Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fishing expedition had been Nami-swan's delectable idea. The darker water beneath the Thousand Sunny's hull meant their ship was sitting on a deep cold current, and since her weather-sense told her it'd be at least a day before the wind picked up again, she'd suggested they make the best of it. Ussop had cogitated, put together some traps, and cast seven of them into the water along with some whizz-bang gizmo of Franky's to act as lure and attract the prey into the cages.

They dragged the traps aboard a few hours later. One of the ropes snapped just as they hauled the cage over the gunwale. Luffy hollered that the meat was getting away and sent his arm and the rest of him plunging after the falling cage. Fortunately, Robin caught their captain before he fell into seawater, hands sprouting from the Sunny's hull to snag him by the vest. His crew hauled him back up, elongated arm and all, still clutching the trap. Once the excitement was over, Sanji examined the lobsters they’d caught. Huge beasts. He was tempted to hit his rubber-brained captain over the head with one, but that'd be hard on the lobster and Luffy wouldn't even feel it.

Chopper's contribution to the upcoming feast was to remind Sanji that lobsters were living creatures, not that different from human-reindeer, and that boiling them alive was surely out of the question. The doctor had spent the last few hours concocting a food-safe and totally painless method of euthanasia which he was waving about in a big syringe. Sanji, who wasn't fond of needles, promised to use it with his fingers crossed behind his back, and then sent the doctor and his other crewmates to the aft deck to relax and to sit on their captain so he wouldn't interfere while supper was cooking.

Getting dinner on the table that night had somehow turned into a team event...almost, the exception being on the foredeck. Zoro was sitting cross-legged with his two swords in his lap, bare to the waist in the muggy, breezeless air, and appeared to be meditating. He'd been practicing most of the day, ignoring the fun and the hubbub. As far as Sanji could tell, the only time he'd even looked in his crewmates' direction was when Luffy fell overboard. Once Robin had caught him, Zoro had gone back to training without missing more than a beat.

Sanji grabbed a couple of the heavy cages and lugged them towards the kitchen, with a passing disdainful look at the useless piece of seaweed. He didn't send a sarcastic barb to follow that look, though. Sanji knew - without really bothering to know since it wasn't his business and he wasn't all that interested in what the bloody boneheaded swordsman was doing - that Zoro was training with almost frightening intensity since they'd left Water 7, focusing on something he'd glimpsed during his battle at Enies Lobby. That might just about qualify as more important than lobsters, though Sanji estimated it was a close call and would probably go before the judges in the minds of most chefs.

The Sunny's brand new kitchen was a wonder of cleverly arranged counter space, useful appliances, storage and - wonder of wonders - a fridge with a lock. Sanji felt like he had the powers of a God of Cuisine every time he crossed the threshold. He set the two cages down, making a mental tally of the required supplies, and then he put his largest pan full of water on the stovetop to heat and gave the lobsters a calculating smirk. Chopper's medication was on the table, and would stay there until Sanji emptied it out in the sink. But he'd give the lobsters a cut behind the neck carapace before boiling them, to section the brain. He'd not be able to look into Chopper's big trusting eyes ever again otherwise. First-...

Sanji turned to go get the rest of the lobsters, only to find he wouldn't have to. Hands in his pockets, he watched with nonchalant semi-interest as Zoro, still shirtless and sweaty, brought in all five of the cages left outside. He was hauling two of them in each hand by a fistful of rope and the last perched with perfect poise on top of his head. What really wasn't fair, Sanji reflected a little sourly, was that on anybody else, that'd look ridiculous. Zoro made it look like routine.

"Careful, you'll get seaweed on your- oh, wait, never mind," Sanji said, because even if it didn't look as stupid as it should, that was no reason not to mock it to the max.

Zoro gave him a hard stare and tilted his head forward.

"Hey!" Sanji lunged towards the falling cage, heavy metal about to strike his beautiful kitchen floor- Zoro stuck out a foot and caught it upright as if it was as light as a ball, then nudged it down to the ground.

Sanji decided that trying to insert Zoro's head into one of the traps would be a waste of everyone's time, and the ladies were waiting for their lobster feast. He turned back to the stove and dropped a lid on the pan.

There was a metallic creak behind him. When Sanji glanced back, Zoro was making the acquaintance of a lobster. The critter's little legs whirred and claws clacked uselessly as Zoro held it up to his face by the back of its carapace and stared into its beady eyes. Sanji was in the rare position of a chef feeling sorry for an ingredient. That couldn't be a pleasant sight to see right before going to the great big ocean in the sky.

Zoro tilted the lobster to study it from a different angle. "Never eaten one of these things. Looks like a bug."

"Cooked properly, they're one of the treasures of the seas, a delight to serve to people of refinement and good taste. But don't worry, marimo, I'll let you have some too."

"Where should I put it?" Zoro asked in a tone that suggested that stuffing it into Sanji's big mouth was one answer he could live with.

"Sink."

Sanji deftly extracted two of the creatures from one of the traps he'd brought in. There were an even dozen in all, one for each Straw Hat and four extra for their captain and whoever was willing to fight him for it. He dumped them in the sink to join Zoro's, and bent over the next trap at the same time Zoro reached for it. Sanji switched targets with a muttered, "You get that one."

He didn't need the help, it'd be a pitiful cook who'd need a hand with a bunch of walking entrées, clawed or not. But he didn't mention it. Because if Zoro had decided that it would somehow improve the meal to make this a total team effort, and that this was worth postponing his post-training nap for...well, he was probably right. A first-class chef like Sanji knew that taste wasn't only a matter of seasoning and spices. He fully intended to leverage that 'team effort' concept later too, to browbeat the marimo into helping him with the dishes.

They both reached for the same cage again. Zoro relinquished it and leaned past Sanji to open the last trap. Up close, there was a subtle scent of sweat - fresh, since Zoro had just finished his insane calisthenics for the day - that somehow wound its way through the harsh brine smell from the cages.

A claw nearly fastened on Sanji's fingers. He severely turned his attention back to what he was doing.

In the sink, the lobsters skittered and crawled over each other.

"It smells delicious!" Nami exclaimed, at which point Sanji knew he could die happy. He ignored the tug on his jacket and the timid "They didn't suffer, right?" from Chopper, as well as Luffy's war-cry of "Foooooood!", Usopp and Zoro restraining their captain to make sure everyone had their fair share, and Franky going to get his colas from the fridge without any care for the excellent wine Sanji had opened.

The ship had dropped a sea anchor, just in case the Grand Line decided to play fast and loose with their navigation while they were busy, so the full complement of crew was free to settle around the table for the occasion. Sanji had set out the nicer dishes and lit a couple of candles against the gathering evening. He'd strategically positioned them so that with a squint and a little imagination, it would seem he was having a candlelit supper with Nami-san and Robin-chan, making abstraction of the oafs.

Robin hummed thoughtfully, pronged fork and fingers poised over the lobster's legs. "Thank you very much, Cook-san, this looks wonderful," she murmured, turning their chef into a puddle of happy hearts. "It's been awhile since I've had one of these, I hope I remember how to-"

Snap!

Fortunately Robin had good reflexes.

The lobster shook on the plate, forelegs shuddering with the force of the claws snapping shut. Then they slowly opened again.

"THEY'RE STILL ALIVE?!" Chopper and Usopp screamed with perfect synchronization and pitch.

Sanji picked his jaw up off the table, slotted it back into place and snapped, "Of course not, they're cooked! They-"

Snap!

"Look!" Luffy laughed at the lobster - the bloody boiled lobster! - dangling from his finger by a claw which had slammed shut like a bear trap. "Haha! Cool! Hey, that hurts."

"Of course it hurts, idiot," Zoro said, tugging the lobster off by the tail and dropping it onto the plate. The claws twitched and opened again. Sanji got up and went to check the pot of water, which was still hot enough to scald. He felt stunned.

"Dude, interesting dish." Franky scratched his overgrown chin. "I heard the rich ate differently, but this is-"

"I'm not eating that!" Usopp was near the door with one hand on the knob, ready to bolt if his dinner jumped off the plate and came after him.

"It's very odd. They're quite dead," Chopper finally confirmed after a few minutes of clinical examination and one near-accident.

Nami tested her main course prudently with a knife and got the same reaction, to Sanji's despair. "Hm. Maybe...some kind of special lobster species you only find on the Grand Line?"

"Possibly." Robin was using the nutcracker to poke her lobster, observing the reaction with scientific interest. "Though I don't see how this could happen on an evolutionary level-..."

Her voice trailed off as all the Straw Hats turned towards the foot of the table and stared.

The air seemed denser, darker around Zoro. He had his knife raised in one hand, Usopp's knife in the other, a spoon held sideways in his mouth, and he was looking down unblinkingly at his lobster. Then-

Sanji had the speed and hand-eye coordination to follow what happened next, he was as good a fighter as the bloody muscle-brain after all, but when he thought back on it later, what he mainly remembered was the sound. SLASH.

The naked lobster was sliced into chunks. Shards of shell had shot off in all directions. Dribbles of juice had been neatly caught in the spoon (which even Sanji had to admit was almost slightly impressive). Zoro dumped the juice on the meat, speared a chunk of claw with his knife and ate it directly off the blade like the boor he was. He chewed for awhile, swallowed and then nodded fractionally. "S'not bad. S'not bad at all."

Coming from Zoro, that was a ringing endorsement if there ever was one.

The stunned silence was fractured by a frightening crunch drowning a double snap. Luffy had bitten right into his lobster. One claw was fastened on his nose, another on his thumb, he had pieces of shell around his mouth and crunching under his teeth, but he was grinning and licking his lips. "Yeah, s'really good! Can I have more? Yummmm...Ow. Yummmm."

The other diners watched them closely, except for Franky who'd torn off a claw with an impervious bionic hand and was staring at it, muttering about a cool idea for a weapon. Both Zoro and Luffy failed to fall over dead or do anything spectacular, and continued to eat contentedly while the tantalizing smell of lobster pervaded the kitchen.

Finally, Robin-chan turned towards Sanji with a smile of true grace. "Cook-san, could you please assist me with my entrée?"

"Of course," Sanji said, making a bloody good stab at suave and chivalrous, and not landing too far off the mark if he did say so himself. He sauntered to the counter, flicked a couple of his knives from their case, walked back to the table and proceeded to give the idiot marimo a demonstration of what cutting food was all about, amateurs abstain.

In the end, even Usopp was convinced to try a de-shelled version of dinner, and he and everybody else agreed that this was simply the best meal they'd had on board yet. It was somewhat soothing to their chef's harried professional pride.

It was four thirty in the morning before Sanji figured it out with the help of a bowl of the lobster's cooking water, a slice of lemon, a few of the remaining claws and a sleepless night behind him. He'd never seen such a reaction before, but it wasn't the lobsters; it was the broth and seasonings. He confirmed it with some dried beef ligaments he kept for stock.

With his eidetic memory for ingredients, Sanji could retrace his steps. He'd changed the recipe a little on the fly, since he never had absolutely everything he needed to hand; he'd learned to adapt and excel in the face of challenge, like any first-class sea chef. In this instance, the exact mixture of sake and spices in the broth seemed to have produced an odd reaction in the ligaments of the thoroughly cooked claws, making them as sensitive as spring traps, tightening under pressure and then releasing without it, but primed to go off again after a few seconds.

Sanji mechanically jotted down the exact recipe he'd used in his kitchen log, though he wasn't sure it would be of any use to anybody, except perhaps as a party trick or for diners who liked some excitement with their meal. Then he went out for a smoke. His mind kept chewing over the moment he'd made the broth. He'd been in the usual trance in which a chef operates, hands, heart and thoughts focused on what he was doing and working in harmony. The small part of his mind not dedicated to cooking had been dwelling on what the ladies would say, and chewing over...something else, deeper down...Sanji frowned. Couldn’t remember. He'd been concentrating on the food.

He tossed his cigarette in the ocean and headed back to the kitchen. It was too late to go to bed. He'd be up making breakfast in little over an hour. He pitched out the remains of shells and piled the dishes in the sink, absently licking some broth that had sloshed onto his fingers. The taste swirled in his mouth, a faint memory with it. It was salty with hints of cardamom, sake and seaweed, it reminded him of-...

A strange thought closed on his mind like a trap.

Zoro leaned right past Sanji, a faint hint of an earthy spice in the air and a trickle of sweat down his neck as he reached into a cage. The lobster snapped at him, fighting an inevitable fate, quite, quite hopelessly...

Sanji decided that he was more tired than he'd first thought and he'd be better off getting a nap before starting breakfast preparations. He was thinking crazy. Right.

He'd avoid cooking whole lobster again though. Just in case. After all, there was absolutely nothing wrong with bisque, was Sanji's last muddled thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

The Thousand Sunny was a sleek, well-built vessel much larger than their old Going Merry. Theoretically. It was larger if you used a measuring tape and calculated the tonnage, certainly. But right now it felt a whole lot smaller. It felt tiny, and full of marimos wandering around, frequently shirtless and positioned in such a way that Sanji would inevitably bump into one. Sanji could feel his temper fraying a little bit further each time, and he didn't know why. They were only a week out of Water 7, way too soon to be coming down with cabin fever, yet he was feeling increasingly trapped...

The weather wasn't helping his growing sense of claustrophobia. Sanji shook his head, and a cascade of water fell from his hood and spattered the crow's nest. The sky was like the lid of a tin box, and he hadn't seen the sun since yesterday. It could be early morning shortly after dawn, or it could be high noon for all he could tell, though Sanji knew full well the time was exactly twenty-five minutes after he should have been relieved of duty.

"I'm sorry I'm late," came a small voice from behind him.

