Sanji (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
serving_love) wrote2009-12-21 05:54 am
serving_love) wrote2009-12-21 05:54 am
Entry tags:
LOG POST: Zoro and Sanji
Who: Zoro and Sanji
What: Sanji comes clean. FINALLY.
Where: Deck on the Thousand Sunny, outside the galley.
When: TONIGHT. Right now. Before the big showdown tomorrow.
Rating: PG
Sanji sighed from where he was leaning over the ship’s railing, cigarette in hand. It was strangely quiet on the Thousand Sunny – the calm before the storm, most likely. His nakama had all retreated inside the ship already, probably doing their final preparations before tomorrow’s fight. It meant Sanji was the only one out on deck, which suited him just fine. His head was sort of a mess at the moment, between worrying about Robin-chan, and the whole thing with George, Usopp, and Lucci still hadn’t been fixed, and then there was…Zoro.
He still hadn’t told him.
Fuck. His cigarette was dwindling. Sanji took a final drag before tossing it overboard, and kind of wished he could kick himself upside the head. What the hell had he been thinking? Seriously, what? Doing that with Lucci… That he hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Zoro yet was just…annoying. There were only so many ways to avoid him on a ship this size, so the guy had to be wondering just what the hell Sanji’s problem was. He’d been playing the “you’re injured, dumbass” card for as long as he could manage, but now with these goddamn Marines coming after them – could he really keep putting it off? Fuck knew what was going to happen tomorrow. With another aggravated sigh, Sanji turned to head back towards the galley. Cooking always helped clear his mind, maybe he’d start whipping up a huge pre-battle meal.
Zoro had been taking a pre-middle-watch nap under the mikan trees atop the galley after helping Nami with the rigging, to conserve strength, but came awake at hearing a certain pattern of footsteps. He turned on his side and shifted until he could see the next level down, and sure enough, the cook was making his preoccupied way to the kitchen. The swordsman thought for a moment.
Obviously this whole mess with Robin was in the forefront of everyone's minds; Zoro himself had been pretty distracted even before the motherfucking Fleet Admiral stuck his nose in to make shit really complicated, so maybe he was just imagining things. But the cook had been his original gender again for a while now, and he since he'd changed back he'd been scarce, and then overly concerned about Zoro's injuries for some reason, like they really mattered to this. They hadn't really been alone at all, come to think of it. Robin was safe for the moment, and every preparation that could be made right now, had been. With a big fight looming on the next horizon, and with the deck conveniently clear of all people who weren't them, maybe he should take the opportunity to see if the cook wanted to finally pick up where they left off in the galley over two weeks ago.
He stood up silently and took advantage of Sanji's distraction by dropping over the rail right in front of him. Quickly, and hopefully before he could get kicked in automatic reaction—or just sheer annoyance—at the surprise, Zoro bracketed the wide-eyed cook with a light hand on the wall to either side of his blond head, and leaned in to murmur, “Hey.” The barest hint of a smile played about his lips. They were back to being almost exactly the same height.
Sanji jumped slightly, only stopping himself from bringing a leg up once the flash of green hair caught his eye. Scowling instead, he relaxed back against the wall a bit and tried to ignore just how close Zoro was. Oh timing, he thought sarcastically. “Hey,” he murmured, smoothing the irritation out of his face and adopting a smirk in its place. “Taking stealth lessons from the cats?”
“Maybe” Zoro said idly. “They're sneaky.” He trailed his eyes over the Sanji's face, taking in the brief irritation—just barely kept himself from a kick, probably, heh—before focusing on his smirking mouth. Testing, Zoro eased forward, sliding his hands up until his forearms were completely flat against the wall and they were dangerously close. “Gonna tell me I'm too injured for kissing now, cook?” he asked, tilting his head a bit. If Sanji brought up that this might not be a great time, he could maybe concede that, given the fairly dire situation with their nakama, but “too injured” was never a good excuse for anything in Zoro's book, let alone something as harmless and pleasant as kissing. Hopefully he was just imagining this putting-off business, anyway.
Ah, fucking shit. Sanji leaned back almost imperceptibly, as though he was trying to melt into the wall behind him. He wanted to fidget, shift his eyes away, duck out from beneath Zoro's arms, something – but he held his ground, keeping his half-lidded gaze fixed on Zoro’s. Being back in his own body and having Zoro right there…it was different. Better than before. It felt more real, almost like their previous encounter had never happened. Like this was actually the first time… If only, if only.
Sanji shoved his hands in his pockets before he did something stupid like reach for the other man. “Aren’t you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and giving him a faint, teasing grin. “Might be too strenuous for you – wouldn’t want you having that as an excuse when I take out more Marines than you tomorrow.”
The familiar challenge and light grin, attractive as it was, barely registered with Zoro over Sanji's defensive body language. He narrowed his eyes a little and backed off with something of a sinking stomach, straightening in order to put some distance between them. If it had been about Robin, the cook would have said so. Maybe Sanji had changed his mind now that he was a guy again; was it too weird now, in his own body? But the spark had felt even stronger this time...unless it was just him. Like it always seemed to have been before.
“Ah...Right. Wouldn't—want that.”
It was a close call, but Sanji somehow managed to stop himself from cringing. Geez, the wounded look on Zoro's face was like a fucking punch to the gut. He was moving before it even registered that he’d made the decision to, one hand shooting out to curl into the material of Zoro's shirt and clenching tight. Sanji stared at it in slight bewilderment, the urge to kick himself returning even stronger than before. Traitor. He tugged anyway, trying to pull Zoro back closer.
“But since I’d take out more than you regardless, guess it doesn’t matter, right?” Oh, this was such a bad idea. Bad idea, bad timing, bad…everything. Sanji ignored the warning bells going off in his head – something he was getting a little too accustomed to doing lately.
Zoro didn't react at first to Sanji's grip on his shirt, or the first tug. The cook's mixed signals made his head hurt, but he slowly let himself be drawn close again, probably because he wanted to be wrong. The insistent pulling seemed pretty clear, though, and Sanji wouldn't do anything unless he wanted to, right? He was that kind of guy.
