Damn, he needed his glasses. "Uh... careful getting close to me. I’m a beatle- no, battleship, and you just tricked– tripped? Oh, triggered full lunch. I mean, launch.”
Zoro glanced up at Sanji, who stared at him, mouth agape. Zoro's cheeks heated and he shoved the paper back in his haramaki. "Or, you know, whatever."
Sanji looked like he was about to say something, then held up a finger. "One minute." He pointed at the plate. "Eat that." Then he walked out the balcony doors.
Zoro picked up his fork and ate. He was hungry, and if this was going to blow up in his face, he at least wanted it to be on a full stomach.
Voices floated to him from outside.
"You okay there, Sanji-bro? You look shook."
"I think Zoro just hit on me."
"Shishishi."
"Ha! Super!" Franky said. "He use one of my pick up lines?"
"Unfortunately."
"I was wondering if he would," Robin said.
"So it's not a joke? None of you put him up to it, because of my divorce?"
"No," Robin said. "He is being genuine."
"Huh."
Sanji returned shortly thereafter, cigarettes between his teeth. He leaned against the counter on the other side of the breakfast bar, studying Zoro. Zoro kept eating, chin down, cheeks heated.
Sanji took a slow drag on his cigarette, and finally asked, "Why me?"
Zoro felt the heat creep over his ears and down his neck. "You look good," he mumbled.
"And I didn't before?"
"Didn't notice before."
Sanji took another drag, released it slowly. "And you want to have sex, with me."
Zoro frowned. "Well, yeah, I guess–"
"You guess?" Sanji sounded offended.
"–but that's not what I meant," he went on. He glanced up, took in Sanji's mature good looks, his attitude, the confidence he always had with Zoro. "Seeing you again – like this – has made me want... more. And it's weird and confusing but it's true."
Sanji’s cheeks took on a faint pink hue. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and tapped ash into the tray beside him. "What would you do if I wasn't bisexual?"
"What's bisexual?"
Sanji snorted. "Of course you wouldn't know. You're an almost forty-year-old virgin."
Zoro glared. "Just because I don't work like other people doesn't make me stupid, shit cook."
Sanji took another drag and shook his head, faint amusement on his face. "True. Your stupidity had long preceded this."
Zoro put his hand on a hilt. "You want a go?"
Sanji stabbed out his spent cigarette. "No. I want to try something."
Zoro didn't move his hand. "What?"
Sanji rounded the breakfast bar and boldly crowded into Zoro's space. Zoro tensed, even as his neck heated again. His breath grew shallow when Sanji pressed his thumb to Zoro's jaw.
"I'm too old to pretend I've never thought about this," he said.
And then he leaned in and kissed Zoro.
Zoro's heart seized, then started pounding madly. Almost forty years old and this was the first time anyone had kissed him. Sanji's lips were warm, and the steady pressure felt good in a way he'd never thought about. It felt… right.
A soft protest slipped from Zoro’s lips when Sanji drew back. Sanji’s visible eye twinkled, a small, devilish smirk tugging at his mouth. "Not bad, marimo. We'll make a man out of you yet."
Zoro scowled. "Fuck you."
Sanji winked. "Maybe later."
"Tch. Pervert cook." Zoro couldn't imagine what later entailed, but he was sure Sanji was referring to sex.
“Hn. Yeah,” Sanji agreed, smirking as he wound his arms around Zoro’s neck and leaned in to kiss him again.
This one was a little different. Sanji brushed his lips against Zoro’s, slow at first, then a little firmer. A moment later his tongue traced lightly along Zoro’s lower lip. Zoro gasped, and Sanji slipped inside to brush against his tongue. The sensation was odd, but good. Sensitive in a way that made Zoro’s breath hitch.
"Never kissed anyone before, marimo?" Sanji murmured, breath warm against Zoro's upper lip.
"No. Why would I?"
"For fun." Sanji kissed him in between words. "For passion." Kiss. "For romance."
