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Up until a certain point, Sanji had always thought that the whole ‘Zoro being lost’ thing was a big joke everyone was in on. So maybe the guy liked to wander around and didn't follow orders so great. Maybe he was just drunk all the time. Maybe once he’d gotten into a bar fight and gotten hit on the head really hard and now he just thought East was West. Who was Sanji to judge? He didn't actually give a shit.
Except he’d seen the swordsman take fully wrong turns with such a determination that it was amazing. Sanji could, and had proven, that if he pointed in one direction there was a probability of over 85% that Zoro would go in the exact opposite. This extended to ‘up’ and ‘down’ as well, as if somehow when the man climbed steps his brain entered a sort of limbo and all rational understanding fled the building. Usopp said he’d done his own tests on it, said it was a case of hopelessness the likes of which he and his army had never seen.
Which was, frankly, hilarious. When it wasn't Sanji’s problem. But somehow, it was always his goddamn problem . Out of the six of them, only the cook and the doctor had a solid success rate in finding lost green children. Chopper, because he could smell the stench of an unwashed haramaki, and Sanji because he had mastered the art of thinking like the idiot, (which he wasn't proud of).
Like now, for instance. There was the shore, which Sanji had asked Zoro to stay on, and therefore, Zoro had not stayed on. There was the forest, which Sanji had very specifically pointed at, said don't go in the forest , and so, obviously, Zoro went into the forest. And Chopper asked him why he got headaches.
“Don't know why we can't just leave you behind…” Sanji grumbled, kicking a stick out of the way. Zoro would do fine if they left him in the forest with the other wild animals he so closely resembled. Unfortunately, Nami had given stritch instructions to actually bring him back, preferably living.
Heaving a sigh, the cook continued making his way deeper into the forest, following the tell tale signs of a lost swordsman. one neatly cut-in-half tree, several muddy footprints, and a trampled bush later saw Sanji facing a dirtier-than-usual swordsman. He raised one curled eyebrow at the man.
“I wasn't lost.” Zoro grumbled, red blooming on his face.
“Oh no, of course not.” Sanji drawled out. He grabbed the other man by the wrist, turning around and stepping back towards the beach.
Zoro made an obscene gesture with his free hand, which the cook ignored. A few minutes in aggressive silence led them back to the shore Sanji had originally been.
“I was on my way back to the ship.” Zoro said, yanking his arm free and scowling.
In Zoro’s very special language, that meant I need help finding my way back . The swordsman had never outright asked of course, but his willingness to be led like an obedient dog gave him away.
“Marimo, I really don't have time to guide you back right now.”
Which wasn't technically true. He’d finished up all his shopping and taken inventory, Luffy proofing the pantry as best he could. The main thing he was hoping to accomplish before they set sail the next day was to find a bar and find some company for the night.
“I don't need your help to get back, curly.” Zoro muttered sourly.
Sanji narrowed his eyes at him,
“Well then I’m sure you know you just need to follow the shore to get back to the ship.” The cook said, teeth lightly grinding.
Zoro clenched his jaw, turned around, and began marching a ways down the shore. Sanji watched with the usual slight amazement as the swordsman turned sharply at 90 degrees and trotted back into the forest like it was his goddamn destiny to do so.
Sanji waited a minute, contemplating leaving him. He could just go into town and leave the mosshead to his wandering, swing by in the morning and pick him up. But that would be in slight contrast to Nami-san’s orders, and Zoro hadn’t had dinner yet either.
It didn't take him long to catch up to the idiot again, casually striding along as Zoro took a few more overly aggressive turns, not looking at the cook.
“Any chance you suffered a head injury as a kid?” He asked casually, stepping over a branch. If he got mud on his new pants he’d kill the other man.
“Fuck off.” Zoro growled, taking a halting step forward, then one to side, then straight again. He walked up to a tree and immediately turned left. Sanji raised a brow at the tree.
