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It starts with a completely innocuous act. Sanji’s just returned to the Sunny after a trip to the latest island’s market, his hands laden down with more bags than he knows what to do with, and he’s struggling to get the galley door open thanks to a stubborn streak of pride that won’t let him set his packages down on the deck.
“I’ve got it.” A quiet voice says from behind him, and the next thing he knows, a muscular forearm is reaching around him to grip the door handle. Scarred fingers twist it carefully to the side, after which the door creaks open as easy as you please.
Sanji stares at the now empty air in front of him, for some reason not entirely sure what had just happened. Craning his neck around, he peers over his shoulder at the source of his impromptu salvation.
Zoro gazes impassively back at him, the eyebrow above his good eye rising in a silent question when Sanji continues to gape at him.
“Uh, thanks.” Having finally found his voice, Sanji blurts out the expression of gratitude before he can remember that that’s not something he and Zoro do .
Rather than indicate he finds anything amiss about the situation, Zoro simply nods. “Welcome,” he says, not a word Sanji thinks he’s ever heard him utter before. Then he turns on one heel to head for the stairs down to the lawn, his swords clanking softly against each other as they’re jostled by his movements.
Sanji watches him go until he’s out of sight, presumably intent on napping in the shade of Nami’s mikan trees, and only then does he return his attention to the galley. He eyes the door handle warily, half expecting it to leap out at him after what’s just happened, before shaking his head at his own ridiculousness.
Zoro had probably just been worried some of the bags contained booze bottles that would shatter if Sanji dropped them, that’s all. There have certainly been changes to all their habits and appearances, but one thing Sanji hadn’t noticed was a shift in any of the Strawhat’s overall personalities since they’d reunited on Sabaody after those two years apart. No doubt the act he’d just witnessed was a one-off that wouldn’t happen again.
Telling himself he’s being foolish for dwelling on the moment, Sanji shrugs his shoulders and steps into the galley, resolved to put the incident out of his mind and not think about it again.
*****
Days pass as they continue their journey in the New World, and Sanji finds himself settling back into the once familiar routine onboard the Sunny . He’ll never forget the Kamabakka kingdom, obviously, and he’s grateful for at least some of the things he experienced there, but when you get down to it, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than back with his crew.
And even if he’s only willing to admit it within the privacy of his own mind, he truly does mean all of his crew when he says that. There’s no one he hadn’t missed - desperately so, if he’s being honest - and being back with them has provided him with a sense of contentment that he can’t ever recall feeling before. Even things that had previously annoyed him seem like minor inconveniences for now.
No doubt that last part won’t last. He’s sure the shine of reunion will eventually wear off and things that had once been irksome - Luffy’s food theft, Franky’s penchant for explosions, and Zoro’s everything to name a few - will become so yet again. Until that happens, however, he’s going to continue to bask in his happiness.
Plus, he can always find numerous reminders on the ship that set it above the experience he’d had in Kamabakka. No offence to Ivankov, but the simple act of not having to spend all day every day running for his life is a vast improvement, regardless of how much stronger those two years had made him.
Then of course, there’s the issue of privacy. For all that Sunny’s much smaller than an island, here he has a domain to call strictly his own in the form of the galley, and the Strawhats afford him at least some semblance of respect in his personal boundaries as well, something that can’t be said for Iva and their crew.
That thought is idly winding its way through his brain one morning when he’s making his way to the bathroom, intent on getting cleaned up before he has to start his breakfast preparations. Half his attention on the upcoming menu, he doesn’t realize that someone’s coming out as he’s going in until he’s collided with a sturdy form that doesn’t so much as rock backwards when he stumbles into it.
Rubbing theatrically at the bridge of his nose, Sanji opens his mouth to start scolding whoever’s interrupting his routine, only for his throat to go dry and an embarrassing squeak to emerge instead.
Zoro blinks back at him, his hands coming up to adjust the towel he has slung around his neck, no doubt there to catch most of the drops of water that are beading the strands of his hair. As Sanji watches, one such drop falls from a lock just above his forehead, only to miss the towel and hit his chest instead, where it travels down seemingly miles and miles of tanned skin before hitting the hem of Zoro’s pants.
“Um.” Says Sanji, who’d learned a few things about himself other than recipes and combat styles in Kamabakka and is now being abruptly reminded of them all. “ Um .”
Exactly as he had the other day, Zoro raises the eyebrow above his still functional eye in a sign of evident confusion. “You okay, Cook?” He asks, voice coming out in a rasp that Sanji’s going to blame on the early hour.
“I - yeah, I - hold on.” Desperately rallying for a distraction, Sanji refocuses on the damp state of the swordsman, their current location, and the ramifications of the combination thereof. “Did you just take a shower ?”
Zoro’s eyebrow arches impossibly higher, and he glances down at himself like he’s seeking confirmation as well. “Yeah,” he says, apparently satisfied. “I wasn’t in there long, though. There’s plenty of hot water left if that’s what you’re worried about.”
As if a ship designed by Cyborg Franky would ever run out of hot water, Sanji thinks slightly hysterically. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, especially given the much more pressing matter that’s holding the entirety of his attention.
“You showered the day before yesterday,” he blurts out, his cheeks burning when Zoro’s first eyebrow is promptly joined by the second. It seems the scar adorning the left side of the man’s face does nothing to impede that particular movement.
“I did,” the swordsman agrees, his expression contorting into something more akin to a frown when Sanji continues gaping at him. “Should I not have?”
“Should you - of course you should have, you ridiculous oaf!” Sanji sputters, clutching his own toiletries a little tighter the longer this stupid conversation goes on. “It’s basic hygiene! I’m just surprised, is all. Usually we’re lucky if you do it once a week.”
Zoro shrugs, clearly unbothered. “I used to get pretty messed up most days on Kuraigana, especially in the beginning, and it wasn’t worth listening to Perona complain for days on end. Guess the habit stuck.”
“Perona,” Sanji says fervently, “is an absolute goddess of a woman. I’ve got half a mind to send her a thank you card.”
This comment causes a series of different expressions to chase themselves across Zoro’s face before finally settling on one Sanji can’t quite parse out. “So you like it then?” He asks, bizarrely sincere.
“Like what?” Sanji wonders. “The concept of you bathing regularly? Yes, Mossball, I’ve got no problem admitting that I’m all for you embracing that kind of routine. Keep up the good work.”
“Huh.” Zoro replies, looking thoughtful before squaring his shoulders and turning resolute. “Okay, I will.”
“You - what? Never mind, it’s too early for whatever’s going on right now, and I’m not entirely convinced I’m not dreaming.” Needing to regroup and end this interaction before he says something he can’t take back, Sanji makes a show of tapping his foot impatiently. “I came up here for a shower of my own, and you’re in my way.”
“Wh - ? Oh! Right, sorry.” A tinge of red spreading across the bridge of his nose, Zoro edges past Sanji in the doorway, leaving him full access to the bathroom. “All yours.”
“Thanks,” Sanji replies, and it’s not until he’s safely inside the room with the door closed behind him that he realizes Zoro had just apologized for holding him up. That’s the second time the man’s shown manners in almost as many days, and it leaves Sanji stewing in a wash of confusion.
*****
Sanji tries not to dwell on Zoro’s strange behaviour, he really does, but between that and the … other thing that he’s still trying very hard to suppress, he finds their resident neanderthal taking up a large portion of his thoughts despite his best efforts. He also finds himself rerunning both interactions over and over again in his mind, no matter how many times he tells himself to give it a rest.
