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“Usopp!!!!!”
Zoro sighed, his nap rudely interrupted by the cook’s scream. Usopp ran out of his workshop, covered in a red powder that he frantically tried to brush off his arms.
“What’s going on?” he asked Zoro, “Marines?”
“Cook,” Zoro said simply, pointing toward the kitchen. At that moment, Sanji threw the door open and pointed a finger at Usopp.
“Your fucking mousetrap,” he said, breathing heavily.
Usopp paled, “Did it hurt you? I’m sorry, sir, complaints are going to have to be lodged with my manager, and he’s busy right now.”
“No, asshole, it worked,” Sanji gritted out.
“Oh, what’s the problem then?” Usopp asked, confused.
“It fucking bisected a mouse in my storeroom. Do you know how fucking gross that is? There’re blood and guts everywhere.”
“Well, you can’t ask the world’s deadliest sniper, mechanic, and mouser to design something that doesn’t maim and kill,” Usopp sniffed.
“Wrong answer,” Zoro grunted, as Sanji’s foot came flying into Usopp’s face and Zoro heard a nasty crunch.
“Fucking try again,” Sanji screamed, stomping back to the kitchen and slamming the door.
Luffy pounded on the locked door, “Sanji, can we eat it for dinner?”
“No,” Zoro heard the cook scream, “That’s fucking disgusting.”
“What happened to not wasting food?” Zoro muttered, before turning over to try and sleep again.
---
The Going Merry had a mouse infestation. When Sanji had first discovered it, he had screamed himself blue and ordered Usopp to come up with a solution immediately.
“It’s just a mouse,” Zoro had said, earning him a kick towards the face that he blocked with Wado.
“Mice carry disease,” Sanji had shrieked at him, “They eat our food, leave droppings everywhere, and they’re fucking creepy.”
“I think they’re cute,” Usopp had said quietly. Sanji had been too enraged to hear. Probably why Usopp was still alive.
Usopp had first tried poison, but the confusing and conflicted cook had moaned and groaned about how the mouse must have suffered before it died, and the witch said Usopp’s poison ingredients were too expensive. Usopp had offered to find a cat at the next island, but Sanji had spluttered that, though he did love cats, he was unfortunately allergic. “Is that why you like Zoro? He’s kind of a cat,” Luffy had grinned. A cast iron pot bounced off their captain’s head a moment later and Luffy was kicked out of the kitchen amid shouts of “I hate the fucking mosshead.” Usopp spent a few sleepless nights trying to design something that would capture rather than hurt a mouse. The trap stood empty for a day or two as mice continued to eat their grain. Eventually Sanji had thrown it overboard, muttering that the trap was taunting him whenever he was in the kitchen.
A week after they discovered the problem, the cook looked terrible. When Zoro came into the sleeping quarters at night, Sanji would be tossing and turning and muttering to himself about “fucking vermin.” He had dark circles under his eyes during the day, making meals on autopilot as his eyes flitted around the kitchen looking for movement.
One afternoon, after Zoro had finished his workout, he made his way to the kitchen hoping to catch the cook off-guard and steal a bottle of whiskey. When his hand touched the doorknob, he heard screaming and thumps inside.
“It’s there, it’s there, fucking get it, you idiot, what happened to being the world’s deadliest mouser?!”
“You keep telling me not to hurt it,” Usopp said, practically sobbing.
Zoro sighed, wondering if he should just turn around and go back to the crow’s nest. After hearing a particularly desperate wail from the cook, he opened the door to see Sanji standing on the table, pointing around the room as Usopp tried to catch a scurrying mouse with a cup. Zoro watched for a moment before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, drowning out the noise and preparing himself. Opening his eyes, he saw the mouse making its way toward the table and lunged. In one motion, he grabbed the mouse, snapped its neck as quickly and painlessly as he could, exited the kitchen, and tossed it overboard. He walked back into the kitchen and washed his hands. When he finished, he turned around, wiping his hands on his haramaki, and stared at Sanji. Wordlessly, Sanji got off the table and retrieved a bottle of whiskey, tossing it Zoro’s way. Zoro grabbed it and grunted happily after reading the label, it was the good stuff, none of the cheap swill Sanji usually allowed him. He raised an eyebrow at Sanji, who shrugged, pulling out a cigarette and going back to chopping vegetables.
