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Sleeping with Sanji had not been the plan.
In fact, Zoro planned to take any sort of attraction to the man to his grave. Zoro never stood a chance to begin with. The first few months of travelling with Sanji had made it clear that the only emotions he felt toward men was repugnance.
And he would take their weird bitter friendship over straight-up hatred any day.
There was something exhilarating about their relationship, anyway. He liked Sanji's nagging, his whip-sharp tongue and colourful vocabulary. Zoro got a kick out of pissing the cook off — usually got a good workout along the way too. Zoro knew that part of it was just an excuse to be close to Sanji without suspicion, but he respected the man and their friendship enough to have no plans of taking it any further. So he took what he could get.
But then they'd come back from their hiatus and Sanji was… different. It was odd. At first glance it seemed that Sanji was the only one to return to Sabaody having barely even changed the part in his hair. He still chased skirts, floated after Nami and Robin, and kept the facial hair. It was like nothing had changed.
(Zoro totally didn't notice that he'd grown taller and broader, filling out his dress shirts, leaving the top unbuttoned enough for some hints of chest hair to peak out. He hadn't paid that much attention. Definitely)
But a few days after they'd set sail, in the quiet of the kitchen as he dried the dishes, Zoro found himself on the receiving end of a soft smile, and his heart stopped. It was a small, quick quirk of his lips as Sanji said goodnight, so fast that anyone would have thought it was a tick or itch, but Zoro knew better.
As much as he and Sanji enjoyed each other's company before the split, with countless nights drinking and shooting the shit, the cook had never treated him softly. There was always a skittishness about him, like if he got too close, he'd accidentally prick you, so he kept his distance.
But as days turned into weeks, Zoro noticed it more. The girls were treated like queens, but the boys seemed to have been promoted in Sanji's inner-hierarchy. Not that Sanji had ever treated any of them poorly, per se, but if he played into Usopp's stories more, or indulged Franky in his experiments, well, that wasn’t any of Zoro’s business.
One night in the kitchen, after everyone had gone to bed, they shared a drink and Zoro finally asked about it. He'd stumbled over his words, desperately trying to treat the subject with care, but Sanji took the question with grace.
"I had a lot to learn about myself — a lot of things to process that I'd buried as far as I could. A lot of backward thinking that needed to be talked through" he'd said. He spoke fondly of this Iva person, even as he admitted that he wasn't very kind to her in the beginning. He'd taken another swig of his drink, unable to meet Zoro's eyes.
"Discovered some stuff about how my upbringing might have fucked with me a bit. Caused some issues with my relationships with things—anxiety, food… men…" They sat in silence for a bit after that. When it was clear that Sanji had no plans to elaborate, Zoro told him about Mihawk and that awfully large room with only a toilet.
After Punk Hazard, things moved too quickly. Before he knew it, Zoro found himself on the way to Wano with only half his crew. By the time Luffy returned with Sanji, there was no time for pleasantries. It felt like Zoro blinked and it was over. Kaidou was dead, and they had a few days of celebration planned before setting sail again.
Zoro had taken up his usual spot when it came to post-battle parties: on a bench off to the side, close enough to be included in the festivities, far enough to be excluded from the drunken stupidity, and surrounded by beer.
He was on his second pint when the cook settled next to him. "Hey, Shit-Cook."
"Hey, Marimo." Zoro watched as Sanji fidgeted with his hands, pulling at the creases of his pants. He wasn't sure just how long they sat in silence watching their crew dance with the people of Wano, it felt like forever before Sanji spoke up.
"I'm so sorry, Zoro," he felt himself get ready to tell the cook that he had no idea what the hell he was talking about, "for leaving you, and the crew."
Ah.
Before Zoro could respond, Sanji barrelled over him. "It was so stupid of me. I betrayed everyone's trust, then lied and deceived to the point where I kicked the shit out of Luffy and just turned my back." He watched the cook's hand move to his chin, then his cheek, like he was looking for something, but he kept talking.
"I know how you are about loyalty — I admire it actually — so I know it might not be possible to just go back to our normal dynamic, but I wanted to make sure I apologized." Sanji's fingers stilled at his temple. He began to itch, nails digging into his skin.