The worst of it is, there’s no one else he can talk to about it. He has no idea if any of the others have had similar interactions with the swordsman, but if they have, they’re so far keeping it to themselves. Therefore, what’s he supposed to do, approach Usopp or Chopper or whoever and complain about Zoro being polite ?
Sanji’s done a lot of stupid shit in his twenty-one years on this earth, but he likes to think he has at least a little dignity left, thank you very much.
And it’s not like he’s complaining about the houseplant going out of his way to be considerate for once, perish the thought! He’s all for the uncouth ape changing his ways, he’s just curious as to what’s brought it on, that’s all. Not to mention, is this going to be a permanent shift, or was it simply a one (two) time occurrence where he happened to catch Zoro in exactly the right mood to be helpful?
There’s no way of knowing, not without further data anyway. A single door held open and a one-word apology do not equate to a major shift in behaviour after a lifetime spent as a mannerless lout. Telling himself he’s acting insane, yet at the same time unable to stop, Sanji resolves to keep an eye on his crew mate and see what’s going on.
One way or another, he will get to the bottom of this, if only to satisfy his own curiosity.
*****
Coming up with this resolution is easy enough, but finding a way to test it proves to be more difficult than initially anticipated. It’s all well and good for him to speculate on whether Zoro’s come back from Kuraigana a changed man, but he needs to somehow gather actual evidence.
Asking the other man why he’d held that door open for him is out of the question. They don’t have that kind of relationship, and even if they did, there’s no way for Sanji to blurt it out without sounding utterly insane. Preferring to avoid this, he therefore resolves to try a different route.
In the end, he settles for a track of simple observation. He and Zoro have always spent more time together than most people realize, their roles as the wings of the future pirate king often putting them in close proximity. Therefore, he should have ample opportunity to keep an eye on the man.
Case in point, a few weeks after leaving Fishman Island, they find themselves approaching a new port, this one boasting a fall climate that’s sure to have a whole host of harvests available at the market. Never one to pass up an opportunity to bolster their supplies, Sanji starts doing up a list of potential purchases, excited by the prospect of new dishes to try.
They’re fully docked and a number of the crew have already disembarked by the time he pokes his head out of the galley. Undeterred in the wake of seeing Nami and Robin already off in the distance with a grinning Franky strolling after them, Sanji recalls his earlier resolve and directs his attention to the lawn.
As expected, Zoro’s asleep near the swing, all three of his swords resting within reach as he snores away in an ungainly sprawl. Telling himself to focus on that and not the expanse of muscular torso he can see peeking out from the gap in the man’s open robe, Sanji kicks him in the ankle.
It’s more of a gentle tap than anything else, certainly not a move designed to cause actual damage, but it nevertheless pulls a growl out of the other man’s mouth, the sound only cutting off when he cracks his eye open and finds Sanji looming over him.
“Cook,” he mutters, muffling a yawn with the back of his hand. “What’s up?”
“Not you, unfortunately, which is a situation I need to rectify.” Holding out the list in his hand, he motions for Zoro to get a move on. “I’ve got shopping to do, and I’m in want of a pack mule. Seeing as you’re wasting the day away, you’ve just volunteered.”
Fully expecting Zoro to protest, or maybe even start a fight, Sanji’s surprised when all this declaration earns him is an annoyed frown that quickly smoothes out into a placid expression. “Okay,” Zoro says with a nod, reaching for his swords so he can buckle them onto his hip. “Sure.”
“Sure.” Sanji repeats. “That’s it?” He’d always expected Zoro to capitulate, that was nothing new, but usually it occurred only after several rounds of bitching and moaning, often accompanied by vague threats or snide comments about Sanji’s person. He’s not clear what to do with this easy surrender.
Having finished with his swords, Zoro climbs to his feet in one fluid motion. He then proceeds to tug his robe into place, brushing out the wrinkles that had accumulated during his nap. “Were you expecting something else?” He asks curiously.
“I - ” Sanji opens his mouth to admit how he’d been expecting a fight, only to close it when he realizes how ridiculous that sounds. “No,” he says instead, hoping to save face. “Now hurry up. We’re wasting time.”
Zoro wrinkles his nose at his tone, but once again neglects to complain as expected. Wondering what the hell’s going on, Sanji decides his best option is to let it be and busies himself with the act of disembarking.
Once he’s safely ashore with Zoro keeping pace at his elbow, he heads down the main road, not at all surprised when the sounds of a bustling market soon reach his ears. “I figured it’d be busy,” he says, letting his enthusiasm for a new place with the potential for new recipes wash away the earlier weirdness. “A decently sized island right in the middle of harvest time, who knows what we’re liable to find?”
“Don’t think it really matters,” Zoro replies absently, his head swivelling back and forth as he does his best to take in the sights with his narrowed field of vision. “You’ll be able to work with whatever we pick up.”
Unsure if that’s a backhanded compliment or not, Sanji’s going to assume it’s the latter simply because he’s not ready to add to the list of Zoro’s antics quite yet. “Of course I will,” he says tersely. “That’s my job.”
Zoro stops craning his neck around at that, opting instead to focus on Sanji and Sanji alone. “I know,” he says, his tone much more serious than the situation calls for. “But I meant that, whatever we pick up, you’ll be able to do something good with it.”
Sanji’s suddenly glad he’s in between cigarettes at that moment, otherwise he’s pretty sure he’d now lose one in surprise as his mouth drops open without his permission. “I … huh?” He asks eloquently, his confusion only mounting when Zoro peers at him in evident concern. “Are you feeling alright, Marimo?”
“Pretty sure it’s me who should be asking you that,” Zoro says, his frown deepening. “You’re acting weird.”
On the contrary, Sanji disagrees, if either of them is acting weird it’s the man beside him. Rather than say this, however, - because, again, what the hell can he say? - Sanji just shakes his head and motions for them to get moving again.
“I think I see some produce stalls up there,” he mumbles, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “Let’s go check the quality.”
Zoro shrugs amicably enough, and falls into step with him easily. He doesn’t even shove his way through the crowd like he normally might, although this may be because most of the locals take one look at him and give him a wide berth, no doubt wary of his mixture of swords and scars.
They make their way around the market as the afternoon stretches on, picking up both items on Sanji’s list as well as some unexpected things that catch his eye. Through it all, Zoro’s largely quiet, not even complaining when Sanji loads him down with more packages than normal.
“Doing alright there?” Sanji asks, grinning cheekily and poking him in the shoulder when he loops yet another bag over one of Zoro’s arms. “If it’s too much for you to handle, all you have to do is say so.”
Zoro grimaces as anticipated, his face going tight with annoyance at the hint that his strength might ever fail him, but rather than refusing to take the bag on principle, or worse, throwing it at Sanji completely indifferent to his wrath over wasted food, he simply shrugs and accepts it.
“It’s fine,” he says, lifting his arm so that the motion causes his sleeve to slide back further, revealing bunching muscles as he flexes his forearm. “All good, see?”
Sanji hears a choking sound, only to belatedly realize it’s coming from him. Sternly telling himself to get it the fuck together , he looks around for a source of salvation, ultimately finding it in the entrance to a tavern.
“We’ve been at this for a while,” he says in a rush. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”
“Thought that’s what we were already doing?” Zoro replies, jostling the many bags in his arms and grinning cheekily when Sanji glares at him. “I’m kidding,” he says, “but I also don’t have any money. The wi - Nami told me I’m more in debt than ever.”