As he exited the kitchen, he clapped Usopp on the shoulder. “I’m the world’s deadliest mouser,” he said, and made his way back to the crow’s nest.
---
The next day, Zoro found another mouse in the sleeping quarters. As he prepared to toss it overboard, he hesitated, thinking about the good bottle of whiskey he’d received yesterday. Worth a try. Holding the dead mouse by its tail, he walked into the kitchen and stood there until Sanji noticed him.
“What do you want, mosshead?” Sanji sighed, turning around. His eyes widened when he saw what Zoro was holding.
“Get that thing out of here,” he yelled, “That is so unhygienic, why did you bring it here? Throw it overboard.”
Zoro frowned and said, “Booze.”
Sanji stared at him before breaking out into incredulous laughter, “Are you looking for a reward? Fuck off, marimo.”
“You gave me good whiskey yesterday,” Zoro pouted.
“That was a one-time deal, you don’t get one per head, consider it a retaining fee.”
Zoro glared at Sanji, who glared back. Finally, Sanji sighed, “Okay, okay, I’ll make onigiri for dinner as a reward.”
“With booze.”
“With a small cup of sake,” Sanji seethed, “Now get that thing out of here.”
Zoro grinned and walked out triumphantly.
---
“Whatcha doin?”
Zoro jumped, hitting his head against the bottom of a shelf. He whirled around to see Luffy standing at the door, watching him.
“I’m… looking for mice,” Zoro grunted.
“Why are you doing that?” Luffy asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Because— just because,” Zoro stammered, unsure himself why he was doing this.
“Did Sanji ask you to?”
“I wouldn’t do anything just because fucking eyebrows asked me too,” Zoro glared.
“Then why are you looking for mice?”
“This is courting behavior, Luffy,” he heard the witch say, lounging on a chair on the deck outside.
“Fuck you, witch,” Zoro yelled.
The kitchen door slammed open and Sanji stomped to the storeroom door, “Don’t fucking talk like that to Nami, seaweed head. What the fuck are you doing in my storeroom?”
“Zoro’s looking for mice for you,” Luffy said cheerfully.
“Oh,” Sanji said, his anger deflating as he stared blankly at Zoro, “Um. Thanks, marimo.”
“I’m looking for them for the crew,” Zoro corrected, refusing to look Sanji in the eyes, “Mice have… disease and stuff, and they eat our food and leave droppings.”
“Yeah… they do,” Sanji said, a weird look on his face. He turned and walked back to the kitchen.
“Good luck, Zoro,” Luffy chirped, leaving him to his hunting.
Over the course of the day, Zoro found a few mice in the storeroom and went to show each to Sanji, trying to contain a proud smile with each prize that he brought. Sanji had sighed each time, but promised Zoro various treats and drinks. At dinner, he’d made do on his promises, placing onigiri, a bowl of miso soup, a pile of tamagoyaki, and a whole bottle of sake in front of Zoro without comment.
“How come Zoro gets all that?” Usopp asked.
“Because, unlike you, mosshead is proving himself to be slightly useful,” Sanji barked at him. Zoro preened at the comment, certainly not in a way that anybody could see.
“The trap I’m working on will blow your minds,” Usopp said, “Guaranteed no pain for the little guys.”
“Don’t bother,” Sanji said, waving his hands dismissively, “Marimo is the designated mouser.”
“But Sanji, at least let me explain how it works,” Usopp begged, “I’ll grab it right now and show you my prototype.”
Zoro finished his meal and put the dishes in the sink, retreating to the sleeping quarters to find more mice, err- sleep before his lookout shift.
---
Zoro hadn’t found any mice the entire day and he was getting frustrated. He had cleared out a few nests in the storeroom, sleeping quarters, below deck yesterday. Perhaps he should have spread out his hunting, done one a day. He cursed at the mice for being weak. The last place he hadn’t checked yet was the kitchen, but the cook was in there now. He just wanted to see if there were any mice in there, that was all, Zoro told himself as he stalked into the kitchen and sat on a bench along the wall.
Sanji turned around expectantly and then stared at Zoro’s empty hands, “No mouse?”
“Haven’t found any yet,” Zoro grunted.
“So what are you doing in here?”