“It doesn't matter,” Zoro acknowledged after a moment, almost falling in until they were bare inches away along the entire lengths of their bodies. 'Cause I'LL still beat more, he added silently. He reached up to stroke his thumb up Sanji's throat and curl his fingers around the back of his neck.
Sanji didn’t remove his hand after Zoro finally stepped forward, instead sliding it around to rest lightly on his hip. “What, no argument?” he asked faintly, though he was quickly becoming too distracted to even keep up with the conversation. His heart rate had already started to pick up and they were barely even touching. Zoro was close enough that Sanji could feel the heat radiating off his body, though. And fuck it all, he wanted to be closer. Just once couldn’t hurt… He lifted his other arm, circling it around Zoro’s waist, as well.
The cook's arms around him—coupled with the man's unmistakable, slightly dazed expression and tone of voice—made Zoro relax some, and anticipation started to hum through him again. Sanji, as himself. Finally. “Better things t'do,” he mumbled under his breath. One hand dropped from the wall to grip Sanji's shoulder and he used the other to tilt the cook's face up just a little. Then he closed the last few inches, giving Sanji plenty of time to stop him if he was still somehow reading this wrong.
“…Heh, good point,” Sanji said around a soft laugh. Zoro seemed to be moving in slow motion. He could still stop this, could push him away, pause, explain… But with everything that loomed on the horizon, with Robin-chan still missing, with the Marines on their way... Sanji didn’t want to wait anymore. And there was always the extremely slim possibility they wouldn’t actually have the chance to do this again, right? …Excuses. But still. Sanji made a fast decision and, before he could change his mind, tightened his arms, pulling Zoro flush against him as the other man leaned in, and then lifted his chin to kiss him straight on.
Zoro made an involuntary noise when they pressed together full-length that was muffled into Sanji's mouth a moment later, all else flown straight out of his head. Fuck. Everything narrowed down to the hard, lean body against him and the mouth under his. Better. Better than the last time. He groaned a little and buried his hands in the cook's hair, lifting him away from the wall and deeper into the kiss.
Sanji went with the motion easily, crushing his mouth even harder against Zoro's as he leaned further into him. A hungry sound left his throat and his hands crept higher up Zoro's back, his fingers digging into the firm muscle hidden under that shirt. The kiss was quickly leaving him breathless and turning his brain to mush. His head was starting to spin, heat had exploded in his stomach again, it was… This was…
This wasn’t going to work.
He broke away with a panting gasp, turning his head to the side in case Zoro tried to chase after him. Then he cursed under his breath, freeing one hand from Zoro’s shirt to drag it over his face instead. “Goddammit.”
Zoro instinctively moved to follow Sanji when he broke the kiss, brushing his lips against the cook's jaw when he turned his head aside. Then tension shot through him again as Sanji hid his face and cursed, and not in a remotely good way. He stood stone still for a moment, then leaned to thunk his head against the wall over the cook's shoulder, trying to catch his breath from that kiss and brace himself at the same time. He didn't move back yet, though he probably should have, just stayed tense against the other man. “...What's wrong.”
Even though he knew he shouldn't, Sanji tightened his grip on Zoro's shirt with the hand still on his back. To keep him from leaving, maybe, though it wouldn’t do much good if the other man actually backed off. He slowly leaned back against the wall, and after a moment lifted his head, keeping his eyes fixed on a point somewhere above Zoro's shoulder. “...I have to tell you something.”
A hundred things ran through Zoro's mind, none of them remotely helpful, so he just kept his head down, closed his eyes and breathed out hard, trying to expel his thoughts with the breath and forcibly relax himself. If it was gonna be something bad, maybe it had been a bad idea to do this now of all times. But Sanji hadn't let go. That was something. “Okay.”
“I...” Oh, and now the hard part. Sanji took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to find the words. “...Something happened. When I was a girl.”
Zoro didn't know what to make of that yet, so he just stayed still, not even shifting. “Oh?”
“Something with Lucci.”
“...Ah.” Zoro drew in a breath and for long moments couldn't quite figure out how to let it out again. Then he exhaled, only getting more rigid, and, like a statue moving, straightened and pushed back off the wall to stare down at Sanji. “...What kind of...something. Would that be.”
Sanji's heart was pounding in a way it didn't even when they faced their strongest opponents. He swallowed nervously, eyes skittering away - and then instantly got annoyed with himself for it. Jesus fuck, man up already, you idiot. He looked back at Zoro, meeting his gaze and holding it this time, and when he spoke again it was straightforward. “I almost slept with him again.”
“...Oh. I see,” Zoro said blankly. Then after a beat he pulled away sharply, pressed a knuckle between his eyebrows and rubbed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, I don't see. What the fuck does that mean? When? Why...?”
“…I don’t have an explanation you’re gonna like,” Sanji said, letting his hand drop as Zoro pulled away. He wanted to reach for him again, but he wasn’t sure that’d go over too well. “I just… I wanted to try it. Like that.” It sounded even worse saying it out loud. Sanji frowned, mostly at himself, and let his head fall back against the wall. “It was after you and I…” He gestured absently between them. “Few days after that. Right before I changed back.”
When Zoro opened his eyes, walls had slammed up behind them with almost audible force, and he took a couple of steps back. After. Sanji and the leopard had “almost” had sex again. Even after...What did “almost” even mean? Anger and a hot, aching knot of—something—tried to come up and choke him, but he shoved it down. Now was not the time for some kind of—fucking tantrum.
“...How goddamn shallow.” His voice was steady, and low. “You didn't even ask if I would.”
“Of course I didn't. Zoro–” Sanji pushed himself off the wall, but only took one cautious step forward before halting. “It doesn't mean anything with him, and I didn't...” He let out a frustrated sigh, digging one hand back into his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was going just as badly as he'd thought it would. Zoro had his mental shields up already, that much was obvious. It was making it hard to even look at him, and the distance between them suddenly seemed impossibly far.
