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Sanji wakes up with an aching head and that particular itch in his chest that means he hasn't had a cigarette in far too long. He opens his eyes and takes in the sight of an unfamiliar room. It's clearly some sort of infirmary based on the beds and the little pots of medicine. It’s also on a boat no less, if the sounds of the ocean and the light back and forth rocking sensation are any indication.
He sits up slowly and rubs his forehead as a sheet slips down his torso. He's clothed only in an undershirt and trousers which aren't the clothes he last remembers wearing. His shoes and socks have been removed and when he glances around, he sees them set to the side of the bed, tucked neatly against where its legs are bolted to the floor. Oddly enough, his hair seems to be mussed, tucked over the opposite side of his face.
Before he can fix it, the door swings open and Chopper trots inside. The sight of him immediately quashes the anxiety that Sanji hadn't even realized was building inside him. He supposes he should be getting more used to waking up in strange places now that he's traveling alongside Luffy. It's happened at least a few times at this point.
“Sanji!” Chopper cries upon sighting him, immediately rushing to the desk in the corner so he can set down the tray he's holding. “How are you feeling?”
Sanji realizes now that Chopper looks a little weird. His hat is different for one. But more than that he doesn't look right. It puts Sanji on guard. It's the Grand Line. Who knows what the hell could be happening? Chopper doppelgangers and hallucinations are certainly nefarious potential threats that Sanji does not want to deal with.
“Ah, I'm alright,” Sanji says, bypassing the headache and familiar chest irritation to ask the more burning questions. “What happened? Where am I?”
Chopper stops fussing over the stuff on the tray—it looks like cloth and steaming hot water, like he was planning on making a hot compress—and turns to blink at him. “We’re in the infirmary on the Sunny.”
It's Sanji's turn to stare. “The Sunny? Is that the name of this ship?”
Chopper starts to look a little panicked. “Sanji. Do you know who I am?”
Sanji rolls his eyes. Which turns out to be a bad idea because it makes his head twinge in a way that sends pain all down his neck. “Yes. Chopper.”
“Oi,” a voice calls from outside the door. A voice that Sanji recognizes and that immediately puts his hackles up. “Chopper! I've got your damn herbs. Is the cook awake yet? Luffy’s going to start eating sand out here.”
Chopper glances at the door. “Zoro, maybe you should—”
But before Chopper can say anything else the door swings open and Zoro steps into the small room.
“Marimo?” Sanji stammers.
Because if that's Zoro then something wild happened while Sanji was down for the count. The Zoro standing in the doorway to the infirmary is not one Sanji knows. This Zoro is huge. He takes up space in a way Sanji is fairly certain he did not just yesterday (or however many days before Sanji got knocked out). And besides the sudden growth spurt, he's missing a fucking eye. Instead there's a mean vertical scar sealing his eyelid shut.
“What the hell happened to you?” Sanji demands.
Zoro scowls at him. “What happened to me? What happened to you?”
Chopper scurries up to Zoro and takes the bag he's holding out of his hand. “I think I need to run some tests.”
Amnesia. And for the dumbest reason possible. It seems like Sanji from eight years in the future (or the present or however you wanted to look at it) is a fucking dumbass and mixed up some fruit and now here current Sanji (or eight years from the past Sanji) is, waiting for the effects to wear off.
Chopper scratches his head and looks chagrined. “I'm not sure when that will be. It doesn't seem progressive at the very least. All I can suggest is that you try to follow normal routines and the memories will come back eventually.”
Great.
“Can you tell me the last thing you do remember?” Chopper asks, with his little notepad in front of him as he sits in his chair by the desk. Now that Sanji is looking at him, he can see how the changes he had noticed earlier might be the fact that he is older than Sanji remembers. Eight years older. His horns are bigger. His fur is a little darker.
Sanji glances at Zoro where he's taken up post in the corner like a concerned little lookie-loo. It total bullshit and it's pissing Sanji off. But he supposes he has bigger fish to fry.
“We’d stopped at an island after Alabasta to rest before the next island on the log pose. The damned marimo had gotten lost and Nami-san sent me to go find him but I couldn't before sunset so I made camp in a small cave and was making a fire and…” Now that Sanji's thinking about it, things start to get fuzzy in his head. Like a pile of cottony static through a bad den den mushi connection.
He frowns. “That's it I guess.”
Chopper taps his pen against his paper. “Alright, well, tell me if that changes. I suppose we should…gather everyone and tell them what happened.”
Zoro snorts and a wicked grin spreads over his face. “Oh, this will be good.”
A living skeleton and a cyborg on the crew.
Sanji should not be surprised that that happened at some point in the last eight years but he somehow still is. The fishman is not so surprising and yet still puts Sanji on guard despite the fact that Jinbei is friendly and kind and clearly understanding of the situation.
Luffy, however, finds it all hilarious.
Of all of them, to Sanji, Luffy looks the most different. He's gotten taller, broader, the beginnings of scruff on his face. The large scar on his chest doesn't mean much in the face of those physical changes. But underneath all of that, he's still Luffy, jumping around and laughing and dragging people wherever he wants them when he wants them there.
“So you don't remember anything?” Luffy asks with clear delight writ across his face as they all sit at the table in the galley of the Thousand Sunny. Sanji can't help but notice that Luffy's voice is deeper too.
“I mean I remember joining the crew. And fighting Arlong. And Crocodile.” He nods to Robin before adding sweetly with a little wiggle of his hips, “And our sweet Robin-chwaaaan.”
Robin laughs. “I forgot you used to do that.”
Sanji stops wriggling and feels a bit taken aback. He can't imagine any world where he wouldn't treat ladies exactly as he always has.
“Am I not…nice to you?” he asks, so devastated that it feels like his heart is in the pit of his stomach.
Robin pats his hand and Sanji ascends. Nevermind his heart, he is soaring. “You're very sweet, Sanji. That never stops. You just…wiggle a little less.”
“This is going to be so fun!” Luffy says, laughing with sheer delight.
Nami slaps Luffy on the shoulder playfully before leaning forward and asking, “What did Chopper tell you about the last eight years?”
Nami also looks slightly different. More tan and her hair is long, pulled into twin braids that drape over her shoulders. She's just as gorgeous as Sanji remembers and he can barely hold back the way his heart wants to flutter.
“He only told me it's been eight years.”
So, according to Nami (and the various pieces of input from the rest of the crew), it turns out Luffy is king of the pirates now. For three whole years. They've been spending their time mapping and exploring the Grand Line and not-so-officially looking for the All Blue.
“Really?” Sanji asks, trying to make sure his hand doesn't shake around his cigarette. It’s hard to believe they’ve gotten this far and that, alongside it all, the crew is focusing on fulfilling his dream.