Having had enough, Zoro snatched Sanji's hand away from his face. For a man as vain as their cook, he'd always had a problem with picking at his skin until it bled when he was anxious, and would always get more irritated when it scabbed.
The action had been enough to finally make Sanji meet his gaze. Zoro lowered his and Sanji's hands to his lap, thumbing at the cook's wrists softly.
"I was fuckin' furious when you left, and I was so sure I'd kill you when you came back," Sanji winced and turned his eyes away, but Zoro continued on, "but the longer you were there, I realized that I wasn't really mad at you. As much as we bitch and fight, I know you, and I knew you wouldn't just leave us for no reason. I think I was just hurt that you didn't feel like you could have asked us for help."
Sanji shot him a tight-lipped smile, eyes trained on their hands. "Look at you, Mossy. I'm gone two weeks, and suddenly you're good with words. I didn't know a plant could have such emotional range." Despite his words, the cook's eyes were sad, and the second their eyes met, Sanji's face crumpled.
"Oh, but Marimo, your dedication to this crew is so unwavering, and I just fucking left you like a good for nothing coward—" Zoro stood abruptly, pulling Sanji up with him before dragging him into a long overdue hug. He felt Sanji’s hands grip his obi tightly.
"Sanji, you did what you could. I wish you'd have just trusted us to help you, but I got the run down from Nami and get why you didn't." Zoro hooked his chin over Sanji's shoulder, rubbing a hand into the center of his back. "You're back with us now, and that's all that matters. The rest of the shit is done and over with… but if your brothers show their faces again, I will have to skin them alive." Zoro took the breathy laugh that the comment earned as a win.
"Just don't leave again," Zoro murmured sharply, pulling Sanji impossibly closer, "we can't fly with just one wing, got it?" Sanji nodded, breathing out an okay as Zoro felt him slowly pull away to look him in the eye. Zoro stared at him for a moment, letting out a breath.
"Zoro?" Sanji prompted softly, playing with the shell of Zoro's left ear, his other hand moving to the nape of the swordsman's neck. He hummed in response.
"Push me away if you hate this." Before Zoro could begin to respond, Sanji was pulling him by the ear into a kiss. Zoro's mind went blank, taking a second before his brain kicked into gear and kissed Sanji back.
He'd never kissed anybody before. Not like this, anyway. Even as Zoro gripped at the cook's waist and jaw, the kiss stayed soft and slow. Zoro poured nearly three years of yearning into Sanji's mouth. Three years of admiring from afar, fleeting touches, and affection hidden under words that cut deep.
It didn't surprise him when they both got a bit heated, but when Sanji's hand made a grope at his ass through his pants, Zoro's haki flared in the back of his mind, and he broke them apart. He kept his nose pressed into the side of Sanji's cheek as he asked, "do you wanna get outta here?"
A huffed laugh through a wide smile and a tug of his hand was enough of a response for Zoro, who followed Sanji all the way back to the Sunny before pushing him into the unused first mate's quarters.
(Had Usopp been asked what he saw that night, he'd tell stories of sea monsters, evil jungle animals and thousands of fans roaring his name as he defeated them.
He'd leave out the details of a romance finally coming to fruition off to the side. Of two people so blinded for their love for others that they couldn't see that they were loved back.
No, that wasn't his story to tell).
————
Zoro could have slept forever if not for the string of sunlight shooting directly into his one good eye. By the orange tinge in the room, he could tell it was far too early to be awake. He groaned into his pillow and flipped onto his stomach, regretting it instantly as his muscles strained.
Oh, right . Zoro pulled his pillow over his head, trying to block out the sun, but with the covers kicked off and goosebumps spreading over his lower back, he gave up on sleeping in.
His hips ached as he sat himself up, catching sight of the love bites on his chest. Ah fuck, he really wasn't kidding when he said he had a thing for tits . Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Zoro let himself reminisce.
It felt like a dream. Probably because he'd had dreams just like it.
It'd started off with soft kisses, a struggle to disrobe each other, then an overwhelming desire to touch each other anywhere and everywhere.
He could feel phantom fingers gripping into his hair and thighs. The brush of rough stubble along his neck. The shape of Sanji's ass cheeks in his hands. The weight of them.