Zoro pulled back just far enough to give Sanji a flat look.
Sanji laughed softly. “Yeah. Never mind.”
“Sanji, when’s lunch?” Luffy’s voice drifted in from outside.
Sanji brushed one more kiss across Zoro’s lips before stepping away. “We’ll continue this later.”
Zoro swallowed and nodded.
Sanji headed out of the kitchen, already complaining. “You’re still visibly full from breakfast, you gluttonous pig.”
Alone in the kitchen, Zoro shoved a hand through his hair and let out a sharp breath. Holy shit. That had just happened. His pulse still hammered in his ears, a jittery anticipation settling under his skin for whatever later was supposed to involve.
Sanji, who’d somehow gone and gotten really good-looking and could probably have anyone he wanted, was actually interested in him – a not-that-handsome, nearly forty-year-old whose greatest skill was stabbing things with swords.
Zoro had started this whole thing with a single goal: lose his virginity before forty. But somehow, between the spar on the roof and Sanji’s mouth on his, he realized the goal had shifted. It wasn’t about getting laid anymore. He just wanted Sanji.
And it seemed like maybe Sanji wanted him, too.
Zoro turned back to his plate and finished his breakfast with a wide smile on his face.
When he stepped back out onto the balcony, Luffy had stretched himself across two chairs and fallen asleep again, one arm dangling over the side of the table. Franky leaned back with his boots propped on the railing, lazily nursing another cola while Robin sat beside him, flipping through a book that Sanji had given her, asking questions. Sanji stood near the balcony rail, cigarette between his fingers, watching the water as he replied.
No one said anything to Zoro when he came back out. Robin glanced up briefly from her book, eyes flicking between Zoro and Sanji before her lips curved faintly. Franky followed her gaze, then grinned to himself and looked away.
Zoro leaned on the railing a few feet from Sanji. The All Blue stretched wide and bright beyond the balcony, sunlight rippling across the slow swell of the water.
For a while they just stood there. Zoro found his attention drifting to Sanji without trying. The loose strands of blond hair moving in the breeze. The easy way he leaned against the rail. The familiar smell of tobacco and sea air.
Sanji glanced sideways at him once. Their eyes met. A small smirk tugged at the corner of Sanji’s mouth before he took another drag from his cigarette. Zoro’s neck warmed.
Time slipped by quietly like that, conversation picking up between the old friends. Franky described a new cola efficiency tweak for the Sunny’s engine while Robin mentioned a ruin she’d read about. Sanji complained about ingredient prices and supply chains.
Eventually Luffy stirred, sat up, and stretched with a loud yawn. “Hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” Sanji said.
“That’s because I’m always hungry,” Luffy pointed out with a shaggy grin.
Sanji flicked ash over the railing and stubbed the cigarette out against the metal tray beside the door. “Lunch should be starting soon,” he said, pushing away from the rail. “C’mon. If we go now we can grab a table before the rush.”
Franky hauled himself to his feet. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
Robin closed her book. Luffy was already halfway to the door.
They crossed the narrow pier together, the restaurant rising beside them in tiers of glass and polished wood. Sunlight flashed off the water beneath the floating structure as they stepped inside. Ships big and small moored at the fanning piers, with more sailing in from a distance.
The dining room had begun to fill. Conversations overlapped in a low murmur beneath the soft clink of glass and porcelain as guests lingered over their plates. Zoro followed the others toward the stairs leading to the second tier.
Sanji paused beside him before heading toward the kitchen. His hand brushed briefly against Zoro’s shoulder as he passed. Zoro went still. Sanji’s voice dropped just enough that the others wouldn’t hear when he said lightly, “We’ll talk later, marimo. We’re not done yet.”
Then he disappeared toward the kitchen. Zoro continued up the steps behind the others, feeling stupidly short of breath.
They slid into the familiar curved booth while servers moved between the surrounding tables, trays balanced high and voices blending into the low hum of the dining room. A few minutes later Sanji emerged from the kitchen below and threaded easily between the tables, speaking to a pair of diners near the window. Pale strands brushed his shoulders as he turned his head.