“There's a lot of world out there, cook,” Zoro says and it's the first thing he's said in a while. Sanji's eye once more flits to him on the far side of the table. He's sort of hard to look at. Much like Luffy. So changed physically.
Sanji doesn't know what to say to that. It doesn't seem like something Zoro would say to him. Relaxed, easy, supportive. Instead, he clears his throat and stands.
“Well, I guess we keep on as normal and part of that is me making dinner. You haven't gotten a new cook in the last eight years, have you?” Sanji says with a laugh trapped behind it. He wants to feel normal and this is the best he can do.
The table laughs too but Chopper says, “Are you sure you're feeling up to it?”
“The headache’s nearly gone,” Sanji says, ignoring the warning. He’s never let a headache stop him from doing anything in his life. He won't start now.
“I can give you a hand,” Zoro offers.
Sanji responds before thinking it through. “As if I'd want help from a dirty mossball like you.”
Sanji places a cigarette in his mouth, waiting for an equally sharp retort and when none comes, he looks back at Zoro. There's discomfort, almost hurt lacing his expression and it leaves a bad taste in Sanji's mouth. What the hell?
The rest of the crew looks a little uncomfortable as they all stand and shuffle out of the galley one by one. Sanji huffs and moves around the counter to begin taking stock of the kitchen. The place really is nice. The cyborg—Franky, Sanji reminds himself—had done a wonderful job. Some of these appliances—well, Sanji has never seen anything like it.
Despite the new gadgets and the warm welcome to this new (old) version of himself, there's a fluttering anxiety in Sanji’s belly that he can't shake. Eight years missing in his brain. Clearly, based on the way the crew is acting, he's not behaving the way he would normally. He's changed in some ways. Not that he can do anything to fix that. All he can do is wait it out.
He growls in displeasure and sucks down the remainder of his cigarette. After tamping it out in one of the many ashtrays scattered through the kitchen—thanks again, Franky—Sanji goes to wash his hands and get started on supper. Braised fish will be good. Miso soup. Something classic.
Keeping his hands busy takes his mind off his worries and by the time he calls everyone in for dinner an hour later, he feels more settled.
Luffy takes one bite of dinner and makes a delighted noise. “This tastes old!”
“Excuse me?” Sanji asks as he swings his head to look at him, strongly considering giving him a swift kick.
Nami puts a hand on Sanji's arm. “I think he means that it tastes like how you used to cook.”
Sanji doesn't really know how to take that. “Is that a bad thing?”
“It reminds me of when I first joined the crew,” Brook says, polite yet clearly pleased. Sanji’s still getting used to the fact that he can talk at all.
“Don't worry about it too much,” Zoro says. He sounds dismissive which is annoying but also gentle which is weird as hell.
“Yeah, maybe it'll be nice,” Usopp says with a wide grin. Usopp too looks different. He's grown taller. He looks stronger as well and he holds himself with a confidence that surprises Sanji. “A walk down memory lane. I don't think you've made this fish in years.”
Sanji hesitates. It's one of his favorite recipes and it's hard to imagine that he would stop making it. Then again, things change. Maybe he's learned new, better things.
He slips a hand into his pocket to toy with his lighter. “Well, as long as you guys don’t mind. But I'm sure I've got recipe notes somewhere and I can brush up on those too. Make things you’re more familiar with.”
Sanji enjoys dinner. It's still weird. Three whole new crew members that he doesn't know but he mostly sits back and watches them interact. Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel that different and everyone continues to try to drag him into conversation. It’s almost comfortable.
What he notices most is that everyone seems relaxed in a way that they didn’t before he woke up from his fruit coma. There’s a subtle happiness in the air that infects even the smallest interactions. What did it take to shed so much baggage?
“If the last thing you remember is Alabasta, then you don’t remember—”
Usopp reaches over and squishes Luffy’s mouth shut. Cream from the cream puffs that Sanji passed out for dessert shoots out from between his teeth and onto the table but Luffy seems unphased. He scrapes it up with his fingers and sucks them clean.
“Maybe we don’t talk about stuff Sanji doesn’t remember,” Usopp says, looking pointedly around the table.
Robin hums. “I suppose we don't know what impact it could have on him psychologically. It could cause a nervous breakdown.”
“I don't think I'm at risk of going insane,” Sanji says with a laugh as he stands to begin cleaning up. “This might be weird but it's not that weird.”
Supper comes to a close and various members of the crew trickle out of the galley. Sanji hums off-key as he starts to collect the dishes. As always, they are practically licked clean. Sanji supposes some things don’t change.
“What are you still doing in here?” Sanji asks, unable to keep his tone as light as before when he addresses Zoro. The swordsman hasn’t left his seat and Sanji isn’t interested in entertaining him. “Don’t tell me you’re still trying to steal my liquor after all these years.”
“I help with dishes,” Zoro says, pushing back and standing up. He’s dressed differently than the perpetual half-washed white shirts he used to wear on the Merry. Instead, he’s got on a deep blue haori, belted loosely around his waist. It shows off a lot of chest. More chest than Sanji really needs to see.
“What? Is it your turn on the chore wheel?” Sanji can feel the venom creeping into his words. He can’t help it. It’s habit now, just the way he interacts with Zoro.
Zoro gives him an odd look that slowly shifts into something unsure as his single eye slides away. “I help with dishes most nights.”
Sanji doesn’t know what to say. Has Zoro had a personality transplant? Has Sanji? He helped with the dishes sometimes on the Merry. Begrudgingly and usually demanding alcohol after. Sometimes they fought and dishes broke. It honestly seems like a bad system to have them working together at all.
“Fuck off,” Sanji says. “No way.”
Zoro’s expression shutters and his hand drops to his swords. Distantly, Sanji registers that they are different than the ones he used to have. He recognizes the white one he thinks.
A little thread of guilt winds around Sanji’s heart. He’s being too harsh. He doesn’t know his history with this Zoro. He’d only known the man for a short time and whatever bad blood was between them could be long buried for all he knows. If they’re (god forbid) friends, he doesn’t want to do irreparable damage to his relationships just because he can’t keep his own asshole tendencies to himself.
“Sorry,” Sanji forces himself to bite out. “Just…yes, fine, you can help with the dishes.”
Zoro picks up a few plates and makes his way to the sink. As he lets the plates slide into the dishwater he says, “I forgot how wound up you used to be.”
Sanji sucks in a breath. Forget trying to be nice. “Are you trying to provoke me?”
Zoro holds up his hands in surrender, glancing once at him and then moving back to the table to get more dishes. It's then that Sanji notices the little tick of his mouth. Like he's teasing.
