Chapter Text

Zoro.

Water. 

As far as the eye could see. 

Its range from soft ripples to unforgiving rage mimicked the human spirit, as his mother often said. Today, its warm currents and dramatic tides ushered Going Merry along to the next destination. 

The crisp, refreshing breeze carried with it a potential, a hope, brimming with possibilities. He hadn't felt something quite like it in a long, long time. 

After Yosaku’s close call with scurvy, Luffy decided they were to change course to find a cook, and luckily, Johnny knew exactly where to find one. While it wasn’t guaranteed any would join them, knowing Luffy, they’d leave with the next member of their crew within the week. Once he set his sights on something, there was no stopping him.

So Zoro sighed, leaned back against the banister that fit his back the best (due to a beloved flaw in the carpentry), and shut his eyes for a nap as they sailed. 

He had experienced many a turn of the tide in his short lifetime thus far, and he accepted the new course they charted as he accepted them all; they knew best. 

The seas had created safe harbor for his family, nestled them in the currents and carried them from Wano to (what would eventually become) Shimotsuki Village. After he set sail on his own, they had listened when his stomach growled in need of a bit of extra food or beri, and suddenly he’d be on an island where his bounty was hiding. They had brought him to Shells Town where Luffy sprung - literally - into his life. Even though he was starved and crucified, and, no doubt, smelled like shit, the young captain had seen something in him; how Zoro was fed off the promises and dreams he kept close to his heart, driven by a similar determination and focus. 

Terra often said the seas would carry him to his fate. While he believed her, after witnessing its magic with his own eyes, he was still waiting for them to bring him to certain destinations, fiercely yearning for two in particular. He searched for Mihawk to fulfill his promise to Kuina; he searched for Sanji to fulfill his promise to himself. 

He instinctually curled his fingers into fists, feeling the scar tissue on the outer edges of his hands flex in memoriam of the night they were torn apart. 

He could be patient; he would be patient. An exhale punctuated the thought and he let himself fall into light slumber, letting the currents lull him to sleep. 

When he was awoken by Luffy’s cheery exclamations, his eyes fell upon their destination: a floating restaurant in the middle of nowhere East Blue. The giant, colorful fish of a restaurant was nothing less than a marvel, hosting tiered layers of floors as the bulk of its body. 

Of course, Luffy got in trouble the moment they docked. The pink-haired prick of a Marine had fired a canon at Going Merry, what else was he supposed to do? Probably aim better, but still…

Zoro leaned back for another nap while some very angry cooks dragged their captain into the restaurant to pay for what he’d done.

“How long do you think they’ll make him work it off?” Nami asked, more annoyed than worried.

Zoro cracked open one eye to survey the damage of Luffy’s loose aim. “Probably a month, maybe longer.” 

“A YEAR?!” They heard Luffy shout from the hole he’d made in the upper deck of Baratie. 

It looked like they’d be here for a while.

“I stand corrected.” Zoro chuckled and shut his eyes for another nap. 

A nap that would never come to fruition because Usopp shook him awake about ten minutes later. Something about a commotion in the restaurant. 

He was expecting Luffy to be running around, nabbing food or making a disaster of the kitchens. 

What he didn’t expect, when he opened those wide, double doors, was to be met with a stunning, leggy blond holding up the pink-fuck-Marine by the throat with a dark look cast over his face. 

Wait -

Blond hair…curled brow...

It was -

Zoro’s mouth went dry, heart caught in his throat, before he could manage a barely audible breath of 

“Sanji?” 

Sanji stood before him in a crisp, black suit, confident and assured in his stance, not a hair out of place. Curled eyebrow furrowed with disdain, right arm outstretched, dangling the Marine a few inches off the ground. The silence was deafening as the patrons looked onward with a mirror of the awe Zoro felt. 

He saw Sanji’s mouth move, saying something about not disrespecting a cook on the sea, how it was suicide to do so. But Zoro couldn’t take much more in, too busy trying to etch this face into his memory; trying to make sense of the small, sparkling boy to this poised man with dangerous fingers curled around another’s throat. Sanji didn’t seem to care that Fullbody was a Marine lieutenant or a paying customer, and certainly didn’t care that he was making a scene in the center of a fine establishment. 

The moment hovered in time before -

“What the hell are you doing?!” They were interrupted by a cook’s dramatic shout, and then another and another. 

Nami pulled Zoro along with Usopp as they snuck their way over to an empty table and sat, watching the argumentative commotion before them. The cooks seemed irritated, one in particular, but there was an undercurrent of fondness; this didn’t seem too out of the ordinary for them. Some patrons even chuckled, amused.

Zoro's right hand stayed resting over his swords, mindlessly thumbing Wado’s white ito and its inlay of a silk blue ribbon, embroidered with small flowers. His mind raced with questions - boundless, boundless questions.

Now he had to - had to what? How did he do this? Reintroduce himself? Just say ‘hi’?

What does one say to their long lost friend? 

A friend whose eyes hung tired by weary struggles, shoulders holding more weight than deserved, by a life unkind. 

How the fuck did he navigate this?

Shit.

“Oh, seas,” Zoro’s heart squeezed at the deep voice. “How grateful I am for this day of days, my sweet! You have granted me endless gifts by bestowing your presence here, my love.”

Sanji twirled around Nami before taking her hand in his and kneeling before her.

Oh. 

The edges of his blooming hope shriveled inward, closing around himself. 

Sanji hadn’t come over to talk to Zoro, but to Nami…

Sure…sure, that made sense.

Blue eyes glanced about the table with a chirp of how they needed tea after getting Nami a glass of fancy wine and a refreshing fruit salad.

“I’ll be right back, my dearest!” Sanji sang to her before righting himself and departing to the kitchens. 

The haze of Zoro's mind caught on an edge: maybe Sanji had forgotten him, maybe he was the only one lingering on these shared memories, maybe he was the only one bonded.

Green tea was placed in front of him and his breath caught.

He looked behind him, but the hand that had set the steaming cup down had disappeared, the shred of warmth gone, reshuffled to Nami once again. Gray eyes flitted to see if Usopp had gotten the same drink as he lifted his own to his lips.

“Yours is a white peach tea.” Sanji informed their sniper before returning to fawn over Nami.

Zoro received no such clarification even when he tried to catch Sanji’s eye, like a flash, he was gone to check on another table. 

Patience. Zoro’s mind chimed in his mother’s voice.

A slow draw of the perfectly warmed green tea and its light floral tones carried with it a swell of memories. It tasted like a spring island brimming with potential, like their mothers’ whispers on a cabin porch in the morning. It tasted like their laughter, their joy, their kinship. It tasted like giggling in the woods, like playing tag in the prairie, like telling secrets by the hearth, like weaving bonds parallel to their mothers’.

Blue eyes caught his across the room, and a soft smirk, just before Sanji disappeared into the kitchens.

Zoro’s heart hammered.

Water.

The soft lapping against the dock kept his heart steady as Zoro looked over the calm water. He tried to focus on his feet beneath him, on his breath flowing in his lungs, on the last slivers of pinks and oranges reflected and glistened over the sea. Yet his mind couldn’t be further from the present moment, flooded with uncertainties. 

Something he had sought for so long, to be so close…and so far. He hated this tug into deeper depths; it felt like wallowing, and he didn’t wallow. 

What was he expecting? A cheerful reunion? A fucking party? Tch, it didn't matter. It was stupid of him to hold any kind of expectations. 

Perhaps the green tea and the smirk meant something, or perhaps Sanji wanted nothing to do with their past. Perhaps he blamed the Roronoas for abandoning; for running; for just watching as Judge stole them away. How could Zoro, of all people, fault him for any such resentment?

A calloused thumb traced the white ito and blue ribbon again and replayed his mother’s words all those years ago, wrapped in prophecy, on the shore of an island he had long forgotten the name of. 

She said he would find Sanji - not that it would be wanted.

