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Zoro always tries to spend summers as close to home as possible. Don't get him wrong – he doesn't miss his annoying-ass sister nor his creepy-ass father. Maybe only a little. Not that he would ever admit it out loud, fuck you very much. But what he can admit, at least in the quiet of his own mind, is that he misses the sea.
Maybe it's about the smell: something along the lines of freedom and unmovable force. How you breathe so deep your nostrils start burning from salt. Maybe it's about the quiet: the coast is usually empty, especially in the beginning of June, when the water is still a little bit cold and a little bit rusty. Folks tend to come down around noon to read their fancy books under their no-less fancy umbrellas, but when evening rolls around and a slight chill appears in the air, they pack their shit hurriedly and be gone with the wind. So yeah. Zoro liked the quiet.
He liked how inconsistent and unforgiving the sea was. It always remembered. No matter how good of a diver, surfer or a swimmer you are: the sea can still chew you up. Mihawk used to say something about how the water is where we come from and how we, with no solid explanation, crave to come back to it. To the way we all are. Some weird shit as usual. A bit poetic, maybe.
However, the coast is not empty today. Zoro has wasted so much money on his trip back home, it could possibly be the amount of someone’s three months salary. He's wasted six hours on a plane: unmoving, sleeping under his worn jacket. And then he’s wasted around three hours in this rental car that has definitely seen better days and was in a desperate need of a tune up. And after all that hardship his reward is a crowded coast. Just wonderful. Spectacular.
It's a gathering, he thinks, watching the folks meddling around from afar. He was going to come down and chill for a bit before driving to his weird excuse for a house to meet his small, but crazy non-the-less family. But surprise-surprise! This day cannot possibly get any worse.
Unless it does: Zoro notices a laughing figure just by the sea-line. The man is seemingly tall, with legs that go on for days, broad shoulders and a tiny waist (what the fuck is his work-out routing? What can you possibly be doing in life to achieve this kind of physic?). His long, collarbone length hair falls down his face as he lowers himself to hear what a tiny woman is saying to him. He laughs again. So carefree and joyous. Like no one is watching. Like nothing else, but this moment matters.
And then, while Zoro is having some unidentified crisis in the back of his mind, the handsome stranger is approached by a redhead woman. She puts her hand on his biceps gently and tugs him down to murmur in his ear. His smile turns into something straight out of a cliche romcom: all boyish, lopsided, giddy. Zoro can’t see much, but he swears the man is shining. He feels like he is interpreting some kind of a moment. Relevant in its openness. So he turns away.
His car is not so far from where he is standing. So he heads over there. He's still got half an hour of the road ahead of him. He needs to get moving. But he is freezed on the spot when he hears someone shout at the top of their lungs:
“To the newlyweds!” and a chorus of cheers breaks down.
Oh, he thinks. Well, he thinks. All the more reason to get the fuck out of here.
….
….
Sanji catches a glimpse of someone watching him tentatively. Nami almost sways on his arm, charming the shit out of their guests (he doesn’t know half of them. She says it’s for the wedding presents, so he smiles his way through this like a champ). He honestly couldn’t give more of a fuck about this conversation. He’s been on his feet all day. And Usopp has been on his nerves all fucking week. Everyone and their mother have been on his nerves all week, actually. Minus Nami, of course. His favourite goddess of a woman can do whatever she pleases.
So in all his indifference and exhaustion Sanji looks up to identify whoever has been trying to burn a hole through his suit and sees a man standing on the cliff. The man has turned his back already and is moving away. All Sanji can highlight is his unusual green hair and one hell of a bulk. And that’s all he can do before Usopp screams crazy and drunkenly:
“To the newlyweds!”
Sanji and Nami raise their glasses in sync, smiling and nodding at everyone who pats them on shoulders or arms or backs.
To the newlyweds it is. To the bright future. And to a way out.
….
….
“The fuck took you so long?” Perona is her usual charming-self when he arrives. Zoro makes an exasperated noise and throws his bags by the sofa.
“Missed you too, sister” he says and crosses his arms on his chest. Perona gives him a once-over and signs.
“We both know you miss me crazy, little brother. Now, go wash all this road mud off you, I am not getting closer than five feet to your dirty ass” she then proceeds to pass him going around the sofa. He tells her this is unnecessary. His sister looks at him like he is the biggest idiot in the world.
Zoro rolls his eye, but he knows when to pick his battles. And a good, hot shower does sound nice after so many hours on the road.
“So where is the old guy?” he asks, rampaging through his bags to find a spare set of clothes.
“The fuck do I know? He could be in the garden with his big tomatoes, or he could be in the cellar drinking his sorrows away,” she shrugs and moves to the corridor without adding anything of use. Just wonderful. Spectacular. So nice to finally come home as they say.
Coming home has always been just that. Coming home. He's listened to Rona whining about how weird it feels: to be nothing but a guest in the house you’ve grown up in. She was wasted and stoned, and he was just stoned, so he didn’t pay her much attention. She called him heartless and still went on with her melancholy tirade. Zoro didn’t care about those kinds of things. About how certain things of events made you feel. So no. He didn’t share her sentiment. And no, he didn’t run away from here to a whole another country. It was just convenient. The best choice. Rona can think whatever the fuck she wants.
She frequently pokes him about it though. Why another country? Why not a whole-ass continent then? Because I didn't run away, Rona, I just moved out. Then why not something closer? Because I am tired of seeing your mug everywhere I go, Rona.
He doesn’t run away. That's just not who Zoro is. But maybe – only maybe – this place did start to seem like a paper town. Like something old, and out of use, and forsaken. Maybe the walls did start crashing down on him, maybe he was suffocating. Maybe the sea wasn’t enough. Maybe the air was poisoned. Maybe his dream was too fucking big for a small country side. Maybe stagnation of it all started to drive him up the walls. Maybe it felt tawdry and pointless and too much to handle. Maybe. But who knows, right?
He comes back is what matters. And so does Rona. And Mihawk greets them in his usual non-existed manner and everything is almost normal. Almost. Something is always left unsaid, he knows it. But he won’t be the first to broach the subject. And he will not be the person to solve the riddle.
He takes the shower and unpacks his shit and his old room looks the same as ever. Luffy sometimes complains how his room has been turned into a storage. Zoro snickers and thanks whoever decided to build a fucking mansion in the middle of nowhere. They never run out of space. They actually run out of things to fill it with.
He finds Mihawk after his shower. The man is sitting in the main living room in one of his puffy armchairs. He is holding a cooking book in his hand, but judging by the way his eyes keep darting longingly to the wine bottle, he is not particularly invested.
"Oi, old man. i'm home," Zoro says, dropping unceremoniously on the couch.
Mihawk eyes him slowly, stares really, without blinking. Enough to set anyone else fidgeting, but Zoro was raised by that man. He is used to his...antiques.
"Oh, I am aware. Perona has already informed me," the man says and stands to finally grab the bottle of wine. But he also goes to the sideboard to take out two nice red wine glasses. Zoro almost feels touched.
They sit in silence, nursing their drinks. Well, Mihawk is nursing his drink: Zoro has gulped his in two swings and is now on his third. He doesn't have much appreciation for expensive alcohol, much to his father's displeasure.
"How was your trip?" Mihawk asks matter-of-factly. He has that look that suggests that the man is currently in his own world. It's still nice that he bothers to ask.
"Ah, you know. The usual shitshow. Had to stop multiple times because the car kept making weird noises," the car was really on the verge of breaking down. And so was Zoro after the seventh stop. He seriously considered walking. But Rona would tease him about it forever, so he stubbornly went on.
"Mhm" is all he gets in response. He doesn't doubt that Mihawk's heard him and definitely thought the problem was in Zoro, not in the car. However, he was kind enough not to comment on it, but Zoro was just Zoro, so he scowled anyway.
And then he remembered: the wedding by the coast. He could ask the old asshole what he knows about this. Because, opposite to common beliefs, Mihawk loved gossip. Him and Rona had a whole-ass room where they met to discuss recent occurrences. Who went where, who slept with who, who did what, which shop closed or opened, which son decided to crash his car in the nearest tree. Zoro was first genuinely mortified by this odd habit of theirs. He personally didn't care much for rumors. And naturally he thought that his ever unbothered father was the same. Imagine his surprise.
