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Sanji wakes up thanks to the assaulting rays of light from the sun. His first thought is: weird, the sun’s never down here in the men’s quarters. But as his brain starts to turn back on, he starts remembering little tidbits of the night before.
For starters, the crew didn’t go back to the Sunny and crashed in some poor inn rented out to them for free upon saving the town from some outlaws. Big timers, supposedly, but Sanji remembers the whole ordeal ending far faster than any big timers in the past.
Though, if he’s honest, his perception of strength has been twisted after fighting Queen and…whatever that Knight-creep’s name was.
Groaning, he shifts so that the sun can stop harassing him. What time can it possibly be? It must be incredibly early if his internal alarm hasn’t woken him up, right? Sanji sucks at his teeth and lifts an arm up to hide his face behind.
It’s only a few minutes of absolute stillness before he gives in. He’s not going back to sleep anymore, so he might as well get up and start to make some sort of food for the crew. Sitting up, Sanji scratches at his jaw and looks around.
The room is pretty well-put together. Like a party did not happen last night, like how his warped memories say. There’s clothes strewn about; that’s his tie hanging off the cheap lights hanging off the ceiling.
Someone shifts next to him.
Oh, was it one of those nights, he wonders? Raising a curly eyebrow, he tilts his head, grabbing the sheets covering the other person to yank them down and tell them they have to go now.
There are two things he sees that snap his memories back into place:
One, the silver band on his ring finger glinting mischievously in the dim lighting of the sun through the cracks the curtains provide.
Two, the person asleep next to him is not a faceless, nameless stranger but the damn Marimo himself, sporting a lovebite on his neck.
Oh shit.
That’s right.
They got so drunk, they ended up agreeing to have one of the townsfolk marry them. Or something like that; the gist is very blurry but, clearly, the outcome is all the same. What with the matching rings and the nakedness and the one bed.
Sanji slaps a hand to his mouth to stifle his scream.
And then, for good measure, he kicks the idiot mosshead off the bed with as much force as he can possibly muster at six-forty-two in the morning.
Zoro crashes down with a grunt where he stays for half a second before he sits up with a murderous expression on his face.
“What the fuck?” he asks with a sneer.
“Why the hell are you in my room?!”
Of course, Sanji knows why he’s in the room, it’s just a matter of needing to hear it be said out loud. And preferably by someone that isn’t himself.
Zoro’s gray eye looks at him for a bit longer before he scans the place, tilting his head up to stare at the tie that slowly rotates with the lights’ fan, then down at himself and finally to a ring very, very similar to Sanji’s.
“What the fuck,” he repeats, this time more to himself than to Sanji. But unlike him, Zoro seems to gather himself far quicker and reaches for the ring to tug it off.
Sanji watches.
It won’t come off.
“What the fuck,” Zoro says for the third time.
“Say something else!” Sanji rises to his knees, holding the sheets against his chest to keep him decent. He moves closer to him, his crazed blue eyes on Zoro’s thick fingers trying to get the ring off. “Are you fucking with me?!”
Zoro gives him a look. Sanji tries to ignore it because it seems to be the asshole’s own version of lecherous. Right. Fine. Okay. That was taken care of last night. What the fuck ever.
“It’s not coming off,” Zoro states, giving up and rising up to his feet. He’s wearing nothing and Sanji shrieks and looks away.
Unbothered, Zoro looks through the clothes thrown around for his underwear, slipping them on when successful. Sanji studies him from the corner of his eyes, feeling his face grow hot upon seeing more lovebites following the path of his chest scar.
Sanji thinks: fuck.
-
Nami’s gleeful look is distracting him from watching Robin study the ring stuck to his finger. Zoro tries to ignore her as best he can but there’s this static energy prickling his skin and he already has a huge headache that has absolutely nothing to do with how much he drank last night and everything to do with all of this. So ignoring Nami is futile.
He glares at her, hand curling into a tight grip in Robin’s hold. In response, Nami’s smug smile only grows.
“It seems it’s a devil fruit,” Robin starts, a thoughtfulness to her tone. “I’ve just never really heard of a devil fruit that also involves solid objects….”
Nami hums, pausing in her torture of Zoro to look down at the ring on Zoro’s finger. “Maybe it isn’t the solid object? Maybe the solid object, in this case: the ring, is imbued with the devil fruit’s power.”
Robin looks up, her brown eyes aglow with fascination. “That’s a thought.”
“Oh, like Jaggy,” Luffy chirps, resting his chin on the top of the chair’s back he’s perched on. He’s sitting on it backwards, arms hugging the chair to his chest. “He can attract or repel metal objects!”
Robin tilts her head, her curiosity for the world unleashed. She hasn’t let go of Zoro’s hand, thumb still thoughtfully running over the silver band. “Oh, how curious. Would this be an attract and repel matter as well, I wonder?”
“We should test it out,” Nami giggles behind her hand.
“Hell yeah we should,” Usopp says, breaking his silence with a shit-eating grin. He’s here in case they think the ring should be broken to get it off. Fucking traitor. Zoro thinks they should have gotten Franky to do the job instead.
Actually, no. Definitely not Franky; he doesn’t need the sobbing and blubbering about true love finding a way.
“So,” Luffy says, drawing out the vowel. “If this isn’t ‘bout the ring, why won’t it come off?” Then he blinks his brown eyes and turns to him. “Where’d you guys go?”
All four of them turn to Zoro, similar quizzical expressions on their faces. He hates when Luffy becomes attentive to the happenings in his surroundings. It makes Zoro’s stomach roll to see him be obviously observant rather than secretly. At least with the latter he can ignore it.
“Don’t remember,” Zoro mutters.
It’s the truth. Kinda.
He remembers he and the cook were wandering the festival together, bickering and pushing and shoving. It’s how these things usually go when Sanji hasn’t decided to join the cooking committee. He’s always berating him that he’s drinking too much and to slow it down and keeping count on how many beers he’s had. Out loud.
Who is he, his mother? Zoro’d wondered. His damn wife?
