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Sanji slides his foot back, adjusting his stance as the deck shifts with the motion of the sea, and feels Zoro moving next to him to match.

“Don’t get carried away,” Zoro cautions, and Sanji huffs.

“How many swords do you use, again?” he asks. “Besides, they boarded us.”

The invading pirates are beginning to look nervous, like this is not going exactly to plan. Luffy’s frown is turning into a wide, maniacal grin, and Nami and Usopp stand ready behind him. The captain of the ship pulled up alongside the Going Merry bellows at his crew, and this appears to be enough to put them back on track as they raise their weapons and charge.

“Straw Hats!” Luffy shouts, pointing at the enemy pirates. “Prepare to repel boarders!”

Sanji feels his own grin pull up. “Aye, Captain!”

The sun is high in the sky and the sea is relatively calm; it’s not a bad day for a fight. Sanji lays out two of the attackers with one sweep of a leg across the deck, and he can feel more than see Zoro doing some sort of fancy flip over him to get at someone coming at them from the side.

“Show off!” Sanji calls as he straightens.

“You’re the one watching,” Zoro says, not bothering to look back. His swords glint in the sun, and he moves through the oncoming wave like steel through water, leaving downed pirates in his wake.

Across the deck, Nami is a delightful whirl with her bo staff, knocking down oncoming pirates left and right. Usopp takes careful aim at the ropes swinging across from the other ship, and the air fills with panicked screams and the sound of splashes as pirate after pirate finds their support cut midair. Luffy, of course, looks like he’s having the time of his life, winding up and punching pirates in the face and bending around wild swings that would have laid another man flat.

It’s going to be over embarrassingly easily — at least, embarrassing for the pirates flying the green and white patchwork flag. Sanji hadn’t even caught their name, but that’s not important; what’s important is lining up a kick on the invader in front of him only for the pirate to be taken out at the knees from a passing swipe from a certain swordsman.

“Hey!” Sanji snaps. “Mind your own business.”

Zoro twirls one sword absently, then blocks an incoming strike over the back of his shoulder. “The safety of the crew is my business.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doing just fine,” Sanji says, and proves it by pivoting to take out the pirate trying to sneak up on him from behind. “Without you,” he adds.

Zoro grunts and moves on, and the pirate at Sanji’s feet makes a sympathetic noise.

“Trouble on the home front?” he wheezes, clutching his side.

Sanji looks down. “What?”

“No, no, I get it,” the pirate says. “Married life can be hard out here.”

“Married — shut up,” Sanji says.

The pirate raises his hands. “I’m just saying —”

“Well, don’t say it,” Sanji says, then delivers a snap kick to the chest of a pirate rushing him from the side. “Married, to that mosshead? As if.”

Married. Ridiculous. If Sanji ever does get married, and that’s not at all a certainty, why would it be to someone with more swords than sense, someone who can’t seem to go two breaths without arguing with Sanji, someone who doesn’t listen. Anyway, it’s not like they’ve talked about it — talking leads to fighting, and fighting leads to sparring, and sparring leads to fucking, and while that is not at all an unsatisfactory outcome as far as Sanji is concerned, it doesn’t leave much space for long-term discussion.

Zoro had kissed Sanji first; Sanji remembers this very clearly. Sanji hadn’t been sure of his welcome — flirting is one thing, doing something about it is another — but Zoro had put his large hands on Sanji’s jaw and cut him off mid-word with his own mouth. He had made it easy. Sanji remembers this most of all.

So it’s not going to be on Sanji to screw that up.

Zoro’s teeth graze over Sanji’s neck just above his collar, and Sanji hisses even as he tilts his head to the side to allow better access. Zoro takes the invitation and bites down, and Sanji sinks his own teeth into his lip to muffle the moan of appreciation. Zoro slides his hands around Sanji’s waist, pulling their hips flush together, even as he backs Sanji into the wall of the storeroom, and no, there’s no trouble on this front, not at all.

Sanji lets out a breathless laugh and Zoro pauses, lifting his head. “Something funny?”

“No,” Sanji says. “Just thinking about those guys from earlier. The uh — what was their name?”

“The Patchwork Pirates,” Zoro says flatly. “If I’m not holding your attention —”

“No, no,” Sanji says hastily, hooking a leg around Zoro’s to keep him in place. “You are. It’s just —”

“It’s just?” Zoro says, but he leans back in to nose at Sanji’s jawline.

Sanji tips his head back against the storeroom walls, eyes on the wood grain of the ceiling. “It’s stupid.”

“You say stupid stuff all the time,” Zoro says, and when Sanji smacks his shoulder, Zoro’s lips curve into a grin against Sanji’s skin.

“Asshole.” Zoro bites at his earlobe, tugging on it with his teeth, and Sanji shivers. “One of those pirates thought we were married, is all.”

The bite on Sanji’s earlobe suddenly becomes painful. “Ow, shit!” Sanji jerks his head away, and Zoro releases him. Sanji brings up a hand to touch his throbbing ear. “C’mon, what was that for? I told you it was stupid.”

Zoro is still against him for a long moment, then pushes himself up so he can see Sanji’s face. “You think being married is stupid?”

“Well.” Sanji rubs his ear. “Not being married, no.”

Even in the dim light of the storeroom, Sanji can feel the weight of Zoro’s gaze. “Then what is it that you object to?”

Sanji raises his eyebrows, dropping his hand. “If you’re fishing for compliments —”

Zoro huffs, then leans forward and presses his mouth to Sanji’s, hard like he means something by it. This is more like it; Sanji grabs Zoro’s collar and leans into the kiss, and from there the evening progresses along the lines that Sanji expects.

Still. It’s hard not to think about it as Sanji drowses in his bunk, limbs heavy and satiated and the sound of Luffy’s snoring loud and familiar. Sanji turns over on his side, and he can see the faint outline of Zoro in his own bunk, still except for the faint rise and fall of his chest. Zoro seems to have the trick of falling instantly asleep any time he feels like it. Sanji is not so lucky; his thoughts sometimes chase him around for hours before he can find sleep.

