Grounded

by Hazel_Athena

Summary:

Sanji stares up at the screen that lists all inbound and outbound flights, his heart catching in his throat when he spots the little flag that says ‘canceled’ next to his own.

Notes:

• For greenyogurtelephant.

My contribution for Zosan SS 2022 is for the amazing Elie and a prompt wherein one or both of them is trying to get home for the holidays and sparks fly!

Sanji stares up at the screen that lists all inbound and outbound flights, his heart catching in his throat when he spots the little flag that says ‘canceled’ next to his own. Wondering what the hell is going on, he looks around for a help desk and starts towards it.

He narrowly avoids getting trampled by a scowling man who’s carrying a heavy duffel bag, and has to dance back out of reach to do so. He opens his mouth to tell the rude bastard off, but the other man doesn’t even pause as he stomps irritably away.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Sanji mutters under his breath. Then he plasters a fake smile on his face and focuses his attention on the harried looking woman behind the help desk. “I’m so sorry to bother you, my dear, but I’ve just learned that my flight is apparently canceled.”

The woman winces, and Sanji thinks he hears her murmur something along the lines of ‘here we go again’ under her breath. Then she too gives him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and clears her throat. “Sorry, sir. Was it flight 127 by any chance?”

“It was,” Sanji nods, and the woman winces again. “Based on your expression, I’m going to guess there’s no chance what I saw was a mistake.”

“I’m afraid not,” she says contritely. “The plane assigned to that flight suffered some kind of catastrophic engine problem while the pilots were running through their pre-flight checklist. I don’t have any details on the exact nature of the issue, but the plane itself is grounded indefinitely, and given the time of year, we won’t be able to free another one up until tomorrow evening at the absolute earliest.”

“Ah,” Sanji says, making a point of maintaining his cool despite the news. “And I don’t suppose there’s another flight I could get on? I’d be willing to pay extra if that’s an issue.”

The woman gives him an uncomfortable shrug. “You’re not even the first person to make me that offer,” she says. “But I’m afraid there’s simply no availability anywhere. You’ll be refunded in full for your flight if that’s what you choose to do, but we can’t get you out until tomorrow, and even that’s no guarantee. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sanji’s quick to assure her. “However, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go make some calls to the person who was supposed to meet me when I got in.”

Nodding miserably, the woman waves him off and turns to the next customer in line. She’s no doubt bracing herself for an unpleasant couple of hours as she fields distraught passengers who’re about to have their holiday plans upended, and Sanji wishes ill on anyone who’s rude to her.

Towing his suitcase behind him, Sanji adjusts the strap of his carryon as he shuffles over to a space that’s at least somewhat secluded. Then he pulls his phone free from his coat pocket, takes a deep breath, and punches in the number for a specific contact.

Reiju doesn’t bother with a polite greeting. “If you’re calling to cancel at the last minute, I hope you understand that I will be very disappointed in you. You promised, Sanji.”

“I know,” he replies, “but it’s genuinely not my fault. I’m at the airport, Reiju. On time and everything. The problem is that my flight’s been canceled, and they’re saying it’s going to be tomorrow night at the earliest before they can get me moving again.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone, and for a single, brief second he thinks she’s hung up on him. Then he hears her make a thoughtful humming noise, and he releases a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“Your flight information confirms your story,” she says, and if it was anyone else he’d be offended by her comment. He knows that for her she’s simply stating a matter of fact, though. “Are there no other flights you can get on?”

“I already checked,” he insists. “There’s nothing.”

“Hmm.” She says, and then falls silent again.

“ … are you still there?” He asks after several moments of silence have passed. “Look, I know you really wanted me to come - to come back for the holidays,” he says, unable to force the word ‘home’ out of his mouth under pain of death. “But the absolute best case scenario now has me getting in at the wee hours of Christmas morning, so what’s the point?”

“The point is that you would still be here,” she says simply. “Which, as I keep telling you, is what our mother would have wanted.”

“That’s not fair, Reiju,” he hisses. “I tried, okay? I really did. I bought the tickets, came to the airport, I was even willing to stay with all of you in that fucking masoleum you call a house. This isn’t my fault .”

“I told you, you should have left earlier,” she says next, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “I was more concerned about possible storm delays given the time of year, but this is the same result regardless.”

It’s on the tip of Sanji’s tongue to describe for her just how hard it was for him to book this trip at all, but he manfully resists the urge. As much as he hates the idea of being near anything that has to do with the Vinsmokes, rubbing that in Reiju’s face just seems cruel at this point.

“Look,” he says aloud. “I tried, and unfortunately it didn’t work. You’ll still have the other three plus Judge there to celebrate the holidays with you, so it’s not like you really need me.”

“Don’t say that,” she says with surprising venom. “I’ve been trying to convince you to do this since you left. I’m allowed to be disappointed that the one time you finally agree falls through because of something as stupid as a mechanical error.”

Sanji sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know this isn’t how you wanted things to play out, but I don’t know what I can do aside from apologize.”

“Could you get a ride some other way?”

Sanji blinks, unsure of what she means. “Like what? Hot air balloon?”

“I was thinking something more along the lines of a car,” she says dryly. “I know you don’t need one living in the city, but most airports have rentals available. If you left now, you could stop somewhere overnight and still get here by late afternoon tomorrow.”

Only pure shock keeps him from asking her if she really thinks that’s a reasonable demand to be making of him, but this is Reiju he’s dealing with. If she didn’t think it wasn’t a feasible alternative, she wouldn’t be suggesting it.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a look,” he says, his mouth operating on autopilot. “But if there’s nothing there, that’s it. I’m not coming.”

“I can accept those terms,” she agrees. “Let me know what happens.”

“Right,” Sanji says, not surprised to find that she’s ended the call without saying goodbye. Snorting, he slides his phone back into his pocket, and tries to remember where he’d seen a sign for airport rental vehicles.

*****

He finds the car park easily enough, and feels a short surge of hope that the fact that it’s nearly deserted means he might be in luck. That hope dies a swift death, however, when the first attendant he reaches tells him there are no rentals available.

“This is always a bad time of year for them,” the man says with an uncomfortable shrug, “but the few we did have already got snapped up by other people from your flight. I’m afraid that’s the last one just about to go there.”

Following the attendant’s gaze, Sanji’s eyes are drawn to the register, where a smiling woman is handing a set of keys to a man carrying a beat up duffel bag over one shoulder. Accepting the keys with a brusque nod, the man turns around, and Sanji realizes it’s the same guy who’d almost trampled him earlier. The guy who, he realizes belatedly, had also been on the same scheduled flight as him.

If they’d been on the same flight then that meant they’d had the same intended destination. Sanji’s not sure what madness it is that suddenly grips him, but, maintaining a careful hold on his rolling suitcase, he shuffles sideways to intercept his fellow passenger before he can leave.

“Uh, hi.” He says awkwardly, deciding after the fact that he should have stopped to rehearse something before just jumping in the middle of the aisle.

“ … hi?” The man says, or more like grunts, rather when Sanji continues to stare at him stupidly. “Can I help you?”

Up close, his features are somewhat intimidating. Sanji’s not sure how he’d missed it before, but the guy’s left eye is sealed shut by a nasty liking scar that runs from his forehead all the way down to his cheek, and his bright green hair, scuffed leather jacket, and beat up boots all scream that he’s what Zeff would refer to as ‘punk’.

Having only a few seconds to process this, Sanji says a mental to hell with it and squares his shoulders. “I’ve just been informed you got the last available rental,” he explains tersely. “How much for you to let me take it instead?”

“You can’t be serious.” The guy says incredulously. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Sanji squirms uncomfortably. “Out of the kindness of your heart?” He suggests, which just makes the guy snort. “Look, I’m supposed to go visit my sister for Christmas, and I’m already in enough trouble because I’ve been putting it off for years. If I don’t make it in time, she’ll kill me.”

“Cool,” the guy replies. “Too bad for you, though. If I don’t make it back either, my sister will kill me .”

“Ah,” Sanji points out, “but I feel safe in assuming that your sister has seen you more recently than mine has seen me, and therefore yours will be the less mad of the two. Ergo, it should be me who gets the rental.”

In response, the guy holds up the keys and has the nerve to rattle them in Sanji’s face. “I don’t know what kind of logic you have going on in that head of yours, Curls.” He says, ignoring the way Sanji’s eyes narrow dangerously at what can only be a reference to his eyebrows. “But from where I’m standing the only thing that applies here is the law of ‘first come, first served’. I got here first, so the car’s mine.”

“I’ll give you double what it cost.” Sanji says, gritting the offer out through clenched teeth, while at the same time making a mental note to remind Reiju how much she owes him for this. “Triple, if that’s what it takes. You’ll basically have your whole trip home paid for.”

“You can’t be serious.” The guy repeats, giving him a searching look, and his good eye widens when all Sanji does is stare determinedly back at him. “Holy shit, you are serious.”

“Yes,” Sanji says tersely. “So, do we have a deal?”