Of course, in between the bickering, they’d stop to play some of the dumb games, both making sure to not use their real strength as to not break the machines and make the children around them sad. At this point, Zoro distinctly remembers a one-eyed frog plush he offered a small girl. He also remembers Sanji smiling and shoving him endearingly rather than to pick a fight.
He remembers matcha covered takoyaki and the cook raging about it. At first in a what-the-hell kinda way, then in the oh-hell-yeah kinda way. They’d stayed around the stand for a few minutes and they ate two servings each.
The rest after that is a bit of a blur. Zoro remembers Sanji started drinking more after the takoyaki stand; he’d been looser and giggly. It’d made Zoro have fits of snickering too, the way seeing someone very uptight loosening up tends to.
The bickering continued, of course. It’s their brand of affection, after all.
He remembers a stand with crudely drawn hearts on a cardboard sign. The letters were very loopy, very curly. He remembers laughing, pointing at the curls on the letters and at the curls of Sanji’s eyebrows.
He remembers that starting another bickering match, the cook’s cheeks pink and his glassy blue eyes narrowed. Zoro’d been laughing, shoving back when the cook would push him.
And then….
Hm.
“Yeah, I got nothing,” Zoro looks up at them, blinking.
“You’re hopeless,” Usopp mutters, rolling his dark eyes.
“Let’s try the repel and attract theory,” Nami says with a sharp smile.
“Who will go with Zoro and who will stay with Sanji?” Robin asks, still holding Zoro’s hand.
It’s stupidly comforting, which is stupid coming from the ship’s very own queen of the macabre.
“Oh—!”
“No Luffy.”
At that moment, Brook walks in to crash their little meeting in the ship’s library.
-
Sanji doesn’t stress cook.
He’s always been accused of doing so in the past by Patty and Carne, those fuckers. But they would eat every last crumb of all the crazy shit Sanji whipped up, leaving just barely enough for the other shitty cooks and for the old geezer too.
Still, to this day Sanji swears up and down that he does not stress cook. He stares at the long, long spread of assorted finger foods and entrees and even desserts. He’s merely practicing. Expanding his horizons, if one wills.
The glint of the silver band on his ring finger makes him choke on the inhale he takes of his cigarette. He’s pounding a fist to his chest when Luffy runs into the galley, his eyes growing wide at all the food and whatever his purpose for being in here evaporating from his frontal lobe.
“Whoa! So much food!” He wiggles his fingers. “Can I eat it?”
“No,” Sanji wheezes, voice a little high-pitched.
Thankfully, Usopp scurries in after, holding onto his bucket hat as he sprints to make sure Luffy isn’t doing exactly what he’s starting to do. But when his dark brown eyes land on Sanji, he sighs in relief. “Thought the galley was unmanned.”
“Nope,” Sanji squeaks, hoping the burn in his throat will end soon. He tries to clear his throat. It proves incredibly painful.
Usopp adjusts the straps of his overalls and walks further into the room, only minimally eyeing the food on the counters and tables. “So, Brook and Nami are with your husband—”
Sanji wheezes again.
“—and heading back to the town. We’re trying to see if this is a kinda repel and attract thing. See if you get pulled when he gets too far from you.” Usopp gives him a smile. Sanji won’t fall for it: it’s definitely at his expense.
“I—” Sanji clears his throat, fighting through the burn until he can feel the remnants of the smoke’s effect start to dissipate. When he speaks, his voice is back to its normal, gravely self. “I don’t give a shit about that loser marimo.”
Luffy pauses from trying to sneak a drumstick. “Uh…” He looks at Usopp who looks back at him. “That’s not what all the bites on him say.”
Usopp bursts into loud laughter and Sanji thinks it’s about time he commits captain-cide. His face is burning as he turns to glare at Luffy, a finger raised menacingly.
“That was the whole marriage thing’s effect!”
Luffy blinks, his eyes slowly sliding to look at Usopp again before sliding back to Sanji. “Uh… I don’t think that’s how the whole thing works, Sanji.”
“Oh, please. Pray tell, captain, how does this all work?” Sanji crosses his arms in front of his chest. Then, feeling like the pose is too constricting, he shoves his hands in his pockets instead. Still unsatisfied, he merely slaps his hands on the counter and grips the edge. It's the wrong move because his wedding band glints. He forces his attention away before he has another coughing fit. “You have your own devil fruit powers so suddenly you’re an expert on them?”
“Well, kinda,” Luffy laughs, looking at Sanji again before he just goes for the drumstick and shoves it in his mouth. When he pulls it back out, it’s all bones. He chews a bit, nodding in approval of the sauce. “But I’m just sayin’ that all this is totally not making you wanna have sexy time with Zoro. That’s all you.”
Usopp is fighting for his life to keep from laughing his brain out his mouth. He grabs a stool and sits, merely staring at Sanji as he tries to control himself enough to speak. He should stay quiet for the rest of his life, for all Sanji cares.
“I, personally,” Usopp starts sweetly, placing a hand to his chest, “think this was a long time coming. I didn’t factor in a devil fruit doing the job, but I definitely did feel some tension there for a long time. UST, if you will.”
“I don’t will,” Sanji sneers at the same time that Luffy asks, “What’s UST?”
“Unresolved sexual tension,” Usopp mock whispers to him.
Luffy, crosses his arms over his chest and gives a slow nod, his eyes on a wing this time. “Yeah… Oh, yeah, totally. I see that.”
“See my foot in you face,” Sanji growls as he goes into a stance to kick Luffy’s face in. But in that moment Chopper comes into the galley from the sick bay, a book that’s bigger than him in his hooves.
“Okay,” he starts, not looking up to the massacre waiting to happen. “I really don’t see any marriage binding devil fruit listed on this. Maybe it’s a new one?” He looks up, big black eyes apologetic and hopeful at the same time. It makes all three other men relax and back away from each other. “Do new devil fruits sprout?”
“Why don’t you ask Luffy, he’s an expert,” Sanji scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Luffy opens his mouth, whether to say something in response to Chopper or Sanji or to inhale some more food, no one will ever know.
“Guh!” What an embarrassing noise, Sanji thinks as he feels something pulling him towards the galley doors. “What the fuck?”