"Yo, old man. Do you know anything about recent weddings around here?" Zoro asks, aiming for nonchalant and missing horribly.
Mihawk raises his brow slightly (means he is: surprised, intrigued and a little stunned) and quietly thinks. Zoro waits patiently, telling his mind to stop going a mile a minute.
"Oh. I have heard that Chief Zeff's boy is engaged. Although I would not know whether there has been a wedding yet."
"Zeff? That cook from a traveling restaurant?" Zoro prods, his mind still going a mile a minute. He is sure that he’s met the man. That mustache is unforgettable.
"That's right. You and Rona have met him once, when you were little children. As far as I remember, he didn't have the boy back then," Mihawk spins his empty glass in his pale hand. A small smile tugs on his lip. For a second only, but mind you. This is huge.
"So the kid is younger than me?"
"Hm, I believe he is not. Chief Zeff adopted the boy. Much like I did both of you."
Oh, so we have this in common, Zoro thinks. Why do you even need this information, Zoro thinks. He signs and falls back on the couch. The handsome stranger must be about his own age, then. And that woman too. Somewhere around thirty. Zoro stares at the painting above the fireplace: all three of them in ridiculous costumes. Rona is stomping on his foot to keep him in place, Mihawk is in his armchair with a thousand-yard stare. He was twenty then: all youthful and arrogant. Feeling as if nothing could get to him. Or between him and his dreams. Just looking at this cocky face is making him tired.
"But why here?" Zoro asks absent-mindedly. Mihawk seems to mentally go back to what they were talking about before the silence has stretched. He shrugs.
"Home."
...
...
He meets up with Luffy and Vivi later in the day. They have plans to hit their favorite bar on the outskirts of the town. That's the place where they all got their first hungover, where Zoro blew some random guy for the first time, where Vivi flirted her way out of paying for their drinks, and Luffy became friends with each and every bouncer, so they were let in even before any of them turned twenty-one. So it’s special to them. Very.
Zoro met Luffy when he was in seventh grade. All hundred and seventy centimetres of anger and confusion. Luffy helped him to get over himself. The boy was so smiley and ludicrous and so-so-so damn bright. Zoro flew like a moth to the flame against his better judgments. Maybe it was the best decision of his life. Maybe it was the worst. He still hasn’t decided which is more likely to be true.
Vivi, on the other hand, had known him since he was a little boy. Also angry and lost and confused but less purposeful about it. She comes from a crazy-rich family just like him and Mihawk has been business partners with her parents for a long time. At first, they didn’t really like each other. His only interests were in swords and fighting, while the girl was more on the soft side of things, but not less hot-tempered than him. Then, they started to tolerate each other’s presence at stupid adult gatherings. And once they’ve learned they both hated those stupid adult gatherings, they became friends. Almost like siblings at this point, actually. Zoro definitely likes her more than his real sister.
“It’s so good to have you home,” Vivi coons as she pulls him into a bone-crashing hug. Zoro mumbles under his nose, but hugs her back non-the-less.
“HEY! I also want a hug!” and that’s all the warning they get before Luffy all but throws himself at them.
“Luffy! Behave!” they are now a tangled mess on the grass and Zoro has an unidentified urge to laugh. He misses his friends crazy, but he only seems to realize it when he finally sees them.
In a couple of seconds all of them are a giggling and kicking mess, trying to shove Luffy off of them, but the boy looks determined to keep them just where they are. Zoro signs in resentment and rolls over to stare at them with what he hopes accounts for his annoyance. Given that Luffy just laughs louder, he thinks he misses.
"We have to get moving if we want to grab our seats," Vivi says as she tries to get up. Luffy whines as if he was stabbed, but helps her up anyway.
They walk for about fifteen minutes, catching up. Zoro gets his fill of gossip and rumors about people he has never met in his life and now there is only his favorite bear missing to make the evening perfect.
Only for their bar to be closed. 'Cause of some stupid party inside. What.
"Ohh, come on, Bepo. Let us in," Luffy tries to pass by the huge bouncer, but Bepo keeps him in place.
"No can do, Luf. Sorry, guys, you will have to come back tomorrow," he sounds genuinely sorry when he says it. It's something, at least. Zoro almost yells at the guy anyway.
"What the fuck, since when can you rent the whole fucking bar for the whole fucking evening."
Bepo looks deeply uncomfortable, but he just shrugs.
"Sorry, folks. New rules, I guess."
"Bepo, don't shit me. I go here every other week and never have I ever seen this place being booked," Vivi crosses her arms over her chest and looks convincingly murderous. Bepo shivers a little and swallows hard.
"Dear, i can not do anything–"
The door bursts open. Oh shit, Zoro thinks. Oh fuck me, Zoro thinks. Luffy makes a questioning noise beside him and Zoro wishes real hard for the ground to open and swallow him whole.
Because there he is. The handsome stranger from the coast. The very married handsome stranger from the coast. His long beautiful hair is tied in a messy bun, but his bangs still cover his one eye. The other is seen though, and Zoro kinda wishes it wasn't. His eyes are blue. Almost like the sea, but also the sky and also blueberries and bluebells and also like nothing else in this world. Some special color. Only his. He looks them all up and down and then smiles. Zoro swears it's kinda mischievous.
"Bepo, c'mon," he pats the bouncer on his shoulder, making the man jump a little. "Those are our friends. Let them in."
"Really?!" Bepo and Luffy cry in unison. Vivi hides her face behind her hand. She is laughing, Zoro assumes. He is the only one unamused.
"Yeah, really, silly," the stranger huffs and Zoro thinks he might pass out. "Come on in. Have a drink with us."
"We can?" Luffy asks, confused, not following the memo about them being stranger's friends. Zoro slaps him on the back of his head, making the man pout.
"Yeah, of course we can. We are being invited, you moron,” and if as he says it he doesn't take his eyes off of the handsome stranger, then well. That's between him and himself only.
The stranger smiles lazily and oh, Zoro is going to start a list of his smiles. Which is. What the fuck.
Moments later they are making it into the bar to see a loud group of people inside. He can count five people in here and, okay, why the fuck do they need a whole bar. The redhead woman is here, predictably. Zoro frowns and then almost smacks himself in the face. What the fuck dude, he thinks.
"Nami-swan!" the handsome stranger bellows and Zoro probably should stop calling him that in his head. Probably.
"What the hell, Sanji?" the redhead woman – Nami – turns furiously at him. She frowns hard upon the arrival of their uninvited guests.
"They were trying to break in and were giving Bepo a hard time. I thought I'd save the guy like the gentleman I am," he then proceeds to bow and kiss the back of her hand. Zoro feels sick all of a sudden.
Nami also gives them a once-over. Her critical eye lands on Zoro first and she is clearly unimpressed. Then it roams to Luffy – again, unimpressed. And only when she spots Vivi something changes.
"I am Sanji, by the way," the handsome stranger provides. Sanji. Zoro rolls it on his tongue. He likes it.
"Zoro. This is Luffy and this is Vivi," he gestures to his friends and tucks his hands in his pockets. "And you have stolen our favorite place."
"We didn't steal anything!" the long-nosed guy argues. Zoro remembers this voice. He was the one who screamed at the wedding. "We legally paid for it. Like, for every possible expense, 'cause Sanji is a nice guy like this."
Sanji blows him a kiss and settles in his seat.
"This is Nami, my beautiful and exceptional wife. This guy is Usopp and that’s his spectacular wife Kaya. And this lovely lady is Robin and her husband Franky," all of the people named above wave at them in different levels of eagerness. Only Nami doesn’t – she seems transfixed on Vivi and what the fuck is that, really.
“Nice to meet you all! I am Luffy!”
“Yeah, I think I have just introduced you,” Zoro grumbles. Luffy just shrugs and jumps in one of the empty seats. Bastard.
“I am, um. Nami!” she takes out her hand which is trembling a little towards Vivi. Zoro doesn’t know the woman, isn’t all that much interested in knowing her, but something tells him this is not her usual attitude.
Vivi just snickers quietly and shakes her hand gently. She whispers something and Nami looks at her like no one else is in the room. Rude. Her fucking husband is right here.
