Archive of Our Own

|SANJI – PRESENT|

Sanji finished preparing the tray with care and devotion and left the kitchen of the small, discreet house Franky had built at his request behind the New Baratie in the All Blue. It was a house made almost entirely of dark, sturdy wood, with only essential rooms and furniture, since they only used it when they were there instead of still adventuring on the Thousand Sunny under the command of the King of the Pirates.

Because it was small and cozy, in moments he was already in the wide, open bedroom—the largest room in the residence and the only one with all-glass walls—offering a view of more than 200 degrees of the bluest, most diverse sea that had ever existed. And almost at its center was the large double bed, nearly all occupied by a sentient marimo sprawled out and snoring, taking up far too much space.

Sanji made a “tsk” sound with his mouth as he approached, placing the tray on the nightstand and stopping there beside it just to observe the human algae for a moment.

Zoro was lying on his back, legs and arms spread like a starfish, mouth open with a little drool trailing out. His short, messier-than-usual hair was still green, though the color seemed to have dulled over the years and was speckled with gray strands that also appeared in his beard when he forgot to shave for a few days. At the moment, his face was clean as usual, the scar that closed his eye forever no longer the only one on his more mature face, now marked with expression lines and small wrinkles—especially on his forehead and around his eyes thanks his habitual scowls. His body was covered only by the thin blue sheet around his waist, so all his huge, well-defined muscles were exposed, and with the strong orange light of the rising sun it was easy to identify most of the scars adorning him from head to toe, some much deeper, others more dangerous, like the long one that crossed him diagonally from almost shoulder to hip; the scar he had received from Mihawk on the day they met.

That day, more than two decades ago, Sanji had thought Zoro was the most idiotic and clueless person he had ever met in his life.

That was still true, but the way he thought about it now carried far more affection than true repulsion.

Since he was twenty-one years old, everything the cook thought about the swordsman came loaded with affection, to his total and absolute despair.

But what could he do?

Sanji wouldn’t have married—much less bonded with—that brutish alpha if he didn’t love him.

And on that particular day, love always seemed to be even closer to the surface, and it was only because of that that Sanji didn’t get irritated by the fact that Zoro kept snoring even after he’d spent the entire morning preparing a special breakfast for the two of them.

Instead of yelling and kicking him out of bed like he usually would, a small smile rose at the corner of Sanji’s lips as his eyes roamed over his husband’s strong body, his mouth watering with the sinful ideas blooming in his mind. Because breakfast couldn’t get cold, he couldn’t linger too long in the world of ideas, analyzing possibilities, so he was soon acting—climbing onto the bed on his knees without being particularly careful or quiet, knowing Zoro could sleep like a log. The omega’s agile, impeccable hands then pulled the sheet away from the front, revealing the large, soft cock resting against thick thighs. Sanji’s smile widened even more as he sat astride Zoro’s hips, their skins separated only by the white boxer briefs with pink hearts he was wearing. He took the alpha’s cock and laid it against his stomach, pressing his own groin against it.

Zoro let out a small sound and closed his mouth, but kept sleeping. Sanji began to grind hard and fast against the member, varying between increasing and decreasing the pressure of his hips every few seconds, his chest vibrating with pride as he watched and felt the cock harden quickly.

“What’re you doin’, curly?”

Sanji smiled mischievously at Zoro’s groggy voice as he slowly opened his eye, revealing the gray iris still blurred with sleep, the pupil dilating as soon as he processed the sight in front of him. The omega’s cheeks warmed a bit more under that look, but he kept the rhythmic movements.

“Looks like you wanna spend this Valentine’s Day sleeping, mossy, so I thought I’d have some fun on my own,” he said almost sly, a subtle gasp slipping past his lips as his own hard cock received jolts of pleasure from the friction and slid his hands over the alpha’s abdomen until they splayed over those huge pecs that still made him drool.

Sanji felt in his palms the deep, low growl that rumbled from Zoro’s chest, who didn’t waste time grabbing his thighs with large, calloused hands, fingers sinking into soft flesh in that not-at-all-gentle way of his before sliding up to grip his hips, squeezing and pulling until Sanji was pressed even harder against him.

“On your own?” he questioned, his voice even rougher and still sleepy, one brow arching and his lips tugging to the side in one of those predatory smiles that still made Sanji’s heart race. “Doesn’t look like you’re on your own to me.”

Sanji leaned in, his hands sliding from chest to broad shoulders, fingers tracing familiar scars without needing to look. With his face hovering inches from the alpha’s, his lips brushed Zoro’s, teasing the promise of a kiss he had no intention of giving. Then he whispered provocatively, “Maybe if you didn’t sleep like a door…”

Before he realized it, one of Zoro’s hands had left his hip and grabbed him by the nape, pulling him into a kiss that was anything but gentle. An open-mouthed, deep, demanding kiss, full of tongue and teeth, that almost seemed to mirror the way they still fought—and that still managed to leave Sanji dizzy and hard in seconds. The alpha never hesitated to push his tongue as deep as he could, exploring, savoring every taste of the omega until he stole back some control and did the same, devouring that already so familiar mouth.

Sanji moaned into his mouth, grinding harder, Zoro’s cock growing fully hard beneath him. Both erections separated only by the thin fabric of his underwear, hot and pulsing, craving more friction and more contact. Zoro’s hand still on his hip slid down to grab one of Sanji’s ass cheeks, fingers digging in and pulling, guiding the movement. Sanji tilted his head to get and give better access, his own hands gripping Zoro’s short hair, still so surprisingly soft it seemed to slip between his fingers. Zoro bit his lower lip before sucking on it, tearing a broken sigh from him.

When Sanji broke the kiss to draw in a deeper breath and moan longer through parted lips, a thin string of saliva kept them connected, making Sanji’s belly clench almost as much as the hungry way Zoro stared at him from beneath heavy lashes, gray iris almost completely swallowed by his pupil. He then ran his thumb over the omega’s swollen lip, smearing the saliva and pressing into sensitive flesh, and Sanji shuddered, panting.

“Keep going,” Zoro murmured in a heavier tone, almost an order, both hands returning to grip Sanji’s hips firmly, trying to guide him into faster movements.

Sanji bit his own lip, his hands sliding back down to the defined chest, muscles tensing beneath his slender fingers. Both of their strong, heady pheromones, swelling with arousal, began to fill the room, overtaking their senses until his mind was hazy, his senses sharpened, his skin more sensitive. Just that simple contact and the way Zoro wanted him were enough to make his hard cock start to leak pre, while his asshole began to pulse and slick itself with lubricant, craving attention too. Before he realized it, Sanji was squeezing those pecs with intent, big dark nipples caught between two fingers and tugged, coaxed into hardening beautifully, making his mouth water even more.

And because it was very hard to say no to the alpha in situations like that, Sanji did start to move his hips faster, intensifying the delicious and frustrating friction at the same time. He dipped his face lower to reach Zoro’s neck, breathing in that metallic, musky scent even stronger and biting over the already healed bond mark—his mark—sucking the skin between his teeth while Zoro growled and slid his hands down to squeeze his ass in a way that could leave marks of his own.

Then Sanji’s stomach growled loudly.

His heartbeat stopping for a split second and his eyes widening, Sanji abruptly stilled his movements and straightened until he was sitting in Zoro’s lap, his gaze immediately finding the tray he’d left on the nightstand.

“Fuck.”

“What is it?” Zoro asked, confused, his hands trying to make him move again.

“Breakfast’s gonna get cold,” he grumbled with a huff, already making to get off Zoro, but he grabbed his waist, not letting him go as he blinked slowly.

Sanji could almost see the gears grinding with difficulty in his head.

“You’re kidding.”

“I spent the whole morning making that, shitty marimo! I’m not letting it go to waste!” Sanji snapped, but his voice came out less convincing than he intended, especially with his cock still hard and rubbing against Zoro’s.

“Curly…” Zoro squeezed his ass again, pulling his hips forward, wrenching an involuntary moan from him. “Fuck breakfast.”

“No.” Sanji pushed himself away from Zoro, slipping out of his grasp despite the alpha’s protest and his own body’s. “You’re gonna eat what I made first.”

Zoro made that sulky face with an absurdly long pout that was ridiculous on a forty-year-old man and the most feared swordsman on the seas.

“I’m gonna eat you,” he grumbled.

Sanji rolled his eyes, even as his cheeks warmed. “Later, you animal. Now get that lazy ass up and come eat real food.”

Sanji didn’t wait for any response as he went to settle on his side of the bed, pushing Zoro aside with his legs since he was taking up all the space like the freeloader he was. Once he was comfortable with his back against the headboard, he carefully picked up the tray from the nightstand, placing it on his own lap and checking if everything was still neat and organized while Zoro finally got up huffing and grumbling, crossing his strong arms over his chest as he leaned back against the headboard on his side of the bed, having done absolutely nothing to at least try to disguise his giant erection hitting and leaking pre-cum against his stomach. Sanji only didn’t curse him out for it because he knew—and took a certain pleasure—in the fact that it had been his fault and because the sight was mouth‑watering and weighed warm liquid in his belly in a delicious way, validating his own tight erection inside his briefs.