“It’s happening, it’s happening!” Usopp jumps off the stool, running to Sanji’s side but not touching him.
“What’s happening?” Chopper asks.
The soles of Sanji’s dress shoes skid against the floorboards as he’s pulled by a…. well by something. It’s probably something that’s connecting him to Zoro, that goddamn idiot. Sanji can’t tell where the pull is coming from—is it his heart, is it his gut, is it his ring finger?
It feels like it’s everywhere.
“What’s happening?” Chopper shrieks, throwing the book over his shoulder and getting a running start so he can jump and take Sanji’s hand in between his hooves. “Is there a ghost in here?!”
“It’s Zoro,” Usopp says, gripping Sanji’s other hand and holding on. “Not sure what we’re supposed to do now that the theory is proven correct!”
“Just let him go and see if he heads to where Zoro is,” Luffy suggests, a plate of pilaf rice and grilled salmon in his hands. “We can follow him.”
Blinking, Chopper and Usopp let him go.
Sanji has never felt more betrayed in his life.
-
“Aurgh!” Zoro tries to take another step forward, but it’s literally making his chest feel like it’s going to collapse in itself at any moment now. Sweat accumulates on his forehead from the sheer straining and he hates himself a little when he backtracks and sets his foot down. He gasps for air. “What the fuck.”
“Yohoho!” Brook bends down to lock his eye sockets on Zoro’s face. He forgets how freakishly tall the idiot is. “Looks like this is as far as the connection allows you to be. Ah! True romance!”
He clasps his bony hands together and sways. Zoro, surprisingly for the first time, wishes his bones were readjusted in a manner that will impede Brook from everything.
“Hm,” Nami hums, chin tucked between her forefinger and thumb. “We’re kinda in the middle of the town. So…. How far would that be?”
“Does it matter?” Zoro asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We’re leaving soon anyway.”
Nami looks at him, copper eyes narrowed. “No we’re not. Not 'til we fix this; can you imagine this happening in the middle of a big fight? Oh, don’t look at me like that, we all know Luffy will inevitably get us in some predicament again.” She waves a thin hand in the air. “And the last thing we need is you two to be incapable of splitting up!”
Zoro hates to admit she has a point. How can he and the cook support Luffy and protect the others if they’re being forced to be together at all times? The marriage thing isn’t even a big deal to Zoro; marriage is just a contract filled with promises that, most of the time, the simplest of man can’t keep. The bigger problem is proving to be this.
He harrumphs, turning his head to the side and ignoring Brook’s stupid giggles about maybe having a proper wedding reception on the Sunny to commemorate the union of their love. He’s a second away from kicking his skull off when he can kinda see a group approaching them fast.
At first, he thinks it’s remnants of the people they beat some days ago. He takes a step further in the direction the three of them came from, putting himself between the approaching group and Brook and Nami.
Then he realizes it’s the cook. And Luffy. And Usopp. And Chopper. Not far behind them is Robin, taking notes in one of her fancy notebooks.
Zoro sighs, rolling his eye skyward.
The cook looks haggard as he walks towards him, something like an urgency in his step. He has a cigarette between his teeth, as he always does, but his hair is a disheveled mess and the tie around his neck is loose to the point of almost coming undone.
When Sanji finally comes to a stop in front of him, he lets out a soft yet tired exhale. Zoro gets it. He feels something in him calm down at the close proximity, but he can’t exactly pinpoint where it’s coming from.
“You good?” he can’t help but ask, looking at the sweat making the cook’s fringe stringy, the confusion and even slight fear Sanji tries to hide behind his bravado.
Sanji looks at him, visibly swallowing hard as he gives a nod. And, for good measure, he even twists his thin lips into a smirk. “Of course.”
Zoro nods, looking away from him but subconsciously staying close.
“So,” Robin says, closing her notebook with a soft snap. “We must find this person and perhaps encourage they reverse whatever they’ve done to Sanji and Zoro.”
“Ah, yeah,” Usopp sagely nods. “Play at the good ol’ normal, decent conversation, huh?”
“Well it depends who the person turns out to be,” Nami inputs, hands on her hips. “If they’re an argumentative prick, we may just have to use force.”
“But that’ll be our last ditch effort,” Usopp quickly yelps when Luffy starts to crack his knuckles. He turns to Zoro and Sanji. “You’re both sure you don’t remember who did this?”
Zoro shakes his head and Sanji flicks a delicate wrist in the air, cigarette between his fingers. Usopp sighs and turns back to the others.
“So this is how I see it,” Nami starts, ever the one to take charge when something like this happens. “We’ll all have to split up and scope the town. Worse case scenario: we may have to check out the nearby towns too, in case it was someone that was only here for the party.”
“This can take a while,” Usopp comments, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We can’t just go up to someone and be like 'hey do you have a devil fruit power by any chance’? Imagine that.”
Nami sucks at her teeth. “He’s right.” She turns her copper eyes towards Zoro and Sanji, the former quickly tensing and the latter deflating. “You two will stay on the Sunny.”
“What!”
“Nami-swan, please.”
She shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. It’ll just be safer this way.”
“Won’t it be easier if this person, whoever it may be, sees Sanji and Zoro?” Brook asks, skull tilted in question.
“Sure,” Nami drawls out. “But what if it makes them more tight lipped?”
Silence falls around them as the gravity of something that was funny for the majority of them earlier in the day finally starts to sink in.
“Besides,” the dumb witch continues, a smug expression on her face. “This way they can spend time together. A little taste of their honeymoon.”
“Oh fuck you,” Zoro seethes, rolling his eye.
Sanji smacks at his arm at the same time he stomps on his foot. “Don’t talk to Nami-swan like that!” He sharply turns to her. “Though crass, I must agree with him, my sweet, have mercy on me. Am I not suffering enough?”
Zoro looks at him from the corner of his eye and then at the identical looks the rest of the crew wear. They all think he’s not suffering at all. In fact, something tells Zoro they all think this is something good with a little rough edges that they’re trying to sort out.
He throws his head back and softly groans to himself.