“I wouldn’t have wanted to do it with you,” Sanji tried again, speaking slowly. “Not like that, not before we’d even done anything as…with me like this. How I’m supposed to be. I didn’t plan on doing anything with Lucci either, and if I’d fucking changed back when I was supposed to–” He cut himself off before finishing that sentence. It was only another lousy excuse. “…It just happened,” he said tiredly. “But I stopped, I swear I did.”
Zoro turned to the side and scrubbed a hand jerkily over his mouth, but didn't retreat further. “You're making it worse,” he said distantly. No drama. He'd promised, and it was the last thing the crew needed at this point, with everyone tense and gearing up for a fight. So he wasn't going to shout at the cook. Or put a hole in the ship. Probably only break his hand on Adam wood, anyway, and then tomorrow would be even harder, so he wasn't. Going. To do it. “...I know you have self-control in there somewhere. I've seen you use it when it's important. N'you just said you...stopped.” His mouth twisted sourly on the word. “So. This just doesn't matter to you enough for it not to have happened at all.”
His gaze went remote. He'd known he was more invested in this than Sanji from the beginning. That was most of why it had been such a bad idea. But he'd known, so. He couldn't even get all fucking upset now, right? But he'd really almost thought the cook might...Whatever. Stupid. “I guess if you wanna be technical you never actually said the word 'promise'. So you didn't break one, I suppose.”
Sanji drew in a shaky breath, his hands slowly closing into fists simply because he didn’t know what else to do with them. His mind was working furiously trying to come up with something to say, something that could possibly make this better, make Zoro stop looking like that. “I did break one. It doesn’t matter if I said the goddamn word or not, I told you I wouldn’t do that and I’m the one who came up with that promise in the first place – fuck. Zoro.” He took another step forward. “I’m sorry. It was…fucking stupid and – and I know just saying it isn’t going to fix anything, but it does matter. THIS matters. I…” Sanji paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. God, this was hard. No stopping yet, though. He continued quietly: “Shit, this is such a mess. I’ve been fucking awful to you ever since– I don’t know why you’ve put up with my crap.” He looked back at Zoro again. “I’m sorry.”
He'd heard the cook say that before, and he'd seemed just as sincere that time. Sanji stepping closer screwed with his perspective—kissing just minutes ago, still want to, goddammit—so he turned completely around and planted his hands wide apart on the railing, leaning over it.
Great. So instead of almost sleeping with the leopard because he didn't give a shit—and oh, there was still Lucci's part in this to get to; Zoro wasn't even gonna touch the black burn of his opinion on that—the cook...what? Did feel something, thought this mattered, but broke his word on a whim anyway?...That idea was just...alien, and wholly repugnant, and far more important than the twisting knives of jealousy in Zoro's gut, which he viciously locked down with the anger and that—other thing. Barely even three weeks since they first talked about this—it was totally unreasonable to overreact like a lunatic just because he'd wanted it so much longer than that.
“I don't understand you,” he said finally, unable to articulate his jumbled thoughts. His head hurt, and his chest felt weirdly sore. Then, “...It's my watch.”
He was losing him. Sanji could practically see the gears turning in his head, even with his back turned. He could see the way Zoro’s muscles tensed, see how his back hunched. He wanted to know what he was thinking, what sort of thoughts were running through his head – he was positive that none of it was good. Not with the way his face kept growing darker and darker. Sanji could only see part of it from where he was standing, but it was enough. It kept his feet planted right where they were, instead of moving any closer.
There had to be something he could say. His own thoughts were getting muddled and tangled up now, and he tried with a sort of panicked desperation to pull them apart, to find something that would fix this. Zoro speaking pushed him into action; he didn’t want to let him leave yet, he wasn’t ready and things were still a broken disaster— “Wait,” Sanji said, launching himself over to the railing against his better judgment. He half raised a hand, wanting to put it on Zoro’s shoulder, but stopped before actually touching him. “Zoro, I’m sorry.” Stop apologizing, that ain’t a magical cure-all, dammit. “It’s only because I was a girl, I wouldn’t – it’s not going to happen again.” That doesn’t help either, you idiot. You were still YOU.
Sanji let out another frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “…I know there’s nothing I can say. I know the more I talk, I’m probably just making things worse. That was…disgusting of me. It was a backstabbing move, ranks me with the lowest of the low, and if I were you I probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I know I probably just fucked this…this thing all to hell.” He leaned over the railing, too, staring hard down at the water below. “I’ve been beating myself up about it ever since it happened, and I put off telling you because I knew this is how it would go. And I wasn’t ready to lose you yet, not before we’d…barely even started. Suppose that just makes me even more selfish, and a coward on top of that.” Somewhat warily, he turned to look at Zoro, holding tightly onto the railing. “…Fuck, I wish you’d just punch me. Or yell or something.”
For some reason he didn't understand, Zoro felt a tiny bit glad that the cook kept him from leaving, and that made him scowl ferociously. He wasn't interested in excuses, and trust was a long fucking way away, this time, and they'd known that this thing would probably end terribly, so it'd be better to just completely end it right now, but. But. He flicked a glance sideways as Sanji looked down at the water and spoke remorse haltingly. The cook looked fucking miserable...As he should, dammit, this was just impossible.
The swordsman massaged his temples with one hand for a moment, taking a long, bracing breath and letting it out in an extended sigh before he turned to face Sanji, an inscrutable look settling over his face.
“Right,” he said.
Sanji frowned. At least Zoro wasn't storming away, but... The hell did that mean? He wasn't about to let himself get hopeful yet. “...Right. Right what?”
Zoro put a hand on the railing and finger-tapped a few times before finally nodding to himself. “This,” he said, breathed in sharply, and shouted, “IDIOT!” right in Sanji's face. Then he karate-chopped the cook with blinding speed, smack on the forehead, as hard as he could manage without breaking the skin. Well. He'd asked for it. And it was hardly incapacitating.