The click of a lighter yanked him out of the swirling pools of his mind and rooted him to this long awaited moment. 

Zoro turned from where he stood, opening himself up to the possibility of rejection, of rage, of admonishment, and was surprised to receive none of the sort.

The blanket of blond hair shielded his face as Sanji curled in on himself to light the cherry of his cigarette before taking a deep drag in, and exhaling with a relief, fluidly moving the white stick like an extension of his hand. 

Zoro’s heart thudded in his throat, it may as well have started dancing on his still tongue, but Sanji didn't miss a beat, familiar with his silence in ways that most were not.

Plumes of smoke wafted and curled around Sanji's head as he stepped forward into his space, bringing with him a rolling warmth and a gentle smile.

Zoro’s breath hitched. 

Sanji examined him, holding his gaze, before long fingers softly hooked over his haramaki and tugged a fraction, causing Zoro to tilt on his axis. 

“Arashi.” Sanji whispered. 

Those same fingers slowly danced up Zoro's torso to brush his cheek on their way to the three teardrop earrings dangling from his ear. Sanji nudged them, letting them chime, and his smile widened.

“Terra.” 

The warm touch returned to cup his cheek. Sanji’s expression held an ache, a longing, that matched all the same emotions squeezing Zoro’s heart.

“Zoro.” 

Zoro, wordlessly, reached out and his hands grazed the hem of Sanji’s suit jacket before sliding up; one landed on the cinched waist, one continued up to the blond sweep of hair hiding another sparkling sapphire. He brushed back the canopy to see the complete magic of that gaze. 

“Sora.” The only child to get Sora’s blonde hair and blue eyes - the child who held her sweetness and determination, carrying it like a torch through the dark.

Arms slid around the lithe frame, tracing up the rough material of his suit jacket, and embraced him. His lips pressed into Sanji's shoulder. 

“Sanji.” His whisper was muffled into the suit.

A deep hum in reply as fingers easily slid through green hair, gently scratching the scalp. Zoro let himself rest there, engulfed in a warmth he thought he had lost. 

Sanji slowly pulled back and gave Zoro the kind of bright smile that warmed and stoked an ember in his belly. 

“I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” He teased, thumbing at Zoro's cheek. “We should go inside. I can't risk any of them seeing how soft I really am.” 

Zoro chuckled.

Fingers interlaced with his, squeezing. 

“Come on, let's eat.” 

With the other cooks retired for the night and the guests resting in their rooms, the kitchen was completely theirs. Silver and white surfaces gleamed spotless other than Sanji and Zoro’s occupied corner.  

“Onigiri.” Zoro practically whispered as the plate landed in front of him, along with a stemmed glass holding a deep red wine.

“It’s still your favorite, right?” Sanji asked - the smile on his lips had a touch of smugness, already knowing the answer - as he began plating his own while sipping on his glass of wine.

Zoro smiled and nodded. “Can’t believe you remember that.”

“Of course I remember.” Sanji’s brow raised. “Did you end up naming one of your attacks after it?” 

He laughed. “I did.” 

Sanji made a satisfied sound. “You’ll have to show me sometime.” 

“Could do it right now.”

“Tch. Not in my kitchen.” He squeezed Zoro's shoulder on his way to join him at the small table. 

“I wasn’t aware it was your kitc-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, you little shit.” Sanji said as he slid into his seat closest to Zoro. 

Zoro snorted a laugh as he took a bite of the first delicate riceball. The laugh morphed into a sound of approval as the flavors - sea king, salt, sesame seed, rice, all cooked to perfection - burst on his tongue. It tasted just like his mom's.

“Holy shit, this is amazing.” He spoke with his mouth open and took another bite. “Mmmph, way better than when we were kids.”

The glowing look on Sanji’s face fell into a performed scowl, the smile still growing wider. “Okay, excuse me, I was six years old, asshat. I would certainly hope that both our skills got better in thirteen years.” 

“Your mom's stuff was great, too.” 

Sanji made a muted sound of surprise, recovering quickly. “Yeah. It was.” A thoughtful half-smile took over. “As was Terra's. This is her recipe, after all.” 

He knew it.

Zoro beamed as he continued to eat and drink - probably faster than he should, body now trained to shield food from a certain captain. 

Sanji finished his first onigiri, sipping his wine in between each bite like he was savoring every morsel, dissecting each flavor. 

Everything Sanji did was polished and refined, and Zoro found himself craving to peel back the masked perfection. He wanted to see the messy kid who once covered himself with mud to chase Zoro around their section of the woods; the kid who fearlessly captured a spider inside the cabin and placed it safely outside; the kid who held his hand in the dark that time they got lost, not bothering to hide his own gnawing worry. 

“You look just like your bounty poster.” Sanji interrupted Zoro’s wandering mind. 

“Yeah?” He smirked. “You've been looking?”

“Looking at a head of broccoli on a human.” Sanji’s smile turned impish and covered it with another sip of his glass of wine.

Zoro feigned offense. “I’ve always had green hair.”

“You looked like a broccoli head then, too.” He popped the last bite of onigiri into his mouth. 

“Alright, what about you? What’s with your posh getup?” Zoro gestured to Sanji's elegant form. 

“I like looking my best, thank you very much.” Sanji brought one hand to his heart, one hand out and mocked a curtsy from his seat. 

“Messy then, prissy now.” Zoro teased. 

A rolled, white napkin smacked his forehead before it was caught and tossed in the hamper behind him.

“Oi!” 

“I was hardly ever messy. Maybe the grass has eaten your memory.” Sanji quipped as he gathered their empty plates.

“Oh, it’s grass now?”

“I’m still deciding.” He ruffled Zoro’s hair with his free hand, the other balanced the dishes on their way to the sink. 

Zoro tipped back in his chair and nearly put his feet up on the table like they did on the Merry, but thought better of it considering the endless complaints he'd likely get for that.

“Well, you’ve got some time to decide. Your boss has got Luffy here for a year.”

Sanji chuckled. “Looks that way. Though, I think he’ll drive the geezer crazy before then.”

“Yeah, I give him a week.”

“I give him three days.” There was something in the way his tone shifted, almost forlorn or regretful. Zoro wholeheartedly agreed: three days wasn't nearly enough time, but he didn't think any amount of time would feel like enough. “The old man isn’t known for his patience.”

“Well, he’s dealing with you, isn’t he?” The surprised laugh warmed Zoro’s soul, tingling to his fingertips. “Alright, so tell me, then.”

“Tell you what?” Sanji looked puzzled as he continued washing the few remaining dishes.

“Fill in the gaps of my grass-eaten memory or whatever. And while you’re at it, catch me up to speed on how you got here.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.” 

 Zoro tried to peek at Sanji’s face, to read what was happening there, half hidden from him at this angle.

Zoro sat forward. “And when did we decide that?”

“Zoro,” Sanji placed the second plate in the drying rack and turned around, leaning against the sink. “It’s great to see you. It’s been something I’ve…” He chewed the inside of his mouth, worrying the flesh between his teeth - his thinking face. “You’re on your crew. I’m on mine. And there’s no way I’m leaving here anytime soon, no matter what your captain says. So, however we cut it, our time is brief, right?” Sanji shrugged and threw a towel over his shoulder, preparing to dry. “We don’t have to rehash the past.”

“That’s not how that works.” Zoro found himself saying. Everything suddenly felt too out of reach for him, sands slipping through fingers. Was he doing this wrong?

“Says who?” Sanji began focusing on drying the dishes with more attention than Zoro thought necessary.

“Me. I’m saying so.” Tension crept up, but he could see Sanji waver, could see the cracks in the mask, a hope peeking through. “I want to know who you are now. I want to know what happened after, you know…” Zoro continued, despite Sanji’s back tensing, hackles on the cusp of rising. “And everything in between.”

Zoro slid back his chair and stood, drawing closer to lean against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Does the chef know? About them?” He tried to keep any accusation out of his voice, but that hinged on what Sanji was willing or unwilling to hear.

