Chapter Text
He wondered why they hadn't gone further yet. He thought, maybe, if it felt like that then… Maybe they should.
It had always been so frantic. A way to get off or so he'd told himself. And then the idiot had gone and changed their pattern.
He wondered what Zoro was doing right now. Snoozing the day away somewhere on the ship, probably.
He wondered how this thing with the mosshead had started.
Sanji didn't remember. He just hoped it didn't finish any time soon because (not that he'd ever tell the mosshead this) Zoro was actually a good partner. You know, in bed. Outside of it, things were normal. The idiot swordsman acted normal.
Sometimes, Zoro would help him with the dishes. Sometimes, he'd chop vegetables. Sometimes, he'd just drink some sake while Sanji prepped dinner. Mostly, in comfortable silence. Co-existence. Other times, they'd bicker. He liked that, too, because bickering was a way of showing affection.
But, you know, he did feel a little bad about leaving the swordsman hanging after… That one time. That he wasn't thinking about.
But two days after the incident (as he was calling it), it was Valentine's Day. They hadn't really spoken since—too occupied with getting the ship ready and out for the journey ahead—but it was Valentine's Day. So, Sanji took out a plate of rice balls and a bottle of fine sake and left it up on the crow's nest where Zoro was snoring.
It seemed like the right thing to do.
As he walked over the deck, heading to the kitchen, he saw Usopp perched on the side, fishing patiently in the cold afternoon air.
"Want to join?" Usopp asked.
"Ah, sure," Sanji said, looking back at the crow's nest. "Let me change out of this suit, first. It's getting damn cold."
As he entered the boy's group room, Sanji discovered a pack of his favourite cigarettes and a new, high quality knife on his bed.
Alright. He was feeling affectionate. Sue him.
He and Usopp spent a few hours fishing, watching the waves pass by, in peace. It was probably the most relaxing day he'd had in a while. It reminded him of the days of fishing off of the Baratie when he was younger, before Zeff would let him do full shifts in the restaurant.
"I wonder what Kaya is doing right now," Usopp muttered.
"Thinking the same about you, probably," Sanji said, a little wistfully. "Must be nice… Not much time for romance right now, is there, even if we might think about it."
Usopp reeled in his fishing line.
"Oh. You mean you and…" the sharpshooter began, then narrowed his eyes at something in the distance. "I think that's land up ahead. Hey, I'll go tell Nami. Why don't you and Zoro stay on the ship this time?"
Sanji almost dropping his fishing rod. He turned bright red and faced the sharpshooter, looking him dead in the eye with an embarrassed glare. Normally, that would be enough for Usopp to wilt and look away. But maybe thinking about Kaya had given him extra courage, because Usopp only looked back silently.
Sanji wondered if Zoro was still sleeping up there. If he'd had the chance to eat the rice balls yet. If he liked the sake.
"Nami says this winter island we're heading to is pirate-friendly," Usopp told him. "After this, we probably won't get some peace for a while."
Sanji hesitated.
"You'd do the same for me. Giving us alone time. I hope you do when we get back to my hometown!" Usopp said, cheerfully.
"It's not the same thing. But. Obviously. But it's different," Sanji argued, sounding weak even to him, but he had no further defences and the deal was struck.
While the ship pulled into the snowy port, Sanji grabbed something from the kitchen.
"You and Sanji are on ship duty," Nami told them as they arrived at the winter island. "Zoro can't get lost if he stays here—"
"Oi, witch—"
"You're staying," Nami ordered. Wasn't she wonderful when she was so commanding? "This is a pirate-friendly port, but losing you here would be too much of a hassle. Just stay on the ship. The log resets in a night, anyway. We'll get what we need and go. Okay?"
"Yes!" Sanji agreed right away. How could he argue against her?
Zoro didn't look as pleased about it. But, still, all of the crew but them left the ship as the sun began to set. Sanji watched them go. Just when they were almost out of sight, and the sounds of the waves and snow were lulling him into relaxation, Usopp turned back and gave a merry wave.
"Someone's cheerful," Zoro said, gruff exterior fading for a moment.
"We talked earlier," Sanji said, softly. "'Bout Kaya. Must be strange, sometimes, leaving behind someone you love like that. It's got to be a strong bond to last that."
"…You got someone like that back on that restaurant of yours, Curly?"
Sanji was surprised he didn't even respond for a moment. "On the Baratie? No?" he said, eventually. "Why would you think that?"