“Maybe you shouldn't be so easy to provoke,” Zoro replies, taking the next stack of dishes to the sink.
Sanji clicks his tongue against his teeth dismissively but bites down on anything else he might say. He is not going to fight with Zoro. His head still hurts, he’s tired, and it’s not worth it.
They fall into the work side by side in the quiet, just the sound of the water and Sanji decides maybe it was good that he didn’t start a fight. It's peaceful. Almost nice.
“I was worried, you know,” Zoro ventures suddenly and Sanji pauses for a moment in his work before forcing his hands to resume their steady work.
“What about, marimo? You never struck me as the worrying type.”
Zoro is scowling at the towel in his hands as he dries the dishes and sets them in the rack to be put away once they finish. “You passed out. You never pass out. I didn't know—I guess im just glad you're alive.” Then he meets Sanji's eyes and gives him a rueful smile that makes Sanji's chest feel funny. “Even if you were a total dick when you were nineteen.”
“I’m a dick?” Sanji splutters. “You're a dick!”
Zoro gestures widely with the towel, flapping it in his face. “See what I mean?”
Sanji considers sacrificing a plate to the cause of shattering it over Zoro's head.
“Don't worry,” Zoro says. “You grow out of it.” Then he frowns. “Sort of.”
Sanji growls. “Shut up. We are finishing this in silence or I am kicking you out of the kitchen.”
“I'd like to see you try,” Zoro says, mostly to himself and yet it pisses Sanji off so bad that he grabs the plate from Zoro's hands and shoves him.
“Yeah, you're right. We are done. Out.”
Zoro laughs. He sounds fucking delighted to be bullied out of the kitchen by Sanji.
Sanji ends up staring at the galley door after he pushes Zoro through it. He hadn’t known Zoro could be that lighthearted.
It's not that they weren't fighting. They were. Sort of. More like they were bickering. And Zoro seemed to like it. He seemed pleased by it.
Sanji scoffs as he returns to the sink to finish with the drying. “Fucking freak.”
Sanji has bigger things to worry about than a friendly mossball. Namely getting his memories back as swiftly as possible.
The Sunny is huge.
It's late when Sanji finishes up after supper and Chopper toddles into the kitchen in order to give him a tour.
Chopper explains the aquarium, the bathrooms and the gardens and that while they can all use the crow’s nest, it's technically Zoro's de facto work out room. There are also several small cabins for sleeping and Chopper shows him to his.
“We used to have a bunk room too. Like the Merry,” Chopper says, “but Franky made us these for more privacy."
Sanji snorts. He supposes he can't complain about having a room to himself in the state he's in.
Chopper leaves him to it and while he’s exhausted, he gathers a towel to make his way back to the baths.
Sanji has avoided looking in a mirror since he woke up. He doesn't think anything horrific has happened to his face, but he can't be sure. At the very least, he has both eyes unlike Zoro.
The bathroom is shockingly luxurious for a boat, but Sanji is coming to understand that Franky is something of a miracle worker and this boat is not a normal boat. There are showerheads and a bathtub for soaking. Next to the door is a little mirror. Sanji takes a breath and looks at himself.
Given the fact that he doesn't have the immediate urge to scream, he thinks he's in pretty good shape. He already knew his hair was parted on a different side but he's lost all the baby fat from his face. He looks older. His facial hair is coming in fuller.
“Fuck,” he says as he scrapes a hand through his slightly longer hair. This will take some getting used to.
Well, hopefully, his brain will reset quickly and he won't have to waste time getting used to it at all.
As he showers, he catalogs a few new scars that he doesn't remember. A long one on his shin that's probably from a compound fracture, a twisty thing on his hip he’d guess was from dodging a blade, and the one that gives him the most pause is an obvious stab wound in his left side. The scar is ridged and knotted and when he presses his fingers against it, it feels strange and bumpy. Carved deep.
How odd to see a history he can't remember written across his body.
He tries not to linger in the confusion and anxiety that hasn't gone anywhere since Chopper gave him his diagnosis. It's not as if he can do anything and freaking out will make it worse.
After he showers, he winds his way back to his cabin. It takes some effort to remember the way but he's not Zoro and he refuses to get lost aboard the damn ship.
The cabin is small—room enough for a trunk and the hammock bed. But Chopper's right. The privacy is nice.
Sanji drops his dirty clothes in a hamper in the corner and crawls into bed. He's taken aback by the smell of what he can only assume is his own cologne. It's different than what he's used to, sweet like vanilla. He tucks his hands up under the pillow to readjust in the bed and makes contact with some bunched fabric. Frowning, he pulls it out.
Even in the dark, he can tell it's some article of clothing. He spreads it out in his lap and slowly a picture forms because he recognizes it. It's a duplicate of the haori Zoro was wearing at dinner except in deep green. Sanji frowns. What the hell is he doing with one of Zoro's shirts?
A few potential explanations flit through his mind. First, a mistake with the laundry. But he dismisses that given that it hardly makes sense that a shirt would be balled up under the pillow of a made bed.
Second seems even more impossible and with it the entirety of Sanji's blood drains from his face. If Zoro's shirt is in Sanji's bed, then in all likelihood, Zoro left his shirt in Sanji's bed. which probably happened because… because…
Sanji stares down at the haori, face flaming.
It's not that Zoro is a guy. Well, it sort of is that Zoro is a guy. Sanji had a whole crisis when he was fifteen after realizing that the weird feelings he was having about a repeat male customer at the Baratie were attraction. But Sanji has never done anything about that crisis. Actually, maybe he has in the last eight years, but how is he to know?
It's more mortifying that it’s Zoro. Who he has kicked through walls and across the deck and screamed at and thought about strangling.
Sanji flops back onto his pillow and holds the haori to his chest. Is this why Zoro was so nice to him? Why he'd looked hurt when Sanji was flippant and mean? What kind of relationship do they have? Does the crew know? Fuck.
Sanji rolls onto his side. He doesn't know what he's meant to do about this. He doubts that future him would enter into a relationship that made him unhappy and he doesn’t want to ruin that for himself because he's uncomfortable.
Whatever's going on between him and Zoro, he'll just stick to the status quo and try… not to be an asshole. Sanji grimaces and fists his hands in the fabric of the haori.
This is going to be hard.
Sanji wakes up early as always to smoke his first cigarette before starting on breakfast.
When he opens his eyes, his bedroom is still unfamiliar and he still feels nineteen, still missing the Baratie and expecting to step into the galley of the Merry.
It's fine, he tells himself as he leans against the railing and watches the sun rise while he smokes. Soon enough, he won't feel this way.
