Chapter Text
There are few things more persistent than a pervert.
Zoro knew this to be an irrefutable fact, because he was on the same crew as the world's most annoying flirt. No matter how many times that dumb Ero-Cook got rejected, he'd bounce back and go spinning after the same damn skirt that just told him to get lost.
Blackleg Sanji's obsession with the, ugh, fairer sex as he liked to call them, was a well known irritation. Everyone who met him knew that he was a godawful kiss ass who focused on two things; cooking and women.
Plenty of reasons could be used to call Zoro an idiot, but naivety wasn't on that list. Never in a million years did he think that he'd ever catch Sanji's attention in that way. In fact, if someone were to suggest it, he would laugh out loud at the idea of the cook showing interest in men.
Or he would've a few weeks ago. Now, Zoro wondered how he managed to go so long without noticing that he was being hunted. Caught in the crosshairs of an S class perv.
His problem started, as a concerning number of them do, with copious amounts of alcohol and a night at port. After the shitty week they had at sea, the whole crew was ready to let loose. So they descended upon the shittiest hole in the wall bar they could find, and tore the place up from dusk to closing.
In Zoro's defense, the booze being served was strong enough to strip paint, and he didn't notice how much he put away until he stood up and found himself halfway to losing the vision in his remaining eye.
But that was nothing compared to how drunk Sanji was. Three sheets to the wind and still capable of finding Zoro's last nerve. Only a minor miracle got them out of the bar on their own feet, and a major one kept Zoro from pulling his swords right there in the street.
The thing is, Zoro was deeply aware that most of his problems with the cook's behavior had nothing to do with the simpering over women and everything to do with him being exactly Zoro's type.
Sanji was lean and meaner than a snake, strong enough to put Zoro on his ass and stubborn enough to keep him there. He had piercing eyes and hands that performed every action with intent, all while sporting an attitude sharp enough to cut himself on. The bastard wore confidence like a tailored suit, and walked purposefully through life.
Add in how stupidly kind he was, and his devotion to Luffy, and he was a knock out. The women he fell over himself trying to please would probably give him a lot more than the time of day if he wasn't so pathetic.
He was Zoro's one true temptation. To him, the cook looked best when he was about to slam his heel into Zoro's skull. All that passion and nothing better to do with it besides throw it at Zoro. Mm.
He didn't stand a chance, he was hooked from the get go.
All that to say, it was no surprise that they ended up in some alley around midnight, in a no-holds-barred scrap that should've ended at first blood. Except both of them were bleeding, and neither ready to concede yet.
He would've gone till dawn if Sanji let him, content with the physicality of violence. See, Zoro wasn't the kind of low life that would pursue a straight man on purpose. If this was all he was ever going to get, he was fine with that.
Plenty of other men shared his interests and were willing to satisfy his needs. For the most part.
But at the moment, he was drunker than he usually let himself get. Sanji landed a lucky kick that slammed him into the alley wall hard enough to rattle his common sense, and sensed the opening. That bastard crowded him in, all snarl and bloody lips. Lips that he made the mistake of staring at a beat too long.
By the time he met Sanji's hard gaze again, a piece of the mental barrier separating them had given way. Or maybe it snapped, a wire pulled taut between their bodies.
Just like that, everything changed. Blink and you'll be left dizzy by how fast it all went to shit. All that he could comprehend were warm, slightly chapped lips.
Zoro couldn't make sense of all the places Sanji's hands wandered to, and he was struggling to keep up with his mouth. Every touch was a flame licking over his skin, soothed by the same man who caused it.
He was man enough to admit that he was swept up in the chaos, chest rumbling on a moan that caught in Sanji's teeth. If the booze didn't kill every last brain cell he had, then Sanji's tongue dragging velvet smooth over his own sure did the fucking trick.
He could've lost himself in that moment, stretching it out into infinity. Zoro never thought he'd get anywhere near this, but he did, and he was unbelievably overjoyed.
That is, he was happy until he tried to touch Sanji back and remembered he was holding Kitetsu for a reason. Because he was sparring with a crewmate, so he didn't need the other two. And not just any crewmate, mind you, but the one that wouldn't forgive this transgression were he sober when it occurred.
Zoro considered just letting it happen, giving himself a little time to pretend like Sanji wanted him even half as bad as Zoro did. To pretend that it wasn't just the alcohol and the poor lighting blurring his identity from the cook's perspective.
But he was a man of honor, and he couldn't betray a crewmate like that. Everyone knew Blackleg Sanji didn't like men. He despised them.
"Cook, wait." Zoro tried, the words not yet leaving his lips before Sanji rushed in to smother them.
A hand shot out and forced his own against the wall, Kitetsu's handle biting into their palms like a mirror image. Fuck, that was wonderful.
"We need to stop." He mumbled the idea into the thin space between their mouths, dizzy beyond belief.
Was this how it was supposed to feel? Every time he imagined a similar scenario, Zoro was the one making Sanji's knees weak, not the other way around. Why did it please him to be so deeply affected?
Sanji slid his free hand up Zoro's chest and grabbed his jaw, giving himself access to the sensitive skin of Zoro's throat. "Here's an idea; shut the fuck up."
"You're drunk."
The laugh that statement earned came mean and low, curling around Zoro's core like a hand around- If he didn't stop this quickly, he was going to end up doing something he'd regret.