“I’m keeping lookout for mice in here,” Zoro said, crossing his arms and leaning back.
Sanji blinked, “I’ll just let you know if there are any.”
“They’ll get away before I can get here,” Zoro said resolutely, “Trust me, I would know.”
“Okay,” Sanji said doubtfully, turning back around to continue working on whatever weird dessert he was making for the witch. From where he was sitting, Zoro had a very good view of Sanji’s backside. The cook was skinny, but he did have a nice butt. Zoro frowned. Where did that thought come from? Sanji reached up to grab a jar of something from a shelf and Zoro lazily followed the line from Sanji’s long fingers down to his butt. Zoro’s brow furrowed, the butt again. Zoro closed his eyes, determined to use his hearing to find the mice, training for his auditory senses.
“Oi, marimo.”
Zoro’s eyes snapped open. Sanji was standing above him, chewing on an unlit cigarette. The shadows in the room were different, he must have fallen asleep.
Sanji was holding a bottle in his face. Zoro took it hesitantly, “What’s this?”
“I knew you didn’t know how to read,” Sanji smirked, “It’s wine.”
“Why are you giving it to me?” Zoro asked, “I didn’t catch anything.”
“Just take it, you idiot, it’s almost dinnertime,” Sanji sighed. Zoro fiddled with the bottle in his hand as Sanji busied himself making last minute preparations. He stood up eventually and went to stand next to Sanji.
“Do you need any help?” he grunted. Sanji blinked, frowned, opened his mouth, and closed it again. Finally, he pointed toward a cabinet, “You can set the table.” Zoro nodded, and went to retrieve a few bowls and utensils, placing them at each person’s seat at the table. Sanji followed, ladling soup into the bowls and placing crusty bread on each plate. He added a few sprigs of some green plant to Nami’s bowl, doubled the amount of soup in Luffy’s, and sprinkled some red powder on Usopp’s. Zoro pointed to his empty bowl, “What about me?”
“For marimo, who likes very bland foods and says everything is too salty or sweet,” Sanji sighed dramatically, grabbing the handle of a smaller pot and dumping its contents into Zoro’s bowl, “I do salt and pepper last, and separate your portion, so I can control for your weird palate.”
“I… didn’t know you did that,” Zoro said lamely.
“Well, you don’t spend much time in the kitchen, do you?” Sanji replied, “Now go get everybody for dinner and be nice when telling Nami.”
Zoro nodded mutely and went to gather the rest of the crew.
---
Zoro began spending his afternoons in the kitchen, walking in after his workout to lounge on the bench. Sanji muttered about his mouser napping half the time he was on duty, but never kicked him out. After Zoro raided the fridge for milk after one of his workouts, the cook had taken to leaving a glass of milk on the bench for Zoro.
(Usopp had walked in once to see Zoro lying on the bench, an empty glass of milk next to his head and made a dry comment asking why Sanji didn’t give milk to Zoro in a bowl like a normal cat owner did. He narrowly dodged a foot and a sword as he ran screaming back out to deck.)
Zoro began taking on other odd jobs in the kitchen, stirring the soup so Sanji could sit down and do some more menu planning, cutting vegetables with a lot of energy and forcing Sanji to buy a sturdier cutting board the next island they visited, and always setting the table.
Sanji put a bowl of dough in front of Zoro one day. Zoro stared at it, confused, wondering if he was supposed to eat it. “Knead it, mosshead.”
“Need it…” Zoro said confused.
“No, no, with a k-, kneading, nevermind. Just punch it hard for ten minutes,” Sanji said exasperated, showing him what to do. Zoro’s eyes lit up, this might be good training, he thought, and set to work. Five minutes in, Zoro had worked up a good sweat and took his shirt off out of habit. It wasn’t worth soaking his shirts out at sea when he didn’t have that many spares. Sanji turned around to check on his progress and for some reason, flushed. Zoro blinked. That’s new.
“Are you getting your fucking sweat in my dough?” he asked, grabbing the bowl and poking at the dough.
“It hasn’t been ten minutes yet,” Zoro said, stubbornly, trying to grab the bowl back.
“This is fine already,” Sanji said, “Should have known that if I gave it to a stupid muscle-crazed gorilla, you’d end up overworking it if I didn’t check you out. I mean check on you. Put your stupid shirt back on, mosshead.”