From his seat on the second floor, Zoro watched him, following the path Sanji took through the room. The easy confidence. The quick smile for the guests. The occasional sharp word to a server that somehow still sounded affectionate.
Sanji was good at this. Zoro already knew that, of course. He’d known it for years. But watching him now, with the memory of Sanji’s mouth still warm in the back of his mind, made the whole thing feel… different. Like the world had shifted slightly on its axis.
Zoro rested his forearms on the table, eyes still following Sanji through the room. Sanji brought their food out after a time, followed by an additional three servers for Luffy’s portion. Since Zoro’d eaten only a couple hours ago, a simple salad was set in front of him, along with a beer. But Zoro wasn’t paying much attention to it. Every time Sanji reached across or came close, Zoro became very aware of him. It was as if the kiss had done something to his senses, made him crave more. A look. A touch. Anything. It was as confusing as it was compelling.
Zoro had just started convincing himself he was imagining the pull when Sanji came close again. He dropped his hand onto Zoro’s shoulder as he spoke with Luffy about dessert. Zoro froze. Sanji noticed. “Problem, marimo?”
Zoro swallowed once. His throat felt a little dry. “No.”
Sanji’s mouth curved faintly, something amused and softer than usual flickering in his eye. His hand stayed where it was for another second before he lifted it, said he’d return, and moved off to another table.
Zoro exhaled slowly. He stared down at his salad for a moment before picking up a fork. Across the table, Robin’s lips curved into the smallest of smiles over the rim of her wineglass. Franky snorted into his cola. “Zoro-bro, you look like you just got hit by a super love cannon.”
Zoro scowled, ears heating. “Shut up.”
Luffy, who’d already managed to clean three plates, shot Zoro a wide grin. “Shishishi. You like Sanji.”
Robin lowered her glass slightly, her smile unchanged. “It does appear that way.”
Franky tipped his drink at Zoro. “Knew those pickup lines would be super effective.”
Zoro scowled harder and stabbed his salad with more aggression than necessary.
Even though they were visiting, Sanji did have to work. After the meal, the crew headed back to the Sunny to do a few necessary chores. Zoro got in a workout and a nap. By the time dinner rolled around, the sun had long set and stars studded the night sky.
Zoro took time with his appearance again because Sanji seemed to like it. He'd washed his sole decent pair of clothes that afternoon and they'd dried in the sun. It felt odd to be trying so hard, since Sanji knew what he was like, but at the same time, he wanted Sanji to see him as something other than a bullish brute.
Lanterns glowed along the pier when they headed back to the restaurant.
Dinner was a boisterous affair once everyone gathered around the table, conversation lively as Sanji joined them again. Zoro had a hard time concentrating with Sanji’s knee pressed against his under the table.
He didn't know what they were. Granted, it hadn't even been twelve hours since Sanji kissed him. Sanji did seem to want something, but Zoro was so unfamiliar with anything romance driven he was at a loss as to what came next. Was he supposed to keep connecting with Sanji? Use more pick up lines? Or were they just together now? And what did that even mean?
After dinner, Robin and Franky said their goodnight and carried a comatose Luffy back to the Sunny. Zoro hung back at the table, twisting his napkin slowly in his hands while the last of the nearby diners finished their wine and dessert.
“Let’s take this to mine,” Sanji said, polishing off the last of his wine.
They cut through the kitchen, where the air was warmer and thick with the fading scents of butter, garlic, and grilled fish. A few late dishes clattered softly as the night staff worked through cleanup. Sanji exchanged a few quiet words with his executive chef before leading Zoro out the back.
Lanterns along the pier cast soft pools of light across the water as they crossed to the floating residence. The harbor moved slowly beneath the planks, guest ships rocking gently in their moorings.
Inside, Sanji turned on a few lamps, warm light settling over the room, and handed Zoro a beer from the refrigerator. “I’m going to clean up,” he told him before disappearing into the bedroom.