"Don't act like we didn't come from the same bar." Sanji hissed against his pulse, drawing a stuttering breath out of his clenched jaw with a perfectly timed bite. "Your moves are sloppy. I shouldn't be able to get this close, pay more attention."
The way he scolded Zoro, voice thick with an accent that usually only came through in glimpses, well, it almost convinced Zoro this was a good idea. He liked that Sanji was taking the time to critique his sparring, liked that the hand forcing Kitetsu to the wall was strong enough to require actual effort to fight against.
But, and this was imperative information to relay, "I'm not one of your girls, dumbass. You're the one who needs to pay attention."
Sanji froze at that, and his chest squeezed with disappointment and relief in equal measure. Let no one accuse him of not looking out for his crew.
"Zoro."
Just the sound of his name on Sanji's tongue had heat pouring into his abdomen, and he wished the bastard would hurry up and get with the program. Zoro was trying his best not to be a sleazy drunk, panting after a straight man like a dog called to heel.
Too bad Sanji didn't appreciate his efforts. The cook crowded impossibly closer instead of pulling away, their legs tangling together until it wasn't clear where he ended and Sanji began.
Lips brushed over his earrings and the shell of his ear, hot breath against sweat damp skin. "If you don't want to do this, just say so. Quit trying to convince me I don't know who I'm kissing."
His pulse hammered in his ears as the conviction in Sanji's voice processed. The fleeting thought that this is going to fall to pieces when the cook sobers up graced his mind for all of a second before he decided to embrace the consequences. Liquid courage was a wonderful thing.
The hand curled around his throat like Sanji was debating whether to strangle him might've been a factor, but who could say?
Zoro shoved him off, catching the way Sanji's surprise melted into an unreadable expression. If he didn't know any better, he'd call it resignation. But he did know better, and that sounded like bullshit because Sanji was just invoking the age old tradition of experimenting under the guise of alcohol.
He was the one who was going to think of this for the rest of his life while Sanji happily chased after women who couldn't care less. Zoro was the stupid son of a bitch who was actually gay and pining after the man he was about to screw.
If he was only allowed one night to get Sanji out of his system, then Zoro was going to thoroughly enjoy himself during it.
Sheathing Kitetsu, Zoro angled his swords so they wouldn't scrape when he fell to his knees. Sanji made a noise like he'd been punched, backing up only to get jerked forward when Zoro wrapped his hand around the cook's belt buckle.
He almost tripped, smacking his hands against the wall as he stared down at Zoro with wide, disbelieving eyes. Wasn't he the instigator? No need to act so caught off guard by a successful plan.
Zoro ripped open his belt, leaning in to bite the zipper as he peered up at the cook with a hungry expression. The first thing that came out of Sanji's mouth was a string of filthy curses, giving Zoro's confidence in his own desirability a healthy boost.
The second thing he did was state the obvious. "I uh, wow, I'm really fucking drunk. Kinda looks like you're about to-"
"Stop talking."
Zoro woke with a splitting headache and horrible cotton mouth.
One look at the bright, unfamiliar ceiling, and he grabbed the pillow out from under him to cover his face. It stank of laundry detergent and sweat, a nauseating combination.
He wasn't on the Sunny. Distant sounds of people on the street came in through the open window, telling him it wasn't a ground floor room. Evil, eye-straining sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains, bright enough to reach under his pillow shield.
Wait. That couldn't be right, they were all supposed to meet back on the Sunny by daybreak. This kind of treacherous lighting told him it was late morning at the earliest.
"Fuuuck me." Zoro sighed into the pillow, then threw it off the bed so he had more motivation to get up and escape the disgusting sunlight.
Pulling together the effort needed to kick the sheets off his legs, Zoro shuddered as the thin cotton fabric ghosted over his hypersensitive skin. He was naked. Strange, he didn't usually sleep unclothed when alone.
Despite the intrusive sunlight, the room itself was bitingly cold. A draft whistled through the open window, fluttering the curtains. Another red flag, because who in their right mind would leave an extra entry point open during the night? Certainly not him.
He shivered violently, then froze as an arm draped across his lap, the stranger's hand settling over his hipbone like it belonged there.
Zoro stared up at the ceiling with all the peace of a man headed to the gallows, then turned his head. Laying next to him, in his blind spot no less, was the Straw Hat cook.
Sleeping on his stomach with one arm under his pillow and the other hooked around Zoro's waist, Sanji looked like the definition of relaxed. Hair swept back, both swirly eyebrows on full display without the usual wrinkle of annoyance, lips parted on soft, quiet breaths. Crucially, he was also naked.
Sanji tightened his grip and pulled Zoro closer like a teddy bear, skin against skin all the way down. He was not a small man by any means, but Sanji managed to make bodily moving him look easy. Zoro's stomach twisted into knots at the effortless show of strength, then dropped all the way through the mattress. He was now trapped unless he wanted to wake the cook up.
Which he really should do, because they were both late and Nami was going to skin them to make dishrags. But Zoro couldn't recall how he left the bar, much less why he was cuddled up in bed with an equally naked and ferociously heterosexual Sanji.
They went out last night, that much he knew. The crew descended upon some hapless dive bar like a flock of vultures, drinking until the numbers on the clock went hazy.
And he was pretty sure that, after a few too many, he started getting belligerent with the cook. Stepping on his toes, knocking into him, stealing his drink, ruining the punchline of whatever shitty joke he was trying to recite to some no name woman.