…He definitely hadn't seen that coming. Sanji's head snapped back, his body following as he stumbled backwards and collapsed against the railing behind him, one hand instinctively coming up to cover his forehead. “Shit,” he hissed, rubbing vigorously. “Dammit, marimo, what the hell.” He peered over at Zoro through narrowed eyes, scowling and still rubbing like that would make the sudden throbbing go away. Right, okay, so he’d fucking deserved that. And had practically told him to do it anyway. His foot itched to land itself in Zoro’s gut out of habit, but he steadfastly ignored it, instead letting the automatic return-fire tension drain from his body. “…Ow,” he muttered sullenly, and – some habits were just too hard to break – kept glaring in a somewhat petulant manner.
Zoro crossed his arms and gave a tight nod of satisfaction at the cook's pain and familiar glare, still mostly tense himself, but less. He felt a little more on-balance, at least, but refrained from doing more so he wouldn't get out of hand.
“I dunno what you were expecting here, dartboard brow,” he said abruptly, voice slowly gaining life again now that he'd let loose a little to start the process. “Or what you were hoping for. I still...” He trailed off, then rallied and slashed a hand. “But I can't—deal with you doing shit like this again. I'm not built like that. And,” he continued when it seemed like Sanji was about to open his mouth to speak, “I don't really...trust you not to. Right now.” He shook his head, shoving his fingers through short hair. “Maybe we did rush into this.”
Sanji winced, leaning back into the railing a little more and letting his hand drop from his forehead to cover his eyes. “…I know you don’t trust me,” he said softly. “Not to do it again or probably just…at all, and I don’t blame you, but–” He straightened suddenly, letting his hand fall entirely and trying to catch Zoro’s gaze. “But I don’t think we rushed into this. Waiting wouldn't have changed how we felt. I’m just – the biggest idiot on the goddamn planet. But I can gain your trust back. I will, I’ll do whatever it takes.” He took a step forward. “This… What happened, it was a one-time, fucking shitty mistake.” Sanji paused for a moment, sliding his eyes away and looking out toward the shore instead. “And I told you because I wanted to come clean. To be honest. Maybe that’s selfish, too, since I knew you’d…end up hurt.” He looked back at Zoro. “But I couldn’t not tell you. I owed you at least that much. I just…waited until the worst possible moment to say anything.”
A vein in Zoro's temple ticked slightly. “...Saying something before I kissed you again woulda been a better way t'go about that.” Then he shook his head, lips tightening, and looked up to meet Sanji's eyes. “And no,” he corrected. “I still trust you to watch my back. That's not gonna change any time soon, and it's the important thing, right now. And dammit, yeah, we have bigger shit to worry about.” His right hand fell to Wadou's hilt reflexively, and he scowled. This would not interfere in any way with their focus on getting Robin back. He wouldn't let it.
“As for the rest of it...” As for the rest of it, what? He wasn't even sure, and he hated that. He finally motioned with a hand wearily. “...If you mean it, then yeah. Time won't change much. Later, maybe. Now is. I don't even know.” The next bit was harder to spit out, but he made himself do it, not looking at the cook. “Do what you want in the meantime.”
“...Yeah, well, like I said,” Sanji muttered, going a bit shifty-eyed. “Selfish. I wanted to kiss you for real before…” He trailed off, waving a hand absently, then sighed. “And I don’t think what I want is something you’d be all that up for. Not now.”
He fell quiet for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets and tapping his toe distractedly against the ground. Later… Fuck, what did that even mean? Later could be – weeks. Months. Sanji shook his head, scowling and ordering himself to stop thinking about it. Later was better than never, at least, right? “I’m not going to do something stupid like run off to Lucci again, though, if that’s what you meant,” he spoke again, somewhat abruptly, and looked at Zoro with a determined gleam in his eyes. “If you need time – I’ll wait. However long I have to. I know we’ve got a ton of shit going on right now that we have to get through first… My timing is fucking horrible – but after that. After all this…” After, after, after. After nothing, there was no guarantee he was ever gonna get another shot at this. And that was entirely his own fault. Sanji blinked once, hard, and turned his head away, his hands clenching up in his pockets. “…I’ll wait,” he repeated quietly.
Zoro stared at the cook, gut tangling up weirdly. Dammit, why'd he have to go and say shit like all that, it made distancing himself in a reach for objectivity so much fucking harder...He wanted to take Sanji at face value so damn much, like he'd wanted this for months, like he still wanted it, and like he wanted the moron to have never broken his goddamn word in the first place. But he had, so. Fuck.
“...Ah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck tightly and wanting to bang his head against a wall. Or meditate for a week. “Okay. If that's what you...” He bit the inside of his cheek. “...I really need to relieve Franky for watch.”
As much as Sanji wanted to say fuck it all and march over to Zoro and kiss him till he forgot what they’d just been talking about, forgot about the mess with Robin-chan, forgot how much of an idiot Sanji was… He knew that’d be the opposite of helpful. What Zoro needed right now… Actually, Sanji didn’t know what he needed. He didn’t know what would help. Space, maybe. Time. To get the hell away from him, apparently. Understandable. Sanji let out a breath, his shoulders hunching a bit. “Right, fine,” he murmured. Then before the other man could actually leave, he added quickly: “Wait, Zoro–”
Meditation to clear out his knotted thoughts was sounding better and better, but there was still watch. Zoro had shifted to turn away—turning tail, retreating, some contrary part of him sneered—but he stopped, again. “What, Sanji?”
“Tomorrow...” Sanji hesitated on his next words, mostly because he knew it was ridiculous to say them. But... “Look, I know you're fine. I know even if you weren't fine, there's not a damn thing I could say that’d stop you from fighting. Wouldn't want to, at that. So just.” He frowned, feeling his face heat up a bit, and was suddenly grateful it was nighttime. “...Don't get too fucked up.”
Zoro gave his white sword a light touch again automatically, flicking his gaze to the side and then back at the cook. A small frown creased his forehead, and his eyes were dark. “...Same to you,” was all he said, then he ducked away and jumped over the railing down to the lawn deck, carefully not looking back.
Sanji watched him go and didn't bother trying to stop him again. Once he was out of sight, he leaned back against the railing for a moment, then slowly sunk down till he was sitting with his back against it. He heard Franky whistling in the distance and knew he should probably go heat some food up for him, or at least get him something to drink. …In a minute. For now… Sanji pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with hands that seemed slightly unsteady. Then he let his head thunk back against the rail behind him and squeezed his eyes shut.
