Chapter Text
For the first few months, the Strawhat pirates operate under the easy assumption that Sanji is a beta.
It's not that Sanji hadn't been forthcoming about his secondary gender, it just hadn't seemed particularly relevant in those early days at sea. Luffy's crew was small; consisting of two other Alphas and a weak-willed Beta.
The Beta had a penchant for lying at the drop of a hat, so was Sanji's untruth really so severe?
Sanji knew how he smelled. The neutral, clean scent of his soap and the spice of cologne. His suits with their padded shoulders. His stiff posture. He was reasonably a beta, if a small one.
Zeff hadn't minded, if he'd ever even noticed that Sanji was an omega. It was a status that fell somewhere outside the common rules of chivalry. While Zeff was gentler to omegas as a rule, if their primary gender was male, they'd still get disciplined the same as everyone else.
And Sanji had strong legs. Had a strong temper. He thrived under Zeff's teaching and was a happy member of the group that fell somewhere between staff and family.
They weren't his pack in the traditional sense, but Sanji did hurt as he walked away. There were no tugging, straining bonds, but his heart ached deeply. He was excited for his adventures, and grieving the loss of familiarity in equal measure.
So, Sanji made himself at home among the strawhats. He kept his supply of suppressants with his personal belongings, and covered any hint of his scent with cigarette smoke. Luffy didn't seem like the type to care, but Sanji wasn't going to make himself more vulnerable than he needed to be.
He did his best, squeezing into the role of Beta, cook, defender. He continued to muffle his Omega's aches and desires as he adapted to his new environment.
And oh, his omega longed to be soothed. It had been a while since he'd been completely on his own amidst strangers. But he shut down every craving for comfort. Even watching as Luffy invaded the others' personal space, he ignored the pangs of jealousy. Covered bitter want with the sting of sea salt.
He quickly found out that a small boat meant the death of his own personal space, and slowly learned to be okay with that (sort of).
Luffy was a caring, energetic Alpha. His scent was ever present and covered every inch of the ship and his crew. Even with all the washing, even with the cologne and cigarettes and scrubbing scrubbing scrubbing, Luffy's scent lingered on Sanji. Much more so than his own.
(And if that stirred at his heart, no one needed to know.)
So Sanji settled in with his little group out on the sea. He smelled of rubber and cooking spices, of saltwater, sweat and metal. Hints of tangerine waft past his nose on occasion. The pretty Alpha navigator had a smile that made his knees tremble. He envied her sweet scent.
The early days were a rush of adventure and passion. Sanji cooked and fought and flirted his way through it all. He was a suave young bachelor out at sea, prepared for any challenge.
His carefully curated image began to crack after they left Drum island.
Their new little doctor (he smelled like peppermint candy, like sugar and Christmas) had taken the time to do check-ups on each of the crew after he joined. "To establish a baseline" He'd said very smartly.
"Sanji, are you a Beta?"
He froze in place. That was.. very direct.
If Chopper noticed his discomfort, he didn't act on it, just staring at him with big, round eyes.
"Ah, um. You see, Doctor.." Sanji started. He shouldn't be nervous about this. He's never explicitly lied about his secondary gender.
"An Omega, then?"
Sanji flinches at the word, but nods.
Chopper scribbles on a notepad.
"And when was your last heat?"
Sanji clears his throat. "Six years ago."
Chopper stops. He nearly fumbles the pen. "Sanji, did you say-"
"Six years ago. I've been taking suppressants since then." Sanji says more firmly. Hints of a memory he's long since tried to forget stirring in his mind.
And the little doctor wobbles hazardously on his chair. "Have you not had another heat since you presented?"
He's put the pieces together surprisingly easily. Sanji feels dazed and a little over exposed.
"I- no. No I haven't."
He knows this young man (reindeer, fiend) has a wrath within him. It wouldn't be uncalled for if he decided to yell at Sanji or punt him through the wall for his troubles.
But his eyes water and his voice trembles. Little hooves take his hand. "Oh Sanji, I'm sorry."
"What? Why?"
He sniffles."It must've been so hard. You haven't shared that part of yourself with anyone?"
And his omega tries to rouse from drug-induced slumber at the sound of that sad voice. Sanji shakes it down. He doesn't need to fall into that way of thinking. He's made it so far, being able to care and comfort and help without depending on that part of his instincts.
"It's alright, Chopper. I'm fine." He says firmly, placing his other hand over the two hooves.
Chopper's eyes narrow. "But you're safe here, you can be yourself. Why are you hiding?"
He laughs. "Sure, make myself known as an omega to the crew. Make them feel obligated to care for me. I bet Zoro would toss himself overboard."
"I don't think they'd mind. A pack omega is a great thing to have on a crew." Chopper's eyebrows are furrowed. He's almost pouting.
"I'll think about it." Sanji offers, not wanting the doctor to feel that he's completely failed. Even though the thought of making himself that vulnerable is a terrifying one.
-
As if the universe itself is working against them, Zoro falls into a rut.
They're far from shore, and there's not much room on the merry, so they make do by setting up a cot in the anchor room.
Chopper mixed and fed him medicine for the fever, and Usopp took the job of applying and reapplying a cold cloth to his forehead. Luffy, for his part, has been sequestered to the top of the mast where Zoro's distressed scent couldn't send him into a spiral.
Sanji can hear the grunts and moans of discomfort from across the ship. He douses a pot of cooked rice in rice vinegar. It was bound to happen eventually. On a ship with three young alphas, due two ruts a year each (one if there were no potential mates for long enough), it was only natural for one of them to have poor timing.