Instead of making a pair of fur gloves out of their tardy doctor, Sanji just rolled his shoulders beneath his sailor's mack. "S'okay, I was enjoying the fresh air."

He waited. Chopper didn't say anything, just made his way to the railing without looking at him, a small figure in the yellow rubber raingear Usopp had made for him. He looked like a traffic cone with antlers.

"So...why are you late?" Sanji asked, and immediately regretted it when the cone cringed. "Not that I mind. Just curious."

"I was working in the infirmary," was the quiet answer.

"You know, I could swear that's what you told me last time I asked you where you were. And the time before that, too. And the-"

Chopper had picked up the looking glass and was dutifully studying the ocean through the rain squalls. Sanji put his hands in his pockets, which were as damp as the rest of him despite his waterproof outerwear.

"Did you eat okay at lunch? Did everybody find their bento boxes?"

Chopper nodded. This was visible from the way the antlers tilted backwards and forwards.

"Good. Did Luffy eat anybody else's this time?"

The antlers shook left to right. "Zoro and Usopp made sure everybody had their share," Chopper said after a few seconds.

"That's good. I would have made something warm, but I was on watch."

"It was fine. Thanks, Sanji."

"Okay," said Sanji, turning away. It was just too cold and wet to dig into this now. He swung a leg over the railing and grabbed a yardline. "I'll be in the men's quarters. You know, if there's a problem, or if you want to talk later."

Smooth, Sanji, real smooth, he thought, heading down. Then again, he wasn't the one who was good at this. He was the suave cook and gentleman on board, not the shoulder to cry on (though of course the girls were always welcome to use his shoulder or any other part of his anatomy for any purpose they pleased). The problem was, he was damn sure Chopper wasn't confiding whatever seemed to be bugging him to Zoro, Luffy or Usopp, either, and Sanji just couldn't figure out what to say or do or feed the critter to get him to open up.

The rain had chased the girls to their cabin. Nami-san would be napping since she'd had night-watch, so he couldn’t go there to bring them tea and search for sweet relief. Sanji headed towards the men's quarters, dragging his feet.

Men. There were just too many men on board. They'd only picked up one more male crewmember on Water 7, but he was an overly loud and vibrant specimen who would not shut up about the man-handling (hmm, bad word choice) - about the method Robin-chan had used to shanghai him. Franky seemed to find it hilarious and kept making crude comments about it. 'Hey babe, you know you can grab my boys again any time you want- just be nicer to 'em this time!' Sanji had repeatedly told him to shut up about it, and kicked him twice already only to discover that a lot of Franky's skull was made of metal.

Raucous laughter could be heard through the hatch. Sanji cracked it open reluctantly. Franky and Usopp were playing a game of chess, and Luffy was watching. Now, chess was normally a quiet affair, involving two old geezers in a park snoozing off between moves; that sort of level of excitement. This game was louder than a riot.

...But however crude and loud Franky was, Sanji was glad he was there, because with Chopper being so quiet, there'd just be this whole lot of weirdness between Luffy and Usopp otherwise. Franky defused that. He'd invent stuff for the Sunny, and Luffy and Usopp would watch and cheer and be loud idiots, and it was only rarely that Sanji would glimpse Usopp out of the corner of his eye and swear he'd seen a mask...

It'd take time. That was all. Usopp and Luffy had a strong friendship, and Luffy was oblivious to there being anything wrong. As for Usopp, he'd get over what had happened on Water 7. In time, he'd even start lying to them again, those big bold fantastic lies of his. Sanji wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was actually starting to miss those a little. Chopper was currently the sole recipient of those glorious fabrications, tall tales and splendid boasts, and Sanji suspected it was only because Usopp had also noticed how quiet their doctor was. Yeah, they'd both been morose since leaving Water 7, but it was probably-

Sanji realized that he was crouched before the hatch in the rain and about to blame the weather again. Yeah, the weather...in which he was standing. Why, again?

Instead of going down the ladder and telling the idiots they were too loud, he craned his neck. A pair of boots was visible just beyond Luffy. Sanji leaned over a bit more with increasing reluctance. A trickle of rain spilled down his neck. He barely noticed. Zoro was slumped against the wall, deep in his post-lunch pre-training nap, his mouth a little open and Sanji decided right then and there that he could not deal with Zoro right now. He carefully lowered the hatch, cutting the noise levels to acceptable limits, and headed towards the forecastle to make something elaborate for dinner, because a whole afternoon in the galley was better than an hour packed in with that lot. Men. Too many shitty men aboard this shitty boat, and not enough women.

Sanji dried himself off as well he could with a kitchen towel and set to work. Ingredients lined themselves up on the counter by rote. With the rain starting to spatter to a gloomy halt outside, Sanji made the first soup the shitty old geezer ever fed him on the Baratie, and thought about women.

Ahhh, women. Women were like butterflies. They made the world a better, prettier place just by existing. They spent a lot of time enhancing the gifts nature had given them, delighting the eye of weary travelers, and they deserved his thanks and flattery in return. Sanji had been raised and constantly surrounded by men. There was nothing like waking up in a hammock day after day alongside a pack of grunting, stinking, ball-scratching, nose-picking beasts to make a man worship the sweet feminine. By contrast, the pretty little birds who landed on the Baratie to dazzle and delight and be amazed by the reputation of the fighting cooks were a joy to behold, and Sanji beheld them for all he was worth. He did more than behold them too, when they graciously let him, but even if it was almost guaranteed he'd never get to touch them, he was always the gentleman. It wouldn't be true worship if it required something in return.

Speaking of worship...

"Nami-swaaaaan! You are so beautiful when you're yawning! Can I get you anything to eat? Drink? Nibble on? My lips are free!"

"No thanks, Sanji-kun," Nami said without missing a beat. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, grabbed the cup of coffee he eagerly handed her, glanced at the log pose at her wrist and left again. Sanji continued to cut and chop, listening to her sweet voice as she rounded up a few idle hands to take care of the rigging while she corrected their course.

Sanji dropped the meat and bones in the large saucepan and lit the fire. His thoughts drifted in time with the first slow bubbles rising from the gradually heating water, daydreams of his conquests, the real ones and the ones which had remained a sweet, sweet fantasy.

He loved every one of them, though of course he didn’t fall in love with any in particular. The distinction between those two states was as fine as the difference between an East Blue tangerine and a North Blue one, but women - and cooks - got it instantly. That was what was so great about them.

Sanji had always known that he would find Her one day. The one he'd be in love with, the girl who'd get right under his skin and stay there. When he was a lot younger, he used to think that he'd save her from some terrible danger, after which she'd stay forever by his side, agreeing with everything he said and fawning over him and his cooking. But that was childish. Sanji had matured a lot since then, especially these past few months of sailing the Grand Line and meeting a lot of different women. No, she'd be stronger and a lot more independent than that. In fact, he was ready to bet she'd be quite the challenge, she'd not hesitate to stand up to him and argue, and that was fine; there was nothing sweeter than clashing and then overcoming that. But still, at the core there would be...a connection. A single glance across the room, all that jazz. Of one mind on what mattered, even something as goofy as capping off each other's sentences. Sanji grinned a bit ruefully as he reached for the carrots, because those were all such old tropes. But damn, that's what it'd be like, he was sure of it. He was, after all, a self-confessed romantic as well as a gentleman.

He didn’t know what she’d be like (aside from pretty, of course, that went without saying), but she had to like fish. That was kind of a must. He was finding the All Blue for himself, and for that shitty old bastard back on the Baratie, but the crowning glory of the moment would be sharing it with her, because she would know just what it meant to him. Yeah, that was important. She'd have to understand the strength of a dream, and why an otherwise smart guy like Sanji would risk his life sailing around the world for a goal most people didn't believe existed. And when he found it, because he would, then she'd be there to give him a slow grin and say 'Of course I knew you could do it. Now, how about something to eat?' Yeah...someone special...

...Why it clicked at that particular moment in time, Sanji would never be able to say. Was it coincidence? A series of thoughts accidentally adding up? Or was it the result of a long, slow boil at the back of his mind, and inevitable?

Whatever the reason, it was right there, at 2:37 on a cloudy Wednesday afternoon somewhere on the Grand Line between the moment the knife swung down and the instant before it sliced the third carrot, that Sanji had the revelation that he had found Her months ago and that She was a Him.

He spent the next fifteen minutes in the crow’s nest shaking his fist at the stormy sky and shouting invectives that would appall a drunken sailor. Chopper was cowering beneath his yellow rubber outfit, hooves trembling around a rumble ball, but Sanji barely noticed and went on roundly cursing all the higher powers he could think of. It was only when Nami-san’s sweet voice (with the slightest hint of a bellow) reached him that Sanji remembered his manners and went back down to first beg her and Robin-chan’s forgiveness - ignoring the stares from his other crewmates - and then finish cutting his carrot with a bit more vehemence than he usually applied. But Zeff had always told him that a chef should be serene in the kitchen, and it was bad form to cook when angry, so Sanji put aside his dish for a moment, stood out in the rain, chain-smoked three cigarettes and eventually went back to the stove with the beginnings of heartburn and depression brewing.

Because now that he'd had his shitty epiphany, he couldn't deny it. It was there. It'd be like denying the countertop or the chopping board.

He was in love with Zoro.

Holy fucking mackerels, what the fuck was wrong with him?!

Sanji went back to cutting and stirring, and thought about men.

Men. Crude, bull-headed bastards who had the natural beauty of a road accident and spent no time enhancing whatever nature felt sorry enough to give them. For the most part. Then again, there were those who spent too much time primping, and couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag. Sanji hadn't met many guys who'd figured out - like he had - that well-kept and kick-ass were not mutually exclusive. Morons.

Sanji knew he swung both ways. It hadn't been that hard to figure out when the sight of a strong set of shoulders had made his heart flutter just as much as cleavage back when he was, oh, thirteen. But he'd never thought it'd be a problem. It had never been before. Yes, his head might be wired in a way that he might find men sexually attractive, but that didn't matter because he didn't like them. Or those he liked were either butt-ugly or just...well, just good mates, buddies. He'd never - okay, maybe there'd been that young Marines cadet once- but feh, the kid hadn't been that good-looking, and Sanji had been fifteen and full of hormones, he'd have been attracted to linoleum if it had had the right shape. Young Sanji had handled the matter with finesse and class: he'd gotten into a rip-roaring fight with the cadet, and by the time Zeff had tendered band-aids, iodine and his apologies to the cadet's officer - as well as a few kicks to Sanji's backside- the two young men had become friends. Dubious attractions had been relegated to the Will Never Happen category. Now he couldn't even remember the kid's name.

So why Zoro...? Why was he so certain he had feelings - disturbing, unnatural and wholly stupid feelings - for that hunk of useless muscle? Just didn't make sense...

Sanji concentrated on his cooking. He wrapped the spices up in cheesecloth and tied it with twine. A bit of this, a bit of that...Rosemary for remembrance, Sanji thought distantly as he added the bouquet garni along with the mirepoix to the pan.

"The day I decided to become the world's greatest swordsman, I gave myself up for dead," the green-haired man said with the serenity of ultimate freedom, talking to a cook he'd barely just met. Idiotic bastard, thought Sanji as he stayed nailed to the Baratie by a life debt. Fucking stupid...suicidal...lucky bastard...

The stock simmered slowly. Sanji watched it carefully, skimming off the fat and foam as it rose to the surface

Sanji's foot thudded against a raised sword. The shithead's arm barely twitched. Roronoa Zoro, as good as his legend, Sanji thought, before gearing up to really kick the son-of-a-bitch's ass.

The stock was a rich tint when he withdrew the herbs, vegetables, meat and bones. More cheesecloth filtered out fibers and the rest of the fat. He saved some of the clarified liquid to freeze for stock, and put a kettle aside for tonight's consommé.

Flat on his back at the bottom of the boat, Sanji stared up at gigantic trees floating by above his head. He was sailing a river of clouds through a jungle in the sky. Common sense had gone bye-bye. A bruise was a bruise, though. Ooooowww..."Damn, I hope Nami-swan and Robin-chwan are okay. I'll gut that marimo if these blasted sky priests have touched a hair on their heads." But at the back of his mind, he knew damn well no harm would come to them. Not because Zoro would go out of his way to defend the girls, like Sanji would, but because Roronoa Zoro trusted everyone to fight to their full strength and beyond, and somehow, they did...Sanji dismissed that line of thought as stupid and somehow unchivalrous, and told himself that the reason nobody came to harm when Zoro was around was because the worst bruisers always gravitated towards the idiot anyway, like to like...

He kept the yolks for a mayonnaise, while the egg whites further clarified the soup. He'd been preparing other dishes on the side. Tonight's spread would be lavish.

"Gomorrah, stop! There's a dead end up ahead!" cried Franky's buddy.

"Dead end?" Zoro lazily drew two swords. "Do you see a dead end?"

Sanji's answer was as ready as his kick. "Nope, don't see any," he said to the looming wall. And then the two of them moved as one.

As the bowls warmed, Sanji looked down into the depth of his concoction and could have counted the etches on the bottom of the saucepan, had there been any. The consommé was crystal clear and purer than a maiden's heart.

"Well I can still cook some decent grub, even if my life has gone to shit," Sanji wearily concluded. Then he went to ring the bell.

When Nami saw that soup was on the menu, she decided that even the man on watch - Franky in this instance - could take a little time to get out of the rain and eat a warm meal. The wild variations in the Grand Line's climate they were sailing through meant there was no land nearby on which to run aground, and they hadn't seen another ship in days. Sailors did their damnedest to avoid approaching the Florian Triangle which the Straw Hats were eagerly sailing to.

