Work Text:
It's been two hours and some change, as Zoro is very well aware, and he has yet to make a single pertinent contribution. It's not from lack of engagement, nor is he unwilling to make the effort. It's simply that he's spectacularly bad at picking out Christmas gifts, or any gifts in general. And now it's a week away from their giant, sprawling friend group's party - the only fun Christmas activity they'll have, since they're spending the actual holiday with Sanji's shitty family - and Zoro is once again faced with this glaring shortcoming in his character.
Unless the recipient wants booze, he honestly has no idea what to buy - and even if they do, he can only contribute if they want the right kind of booze. He's an expert on the lower price point end of good hard liquors, a damn virtuoso at finding dirt cheap beer that is perfectly drinkable, and sake is the only alcohol he'll actually shell out for, so he can even be classy about that.
But he doesn't know anything about wine, would happily drink the kind of stuff which Sanji refers to as 'undrinkable swill', and which Robin had solemnly proclaimed to be 'slightly worse than throwing up'. And he treasures his ignorance about all kinds of expensive booze that isn't sake.
Anyway, Luffy doesn't like the taste of alcohol. His boyfriend can't even stand the smell of it, says it gives him splitting migraines. Robin likes wine, so that's a no-go. Brook has cut back on alcohol for health reasons - and since Zoro is in active recovery, he can't really complain about that. Vivi and Usopp prefer weed. Chopper isn't 21 yet, so it'd just feel weird. And so on.
Thank almighty fuck for Ace. He'll have his completely decent tequila and like it.
Zoro realizes that he's already hurtling along miles down this mental sidetrack, when he looks up and finds Sanji's unimpressed glare attempting to nail his head to the wall behind him. "Well?" Zoro's husband demands a touch icily. "What do you think?" And then, even though the answer is obvious: "Were you listening at all?"
Zoro groans quietly and runs his hand through his hair, feeling like a monumental dumbass. "Sorry," he mutters. "I was... I didn't hear you."
Sanji sighs, but it's softer than Zoro had expected, doesn't end in that sharp nasal exhale which inevitably means that he's in trouble. Apparently he'd looked contrite enough to let him off the hook, and while he's grateful, he secretly thinks that Sanji is going too easy on him. This is the fourth or fifth time he's spaced out on him already.
The problem is that Sanji is so good at picking out presents. He spends months ordering stuff off Etsy or from his artsy, crafty friends. He pickles, he bakes, he decorates cakes. He'd learned to tie-dye just because Luffy likes it so much. And then he'll still spend hours shopping for the perfect gifts, carefully picking out things which are tasteful and personal without ever going over budget.
To Zoro it seems like a magical and incomprehensible talent. He's embarrassingly mesmerized by it. It makes him fall a bit more in love with his husband every single time. But it also makes him feel like he's being the classic useless husband letting his partner bear the whole responsibility for a mentally taxing task, and he doesn't like that. He wants to be helpful, wants to contribute something apart from nodding and agreeing.
So far into this shopping trip it hasn't gone well. Sanji's already shot down every single one of his suggestions, and Zoro can tell that he's not just being contrary about it. He had perfectly reasonable explanations for why the gifts wouldn't work - "Law wouldn't like that texture" / "Robin's already read that book" / "Nami would know it's a fake" / "That really isn't Jinbe's aesthetic" / etc - and had delivered them in a patient and only slightly exasperated manner.
No, Sanji isn't being unreasonable, but now they've reached the point where it feels like making more inane suggestions would just add to Sanji's mental load, rather than lessen it. Besides, despite what some sources might claim, there's an upper limit to how much Zoro is prepared to make an ass of himself in one day.
"Sorry," he repeats, reaching out to put a hand on his husband's waist, and feeling relieved when Sanji doesn't pull away. So he leans against his back, puts his chin on his shoulder, and obediently looks down at the jewelry counter in front of them. It's not what he would dub 'fancy' stuff, more quirky and individualistic, but that's the extent of his knowledge. "What were you looking at?"
Sanji leans their cheeks together, and Zoro wishes he could kiss him. But making out like teenagers in the middle of the mall feels like obnoxious straight people shit, so he restrains himself. "Here," Sanji points, the tip of his pearlescent blue nail gently tapping against the glass. "I was thinking maybe those for Kaya?"
Zoro squints through the reflected glare of the bright lights overhead. It's a pair of earrings, silvery white studs twisted into a highly detailed and intricate little shape. It takes him a moment to figure it out, but then it dawns on him that he's seen it before. "Oh, hey, it's the- fuck if I know what it's called, the snake stick. Like on Law's ring. The one that isn't a Caduceus."
Sanji huffs out a laugh, clearly having been on the receiving end of a similar rant on the topic. "I'd make fun of you for remembering what it's not but not what it is, but... well, I can't actually say I blame you. He does get rather intense about it, doesn't he? And it's the Rod of Asclepius."
"Intense sure is a word for it. I'd personally say he was brimming with righteous autistic fury - but different strokes, I guess." Zoro places his finger on the glass next to Sanji's. "And that's the bitch. Yeah, that's sounds like a good gift... right? It's a Christmas gift and a 'congrats on being a real doctor'-gift, kind of thing?"