For the first time in their admittedly brief acquaintance, the guy looks unsure of himself. “Look, pal,” he says stiltedly. “It’s not that I don’t feel for you, or whatever, but I’ve got people who want to see me, and I’m already leaving later than I promised. Keep your money, I’m not giving you the car.”

Sanji sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his mind racing a mile a minute as he tries to come up with an alternative solution. “Fine,” he says after a moment spent weighing his options. “You’re heading for Germa, aren’t you?”

“Fuck no,” the guy scoffs. “Why the hell would anybody want to go to that piece of crap town?” He asks, unwittingly echoing Sanji’s own sentiments. “I’m heading for Kuraigana, the next stop over. I couldn’t get a direct flight so I was gonna get off in Germa, and my sister was gonna come down and meet me.”

“Because Germa’s practically right on the way to Kuraigana,” Sanji surmises, well aware of the distance between the two towns. “Okay, how about this then? We split the cost of the rental, and you take me as far as Germa. That way we both get what we want.”

For a given value of ‘want’ , he adds silently. Not that it’s any of this guy’s business, but he’d much rather be spending the holidays in Kuraigana himself. At least there he’d be able to be with family .

Once again reminded of the disappointed noises Zeff had made when Sanji’d revealed his plans this year, he stomps down angrily on yet another rush of guilt and locks eyes with the man across from him. “Well?” He asks tiredly. “Do we have a deal?”

The guy lets his gaze roam up and down Sanji’s body, almost as if he’s searching for something only he can find. Then he sighs heavily, and adjusts the strap of the bag he still has strung over one of his distractingly muscular shoulders.

“Fine,” he says, sounding as if he’s just granted Sanji some kind of monumental favour. “You’ve got a deal.”

*****

“My name’s Sanji, by the way,” he announces as they haul their stuff in the direction of the parking garage. “I figure you may as well know it since we’re going to be stuck with each other for at least the next twenty four hours.”

“ … this is the part where you tell me your name,” he adds when his companion somehow fails to connect those dots. “Otherwise I’m going to have to call you Moss, or something equally foolish for the duration of our time together.”

“It’s Zoro,” the guy finally says, scowling. “Roronoa Zoro.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Sanji replies. “Nice to meet you, Zoro.”

“Whatever,” Zoro grunts. “I think that’s the car up there.”

Sanji glances ahead of them, noting how the garage is literally entirely empty but for the black SUV that the other man is pointing at. “Gee,” he says dryly. “I wonder what gave you that idea?”

“I can still leave you here,” Zoro growls, causing Sanji to raise his hands in surrender.

“It was just a joke,” he assures, adding his best smarmy grin to the mix when Zoro continues to glare at him. “Truthfully, I’m very impressed by your keen observational skills.”

“Fuck, you’re annoying.” Zoro says, although Sanji gets the sense that there’s surprisingly no real rancor behind the words. “Are you going to be like this the entire time we’re driving?”

“Probably,” Sanji admits. “I don’t particularly want to be making this trip, you see, so I’m afraid I’m a little on edge.”

“If this is you ‘a little on edge’, I’d hate to see you actually stressed,” Zoro snorts. “C’mon, Curls. Let’s just get the damn car loaded up and get out of here.”

This time it’s Sanji’s turn to scowl. “That term was bad enough when you didn’t know my name,” he says icily. “Given that you do now, I’ll ask you to kindly knock it the fuck off.”

“No,” Zoro replies sunnily. “I’m doing you a favour, remember? I figure that means I can call you whatever the hell I want.”

Sanji feels his scowl deepen. “For the record, I’m not above kicking your ass and leaving your unconscious body behind in this parking lot. It’d definitely make for a more pleasant drive.”

Zoro’s grin sharpens. “I’d like to see you try … Curls.” He says, anticipation all but flowing off him in waves. 

Growling low, Sanji manfully gets a grip on his temper and pulls himself back from the brink. “Forget it,” he mutters. “You’re not worth the effort. Let’s get the car and get on the fucking road.”

“I literally just said that.”

Pulling the keys free from his pocket, Zoro fusses with them for a moment until there’s a faint click, and the trunk of the car starts slowly opening of its own volition. Once it’s finished, enough space is revealed to easily hold both their luggage.

Deciding he’d rather keep his small carry on up front with him, Sanji carefully stows his suitcase in the back, securing it as much as he’s able. Then he steps back out of the way, and watches as Zoro casually tosses in his duffel bag, apparently unconcerned with the state of its contents.

“I take it you have no presents in there that you’re worried about damaging?” He asks idly, which earns him an eye roll from his companion.

“Nah,” Zoro replies, revealing a sliver of heavily muscled torso as he stretches upwards to grab the trunk door and tug it downwards. “I had the stuff I ordered sent straight to the old man’s place. It’s easier that way.”

“Except then your relatives will know what you got them.” Sanji points out.

“Damn, you really love being a know it all and a pain in the ass, don’t you?” Zoro comments. “If you must know, I paid extra to have all that shit pre-wrapped. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“You said you had a sister,” Sanji replies. “I make it my business to prevent every lady I meet from being disappointed whenever possible.”

Zoro stares at him. “You’re a fucking trip,” he finally says conversationally. “Can we get moving now?”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“Right.” Looking annoyed, Zoro jingles the keys in his hand before heading for the driver’s side door. Sanji does the same with the passenger one, willing to agree that it’s only fair to let the other man drive since it’s technically his rental.

Much to his surprise, rather than taking off right away, Zoro starts fussing with the GPS console located on the front of the dashboard. “Seriously?” He asks, as the other man enters in the town of Germa. “Most of what we’re going to be doing is highway driving. It’s practically a straight shot from here to there.”

“So you say,” Zoro replies, clearly uninterested in Sanji’s very reasonable points. “What’s the exact address of your sister’s place?”

Seeing no other option, Sanji gives him the address of one of his most hated locations on earth. Then he sits back and watches as Zoro programs in his own destination, apparently needing to make sure he has that lined up as well.

“What?” He asks when he finishes. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“No reason,” Sanji declares. “Is there anything else you need to get sorted before we go, or can we leave now?”

“Just buckle your seatbelt and shut up.”

*****

It dawns on Sanji as they navigate their way out of the city that Zoro might not have been being overly cautious when he’d been futzing with the GPS. Based on the way the other man constantly checks the thing, Sanji can only assume that either one) he’s brand new to the city and doesn’t know it at all, or two) he has a terrible sense of direction. 

Suspecting it’s the latter, but not wanting to say as much, he stays resolutely silent until they’re outside the city limits and entering onto the highway. After that, however, all the quiet starts to get to him.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” He finally asks when he can’t stand the silence any longer.

Twisting his head around just enough so that he can raise an eyebrow, Zoro quickly returns his gaze to the road. “Cigarettes are a terrible habit,” he says primly. “Not to mention, they stink.”

“Unless you’ve got a medical degree, spare me the lecture,” Sanji says dismissively. “And even then, I don’t want to hear it. I promise I’ll open a window so as to not offend your delicate sensibilities, okay?”

Zoro shrugs. “S’not like I can try and stop you and drive at the same time,” he says, pausing as Sanji presses the button to roll down his window. “Those things’ll kill you, though.”

“So I’ve been told.” Recoiling slightly from the chilled air that’s now entering the car, Sanji hurriedly pulls a cigarette free from his current pack and lights up. Taking a heavy drag, he exhales the smoke through the open window, breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

“Let me guess,” Zoro says. “You’re at least a pack a day smoker.”

“Two if I’m feeling especially stressed,” Sanji admits without concern. “Judge me as much as you like, we all have our vices, and there are worse out there than mine.”

“Fair enough,” Zoro concedes. “And, as it happens, I’m definitely no doctor, so I’m not going to lecture you like one.”

“You’re too kind,” Sanji murmurs. “So, what do you do for a living then? Oh, come on,” he adds when Zoro shoots him an incredulous look. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, and you know it. We may as well do what we can to pass the time.”

“Fine,” Zoro huffs, sounding like Sanji’s demanded to know all his innermost fears, as opposed to something so basic. “I’m an auto shop mechanic. I work in a garage with some friends from back home who all made the move out.”

“You’re a mechanic without your own car?” Sanji asks, surprised. “That’s a little weird.”

“I’ve got a motorbike I use for most of the year, except for when the weather’s too cold. Whenever it’s in storage I either walk or take public transit. It’s cheaper that way.”

“I guess.” Sanji agrees, and it’s not like he really has a leg to stand on since he’s in the exact same boat. 

“What about you?” Zoro asks then. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m a chef,” Sanji says easily. “I work at a place called the Midnight Lily. You might have heard of it, I don’t know.”

“That big fancy place down by the docks?” Zoro asks. “The one with all the windows?”

“That’s it,” Sanji confirms. “It’s a seafood restaurant, which is the area I specialize in. And those windows result in a ton of natural light that tends to be a huge hit with the customers.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Zoro replies. “I’ve got a friend who’s mentioned wanting to go there, but it takes like a year to get a reservation and it’s too high brow for the rest of us. She says she’d never be caught dead taking us somewhere so classy.”