The kitchen was all the brighter for the bitter weather outside. Sanji laid out plates and carefully avoided looking at Zoro. Between cooking and having his entire life flipped over like a crêpe, he'd not had time to consider how he was going to react to the sight of the bloody marimo strolling in and sitting down at the foot of the galley table. But Sanji was good at hiding his feelings behind an air of indifference. He was going to have to think about this horrible thing that had happened to him, but in the meantime Zoro would notice absolutely nothing.

There were many appreciative noises for the consommé in the pretty red bowls, the cut and fried omelet with bonito shavings, the delicately sculpted veg and rich mayonnaise, the baked breadsticks with ham wrapped around the tips, and the inevitable salted pork joints for Luffy. Sanji gave his shipmates the usual 'of course I know how good I am' grin, covering the pleasure he always felt. And who cared about seaweed sitting at the table. Not him. This ship's cook was cool and composed, and about to enjoy a good dinner.

Zoro lifted his bowl and swallowed half the contents in one gulp. Then he looked down into the soup and licked his lips. "Hm. Not bad."

Sanji tensed as if he'd been plugged into an electric socket. "What?! What are you trying to say? Are you looking for a fight?!"

Zoro had been about to have another swallow He lowered his bowl abruptly and gave Sanji a narrow-eyed look. "Huh? I just said it wasn't bad. What the hell's wrong with you? Dumbass." Which was a perfectly normal Zoro response. It was the looks from the rest of his nakama that informed Sanji that his reaction had been a tad, well, excessive, perhaps.

Zoro shrugged and shot back the second half of his soup, finishing in five seconds what had taken five hours to prepare. He grabbed a couple of the breadsticks and stuck them in his mouth. He'd obviously dismissed crazy cooks and their crazy reactions. To his consternation, Sanji realized his fingers were squeezing his spoon hard enough to bend it. He forced himself to relax.

"This is bodacious grub, bud." Franky licked his lips. He'd not had that much of the soup, the flavor pretty much lost on him, but he was enjoying the omelet slices and meat. "I wish we'd had a bro like you back at Franky House. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff we had to eat during the lean times. More of those than I'd like...but still, damn, I miss those idiots."

"Of course you do. They're always your buddies." Having summarized the pain of separation and the eternal value of friendship in eight words, Luffy took a huge bite out of his pork joint.

Usopp put down his soup bowl, a weird look on his face as he scrutinized his captain out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah...no regrets." Franky was giving the galley around him a contented look, though he seemed to have something on his mind, too. "Those guys'll be okay. They're happier back at Water 7, and I'm happier with my ship. It's not those goons I miss the most, that's the weird part...That bloody goody-two-shoes...he's annoying, of course, but I guess deep down, I always thought...when I built this ship and sailed her, he'd be here with me, and that's sort of hard to-"

There was a small silence.

"And you're all gonna forget I just said that," Franky declared, glaring at the galley's finishings. If eyes could drill holes, that Adam wood would be getting quite a challenge to its supposed indestructibility.

"Forget what?" Luffy asked.

Usopp went "Heh", a brief, oddly mature sound like the first half of a chuckle that had died a mirthless death. Then he yelped and jumped when a soup bowl thudded near his elbow. Chopper's consommé was splashing around the circumference, and Chopper himself was hurtling out of the galley.

"Sorry just thought of something-" then the door crashed shut behind him, cutting off the hyper, excited burble.

Everybody stared at door. Well, nearly everybody. Actually, not that many people Sanji realized as he turned to share a surprised look with the rest of the table, to find that Robin was the only one doing the same. Franky was still staring at the same spot on the wall. Nami was staring into her soup as if she'd found something unexpected in its clear depths. Usopp was staring at Luffy who was busy stealing Chopper's share of food. Zoro was- Zoro was staring at Sanji, and the expression on his face was totally unreadable, which was downright unnerving.

"What's come over him?" Sanji asked, still nailing his usual nonchalant drawl despite the odd jittery feeling crawling up his spine like a bug. He didn't want to address the question to Zoro, but the marimo was the only one paying attention to him. But Zoro didn't answer, only kept up that odd scrutiny.

Okay, enough weirdness. Sanji shook himself, stood up and grabbed Chopper's plate before Luffy could eat its entire contents.

"I thought I made the rules clear to fuzzbutt and everyone else: nobody leaves my table without finishing their meal. I’ll go stuff this down his throat-"

A hand landed on his shoulder. Sanji did not need to look to know who it was and nearly sent the plate to hit the ceiling when he jolted in shock at the contact. He shook the hand off rather too quickly and turned around.

Zoro stared at him, a distinctly searching look as if he were reading Sanji's thoughts off the back of his skull- which wasn't possible, Sanji told himself frantically while quickly building up his favorite highly-unimpressed-with-you expression.

"What do you want?"

"I'll take it down to him. I'm done eating." No surprise there. Zoro always ate his food with neat, quick motions that made it disappear at speed, like he thought someone might make a grab for it - which might be due to his long association with Luffy, or simply that Zoro was only interested in getting fuel into his body and thought that enjoying the act was for pansies. He downed booze like paint-thinner in much the same way.

He took the plate from Sanji and headed towards the door without another word. Since the object of the exercise was to see if Chopper was okay as well as to get him to eat, Zoro was the better candidate anyway. Chopper always seemed bolstered by the swordsman's presence, if his habit of clinging to Zoro's face during stressful situations was any indication. Sanji turned back towards the table, just relieved that Zoro was going to be out of his immediate vicinity until Sanji could regain his composure.

"So I was wondering, were you ever going to tell us about it?"

"What was that, Nami-swan?" Sanji cooed, glad of the distraction - no, more than a distraction! The center of his affections! The direction of his compass! The girl-...the girl who was currently staring at Robin as if she'd never seen her nakama before. Robin was looking back, clearly as perplexed as Sanji.

"Tell you about what, Navigator-san?"

"About being hunted for twenty years, causing the destruction of everybody who crossed your path."

Talk about a mood-killer. Not that the mood hadn't already been moribund.

It was rare to see Robin startled, and she recovered fast. "I did. Tell you about it. I-"

"You had a few details dragged out of you at Enies Lobby, yeah, just enough to let us know that you wanted to die rather than have us save you, but I got more actual information from Iceburg and that freak in a mask." Nami's voice had a fine snap to it.

Robin was silent. Everybody was.

Nami lifted her chin defiantly. "You're just like my sister. I can't believe I never saw it before. Yes, we all know what happened, you don't deny it, but then you just put on that lazy smile and hide everything else behind it. Pretend you don't care, not really."

Robin tilted her head, the smile Nami referred to tipping dangerously close to capsizing. "Navigator-san-"

"Stop calling me that! You know our names by now! That's what I'm talking about! You're just like Nojiko! She was only eight when- she never admitted she was hurting too, just smiled at me and made sure she was there to support me. Then who supports you?! You both put on that game face and keep a distance around your feelings so as to not burden us with them. And don't tell me it's over and that you're fine now, because stuff like that is never over, you'll carry it with you for ages, and we could help you but you won't let us all over again-"

Nami ended up making frustrated gestures. Robin had gone very still.

"You know this from experience, do you?" she finally asked. "I find it interesting that you want me to cry on your shoulder, Navi-...Nami, when the only time I hear Arlong Park mentioned is by others, never in your presence and very little at that." Robin's voice was its usual gentle murmur. But what she actually said...That was the kind of deadly precision with which Sanji kicked people.

Nami's eyes widened and her mouth opened in soundless shock, though anger was rallying fast.

"Ah, girls, let's not get too heated up-" Franky started to say, but stopped when Sanji put a hand on his shoulder.

"Ooooooh..." That sound would normally send Nami's crewmates running towards the nearest shelter. Robin didn't bat an eye of course.

"Hey, Sanji." Franky's hushed whisper went unnoticed in the growing atmospheric pressure at the other end of the table. "I like a good cat-fight same as the next guy, but don't you think we should break this up before something ugly gets said?"

Sanji squeezed his shoulder, silencing him. Usopp and Luffy were both frozen in mid-motion, Luffy with a ham-bone in his mouth, watching their crewmates.

The ladies stared at each other. The tension reached a peak...then broke as they both looked away. A truce. Maybe more. Robin reached for their plates. "Cook-...Sanji-san...if you don't mind, we would like to finish dinner in our cabin."

"Yeah, you guys don't want to listen to a bunch of girl-talk, right?" Nami said, already marching to the door, which she opened for Robin and closed behind them with a determined click.

The four men stayed frozen for a few more seconds, then relaxed. Sanji rubbed his face. He felt like crossing his fingers. He felt like a cigarette. He felt like this meal had lasted forever already. But hopefully...hopefully something necessary had just happened. Something that would really bring Robin back to them, for good and for ever this time. And if lancing old wounds was going to be the order of the evening, then it probably wouldn't hurt Nami either, come to think of it.

"Chicks." Franky raked back his hair. "I got two sisters and I still don't get them."

Luffy started chewing again as if nothing had happened. Usopp stared at his plate, and then quickly stuffed its contents into his face and got up. He mumbled something and walked out without another sound.

"Okay...I'm going back on watch," Franky said, once he'd finished as well.

A minute later, the galley was silent except for the noise of Luffy hoovering up all the remains. Sanji sat down bonelessly on a bench, elbows on the table, and stared at an empty plate.

"That was great food! Thanks Sanji!"

"...You're welcome, Luffy. You're welcome."

The sky was dense with clouds, obstructing all view of the stars. Bloody weather, Sanji thought. It had become something of a mantra.

He tapped the tray against his thigh, then spun it on his finger absently.The girls had still been talking when he'd brought them some coffee and a small dessert, so he'd not lingered longer than was necessary. But he had the feeling the discussion was going in the right direction. When he'd looked back through the porthole, Nami had been smiling at Robin like he'd seen her smile at Nojiko, and Robin had been smiling like he'd never seen her smile before. A less chivalrous part of Sanji was regretting the very sisterly direction this was all taking. Since it was tragically obvious that neither Nami-san nor Robin-chan were interested in him, he might have enjoyed the opportunity for some steamy on-board romance between the two ladies, and the way that'd fuel his night-time imagination...Oh well.

Of course, Sanji had a problem of his own to deal with. And what a problem it was, big and ugly and green and mean. What had Sanji ever done, in this life or a previous one, to deserve this?

Whatever it was, it must have been something truly heinous and karma had it in for him with a vengeance, because instead of hanging around outside the girls' cabin in the remotest hope of anything hot happening, his footsteps had taken him to the foredeck where a slow, delicate noise indicated that Zoro was doing one of his all-time favorite activity: tending his swords. His other favorite activities being boozing, sleeping and bleeding over things.

Good. Sanji had regained his composure in the past two hours, so now was the time to deal with this and put this whole 'feelings for Zoro' into its rightful place, i.e. so far at the back of Sanji's mind it'd drop out the next time a pretty girl smiled at him.

He stuck the tray beneath his arm, lit a cigarette and sauntered over to where Zoro was propped against the railing. Sanji sat down at a distance which indicated he was enjoying the deck on his own terms, and only sitting a few feet away from the dumbass because there weren't that many good spots to choose from.

"If you're going to hang around, cook, move downwind," Zoro said without looking up from where he was rubbing the red lacquered scabbard with some kind of polish.

Option A - comply. Option B- blow the smoke in his face. Nah, Sanji was here to talk. On the surface, having a bloody good fight with the moron should get this out of Sanji's system, but they'd been fighting for months and...the sharp parry of insults, the quick, growled comebacks, the rivalry, the reluctant admiration when Zoro parried a kick that would put anybody else in traction...yeah, in retrospect, Sanji didn't think fighting was helping matters. At all. He had to talk to the uncultured swine, and remember why the swordsman annoyed him so much. Option A it was then.

"So, have we finally figured out what's up with our doctor?" he asked, after relocating to where the wet, rain-scented breeze dragged his smoke out to sea.

"Yeah." Zoro didn't smile, but something in his eyes did. "Turns out, he's been working hard on his rumble balls."

"His rumble balls?" Sanji echoed, surprised.

"Hm-hm. He wants to harness the effects better. 'Power them up' is what he said. But without making it dangerous for him and everybody else. He was so excited I couldn't make out what he was going on about, not that I know shit about chemistry anyway. From what I gather he was at a dead end in his research since Enies Lobby, and suddenly tonight he had this flash of inspiration. He said it all became suddenly clear and he figured out what he was missing. Something about a binding agent and a...a gastric release mechanism, I think he said. You ask him if you're that curious. Be prepared to kick him a little to stop him talking once he's started."

"Is that what's been getting him down these past few days?" Sanji had expected something a bit more drastic, like Chopper suddenly discovering both puberty and the dearth of women/animal hybrids all in one go.

"Yeah. He wants to keep up with us. It's important to him not to hold us back." Zoro showed every sign of approval, of course. "But he's worried about what happens when he takes too many rumble balls, or if he makes them too strong. I think Franky harping on the subject wasn't helping."

"I can see that." Franky had been going on and on about Monster Deer! and Super Fuzz! and how he'd had to risk life and limb just to calm Chopper down enough where he wouldn't kill his own buddies back at Enies Lobby. Yeah, come to think of it, that would get a little depressing for a sensitive kid like Chopper. He wouldn't understand that Franky was talking in honest admiration, fascinated by anything that could boost a guy's power and make him bigger and stronger and much more dangerous.

Sanji let his smoke drift into the faint wind, which was pushing them steadily on towards the Florian Triangle. "Sheesh, no wonder Chopper's been so quiet...Franky's got a big mouth, it's taking some getting used to."