Sanji hisses quietly between his teeth, a small furrow appearing on his forehead. "Mmm. Well, I don't want her to think that I'm being cheap and combining both gifts into one..." he murmurs, his nail now drumming a staccato rhythm against the glass.
"She won't think that," Zoro says firmly, because seriously? Kaya? "But if you think it's better to get something else-"
"Nonono, I'll get them. I'll just pick up that apple cinnamon lotion she loves as well."
"Oh. Right." Zoro stands back, once again feeling like he was about as useful as a meringue pickaxe, and watches Sanji chat pleasantly with the girl behind the counter as he makes his purchase. He's definitely turning on the charm, but not as much as he used to do, and that's really all Zoro asks. It's fine if people think his husband is charming and funny and downright enchanting; in fact, he'd go so far as to say that he actively enjoys knowing that he has what they all want. It's a nice feeling.
He's just doesn't want Sanji literally throwing himself at people. A fairly reasonable ask. And therapy has apparently been successful in that regard.
"There!" Sanji flounces over, shuffling his various bags around to even them out.
"Okay, at least let me take a few more bags," Zoro says, already reaching out. But Sanji moves his hand away.
"It's fine, it's such a small-"
"Will you please just let me feel useful somehow!"
It comes out much sharper than Zoro had intended. Sanji arches his eyebrows at him, and then shifts the bags onto his wrist and grabs Zoro by the hand, dragging him out of the store. Thankfully, since half the other customers in there had been trying hard not to stare... and the other half weren't trying in the slightest. Trailing obediently after his husband as he leads him over to an empty bench next to a fountain, Zoro reflects that this, too, clearly isn't helping Sanji at all.
He sits down heavily, and only realizes when Sanji jumps involuntarily that the motion probably came off as more aggressive than he intended it. He looks up and meets Sanji's gaze, not sure how to apologize, because "sorry for sitting down in a way that might've been triggering" just sounds asinine. But once again, it seems like Sanji is ready to simply let it go. His eyes soften and he lets out a muted huff of a laugh, sinking down next to Zoro and taking his hand again.
"You know, I do think you're being helpful," he murmurs, twining their fingers together. It strikes Zoro how his hands are so fine-boned and elegant, and yet so incredibly strong, just like it has a hundred times before. He doubts it'll ever get old.
But even while slightly distracted, Zoro pulls an incredulous face in response. "How? All I've done is follow you around and agree with your ideas."
"Not true. You did make a couple of suggestions, which I value even if they were-"
"Stupid. They were dumb suggestions," Zoro says flatly.
"Well... yes." Sanji laughs at Zoro's sour look, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek with his free hand, now shorn of shopping bags. The gesture leaves Zoro feeling very emotionally conflicted. On one hand, he really didn't have to agree that easily. One the other... Sanji's palm is warm and solid against his cheek, and he brushes his fingers along Zoro's jaw before letting go. He's so weak to little signs of approval and encouragement like that, and Sanji damn well knows it. The smug bastard. "But I appreciate that you made the effort."
"That's the bare minimum," Zoro says, trying not to sound as petulant as he feels by carrying on the not-quite-argument any longer. "I want to actually help, not just go for the damn participation trophy."
Sanji makes a displeased little moue, and he uses his thumb and forefinger to give Zoro's hand a light pinch. "Of course that's how you'd put it," he complains. "What is it with you and winning, huh? There's nothing wrong with just participating in an activity that is meant to be social! It's literally all I want you to do, anyway."
Zoro frowns. "You make it sound like you want my suggestions to be useless and my input to not matter."
Sanji flushes unexpectedly, and he ducks his head slightly, as if trying to hide inside the dramatic lapels of his coat like a turtle. "Well, yes," he admits, sounding flustered, "but also no."
"...What?"
"I do value your input," he says, so painfully earnest that Zoro isn't even going to try to disbelieve him. His voice is actually trembling a tiny bit with emotion. "I want to hear your opinions. But-" He squirms slightly. "I don't actually want you to disagree, or to try to change my mind. I like it when you just go along and say yes to whatever I suggest."
Zoro could just say 'What?' again with a different inflection, but he feels that would be lazy and uninspired. So instead he branches out with a solid, "You can't be serious?" He hopes Sanji can hear the hint of laughter in his voice, knows that he's not actually angry.
Sanji's blush deepens, but he doesn't flinch or lash out, which is a good sign that this is still just banter and not a fight. Even so, there's that defensive little tilt to his chin, his tense posture making his voluminous and bright coat look like the feathers of a bird trying to puff itself up to look bigger. "Well, yes I am!" he says, his expression daring Zoro to push back. "I like it just fine the way it is."
"Then why even ask me questions?" Zoro asks, amused. "If you're already set on what you want to buy, I mean?"
"Because I like it when you agree, alright?" he responds, slightly huffy and definitely embarrassed despite himself. "I want your confirmation. I want to still feel like it's a gift that we are giving, even if I was the one to pick it! It's important to me."