He shouldn’t have mentioned it at all. Zoro hadn’t thought it was funny; he had almost seemed to take offense, and Sanji can’t even blame him. What they have — a shared glance across deck, a stolen moment in a storeroom — is easy. Sanji shouldn’t complicate it with things he doesn’t even want. Things that Zoro clearly doesn’t want.

Sanji glances once more at Zoro’s bunk, and then turns over on his other side. He determinedly closes his eyes.

Married. Absolutely ridiculous.

“No offense, but — when’s it Luffy’s turn to go shopping with you?” Usopp says as he and Sanji leave the produce stalls behind for the fishmonger’s.

“Luffy would eat it all before we got back to the ship,” Sanji says, shifting the bags over his shoulder absently. He gives the scallops on ice a long look before reluctantly moving on. “I would never ask Nami to do manual labor. And Zoro went off on his own somewhere.”

“I guess. Do we really need —” Usopp checks the bag over his shoulder, “three kinds of onions? And this many potatoes?”

“Do you want the croquettes to come out, or not?” Sanji murmurs as he inspects a two-tailed trout. The scales are beautiful and healthy, and the East Blue doesn’t see much of the species.

“I do love the croquettes,” Usopp sighs, and peers over Sanji’s shoulder at the fish. “This is dinner, right?”

“This is dinner,” Sanji confirms, straightening. “I’ll take the whole thing,” he tells the fishmonger, who moves to wrap up his purchase.

Usopp shifts the bags on his arms. “Are we almost done? Only these are getting kind of heavy…”

“The famous Captain Usopp? Getting tired?” Sanji hands over the last of the ship’s grocery budget to the fishmonger and accepts the bagged fish in return. “Nah, this is the last of it. I did want to check out the vinegars back there, though — can you take this one back to the ship for me?”

Usopp agrees cheerfully, loading up the fish with his half of Sanji’s other purchases, and threads his way through the market crowds back toward the docks. Sanji turns and heads back toward the small booth with the rows of brightly colored bottles catching the sun. The proprietor is more than happy to engage him with talk of provenance and distilling practices and, of course, samples.

“Mmm.” Sanji rolls the peach vinegar over his tongue. “A little too sweet for my audience, I think.”

“A little sweetness goes a long way toward keeping a household happy,” the shopkeeper says, smiling knowingly. It takes a moment before Sanji realizes they’re looking at the bitemark on his neck, adding Sanji’s comment, and coming up with a wildly inaccurate conclusion.

“It’s not like that,” he says, and then at the raised eyebrow, adds, “It’s not…entirely like that.”

“Of course not,” the shopkeeper says diplomatically, then pushes another small sample cup forward. “Try the lemon.”

Sanji ends up with a bottle each of a deceptively complex rose vinegar and an intriguing celery shrub, both of which the proprietor wraps carefully in paper for safe travel before handing Sanji his bag. The taste of acid is still bright on his tongue as Sanji steps back out into the sunshine, the market bustling around him on a bright, clear day. Maybe he’ll take the long way back to the ship, stretch his legs a little; he hasn’t seen the east side of the market yet, and while he’d spent most of his own funds on the vinegars he wouldn’t mind a little window shopping.

One long curve of the market stalls and several flower vendors later Sanji stops, eyeing a display set in a metalworking booth. Bright metals and shining jewels wink in the sunlight as Sanji looks over a display of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings: some plain, some intricately wrought, some set with stones or fashioned into snakes or sea creatures or other fantastical imaginings. On another day, Sanji might have stood and looked longer; today, past the window display, he sees a familiar set of broad shoulders standing and talking to the shopkeeper inside.

“Thinking about another piercing?” he calls as he enters the shop, and Zoro’s shoulders twitch before he turns. “You’ll need another sword.”

“I thought you were grocery shopping,” Zoro says, and Sanji brushes past him to look into the rear display case.

“Finished,” Sanji says, glancing at the rings on his hand and then down at the glassed-in display case. “Thought I’d look around a bit before heading back to the ship. Oh, would you look at those,” he breathes, leaning down to peer into the case.

“Very good taste,” the shopkeeper says, apparently willing to leave Zoro for the moment. “This set comes in any finish you fancy; the core is collopian steel so it will bend but never break, perfect for an active lifestyle.” She lifts the ring set out of the case, setting it on the counter, and metals in every hue Sanji can imagine glitter in the light. Sanji’s eyes drift over the gold and the rose-gold; the bronze finish is nice but not really his style, and his fingers hover over the silver finish.

“May I?” he asks, glancing at the shopkeeper.

She nods, and Sanji is reaching for the ring when a big hand knocks his out of the way. “Try the gold one on.”

“Hey, watch it.” Sanji hadn’t realized Zoro was that close. “Gold’s not really my color.”

“Yes,” Zoro says, intense in the way that he usually only is when he talks about swords, as he plucks the gold ring out of its case. “It is.”

“Didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about jewelry.” Sanji eyes the price tag; he’s not really going to be able to afford this anyway, not after the vinegars, but Zoro is already grabbing for his left hand so Sanji might as well see what it looks like.

The ring itself is plain, but shaped in a way that catches the light from every angle; it wouldn’t get in his way in the kitchen, and it’s almost with regret that Sanji lifts his hand and admires the ring on his fourth finger. It sparkles in the sunlight, and Sanji lowers his hand with a sigh.

“This ring is as lovely as the proprietor, but —” he says, and Zoro shoves a stack of berry across the counter.

“He’ll take it,” Zoro says, and Sanji blinks.

“Look, you can’t —” he starts.

“I still owe you for the sake,” Zoro interrupts. Sanji does have a vague memory of buying a bottle or three at the last island, but the recollection is decidedly hazy. “Just take it.”

“Well.” Sanji lifts his hand again, flexing his fingers. The gold does look nice among the silver and steel already on his hand. “I guess I’ve got the next round, then.”

“Wonderful.” The proprietor slides the money off the counter and into the till. “What else can I help you with?”

“Did you want to look at earrings?” Sanji asks Zoro, and Zoro looks at him blankly for a beat before shaking his head.