“It’s not that bad,” Sanji insists. “And if your friend really wants a reservation, tell her to ask for me. I can probably swing something for her.”

“I’ll mention it to her,” Zoro agrees. “I have heard the food is pretty good.”

“The food’s amazing,” Sanji stresses. “I wouldn’t accept anything else.”

“Yeah? That your way of trying to tell me you run the place then?”

Sanji snorts. “Hardly. It’s a good place to work, definitely better than some other kitchens I’ve been in, but I’m just biding my time until I can work my way up to where I want to be. I’m going to open my own place someday, and it’ll be the talk of the city, you’ll see.”

“Huh,” Zoro says, and much to Sanji’s surprise, he doesn’t immediately downplay the idea. “You know, I could see that pretty easily?” He says. “You don’t strike me as the type to let other people tell you how to do your job.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t think I can play nice with others, Mossball?” Sanji asks. Finishing up with his cigarette, he flicks the butt onto the pavement as it whizzes by, and quickly closes the window.

“I’m saying that you seem like someone who knows his own mind, and who isn’t gonna let himself be pushed around,” Zoro replies, refusing to take the bait as Sanji’s voice rises. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“ … oh.” Mollified, Sanji settles back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, I guess.”

“ … so.” This time Zoro’s the one to break the ice after several minutes of awkward silence. “What made you want to be a chef?”

“What, are we playing twenty questions now?” Sanji wants to know.

“Hey, you started it,” Zoro reminds him, and Sanji has to reluctantly concede that the man has a point.

“I’ve been fascinated with food since before I could walk,” he admits. “And by that I don’t mean eating it, but preparing it, feeding other people, that kind of thing. Once I realized it was something that could be an actual job, I never looked back.”

“Where’d you study?” Zoro asks next, and Sanji shakes his head.

“Uh uh, Marimo,” he says, wagging an admonishing finger for good measure. “That’s not how the game works. You asked your question, which means it’s my turn.”

“Seriously?” Zoro asks. “You want to play twenty questions for real?”

Sanji flaps a hand to encompass first the inside of the car, and then the many miles of boring highway stretching on before them. “Have you got any better ideas?”

“Fine,” Zoro says, flexing his fingers as he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “Ask a damn question.”

“What do you do for fun?”

“I spend a lot of time at the gym, I hang out with my friends, and I practice swordsmanship.”

“Swordsmanship?” Sanji echoes.

“Pretty sure it’s my question now,” Zoro smirks. “Where’d you study how to be a cook?”

“I’m a chef ,” Sanji stresses, exasperated. “And I actually learned from my old man, he runs a place back home. Now, I repeat, swordsmanship ?”

Zoro shrugs, the motion made awkward by the way he’s got his hands on the wheel. “I’ve been practicing with them since I was a kid, thanks in part to my old man. I’m internationally ranked.”

“Bullshit.”

“Google it if you don’t believe me.”

Sanji frowns, bright enough to figure out that’d be a pretty easy lie to unearth. “Fine, you’re not a liar, you’re a braggart.”

“It’s not bragging if it’s true. What about you? You already threatened to kick my ass once, have you got any training that’d let you put your money where your mouth is?”

“I do savete,” Sanji confirms. “It’s a form of kickboxing if you’re not familiar with the term. I need to protect my hands for work.”

“I know what it is,” Zoro says. “My preference is aikido.” 

“You any good?”

“Black belt, and you can look that one up too if you don’t believe me.”

“Christ,” Sanji mutters, wondering if this guy is even real. “So what I’m hearing is you spend all your time working or fighting, is that right?”

“You forgot drinking,” Zoro replies with a grin. “And that’s two questions for you, so the next two are mine.”

“Hold on, I’m adding over competitiveness to the list of traits I’ve managed to put together,” Sanji quips. “Would you care to add any more?”

“I’m sure you can figure some out as we go along,” Zoro replies. “You ever been arrested before?”

Laughing in spite of himself, Sanji tells him.

*****

By unspoken agreement, they don’t stop driving until hunger forces them to. After hours upon hours on the road, Zoro’s stomach starts rumbling, so Sanji pulls out his phone to search for upcoming places to eat.

“There must be a roadside diner or something coming up,” he mutters, as he scrolls through his search results. “We’ve passed plenty of them already.”

“Just pick the first one you see and tell me where I need to turn off at,” Zoro says. “I’m not fussy when it comes to food.”

“Given what you told me your favorites were earlier, that does not surprise me,” Sanji informs him. “And it looks like there should be something coming up in about twenty minutes on the left. Does that work for you?”

“Sure.” Zoro agrees, and neither of them says anything further until they’re pulling up in front of a rundown looking diner that nevertheless appears to be open.

“Fuck, my legs are killing me,” Sanji says, moving to shake some of the stiffness out of his limbs after he’s climbed out of the car. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“You’re the same age as me,” Zoro says, snorting when Sanji’s sole response is to light a fresh cigarette and blow smoke in his direction. “Nice. Do you want me to go grab us a seat while you’re out here?”

“I doubt there’s much of a queue, but feel free to do that rather than stay out here getting cold like me,” Sanji says, waving him off with an errant hand. “I’ll be in as soon as I’m done.”

“Right on.” Zoro says, and by the time Sanji makes it inside he’s sitting in a booth with a beer in one hand and a menu in the other. 

“I’m probably gonna go with a burger and fries,” he says as Sanji approaches. “It doesn’t look like they have much else.”

“Sounds good,” Sanji replies as he slides into his seat. “And feel free to have more than one of those if you like,” he says, nodding at the beer. “I figure it’s only fair for us to switch up on the driving.”

“If you insist,” Zoro says, flashing a lopsided grin that suggests he’s not going to put up any resistance. “We might want to figure out where we want to stop tonight while we’re here. Unless you want to drive straight through.”

Sanji considers this for a moment. “We’re talking the middle of the night in late December when bad weather can crop up at any moment,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “I think I’d prefer to find a motel if we can.”

“Works for me,” Zoro says, saluting him with his bottle.

A waitress arrives not long after this to take their orders. As promised Zoro requests a burger and fries, while Sanji does the same, although he asks for a coke instead of booze since he’ll be driving. The waitress gives him a pleasant smile for a woman who looks dead on her feet and has reindeer antlers perched on her head, and then vanishes out back.

“I always did hate working a kitchen shift this close to Christmas,” Sanji murmurs as he watches her go. “At least, I hated it if I was working anywhere other than my pop’s restaurant.”

For some reason, this comment makes Zoro frown. “I don’t get it,” he says, when Sanji raises a questioning eyebrow at him. “On the one hand you seem to like going home, but at the same time you’re clearly pissed that your sister’s convinced you to go back. It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird, it’s complicated,” Sanji corrects. “My family history is … messy.”

“Show me someone whose isn’t,” Zoro says dryly. “How can you be pissed but not pissed about going home?”

“I’m not going home,” Sanji says with a touch of ice in his voice. “That’s the problem .”

Zoro frowns, clearly confused, and Sanji finds himself shocked by a sudden impulse to unload his ridiculous family baggage on a man who six hours ago was a total stranger to him. “I don’t understand.”

Sanji groans. “The long and short of it is that I’m estranged from most of my biological family. I haven’t been back to Germa in years, would much rather be going literally anywhere else, and my sister is the one blood relative I’m still on speaking terms with. Barely, at that.”

“Then why the fuck are you going back?” Zoro asks. “That sounds miserable.”

“To say the least,” Sanji agrees. “But Reiju’s been after me for literal years to do this for her, and I’ve run out of ways to keep saying no. So. To Germa I go.”

Zoro’s quiet for a bit, but it’s clear from the way he starts fiddling with his drink that he wants to say something. Finally, he uncaps the bottle and takes a hearty swig.

“Your sister knows you don’t want to do this, right?” He asks, looking unsurprised when Sanji nods in response. “Then it’s unfair of her to put it on you,” he adds in a rush. “I know I joked about my sister being on my ass about making it back for the holidays, but she knows I don’t actually mind visiting. Your sister can’t say the same, and she’s not respecting your boundaries with what she’s doing.”

Sanji gapes at him. Never has someone summed up the issue so succinctly, and especially not a gruff, directionally challenged reprobate who he’s just met. “I … ” he says, trailing off when he realizes he has no idea how to respond. “I guess?”

Zoro shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “It’s probably not my business,” he admits, palming at the back of his neck with the hand not holding a beer bottle. “And obviously I’m just an outsider looking in, but it sounds like a total crock of shit if you ask me. Besides, if your sister wants to see you so bad, why can’t she just come to you?”

“It’s not that easy,” Sanji replies, even though he must have asked himself that question a thousand times without ever coming up with a satisfactory answer. “Like I said, my family’s complicated.”

“All families are complicated,” Zoro says bluntly. “Yours just doesn’t sound like much of a family at all. If I was on the outs with my old man, and I mean really on the outs with him, not some stupid spat I could easily get over, Rona’d never try to force the issue between us. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

Sanji’s saved from having to answer - and what the hell he might manage to say, he has no idea - by the arrival of their food. Grateful for the distraction, he digs into his burger, happy to have an excuse to focus on something that isn’t his companion.

