Chapter Text
“What are you doing Friday, Sanji?”
Sanji looked up from pretending to read his U.S. History textbook to see his darling Nami smiling sweetly at him. He snapped his book shut to give her his full attention.
“Absolutely nothing,” he crooned, “Did you have something in mind?”
Nami’s eyes glinted in a way that meant she was up to No Good, but Sanji still adored her for it. “Come to the game with me.”
“What game?” Sanji asked, knowing exactly which game she meant.
“The football game, the only game on Friday nights,” she responded, rolling her eyes.
“You mean the game with the stupidly-shaped ball.”
“Yes, that one.”
Sanji winced. “If I wanted to see a bunch of people running into each other, I could—actually, scratch that, I don’t want to see a bunch of people running into each other. I thought you hated football, Nami, why do you want to go?”
“It’s the first game of the season. I’m vice president of student council, and I’m going to be president next year. I’m supposed to go to these things, and I need you to come with me to at least the first few games. Please, best friend?”
The nuclear option, throwing “best friend” around, Nami must be desperate. Sanji sighed, “I have practice until 6.”
“Great, I’ll meet you after, I’ll even bring you dinner, then let’s go get front row seats. I need to be somewhere the newspaper can see me,” Nami said, likely already pondering how to feed a good story to her friend and newspaper editor, Vivi.
“Yes, love,” Sanji said, already dreading an evening of being surrounded by ear-splitting screaming and having to watch a completely nonsensical game.
“Oh don’t give me that face,” Nami said, winking at him, “You don’t have to like the sport to enjoy the players.”
Sanji blushed and turned back to his textbook.
---
Ah yes, the players. Thousand Sunny High School’s football team had historically been excellent, sending players each year to college with football scholarships. Then, Zoro Roronoa walked onto the field for try-outs as a freshman already built like an NFL player and Alabama was sending recruiters to the practice fields by mid-season.
Sanji, also a freshman, had been wandering around the sports complex looking for the soccer team locker rooms, when he ran into Zoro who was, for some inexplicable reason, trying to find the football field indoors. The next few minutes of guiding Zoro back outside were a blur in Sanji’s mind, as he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat caused by the compression gear Zoro was wearing that could barely contain his chest and the cool gray eyes that seemed to stare right through Sanji’s soul. (His cousin had told him he was prone to melodrama, but she hadn’t had to walk next to a Greek god for the length of a hallway). Zoro had thanked him curtly then jogged away in the wrong direction, but at that point Sanji could no longer feel his fingers, so he decided to find a bench to rest instead of chase after the love of his life (no melodrama here at all).
Since that fateful day when the crush of the century began for Sanji, he hadn’t spoken another word to Zoro. They didn’t have any classes together. (While Zoro was an excellent athlete, he also appeared to be an idiot where Sanji had long been forced by Zeff to keep up his grades since “kicking a ball around wouldn’t pay rent”). However, the soccer and football practice fields were next to each other, so Sanji was at least able to spend his afternoons after school staring mindlessly at Zoro during breaks in Coach Patty’s ruthless training.
These days, when they passed each other in the hallways, Sanji could take some comfort that he was just about Zoro’s height now. He’d gone through his much-hoped-for growth spurt that summer, starting junior year at a more respectable 5’9. Zoro, long since forgetting Sanji’s directional assistance, never acknowledged him, and mostly stalked around alone or accompanied by his boisterous teammates. Resigned to remain inconsequential in Zoro’s life, Sanji focused on school and soccer, occasionally sparing a second look for attractive players on opposing teams, but otherwise stuck in a very-single but otherwise content life.
---
“Good practice, Captain,” Gin smiled, patting him on the back after Sanji drank half a cup of water, dumping the rest over his head. It was a hot day, the last remnants of a Georgia August sticking around past its welcome. Soccer was a spring season sport, but the majority of the varsity players trained in the fall as well under the watchful eye of their coach.
“Gin,” Sanji sighed, “Remind me why we’re voluntarily working our asses off in August?”
“State championships?”
“I suppose,” Sanji sighed again.
“You could do track instead, we’re basically doing a track meet every day,” Gin shrugged.
“I prefer to run after something,” Sanji rolled his eyes, “Not just in a circle.”
“You doing something after practice today?” Gin asked casually, “Some of us are grabbing dinner then going to watch the new Batman.”
Sanji groaned.
“Not a fan of Pattinson?”
“No, I promised Nami I’d go to the game with her.”
Gin wrinkled his nose, “The football game?”
“The one and only.”
“Everybody’s going, they all want to see if Roronoa has gotten even bigger over the summer or if the golden boy has grown wings or something.”
Sanji just grunted in response, having wondered the same thing.
“Well, if you get bored, come to AMC, the movie’s at 8:30.”