“I got what I came here for,” he says, nodding to the shopkeeper and turning to go. “Let’s get back to the ship.”

They’re out of port by late afternoon, and the wind is strong in their sails, taking them out into the open ocean. The next island is somewhere out there, but for now there is the gentle motion of the ship, a two-tailed trout for dinner, and Zoro lingering in the galley as Sanji finishes the washing up. Sanji can tell what it is that Zoro wants by the way that he can’t quite sit still, and Sanji has no objections at all.

Just as soon as the dishes are done. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” Sanji says as he dries the next-to-last plate.

Zoro leans in the doorway, then immediately pushes himself up again. “I don’t mind waiting.”

“You’re in the way,” Sanji says, even though Zoro really isn’t. He waves Zoro away. “Go on, go on. Just don’t get started without me.”

“Don’t make me wait and I won’t,” Zoro says, but he finally disappears down the corridor.

Sanji hums as he finishes up the dishes, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. His new ring catches the light, and he rubs it with his thumb. He really can’t remember who bought the last round of sake, but the next one or maybe even two are definitely on him.

The rear storeroom is dark as Sanji approaches, but the door is ajar and he slips inside. As soon as the door closes behind him a strong hand catches his arm and drags Sanji over against the wall.

“Took you long enough,” Zoro breathes, and then his mouth is on Sanji’s.

Zoro kisses like he’s continuing an argument, like they’re picking something up right where they’ve left off. Sanji gives as good as he gets, but when he fists his hands in Zoro’s shirt to pull him closer Zoro grabs his wrists and pins Sanji’s hands back against the wall. He pulls back for a moment, resting his forehead against Sanji’s.

Sanji flexes his wrists and Zoro’s grip tightens. “Are we going to keep making out, or —”

“Shut up,” Zoro says, releasing Sanji’s hands and sinking to his knees.

Of all the things Zoro’s mouth does, this is definitely in Sanji’s top three, and Sanji’s breath catches as Zoro makes quick work of the fastenings of his pants. Zoro’s fingers, warm and rough with sword calluses, are none too gentle as he draws Sanji’s cock out, but then Sanji doesn’t need gentle; that’s not what they do, that’s not what this is about. This is about Zoro licking a broad stripe up Sanji’s cock and the way Sanji’s breath hisses out through his teeth; this is about that thing that Zoro does with his tongue that has Sanji scrabbling against the wall for support. Zoro’s mouth is hot and wet and perfect, and the back of Sanji’s head thunks against solid wood as Zoro swallows him down.

It might be embarrassing, how quickly Zoro can get him off with his hands or his mouth or, on one memorable occasion, by sliding one leg between Sanji’s and murmuring filthy promises into Sanji’s ear until Sanji had ground himself off against Zoro’s thigh in frustration. It might be a little infuriating that just the brush of Zoro’s fingers, let alone the heat of his mouth, sets Sanji’s pulse racing —

Might be, except for the way that Zoro’s knees are shifting apart on the deck below them, the way that the hand that’s not digging into Sanji’s hip is sliding between Zoro’s legs. Sanji reaches out, petting his hand through Zoro’s hair, and even in the dim light he can see the glint of Zoro’s eyes as he rolls them up to meet Sanji’s. Zoro hums contentedly around Sanji’s cock, and Sanji shudders.

“Fuck, you can’t just —” Sanji realizes his mistake two seconds too late. Zoro’s eyes gleam and he hums again; Sanji’s teeth sink into his lower lip as he just barely bites back the sound climbing up his throat.

Tension pools in his gut, and Sanji’s fingers tighten in Zoro’s hair before he makes himself release them again. His free hand comes to rest over the one on his hip, and Zoro’s grip shifts, his hand turning so he can thread their fingers together as he leans forward and swallows Sanji completely down. Sanji’s thighs shake as he feels the tip of his cock slip into Zoro’s throat, and he can’t help the groan that slips past his lips.

Zoro’s thumb runs across the base of Sanji’s fingers, rubbing at the new ring on Sanji’s hand. Sanji tightens his grip as the tension snaps; Zoro grips back just as hard and Sanji hangs on to that, light and heat flooding his body as he sags against the wall.

When he comes back to himself, Zoro has the side of his face pressed against Sanji’s thigh, his breath coming sharp and short as his hips move against his hand. Sanji might still be lightheaded, but Zoro has gotten several ones up on him today and it’s Sanji’s turn to even the score.

“Here, c’mon, c’mere,” he murmurs, reaching down and hauling Zoro up. Zoro leans solid and heavy against him, breath hot against Sanji’s ear as he grinds against Sanji’s hip. Sanji is an old hand at opening up Zoro’s pants by now, even with Zoro pressing against him like he wants to crawl into Sanji’s skin; he licks his lips, prepared to return the favor in kind, but as soon as he gets fingers on Zoro’s cock, Zoro grabs his wrist and holds him there, rubbing off against Sanji’s hand.

“Can’t wait, huh?” Sanji says. Zoro grunts, low and irritated, pressing Sanji further into the wall. Sanji laughs, quiet and breathless, and slides his free hand around Zoro’s back, holding him close.

“You must really want it if you can’t even wait for me to get on my knees for you,” Sanji murmurs into Zoro’s ear, shifting so he can wrap his fingers around Zoro’s cock. “This is all it’s going to take, hm?” Zoro groans against him, shoving his hips into Sanji’s hand. His breath has the shaky quality to it that Sanji knows means he’s close, and Sanji tightens his fingers briefly for the way it makes Zoro’s breath hitch.

“That’s it,” Sanji murmurs, relaxing his hand again and letting Zoro thrust into it. “Just like that, c’mon.” Zoro shifts against him, and then there are strong fingers on Sanji’s jaw and the heat of Zoro’s mouth on his. Zoro strains against him, mouth fierce and hungry against Sanji’s; Sanji nips at Zoro’s lower lip and Zoro groans into his mouth, body going taut as he comes all over Sanji’s hand.