The omega’s entire stretch of skin was starting to tighten in that way that only found relief after a damn good fuck, but he wouldn’t let himself stray from the planned script:

They would eat a hearty breakfast and then Zoro could eat him as much as he wanted before they stopped for lunch.

Firm in his conviction, Sanji then positioned the tray between the two of them on the bed with care. Steam still rose lightly from the hot liquids—coffee brewed in Baratie’s own press, and green sencha tea he had bought from a merchant in Wano on his last visit. There was a delicate pile of buttery, crispy croissants, some perfectly shaped onigiri with salmon and umeboshi filling, tamagoyaki still slightly warm cut into precise slices, fresh fruit arranged artistically—strawberries, grapes, slices of melon, pineapple, and watermelon—, and small jars with different flavored jams.

It was a perfect breakfast mix that would satisfy both of them in an absolutely pleasant way to their palates.

Despite all the complaining from before, Zoro didn’t waste time. He grabbed an onigiri and took a big bite, half of it disappearing into his mouth at once. Sanji made a face.

“You could eat like a human being, you know?” But he was already picking up a croissant for himself, tearing off a piece and bringing it to his mouth.

“It’s delicious,” Zoro said with his mouth full, a bit of rice flying as he grabbed another onigiri.

“Stop talking with your mouth full, you brute!” Sanji scolded him, but there was a small smile forming at the corner of his lips.

Receiving any compliment about his food always warmed his chest with pride, but when such praise came from his husband who for years had refused to compliment him, that pride came with a tingling right at the center that left him almost giddy.

Zoro just shrugged and grabbed a slice of tamagoyaki, eating with the same lack of ceremony. Sanji sighed dramatically, but poured green tea for Zoro and coffee for himself, the rich aroma filling the space between them.

And, almost as always happened when they ate, they fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, where they simply enjoyed the food filling their bellies with flavor and each other’s pleasant, already well‑known company. After two decades, it seemed they could find synchronicity even in silence and the most mundane tasks, both attentions always so sharp on one another, almost as if they had been molded to each other’s shapes.

Some even said the Pirate King’s Wings no longer knew how to function, how to exist without the other.

It was a romantic enough statement that Sanji never felt the need to correct, and Zoro didn’t seem to care or want to bother either.

Meanwhile, the passing time was marked by the sun still rising through the glass walls, painting everything in warm shades of orange and gold, the sea reflecting the light in shimmering sparkles.

“You’ve always been like this, huh?” Zoro said suddenly, his voice softer now, almost reflective.

Sanji looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup.

“Like what?”

“Doing these special things for me,” Zoro continued, picking up a piece of watermelon and turning it between his fingers before biting into it. He chewed slowly, a bit of the fruit’s red juice running down his lip to his chin, his gaze distant as if he were seeing something beyond the room. “Favorite foods, drinks I like, always all neat…”

Sanji frowned, raising a hand on reflex to wipe the juice away with his thumb and then bringing it to his own mouth.

“What’re you talking about, marimo?”

A small, nostalgic smile pulled at the corner of Zoro’s mouth, his one good eye fixing with affection on his partner, who couldn’t stop the soft flutter in his stomach.

“I was remembering how we actually ended up together for real. You remember?”

Sanji’s spine stiffened, his eyes widening as his cheeks suddenly heated up, something turning in his stomach that had nothing to do with food.

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled at last after swallowing hard, looking away and pretending extreme interest in his croissant.

Zoro let out a low laugh, that rough laugh that came from deep in his chest.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad. At least not for me.”

“Easy for you to say,” Sanji muttered, his ears heating up too. “You weren’t the one who went through the biggest embarrassment of your life.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro arched an eyebrow, his smile widening. He slid down to lie on his side on the pillow, resting his elbow on the bed beside the tray, his head in his hand, eye completely focused on his husband as his smile took on an amused air. “‘Cause from my perspective…”

| ZORO – 19 YEARS AGO |

The training had been particularly intense that day. Zoro climbed down from the crow’s nest with his muscles burning in that good way, sweat running down his temples and back, his breathing still fast. He needed water. A lot of water.

Without thinking, he walked into the kitchen with his usual not‑delicate‑at‑all manner, not expecting to find the cook busy there since it wasn’t even close to lunch or dinner, but he should’ve guessed he’d be there because Sanji was always preparing something. And indeed, he was standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot with precise movements, his body swaying slightly like he always did when he cooked, but there was something… different.

Zoro couldn’t quite tell what. Maybe it was the way Sanji’s shoulders were more relaxed, or how he was softly humming some song in another language Zoro didn’t recognize. Maybe it was just the light coming through the window and illuminating his blond hair in a way that made it look brighter.

Or maybe it was the smell.

Zoro frowned, trying to identify it. There were always good smells coming from the kitchen—spices, meats, sweets baking. But this was different. It was sweet, but not food‑sweet. It was warm, with a hint of seafood and sea breeze that Zoro knew well because it was Sanji’s natural scent, only… stronger. Much stronger.

As if someone had taken the cook’s essence and concentrated it into a perfume.

“Zoro‑kun!”

Zoro blinked. Sanji had turned around and was looking at him over his shoulder with a smile. A real smile, not that courteous one he gave when he was working or the sarcastic one that came before an insult. It was a genuine smile, eyes wider, shining and everything.

There were even little hearts floating around his head.

What the fuck…?

“So glad you showed up!” the cook said cheerfully, almost in the same tone he’d been humming the song, grabbing a tall glass with something pink inside from the counter. “I made a special protein smoothie for you~”

His voice had that syrupy tone Sanji usually used with Nami and Robin. He approached Zoro in quick steps and offered him the glass with delicately curved fingers, his body slightly leaning forward, the eye not hidden by his bangs glinting mischievously.

The smell grew stronger, hitting the alpha almost like a punch.

Something tightened in Zoro’s chest. A strange mix of confusion, sudden heat rising up his neck, and a warm sensation low in his stomach that he forced down with every ounce of willpower he had.

Because he knew that smell. He’d felt it before, all the other times the cook was going into heat. Faint, distant, never directed at him. But he’d recognize it anywhere.

Omega pre‑heat pheromones.

Shit.

“… What do you want, cook?” he asked slowly, suspicious, eye narrowing, mouth a little dry while he discreetly tried to hold his own breath.

“Nothing!” Sanji answered too quickly. “I just wanna take care of you!”

Then he smiled even more and raised an arm, resting his hand against Zoro’s arm.

Zoro froze.

Sanji’s hand was warm even through the sweat‑damp fabric of his shirt. His long, elegant fingers curled slightly around his bicep, squeezing gently, almost caressing. The touch lasted only two or three seconds, but it was enough for the heat to spread from the point of contact through Zoro’s entire arm, down his chest, pooling at the base of his spine.

Sanji was so close Zoro could see the darker flecks in the blue of his irises, could count every blond eyelash, could feel the heat of his body radiating.

“You worked hard today,” Sanji said softly, still holding his arm with one hand and offering the smoothie with the other. “You need to replenish your energy.”

Zoro took the glass. His fingers brushed Sanji’s in the process and the omega smiled even more, if that was possible.

“See you later, Zoro‑kun~”

Then he spun back to the stove, resuming whatever he was doing in the pot while humming, and Zoro saw no choice but to get out of there as if the floor were on fire, running straight to the crow’s nest without looking back, slamming the little hatch shut and leaning his back against the nearest wall, trying to control his breathing while his heart beat way too fast against his ribs and his skin felt almost feverish.

Hot skin and a very cold glass in his hands.

What the fuck was that?

Zoro looked at the smoothie. It was a light pink color, with red fruits visible through the glass. There was even a mint leaf decorating the rim. When he brought it to his mouth and took a sip, the flavor exploded on his tongue—strawberry, banana, some kind of protein powder that didn’t taste bad like the ones he’d tried before, and honey, but far from being too sweet.

It was delicious.

It had been made especially for his palate.

Zoro finished the smoothie in a few large gulps, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and set the glass aside, satisfied that it had at least refreshed him enough to ease his thirst a little. Letting out a long sigh, he sat on the floor with his legs crossed in lotus and rubbed his face hard with his hands.

He needed to think rationally about what had happened, because there was definitely a rational explanation.

Fact one: Sanji was in pre‑heat. The smell didn’t lie and he didn’t even seem to be trying to hide the strong pheromones.

Fact two: Sanji had acted differently with him. Smiled, touched him, made a special smoothie for him full of frills. Things he only did for women.

Fact three: Zoro had liked that idiot cook for years. Most likely since Little Garden when they had their first real competition and Zoro noticed how adorable he looked when he was irritated, the tips of his ears turning red. Or maybe since Alabasta when he saved them from that cell acting all clever while tricking Crocodile with that Mr. Prince pose. Maybe even before, back at the Baratie, when he saw Sanji for the first time and he was kicking that stuck‑up marine, stirring something in Zoro’s chest that he recognized as strength, beauty, danger.

It didn’t matter when. What mattered was that it was true and Zoro had never managed to forget his attraction even after years.

Fact four: Zoro had never done anything about it because first, Sanji only had eyes for women, was always hanging off Nami and Robin, had never given any sign he might be interested in men. Second, the two of them fought every damn day about everything, making it seem impossible to have any kind of more intimate relationship with him. And third, Sanji was an omega and had that whole shitty family story and Zoro didn’t want to be another alpha pressuring him.