“No, really, you could ask Chopper to check it out if that's the case.” Sanji continued. Zoro took a sharp right then left then right. “Nothing to be embarrassed about seeking help.”
“The ground just moves , ok!?” The swordsman yelled, refusing to look back at the blonde.
The whole concept of the ground moving further fed the head injury theory, but Sanji decided to stay quiet for the time being. He knew that Zoro wouldn't ever actually ask for help, but a big part of him wanted to see the mosshead find humility just once .
That would take time that Sanji didn't have though, so he grabbed Zoro by the back of his belly warmer and tugged in the right direction.
“I’ll get you to where the ship is visible from the shore but you're on your own from there. Try to make it back before Luffy gets to your snack portion hidden in the icebox.”
“No one wants your crap-food.” Zoro bit out.
Sanji halted, feeling the familiar red heat on his ears and neck that only came out when he was particularly enraged. Something Zoro was downright talented at bringing out. He released his hold on the filthy haramaki.
“Ok, you know what? Good luck finding your way back, shit-head!”
Fuck him. Zoro could just fucking- wander in circles for all Sanji cared. He’d get to the ship eventually , and the cook could go have a nice evening and not give a shit. Who could blame him for leaving the asshole in the woods? It wasn't like they were really even friends.
Sanji got as far as the beach again before he stopped and sighed. There were still two primal parts of him yelling for attention; one saying he needed to get his ass back in the woods and make sure the swordsman ate something, and the other refusing the very idea of not following Nami’s orders. Maybe if he knocked the mosshead unconscious he could just drag him- no, no he’d get his clothes dirty.
“Fucking stupid green dog .” Sanji cursed, kicking at the ground and glaring back at the trees.
Groaning, he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up, trudging back into the forest. The path of Zoro’s agitated footsteps and then later sword slashes on trees were pathetically easy to follow, and went in two different circles that let him nearly back to the shore. The swordsman was huffing, red-faced by a tree that was wider than both men.
“This is god damn sad, you know that?” Sanji practically spit. So maybe he was pissed and wanted to start a bit of a fight still.
Zoro whirled on him, teeth clenched in open animosity.
“No one asked you, shit-cook!”
Swords already drawn, Zoro didn't hesitate to lash out. Sanji blocked easily, pressing back against the swords with one foot as he bit through the filter of his cigarette. He spun, his other shoe meeting steel and causing a loud twang to echo around them.
They brawled for a minute or two before Sanji remembered his previous desire to stay presentable, and he lowered his leg. Zoro sheathed his swords easily enough, turning and marching off in a huff. Sanji rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets and moving to follow the other man. In his left pocket his fingers brushed something cold and smooth, and he perked up, glancing back towards the swordsman.
“So, I have an idea.” Sanji said, smiling to himself as he jogged to catch up to Zoro’s side.
“Die.” Zoro muttered half-heartedly, not even giving the cook a glance.
“I think, with a little perseverance, we could cure your directionlessness.” The cook continued, pulling the object out of his pocket with a flourish.
Zoro stared at it, then gave Sanji a flat look.
“You’re giving me a clock?”
Sanji kicked him in the shin, pointing to the smaller dial within the watch’s clock hands. The compass was smaller, but clearly visible.
“I’m not giving you shit. You’re borrowing this to use the compass part, which I’m gonna show you how to use since apparently you don't know how.”
“I know how to read a compass!”
“Then prove it. Take us north.”
Zoro snatched the watch out of Sanji’s hand, scowling at it. He turned it over in his palm, moved it up and down, took a step to the right and watched the arrow move with him. Then he started walking, wholly ignoring the cook who fell into step beside him.
Sanji watched as Zoro kept his eyes on the compass, only looking up occasionally to step over a large root or check his surroundings. After a few minutes however, Sanji noticed a curve to their direction, and learned in to check the compass himself.
“I said take us north .” He said, grabbing the swordsman by the arm.