Zoro sags against him, letting go of Sanji’s jaw and tucking his face into Sanji’s shoulder. His chest heaves against Sanji’s, and Sanji leans his head back and closes his eyes, letting the wall hold them up. He draws in a breath and lets it out again as his pulse slowly calms, letting the haze of the afterglow buoy him along. In these stolen moments there’s a strange sort of — Sanji’s hesitant to call it or anything related to Zoro peace, but he can’t deny that there is a certain quietude that leaves him blissfully at ease and almost…content.

The soft warmth of Zoro’s breath against Sanji’s neck is evening out; pretty soon it’s going to be time to clean themselves up and make their ways back to their separate bunks and the everyday rhythm of shipboard life. Sanji opens his eyes, but Zoro hasn’t moved. He flexes his hand, wincing at the stickiness; he reaches for Zoro’s shirt, but strong fingers catch his wrist before he can wipe his hand off.

“Not on me,” Zoro says as he straightens, and Sanji huffs.

“Well it’s not going on my shirt,” he starts, and then catches the rag Zoro tosses at him before it can hit him in the face.

“You going for a smoke?” Zoro asks as he readjusts his clothing.

Sanji wipes his hand and moves to do the same, the post-orgasm lethargy heavy in his limbs. A cigarette does sound good. “Might, yeah.”

“You want company?” Zoro asks, fastening his pants.

“To smoke?” Sanji pauses in the midst of fixing his sleeves. “I think I can manage a cigarette on my own, thanks.”

The light in the storeroom is dim, but not dark enough that Sanji can’t see the way that Zoro hesitates. Sanji can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Zoro pause for anything, and he’d be more worried about it here except that Zoro is already shaking off whatever indecision had gripped him, reaching for Sanji again. The kiss this time is slower, less heated, but there’s no trace of uncertainty in it, and that Sanji can respond to fully in kind. Zoro makes a satisfied noise against him, and his mouth is curved when he pulls away.

This is something that Sanji does appreciate about Zoro: actions between them have always spoken louder than words, and the physical has always been easier than talking about it. Sanji finishes putting himself back together as Zoro slips into the hallway, then heads out himself a moment later in the opposite direction, toward the upper deck.

The night air is cool on his overheated skin, and Sanji shivers as he comes above decks. The wind cooperates as he lights up, flaring the end of his cigarette as the first curl of smoke hits his lungs. He braces his forearms on the railing, leaning over to watch the endless dark of the ocean below, and for a moment he imagines there’s someone standing with him.

Absurd. Were Zoro here, he’d be — he’d be finding some fault with something Sanji had said, or some nonexistent flaw in Sanji’s cooking, or just communing with his swords and not listening to Sanji at all. Sanji can’t imagine what had possessed him to even offer. Surely Zoro is looking forward to his bunk more than spending time with Sanji. Sanji blows smoke up toward the sky, then brings the cigarette up toward his mouth. The moonlight glints off the ring on his finger, and Sanji pauses.

He’d let himself get careless; after today, he owes Zoro several on the long-running tally sheet between them. He can’t let that continue.

The sharp note of a whetstone on steel fills the galley, and Sanji slams the spice cupboard shut. “Do you have to do that here?”

Zoro doesn’t look up from where his swords are arrayed on the table, whetstone in his hand, cleaning cloth and oil at the ready. “No.”

Sanji tsks but really, the annoyance is mostly for show; the rain that’s been chasing the Going Merry has finally caught up with them, and there aren’t that many dry places to wait it out. As long as Zoro doesn’t get in the way — and over there, he won’t — Sanji’s not going to chase him out into the cold and the wet.

Besides, it’s been a minute or two since he sharpened his own knives, and that wouldn’t be a bad way to pass the afternoon. Sanji checks on dinner — marinating nicely — and settles in at the counter. Zoro glances up at the first pass of Sanji’s own whetstone over the large chef’s knife, and although he returns his attention to his own work, there’s a smile pulling up the corner of his face.

He’s right, although Sanji will throw himself overboard before admitting it. It’s — soothing, almost peaceful, with the rain drumming on the side of the ship and the upper deck, the soft motion of the ship underfoot, and the rasp of sharpening blades filling the air. It might be the longest he’s ever spent with Zoro without getting into an argument; at least, the longest that doesn’t involve someone’s cock —

Footsteps sound in the hallway outside and then Nami enters, windblown and damp and clutching a blanket around her shoulders. “Did you guys know it’s cold up there? It’s cold up there.” She shivers, and Sanji immediately sets his knife aside.

“Some tea will warm you right up, my darling,” he says, moving to rummage through a nearby cupboard. “Chamomile? Mint? Something stronger?”

“Something stronger,” Nami responds fervently, settling onto the bench seat next to Zoro, who makes room for her.

“Who has the helm?” Zoro asks, setting one sword down and picking up another.

“Luffy and Usopp,” Nami says, pulling the blanket more tightly around her. “Luffy was laughing into the rain when I left.”

“That does sound like Luffy,” Zoro agrees, and Sanji feels his own mouth pulling up into a smile.

For a moment the cabin is still except for the sound of Zoro attending to his swords and the drum of the rain outside. The kettle whistles as Sanji is slicing up a lemon, and as Nami’s tea brews he pulls out honey, a shot glass, and a bottle of rum that’s nearing its end.

“Something warm for the lady,” Sanji says, setting the cup of tea down in front of Nami. “And something stronger,” he adds, pouring a healthy shot of rum in with a wink.

“One of those for me, while you’re pouring,” Zoro says.

Sanji gives him a wink as well, setting the shot glass down and filling it. “Something strong for someone —”

“Don’t finish that,” Zoro warns as he reaches for the shot glass. Nami giggles, leaning into his side as she sips her drink. The first sip elicits a pleased hum, and Sanji preens a little.

Nami gestures at Sanji’s left hand. “That’s new. I like it, the gold suits you.”

Sanji glances down at his hand, at the ring on his finger. “You think so?”

Zoro makes a pleased sound. “Told you.”

“You told him?” Nami sounds amused. “You told him, what, that —” She stops suddenly, sitting up straight and looking at Zoro.