Not that that thought is particularly comforting. It's like he's expecting himself to go away. For his very being to change. But he supposes that's better than this out of place, out of time sensation.
The crew makes a lot of noise about the pastries he makes for breakfast. Jinbei says he's never had occasion to eat them before and Usopp explains it's because Sanji hasn't made them since before—and then he refuses to explain himself which is annoying. Sanji doesn't appreciate the crew's effort to redact his history (future?) from himself.
After the meal, Sanji is left to his own devices and he ends up pottering around the galley making lists of things he'd like to restock. It's what he'd be doing on the Merry so he does it here.
Once that's done, he makes up sweet drinks for the girls. It's only after he finishes that he realizes that he's not entirely sure he still knows what they like. He assures himself it's fine. If they liked it once, they'll still enjoy it even if it's no longer their favorite. He makes sweet strawberry juice for Nami and cool cucumber water for Robin before putting together snacks for the boys. He doesn't know what Brook, Franky and Jinbei like yet so he hopes the usual fare will do well enough.
He swoops out onto the deck and into chaos. Chopper is on the swing which seems normal enough but Luffy is trying to throw Usopp overboard as Brook watches and drinks tea, laughing in that over the top way. Robin is sitting on her chair, speaking with Jinbei about something Sanji can't hear while Nami berates Franky for wasting the berries she gave him at their last stop.
Sanji pauses and watches it all unfold for a moment. His mind whirls over itself, unsure where to go, what to do or if he should even do anything. How does the normal Sanji fit into this disarray?
“What are you thinking about?”
Sanji startles at Zoro's sudden presence at his elbow and he gives the swordsman a withering glance. He's still not used to how big he is. Shouldn't he be lumbering and loud too? Not able to sneak up on people.
“Why do you want to know?” Sanji asks, feeling prickly.
“You've got a funny look on your face.”
Sanji lets out a breath and shifts the tray he's holding from one hand to the other. “Everyone just seems so happy.”
“They'd be fine if you interrupt,” Zoro says, annoyingly getting to the heart of the matter.
Looking at Zoro now floods Sanji with a reminder of everything he discovered the night before. The shirt. The realization that he's probably dating (or at least sleeping with) the mossheaded bastard. A blush starts to creep up over his cheeks and he wants to hide. He doesn't even have a cigarette to calm himself down.
“Right,” he says through a scoff, like maybe he can play it off as nonchalant and Zoro won’t notice he's embarrassed. “Whatever.”
He moves across the deck with as much confidence as he can muster. He imagines he can feel Zoro’s eyes on him which is nervewracking. He doesn’t know what the mosshead is thinking. If the nature of their relationship is romantic now, does that mean he’s thinking romantic thoughts? Oh, shit. What if he's thinking sexual thoughts?
The possibility of that sends Sanji’s stomach careening in ways he’s not sure how to understand. He can’t imagine he’s made it to twenty-seven without having sex, but at nineteen he certainly hadn’t managed it. His poor virgin brain can't deal with this.
He feels pathetic and annoyed about feeling pathetic as he hands off Robin's drink, leaning into a sweet smile in favor of identifying any of the thoughts in his head. She looks amused as she takes the glass from him and Sanji once more wonders how different he is that whatever he's doing warrants that response. At least Nami acts much the same, taking her drink with a smile and a thank you before Sanji starts handing out snacks to the boys.
Sanji ends up by the railing, tray tucked under his arm as he lights a cigarette, enjoying a sense of satisfaction knowing he has taken care of everyone.
“Oh! I see an island!” Usopp calls, mouth full of apple slices.
Luffy hops down from the figurehead, already whooping. “An island? Nami! Namiiiii…”
Nami stands up from her chair and then looks down at the log pose on her wrist. It's different than the one Sanji is used to.
“We can stop if you want,” she says. Then she looks over at Sanji. “Does the kitchen need anything?”
Sanji moves away from the railing and blows out smoke. “We're low on pork.”
Nami rolls her eyes. “Of course we are. I can't guarantee the place is inhabited. Nobody told me about it at the last island.”
Luffy drops an arm around her shoulders. “It's boring if every island is inhabited. There's more stuff to see when no one lives there.”
Zoro comes up behind him and yanks him away from Nami like an owner scruffing a cat. “Luffy, the cook's got eight years missing in his head. Remember that.”
Luffy laughs and wriggles out of Zoro's hold, skipping over to Sanji's side. “Sanji can handle it. And if he can't, we can protect him. Besides, he can always—”
Usopp whacks Luffy on the head. “Sanji doesn't know about that. Keep it to yourself.”
Sanji wants answers but more than that he balks at the idea of needing protection. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Luffy ruffles his hair and Sanji knocks his hand away with a growl.
“We're going to have a lot of fun!”
A lot of fun turns out to be traipsing across rocky terrain in search of anything interesting which there really isn't by Sanji's estimation unless you count crabs. Usopp happily catches them for supper at least.
Sanji heads back to the beach as the sun starts to set while Luffy, Robin and Franky continue digging around the inner reaches of the island. Robin seems to think there's some sort of historical significance to some sculpture she found but Sanji didn't really understand. He'd rather get started on dinner anyway.
It's all so boring and normal that Sanji is taken entirely by surprise when the ship nearly tips over.
The pot on the stove falls to the floor and boiling water and crabs slide all over the ground. Sanji himself is flung against the sink, discombobulated for a moment before he gathers himself and rushes out onto the deck.
There's a fucking giant octopus climbing the side of the Sunny like a ladder and Sanji blinks at it for a moment, confused as to what he’s looking at before he realizes he should do something. A few kicks should do.
But before he can move, Zoro is there, sliding past him with a swipe of his sword. The octopus makes a loud shrieking noise and the boat rocks again as it slips from the side of the ship, plopping into the ocean with such a magnificent splash that water washes over the deck. Some of it soaks the bottom of Sanji's shoes.
Sanji whirls on Zoro in irritation. “You didn't have to do that.”
Zoro's expression is a strange mixture of smug and confused. Sanji has no idea why confused is even in there. It’s making Sanji angrier by the second.
“I could have handled it. I didn't need you rescuing me,” Sanji goes on to explain, chewing on the end of his cigarette, a bad habit that's getting worse the more time he spends around Zoro.
“The thing woke me up so I took care of it. It had nothing to do with you,” Zoro says, rolling his eye but even then there's very little heat in his words. “Of course you could have handled it. It was just a damn octopus.”
The admission takes the wind out of Sanji's sails. The Zoro he knows would have met him toe-to-toe, fought back, bared his teeth. Sanji doesn't know what's happening.
“Why are you acting like that?” he demands.