“I’m the chef.” Sanji rebuffed.

“Alright, cook.”

A nonsensical grumble followed.

Zoro waited a beat before pressing. “So?”

“No, Zeff doesn’t know. Okay?” Sanji snapped, a spark that fizzled and died. “He just knows it was bad. I don’t talk or think about my past,  mosshead.”

“I’m a part of your past.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Sanji pinched his brow. “I just - I can’t talk about that shit. It’s behind me and there it stays.”

Zoro huffed a sardonic laugh. “Well, as a former bounty hunter, I can tell you, your past is bound to catch up to you.” 

“Wow. Thanks for the very unsolicited advice.” He could practically hear the eyeroll. 

This felt like a test, seeing if Zoro had the patience, seeing if he was willing to get burned to get close. The joke was on Sanji - Zoro would set himself ablaze just to be close to him again. 

“Listen,” He relaxed his stance, placing his left hand on the counter, his right resumed its usual spot on Wado. 

The shift seemed to put Sanji at ease, almost immediately - at least he had turned marginally towards him. Zoro inched closer. 

“I know a thing or two about not being able to talk.” He nudged Sanji playfully and earned a light chuckle. “I’m not asking for the gory details, Cook, I just want to catch up.”

Sanji’s gaze lingered just a hair longer than it should have - not that Zoro was complaining - and it flexed the air in the room, confirming something in Zoro’s brain that it wouldn’t fully let him privy to just yet. Like a cup of tea, a hug, a meal had meant… something. And it gave breath to a small, flickering flame.

Sanji smirked before stepping back a few paces to open a cabinet and take something out. Sake - Zoro could smell it from here, his mouth watered in conditioned response.

“I’ll tell you, if you tell me.” Sanji firmly placed a bottle between them. Zoro went to grab for it before he was swatted away. “I know your mother taught you manners, brute, so use them and wait for the cups.” He tsked, eyeing Zoro as he reached into another cabinet for two small ceramic cups. With blue roses. Just like his mother’s chipped teapot from Wano. 

Like Sanji had been waiting for him. 

Like Sanji remembered everything. 

Sanji set the cups down, one in front of each of them, and uncorked the bottle.

“This one kind of reminds me of our moms. Probably the spring blossom tones.” He smiled, filling the cups. 

The pang of sadness rippled through his chest giving way to the warmth stoked in his body, thawing something within.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the sword in the room.” Sanji recorked the bottle and nodded to his hip where Wado rested. 

He knew. He had to know that they were both gone; for Zoro to have Wado in his possession, they had to be. He must have known when Zoro walked in. 

Now, tired eyes seemed to acknowledge a shared grief, a dullness from losing a parent, a vibrancy drained.

“So since you wanted to catch up, Mosshead, you’re up first. Tell me about her.”

Sanji raised his cup, clinking it with Zoro’s. Someone had to start them off, and it may as well be him. 

“Alright. Wado.” Zoro softly closed his eyes and tilted his head back to take a deep breath in. He righted himself only to do it all over again, just with a long pull of sake. “Fill it back up, this might take a while.”

With a deep sigh, Zoro began to share about the liberation of Shimotsuki Village, how they had built a life there - really built a life - how they were happy. Until Terra's passing. How she fell ill about two years after they settled there. She tried to push as much as she could, before she couldn't. He had curled into her side, feeling the rise and fall of her last breaths, held until the very end. 

He thought her death would be the worst he’d have to experience, but then his dad died in a fight defending Shimotsuki against some fuckwad pirates. The place where his father fell, where blood drenched the earth, nourished the seeds of Zoro's hatred for pirates.

And, then, Kuina. His hand wrapped around Wado’s handle.

“We got close after moving to Shimotsuki. After my parents died, Koushirou and Nova took over my dad's dojo and me along with it. Kuina and I trained, because that was all there was to do with the pain and grief. She made me better, gave me purpose, like she always did.” He drained his cup once more. “When she finally received Wado, she shone bright. And like a flicker,” He gripped Wado tighter, until his palm ached. “It went out.” He tried to swallow, his throat felt too tight. “She fell down the fucking stairs. And that was it.” 

She deserved better. They all deserved better. 

Sanji's breath hitched, a whispered, “Fuck.”

What he didn't share was that by the time of Kuina’s death, he’d already considered himself cursed to lose everyone and everything he loved, to wander the earth with no attachments. Only the song of a dream to keep lulling him into the next step, into the next step, into the next step. Until he found Luffy, and a slice of sun, peeking through the clouds. 

“So that's Wado.” He needed something to burn, to help him stave the terrible sadness coating his throat. He finished another cup and poured them both full again, trying to ignore meeting Sanji’s kind eyes, unable to bear the empathy. “Alright, I think it's your turn.”

Sanji's fingers twitched, almost tugging forward, like he wanted to close the gap and touch, to embrace, to crush all the obvious pain Zoro was carrying, but held himself back. 

Sanji swallowed thickly after finishing his cup. “I'm not talking about them.” His jaw set, he held the silence thoughtfully, waiting for the right words. “There's plenty more to talk about.” 

He did share some things, vague and cryptic, almost protective. Delicately, he told of how Sora held on for as long as she could, of how the abuse grew worse after her death, of how Judge made him ‘disappear’. Sanji smoked half his pack, fingers trembled near imperceptibly, soothed by the nicotine. 

Zoro ached to be closer to him, to reach out and brush his fingers against the reddened, warm cheeks, to comfort, to protect in ways he couldn't as a child.

But there was more after Sanji escaped them. A reprieve found on the Orbit, a family of cooks that watched out for one another. Until a pirate ship and a storm. And then eighty-five days of starvation with a brash old pirate who didn't hesitate to sacrifice his own well-being for Sanji’s.

“Shit.” Zoro's stomach clenched. To escape them…to escape whatever cruelty befell him after Sora's death, only to land on a rock in the middle of nowhere to starve.

Sanji nodded. “Yeah, it was brutal.”

“I came in a little late, but I'm assuming that's why you… lectured that Marine?”

“What a nice way of saying ‘choked out’.” Sanji grinned devilishly. “Yeah, we don't waste food here. He won't make that mistake twice.”

They grew tired of sharing only the sadness, and replaced it with a game of cards and exchanging tales they'd experienced along their journeys. Sanji spoke emphatically with each story, weaving the narrative perfectly up to the punch line, sending Zoro howling with laughter. Their bodies gravitated towards one another until there was barely any room between them at all.

“Alright, it's getting late,” Sanji attempted to cork the bottle when Zoro snatched it and took the remaining two gulps, finishing with an ‘ah’. 

Sanji's affect flattened, near a scowl. “Ridiculous man.” 

Zoro hummed, satisfied.

“To bed, now.” His fingers boldly traced over Zoro's belly where the haramaki met his shirt.

“Yeah.” Zoro agreed, disposing of the empty bottle. 

His stomach flipped when Sanji took his hand in his again, and led them up the stairs.

“I should probably stay with my crew.” Zoro mumbled lamely under his breath as he looked up and down the hallway, like that would actually help him find them. 

“Well, I don’t know which rooms they’re in, so…” Sanji nudged his door open. “Why don’t you just stay with me?"

Zoro’s belly stirred with a surge of excitement, and he smiled. 

“Sure, Cook.” He baited.

“I swear to god.” Sanji huffed, mirth twinkling in blue depths. “Just shut up and get in here.” Punctuated with a hurried swat to his shoulder that morphed into a gentle push, bringing Zoro past the threshold. 

The small but tidy room was decorated like a young bachelor lived there - a perfectionistic, horney priss of a young bachelor. If Zoro had come up here an hour ago, he might take the space at face value, but its posters of scanty clad women and lists of workout schedules and recipes braced against a more cutting eye.  The rank display of forced masculinity resisted anything that could be read as soft, other than the small, folded pile of blankets at the of the bed and, sure, the bed itself, he supposed. Behind the performance was an undeniable fear of rejection: ‘please don’t see me’. Wishes of a child who was forced to disappear, as Sanji had vaguely shared.