Sanji shrugs, pouring Zoro another shot before he moves to put the bottle and the rest of the tea away. “He just said it would look good. Got weird about it, but you know Zoro, he’s always weird.”

Silence greets this statement, and Sanji looks over his shoulder as he shuts the liquor cabinet to find Zoro and Nami engaged in some sort of wordless conversation. Nami raises her eyebrows, and Zoro stares back at her, mouth flattening. Nami widens her eyes, and Zoro averts his gaze, reaching for the second shot of rum and tossing it back.

“Everything okay?” Sanji asks cautiously.

“Oh, we’re all just fine here,” Nami says dryly as Zoro sets the shot glass down with a cough. She slaps Zoro on the back, which doesn’t seem to help. Sanji had given them the good rum, even. “Aren’t we, Zoro?”

Zoro glares at her. “Fine.”

“Yeah, it looks real fine,” Sanji starts, and Zoro shifts his glare. Nami elbows Zoro in the side, and he drops his gaze to the table and the swords in front of him.

“It does look good on you,” Nami says warmly, looking at Sanji again. “I’m happy for you, is all.”

“Thanks?” Sanji says, just as Zoro runs the whetstone down his sword again. The loud rasp forecloses further conversation, which is fine because Sanji isn’t clear what kind of conversation they’d been having in the first place. Nami leans against Zoro, sipping her tea, and Sanji picks up his own knives again. He glances down at the ring on his hand, then across the galley at Zoro, head bent studiously close to the blade. Sanji curls his fingers, feeling the weight of the ring on his hand.

Zoro looks up, catching Sanji’s gaze. His mouth softens into a half-smile, and Sanji feels himself smiling back. If it’s not peace, this feeling nestling behind his ribs, it’s something close.

The thing is. The thing is. The thing is that Sanji can’t make this add up.

Sanji stares down the back shelf in the pantry, fingers worrying at the ring on his left hand. He’s supposed to be taking stock of their remaining stores before they reach the next island, but instead he’s thinking about the number of times Zoro had accidentally brushed against his left hand recently.

One. An incidental bumping of hands at breakfast. Nothing to be alarmed about.

Two. Grabbing at Sanji’s hand while Sanji had sucked Zoro off quick and dirty before dawn one morning, before anyone else was up. Coincidence. Zoro gets handsy sometimes.

Three. Leaning next to Sanji on the rail of the ship, nudging his hand to get Sanji’s attention. Probably meant nothing.

Four. A brush of sword-callused fingers. Five. Warm skin against his own. Six. A gentle pressure, there and gone. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Sanji stops counting.

And the thing, the other thing, is that it’s been two islands since that metalworking shop and Zoro hasn’t pressed his advantage over Sanji, hasn’t been insistent on an evening of the score at all. Almost as if there is no score to be evened. Almost as if it doesn’t matter.

But it does matter. It does or Zoro wouldn’t make excuses to touch him all the time.

If Sanji closes his eyes he can picture Zoro’s hands, big and strong and — he pictures Zoro’s hands at breakfast this morning. He can see them, very clearly, reaching for a bowl of porridge, and there are no rings on any of Zoro’s fingers. He hasn’t snuck one on without Sanji noticing. Sanji isn’t stupid; he knows what a matching pair of rings signifies. Zoro doesn’t have a matching ring. Also surely Zoro would have said something.

Wouldn’t he?

Sanji is suddenly very afraid that he can do the math here after all.

They’re down to one remaining bottle of sake on the rear pantry shelf, one that Sanji had in fact purchased with Zoro in mind, before any of this ring business, before Zoro had made this confusing. Sanji reaches for the bottle and hefts it in his hands. There’s an easy way to clear all of this up.

Although the sun had made a promising start to the morning, when Sanji emerges onto the deck he can barely see to the end of the ship, fog obscuring anything more than a few meters beyond the rail. He can see his target well enough, however: Zoro is standing near the mast, one hand on his swords and a half-smile on his face as Luffy describes something to him in wild, expansive gestures. Sanji stalks over and Luffy turns, smile lighting up.

“Sanji! You’ll never guess — oh, what’s that for?” Luffy asks as Sanji shoves the bottle into Zoro’s chest.

“He knows what it’s for,” Sanji says, eyes on Zoro.

“I really don’t,” Zoro says, and Sanji’s breath hisses out through his teeth. He raises his left hand, wiggling his fingers —

Zoro’s gaze immediately goes to the ring on Sanji’s hand, then back to the bottle still cradled against his chest, and when his eyes meet Sanji’s again they are guilty, guilty, guilty.

“I knew it,” Sanji says, ignoring the fact that until this very moment he hadn’t known anything at all. “When were you going to say something?”

Zoro frowns, opening his mouth —

A piercing shriek splits the air as a cannonball tears through the air, narrowly missing the main sail and crashing into the water off the starboard rail.

“Are we under attack?” Usopp calls from the stern, and then ducks as another cannonball screams through the air. “Oh, shit — we’re under attack!”

The clouds billow and part and a ship breaks through the fog, careening toward the Going Merry. Grappling hooks clatter and pull taut against the rail as the ship comes up alongside theirs, and a tattered green and white flag flaps madly in the wind.

“These guys again?” Sanji says.

Luffy cracks his knuckles. “I’m up for a rematch.”

“They’d better be more interesting than last —” Zoro starts, and then curses as the bottle in his hand shatters, sending jagged shards flying. Across the water on the Patchwork Pirates’ ship, a tall figure lowers a long rifle and goes to reload.

“Shit,” Sanji says, just as Zoro says, “Get down.” Sanji grabs one of Luffy’s arms, Zoro the other, and together they drag Luffy behind a stack of crates lashed to the deck. Luffy lands between them with a thunk, grabbing for his hat.

“We’re not done talking about this,” Sanji says, peering over the crates. The approaching ship looms closer, boarding ramps at the ready.

“I didn’t think we were,” Zoro retorts, risking a glance himself. Another shot splinters the wood of the crates, and Zoro ducks back, cursing.