Fucking shit.
END
What: Sanji comes clean. FINALLY.
Where: Deck on the Thousand Sunny, outside the galley.
When: TONIGHT. Right now. Before the big showdown tomorrow.
Rating: PG
Sanji sighed from where he was leaning over the ship’s railing, cigarette in hand. It was strangely quiet on the Thousand Sunny – the calm before the storm, most likely. His nakama had all retreated inside the ship already, probably doing their final preparations before tomorrow’s fight. It meant Sanji was the only one out on deck, which suited him just fine. His head was sort of a mess at the moment, between worrying about Robin-chan, and the whole thing with George, Usopp, and Lucci still hadn’t been fixed, and then there was…Zoro.
He still hadn’t told him.
Fuck. His cigarette was dwindling. Sanji took a final drag before tossing it overboard, and kind of wished he could kick himself upside the head. What the hell had he been thinking? Seriously, what? Doing that with Lucci… That he hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Zoro yet was just…annoying. There were only so many ways to avoid him on a ship this size, so the guy had to be wondering just what the hell Sanji’s problem was. He’d been playing the “you’re injured, dumbass” card for as long as he could manage, but now with these goddamn Marines coming after them – could he really keep putting it off? Fuck knew what was going to happen tomorrow. With another aggravated sigh, Sanji turned to head back towards the galley. Cooking always helped clear his mind, maybe he’d start whipping up a huge pre-battle meal.
Zoro had been taking a pre-middle-watch nap under the mikan trees atop the galley after helping Nami with the rigging, to conserve strength, but came awake at hearing a certain pattern of footsteps. He turned on his side and shifted until he could see the next level down, and sure enough, the cook was making his preoccupied way to the kitchen. The swordsman thought for a moment.
Obviously this whole mess with Robin was in the forefront of everyone's minds; Zoro himself had been pretty distracted even before the motherfucking Fleet Admiral stuck his nose in to make shit really complicated, so maybe he was just imagining things. But the cook had been his original gender again for a while now, and he since he'd changed back he'd been scarce, and then overly concerned about Zoro's injuries for some reason, like they really mattered to this. They hadn't really been alone at all, come to think of it. Robin was safe for the moment, and every preparation that could be made right now, had been. With a big fight looming on the next horizon, and with the deck conveniently clear of all people who weren't them, maybe he should take the opportunity to see if the cook wanted to finally pick up where they left off in the galley over two weeks ago.
He stood up silently and took advantage of Sanji's distraction by dropping over the rail right in front of him. Quickly, and hopefully before he could get kicked in automatic reaction—or just sheer annoyance—at the surprise, Zoro bracketed the wide-eyed cook with a light hand on the wall to either side of his blond head, and leaned in to murmur, “Hey.” The barest hint of a smile played about his lips. They were back to being almost exactly the same height.
Sanji jumped slightly, only stopping himself from bringing a leg up once the flash of green hair caught his eye. Scowling instead, he relaxed back against the wall a bit and tried to ignore just how close Zoro was. Oh timing, he thought sarcastically. “Hey,” he murmured, smoothing the irritation out of his face and adopting a smirk in its place. “Taking stealth lessons from the cats?”
“Maybe” Zoro said idly. “They're sneaky.” He trailed his eyes over the Sanji's face, taking in the brief irritation—just barely kept himself from a kick, probably, heh—before focusing on his smirking mouth. Testing, Zoro eased forward, sliding his hands up until his forearms were completely flat against the wall and they were dangerously close. “Gonna tell me I'm too injured for kissing now, cook?” he asked, tilting his head a bit. If Sanji brought up that this might not be a great time, he could maybe concede that, given the fairly dire situation with their nakama, but “too injured” was never a good excuse for anything in Zoro's book, let alone something as harmless and pleasant as kissing. Hopefully he was just imagining this putting-off business, anyway.
Ah, fucking shit. Sanji leaned back almost imperceptibly, as though he was trying to melt into the wall behind him. He wanted to fidget, shift his eyes away, duck out from beneath Zoro's arms, something – but he held his ground, keeping his half-lidded gaze fixed on Zoro’s. Being back in his own body and having Zoro right there…it was different. Better than before. It felt more real, almost like their previous encounter had never happened. Like this was actually the first time… If only, if only.
Sanji shoved his hands in his pockets before he did something stupid like reach for the other man. “Aren’t you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and giving him a faint, teasing grin. “Might be too strenuous for you – wouldn’t want you having that as an excuse when I take out more Marines than you tomorrow.”
The familiar challenge and light grin, attractive as it was, barely registered with Zoro over Sanji's defensive body language. He narrowed his eyes a little and backed off with something of a sinking stomach, straightening in order to put some distance between them. If it had been about Robin, the cook would have said so. Maybe Sanji had changed his mind now that he was a guy again; was it too weird now, in his own body? But the spark had felt even stronger this time...unless it was just him. Like it always seemed to have been before.
“Ah...Right. Wouldn't—want that.”
It was a close call, but Sanji somehow managed to stop himself from cringing. Geez, the wounded look on Zoro's face was like a fucking punch to the gut. He was moving before it even registered that he’d made the decision to, one hand shooting out to curl into the material of Zoro's shirt and clenching tight. Sanji stared at it in slight bewilderment, the urge to kick himself returning even stronger than before. Traitor. He tugged anyway, trying to pull Zoro back closer.
“But since I’d take out more than you regardless, guess it doesn’t matter, right?” Oh, this was such a bad idea. Bad idea, bad timing, bad…everything. Sanji ignored the warning bells going off in his head – something he was getting a little too accustomed to doing lately.
Zoro didn't react at first to Sanji's grip on his shirt, or the first tug. The cook's mixed signals made his head hurt, but he slowly let himself be drawn close again, probably because he wanted to be wrong. The insistent pulling seemed pretty clear, though, and Sanji wouldn't do anything unless he wanted to, right? He was that kind of guy.