“Colour me surprised,” Sanji says with an eye roll that would put Nami herself to shame. “It’s fine. I didn’t spend quite as much as I planned today, so there’s still a little left in my budget.”
Zoro’s grin shifts into a genuine smile, and he adjusts a few of the bags to make them easier to carry. “If that’s the case then, yeah, I’d love to.”
“Good.” Sanji replies, and if his face feels a little warm, he’s going to blame it on his fair complexion and a day spent out in the sun. “Come on then. We should hurry before the supper rush starts and we’re stuck having to scramble for a seat.”
Without putting up a fuss, Zoro obediently trails after him as he winds his way through the crowded street towards the entrance to the restaurant he’d spotted. Luckily, it’s not that far, so he doesn’t have to worry about the swordsman getting lost in the shuffle.
A waiter comes to greet them as they step inside, a momentary frown on the man’s lips when he spots the sheer number of packages they have in tow. That frown quickly smoothes into an expression of benign helpfulness, however, when he takes a closer look at Zoro. Sanji can all but see it as the words ‘do not provoke’ cross the man’s face, and he lets out a quiet snicker once they're seated alone at a distant table with a pair of proffered menus.
“I should take you out more often, Mossy.” He says as he flips the menu open and starts scanning the contents. “You’re like my own private security measure, warding off annoying commentary at the same time. It’s almost as if - what are you doing?”
His question is directed solely at Zoro, who’s just picked up the napkin that’s resting by his place setting and is now calmly unfolding it and shaking out any possible wrinkles.
One eyebrow arching in confusion, Zoro’s forehead furrows slightly as he moves to rest the napkin over his lap. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” He asks, the eyebrow rising higher as Sanji continues to stare at him. “Don’t want to make a mess, right?”
“Right,” Sanji says faintly, not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming. Unable to help himself, he pointedly clears his throat. “Are you feeling okay, Marimo?” He asks for the second time that day. “You’re acting strange.”
“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Zoro replies gruffly, but he leaves the comment there, not bothering to escalate into a bickering match like he might normally as he chooses instead to reach for his own menu. “I’m fine.”
“If you say so,” Sanji says dubiously. Shaking his head, he resolves to drop the subject and focus on enjoying their meal. “The shrimp scampi sounds delicious. I bet it’d go well paired with a nice red wine.”
“Won’t be as good as yours,” Zoro mutters, low enough that Sanji has some trouble hearing him, “but, sure, if you think that’s a decent choice you should try it.”
That comment does nothing to convince Sanji that the other man isn’t behaving oddly, but he bites his tongue. So far they’ve had a genuinely enjoyable afternoon, and he’s sure if he pokes the bear one too many times, Zoro will inevitably snap back. Wanting to avoid that - to say nothing of the resulting property damage - he pastes a smile on his face and nods. “I think I will.
“There’s a steamed salmon and rice dish that sounds like it’d be up your alley,” he adds, trying to keep the conversation flowing. “What do you think?”
“Sure,” Zoro replies easily, barely glancing at the item on the menu before he closes it as quickly as he’d opened it. “I could go for that.”
“Well you don’t have to,” Sanji says sharply, fully aware that if Zoro doesn’t care for the meal he’ll get the blame for it. “There’s plenty more for you to choose from if you’d prefer something else.”
“I’m good,” Zoro assures him with a shrug, raising a hand to signal the waiter so they can place their orders. “I trust you.”
And that’s hardly news to Sanji, but the ease with which he says it certainly is. Giving serious consideration to pressing his earlier luck and pushing the issue, he’s stopped only by the waiter’s arrival.
He watches as Zoro places both their orders, he and the waiter carrying on a surprisingly in depth conversation regarding the best drink to pair with the salmon, and then watches some more as the waiter bustles off with both the menus now tucked under his arm.
“Since when do you have opinions on wines?” He wants to know.
“Hmm? Oh,” Zoro gives him a slightly sheepish grin, the corner of his mouth curling as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “You can blame Mihawk for that,” he says. “The guy’s, like, fuckin’ obsessed with the stuff. He’s got a wine cellar you could get lost in.”
Sanji can’t help but snicker. “Those are bold words for a man who could get lost in a linen closet.”
“Whatever, Curly.” Zoro growls, but it’s a gentle, playful thing, lacking any real animosity. “I’m pretty sure you’d have hated most aspects of Kuraigana, but that part at least I think you’d have been okay with. That and the gardens.”
“Gardens?” Sanji echoes, his previous concerns all but forgotten in the face of a chance to learn a little bit about the place Zoro had called home for two years.
“Yeah,” Zoro nods. “Great big vegetable ones, plus a vineyard. I don’t know why, since it’s not like he can’t afford to bring in whatever he wants, but Mihawk grows a lot of his own food. He used to make Perona and I help him tend them.”
Unable to stop himself from laughing at that image, Sanji resolves to sit back and enjoy the afternoon, figuring it won’t be long before their lives take a crazy turn and downtime becomes a thing of the past.
*****
They’re a few hours out from a new island, and Sanji’s just convinced Zoro to spar with him as a way to release some pent up energy. It’s been a few weeks since they’d last made land, so he throws himself into the fight with gusto, fully expecting his opponent to do the same.
Zoro, on the other hand, does not appear to have received that message. He’s fighting back, sure enough, but his actions are more defensive than anything, with him not pressing the advantage even when Sanji stumbles and leaves one flank briefly unguarded.
Confused and irritated by turns, Sanji ramps up his attacks, hoping to piss the other man off enough that he starts properly engaging.
“C’mon, Marimo,” he croons, dancing back out of reach after he lands a kick to Zoro’s side that is most definitely going to bruise. “What’s the matter? You’re fighting like you’re half asleep.”
“The fuck I am,” Zoro retorts, giving Sanji a glimpse of a short spark of anger before he covers it up with a more collected expression. “Nice shot, Cook.”
Thrown by the compliment, Sanji pauses and nearly sees some serious damage happen to his suit jacket when he barely ducks out of the way of a swipe from Shusui. Wondering if this is some new kind of psychological attack, he shuffles around to regroup, eyeing Zoro warily the whole time.
“I hope you’re not expecting a similar admission from me, shit swordsman,” he declares, tracking Zoro’s movements around the deck. “If anything, I think you got slower while we were apart.”
Again, Zoro doesn’t rise to the bait, and gives him a crooked grin in response. “You’re lying,” he says, his grin broadening when Sanji sputters. “I’m way stronger than before.”
“Then put your goddamned back into it,” Sanji snarls, leaping forward the second he sees an opening. Zoro blocks his kick with Kitetsu this time, and the resulting clatter reverberates through the air. “I’m getting bored.”
“If we go too hard we’ll make a mess,” Zoro points out, blocking Sanji yet again when he tries a spin kick.
“Since when do you care?” Sanji demands. Feinting to the left, he makes to come in from the right, only to realize that Zoro is now ignoring him entirely. Offended, he gives serious thought to shoving the brute over the railing. “What are you staring at?”
His face now set in a scowl, Zoro indicates the horizon with his left hand, Kitetsu held steady in his grip. “We’re about to be interrupted.”
“Huh?” Following the path of the cursed blade, Sanji feels his own brow furrow as he spots about a dozen sails with a familiar blue logo. “What the hell are that many marines doing this far out?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Zoro asks dryly. “Do you want me to go ask them?”
“Given that they appear to be heading our way, you can probably just wait and let them come to us,” Sanji snorts. “Oh well, it’s not like you were putting up much of a fight. Maybe this lot will prove to be more exciting.”