"The way he talks about Robin, I'm surprised you've not kicked his head off yet."

"Well-"

"You'd have decked me for a tenth of what he's said."

There was a lag halfway through that sentence, as if Zoro had suddenly changed his mind about saying that out loud but was too stubborn to hesitate or break off.

"Feh, that's different. Franky's all mouth. When you say something, you mean it."

Sanji was absolutely certain that had sounded more insulting in his head.

An odd little moment followed, neither of them saying anything or looking at each other. Zoro put aside the scabbard with an abrupt gesture and picked up the blade. Finally Sanji rallied. "Of course, if you ever talk about either of our ladies like that-"

"Yeah yeah, lemme guess, you'll throw some pathetic kick at me and then I'll have to mop the deck with you."

Whew, back to a familiar register.

Sanji focused on the reason he was sitting out here in the damp. He had a plan. Step one: talk to Zoro. Find out why this was Not Going To Happen. Step two: kick Zoro's ass. Just because. Step three: nurse a bottle of good wine to get over whatever stupid piece of Sanji's stupid heart might actually break a little over this worthless hunk of seaweed. Step four: forget about it and go back to being nakama and rivals tomorrow. Yeah, good plan.

"You know, that's something I've noticed. Franky's crude about it, but what he and every other guy on this ship shares is a true appreciation for our two beautiful crewmates."

"Is that what you call it when you stick to them like a tick?"

With some effort, Sanji ignored that. "We're men. We notice. We admire. All of us, that is, but not you."

Had there been the slightest hitch in the movements of the cloth on the blade?

"I bet I've figured you out, you know," Sanji drawled, tipping his head up to stare at the inky sky but keeping Zoro's movements in his peripheral vision. "You're like Usopp. You've got a girl already, and you're being faithful to her. Except Usopp has the willpower of melted cheese, so at least he'll get a good look when Nami-swan wears her bikini, while you're made of sterner stuff and so you just go and train a whole lot harder. Am I right or am I right?"

There was a silence that probably felt longer than it was.

"You're not wrong," Zoro finally said.

Sanji had been fishing, but it looked like he'd caught the truth on his first cast. He'd known it was impossible from the start, he'd just been trying to figure out why. "Yeah. I'm not surprised. You're the kind that's big, dumb and loyal." He took a drag of his cigarette, turning the tip to cherry red. The smoke tasted a little bitter against his tongue. Sanji glared at the white stick. The pack must have gotten dampened with sea water, that was the problem of being on a ship.

"So what's she like? Blonde? Brunette? Too pretty for you, or is that a given? Doesn't she mind that you left her behind to go get cut up in distant lands? How do you know she's not married with ten kids by now?" Why, Sanji wondered, was he so pissed off all of a sudden?

There was a faint whisper like a steely sigh, and Sanji realized that if he swallowed, he'd be able to shave on the blade pressed under his chin.

"Uh...but I'm sure she'll wait for you," he said very carefully and somehow without moving his mouth or head.

"Since you're so damn curious about her, cook, I thought you'd like to meet her. Here she is then. But she doesn't seem to like you a whole lot." The white-hilted katana - non-cutting edge up, Sanji now realized - tapped him gently under the jaw. "She thinks you talk too much."

The blade withdrew, and Sanji gave its owner a baleful look. "You're a sick and twisted man."

"Coming from a pervert cook who'll jump through hoops of fire bellowing Mellow-whatever each time a chick bats her eyelashes, I'll take that as a good thing."

"So maybe it's not girls who rock your boat. Gotta thing for men, marimo?"

Sanji looked around carefully for the utter idiot who'd said that, because surely, surely it could not have been him.

"Oh, not just any man. One in particular."

Deep in his chest, Sanji's heart picked up a pair of castanets and rapped out a rapid ba-ba-bump.

"Er...what? You- you're serious?" That had acutely lacked the quality of smooth and indifferent that Sanji had been trying to maintain. Ba-da-ra-thump-thump.

"Dead serious." Zoro sighted along the cutting edge of his katana in the foredeck's lantern light. "To tell you the truth, I can't stop thinking about him."

Ta-ga-dump-bump-bump. Sanji pretended to cough around some smoke so he could reach up and slam a fist into his chest.

"It's gotten to the point where I dream about him, and I sometimes even see him when I just close my eyes. He's what I aspire to."

Ta-ga-da-ba-bumpity-bump- thud. That last being Sanji's head thumping back into the rail. "You're talking about that psycho Hawk-eyes, aren't you," he said wearily. "And you're yanking my chain."

"Got it in one," said Zoro, tightening one of the holding pegs on the hilt with a precise gesture that still managed to look entirely smug. Bastard.

"Fuck, you really are an idiot." Sanji said it with some relish. Yeah, the guy was an unsophisticated, brainless, piss-poor excuse for a human being, and Sanji would be crazy to feel anything for him. "Do reassure me on one point, numbnuts. Girl or guy, you've at least slept with someone before, right?"

"No," Zoro answered simply, angling the sword.

Sanji took a deep pull on his cigarette, only to find that his fingers had pinched and ground it shut at the filter. Zoro's straightforward and unembarrassed admission had strangely impressed him, but a lot of Sanji's mind was running around screaming, in both amazement and lascivious wonder, holy crap - a virgin!

Down boy. Sanji flicked his cigarette over the railing and drew another one with deliberation and without a glance at the man by his side.

"I see. So, did that sword cut of Mihawk's go down a bit further below the belt than I first thought?" he asked.

That finally got him a glare that put him back on the scoreboard. Zoro opened his mouth to defend the integrity of the tackle, then shut it again with a scowl as he realized that'd be playing Sanji's game.

"I've got more important things to put my energies in, cook. I don't need to go all gooey over chicks like a certain ass-hat I know."

The lighter snuffed out the flame with a sardonic clink. "Huh-uh. So, let me see if I got this straight. You don't have a honey already, you've never had one - you poor, poor bastard - and you're not looking for one either?"

"That's right. You're quite smart tonight."

"Coming from you, that'd be an insult, but I'll make allowances because I feel so very sorry for you. Better to have loved and lost than-" the rest of that old saw got cut off by the harsh noise of a katana getting sheathed. Zoro looked uninterested.

Sanji examined him out of the corner of his eye, a bit nonplussed despite his better instincts telling him to take this information and run with it. "You know...you've got brains of marble and resolve that's even harder, but I still can't believe you feel nothing. Even if you don't let yourself act on it, there has to be someone somewhere who's managed to catch your fancy at some point."

"Why the hell are you so goddamned curious all of a sudden?"

Oooh, that had sounded defensive! And from the look on Zoro's face, he knew it.

"Ahhhhh, so someone has caught your attention?" Sanji smirked. "I thought as much. And in hindsight, it's pretty obvious who, right?"

Zoro stood up. "I'm not having this conversation. Keep your fantasies to yourself," he said tightly.

"No no no, I bet I'm right. It's that dark-haired girl with the glasses, hm?"

From the way Zoro stopped abruptly mid-stride, Sanji had struck gold.

"Yes, that pretty Marine ensign, the one who gives you the wiggins each time you see her. Right? That'd explain a lot."

Instead of getting all pissy and defensive, Zoro gave him the oddest look over his shoulder, and then he laughed. It was the last thing Sanji expected him to do in the circumstances. He'd been expecting something more along the lines of a sheathed katana in the head rather than that laugh, that warm, unfettered laugh quite different from the more customary murderous snicker of what passed for humor in the savage East Blue species of marimo.

"Yeah, sure, I'm attracted to some crazy chick who is trying to arrest me and steal my sword. That makes sense."

"It does if it's you," Sanji said, nettled at being on the receiving end of sarcasm from Zoro, of all people. "You have a thing for pain."

"I sure do, Sanji, I sure do. Goodnight, idiot-cook." He was already halfway to the stairs down to the main deck, strides long and easy, hands resting casually on either side of the swords slung straight across his shoulders.

...So it wasn't the Marine ensign. Sanji finished his cigarette, uncharacteristically unsure of himself and what that had been about. But finally he decided to get mad.

Bloody Zoro. Stupid, brainless- laughing at him as if Sanji was the idiot, when the muscle-head was the one who was too fucking dumb to realize that fighting for someone was what mattered. That's where the strength came from, protecting a girl- well, okay, Sanji might be in a bit of a spin on that subject right now, but anyway, protecting someone.

The mass of dough spun and slapped the counter with unusual venom, and Sanji started to knead again. Zeff had always told him that a chef shouldn't cook when he was angry or distracted, but Zeff had never had to deal with an infuriating baits-for-brains like Zoro before. Sanji's fingers attacked the dough like he was trying to strangle it. He had to get this done so it would be risen for tomorrow's breakfast.

Moronic marimo. If he wanted to be lonely, if he wanted his life to be as hard and sharp and short as his fucking swords, fine! Who cared? Some day Mihawk was going to chop him into fish food and good fucking riddance.

Sanji shoved down on the dough with the heel of his hand like he was kicking in a stupid head with the heel of his foot. The counter creaked.

- and he was angry at himself, too, because fuck it, he did care, it hurt a bit, more than it should, and it hadn't gotten any better and fuck it all, what a stupid thing for him to do, falling for that-...

The dough was satiny beneath his fingers. Sanji should probably stop crucifying it now. He felt a bit calmer. He'd get over the stupid hunk of junk, it was just a matter of time, and at least he was sufficiently annoyed at Zoro that it would cover any other emotions that might otherwise show. The last thing he needed was for the swordsman to figure out what Sanji was going through. But Zoro wouldn't, why should he? He probably thought everybody was as obsessed with fighting as he was. Or if he did not, then he had every reason to believe that Sanji was obsessed with girls. Yeah, it'd take a miracle of intuition for anyone to guess what Sanji had been feeling over dinner tonight. He was safe from that humiliation, at least.

He dropped the dough in a pan, covered it with a cloth and put it in the pantry. Time for bed. He was still tired from that all-nighter he'd pulled at the start of the week with the lobsters. He'd deal with the bread, with his idiotic feelings and with Zoro tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The day started off with a bang. Literally. When sleepy Straw Hats went to investigate, it turned out that Usopp had spent most of his night working on some new kind of projectile, and had fallen asleep at his workbench with a candle on one side and gunpowder on the other. Good thing he'd gotten considerably tougher these past few months, and as for the eyebrows, Luffy drew him some new ones with a felt-tipped pen, as well as a mustache, a goatee and the start of a monocle before Usopp could stop him.

Sanji didn't bother going back to bed, and went to shape and bench the bread he'd made last night. He was feeling a bit guilty at having broken one of Zeff's rules - and cross at himself for caring what a shit-geezer like that had to say about anything. So what if he'd cooked while he was angry- or absolutely furious and a little hurt for that matter? He was an excellent chef, he could turn out superb food whatever the circumstances, and the dough looked good. As a matter of fact it looked superb; risen to perfection, and once in the oven, the smell lured in his nakama from all over the ship and he didn't even have to ring the bell.

He kept a discreet eye on the lovely ladies as they lingered over a breakfast of toast, jam and a tangerine for Nami, and the usual straight black coffee and an apple for Robin. They talked in whispers, smiling - or giggling, in Nami's case, causing Sanji's blood pressure to spike. He would love to know what they were discussing so intimately, but he was too much of a gentleman to eavesdrop. He wouldn't be able to overhear anything anyway over the sounds of Luffy chewing his laborious way through the large haunch of not-so-tender mutton Sanji had deemed good enough for their captain.

For the rest of the crew, breakfast was the usual in-and-out affair; they came in, grabbed what they wanted and left again, between course corrections, training and sundry chores. Sanji kept an eye on the table and made sure there was plenty of rice, meat and veg for the traditionalists among them, baked cereals for a bleary-eyed but contented Chopper, more coffee for Robin-chan.

"Hey, dude." Franky was the last to come in, scratching his belly above the line of his speedos (Sanji's increasingly pointed remarks about what should be worn around ladies had gone unheeded). "There any of that bread left? Usopp said it was fantastic."

"Sure," Sanji drawled, gesturing at the table, "there's-...where did it go?"

With great synchronization, Sanji, Franky, Nami and Robin looked down at the empty platter, then over to the captain's seat and then up to the remaining two-thirds of the loaf about to disappear into the abyss of Luffy's mouth.

The plate sailed through the air like a discus and caught Luffy just as his jaws were about to clamp shut. He went straight over backwards, the loaf tumbling to the floor.

"Luffy! Who said you could take all of it?!" Nami shouted, hand still poised after that beautiful throw. Since this was Nami-san, Sanji could admire her grace and precision without thinking quite so much about the broken plate or the bread on the ground.

"Huh?" Luffy blinked up at the ceiling- then did a "Whoa!!" and a snake-like dodge to get away from Nami's lunge.

"I was going to have more of that!" Nami screamed at him, giving chase. "You always do that! Every single time! Do you know how much it costs to feed you?!"

"Oh dear, Nami seems to have quite lost her temper," Robin mused. Sanji felt a shiver of delight run through him. What a great sign of progress! What a beautiful name to fall from such beautiful lips! Naaamiii, ahh- but thrill aside, Robin was right, Nami did indeed sound furious, more so than usual.

"Isn't that their normal song and dance?" Franky asked, grabbing some scones.

"No, it's definitely more serious if she mentions money," Robin wisely explained over the noises of a vicious Luffy-hunt going on outside.

Sanji picked up the loaf and dusted it off, but Franky was no longer interested. Damn, no way was this much food going to waste...hmm, bread pudding?

There was a loud crash from outside. The three nakama exchanged a look and went to investigate.