"With legs like those, I wouldn't be surprised. That's all."
He wondered if he could play off the flush on his face being from the cold. Sanji clung to the ship as he forced out a laugh, "What are you saying?"
"Just the truth. That's all. Got a problem?"
Sanji thought about that last time, down in the cargo, when Zoro had stood up from the crate, pushed him on the floor and—
"I might have a problem," Sanji confessed. "About what we did before…"
"We haven't talked about it before," Zoro muttered.
"I think that might be a problem. I don't know how to talk about it."
At the sudden tone shift, Zoro blinked then crossed his arms as though shielding himself from something. Sanji considered that there were many things he could say. But, in the end, it all came down to this:
"It's cold. We've got the night alone."
Zoro's eyes darkened as he asked, "And what do you want to do about it?"
Sanji let out a shaky breath, then walked over to the mast. "Crows nest?"
Zoro didn't bother answering the question, instead, the man climbed up to the crows nest as quickly as he could. Sanji followed, unable to even be competitive as his nerves grew.
"What are we doing, cook?" Zoro asked.
The room was Zoro's. Already, he felt warmer. It was full of his workout equipment. A spare change of clothes. A futon on the floor where Sanji had found him napping earlier that day. Sanji saw an empty plate beside the futon, the opened bottle of sake, and the cup. He picked up the bottle. Still a bit left. He poured out a bit for himself and took a sip.
"It's not bad," Sanji muttered. His eyes darted over to Zoro, then to the futon. "What do you… What do you want to do?"
"Do you want to do something?" Zoro asked, eyebrows raised. "You're acting weird."
Yeah, okay. Maybe he was!
"And?!" Sanji huffed, putting the bottle down. "Maybe I want to do whatever you've been thinking about, huh? Maybe I want to do something nice for you, I don't know. Moron."
"I liked what I did before," Zoro said, licking his lips.
Obscene.
Perverted.
Idiot.
"That's not—that's… That's nice for me, not for you," Sanji said, scratching his hair. "Just—c'mon, sit down, you stupid—"
"Oh, so you admit it was good for you?"
"I said nice, not good," Sanji grumbled, but dragged the mosshead over to a seat. "C'mon. Just. Let me."
"Sanji, if you want to suck my cock you just need to ask—"
"I will kick you off this ship," Sanji stated, drily.
The mosshead sat down and took off his shirt, throwing it across the room and it landed with a thump. Just as he had last time, Sanji dropped to his knees and wondered if Zoro noticed how nervous he was.
He lost himself in the feeling. Zoro's hand in his hair. The sensation of it on his tongue. Zoro's low, deep grunts and the odd hiss of air through his teeth like he was trying to hold back. The way he kept a hand gripping tightly to the chair, just as he had the crate.
"Close—" Zoro managed to say, one hand still buried in his hair but surprisingly gentle.
Sanji didn't pull off this time. Didn't even let him think about it. The taste was strange, but Zoro looked stunned as he watched Sanji swallow, and that was more than enough reason to be smug.
"Oi, cook," Zoro grunted, running a hand through Sanji's hair. "Get off the floor."
Sanji wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stayed on his knees and asked, "What are you gonna do?"
"Want me to do what I did last time, cook?" Zoro asked.
Sanji didn't want to know how red his face looked to make Zoro look that smug.
So, obviously, he had to fight back.
"Why haven't we done it yet?" Sanji asked.
"We've done plenty," Zoro said, gruffly. "I got no… Expectations. Or whatever. We can do what you want."
"Do you want to?" Sanji asked, still on his knees.
"Fuck, cook, don't ask me that when you look like that."
Zoro sounded as wrecked as he felt. So. Yeah. Yeah. Okay, then. Sanji stood on oddly unsteady legs (how dare they betray him now) and moved to the futon. He sat down and took off his shirt.
"I'm telling you, then," Sanji said, unzipping his trousers and pulling them down. "I want to. You joining me or not?"
Zoro looked at him hungrily, eyeing his revealed thighs. After a very long moment, he said, "Don't have oil."
Sanji grabbed the damn thing he'd taken from the kitchen earlier and threw it at the swordsman who caught it with ease. Zoro observed it for a second and Sanji could practically see the wheels in his head spinning until they stopped functioning.
"You want me to use this on you," Zoro stated, almost in disbelief. "You want me to open you up—"
"Oi, don't say it like that," Sanji said, pointing his finger at him. "Just. C'mon. What are you standing around for? It's cold. Get over here."