Zoro took his beer out onto the balcony. The inky night sky stretched wide above the harbor, a nearly full moon casting a pale path of light across the water. Gentle waves lapped against the squared hull of the floating residence, the quiet rhythm carrying through the still night. A mild sea breeze drifted across the balcony and stirred his hair as he leaned on the railing with the bottle in his hand.
He released a tight breath, watching the moonlight ripple across the surface of the water. He wanted to know where he stood with Sanji. They had always been friends – nakama who enjoyed poking at each other more than they admitted. They were very different people. Sanji was outgoing and led with his emotions, while Zoro was quieter, more practical. But they were both pushing forty now, and the things that once would have sparked an argument between them often felt trivial, hardly worth the effort anymore.
He didn’t know how this worked – how any of this worked. Everything about it felt fast and sudden, but Zoro wasn’t one to ruminate on decisions. He trusted his gut, and it hadn’t steered him wrong yet.
Sanji eventually came outside with a glass of wine in hand. His hair was tied up again in a messy bun, thin sticks pinning it in place while damp strands curled against his neck. He’d changed into a deep red button-down, dark enough to look black until he moved. His bare feet made no sound on the wood deck.
Zoro’s pulse sped up.
He stopped beside Zoro, leaning his forearms on the rail. A faint smile played at the edges of his mouth. “Thought maybe you’d bolt.”
“Why would I?” Zoro said, confused.
Sanji lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “You came to your senses. Or chickened out.”
Zoro’s eye narrowed. “I’d never chicken out.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Sanji looked over the water, taking a sip of his wine. The breeze played with the loose tendrils of hair that escaped the bun. “So what do you want to do here, marimo? Your move.”
Zoro looked down at the nearly empty beer bottle in his hand. His chest felt tight, his palms damp. He needed to get his answer, and hesitation wasn’t his style. “This– what is this?”
“How do you mean?” Sanji asked.
Zoro motioned between them, though he didn’t look at Sanji. “This. Us.”
“What do you want it to be?”
Zoro frowned. “I don’t know. Us. Together. You know I don’t know how this works.”
Sanji's finger tapped the side of his glass. He was quiet for a moment before answering. “I wouldn’t mind seeing where it goes. Obviously, I’m attracted to you.”
Zoro hadn’t known that, but it made his chest puff a little.
“We’re already friends,” Sanji went on. “I already know how much of an idiot you are.”
“Right back at you, shit cook,” Zoro said with a huff.
A grin flickered across Sanji’s lips. “It’s novel for me, to be friends first. This would just be adding benefits to it. And who knows, maybe it’ll lead to something deeper. I wouldn’t mind a second chance at love.”
“Don’t you mean thousandth, ero-brows?”
Sanji threw his head back and laughed. The sound made something flip in Zoro’s stomach. “You got me there, marimo.”
The moon dipped briefly behind a cloud. A fish jumped with a soft splash nearby. In the distance, voices drifted on the gentle breeze. Zoro shifted his weight against the railing. “So… what do people do now?”
Sanji set his wine glass on the rail, reached over and took Zoro’s beer bottle, setting it aside as well. Then he tugged lightly at Zoro’s long coat to draw him closer. “Now, there’s usually kissing.”
“Yeah?” Zoro liked the sound of that. He tentatively placed his hand on Sanji’s jaw, like Sanji had done to him earlier. “Like this, right?”
Sanji’s gaze glittered in the moonlight. “Just like that.”
Zoro took a breath, pulse jumping under his skin. Slowly, carefully, hoping he was doing it correctly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Sanji’s.
Sanji hummed softly, hands skimming up Zoro’s chest. Everywhere he touched tingled slightly. Zoro leaned into the contact without thinking, his hand sliding to the back of Sanji’s neck where loose strands of hair brushed his fingers. The kiss deepened slightly, slow and unhurried.