“Hey, I’m plenty exciting!” Zoro starts to protest, or at least that’s what Sanji assumes he’s saying. Usopp, who has the watch, must have spotted the approaching ships because Sunny’s alarm has started blaring - a shrill wail that cuts through any other sound.
The rest of the crew come running from various locations, Luffy leading the charge with an excited whoop as he spots what they’re dealing with. Nami makes a desperate attempt to keep him from slingshotting himself straight from the figurehead, misses, and the whole place promptly dissolves into chaos as the marines arrive with surprising speed.
As per usual, it’s not long before Sanji finds himself fighting back to back with Zoro. They’re on one of the marine ships, having leapt aboard to try and minimize the potential damage to the Sunny , and somewhere in the distance he can hear Luffy cackling above the sound of cannon fire.
“Do you think we should go looking for him?” He bellows, confident Zoro will be able to hear him despite the noise.
“What good would that do?” Zoro demands. He’s got all three swords out now, Wado clamped firmly between his teeth, and a quick glance over his shoulder tells Sanji he’s bleeding sluggishly from a cut on his chin.
“It’s nothing,” he says when Sanji points this out. “Barely a scratch.”
“There’s a fair amount of blood,” Sanji notes, watching as several drops of red fall to splash onto Zoro’s robe. “You’re making a mess.”
“Don’t remind me,” Zoro grunts, sending a trio of marine’s flying into the distance with an annoyed flick of his wrist. “I already showered once today, and now I’m gonna have to do it again.”
“Oh, Marimo, don’t make me swoon,” Sanji laughs, downing a few marines of his own with several well placed kicks. “Look at you embracing the concept of basic hygiene.”
“Fuck off and die,” Zoro suggests, not managing to turn fast enough to hide the way his cheeks are flaring. “It’s not that big a deal.”
Any reply Sanji might make gets lost in a surge of charging enemies.
*****
So it turned out the marines they’d been fighting were members of a corrupt offshoot who’d gone rogue and essentially taken the nearby island hostage. The actual navy had done nothing to address the matter - quel surprise - which meant the locals had been all too happy to see the Strawhats arrive and give their oppressors a thrashing.
Happy locals, especially happy and recently freed locals meant a party, one where Luffy was more than willing to accept an invitation on behalf of the entire crew. If Sanji had understood their captain’s disjointed rambling correctly, the mayor himself has asked them to attend a gala in his home that’s being thrown in their honour.
“That sounds a little more fancy than we’re used to,” Usopp points out, tugging absently at the straps of his overalls. “Should we be dressing up for this?”
“It’s a gala being thrown in a mansion,” Nami says, her voice rife with exasperation. “What do you think?”
When no one answers her, she heaves a tired sigh, flapping her arms in the direction of the bunk room. “Much as it pains me to admit this, we don’t have enough time for me to choose an outfit for each of you. Everyone go put on your best clothes, and meet on the deck as soon as possible.”
Not having to be told twice, Sanji bolts for his locker, already having a specific suit in mind, and not wanting to have to wait for the bathroom if any of the other men get there before him. This is why he’s the first to be ready a short while longer, and the fastest to return to the lawn.
Figuring he’s got the time, he pulls a cigarette free from the pack in his pocket, letting it flare to life with a flick of his thumb over his lighter as he waits for the rest of the crew to reappear. Hopefully he won’t be left waiting long, but one never knows with this lot.
Somewhat surprisingly, the ladies are back before anyone else. He’d assumed they’d take a bit thanks to their hair and make up, but then again they’re both already so beautiful it’s not like they need it. Case in point, Robin looks absolutely stunning in a deep purple gown that hugs every last one of her curves, while Nami is equally transcendent in a light blue number that perfectly offsets the colour of their hair.
Unable to help himself, Sanji puffs a few heart shaped smoke rings in both women's direction, even though he knows full well neither of them will ever follow through on the offer. Indeed, Nami blows away the smoke with one hand, even as she flashes him an impish grin in the process.
Unbothered, Sanji gives her a smile of his own. “You cut me to the quick, my dear,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes in a way he knows will make her - and Robin for that matter - laugh. “I made those especially for you.”
“And you know better to waste your time,” she informs him. Her smile is wide and bright, however, so Sanji takes her teasing in stride. “Has there been any sign of the others?”
About to tell her no, Sanji pauses when the sound of a nearby ruckus reaches his ears. “Not yet,” he says, “but I think that might be about to change.”
Before she can ask what he means by that, an answer presents itself in the form of the men’s bunkroom door bursting open and Luffy, Chopper, and Brook tumbling through it. Usopp is likewise not far behind them, but at least manages to avoid face planting into the ground upon his arrival.
Nami pinches the bridge of her nose, looking pained. “I don’t know why I expected better,” she says tiredly. Then she points at an empty space on the lawn, clearly meaning for the newcomers to assemble there. “Alright, let me see what you’ve come up with.”
What they’ve come up with is the usual mish-mash running from vaguely okay to terrible. Usopp’s the best off of the lot, having found a blazer and pair of dress pants that mostly fit, while Chopper remains cute enough to get away with basically anything. On the other hand, Brook’s wearing such a mixture of contrasting colours that it hurts to look at him, and Luffy’s version of ‘fancy’ appears to involve his newest pair of flip flops and cutoffs without any stains on them.
Sighing, Nami lets her hand fall down to rest by her side. “I suppose it could be worse,” she says philosophically. “Although, I say that without having laid eyes on arguably our two worst fashion criminals yet. So help me, Franky had better be wearing pants.”
“Oh, he’s not,” Robin says, smiling winsomely. Given that the cyborg has yet to make an appearance, Sanji’s going to assume she’s cast an eye over wherever he currently is. “But his outfit does suit him.”
“I’ll have to take your word on it,” Nami mutters, prodding at her temple with a few fingertips. “He can be your problem for the night, which just leaves - oh, wow .”
Never having heard Nami sound like that before, Sanji follows her gaze and only narrowly avoids inhaling his cigarette as he chokes.
Zoro’s standing in the doorway, clad in a black suit that’s clearly tailor-made to fit him. It flatters him as well as the girls’ dresses do them, and Sanji thinks he sees a flash of light at his cuff as he reaches up to adjust his perfectly arranged tie. Even his hair, no doubt laced with some kind of product, is artfully tousled as opposed to its usually scruffy mess.
“How did he do that so fast?” Sanji hears Usopp mutter.
How did he do it in general , Sanji wonders more than a little hysterically. Prior to this, Zoro’s idea of dressing up was a shirt with minimal bloodstains and an appropriate number of holes. The vision standing before him looks like it stepped straight out of a magazine.
“Well, at least one you understood the assignment,” Nami says, still sounding shocked. “Or two, I guess, if I’m counting Sanji, but it was always a given that he’d show up looking good. Right, Sanji?”
“Hnng,” Sanji says helpfully, having to scramble to grab his cigarette before he accidentally swallows it.
“ … never mind. Okay,” Nami says, clapping her hands together and giving them all a bright, if somewhat forced, smile. “Now all we need is Franky and then we’ll be good to head out. Robin, do you want to maybe see if you can spur him along a little faster?”
Robin’s face takes on an impish cast reminiscent of the one she’d worn as they were departing Water 7. Not wanting to get in the way of whatever that means for their shipwright, Sanji sidles over to Zoro, unable to hold back his burning curiosity.
“Marimo,” he says once he’s within earshot. “You look - holy shit. You have been holding out on us. Where have you been hiding this ensemble?”