At that, Zoro had nothing further to say. Clutching the bottle in his hand, Zoro approached the bed. Sanji wasn't expecting the kiss that followed, but had no complaints, in fact, he encouraged it. He grabbed Zoro's hair and pulled him in deeper, until somehow Zoro was on top of him, grinding down onto him, and suddenly kissing became difficult, thinking became difficult, but he found himself tugging down Zoro's trousers.
"We'll go slow," Zoro said.
"Ha. Think we can manage slow?" Sanji asked.
"That a challenge, cook?" Zoro said, uncapping the bottle.
Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything once that bottle was open and Zoro was pulling back to lean between his thighs. Zoro had very thick fingers. Sanji had tried not too long ago (had it been when he and Zoro had first starting messing around? Yes. Purely a coincidence, surely) doing it to himself and hadn't totally hated it (if he had imagined another set of hands on him then no one had to know). Zoro's fingers were gentle, exploratory, and Sanji would describe it as shy if he didn't know any better.
Zoro was scheming.
Zoro watched every single reaction, heard every single moan and breath, and adjusted as he went. It was, Sanji thought in the back of his mind, a little infuriating how good his instincts were, and Sanji did his best to latch onto that thought at least as the rest faded away with the falling snow on the roof above as he melted into the futon, lost in Zoro's careful fingers inside him and the hand on his cock going at the same pace.
He finished in Zoro's hand, apology ready on his lips because he hadn't meant for it to end already, but Zoro's fingers were still exploring. It was as though the pleasure of his peak kept on rolling onwards, until he didn't know what to do, other than throw a hand over his mouth to cover up his moans.
"Relax, cook," Zoro said, stopping just for a moment. "Or I'll have to hold your legs."
His legs?
Sanji blinked his eyes open (when had he closed them?) and realised his legs must have been thrashing at least a bit to make Zoro stop.
"Sorry," Sanji muttered. "Didn't realise."
"Yeah? That good, huh?"
Sanji didn't have enough shame left to feel embarrassed. He waved Zoro off him, then flipped onto his front.
"Should be easier," Sanji said, looking back at Zoro. "…What are… What are you looking at me like that for?"
"I think you're trying to make me lose sanity on purpose," Zoro grumbled, but Sanji didn't have it in him to fight back as Zoro's hands were trailing up his thighs and the anticipation kept him quiet. Then, Zoro's fingers were back, and Zoro was pressing kisses into his back, and all Sanji could hear was the snow falling off the roof onto the deck, it was a cold winter night and he was overheating.
Eventually, Sanji bit into the futon to cut off any more weird noises, but Zoro grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth away from his safe haven.
"Ready?" Zoro asked.
"Yeah," Sanji answered, unable to hide how eager he was. "Yeah, so what? Are you?"
"No," Zoro said, half-laughing. "Are you… Like this?"
Sanji let out a huff. He'd be fine with whatever. Up against the wall as they had been in the storage room. On the floor, on his knees… On top. But, he turned his head to look at Zoro and saw the brute was in the cold air, letting it out in visible breaths.
Idiot was probably freezing and didn't even realise it.
"Give me a second," Sanji said.
The swordsman nodded. He did have at least one functioning braincell, after all. Sanji noted that his legs still felt… Overwhelmed. Zoro's brain was probably working better than his, because he felt like moulded clay, worked from his hands.
"Lie next to me," Sanji told him, rolling onto his side.
Zoro did so without hesitation, throwing an arm over him for good measure.
"Done already, cook?" Zoro asked, seemingly not disappointed by that scenario. "I'm not against a nap."
"You never are," Sanji said, sounding a bit too fond for his liking. He lifted his thigh and moved Zoro's hand to grip it. "Hold onto me. I think. Like this is fine. At least you won't freeze to death."
Zoro nudged closer, resting his chin in the crook of his neck and Sanji's heart skipped a beat when he kissed the side of his neck.
"It's more of an early morning fuck position, don't you think?" Zoro mumbled, but Sanji could feel him hard against his thigh, so didn't think it was an argument against it.
As Zoro grinded against him, the thought spread throughout him, and he was thinking of those early mornings when the ship rocked against the sea, waking up with Zoro's heavy breath against his ear, his choked off moans, those deep grunts he did, as the clinging of his earrings as he moved and the sunrise glinting off the metal. He thought about it as Zoro's hand rose up to his chest and pressed against his rapid heartbeat. He thought about it as Zoro entered him slowly and Sanji grinded back to meet him.