Unfortunately, he’s quickly learned that Zoro’s not the type of man to simply let things go, and this is apparently no exception. He waits until Sanji’s got a mouthful of burger, and then opens his mouth again. “If you could go literally anywhere to spend the holidays, where would it be?”

“Kuraigana, like you,” Sanji mumbles, caught off guard enough that he answers the question honestly.

Zoro blinks his good eye, definitely not having expected that answer. “W-why with me?” He stutters, looking confused.

Choking, Sanji swallows in a rush and flaps a nervous hand at him. “Not with you,” he insists. “Like you. I said like you. If I could go anywhere for the holidays, it’d be back home, and that’s where home is.”

“Huh?” Zoro asks, definitely lost now.

“It’s like this.” Figuring he’s in too far to back out now, Sanji sets his burger back on his plate and steeples his fingers together instead. “I’m estranged from my biological family. I have a biological father and three brothers who I never speak to. I also have an older sister who I occasionally speak to, but there’s a difference between being connected to someone by blood versus being connected to them by choice.”

“No shit,” Zoro replies. “I’m adopted.”

“Then you get it,” Sanji says, relieved. “At least to some extent. I have someone I consider to be my real dad. He took me in when I had nowhere else to go, raised me as best as he could, and is the one person still alive who I can say with certainty has always had my back.”

“And this guy’s in Kuraigana, not Germa?” Zoro asks.

“Mhm,” Sanji confirms. “He relocated there after I left for college since he didn’t have to worry about trying to move a kid who wasn’t technically his anymore. Owns a seafood restaurant called the Baratie down by the waterfront. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

“I haven’t,” Zoro says. “But I don’t go back that often either. Why aren’t you going to stay with him instead of these other people?”

“I already told you,” Sanji says, fussing with the arrangement of the food on his plate to give his hands something to do. “Because my sister’s been asking for this for years.”

“Alright. How’s your old man feel about this? Your actual old man, I mean.”

Sanji shrugs, remembering Zeff’s response when he’d finally worked up the nerve to call him. He’d expected the old bastard’s reaction to be volcanic to say the least, and instead he’d just gone quiet and calmly accepted what Sanji was telling him. Somehow, that was worse.

“He was … fine,” Sanji says stiltedly. “Didn’t put up a stink or anything if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Mhmm,” Zoro replies, and six hours spent crammed in a car with him isn’t enough time for Sanji to be able to translate whatever that’s supposed to mean. Rather, all it does is make him want to change the subject.

Clearing his throat, he picks up his burger and takes another bite, noting absently that it’s not bad considering how much the establishment looks like it’s seen better days. Once he’s finished chewing, he swallows and pins Zoro with a look. “We should try and figure out where we’re staying tonight while we’re not moving,” he says. “There’s probably not a lot of places with rooms available this close to Christmas.”

Shrugging, Zoro shoves a bunch of fries in his mouth, but graciously allows the topic change. 

*****

Exactly as Sanji had predicted, there most assuredly are not a lot of rooms available when he pulls his phone out and starts looking. In fact, once they’ve determined how far they can safely get by car tonight, it turns out that there is quite literally only one .

“We’ve been sharing a car together all day,” Zoro says when Sanji carefully breaks this news. “If we haven’t killed each other when we’ve been stuck sitting shoulder to shoulder like that, I figure we can handle sharing a room for one night.”

“Fine,” Sanji concedes. “I’m gonna reserve it now so we don’t run the risk of having it go before we get there, and you can pay me back once we’re in and have everything sorted. You’d better not snore, though.”

Zoro makes no promises either way, and in fact stays pretty quiet as Sanji books the room. He further stays that way as they settle their bills at the counter, and doesn’t even put up a fuss when Sanji suggests he let him drive for a bit. Instead, he hands the keys over with surprising ease and settles into the passenger seat.

“I might try to nap,” he says as Sanji busies himself with adjusting the driver’s side seat. Even though they’re about the same height, he’s definitely got longer legs than Zoro, and needs some additional room.

“That’s fine,” Sanji says once he’s done with both that and fussing with the mirrors. “Although, you’re probably running the risk of fucking with your sleep schedule if you do.”

Their new positions means that he’s now seated on Zoro’s blind side, but he’s nevertheless confident that the other man is rolling his good eye at him when he speaks. “I’m pretty sure that was going to happen one way or the other between the flight, the rental, and now some crappy motel bed.”

“Fair enough,” Sanji replies, refusing to be baited. Focusing his attention on the task at hand, he checks to make sure the GPS is updated with their next stopping point, and then carefully eases out of the parking lot.

Much to his surprise, Zoro puts action to words and is asleep before they’re back on the highway. Frankly jealous given his own long running history of not being a great sleeper, Sanji side eyes him once or twice, but then resolves to put the issue out of his mind.

The lack of someone to talk to makes this stretch of driving seem longer, and even worse leaves him dwelling on what the next few days are going to bring. He’s been sending Reiju sporadic updates about their progress, so she knows he’s on his way, but somehow that just makes him feel worse.

He really doesn’t want to go back, is the thing. He hasn’t set foot in Vinsmoke Manor since the day he’d left, and he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen or spoken to a blood relative who isn’t Reiju in that timespan. None of them seemed bothered by his absence, so it’s not like this little adventure is going to fix anything. More importantly, he’s not sure he wants it to.

Keeping a careful grip on the wheel, he risks a sideways glance at Zoro, who’s still dead to the world. He tries to picture a scenario where he’d be so relaxed about sleeping under the eye of a veritable stranger, and draws a complete blank. It’s obvious they come from two different worlds, and this is just more proof of that.

Telling himself to stop being so maudlin, he focuses back on the road. Conscious of the fact that it’s nighttime now, he notes that they’re getting close to their intended stopping point and starts keeping an eye out for the correct turnoff.

Zoro begins stirring when he approaches it, almost as if the subtle changes in the car’s movements have impacted him, and he’s blinking himself awake by the time Sanji’s got them off the highway. He lets out a jaw cracking yawn as they make their way down a smaller road, grunting when the motel comes into view.

“Doesn’t look like much,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. “But I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

“No, Moss, they certainly cannot,” Sanji agrees. Bringing the car to a stop, he too takes a moment to eye up their accommodations and finds them lacking. “Let’s just hope the beds are clean.”

Zoro mutters something that sounds like “I’m not banking on it,” under his breath, but offers up no further commentary as he unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car. 

Sanji inhales another quick cigarette, and is surprised to find that Zoro waits for him this time. Then, once that’s done, they both grab their gear and head into the building.

Much like the outside, the inside of the motel has seen better days. Someone’s tried to spruce things up with a few sad looking Christmas decorations, but the overall effect is frankly depressing. Glad they won’t be staying for an extended period of time, Sanji sidles over to the main desk and taps the little bell that’s presumably there to summon a staff member.

As anticipated, he hears a rustling sound from out back, and eventually a bored looking teenager comes shuffling out to greet them. The kid confirms their reservation without bothering to make eye contact with either one of them, and hands over two keys and a card with their room number scrawled on it. Then he vanishes as quickly as he’d come.

“What stellar service,” Sanji grumbles as he grabs for the handle on his suitcase. “How much do you want to bet he’s back there playing games on his phone?”

“Nothing because that’s a sucker bet,” Zoro grunts. “C’mon, let’s go find our room.”

Since he’s already figured out that Zoro’s directional challenges extend to all areas of life and isn’t merely reserved for when he’s driving, Sanji takes the lead. They climb a short flight of stairs and trundle to the very end of the hall where the correct door comes into view. Sliding the key into the lock, he turns the handle, shoves the door open, and peers inside.

“Oh crap.”

“What’s wrong?” Caught behind him in the narrow entranceway, Zoro cranes his neck around to look at the issue that’s currently grabbed Sanji’s attention. “ … ah.” He says when he spots the singular queen sized bed that occupies the bulk of the space. “I take it that wasn’t clear from the website.”

“No, it most certainly wasn’t,” Sanji sputters. “Let me go talk to that kid. Maybe we can convince someone to trade with us or something.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Zoro says. “There’s no way that’s gonna happen, and we’re only here for one night anyway. I can sleep on the floor if it’s that big a deal.”

“Absolutely not,” Sanji retorts. “Crap knows when the last time this carpet got a proper cleaning - my guess is probably forty years ago when it was laid down - and I’m not letting you back in the car if you catch something.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to share.”

“I guess so,” Sanji huffs, stomping further into the room and dumping his suitcase on top of a desk that looks like it’s seen better days. “There’s not even a microwave, this is barbaric.”

“No, it’s a cheap, roadside motel at a time of year where everything better has already been snatched up,” Zoro reminds him. “You should be grateful that we’re not stuck sleeping in the car.”

“I will be exactly as grateful or as ungrateful as I please, thank you very much,” Sanji declares. “Although I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by this latest turn of events. It’s pretty much par for the course based on how this holiday season’s been going so far.”