“I am .” Zoro replied, trying to free himself.
“No you’re not.” Sanji pointed at the very clear E at the top of the compass, the arrow lined up right along it. “This means we’re going east. Which should be obvious, by the way.”
“What are you, an idiot? The arrow is north, and I’m following the arrow.”
Sanji slapped a hand over his eyes, nearly groaning.
“Marimo, we’re the arrow. It literally moves when you move. How did you not notice that?”
“It's pointing up!” Zoro yelled, waving around the thing in frustration. “North is always up! Any idiot knows that.”
Sanji grabbed the pocket watch, pointing aggressively at the little N .
“North is North!! It's not- it doesn't move ! Do you understand that!?”
Zoro narrowed his eyes, giving Sanji an unimpressed scowl.
“I don't know who educated you, but the whole planet moves, dumbass. It’s called science .”
If Sanji was a more patient man, maybe he could reason this out in a way the idiot would understand. Unfortunately, Zoro tested his very thin amount of patience, and fighting it out would ruin the cook’s clean outfit.
“You know what? You’re absolutely right. Here, go east, find the ship, have a spectacular fucking evening.” He said through gritted teeth, aggressively tucking the watch into Zoro’s haramaki. He’d have to disinfect the poor thing later. “And I want that back so don't lose it .”
Zoro scrambled for a moment to dig the watch back out, looking more constipated than anything, and Sanji stalked off. This was an important lesson for the swordsman in the end, he was sure of it. The crew couldn't afford to just let him go on wasting their time and putting them at risk, the guy had to learn how to get back.
The blonde actually made it to the edge of town this time before he stopped, looking over his shoulder. He looked down at his nice white shirt, the smooth ironed fabric absolutely perfect. There was a pretty loud voice in his head going keep moving, you want to get laid, don't you ? And damn, he really did want to, that was the plan, but fuck. What if the green moron walked off a cliff and got hurt or something? What if he broke the pocket watch? Zeff had given him that thing, kind of. He’d at least given Sanji the money which he had used to buy it, so indirect gift. Whatever. He liked the thing and there was a 60% chance of the sword idiot breaking it.
Groaning to himself, the cook turned around again, moving back towards the woods he’d finally gotten out of. He’d get Zoro close enough to the ship that the guy had to find it, and then Sanji would be on his way to a lovely night. That was all he had to do.
The swordsman was walking around a thick tree, eyes glued to the compass as he meandered on in a perfect circle.
“It's been at least 10 minutes, and you’ve managed to do worse than I expected. Congratulation.” Sanji said, slipping out from the foliage and earning a slightly surprised scowl.
“You gave me a broken compass.” Zoro accused, tossing the thing back the cook’s way.
Sanji caught it easily, rolling his eyes as he tucked it back in his suit.
“Pretty sure it's your brain that's broken, but I can't fix that so just follow me.”
“ Your brain’s broken.” Zoro muttered, falling into step beside the blonde anyways.
“Wow, burn. Now shut up so I can get you back.”
Zoro took a sharp right, and Sanji snagged him by the back of the shirt in time to correct his direction. The swordsman huffed, but didn't resist.
“What, you go somewhere to be, ero-cook?”
“As a matter of fact- stop turning - I’m late for my evening out. I have beautiful people to grace with my presence.”
Sanji kept his grip on Zoro’s shirt white-knuckled, occasionally tugging as he felt the mosshead start to vere off.
“That why you’re dressed for a funeral?” The swordsman grumbled.
Sanji looked down at his outfit, feeling a vein tick at his forehead.
“This is a dinner jacket. Sorry if that's too much for your limited view on fashion.”
“I dress practically.” Zoro said, giving Sanji an unimpressed once-over. “And you look like an easy target right now.”
“I’m not taking that from the guy who owns one shirt and uses it as a sweat rag.”
Zoro just shrugged, like that wasn't the most disgusting thing. Sanji shuddered.