He thought about it as Zoro led them into a slow and deep pace, like they had all the time in the world, like Zoro was savouring the feeling of being inside him. Like they were lovers in the early morning, rather than whatever they were in the night time, like they were partners lazily making…
Sanji bit into the futon again as that thought sent him spiralling, his thigh jerking in Zoro's grip. His eyes fought to stay open and, from across the room, he saw that empty plate of eaten rice balls and the opened sake bottle—
"Zoro," he heard himself say.
"Didn't think you'd like it like this, didn't think we'd do it like this," Zoro muttered. "It's always been so fast with you—but fuck, how are you so, I want to take my time with you, fuck I love this—"
"I needed you," Sanji confessed.
Zoro bit into his ear. "Don't need me now, then?"
"I have you now."
Zoro's grip tightened on his thigh as he said, "You're never getting rid of me."
"Mm, might do," Sanji said, teasingly.
"Ha. I don't think so," Zoro muttered, trailing his hand over Sanji's weeping cock.
Sanji tried to argue back, but all that came out was a mangled version of Zoro's name. It didn't take much longer for him to finish and then Zoro turned even more gentle, pushing his hair out of his face, and rocking slowly into him even though Sanji could feel the strain, the willpower, it could take not to chase after the feeling.
"Aren't you going to fuck me?" Sanji asked, one hand gripping the sheets. Sanji would probably be a mess if he did. Wasn't sure if he could handle it after already finishing twice. But.
He wanted Zoro to take what he needed. From him. Letting go of the sheets, he placed his hand over Zoro's on his thigh and asked, "Or don't you have enough left in you?"
Taking the challenge correctly as permission, Zoro groaned and increased his pace, letting out a relieved breath as he did, and Sanji threw his hand back on the futon just to grip it and hold on, because it wasn't even that fast yet, wasn't even that intense, but Zoro was brushing against that spot too often for it not to feel intense, soo good, too good, it was nearing painful.
"Not enough left in me, huh?" Zoro said, mockingly.
"Shut—Shut the fuck up," Sanji said and he knew, just from the way his voice came out a pitch too high, that he'd given too much away.
Zoro slowed, just for a moment, and forced Sanji to turn his head. At the sight of his flushed face and the few tears he'd let slip, Zoro cursed and suddenly Sanji's grip on the sheets wasn't enough to keep him grounded, because that powerful strength that rivalled his was fully focused on one goal—driving him into insanity.
"Zoro, wait," Sanji mumbled into the pillow, thigh jerking again in his grip.
"Too much? Can't take it?" Zoro asked, questions verging on mockery, but Sanji knew he was also checking in on him. His concern and the way his grip loosened on his thigh sent Sanji back to the edge, because it brought back all those thoughts of early morning lovers.
But.
In the end, they weren't just lovers. They were rivals too and he wanted to win whatever game they were playing.
"Come inside," Sanji said, gripping Zoro's hand again.
"Sanji, fuck, I—"
He had meant to give Zoro permission and make the swordsman lose control. Or something like that. Take control for himself. Make him admit defeat. He hadn't meant it as an immediate instruction, but he felt the way Zoro's hand tensed, the way his breath stopped, and the deep groan in his ear, sending shockwaves through him like a stone across water.
He figured that was his victory as the swordsman blushed bright red and rolled off onto his back. For a minute, all they did was breathe.
Zoro sat up first, grabbing a nearby towel and wiping himself down. Before Sanji could move or ask, Zoro was doing the same for him. He eyed the empty plate and sake bottle across the room again and found himself blushing too. When he was done, Zoro flopped back onto the bed with a contented sigh and closed his eyes.
Zoro would probably happily take a nap after all that. Sanji rolled onto his back next to him, looking up at the ceiling where the sounds of the snowfall had come to a stop.
"You warm enough, curly?" Zoro asked.
"No."
He was a filthy liar.
Zoro yawned and pulled him closer, until they were lying side by side, warm, even as the cold winter air crept in. Zoro fell asleep easily. Sanji turned his head and looked across the room again at that empty plate.
Zoro hadn't left even a crumb.
As the man snored, Sanji ran his fingers through his stupid green hair, then his stupidly pretty earrings, and entwined their stupid hands.
"I'm not saying it first, mosshead," Sanji told him quietly as Zoro slept on. "But your actions speak pretty loud, you know. I love you too, stupid."