“It doesn't matter,” Zoro acknowledged after a moment, almost falling in until they were bare inches away along the entire lengths of their bodies. 'Cause I'LL still beat more, he added silently. He reached up to stroke his thumb up Sanji's throat and curl his fingers around the back of his neck.
Sanji didn’t remove his hand after Zoro finally stepped forward, instead sliding it around to rest lightly on his hip. “What, no argument?” he asked faintly, though he was quickly becoming too distracted to even keep up with the conversation. His heart rate had already started to pick up and they were barely even touching. Zoro was close enough that Sanji could feel the heat radiating off his body, though. And fuck it all, he wanted to be closer. Just once couldn’t hurt… He lifted his other arm, circling it around Zoro’s waist, as well.
The cook's arms around him—coupled with the man's unmistakable, slightly dazed expression and tone of voice—made Zoro relax some, and anticipation started to hum through him again. Sanji, as himself. Finally. “Better things t'do,” he mumbled under his breath. One hand dropped from the wall to grip Sanji's shoulder and he used the other to tilt the cook's face up just a little. Then he closed the last few inches, giving Sanji plenty of time to stop him if he was still somehow reading this wrong.
“…Heh, good point,” Sanji said around a soft laugh. Zoro seemed to be moving in slow motion. He could still stop this, could push him away, pause, explain… But with everything that loomed on the horizon, with Robin-chan still missing, with the Marines on their way... Sanji didn’t want to wait anymore. And there was always the extremely slim possibility they wouldn’t actually have the chance to do this again, right? …Excuses. But still. Sanji made a fast decision and, before he could change his mind, tightened his arms, pulling Zoro flush against him as the other man leaned in, and then lifted his chin to kiss him straight on.
Zoro made an involuntary noise when they pressed together full-length that was muffled into Sanji's mouth a moment later, all else flown straight out of his head. Fuck. Everything narrowed down to the hard, lean body against him and the mouth under his. Better. Better than the last time. He groaned a little and buried his hands in the cook's hair, lifting him away from the wall and deeper into the kiss.
Sanji went with the motion easily, crushing his mouth even harder against Zoro's as he leaned further into him. A hungry sound left his throat and his hands crept higher up Zoro's back, his fingers digging into the firm muscle hidden under that shirt. The kiss was quickly leaving him breathless and turning his brain to mush. His head was starting to spin, heat had exploded in his stomach again, it was… This was…
This wasn’t going to work.
He broke away with a panting gasp, turning his head to the side in case Zoro tried to chase after him. Then he cursed under his breath, freeing one hand from Zoro’s shirt to drag it over his face instead. “Goddammit.”
Zoro instinctively moved to follow Sanji when he broke the kiss, brushing his lips against the cook's jaw when he turned his head aside. Then tension shot through him again as Sanji hid his face and cursed, and not in a remotely good way. He stood stone still for a moment, then leaned to thunk his head against the wall over the cook's shoulder, trying to catch his breath from that kiss and brace himself at the same time. He didn't move back yet, though he probably should have, just stayed tense against the other man. “...What's wrong.”
Even though he knew he shouldn't, Sanji tightened his grip on Zoro's shirt with the hand still on his back. To keep him from leaving, maybe, though it wouldn’t do much good if the other man actually backed off. He slowly leaned back against the wall, and after a moment lifted his head, keeping his eyes fixed on a point somewhere above Zoro's shoulder. “...I have to tell you something.”
A hundred things ran through Zoro's mind, none of them remotely helpful, so he just kept his head down, closed his eyes and breathed out hard, trying to expel his thoughts with the breath and forcibly relax himself. If it was gonna be something bad, maybe it had been a bad idea to do this now of all times. But Sanji hadn't let go. That was something. “Okay.”
“I...” Oh, and now the hard part. Sanji took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to find the words. “...Something happened. When I was a girl.”
Zoro didn't know what to make of that yet, so he just stayed still, not even shifting. “Oh?”
“Something with Lucci.”
“...Ah.” Zoro drew in a breath and for long moments couldn't quite figure out how to let it out again. Then he exhaled, only getting more rigid, and, like a statue moving, straightened and pushed back off the wall to stare down at Sanji. “...What kind of...something. Would that be.”
Sanji's heart was pounding in a way it didn't even when they faced their strongest opponents. He swallowed nervously, eyes skittering away - and then instantly got annoyed with himself for it. Jesus fuck, man up already, you idiot. He looked back at Zoro, meeting his gaze and holding it this time, and when he spoke again it was straightforward. “I almost slept with him again.”
“...Oh. I see,” Zoro said blankly. Then after a beat he pulled away sharply, pressed a knuckle between his eyebrows and rubbed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, I don't see. What the fuck does that mean? When? Why...?”
“…I don’t have an explanation you’re gonna like,” Sanji said, letting his hand drop as Zoro pulled away. He wanted to reach for him again, but he wasn’t sure that’d go over too well. “I just… I wanted to try it. Like that.” It sounded even worse saying it out loud. Sanji frowned, mostly at himself, and let his head fall back against the wall. “It was after you and I…” He gestured absently between them. “Few days after that. Right before I changed back.”
When Zoro opened his eyes, walls had slammed up behind them with almost audible force, and he took a couple of steps back. After. Sanji and the leopard had “almost” had sex again. Even after...What did “almost” even mean? Anger and a hot, aching knot of—something—tried to come up and choke him, but he shoved it down. Now was not the time for some kind of—fucking tantrum.
“...How goddamn shallow.” His voice was steady, and low. “You didn't even ask if I would.”
“Of course I didn't. Zoro–” Sanji pushed himself off the wall, but only took one cautious step forward before halting. “It doesn't mean anything with him, and I didn't...” He let out a frustrated sigh, digging one hand back into his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was going just as badly as he'd thought it would. Zoro had his mental shields up already, that much was obvious. It was making it hard to even look at him, and the distance between them suddenly seemed impossibly far.
“I wouldn’t have wanted to do it with you,” Sanji tried again, speaking slowly. “Not like that, not before we’d even done anything as…with me like this. How I’m supposed to be. I didn’t plan on doing anything with Lucci either, and if I’d fucking changed back when I was supposed to–” He cut himself off before finishing that sentence. It was only another lousy excuse. “…It just happened,” he said tiredly. “But I stopped, I swear I did.”