Zoro will be fine. Uncomfortable, but fine. He's a big boy with two hands, he can take care of himself. Sanji dishes up a bowl of rice and tops it with egg. He pretends not to hear the pained sounds. They'll all get through this before the week is up and then there will be another island.
His suppressants dull his senses somewhat, but he's almost overwhelmed when he steps into the anchor room. There's a raw, earthy tone to Zoro's scent that punches him in the gut. He feels like his mouth and nose have been stuffed with moss.
Zoro is lying on his back, but he pulls himself up to his elbows when he sees the door open. Sanji pointedly ignores his bare chest and taut, sweaty stomach muscles. He keeps his eyes trained on Zoro's flushed face.
"Can you feed yourself?" He asks, trying to keep his voice steady.
(In the back of his head, his omega whimpers pathetically at the sight. He wants to scream. God willing, he resists.)
Zoro nods, lips pressed together.
Sanji hands him the bowl and pours him a glass of water from a pitcher by the cot.
Zoro eats slowly, hands shaky with the chopsticks. Every so often, he pauses, squeezes his eyes shut and takes shallow breaths. Then he resumes, and Sanji almost congratulates him on not breaking the chopsticks.
Sanji makes him stop to drink the water. Zoro gulps it down, Adam's apple bobbing steadily. He sets down the glass, lips slick and droplets sliding down his chin. Sanji has to look away.
When Zoro finishes his bowl, he pushes it into Sanji's hands. His face is somehow more flushed than before, and he won't look Sanji in the eye when he forces out a "thank you."
(And Sanji's omega eats it up like the warmest praise, served on a silver platter.)
"Don't mention it." He responds, and forces himself not to run when he leaves.
He keeps it together all the way back to the kitchen, where he drops the dishes in a sink full of suds, and buried his face in his hands.
-
Evening finds Sanji herding their captain into the kitchen to eat instead of sulking in the crow's nest.
Luffy whines. "I wish I was an Omega sometimes."
Sanji blinks. And blinks again. "What?"
The boy swallows his mouthful of food. "Y'know, so I could help Zoro. Omegas always know how to take care of Alphas when they're rut-sick."
Sanji knows that Luffy isn’t dumb. He’s an Alpha in his late teens, he’s definitely had ruts of his own before. Chances are, he knows exactly how Omegas usually ‘help’.
“And you would..” Sanji gestures vaguely, unsure how to say it out loud.
“Have sex? If it would make Zoro’s pain go away, sure. A captain always cares for his crew. But also so I would know how to do all the other things too.”
And the fact that his captain would sleep with his first mate to save him the discomfort of his rut is a whole other thing that Sanji stuffs in a box to process later. He decides to focus on the second half of Luffy’s words.
“What other things?”
Luffy is digging the last grains of rice out of his bowl as he answers, “Omegas can comfort people. I usually feel like I say the wrong words, but.. When I lived on the windmill island, this Omega, Makino, she always knew exactly what to say. She felt safe, and she smelled safe too.”
He sounds a little wistful.
Sanji feels bowled over by this whole conversation. He dumps another scoop of rice in Luffy’s bowl to distract him so he can’t say anything else that Sanji will have to parse and absorb.
It’s not that people everywhere were terrible to Omegas, but Sanji had yet to see an advantage in announcing to a whole crew of pirates (and eventually, the world) that he was built so much softer, meant to give and give, and strong enough to take when the occasion called for it.. It made him a target for kidnapping. For double standards. Sanji wasn’t blind, he knew that if he revealed that part of himself, it would take sacrifice and bravery.
He cleans the kitchen. Scrubs the countertops twice. Sharpens his knives. It’s well past dark before he’s tired enough to go below deck and wash his face in the bathroom sink. He pats his face dry with a towel, and rubs a cold cream into his skin.
He tries not to think about the other happenings beneath the deck.
He lays in his cot, staring up at the ceiling. Through the walls, he can hear Zoro making soft sounds somewhere between a moan and a bitten-off whimper. The memory flashes behind his eyes of Zoro's flush face, bent legs trying to hide where he was straining under his blanket. Sanji shivers and tries to cover both of his ears with his pillow.
He and Zoro have mostly clashed up to that point. They agreed about the important things and fought about literally everything else. Something about the man just gets under his skin. He's crude and brash and he makes Sanji feel like the world has been turned upside down.
He could always depend on that stubbornness. On the swordsman's strength. His cocky, brutish nature made him seem invincible. Stupid, but invincible. Even when he'd been cut across the chest by Mihawk- a horrible, deep gash- he'd taken it with the determination of a conqueror (or a particularly durable fool).
But right now, it was as if that part of the man that infuriated him so deeply had burnt up with the fever. It's unsettling. Zoro was overcome with the burden of his animal nature, and yet, he's never looked so human.
The stress gnaws on him and strips away bits of his peace of mind. He counts his breaths. Zoro will come out the other side of this. They'll find another island and rest for a while. Things will go back to normal. He repeats it in his head like a mantra, trying to anesthetize the wound.
It's only nature. The other Alphas will have their own ruts within the year..
And that is a whole other barrel of worms.
Sanji buries the thought and his face in the cooler side of his pillow, shutting his eyes and willing his body to relax into sleep.
He's never been this rattled. He feels like something is shifting in the atmosphere. Maybe if he'd had his wits about him, he'd have noticed before he drifted off that, for the first time in years, he forgot to take his suppressants.