“Clothes are clothes. If someone judges me by what I’m wearing, then they’re a person whose opinion doesn't matter.”
Sanji considered that for a moment before shaking his head. Trust the guy who owned one outfit and didn't even take care of it to not give a damn about appearances.
“Ok, but don't you want to make a good impression?” Sanji reasoned, pointing to a mud stain on the collar of the swordsman's shirt. “Like if you went to the bar right now and tried to pick someone up, you’d just embarrass yourself.” He reasoned.
“What the hell do clothes and sex have to do with each other?” Zoro said, looking genuinely perplexed and annoyed all at once.
“It's about presentation .” Sanji stressed, gesturing to his front. “Someone looks at me and can tell that I’m a well-groomed gentleman. Someone looks at you and can tell you haven't bathed in a week.”
Zoro looked down at himself, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes slid over to Sanji’s white shirt.
“Rather be a little dirty than look like a priss.” He said with a smirk.
“A ‘little dirty’ came and passed a few days ago.” Sanji said with a sniff. “You look like a pig.”
Before the cook could react, Zoro had a sword drawn and extended, the swing coming down just a second before Sanji could block it. A clean slice right up the side of Sanji’s jacket appeared.
“Oh no,” Zoro said flatly, a grin peeking out from the corner of his mouth. “Your funeral coat.”
“It's a dinner jacket ! And it was new !” Sanji cried, kicking out in absolute fury.
Zoro made a satisfying thump as he hit the tree, still looking far too pleased with himself for the cook’s liking. He didn't have the time or patience to properly punish the other man though, and with only his shirt and trousers left to preserve, he turned on his heel to make his way to town. He shrugged off the ruined jacket, tucking it under his arm as he cursed passionately.
-o-
At the bar, Sanji tossed back a glass of less-than-decent wine, his ruined jacket over the chair behind him. He considered how long it would take to repair it himself, but the rip was long and already starting to extend. Maybe there was an affordable tailor in town, or he could get Usopp to try fixing it. He signaled the bartender, who nodded his way as Sanji gestured to his empty glass.
Looking around the bar, it wasn't a bad turnout. There were plenty of young women talking at tables, a few walking around with drinks in hand. One or two men even caught his eye, but he was more interested in the woman a few seats away, returning his glance. She smiled at him.
There was guilt clawing up his throat even as he asked the bartender to send a drink her way, his thoughts stubbornly still on the swordsman. It was one night, it wasn't like it would kill the guy. His fingers brushed his pocket, the watch sitting comfortably there. Maybe he should have left it with Zoro, useless as it was to him.
“Hey.”
Sanji startled, the woman from before now standing near him, her new drink held up in acknowledgement.
“Hello.” He said, somewhat awkwardly. Without his jacket for a layer of- something, he felt a little off. Like maybe he came across as sloppy or unremarkable.
The woman smiled all the same, taking an easy seat next to him, and Sanji felt his stomach lurch at the same time his cheeks heated. She was beautiful, as all women always were, but in the obvious way that you could see in the shine of her hair and sharp nose. An immediately striking image.
“You’re one of the pirates that came in, yeah?” She asked, one hand cradling her chin as she did a quick once-over of Sanji.
“If I say yes, will you call the marines?” He joked, wincing at how downright boyish he sounded.
She just laughed easily, and Sanji took the opportunity to down his glass of wine as quickly as possible, hoping for liquid courage. Noticing, she raised a brow and smiled playfully.
“Don't worry, I like pirates.” She said, leaning in a little and yeah, ok, yup, there was definitely mutual flirting going on that would be very productive if Sanji could unstick his tongue already.
Zoro’s a pirate , his brain supplied unhelpfully. Zoro’s probably a very lost and very hungry pirate.
Zoro could also go fuck himself, he shot back at his own train of thought.