That sounded correct, though he probably thought Sanji was the problem in the moment. When he was that drunk, he usually did. And he probably got what he wanted, Sanji red faced with rage slamming him onto the nearest surface for a brawl.
So they went off and beat the shit out of each other before calling it a night, and somehow ended up in the same inn room? The same bed, naked?
Fuck. Oh, he was deplorable. Zoro knew damn well that Sanji wasn't interested in the least when it came to the same gender, but he was a messy, touchy drunk. And Zoro was usually coherent even in the middle of a blackout, therefore it fell to him to cut any sketchy situation short.
Now he had a sinking feeling that he took advantage of someone who was supposed to be his friend.
It wouldn't have been the first time a good fight and hard booze got Sanji hot enough to forget where the lines were. All he needed was a reminder, then he'd snap back to his senses. Zoro should've been the one to deliver that reminder long before it ended with them in bed.
Quit trying to convince me I don't know who I'm kissing.
Zoro covered his face with a sweaty hand, trying very hard not to focus on the heat radiating from Sanji's body. Talk about wishful thinking. No way Sanji actually said something like that, not to him.
At the moment, Zoro was only certain of a handful of things. One, they were late for the rendezvous and Nami's wrath would bring about their early demise. Two, he got blackout drunk off bootlegged liquor, and made a serious mistake that was surely going to cost him a friendship he valued more than he could say.
And three, if he stayed in bed any longer, he was going to piss himself.
He shot up too quickly, stumbling around the black spots in his vision as he scanned the room for his underwear. He didn't find those, but his pants were hanging off the end table by the door. Zoro slammed the bathroom door harder than necessary as a precaution, though he heard Sanji beginning to stir the second he got up.
Afterwards Zoro dipped his head under the sink faucet to take a long gulp of ice cold water. His mouth felt like static and tasted like regret.
He took inventory of the aches and pains in his body as he splashed water on his face. All the usual places he expected from a drunken spar, but also his throat, and his lower back. However, the most interesting source of pain was the inflamed skin on his stomach.
Twin sets of long, angry red scratches snaked from his ribs down his thighs. Someone's fingernails gouged out the skin on his torso, and he was guessing he didn't do it himself.
There were also a handful of bruises here and there, one on each hip that reminded him of the kind of marks he'd get from enemies that liked to grapple. Most of the hickies were centralized around his chest, which he expected because Sanji was undeniably a boob guy and probably thought he was fucking a-
The countertop gave a protesting creak when his hold tightened on the edge. No way around it; he fucked up. So Zoro thought it was unbearable watching Sanji frolic around with women when he was right there, willing to put up with all his shit? Well, having the cook was infinitely worse.
What was he supposed to do now? Go out there and face the cook with the proof of his struggle all down his stomach? Say sorry about last night? No, I know you don't like men, and I know you were wasted, but I didn't care? My own sexual gratification mattered more to me than your choice, my bad?
He wished he was the type to throw up when he was hungover, but Zoro knew his nausea had very little to do with booze. So he just rinsed his face for the second time, and prepared himself to face the consequences.
As soon as he came back into the room, Sanji shoved past half dressed and very much awake. "Took you long enough! I really gotta piss."
Zoro stared at the closed door, then started searching for his clothes. The underwear was tangled in the sheets, his shirt by the bathroom, shoes kicked across the floor, and one sock still unaccounted for.
Honestly, the only bit of his outfit that wasn't strewn about was his sword belt, which sat propped up on the lone armchair in the corner. He claimed the seat once he was done getting dressed, sinking into the plush chair with tormented certainty that he'd ruined everything.
Moments later, Sanji came out of the bathroom like a whirlwind. "We're late! Oh, you're dressed. Good, it's almost ten, we gotta go. I also took your sock. Have you seen mine?"
All of that was said in mere seconds by a man spinning around on one socked foot to look for the missing match. His brows were scrunched, but not in anger. Just the way they usually were when he just woke up.
Zoro grabbed the sock flung his way, silently pointing to the dress sock he laid on the bed with the rest of Sanji's outfit. He didn't look up as the cook made a happy noise, hopping in place to yank it on.
"C'mon, hurry up-" Sanji stopped in the middle of tugging on his tank top, the position of his feet suggesting he was staring right at Zoro. "What's with your face?"
He felt like a huge piece of shit for broaching the subject when Sanji obviously didn't want to talk about it, but he had to know. "Do you remember last night?"
Silence.
Zoro looked up, finding Sanji's expression calm but growing steadily redder by the second. He tugged his undershirt down, revealing several dark hickies marking the pale skin of his throat.
"Yeah-" His voice cracked, and he cleared it with an embarrassed laugh. "Yes, I remember. Kinda hard to forget, right?"
Fantastic. What the fuck did Zoro do to him?
Sanji tucked in his tank top, then turned away to grab the wrinkled button up at the foot of the bed. What little Zoro could see of his back was marked with numerous scratches of varying severity, disappearing under the shirt with the hint of many more to uncover.
"Don't worry, I promised I wasn't going to freak out in the morning, and I'm not." Sanji assured him, unaware that Zoro was about to lose his mind at the implications. "I'm just antsy to get back to the Sunny to make sure Luffy didn't gnaw the fridge open."
He got to experience his guiltiest, most coveted desire, and Zoro couldn't even enjoy it. He lost the memory of their night together, and now he was going to lose Sanji too. All because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.