For someone who coped by not speaking for months, near years, Zoro didn’t care that he’d have to chip away at the stone walls Sanji had built around him. It was another challenge, another endurance of spirit, and Zoro had no qualms about it. Just as Sanji had been patient with him, had coaxed him out of his shell of silence, Zoro would wait as long as it took. 

Zoro unhitched the belt from his waist and leaned his swords against the wall. When he turned back to Sanji, arms reflexively reached out just in time to catch a thrown blanket.

“Should we make a blanket fort?” Sanji revealed a wisp of his boyishness. “For old time’s sake?”

Zoro stood surprised for a moment before a grin emerged. “Yeah.” 

Sanji beamed gloriously and fetched the sole wooden chair, placing it about four feet away from the side of the bed. Zoro draped two of the folded blankets to connect the bed to the chair through a makeshift awning, creating a little enclave for them. They stacked some cookbooks on the seat of the chair to hold the excess blankets in place, lazily securing their fort.

It was a tight squeeze as they tucked themselves under, but they made it work. Their heads lifted the blankets a few inches, and they chuckled when they tried to look at one another and only got more blanket. Zoro reached his left arm behind him, bringing it a bit closer to Sanji’s warmth, and pressed his elbow into the mattress to hike the material higher. 

With a soft whoosh, it lifted the barrier letting their bright eyes meet and sucking the air from Zoro's lungs. 

The realization hit him - really hit him. 

After all this time…

He'd found him. 

Sanji, in the flesh. 

A tilt of his axis, they drew in to one another. Blue eyes flicked down to his lips, back up to meet his gaze. Before Zoro could say anything, Sanji closed the small gap and kissed him. He made a noise of surprise before melting into it, letting himself kiss Sanji back, yielding to the flame. Hands flew up to land on Zoro’s neck, pulling him closer until -

Sanji reeled back, eyes wide. 

“Sh-shit, sorr-”

Without hesitation, Zoro grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him back in, teeth clacked before they fell into rhythm. Panting breath and needy sounds filled their intimate cave, giving air to something carnal. Sanji pushed up to get a better angle, the blanket rose higher as Zoro made space for him to straddle his lap. Hands found the lithe waist and squeezed with obsession before dropping down to do the same to Sanji's thick thighs. The corded muscles flexed beneath his fingers, only making him grip harder, needing to feel more. 

“Shit, are you sure - is this okay?” Sanji's voice wavered as Zoro’s lips trailed across his jawline. Long fingers played with the earrings of his left ear before they threaded through green hair, yanking a bit. “You want this?”

The question made Zoro want to laugh. To him, he was meant to be Sanji's and Sanji was meant to be his. That was all there was to it. 

Of course he wanted this.

“Fuck, yeah.” Zoro pressed an earnest smile into Sanji's neck before he traced back up to nip at the plump bottom lip, trailing his hands up the muscular back, drawing him closer and closer. “I want this.” He kissed him again and again, starving for contact. “I want you.”

Sanji clutched him like something had snapped, something he'd had been holding, holding, holding until it broke away. A dam sundered; the sound of stone crumbling, water flowing. Zoro tasted the salt of tears and pulled back again to meet the overflowing pools. 

“Hey.” He thumbed over the wet cheek disrupting the flow of tears.

Sanji shook his head, trying to move past it. Like the tears were ridiculous. Like Zoro felt any differently. 

“It's okay.” Zoro swept back the blond curtain of hair to see both watery eyes.

Sanji shook his head again. “Just…missed you.” He managed, pressing his forehead against Zoro's, letting their breath tangle as the surprise tears slowed. 

“I missed you, too.” Zoro admitted with a punctuation of a soft kiss, before drawing deeper. He cupped Sanji's cheek, tilting to be granted a better angle to trail down the column of his neck. “It was too long. But here you are, at last.” The words, spoken like a prayer, vibrated against soft skin. 

Sanji exhaled a relieved laugh, it turned breathy when Zoro began to lavish his tongue over a beating pulse point. The blood pumped beneath his touch making him dizzy, making him feral with a desperate need to feel it all.

His fingers toyed with Sanji's tie and gently tugged. “Can I  -”

“Yeah, here, let me.” Sanji yanked the tie free and set his focus on disrobing Zoro while fingers fumbled with the vest and buttoned-up shirt. 

Zoro growled in frustration - ‘too many fucking buttons’ - as Sanji huffed with the white shirt getting stuck around Zoro's ‘stupid muscles’. 

One of the blankets slipped before Zoro caught it and dragged it to the floor beneath them as the cookbooks shifted and fell with a clatter. Feet haphazardly kicked off pants and shoes, freeing their bodies of their material confines, as they tumbled into a heated embrace. 

Sanji landed on his back, pulling Zoro over him, arms and legs tangled, bodies greedy for as much touch and contact as humanely possible. It seemed to slow when they realized there was time to savor, that the other wasn’t being ripped away from them. Zoro became more indulgent as his lips traveled and tasted, letting the echoes of soap and cologne coat his senses. Hands caressed and held, memorizing every detail, every scar, every grove of Sanji’s body. The noises he pulled from Sanji mirrored his own as fingers scratched his scalp and lips kissed everything in reach. 

He slid his cock against Sanji’s where it lay heavy, weeping precum on the pale white expanse of his stomach. Fuck, Zoro wanted to lick it clean, and he probably would, but for now, he let it coat the slide of their cocks against one another with purpose and drive. He reached down to fist both of them, but -

Heartbeat quickened when Sanji wrapped those sculpted legs around his waist and firmly drew him in. 

“Fuck me.” He whispered in Zoro’s ear. 

Zoro's voice caught in his throat and he made a choked sound, reeling back slightly to meet the heavy-lidded eyes, dark with lust; with yearning; with need.

“Shit, yeah.” He replied, breathlessly.

“Have you ever…” Sanji trailed off, a bashful blush rising in signal of another secret on the precipice of a reveal. 

Zoro’s face cracked into a grin. “Nope. You?”

“Theoretically.” Sanji winced at the escaped word. 

Zoro barked a laugh. “Yeah, theoretically, me too.” He rolled his eyes and received a pillow in the face for it.

“Shut up.” Sanji sniped mirthfully.

“Don’t worry, Cook, I’ll be gentle.” 

“Fuck off.” A teasing lick followed a nip to Zoro’s bottom lip before he was wrestled into his back, Sanji caging him in.

But Zoro didn't like all the space between them and lifted himself to meet as much of Sanji as he could, short of carving space for the cook to take residence in his chest cavity. He slid their lips into another kiss, letting himself marinate in the traces of sake and wine, of onigiri, of Sanji. Sanji wrapped his arms around his neck, ebbing to Zoro’s greed, nails lightly scraping his scalp, his neck, his back. And Zoro briefly thought those were marks he wouldn't mind etched into his body. Like he was owned, like he mattered to someone. 

His own hands dug into flesh and tightened the more Sanji grinded the supple weight of his perky ass on Zoro's cock, while squeezing the leaking pink length between their bellies. Light moans and frenzied touch built the heat between them, bodies slid blissfully, rutting against one another.

Shit, he was going to -

“Wait-” Sanji broke away, flushed chest heaving in time with Zoro's. He looked so wild and beautiful, with mussed hair, heavy eyes, and that adorable blush. Zoro leaned in to lick the drool gathering at the corner of his mouth, and was able to pepper a few more kisses before Sanji gripped him by the hair, pulling him back, and stared down at him dangerously. “Want to come on your cock.” 

Zoro smiled as he was pushed back again, flat onto the floor, while Sanji contorted himself to pluck something from the nightstand’s drawer. He took the opportunity to grab the meat of that pert ass and kneed greedily, ignoring the playful swatting of one hand, while the other continued to search in the drawer. 