But now…

Now Sanji had acted like that. With him. Because of pre‑heat.

Something that was just instinct. Just biology. Didn’t mean anything.

… right?

Zoro gave a light punch to the wooden floor, frustration burning in his chest and in his teeth clenched tight.

No. He wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to overthink, wasn’t going to create stupid hopes. Sanji had probably not even noticed he’d acted differently and it had just been a one-time thing, a crazy anomaly that had existed only to stir Zoro’s heart with an impossible “What if?”

Zoro just needed to forget that moment of anomaly. And for his own good, maybe it would also be wise to avoid him and train until he dropped from exhaustion so he wouldn’t think about the smell, the touch, that smile.

Decided, Zoro grabbed the weights and went back to training.

He successfully managed to avoid the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon. He stayed in the crow’s nest training, then took a nap, then trained a bit more. When the sun began to set and his stomach growled too loudly to ignore, he went down for dinner like he always did.

The table was already set. The whole crew seated. Luffy was already attacking the food in the center while Usopp tried to protect his portion, Nami read something in the newspaper, Robin drank tea serenely, Chopper chatted excitedly with Brook about something medical, Franky adjusted something on his mechanical arm.

Everything normal.

Except for the plate Sanji placed in front of Zoro the moment he sat down.

Zoro looked down. His favorite dish. A large portion of plump, ultra-stuffed rice balls, even with a special sauce Zoro had commented once that he liked, but that the cook rarely made for being “too troublesome to prepare.” Besides that, there was also his favorite bottle of sake.

“I made it special for you, Zoro-kun~” Sanji said, smiling that same way as before, eyes shining, one hand on his hip.

It felt like all the gazes present had turned to Zoro, who swallowed dry before answering low and uncertain:

“Uh… thanks?”

Luffy, who was stretching his arm to grab food from the central plate, changed direction at the last second and tried to grab a rice ball from Zoro’s plate.

In the next second, Sanji landed a kick on Luffy with so much force he flew a few meters back, crashing against the wall.

“That’s Zoro’s!” Sanji roared, a vein popping on his forehead, foot still raised.

It felt like the entire table had even stopped breathing.

Luffy blinked from the floor, scratching his head confused.

“But… you always let me eat Zoro’s food, Sanji…”

Something that could be realization of what he’d done passed over Sanji’s expression, which softened instantly as he blinked a few times and lowered his leg. His hands went straight to the pockets of his dress pants from where he pulled out his lighter and lit a cigarette. His fingers seemed to tremble minutely with the action.

“Yeah… well… today is different! Today I made a special dish for him and you can’t eat it and that’s it!” he said in the end, taking long drags and it didn’t take long for the nicotine to start covering his scent.

Zoro stopped looking at Sanji, turning his attention back to the table only to notice Nami staring at him with one eyebrow raised, Robin smiling discreetly behind her teacup and Usopp looking from Sanji to Zoro and back to Sanji.

Zoro cleared his throat, an inconvenient heat climbing from his neck to his ears even though he’d decided to ignore everyone and enjoy his special dinner.

It didn’t take long for Luffy to come running back to the table, going back to stuffing himself with meat as if nothing had happened while the cook returned to the kitchen, swaying his hips and humming something in another language.

Zoro ate in silence, not looking at anyone and trying to ignore the weight of multiple gazes on him. The food was delicious—because everything Sanji cooked was delicious, even if he’d never admit it out loud—but Zoro could barely taste it. His brain was too busy processing the fact that Sanji had kicked Luffy. For him. To protect his food.

Sanji had never kicked Luffy again, not even as a joke, since what had happened on Whole Cake Island.

Soon the swordsman was stuffing his cheeks with the last onigiris and grabbing his sake, decided to drink it alone and in peace in the crow’s nest.

While savoring his drink, Zoro only wished the cook would wake up normal the next morning.

Zoro woke up early. Earlier than usual. The three hours of sleep he’d tried to get had been terrible, restless, with a dream he forced into the darkest corner of his mind the moment he woke up because he wasn’t going to think about that.

He wasn’t going to think about pale hands on his skin. About blond hair spread on the floor beneath him. About flushed white cheeks. About lips without a cigarette between them, open and panting. About blue eyes looking at him, begging him to tie the knot in his hole so tight and hot.

No.

He took a cold shower, completely ignoring the uncomfortable erection until it went away and then went straight up to the crow’s nest, dismissing Brook from his watch while the sun was at his back, painting the sky in shades of pink and purple.

He was going to train until he couldn’t think about anything else.

He started with warm-ups. Stretching, push-ups, sit-ups. Then he grabbed the heaviest bars and started the real training. Lifting, squats, curls. His muscles burned, sweat began to run. Good. That was what he needed. Focus. Discipline. Physical pain to replace the mess in his head.

He was on the third set when the crow’s nest hatch opened.

He didn’t need to look to know who it was. The scent arrived first, even stronger than the day before, making something twist in Zoro’s stomach.

“You’re sweating a lot, Zoro-kun~”

Zoro almost dropped the bar.

He put it back on the rack with more force than necessary and turned. The cook was standing there with a white towel in one hand and a water bottle in the other, smiling that smile that was starting to destroy Zoro’s self-control piece by piece.

“You have to hydrate,” Sanji said softly, crossing the space toward him.

Zoro stayed still when the cook raised the towel and started wiping the sweat from his face. The touch was gentle, careful, Sanji’s fingers accidentally brushing his cheek, his temple, his neck. Zoro held his breath and barely blinked.

“There,” Sanji murmured, stepping back a little but still too close, offering the water.

Zoro took the bottle and drank half of it in one go, more to have something to do with his hands than out of real thirst.

“And you also didn’t have your breakfast, so I brought it for you!” the cook said in a more sing-song voice, moving away closer to the entrance of the crow’s nest only to come back carrying a tray that had a very generous mug of green tea, a huge bowl of what could only be white rice with natto and eggs and three bananas.

Zoro’s stomach growled at the smell and the sight, mouth filling with saliva and he didn’t even think before taking the tray, thanking the cook with a brief nod before going to sit with it on the long couch that circled the entire crow’s nest, already peeling and devouring a banana.

When he grabbed another banana and started peeling it, he realized Sanji hadn’t left. He was… staring. Staring at Zoro. At his bare, sweaty chest. At his arms. At his defined abdomen.

What really made Zoro stop what he was doing, though, was the small thread of blood beginning to run from one nostril.

“Your tits are even bigger,” Sanji said, voice half distant, half hypnotized, eyes not blinking.

A sudden heat climbed from Zoro’s neck to his ears, and he instinctively folded his arms over his chest, hiding his nipples.

“You feeling okay, cook?”

Sanji blinked. Blinked again. Then looked away to the side while wiping his nose with the back of his hand and taking a step back, his face turning red.

“Huh? Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?!” he almost shouted, crossing his arms defensively.

Zoro cleared his throat.

“Your nose was bleeding.”

“It wasn’t!!”

“There’s literally blood on your hand right now.”

Sanji looked at the back of the hand he’d wiped with and got even redder.

“I-it’s not- I… That… You just… Fuck you, marimo!” he cursed with veins starting to pop on his neck and temples, shoving his hands into his pockets before stomping out and slamming the hatch.

Zoro stood there, processing what had just happened, slowly uncrossing his arms and going back to peeling the second banana because, despite everything, his stomach hurt from hunger and he wasn’t going to let the food get cold.

Sanji had had a nosebleed. Looking at him. At his body.

Just like he did when he saw women showing a bit more skin or mermaids in general.

Something hot and dangerous lit up in Zoro’s chest, something he pushed down hard because he couldn’t, shouldn’t, wasn’t going to let that mean what his idiot brain wanted it to mean.

So Zoro forced himself to just enjoy his delicious breakfast and, after, went back to his training.

Maybe he could train his desire for the cook out of his head and out of his body.

Zoro was lying on the grass near the tangerine trees, one arm over his eyes to block the sun. He wasn’t really asleep—his body was far too tense for that—but he was trying to at least get a brief nap. Trying to shut his brain off. Trying not to think about gentle, agile hands cleaning his sweat, about blue eyes roaming his body with interest, about blood running from that elegant nose.

“Hey, Zoro.”

Zoro grunted. It wasn’t a “go ahead,” it was more of a “leave me alone,” but apparently Usopp didn’t get the message because he kept talking.

“Sanji’s been acting weird with you, hasn’t he?”

Zoro removed his arm from his face and opened his eye. Usopp had sat down against one of the tangerine trees, fiddling with some small invention, but looking at Zoro with that expression that meant he was being serious instead of exaggerated.

“I didn’t notice anything,” Zoro lied, closing his eye again.

“Seriously?” Usopp sounded genuinely surprised. “He’s been glued to you for two days. Everyone’s been talking.”

Zoro opened his eye again, huffing as he gave up on the nap and sat up with his back against the railing, staring at Usopp.

“Everyone who?”

“Ah, me, Nami, Robin… even Luffy asked why Sanji’s being nice to you now.”

Shit.

If other people were starting to notice too, it meant it wasn’t just Zoro’s impression; it wasn’t his cook-starved mind playing tricks on him.

“He’s not ‘being nice,’” Zoro muttered, looking away. “He’s… just cooking. Like always.”