"Shit. Well, that's fixable," Franky said, still chewing on his breakfast. Luffy and Nami had apparently not noticed the winch they'd lopped off in passing. The dreaded pirate Straw Hat Luffy, current bounty 300 million, was running for all he was worth with a look of alarm on his face that he'd not had when facing a Shichibukai, an angry god or a lunatic Zoan with a pigeon.

Sanji noticed Usopp standing in their wake, staring at the damage. He assumed his nakama was rigid with fear - Sanji would be, if he was anywhere near Nami-swan's righteous fists of fury, but instead...

"Damn it," Usopp said, softly, and then suddenly shouted, "Damn it! Can't you be careful?! Do you want this ship to go the same way as the Merry?! Don't you care?! Kaya gave me that ship! I- I'm such a- a d-disloyal dog I can never face her again anyway but now I don't even have her ship anymore and I don't- I can't even-" The rapid words tangled up into an incoherent noise, and he spun on his heels and ran towards the gun deck.

"Okay...did anybody else completely fail to understand that? Who's Kaya?" Franky glanced at Sanji.

"Girl back home, from what I was told. The one who gave us the Going Merry. I'm not sure what he meant by-"

"Oooh, is this going to be a tragic tale of love, separation and broken hearts?"

"Well-"

"Someone needs to talk to long-nose, see if he's okay. I'll go get my guitar."

"You do that," Sanji said to the cyborg's back. Robin-chan had already left to try to intercept the Straw Hat lynching party.

Sanji cleared up breakfast, since everybody had had their share. He put the dishes in the sink and went to dump the peelings into the new-fangled compost-thingie Franky insisted they use for reasons relating to the lawn.

A gunpowder explosion, a fight, the weather still a bit stormy...he should have realized that the morning was only going to go downhill.

"Hey- watch it!" Sanji almost dropped the bucket of peels when the idiot charged around the corner of the forecastle and nearly plowed right into him. Great, just what he needed. He'd avoided even looking at Zoro this morning, busy at the counter when the other man had shown up. Zoro had eaten some rice and a slice of bread folded over a piece of ham with his usual speed, and was gone by the time Sanji had run out of things to do near the stove. Sanji felt flickers of last night's mood at the edge of his urbane calm, but damned if he was going to let the marimo know he'd gotten under Sanji's skin in any way.

...Why was Zoro staring at him like that? Eyes narrowed to slits...Sanji had the oddest impression that he should be looking at a black bandana instead of ugly moss-green hair.

"You're in my way," Zoro said, tone dead flat.

"Huh?" Sanji countered, which wasn't up to his usual level of repartee, but the unexpected hostility in those words had distracted him.

If anything, Zoro's stare intensified. "You're always in my way."

"It's a bloody small ship," Sanji said with a shrug, standing right in the middle of the causeway and damned if he was going to move aside now. Let the marimo give way.

"All the time." Zoro had never looked at him like that before. Sanji must have really pissed the dumbass off, which wasn't a problem in itself, except that he couldn't figure out what the hell he'd done. "Always there. Always riling me, always so damn strong- except when you're getting your ass handed to you by some chick. Nami told me what happened in the Tower of Justice, you could have died - how pathetic are you?!"

Sanji blinked at the way that last had been barked, and then he blinked again as he tried to fit the beginning and end of that diatribe into a cohesive whole. "What? If you're going to pick a fight, at least try to make some sense." Though they hadn't had a serious fight for- hell, for ages, even the tiff after the Groggy match had only been the result of adrenaline and combative spirits.

Zoro's fist hammered sideways into the forecastle wall hard enough to imprint the dark wood, and this wasn't even remotely amusing anymore. "I don't have time to look out for you! I have to rely on you! And you're always there!"

Sanji had been on roller coasters with fewer sudden switches than this conversation. "What?!"

"You're distracting me!"

"How the hell am I doing that, fuckwit?! I’m just walking along here!"

"It was bad enough when you were too stupid to notice what I felt! I'd gotten used to your pathetic skirt-chasing. So stick to that! Stop caring all of a sudden! Stop distracting me! I don't know what you think you're feeling now but it's not going to happen!"

This was so out of the norm, as well as out of the blue, that Sanji could only wildly hope the flaming idiot swan-guy had snuck on board and was playing with Sanji's head.

"Oi, marimo-kun, did you finally lose whatever brains you had? One of us isn't making sense here, and since you’re the one with the big mouth flapping-"

Zoro's eyes glinted. "Don't you dare pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Not after all your fucking questions last night. Find out what you wanted, did you?"

Sanji tensed, the plastic bucket creaking between his fingers. Questions? Uh-oh, had Zoro guessed what- no, surely not. But damn, that would explain why he was so angry.

...Except that this wasn't the anger of a heterosexual male feeling threatened by another man's attention, it was-...Sanji had never seen Zoro in quite this state before, but he'd spent months with the guy, knew the body language. It was like watching a wounded, blinded tiger lashing out at anything around him. It made something inside Sanji ache in turn.

Sanji's instincts were primed, what with having a highly trained and thoroughly dangerous swordsman snarling in his face, so he spotted danger coming from an entirely unexpected direction and threw himself to one side before his conscious mind had time to even go 'uh-oh'. But Zoro - well damn, Zoro must have really been distracted, because the man with the Grand Line's greatest set of reflexes didn't even turn at the commotion behind him before Luffy barreled right into his back.

"But I didn't eat it!" Luffy hollered, stampeding towards the forecastle rail, arms lassoing out to catch the mast beam. Nami hurtled past the two men as if they were part of the decor, leaving silence in her wake.

Sanji swallowed. What-...stupid instinct...had made him put out his hand to stop Zoro from measuring his length on the deck...?

Thanks to the fingers wrapped around his elbow, Zoro had caught himself against the forecastle wall, face inches from Sanji's and bearing an expression that blended equal parts anger and astonishment. A plastic bucket rolled into the Sunny's pitch at their feet, scattering tangerine peels along the deck.

He could hear the rasp of Zoro's breath. Sanji should be stepping back, he was going to get punched. He still wasn't sure why, but he was definitely going to get punched if he didn't let go now.

It was a weird noise, weirder yet to hear it from Zoro, because it sounded oddly like a snarl of resentful defeat. A hand grabbed Sanji by the collar - knew it, he's going to punch me, thought Sanji - slammed him back against the forecastle wall and a mouth mashed down on his.

Sanji didn't even have time to think whatthefuck, much less say it. He was given a shove that sent him staggering back two steps, and then he was watching Zoro stomp off towards the stern without a backward glance.

After a few seconds frozen to the spot, Sanji finally thought to look around for witnesses. Luffy was in the rigging, staring down at Nami in the way a treed cat would stare down at a rottweiler. Robin had her back to Sanji, trying to calm their navigator down. Sanji couldn't see anybody else. He turned away and walked back to the kitchen, the bucket forgotten behind him.

He cleaned up, scoured the plates with a sponge, raked a cloth across the table - mind boiling with so many thoughts nothing coherent was coming out. He finally fetched up in front of the counter. Lunch. He'd make lunch. It was only ten in the morning, but if he wasn't cooking then he didn't have a good reason to stay in the galley, and he wasn't going to leave until the world started to make sense again. The kitchen was his territory. He felt safe here- not that he was afraid of anything, fuck it all, but this was the center of his stability and he needed that right now.

Noodles. Sesame noodles with sliced vegetables.

What the hell had that been about?! The son of a bitch kissed me!

No. Concentrate on lunch. Cook first, think later.

Sanji was a first-class chef and had great pride in his abilities, but that was too tall an order for anyone. Which was why noodles were such a good choice. An easy dish he could cook in his sleep. Couldn't possibly screw that up, whatever the circumstances.

His hands set about their task, sure and strong, showing no sign of confusion. Watching them work, Sanji felt his mind grow gradually calmer and start to sort things out.

Think about this. He had to think about this. He knew Zoro. The guy had a simple mind which had mastered the wonders of Bonehead Logic: the logic that was perfectly reasonable once you eliminated common sense and the fear of pain and death. Sanji had been observing Bonehead Logic up close these past few months and within its parameters, Zoro always made perfect sense. So this too had to have some form of rational explanation. In fact, Sanji had the lurking presentiment that it did, that it formed a coherent picture, he just wasn't sure he wanted to look at it...But he wasn't a wimp. Sanji stood at the counter and sliced julienne out of Chinese lettuce and meaning out of words with the same sharp cutting motions.

The stuff Zoro had shouted, the conversation they'd had last night, the - chop chop chop - the kiss.

The water was boiling. Sanji put aside the lettuce, turned off the heat and scattered the potato-starch noodles into the pot. Stirred. Let his fingers hover above the steam, but they still felt cold. He rubbed them together. The lid clanged as it sealed in the saucepan's heat, but the sound was muffled, his ears full of the echoes of angry shouts.

'Don't you dare pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Not after all your fucking questions last night. Find out what you wanted, did you?'

The intuition he'd had clutching that bucket came back to him. Okay. Okay...Apparently Sanji's worst fears had come to pass, utter humiliation was just around the corner, Zoro had figured out- well, it wasn't clear what he'd figured out exactly from that brief exchange, but in hindsight it'd be pretty easy to turn Sanji's series of questions into 'are you single' and 'are you into men' which, even by Sanji's standards, wasn't that subtle a come-on. Sanji resisted the urge to hit himself over the head with the cutting board and ploughed on.

That'd be an excellent reason why Zoro was furious, but it didn't explain the kiss, if it could be called that when the only thing that had kept it from being a punch was a lack of knuckles. It had fleetingly occurred to him that it might have been a taunt, a crude 'here's what you can never have', but now that he was thinking about it, no. Just...no. Vindictive petty gestures just weren't Zoro's style.

Which meant...

A whole tangled boil of feelings were creeping up on him, and he couldn't avoid them. Shit...

Sanji dumped the noodles into the sieve; instincts cultivated over the years on the Baratie had been keeping an eye on the time while his mind was otherwise occupied. He put them in a bowl warmed with the cooking liquid and grabbed a spoon without looking, words whistling through his mind like shrapnel from an explosion.

'It was bad enough when you were too stupid to notice what I felt!'

'I don't know what you think you're suddenly feeling-'

'Stop caring all of a sudden!'

...If he was reading this right, Zoro had actually guessed pretty much all of it, up to and including what Sanji was feeling. Stupid. Stupid. He'd forgotten that searching look Zoro had given him yesterday evening at dinner, as if he were reading him like a book. Sanji had been trying to conceal his unwanted epiphany, but he'd also just had his whole life turned on its head, and they could read each other pretty damn well...And then he'd tried to be subtle with his stupid questions.

But Zoro hadn't been mad last night; prickly, yes, defensive, oh yes, but not angry. Sanji wasn't sure why Zoro was so furious now, but another conclusion was hovering in Sanji's mind, overshadowing everything.

'So someone has caught your attention?'

'Why the hell are you so goddamned curious all of a sudden?'

'It was bad enough when you were too stupid to notice what I felt!'

'-but it's not going to happen!'

Sanji stirred the sesame oil into the noodles with fast, jerky motions with which he'd paddle a sinking skiff to shore. Did that mean...what he thought it might mean...? But surely- he and Zoro were always arguing, and Zoro started at least half the fights. Not that fighting had stopped Sanji from, um, harboring unwanted feelings for his nakama, but Zoro was made of stronger stuff, and he wasn't interested in guys. Right? Sanji would have noticed if he was. For sure. Then again, he hadn't really considered it before yesterday, so maybe he'd overlooked something? Of course, now that he was thinking about it, there might be some indications that maybe Zoro did swing that way. Yeah, subtle clues such as Zoro's total lack of prurient interest in bikini-wearing crewmates and a fucking kiss! How dumb are you, you stupid blind cook?! Fuck! Fuck it all!

'You have a thing for pain.'

'I sure do, Sanji, I sure do.'

'I've got more important things to put my energies in, cook.'

'-it's not going to happen!'

...There was something wrong.

There was a lot massively wrong right now, in his life, in Zoro's too if he was correct, but right here, right now, there was something wrong at the end of his spoon.

Sanji stared at it. Then, with a deliberate motion, he lifted it from the bowl. The pasta came too, a large, tangled mass larger than his head knotted all around the spoon, trembling in noodly elasticity as it dangled in one huge blob with every appearance of an impaled jellyfish.

Sanji stared at it and wondered what Zeff would say. The thought made him wince, and the mass wobbled.

"What the hell is that?" Zoro asked at Sanji's shoulder.

Sanji quickly dropped the spoon and the stuff back into the bowl without glancing up at the source of his problems. Well, most of his problems, and what problems might conceivably be called his own could easily be blamed on the moss-head as well, just for being him. Even the noodles. Somehow, those noodles were Zoro's fault.

"Get out," Sanji said in the voice he used for food wasters. Zoro was not allowed to bring his attitude and his problems and himself into Sanji's kitchen. Not now.

Zoro and his problems failed to depart, but at least he hadn't brought his attitude. When Sanji decided he was sufficiently composed where he might be able to look at Zoro and not kick his teeth in for reasons ranging from the noodles to that mindjob of a kiss, it was quite a different marimo than half an hour ago that greeted his sight. Zoro looked a whole lot calmer. He was also soaking wet. His expression, as he stood there dripping on the floor, was that of a swordsman who had an unpleasant task ahead of him - and this from the guy who'd looked only mildly discomfited when he'd stitched himself up after Mihawk had nearly chopped him in half. But he didn't turn away from Sanji's glare, he faced his nakama squarely and stared him straight in the eye.