“Where the fuck - hah - Zoro, quit it - mmhm - I’m trying -” Sanji grumbled between lewd little sounds before meanly rocking back on Zoro’s cock, ripping out a groan from his belly. “Well, I can’t find it with you distracting -”

“Taking too long ” Zoro grabbed Sanji and rolled him away from the nightstand towards his haramaki, ignoring the irate sounds of a blond cook. The chair groaned against the wooden floor as it was pushed, then toppled, in their raucous play. 

“You oaf -” Sanji struggled to breathe with Zoro’s body weight rolled on top of him. 

“I have sword oil, don’t worry.” Zoro pulled back with a beaming smile, the small tin successfully in hand. He furiously opened it, the tin lid bouncing across the floor, and oiled his fingers generously. 

“Sword oil? Is that supposed to be a statement about how big your dick is or something?” It would have sounded more baiting, more convincing even, if Sanji didn’t look as flushed and feral as he did, if his fingers weren’t digging into Zoro’s abs or eyes zeroed in on their pair of cocks heavy on the messy tapestry of his belly. 

Zoro smirked and dipped two fingers between supple asscheeks to dance across the soft, puckered entrance as his lips returned possessively to Sanji’s. 

“It's pretty big, but I think it’ll be just right for you, hm?” Zoro said with a velvety gentleness, baring witness to the increased anticipation mirroring his own. “As yours will be for me, I already know.”

Sanji’s eyes widened and, while he stuttered to find a response, Zoro kissed him again, slow and sweet. An indulgent rub over the rim tore a breathy moan and temporarily broke their lips apart before Sanji pulled him in by the hair, his tongue exploring Zoro’s mouth. 

When Zoro pushed one finger in, his mind went fuzzy at the feeling of being inside Sanji; the heat wrapped around him tightened as Sanji whimpered. 

Zoro peppered kisses across Sanji’s lips and cheeks. “Relax.”

“Yeah.” Sanji bit his bottom lip, and drew Zoro in to keep their foreheads pressed together; an anchor. Their heavy breath mingled and it made Zoro dizzy with need. “We'll see how you do when you have my fingers up your ass.” 

“Can't wait.” They both chuckled; the tension, the anticipation, continuing to dissipate. 

The next time Sanji exhaled, Zoro pressed another finger inside and gently pumped them, obsessed with the feeling of being closer - closer - closer. Knowing that this warmth would be blissfully wrapped around his cock in a moment had him helplessly twitching and leaking. 

With pragmatism, Sanji snapped a hand across his mouth to quiet the wildly lascivious noises while Zoro bit his lip until he tasted thick copper, trying to keep his sanity tethered; losing battles on all fronts. 

Two fingers became three and ushered in a growling impatience. “Now, Zoro -”

It took all of a second before Zoro’s cock was pressing inside, inch by inch. He fisted Sanji's cock, thumbing over the head and spreading precum and oil, as he sank inside. His lips rarely disconnected from soft skin as Sanji vibrated beneath him.

With an impatient kick to his ass, Zoro began to move, letting his thrusts start out slow, dragging indulgently, before picking up speed with the heat of the moment. Tears leaked from blue eyes mixing with glistening sweat, blond hair clung to his forehead - an absolute vision. 

“Fuck, Zoro -” Sanji rasped, nails cutting into his Zoro's shoulders. He arched his back when Zoro hit that spot, fluttering around him with pulses of pleasure, so he did it again and again and again.

Heavy panting, moans, and skin slapping filled the air, though they tried to soften the noise through muffling kisses and breathy, whispered words: 

Fuck, you feel good, fuck -

Shit, Zoro, yes, right there -

Can't wait to have this cock inside me -

Oh, gods, shut up or I'm going to come -

We have all night -

Keep going, fuck -

I’m - Sanji, shit - I -

Gods, ye - ess -

I’m gonna - 

Fuck, yes, me too -

They trembled and shook in each other’s arms, stealing breath from one another, unwilling to part, as they both reached the height of their peak together. Sanji’s pleasure was his pleasure was Sanji’s pleasure was his, and so on and so on. He didn’t know where he ended and Sanji began, and it sent a flood of heat - of love - through him as he came down from the heights, cradled in warmth. 

Soft sighs turned into a bubble of hysterical laughter.

“Fuck.” Zoro was breathless as he collapsed into Sanji, smearing cum across both their bodies. 

“Okay, I’m having a smoke,” Sanji panted, rolling Zoro off of him. Zoro's body pushed the felled chair against the dresser as he flopped onto his back. “And then we’re definitely doing that again.”

“Ready when you are.” Zoro offered a sleepy, satisfied sigh and spread his legs. “Sword oil is right there.” 

“Yeah, settle down, big guy.” Sanji smirked and clicked his lighter on; a soft flush of light appeared and disappeared with it, leaving behind a small lit cherry. 

They felt too far apart, too cold, too distant, until Sanji’s fingers interlaced with Zoro’s, over his belly. He let himself relax into it. 

“That was nice.” Zoro said, wiping the sweat from his face with his free hand.

“Nice?” Sanji cocked his brow, like he was waiting to be insulted.

“Yeah,” He drew their tangled fingers up to his lips and planted a kiss on long, curled fingers. “It was really fucking nice, Sanji.”

The helpless blush melted any icy protection Sanji had started to build out of the heat of intimacy, and he let himself be pulled in a bit closer. 

“It was, wasn’t it?”

Zoro hummed into a small chuckle. “You should tell Zeff you won’t be around for the next few days.” 

“Yeah? Because my long lost friend is keeping me under lock and key?”

“Keeping you under something.” Zoro offered an impish smile. “Gonna ride you all night.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sanji exhaled deeply, a long plume of smoke wafted around them. “Something tells me he wouldn’t go for that.” His blush deepened, so revealing on soft, pale cheeks. “I do want you around, though…it’s nice.”

“Yeah?” Zoro cushioned his head with his bicep as he turned toward Sanji, daring to get closer. 

Sanji nodded. “Yeah.”

“I want to be around for as long as possible." Something about his word choice put Sanji back on edge, though he certainly tried to mask it.

“Right. Because you have to go after that guy. Mihawk.” A tone stained with bitterness, a hand retracted.

“Eventually, yeah.” Zoro sat up on his elbow.

“Right.” Sanji said again, curling his knees into his chest. 

“You could… come with u-” You could… come with us; fulfill your dream; find the All Blue.

“Don’t. Please.” Sanji shook his head, his eyes refusing to meet Zoro’s, opting instead to look up and out his window at the blanket of stars in the night sky as he took another pull from the cigarette. “I just…” His jaw clicked. “It’s not that I don’t want you to follow your dreams, of course I do, I just - I just got you back.”

“I know.” Silence hung and Zoro's heart pounded with each passing second. 

He wished this had been different. That they had more time. 

There was never enough time.

Zoro sat up and dared to take Sanji’s hand in his again. “I won’t be alone in my fight with Mihawk, you know.”

Sanji's brow furrowed and he cocked his head in confusion, 

“Let me show you.” He stood, tugging Sanji up with him. Sanji snuffed the cig in the nearest ashtray before Zoro brought them over to the three swords leaning in the corner between the end of the bed and the wall. 

He grabbed a blanket off of the floor and wrapped it around him, and he, in kind, wrapped around Sanji, chest resting on back, their breath as one inhale and one exhale. 

“Grab Wado for me?”

He felt Sanji's breathing pause. “You'll let me hold her?”

“Yeah, only you though. And Luffy…that one time.” Zoro dipped his forehead, brushing the nape of Sanji's neck before pressing a kiss there.

Fingers reached out from under the ‘blanket-mossball-sandwich’, as Sanji called it, and curled around Wado, drawing her to them with reverence. 