A short mocking laugh escaped the sniper.

“Zoro, he made a special dish just for you yesterday and kicked Luffy for trying to grab it.” Usopp raised an eyebrow. “That’s, like… unprecedented. Sanji’s never made any effort to protect your food from Luffy.”

Zoro brought a hand to his head, starting to run his fingers through the green strands as his pulse sped up.

“Maybe he was just in a bad mood.”

“For two days straight? And he brought a towel, water, and breakfast to you this morning, I saw it!”

“So what?”

“He never does that for anyone, except…” Usopp cut himself off, brows furrowing, looking thoughtful, then his eyes widened. “Except for women! He’s… he’s treating you like he treats Nami and Robin.”

“He’s not,” Zoro said too fast, his ears heating up.

Usopp kept looking at him. Then he smiled, that annoying smile that meant he knew something.

“You’re liking this, aren’t you?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” Zoro stood, brushing the grass off his pants, ignoring his heart machine-gunning against his chest. “I’m gonna train.”

“Zoro-.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” he repeated more firmly, and left before Usopp could say anything else.

Zoro was late for dinner. On purpose.

He thought that if he arrived later, maybe all the seats would already be taken and he could sit far away. Far from the smell that was getting more intense with every hour. Far from the touches that made his skin burn. Far from the looks that made something twist dangerously in his chest.

Except his plan backfired.

When he entered the dining room, everyone was already seated and the table was already full of food—there was some kind of steaming stew, rice, grilled fish, salad, fresh bread. The smell of the food was good as always, but it was completely overshadowed by the other smell. That sweet, warm scent with hints of seafood and sea breeze that was starting to drive Zoro crazy.

And there was an empty space. Only one.

Next to Sanji.

Zoro stopped at the door. Considered turning around. Considered saying he wasn’t hungry. Considered jumping into the sea and swimming to the next island.

The cook could at least have smoked while cooking to mask his scent a little.

“Zoro! Sit already, the food’s gonna get cold!” Luffy shouted from the head of the table, already with his mouth full.

Shit.

Zoro crossed the room and sat in the empty chair. He tried to keep as much distance as possible between him and Sanji, body rigid, shoulders tense. He started serving himself without looking to the side.

“Did you like lunch today?” Sanji asked softly, his voice closer than Zoro expected.

Zoro glanced over. Sanji was turned toward him, elbow resting on the table, chin in his hand, looking at Zoro with those blue eyes shining under long blond lashes. There was a small smile on his lips, almost shy if Zoro didn’t know Sanji was never shy.

“It was good,” Zoro muttered, turning his attention back to the food.

“I made that seasoning you like,” Sanji continued, still looking. “Remember? The one we tried in Alabasta.”

“I remember.”

“I thought you’d like having it again.”

Zoro grunted something that could be interpreted as thanks and shoved a forkful of rice into his mouth.

Sanji didn’t stop looking.

Zoro tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on the food, on the others’ conversation—Nami was discussing some course change with Jinbe, Usopp was talking with Franky about some new invention, Chopper and Robin seemed to be discussing books while Brook made punctual comments followed by some joke. But he could feel the weight of that gaze on his skin like a physical thing, hot and insistent.

Then Sanji moved.

He leaned over Zoro, pressing his body against his, arm brushing his as he stretched to reach the salt shaker on the other side. All of Zoro’s skin seemed to prickle with a burning that was hard to ignore, the omega’s scent invading his nose even more strongly without permission, making his mouth dry while his heartbeat went wild and his cock gave a subtle jump in interest.

Zoro held his breath before he started releasing pheromones that would kill him from embarrassment.

“Excuse me,” Sanji murmured, voice low, almost a whisper near Zoro’s ear.

Zoro froze with the fork in the air.

Sanji grabbed the salt shaker, but he didn’t move away immediately, he lingered. It was only an extra second, maybe two, but it was enough time for the heat of his body to start burning against Zoro’s, for every corner where their skins touched to begin pulsing, for his brain to start imagining things it definitely shouldn’t.

When Sanji finally pulled away, Zoro inhaled deeply, trying to look natural, but only managed to breathe in more of that scent that was destroying his self‑control piece by piece.

“Zoro‑kun,” Sanji called again a few minutes later, and Zoro realized with horror that he seemed to have given up eating in favor of watching the alpha eat. “Do you want more fish? This one turned out particularly good.”

“I… I can serve myself,” Zoro replied, his voice coming out rougher than usual.

“I know, but let me.” And before Zoro could protest, Sanji was already taking his plate and putting more fish on it. “You need to eat a lot, you trained hard today.”

Since when did he care how much Zoro trained?

Sanji handed the plate back, and their hands touched in the process; Sanji’s long, pale fingers brushing against Zoro’s darker, calloused ones. And as if to make sure the alpha wouldn’t think he had imagined it, he slid his fingers over the back of Zoro’s hand before finally pulling away.

Zoro looked at his hand as if it had caught fire, then closed it into a fist tightly before lifting his eye and immediately regretting it.

Because, across the table, Robin was smiling behind her teacup. Nami had one eyebrow raised. Usopp was trying and failing to hide a small smile.

Zoro almost carved a hole into the floor with his swords just so he could disappear into it.

The rest of dinner was torture. Sanji found three more excuses to touch him: adjusting the napkin that had “fallen” onto Zoro’s lap (it hadn’t fallen), passing the butter that was “too far” for Zoro to reach (it wasn’t), wiping a grain of rice that had “stuck” to the corner of Zoro’s mouth (it probably had, since Zoro was eating mechanically without paying attention).

Each touch was brief. Casual. Could be accidental if not for the frequency, for the way Sanji’s fingers always lingered a second longer than necessary, for the way he always found an excuse to make contact.

And the worst part: Zoro didn’t hate it.

His body reacted to every touch as if it had been waiting for them. His skin tingled wherever Sanji touched. His heart pounded louder. Something warm and liquid gathered at the base of his spine, in the pit of his stomach, in places he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about during dinner in front of the entire crew.

He finished eating faster than he ever had in his life, muttered something about night training, and got out of there as if he were fleeing a battle.

And maybe he was.

Zoro didn’t sleep.

He spent the whole night in the crow’s nest, alternating between training until he couldn’t take it anymore and lying on the floor staring at the ceiling, trying not to think, not to feel, not to remember—without success.

Every time he closed his eye he saw the cook. Saw that sincere smile. Those bright blue eyes. Those pale hands getting closer. And worse: he saw things that hadn’t happened. Things his idiot brain was creating. Sanji closer. Sanji sliding firm hands over his chest, going down to his stomach, going lower. Sanji doing things omegas in heat did with their alphas and that Zoro definitely shouldn’t be imagining.

Things like those reddish lips pressing against his, the clever tongue licking inside his mouth with a probable taste of nicotine and Sanji. Those powerful, lethal legs around his waist, keeping him pressed against his body while he moved his hips skillfully, precisely, taking all the pleasure he wanted from the alpha.

It was torture to get rid of those images and do nothing about the effect they’d had on him, but Zoro did it.

At least his self-control was still intact.

When the sun finally started to rise, painting the sky pink and orange, Zoro was exhausted. But it was a physical exhaustion, muscles aching and body begging for rest. Better than the other exhaustion—the one of his brain spinning in circles nonstop, wanting things he couldn’t have, feeling things that didn’t make sense.

He was debating the pros and cons of going down for breakfast while doing another set of push-ups—the fiftieth, maybe, he’d lost count—when the hatch opened.

Zoro pretended he hadn’t heard, then kept lowering and raising his body, arms burning, sweat running down his temples, his back, his chest, mentally hoping Sanji would just give up and leave; hoping he had gone back to being the usual cook.

“I brought your breakfast, Zoro-kun~”

Shit.

Zoro finished the push-up and stayed on all fours on the floor for a moment, head low, taking a deep breath. Then he got up slowly and turned.

Sanji was standing near the hatch with a tray. A big tray, full of food. There were onigiri, there was tamagoyaki, there were fruits cut into decorative shapes, there was even freshly squeezed orange juice in a glass with ice.

And Sanji was smiling. That smile that was breaking Zoro’s defenses one by one.

“No one can skip a meal on this ship and you know it, Zoro,” Sanji said softly, crossing the crow’s nest toward him. “Especially you, who trains so much and needs to replenish your energy!”

Zoro stayed still when Sanji got closer. Even with a lit cigarette in his mouth, the alpha could feel the omega’s scent that seemed even sharper, going down his lungs in an almost suffocating way. Sweet and warm and impossible to ignore. It made Zoro’s head spin, his stomach churn, his lower abdomen start to coil while his cock throbbed with interest.

Sanji set the tray on a nearby bench and turned back to Zoro, still smiling, blue eyes shining in that way Zoro would’ve never imagined they could when looking at him. His chest tightened suddenly, almost stealing his air.

“I made everything the way you like,” he continued, picking up an onigiri and offering it to Zoro with both hands, almost like an offering. “The filling’s spicy tuna, just like that one from Wano you said was the best you’d ever had.”

He had remembered. Zoro had commented about that onigiri once. A single time, months ago. And Sanji had remembered.

Something warm and dangerous expanded in Zoro’s chest, his breathing growing slightly heavier.