"I guess I deserved that," he said. "Look-"

"Which part of 'get out' did you not understand?" Sanji growled. "Was it the 'get' or was it the 'out'? Tell me, and I'll draw you a diagram, you shitty-"

"I'm sorry."

Oh, that's just not fair, Sanji thought, feeling his righteous noodle-inspired wrath deflate like a balloon.

Zoro continued to look at him, though it wasn't clear what he expected Sanji to say to that. It'd just been two words, and Sanji would love to overlook them and go on being really mad and kick the bastard out, but if there was one man on board who knew the cost and impact of an apology, it was the one who'd just tendered it, and Sanji couldn't ignore that.

He gave his noodles a stir just to have something to do. Zoro's fingers were tapping the white katana, he noticed, the only indication that Zoro wasn't quite as calm as he appeared. The thought that Zoro had been armed earlier and made no move towards his ever-ready weapons, or used his fists or attacked Sanji in any ways apart from the kiss, floated around Sanji's mind without finding enough in the wreckage to connect with.

"You...uh, you really don’t go for girls, do you," Sanji finally said, staring down at the bowl.

"No, I don't. I like men, and even though you're not the sharpest tool in the box, I still can't believe it took you this long to cotton on to that," Zoro answered with his usual approach to diplomacy. "The girls figured it out almost immediately, even Vivi. So has Chopper. Don't know about the others and I don't care either way. It's nobody's business, and certainly not yours. It's not like it matters, because I told you last night, I have a goal and I won't let myself get distracted."

There was a short, stiff silence, and then Zoro said: "You...distract me a lot. Ever since you managed to kick me to the deck that first time. Strength is something that I- never mind. I tried ignoring you, I tried fighting with you, I tried to remember you're a womanizing prick- in the end, I just considered it training for my focus and concentration." From the sour way he said that, he hadn't been all that successful, and Sanji felt - confusingly - mildly gratified that at least he was an almighty distraction.

"I love women," Sanji heard himself say, as if he needed to reassure himself on that point.

Zoro snorted rudely. "No, really? I think everybody from here to bloody Skypiea knows that, love-cook. But...I'm not wrong about this, am I...Last night, when you jumped down my throat for liking your soup and then you shot out of your skin when I touched you- and that's not all, suddenly a whole lot of funny little details I'd noticed without really paying attention all added neatly up. I came to a funny conclusion. You don't just like women, do you. Do you," he added a bit more pointedly when Sanji stayed silent.

Sanji glared at the stove's splashboard. Zoro was not allowed to know that. Not even Zeff knew that, or at least Sanji fervently hoped that was the case.

"And there's more, right? I figured something else out, when you came and asked me all those questions. All those personal questions. Like you suddenly cared about the answers. Personally. Or am I completely, widely off the mark?" Zoro's look was as sharp as his swords and about as comfortable for the person on the receiving end.

Pride wouldn't permit Sanji to confirm it; his honesty stopped him from denying it. He said nothing and stabbed the noodles with the spoon a few times, scowling.

"Yeah, that's what I figured. It never occurred to me that maybe you slept on both sides of the bed. But that's none of my damn business either," Zoro added sharply with a cut-off gesture. "I’m thinking you aren't all that happy with feeling this way towards me either, because you certainly don't act like it. We both know the score. We're pirates, we have more enemies than we can count, we're stuck on the same ship, we've got ambitions that would kill lesser men and could damn well kill us too. We can't afford to lose our focus. So...yeah, I shouldn't have shouted at you. Or kissed you. I didn't like you pretending you didn't know what the fuck I was talking about, but still, that was way out of order. I don't know why I got so angry all of a sudden." Zoro sounded honestly baffled and still angry, though mostly with himself. "I thought I'd gotten used to what you do to me...We'd been getting along okay these days, too. I...hope I didn't blow that."

"Dumbass. Like I'm not used to ignoring half of what you say," Sanji muttered without having to give his answer any particular consideration. Some things were that obvious. Idiot marimo.

The silence stretched while the noodles, if this was possible, got even further entangled. Sanji eventually jerked into motion and flipped the bowl's convoluted contents onto a cutting board. He proceeded to slice the mass into little bite-sized bits. Wherever his knife fell seemed to leave a knot, so at the end, the distinct pieces still wrapped around each other and looked like bits of barbed wire. Charming.

"Has it calmed down out there?" he asked while he chopped. His voice in the kitchen sounded surreal after that harsh and reluctant confession. Damn, to think that only yesterday morning, it was so obvious where they stood in regards to one another. They were both firmly convinced that the other was an idiot for a variety of reasons, but a reliable idiot who could fight decently and who didn't need looking after. Sanji missed that already.

Zoro turned away a little and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "Yeah. Nami threw Luffy overboard. I had to fish him out. Franky says something's gotten into Usopp too. He did look pretty down when I saw him, though not that much more than usual these days. Nami's chilled a bit now. She says we're heading towards some more bad weather later today, and the static electricity's got everybody on edge."

Sanji would love to blame the weather; seemed like he was doing that a lot these days. But Nami-san's anger was justified, he thought loyally, and it hadn't been that much greater than usual. Usopp's outburst had been bizarre, but he'd been more upset than outright angry. Zoro's reaction had been several orders of magnitude greater. A wounded, somehow helpless anger. It still made Sanji's insides twist into knots to think of it.

"Lunch is going be ready in about half an hour. We'll make it early and take the afternoon to ready the ship for the blow."

"Sanji-"

Sanji shook his head violently, fair hair brushing his face. No. Don't say it. Nothing's going to happen anyway, so what's the point. You were so furious. So was I last night. Even when it looks like we might almost have a thing for one another, we still end up fighting. What does that say about us?

None of this needed to be said out loud. Nami and Robin would have undoubtedly gone to talk it over in their cabin, but Zoro and Sanji were guys. Communication was for pansies.

The silence that followed was...not awkward, because, ironically enough, they were now exactly on the same wavelength. But it was heavy, like a steel door swinging shut on a possibility. Oh boy, another fun meal ahead. Sanji didn't want this. He wanted...he wanted to fight with Zoro like before, when they didn't know there might be something between them that wasn't going to happen for a bunch of reasons, and-

"Ship ahoy!"

Both men looked up briefly towards the aft porthole, but the warning wasn't followed by a shout of 'It's the Marines!', so Sanji returned to the one problem he had a chance of doing something about. He poured a little more oil into the noodles and shook them to see if that would untangle them. No luck.

"AGH! Ghost ship! It’s a ghost ship!"

"Ghost ship?" Sanji and Zoro said at the same time.

"That was Usopp's voice-"

"Has he been drinking?"

"It's got skeletons and it's black all over and it's got skeletons hanging from ropes and the guys on it have skulls instead of heads-" and at that point Usopp ran out of breath for anything more than a panicked squawk.

...Well now, that was timely. Sanji felt his thoughts flee from murky feelings and thunder down reassuringly familiar channels. And he liked the way Zoro started smiling, that upturn of one corner of his mouth and the light of anticipation in his eyes now that good old violence was afoot once more.

"I guess that merits investigation," Sanji murmured, putting a lid on the noodles. He'd warm them up again later, make some sauce and put them together in a mix-and-stir casserole. Then he'd fervently pray that Zeff never, ever heard about any of this.

"Never fought a ghost before," Zoro said thoughtfully. There was a series of little click; one of the katana being thumbed in and out of its scabbard.

"Neither have I. First time for everything." Sanji took off his apron and hung it by the door before following Zoro out to meet these undead to whom he owed a big solid favor.

An hour later, the noodles were still all tangled, but cut up fine, they were easy to eat, and the ladies found them highly original. Sanji still thought they looked like bits of barbed wire, but maybe that qualified as innovative. The sauce he'd quickly made to go with them was really good, to his surprise, and everybody was full of praise for their cook who could turn out such an excellent meal despite highly unusual circumstances. Though in this instance, the circumstances was just an attack by enterprising and intelligent pirates who'd thought of putting the Triangle's reputation to good use. They'd been way too easy to beat up, since they'd principally relied on greasepaint and fear. An amuse-bouche, really.

The Sunny entered the Florian Triangle that afternoon, not that anybody paid that much attention to the event. Relationships on board seemed needlessly complicated that day. People went about bumping into each other's edges and then apologizing and then bumping again. Sanji stayed above it all, quite literally; it was his turn in the crow's nest and boy was he glad of it. He stared out at the ocean and dreamed of finding the All Blue, and of having all his nakama around him when that happened. They'd like his fish just as much as anybody else who might or might not have been that little bit more special to him. And the idiot marimo would be there too, eating way too fast and maybe muttering 'not bad' from time to time, so really, Sanji hadn't lost anything.

He didn't think about the kiss. No, not even a bit. It had been a terribly crappy kiss - hell, he'd had kicks in the teeth that were cuddlier - and anyway, it wasn't going to happen.

Chapter Text

The biggest problems in life could often be summarized in the simplest words.

In this case, the word was Lust.

So it turned out Zoro had been feeling a little something towards Sanji for months; a bit of a pull, maybe a little affection, and a whole lot of desire to wring Sanji's neck. But he didn't want it to go anywhere; he didn't want to be distracted from his goals. Neither did Sanji, for that matter. He was a busy sea-cook, he didn't have time for that kind of complication, and who knew what it'd do to ship dynamics? Besides, this was Zoro he'd fallen for, the dumbass marimo with a thing for pain. That lacked serious cool-factor. So maybe there was a little tendril of attraction between them, but there was also a hell of a lot of rivalry, and what could be a really solid friendship too, of the grumbly understated variety. Why risk it?

All these conclusions were tried and tested and true, and Sanji was fine with it all until he went to bed that night and had the weirdest dream ever.

Zoro was shouting at him on the forecastle deck, though Sanji couldn’t hear a word. Luffy in a clown costume bumped into his first mate, Zoro slammed into Sanji, pinning him against the wall, and kissed him. Except this time, the kiss was soft, deep and utterly erotic. Sanji's hands drifted up in dreamlike slow-motion to grip green hair that as felt cool and crunchy as grass - this made perfect sense in the dream - and sank his tongue in Zoro's mouth. Bodies wrapped together against the starboard wall. They lapped at each other, hearts beating like a twenty-one-gun salute, while music swelled in the background, harps and violins and a piano's majestic chords. Then Zoro shoved Sanji back, gently this time, and disappeared. Sanji stayed there unconcerned (this being a dream), listening to the noise of a bunch of instruments getting turned into driftwood. Then Zoro was back and kissing him again without accompaniment...except for a smoky, steamy sax that must have escaped the destruction, and which began to purr when they slowly slid down the wall to the ground. They rolled across the Sunny's upper deck which had become as soft and bouncy as Skypiea's clouds-

And at that point Sanji woke up and realized he was still in trouble and it was far from over yet.

That his stupid heart had decided to go and get itself stuck on Zoro like a moth on fly-paper was bad enough, but at least Sanji's brain was there to remind the bloody organ in question that there were too many reasons why this was not going to happen. But lust...the only thing that could fight lust was discipline, and though that was easier than fighting love, it was also a battle Sanji had never been very good at winning before.

It wasn't so bad during the day. They were sailing through the Florian Triangle now, which turned out to be as exciting as they'd been led to believe. A massive storm sent ball lightning bouncing around deck like Usopp's pachinko balls. They negotiated a whirlpool that then decided, against all the laws of sea and nature, to turn around and chase them. Fortunately they had the best navigator on the planet (as well as the prettiest, of course). They'd barely staggered out of that danger, than they were accosted by a bunch of fishy freaks who were still not beautiful mermaids, and who attacked them because they were desecrating 'the sacred ocean' or something. Losers. Sanji didn't have any time to cook, and just threw together sandwiches and onigiri to keep his crew functional until the immediate crises were past.

But at night, during the few hours of what should have been respite...

What kept breaking his brain was this sudden ability to lust after a guy. Sanji had thought that part of himself had withered like a useless appendage, allowing him to devote his whole attention to the wonderful Feminine. In fact, he'd been rather hoping it had. It wasn’t like it had ever gotten any exercise until now.

It seemed to be making up for lost time.

...There would be no softness to that highly-trained body, no pliancy. All hard edges, matching Sanji strength for strength. Big fingers would touch him, rough and without any hesitation, even when they got it wrong. Zoro wouldn't say much, nor would he bother making those little appreciative noises that women made to indicate that they were still interested, but when he'd start panting in time with Sanji's hand- or mouth-...The idea made Sanji a bit queasy, and also very horny. It was really confusing. Though nowhere as bad as that one dream that had featured Zoro - intractable, stoic, annoying, bloodthirsty and suicidal in turn - in a woman's forms, which had been confusing to the point of requiring therapy.

Sanji knew intellectually that it Wasn't Going To Happen for a whole lot of reasons. Being friends and nakama was almost as close as being lovers anyway, hell, maybe even closer, so he hadn't lost anything in the end count. But that meant nothing to his desire. It wasn't interested in being friends. His desire wanted to grab the man, destroy all the distances, strip him bare - in all the meanings of the term - and watch Zoro's face as Sanji was the first, his first, the first to touch him like that, the first to take him over the brink...touch the love that he knew was there, rip it out - At which point Sanji would start out of what should have been a well-earned night of rest, in a state that was all the more embarrassing for having the object of his lust and affections snoring away in a hammock not far from his own.

Sanji put aside the vinegar and mirin sauce, and reached for the mortar and pestle, his mind in a zen state that was partially helped by exhaustion. He barely noticed the kitchen door opening, though the brief waft of moving air was pleasant.

His hands slowed a fraction as the identity of the fall of boots on floor penetrated his trance. Zoro, heading towards the fridge.