Zoro eyes him for a long moment, his expression such that Sanji’s half expecting him to say something rude. He surprises him, however, by nodding towards the bathroom’s open door instead. “Why don’t you take first dibs on the shower,” he suggests. “You can wash some of the road grime off, and the hot water might make you feel better.”

“That’s assuming this place even has hot water,” Sanji sniffs. “But I guess it can’t hurt to check. I won’t be too long.”

“Don’t hurry on my account,” Zoro replies with a shrug and an aborted glance around the small space. “It’s not like I’ve got anything pressing to do tonight.”

His tone is so dry that Sanji almost feels a grin break through his current maudlin aura. Opening up his suitcase, he roots around for his toiletry case and pajamas and then makes his way into the bathroom.

*****

As is so often the case when staying in unfamiliar territory, it takes Sanji perhaps longer than it should to figure out how to work the shower head. Once he does, though, he finds himself taking a surprisingly pleasant shower that leaves him feeling more refreshed than he would have thought possible.

Out of respect for the fact that he’s not the only person sharing the bathroom tonight, he keeps his nighttime routine to a minimum, figuring he can always catch up on anything he skips tomorrow. As soon as that’s done, he exits the bathroom with a cloud of steam billowing around him.

“Okay,” he says, flapping a hand to try and dispel the worst of it. “So the shower fan doesn’t work that well, but everything else wasn’t too bad. You’re free to go in whenever.”

“Thanks,” Zoro mutters. He’s sitting on the bed with two pillows propped behind him, while typing busily on his phone. Elsewhere, he’s turned the tv on, and it appears to be playing an old Christmas movie, which is no doubt due to the season.

“There wasn’t anything else,” he says, sounding slightly defensive as he follows Sanji’s gaze. “Half the channels don’t work, and it was either this or the weather network.”

“It’s fine,” Sanji says, moving to stow his things back in his suitcase. “Although I’m probably going to turn in soon.”

“Cool,” Zoro says, clearly only half paying attention based on the way he’s focused back on his phone. 

“Everything okay?” Sanji asks, noting how he’s gone back to typing at a considerable pace.

“Wha - oh, yeah.” Shrugging, Zoro gives him a sheepish look. “I couldn’t text while I was driving earlier, and then I was asleep for most of your stint. Now my sister’s demanding a fucking play by play of the route so far. She also wants confirmation that you’re not some kind of serial killer.”

“Please,” Sanji scoffs, closing the last zipper on his suitcase and wandering over to the bed. “If either of us gives off a serial killer vibe, it’s you.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro asks. Holding up his phone, he waits for Sanji to take a seat next to him and then snaps a quick photo. “Why don’t we let Rona be the judge of that?”

“Marimo!” Sanji squawks indignantly. “I’m in a state of undress!”

“You’re fully clothed and she probably wouldn’t care anyway,” Zoro says dismissively. “In fact - hah. She says it’s not fair that I get a hot Christmas road trip buddy when stuff like that never happens to her. She also wants to know if you’re single.”

“Don’t worry,” he adds when Sanji flushes as red as a tomato. “You don’t actually have to answer her.”

“Tell her I’m flattered, but I like to get to know a person before I put out.” Sanji says, feeling his stomach lurch oddly when Zoro grins at this. “And also,” he adds as a spur of the moment thing, “I do happen to be single these days.”

“Cool,” Zoro replies, clearly more focused on his texting than their verbal conversation. “Well, now that I’ve satisfied her that I’m probably not going to be robbed and murdered in my sleep, I’m gonna go grab a shower.”

“Have fun,” Sanji suggests, watching as the other man twists and rolls off the bed in a surprising show of flexibility. “Don’t let yourself get all wrinkly and whatnot. It’s bad for your skin.”

Zoro gives him an aborted wave before vanishing into the bathroom with his duffel bag in hand. Sanji eyes the now closed door warily for a moment, but ultimately decides that he may as well get himself properly situated in the bed.

It’s been a long day and Sanji’s definitely tired, but he doesn’t much like the thought of being interrupted when he’s right on the cusp of falling asleep. As such, he doesn’t turn off the light once he’s under the covers, but rather continues watching the movie Zoro had left on as he waits for the other man to finish.

He’s not left waiting long. Apparently even less inclined to take forever than Sanji had been, Zoro re-emerges in under ten minutes, with water beading the green strands of his hair, and a pair of low slung sweatpants riding on his hips. He is, notably, not wearing anything else.

“Won’t you be cold?” Sanji blurts out when Zoro quirks an eyebrow at him, no doubt having caught him staring.

Zoro’s eyebrow arches impossibly higher. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, gesturing at his chest, “that’s not usually the first thing people say to me when they see me without a shirt on.”

Following the motion of Zoro’s hand, Sanji’s eyes are inevitably drawn to the nasty looking scar that spans across the length of the other man’s torso. Whatever wound had caused it had clearly been serious, and it was equally obvious that it had been inexpertly patched.

“It seemed politer than asking if you’d been inadvertently run through a meat grinder,” Sanji says finally. “Also, I’d like to reiterate my earlier comment that, of the two of us, you are definitely the one more likely to be a serial killer.”

Much to his surprise, Zoro laughs at this - a full body thing where he throws his head back while his sides heave. “You’re funny, Curls,” he says, dashing a finger over his good eye. 

“Thank you,” Sanji says primly. “Please don’t kill me when I turn my back to you.”

“Cross my heart,” Zoro promises, suiting action to words. “Now, move over. You’re definitely taking up more than your fair share of the bed.”

“Like hell I am!” Sanji squawks indignantly, and they spend the next couple of minutes squabbling like children as Zoro launches himself forward and they wrestle for control of the bed. Eventually, however, they get themselves sorted out, and Sanji slaps off the lamp with an annoyed huff.

“You’re such a bastard,” he grumbles, hiking the blankets up to his chin as the room descends into darkness. “You’d better stay on your side, or else you’re going to find my knee getting up close and personal with your dick.”

He as much feels as hears Zoro chuckle beside him. “Duly noted,” his companion says, not sounding offended in the slightest. “And since, based on the way my shin is currently throbbing, you can apparently kick like a mule, I’ll behave myself.”

“I told you,” Sanji mutters, turning on his side to try and get comfortable. “I’ve been doing savete for as long as I’ve been with my old man.”

“That being your dad, right?” Zoro comments. “The real one, I mean. Hey, can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” Sanji points out. “Two somethings, in fact, but why not make it three? Go ahead, Marimo, what’s on your mind?”

“How’d your dad really take it when you told him you were going to spend Christmas with people who make you miserable instead of him? Because I doubt he was as chill about the whole thing as you’re trying to pretend.”

Normally such an invasive question - from even a close friend, let alone a near perfect stranger - would have Sanji clamming up or possibly even lashing out. Tonight, however, he doesn’t know if he’s coming down with something or if he’s lost his mind entirely, but what actually happens is he tells the truth.

“He was disappointed,” he says quietly, gripping his hand around the edge of his pillow thanks to a sudden need to anchor himself. “And I think a little hurt.”

“Mm,” Zoro says, not sounding surprised. “That sucks.”

“It does,” Sanji agrees, “but it’s also not the end of the world. I don’t plan to make a habit out of this, and I’ll have plenty of chances to make it up to him in the future. Besides, it’s too late to change things now. The damage is done.”

“Not really,” Zoro replies, making Sanji’s eyebrows go up despite the fact that the other man can’t see it. “There’s nothing stopping you from going to his place instead of your sister’s tomorrow. I can drop you off at his restaurant just as easily.”

“That wouldn’t work,” Sanji says, even as his traitorous heart leaps at the suggestion. “My return flight’s out of Germa, not Kuraigana.”

“So switch it up, or figure out a way to drive back. I don’t know. You already saved money by not flying one way, will it really be the end of the world if it costs you a little extra to get back?”

“I - money’s not the issue,” Sanji says peevishly. “I have Reiju my word, and it’d be wrong of me to break it.”

“It was wrong of her to even ask you to do this,” Zoro replies bluntly. “She’s trying to have her cake and eat it too without taking your comfort into consideration. That’s a dick move if you ask me.”

“Which I didn’t ,” Sanji reminds him. “The situation’s complicated, okay? Don’t try and pretend like you understand all the nuances when you’ve barely known me for twelve hours.”

“ … fine,” Zoro says, his voice clipped. “My bad for thinking you might want to spend the holidays with people who actually care about you, I guess. I won’t bring it up again, but the offer stands if you want to take me up on it.”

And with that he rolls over without another word.

*****

Sanji’s uncomfortably warm when he wakes up the next morning, and it takes him a while to get his bearings. He spends the better part of a minute blinking to take in his surroundings before the previous day’s events come flooding back to him.

“Fuck,” he says quietly, glancing around until he spots the clock that he vaguely remembers having been on the nightstand when he’d gone to sleep. Its bright red numbers cheerfully inform him that it’s a little after six am, and he groans.