-
The following morning, Sanji and Zoro have the Sunny all to themselves. The rest of the crew have headed out in search of the devil fruit user that bound them together and slapped 'married’ on it with a pair of matching silver bands.
Zoro’s in the crow’s nest doing whatever his dumb training regime of the morning is. So that leaves Sanji in the kitchen, putting the crockery from breakfast away while he hums a little tune to himself.
He’s a lot less frazzled than the day before. Then again, he’s a lot less hungover so his nerves are smoothed out and all in a row. So he’s married to his rival slash equal slash… well he hasn’t really come to terms about that third one so he won't mention it.
It’s just!
Well, it’s not that he’s in denial about his sexuality or his feelings, potential or existing. That whole mess was cleaned up during his time in Momoiro Island, reluctant though he still is to admit. He’s okay with all parts of himself and love is love no matter what form or who it’s harbored for. All this is true.
It’s just that… Well… it’s kind of hard to admit you have a bit of a raging boner for your rival. Especially after years of ragebaiting, dick measuring and that one time where he was kind of okay with letting the mosshead drown.
The worst part of all the dumb shit Luffy and Usopp were spewing last night is that they’d been one hundred percent right. There was tension between him and Zoro. Sanji did want to get into his pants. And now he’s married to him.
Which should resolve everything, right?
Wrong!
Now he has to think about how he’s unknowingly tied Zoro down from being a free man to do his… Well, whatever it is Zoro does. He’s pretty sure he’s incapable of being attracted to anyone that isn’t powerful and capable of manhandling him — well alright wait he fits that criteria. Wait.
Sanji shoves a cigarette between his teeth.
The little pause to focus on lighting the tip until the cherry glows helps him gather his wits and bearings. What he means is that Zoro seems to only be interested in those that can hold their own against him, that ooze haki and power. (Sanji will obliviously ignore how he falls right into that category because it doesn't match his current plight.) And so it’s not like the idiot’s got any romance coming his way any time soon. But Zoro still deserves to be single and not married to his rival.
Right?
Correct!
He deserves the choice after all.
Sanji rubs the heel of his palm against his forehead. He told himself he wasn’t going to think too hard about this. And he wasn’t going to worry about it unless Zoro starts to worry about it.
Wordlessly, he plates some extra onigiri he’d made as a snack for the crew to take with them. Filling up a glass of water and another with berry smoothie he’d made for his dearest Robin and sweet Nami for their efforts.
He walks the items to the crow’s nest, kicking his heel to the floorboards to start skywalking to the hatch-door.
“Hi,” he says as he lands on the crow’s nest floors, kicking the hatch closed.
Zoro looks up from the plank position he’s on. Sanji can see his muscles quiver with strain. Knowing how much Zoro hates to not only be interrupted but distracted, Sanji quietly walks to the benches, setting the serving tray down and taking a seat down next to it.
He fiddles with his lighter for the next three to five minutes, following the grooves of the mermaid carved at the front, the bumps of her tail’s scales. He opens and closes it, though he fears the snap would distract Zoro so he stops.
Soon, Zoro eases down from the plank, rolling over onto his back to catch his breath before ultimately sitting up. “What is it?”
Sanji watches him reach for the towelette near him and runs it through his hair, his face and neck. Which still sports the lovebite. He blurts out, “Does it hurt?”
Zoro raises an eyebrow but then follows his line of vision. He places a hand over it, and it turns out to be the hand with the silver band on his ring finger. Sanji’s insides churn.
“No,” mosshead responds. “This one does a little though,” he admits, pointing at a bite that has Sanji’s teeth marks. It’s near the valley between his pectorals and where the thick scar bisecting him is at its thickest and most sensitive.
Sanji turns his head to hide his smug smile. “Oops…?”
“Right,” Zoro snorts, standing up and dumping the damp towelette into the hamper and reaching for a new one that he rests around his shoulders. He sits on the bench, the tray of food still between them. “S'for me?”
Sanji hums, crossing a leg over the other and watching Zoro go for the glass of water first.
Silence falls between them but Sanji’s surprised to realize it’s comfortable. He wonders how long it’s been like this, the comfort between the two, and he just never noticed. Never paid any mind to it.
Now it’s so obvious, so present. Sanji swallows, fidgeting with his lighter before deciding to light up a new cigarette. Then, because since the whole Big Mom shit that happened he promised he’d be more forthright, he asks, “Does it bother you?”
“Well,” Zoro says, not realizing what Sanji actually meant, “I know you like to make yaki onigiri when we’re out exploring, but gotta say, it’s never been my favorite.” Nonetheless he takes a big bite of the riceball in his hand. “A little on the sweet side.”
Sanji blinks. “Wait, you notice that?”
“That it’s sweet? Well, yeah.” Zoro blinks, still missing the actual point of the conversation. “I can get into some sweet stuff but I don’t like it on my onigiri.”
“No, you moron,” Sanji hisses. “You notice that I make yaki onigiri when packing bento?”
Now it’s Zoro’s turn to blink. “….Yeah?”
Sanji feels warmth. He watches, wide-eyed as Zoro grabs the smoothie and pauses to stare at the colored swirly straw before taking a long sip. He thinks the warmth is coming from his cheeks, stretching up to his hairline and down to his collarbones. He thinks the back of his neck burns and the tip of his ears do as well. His insides feel all fluttery. He’s never once reacted like this at being perceived.
“That’s uh,” he clears his throat. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh.” Zoro shoves an entire riceball into his mouth, cheek puffed out. “What did you mean, then?”
Sanji blinks his eyes and swallows. He supposes it isn’t important, is it? He shakes his head and Zoro, eyeing him for a little longer, shrugs.
-
The following day, Zoro decides to lounge in the galley.
He feels like this whole being skittish thing at their current predicament has gotten a little old. So the cook’s his husband now! Big deal! It’s kinda what he’d wanted all along, anyway. Minus the marriage, though he supposes he can deal with that little detail.
Zoro’s more of a life-partners than a husband-and-husband kind of guy. Why would he bring in a god he doesn’t believe in into his relationship?
Anyway, that relationship is kinda not real, unfortunately, but until the others return with the bastard that did this, he and the cook are husbands.