What really hit him like a gut punch was that Sanji was clearly trying not to hurt his feelings. Why would he need to promise not to freak out if he was a willing participant? Drunk Zoro must've revealed his shitty, guilt tripping feelings, and now the cook felt like he had a duty to not be a dick about the whole situation.
"You don't gotta pretend like you're okay with this, Curls. If I," Zoro's voice halted, and he leaned forward to shove his head into his hands. Why was it so bright in here? His skull was splitting open, and he wished he could just switch the day off. "I know you're not into men. This never should've happened. I didn't mean to force you to…"
He couldn't finish the sentence. Part of it was wanting to spare Sanji the dignity of hearing that out loud. The rest was shame, knowing that he probably did mean to do it. He was responsible for his actions whether he was drunk or sober.
"Oh, you're the one freaking out." The cook said, sounding like he'd been blindsided. "Why?"
"Fuck do you mean, why? I knew you were drunk, but I didn't stop." His chest ached when he said it, threatening to split open his ribs. Zoro knew better. Apparently that meant nothing to him when he was blasted, but it should've.
"Me? What are you even talking about, you were drunker than I was! Besides, I had to convince you to keep going, remember? Not the other way around."
Zoro faltered, unsure if he heard him right. There was no way Sanji just admitted to talking him into a one night stand. That made no sense, he didn't even like men.
His visible confusion made Sanji's bewilderment drop into something far more frantic. "Hold on, you do remember what we did last night, right?"
"Sure." Zoro was losing control of the conversation, but that didn't mean that he should admit he had only the faintest recollection from the beginning of the night, and not a second after.
"Mhm, yeah. I seriously don't believe you." Sanji abandoned buttoning his shirt and strode over to him, standing in front of the chair with his arms crossed like he could intimidate Zoro into staying put. "Prove it, dickhead. Tell me what we did from the beginning."
Blood roaring in his ears, Zoro dug his fingers into the arm of the chair as he leaned away from Sanji's ire. All he could focus on were the marks peeking out from the cook's tank top, bruise dark and teasing him with glimpses of an event he couldn't remember.
"We got drunk at a bar. I picked a fight with you when you were chatting up some chick, and-"
"Oh my god, you were fucking wasted." Sanji interrupted, expression twisting like he was about to be sick. "I thought you were fine, I mean you acted fine, we even sparred. Shit! The whole night?"
"I was not wasted." He raced to defend himself, but Zoro wasn't sure what he did wrong if he didn't force himself on Sanji. Was he guilty of getting too drunk? Was anyone forced? He had absolutely no idea what happened.
"No, you definitely were. Damn it, I didn't talk to a woman!" Sanji gave a short, disbelieving laugh that sounded painful. "Marimo, last night I was flirting with a man. His hair was kinda green, and I thought you finally got the fucking hint, that's why I- Goddamn it!"
Radio silence. That's all that was playing in Zoro's head as Sanji paced the floor, ranting and raving to the walls about how unnaturally good he was at pretending to not be fucked up. Not because he didn't care, but because Sanji just admitted of his own volition that he was trying to get Zoro's attention by flirting with a man.
Meaning he was into men. Meaning, "So I've had a chance with you this whole time."
"Had a chance?" Sanji gestured wildly at the bed, eyes wide and face a concerning hue of crimson. "A chance? Zoro, I had you bent-"
He cut himself off, which wasn't what Zoro wanted when it was sounding more and more like he didn't sexually assault a close friend. In fact, he was starting to think that he drank away the memory of genuine life changing sex with the man he'd been pining after for years.
Fuck.
"Then I didn't force myself on you." He tried to fact check himself, except he couldn't catch Sanji's attention as he paced a path into the carpet. "Oi, tell me whether I did or not."
"Kinda busy freaking the fuck out right now, be with you in a minute!"
Zoro shot to his feet and managed to snatch Sanji's wrist as he marched past, dragging him to a screeching halt. "You promised you wouldn't."
"Yep, that was before I found out you were on the verge of alcohol poisoning the whole time and not of sound mind or body!" Sanji's ocean blue eyes were terrified, rapidly flicking between Zoro and the door. "If anything, I forced you. Yeah no, I definitely took advantage of you."
"No, you didn't. I wouldn't have done anything if I didn't want to." If he thought it would calm Sanji down, he would admit that he wanted that for too long. Maybe not in this exact way, but Zoro had nursed a flame for his friend for a stupidly long time.
But when the cook worked himself up, it was a gamble whether he could be brought back down. "Right, right. So because you wanted it, that means it's okay that I fucked you when you were wasted out of your goddamn mind. Too wasted to tell me no. Zoro, do you even like to bottom?"
A hot flash of embarrassment shot through Zoro's abdomen. He dropped Sanji's wrist, flashes of the scratches all over the cook's back invading his mind. Paired with the bone deep ache in his core that had haunted him from the moment he woke up, the bigger picture had him hoping his face wasn't as flushed as it felt.
"You let me bottom."
Sanji's eyebrows shot up, mouth snapping shut with an audible clack. All that restless, panicked energy just funneled right out of him, replaced by sheer confusion. "What do you mean, let?"
Not wanting Sanji to see just how hot and bothered this new information got him, Zoro turned away. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big of a deal.
But Zoro's chances to be railed were few and far between, especially since he bulked up during the crew's two year break. He found that unless his partner had a specific type of size kink, people weren't lining up to bend a man of his caliber over.