“Wasn’t hiding it,” Zoro mumbles. Having finally decided to leave his tie alone, he’s moved on to pulling at the collar of his dress shirt, tugging at the fabric like it’s choking him. “I brought it back from Kuraigana along with a whole bunch of other stupid frou frou shit Mihawk gave me.”
“Mihawk,” Sanji says, feeling embarrassingly breathless, “has fantastic taste. Who knew this is what you’ve been hiding under all your everyday mess?” He adds, catching Zoro’s wrist and pulling his arm away from his collar. A quick glance down tells him he was right and that the other man is wearing gold cufflinks at the ends of his sleeves. “Don’t ruin it by messing with your shirt.”
“It’s too tight,” Zoro complains. “I think it’s too small.”
“No, it’s exactly the right size,” Sanji says, eyeing the fit critically. “You’re just used to clothes that are so worn out they’ve lost all semblance of shape. You could look like this all the time if you’d only put a little effort in.”
Zoro winces. “D’you really like it?” He asks, looking a bit disappointed when Sanji nods. “Fine, I’ll remember that.”
“It’s not like you …” Have to , Sanji starts to say, but doesn’t get a chance to finish thanks to the way Franky chooses this exact moment to come bolting up from the hold, sans pants as feared. “Oh god. If it’s not one extreme it’s the other.”
Zoro makes a face as they watch Nami point at Franky’s bare legs with a furious finger, her meaning plain. “Yeah,” he says finally. “I guess it could be worse.”
*****
The party is already in full swing by the time the Strawhats arrive, with what feels like half the island either inside the building or spilling out onto the grounds. All it takes is one look for Luffy to fling his hands in the air with an excited bellow.
“This place is awesome!” He crows, seemingly moments away from launching himself straight through the front doors. “I bet there’s so much food to eat!”
“And of course that’s exactly where your mind goes,” Nami sighs. Lashing out with one hand, she hooks her fingers around the back of his shirt, stopping him right as he’s about to take off. “You have to wait, Luffy! Remember what I told you? We should find the mayor first and thank him for having us.”
Luffy makes a sound like a distressed foghorn, giving Nami a forlorn look that would probably be a lot more effective if he weren’t essentially dangling in her grip like a naughty schoolboy. “Why do we have to thank the mayor for throwing a party to thank us?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she chides, “and because it might make him decide to be even more generous.”
“How is that the right thing to do?” Usopp wonders, but he’s talking to empty air, Nami having already started to move on, dragging Luffy behind her by the scruff of his neck. “Uh, should one of us maybe go keep an eye on them?”
“You can if you like,” Robin replies, casting a coy look up at Franky’s towering form as she wraps both arms around his closest elbow. “I, however, think the music sounds lovely and would like to dance.”
In answer, Franky flashes her a thumbs up with his free hand and begins making his way up the front steps, all without breaking her grip. “Catch you later, bros,” he calls over his shoulder as the pair disappear inside.
“Actually, I’d love to see who’s providing the musical accompaniment, so I’ll follow you,” Brook says, dashing after them. “Maybe some of them will even be lovely ladies if I get lucky. Yohoho!”
“Great,” Usopp says with a sigh. “We’ve barely been here five minutes and we’ve already lost half the crew. Am I the only one who sees this ending badly?”
“You’re so pessimistic, Usopp,” Chopper says, reaching over to give the sniper a pat on the hip. “I’m sure everything will be fine. If you’re really worried about Luffy, though, I’ll come with you to help watch him.”
“Works for me,” Usopp says, starting to trudge forward with Chopper following hot on his heels. “At least if we know what he’s getting into, we’ll have a rough idea of when to cut and run.”
“You know,” Sanji muses as he watches everyone depart. “Pessimistic though the man may be, he does have a point.”
Next to him, Zoro grunts, and out of the corner of his eye, Sanji sees his hand start to twitch towards his collar yet again.
“Stop that,” he commands, slapping the hand back down again. He then takes a deep breath, deciding it might be worth it to run a slight risk, and hooks his arm through Zoro’s in order to start leading him inside. “If you can’t leave your clothes alone, I guess I’ll just have to make you.”
Zoro lets out a garbled sound, and his arm spasms in Sanji’s grip. He doesn’t try to pull away, however, and instead trails after him as directed, oddly docile as they reach the doors and cross the threshold of the front entrance.
Sanji lets out a low whistle as they step into the foyer, genuinely impressed by the decor. “Wow,” he says, glancing around at both it and the dozens of well dressed people milling about. “Nami made the right call in having us bust out a more expensive wardrobe. This place is a lot more highbrow than we’re used to.”
He’s expecting Zoro to make a snide comment about unnecessary pomp or something like that, and judging by the look on the man’s face he’s seriously considering it. Instead, however, he sighs heavily, but all he says is, “It’s … fine.”
“Don’t strain yourself, Marimo,” Sanji chuckles. “There’s no one close enough but me to hear you if you complain.”
“M’not complaining,” Zoro mutters, the tips of his ears flushing red in a way Sanji can’t help but be oddly charmed by. “It’s … nice?”
“I appreciate the effort,” Sanji says, patting the arm he’s still holding with his free hand. “Now, come on, it looks like everyone seems to be heading towards that main room up there. Let’s go check it out.”
Zoro allows himself to be steered down the hall and through a set of large doors that are even more ornate than the ones resting at the front entrance. A number of the locals call out or wave to them along the way, all of them grinning at the presence of the Strawhats.
“I have to say, it’s always so good to feel appreciated on an island, as opposed to getting run out of town,” Sanji remarks. “We should save entire kingdoms more often.”
“We do,” Zoro reminds him. “Luffy gets us caught up in that kind of shit every other week.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Sanji acknowledges, only to immediately get distracted as they enter what turns out to be a massive ballroom, already filled with couples gliding across the space, Franky and Robin among them.
“Oh, that’s so sweet.” He sighs dreamily, watching their friends whirl each other around the dance floor, Robin laughing brightly, while Franky gazes at her like she hung the moon. “Look how happy they are.”
“Pretty happy,” Zoro agrees. Then, swallowing heavily, he sets his shoulders not unlike the way he does when he’s about to dive into a fight and pins Sanji with a look. “Did you maybe want to - ?”
Whatever he’s about to say gets lost in the shuffle of Luffy arriving from wherever he’d previously stashed himself, his flip flops slapping against the slick tile floor as he zeros in on the well-endowed buffet table located at the far end of the room. Her face set in an exasperated scowl, Nami’s not far behind, while Usopp is hot on her heels.
As Sanji watches, Usopp puts on a burst of speed that keeps him on pace with Luffy. The sniper reaches the table not long after their captain does, though what he expects to do to stem the tide of the younger man’s voracious appetite, Sanji has no idea.
Sighing tiredly, Nami shakes her head at the pair of them, turning on her heel to march over to Sanji and Zoro, her dress swirling around her as she moves. “Zoro, if those two get us thrown out of here, I want you to throttle them for me.”
His mouth opening to no doubt say something deeply offensive that Sanji will have to reprimand him for, Zoro takes a quick glance at the chef and visibly thinks better about whatever he was about to let come out of his mouth. Settling for rolling his eye instead, he grunts. “What’s in it for me?”
“A further reduction in your debt, obviously,” Nami sniffs. “You’ve been doing so good in handling it lately, I’d think you’d be all over the opportunity.”