But Sanji doesn’t seem all that bothered by the exchange. He looks at Zoro and raises a peculiar brow. It’s curled at the end, like a dart. Huh.
“What's up, Curly? Never seen a handsome man in your life?” he knows somewhere in his head that he probably shouldn’t talk like that to a man who’s apparently going to be paying for his drinks. But that’s just how he is. He can’t help it.
And that’s okay, evidently, because Sanji throws his head back and laughs. Like, really laughs. He looks a little out of breath. Zoro smirks against his own will.
“Curly?! That's scandalazed, Marimo," Sanji says, snickering. “Coming from a guy with literal green hair it’s especially offending.”
“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to hurt your delicate feelings.”
In the background, Luffy seems to be introducing himself to each of Sanji's friends individually. The blue-haired man barks a laugh at something the guy says, Kaya looks absolutely mortified by something he just did, Robin hides her smile behind the menu and Usopp declares him one of the coolest people he’s ever met. Well. In short, Luffy is being Luffy.
Sanji moves in his seat, opening another one, as he settles closer to Nami. And Zoro is in a good mood, okay? So he sits next to him. His good mood is also why he smiles like an idiot, okay? Not because he is in the warming presence of Sanji or something equally ridiculous.
“So,” Sanji whispers and suddenly it’s like the lights have turned off. “What are you having, Mossy?”
…
…
Their hands are intertwined. Their fucking hands are fucking interwined. And it’s a hand with Sanji’s wedding ring. What the fuck. What the fuck.
“And what? You still come back here every summer?” Sanji is on his eighth cocktail. He is kind of a lightweight and acts stupidly sweet when he has enough alcohol in his system. Or at least Nami’s told him that while they were dancing to some shitty country music. She also didn’t seem bothered at all by her husband hanging out with the guy he’s met three hours ago more than he was hanging out with her.
“Well, I have to visit every now and then,” Zoro shrugs. Sanji's fingers are covered by small scars, but other than that they are as delicate as the rest of him. Well, the rest of him minus that filthy mouth. “And I really miss the sea. It's not the same in big cities, you know.”
“Oh!” Sanji clicks his free hand and tightens his hold on Zoro’s. He is not drunk enough for this. “That’s why you were looking at us like a creep earlier this day.”
He is so fucking beautiful. It should be illegal. And it is in a way. The man is spoken for. Doesn’t mean Zoro can’t admire him, though, does it? It’s not weird or anything. Because God is there something to admire. His eyes are really mesmerizing. Zoro has to take an embarrassing second every time Sanji tucks his bangs behind his ear. They are deep and soul-piercing. They darken in the deeming lights. And everything that Zoro thought he knew about himself flew out of the window right that moment. And his small waist. Hugged by his blue shirt. Oh, and…
“Sorry, what?” there was an awkward silence between them that Zoro managed to miss somehow. But Sanji doesn’t seem concerned about it. He looks amused more than anything.
“I said that’s why you were staring at me earlier today,” Sanji sing-songs. Zoro frowns in thought and wants to smack his head on the bar counter.
“You saw me?!” he groans when Sanji laughs ones more. The man tugs at their still intertwined fingers as if to say “no worries”. It does little to calm Zoro, though.
“Oh, only your back, but your hair is unmistakable,” Sanji waves his free hand and reaches for his half-empty glass.
“Says the guy with a dart instead of an eyebrow,” Zoro grumbles, but even he can admit that this is a weak-ass comeback.
Sanji only hums in response, so Zoro sticks his tongue out and lets his gaze roam around the room. They all had their first round not long after Zoro, Luffy and Vivi made their way into the bar. Vivi seemed to get privatized by Nami almost immediately, while the rest of them engaged in the conversation some-what equally. Luffy was the most excited to make new friends, but Zoro also told them about what he does for a living and that he has a black belt in kendo and of course no one believed him. But google’s told them the same thing and Zoro bathed in smugness for whole fifteen minutes.
They were all vastly different. But they were all Sanji’s and Nami’s friends so they agreed to spend two months in the middle of nowhere. Quite admirable, if he is being honest.
After the second round, Kaya suggested they go dancing. Zoro successfully dogged any invites to the floor, until Franky literally physically dragged him out. He was dancing with Luffy at first, more shaking and moving his feet from left to right than dancing, until he was swayed away by Robin, the woman determined to spend some time with him for some reason.
He even danced with Sanji at one point. That's actually how they ended up alone by the bar holding hands and talking in low whispers.
Zoro's eyes land on Vivi, who is, predictably, in deep conversation with Nami. Both women are laying on their hands on top of one of the tables, murmuring nothings under warm light. Maybe Zoro didn't know a lot about marriage, never really thought much of it, but he was damned sure that you were not supposed to abandon your significant other in favor of spending the whole night with someone you’ve met a couple of hours ago.
“Oi, curly,” he snatches Sanji's attention back at him. The man seemed to get a little lost in the contents of his glass. "Aren't you bothered that your wife is over there and not here with you?”
Something has clearly possessed him to ask that. He's not going to think what exactly that possession is about.
“Oh,” it feels like Sanji just now noticed the obvious absence of his lady. His gaze shifts towards her and he smiles with all the adoration in the world. “I think she has found her preferable companion.”
Zoro raises a questioning brow and Sanji’s smile turnes into something much less innocent.
“And i have found mine,” he empties the remaining of his drink and fucking winks at Zoro. Oh, lord.
Zoro becomes painfully aware of their interlinked hands. Of Sanji's scarred yet delicate fingers, of the silver band between them, of the heat rising in his body. Yes, he didn't know a lot about marriage. But what he was certain about, was that he didn't go for taken men. Never had and is not planning on it. Sanji can flirt his ass off and he is hellishly attractive, sure, but Zoro wasn’t stupid. It has been a very long time since he was interested in someone. Since he sat down at the bar and had a simple conversation with someone equally interested. That's all it was and he needed to get his shit together, for everyone’s sake.
He snatches his hand free, rubbing it on his neck. Sanji makes a small confused sound and his arm remains in the same position, as if not yet caught up on what just happened. Zoro longs for the missing warmth, but.
“So you said you also did some martial arts?” Zoro tries and it is such a lame excuse to change the subject that he winces. But Sanji looks undisturbed and maybe just a little confused and a lot drunk. He schools his expression quickly, though, and straightens in his seat.
“Um, yeah,” the magic is gone. And thank fuck, Zoro thinks. “I do savette and kick-boxing.”
“You kidding,” Zoro curses internally. Of course this perfect man did savette. Of fucking course.
“No, not in the slightest, dear Mossy,” the smirk returns to his face. “Not as professionally as you, but I bet I could kick your ass without breaking a sweat.”
Zoro lets out a bark of laughter. There is still irritating warmth inside him. But he could work with that. He could. It has been a long time since he’s made new friends, is all.
“We will see about it, Curly.”
…
…
The days go by. Summer was in full reign by the middle of June. Zoro comes to the coast more often than not. And most of that time he is accompanied by someone. Luffy and his brothers tag along frequently, to sit by the shoreline and build sand castles (or something akin to sand castles). Vivi comes too, dragging him to a shity beach bar with the sole purpose of being somewhere that is not her house. And all that is normal. Every summer is more or less the same.
But this summer has altered a little. Now, Vivi brings along Nami in all her sheepish glory. They either sit at that bar or bathe in sunlight. The others come with. He has had at least six drinking competitions with Usopp (the other man loses drastically). Robin has for some reason brought a chess board with her and suggested that Zoro keeps her company (now he is losing drastically).
And, of course, his most and least favourite days are when Sanji appears. He usually accompanies Nami on her visits, but on rare occasions it’s just the two of them. Zoro, Sanji and a silent sea.
“You did calculus? Seriously? You?” Sanji quirks an amused eyebrow and Zoro refuses to be raised but it.
“Yep,” he replies, punctuating his answer with a popping “p” sound. “And I was damn good at it.”
“Oh, that i don’t doubt,” Sanji assures and rests his head on his knees.
They are sitting comfortably by the seashore. The waters are calm today, a beautiful sunset is forming at the horizon. Waves roll over lazily, kissing the sand softly. Their feet are buried in the sand, still warm from the afternoon sun. Not a sound for a hundred miles. Pinks and oranges and reds color the sky shamelessly. It's serene in a way. Blink and you’ll miss it kind of a moment.