Zoro turned to the side and scrubbed a hand jerkily over his mouth, but didn't retreat further. “You're making it worse,” he said distantly. No drama. He'd promised, and it was the last thing the crew needed at this point, with everyone tense and gearing up for a fight. So he wasn't going to shout at the cook. Or put a hole in the ship. Probably only break his hand on Adam wood, anyway, and then tomorrow would be even harder, so he wasn't. Going. To do it. “...I know you have self-control in there somewhere. I've seen you use it when it's important. N'you just said you...stopped.” His mouth twisted sourly on the word. “So. This just doesn't matter to you enough for it not to have happened at all.”
His gaze went remote. He'd known he was more invested in this than Sanji from the beginning. That was most of why it had been such a bad idea. But he'd known, so. He couldn't even get all fucking upset now, right? But he'd really almost thought the cook might...Whatever. Stupid. “I guess if you wanna be technical you never actually said the word 'promise'. So you didn't break one, I suppose.”
Sanji drew in a shaky breath, his hands slowly closing into fists simply because he didn’t know what else to do with them. His mind was working furiously trying to come up with something to say, something that could possibly make this better, make Zoro stop looking like that. “I did break one. It doesn’t matter if I said the goddamn word or not, I told you I wouldn’t do that and I’m the one who came up with that promise in the first place – fuck. Zoro.” He took another step forward. “I’m sorry. It was…fucking stupid and – and I know just saying it isn’t going to fix anything, but it does matter. THIS matters. I…” Sanji paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. God, this was hard. No stopping yet, though. He continued quietly: “Shit, this is such a mess. I’ve been fucking awful to you ever since– I don’t know why you’ve put up with my crap.” He looked back at Zoro again. “I’m sorry.”
He'd heard the cook say that before, and he'd seemed just as sincere that time. Sanji stepping closer screwed with his perspective—kissing just minutes ago, still want to, goddammit—so he turned completely around and planted his hands wide apart on the railing, leaning over it.
Great. So instead of almost sleeping with the leopard because he didn't give a shit—and oh, there was still Lucci's part in this to get to; Zoro wasn't even gonna touch the black burn of his opinion on that—the cook...what? Did feel something, thought this mattered, but broke his word on a whim anyway?...That idea was just...alien, and wholly repugnant, and far more important than the twisting knives of jealousy in Zoro's gut, which he viciously locked down with the anger and that—other thing. Barely even three weeks since they first talked about this—it was totally unreasonable to overreact like a lunatic just because he'd wanted it so much longer than that.
“I don't understand you,” he said finally, unable to articulate his jumbled thoughts. His head hurt, and his chest felt weirdly sore. Then, “...It's my watch.”
He was losing him. Sanji could practically see the gears turning in his head, even with his back turned. He could see the way Zoro’s muscles tensed, see how his back hunched. He wanted to know what he was thinking, what sort of thoughts were running through his head – he was positive that none of it was good. Not with the way his face kept growing darker and darker. Sanji could only see part of it from where he was standing, but it was enough. It kept his feet planted right where they were, instead of moving any closer.
There had to be something he could say. His own thoughts were getting muddled and tangled up now, and he tried with a sort of panicked desperation to pull them apart, to find something that would fix this. Zoro speaking pushed him into action; he didn’t want to let him leave yet, he wasn’t ready and things were still a broken disaster— “Wait,” Sanji said, launching himself over to the railing against his better judgment. He half raised a hand, wanting to put it on Zoro’s shoulder, but stopped before actually touching him. “Zoro, I’m sorry.” Stop apologizing, that ain’t a magical cure-all, dammit. “It’s only because I was a girl, I wouldn’t – it’s not going to happen again.” That doesn’t help either, you idiot. You were still YOU.
Sanji let out another frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “…I know there’s nothing I can say. I know the more I talk, I’m probably just making things worse. That was…disgusting of me. It was a backstabbing move, ranks me with the lowest of the low, and if I were you I probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I know I probably just fucked this…this thing all to hell.” He leaned over the railing, too, staring hard down at the water below. “I’ve been beating myself up about it ever since it happened, and I put off telling you because I knew this is how it would go. And I wasn’t ready to lose you yet, not before we’d…barely even started. Suppose that just makes me even more selfish, and a coward on top of that.” Somewhat warily, he turned to look at Zoro, holding tightly onto the railing. “…Fuck, I wish you’d just punch me. Or yell or something.”
For some reason he didn't understand, Zoro felt a tiny bit glad that the cook kept him from leaving, and that made him scowl ferociously. He wasn't interested in excuses, and trust was a long fucking way away, this time, and they'd known that this thing would probably end terribly, so it'd be better to just completely end it right now, but. But. He flicked a glance sideways as Sanji looked down at the water and spoke remorse haltingly. The cook looked fucking miserable...As he should, dammit, this was just impossible.
The swordsman massaged his temples with one hand for a moment, taking a long, bracing breath and letting it out in an extended sigh before he turned to face Sanji, an inscrutable look settling over his face.
“Right,” he said.
Sanji frowned. At least Zoro wasn't storming away, but... The hell did that mean? He wasn't about to let himself get hopeful yet. “...Right. Right what?”
Zoro put a hand on the railing and finger-tapped a few times before finally nodding to himself. “This,” he said, breathed in sharply, and shouted, “IDIOT!” right in Sanji's face. Then he karate-chopped the cook with blinding speed, smack on the forehead, as hard as he could manage without breaking the skin. Well. He'd asked for it. And it was hardly incapacitating.
…He definitely hadn't seen that coming. Sanji's head snapped back, his body following as he stumbled backwards and collapsed against the railing behind him, one hand instinctively coming up to cover his forehead. “Shit,” he hissed, rubbing vigorously. “Dammit, marimo, what the hell.” He peered over at Zoro through narrowed eyes, scowling and still rubbing like that would make the sudden throbbing go away. Right, okay, so he’d fucking deserved that. And had practically told him to do it anyway. His foot itched to land itself in Zoro’s gut out of habit, but he steadfastly ignored it, instead letting the automatic return-fire tension drain from his body. “…Ow,” he muttered sullenly, and – some habits were just too hard to break – kept glaring in a somewhat petulant manner.