This was the worst way to break a boring pattern of topping waifish men who liked how delicate they felt under him.
Fuck, Sanji probably asked him how he wanted it because he was considerate like that, and Zoro was drunk enough to tell the truth. Somehow his answer wasn't a deterrent?
"Was I," He corrected himself immediately, scowling when he turned back towards the cook. "Was it good?"
There was no drastic flip-of-a-switch change in demeanor. But something did shift. Zoro saw it in the way Sanji held himself, the cock of his head, the faint gleam in his eye. His body language was subtle, but it still spoke volumes.
Sanji reacted to his poorly phrased question like a shark tasting blood in the water. It was as if Zoro somehow became the most interesting person in the world. He dragged his eyes down Zoro's body slow and deliberate, then flicked back to his face, far more invested in the conversation.
"Sure," He said as casual as discussing the weather. "Never felt anything like you."
The ache in Zoro's lower back was starting to feel more like hunger. He'd imagined what Sanji might be like in bed a thousand times over, spun scenarios that left him with a sour taste in his mouth and a dirty hand. They were tame for the most part, just something to get him off quick.
Never once did he consider that the confidence Sanji exuded was a warning. The way he held himself was supposed to be bravado, not whatever this was. Why did it feel like Zoro wasn't the biggest threat in the room anymore?
As much as he liked to ignore social standards, Zoro wasn't oblivious to them. He understood what was expected of him, the roles tied to his appearance and personality. He was large, aggressive, and dominant. Far too proud to let weaklings push him around just for kicks.
Then again, Sanji wasn't weak. He was, however, kind of an ass. "Sorry, meant to say never felt anything like it. Slip of the tongue."
"Don't get smug just cause you got lucky." He snapped, stepping into Sanji's space. The warmth of a blush still burned his ears, but Zoro was nothing if not stubborn.
"Hey, it could've gone either way. I'm versatile like that." Sanji shrugged, but he still had that predatory glint in his eyes. "You're the one who was dead set on getting what you wanted."
Unfortunately as much as he wanted to call Sanji a liar, the bastard was probably telling the truth. He could just picture it; the cook asking him all gentlemanly and respectful, how do you want this to go? And Zoro with drunken confidence demanding stick it in, coward.
The cook gauged the distance between them, found it unacceptable, and closed it with a single step. He eyed Zoro curiously, sizing him up next to his own thin silhouette.
They might've been the same height, though Zoro swore he was taller, but Sanji was lean to his heavy. It was hard to imagine him topping anyone, let alone Zoro. Though perhaps that was simply due to a lack of imagination, because Sanji certainly didn't seem to doubt his position.
His finger hooked in Zoro's neckline, tugging it down so he could see the topmost bruises on his collarbone. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of having an effect on him, Zoro kept his chin up and his scowl mean. Posturing wasn't attractive. If he really wanted to get into Zoro's head, he'd have to do better.
And better he did. Sanji let go of his collar, trailing a steady, warm hand down to his ribs. He already knew where to touch, fingers finding the deep, irritated scratches practically gouged into Zoro's skin.
"Just so you're aware, you asked for these too." Sanji informed him, a satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Said something about wanting me to use my hands."
Were he a man with weaker convictions, Zoro would've asked him to do it again. Instead he stood silent and still, breath trapped in his throat. There was a string attached to his sternum, and Sanji held the other end, deciding on a whim to give it a tug.
"Don't blame me. I was just giving you what you wanted." His expression was smug, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity to his words. Perhaps he really did think Zoro would find him at fault for this whole situation.
But if he was hoping to be absolved of his guilt, he was talking to the wrong person.
"So you didn't enjoy hurting me? It didn't get you off at all?" Zoro lifted the hem of his shirt just enough that if Sanji wanted to, he could look down and see his work.
A risky move. Sure, the cook started it by talking smooth and touching him, but there was a good possibility that he was just making fun of Zoro for getting flustered.
When Sanji's eyes widened at the bold question and dipped down, fixated on the marks, the tension in Zoro's shoulders eased. So he wasn't the only one affected by the strange turn their conversation had taken.
How long had he wished the cook would look at him that way? Forever, probably. Like Zoro had been born with the desire already formed, just waiting until he met the cook to rear its ugly head.
Now that he finally got Sanji's attention, it still seemed like one giant prank. He needed Sanji to say with his full chest that he was into this, because Zoro only ever saw him chasing after skirts. Someone like Zoro was as far from his usual type as Sanji could get.
"For someone who says men are the lesser sex, you sure aren't acting straight." Zoro said, testing the waters.
The cook gave him a look that loudly conveyed he was monumentally stupid, before it faltered and crumbled into doubt. "How often do you get drunk enough to blackout?"
Before he joined the crew, it was a problem. Now? "A handful of times since we entered the Grand Line. Why?"
"No reason." Sanji said, which meant there definitely was a reason. Sure enough, a moment later he piped up again. "It's just that I told you I'm into guys months ago. Right after Fishman Island, actually."
If Zoro was having a hangover fueled dream, he wanted to re-categorize it as a nightmare. Drunk him was living a double life and keeping too many secrets.
"Bullshit." He called it instinctively, because if that was true then he was a genuine idiot. Watching Sanji twirl after women when he could've offered a more available arrangement. "Last week you told me men are disgusting monsters who shouldn't be allowed to breathe the same air as women. Word for word."