“What did you do?” Zoro prods and that question somehow doesn’t ruin it. Sanji looks at him from the corner of his eye. The blue is transparent. Zoro is yet again transfixed by it.
“Like, in college?” Sanji clarifies and when Zoro nods he just shrugs. “Not much. Thought I'd get some sort of a degree for the sake of it, but the old geezer said I was an idiot. So I got into culinary school almost immediately after that and never looked back.”
“Oh, so you followed in your dad’s footsteps?” Zoro could easily imagine Sanji fawning his heart away in the busy kitchen. The man looked like he was born to orchestrate some sort of crazy movement.
“Bitch please, I was going to become first-class chief even if I haven't met the geezer,” Sanji scoffs, though the sound is muffled somewhat by his position. “He only proved me right.”
The silence falls over them after that. Not an awkward or an uncomfortable one. Zoro looks back at the setting sun. It’s blinking at him, trying to reach the soft skin with its dying rays. Zoro is suddenly hit with a strong, tangible desire to ask the man a thousand and one more questions. He wants to know him carnally. Every nook and cranny. Every stray freckle and mole. Every whisper and loud laugh. Every tear and dimple. Every little thing that made him who he is – a beautiful, coy, free man.
It was too much. Too soon. Too fast. But Sanji was here now, humming some familiar melody and Zoro could at least take him in from afar. Take his smiles and his wrinkles and his lovely eyes and run away with them. Holding his treasure close to his confused heart.
God, it was like being a teenager all over again. Skittish and uneasy.
“It’s a shame we didn’t get to meet when we were kids,” Zoro says albeit to nothing. Sanji makes a questioning sound next to him. “We’ve met Zeff long time ago. He was around town and Mihawk never wastes an opportunity to introduce us to some high shit cuisine.”
“Wait, really?” Sanji perks at that, letting his legs fall all the way to the sand. “How old were you?”
“Dunno, maybe seven?” Zoro scratches his chin in thought. “Bet you were a little bitch back then.”
That rewards him with a loud bark of laughter from Sanji. Zoro smiles smugly despite himself.
“Oh, I bet you were just as insufferable as a kid, mossy,” the man says with a coy smile. Zoro matches it and relaxes back on his elbows.
“I was. Couldn’t go a day about my life without raising some havoc.”
“Oh, your poor father and sister.”
“Hey, don’t underestimate Rona. She was as much of a menace as i was,” Zoro says flatly.
“Somehow I have a hard time believing it,” Sanji replies and his expression turns into something softer, gentlier. Zoro can’t look at him for long, so he turns towards the sky. It's turning a darker shade of blue now. Soon it will be patch-black.
Sanji lays back all the way, joining him in his sky gazing activity. He wanted to say that there was nothing wrong with two friends hanging out like that together, but something told him – in Rona’s voice, annoyingly – that it was not indeed a thing that two friends did. Especially, not two friends who have met all but a couple of weeks ago.
It just feels as if he’s known Sanji for much, much longer. And to give credit where credit is due, he feels the same nagging feeling with the rest of Sanji’s group. With him it was just…different. More intense somehow. Like when you reunite with a long-distance childhood friend. He could easily imagine them running around picking fights with each other, riding bicycles to the beach, catching fireflies just to let them go in the end. He could so clearly see little Sanji with a toothless grin and round cheeks.
“It would've been easier that way, I guess,” Sanji mumbles all of a sudden and Zoro would’ve missed it if it weren’t for the complete silence. He looks over at the other man and grunts.
“What?”
“If we’ve met earlier. It would’ve been easier,” Sanji repeats as if it explains what he means. Zoro frowns at him in evident confusion.
“What would’ve been easier?” he asks, now intrigued. Sanji scoffs softly and rolls on his side, to look Zoro in the eye.
“This,” he whispers for the wind and Zoro to hear.
Too much, too soon, too fast. What is it to him, this? Had he ever had a day in his life where everything felt too heavy, too unfair? Had he ever looked at a stray reflection in the office’s window and couldn’t recognize himself? Had he ever smiled bright and loud just to let the moment slip through his fingers? Had he ever been so focused on achieving something that he ended up depriving himself of everything else? What is it to him? And what is it to Zoro?
“And why is this hard?” Zoro asks, slightly above whisper. That does ruin it.
Sanji only smiles at him. Small and sad. It breaks something in Zoro to see him like this. But he does not answer. And Zoro does not prod.
…
…
"Where've you been lately, baby brother?” Perona asks, or demands maybe. Zoro is too focused on his shoelaces to pay attention.
“Hanging out with my friends. You know. People who actually want to see me,” his sister only rolls her eyes, so he just shrugs.
“I know. But you only have like two friends. There is no way you can spend every day from dusk to dawn with them.”
Zoro shrugs again. It wasn’t even entirely true. He spent some time at the gym. Albeit with Luffy or Sanji, but she did not need to know that. She did not need to know about Sanji period. If he wanted to save his image in another man’s eyes, he could never let him meet Rona.
“How is Vivi anyway?” Rona muses, tagging along with him to the common room.
“Oh, she’s found herself a new girlfriend. As in a girl who is a friend,” he explains somewhat bitterly. “I guess. But fuck do I know, right?”
And maybe that last part was a little too harsh. Maybe he should’ve just said that Vivi was great yada yada and go sulking in his room. But he is not in the mood. He needs alcohol, perhaps. That red wine was hella good.
“Oookay,” Rona stretches in a tight manner. “You sound pissed. What crawled up your ass and died?”
“Stupid people,” Zoro grumbles and goes for the wine cabinet.
Rona hums like she expected him to say that. Screw her. And everyone else to boot.
What the fuck was that even. Were they really married? Maybe Zoro misunderstood something. His therapist used to say that he has problems unraveling complicated social situations. Zoro used to say that he simply had zero tolerance for bullshit. In some way, both answers were true. It was a complicated social situation. And it was also bullshit.
Does he have a crush on Sanji? Maybe. Possibly. Does Sanji have equal feelings for him? Fuck, maybe he does. Possibly he does. Is Nami completely smitten with Vivi and Vivi is completely smitten with her in return? Abso-fucking-lutely. He saw them drunkely making out a few days ago. Is there a thing like open marriage? What is the point of marriage then? Zoro was no romantic, he knew it. But even he had to have some understanding of the concept.
Maybe it wasn’t complicated. Maybe Sanji saw a guy crushing on his married ass and decided to fuck with him. That is a possibility too, right?
“Fetch a glass for me, would you?” Zoro startles out of his thoughts. He genuinely forgot that Rona was here. He also might have been staring at an open wine cabinet for more than was necessary. Well, fuck him.
“Why would i fucking do that?” he snarls.
“Because drinking away your misery all by your lonesome has served you well so far,” Rona says and it’s sarcasm, but Zoro suddenly wants to prove that it did serve him well. Just out of spite.
But he, against common beliefs, knows when to pick his battles. Especially against Rona.
He takes out two glasses and heads for the sofa. Rona, usually to sit as far away from him as possible due to unknown reasons, opts to plant herself right by his side. Annoying.
“So. What’s got you in knots like that?” Rona asks curiously, after a few bits of silence.
He debates with himself whether or not he wanted to tell his sister everything. They may seem distant to an outsider and in a way it was true – nor him, nor Rona thought that sharing every single thing with their sibling was a necessity. But what was also true is that they were always there for one another. He still thinks fondly about that time when he was in elementary school and came back home ranting about some boys who wouldn’t leave him alone. He wasn’t bullied or something like that, mainly just annoyed by unwanted attention. Rona somehow found their accounts in some stupid game and destroyed all their progress. Zoro was so impressed by her, he immediately begged her to teach him.
Perona was there when he had his first crush, Zoro was there to heat a pad for her during worst cramps, Perona was there when he won his first kaido match, Zoro was there when she got into her dream fashion school. All in all, they were supportive of each other, only in their own specific way.
“Okay. so,” he starts and cringes on the spot, “a hypothetical situation.”
“Sure. A very hypothetical situation.”
“Yes. Very," Zoro glares at her for good measure. Of course, it has exactly zero effect on Rona. “Let's say there is this dude.”