“Why’re you doing this?” The words came out before he could stop them, voice rougher and lower than usual.

Sanji blinked, head tilting slightly to the side, genuine confusion on his face.

“Doing what?”

“This!” Zoro gestured at the tray, at Sanji, at everything. That tightness in his chest seemed to compress further, cracking the edges of his self-control, letting all the frustration and confusion and repressed desire leak through the fissures. “All this. The food, the drinks, following me around, touching me-”

“I’m not following you!” Sanji interrupted, his face starting to flush, brows furrowing.

“Yes you are! It’s been three days!”

“What an exaggeration!” Sanji put a hand on his hip, defensive. “I’m just… being nice!”

“You’re NEVER nice to me!” Zoro stood up abruptly and took a step forward, and Sanji took one back, eyes widening slightly. “We spend the whole day insulting each other! You call me marimo, I call you shitty cook, we fight, we argue! That’s normal! THIS…” He gestured to the tray again. “ISN’T!”

Sanji opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“I… I just wanted to do something nice! Why are you complaining?”

“Because you’re acting with me the same way you act with women!” Zoro exploded, and immediately wanted to rip his own words out of the air, shove them back into his mouth. But it was too late. “With Nami and Robin! The smiles, the looks, the touches, making special food, having nosebleeds-”

“I did NOT have a nosebleed!” Sanji shouted, but his face was red as a tomato now.

“Yes you DID! YESTERDAY! STARING AT MY CHEST!”

The yell was followed by a sudden, loud silence.

Sanji was frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. For a moment he just stared at Zoro, processing, and then his face kept getting progressively redder, starting at his cheeks and spreading to his ears and neck, his gaze dropping to the floor, trembling hand holding the cigarette to take a deeper drag. What the alpha could feel of his scent, souring.

“That… that’s not… I didn’t…”

“You’re in pre-heat, cook.” Zoro said, lower now, but firm. Definitive.

The silence weighed.

Sanji blinked. Blinked again. The color drained from his face until he was white, pale as a ghost.

“…what?”

“Your scent.” Zoro gestured vaguely, as if that explained everything. “It’s been strong for days. You smell like you always do before going into heat, only this time, instead of embarrassing yourself even more for Nami and Robin, you’re acting all…” Adorable, attentive, gentle, provocative, irresistible. “Pathetic with me.” Zoro’s ears seemed to burn at his word choice, regretting it a little when he saw Sanji’s expression dissolve into impassive, but the other options would’ve been too embarrassing! And when the cook just kept staring at him, almost without even breathing, Zoro clicked his tongue and shifted uncomfortably, his heartbeat so strong and fast it hurt in his throat. Then he decided to keep going, even if his next words had a bitter weight on his tongue. “Look, I get it, okay? Instinct’s a bitch. Biology, whatever. But if you want me to help you during heat, just SAY it. You don’t have to treat me like one of your little women.”

In an instant, Sanji was red again, but by the way the veins popped in his temples and neck, it was the red of fury that could set him on fire.

“I’M NOT TREATING YOU LIKE A WOMAN!” he shouted, hands clenching into fists.

“Yes you are!” Zoro shouted back, taking another step forward. “EVERYONE’S noticing, except you!”

“FUCK YOU, MARIMO!”

“Ah, great, back to normal!” Zoro let out a humorless laugh. “At least that I recognize!”

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” Sanji was trembling now, breathing fast and too shallow. “A CLUELESS BRUTE! I never… I didn’t…”

The cook’s voice broke before he finished the sentence, his eyes widening and his breath suddenly catching in his throat.

Zoro sighed, something bittersweet running through his veins as he realized Sanji had connected the dots.

Realized that all that special treatment driving him insane was going to end. Just like all the attention and tenderness he received from the only person he had ever desired in his life.

“No,” Sanji whispered, tears starting to gather in his eyes that looked lost staring at nothing. “No, no, no—”

He turned and ran toward the nearest open window, using Sky Walk to disappear before Zoro could say anything.

The tray was left behind, the food still steaming, the onigiri perfectly shaped, the juice starting to sweat condensation on the outside of the glass.

Zoro stood there, heart machine-gunning against his ribs, hands still trembling slightly with adrenaline, and a bitter sensation settling in his stomach and climbing up his throat.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

He had fucked everything up.

Zoro stayed in the crow’s nest for another hour. Maybe two. He lost track of time sitting on the floor beside the now-empty tray—because he couldn’t let the food go bad, so he forced everything down even with his stomach twisting—staring at the wall, his brain running in circles.

Should he go after Sanji? Should he apologize? But apologize for what? For telling the truth?

No. He had told the truth. Sanji was in pre-heat. Sanji was acting different. Those were facts.

What Zoro shouldn’t have said was that last part. About Sanji treating him the way he treated the women. About helping with the heat.

Because it had come out cruel. It had come out like Zoro was reducing everything to animal instinct, when it wasn’t that. When it was far more complicated than that.

But how could he explain it without revealing that he’d liked that idiot cook for years? Without revealing that every touch had been delicious torture? Without revealing that he wanted it, wanted it so much, but not like that. Not just because of heat. Not just because of instinct. He wanted it to be real.

The hatch suddenly opening with a bang pulled him from his thoughts.

“ZORO!” It was Chopper, still in his small default form, but with that serious expression he used when he was in “doctor mode.” “Sanji locked himself in the pantry and won’t come out!” Chopper said quickly, the words stumbling over each other as he finished climbing up and entered the crow’s nest. “What happened?!”

Zoro swallowed hard, his heart showing signs of stirring.

“I… we argued.”

“About what?”

Zoro didn’t answer; instead, he stood up and went to the hatch in quick, firm steps, climbing down from the crow’s nest with Chopper right behind him.

When he reached the deck, Nami was already there waiting. Arms crossed, foot tapping on the floor, that expression that meant someone was going to get hit and it was probably Zoro.

“What did you do to him?!” she practically growled.

“I didn’t do anything!” Zoro defended himself, but even to him the answer sounded weak. “I just told the truth!”

“What truth?!”

Zoro hesitated and looked around. Most of the crew was there now, Usopp near the mast, Robin sitting and reading but clearly paying attention, Brook pacing back and forth, Franky adjusting something on the deck but looking in their direction.

“That he’s in pre-heat,” Zoro finally said, lower. “And that he was treating me like he treats you all.”

Nami stopped tapping her foot, slowly uncrossed her arms and her expression at Zoro shifted from anger to something that seemed to be… pity?

“Zoro,” she said slowly, like she was explaining something to a child. “You’re very dumb.”

Zoro’s eye widened as he almost swallowed his own tongue.

“WHAT?!”

“Omegas in pre-heat act like that with potential partners,” Robin intervened softly, lowering her book. “It’s courting instinct. A way of showing they can care, provide.” She tilted her head, a small smile appearing. “Sanji probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.”

The ground seemed to disappear beneath Zoro’s feet.

“You mean he…” His voice failed and he swallowed hard.

That couldn’t be true because the cook didn’t feel for Zoro what Zoro felt for him.

Right?

“Apparently he wants you as a partner, yes,” Nami finished, and this time there was something softer in her expression. Almost sympathetic. “You animal.”

Zoro stared at the navigator without blinking, the insult barely registering in his head because it was now far too busy trying to make sense of what he had just heard while his lungs barely seemed able to handle more oxygen and his heart seemed determined to open a crater in his chest.

Partner. Sanji wanted him as a partner. It wasn’t just vague instinct, it wasn’t just heat looking for any available alpha. It was specifically him. Zoro. Sanji wanted Zoro.

Since when?!

“I…” Zoro swallowed hard. “I didn’t know.”

“Clearly.” Nami rolled her eyes. “And now he’s locked in there probably mortified because you basically said he was acting like a bitch in heat.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“That’s what it sounded like to him!”

Zoro ran a hand through his hair, pulling hard.

Shit. He had really fucked everything up.

“I… I’m going to talk to him.”

Nami stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now. He must be… processing.”

“But-”

“Give him some time, Zoro.” It was Robin who spoke, closing the book completely now. “The heat should start soon. Let him go through it and then you talk.”

Everything in Zoro wanted to disagree. Wanted to go up to the pantry, break the door down if necessary, and fix this whole mess. But what guaranteed that him acting impulsively like that wouldn’t just make things worse?

And Nami and Robin were smarter than him, anyway—for as much as he’d never admit it out loud—so maybe it was better to listen to them this time.

Zoro let out a heavy sigh, letting his arms fall to his sides.

“So I have to wait three to four days to talk to him?”

“Yes, Zoro! But don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of him like always!” Chopper replied, sounding much calmer than before. “I’ll bring food and water and-”

“I can do it,” Zoro interrupted without thinking.

“No!” Chopper, Nami and Robin said at the same time. Zoro blinked.

“You can’t stay near him during heat, idiot!” Nami explained, crossing her arms again. “You know his pheromones are gonna be stronger and it’ll be awful for both of you.”

“The chances of the two of you copulating ferociously for days before even talking about it are as high as the chances of you ending up brutally killing each other instead,” Robin added in a neutral voice.

Zoro’s face heated up, his eye nearly popping out of its socket just like Nami’s, Chopper’s and Usopp’s, who yelled a “Don’t say it like that, Robin!” while Franky and Brook just laughed.