Zoro looked to the empty sheets at his left. And now he sat alone. At least Sanji had been gentleman enough to clean him up before he left. Of course he was.
Zoro gave himself two minutes to mope before he got dressed and made his way to the kitchen. The sting of rejection had begun to feel suspiciously like hunger.
————
"You're late" had been the only greeting he got as he appeared for breakfast. The dining room was full, not a single crew member missing.
It felt like any other morning. Like one of the best nights of his life had never happened. If it weren't for the discomfort in his tailbone, he'd have thought he'd made it up.
Zoro tried to ignore the pit in his stomach as he plopped into a free chair. The cook was bustling around the kitchen like always, twirling around the women as he offered refills, somehow still handling a million things on the stove despite breakfast being served ages ago.
Whatever conversation Nami had tried to drag him into was ignored as he stabbed into his eggs. His grunts in reply seemed to be enough to keep her off his trail.
So maybe he gave himself more than two minutes to mope. Whatever.
As the meal wound down, their dishes found their ways into the sink. By now, whatever concoctions the cook had been working on were put away in the fridge and most of the crew had left, off to start their own routines.
"Zoro, can you c'mere for a sec?" Sanji asked, back turned to the dining room but making a hooking motion with his finger over his shoulder.
Jumping from his spot at the table, Usopp corralled Luffy and Chopper out of the kitchen with promises of cool new inventions. Zoro didn't want to know what they were getting up to. His nerves as he walked up to the cook were enough to suffocate him.
Now alone, Sanji put whatever was in his hands onto the counter before turning to face Zoro with a soft smile.
A ' we can forget this ever happened if you want ' was ready on Zoro's tongue, but Sanji wrapped an arm around the swordsman's neck, gave him a quick peck on the lips and beat him to the punch. "Sorry for leaving you this morning, Marimo. I wanted to be there when you woke up, but then I heard Luffy flip-flopping toward the kitchen and I had to get over here before he ate the fridge whole."
All the tension in Zoro's body seemed to dissipate — there was no yelling, no begging to forget and move on — so he just melted in Sanji's arms. "It's okay, Cook. I don't need to be babied" he replied despite himself. Sanji didn't need to know that he was fully prepared for a screaming match and a bit of heartbreak.
Sanji just laughed. "No, but we're so volatile sometimes, Mossy, and I didn't want to fuck this up by not talking to you… or by accosting you in front of everybody. I feel like I only just got you back."
Zoro slid his hands to the cook's waist, playing with the loops on his dress pants. "You never lost me, Curly. Any of us." The swordsman let his head fall into the crook of Sanji's shoulder, lips brushing the base of his neck.
Sanji's hand in his hair, Zoro let himself breathe for a second. He'd been content lapping up whatever scraps Sanji would give him over the years. Any remark, any look, any touch. But if he was serious about 'talking', Zoro thought, maybe he should finally take something for himself.
"I don't want—" He paused as he felt the cook freeze. Zoro gave his hip a squeeze that he hoped as comforting in some way. "I don't want this to be a one-time thing, if it doesn't have to be."
Sanji let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God. I thought you were going to say you didn't want this, period."
Shaking his head, Zoro cradled the man's face in his hands to look him in the eyes. "No. I want this, you have no idea how bad I want this. I want dinners, and mushy romantic dates, and fights on the deck grass, and even fuckin' being razzed by the crew." Sanji's eyes widened. "I want the whole nine yards, Sanji, if you'll let me."
The beaming smile that came next could have killed him. "Okay," Sanji replied softly.
"Okay?"
"Yeah, the whole nine yards."
Zoro let his shoulders drop. "Okay."
" Maybe okay will be our —" The swordsman shoved a hand over Sanji's mouth, making him sputter the rest of the cheesy quote into his palm. "Actually, on second thought, I want nothing to do with you, thanks," he groaned, pushing the cook's face back.
Sanji let out a cackle, fighting to get back into Zoro's space. "Nooo! Baby, let me at least give you a proper morning kiss!"
Zoro felt his ears start to burn at the nickname, and by the look on his face, Sanji had already noticed the flush. "O- fine."
"Tried not to say okay, eh?"
"Shut the fuck up and kiss me, dickhead."