“Fucking early morning waking habits,” he mumbles despondently into his pillow. “Can’t even lay off when I’m supposed to be on vacation. For a given value of vacation, of course.”

He gets a faint snore in response to this statement, and it belatedly dawns on him why he’s so warm. Zoro’d migrated across the bed at some point during the night, and is now pressed up against Sanji’s back with one heavily muscled arm draped over his chest.

“Huh,” Sanji says then, not nearly as bothered by this as he probably should be. If he’s being honest, it feels kind of nice to be this close to another person, since it’s frankly been a while. On the other hand, he has his doubts that Zoro would feel the same if he woke up and found them in such a compromising position.

Figuring this means he should most likely get up, Sanji starts easing carefully out of his companions embrace. He moves slowly, so as not to wake him, and eventually is successful in managing to wriggle away.

A quick glance down at Zoro reveals that he’s now frowning in his sleep, and the hand that had previously been curled around Sanji is unconsciously clenching and unclenching in the sheets. Said hand then shifts upwards until it finds Sanji’s abandoned pillow and drags it down against its owner’s chest.

“Well, what do you know,” Sanji can’t help but snicker. “The big, bad marimo’s a sleep cuddler.”

Even though he knows he shouldn’t, he snags his phone off the end table and takes a quick picture. He’s half tempted to save it as his background image, but figures that’d be taking things too far. Instead, he goes to track down his suitcase so he can get dressed.

Zoro’s awake by the time he finally re-emerges from the bathroom, albeit for a given of ‘awake’. His good eye is open, but heavy lidded, and his hair is a riotous mess of curls that are sticking up in all directions. It takes all of Sanji’s available willpower not to make a crack about shrubbery needing to be pruned.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he says, earning himself a tired glare for his quip. “How’d you sleep?”

Judging by the glazed expression his face shifts into, Zoro needs a second to process this question. Once he does, though, he shrugs, his powerful shoulders flexing in a way that suddenly makes Sanji feel inappropriate. 

“Fine.” He says, his voice still thick with sleep.

When no other commentary appears to be forthcoming, Sanji grins. “You’re one of those people who needs like three cups of coffee just to get upright in the morning, aren’t you?”

“Coffee?” Zoro repeats, apparently having latched onto what he deems to be the only pertinent word in that sentence. 

“I don’t have any on hand,” Sanji says, not missing the way the other man slumps. “And I doubt this place has a five star breakfast menu. Why don’t you go get dressed, and I’ll see if I can’t find a drive through to hit up before we get back on the road.”

He’s clearly said too much for Zoro to process in one go, but with a bit of additional pantomiming, he manages to coax the other man out of bed and into the bathroom. He then sets about packing away his things while he waits.

Zoro looks slightly more coherent when he steps out of the bathroom fully clothed. On the other hand, he still looks vaguely corpse-like, so Sanji offers to take the morning shift behind the wheel.

“Don’t mention it,” he says when Zoro mumbles out a thanks. “In this case, it’s as much an act of self preservation as it is one of chivalry. I’d put solid money on you driving us into a ditch if I let you try and get us anywhere like this.”

That gets enough of a rise out of Zoro for him to mutter an annoyed ‘fuck off’, but he sinks right back into his half asleep stupor after he’s said it. He then trails behind Sanji as he gets them checked out, and climbs into the passenger seat with little fuss.

Sanji’s pretty sure he’s asleep again before he even has the car turned on, and he’s definitely out cold when they reach the nearest place with a drive through window because Sanji has to shake him awake.

“How do you take your coffee?” He asks once he’s satisfied Zoro’s coherent enough to understand him.

Zoro’s single grey eye blinks and slowly manages to focus. “ … black,” he says eventually, and Sanji wishes he could say he was surprised.

He orders a black coffee in the largest size the establishment offers, as well as a tea for himself and a pair of breakfast sandwiches. Then he pulls over into a parking space, figuring that’s a wiser move than trying to drive one-handed on unfamiliar roads while he eats.

Neither his tea nor his sandwich are anything to write home about, but they’re enough to fill him up in advance of the drive ahead. Meanwhile, Zoro inhales his coffee like it’s the ambrosia of the gods, and plows through his sandwich in about three bites flat.

“Are you back with me?” Sanji asks, watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Or should we go back for round two where your caffeine intake is concerned.”

“M’good,” Zoro says, swallowing the dregs from his coffee cup. “How much do I owe you for the food?”

“Nothing,” Sanji says, flapping a hand dismissively. “Consider it a thank you for being willing to cart my ass along on this little holiday jaunt, and for going out of your way to drop me off in Germa.”

“S’not that far off the map,” Zoro rumbles. He frowns then, seemingly warring with himself over something, before ultimately adding, “Still think you should just be going to Kuraigana, though. I bet both you and your old man would have a better Christmas if you did.”

“None of that, Mossball,” Sanji says, staring studiously ahead as he turns the car in the direction of the highway on ramp. “We’re not having this discussion again.”

“‘Kay,” Zoro replies, capitulating suspiciously easily. “But I’m still right.”

Gritting his teeth, Sanji doesn’t respond.

*****

They drive in stilted silence until the need to fill up the gas tank forces them to make another pit stop. Gone is the casual banter from yesterday, leaving Sanji with nothing to distract him from the nagging feeling of guilt that’s cropping up more and more the closer he gets to Germa.

Much like with breakfast this morning, Sanji decides it’s only fair if he’s the one to pay for the gas. Therefore, while Zoro’s busy wrangling the pump itself, he wanders into the station with his wallet tucked firmly in his back pocket.

There’s more of a line up than he’s expecting, and he’s quick to ascertain that one of the two cash registers is apparently not working properly. Wishing there’d been an option to pay at the pump, he tries not to let his frustration show, and finds himself fiddling with his phone as a distraction instead.

Zoro’s not the only one of them who’s been keeping his relatives in the loop regarding their little adventure, although Sanji suspects his own conversations have been both fewer and further in between. Still, he supposes now’s as good a time as any to give Reiju an update on their progress.

Pulling up his sister’s contact information, he has every intention of letting her know that they’re still on schedule and he expects to arrive before supper time. However, he notices an unread message from her first, and clicks it first figuring that makes more sense.

Father’s arranged for supper to be held at the manor tonight, and wanted me to tell you he expects us all to attend. He’s invited Charlotte Linlin and a number of her children.

Sanji frowns, immediately put on edge. He may be largely out of the loop when it comes to the Vinsmoke’s antics, but he’s nevertheless well aware that Judge has been gunning for some kind of connection to the equally wealthy Charlotte family for years. If they’re going to be present tonight, there’s no way he doesn’t have some kind of business deal in the works.

Is the man incapable of thinking about nothing else for even one night? He finds himself writing back without conscious thought. I’ll have been on the road for basically two days straight by the time I get in. I’m not interested in hanging out with a bunch of stuck up snobs I don’t know, on top of a bunch of people I do know and already don’t like. I’ll probably just hide upstairs, thanks.

Reiju’s reply when it comes in is succinct and to the point, yet simultaneously baffling.

You don’t have a choice .

Sanji stares at the single sentence, trying to will it into making some kind of sense as he waits for the line to start moving again. When that doesn’t work, he sighs and taps out the only thing he can.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Once again, Reiju must have her phone right on hand because she wastes no time in answering him. Father wants you to meet one of the daughters. It was the only way he’d agree to having you come home for the holidays. I expect you’ll like her, though. She’s a professional baker.

The feeling of another body stumbling into him is the only thing that manages to successfully shake Sanji out of the stupor this message sends him into. Glancing up, he sees that the line has moved slightly, making him have to mumble a sheepish apology to the person behind him. 

He doesn’t look at his phone again until he’s gone through the checkout and successfully paid for the gas. After this, he pulls his phone free, and finds that the content of the last text hasn’t changed. 

“What the fuck?” He mumbles aloud, but, deep down, he can’t even bring himself to be surprised.

Judge has never cared for him, is the thing. No matter how painful a statement that is doesn’t make it any less true. From the time it’d been obvious that he was smaller, weaker, and more emotional than his brothers, Judge had essentially washed his hands of him and deemed him to be beneath his notice. He’d let the other three boys use him as a punching bag, and acted as if this was something he deserved.

Sanji had suspected, the second that Reiju had extended a formal invitation to come stay at the Vinsmoke Manor , that something had to be afoot. However, the longer the other shoe had gone without dropping, the more he’d tried to convince himself that it was all in his head. That was why he’d finally conceded to her request.

Well, the other shoe has well and truly dropped now. Based on what Reiju’s alluding to, he can only assume that he’s no more welcome at the manor than ever, he’s just the means to a potential business transaction that Judge thinks might see him be useful for once.

Part of him wants to say as much to Reiju, to see if she’ll try and deny it, but the rest of him knows better. His sister will have looked at everything practically, and then determined that this is a situation where the ends justify the means. As long as she gets him home like she wants, whatever bullshit Judge has cooking in the background is simply a necessary evil for her.