“Hello, old friend.” Sanji's voice broke and Zoro could hear him swallow thickly. 

“Do you see it?” He whispered the question into Sanji's soft skin, pressing a kiss at the nape of his neck.

“Oh.” Sanji whispered as Zoro hooked his chin over his shoulder, watching how fingers traced over the white ito and the silky, blue ribbon that bound their mothers together. “Zoro…is this…?”

“Yes, that's her.” 

“I -” Sanji swallowed again and Zoro could hear his jaw set, trying to keep back emotion. 

“My mother had some solid friends throughout her life, but Sora was the one she talked about the most. Those two months together, they changed us. All for the better.” He kissed the sensitive skin behind Sanji's ear. “She loved Sora, and she loved you.” 

“Shit.” Sanji wiped away loose tears before dropping his hand down to overlay on Zoro's, right over his belly. “Thank you,” He whispered. “Thank you for keeping her so close. It's - to know she meant something to someone else…that someone else out here was missing her, too...” 

He shook his head, unable to find the rest of the words, unable to capture all the expansive emotion of being able to share in a memory of a woman who many had long forgotten. 

Zoro wondered who Sanji grieved with when Sora died, and if he had been allowed a moment of memories, of inside jokes or sweet stories. If he had been allowed to remember the way Sora laughed or teased or sang; the way she lit up a world with her presence; the way she left a trail of joy in her wake. Perhaps the staff had rallied around Sanji - that guy, William - the people who knew her kindness, who loved her, even if they weren’t allowed to in Judge’s presence.

Arashi had been crushed by Terra's death, losing a piece of himself after she was taken from them, but he never shied away from memories, always sprinkling her throughout each day as though she was still with them. He still taught her techniques at the dojo, even ones he didn’t agree with, tended the gardens she planted, fed the goats that she had loved - Cherry and Pie. And he’d end each day with a lesson he'd learned from her or a memory of her twinkling, mischievous eyes, shared with his son next to a crackling fire in the hearth.  

Judge wasn’t one to have the reflective capacity - or humanity - to reminisce, and Sanji’s siblings wouldn't dare bring her up. But Zoro could, he could bring her up and talk about her and share stories - he could do that for a boy who looked so lost and frantic as Sanji did in those moments he thought no one was looking, who held more of Sora in him than he may have realized or remembered. 

“You both were everything to us.” Zoro said, because it was true.

Sanji hugged Wado to his chest and let Zoro hug him from behind. After a few more attempts and some choked sniffles, Sanji managed out, 

“I’m glad she’ll be with you. Both of them.” A small huff of breath as he tried to push through the emotion. “Your mom, she helped me, too. Someday, maybe I’ll tell you all of it, but…” 

He pulled away and Zoro followed closely behind, unwilling to let them be too far apart for long. Sanji took them over to the dresser and gently handed Wado back to Zoro, squeezing the hilt once more before he reached to drag open one of his dresser drawers.

“When Judge was…at his angriest,” Sanji swallowed, pulling out a small wooden box. “Terra was with me. I hid her in my boots along with some other stuff, like she taught us to do with knives.” They both chuckled with fondness. “Somehow, she even made it with me on that awful rock island.”

He pulled out the gilded kushi with its pink cherry blossoms and cradled it in his palm before stretching it out for Zoro to take. The comb felt both cool and warm to the touch, similar to Wado, like holding Terra herself. 

“She taught me endurance and strength…and how to stand up for myself. She was with me through it all.” Sanji swallowed again. “You both were everything to us, too, you know? Mama and I loved you. I lo-” A soft, strangled sound accompanied renewed tears. 

“I love you, too.” Zoro finished the sentence and closed the gap between them to hastily place Wado on the low dresser, along with the kushi, back in its box, to wrap his arms around Sanji and press a kiss to his lips. 

They breathed into one another, hearts pumping in tandem, skin tingling with each touch. 

“I love you, Zoro.” Sanji finished his thought between peppered kisses, that glorious, free smile on his lips. 

Sanji's voice pulled him from the shallow slumber he found himself in after the fourth or fifth round, Zoro had lost count. His body ached in all the right ways, in all the right places, like after a good fight or a challenging workout. Satisfied, he felt satisfied.

“When did you get these?” Sanji had asked as they lay in the bed, limbs tangled and wrapped around one another. He traced his fingers over the recovered tissue of Zoro's hands. 

Zoro kissed his forehead. “The night you were taken from me.” 

He remembered Sanji kissing the scars before bringing him in for a hug, clinging to him as they fell asleep.

Zoro stirred awake mid-morning, curled around Sanji’s blanket with a note stuck to his forehead. He pawed it off and blearily tried to read it before rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying again. 

Don’t you dare let this breakfast go to waste, Mosshead.

He lifted his eyes from the note to look around for what Sanji could mean, idly noting that the blond had completely tidied the whole room to its original standards at some point while Zoro was asleep, even placing Wado back with the other two swords.

On the small table near the window, in the cozy breakfast nook, sat a silver tray with a lid and a black coffee, now cold, next to it. The lid lifted to reveal a full breakfast of sausages, eggs, toast, and something green - more than a garnish, rather an inside joke between two teasing nicknames. 

The door opened and Zoro’s guilty gaze shot up to find Sanji on his smoke break - said smoke in hand - with a scowl on his face. It softened when he saw Zoro, blue eyes brightened. The door clicked and locked behind him. 

An extended smoke break, then. Zoro grinned wolfishly. 

“Well,” Sanji didn’t hide his wandering eyes, raking over Zoro’s sculpted, naked body. “Should have known my moss would be sleepy.” 

He crossed the room and tapped out the creeping ash in the ashtray by the bed. “I’ll get you a fresh cup of coffee.”

“I’ll drink this one first.” Zoro wrapped his hands around Sanji’s waist and brought him in for a kiss.

“As if that was even a choice.” Sanji let his lips linger and drag across tan skin before pulling away to take another drag from his lit cigarette. “You sleep okay?”

“Better than I have in ages.” Zoro admitted, unable to suppress the smile on his face.

“Same here.” A soft blush rose to pale cheeks. “Sorry I couldn’t stay in bed longer.”

Zoro shook his head, dismissing it. “I know you gotta work, Cook.” 

Sanji sniffed a chuckle and pointed to the tray. “Eat up.”

Zoro hummed. “I will. But I was thinking of something else first.” 

“Hm?” Sanji pushed the window open to let the fresh, ocean breeze in and looked over the hazy horizon turning back to Zoro who gently pushed Sanji into the wall behind him. His lips found the sensitive skin under his earlobe where he whispered, 

“I’d like to suck you off first.” 

Sanji choked on the smoke in his lungs, hacking and beating his chest for a moment before regaining control of his breath. Blue eyes remained wide and excited. 

“I - I only have like five minutes.”

“Perfect.” Zoro grinned and dropped to his knees.

It was a tight squeeze between the wall and the small table, the wood scraped a few inches to make a bit more room as Zoro settled

“I can’t get undressed.” Sanji added. “We can’t…” He trailed off guiltily, like they hadn’t taken turns fucking each other all night, like he hadn’t made Zoro breakfast in bed, like he had something to make up for. 

“I know. I don’t want you to. It’s kind of hot being naked and you being fully dressed.” He smiled up at Sanji.

The blush deepened and earned him a grumble of ‘little freak’.

But Zoro wasn’t blind and could see the hard swell beneath the tight, black slacks, knowing Sanji was just as affected by their current predicament. With permission granted, his fingers scrambled to undo Sanji’s belt and push down the material as quickly as possible, like he was starved for it.

The swollen, pink cock sprung to attention, once freed, and Zoro’s mouth watered watching the small dew drop of precum pearl at the tip. Gray eyes dragged up to meet blue.

“You're going to be a good boy for me and suck my cock, aren't you?” Sanji’s voice was firm and deep. 