“Aha,” Perona looks at him with an undertone of ‘really?’. “Is he hot?”
“He’s– what? What does it have to do with anything?” Zoro sputters with a wide eye. Perona shrugs for his troubles.
“I am visualizing,” she says and smirks at him. Zoro looks her dead in the eye and groans.
“Fucking don’t,” Perona just shrugs again. That fucking asshole. “The dude is whatever. Doesn’t matter.”
“I am imagining him hot and jacked. Just so you know.”
Why was he even doing this? Oh, right, to get an outside perspective. Jesus.
“The dude is dating this girl,” thankfully, Perona doesn’t interrupt him this time, “and they’ve been dating for a while, apparently. But the girl is kind of in love with another girl? And that guy might actually like another person? In a…y’know.”
Rona most certainly did not know. Now she was looking at him with a puzzled expression and something akin to worry. Zoro chugs his glass of wine in one gulp and refuses to look at her.
“Are you…” she flatters, taking a measured breath. “Are you telling me a plot of some shitty tv-show?”
The silence is deafening. And then Zoro starts laughing so hard, he hits his head on the back of the couch.
“Wha?” he manages between whizzing.
“Sorry, this very hypothetical situation sounds absurd,” she says flatly, not really impressed with her brother.
“Oh, trust me, I know,” Zoro replies and that is a huge give away. He can't even blame it on the wine, damn it.
Rona hums noncomically and studies her glass. She was always on his side, he knows it, but it also meant that she was always the first to call out his bullshit. He has no way of knowing what she's thinking about, though, so he just stays silent, waiting for her reply.
“That dude…is he…happy with his girl?” That's what she settles on and Zoro doesn’t know if he should be grateful.
“I guess. He seems to be.”
“And is she?”
“Don't know. She's definitely more happy when she is with another girl,” Zoro mumbles the last part, barely above whisper. He is not going to be jealous about his best friend. He refuses to.
“Maybe they are in an open relationship.” Rona suggests. Maybe they are, but relationships are one thing, marriage is another. That's the biggest fucking commitment of one's life. Why would you go through all that trouble just to throw yourself at another person first thing after the wedding.
“I dunno. It just…doesn’t sit right with m– the person,” terrible safe. He's gone sloppier with years.
“Well, then that person needs to talk to the dude. I mean, I have to guess that the girl knows about his interest in this other person, so they don't have to warn her, but,” she worries her lower lip. “Talk to her too, just in case?”
He hates it when Perona breaks character. She is not nonchalant, by the slightest, but they don't do this…openly care thing often. Only when teasing doesn't work and when the other sibling is in complete disarray. He'd like to think that he has some dignity left, fuck you very much.
“Maybe. But this person is…confused. They think that,” he tries to trade his words carefully, but Rona sees through him anyway. That's what knowing your brother for thirty years does to a person, he supposes. “Maybe they've made it all up. Like. The dude is just being friendly. He kind of flirts with everybody and their mother, so.”
Sanji was indeed a huge flirt. He fawned over Robin and Vivi at any given chance, bringing them special sweets and snacks made by none other than himself. He also looked something funny at Usopp, always laughing at his stupid jokes louder than the man's wife. So all in all, he was clingy and overly friendly with every and each of his – their, Zoro supposes – friends. Which was. Okay? Apparently?
“Well, in order to avoid any embarrassing situations that this person certainly likes to put themselves into,” Perona smirks and Zoro flips her over without thinking. “They definitely should talk to the dude.”
What harm will it do? After all, he can easily avoid the topic of him having a…crush on Sanji. He could just ask him about Nami and their predicament. Nothing too crazy. Nothing too revealing.
“Well, if you insist,” Zoro says in a mocking voice and gets a flick to the forehead for his troubles.
“I do. Now, let us change the subject. How is that chaos junkie you call best friend doing?”
…
…
Sanji comes home a little heartbroken. He doesn't know what to think about this situation. it would be better if the Marimo wasn’t so fucking hard to read. One second it’s like Sanji understands him completely almost as if they had known each other for far longer than two weeks. And the other second it’s like he’s never truly known Zoro, despite them seeing each other almost every day and talking for most of those encounters.
He knew that Zoro was adopted by Mihawk – a man who resembles a vampire a little too much for comfort. He knew about his sister and that she was something of a prodigy in the fashion industry. He knew that he had a dream of becoming kaido world champion that he accomplished a couple of years ago. He knew that he didn’t like chocolate and had a low tolerance for everything else sweet. He knew that he always wanted a pet as a kid, but his sister has a fur allergy, so he never got it. He knew that there was a mixture of sadness and fondness when Sanji asked him about how he got his dream. He knew all that and it still seemed not enough.
So, yes. He was feeling bittersweet. He got to spend time with someone interesting and intriguing, but that someone wasn’t on the same page as Sanji. And he was left wondering what he’s said or haven’t said.
“Sanji!” comes Nami’s voice from their living room. Sanji's mood brightens immediately.
“My mellorine,” he sing-songs, blowing a kiss in her general direction. “How is my sweet lady doing this lovely evening?”
Nami stares at him for some reason. “Everything okay, Sanji?” she asks.
Sanji almost trips over his shoelaces. What made her think he wasn’t okay? Did he forget to school his expression? No, even when he came home from a twelve hour shift he always tried his hardest to appear fine. He could’ve won a fucking oscar already with how professionaly he hides his true feelings. But, of course, Nami sees through his bullshit.
“You are overdoing it with sweet-talk. So, that means you are either in trouble, which you aren’t, or something is wrong,” she summarizes and Sanji lets himself be equally fascinated and terrified by this woman. His wife, ladies and gentlemen. “Did your little date go side-ways?”
She wriggles her eyebrows and Sanji can only think about how adorable she is. But, unfortunately, she is perceptive as always, so instead of complimenting her cute face to try and change the subject, he sighs. They are talking about it, apparently.
“Maybe,” he pushes through the hallway and moves straight for the kitchen. “Zoro is a bit confusing.”
Nami joins him by the counter, resting her elbows on it. Sanji starts searching through their fridge to pick something nice for a drowsy evening. It also provides a distraction from a conversation that they are definitely having. He would rather eat his shoe, but never had he ever denied Nami something in their lives, so he resigns to this fate. He didn't mind it that much, at least.
“How so? That guy is as blunt as a wall.” she says, grabbing a stray tangerine from the fruit basket.
“I don't know, mellorine. It’s…not how I thought it was going to be, is all.” he was aiming for nonchalant and landed at devastated. Good aim, Sanji. Perfect, even.
There was a bit of silence, which Sanji mistook for his opportunity to drop the matter. He was already forming a question as to what his sweet spouse wants for dinner, when Nami opens her mouth and what comes from it is half bemused, half appalled.
“You did tell him this is a fake marriage, right?” and Sanji freezes. He thinks about it, he really does. What does it have to do with…oh. Gaping, he is searching for replay. Because he most certainly did not inform Zoro of their deal’s nature. But no, he must have? Otherwise…otherwise it was…
“Uh,” he says, intelligently. Nami's jaw drops. Oops.
“You did tell him, right?” she pronounces the words slowly as if talking to a toddler and a particularly stupid one at that.
“Um, I…” not a single coherent response, good job, Sanji. Perfect.
“Sanji!” Nami exclaims and throws her hands in the air. Suddenly, sanji is red from embarrassment. How did he even…What is even…
“But everyone knows!” he yells back and it is more hysterical than threatening. He is going to grudge his own eyes out and die from shame. Yeah. That's what he is going to do.
“Zoro is not everyone! He has known us for two weeks!”
“For three!” a week, week defense. Just let him die already, oh merciful god.
“That isn't fucking relevant!” Nami stomps her foot real hard and the air around them eases a little. They are heaving now, looking unhinged and lost.
Nami drops her head on her chest, “that's why he was looking so off-guard when i kissed Vivi a couple of days ago, huh.”
“You what,” Sanji whizzes. She dismisses him with a wave of her delicate hand.
“Not relevant either,” she says and goes over to grab their stationary phone. They have one in this house, because apparently, people still used it in small towns.