“Usopp! Sniper!” Luffy yells up at the stern of the ship, and then glances between Zoro and Sanji. “Uh, guys, I really don’t know what you’re fighting about?”

“This mosshead thinks he can marry me without saying anything,” Sanji spits out, eyes on Usopp as he lines up his slingshot.

“And you don’t…want to be married?” Luffy ventures from behind him.

Sanji blinks, turning to face Luffy and Zoro. “I —”

Usopp lets the shot fly and, across the water, the tall figure on the Patchwork Pirates’ ship spins, arms and legs flailing as they tumble into the waters.

“I —” Sanji doesn’t seem to know any other words, certainly not the ones that will stop Zoro’s face from closing down like that.

Usopp crows in victory, but the gangplanks are coming down onto the Going Merry, and the Patchwork Pirates are swarming over.

“I get it,” Zoro says, rolling to his feet. “You don’t want to be married to me.” He vaults over the crates, unsheathing his swords as he goes.

“I —” Sanji says helplessly, looking at Luffy. Luffy looks back, wide-eyed and earnest.

“Well?” Luffy says. “Do you?”

Sanji stares. He —

Does he?

Does he?

Sanji scrambles to his feet. “Shit.”

Zoro is halfway across one of the far boarding ramps, a trail of downed pirates behind him. Sanji’s path is blocked by two pirates with matching tattoos; he doesn’t have time to deal with this. Two snap kicks take care of the obstacles in front of him, and Sanji sprints across the deck.

“Hey!” he shouts at Zoro, who is facing off against a sword-wielding pirate on the boarding ramp. “I never said that!“

“You didn’t have to,” Zoro calls back, blocking an unwieldy swing and using the momentum to shove the pirate into the water.

“No, I —” Sanji grunts in frustration, jumping onto the nearest gangplank. He takes the onrushing pirate out at the knees, ignoring the trailing scream and the resultant splash. “Will you just listen?”

“I have been listening,” Zoro says, stomping on his plank of wood hard enough to crack it down the middle, and then leaping for the rail of the other ship as it falls into the ocean below.

“Yeah, well, not well enough!” Sanji shouts, sprinting the remaining length of the board.

Distantly, Sanji can hear Usopp’s voice back on the Going Merry, saying, “Should we…say something?”

“No, no,” Nami calls back. “Let them work this out.”

“I can hear you just fine,” Zoro says, glancing at Sanji as he lands on the deck of the enemy ship. “You’re the one who doesn’t know what he wants.”

“And you do?” A pirate comes at him with a polearm and Sanji pivots out of the way, delivering a two-hit combination to the kidneys that sends the pirate tumbling to the deck.

Suddenly, there’s a strong hand on Sanji’s arm, jerking him around. Zoro glares at him from inches away, fingers and the hilt of a sword digging into Sanji’s bicep.

“Yes,” Zoro says, low and fierce, and pulls Sanji close. The kiss is brief, just barely more than a hard press of lips and a hint of teeth. Sanji stumbles back when Zoro releases him, knees unaccountably shaky.

“You are so goddamned stubborn,” Zoro says, stepping back as an axe smashes into the deck where he’d been standing a moment before. One slash from his swords takes the axe-holder down.

“Wow, way to sweet-talk me,” Sanji says, but there’s something light starting to take root in his stomach.

“You have a comeback for everything I say,” Zoro continues, turning to block an incoming strike.

Sanji ducks a swing at his head. “Did you come up with these all on your own?”

“And you always make things so fucking difficult,” Zoro says, delivering a double-slash that sends his opponent crashing to the deck. He glances back at Sanji. “So, yes. I know what I want.”

Sanji sweeps the legs out from underneath an incoming pirate. “Is this your idea of romance?”

Zoro stabs a sword backward, into the thigh of a pirate trying to sneak up on him from behind. “Is romance what you’re waiting for?”

Sanji feels barely tethered to the deck as he rises to his feet, like he might float away at any moment. He glances down at the ring on his hand, flexes his fingers so he can feel the weight of it. Zoro has always made things easy. Maybe Sanji is the one who hasn’t been listening.

“No,” he says, feeling a grin breaking across his face. “No, I think I’m done waiting.”

Zoro’s eyes meet his, and the dawning light in them matches the thing Sanji can feel expanding in his chest. Zoro’s mouth pulls up and he whirls, striking down a pair of oncoming pirates. Sanji hears feet approaching from behind and sidesteps neatly, slamming his foot into the back of a knee as the pirate stumbles past.

A cannon booms from the Going Merry, and a cannonball punches through the sail above. Sanji braces himself as the Patchwork Pirates’ ship shudders, slowing suddenly as the sail falls slack, and he can see Zoro doing the same. Zoro’s gaze meets Sanji’s, and Sanji nods.

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though!” he yells as he and Zoro turn to sprint for the rail.

“What, you want some kind of fancy proposal?” Zoro calls back, slicing through the grappling lines connecting the two ships.

“Not that,” Sanji says, shoving a gangplank off with one foot. “I mean — where’s Luffy?”

Zoro points with one sword. Luffy is on the main deck of the Going Merry, dancing around a behemoth of a man in a long patchwork coat of green and white. If Sanji squints, he can even see stitches on the man’s face and hands. Nami and Usopp are holding the stairs to the quarterdeck, keeping the rest of the Patchwork Pirates at bay.

Sanji grins, looking around the empty deck as the ship starts to list. “I think we’re done here, yeah?”

Zoro grabs a dangling boarding rope, affixed to a spar high above, and tosses it to him. “I think we’re just getting started.”

Zoro looks so quietly pleased. The Going Merry is starting to pull away, but Sanji has to close the two quick steps between them and pull him into a kiss, short but filled with promise. Zoro makes an interested noise and Sanji has to stop himself from leaning in, from deepening it.

Sanji makes himself pull back. “See you on the other side,” he says, and makes sure his grip on the rope is secure before he swings out over the open ocean.

He lands on the deck of the Going Merry with a thud, releasing the rope and snapping a kick to the chest of the first pirate who turns around. “Luffy!”