"And I meant that." Sanji shrugged, reaching for his sword belt. Deft fingers tucked the remaining length of the strap behind the belt so it wouldn't hit Zoro's leg when he walked. "Is it really so difficult to accept that I can find men attractive enough to fuck one?"
Head spinning from Sanji's little belt trick, Zoro blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Because of my chest."
"What."
"That's why I'm attractive enough, right? I have huge tits."
The cook pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. "No, it's not because of your chest. I mean, you do have amazing tits which is a bonus, but- that's not the point!"
He nodded sagely, crossing his arms in a way that pushed up his chest. Definitely not on purpose. "I see."
"Oh my fucking god." Sanji groaned, not amused by his antics in the slightest.
"It's okay to admit it. I've known you were a boobs guy from the day we met." Really, it was his own fault. If Sanji didn't want him to act up, he shouldn't have reacted so strongly to the first question.
"Your tits have nothing to do with this!" He shouted, making a strangling gesture with both hands.
God, it was so easy to piss him off. Fun too, great stress relief.
"It's you, you stupid plant brained amoeba. I'm attracted to you!" Sanji grabbed his shirt and dragged him forward without warning, suddenly reminding Zoro of how he did the same in bed. "And I've been trying to fuck you for ages, but you're more convinced of my heterosexuality than I ever was!"
Uh oh, Zoro thought as he stared at Sanji's very red, but sincere expression. He definitely had a thing for the cook forgetting to control his strength and manhandling him by accident.
"Just my fucking luck you've got a secret talent for pretending you're not wasted." Sanji growled, shoving him away hard enough to make him stumble. He pointed a finger in Zoro's face, hissing his following words like a threat. "Next time I'll make damn sure you remember it."
"Next time?" Even to his own ears, Zoro's scoff sounded forced.
In his defense, he was trying to come to terms with a lot of new information. Like the fact that not only did he let Blackleg Sanji of all people top him, but it was apparently good enough for the bastard to want a repeat performance.
Not that he didn't want that too, but he wasn't about to let Sanji get whatever he wanted without a fight. Again. "What, you think I'm that easy?"
"You certainly were last night." Angrily buttoning his shirt, Sanji threw him a dirty glare. Why was he angry that Zoro gave it up too quick? It wasn't his pride on the line.
"I was also drunk."
"Yeah?" He snatched his tie off the bed and wrapped it around his neck concernedly tight. "Oh my bad, I forgot a common side effect of alcohol is sucking my dick! Zero prompting, by the way. You did that because you wanted to."
Goddamn, he really liked when Sanji was a bitch. A few too many wires were crossed, now he got excited every time Sanji started talking down to him. Something deep inside him squirmed at the casual cruelty, enjoying how the words dug under his skin to access his nerves directly.
For a less perverted reason, now Zoro had the perfect excuse to be rude as well. Not that he needed it.
"Talk as much shit as you want, Dartbrow." He said, wearing a sly grin. "I know I'm good with my mouth. Bet that was the best head you ever had."
Sanji tightened his tie and pulled it straight with jerky movements, angrily laying his collar back down. "Yeah, it was! So what? Go fuck yourself."
He opened his mouth to respond, then comprehended Sanji's words. Heat crept up his neck, burning his face and the tips of his ears. All Zoro managed was an eloquent "Huh?"
The cook pulled out his cigarette pack and bit a filter, glaring daggers at Zoro while he flicked his lighter. Paper lit up cherry red and tobacco hissed as he took a long, drawn out drag.
Then he came closer, until they were nearly chest to chest. Till all Zoro had to do to feel his warmth was inhale. Too bad he stopped breathing.
Smoke blew over his face, and through the haze he saw ocean blue eyes dart down to his lips. Sanji's own mouth curled around a sneer.
"I'm saying you're right, it was the best I ever had." He said, low and vicious like he was spitting insults instead of praise. "You're sloppy and enthusiastic, and you did this thing with your fingers that made me think my soul was gonna fall out my ass."
Zoro knew exactly what move he was talking about, it was always a hit. If he had the brainpower to think about anything besides Sanji angrily praising his mouth, he'd be pleased to know he still had skill even when he was wasted.
"What, wanna hear how good you were?" Sanji asked, cigarette pressed to his lips as he took a step forward and Zoro instinctively shuffled back so they wouldn't collide. "You weren't good. You were gross, and filthy, and if I don't get to feel your tongue again, I'm gonna lose my goddamn mind."
The urge to sink to his knees right there and bury his face in Sanji's lap was so strong that his mouth watered. He could do it. Zoro could give Sanji everything he wanted and more. He could force Sanji to admit he was never going to find relief with another man for as long as he lived, because Zoro ruined him.
Instead, Zoro planted his feet and met the cook's challenge head on, chin held high. He wasn't going to be undone by words alone. So the cook wanted him bad enough that his voice shook just talking about it? Tough luck. If he was actually serious about wanting more, then he'd better be willing to put in the work.
"Earn it."
Sanji searched his face, eyes narrow as he wiggled his cigarette between his teeth, smoke puffing into the space separating them. "How?"
"Dunno." He shrugged, unsympathetic to Sanji's plight. "You're the perv, aren't you? Figure it out. Make me want it."
A hand curled tight in his shirt and yanked, slamming him against Sanji's chest. Too close, he thought as their noses brushed. Good thing the cigarette wasn't hanging from the cook's lips anymore, pinched in his free hand.
