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Nami, Usopp and Robin are all arguing over the small snail Cameko, giving Sanji a variety of mixed messages on the different poses that suit him, outfit ideas, Robin’s even trying to put makeup on him. He is fuming, and not just to his usual extent when it came to putting a mosshead in his place on a night out, he was genuinely upset enough to the point he was lashing out at everyone now that it has come to this.
Like a typical night on shore, Sanji would take the oaf as a pack mule for restocks and shopping during the day, then get properly cleaned and groomed for an evening out in hopes of company. Tonight, he’d worn an impeccably ironed, baby blue pin striped shirt paired with a charcoal suit. He gravitates towards this combination since it brings out the blue in his eyes, the tailored fit highlighting the sleek muscles beneath. So why was it that despite his best efforts, he finds himself being one up’ed by the mosshead?
Oh Sanji knows, he knows with such confidence because the darling lady told him so herself just a few moments ago.
“You dumbass, that’s no way to treat a lady!” He kicked the barstool from under the swordsman, smashing it into splinters. The rest of patrons observe with fear or amusement, depending on their level of sanity.
“Oi, ero-cook, what’s the problem? I told her no, plain and simple!” Zoro reaches for his sword, before Nami snatched each of the men by the ear with a ruthless grip.
“Knock it off assholes, I’m not paying for any more damages!”
“Ow, he started it!” the green haired man points at their cook.
“Did you?” Nami stares blankly, and fuck, Sanji can’t lie to her.
“Yes, but Nami-s-”, he’s cut off by the stern barkeep, kindly asking them to see themselves out of the very nice venue. Too ashamed to fight back, they tuck their tales and head back to the Merry.
“Tsk” their navigator clicks her tongue, as they cross the gangplank to the ship “someone explain quickly before you piss me off any more.”
So, Sanji goes back to the beginning.
The crew descend upon a local bar for the evening. Unlike a typical dive bar they frequent as pirates, this place is refined, with subtle but clearly luxurious decor. It has atmosphere and it has plenty of beautiful women, hence Sanji loves it already.
He settles at the bar next to a stunning woman, maybe slightly older than himself, sumptuous curves all along her tall frame. Her tawny skin radiates the warmth of the sun itself, her hair’s cropped to her chin, and styled into romantic finger waves “sweetheart, may I have the pleasure of buying you your next drink?”
The woman looks him up and down, as if inventorying him, “I’ll allow it”. She says with a somehow apathetic yet mischievous smile, if she didn’t have the face of an angel, Sanji might think to call it wicked.
He hands her one of the two wine glasses in hand, “My name is Sanji, and yourself darling?”
“I’m Dottie” suits her perfectly.
Sanji takes in the sight of her, a silken dress with sheer paneling across her midriff. His eyes linger there as he draws out more information about the gorgeous creature. Suddenly her gaze fixed towards the entrance, clearly no longer engaged in their conversation.
“That’s Roronoa Zoro, of the Strawhat Pirates.” Of course he got lost on the way here and arrived last.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
She’s in awe of him, “I’d recognize that jawline anywhere.” Sanji notes how she’s inventories again, this time her lidded eyes move slowly taking in every inch of Zoro “Apologies Sanji, I think I’ve just found my new seat for the evening. Thank you for the wine though.”
He lights a cigarette, “your company is a gift not a demand dear Dottie, I’m afraid that one doesn’t understand how to interact with a lady.”
“You know him?!!”
“Of course I know him, we belong to the same crew!”
“You’re Blackleg Sanji?” Sanji beams with pride at the recognition until the woman says sympathetically “oh, what a shame your depiction in your bounty poster doesn’t seem to capture all your charms quite correctly”. The way his jaw clenches snaps the cigarette in his mouth, he’s seething thinking of the egregiously drawn image, much too portly of a face with an exaggerated swirl at his brow and sausage lips. He must have done something personal and grave to the marine’s shitty sketch artist to end up with this portrait. Not only that but it’s in contrast with the idiot’s photograph, a smug smile that accentuates all of the rugged features and defined bone structure.