Fuck , he thinks. Fuck fuck fucking FUCK! He can’t believe he’d allowed himself to be suckered into yet another Vinsmoke-style trap, and made other people he cares about miserable to boot. If he’d just gone with his gut in the first place, none of this would have happened.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh.” Belatedly realizing that his feet have carried him all the way back to the rental car without him noticing, Sanji gives Zoro an awkward shrug while the other man peers at him from over the hood of the vehicle. “Sure. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” Zoro replies bluntly. “In fact, you look like shit. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sanji denies, shaking his head. “Are you good to switch spots now?”

Zoro snorts, indicating with a jerk of his chin that he’s standing by the driver’s side door. “Obviously,” he says. “Are we all paid up?”

“Obviously,” Sanji shoots back, but his heart’s not really in it. “I’ve got no desire to spend Christmas in lock up because we got arrested for doing a gas and dash.”

“I doubt anybody does.” Zoro gives Sanji a searching look before sighing tiredly. “I guess we’d better get back on the road.”

“Yeah, guess we’d better.”

*****

Sanji’s not sure what he’s expecting to happen once they start driving again, but it’s certainly not for Zoro to begin a stream of mindless chatter that has seemingly no end in sight. 

Based on everything he’s learned about the man during their brief acquaintance he wouldn’t have expected that to be something he’s particularly skilled at, and it turns out he’d have been right. Zoro provides a bunch of commentary that Sanji can’t follow, yet at the same time, he’s filling up the car in a way that keeps him from wallowing.

Grateful for the unusual reprieve, Sanji rests his head against the window, and lets the sound of Zoro’s voice wash over him. The deep rumble is oddly comforting, and leaves him feeling touched in a way he can’t properly articulate.

They drive like this for a couple of hours, and after a while he finds himself watching the signs on the road. As time passes, he finally starts seeing one’s that indicate Germa in the distance, which in turn causes his stomach to start roiling.

If Zoro notices, he doesn’t say anything, but the flow of words is becoming even more strained than it’d been in the beginning. Maybe that just means he’s running out of steam, or maybe it means something else entirely. Sanji can’t say for certain.

What he can say for certain, is that something akin to a large ball of lead is lodging itself in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t know what to do to get rid of it. Even though he knows it’s rude, he finds himself shoving the window down and pulling out a cigarette.

Zoro stops talking while Sanji smokes, and when Sanji risks a glance at him, he sees that his mouth is set in a thin line. Whether that’s because of the cigarette or not, he’s not sure, but it’s clear he’s displeased about something.

As soon as he’s finished his smoke, he flicks the butt out the window and rolls the window back up. Rather than leaning back against it, however, he slumps down in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest.

“We’re almost to the turnoff for Germa, aren’t we?” He says, doing his best to keep his voice inflectionless.

Zoro’s gaze momentarily shifts to the car’s GPS display before returning to the road. “In about fifteen minutes, yeah,” he says. “Give or take.”

“Mhm,” Sanji replies, and then. “I was texting with my sister back at the gas station.”

“Okay.”

“She wanted to know where we were, and to let me know that her father has a fancy dinner planned for tonight.”

“ … okay.”

“I’m expected to be there,” Sanji continues on, still doing his best not to let any emotion show. “You see, Judge - that’s the bastard who unfortunately happens to be my biological father - he’s a businessman. Or, well, technically I think the correct term is ‘tycoon’, which is in turn a nice way of saying ‘criminal’.”

“He’s not a nice person, is what I’m saying,” he adds, on the off chance Zoro’s not realizing this. “Pretty much all he cares about are appearance, wealth, and power.”

“And what’s that got to do with you?” Zoro asks. “What’s so important about this dinner?”

“Well, funny story,” Sanji says with deliberately false cheer. “It turns out this specific dinner is going to include members of an even more powerful family who Judge has been trying to ingratiate himself to for ages. It also turns out that this family has a daughter who has similar interests and a similar career path to yours truly. It lastly turns out that this is the sole reason Judge is willing to let me back in the house. Isn’t that nice?”

“Curls,” Zoro starts, but Sanji cuts him off with a choppy wave of his hand.

“Don’t say it,” he groans, shifting said hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I knew there had to be a catch.”

“ … did your sister know?” Zoro asks carefully. “Like - was she in on it?”

Sanji groans again. “I wouldn’t dare to ask,” he admits quietly. “The reason being, you see, is that Reiju isn’t a liar. If I asked and she was involved, she’d tell me. Hopefully it’s just a case of her seeing a way to get what she wanted too, but I could easily be wrong on that.”

“ Fuck .” Zoro lets out a harsh breath, and when Sanji looks over, he finds that his knuckles are white due to how tightly his hands are clutching the steering wheel. “No offense, Cook, but these people fucking suck.”

“None taken,” Sanji replies tiredly. “Mainly because you’re right. They do, indeed, really fucking suck.”

“Mhm, so. What are you going to do about it?”

Sanji falls silent at this, his gaze drifting to the front windshield. Up ahead, he can just barely make out what has to be the turnoff to Germa. They’ll be there in maybe all of a minute.

“Curls?”

Sanji huffs out a ragged breath. “Take me home.” He says softly. “I want to go home.”

*****

He doesn’t bother texting Reiju back. She’s bright enough that she’ll be able to put two and two together, especially when he fails to show up at the appointed time. Instead, he leans back in his seat, now feeling like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Are you gonna let your old man know?” Zoro asks once the Germa turnoff is safely behind them.

“Nah,” Sanji replies with his first real laugh of the day. “I think I’ll just show up and surprise him. The look on his face is bound to be priceless, even if I might wind up getting kicked in the head for it.”

“He’ll be happy,” Zoro says confidently. “And you should spend your holidays with people who care about you, not people who’re trying to use you for their own fucked up gains.”

“Damn, Mossy,” Sanji says idly. “You actually do have a few working brain cells up in that grass covered head of yours, don’t you? Who would have thought?”

“Nice, Cook.” Zoro growls without any heat. “Remember, I can still leave you on the side of the road.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sanji says, definitely certain of that much. “And besides, spending Christmas on the side of the highway would still be preferable than being anywhere near Vinsmoke Judge and his godawful schemes.”

“No shit,” Zoro retorts. “I’m glad you’ve finally seen the light on that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji grumbles, refusing to be baited. “I was being an idiot, I know.”

“Hey, at least you figured it out before you endured literally the most depressing vacation I can think of,” Zoro says with a snicker. “And now you get to maybe give your dad a heart attack when he turns around and sees you standing there. It sounds fun.”

“Zeff’s made of sterner stuff than that,” Sanji assures him. “Hell, I’m not actually sure anything can kill him.”

“Well, that’s good,” Zoro replies, now laughing outright. “I’d hate to be involved in any kind of accidental patricide.”

“I’m shocked that you know that word.” Sanji quips, at which point the conversation develops into a friendly bickering match without any real heat in it.

The rest of the drive seems to fly by, and before Sanji knows it they’ve taken the correct turnoff and are passing by places and streets that he knows like the back of his hand. He can feel anticipation rising in his chest, even as his phone stays suspiciously silent where it remains tucked away in his pocket.

“Yeah, I definitely don’t recognize this place, sorry.” Zoro says when they’ve finally pulled up in front of the Baratie . “I’m sure the food’s delicious, though.”

“Nice try,” Sanji says dryly. “That’d mean a lot more if I hadn’t had first hand proof that you’ll eat literally anything that’s put in front of you. But, uh, thanks for doing this,” he adds, feeling suddenly shy. “Really. I can’t think of too many people who’d actually allow a complete stranger to tag along halfway across a state with them.”

“Eh,” Zoro shrugs, looking surprisingly pleased about the whole thing. “You didn’t look like a serial killer. And even if you turned out to be one, I figure I can take you in a fight.”

“You want to bet on that?” Sanji hears himself blurting out, sounding more serious than the silly joke deserves. “Because, remember, we do live in the same city. If you ever want to put your money where your mouth is and try sparring together - I’d be down.”

Zoro goes silent for a moment, his mouth twisting into an honest to god ‘o’ of surprise. Then, just when Sanji’s about to leap out of the car due to an onset of mortification, he shakes himself out of his stupor and flashes a broad grin.

“You’re on, Curls.” He says, his sole eye sparkling. “Loser has to make the other dinner.”

“Absolutely not,” Sanji sputters. “I’m a trained chef . If I have to feed you, you’re going to get the best meal of your life, and if you have to feed me, you still get the joy of watching me be tortured by whatever slop you create.”

“Yeah,” Zoro agrees. “Pretty great deal, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sanji snorts. “Give me your number so we can text. We’ll work out the specifics after the holidays are over and we’re both back home.”

“Spoilsport.” Zoro says, but he rattles off his contact information all the same.

Sanji sends a quick text to make sure it works, the both of them grinning awkwardly at each other when Zoro’s phone promptly buzzes where it’s currently resting in a cup holder. Then Sanji climbs out of the car, needing to grab his bags so he can get inside.

“Hey,” he says, leaning back inside once he’s got everything. “Thanks again for this. I mean it, and, uh, have a nice holiday.”