So.
Might as well spend time with his husband.
Not like it’s the first time they do it. Actually, since the cook came back from his whole family drama shit, they’ve been a little more… at ease in each other’s space. Actually, no, that’s not true. Bicker as much as they do, sure, but they’ve always been comfortable in each other’s presence.
It’s just a little different now. Or maybe it had been before the whole married thing. Now that whole married thing has made it more obvious.
The cook’s in the kitchen, making dinner for two. Zoro rests on the couch, one leg still on the ground and the other spread in front of him, making sure his boot is off the cushions.
Not going to lie, Zoro wishes he remembers the night.
He’s got a high alcohol tolerance, always have, but for some reason he’d blacked out. So bad, that he didn’t even get to remember having sex with the man he’s been wanting to have sex with for a year. Maybe longer. Zoro isn’t good with the concept of time. Or direction, but he stands that this last one is the world having it out for him.
The lovebites he’s sporting prove that one) it did happen and two) it must have been a good time. He wonders if he left any marks on Sanji. He won’t ask him, though. Not if he doesn’t want to get his head caved in. But he wonders.
“Try this,” he hears and Zoro opens his eye to see Sanji standing next to him a spoon with broth in one hand, the other hovering below to catch any drops.
Zoro sits up and leans forward, opening his mouth so the spoon can come in. Belatedly, he thinks he maybe was supposed to take the spoon from Sanji’s grip and feed himself. The cook’s face is as pink as the short-sleeved button-up he’s wearing.
“S'good,” he says, feeling a little smug at the reaction he’s caused. “What is it?”
“Bouillabaisse,” the cook says as he turns away from him and heads back to the kitchen proper. “One of Zeff’s favorites.”
Zoro stands from the couch, sliding all three of his swords out from their loops and letting them rest on the couch in his stead. He follows Sanji into the kitchen, looking over the pot of stew and watching it simmer.
“Should be ready in a few,” the cook tells him as he cuts into a boule. He cuts thick slices and looks between the stove and the toasters before he settles for the toaster. “Can you bring the aoili to the table?”
Zoro looks at the little jar of fresh made aoili and does as instructed. The table’s already been set for the both of them and Zoro hesitates for a moment before he goes to grab them water. With the cook, it's hard to tell when you're being helpful or a nuisance.
He doesn’t wait for long before Sanji comes out with two bowls of stew, setting one down in front of Zoro and the other in his place at the table. He only wanders away to bring the plate of toasted bread and he sighs happily when he finally sits down.
“Looks good,” Zoro says, feeling weird at paying him compliments that he usually just keeps to himself because the others shower him with them instead.
Sanji’s smile is a little shy, which Zoro isn’t used to.
They start to eat, the silence comfortable and light. Zoro thinks this may be the best meal he’s had in a while. Not because Sanji doesn’t cook good things, but because it tastes good. His compliments to the old man, back in the east, and his good taste.
“You think the others have found anything out?” Sanji asks, spreading aoili onto one of the toasted breads.
Zoro leans back in his seat, grabbing his glass of water and taking a long sip. “Nah. It’s too soon; can’t ever be that easy for us.”
Sanji laughs a little, looking away from him because the laugh happens just as he takes a bite of the bread. “Dumb marimo.”
Zoro grins, proud of himself.
“And… you’re okay with this?” Sanji asks after another brief moment of silence. He’s scooping up some fish with his spoon.
“With what?” Zoro asks, though he thinks he has an idea of what he means.
Sanji looks up at him, his expression carefully blank. Too carefully blank to be honest. Zoro lets him have it for a second, just waiting for whatever he’s going to say and deciding to go from there.
“Being married,” he says. It’s like a nonchalant drawl, but it falls short. “To me.”
Ah.
Zoro supposes he should be a little more honest about his feelings. But how can he tell the most uptight man on this ship that he’s actually very much into him and sometimes when Zoro’s alone with his thoughts for long enough he’s pretty sure he’s in love. How does he word that with as little words used as possible?
Not only that, but knowing the cook the way he does, he'll want explanations. And Zoro doesn't have one. It just happened one day, he became aware of it and Zoro didn't question it. Truthfully, he thought the stunt with Big Mom would have pissed him off enough to lose the feelings. Something about distance, lack of being near each other, whatever. It didn't.
So all in all, Zoro doesn't have an answer. Not one that would satisfy the other man, anyway.
He licks his lower lip in thought. But in the end, he settles for a light shrug. “It could be worse.”
Sanji stares at him, not blinking, probably not breathing either.
“I could have gotten married to Franky.”
The joke makes the cook snort but it seems to not be what he wants to hear. Zoro sobers up a bit, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck.
“I don’t mind,” he finally says, voice soft and low. Usually, it’d be swallowed by the cacophony of noise the rest of the crew makes. But in this quiet moment where it’s just the two of them, it rings loud. “Kinda glad it’s you.”
-
Sanji lies awake that night. At first, filled with wonder at how the rest of the crew are fairing, if they’ve caught a hint of any sort. Then, that quickly switched to thoughts of Zoro and dinner earlier.
Kinda glad it’s you.
If Sanji weren’t so… well, if he didn’t have such a bad habit of selling himself short, he’d think that the mosshead was being honest about feelings. Feelings for him.
But it sure as hell can’t be that.
Sanji’s just reading too much into it, putting his feelings where they don’t belong. But it still leaves him incapable of sleeping, until he becomes very agitated and kicks his sheets off.
The men’s quarters are empty save for him, since all the other guys are on the hunt for the devil fruit user. Maybe that’s also keeping him awake; the lack of ridiculous snores. He sighs through his nose, and sees himself out of the empty room.
The lights in the crow’s nest are off, but he knows Zoro’s awake up there. He climbs up the mast to get to the closed hatch-door, poking his head in first to pinpoint what Zoro’s up to. He climbs fully inside when he sees him sitting on one of the benches, a blanket covering him to fight off the chilly night.
“Hi,” he mutters, bare feet slapping against the floorboards.
Zoro looks at him, his eye starting from his bare toes and slowly making his way up to his messy blond hair.