When they finally broke apart, Sanji’s arms had settled loosely around his shoulders, their foreheads nearly touching. For a moment neither of them spoke. The sea rolled softly beyond the balcony.
“I like you,” Zoro said quietly. He’d never liked anyone this way before. Saying it felt like stepping onto unfamiliar ground.
Sanji studied him for a moment, something warm in his eyes. “Well,” he said softly, “that’s a hell of a compliment coming from you.”
His hand slid up into Zoro’s hair, fingers threading slowly through the green strands. Zoro leaned into the touch without thinking. Sanji kissed him again, slower this time, and Zoro followed without hesitation.
Later that night, under the quiet stretch of stars above the All Blue, Sanji dragged a mattress onto the balcony. Somewhere in the slow warmth of Sanji’s hands and the steady rhythm of the sea, Zoro finally lost his virginity. And realized the fuss had never really been about the act itself.
It was about who you shared it with.
Four months later, the Straw Hat crew picked up Nami again.
The Thousand Sunny rocked gently against the pier, the late afternoon sun turning the water a bright scatter of gold. The sails hung loose in the mild breeze while the lion figurehead cast a long shadow across the dock.
“Nami-swannnnn!” Sanji twirled dramatically on deck, hearts practically visible in his eyes. “It’s so wonderful to be in your beautiful presence again.”
“Yeah, yeah, can it, lover boy,” Nami said, stalking past him toward the steps to her cabin.
Chopper sat in front of Zoro on the deck, carefully working peanut butter through Zoro’s gum-snarled hair, courtesy of Luffy. “Nami seems to be in a bad mood.”
“When’s that witch ever not in a bad mood?” Zoro muttered.
Chopper paused, frowning. “You probably shouldn’t call her that where she can hear you.”
Brook leaned against the rail, watching Franky hoist Nami’s luggage up from the pier while Robin politely offered several helping hands. “Maybe she’ll feel better if I ask to see her pant–”
Sanji cut him off with a sharp kick to the skull. Brook’s afro wobbled as he bounced off the railing.
The cabin door slammed open. Nami stormed back out onto the deck, marched down the steps, and dropped a heavy canvas bag directly onto Zoro’s head.
“Ow!” Zoro tipped sideways under the weight and grabbed the bag before it rolled off the deck. The Sunny creaked softly beneath them as a wave nudged the hull.
“Congratulations,” Nami said flatly. “You won your own bet.”
Zoro blinked up at her, rubbing the back of his head. “What bet?”
Franky barked a laugh from the gangplank. “The one you put your name on, sword-bro!”
Robin smiled serenely. “You predicted you would succeed before November.”
Luffy threw his head back and laughed. “Shishishi! Zoro did it!”
Chopper clapped his hooves excitedly. “You did it, Zoro!”
Zoro’s cheeks heated. “It’s not a big deal.”
Law glanced over from the mast, expression completely unimpressed. “Hmph. You people held a betting pool over that?”
Nami folded her arms and jerked her thumb toward the bag. “Seventy-three thousand Beli.”
Zoro looked down at the bag again. “Oh.”
She turned slowly toward Sanji. “You,” she said sweetly, “owe me fifty percent.”
Sanji froze mid-cigarette. Smoke curled lazily into the warm evening air. “Eh?”
“You were the first one to lose the bet,” Nami continued. “Conflict of interest.”
Franky slapped the railing. “Super foul play!”
Robin hid a smile behind her hand.
Sanji ran a hand through his long hair and groaned. “Nami-swan, surely we can discuss–”
“Nope.” She snatched the bag back out of Zoro’s hands, untied it, and began counting bills.
Luffy leaned over Zoro’s shoulder, grinning wide enough to split his cheeks. “Shishishi. We need another feast to celebrate Zoro’s lost virginity!”
Zoro grabbed him by the face and shoved him away. “Shut up.”
Sanji flicked ash over the side of the Sunny and glanced sideways at Zoro. “Worth it.”
Zoro pretended not to hear him.
His ears turned red anyway.
End