The moment hovered before Zoro cracked a laugh, just as Sanji giggled and doubled over his back. He crouched down, the table slid back against the opposite wall, and kissed Zoro as they shared their haze of delirium and laughter.

“Where did that come from?” Zoro caught his breath. 

“I read it in a magazine a while ago.” Sanji said, wiping a tear at his eye. “Seemed like something to try.” 

Zoro chuckled. “It was hot.”

Sanji kissed him once more. “Yeah?” 

Zoro nodded. 

“Okay, I'll try it again.” Sanji stood tall once more and raked a hand through his hair.

Another drag pulled as he stepped back into character. He met Zoro's gaze and bit his lip, eyes drooping on the exhale through nostrils, like a bull. The air shifted and a flame of desire crackled between them. Zoro’s pulse raced.

“Be a good boy and open wide.” Sanji purred before taking another deep drag off his smoke.

Zoro shivered. “Shit. That was good “

“Yeah?” Sanji smiled brightly.

“Yeah.” Zoro licked his lips, wetting them slowly, drawing it out, and it earned him a soft hitch in breath. He opened his jaw, rolling out his tongue and waited patiently, suppressing a moan when Sanji gently smeared the leaky cock against his lips and slapped it against his tongue before sliding it in. 

A salty flavor burst on his tongue as he wrapped his lips around Sanji’s cock, flooded with the smell and taste of the man. Drool wetted the slide as he began bobbing his head, taking more and more of Sanji until his nose brushed dark blond curls. 

Huh, nice to know he didn't have a gag reflex. 

“You’re going to let me come on your face, right?” 

Zoro, head already fuzzy, managed to nod as well as he could with his mouth full. 

Sanji exhaled the smoke from his lungs and smiled. “Always so good for me.” 

Shit, he was good at this. 

Zoro's belly rolled as Sanji gently scratched his scalp, momentarily pulling on the roots before dripping his fingers down to caress his jaw. 

“That’s it - hah -” Sanji tipped his head back, lips curled into a smile. “Fuck -”

Zoro pulled back to flick his tongue around the head and then sucked down, nestling himself into the curls, being drowned in Sanji's musk. 

“Wait, Zoro -” His hair was yanked back just as a flow of flavor coated his tongue, the last few spurts splattered across his face.

Zoro swallowed and panted, not realizing how little air he had gotten, blissfully unaware and simply enjoying himself.

“Good boy, Zoro.” 

That chill zipped down his spine and his cock twitched, continuing to leak all over his thighs. 

“Shit, you’re…” Sanji whispered in awe as he smeared a glob of cum into Zoro’s face. “Beautiful.”

Zoro rested in a charming little state, briefly noting that Sanji wetted a cloth to clean his face, praising him all the while, and, shit, that did something to him…made him feel warm all over. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he didn't get to come and found that he didn't care much at all. This had been more than enough.

He began coming back to himself when Sanji tried to give him the coffee to drink and realized it had mostly spilled when the table was shoved. Sanji muttered admonishment at himself as he set to work cleaning the spill and drinking what was left of the cold beverage. 

Sanji did fetch Zoro some water and, by that time, he was sitting at the table, shoveling food in his mouth. Sanji cupped his cheek after he finished inhaling another bite and dipped down to brush their lips. 

“I’d fuck you again, but we’re out of time.” Sanji barely kissed him, hovering before diving into something desperate and passionate.  Zoro hummed, pleased, by the time Sanji pulled back. “Thank you for the lovely smoke break.” He smirked. “See you down there. And bring your dishes down with you.”

Zoro nodded with a wide grin. “You got it, Cook.”

They could fall into a routine like this, he thought. They'd likely have a month, maybe more. He could train and spend as much time as possible with Sanji. 

They could wake up like this and go to sleep like this, they could share meals, and talk, and fuck. 

He let his imagination wander until he licked his plate clean, feeling a sense of contentment he hadn't felt since that island of the past, where heaven existed for a blip in time. 

They could have that again. 

Unfortunately, he'd forgotten: he was cursed.

He must be.

Or maybe, now, blessed. 

Because the Fates decided two days was more than enough. And on their expanse of sea, they sent a force of nature to the Baratie’s doorstep. 

Every cell in his body vibrated with life, with a harmony of thrilling excitement and terrifying dread. 

Mihawk was strong. Too strong.

And Zoro had lost.

A rabbit in the clutches of a hawk, he offered himself up as tribute of a dream worth fighting for; a dream worth dying for.

Yoru - that was her name - sang through the air, the most glorious of hymns. 

Then. 

There was pain - 

A flash of a very short life -

And, then, 

Euphoria. 

Blood, like fire, gushed and spread, spilling his life across the floating deck of a felled Krieg Pirate ship, yet he’d never felt so at peace. 

Behind the bliss swallowing him, his nerves screamed in agony, but he couldn’t connect with that; detached. 

As he was pulled through the water by Johnny and Yosaku - the water that always held and carried him - he realized they were one. They were all one. There was nothing different about the barriers of liquid and form - all existence was united and thrummed together.

He could feel, rather than hear, Sanji’s desperate cry for him to ‘abandon your dream!’ and he only felt compassion; Sanji didn’t understand yet. Zoro would welcome death like a familiar lullaby, let it wrap him in embrace. It would all be okay; he would return, and they would find each other again, in this life or the next. 

He was dragged onto a boat, and suddenly he was on every boat he’d ever traveled upon, feeling every deck beneath his back and every version of the sun warming him with its rays. 

Usopp was shaking - Usopp - Zoro smiled. 

Nami - who wasn’t here, but she was, he could feel her -

Luffy - captain -

Sanji - love - 

His heartbeat pulsed throughout his whole body, it was a luxury, a gift. He felt the heartbeat of his mother and father, and their parents, and their parents, and their parents, and so on. 

Kuina’s hands landed on his face, the earthy smell of the field they sparred in, the echoes of their promise. Her smile. 

Her smile. Proud. 

“Stay.” She ordered. And it would be so. 

“Stay with me, Zoro, shit!” Usopp was panicking as he used some kind of cooling ointment.

“Stay.” Kuina said again.

Then, there was a rush of pain, lungs gasped with air, and his body ripped apart by pain - pain - pain -

“He’s alive, Luffy!” Usopp screamed.

Luffy. 

“Luf - y -” Zoro’s voice crackled, partially gargling blood. “Luffy! Can you hear me?” A promise - he had to promise - knowing the words were already etched into flesh and bone, in prophecy. He would never lose again.

And Luffy laughed. He laughed, and it felt like freedom. 

Zoro wanted to cry out for Sanji, but - 

He blacked out. 

A few times…he knew. 

As he roused in an unfamiliar home, in an unfamiliar bed, on an unfamiliar land, a harsh, gutteral sound was ripped from his lungs as he settled into sentience and could feel everything in his body ripple with torture and torment. 

Once he became used to the rolling waves of pain, he began to breathe like his mother taught him; an old samurai thing, he figured. 

“Breathe into it, Zoro.” She had said each time he was hurt. “Let it wash over you.” 

He saw her do it after the fight for Shimotsuki Village and knew it worked. It wasn’t really working now, but he was just getting into the rhythm of it, the way it ebbed and flowed.

Finding a cadence, his body fell at ease. He wasn’t clenching and, therefore, wasn’t straining the stitches. 

The moment his brain had enough access to cognitive thought, he tried to remember the last…day? How long had he been out?

Memories began coming to him in flashes, like echoes of someone else’s life. 

He remembered...

Sanji yelling to him before he fell into the water, not hiding the desperation, the horror of all the blood Zoro lost. 

He remembered...

Being swallowed by water.

He remembered...

Kuina.

He remembered being wrapped in bandages; being tied against the mast by Usopp; Nami, and Nami lying; more water and wandering; arguing and talking with Sanji, their banter unwavering  - 

Sanji -

Sanji had joined them -

Darkness, again.  