This is news to Sanji, and he shoots a confused look at his companion, who shrugs in response, his face colouring slightly. “Have you been actually behaving yourself for our dear navigator, Marimo?” He asks, genuinely curious.
His flush deepening, Zoro palms awkwardly at the back of his neck with his free hand, but Nami beats him to the punch as far as any potential explanations are concerned.
“He’s been downright civil to me for weeks now,” she confirms, eyeing Zoro critically. Based on her expression, Sanji gets the sense that she’s just as baffled by this declaration as he is. “I’m starting to think he came back from Kuraigana a changed man.”
“I didn’t - oh, whatever,” Zoro grumbles. Tugging his arm free from Sanji’s grip, he crosses it and the other one over his chest, pouting down at his feet in a way akin to that of a sulky toddler.
Mourning the sudden loss of contact, Sanji has to stomp down on the urge to chase after him and reclaim his hold. Sternly telling himself that would be terribly inappropriate, not to mention embarrassing , he offers Nami a bright smile as a distraction.
“Are you having fun, Nami, my sweet, and can I get you anything?” He asks. “Perhaps something to drink or a light snack?”
Twisting to look over her shoulder, Nami glances back at the buffet table, her face going pinched when she spots Luffy and Usopp wrestling over a plate of canapés. “At the moment, I’d like to stay away so I can pretend not to know those clowns,” he says. “Honestly, I’d kind of like to dance, but I doubt anyone else knows the steps.”
“Oh please,” a voice scoffs before Sanji has a chance to open his mouth and advise that, actually, he very much does know the steps and would be happy to show her as much. “S’just a waltz. They’re not that hard.”
Both Nami and Sanji turn to Zoro, the former with a skeptical look on her face, and the latter with his eyebrows approaching his hairline. “What?” The swordsman asks, his posture turning defensive in the face of their matching incredulity. “They’re not.”
Nami finds her voice first. “I’m sorry,” she says, her tone faint. “Are you trying to say that you know how to waltz, Zoro? You ?”
Rolling his eye at her words, Zoro looks at Sanji, frowning when all he does is stare back at him helplessly. He seems to debate within himself for a few moments, until he straightens his shoulders, slowly unfurling his crossed arms so that he can raise the left one in a silent offer.
Nami gapes at him. “You’re not serious,” she all but squeaks.
“You said you wanted to dance,” Zoro replies, flexing his hand pointedly. “And I do know how.”
“Okay, I was joking earlier, but now I’m starting to think we picked up the wrong guy at Sabaody. You’re not possessed, are you?” Even as she’s asking the question, though, Nami’s reaching out to take Zoro’s hand, his fingers curling around hers easily as she does so.
“For the record,” she says, staring down at their joined hands, “part of me is only agreeing to this because I’m expecting you to be all talk, and I want to see you crash and burn.”
“Never doubted it,” Zoro replies. Then he shoots Sanji one last inscrutable look before turning on his heel and escorting Nami to the dance floor. Once there, the couple wait for an appropriately timed break in the music before entering the fray.
Sanji watches the whole thing unfold with his jaw dangling somewhere around his knees. Zoro’s form is pristine, his steps measured as he flawlessly guides Nami across the floor, one large hand cupped over her waist while the other holds her much smaller one in the air so he can lead. They’re the very image of the perfect couple, the two of them drawing the eye of almost everyone in the room as they dance.
“Uhh, you’re seeing this too, right?”
Turning, Sanji finds Usopp now posted up by his elbow, a plate piled high with delicacies all but forgotten in his grip as the sniper stares at the picture unfolding in front of them. “Did - did you know Zoro could do that?”
Finally finding his voice, Sanji pierces the other man with an incredulous expression. “Do I look like I knew Zoro could do that?” He demands, embarrassed when his voice comes out at a pitch considerably more shrill than he’d hoped. “Nami made a joke about us picking up the wrong swordsman on Sabaody just before he dragged her out there, but I’m starting to think she was right.”
Usopp blinks, his eyes somehow getting even rounder. “Wait,” he says, pointing an accusing finger at the dancing pair. “This was Zoro’s idea? Huh,” he adds, when Sanji nods helplessly. “Didn’t see that coming.”
For all that he’d previously resolved to keep his recent observations to himself, Sanji’s incredibly shaken by the changes he’s been noting in Zoro’s behaviour, and for the first time since he’d started noticing them, it seems like someone else is as well. Bracing himself for potential mockery, he decides to take a chance.
“This isn’t the first time he’s done something like this since we all got back together,” he says slowly. “I don’t quite know how to explain it, but he seems different these days.”
“Well, I mean, we've all changed to some extent,” Usopp replies. Flashing a sharp grin, he raises an arm and flexes, the muscles beneath them causing his shirt sleeves to momentarily strain with the action. “You know what I mean?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” Sanji says. “The muscles, the missing eye - that’s just stuff, and it’s easily explainable. His behaviour has shifted, though, and he’s the only one I can say that about.”
“Zoro’s different,” he insists when Usopp eyes him skeptically. “He’s quieter and calmer, and hasn’t fought with me like he used to. He holds doors open and doesn’t complain when I ask him to do things he finds annoying, and I’m pretty sure he’s holding himself back rather than arguing with me when I pick at him. It makes no sense.”
“I’m sorry,” Usopp says slowly, the look on his face suggesting he’s picking his words carefully so as not to invoke an unwanted response, “but it sounds like you’re saying he’s being polite and you don’t like it.”
Sanji sighs. That was exactly the reaction he’d expected way back when, and was why he’d never said anything. He knows he sounds like a crazy person once everything is out in the open, but he doesn’t know how to articulate the problem.
And there is a problem, that much he’s certain of. Whatever’s gotten into Zoro, it isn’t normal, and Sanji himself doesn’t like it. A fact that becomes all the more evident when he casts another look at the man in question where he’s still out on the dance floor.
He’s not enjoying himself, Sanji realizes with a sudden stroke of abrupt clarity. Just like back on the Sunny when he’d been pulling at his clothes because he didn’t like how they felt, now he’s annoyed by the motion of the dance.
First he’d looked the part, now he’s acting it, but it’s obvious he doesn’t care for either one. Wondering what the hell’s gotten into the man to make him step so far out of his comfort zone, Sanji feels an unpleasant sensation begin to take root in the pit of his stomach.
Whatever’s going on with Zoro, he suspects it’s not as minor as he’d originally believed, and he has no idea what to do about it.
*****
Sanji still hasn’t made a decision on whether or not he wants to approach Zoro about his strange behaviour, let alone how he might go about doing so. All he knows is that every time he turns around, the swordsman has upped his game and come up with some new quirk that he’d previously never fathomed was possible.
Case in point, a few days after they’re back at sea, Sanji climbs into the crow’s nest with a tray containing Zoro’s afternoon snack, and nearly falls back through the hatch thanks to what he finds.
“What’s with the face?” Zoro asks, glancing up from where he’s sitting crossed legged on one of the benches, carefully cleaning Kitetsu.
“What’s with the outfit?” Sanji immediately replies, his throat catching when the other man blinks at him in evident confusion. “You look … I honestly can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s certainly different from your usual attire.”
Zoro runs a hand down the front of the pale green button down he’s currently sporting, his fingers smoothing away imaginary wrinkles as they glide over the high quality fabric. “You don’t like it?” He asks, his face twisting in an unhappy moue as he finishes the question.
Unsure of how to respond, Sanji shrugs. Zoro looks good, there’s no denying that. The colour of the shirt highlights the deep tan of his skin, and the expert fit of both it and the dark slacks he’s wearing serve to accentuate his muscular form, but his posture is stiff and one glance at his expression is enough to make it clear he’s as uncomfortable now as he had been in a suit.