Sanji was an idiot. and Zoro was…thinking that a very married man was flirting with him. And that said married man's wife was cheating on him. Truly, a handful of messy misunderstandings. He would've laughed, if he wasn't so close to crying. Zoro was thinking that in allowing himself to reciprocate that interest, he was going to become a homewrecker. No wonder he didn't want to reciprocate! Sanji wouldn't have either! All those times when he pulled away and Sanji thought it was because he overstepped, he said something wrong. At the end of the day, it was about what he hadn’t said.
He never really thought of himself as an exceptional communicator – he was too self-aware for that. But this takes the cake. Zeff can never know – the old geezer won't let him live peacefully afterwards.
"What are you doing?" all the fight has left his body. He looks up to see that Nami is dialing someone's number in.
"Fixing your mistakes, husband," oh, she only ever called him husband when she was pissed as all hell. Sanji would gladly take a walk out of their window right about now, thank you.
He knows how he looks, okay? Like a kicked puppy and a puppy that was kicked for a reason to boot. He knows that he looks pathetic and guilty and his "sad blue eyes of a Victorian child" (according to Usopp) are painful to look at. He doesn’t know how to make amends. He doesn’t know what is possibly a way out of this chaos.
“Yes, hello. this is Nami Blackleg,” he hears Nami introduce herself to someone over the phone. She is suddenly overly polite and painfully sweet, and if Sanji was someone else, his teeth would’ve rattled from the pretense of it all. But Sanji is Sanji and he only has so much will to live, so he drags himself over to the glass table in their living room and slams dramatically on the floor. Nami looks at him briefly, rolls her stunning eyes and returns to the phone call. “Oh, nice to meet you. Can I talk to Roronoa Zoro, please?”
That only draws a quiet defeated sound from Sanji. He should’ve guessed. He is not surprised, really. Nami chances a glance at him again and there is something akin to pity in her brown eyes and Sanji has to roll over, hence he makes an even bigger mess of himself.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” he has no idea what is happening on the other side of the phone call, but he hears some movement and rattling and someone curses out loud before they take the phone and answer in a voice that is quiet but no less familiar.
“Whacha want, witch?” Zoro growls low on the other side of the receiver, clearly annoyed by the late-night call.
“Is that a way to greet your dear friend?” she mocks offense and Sanji hears the other man sigh. He can picture the small frown that forms itself on Zoro’s face every time he is uncertain or confused, can almost feel his warm breath on his skin when he talks, can hear the low ramble of his laughter, can see clear as day his laze smile, can–. Oh, god. He is so gone.
“If it’s you I am greeting, then yeah.” and Sanji is a weak man, okay? He is surprised a little by the power of his feelings towards the man – Zoro is not his type, not in the slightest. He has long since acknowledged his own sexual preferences and Zoro being a man isn’t that much of a shocker. But Sanji also knows what kind of men he’s pursued into dating, and Zoro is not one of them.
“Rude for no reason, asshole,” Nami mumbles, but Zoro catches it anyway, judging by his growl. “And I am about to make your whole life better by just a couple of words, you ungrateful thug.”
“Don’t tell me you are leaving the town, I might actually combust out of happiness,” Sanji probably should reconsider his crush on a man, just based on how he talks to Nami, but. Yeah. He is a goner.
“Actually, if you will so kindly let me get to the point,” Nami makes a dramatic pause, Zoro scoffs, Sanji tries to choke himself with his hair. “We got tickets to the festival tomorrow, but I got kind of sick, so now Sanji has no one to go with him.”
There is hesitation on the other line, like Zoro is trying to make sense out of this whole conversation. In fact, Sanji is trying that same thing.
What are you doing, he mouths at his wife, who just shushs him. He didn’t know they had tickets to the festival. He didn’t know there was a festival happening. What is his life really, if not a combination of embarrassing and humiliating moments. Truly, a Shakespearean tragedy.
“...That’s a bummer.” Zoro finally responds and since when did his type include stupid man?
“Zoro, I need you to use your brain here,” Nami starts massaging her temple with a free hand. Sanji shifts into embryo position, ready to sob and howl. "He's got a free ticket.”
I do? he whispers to no one in particular, still mourning his grace and pride. It's not as fragile as some people might think, but it is still. Hurt. He needs a cigarette. Or maybe a whole pack.
“And so? He can go with someone else.”
“Exactly!” Nami exclaims and is a little too enthusiastic about a guy connecting two dots. “But! The problem is, you see. He wants to go with you.”
Ah, the other shoe. The last nail in his coffin. The Achilles' heel. And some other epitome for the end of his sad life.
“Why can’t he tell me that himself?” well that gets Nami’s attention back on Sanji. He masters the guilty look and she only rolls her eyes. Fondly, I might add! So she is mad, but not that much. Nothing a little souffle can not fix. Made out of the freshest tangerines, of course. He might keep his hands!
“Well you see,” Nami starts and it will undoubtedly be the most frustrating exaggeration of his life, but he has, frankly, deserved it. “He's been sulking about asking you all day, getting on my nerves about how to do it and so on, you know how he is. So I just took it upon my shoulders to deliver the news to you and see if you could accompany him to the market?”
Not that frustrating. He's had worse blows in much more painful places. His ego is non-existed at this point.
“...he wants me to go with him?” oh, this is painful. Sanji has to be super direct from now on. Maybe he should kiss the man on the mouth tomorrow and be done with that?
“Yes,” Nami sighs with all the exhaustion of a marathon runner. “He does. So will you?”
Another pause. Sanji has shifted his position and is now laying on the floor with his hands and legs thrown around like a starfish. Nami has to watch her step, so that she doesn’t accidentally (or intentionally) walk over him.
Sanji bets that Zoro is going to refuse. He would, if Sanji were Zoro. An allegedly married guy asks you out? Or, to be specific, said guy’s wife asks you to go out with him. The whole house confused, at this point. Sanji would’ve probably used some pretty colorful language to tell the other person where, when and with whom they should go, but Zoro is, perhaps, a better man. Or just a more stupid one.
“Alright. Where do I meet him?” Sanji’s cursed heart skips a few beats and does a backflip, probably. Naive? Stupid? Considerate? Piting? Oblivious? Doesn’t fucking matter, from now on Sanji is going to treat this man like a king. Or a god. Or another supernatural being, he has not decided yet.
Sanji jumps out of his skin in an attempt to stand up as quickly as possible, and causes a mini earthquake with how he anticipates Nami to finish that conversation. She tells Zoro the address of a market place after thanking him for agreeing and wishes him good night. When she puts the phone down, Sanji has to physically restrain himself from bouncing at the wall.
His beautiful, spectacular, wise and valuable wife and, more importantly, best friend, looks him up and down and smirks.
“You owe me big time, husband.”
…
…
Zoro thinks he is overthinking things. So yeah. A great start to the day.
Agreeing to this is, arguably, a huge mistake, but Zoro is gay and hopeful, sue him. At any rate, he has a chance of talking with Sanji, just as he and Perona discussed. Why Nami was suddenly involved in all this is another question entirely. But, there was a potential reason for it and that reason aligned with why Rona was involved. So maybe that marriage wasn’t serious (however silly that sounds). Or maybe Sanji realized what exactly Zoro was feeling towards him and asked Nami to deal with Zoro's sorry ass.
Both were a possibility. So Zoro was either gaining a potential date today or fumbling incredibly in life. Nothing serious, no pressure.
He is overthinking this. He gains a friend at the end of it, no matter how this goes. The fact that he would prefer one option over another does not mean anything. It is irrelevant to the subject.
Zoro opts to look around instead of dreading for his dear life. The festival is nothing huge, but cozy and homely instead. The usual stalls of the market are decorated with lovely wreaths and garlands, paper flags flapping peacefully in the slight breeze. Mihawk asked him to buy a few things, mainly fresh produce, but also a fancy wine bottle he was thinking of gifting someone (suspicious as hell, but okay).
The people manning the stalls called out to passing customers, waving and smiling at them. Midsummer festival wasn’t something Zoro visited regularly, but when he was a kid, Mihawk would take them with him every year, and Zoro got to try various non-sugar sweets and snacks and genuinely enjoy himself. He liked the mild heat and how people’s worries seemed to melt away because of it. Everyone was so happy just to stroll around the place and waste their money on some stupid souvenir, that Zoro could not resist his own good mood.