“I’m a little busy here, Sanji!” Luffy says, stretching his fist back out over the rail of the ship and whipping it forward again.

“We want to get married!” Sanji calls as Zoro lands beside him. The Patchwork captain’s head snaps back under the force of Luffy’s blow, but he shakes himself and straightens, reaching for Luffy.

“Right now,” Zoro adds, unsheathing a sword and reversing it to catch an oncoming pirate in the temple with the hilt. “Before he talks himself out of it again.”

“I’m not going to — for fuck’s sake,” Sanji says as the remaining Patchwork Pirates turn away from Nami and Usopp. “Luffy, you’re the captain, you can marry us, right?”

Luffy beams, his whole face lighting up. “Yes! Yes, I can!” He laughs as he ducks under the Patchwork captain’s reach, sidestepping around. “I, uh, I don’t really know any marriage vows, though…”

“Just ask them if they take each other!” Nami calls down from the quarterdeck as she whacks a climbing pirate with her staff. “That’s the important part!”

The Patchwork captain growls, stomping his foot so hard the deck shakes. “You should be concerned with me, Straw Hat.”

“Sorry,” Luffy says cheerfully, not sounding sorry at all. He rears back for another blow. “This is kind of more important.”

The punch fully spins the Patchwork captain around, and Luffy shakes his hand out. “Okay! Roronoa Zoro, do you take Sanji to be your husband, in, uhh, better or worse, up or down —”

“Yes, I do!” Zoro calls, straightening as three pirates fall to the deck in front of him. He glances over at Sanji. “Yes, as many times as it takes, yes.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that you can’t use your words —” Sanji starts, but a peal of laughter from Luffy cuts him off.

“And do you, Sanji,” Luffy says, grinning as he lands several hits on the Patchwork captain in quick succession. “Do you take Roronoa Zoro to be your husband? In, uh, all of that stuff that I said before —”

Sanji holds Zoro’s gaze as his foot cracks against a pirate’s chest. “I’m not saying you were right.”

“You never do,” Zoro says dryly, blocking an incoming blow with one sword.

“But.” Sanji stomps on the downed pirate’s hand as it twitches toward a knife. He’s grinning so wide his face hurts with it. “My answer is yes. I do.”

Luffy crows, and his final blow lays the Patchwork captain out cold on the deck. “Then I now pronounce you — married! Congratulations!” He bounces on his feet, and then looks around the deck at all the moaning and unconscious pirates. “Uh — what are we going to do with these guys?”

The buzzing in Sanji’s veins persists even as the flush of adrenaline gives way to practical considerations, like loading up the defeated Patchwork Pirates into a dinghy and sending them floating back toward their listing ship. The sun is returning, burning the fog away, wisps and tendrils fading in the bright light. Sanji shades his eyes with his hand, giving the enemy ship one last look as Nami takes them away.

“I almost feel like I owe them an apology,” Sanji says as Zoro comes to stand next to him.

“I don’t,” Zoro replies, one hand on his swords. “They attacked us, remember?”

“Yeah, but —” Sanji drops his hand. “Without them, we might not be, you know. Married.” It makes him smile to say it, the word rolling off his tongue like it belongs there.

Zoro reaches for Sanji’s hand, thumb sliding over the ring on Sanji’s fourth finger. “You always do think stupid stuff.”

“At least I say what I’m thinking,” Sanji says, turning his hand so he can link their fingers together.

Zoro sighs. “How long are you going to hold on to that one?”

“Oh, a long time,” Sanji says. “Far into the future. Maybe forever.”

Zoro’s smile breaks across his face like he doesn’t know he’s doing it, like he can’t help it. “Forever, huh?”

“We’ll be old and gray and I won’t have forgotten,” Sanji promises him, and it does feel like a promise, as weighty as the ring on his finger.

Sanji glances down at their enjoined hands. “You don’t have a ring,” he realizes, and it’s not disappointment he’s feeling but a tremendous, heady sense of possibility. “Where’s the nearest island? I’m getting you a ring.”

“No, you’re not.” Zoro’s hand squeezes his and disengages, reaching for his pants pocket.

Sanji huffs. “Oh, the honeymoon’s over already? Married for all of five minutes and you won’t wear a —” He stops cold, breath hitching as Zoro extends his hand. In the center of his palm is a gold ring, brilliantly shaped and catching the light, twin to the one on Sanji’s finger.

“I didn’t know if you would want me to wear it,” Zoro says. He nods at the ring on Sanji’s hand. “But I wanted to make sure you know how I felt.”

Sanji feels like his words have dried up, eyes fixed on the ring in Zoro’s palm.

“Only I guess I was too subtle,” Zoro continues dryly, curling his fingers back in around the ring.

Sanji finds his voice. “Stop,” he says, reaching out and closing his fingers around Zoro’s. Zoro’s face goes uncertain, and Sanji shakes his head.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, taking the ring in one hand and Zoro’s fingers in the other. “This is my job.”

Zoro’s fingers flex in his, and then he holds himself still as Sanji slides the ring up to the base of his fourth finger. It fits perfectly. It looks good. Zoro’s fingers curl around his, and Sanji holds on tightly.

“You’ve just been carrying that around with you. All this time.” Sanji shakes his head and closes his other hand around Zoro’s collar, yanking him close. “Why didn’t you just say —”

Zoro’s mouth on his stops that complaint, and Sanji lets it go. The slide of Zoro’s lips is making all sorts of promises Sanji fully intends to hold him to later; for now, it’s enough to pull him closer and ignore Usopp and Luffy’s cheering, Nami’s wolf-whistle in the background.

Married. To Zoro. Not so ridiculous after all.

This island seems nice. Sanji doesn’t see much of it between the docks and the inn, not with Zoro’s hand tight on his and filthy promises ringing in his ears.

The door behind him finally gives way to his and Zoro’s combined fumbling, and Sanji stumbles back into the room, yanking Zoro with him and refusing to break the kiss. Zoro crowds him in, kicking the door shut behind him; Sanji hopes that it locked, but with Zoro’s mouth hot on his and his big hands shoving Sanji’s jacket off his shoulders, Sanji can’t really be fucked to care. This is his wedding night, and he’s damned if he’s going to miss a second of it thinking about anything else.