Zoro frowns. “Like what?”
“Nice to me.”
Zoro's frown somehow creases deeper. “I'm not being nice to you.”
Nice sounds like a dirty word in his mouth.
“Bullshit. Last I remembered you’d have your swords out by now and you'd be halfway to trying to shove them down my throat. Not whatever this is.”
Zoro looks uncomfortable again. Same as before and Sanji remembers that maybe he's pressing against some sort of relationship he shouldn't be.
“I guess our relationship is different than it was eight years ago,” Sanji offers. He slips the butt of his cigarette into the pouch he keeps them in and puts it in his pocket before seeking out a new one. He feels like he needs to smoke a thousand cigarettes to have this conversation.
“Something like that,” Zoro admits, very obviously hedging.
It's so awkward.
Sanji hates that answer. He hates this. He growls and snaps, “Can't you be fucking normal?”
“I'd say it's you that needs to be normal,” Zoro counters and Sanji can't bear it anymore. He turns on his heel and marches back into the galley. He has crabs to rescue from the floor anyway.
Sanji's memory seems firmly out of reach. It's been a week and they've made landfall at two islands and he's still not remembered anything.
Zoro has helped him with dishes every night and Sanji hates to admit it but its slowly growing familiar. Theres an ease to it, a rhythm. He wants to bite and snap and kick, but Zoro seems happy to exist quietly with him, murmuring soft questions about his plans for cooking the next day, asking how he slept, and not pushing at all.
It's like he cares about him and it's weirding Sanji the fuck out.
If they are dating, Sanji wonders how Zoro feels about all this because he's not giving anything away. The biggest tell is only when Sanji's patience snaps. When he falls into old patterns. When some poisonous thing slips from his mouth and Zoro recoils.
It's really fucking confusing.
“Are you okay to make a trip to the market?” Nami asks from her perch at the bar while Sanji slices tangerines for the cake he's making.
“Why wouldn't I be?” Sanji asks and Nami hums, taking an offered slice of tangerine so she can suck the juice from it.
“You're still getting used to the crew and the ship. I don't want you doing anything that you don't want to do,” she says.
“Oh, Nami-san, you care about me so much! I'll do anything for you,” Sanji croons, feeling quite blessed by her attention. It continues to astound him that she got even more beautiful over the years. Though he shouldn't have been surprised. His Nami was always going to be a goddess.
She drops a stack of berries on the counter. “Good. You and Zoro usually hit the markets. Franky is on watch since he wanted to work on the helm. Don't do anything stupid.”
Sanji watches her leave the galley, feeling out of sorts and maybe a little swindled. Him and Zoro. Is this another of their rituals? Dishes and groceries? How disgustingly domestic.
But he told Nami he would do it, so he will.
When he finishes making the tangerine syrup and pulls the cake from the oven to cool, he washes his hands and heads out onto the deck. Zoro is napping in the grass so Sanji nudges him in the ribs with his shoe.
“C'mon,” he says, “Nami said we had errands to run.”
Zoro opens his eye and starts to stretch, a long cat-like movement. “Whatever, curly.”
That's new. Curly. Not dartboard or shithead or asshole. It makes Sanji's chest go tight as he looks down at Zoro.
It's hard to admit, even in his head, but Zoro has always been attractive. There's a distinct line between knowing someone is attractive and being attracted to them and for Sanji, he'd always thought that line was a mile wide between him and Zoro. But looking at him now, he sees the way the sun highlights his cheekbones, makes his hair a dappled green and even worse, the lazy, taunting grin on his mouth as he looks up from the grass, and that line shrinks razor-thin. A fucking breeze would topple him over it.
Clearing his throat, he offers Zoro a hand. Zoro pauses for a moment before taking it and rising to his feet.
“What's on the list for today?”
“A lot of meat,” Sanji says, releasing his hand and ignoring the tingling in his palm. He's not about to suddenly want to touch Zoro. That's not a thing. That's never been a thing.
“Is the fish not good enough?” Zoro asks and for once Sanji can tell he's teasing despite the flat tone of his voice.
“I think Luffy would die if I only fed him fish,” Sanji says, equally wry in his response.
Zoro trails him off the ship as they make their way into town.
Sanji starts to feel awkward in the silence as they walk up the dock. Best he can do is make conversation. “Isn't there anything you need to buy?”
“Yeah, definitely not. I'm just here to help you,” Zoro says with another stretch and obvious yawn.
“Is that…what you usually do?” Sanji asks tentatively, somewhat afraid of the answer. Was he right? Do they have these little grocery shopping dates? Worse, do they drop everything off on the ship and find some corner to fuck in after? Sanji's face flames in response to the thought. He doesn't even want to consider it.
“Pretty often,” Zoro says. “Except when you get your panties in a twist.”
“Hey,” Sanji says and he stomps on Zoro's foot.
Zoro squeaks and it's so funny that it breaks Sanji out of his annoyance. He has to stop walking so he can laugh. He ends up clutching at his side just to stop the stitch forming there.
When he can finally breathe again, Zoro is scowling at him and Sanji waves his hands in front of himself. “The sound you made was so stupid,” he explains.
Zoro flicks his forehead. “You're stupid.”
The way he says it isn't really angry though. It's… Sanji doesn't want to admit it but it's fond. Affectionate. Sweet.
His stomach turns over. He can't believe this. This is Zoro. Mean shitty Zoro. Looking at him like he's delightful.
Sanji shoves his hands in his pockets and pushes up onto the dock so they can continue their way into town. He doesn't think he can handle any more of this. It's going to do damage to his health at this rate.
But as he plucks through fruits and vegetables and Zoro stalwartly follows along beside him, he starts to wonder: is it so bad? Would it be okay to just enjoy this? If future him is really in a relationship with the mossball then current him can just… go along with it until his memories come back. He doesn't have to feel weird or bad or get caught up in whatever anxieties are trying to make themselves known. He's feeling weird for no reason. This sort of thing is normal for Zoro.
Zoro can be nice to him — or whatever this is — and Sanji doesn't have to fight it. Because as they make their way back to the ship laden with groceries, Sanji is forced to acknowledge he can already feel the way his treacherous heart is melting.
Sanji once more wakes up in the infirmary.
“You're such a dumbass.”
He sits up, noting he's both shirtless and very damp. “What happened?”
“You took a cannonball to the head and fell overboard. I had to fish you out after you went flying,” Zoro says. He's sitting next to the bed on a stool, looking fierce and ready to rip Sanji's teeth out.
“To the head?” Sanji repeats in disbelief. “I'm pretty sure that would kill me.”
“Not anymore,” Zoro says, reaching out to brush his fingers over the back of Sanji's hand. Sanji sucks in a breath and retracts his hand quickly in surprise.