Zoro blinked again. Hm.
Sanji had taken the dough out and was doing complicated things with it, muttering to himself. Zoro noticed that the back of his neck was red.
“Anything else I can do?” he asked, going to stand next to Sanji. Sanji’s cheeks were still red. They were redder than his lips, which were very soft-looking.
“Again, put your fucking shirt back on,” Sanji gritted at him.
“I need to dry first.”
“What are you, actual seaweed? Want me to toss you in the fucking soup when you’re dry?” Sanji glared.
Zoro turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, “You should give me harder jobs to do, cook, I’m getting bored.”
“Why don’t you go to the crow’s nest and train then, asshole?” Sanji muttered.
“I already trained today, and I like it here,” Zoro said. Sanji’s hand slipped and a ball of dough dropped to the floor. Zoro leaned down to pick it up, blew on it gently to get the bits of dirt off, and tossed it back on the counter. The cook was staring at his lips now. He wrenched his eyes away and examined the ball of dough. He put a large X on top and placed it near the other balls he’d made.
“For Luffy,” he muttered, “I’ve yet to find anything that gives him a stomachache. I don’t have anything else for you to do, marimo, go look for mice like you’re supposed to.”
Zoro sighed and trudged back to his seat, finishing off the rest of his milk and falling asleep, the rays of sun through the window warming him.
---
For the next several days, the cook avoided him. Well, as much as he could when Zoro spent all late afternoon in the kitchen. He hadn’t given Zoro any more jobs to do, and Zoro would often be woken up by Usopp or Luffy walking into the kitchen after dinner had been set.
“How come you never wear a shirt anymore?” Luffy asked, his mouth full.
“Sun feels nice on my skin,” Zoro grunted, waving generally in the direction of the bench that got all the afternoon light.
“You really are like a cat,” Luffy grinned.
“Tiger,” Usopp muttered.
“Sanji, wouldn’t it be cute if we put some cat ears on Zoro when he’s on mouse duty?” Nami asked innocently.
“Absolutely not, Nami,” Sanji cooed, “Only you, the beautiful and stunning cat burglar, would look cute in cat ears.”
“You sure?” Nami pouted, “Zoro lying shirtless on the bench with a pair of cat ears, his tail waving in the air, purring in his sleep. He’d wake up and rub his eyes and meow happily at you.” Sanji stared at her for a moment too long before turning red, “My eyes would bleed if I had to see that, my dear, please don’t put such awful imagery in my mind.”
“Meow,” Zoro deadpanned, and Sanji threw him out of the kitchen.
---
A few weeks since the initial infestation, Zoro did, somehow, manage to find another mouse. This one must have snuck on the ship on the last island they’d stopped at. With a huge grin, Zoro ran to the kitchen to show Sanji. For the first time in a while, Sanji smiled back at him, and Zoro’s heart stuttered for a moment. A realization hit him as he looked at the corner of the cook’s lips. Ah, so that was why he’d been feeling weird.
Once he’d disposed of the mouse and came back to the kitchen, Sanji had already set out a glass of milk and a slice of meat pie for him. Zoro enjoyed his treat, listening to Sanji hum as he prepared dinner.
Zoro went to stand next to Sanji, who looked quizzically at him.
“I don’t have anything for you to do, mosshead.”
“Reward,” Zoro said resolutely.
“I already gave you your reward,” Sanji said, eyes narrowing. In a quick movement, Zoro leaned forward and kissed Sanji on the cheek. Sanji stared at him, hand raised to his cheek where Zoro’s lips had been.
“Reward,” Zoro grinned, and returned to his bench, curling up for his afternoon nap.
“What the fuck, marimo,” Sanji spluttered, once the initial shock had worn off. Zoro opened an eye to look at Sanji looming over him. Zoro sighed, closing his eye and waiting for a kick. Maybe he should have retreated to the crow’s nest, he didn’t feel like fighting in the kitchen that had become his sanctuary. Suddenly, a very soft and very warm pair of lips were pressed to his own. Both of his eyes shot open this time as Sanji pulled back, a blush on his face.
“That’s the reward,” Sanji said, flicking him on the forehead.
Zoro grinned, sitting up, “Do I only get one when I catch a mouse?”
“Help me set the table, idiot, you might get another one after.”