Work Text:
Zoro is well aware that the Sunny is a large ship. There are plenty of chairs, hammocks, and empty patches of grass for a crew of their size to occupy.
Which is exactly why he doesn't understand the cook's current thought process.
Zoro is sitting on the couch in the aquarium bar, minding his own business and oiling Sandai Kitetsu. The room is empty until Sanji walks in, armed with a thick book and a cup of coffee. Out of the entire U-shaped seating area available, Sanji chooses to plop down exactly one inch away from Zoro's left thigh.
Zoro pauses his polishing rag. He glances sideways at the cook. Sanji crosses his legs, flipping his book open with an air of complete nonchalance, his knee bumping solidly against Zoro’s hip.
"There's a whole couch, cook," Zoro points out.
"The lighting is better on this side," Sanji replies smoothly, not even looking up from the page.
Zoro stares at the glowing tank above them. The lighting is exactly the same everywhere. "Right."
He goes back to his sword. Two minutes pass. Sanji shifts his weight, turning a page, and somehow slides even closer. Their shoulders are pressed against one another.
Zoro sighs quietly. Zoro isn't a romantic person, and he certainly isn't an expert on whatever goes on inside Sanji's head, but he isn't completely oblivious either. He knows Sanji is just too stubborn to simply ask for what he wants.
Without a word, Zoro sets his sword down on the coffee table. He reaches out, hooks a heavy arm around Sanji's waist, and drags the cook backward.
"Hey! What the fuck are you doing, you oaf?!" Sanji sputters, desperately holding his coffee cup out of spill-range as Zoro easily hauls him across the cushions and deposits him squarely between his own spread legs, pulling him backwards until Sanji’s back is flush against Zoro’s bare chest.
"The lighting is better here," Zoro says deadpan. He wraps his arms comfortably around Sanji's middle and rests his chin on the cook's shoulder.
Sanji opens his mouth, undoubtedly to hurl a string of insults at the stupid swordsman or to turn around and kick him in the shin, but no words come out. He just stammers, the tips of his ears practically glowing red in the dim room.
For a second, Zoro expects to get elbowed in the ribs, but Sanji just lets out a long, exasperated huff.
"You're going to ruin my reading posture, marimo," Sanji grumbles weakly.
"Yeah, yeah," Zoro rumbles, closing his eyes and leaning into the warmth of Sanji's back. "Just read your book."
Sanji doesn't complain again. He takes a sip of his coffee, settling his weight fully against Zoro's chest, and turns the page.