“I… okay, I’m not going in there, I’ll stay to myself until his heat passes.” He finally conceded, crossing his arms and trying to push the image Robin had planted out of his mind. “But I wanna know how he is. Every day.”

“You got it, Zoro! He’ll be fine!” Chopper agreed with an excited little laugh and then ran off toward the kitchen.

Zoro watched him go with his chest tight, his entire body vibrating with the urge to go after Chopper and check for himself how the cook was. But he couldn’t; it would in fact be better to give space to both of them and then talk when their minds were calmer and without any hormonal influence.

And four days would pass quickly if he kept his mind busy doing the only thing he could do right now: train until his body hurt more than his chest.

The next four days were hell.

Zoro knew Sanji was going through heat because the scent was everywhere. Seafood and ocean breeze coated with a sweet, warm undertone impossible to ignore, permeating every corner of the ship. It was stronger in the kitchen and infirmary because the pantry was right there, but even in the crow’s nest Zoro could feel it. Especially at night, when the wind shifted direction and brought that smell straight to him.

It was torture.

Every alpha instinct in Zoro screamed to go there. To break that door down. To help, protect, claim. His body reacted involuntarily—temperature rising, muscles tense, cock hardening in an instant, along with a constant restlessness that no matter how much he trained, wouldn’t go away.

Chopper was always going into the pantry to bring food and water to the cook and kept his word by keeping Zoro informed that he was fine, the heat was happening as it should, and that was it. Zoro spent those days alternating between compulsive training and forcing himself to meditate as deeply as he could in the part farthest from the kitchen, almost always having the hypnotizing laughter of his captain sitting on the lion’s head right above where he was as welcome company.

At night it was worse. Lying in the crow’s nest staring at the ceiling, Zoro couldn’t stop thinking. About Sanji alone down there, going through that without help. About how hard it must be. About how Zoro had caused that, had made him lock himself in, had been a complete idiot.

It was only at the end of the fifth day that the scent disappeared for good after having noticeably diminished over the previous two days.

Zoro knew he should wait because Sanji was probably exhausted, needing time to recover, to “go back to normal” and get his head straight, and Zoro would give him that time, at least one day, and then he would look for him so they could talk.

Zoro was sitting on the crow’s nest sofa during his night watch shift, watching the horizon and how the sky was so absurdly star‑filled that it even reflected on the water when light footsteps climbing the ladder pulled him out of the semi‑meditative state he had drifted into.

His entire body tensed, every muscle contracting at once. With his haki activating on instinct, it was impossible not to know it was Sanji, that confirmation only increasing when the smell of nicotine arrived before he did.

Zoro straightened his back even more, adjusting himself on the sofa. He took a deep breath trying to steady his heartbeat, reminded himself exactly what he had to say, determined to be honest and not mess everything up.

Sanji climbed through the hatch, closing it right behind him, took a few steps forward before slipping his hands into his pants pockets and stopping, face turned to the side, toward the horizon, and the strong starlight was enough to show how awful he looked.

Deep dark circles under his eyes, skin far too pale, hair lacking its usual shine, falling lifeless over his face. Red, swollen eyes, revealing how much he had cried. A lot.

Something twisted painfully in Zoro’s chest and he had to control himself not to go to him and hug him.

And then silence reigned, with neither of them seeming willing to move even a single muscle; Sanji’s eyes fixed on the horizon while Zoro’s were fixed on him.

The sound of the sea was the only thing filling the space between them—waves gently hitting the hull, the wind blowing softly, ropes creaking every now and then. Normally it was a comforting sound. In that moment it felt too loud, calling attention to the silence neither of them knew how to break.

Zoro didn’t know what to say. Sorry felt insufficient. The words to explain what had happened and what he felt for the cook seemed to have run away. Asking if Sanji was okay was stupid when it was obvious he wasn’t.

So he stayed quiet. Waiting.

It was Sanji who spoke first after a heavy, sudden sigh.

“Sorry.”

The word came out so low Zoro almost didn’t hear it. His heart pounded harder, his throat suddenly going dry, forcing him to clear it before saying:

“What?”

“Sorry,” Sanji repeated, still looking out the window. “You were right. I was… doing that. And I didn’t even realize.” A short, humorless laugh escaped. “Pathetic, right?”

“It’s not pathetic…” Zoro said immediately, not as firm as he would’ve liked because the shame of having used that word before stuck it in his throat.

“It is.” Sanji finally looked at him, and there was something broken in that gaze. Something vulnerable Zoro rarely saw. “My instincts took over and I… I kept chasing you like a dog in heat. Literally.”

“Cook-”

“No.” Sanji raised a hand, cutting Zoro off. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, teeth clenching tight around the cigarette before relaxing. “Let me talk. I need to… need to talk.”

Zoro closed his mouth and waited with a minimal nod.

Sanji stayed quiet for a few more seconds, eyes returning to the horizon, jaw tensing and relaxing as if he were trying to gather courage. When he spoke again, his voice came out steadier, but still low:

“It wasn’t just instinct. Or… it was, but it wasn’t only about the heat.”

Zoro’s heart skipped a beat.

“I like you.” The words came out fast, almost tripping over each other, as if Sanji needed to say them before losing courage. “It’s been a while. And I… I tried to ignore it because, fuck, you’re you. We fight every day. You’re a clueless brute. And I… I never thought…” His voice faltered. Sanji squeezed his eyes shut, teeth clenched. “I never thought I could want someone like that,” he continued, even quieter now. “Not an alpha. Not after… everything.”

Zoro knew what he was talking about. Those damn Germa who weren’t his family in any sense of the word. All that hell Sanji had lived through and rarely talked about. All that bullshit about omegas being weak, submissive, property of alphas.

“Cook…” Zoro started, his tongue heavy while he could barely hear his own voice with how loudly his heartbeat echoed in his ears, but Sanji shook his head.

“And then pre‑heat comes and my body just decides that you are… that you…”

He couldn’t finish. The words died, replaced by a heavy silence. His lips pressed into a trembling straight line as if he were holding back tears.

“That I’m yours,” Zoro finished, voice hoarse.

Sanji blinked slowly, his eyes turning to Zoro hesitant, vulnerable and scared and hopeful all at the same time.

“…Yeah.”

“Good.”

Sanji blinked, confusion crossing his face.

“…Good?”

Zoro stood up, crossed the crow’s nest in three long strides and stopped in front of Sanji, close enough to see every detail—the dark circles, the red still visible in his eyes, the dried tear stains on his cheeks.

“‘Cause you’re mine too,” Zoro said firmly, holding Sanji’s gaze. “For a while now.” Sanji stopped breathing. “I don’t know when it started,” Zoro continued, and for the first time in days his words felt right. Felt true. “Maybe in Little Garden or in Alabasta, or even back at the Baratie after you yelled about how I was an idiot for not running from my dream.” A subtle snort of laughter slipped from his nose. “But… it’s you for me, cook. Always has been.”

“But you never-” Sanji started, voice failing, tears slipping from eyes that had grown wet as he listened to the confession.

“I never said anything ‘cause I thought you wouldn’t want it,” Zoro admitted. “Me? And, worse, an alpha? You always said you’d never belong to anyone, that you wouldn’t let your family decide, that-”

“Me choosing is different!” Sanji almost shouted, hands leaving his pockets to gesture. “If I choose, then… then it’s not the same. It’s not…”

He stopped, eyes widening as if he had just realized what he’d said. What he’d admitted.

Zoro stepped closer. Slowly, giving the cook time to pull away if he wanted to. But Sanji didn’t. He stayed frozen, eyes locked on Zoro’s, so blue under the starlight reflection they seemed to glow.

“Then choose me,” Zoro said softly, his hand rising to touch Sanji’s face. His fingers brushed the pale cheek, the tense jaw, sliding down until he gently held his chin, thumb stroking his goatee. “Choose me for real. Not ‘cause of the heat. Not ‘cause of instinct. But ‘cause you want to.”

Small tremors began to run through Sanji’s whole body, vibrating in the fingers holding Zoro’s wrist while his eyes grew wet again to the limit, about to overflow once more.

He then took the cigarette from his mouth, his hand not so steady as he did; ran his tongue over his lips, drawing Zoro’s gaze to them.

“I already did,” Sanji whispered, his voice breaking at the end. “A while ago.”

It was everything Zoro needed to hear.

He pulled Sanji by the nape, closing the distance between them, and crushed their mouths together.

It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, messy, years of tension and desire and frustration exploding all at once. Zoro shoved his tongue between Sanji’s lips without asking permission, invading, claiming, tasting every corner he could reach. Sanji moaned against his mouth, hands rising to grab Zoro’s haramaki, pulling him closer, tighter, returning the kiss with the same intensity, fighting for control just like they fought over everything else.

The kiss deepened as Zoro’s hands went to Sanji’s hair, fingers curling into the blond strands and pulling, tilting his head to gain better access. Sanji opened his mouth wider, letting Zoro in completely, their own tongues meeting, licking and caressing before trying to slide past one another, struggling to see who would reach the other’s throat first. Zoro reached deep into Sanji’s mouth, who shuddered in his arms, a soft little moan escaping his chest and going straight to the already half‑hard cock of the alpha who decided in that instant to treasure every single sound he dragged out of the omega.