When he looks back at Zoro, he has that same hurt expression that has come and gone since Sanji woke up like this three weeks prior. Sanji has come to hate it. He doesn't know how to stop himself from bringing it about.
“I'm guessing the blow to the head didn't knock your memories loose,” Zoro says as he stands and moves to Chopper's desk to retrieve a cup of water which he immediately shoves into Sanji's hands.
“Drink.”
Sanji grumbles at his tone but takes a sip. It does soothe his dry mouth and he finishes the cup easily. When he sets it down in his lap, he takes stock of his body. Chopper must have taken off his shirt to check his injuries because his chest is bare and his shoes are once more tucked against the foot of the bed.
Looking at the pale expanse of his chest, his eyes are once more drawn to the large scar on his left side and he brings his hand to it.
“Do you know what happened here?” Sanji asks thoughtfully.
Zoro hums. “I killed you.”
Sanji's eyes fly to him. “Excuse me? I'm obviously not dead.”
“Didn't stick,” Zoro says with a shrug. He takes a seat, this time on the edge of the mattress, so much closer to Sanji. He has the absurd urge to press even closer like he wants to tuck his face against Zoro's shoulder. He can't understand it.
“Are you going to explain yourself or are you just going to drop something insane like that and leave it?” Sanji asks irritably.
“I'm going to leave it.”
“Ugh, you're such a bastard,” Sanji groans and Zoro knocks their elbows together.
“You'll remember eventually,” Zoro says and it's got that odd soft quality that makes Sanji's heart skip. “You don't need to right now. Just enjoy yourself. Get to know the crew. Stay safe. Stop getting thrown overboard. You're the dartboard. Not the dart.”
Sanji shoves him. “You're such a fucking idiot. You're not funny.”
Zoro lets himself be shoved but he's grinning, falling back a little before he stands and goes to leave. For a flash, Sanji imagines grabbing his hand and asking him to stay. But that seems unbearably embarrassing so he doesn't.
“Get some rest, curly,” Zoro says and then he slips from the infirmary.
Curly. There it is again.
Why does it feel like a pet name?
Zoro has been solemn all day. It throws Sanji off. He's gotten used to this new, more smiley Zoro. He's always playing around with Chopper and Luffy or laughing about something or other with Jinbei at the helm.
The main reason Sanji knows Zoro is even being weird is that he loiters in the galley most of the day, quietly caring for his swords at the table. Sanji would chastise him for doing it where they eat, but there's something so serious about him that Sanji can't bring himself to do it.
Zoro finally disappears in the afternoon for several hours, leaving Sanji to breathe. He doesn't show up for dinner but the rest of the crew is hardly subdued so Sanji forgets his absence in the chaos. It's only after everyone's left that he realizes he's stuck doing dishes alone. It's been three weeks and he's gotten used to Zoro's steady presence. How ridiculous. Is this what happened to older him? This slow unknowing slide?
The door to the galley opens and Sanji turns to see Zoro with a bottle in his hand. It strikes him then that in the weeks he's been recovering from his fruit-induced memory loss, he hasn't seen Zoro drinking the way he used to. No perpetual bottle tucked against his side.
“C’mon,” Zoro says, jerking his head towards the deck. “Share this with me.”
Sanji frowns. “I'm cleaning up.”
“We can finish later.”
With a sigh, and curious in spite of himself, Sanji leaves the dish he's holding in the sink and follows Zoro out onto the deck. Zoro drops down into the grass so Sanji follows suit.
“I know you don't remember,” Zoro says before popping the cork on the bottle. “But you always get drunk with me today.”
Sanji scoffs as he tucks a cigarette into his mouth. His pulse is refusing to obey him and he feels ridiculous. All he can do is say something dismissive to try to play it off. “What? Sunday?”
“Nah,” Zoro says. “It's an anniversary.”
Sanji's heart clutches. “Of what?”
“My friend's death.” Zoro leans back on his hand. He looks contemplative for a moment and Sanji's glad he's sitting on his good side because it's easier to read his expression. “I used to get drunk alone but you called me out on it.”
“Oh,” Sanji says, feeling stupid and at a loss as Zoro hands him the bottle. “How long have we…”
He's not sure what he's asking so he takes a large swallow. At least it doesn't burn too much.
"Since I beat Mihawk three years ago.”
Sanji chokes around the sake in his mouth. “You beat Mihawk? How have you not been shoving that in my face since I woke up?”
Zoro shrugs. “I knew we'd talk about it eventually.”
It had been such a huge part of what drove Zoro when they first met. Why he had been injured. His dream. It had been his dream. "Were you happy?" he asks. "When it happened?”
“Define happy," Zoro says with a hum, clearly teasing.
Sanji knocks their shoulders together. “You're such a shithead.”
Zoro gives him that feral-edged grin, a moment of gloating that dissipates into that same solemn thoughtfulness that has plagued him all day. “You reach a goal and then what's next? I think about that sometimes. How do I get better? What do I work towards?”
Sanji takes another drink. He thinks he understands what Zoro means. He passes the bottle back to Zoro as his stomach warms with the alcohol. “What would your friend say? Do you think?”
Zoro lets out a wry laugh. “She would kick my ass for even talking about this and then call me a dumbass before telling me that I should keep working hard no matter what.”
It makes Sanji laugh too. "She's probably right."
Zoro lets out a long audible breath and it gives Sanji a moment to tip back to look at the sky. This stretch of sea is clear and warm. It's a nice night for this. Like it was made for it.
“I should make us something to eat,” Sanji says after a moment of quiet. “You didn't have dinner.”
Sanji goes to lift himself to his feet but Zoro's hand on his forearm gives him pause. It's a gentle touch, warm and soft despite the toughened calluses on his palms. It sends a shiver through Sanji and he realizes that it's finally happened, that razor line has disappeared entirely. This is attraction plain and simple. He just doesn't know what he wants to do about it.
He supposes if they're dating or sleeping together or whatever he can act however he pleases knowing this feeling is mutual. He should probably be grateful. To be able to slip into a crush with the certainty it's already reciprocated. Now, he just has to get comfortable with these feelings which is a tall order in and of itself. He sits back in the grass and challenges himself to scoot a little closer.
One inch. Two inches. He can feel Zoro’s body heat as he moves closer. Then their arms press together and Sanji tries to remember to swallow. He didn't die. His heart is in his throat but not in a bad way.
“Yeah, ok,” he chokes out. “I'll stay a bit longer, marimo. But don’t think you’ll get away without dinner.”
“I wouldn't dream of it,” Zoro says, clearly teasing. Which still feels new and sweet and is even worse on Sanji's heart.