“It’s nice,” he says because regardless of whatever’s happening here it feels only appropriate to be complimentary. “Where’d you get it?”
Zoro purses his lips and tugs at one of his sleeves, fidgeting with the starched cuff like he finds it too constraining. “Sabaody,” he replies, tugging harder when Sanji raises an eyebrow. “I showed up before anyone else, and all Perona wanted to do was shop.”
“She has a good eye for fashion,” Sanji acknowledges - if not for Zoro’s particular style, he neglects to say out loud. “You’re going to stretch it out of shape if you keep pulling it like that, though.”
Grunting, Zoro obediently stops what he’s doing, choosing to focus back on the blade in his hand instead. “Guess it’s not properly broken in yet,” he mumbles.
“It’s not a sword, you dolt,” Sanji says, forcing out a weak laugh. “You don’t have to beat it into submission. Also,” he snaps his fingers as he finally registers what it is about the entire ensemble that seems the most off. “Where’s your haramaki?”
Zoro pokes at his torso, as if he’s equally surprised not to see the ever present belly warmer. “In my locker,” he says after prodding around his waist a few more times. “It didn’t really go with the outfit.”
Sanji snorts. “It doesn’t go with anything,” he declares, shifting the tray he’s still carrying from one hand to the other. “Mainly because it’s a festering plague pit in fabric form. Despite which, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you without it.”
“I don’t wear it all the time,” Zoro protests, which is such a blatant lie that Sanji can’t help but laugh.
“It may as well be stapled to your hips,” he counters. “There’s probably an entire chapter dedicated to it in whatever file the marine’s have on you.”
“Still,” he says brightly, “if you’ve finally seen the light and realized what an eyesore the thing is - to say nothing of its potential as a biohazard - who am I to complain? You do whatever makes you happy.”
Sanji genuinely doesn’t mean anything by this crack when he says it, it’s simply a little light teasing between friends. He’s therefore surprised when Zoro makes a face like he’d just insulted Wado, his lips flattening together so tightly that the skin around his mouth turns white.
“Marimo?” He asks, wondering what’s going on.
Zoro, however, just shakes his head before letting out an explosive sigh. “It’s nothing,” he says, sounding frustrated. “Is that for me?”
He points at the tray in Sanji’s hand, the chef having half forgotten he was still holding it. Fumbling it slightly, he offers it out to the swordsman with a flourish that’s less grandiose than usual.
“It is, yeah. I figured you were up here training and could probably use some refreshment.”
“Thanks, but I’m not that hungry,” Zoro replies. “If you want to leave it by the weight rack, though, I’ll eat it once I’m done with this.”
As if to further illustrate his point, he holds up Kitetsu so that Sanji, who is yet again feeling like he’s dropped the ball in a serious way, can tell what he’s referring to. “Shouldn’t take me too much longer.”
It’s on the tip of Sanji’s tongue to say something, to finally press the issue and clear the air, regardless of the potential consequences. Unfortunately, before he can work up the nerve, he finds himself remembering the look on Usopp’s face when he’d tried to explain his concerns to the sniper. Not wanting to get a similar response from Zoro, he sets the tray down in the indicated spot and quickly makes his escape.
*****
Despite his best efforts, Sanji reaches his breaking point not long after that, and it comes in the form of something so horrifying, so egregious, that he nearly gives himself whiplash in his rush to demand an answer.
“Is something wrong with the food?!”
The entire crew, minus Luffy, jerk in varying levels of surprise when he slams his hand down on the table in the middle of supper, sending plates rattling and nearly toppling at least one glass of fruit juice. He barely notices, however, too busy staring at the man sitting directly across from him.
Both of his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, Zoro pauses from where he’s been calmly spooning soup into his mouth, as opposed to guzzling it down like normal. He even pats his lips dry with a napkin before he speaks, rather than simply using his sleeve or the back of his hand.
“Are you talking to me?”
“Of course I’m talking to you,” Sanji explodes, well aware he sounds like some kind of lunatic, yet equally unable to stop himself. “Do you see anyone else in this room who seems like they’ve had a complete personality transplant?”
“Not a word,” he adds curtly, raising a hand when he sees Usopp start to open his mouth. “We’re focusing on the Marimo right now. I think he’s been body-snatched.”
“Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself - kidding! I’m kidding!” Looking about two seconds away from holding up Chopper as a shield, Usopp falls silent and suddenly becomes extremely interested in examining the wood grain in front of him.
Satisfied that this interruption has been dealt with, Sanji turns back to the original problem at hand. “I asked you a question, Zoro,” he reiterates. “Is something wrong with the food?”
“Nothing’s wrong with the food,” Zoro insists. “It’s delicious.”
Sanji glares at him, too worked up to even be excited by the compliment. “Then what’s wrong with you?” He demands, jabbing a finger towards the spoon still held in the other man’s hands. “Why are you eating like this?”
“Like what?” Zoro asks, holding up the utensil like he thinks he’s going to have to physically defend himself with it. “Slowly?”
“Yes!” Sanji barks, slapping the table again with a heavy hand. “Normally you eat like a starving bear, just shovelling it all in between one breath and the next. Why aren’t you doing that now?”
Zoro stares at him in apparent confusion. “You hate when I do that.”
“And?” Sanji asks, wondering what in the hell that’s got to do with anything. “Quit playing around, Mossball, and answer the question.”
Zoro’s eyebrow twitches. “I just did,” he grits out. “ You hate when I do that.”
“Oh my god,” Nami murmurs, coincidentally performing the unfortunate task of reminding Sanji how the entire crew is currently seated at the table, thereby witnessing his little meltdown. “ That’s what’s been going on. I can’t believe I didn’t clue in until now.”
“Indeed, it’s a rather obvious error on our part,” Robin pipes up from the far end of the table, “but perhaps we might want to give Sanji and Zoro some space to discuss the matter in private.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Nami agrees. Standing, she grabs her plate in hand, motioning for the others to do the same. “Come on, everybody. We’re going to have a little impromptu picnic and let Dumb and Dumber here sort themselves out. That includes you, Luffy .”
“But the food - !” The captain whines.
“Is coming with us,” she assures him. “Franky, Brook grab everything you can carry plus your own dishes, but be careful not to drop anything. Sanji’s already on the verge of a stroke over there, we don’t want to tip him over the edge.”
Not sure what’s happening, but refusing to let it distract him from the much more pressing matter at hand, Sanji waits for the crew to clear out before rounding on the source of his ire. Said source stares back at him in response, a continued look of confusion twisting his handsome features.
“You’re mad,” Zoro says finally, surprising Sanji by being the one to break the silence. “How come?”
“How come you’re acting so weird?” Sanji counters. “And don’t deny it,” he insists, jabbing an irate finger towards the other man when he looks like he’s gearing up to do exactly that. “You haven’t been yourself since we left Sabaody, and I want to know why.”
“Because nothing else was working, and I was getting desperate.” Zoro retorts, his cheeks flaming as he visibly gets a grip on his temper and hunches in on himself. “I didn’t know what else to try.”
“Desperate for what?” Sanji demands, but even as he does so, he’s rewinding this entire interaction in his head, the pieces slowly falling into place as he remembers the line that had been a revelation for Nami as well.
“I don’t like it when you just shovel food into your mouth without even bothering to taste it,” he says slowly. “That’s what you were getting at just now. I don’t like it when you do that.”