Things only decline from that point. With the world’s worst possible timing, the idiot sits himself on the other side of Sanji, “Let me get a beer” bluntly to the barkeep.
“Allow me” Dottie chimes in before she slides across Sanji to introduce herself.
“Thanks” briefly before he raises the chilled mug, and finishes the thing just as he started. Mosshead was never one to question the motives behind a free drink, let alone turn one down.
Dottie uses every trick in the book throughout the next hour, she is desperate for the swordsman to pay her any mind. While Sanji has felt the sting of rejection plenty of times, the notion that Mosshead is a more appealing partner is what has his head spinning. Sanji only snaps out of it when he hears a thud, and suddenly Dottie is sitting perplexed on the ground.
She had decided any subtlety was not going to get her to her desired end point this evening, and sat on the swordsman’s lap in an attempt to make her intentions clear. Zoro stood straight up immediately, causing the lady to fall ass first.
“Oi, it’s not that I didn’t understand what you were getting at. I get it, you just don’t get it, I'm not interested.” Quite frankly, Zoro peers at her with what Sanji can only describe at disgust. The simple-minded swordsman could tolerate a lot, and by no means was he puritanical, he's a pirate. If there's one thing Zoro can't abide it's lack of loyalty, and the way Dottie quickly moved on from Sanji, despite his earnestness, once she spotted a more appealing option was the nail in the coffin before he even sat down.
Here’s when Sanji starts the general destruction of the bar and typical violence towards the crew’s swordsman.
Nami takes in the retelling, and judging from Zoro’s lack of combative yelling, it seems relatively truthful. “So you’re salty about a woman?”
“Yes,” Zoro answers for him, “and over his dumb bounty poster”.
“I have an idea.” Nami smiles that smile where she’s either going to have too much fun at everyone’s expense or she sees belly for the taking.
So now, Nami, Usopp, Robin, Zoro and Sanji are all back on the Merry taking turns trying to capture a decent headshot to send to the Marines for his next poster.
Usopp, being the sniper, goes first. If anyone can get a good shot it's the sharp shooter, right? No, apparently those skills don't quite transfer, he disappointingly catches the cook at the least flattering angles. Everyone but Sanji is laughing, accusing the long nosed man of making them intentionally ugly. He gives up once he senses Sanji’s rage, quivering in his overalls.
Nami is up next, but each picture turns out with a stupid drooling grin and heartbeats as eyes. Same issue for Robin. It’s been like this for 45 minutes, and at this point Nami is too drunk to keep trying without falling asleep. Zoro grabs the cameko from her, “Oi, it can’t be a girl, otherwise the idiot will bleed out or look just a dumb as the sketch.” Sanji flips him off. “Go to bed.” Waving the ladies off, Zoro knows they're doing more harm then good.
“I’m sure your vision will lead to great results, swordsman-san.” Robin says before heading off with Nami.
“So like, I totally trust you guys to figure out the best option, and I would definitely get in the way, and didn’t I mention I have a case of will-faint-if-there’s-flash-photo-itis?”
“Go!” Sanji and Zoro respond in unison, annoyed at the lack of conviction.
“Goodnight, good luck!” Usopp scurries off to the men’s quarters.
Sanji and Zoro stand face-to-face, it’s definitely a rare moment. Normally when they’re looking at each other this close, they’re forehead-to-forehead sweating as they beat the pulp out of each other. Sanji takes a moment to observe him, defined jaw Dottie fawned over earlier. His masseter on each side of his face thoroughly developed from supporting Wado throughout all the years of training and fighting. His face is beautifully symmetrical when he doesn't have that cheeky half grin. There’s something about being looked at through a lens though, it makes Sanji tremble a bit on each exhale.
“Oi, where’s your normal confidence? Are you getting scared over this? This isn’t anything compared to what you’ve done.”
While that’s slightly reassuring, Zoro won’t ever get it. He never cared about what anyone had to say unless he respected them, what Sanji wouldn’t give for that freedom. Plus he didn’t want to hear that from an idiot who looked dashing in his own poster, so much so that women committed it to memory. It’s honestly one of the things that truly bothered him about the swordsman from the first time they met. Zoro finds a way to get everything, and while Sanji had to admit much of that, especially if Zoro really wanted it, was earned, he would end up with it nonetheless.