He can do this. So what if he likes Zoro? Zoro likes him. They're sleeping together. Sanji is allowed to enjoy it.
Sanji tips against him exactly the way he wants to and lets his head come to rest on Zoro’s shoulder. For a moment it's almost as if Zoro stiffens under the contact but the sensation is fleeting.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Sanji asks, afraid he's fucked up somehow, like maybe his own nerves are evident.
Zoro hums, an indistinct noise. So Sanji decides not to move and they stay like that for a while until Sanji hears Zoro's stomach grumble.
“No more excuses,” he says, once more pulling away. He feels simultaneously relieved to put some distance between them and completely disappointed to no longer be touching Zoro. Is this what real romance is like? Full of heart pounding terror and euphoria simultaneously? “I'll bring out something out for you to eat.”
He feels Zoro's eye on him as he walks away and he desperately tries not to feel embarrassed. He's allowed to have this.
The next morning goes smoothly. Everyone enjoys a simple breakfast rice porridge and spread of fruit. Chopper checks up on him but when he denies any changes, leaves him to his own devices.
Sanji starts on some bread after he cleans up from breakfast and the crew goes about their business. As it rises, he does a little snooping to no avail. He's frustrated about his inability to find his recipe notes. He knows himself well enough that he knows he would keep notes somewhere. Maybe not full recipes but he likes to jot things down. Little pieces of information and inspiration. Enough that he'd be able to cobble things together.
Given the work put into the kitchen, and the general dynamic he understands of the current crewmembers, he knows who he should ask about different types of storage on the Sunny.
“Hey, Franky,” Sanji calls over to where Franky is busy working on something to do with the railing at the stern just before lunch. Sanji isn’t sure what but he has a hammer in his hand.
Franky pops his head up. “What’s up?”
“Do you know where I store my cookbooks? I’ve looked through my locker and around the kitchen but can’t find them. I was wondering if you maybe made some storage or something.”
Franky stands up, hammer dropping to his side. “Yeah, um, I built a shelf up in the crow’s nest for them.”
“The crow’s nest?” Sanji repeats. “But isn’t that where Zoro trains?”
Franky turns the hammer over in his hands. “I just take requests, man. I don’t ask questions.”
Confused, Sanji thanks him and heads to the crow’s nest. Zoro isn’t up there when Sanji makes his way inside. He’s probably napping somewhere in a sunny patch on deck. Still so like a cat. Some things really never change. The fact that the thought fills Sanji with a simmering fondness should be alarming but he's starting to feel a bit more accepting about the whole thing. Maybe future him is less of a fuck up and put some thought into who he chose as a partner. Sanji can only hope.
Sanji shuts the hatch and surveys the space. There's lots of weights and various other exercise equipment. Towels. A low bench that runs the length of the wall and in one spot a few pillows and blankets that look very well loved.
Sanji approaches that spot and notes that beneath it, the bench slides open revealing a nook filled with tattered notebooks. He pulls one out and drops down onto the little cozy spot.
“Shit,” he says to the empty room.
How much time does he spend up here? Has this become his refuge like it’s Zoro’s? Do they spend time together, Zoro quietly lifting weights while Sanji reads over recipes?
Sanji’s stomach does something funny.
The hatch to the crow’s nest opens and Sanji scrambles to hide the notebook in his hands which he abruptly realizes is dumb as hell given the fact that it is his own notebook. Zoro pulls himself inside and gives Sanji an odd look. It’s only now that Sanji realizes the look feels odd because there’s this underlying softness to it, a thread of affection that he hadn’t understood until this very moment.
“Marimo,” Sanji croaks. “I—”
He doesn’t know what to say.
“I didn’t realize you were up here,” Zoro says. He stifles a yawn, face scrunching up before he stretches in a way that pulls at the fabric of his shirt, exposing more skin. It makes Sanji's neck hot just to look at him, something new and needy boiling away in his belly.
“I was going to train.”
Sanji's heart thumps hard in his chest. How in love is future him that this is where he chooses to spend his free time? Just sitting with Zoro for the sake of it. Sanji thinks he understands anyway. He's half buried in the feeling already.
Sanji stands up and bends to shut the door to the storage cubby. He pockets his notebook.
“You don’t have to leave,” Zoro says, still sounding sleepy.
Sanji’s heart is still hammering as he approaches him. “I’ll be back up with a snack for you. How about that?”
He can do whatever he wants. Because they're in a relationship. And Sanji's chest is currently swirling like a high tide. He knows this urge and he doesn't want to deny himself. Why should he? He wants to kiss Zoro so badly that he can feel it in his toes. Trying not to overthink it, he leans in and presses their mouths together briefly. “Don't overdo it.”
Zoro's eye is wide when Sanji pulls back. For a moment he flounders. That's not the face of someone used to being kissed by his boyfriend. Zoro snatches his arm. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Sanji says evasively, trying to pull away unsuccessfully because Zoro's upper body strength is no joke.
“You kissed me, curly.”
“No, I didn't,” Sanji lies. Badly.
A blush is starting to burn over his face. He knows what he looks like when he blushes and it is bad.
Zoro releases his arm, apparently aware that the vice grip he has on him might be unpleasant. “Why?”
“Why?” Sanji repeats. He is swiftly coming to terms with the fact that he read the situation wrong, but also he doesn't know what that means about all of this. About the way Zoro treats him. About the way Sanji clearly acts when he's got all his memories. “I thought we—I thought we were together.”
Zoro's mouth works. His jaw ticks. He takes a step back. Then he starts to pace. “You thought what?”
“You're so nice to me!” Sanji says. He's getting angry. He doesn't know how not to get angry. “And I apparently spend all my free time up here. And I found your fucking shirt in my bed which—”
With dawning horror, Sanji realizes an alternate reading of the situation. His knees start to feel not so good so he wobbles over to the bench and sits down on it. He's queasy just thinking about it.
“Am I pining over you?” Sanji starts mindlessly patting down his jacket for his cigarettes. “You?”
Zoro stops pacing and looks at him. He looks uncomfortable. Then chagrined. “Well…maybe.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I think we were both—”
Zoro cuts himself off.
Sanji bares his teeth. “I will kick your face in if you don't spit it out.”
Zoro visibly rolls his eye which is annoying since Sanji also knows he probably can't beat Zoro with an eight year hole in his head. But he'd rather die than stop threatening him the way he deserves.
“Over the last year or so I'd gotten the feeling we might both—” Zoro groans. “Shit, cook, this is embarrassing,” Zoro says and there's a flush on his face that Sanji is mortified to realize he finds cute.