“Can’t sleep,” Sanji admits, sitting on the bench. They should consider bringing throw pillows in here. But he knows it’ll probably piss Zoro off. “Can I stay here?”
Zoro glances at him again, his expression open like it always is. “Why are you asking permission?”
Sanji shrugs. “This is your space.”
Zoro snorts but doesn’t say otherwise, and he doesn’t tell him to leave either. Sanji thinks he should have brought his blanket with him; the night is pretty chilly and the sound of the angry waves makes him shiver.
Without a word, Zoro stands from the bench, grabbing the blanket he’d been sitting on to envelop himself in. He shakes it off, holding it in both hands as he moves to sit back down on the bench and letting it fall over himself and Sanji.
“Oh,” Sanji blinks his bleary eyes. His stomach does a little swoop. “Since when are you thoughtful?”
Zoro snorts again, tilting his head to spare him an annoyed glance. “This is how I always am, dumb twirly cook. You’re just too busy seeing the worst in me.”
Sanji flinches a little.
But Zoro bumps their shoulder. “Chill, twirly.”
Silence falls around them, Sanji feels incredibly tired but he can’t seem to go to sleep. He tilts his head back, resting it against the wall. He thinks about how, four days ago now considering is well after midnight, he’d woken up to find himself naked and sharing a bed with an equally naked Zoro, both hungover and suddenly married.
Is it really marriage though? Sounds like a binding spell, more like.
He laughs a little. “We were pretty frazzled when we first found out about this, huh?”
“Who the hell says the word 'frazzled’?” Zoro grunts when Sanji elbows his side. He spares him a glare as he rubs at his sore side. “I was just hungover and kinda confused.” He takes a moment before he adds, “Mostly confused. I can deal with a hangover.”
“The mood was set the moment I realized you were the one in bed with me,” Sanji admits.
Zoro rolls his eye. “Couldn’t have been that bad.”
“The sex? I don’t know, I can’t remember.”
“See? It was so good it gave you amnesia.”
Sanji snorts, smacking his arm as he tries to stifle a laugh. At least they’re not awkward about it; Sanji definitely would have been awkward about it two years ago. Actually, if this happened two years ago, he would have definitely had an identity crisis, a meltdown and would have desperately needed an intervention packed with one of Luffy’s infamous speeches.
“It seriously doesn’t bother you?” he asks, tilting his head to glance up at him from his slouched position. “Be honest, mosshead, if you’d been the one to wake up first how would you have reacted?”
Zoro scratches at his jaw as he looks out to the open sea. A thick fog is easing its way towards the island. No wonder it’s so chilly, Sanji thinks, shivering and burrowing himself further into the blankets.
“Dunno,” Zoro finally answers. “I wouldn’t have kicked you off the bed, though.”
“Fair.”
Zoro seems to actually be thinking about this, his gray eye almost black in the darkness, dancing as he studies the expanse of sea in front of them. “I think I would have been more concerned with having to deal with your inevitable meltdown.”
“I did not have a meltdown!”
Zoro glances at him, unimpressed.
“That was not a meltdown!” Sanji sits up a bit, shifting so he can face him. “I had just woken up with no recollection of the night before, I was vulnerable!”
“Vulnerable?” Zoro laughs, rolling away from him when Sanji aims another smack at his arm. “You were vulnerable? I was vulnerable to you kicking me off the bed!”
“Oh, shut up. I’ve kicked you harder.”
“While awake.”
Sanji grabs at Zoro’s wrist, pulling him upright and closer to him again. For the body heat, obviously, nothing else. Zoro’s snickering to himself, allowing himself to be pulled.
A new wave of silence falls over them, comfortable and soft. If a silence between them is even capable of being soft. Sanji curls up, his eyes drooping. Zoro is a furnace next to him and he enjoys that little perk of his, ah, husband.
“You know what I don’t wanna deal with again?” he asks after a long while, his voice soft and light with sleep.
“Hm?”
“That tug,” Sanji murmurs. “When you were walking into the town and I was still on the Sunny.”
“Yeah?”
Sanji nods, eyes closed, head drooping to the side and being held by Zoro’s arm. “I felt it in so many places, I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.”
“You looked relieved when we met up,” Zoro says, his own voice becoming soft with sleep.
“I was. That awful feeling was gone. And…” Sanji will blame it on being half-asleep if it’s ever brought up again. He murmurs, “You were there.”
If Zoro says something else, Sanji doesn’t hear it. He falls victim to the the warmth and the comfort of companionship. And he sleeps.
-
They’re both on the Sunny, so technically, they don’t really have to be in such close proximity but Zoro can’t help himself. These past few days, since the whole marriage thing happened, has given him a little hope that he has some semblance of a chance here.
It's day six, and they’re in the galley again, breakfast eaten and dishes washed. Sanji’s prepping for a simple lunch and Zoro sits and cleans Kitetsu. He thinks this is his version of intimacy and he thinks that sex may be good but this is better. To be comfortable enough to be in each other’s presence without needing to interact. To simply coexist.
He studies his work, leaning close to the blade and observing the surface. In the kitchen, Sanji hums to himself.
Zoro’s tried hard not to think about Sanji’s words last night. He’s a grown man, for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t need to add feelings to everything like a blubbering teenager. The cook said he was relieved because he was there, at the end of the tug. There, after the uncomfortable feeling was gone.
It’s the softest and sincerest he’s ever heard Sanji be.
He vaguely remembers the cook promising the crew to be more honest, after he’d bamboozled them about his heritage. Personally, Zoro hasn’t witnessed anything happening to prove that promise to be true… until last night.
It’d left him speechless, his breathing hitching when the cook had fallen asleep and rested against him. It’s so stupid to react in such a way to something as simple as the man holding his affections sleeping with his head pressed against Zoro’s arm.
He sighs.
“What’re you thinking?”
Zoro looks up, but Sanji is still working on his prep. He stays quiet long enough to have Sanji chance a glance his way and smirks at the cook’s flustered expression as he looks back down at his work at being caught sneaking glances.
“Fine,” Sanji says with a pout in his tone, “don’t tell me.”