Zoro crossed his arms and gave a tight nod of satisfaction at the cook's pain and familiar glare, still mostly tense himself, but less. He felt a little more on-balance, at least, but refrained from doing more so he wouldn't get out of hand.
“I dunno what you were expecting here, dartboard brow,” he said abruptly, voice slowly gaining life again now that he'd let loose a little to start the process. “Or what you were hoping for. I still...” He trailed off, then rallied and slashed a hand. “But I can't—deal with you doing shit like this again. I'm not built like that. And,” he continued when it seemed like Sanji was about to open his mouth to speak, “I don't really...trust you not to. Right now.” He shook his head, shoving his fingers through short hair. “Maybe we did rush into this.”
Sanji winced, leaning back into the railing a little more and letting his hand drop from his forehead to cover his eyes. “…I know you don’t trust me,” he said softly. “Not to do it again or probably just…at all, and I don’t blame you, but–” He straightened suddenly, letting his hand fall entirely and trying to catch Zoro’s gaze. “But I don’t think we rushed into this. Waiting wouldn't have changed how we felt. I’m just – the biggest idiot on the goddamn planet. But I can gain your trust back. I will, I’ll do whatever it takes.” He took a step forward. “This… What happened, it was a one-time, fucking shitty mistake.” Sanji paused for a moment, sliding his eyes away and looking out toward the shore instead. “And I told you because I wanted to come clean. To be honest. Maybe that’s selfish, too, since I knew you’d…end up hurt.” He looked back at Zoro. “But I couldn’t not tell you. I owed you at least that much. I just…waited until the worst possible moment to say anything.”
A vein in Zoro's temple ticked slightly. “...Saying something before I kissed you again woulda been a better way t'go about that.” Then he shook his head, lips tightening, and looked up to meet Sanji's eyes. “And no,” he corrected. “I still trust you to watch my back. That's not gonna change any time soon, and it's the important thing, right now. And dammit, yeah, we have bigger shit to worry about.” His right hand fell to Wadou's hilt reflexively, and he scowled. This would not interfere in any way with their focus on getting Robin back. He wouldn't let it.
“As for the rest of it...” As for the rest of it, what? He wasn't even sure, and he hated that. He finally motioned with a hand wearily. “...If you mean it, then yeah. Time won't change much. Later, maybe. Now is. I don't even know.” The next bit was harder to spit out, but he made himself do it, not looking at the cook. “Do what you want in the meantime.”
“...Yeah, well, like I said,” Sanji muttered, going a bit shifty-eyed. “Selfish. I wanted to kiss you for real before…” He trailed off, waving a hand absently, then sighed. “And I don’t think what I want is something you’d be all that up for. Not now.”
He fell quiet for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets and tapping his toe distractedly against the ground. Later… Fuck, what did that even mean? Later could be – weeks. Months. Sanji shook his head, scowling and ordering himself to stop thinking about it. Later was better than never, at least, right? “I’m not going to do something stupid like run off to Lucci again, though, if that’s what you meant,” he spoke again, somewhat abruptly, and looked at Zoro with a determined gleam in his eyes. “If you need time – I’ll wait. However long I have to. I know we’ve got a ton of shit going on right now that we have to get through first… My timing is fucking horrible – but after that. After all this…” After, after, after. After nothing, there was no guarantee he was ever gonna get another shot at this. And that was entirely his own fault. Sanji blinked once, hard, and turned his head away, his hands clenching up in his pockets. “…I’ll wait,” he repeated quietly.
Zoro stared at the cook, gut tangling up weirdly. Dammit, why'd he have to go and say shit like all that, it made distancing himself in a reach for objectivity so much fucking harder...He wanted to take Sanji at face value so damn much, like he'd wanted this for months, like he still wanted it, and like he wanted the moron to have never broken his goddamn word in the first place. But he had, so. Fuck.
“...Ah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck tightly and wanting to bang his head against a wall. Or meditate for a week. “Okay. If that's what you...” He bit the inside of his cheek. “...I really need to relieve Franky for watch.”
As much as Sanji wanted to say fuck it all and march over to Zoro and kiss him till he forgot what they’d just been talking about, forgot about the mess with Robin-chan, forgot how much of an idiot Sanji was… He knew that’d be the opposite of helpful. What Zoro needed right now… Actually, Sanji didn’t know what he needed. He didn’t know what would help. Space, maybe. Time. To get the hell away from him, apparently. Understandable. Sanji let out a breath, his shoulders hunching a bit. “Right, fine,” he murmured. Then before the other man could actually leave, he added quickly: “Wait, Zoro–”
Meditation to clear out his knotted thoughts was sounding better and better, but there was still watch. Zoro had shifted to turn away—turning tail, retreating, some contrary part of him sneered—but he stopped, again. “What, Sanji?”
“Tomorrow...” Sanji hesitated on his next words, mostly because he knew it was ridiculous to say them. But... “Look, I know you're fine. I know even if you weren't fine, there's not a damn thing I could say that’d stop you from fighting. Wouldn't want to, at that. So just.” He frowned, feeling his face heat up a bit, and was suddenly grateful it was nighttime. “...Don't get too fucked up.”
Zoro gave his white sword a light touch again automatically, flicking his gaze to the side and then back at the cook. A small frown creased his forehead, and his eyes were dark. “...Same to you,” was all he said, then he ducked away and jumped over the railing down to the lawn deck, carefully not looking back.
Sanji watched him go and didn't bother trying to stop him again. Once he was out of sight, he leaned back against the railing for a moment, then slowly sunk down till he was sitting with his back against it. He heard Franky whistling in the distance and knew he should probably go heat some food up for him, or at least get him something to drink. …In a minute. For now… Sanji pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with hands that seemed slightly unsteady. Then he let his head thunk back against the rail behind him and squeezed his eyes shut.
Fucking shit.
END