“Thanks Gin,” Sanji said, spotting Nami walking over to the field with a paper bag in her hands, “I’ll see you on Monday.” He jogged toward her, smiling as she raised the Shake Shack bag in the air.
“You’re too good to me, Nami,” he said eagerly.
She held it back from him, “Let’s go get our seats first.”
“The game doesn’t start for half an hour,” Sanji protested.
“People are already heading over.”
“I haven’t showered yet,” Sanji said, slightly panicked as he looked down at his grass-stained, sweaty shirt.
“No time, you look handsome, come on,” Nami said, dragging him away. Sanji followed her weakly, wondering how badly he smelled.
As they approached the football field, Nami skirted past chattering groups of students and brought Sanji to the front row of the bleachers, plopping down and pulling out her phone to begin snapping pictures. Sanji sighed but sat down and tucked hungrily into his burger.
“Okay,” Nami said, putting her phone away after posting her attendance on Instagram, “Explain to me how this sport works.”
“I have no idea, Nami,” Sanji sighed, “There are a million people on the field, and they all have different jobs. Half the time, nothing is happening, the other half, too much is happening.”
“How are you supposed to woo your crush if you don’t understand the only thing he seems to care about?”
“I’ve tried, Nami,” Sanji groaned, “It’s so complicated. There’s one person who throws the ball, a bunch of people who run and try to catch it, sometimes the person gives the ball to someone else who starts to run, and then a bunch of people just stand around wrestling in place—”
He paused when a cheer sounded around them, and he looked up to see the team running onto the field to do some warm-ups. He sat up straighter, trying to catch a hint of bright green. Zoro wasn’t on the field yet, but Sanji did recognize some of the other players. The curly-haired guy was throwing the stupidly-shaped ball an incredible distance to the lanky guy who leapt high in the air to catch it, landing on his back and getting up with a huge grin on his face and somehow no broken bones. A few huge players who didn’t seem like they could possibly be teenagers were doing some stretches in the middle of the field, chatting happily.
And then, a hush fell over the spectators, the bleachers nearly full already, and Sanji watched Zoro jog onto the field, his helmet under an arm, the number eleven emblazoned across his red and orange uniform.
“There he is, Nami,” he said excitedly.
“Yes, Sanji, I can see that,” she responded dryly, “And hear that.” The crowd was chanting Zoro’s name now, who didn’t even spare them a glance, joining the curly-haired guy in the center of the field. Sanji watched, awestruck, as Zoro prepared himself at an imaginary line, then exploded forward. The crowd, including Sanji, let out a collective gasp at the speed Zoro made it down the field, before stopping on a dime and jogging back.
“Wow,” Sanji breathed.
“Show-off,” Nami sighed.
After a few more minutes of warming up, the team made their way toward the sidelines where Sanji and Nami sat.
“Hey VP,” the curly-haired guy called out to Nami when he noticed her. Sanji saw Zoro’s eyes flick to where they were sitting, before he turned around and plopped onto the bench. Even the momentary eye contact did horrible things to Sanji’s heart.
“Secretary Usopp,” Nami smiled back, “Kick ass today at… whatever you do.”
“I’m the QB, Nami,” Usopp responded sadly, “I’m kind of a big deal.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Nami shrugged.
Usopp looked shyly at Sanji, “Hey Sanji.”
Sanji blinked, now embarrassed that he never recalled speaking to this student ever before.
“Hi,” he said awkwardly.
“We’re in Chem together?” Usopp said, noticing Sanji’s confusion.
“Of course,” Sanji nodded, “I knew that.”
“Well, I’m grateful you made it out to a game,” Usopp smiled, “I’ve gone to a ton of your matches, you’re awesome.”
Feeling even more ashamed, Sanji responded, “Thanks, it’s probably boring compared to football.”
“No way,” Usopp shook his head, “The hat trick you scored against Big Top last season was wild. Luffy and I were cheering like crazy. Even Z—"
“Usopp,” Zoro grunted (Sanji choked on air at the sound of his voice), “Coach is calling.”
“Keep your eyes on me,” Usopp grinned, before joining his team in a huddle they’d formed around the varsity football coach Koushiro.
“Usopp has been in a ton of our classes. He’s actually very smart,” Nami said quietly, “Your Zoro syndrome is downright hilarious. Do you just not notice anybody else around him?”
“Oh god, has he?” Sanji groaned, “Do you know the other people on the team?”
“Of course,” Nami said smoothly, “I keep tabs on all my potential voters. You should at least know the other juniors. Luffy’s the skinny guy who’s constantly laughing. The three biggest guys are Chopper, Franky, and Jinbe. The conceited, green-haired guy is Zoro.”