When they finally pulled apart, panting, a thin strand of saliva still connected them, shining silver between the two. Sanji’s lips were swollen, red, wet. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed as if he were feeling something far too intense. Zoro licked from his chin to the tip of his nose, cleaning the saliva and smirking when the cook shivered again.

Then Zoro rested his forehead against his, their two warm, uneven breaths mixing in the tiny space between them.

“Can I help you with all your next heats from now on?” he asked in a rough murmur, one hand on the narrow waist and the other firm on the curve between jaw and neck.

A strong, long breath slowly slipped from the cook’s lips, his fingers tightening where they held the alpha’s waist.

“Only if you let me help you with all your ruts…” he murmured back, his breath tickling Zoro’s lips, which stretched into an even wider smile.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he answered sincerely, and a sudden soft, pleasant vibration began to radiate from the omega.

Zoro’s smile grew even more as he realized the other was purring.

To enjoy the purring, which seemed to run through the alpha’s entire body like the most efficient of calming agents, they stayed like that for another moment, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, just existing in the shared space. Both present in the moment and enjoying the reality of being in each other’s arms. Until Sanji moved, seeking another kiss, and Zoro couldn’t deny him. This one was slower, softer, but no less intense, almost exploratory and bordering on devotional, still pulling little noises from the omega that the alpha devoured eagerly.

It was Sanji who stopped the kiss to whisper against the other’s mouth:

“We can practice… before the heats and ruts… if you want.”

A short laugh escaped Zoro’s nose.

“Of course you want to practice, you perverted cook,” he teased just to earn a short kick to the calf that didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as it could have.

“I can feel how much you want it too, you second‑rate swordsman,” he shot back through his teeth, rubbing himself against Zoro to emphasize his point, both hard cocks still well hidden by layers of clothing meeting in a brief friction.

Zoro held back another laugh and grabbed Sanji by the nape, forcing him to lift his face and stay close, looking him in the eye and feeling the alpha’s words against his mouth:

“Only because it’s you, Sanji.”

The confession and the name were worth it when the cook melted in his arms and stayed that way for the rest of the night.

A night that would turn into a lifetime.

| SANJI - PRESENT |

“You’re turning red.”

Zoro’s voice pulled him back, cutting through the decades like a hook snagging his consciousness back to the present.

Sanji blinked, coming back to himself. He was back in the glass-walled bedroom, back on the messy bed, back at forty years old with a husband watching him with that naughty little smirk that meant he knew exactly what Sanji was thinking.

And Sanji could feel the heat on his cheeks, on his neck, spreading down his chest because he had remembered all the events that led them to finally confess their feelings to each other. Remembered what was still the greatest embarrassment of his life.

“You were red like a bell pepper that night too,” Zoro continued, the smile widening.

“Shut up,” Sanji grumbled, but there was no real heat in the words. He was smiling too behind his coffee cup.

“And then you almost killed me from so much-”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Sanji grabbed a pillow and threw it at Zoro’s face, who laughed, that rough deep laugh that still, after all these years, made something melt in Sanji’s chest.

Zoro caught the pillow and tossed it aside, then held out his hand. Sanji finished his coffee, placing the cup on the now empty tray and took it without hesitation, letting Zoro lace their fingers together, the alpha’s thumb making lazy circles on the back of his hand.

“Hey,” Zoro said softer now, pulling Sanji a little closer. “Seriously… do you regret it?”

Sanji looked at their intertwined hands. At the simple gold ring on Zoro’s finger—matching his. At the two golden earrings hanging from Zoro’s ear—matching the single one in his own ear. At the wrinkles around Zoro’s eyes, earned from years of smiling. At the gray streaks in the green hair, earned from years of living.

Years living together.

“No,” he answered honestly, looking back into Zoro’s single gray eye. “Not at all. Even though I wanted to die of embarrassment back then… today I’m grateful it happened that way.”

“Good.” Zoro pulled him even closer, until Sanji practically fell into his lap. “‘Cause I don’t regret it either. Anything.”

Sanji settled in Zoro’s lap, legs on either side of his hips, hands resting on the broad chest still firm despite the age. The heart beat strong under his palm, the single eye fixed on his face darkening as the pupil dilated.

“Even after nineteen years, you still drive me crazy,” Zoro murmured, big hands landing on Sanji’s waist, fingers squeezing gently.

“Only nineteen?” Sanji arched an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought it was twenty-one.”

Because they might have started that relationship nineteen years ago, but the feelings and desires had started long before.e.

Zoro let out a low chuckle.

“Alright. Twenty-one. Happy?”

“Very.”

And Sanji kissed him.

It was different from the kisses they had shared that night nineteen years ago. The kiss was slower, deeper, a kiss of mouths that already knew every curve of each other in the smallest detail, just as they knew the most sensitive spots and how the other liked to be kissed most. A kiss loaded with all their history, every scar they had earned together, every battle they had fought side by side, every stupid argument about seasoning or direction, every moment of tenderness hidden behind insults.

Everything culminated in that kiss.

Zoro’s hands slid down Sanji’s back, one tangling in the blond hair that now went a little past his shoulders, the other dropping to squeeze his ass. Sanji moaned softly against Zoro’s mouth, hips starting to move, rubbing against the bulge that hadn’t completely gone away.

“Take that off,” Zoro murmured against his lips, tugging at Sanji’s underwear.

Sanji obeyed, lifting his hips just enough to slide the fabric down his long legs, skillfully removing it without leaving his lap and tossing it aside while at the same time helping Zoro free himself from the sheet that still covered his own nudity, leaving both completely exposed under the golden light of the sun already risen on the horizon. Smiling, Sanji kissed his husband again, both hands holding his face like it was something precious while Zoro’s hands returned to his waist, fingers sinking into the skin with a little more firmness and intention as he pulled him closer, nearly pressing their chests together while their hard cocks brushed against each other, drawing a gasp from the omega and a low groan from the alpha.

While Sanji devoted himself to kissing that so familiar mouth, tongue stroking the corners, lips sucking and teeth teasing lightly, Zoro let himself be kissed and slid his hands away from the waist, descending toward the full ass with calloused fingers never easing the pressure on the skin, intensifying the grip when each palm wrapped around a cheek, grabbing them with so much hunger that the omega’s hips thrust forward, stealing his breath as his cock dragged along the alpha’s firm stomach, who took advantage of his mouth being free to lower it to the exposed throat, leaving a trail of wet kisses up to the ear that carried his earring and the symbol of their eternal union promise. Zoro whispered against that ear:

“Keep kissing me while I open you.”

Sanji nodded with a shiver and pulled his husband’s head, forcing it closer and tilted back to expose more of the mouth he attacked the next second, determined to make good use of his oral fixation. Meanwhile, Zoro squeezed the cheeks even tighter as if he wanted to leave his fingers imprinted on the skin and, unhurried, began the motion of spreading them, teasing the omega and his hole that was already so wet slick was leaking, sliding toward his balls and thighs.

Sanji bit his husband’s lower lip hard.

“Stop stalling,” he complained against his mouth, feeling the alpha’s sharp smile stretch.

Zoro then spread the cheeks as wide as he could, leaving the little hole completely exposed, which pulsed hard in response, opening and closing around nothing while leaking even more slick, desperate for attention. Sanji moaned long, hips instinctively moving back, exposing himself more to the empty room, offering himself. Zoro groaned low against his mouth and slowly slid his fingers closer to the center until he could circle the sensitive rim with the tip of one and also hook the index finger of the other hand and tug the ring lightly, opening his ass enough for more slick to spill. Sanji to let out a needy little whine.

“Love how you always get soaked for me,” Zoro murmured into his mouth through a cutting smile, voice rough enough to reveal he was just as affected as Sanji, who gave a brief nod.

“Love getting all stretched and filled on your big cock, my alpha,” he confessed in a teasing voice, more than aware that his words had the power to pull instant reactions from his husband. They always had, no matter what reaction it was.

No surprise. Zoro groaned louder, body vibrating, and one of his fingers slipped inside, invading the hole with such ease that he already added a second right after, applying just a bit more pressure until they were in up to the last knuckle. Sanji rolled his hips against them, urging them to move while he went back to kissing Zoro.

“I’ll have all day to tease you and explore you, won’t I?” Zoro asked low between the kiss because, if he could talk around a sword, he could talk around a tongue.

Sanji nodded vehemently, wrapping both arms around his husband’s neck, pulling him closer. His moans began to grow longer and louder into the kiss when Zoro started fucking him with his fingers, spreading them like scissors to make room for a third finger, then intensifying the thrusts until a fourth was filled with wet sounds.

When the fingers suddenly slipped out of him, leaving him empty with his stretched little hole pulsing desperately around nothing, Sanji didn’t waste time letting go of Zoro’s mouth to pull back just enough to grab his thick, hard cock, his slender hand barely able to wrap around the circumference that throbbed hot against his sweaty palm, pre-cum already leaking from the tip, and guided it behind himself while lifting slightly on his legs. Just as he had done countless times before, Sanji lined the head up with his hole and began to sit down on the cock with deliberate slowness, gasping moans escaping the smile stretching wider and wider across his face as he felt every inch entering him, filling him in a way nothing else could while also stretching him enough to provoke a welcome burn that always reminded him how he was still human despite everything that had been changed in his body.