Sanji measured some poppy seeds into the mortar. "Don't eat anything, baits-for-brains, lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes." The two of them were trying to put the whole Thing that had occurred two days ago behind them as quickly as possible. The insults were already rolling off their tongues quite naturally, to Sanji's relief.

"Piss off, dumb cook, I'm just getting some ice," was the grumbled but totally acceptable true-to-form-and-back-to-normal response. The fridge opened with a clink.

"What'd you hurt this time, idiot?" It'd be hard to miss - for Sanji, who knew about the Thing - that Zoro was training even harder than usual these days. Whatever it took to get over it...If it could have guaranteed Sanji some peaceful nights, he'd have been pumping iron right alongside the muscle-head. He scattered some dried tangerine peels onto the spices, trying not to think of the two of them lifting and dropping weights in synch like a pair of mechanical monkeys. Holy shit, he just needed a night's sleep...

"It's hot out there, that's all." There were a few glugs as Zoro drank from the jerican of cold water Sanji kept chilled for his nakama. "Uhn. That's better..."

"Does Nami-san know when this heat wave will end?" Sanji poured a teaspoon of hemp seeds into the mortar and corked the bottle.

"She thinks sometime tomorrow. Until it does, it's like we're nailed to the ocean. Not a breath of wind out there. The upside is that we've not been attacked by anything freaky so far today. Franky's finally convinced Luffy we need to save the blast cannon for emergencies, so we should be able to react if something does jump us. Hmmm."

That last was a sigh so soft Sanji barely heard it. He looked around-

Zoro had scooped some ice from the freezer rack and was rubbing it on the back of his neck where the skin was reddening through the bronze. A single drop rolled down his naked shoulder.

By a strange coincidence, Sanji's mouth was dry as a bone and he was suddenly very, very thirsty.

The ice melted rapidly. Zoro briskly rubbed his wet fingers over the back of his neck and then fisted the sweat off his forehead in a brusque, unlovely gesture, because of course this was just Zoro being Zoro and completely unaware that what he was doing was hot enough to melt more than ice-cubes. Sanji realized he'd just shaken at least three tablespoons of chili peppers into the mortar. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-

There was a clomp of boots heading towards the door. Sanji concentrated on the condiments, adding plenty of sesame seeds to make up for the chili overdose. That had been careless of him. He shouldn't let himself get sidetracked like that, he had too much pride in his work. Now he understood why Zoro had gotten so pissy with him the other day; 'don't distract me' indeed. Right, he had some seven-spice pepper to make, concentrate on that.

Zoro's face had been flushed from training in this heat. He'd look the same if he ever got laid.

Sanji's hands were shaking, a faint tremor as they sprinkled in the nori flakes. He could feel a bead of sweat run down his neck. He tried to tell himself it was because the kitchen was a furnace, but he didn't believe himself for a moment. Damn, why was this so fucking hard? This time last week, he'd never even noticed the big lug that way.

Well, maybe a tiny little bit, when they were fighting.

And they sure fought a lot.

But that didn't count, a man got all sorts of heated up in a fight. Especially when tackling someone like Zoro who was built like battle personified-

Uh...

Lunch. Making lunch.

After a quick lick of the spices from the tip of his finger, Sanji reached for some more ash pods. He'd add cane sugar as well, until the spiciness was toned down to acceptable levels. Not that it tasted bad, the heat teasing as it danced on his tongue...Sanji licked his lips and tasted the spice again, just to be sure. Then he wiped his brow with his forearm. Man, it was hot. But the spice was okay.

"Saaaaaaanjiiiiii, is it ready yet?"

"Yeah, sure, ring the bell please," Sanji said, most of his attention on mixing the seven-spice pepper to the vinegar sauce.

His nakama trooped in, complaining about the heat and how the falling evening wasn't making it any better. All the men had stripped down to basics, except for Franky, who was there already, and Sanji, who'd stooped no lower than long, tight shorts and a short-sleeved cotton shirt, half open beneath the apron. Chopper, who'd looked like he'd been about to die all day, was probably passed out in the crow's nest, and Sanji would have to go revive him with some ice-cold water, chilled soba and veg later. The girls were in very short shorts and bikinis, and Sanji cursed the timing of his bloody confused libido because it wasn't enjoying this fact as much as it should.

Sanji went to get the noodles, veggies and cold meats from the fridge, trying hard not to think about ice-cubes. And where was the big nuisance anyway? After putting the items on the counter, Sanji took three reluctant steps towards the porthole. The object of his confused and reluctant lust was down on the main deck, hauling up a bucket of sea water over the gunwale.

Sanji knew he should look away.

Zoro put it down, unhooked the rope, grabbed the handle-

Sanji really, really should look away now.

-lifted it and upended it over his head, water cascading down-

"Sanji-kun? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, my venerated Nami-swan," Sanji warbled, a knee-jerk reflex. Oh thank god for aprons and the cover they provided.

Zoro was climbing the stairs to the galley, bare feet brushing against the wood and Sanji's nervous system. Bare feet...the guy had man's feet, big and firm and ugly, why was the sight of him barefoot making Sanji's heart convulse? Shit, he'd not had it this bad at any point in the past two days, not even when he'd spent ten whole minutes last night watching a shirtless Zoro snoozing in his hammock while Sanji tried to wrestle with his feelings. What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? He had to calm down. He turned to the counter and his preparations assiduously as the door opened.

"Zoro! You're all wet!" Nami scolded.

"Yeah."

"'Yeah'? Is that all you have to say?"

"No, I can also say, 'I bet I'm feeling cooler than you right now'. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Don't sit down," Nami hissed. "Sanji-kun will have a fit!"

Sanji was stirring cold soba like his life depended on it, but he was proud of the fact that his voice sounded reasonably steady and even mildly annoyed as he spoke without turning around. "Yeah she's right, marimo. Go get changed. And put on a shirt."

The silence lasted exactly three seconds, then Zoro grumbled something indistinct and left without a fight.

There was a stir of wonder around the table.

"I wonder if Zoro's got heatstroke," Usopp muttered tiredly.

No, Zoro had just realized that going around shirtless and wet was a bit unfair right now, considering the Thing. A bit too near the line. It was Sanji who had the heatstroke.

Zoro returned three minutes later, just as Sanji was putting the cold soba, vinegar sauce, vegetables, sautéed tofu and meat on the table. The shitty bastard was wearing shorts, the same shirt he'd worn for the past three weeks - the one that had been in the laundry basket earlier - and a grumpy expression. He didn't look at Sanji, Sanji didn't look at him.

"This is piquant," Robin commented after her first bite, visibly charmed - and utterly charming, of course.

The rest of the table approved. Sanji grinned. Nothing like chilled soba on a hot day. The seven-spice pepper had turned out perfect despite his moment of distraction. Plenty of bite, it fizzled on the tongue, a quick sensation of heat and then a blissful feeling of cooling down as the sweet vinegar sauce and cold noodles soothed the taste buds. Oh yeah, I'm good, thought Sanji.

"Wow, this is great," Usopp commented, wiping his mouth and then his chest absently. He was wearing nothing more than the dungarees with the undone straps hanging loose and the legs rolled way up.

"Dude, you want any more appliances in this kitchen, say the word and they're yours," Franky proclaimed generously. Nami-san was yumm-ing away, while Luffy was simply shoveling up as fast as he could, making the kind of appreciative noises of a zoo at feeding time.

Sanji's eyes drifted to one side. He hadn't heard anything from the moss-brain. Feh, Zoro was probably finished already, why was Sanji bothering to check if he'd enjoyed the food...

...What was Zoro staring at like that? Sanji glanced down to see if he had any soba stuck to his shirt, to his apron or to the skin visible between the two, then he glanced back at Zoro with a puzzled frown. Zoro's gaze on Sanji was intent. He had chopsticks with a pinch of soba poised and apparently forgotten halfway to his mouth. His lips were slightly parted, a detail Sanji rather wished he hadn't noticed. Sanji concentrated on his bowl...for all of five seconds, and then his gaze was dragged back up as if Zoro had used a crowbar.

That shirt of Zoro's was really dirty. It was polluting the kitchen, Sanji should tell the bloody marimo to take it off. The green hair was still wet from the sea-water shower earlier, sticking out in tiny spikes. Sanji's fingers twitched. Soba noodles slipped from his chopsticks.

Next to Sanji, Usopp sat back and fanned himself with his bandana, looking flushed.

"Too hot for ya, long-nose?" Franky snickered.

Usopp jumped as if someone had jabbed him with a fork, his eyes tearing away from Luffy. "Wh-what?! I didn't say anything!"

"Uh, I didn't say you did-"

His nakama's voices were fading into buzzes. Sanji still hadn't quite calmed down from his thank-god-for-aprons moment earlier. In fact, he hadn't calmed down at all. If anything he was getting more uncalm by the second.

It had been two minutes and Zoro had yet to blink once. Sanji's eyes were smarting in sympathy but he was unable to tear his gaze away. The buzzing in his ears seemed to faintly resemble the sound of a saxophone playing.

"...nji-kun...? Hey, Sanji-kun? Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Nami-swan," Sanji answered, voice so hoarse he could barely make the words out himself. Zoro blinked at the sound and flushed. Flushed. Roronoa Zoro had flushed.

Sanji's sanity packed its bags and left town at a dead run.

Usopp had sat back on the bench, wiping his forehead again and looking confused, while Chopper wasn't in the seat next to him; there was nothing in the way between the two men, nothing to stop Sanji from reaching over, leaning far enough to touch that small wash of color on Zoro's cheek with his fingertips.

"Huh?" Usopp looked dazedly at Sanji's arm in front of his nose.

Zoro reacted explosively, grabbing Sanji's wrist and jerking him forward. His bowl went crashing to the ground, the whole table juddered as he stood up. Sanji shouldered Usopp aside, kicked the bench out of his way with a bit more strength than intended. It crashed somewhere off to his right, but it didn't matter because-

"Hey!"

"Wha-"

Zoro's mouth tasted of soba, spice and faint traces of seawater on his lips. The fucking corner of the fucking table was getting in the fucking way! The wood creaked alarmingly and slammed against the restraining bolts in the galley floor as Zoro snarled and hip-checked it again, then hauled Sanji against it, scattering more dishes.

Somewhere far, far away, on another ocean entirely and a little off to one side, were amazed gasps and the sound of Luffy spurting soba out his nose.

Zoro's hair was not crispy as grass, it was damp, rough, and it made a damn good thing to grip while hauling him closer and biting at his lips.

"What the hell?!"

At first, Zoro pretty much kissed him like he'd done two days ago. Apparently that first kiss had been the result of ignorance in the finer arts of amore as well as anger. Sanji decided to reduce the world's total sum of ignorance by a small but significant amount by giving the idiot an education, and the added benefit was that he now had his tongue in Zoro's mouth.

A strong hand landed on his hip and hauled him bodily onto the table so that the bloody thing became an asset rather than a hindrance. Sanji's free fist curled into Zoro's collar, and who cared how dirty the shirt was.

There was a panicked scramble somewhere near Sanji's feet, but he was only distantly aware of Usopp running out of the galley as if his nose had been set on fire. Luffy, still laughing, picked himself up off the floor and said he'd go see what was wrong with him, but the others should call him back if Zoro and Sanji did anything else that was interesting.

The two of them had finally gotten themselves sorted out. Sanji was on the edge of the table, one hand still gripping green hair, the other had migrated to Zoro's ass, and what a wonderful place for it to be. Zoro was holding him with what Sanji was ready to swear were six separate arms, and kissing him like they were both about to die and had to make the most of it.

"Um, dudes? Come on, quit it, this is getting really weird. Uh...What should I do? Want me to break them up?"

"Oh my, I think that might be rather dangerous."

"This isn't funny, Robin! Stop laughing!"

"I'm sorry, Nami, but-"

Zoro lifted his head briefly. "Everybody out. Now."

It was the Serious voice. The only guys who might not listen to that voice were Luffy, because nothing ever scared him, and Sanji, on principle. Luffy was no longer in the room and Sanji was going absolutely nowhere right now, but everybody else listened to the Serious voice. Even Franky was halfway to the door before he caught himself and turned to protest, and then Robin grabbed one large arm, Nami the other and they hustled him out before he got further than "Waitasec-"

Zoro was already kissing Sanji again before the door slammed shut. He'd learned the 'tongues' lesson very quickly. They were leaning further and further onto the table, practically lying on it now. Vinegar seeped into Sanji's shirt and his head had knocked over the vegetable dish, and he really couldn't care. The feel of that solid body weighing him down was bliss. And also frustrating. Sanji's male pride was getting huffy at being manhandled so casually. Time to laminate Zoro to the wood and give him a good pawing over.

A shove from strong hips, and two more plates hit the floor with merry metallic clangs. Zoro grunted with surprise as he found himself flat on his back, and then groaned as Sanji's body poured on top of his. That was a nice noise. That was a very nice noise. Sanji moved, flexing against Zoro, and got an even better one. This was- hey!

Zoro rolled him over, or at least that was the intent, but it wasn't that wide a table. They tipped off, still tumbling. Zoro's back hit a bench, Sanji's hit the floor. That got a couple of oofs out of them, but didn't really interrupt anything, which might be attributed to unbridled lust, or to a certain desensitization to getting slammed into hard surfaces acquired as part of some Straw Hat benefit scheme that so far had escaped everyone's attention.

Momentum sent them rolling one more time so that Sanji was back on top, which was where God and Fate and Sanji had decided he was going to be, dammit, and he'd stay there. Since all was fair in love and war - and this rapidly turning into both - he insured this by straddling the big ape and doing the flexing movement that turned Zoro into instant mulch again. Sanji was at luxury to rip off that bloody shirt and let his fingers roam around abs and muscles and nipples and scars, as long as he kept his hips moving and grinding.