He keeps thinking over the huge gap between them, brow furrowed deeply until Zoro pokes at it.
“Oi, this is why the sketch artist got such a bad rendering. Quit overthinking.”
Sanji looks up to curse him out, but he’s hit with a flash. The mosshead shows him the photo, and it’s actually the best shot from the entire night so far. “Oh wow, so there’s things you can do that aren’t drinking.” Genuinely shocked by the result, he chuckles. Snap.
The swordsman reviews it, “that one actually kind of does you some justice for once.” Sanji tries to take a peak, but Zoro withdraws, “you can see when we’re done.”
It’s one of the first times he’s smiling genuinely without his eyes closed “so even a brute like you can tell that I’m handsome.” Snap.
“Yeah.” He responds with no malice.
“What?” Sanji expression scrambles.
“Oi! C’mon I finally got you to relax dumb ass!” Annoyed that he lost the ease of Sanji’s earlier appearance.
“No, what did you just say?”
“Yes, yes I also can tell.” Sanji’s too stunned to respond. “You heard the creepy lady at the bar ‘all your charms’ weren’t captured right.”
Sanji scoffs, flustered “Now you’re just being an asshole.” There’s no way a mosshead would compliment him without another scheme at play.
“No, she was right.” Sanji meets his eyes in confusion. “I didn’t like the way she treated you. No one treats my crew like that.” Ah, of course, their loyal and fierce protector. "Don't let anyone else try it." Snap. "We at least need to get the curl right, you’re curly-brow after all.” Sanji blushes, snap.
“Oi, delete that one!”
Zoro ignores him. “What’s under your bangs anyway? You always keep it so mysterious, but we need to show them your full charms after all.” The swordsman extends his hand, only for the cook to run away. The swordsman is usually met blow for blow, but seeing Sanji run sets something off in his primal mind to chase, “Oh, you’re definitely not getting away now.”
They grapple for minutes, Sanji’s fighting tooth and nail, but can’t overcome the swordsman's overbearing upper body strength. Zoro finally pins him down, brushing the blond waves out of his face to meet both of Sanji’s eyes for the first time, now watery. Zoro lets out a hearty laugh, finally releasing the grapple enough for Sanji to flip their positions. Sanji knew this would happen, this is why he hid it the whole time. The reminder of his genetics, of the fact that he’d have to keep hiding.
“Holy shit, Sanji. I thought you’d be missing an eye, or have an extra by how hard you were fighting” he can’t help but laugh still "it’s just another curly-brow. You really had me freaked out for a second.”
“What?”
“The left one can be curl and the right one can be twirl, so we can keep track. Not sure why you thought it was a big deal.”
“You don’t think it’s stupid?”
“Not any more stupid than the rest of your face.” The swordsman sees Sanji’s welled tears and realizes it’s too sensitive of a subject for their normal bickering to give him the reassurance he needs. “It’s like Nami’s tattoo or Chopper’s nose or my scar, it’s good because it’s on you. It’s perfect because it belongs to you.”
All the tension from Sanji’s body escapes at once, the fear and dread and guilt of hiding washing away with just a few words. How is the dumbest and least romantic person he’s ever known assuaging his fears? Making him feel loved, if he’d ever known the feeling well enough to recognize it. It must be, his heart is threatening to thud out of his chest.
Snap.
“You fucking asshole!” Realizing both eyebrows are exposed on film.
“It was absolutely the best shot of the night.”
Sanji sifts through the photographs the next morning, trying to decide if any of them truly are worth sending in. It’s terrible, it's truly, undeniably terrible. He flicks through each frame, and realizes he has never looked happier than through the eyes of a mosshead. He wants to delete them all, chuck the snail in the ocean if it's weren't for the cruelty but doesn’t have the courage. It feels like a betrayal to Sanji from the night before, Sanji who felt completely seen for the first time and loved regardless.
That’s perfect though, because that gives Nami just enough time to make printed copies of the photos for safe keeping just in case Sanji ever changes his mind.