“Haha, very funny,” Sanji sighed.
“I don’t get it,” Nami said, “He’s just a big chunk of muscle with a moderately handsome face. Why do you like this guy so much?”
Sanji shrugged helplessly. How could he explain? After two years of watching Zoro constantly, Sanji had picked up on a few things about the reclusive athlete. Zoro was insanely disciplined. Every morning Sanji came to school, Zoro was already training, either in the athlete gym or running routes on the field by himself. As soon as the last class bell rang, Zoro stormed down the halls back toward the sports complex, training until the dark forced him home. Sanji never saw him at any parties; as far as Sanji could tell, the athlete only spent time with his teammates and only cared about football.
But Sanji had seen other sides of Zoro too. He had seen Zoro’s gentle smile when the football team hosted an event for Going Merry Elementary School, allowing tiny humans to tackle him to the ground during a mock game of flag football. He had (awkwardly) dived around a corner to not interrupt a confession taking place that Zoro very graciously and kindly rejected. He had witnessed Zoro angrily slam the cafeteria table and glare when assholes from the lacrosse team were making fun of the marching band, stopping the teasing immediately. How could he explain all this to Nami without seeming like a complete creep?
“Sanji, earth to Sanji.”
He blinked and looked toward Nami, who raised an eyebrow at him, “Bezan Black are here.” Sanji turned to see the visiting team arrive to jeering from the stands behind him. Zoro was watching them closely, sizing them up and stretching his neck as he jumped up and down in anticipation. He was a coiled spring, a tiger waiting for prey, Sanji felt horrible for the opposing team already.
After Bezan Black got situated, the lanky guy (Luffy?) ran forward to meet the captain of the opposing team at the center of the field, where the referee stood waiting. The ref flipped a coin; when it landed, Luffy jumped happily, each time leaping at least two feet in the air. The team cheered and some of the players began putting their helmets on and adjusting various straps, including Zoro.
“What’s going on?” Nami whispered urgently. They watched as several Bezan Black players lined up and a football was placed on the ground on a line marked with a 40; the Thousand Sunny players ranged along the other side of the field in random spots.
“I don’t know,” Sanji replied, “It looks like the game is starting.”
“Honestly, Sanji,” Nami sighed, “I assumed you would know everything about this sport, which is half the reason I brought you.”
Sanji pulled out his phone and googled “how does a football game even start.”
“Google says this is a kickoff, so I guess they’re going to kick the ball,” Sanji said, somewhat lamely. A Bezan Black player immediately did just that, sending the ball flying down the field. Other players began sprinting after it. And then they slowed down when a Thousand Sunny player waved his arms around a bit in the air.
“What the fuck is going on?” Nami repeated. Sanji shrugged at this strange turn of events. The ball was moved to a line marked 25, and both teams began jogging toward it.
“It looks like there are a hundred people on the field,” Nami sighed.
Sanji googled, “Football positions.”
“Okay, so the offense has a bunch of people. Usopp said he was… QB? Quarterback. So he throws the ball. And then there are a bunch of people, I guess they… protect him from the other side, who are trying to get him. And then there are receivers, who are a bunch of people who run somewhere to… receive the ball from Usopp?”
“What does Zoro do?”
“He’s an RB? Running back. So I’m assuming he… runs… I don’t know for what purpose.”
“Which direction?”
“I guess the direction they’re facing?”
“But the opposing team is in the way.”
“Yeah… I guess he has fight his way through them?”
“This sport is ridiculous. Your soccer games are boring but at least they make sense.”
Sanji shrugged again, feeling like he’d be doing a lot of that during the next however long this game was going to last.
He surveyed the two lines of players. On the Thousand Sunny’s side, the line of massive men formed a barrier in front of whom he assumed was Usopp. (If he was going to come to a few more games with Nami, he’d need to learn numbers other than the number 11.) Zoro stood next to Usopp, leaning forward, still as a statue, his helmet glinting in the last rays of evening sun. It was almost picturesque, the way the sunset played off the red and orange of the Thousand Sunny uniforms. Sanji vaguely heard Usopp call out a few random words and then suddenly, one of the beefy men threw the ball backwards to Usopp, and the entire world was in motion. Before Sanji could blink, half the Thousand Sunny players were shooting across the field, tailed closely by Bezan Black players. He heard the slam of equipment as the line of huge men rammed into each other, grunting as they pushed and grappled. Usopp was turning, looking around the field. But there was nothing in his hand.
Sanji heard a roar as his eyes tried desperately to find the number 11. He jumped out of his seat when he saw it blazing across the field, faster than Zoro had run in his warm-up, the ball tucked squarely in his arm. He brought his hands to his mouth when a Bezan Black player bravely stood in Zoro’s way, only to be shoved roughly aside by an arm, and Zoro made it to the end of the field with Thousand Sunny painted across the grass. The crowd behind him was chanting Zoro’s name again as the rest of the players ran toward him. Number 17 jumped onto him, legs practically making it above Zoro’s shoulders and gripped the RB fiercely around the head.