But what if he was actually really hungry? Like, what if his stomach was growling right now and he was feeling sorry about the jacket? Ok, the second part was a stretch, but the man could be actually hungry. No, stop it, it's not your problem, he thought. Except it fucking was because Sanji was his cook . God damnit.
“-ere? Hello?”
A hand waved in front of Sanji’s face and he startled out of his marimo-based thoughts, turning back to the woman.
“I’m so sorry my dear, I just remembered I left something in the forest on my way here.” He said, half of his brain absolutely screaming at him because beautiful lady, right there, don't fucking leave .
For her part, the woman didn't appear especially put out. She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink and hopped off the bar stool.
“Well if you find it, feel free to come back and buy me another drink.” She said with a wink, and oh, he loved her, he really did.
“I will.” He said, even though he already knew the chances were slim of him making it back to the bar that night.
-o-
For his part, Zoro at least wasn't any more lost than he had been. Not any less of course, but still. Some points had to be awarded.
“Can you fix your jacket?” He muttered as he caught Sanji’s approaching figure.
It was as close to an apology as the cook would probably get from Zoro.
“Maybe. It's just a jacket though.” He replied, offering an olive branch. He just didn't have it in him to hold this particular grudge.
Zoro seemed to accept that, brightening up a little bit. Sanji thought that if he were a dog his tail would be wagging, and the mental image almost made him laugh.
The cook reached out and grabbed a bit of the ugly green belly warmer, using it as a leash to lead the other man in the right direction. Following obediently, the swordsman remained quiet as Sanji marched on.
“Sometimes it's on purpose.”
Sanji turned his head, not sure if he’d heard right.
“What?”
Zoro met his gaze, his grey eyes sharp for a moment before the whole of him seemed to just- soften.
“Going off. Getting kinda turned around.” He looked down at the ground, watching his own feet move behind Sanji’s.
“Yeah?” The blonde realized he had slowed down, their pace trailing into something like a meander. He let go of the haramaki.
“Sometimes it's nice, y’know?” Zoro said, looking back up. That softness around him, like someone had smudged the edges, made him seem young. An actual 19 year old. “To be alone.”
Sanji couldn't agree personally. The last time he’d been well and truly alone he’d been on one side of a rock while a man ate his own leg. The time before he’d been in a fucking prison cell. Being on the Going Merry where Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp were always screeching and Nami was always telling them to be quiet made Sanji feel at peace, his own voice adding to the chaos that somehow made a home. Even Zoro, with his hulking, guttural snores meant that there was a sense of peace surrounding them all.
“Do you want to be alone now?” Sanji asked, glancing at the slight break in the trees. They’d be at the beach soon.
Zoro gave a shrug.
“Nah, you’re not horrible company.”
Sanji rolled his eyes.
“An astounding compliment.” He muttered, feeling more than hearing the way Zoro chuckled in response.
“You’re welcome.”
They came across the beach, the lowering sun a dazzlingly bright light suddenly after the shade of the trees. Sanji held up a hand to cover his eyes. He turned to Zoro, who was squinted and blinking at the light as well.
“We could actually go to the bar y’know. If you wanted.” He said, surprising both of them.
“Thought you were already heading there, curly.” Zoro responded, genturing to Sanji’s outfit.
“No, dumbass, this is me inviting you. Like, ‘hey Zoro let's continue to hang out and not kill each other for a bit’.”
Zoro’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Well why didn't you just say that?”
Sanji clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to kick out at the swordsman's shins.
“Do you want to go to the bar or not?” He huffed, settling for kicking the sand.
Zoro seemed to consider this deeply for a moment, looking annoyed.
“No money.” He finally said, shrugging.
“You’re really ruining this for me. Look, I’ll buy you a round ok?” Sanji said, feeling a vein tick on his head.
If anything, this seemed to confuse Zoro even more. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, brows still scrunched up like a child.
“What's in it for you?”
“I don't know!” Sanji shouted, patience shot. “You could be less of an asshole and we could talk about our lives or something!”