“You too, Curls.” Zoro says, his smile containing nothing but warmth this time. “I’ll see you around.”

“Text me so that I know you got in safe,” Sanji says. “With your sense of direction I don’t think it’s out of the question to worry about you winding up somewhere in the next town over.”

Zoro flips him off at this, but fondly, and Sanji laughs as he closes the door. He stands on the sidewalk until the rental car is out of sight, not at all surprised when it immediately takes a wrong turn, and then shifts to look at the entrance to the Baratie with a pleased grin stretching his face.

A few patrons shoot confused glances his way when he steps through the door with his suitcase in tow. Ignoring them, Sanji nods at a couple of waiters he recognizes, and strides towards the kitchen where he knows his old man will be holding court.

He hears Zeff before he sees him, all too familiar with the gruff, commanding voice that’s barking orders in a manner that suggests it expects to be listened to. An air of contentment washes over Sanji, and he comes to a stop not far away, watching the other chef in his element.

Zeff’s got his back to him at first, and therefore doesn’t see him. However, more and more of the staff fall silent as they notice Sanji, and that’s enough to make Zeff realize that something’s up. Turning around with an annoyed grunt, his eyes widen when he realizes who’s behind him.

“ Eggplant ?”

Normally Sanji would grimace at that obnoxious nickname, but today it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. Shrugging sheepishly, he gives his father a chagrined smile. “Hey, geezer,” he murmurs. “I figured maybe you could use an extra set of hands to help with the holiday rush.”

Zeff’s quiet for just long enough that Sanji’s starting to worry that the old man isn’t happy to see him, when he suddenly stomps forward with his arms outstretched and his prosthetic leg echoing sharply against the tiled floor.

“You damned brat ,” he snarls as he sweeps Sanji into a bone crushing hug. “Kid, I swear to god, if this was all some elaborate prank to make me more keen to see you, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“No no,” Sanji rushes to assure him. Hugging his father back just as fiercely, he allows himself a brief moment of weakness, burying his face in the old man’s shoulder and inhaling the comforting scent of him. “I wouldn’t do something like that, I swear. My fuck up was legitimate, and I only saw the light at the darkest hour.”

“Well, at least you saw it.” Giving him one last thump on the back, Zeff pulls far enough away to eye him from top to bottom, and nods. “You look good,” he decides, “if a little on the skinny side. Now, come on, let’s get your bags upstairs, and you can tell me all about how you got here.”

*****

As promised, Sanji does help with the dinner rush. Once his things are safely stored in his old room, he heads back down to where he slides seamlessly into his old role in the Baratie ’s kitchen. He spends the evening among the familiar hustle and bustle, and inevitably falls into bed later than expected with a grin on his face that would be embarrassing if anyone else saw it.

When he wakes the next morning, it’s to the smell of breakfast already cooking. He wanders out of his room to find Zeff standing by the stove, calmly flipping pancakes while the coffee maker whirs not far away.

“Morning, old man,” Sanji chirps, moving to set the table on instinct. “Merry Christmas.”

“Same to you, kid.” Zeff says, without looking up from his work. “I figure you’re old enough now, we can get some food in our stomachs first, and then open gifts after that.”

Sanji shrugs, seeing no issue with this plan, and they move around each other with practiced ease.

A couple hours later sees Sanji comfortably ensconced on the apartment’s battered couch, while Zeff has his feet propped up in his aging recliner. Sanji has a hot cup of tea resting near his elbow, a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and his phone in hand so that he can scroll through the usual assortment of holiday messages.

“Anything from your sister?” Zeff asks cautiously, and Sanji shakes his head.

“Nah, but I wasn’t really expecting that,” he admits. “She’s probably doing damage control after last night, so I figure I’ll be lucky if I hear from her before the New Year.”

“Hmm,” Zeff replies, and of course Sanji knows him well enough to be aware that he has something else he wants to say. “Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life, Eggplant, but I hope this’ll be a learning experience for you. It’s not that I don’t think Reiju loves you - she does, in her own way - but you’re unlikely to ever fully shake her free from Judge’s grip. If she can’t meet you on your own terms, you shouldn’t be catering to hers either.”

“I mean, I know you’re right,” Sanji says after a moment, “but I don’t want to just cut her out of my life, either.”

“Did I say that’s what you should do?” Zeff asks, his eyebrows raised. “I don’t think I did. What I am saying, is that it might be time to draw your line in the sand.”

“You’re right, I know you are.” Sanji says, surprised by how easy that is to admit today. Apparently pushing back against Reiju for once has done him wonders. “I’ll talk to her in the new year, and see where we go from there.”

Zeff nods approvingly and then smirks. “In the meantime, I think you should invite this boy who drove you all the way home over for supper. I imagine it’s the least you can do given how far out of his way he went for you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sanji sputters. He’d told Zeff all about Zoro the night before, and to his horror the old man now feels inclined to meet the man. “First of all, it’s Christmas and he’s busy with his own family. Second of all , not a chance. I don’t want you scaring him away.”

Zeff’s eyebrows rise even further, and he takes a pointed sip of his own beverage. “I wasn’t aware there was something to scare him away from.”

“I wasn’t - I mean - shut up .” Sanji reiterates, positive that the tips of his ears are glowing red. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Almost as if he knows they’re talking about him, at the exact moment Zeff starts scoffing sarcastically, Sanji’s phone buzzes in his hand with a text from Zoro.

Hey, Curls, Merry Christmas.

It’s short and to the point, exactly like the kind of message Sanji would have expected, but it still serves to cause something warm to form in the pit of his stomach. Ignoring Zeff’s knowing look, he thumbs the screen open to type out a reply.

Thanks, same to you! Did Santa bring you anything good?

Santa hasn’t brought me shit literally ever because my dad finds the whole concept baffling. I’m pretty content with my haul, though. You?

The same. Sanji writes back. 

Cool. Was your old man surprised?

Surprised but happy . Sanji admits. He says thanks for dragging my dumbass all the way back here .

He hesitates before sending another follow up message, but eventually decides to just go for it. He also says that you should swing by for supper so he can thank you properly .

I can’t. Zoro replies, right away, initially making Sanji’s heart sink.

Not tonight anyway , comes immediately after, making him perk up again. Rona’d strangle me if I skipped out on Christmas dinner.

What about tomorrow, though? I’ll still be in town.

That works! Swing by around 6 and I’ll come let you in!

Sanji winces after he’s sent the reply, worried that the exclamation points might have been too much, but Zoro answers him almost as fast.

I’ll be there. Can’t wait.

*****

The Baratie is closed to everything but reservations on Boxing Day, but there are still enough people around that Sanji doesn’t want to force Zoro to eat in the main dining room. Deciding to host him upstairs in the apartment instead, he texts him to use the back entrance when he arrives so he can avoid all the customers.

Zoro texts him at six o’clock on the dot to say that he’s downstairs, and Sanji breathes a quiet sigh of relief that Zeff had gotten called down to deal with a kitchen emergency a few minutes prior. He takes a moment to ensure that everything in the apartment is still moving along according to his satisfaction, before removing the apron he’s sporting and heading to greet their visitor.

The first thing he notices upon opening the back door is that Zoro appears to have dressed up. Gone are the ratty jeans and battered boots he’d been wearing during their travels, replaced instead with a pair of dark slacks and nice dress shoes. He’s also holding a bottle of wine tucked under one arm.

“My old man’s spent half his life lecturing me about how it’s rude to show up to someone’s place without a gift,” he says, following Sanji’s line of sight. “I thought his eyes were about to pop out of his head when I finally listened to him.”

“You didn’t have to do that, but thanks,” Sanji says, taking the bottle when it’s offered to him. Inspecting the label, he frowns when he doesn’t recognize it.

“It’s from his own stores,” Zoro explains, apparently noting Sanji’s confusion. “He kind of … owns his own vineyard.”

Sanji feels his eyebrows go up, but opts not to comment. “I’m sure it’s great,” he says. “Do you want to come in?”

“Sure,” Zoro agrees. “But, uh, first, I think I gotta - um - ” And then much to Sanji’s surprise, he leans forward to press a lightning fast kiss to his cheek, blushing furiously when he pulls back.

“Uhh?” Sanji says, his eyes going wide, and across from him, Zoro silently points up at the doorway arch. 

Following the line of the digit, Sanji snorts unattractively when he sees that someone has placed an incongruous sprig of mistletoe right above the entrance. Since literally no one else would be using this door today, he sighs inwardly at what can only be an act of deliberate parental intervention.

“You can pretend that was only because of the plant,” Zoro mutters from where he’s now busy staring at the ground. “Or that it didn’t happen at all if you like.”

His thoughts whirling a mile a minute, Sanji sets the bottle he’s still holding down on a nearby shelf with deliberate care, and then steps forward. “I think I’d rather do anything but,” he admits, fisting his hands in the front of Zoro’s jack and dragging him forward until their lips meet.

“So,” he murmurs when they break apart a while later. “Am I safe in assuming you’re here because you’re interested in more than just a free meal?”

In answer, Zoro grins and kisses him again.