“I was thinking about how this is a different side to us,” Zoro admits, his face growing warm at the admission. “That I’m not used to.”
Sanji’s looking at him again when he raises his eye up from Kitetsu’s blade.
“I like it.”
The cook scoffs to hide how embarrassed he is by Zoro’s words, shifting away so he won’t have to face him any more. “Stupid marimo.”
Zoro grins.
-
Two nights after that, on the eighth day, they lay on their backs on the lawn, looking up at the stars. They haven’t heard from the others at all and Sanji would be lying if he were to say he isn’t stressed about it.
He bites his lip.
It sucks because it’s the complete opposite of what he’s currently experiencing with Zoro. It’s so soft and delicate, a contrast to who they are individually and a pair. Sanji rolls over so he’s on his side, facing Zoro. They haven't even bickered... Well, Sanji threatened him with a roller after breakfast yesterday. But maybe they truly are in their honeymoon phase.
He looks at the dumb marimo, fondness in his core and a wish to get closer to him. It’s a terrifying feeling. Not because of what the feeling is or who it’s for, but because Sanji is afraid to be totally vulnerable and walking into the unknown.
Still, what would happen if he scoots closer, presses himself to Zoro’s side? He swallows, deciding it’s better to test the waters than just go for it blind.
“What if we sleep together again?” Okay, definitely not how he was trying to go about this.
Zoro looks away from the endless glittering stars above them and looks at him, his expression calm but his eye skeptical. “Why would we do that?”
“Consider: what if us having sex that night bound us together?” Sanji is just rolling with this. How hard can it possibly be to admit that it’s because he wants to have sex with Zoro again? And be able to remember it this time. “If we sleep together again, maybe we’ll set ourselves free.”
Zoro laughs a little, sitting up enough to support his weight with his elbows. “If you wanna fuck, you could just say that.”
He’s teasing him, but truer words haven’t been said.
“You presumptuous piece of algea,” Sanji mutters, face scorching hot. “Maybe I do." Oh, how he wishes the Sunny would sprout a black hole right now and take him away. "But I also thought maybe this theory could be a thing.”
“Wait,” Zoro says, drawing out the vowels. It seems Zoro's taking a little longer to move on from the name-calling, wanting to answer in kind, but settles for focusing on the bigger picture for once. He furrows his brow, his eye narrowed and filled with curiosity. “You want to sleep with me?”
“Is that all you’re focused on?”
Zoro rolls over so he’s facing Sanji, his gray eye looking at him like trying to find a hundred different answers for one simple question. “Cook, can you blame me?” He chuckles a bit. “Kinda had you pegged for a raging heterosexual.”
Sanji feels like his face is going to melt off from how hot, and probably pink, it is. “Well… you’re not wrong. Or you wouldn’t have been two years ago.”
“Is that right,” Zoro murmurs but he doesn’t ask for more details.
But Sanji feels like he owes him that much. Why, he isn’t sure. Maybe he wants to share this side of himself with the person he desires most. Maybe he’s just trying to connect. Maybe this whole ordeal has just fried his brain and he can’t make coherent decisions anymore.
“I definitely was into only women, when I was younger,” he murmurs, looking at anything but at Zoro. “Then I started to notice my attention… would often wander to the same sex.” Sanji runs a hand through his hair, fidgeting, feeling naked and judged. But Zoro wouldn’t judge him, would he?
He peeks at him, seeing Zoro studying his expression and merely waiting patiently for him to finish his story.
“And then I think I was in the closet for a long time,” he laughs a little, feeling a littler hysterical. “It was torture to stay in there when you live on a ship with both men and women that are very attractive.”
Zoro smirks.
Sanji studies the curve of his lips, noticing that it’s not a smug smile. It’s more like Zoro seems to understand the feeling Sanji’s trying to convey.
“And then after we split up for those two years…”
“Ah, yeah,” Zoro finally sighs. “You’ve never talked about that.”
“I don’t really want to,” Sanji admits and Zoro snorts but doesn’t poke or prod. “Suffice to say that I am… more attuned to my desires.”
Zoro tilts his head, his eye narrowing a bit. Like a predator almost. “And what do you desire, cook?”
Sanji’s cheeks flare with a blush again.
“Do you…” Zoro leans closer, trying to catch Sanji’s eye. “Desire… me?”
God yes, Sanji wants to say.
If the constant bickering and constant need to keep an eye on him when he’s off wandering on his own, or his ridiculous habit of drinking more alcohol than a fish drinks water doesn’t seem to make the idiot understand. Maybe being direct as possible will.
(At no moment does Sanji ever realize or admit that he is a master at sending mixed signals and Zoro would never catch onto his romantic desires when in the flip of a coin Sanji’s trying to start a fight.)
Sanji leans in and brushes his lips against Zoro’s. It’s chaste and incredibly unsatisfying. But instead of pulling away, Zoro leans into it, slotting his lips in between Sanji’s. It’s a slow kiss, but it’s intense.
A soft noise escapes him the more demanding the kiss becomes. The hand that’s not supporting his weight reaches to cup Zoro’s cheek, pulling away just enough to catch his breath before they’re kissing again.
He feels Zoro’s hand tracing his side, slow and steady and making Sanji painfully hot and bothered. Sanji shifts, pulling himself half on top of the other man in his quest to get closer.
Then there are feet running up the gangplank and, unfortunately, Sanji isn’t gone enough to not catch them. He pulls away, pushing himself off of Zoro and settling himself at a distance.
When he looks at Zoro, his mouth is red from being thoroughly kissed. It makes something smug bloom in Sanji’s chest.
“Guys!” It’s Chopper. “We found the culprits!”
-
What the fuck.
Zoro has never been so thoroughly cock-blocked like he is in this very moment. His brain buzzes as he watches the rest of the crew filter onto the ship and towards the lawn where he and the cook were about to… fuck.
Literally and figuratively!
As a verb and an adjective, goddamnit!
He’s still trying to reel the murderous intent and his horniness in when two little girls are pushed to the forefront. Now Zoro just feels downright uncomfortable and he looks away from them as he tries to gain some self control again.
“Who… are these lovely ladies?” Sanji asks, the first to gather himself after all that.