The swordsman’s brows shot up in open shock, quickly smothered to something more stoic. Most surprising of all, a faint dusting of red bloomed on his cheeks.
“Oh. Yeah, ok.” He muttered, turning sharply, as if he was going to lead them.
Instead of the usual annoyance that came with Zoro doing...anything really, Sanji almost smiled. Almost.
“I’ll buy you top shelf stuff if you can lead us there.” He said, and this time he was smiling, because maybe the swordsman’s hopelessness wasn't actually that annoying. Maybe the entire time he’d known Zoro, they’d been getting off on the wrong foot, because it’d been so hard up until now to see the other man as anything other than some kind of one-track fighter.
“Really?” Zoro asked, positively lighting up .
“Within the hour though.” Sanji said, laughing softly. Feeling something light a weight fall off his shoulders.
“Fuck off.” But this time it was said without any heat, the other man grinning right back.
-o-
They didn't make it to the bar. Instead, Zoro eventually managed to get them to the very shore they started at an hour before. It made the swordsman sour, but Sanji couldn't find it in him to care. The stars were out.
“Oh, it's the three sisters.” Sanji said, pointing up at 3 bright stars lined up in the sky.
Zoro looked up as well, eyes flicking around until he seemed to land on the same space the cook was.
“It's called the three kings where I’m from.”
“Who wants to look up in the sky and imagine some old men when you could think of three lovely ladies?” Sanji said, laughing a little.
“Is there anything you think of that isn't women?” Zoro asked, grinning as well.
“Cooking, for one. Is there anything you think of that isn't swords?”
“Yeah, booze.”
Sanji laughed, lowering his head and staring at his shoes. They were scuffed and covered in specks of mud, some dotting his once-clean pants. There was a green stain on his white shirt, and she shrugged, lowering himself to sit in the cool sand.
“Isn't there one called the north star?” Zoro asked.
Sanji looked up again, eyes falling to one of the brighter stars on the horizon in the general northern direction.
“Probably that one. You could try guiding us with it.”
Zoro was quiet for a while, and Sanji looked over at him. He looked dirty, which wasn't unusual, but he had a fatigue to him that was slightly new. He eventually sat down beside the cook.
“When I was a kid, someone told me the same thing. But she never got around to teaching me where the right stars were that I was supposed to follow.” He said softly.
Sanji looked back up at the night sky, bright and full now that they were far enough away from the town and docks. He wondered if Zoro had ever gotten lost as a kid and been scared. If he’d looked up and wanted to be somewhere that was home and safe.
“I could teach you.” Sanji said, feeling embarrassed suddenly.
“Yeah?” Zoro’s voice was a low rumble by his side.
“Well,” Sanji hummed, unable to keep a serious tone. “I could try.”
Zoro nudged him with his shoulder, and there was the slightest darkening to his cheeks again that Sanji wasn't sure he could believe. A loud gurgling sound made them both pause, the swordsman looking down at his own stomach with something like a betrayed look.
Getting back to his feet, Sanji extended a hand to the mosshead.
“Come on, marimo. Luffy’s probably found your dinner by now, I’ll make you something fresh.”
Zoro’s hand slid into his easily, his calluses lining up where some of Sanji’s are. It was strange how it wasn’t strange, the way they fit .
“Onigiri?” Zoro asked, rising with the extra help.
There was still that faint softness around the swordsman that Sanji wondered at, and he smiled all over again.
“Sure. I can make that for you.”
Sanji turned north, down the shore, letting his hand fall. Zoro’s fingers lingered on his skin, keeping the connection for a long, final moment before his hand separated too. Then he made a turn, and Sanji reached out quickly to pull him back in the right direction, their hands once again clasped. Neither man pulled away this time.
This could be something , Sanji thought, marveling again at the simple fit of their hands. Marveling at how Zoro didn't let go. Because just maybe, he thought, this could be something nice.