Even now, waiting for Sanji, he could feel his nerves start to ease. The commotion of it all, the business and joy, it got to him, even all those years later. Perhaps, especially after all those years.
“Zoro!” he hears a familiar voice and turns around with a small smile. Sanji is waving at him and grinning something fierce. Zoro stares. He can’t help it — the man is like a magnet. Sanji is wearing a light blue button down, his rolled sleeves showing off his silver bracelets. There is a matching chain on his pants and also around his long neck. Just a wonder of a person. Really, who could blame Zoro?
They share a quick hug before turning to the makeshift entrance. The girl in a hippy-like poncho with a huge rainbow print gives them their paper bands and wishes them a happy midsummer festival. Sanji bows to her and throws a couple too many pleasantries, ‘cause the girl turns red like a tomato and Zoro can’t judge, but she’s gonna have a heart attack at this rate, so he grabs Sanji by the elbow and drags him away.
Of course, Sanji starts complaining about Zoro being rude and uncouth and not letting him appreciate the woman the way she deserves and yada yada. Zoro tunes him out, because the second they hit the first stall, Sanji changes his whole demeanor as if by a switch. It’s kinda captivating to watch him in his elements, he is so much different with everything food-related. Zoro could frankly listen to him talk about fish for hours and never get bored. It's the way his eyes light up when he sees some rare spices, or how his smile grows bigger the more he listens to the shop-keeper talk about how they went on a hike and collected all those berries.
After one of their sparring matches, Zoro wondered why Sanji did not pursue a serious athletic career instead. The man looked thoughtful for a second and then shrugged. Do you know that there is only one way to overgo the language barrier? he asked. Zoro shaked his head. It’s cooking. No matter what language you speak, or what culture you were raised in, we all understand the tongue of cooking. We all understand the gentle hands that knead the dough, we all understand the smell of freshly grilled meat, we all understand the laughter that gathers around the table. Having a meal together, Sanji said, is the highest form of love.
Zoro has never questioned his professional choices after that.
“Try this one, young man!” The old lady, manning the fish stall, calls to him and Sanji turns all his attention to her immediately, accepting a plate of cod fillet. He tries some and beams like a little kid.
“Marimo! This is incredible, try!” he hands the plate to Zoro and he accepts it with an easy smile. The fish is, indeed, incredible, even though Zoro knows exactly nothing about fishes.
He says as much to the old lady and she just waves him off. “The sea has always given us enough. Men are just too familiar with greed.”
Sanji ends up buying a ridiculous amount of fish from the lady, after exchanging some recipes and hands the bags to Zoro.
“Be honest, Curly. You just wanted a pack mull,” Zoro snarls with no actual heat and Sanji has the audacity to laugh.
“You figured it out, my friend,” he winks and goes for a bucket of tangerines. Nami loves them, apparently.
He can’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop. For Sanji to sigh heavily and address the elephant in the room. He can imagine his gentle gaze full of pity and shame. It’s not your fault, Zoro. He can imagine disgust in his features. How could you, Zoro? He can imagine a snarl forming on his lips, angry and raw. Do you not know what’s right or wrong, zoro? He just hopes that Sanji doesn’t yell at him here. He can handle yelling, hell he can handle a big-ass fight, but not here. This place is too…innocent?
They wander from stall to stall, Sanji goes from flirting with every pretty woman and funny man to hand feeding Zoro syrups and sauces. He picks out the best quality produces and helps Zoro collect whatever it is that Mihawk wants. They go like this for solid two hours, before Zoro is loaded to the brick and needs to sit down. Otherwise, this place is going to blow.
The first bench they find stands by the ice-cream truck, so Sanji calls it destiny and buys them each a cone. They sit in relative silence, the sounds of children fighting with zucchinis and their mothers laughing instead of yelling. It's a magical place, you see. Sanji lights another cigarette and looks as content as he ever was.
“You know, me and Nami used to go to places like that all the time,” Sanji starts and Zoro mentally prepares himself for a very painful conversation.
“Yeah? Well, you do seem to enjoy it here.” Zoro says casually and it is an understatement if he's ever heard one. Sanji is downright glowing here. so entranced by the variety of it all. By the community and the general flow. He belongs here. With these people, sounds, smells and attitude.
“That I do,” Sanji’s smile is so dashingly beautiful, Zoro has to remind himself how to breathe. “But I especially enjoy it when I am with her, you know.”
Zoro does not know nor does he wants to. He swallows and looks away. The ice-truck is fascinating, all of a sudden. Was it always so pink and bright? He could’ve sworn they had a blue one last year.
“Shame she fell sick, then,” he says stiffly and Sanji chuckles slowly.
“I mean, yeah sure. But, the reason I enjoyed it most with her was because she is someone I love.” he could just honestly stab Zoro in his stupid, aching heart and be done with it. This is torture. He kinda wants the yelling and fighting to start right about now.
Zoro only hums in response, licking the rest of his ice-cream in one go. He doesn’t know what to say and whether or not Sanji is waiting for an answer. He seems content just talking about his amazing wife. God bless her.
“I never thought I could enjoy it even more with someone else,” Sanji says, whispers really, just enough to hear if you know what to listen for. Zoro twists to stare at him so fast, something in his neck cracks with a terrible sound.
Sanji recoils a little, most likely from the sheer force with which Zoro turns, but he doesn’t care. He must look wild, cause Sanji gives him a worrying look, but stays silent. As if he did not just drop a fucking bomb.
“What do you mean?” and okay. He sounds desperate. He knows. He wishes he could contain it, used to be able to, but this man has turned him into something else entirely. Into someone who yearns and wants with a burning passion. Or, mayhap, he was always like this, one-track mind, doing his best to achieve his goal. He was just never like that about a person. Ah, well. There is a first time for everything.
“That me and Nami, while we love each other dearly, we are not in love,” Sanji explains tenderly and Zoro’s brain short circuits. He sees stars. Or, maybe, god. “no matter how much I like her as a person, I could never quite fall for her.”
“But…” he has to swallow again. He sounds a bit breathless and dizzy and feels like he just had a really long and productive work out. Maybe a bit too productive. “But you are married.”
He doesn’t know how he manages to get the words out, but he does. His throat hurts and he thinks he is about to cry. Or laugh. Or choke himself. Or ask Sanji for a cigarette. One of these four, for sure.
And now when Sanji looks at him, his eyes are filled with warmth and wonder, like he is seeing Zoro for the first time and intends to see him on many-many more occasions. He has never looked at Nami like this or anyone else, he knows it in his bones. But, see, Zoro would never dare to hope. Hope is a dangerous thing. It averts your perspective, and stands in charge of your decision-making. No matter how many times Rona says that he is embarrassing himself with all his rational thinking, he’d rather look dense than a fool. There is something incredibly vulnerable in allowing oneself to hope and Zoro has yet reached that level.
Sanji, it seems, has surpassed him in this case. He simply has to keep up, then.
“When we were teenagers,” Sanji starts drawing circles at the back of Zoro’s hand. “we were both going through dramatic break-ups. Nothing serious, in reality, but you know how teenagers are,” when he sighs it’s fond instead of irritated. “So we made a deal.”
“If by the age of thirty we don’t find our ideal partner, then we get married. We were already best friends and no one could compare to the bond we had. So. Seemed pretty logical,” Sanji shrugs and keeps his eyes on Zoro's calloused hand. Zoro, himself, appears to be unable to look away from Sanji's golden lashes. “We just never really expected to…meet someone new right on the date of our wedding.”
Zoro sees it, how the words form on his tongue and melt on his smile. A weight has been lifted off his shoulders, or so it seems. Maybe there was no weight to begin with. Maybe they’ve made it too complicated, too gracious. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe they are both in a dire need of a lobotomy. It's not really relevant right know.
Because Zoro laughs at Sanji's quiet commentary and when they stand to head back, it’s Zoro who intertwines their fingers. He doesn’t let go. And the silver band is not that heavy between them.
…
…
“Remind me one last time,” Zoro takes a deep breath and searches for patience. “Why am I here?”
“Because you are a good person and a good friend,” Vivi stretches her words into a sharp smile and Zoro is not a fool, so he lets it go. For the time being, at least.