Sanji's heart was beating a steady pace, reverberating through both their torsos. "Y'know, I should've realized you were wasted last night just from your obedience alone."
First order of business once they get back to the Sunny; find somewhere secluded and touch himself thinking about Sanji calling him obedient.
"If you don't think you're able to, say so." Zoro taunted, flashing his teeth. "I'll just think less of you."
Sanji clenched his jaw, the fist tangled in Zoro's shirt nearly shaking with rage. Everything he said sounded like it was pried unwillingly from his mouth. "Why should I have to earn what you already gave me?"
Zoro didn't make a habit of putting himself in sketchy situations, going out of his way to leave functions after a certain amount of drinks. But last night, he was probably only a cup or two away from alcohol poisoning, and still his addled mind sought Sanji out.
Perhaps that was the wrong choice. He was still trying to figure that out.
Was it wrong to like the fact that he was so fucked up the cook could've convinced him to do anything? Or that he thought he was safe in Sanji's company, then woke up naked and confused? And by like, he meant that simply thinking about it sent little zaps through his groin.
"That's what you want? Shit, then I guess you just gotta get me drunk again."
He relished in the jolt that ripped through Sanji's body, dark pleasure curling in his gut. If Sanji was gonna stand there and call him easy after almost tearing his own hair out at the possibility of forcing himself on a drunk man, then anything was fair game. Press the bruise now, worry about the implications later.
"I didn't know." Sanji stated, a hint of genuine concern leaching into his expression. "If I did, I wouldn't have touched you."
"Too late." The fist in his shirt threatened to let go, and Zoro quickly grabbed Sanji's wrist to lock him in place. "Which is it? Did you take advantage of me, or am I easy?"
Denial flickered over Sanji's face, followed closely by defensive anger. "What happens if I say both?"
It was meant to be a gotcha moment, fueled by the cook's disgust with his own actions and an impulsive need to keep Zoro in check. Instead, what he accidentally did was light a fire in Zoro's chest, a similar spark glittering in his own eyes.
Indeed, what if both statements were true? Sanji, albeit unknowingly, took advantage of a much drunker man, and Zoro threw away all his inhibitions to fuck a friend. Did those actions make them bad people? What if the person they did it to was of a similar perversion? Surely it wasn't wrong, not if they both enjoyed the other's misdeed.
They stood there in silence, breaths slowly falling into sync. Whatever was wrong with Sanji complimented the things wrong with Zoro. He watched as Sanji came to the same conclusion, searching Zoro's face and finding whatever he was looking for.
"Will you fight me?"
"Every step of the way." Zoro promised, his hold on Sanji's wrist loosening. He ran his thumb over the protruding bone, thinking about the scratch marks running down his ribs.
"But you'll enjoy it."
"Yes." That was the one thing he was sure of.
Was this going to end badly? Maybe. Were they stupid for even considering whatever this was? Probably. Would he regret letting his desire dictate his actions? Zoro didn't know, because he couldn't see the future. But he knew that he wanted Sanji, and he wanted to see what the cook would dream up in order to earn him.
Him. Roronoa Zoro. The man who had long since accepted that he was never going to land on Sanji's radar. For years, Zoro's desires festered in his chest, and had this never happened, he would've let them rot for decades to come. Yearn from a distance, never assume, don't slip up and scare away a close friend.
A little closer than friends, now.
"What's off limits?" Sanji asked, his fist flattening to splay over Zoro's chest. He snuck a quick drag of his cigarette, sucking the smoke right back into his lungs after exhaling. "Am I allowed to kiss you?"
His brain was full of static. All he managed was an agreeing hum, and a short nod. How was he supposed to know what he wouldn't be willing to do? Did that even matter when Sanji just asked if kissing was on the table?
A rather cynical thought crashed through the buzz, and Zoro frowned at what it had to say. So he did know something he wouldn't like. Sexual mind games were fine, but he drew the line at being strung along. "When you get bored of this, say so. Don't make me guess."
Sanji gave him a considering look, then nodded. "Thinking of holding out long enough to worry about that?"
"Just not interested in feeling like shit."
He'd give in eventually. Probably sooner than later, because Zoro had no tolerance built against pretty men begging to fuck him in increasingly weird ways. But he'd put up a valiant fight in the meantime, and then he'd have the experience to look back on afterwards.
The real problem was keeping his feelings separate from their game. Sanji wasn't ever going to be his, he knew that. But his traitorous heart still quickened at the slim possibility.
Later that day, after viciously berating his tardiness, Nami broached the subject in the gentlest way she knew how. "You look like you just got back from war. And by war, I mean somebody's bed."
"Observant as ever." Zoro grumbled, looking up at her from where he sat against the foremast.
"I knew it. Tell me everything." She plopped down next to him, fixing her ridiculously large sunglasses and matching sun hat. That hangover was still kicking her ass.
The late afternoon sky was clear and blue, but not the shade he wanted to see. "Since when do I kiss and tell?"
"Since now. C'mon, you've been weird all day and I'm starting to get worried." Nami knocked their shoes together, leaning back on her hands. "Was it bad? Is that why you haven't talked since lunch?"
Zoro sighed, thumping his head back against the mast. "Don't know."
"What, you mean you don't remember?"
He grunted his agreement, finding the robin's egg blue sky deeply irritating for no good reason. Then he lifted his shirt, showing off the deep scratches and bruises. "Woke up with trophies. No details." None that he'd be willing to share.