Zoro tilts his head to face the girls again, his eye zeroing in on a one-eyed frog plushie. Seems very familiar, he thinks as he looks at one girl then at the other. They look alike, so they might be sisters. One is a little taller, a little older. And the one with the plushie seems to be the more sheepish of the two so she must be the one that’s landed them both in this predicament.
“Meet Ai and Kokoro,” Nami says, placing a hand on either of the little girls’ heads. “Guess what we caught them doing.”
“Hopefully nothing illegal,” Sanji offers, trying hard and failing to adjust himself in his pants and not offend the women in front of him.
Nami’s eyes glint. “They were marrying off their toys. Seems normal right?”
“Wrong!” Usopp yells as he shoves his way next to her. “They were reciting vows before making the toys kiss. And even though they’re just objects they had to stay together. Or do whatever the vows and promises said.” He blinks, a look of discomfort and fear in his expression. "It was actually pretty creepy to watch."
“You two must have vowed to stay together forever or something,” Luffy laughs, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Would explain why you did the thing.”
“I only did what they asked me to do,” the smaller girl says with a pout. Her white hair is pulled back into a messy braid, dark eyes squinted like she wants to cry. It looks like an act. “They came to my booth.”
The older one, similar white hair cropped short, nods. “You asked what kind of booth we had. We said a marriage booth. You both thought it was funny and then dared each other to do it.”
“Fucking idiots,” Nami mutters.
“Ah, young love,” Brook sighs.
“You’re, like, seven years old. Why the hell are you marrying people?” Sanji demands, feeling bad for talking to little girls like this. “Much more, using your devil fruit powers to do it?”
The younger one, who seems to be the devil fruit user, blinks her eyes. “Because I have to. To stay alive. If I don’t use my powers at least once, I get sick.”
Zoro mutters something under his breath, rolling his eye.
To the side, Robin is jotting down in her notebook.
“Well, can you revert it all back?” Sanji asks, tilting his head. “Sorry, we can’t really afford to have to be next to each other at all times. Sometimes duty needs us to split up for periods of time.”
“I can….” Little Kokoro bites her lip. She blinks her eyes and looks up at them. “Fine. I can cancel the binding part. But I can’t undo the other parts. It will take away years of your lives.”
“What other parts,” Nami and Usopp and Chopper all screech.
Zoro and Sanji look at each other, not really knowing what other idiocy they vowed to each other in their drunken state. But something tells Zoro it has to do with the death pact in Onigashima. And that’s one vow he has no plans of going back on.
“That’s fine,” he says, standing up just as Sanji does so too. “I only care about the binding one.”
“Yeah,” Sanji says, sighing shakily. “Same here.”
Kokoro gives another firm nod, handing her frog plush to Ai. She grabs their hands, the ones with the wedding bands, and takes a deep breath. “I need to hear you both say you cancel your binding to each other.”
They both open their mouths.
“Clear as day,” she prompts, narrowing her eyes. "You're stuck like this because of word phrasing to begin with."
Zoro really hates magic. Or devil fruit powers. His eye shifts to stare at his captain who in turn is watching everything with a big smile but calculative eyes. Most devil fruit powers, he amends.
“I cancel my vow to stay at his side at all times,” they say in unison.
Nodding again, Kokoro’s hands glow pink and she grabs onto their joint hands. She holds on steadily, her eyes fluttering shut. She doesn’t let go until the glow disappears. It's a bit anticlimactic but most matters of the heart tend to be, a marriage devil fruit being no different.
Zoro looks at his hand and sees the ring still on his finger. Furrowing his brow, he tries to pull it off. It comes off easily and crumbles once it leaves his finger. Next to him, the same thing happens to Sanji. He realizes then that the rings weren't actually real, but rather made of recycled material hammered into jewelry.
He mutters, “What the fuck.”
-
Way later that night, Sanji climbs onto the crow’s nest where Zoro’s got first watch.
He kicks the hatch door closed, hands in his pockets as he moves to sit on the bench next to the green-bean. He bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to find the words to say.
“We’re technically still married,” he finally murmurs.
“Technically,” Zoro agrees.
Sanji turns to face him, an amused tilt to his lips. Sanji’s not one hundred percent sure what other shit they vowed to each other, aside from what he thinks could possibly be a revisit to the Onigashima pact. But he’s actually a little fine with whatever this is.
Sanji leans in, but Zoro grabs his jaw in one hand, thumb pressing into Sanji's cheek on one side, the four other fingers pressing into the cheek on the other side. It makes Sanji's lips involuntarily pucker up.
Is this… rejection? Sanji feels a cold shiver down his spine.
“I’m not one for marriage,” Zoro says, looking him dead in the eye. “It’s not something that aligns with my values and my perspective.”
“Oh.”
Zoro shakes his head at his defeated tone. “But I am a big fan of a life partner.”
“Oh.”
“And if you’re okay with that,” he continues, his voice growing lower, quieter. “Then we can pick up where we left off.”
Sanji wraps a hand around Zoro’s wrist, but he makes no move to remove it from holding his face. Once, he thinks, he saw a future for himself that involved marrying a beautiful woman and making her as happy as he possibly can. They’d settle down in some island, some town, some village. They’d have two kids, and he’d shower them with unconditional love. He’d live happily ever after.
Now, he feels like that future doesn’t fit with who he is and who he’s continuing to become. He’s a pirate and his captain is an Emperor of the Sea. The World Government, though they want all pirates dead, want the Straw Hats especially dead. Not every day is guaranteed and life is a thrill.
Life partners.
“Yeah—”
“And I don’t want to be kicked off the bed every morning. Or whenever you decide to have a freak out.”
Sanji rolls his eyes. “Fine.”
Zoro raises an eyebrow. “Fine?”
Sanji nods. “Yes. I… I like the sound of life partners more. I like it because it’s you.”
He hears the swallow Zoro makes. And for a moment they both just watch each other, drinking each other in, taking everything in.
“Kiss me already,” Sanji growls.
“Oh,” Zoro murmurs, dropping his hand and leaning close. “I’ll do more than that.”