The day was going great, really fucking great. He texted Sanji good morning before heading out for his run and received a sweet text with good luck wishes. They texted throughout the day, zoro mostly answering sanji’s complaints about douchebag customers and “who says i can’t beat the shit out of them if i want to”. Zoro wasn’t exactly the social media type of guy, but he will eat it up if it means hearing more from Sanji. Truly, what has he become?
They are not dating, not yet. Zoro is now one hundred percent sure that Nami is dating Vivi, though. They are obvious as all hell and soon Vivi will have to start to wear a fake wedding band or people are going to be giving them scandalized looks. But Sanji never said anything about his feelings directly and neither did Zoro. They both know that there is something between them. And as of right now it is enough. Zoro hasn’t been this excited in a long-long time. It's like holding up Wado in his victory stance all over again.
Back to the day. It was good. His almost-boyfriend showered him with messages and they were all mundane, sure, but Zoro couldn’t stop checking every notification while in the gym, just like he couldn’t keep a smile off his face. Ace thought he had a seizure. Well, fuck Ace. Everything was fine until that one suspicious text. It said that Sanji had come by the gym to pick up Zoro. The sentiment was sweet, but unnecessary and weird. Only when he descended the steps and saw Nami and Vivi waving at him, he realized what a mistake he’s just made.
He tried to retrite, make it look like he was just one of the fancy plants scattered around the gym’s lobby, but no such luck. The women made a beeline to reach him and grab him by both arms. Sanji at least tried to look apologetic. It didn't save him, not really.
Now here he is. In the middle of a mall with one hundred and seventy bags on his persona. Delightful day, fuck you very much.
“Zoro, be a dear and hold this,” Nami, however, doesn’t have a problem with uploading more shit on him. He can only master his grumpy look in her general direction because he genuinely can not see behind all those bags. The look has no effect on the woman, but it saves him some dignity.
They go on like this for a while, Sanji being his flirty and star-struck self around the two women. Zoro doesn’t feel neglected, because as a way of apologizing for the sudden and unpleasant surprise, he’s promised Zoro to cook dinner for him tonight. A win is a win, no matter how he’s got it.
Vivi and Sanji are currently in the leg-wear shop with an average price-tag that should be illegal, but who fucking cares about money these days, right? Certainly not those three, judging by all the stuff they are buying. Him and Nami are in the shop across from them and Zoro pretends not to see thumbs up Vivi sends Nami's way. This is all a plot to kill him, he swears.
“What do you think, Zoro?” Nami asks and shows him a white long-sleeve that looks exactly like the one she’s shown him before. When Zoro says as much, Nami sighs in suffering and rolls her eyes hard.
She mumbles something under her nose and Zoro thinks it’s about how she can’t ask him anything, so Zoro just shrugs. He had a couple of shirts and two pairs of pants. That was enough. That should be enough. Robin did give them all a drunk lecture about over-consuminalism and the price of capitalism, so what are they even doing here, right?
“You know, I used to think Sanji was in love with me,” Nami says albeit to nothing. Zoro is brought back from his thoughts abruptly and stares at the woman next to him.
“What?”
“He was just…so excited to see me all the time. Sure, he was the same around any woman, but with me it was…different somehow, you know?” like wife, like husband, or however that saying goes. Zoro once again is struck by their sudden changes of topics.
“How?” Zoro asks, because why not. He wants to know more about Sanji's teenage years. And he’s yet to understand Zeff's mood swings, so Nami is his sole resource as of now.
“Now I realize that he just really liked me as a person,” she chuckles gently, holding up a skirt absent-mindedly. “but back then I thought he would do whatever I tell him. He will make my every whim come true,” Nami puts the skirt down. her expression remains solemn. "and I used it to my advantage.”
Zoro looks her up and down. He is not the type to judge other people. Frankly, he just doesn’t care enough to analyze other’s behavior. But also he remembers Luffy looking at him with all the seriousness a sixteen year old boy could master and Zoro felt the hair on his arms stand up. The boy hooked a finger beneath his beloved straw-hat and never broke eye-contact. We can't judge other people’s choices when we don’t know their options, Zoro. Zoro was bitter and hurt, but he only sniffed silently and looked away. Luffy was an unmovable force, he was the sun itself, unforgiving and yet so gentle.
“I made him do things for me that I would never ask of him now,” Nami goes on and she doesn’t look guilty in particular, but something tells Zoro that it is still a sensitive topic for the woman. “I was…lost and fierce and thought that it was me against the whole world. Then it was me and him and I was…terified to lose him.”
“So I did what I thought was best, but I treated him in a way that no person deserves to be treated,” her voice is shaking a bit and she has to take a deep breath before continuing. “But that’s not why I am telling you this. This isn’t about me.”
Nami looks at him then with such intensity that would send a lesser man in a psychosis. But Zoro is no lesser man so he only recoils slightly. He is, for some reason, surrounded by strong-willed women with zero tolerance for ignorance. Maybe it was a gift. No, it was definitely a gift.
“When I finally came to my senses and realized what I was doing, I came to him fully prepared that he is going to kick me out,” she is talking fast and neatly, as if trying to put every emotion and every memory in short sentences. “but he only looked at me and said that he never held it against me and always knew I’d come around.”
“He has this…inconceivable belief in others. No matter how much they hurt him, he still finds it in him to forgive. He wears his heart on his sleeve, but he keeps everything ugly locked away in his chest,” in her eyes Zoro almost sees a silent plea: understand me, understand him. “and yet he is one of the best people I’ve ever met.”
And it is not news to Zoro. He sees it in Sanji, the carefully structured persona, hand-sawn stitches of a mask, glued together pieces of a broken soul. He knew people like that, met them, talked to them. None of them were like Sanji. None of them smiled so effortlessly with the years of horrors behind them. None of them cared so deeply with wounds of betrayal still fresh and red and licking. None of them loved so kindly with every single bone broken and repaired through blood and tears. None of them were like Sanji. A man with an easy crook to his lips and ocean-wide heaviness to his eyes.
It is not easy to be kind. It takes strength and courage. Being nice is one thing – everyone can be nice. Being kind is about being honest, plain and direct. It's about what you are willing to give away. What you are willing to sacrifice. And Sanji embodied that attitude. He was the epitome of kindness.
“I already know all that, witch,” he says and Nami hears what he keeps to himself. “so why the lecture all of a sudden?”
Nami scoffs, handing him another mini skirt with a flourish smile.
“This means if you hurt him,” he has to restrain a yelp when she steps on his boots with her heel. “I will bury you so deep, no one will even bother looking for ya.”
Forget the strong-willed women. He is surrounded by maniacs.
…
…
Once again, Zoro finds himself on a cliff, gaze roaming over the almost-empty shore. The sun is rising slowly, as if stretching lazily among the soft bedsheets. The sea is calm, stagnant in thought. It has not yet decided whether to be harsh or gentle. But you can hear in the tender whisper of the breeze that it is inclining towards the latter.
The only figure on the beach, besides the curious birds, is a man. He stands tall with broad shoulders and narrowed waist. His blond, golden really, hair falls beneath his collarbone and curls slightly at the ends. He is wearing a white shirt, a little too big for him, but nonetheless fluttering. He is facing away from Zoro, but this time, he doesn’t need to see the man’s face to read his emotions.
Zoro smiles to himself. He feels his entire world tilt sideways on its axis and realizes it’s always been off kilter until this moment. Until this man laughed so loudly and free, that his heart skipped a bit too many beats. Until this man took his hand and Zoro thought that like this, he is never getting lost again.
Sanji turns. There is a quiet smile on his lips. Reserved for Zoro only. He now has a list of those smiles. He knows them by heart. He knows how it feels to kiss Sanji – his soft lips caught between Zoro’s teeth, sharp, but never hurting. He knows lightheadiness and giddiness that comes with holding Sanji in his arms. He knows mornings with breakfast in bed, failed attempts to make Sanji skip his shift. He knows that one day a year when Sanji locks himself up in his room and emerges in the evenings, quiet and apologetic and forever beautiful in his dedication to mourn and remember. He knows freckles that cover his skin, he knows scars that paint his back, he knows moles that hide on his inner thighs.
Sanji waves at him. Are you coming with me? Аnd Zoro always answers the same way. Yes, yes and yes.