Fine. Just for today, Zoro will be as obnoxious as a heterosexual. Which is to say that he grabs Sanji's face between his hands and gives him an unhurried, steady kiss right in the middle of the mall. The three different awful Christmas songs blasting from three different stores, the eye-stabbing lights, the pungent scent of the Yankee Candle blast radius, the squeak of soles on the shiny floor, the teenage girls giggling as they walk past... it all becomes background, all becomes irrelevant, until the moment when - slowly and softly - their lips pull apart with the same reluctance as petals clinging to each other after a rain.
"You're fucking ridiculous," Zoro mumbles happily, their foreheads still touching. "You're a complete fucking lunatic."
"Oh shut up," Sanji sighs, poking Zoro in the side over and over until it makes him squirm and laugh. "It's just... I like picking gifts for people. I love it. It's like- It's practically self-care for me, that's how happy it makes me feel. It's the same as with cooking, I suppose. You know the whole thing about love languages? It's-"
"A bunch of sexist bullshit," Zoro says evenly.
"-Yes, I know," Sanji snaps. "You didn't let me finish. It's nonsense, but it's still true that different people show love in different ways, right? And that's mine. I like taking care of people."
"Yeah, I know," Zoro sighs contently, draping his arms over Sanji's shoulders, but he's still feeling restless. "So do I, I guess - just in different ways. Which is why I feel kind of dumb just following you around and nodding. And I'd feel less dumb if you would let me carry the bags for you at least."
"I know, I get it," Sanji says, sounding apologetic. "It's just... there's this whole joke with the husband holding all l the stuff while the wife is shopping, and..."
...and things that are perceived as gendered is a complicated and at times painful subject with Sanji even at the best of times. He needs to be in the right headspace to tackle it, and obviously this is not the best place for him to be vulnerable like that. It's a bit frustrating, but Zoro knows better than to let it show. It's not something Sanji can help. He's doing his best.
"Fine. I'll only carry some of the bags, and I'll be your own personal shipping cheerleader. How's that?"
"Better," Sanji admits, sinking against Zoro's chest for a moment. He hears Sanji inhale deeply, knows he's breathing in the nice cologne that, yes, was in fact a gift from him. Scents are a whole other area where Zoro is fully aware that he doesn't know jack shit, but he knows that he wants to smell like Sanji wants him to smell. He knows that the scent is warm and complex and inviting, and that it means Sanji will make any excuse to get close to him. He knows it makes him think of Sanji even when he's not there, and it's comforting. That's good enough for Zoro.
"Really though," Sanji murmurs. "I get that you don't like feeling like you're not pulling your weight, so I'm telling you that you are. I want you here with me. It's more fun with you here."
Well, what can Zoro say to that? All he can really do, once again, is agree.
He follows along as Sanji dives into a comic book store and gets some of Luffy's favorites, and then past some other kind of nerd store to pick up a seriously 80's-looking figurine for Law - who doesn't mind receiving Christmas gifts provided they come with 0% enforced jolliness and a minimum of cultural Christianity. Sanji grabs a fun pack of stickers and pins for Carrot in passing, then doubles back for a truly deranged t-shirt for Franky. And the really magical thing about Sanji's gift for gifting is that as soon as he tells Zoro about what he's considering, it always seems like the obvious choice. It seems like something Zoro himself would've come up with, if he just thought about it for long enough.
But with Sanji around, he doesn't have to. He doesn't have to run around agonizing on the 23rd, beating himself up about not having started shopping sooner, but knowing that it's because he feels completely immobilized by all the million options every time he tries to plan ahead. He doesn't have to run headfirst into those awkward moments when he can tell that a gift clearly isn't what the recipient would ever have picked for themselves, and now you both have to pretend like it's not obvious.
And maybe that's okay? Maybe it's not a big deal that he just isn't very good at this, and that he relies on Sanji to do what he can't. That shouldn't be such a revolutionary thought, and Zoro doesn't particularly want to examine why it still is.
Suffice it to say that he's gone long periods of his life without feeling like there was anyone he could rely on to step up for him like that. That it had been drilled into his head at a young age that he'd better learn to be self-sufficient, because anything he lacked would be his own damn problem. That's as much psychoanalysis that he feels up to today, or indeed for the foreseeable future.
Either way, he wraps his arms around Sanji's waist as they're entering another store, slowing him down. He'd been going on about some kind of cosmetics that Nami is really into, probably made with real gold and the ethically sourced tears of fucking mermaids knowing that girl. But his words drift into silence as Zoro nuzzles his cheek and jaw, enjoying the prickling of his beard against his skin.
"Hey," he says gruffly, still feeling like these words are too heavy and precious to handle daily, but knowing Sanji is the kind of person who needs to hear it. So it'll feel awkward every single time, but damn it, he can cope. "I love you."
A moment of stillness, as even all the bags that Sanji carries seem to stop rustling against each other. Then he laughs quietly, the sound both raspy and strangely melodious, a sound that comes from both the sharp and the soft places inside him. This incredible man that Zoro had the unbelievable luck to marry.
"I know," he says. "I can tell."