He holds his ground in spite of that. “We might both..?”
“Be interested in more,” Zoro finally admits with a grimace. Sanji's heart leaps.
“But you hadn't…”
“I was planning on saying something,” Zoro says. “I was just…trying to figure out the best way. You're still obsessed with romance and stupid shit.”
“Hey!” Sanji protests. And then it sinks in. “Wait, were you trying to figure out how to make a romantic declaration?”
Zoro's face pinches like he's tasted something bad. “Don't say it like that.”
“This is the best thing that's ever happened to me,” Sanji crows. “You're so into me that you want to confess to me perfectly.”
“Well, you're so into me that you're sleeping with my shirt like a pervert," Zoro retorts.
That shuts Sanji up. But not for long because he has questions about this situation that seems stupider the longer he considers it.
“If we both like each other,” Sanji asks, “how come I haven't said anything?”
Zoro shrugs. “You still get pretty skittish about feelings at the end of the day. Sometimes, I thought you might come out and say it but you never did.”
To be frank, that sucks. Sanji doesn't like to think he would be the sort of person to sit on his feelings if he thought they were reciprocated, but he's forced to admit - after reflecting on the last two weeks - maybe he's not that good at talking about how he feels.
Zoro frowns and his tone takes on a bitter edge as he continues, “And you sleep with everything that moves.”
Well, that answers the virgin question.
“You sleep around a lot too,” Sanji points out. “Or you did.”
He is dead certain that Zoro would disappear with random guys from bars. Sanji strongly remembers bumping into him after he left an alley and watching some guy scurry out after him. Zoro had been so fucking smug about it too. Sanji is pretty sure they fought all the way back to the ship and Zoro cut one of his favorite ties in half that night.
“Not anymore,” Zoro says stalwartly and that gives Sanji pause. Zoro cocks his head.
Sanji doesn't like that look.
"I have a question."
"I don't have to answer it," Sanji says.
Zoro rolls his eyes. "Why did you kiss me?”
Sanji already feels chewed up and embarrassed. What's one more thing? It's not like he can fix this.
“I thought we were dating,” he grumbles. “It warped my perspective.”
Zoro barks a laugh. “I can't believe I got you of all people to fall for me. You were such a prickly little asshole when you were nineteen.”
“You keep saying that! Am I really that different when I get older?”
Zoro gives him a long look. “Nah. You're still a total dickhead. But you're also more yourself.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You've always been nicer than you gave yourself credit for," Zoro says with that sort of frankness that Sanji is starting to think makes his heart do stupid things. "Now you let yourself have that. Without all the bluster and bullshit.”
Sanji feels a little part of himself melt at Zoro's words. Yeah okay maybe he is falling for Zoro. So what?
“So if I like you and you like me, what do we do?” Sanji asks, unsure and wrongfooted. He knows what he wants in the moment but he isn't sure if eight years from now it will be the same.
Zoro scrubs a hand over his mouth. “You need to get your memories back. Then we can talk about it.”
Sanji wants to protest, to say these feelings aren't going to go anywhere. But he can't be sure and he hates that. He hates not knowing. He hates the absence in his head.
So instead of arguing, he simply says, “Is it okay if I come back up here with a snack for you? I might do a little work on my recipes while I'm at it.”
Zoro looks taken aback for a moment, but then he says, “Yeah, curly, I like having you around.”
Three weeks to the day of Sanji's ill-advised fruit ingestion, he wakes up, blinks at the ceiling and experiences the dizzying rush of two sets of memories layering over each other. The last three weeks replay in his mind through a very different lens and the first emotion he experiences is embarrassment. Was he really that much of a dumbass when he was nineteen? And the second is rage. He's not the dumbass in this situation.
Throwing off the blankets, he doesn't even bother to change out of his sleeping clothes before stomping up to the crow’s nest. The moment he throws open the hatch, he demands, “You have feelings for me?”
Zoro drops his weights and looks over at him as he wipes his brow. He's shirtless which is distracting. Sanji had thought Zoro had given him stomach squirmy feelings before but holy shit. “You got your memories back, huh? You should probably see Chopper.”
“Fuck Chopper.”
Zoro scowls. “Hey.”
“No. Don't hey me,” Sanji says as he marches across the nest and pokes Zoro in one sweaty pec. “You said you had feelings for me. Why didn't you tell me, you stupid mossball?”
Zoro shoves him back. “I was working up to it.”
“You’re such a fucking dumbass. Moss growing out of your head and in your brainstem. You could have walked in the galley and kissed me any time in the last three years and I would have let you.”
“Three years?” Zoro repeats incredulously.
“Yes, three years, you fucking algae-riddled moron—”
“Cool it with the insults, curly—”
“No, I will insult you until the day I die because what a fucking waste!” Sanji says. “God, do you know how much mediocre sex I had trying to get over you?”
“That was your choice,'' Zoro points out. “I wasn't being subtle.”
Sanji knows Zoro is right. They just talked about this. Albeit before Sanji's brain was entirely itself. It feels stupid now to realize he'd been pining for so long when Zoro was so clearly feeling the same way.
Sanji groans, scraping his hands down his face before dropping his forehead onto Zoro's shoulder. “I hate you.”
“Oh,” Zoro says, a soft sound, half pleased, half surprised. “Do we…do this now?”
“Yeah,” Sanji says. “I just decided.”
A few moments pass and then a tentative hand comes to rest on the back of his head. Sanji hums, definitely pleased.
“That's fine. You can do that."
When the hand stays gentle and unmoving, Sanji continues, "I'm not going to bite you. You can actually touch me you know."
“You never know,” Zoro points out. “With the way you're acting.”
Sanji sighs and slips his arms around Zoro’s waist. It's as comfortable as he'd always hoped. “I got the yelling out. It's fine now.”
“We're good?”
“Good enough.”
Zoro hums and rubs his hair, then the tender place where his neck meets his skull. It makes Sanji melt. He never wants to leave. Staying in Zoro’s arms with Zoro’s hand in his hair sounds like the perfect existence except—
“I have to go make breakfast,” Sanji groans.
Zoro finally drops his hand away. “Did you just come up here to shout at me?”
“How's that different than any other day?”
Sanji pulls back. He hesitates for only a moment before pressing a short kiss to Zoro's mouth. It lingers for longer than he intends, swept up in this feeling he's been holding so tight for so long. But Sanji forces himself to put a stop to it.
“I'll see you in the galley,” he says, more breathless than is reasonable.
Zoro grins down at him, a little flushed and Sanji is delighted.
“Hop to it, cook. I'll see you soon.”
Sanji descends out of the crow’s nest, feeling like he knows now exactly what his future (or at least part of it) holds.