“Oh my god,” he says then, positive his own face is now as red as Zoro’s, if not more so. He waves a hand, taking in first the half eaten meal before moving on to gesture at the other man’s pressed shirt and well combed hair. “This is about me. You’re acting this way for me .”
“Took you long enough to figure it out.” Zoro grunts, immediately copping to the fact, rather than trying to deny it like Sanji is half expecting him to. “Why else would I bother with it all if I didn’t have a reason behind it?”
Sputtering, Sanji plants his hands on his hips, glaring down at the swordsman where he’s still seated at his spot at the table. “ Who ,” he demands, because there’s no way Zoro came up with a plan like this on his own, “convinced you this was a good idea?”
Zoro shrugs, wilting slightly when Sanji continues to glare at him. “So, on Kuraigana,” he starts slowly, and Sanji barely resists the sudden urge to throw his hands up in the air since of course someone who knows them well would never have thought this was a reasonable plan. He should have known it was an outsider. “I kind of … missed you?”
“I missed you too.” Sanji replies, seeing no point in denying it given the direction this conversation is very clearly heading. “And by that I mean the real you. Not whatever simulacrum you’ve been pretending to be.”
For a second he thinks Zoro’s going to demand to know what that means, but he surprises Sanji by sighing instead. “I missed you,” he repeats, more firmly this time, “and it was pissing Perona off because I wouldn’t stop complaining, even though we weren’t - aren’t - actually a thing. She ratted me out to Mihawk.”
“This was Mihawk’s idea?!” Sanji yelps, now discovering heretofore unknown levels of mortification at the thought of the world’s greatest swordsman taking an interest in his love life. “Doesn’t the man have better things to do?”
“Not really,” Zoro admits, wrinkling his nose at the thought. “He’s kind of boring outside of the whole sword thing, not to mention really fucking weird.”
“I don’t think it was about him meddling, though, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he continues on, apparently having caught wind of Sanji’s ensuing mental breakdown. “Mihawk’s got this crazy idea that being the top swordsman also requires, like, etiquette and crap. He was trying to give me pointers the whole time I was with him, and I think he saw an opportunity and ran with it after Perona blabbed.”
Sanji holds up a hand to quiet him, massaging the fingers of the other into his temple as he contemplates what he’s just heard. “I’m sorry, let me get this straight. Mihawk, when the act of beating manners and hygiene into you didn’t work, opted to convince you that learning what he wanted might help you … what, exactly? Woo me?”
Zoro’s face flushes impossibly redder and he suddenly becomes fascinated with the dregs of his soup. “That may have been the exact word he used, if you want to be technical.”
“Oh good,” Sanji says weakly, doing his best to make sense of everything he’s been told. “So, all this ,” he waves a hand to try and encapsulate the events of the past several weeks, “was to try and impress me?”
“No, it wasn’t about impressing anyone.” Still staring down at the table, Zoro starts fidgeting with the napkin Sanji had earlier laid out with his place setting, twisting the fabric through his fingers like it holds the answer to some burning question. “I just want you to be happy, and you liked the first few things I tried, so I kept going.”
Not sure it’s the right course of action, but equally unsure that he can’t sit back and do nothing, Sanji rounds the table and cups a careful hand around Zoro’s cheek, using his grip to tilt the man’s face up and force him to look at him. “How,” he starts, running his tongue over lips that have suddenly gone dry, “am I supposed to be happy knowing you’re miserable?”
Zoro blinks at him, his expression morphing into a confused frown as Sanji gently shakes his chin from side to side. “I’m not miserable,” he disagrees. “All the dumb fancy shit, I don’t mind doing it.”
Surprising himself by huffing out a laugh, Sanji shifts his hand to stroke it through Zoro’s hair, enjoying the way the silky green strands glide over his fingers. “The fact that you describe it as ‘dumb fancy shit’ tells me exactly how much you’ve been enjoying it.”
“I like you,” he says then, simultaneously giving voice to a fact that he’d come to realize back at the start of this mess and effectively cutting off the brewing protest he can see forming on Zoro’s lips. “And I mean the real you, not the version you’ve been trying to be. God help me - messy, uncouth, and directionally challenged though you may be - that’s how I prefer you.”
“Really?” Zoro asks, sounding suspicious. “Because you never seemed all that thrilled with me before.”
“Really,” Sanji confirms. “And I was an idiot before. You’re not the only one who was forced to learn a few things while we were separated, even if in your case it wasn’t stuff you needed to retain. Although,” he adds, wincing at the thought of seeing one particular change completely reverse itself. “I wouldn’t complain if you kept up the regular bathing routine.”
Zoro’s face takes on a thoughtful cast. “What’s in it for me?”
Sanji considers this. “Let me put it this way. The more consistently you bathe, the more likely I am to put out.”
His grin turning wolfish, Zoro grabs the hand Sanji’s still running through his hair. Bringing it to his mouth, he plants a kiss on the knuckles that has the barest hint of teeth behind it. “I can live with that.”
“Colour me surprised,” Sanji says dryly. Then he leans down, ignoring the awkward angle as he presses their foreheads together. “What you’ve been doing - no one’s ever done that for me before. It’s very sweet, but I don’t need it.”
He feels warm breath gust over his cheek as Zoro sighs. “I know you don’t,” he admits, “but, like I said, I want you to be happy.”
“Would you be happy if I tried to change myself to fit your expectations?” Sanji asks.
There’s a brief pause, followed by a pointed grunt. “ … no.”
“Well, there you go then,” Sanji laughs, feeling smug. “I’m afraid it works both ways.”
Zoro grumbles at him, but Sanji can tell his heart’s not really in it. They both go quiet for a few moments, contemplating what they’ve just admitted, until Zoro breaks the silence.
“So. What does this mean for us?”
Sanji hums thoughtfully before tugging his hand free of Zoro’s grip and cupping it around the other man’s jaw instead. Enjoying how their positions mean he gets to be the taller one for once, he tilts Zoro’s chin up and leans in close.
“It means,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “that you should shut up and kiss me.”
*****
Two days later, Sanji’s hunched over the counter chopping vegetables when a heavy form drapes itself over his back without so much as a by your leave. Huffing out an annoyed noise, he stops what he’s doing, but makes a point of maintaining his grip on the knife in his hand. “Can I help you?”
“Maybe,” Zoro replies, sagging impossibly further, forcing Sanji to take more of his weight in the process. “M’ hungry.”
“Supper is barely an hour away and you already had a mid-afternoon snack,” Sanji reminds him. “Which I know because I brought it to you. You can hold on a little longer.”
He hears a sigh behind him, perfectly capable of picturing the pout that’s now no doubt gracing the other man’s face. “Didn’t say I was hungry for food.”
Sanji wrinkles his nose at this, confused for a moment until realization dawns and he blushes instead. “If this is your idea of a pickup line, I’ve heard better.”
He feels it as Zoro shrugs. “Doesn’t matter if it works.”
“Uh huh.” Stowing the cutting knife safely out of reach, Sanji turns in Zoro’s hold, not stopping until they’re standing face to face. “Is that so?”
“Mhm,” Zoro murmurs, his grin widening as he watches Sanji’s gaze roam up and down his body. “You see something you like, Cook?”
Sanji lets his eyes do another pass, taking note of clothes that have seen better days, hair that’s sticking up awkwardly - no doubt thanks to a nap on the deck - and, god help him, the thrice cursed haramaki. Then he smiles.
“I’ll never tell.”