The trail of clothing between the door and the bed grows, boots and shoes and belts discarded on the floor. Sanji falls back on the bed with Zoro’s hands on his waistband, and lifts his hips so Zoro can pull pants and underwear all the way off. Zoro makes short work of his own clothing and then crawls up Sanji’s body, pressing him into the pillows and mattress. He presses biting kisses to Sanji’s shoulder and neck, working his way up until he can kiss Sanji properly. Sanji arches into it, lining up their hips and Zoro groans into his mouth at the brush of Sanji’s cock against his.

“If you don’t —” Sanji says between kisses, grinding his hips up. “Get your cock in me — right now —”

“You’ll what?” Zoro says, grinning even as he drags his lips down Sanji’s jaw.

Sanji growls and hooks one leg around Zoro’s, rolling them over and pushing himself up to sit astride Zoro’s hips. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll —”

Zoro wraps Sanji’s cock in one callused hand and Sanji groans, thrusting up into it.

“Yeah?” Zoro grins, eyes smug and glinting. “I’m listening.”

“Shut up,” Sanji grasps, leaning down.

Zoro leans up into the kiss, shifting so he can wrap his hand around both of them. Sanji breaks away, breathing already ragged in his chest as he rolls his hips up, rubbing the sensitive skin of his cock against the hard length of Zoro’s; he could come just like this, has come just like this before, but beds and privacy are infrequent luxuries in the life of a pirate and Sanji intends to take full advantage. Reaching for his pants means losing all of that lovely skin-on-skin for a moment or two, but it’s worth it to retrieve the little tin he’d stashed there. He grabs Zoro’s hand, slicking up his fingers, and guides Zoro’s hand back between his legs.

Sanji hums as Zoro’s fingers tease him open, bracing his hands on Zoro’s chest and letting his eyes fall half shut as he rocks his hips back. Zoro’s fingers dip in and then back out, rubbing over his hole, and Sanji squirms.

“I don’t need — gentle,” he gasps out, opening his eyes to glare down at Zoro. “Get on with it.”

Zoro slides his free hand up Sanji’s thigh, brushing against Sanji’s cock with his thumb. Sanji bites down on a whimper. “It’s not about need,” Zoro says. “But if you insist.”

Two fingers plunge into him and Sanji doesn’t bother to try to hold back the moan as he rocks his hips back. He bites his lower lip, reveling in the stretch — but as thick as Zoro’s fingers are, Sanji knows his cock is thicker, and he aches for that fullness.

“This is my wedding night,” he says, reaching for the tin again. “You have to be nice to me.”

Whatever Zoro was going to say to that is lost in a groan as Sanji slicks up his cock and holds it steady. Sanji’s jaw falls open, breath coming in short little gasps as he sinks down on Zoro’s cock; the stretch is divine, Zoro’s cock filling him up until Sanji can hardly breathe with it. When he’s fully seated he rolls his hips slowly, savoring the fullness in his ass and the way Zoro’s hands dig into his thighs. He’s going to leave bruises but Sanji will savor those too, reminders of tonight in the days ahead.

“You don’t —” Zoro swallows and tries again, his hands sliding up to Sanji’s hips. “You don’t want me to be nice.”

Sanji laughs breathlessly. “I don’t?”

“Nah.” Zoro grins. “You like me like this.” His hands tighten on Sanji’s hips, lifting him almost all the way off Zoro’s cock —

Then pulls him back down, snapping his hips up at the same time, and any retort is driven clean out of Sanji’s head. He braces his hands on Zoro’s chest, thighs straining as Zoro drives into him, each thrust pushing thought further away until all that’s left is the flex of muscle and skin on skin. Sanji rolls his hips into it, arching his back and sinking his teeth into his lip; he’s going to come like this, on Zoro’s cock, with Zoro’s hands digging into his skin, and Zoro’s ring on his finger.

Sanji blinks down at his hands on Zoro’s chest, at the band of gold on his finger. He reaches for Zoro’s left hand, peeling it away from his skin and bringing it up to his mouth. Zoro’s eyes widen and a groan escapes his lips when Sanji brushes his lips over the ring on Zoro’s hand, warm from the heat of his body. Zoro’s body begins to draw taut in a way that Sanji recognizes, and when Zoro tugs on his hand Sanji lets him wrap it around Sanji’s cock, linking their fingers together for Sanji to thrust into. Sanji tilts his head back as the heat pooling in his gut snaps and overtakes him, the last clear things Zoro’s fingers twined tightly with his and the sound of his name on Zoro’s lips.

Zoro’s chest is a good place to rest in the aftermath, and while Sanji’s limbs probably could move him, he doesn’t see why they should have to go to the trouble. Zoro seems to agree, one hand sweeping up and down Sanji’s back, fingers chasing the curve of his spine. They’re both a mess, sweat and come on overheated skin, but it’s a good mess. Their mess. Sanji flexes his left hand so he can feel his ring and then rolls off of Zoro’s chest, lifting his hand to study the band of gold in the fading evening light.

Zoro stirs next to him. “What’s’it?”

Sanji doesn’t answer him right away, leaning over the side of the bed and rummaging for his cigarettes. He lights up and rolls back onto the bed, taking a thoughtful drag as he examines his hand again. Zoro waits; Sanji has to ask this right, but in the end he only knows one way to phrase it.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Sanji says eventually. “You let me believe this was about a bottle of sake.”

Zoro is still for a long moment, and then lets out a long sigh. “I was afraid you would say no.”

Sanji exhales smoke toward the ceiling, still looking at his hand. “Yeah. I get that.” He rolls toward Zoro: hair damp with sweat, come drying on his stomach, and one of the dearest sights Sanji has ever seen. “But I’m saying yes now. I’m listening now.”

Zoro grins, soft and brilliant and suddenly split by a yawn. “I said as many times as it takes,” he says sleepily. “And I meant it.”

“Yeah,” says Sanji, an answering grin spreading across his face. “Me too.”