The fight with the fishmen, to be frank, he didn’t remember. His body was likely in shock, only moving from sheer muscle memory, along with a goal, a mission:

Avenge Nami, free them.

He knew he had felt vibrantly full and bright, fighting back to back with Sanji; they flowed like water, coming in like a storm. 

“Cook.” Was the last thing he remembered saying before he collapsed from blood loss and woke up here…

Here. 

He had no fucking idea where he was, but it seemed cozy and safe enough, a small, warm cottage filled with color and art, while a gentle breeze flowed through the shutter-like doors.

One of the doors creaked open, snapping Zoro’s wavering vision back to them. Blond hair reflected the soft twinkly lights from outside, blue orbs like the moon fell upon him. 

Sanji.

Zoro lifted to his elbow and tried to greet him, but the words never made it to his lips - a familiar silence blanketing him with its need. He supposed today was just another day where speech would evade him. 

Sanji wordlessly closed the short gap between the door and the makeshift recovery bed, and tipped Zoro back to sit next to him on the futon, hip to hip. He held an eerily reserved expression, hiding the flood of emotion pushing the well-constructed barrier.

“I have to change your bandages.” He said softly.

Zoro was about to dismiss the efforts and wanted to tell Sanji that they didn’t have the supplies, but he couldn’t. It didn’t matter really, not when Sanji emptied his pockets of stolen supplies, littering the bed with the contents.

Sanji lifted the blanket and drew it back, pooling by the end of the bed. Zoro flushed with a bashfulness he didn’t know he had in him. He laid bare and exposed, the white bandages red with blood. It wasn’t so much that he felt embarrassed, rather it was a raw vulnerability that no one else had been allowed to witness other than Usopp, out of necessity. 

It was getting itchy under the bandages and the heat of Sanji's eyes, but the sensation was detached. Instead, Zoro hovered above his body, watching the scene unfold before him, as Sanji began to slowly unwrap his torso. 

The air crackled with silent tension as they both avoided meeting their eyes, focusing on the task at hand. Sanji handled his body with care, with the kind of devotion he held while cooking and fighting and fucking, the familiar poise dripping through everything he did. 

Sanji lifted the bloodied gauze and inhaled softly. Blue eyes scanned every inch of the slash mark,  memorizing.  Long fingers hovered, tracing above the long wound. The brush of air sent a shiver up Zoro's spine and blood rushed to his cock, swelling and twitching against the air. He ached to be touched, to seek friction of any kind, but ignored it to focus solely on stealing glimpses of a stoney face. 

“He actually did a good job on this.” Sanji murmured.

Zoro nodded. Usopp fixes things, he wanted to say, but the words sat heavy on his tongue.

Another bout of silence lingered and Sanji’s jaw clicked. 

“I had just gotten you back.” A mantra repeated.

Zoro nodded and swallowed, his mouth dry and sticky, struggling to find the words to land on. 

I had to.

“I know.” Sanji sighed and reached to the other side of the mattress for the ointment and fresh bandages, carefully unwrapping them. “And you’ll probably do it again, won’t you?”

He nodded.

Sanji nodded in return. “You do look beautiful, though.”

Zoro’s heart stuttered - he didn’t even know it could do that - and a soft noise was pushed from his lungs.

“You always look beautiful. But like this, you’re… resplendent.”

“I -” I failed. He choked on the words. The waves of emotions were on the precipice of flooding him, of sweeping him away in their currents. Mist gathered in his eyes - shit, he didn’t want to fucking cry - and he tried to sniff them back. One betrayed him and slipped down to his hairline.

“Hardly.” Sanji replied simply. 

Zoro wanted to find the words to argue, to repeat his pledge to Luffy, but the way Sanji was touching him was making it hard to think much at all. 

It was all too much and not enough.

He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a handful of indecent sounds while Sanji painted the edges of the wound in antibiotic ointment. And internally writhed while bandages were layered over the wound, an incessant buzzing building in his body. He was teetering between weary and restless, and he yearned to have that warm touch stay, to press in, to make him bleed. He wanted Sanji to leave a mark, to carve into him, to vent a pressurized agony. 

Sanji methodically wrapped Zoro in fresh bandages, securing them over his torso and tying them off at the uninjured hip. 

“I could take care of that.” Sanji said simply, tapping Zoro's thigh, dangerously close to his cock, nearly purple with blood. “Do you want me to?”

Zoro nodded, swallowing thickly. 

“I bet I could make you come with a few simple touches, hm?” The smug smile ticked. “Do you want to try?”

Zoro nodded again. 

Sanji placed a thin, white towel over the clean bandages before he nestled himself between Zoro’s legs, being careful to not move the futon too much. His expression was thoughtful, touch was caring - always caring - as he looked up to hold a vulnerability shared between them, thrumming, alive.

“Be good,” He ghosted his breath over the velvety tip, making Zoro’s pulse quicken and cock twitch. “And come for me.”

The delicate touch curled into a squeezing fist and Zoro almost doubled over, being held down by Sanji’s other hand. Lips wrapped around the cockhead and sucked once before Zoro’s body shuddered with the impact of his orgasm, rolling through his body again and again. He wished he could have watched his cum hit Sanji’s face, his mouth, his tongue, but his eyes were currently rolled to the back of his skull. The pleasure conjoined with pain, but it all hit the same, consuming him wholly. 

When he was able to flicker his eyes open, just before collapsing, boneless, he was met with the glory of Sanji’s face streaked with pearlescent white, fingers gathering it and placing it on his tongue to join the rest of the mess. If Zoro wasn’t close to death, he figured he could probably get hard again just by watching Sanji lick his fingers clean. But he wasn’t really able to keep his eyes open, nevermind find the energy to send blood anywhere else. 

He dipped in and out of consciousness, stirring in pain or discomfort, each time being settled by the warmth cradling him, knowing Sanji was always at his side.  

“I’m here, Zoro, I’m here.” Whispered in his ear. “'M never letting you go.” 

He wanted to say that it would be okay; no matter what, they'd find each other again and again. He knew it to be true. Sanji was with them now and they'd make the most of any time they had. 

Their fate was certain, intertwined and bound.

Just as Terra had said before they liberated Shimotsuki Village from the vile men holding the land and people hostage: 

“This land, do you hear it, Zoro?” Her long green hair, tied in a ponytail by a blue ribbon, whipped around her torso. Wado clicked, unhitched from her place at Terra’s hip. Arashi and Koushirou stood by her side, at the ready. “We must free it.”

He closed his eyes and listened to the relieved thrumming of the island, the presence of life renewed. 

The land was content now; rather than a scream, it hummed happily. Its people had been freed, and things had been set right. 

Zoro looked out over Cocoyasi from the northern outlook, and breathed alongside the relaxed energy of the earth. 

The breeze picked up with a change of tide, signaling a potential on the horizon. 

Hope. 

He smiled. 

“Oi! There you are!” Zoro turned to face a sweaty, flustered cook storming through the brambles of the heavily wooded area. “How the hell did you get all the way over here?”

“Sorry, must have lost track of time.” Zoro shrugged. 

Sanji pinched his brow and sighed. “Okay, come on.” He reached his hand for Zoro to take. 

“Wait.” Zoro wrapped his fingers around Sanji's wrist, pulling him around his back. The warmth curled around him as Sanji hooked his chin over Zoro's shoulder, hands resting on his waist.

Sanji relaxed into Zoro, watching the waves hit the shoreline, listening to the buzz of people working the land. 

“It's beautiful.” He said.

“It reminds me of Shimotsuki Village.” Zoro admitted, missing a bit of home, a bit of his family. 

Sanji kissed his neck. “You'll show me one day, yeah?”

“Yeah, one day.” He turned in Sanji's embrace, giving a small peck on his lips. “Ready?”

“For what?”

“For everything?”

Sanji beamed, interlacing their fingers. “Yeah, I am.”

Zoro smiled, and they headed down the trail, hand in hand.

Fin.