Both men gasped in unison when Sanji sat fully, impaling himself on Zoro’s cock, who still held his ass firmly. The omega smiled at his husband, at how his eye fixed on him was clouded and overflowing with lust and devotion, at his broad chest rising and falling with careful control, the breath escaping just as uneven as his own.

The sight of Zoro so vulnerable and surrendered like that was something Sanji would never grow tired of.

“Sanji,” the alpha whispered in a soft voice, as delicate as a man of that size and deep tone could manage. He whispered it as an implicit plea and confession, causing a sudden shiver from the omega’s feet to his head, who answered by kissing him again and beginning to grind in his lap.

The kiss was unhurried and exploratory just like the way Sanji moved his hips, allowing them both to simply feel each other in every inch they touched, urging all that warm liquid of desire and love to grow more and more intense as it ran through their veins, even vibrating in their teeth.

When the air seemed to fail him and the need to moan for real spoke louder, Sanji broke the kiss, sliding his open palms to his husband’s chest, using his firmness as support while he began to speed up his movements. He threw his head back, letting out a long wanton moan as he truly started bouncing, making the cock hit and rub against all his most sensitive spots with mastery.

“Always so tight for me,” Zoro growled while letting go of his ass to grab his waist with both hands, a deep vibration running through his chest when he saw his fingers meeting, wrapping all the way around.

Sanji smiled, biting his lip, letting his head tilt to the side so he could look at his husband.

“Always so big,” he moaned coyly, focusing on how he could feel the skin of his abdomen bulge every time he fully self-impaled again.

Zoro’s eye dropped to the spot of the bulge and his chest vibrated again.

Sanji laughed lightly, leaning in again to capture his husband’s lips once more, only grinding to keep all that delicious friction but not lifting himself for a few moments, his own cock leaking plenty of pre-cum rubbing against the firm abdomen beneath him.

“My unbearable alpha,” he whispered before sucking his lip between his teeth.

“My perverted omega,” he shot back with a smile and slid one hand away from his waist until it wrapped around Sanji’s cock, giving short, brief strokes that made Sanji speed up the movement of his hips while a long moan caught in his throat.

However, soon Sanji was sliding his hand down to catch Zoro’s, pulling it off his cock and holding it while lacing their fingers firmly, keeping them joined between their bodies.

With hands intertwined and mouths always joined, divided between trading deep kisses with plenty of tongue and teeth and simply gasping, moaning, and breathing with brushing lips, Sanji set a steady and quick rhythm, though not as fast as he could, focusing on giving pleasure to both without hurry to lead them toward the precipice. Meanwhile, Zoro occupied his other hand with conscious explorations of every piece of his husband’s skin he could reach, alternating between squeezes and caresses, but always making a point of marking his presence, of leaving a warm, tingling trail wherever he passed, causing delicious subtle shivers all over the omega who answered with a firmer lip suck, a bite closer to breaking skin.

Every breath, every touch, every kiss, every friction, every time that cock rubbed deeper into his tight hole, trying to suck it even further inside, made his belly tighten more, his abdomen coil and uncoil that heat rising through his legs, intensifying his need for more contact, more speed, more Zoro, more, more, more.

“Zoro, ah-!” he moaned against his mouth, his movements faltering for a moment as he began to speed them up, a subtle burn in the muscles of his legs even though they could endure for hours more.

Noticing his growing desperation, Zoro fitted the hand that wasn’t intertwined with his onto his waist, using it as an anchor to hold Sanji while he thrust his own hips upward, tearing a surprised moan from the omega who braced himself against the alpha, allowing him to pound him toward his orgasm.

“Cum for me, love,” he whispered against Sanji’s mouth, his voice heavy and hoarse, hips crashing against his faster and harder each time.

Sanji gasped, his heart fluttering in ecstasy at the affectionate nickname that was still a rarity between them, but he didn’t take long to be distracted by all the shocks running through his body, making him close his eyes, curl his toes, squeeze Zoro’s hand even tighter until his body locked up and he came with a moaned cry.

Zoro kept thrusting without losing rhythm, prolonging the omega’s dry orgasm until he began to writhe on his lap, trying to escape the overstimulation.

Zoro let go of his hand to grab his waist with both of his, preventing Sanji from fleeing and forcing him to take more and more stimulation against his prostate to the point of coming again when he began to feel the bulb swelling until it trapped the cock inside his used, but still hungry hole, which was soon being completely filled by rivers of his husband’s cum.

When Sanji stopped trembling, with only sporadic shocks crossing different limbs at different moments, he let himself fall against Zoro, burying his face in his neck, his tongue circling the bite mark that had bound them forever. Without thinking, Sanji opened his mouth and bit over it until he tore the skin.

Zoro let out a hoarse shout and thrust three more times, releasing sudden longer spurts of cum. The omega let out a happy murmur against the bite and gave a small pleased wiggle at feeling satisfyingly full and filled.

Then the alpha bit down hard on the mark on Sanji’s neck and he cried out as he came again, this time with short spurts of his own cum dirtying Zoro’s abdomen.

When Sanji came back to himself, Zoro was licking the now-sensitive bond mark, probably licking the drops of blood that must have run because he continued being a brute with no delicacy whatsoever. But he was also releasing soft and soothing pheromones of affection that replaced the heavy ones of tension that had taken over the entire room, clouding his mind and stopping him from thinking about anything other than his alpha and how he wanted him inside himself. Resting his head against Zoro’s shoulder, Sanji sighed contentedly, allowing his more-than-satisfied and happy hormones to flood his partner.

Before he realized it, he was purring and the alpha was hugging him and pulling him even closer in response.

For several minutes they just stayed there lying down, in each other’s arms, sweaty and sated bodies pressed together while their breathing slowly stabilized and their hearts found a steadier rhythm in sync. In less than half an hour the bulb began to deflate and the cock to soften, which made the cum start to leak a little from the edges, but neither of them was in a hurry to separate from there.

With some hesitation, Zoro slipped one arm from around his waist to lift it and start running his fingers through his hair, gentle and lazy, the other hand making circles on Sanji’s bare back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, marimo,” Sanji murmured almost groggy against the warm skin.

“You too, curly.” Zoro kissed the top of his head, lingering there, breathing in deeply almost as if absorbing his scent. “Thank you.”

Sanji lifted his head, frowning slightly when he met the still-dilated gray eye staring at him, full of affection.

“For what?”

“For being patient. Back then. For not giving up on me when I was an idiot.” Zoro slid his hand from Sanji’s hair to his face, his thumb caressing his cheek. “For choosing me too.”

Something warm and soft filled Sanji’s chest, suddenly quickening his heartbeat, spreading through his arms, his legs, all the way to the tips of his fingers.

“I’ll always choose you,” he said simply. “In any time, any life.”

“You’ll never stop being cheesy, huh?” Zoro murmured in a teasing tone and Sanji stuck his tongue out at him.

“It’s called being romantic, you moss‑head.”

Zoro let out a brief laugh and dipped his head while pulling Sanji’s up for another kiss, this one slow and sweet, without hurry or urgency. Just the two of them existing in that moment, in that house in the middle of the most beautiful sea in the world, with the sun lighting everything in golden tones.

When they parted, Sanji lay on Zoro’s chest, snuggling in better, which unfortunately made the cock slip out and much more cum leak, but he didn’t care, nor did he feel that desperation to clean himself, after all, he intended to get even dirtier. Still, he sighed contentedly when Zoro adjusted his arms around him.

“You know what’s funny?” Sanji said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Hm?”

“If someone had told me, when I was twenty‑one, that I’d spend the rest of my life with you…” He laughed softly. “If it were a man, I mean, I’d have kicked him and called him crazy.”

Zoro let out a hoarse laugh, his chest vibrating under Sanji’s cheek.

“Me too. It didn’t seem like we’d work out.”

“Well, it only works because we want it to and, even then, it’s a lot of work,” Sanji joked. “The best chef in the world having to deal with a swordsman who gets lost going to the bathroom.”

Zoro clicked his tongue, his brow visibly furrowing even in peripheral view.

“Oi, that was once.”

“It was THREE times just this week.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not.”

They fake‑argued for a few more minutes, the insults coming out without venom, more like verbal caresses than real offenses, falling into the familiar rhythm of who they were.

Eventually the silence returned, comfortable and warm. The sun kept rising, lighting the sea through the glass walls, making the water shine in thousands of shades of blue.

Sanji closed his eyes, Zoro’s heart beating strong and steady under his ear, the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the weight of the arms around him, protective but not suffocating.

There was nowhere else in the entire world Sanji would rather be.

“I love you,” he whispered, so low it almost got lost in the sound of the waves outside.

But Zoro heard him like he always did because his perception had always been sharp when it came to Sanji.

“I love you too, cook.”

With another content little laugh slipping from his lips, heart racing warmly and that pleasant bubbling spreading through his chest, Sanji rose without warning to kiss him again. And kiss him with desire, intention, and depth because he never got tired of kissing his husband.

It didn’t take long for them to make love again, and then again and again, and again, and yet again, in every place in their house they felt like, never managing to stay apart for long as if they were on their honeymoon once more.

They had no obligations, they weren’t in danger, they just had the entire day to themselves and, even after two decades, they were still in love.