“I’m assuming that’s a good thing,” Nami said dryly, as they heard the announcer on the intercom excitedly shouting about the first touchdown of the season and something about a “stiff arm.” The 0 on the digital scoreboard below “Home” changed to a 6. They watched as another line formed, except for a lone Thousand Sunny player who swung his leg back and forth a few times before nodding at another player crouched in front of him. A moment later, he ran forward and kicked the ball in a wide arc through the tuning fork-like contraption at the end of the field. The 6 on the digital scoreboard changed to a 7.
“He just kicked the ball,” Nami said, “Surely you know something about that.”
“Seems pretty easy,” Sanji sniffed, “Kicking a ball through a huge goalpost like that.”
The Thousand Sunny players jogged back to the sideline in front of them, all except Zoro, who remained on the field. Number 1 took off his helmet revealing Usopp’s messy curls, and the QB smiled at them.
“Good sports ball,” Nami grinned, giving him a thumbs up.
“Honestly, most of our plays are ‘give the ball to Zoro’,” Usopp laughed.
“Why’s he still out there?” Nami asked. Sanji was grateful to her, wondering the same thing and feeling a little letdown he couldn’t see the RB celebrating with his teammates.
“Oh, that monster,” Usopp said airily, “He insists on playing both offense and defense. He never gets tired. He’s a linebacker, and will probably put that poor QB in the dirt 8 or 9 times this game. He’s pretty riled up tonight for some reason. I guess it’s the first game of the season, but he’s usually pretty chill during games like this. Bezan Black isn’t exactly the cream of the crop.”
“Usopp, come get some water,” the player named Chopper called out, “We’re going to be back on the field again soon.”
Sure enough, a few seconds later, the opposing team’s quarterback was lying on his back, Zoro having successfully broken his way through his defenders and tackling him to the ground. At some point in that harrowing process, he had let go of the ball, which was now in Zoro’s arms.
Usopp sighed, “Honestly, it’s so tiring for all of us being on the same team as him.” He strapped his helmet back on and jogged back onto the field.
---
By the time half-time came around, most of the students no longer seemed that interested in watching the game, though the festive mood remained. Thousand Sunny currently had 35 points to Bezan Black’s 0. After Zoro again tackled the opposing QB to the ground and a doctor had to come running onto the field to check on him, Coach Koushiro had forcefully stopped Zoro from playing defense. The player was currently sitting on the bench in front of Sanji, glaring at the field.
“Roronoa,” Sanji heard a yell from behind him. Zoro turned around to see who was calling him, and Sanji could only stare transfixed at his face, his hair a darker green from the rivulets of sweat running down into his uniform, his grey eyes brighter than Sanji had ever seen in school.
“Go easy on them tiger,” the fan shouted, and the crowd laughed. Zoro rolled his eyes and was about to turn forward again when his eyes met Sanji’s, who was still gazing at him like a loon. Zoro blinked and nodded before quickly turning away.
“Fuck,” Sanji muttered, “Nami, please rip my eyes out so I stop drooling over him right in front of his face.”
Nami said nothing, watching Zoro’s back in a thoughtful way.
“Nami?” Sanji asked.
“Hm?” Nami responded, “Sorry, something just occurred to me. Anyways, I’ve done what I wanted to do, and I don’t have any more interest in seeing this bullying. I’m gonna head out, are you going to stay?”
Sanji hesitated, wanting to continue watching the absolute physical specimen that was Zoro Roronoa tear across the field, but also not wanting to sit there alone. He nodded and smiled, “After you, my dear.”
Nami stood up and waved to Usopp, “We’re heading out Mr. Secretary, great game.”
“Awww, you are?” Usopp asked, “I’ll see you bright and early Monday for council, Nami. Thanks for coming out to watch, Sanji. See you in Chem?”
Sanji winced, “Fuck, the problem set looked so shitty. I’ve buried it in the bottom of my bag hoping it would disappear.”
Usopp hustled over and pulled out his phone, “Gimme your number, we can commiserate, I tried to start it before the game and got nowhere.” Sanji smiled and added his number to Usopp’s contacts.
“Usopp,” Zoro barked out, and Usopp turned quickly to follow Zoro who was stalking back onto the field. Sanji allowed himself one last wistful look at Zoro’s broad shoulders before he and Nami exited the stands.
---
Usopp at 9:27 PM: Hey, Sanji, thanks for coming out to the game. This is going to sound really random, but have you ever kicked a football before?