Nami ripped off her glasses, gawking at his marred skin. "Holy shit. Did you fuck a sea beast?!"
Other way around, but that wasn't important. He shoved his shirt back down, glancing quickly at the galley deck to make sure the cook wasn't within view. "Not unless I left the bar with said sea beast."
"I'm gonna keep it real with you." She said solemnly, hand on his shoulder. "If I were a lesser woman, or like, a man, the amount of alcohol I drank last night would've taken me out. Pretty sure I was still drunk when I woke up, so I do not know who you left with."
Damn, then they probably kept pace with their drinking again. They really had to stop doing that, because Zoro and Nami held their liquor the best, and if they were down for the count, then the rest of the crew was likely incapacitated too.
"Who would I trust to handle me when I'm wasted and be willing to fuck?"
"Luffy." Nami answered without hesitation.
"Not Luffy."
"Well shit, it's a pretty short list. Since I know it wasn't me, that doesn't leave anyone but-" She gasped loud enough to make him jump. "No!"
Zoro slumped further down the mast, regretting the whole conversation. This was why he didn't immediately tell her to begin with. "Yeah."
"You can't be serious!" Reaching out and yanking up his shirt again to take a quick look, Nami dropped it to cover her eyes. "Zoro, he turned you every way but loose! And you don't remember any of it?"
"Rub a little more salt in, why don't you."
She tipped forward to bump her forehead against his shoulder, that stupid floppy sun hat getting in his face. "Oh god, I actually feel so fucking bad for you. Like I'm sick to my stomach just thinking about it."
How did she think he felt? All that time thirsting after one insufferable blonde man, and now something had changed between them but he wasn't privy to what caused said change.
"You finally fucked him, but you were blackout drunk?" She asked, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. "Oh, Zoro."
"Worse. He fucked me." Zoro muttered under his breath.
"No! Wait, seriously?" Nami sat back up, sadness replaced by sheer confusion. "That's not how I imagined that would go at all."
"Why are you imagining it?"
"Stay on topic. So he really just, damn. But his waist is so…" She held out her hands like claws, tapping the fingertips together. "And he gives off such a vibe, y'know? Like a specific one."
"Pathetic?"
"Yes!" Right after she agreed, Nami shot him a dirty look. "That's not nice."
Zoro snorted, dragging a hand down his face. "You're the one getting the vibe, I'm just stating facts."
"Does he know?"
About what, exactly? That Zoro had strictly topped for far too long and probably would've done the same with Sanji if he was sober, or something else? Like Zoro's useless, unfortunately thriving feelings for him? Either way, it was a no.
"Doesn't matter." He said, staring up at the sky and wishing it would swallow him whole.
"Sure looks like it does." Nami said carefully, taking off her sun hat so she could lay her head on his lap. "Wow, the sky's so clear right now. But there's a storm cell brewing, the air pressure's all weird."
"It'll be fine."
"Not if we just ignore it." She grumbled, covering her face with her hat. "Wake me when you're done being stupid. Or when the wind shifts, whichever comes first."
Nami was the only one who knew what transpired, at least as far as Zoro was aware, but that did not mean the others were oblivious. When the ship rocked on dark waters and the sky above rumbled with storm clouds just like Nami predicted late that night, they all got drenched doing their part to keep the Sunny in shape.
"Can't fucking believe this, I just took a shower after dinner." Sanji grumbled in the men's quarters. "Now I got sea water and rain all over me. Just great. Waste of expensive lotion."
"It's water." Zoro pointed out, much to the cook's displeasure.
"That's what I expected you to think, you uncivilized dick." He slammed his locker open, grinding his teeth. Then he cupped a hand to his ear. "Hear that? It's the sound of your gross, un-moisturized skin cracking."
"Super high spirits tonight. Go team." Franky remarked as he came in with the much needed towels.
Sanji unbuttoned his shirt like the fabric had personally wronged him, taking the time to set it gently in the laundry bin instead of throwing it at Zoro like he obviously wanted to.
Shame, because Zoro had no such qualms about being civil. He stuck his foot out to trip the cook on his way back. Shucking off his soaked tank top with incredible speed, Sanji balled it up and whipped it at Zoro's head.
Right as it made contact, wet fabric wrapping around his face with vengeful accuracy, Usopp yelped. "What the fuck happened to your back? Did you get into a fight with a Mink or something?"
Embarrassment, disguised as dread, came rushing into Zoro's stomach. He peeled the shirt off his face just in time to catch Sanji twisting to look at his back in the small mirror.
Surprise flickered over his expression, then settled into satisfaction. Their eyes briefly met in the reflection as he brushed his fingers over the raised lines.
"A gentleman doesn't brag." Sanji said, sounding very much like he was bragging.
"Damn, dude! Didn't know you had those kinda moves." Clapping a hand on Sanji's shoulder, Franky wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "At least you know she enjoyed it."
The cook scoffed, snatching two rolled towels and bringing one over to Zoro. Before he managed to grab it, he watched it fall to the floor at Sanji's feet.
For a split second, he was convinced Sanji was going to wait for him to bend down and pick it up. Heat flared across his face as he set his jaw indignantly, only for Sanji to turn on his heel and walk off, scratches on full display.
"Of course. I make sure my lovers are completely satisfied, no matter how long it takes."
Zoro changed out of his clothes facing the wall.