Zoro's face did indeed have the same stain of red as it'd had earlier. I knew it, Sanji thought, with both a breath of wonder and a crow of triumph.

But then the shitty swordsman went about reminding everyone he had the willpower to defy death itself, because despite what Sanji was doing to their lower bodies, he still flipped them both over. They went rolling over the hardwood, which felt like hardwood and not Skypiea's clouds, but this was nonetheless a dream, that much was obvious. There was no way they were screwing on the kitchen floor with their nakama right outside the door in real life, right? And if this was a dream, they were free to go at it like a pair of ferrets until Sanji eventually woke up in his hammock, undoubtedly hot and bothered, yes, but at least his dream-self would have finally reached the unattainable and damn well enjoyed it.

Eventually, Sanji did wake up. Stark naked on the kitchen floor, head resting on the impromptu pillow of his rolled-up apron, and with reality looming over him like the worst hangover ever known to man.

Sanji lifted his head and reluctanctly tallied the score: he was alone, there was a glimmer of dawn outside the porthole, there was something massively fucked up on this ship, it somehow related to his food, and...Zoro...

He sank back against the apron with a hand over his eyes, a groan paralyzed by horror in his throat. He-...his food-...it was all adding up, though he was damned if he knew what it added up to, and Zoro-

In pure self-defense, his brain blew a few fuses, shutting down whole sections of shock and concentrating all power on the essential for now. First thing first was to find Zoro, and make sure-...well...make sure...His thoughts didn't want to go any further. They probably didn't have to, or worry about any other sharp bits of reality that were poking him, because if Zoro put it together too, all of Sanji's worries were soon about to end. Zoro would do him a favor and put him out of his misery.

He crept around the kitchen, gathering his clothes, nudging at scattered plates and spilled food - just to add to his list of blasphemies - without having the heart to do anything about it. He shrugged into his pants and shirt, trying not to notice the gentle bite marks and scratches on his skin and the fact he needed several showers.

- He kept having flashbacks. All the delectable minutes that had somehow ebbed and flowed into several hours and several times. The little discoveries, the things he'd not expected. But most of all his mind kept going back to the moment, pretty soon after they'd started, when it had stopped being just sex, and it had been about whatever crazy thing they saw in each other, boiling up between them. Sanji had followed with his tongue the invisible trace of a drop of ice-cube water up his lover's back. Zoro had gasped and hissed "Stupid cook," in a tone he'd never used before and then-

Sanji shook his head and slapped himself, dispelling the memory. It was only knowing he was so deep in trouble there'd never be an end to it that kept him from popping a boner. That is, much of a boner...Oh, he was damned, he was so, so damned.

He stepped out of the galley without much hesitation, because at this point he just wanted to get it over with. Zoro didn’t kill him immediately. He wasn't even there. Franky was the only nakama visible, lounging around in a deck chair down on the lawn near the stairs, watching the first glimmers of dawn crawl up over the horizon. He didn't glance at Sanji as the latter came down the steps, but he did toss a casual "Yo, bro," his way.

"Have you seen Zoro?"

Franky did turn his head at that. He lifted his sunglasses and scrutinized Sanji as if the directness of the question had surprised him. "Yeah, he walked this way half an hour ago. I was sleeping right here, s'cooler than down below. He stomped right by without saying hi and threw himself over the railing. Ah, but he came right back up again, he was just taking a quick swim," Franky added quickly as Sanji swayed.

"Oh. Where did he go?"

"Off to the men's quarters to change his clothes, by the looks of it. Say, Sanji, you want some advice?"

"No."

An outstretched bionic leg boxed Sanji against the stairs. "Tough, you're getting it anyway. Look, kid, I may be super and young at heart, but at the end of the day, I'm almost as old as you and Zoro put together. I've been around the block loads of times. Hell, back in Water 7, I owned the block. That block was mine, baby. So trust me when I say, give Zoro a little time and space right now, 'kay? 'Cause when a guy has that look on his face, he needs it, especially when it's a guy who can kill a guy with his pinkie."

Sanji closed his eyes briefly. "What look? Was he mad?" In his head, an angry shout. 'You're always in my way! Stop distracting me!'

"Mad?" Bionic fingers went scritch-scritch against chin-clefts you could dock a ship in. "Hmm no, more like...more like someone had hit him with a large hammer and he was trying to figure out how he felt about that. Mad might be around the corner, mind you, but...don't take my word for it," Franky added with a judicious glance at Sanji. "If you want to know what look he had on his face, go find yourself a mirror."

Sanji didn't want to look in a mirror right now. He stared aimlessly around the ship- then blinked in alarm as something large and fuzzy in the crow's nest caught his eye. "Why is Chopper in Guard Point up there? What happened?"

Franky looked up, following Sanji's gaze. "Nah, he's just a bit ruffled. Make that very ruffled. He came down a few minutes after the rest of us left the galley to see why you hadn't brought him his supper."

Deep in the back of Sanji's mind, the very faint memory of a door opening and a horrified squeak echoed. If he remembered right, he and Zoro had been lip-locked at the time, wrestling each other to see whose shorts were coming off first, so paying attention to anything external had been so far down his list of priorities it might as well have been on the ocean floor. Oh...shit...

"I saw a furry streak head towards the foredeck saying 'I didn't see that' repeatedly, but I figured he'd keep, and me and the girls had our hands full elsewhere. Unfortunately our lil' buddy joined us a minute later for a sanity check and ran right into Usopp declaring his eternal love to our captain."

It turned out Sanji still had a few fuses left to blow. "What?!"

"Oh, dude, we had quite the time of it last night, you have no idea. No, wait, you do. You and Zoro got the worst of it, but it seems Usopp came down with whatever you had too. It wasn't quite as funny with him, though. He kept beating himself up over the fact he was supposed to be loyal and in love with this Kaya who's waiting for him, and then he'd turn around and tell Luffy that he'd follow him to the ends of the earth and defeat monsters for him and never, ever leave him again, ever, and then he'd riff on Kaya some more, and repeat the whole process. When he started making poetry to Luffy's eyes and body - did you know you can rhyme a lot of stuff with 'elastic'? Usopp's got a way with words. Nami suggested we toss him overboard to cool him down, and that's when Luffy finally stopped laughing and said he'd deal with it."

"Deal...with it?" Sanji didn't have mental space for another sense of doom to loom, but if he had, it would.

"Yeah. We should have known. His idea of dealing with it was dragging Usopp down to the men's quarters, and I don't think it was to talk about poetry. Nami shouted at the hatch after them for awhile, but I don't think they paid her any attention and she didn't have the guts to go in and see what they were up to. Chopper went to hide in the infirmary, going on about things not happening again, and I almost felt like joining him. Ah, unfortunately, when he finally ventured out, he stumbled in on me and Robin who'd just decided that, damn, all these hormones sloshing around shouldn't just be for kids, and at that point-"

"Yaaagh!"

"-at that point, Chopper made exactly the same noise you just did, and shot up to the crow's nest and hasn't come down since."

Sanji put a hand on the stair rail before he fell down. "You and Robin-chan?!"

"Oh yeah," said Franky, scratching his stomach with what was, in Sanji's eyes, an unjustifiable amount of obscene satisfaction. "I don't know what was in that soba last night, dude, and it wasn't as strong for me and Robin, but we were entitled to feeling a little left out and frustrated with all this action going on around us, and we decided, hey, might as well help each other out with that. Ahh, that was a pleasant little hour. Then Nami walked in, and it turned out she'd been affected as well, and yeah, why should me and Robin have all the fun by ourselves?"

Sanji's world stopped.

"I'm pulling your leg, blondie." Franky shook his head ruefully. "I was going to rag you a bit, after what you and Zoro put us through last night, but you look like you're about to die already. Now, I hope you don't mind about me and Robin. She's a grown woman - all woman, I can add, hoooboy. But when Nami came in looking flushed and a bit confused, me and Robin called it a night. Not saying there wasn't a little moment of temptation. I'm a guy, right? But I'm also a big brother. Nami's the same age as my lil' sisters, and if any guy put a finger on them I'd rip it off and shove it in his eye socket, know what I mean?"

Sanji put his hand on his chest just to make sure his heart had heard that and resumed beating.

"Robin took her off to their cabin to talk - have you noticed how girls do that a lot? I went down to the men's room to see the damage, but our captain and our sniper were already asleep, curled around each other all cute like. Seeing they were still half-dressed, I don't think they got much beyond the making out stage, not that I looked all that closely. That's when I decided to sleep out on deck. It was two in the morning and fuck, you and Zoro were still going at it. You boys have stamina, I'll give you that. When I was nineteen, I could do it all night long too. So...does this sort of thing happen often around here? Not complaining, mind you, not complaining, just askin'."

Chapter Text

Sanji cleaned up the kitchen and put breakfast on the table like an automaton. His crewmates filed in right on cue. Franky, Robin-chan and Nami-san sat down at the table which had been scrubbed to within a breath of its varnish coating. Chopper hopped up to his seat on the bench after smoothing down a patch of fur that kept fluffing out on his back. Nobody reached for the food. They were all looking at him, except for Nami-san who was glaring at breakfast in a suspicious manner that wrung Sanji's heart.

He barely had the time to register the pain when Zoro walked in, dressed in the clothes he'd permanently borrowed from some Galley-la sap. He looked perfectly unaffected, as if he wasn't about to sit down at the table where he and Sanji had felt each other up last night with all their nakama watching. The man had steel composure that put his swords to shame. Or, more likely, Zoro truly didn't give a damn what the others thought. He seemed to have something on his mind. No doubt pondering whether he should kill Sanji outright or just castrate him a little.

Following on Zoro's footsteps was Luffy, who barged in shouting, "Wow, I'm hungry!" He was halfway to the table in a single bound, but stopped as if he'd hit a wall and looked around, head finally rotating on his neck all the way until he'd examined every corner of the kitchen. "Oh? Hey, I'll be right back. Sanji, make sure there's food left for me, okay?!"

Five minutes later, he tumbled back into the kitchen dragging a petrified Usopp, red from the back of his ears to the tip of his nose. "Let's eat!"

"Let's not," said Nami, and then blinked at Zoro who'd reached for a bowl of beef congee. He had to dodge Luffy's attempt to grab it first. "What are you lunkheads doing?!"

"Eating," Zoro answered in the voice he reserved for painfully obvious questions. Luffy echoed with a muffled "Hmm-mm!", face buried in cold cuts.

"Those are leftovers from yesterday's breakfast by the looks of it, so that should be fine. Just as long as we avoid last night's soba," Robin said. "And I believe there's something we need to discuss with our cook." Franky nodded, as did Nami and Chopper. "We've been comparing notes and reflecting on the odd events on board this past week. I suspect you've also been thinking as well, Sanji-san?" Robin asked, all demure and sympathetic, which only made it worse.

Sanji certainly had. In hindsight, a lot of things had become disturbingly obvious, though he was damned if he knew why. He stuffed his hands in his pockets helplessly, a curtain of bangs hiding his expression. What the hell could he say to defend himself?

"What have you been droppin' in the dishes, man?" Franky seemed to find all this amusing. "Aphrodisiacs?"

Sanji winced.

"Don't be bloody stupid. Sanji would never tamper with food. He worships the stuff."

Everybody turned to stare at Zoro, who stopped eating the congee to stare back.

"What?" he growled. That tone normally came with a bandana tied around his forehead.

Nobody answered. Sanji received the same 'you got somethin' to say about it?' look as the rest.

"Franky's joking, Sanji-kun, nobody seriously believes you did this on purpose," said Nami, and even though she still sounded cross, the look she leveled at Sanji was perfectly open and honest. "And it's pretty obvious you got caught up in it too. But you have to admit, there's something freaky going on."

Sanji nodded wretchedly.

"Think back on what you've cooked recently," Franky said, tone serious. "Is there anything that you added - like possibly spoiled food or mushrooms that could explain all this crazy shit?"

But Sanji was already shaking his head before their shipwright could finish. What did Franky think Sanji had spent the last hour desperately racking his brains over?

"It could be something very subtle," Robin murmured. "Such as ergot in the flour?"

"No," Sanji said simply. "I can't explain what happened, but...the ingredients are fine. If they weren't, I'd have noticed."

"I'm sure Sanji's right, because not everybody was affected, and there were too many variations," said Chopper. He was still battling fur that kept fluffing out - every time he smoothed a patch down, some other tuft would stick up - but his expression was entirely scientific. "Say something had been added - by accident of course, Sanji, I know that - then that would mean people would react more according to how much they ate, but-"

"-but Luffy wasn't all that bothered, instead of having his head pop like a balloon after each meal," Zoro concluded between bites.

"Yeah," Nami muttered, "considering how much he gobbles down, that's saying a lot. His empty skull's usually the most affected by any mental stuff thrown at him anyway."

"Hey!" said Usopp, coming out of his semi-trance with a start, before cringing and going red. Redder, that is. But everybody else had echoed various declinations of agreement with the statement, including Luffy, though it was possible their captain hadn't quite understood what he was agreeing with.

"Very true. Instead, Luffy-san has seemed relatively unaffected each time." Robin was obviously off in Happy Intellectual land. "The exact nature of the reactions and their intensity have varied widely according to individual...It's not coercion, it's more like resonance. It brings certain feelings that match Sanji-san's to the surface, as long as something resembling that feeling is there. While on other occasions, the food itself is the only thing affected, and behaves strangely."

"Lobsters," Nami-san muttered.

"The effect seems to correlate with the strength of the feelings instead of the dosage," said Chopper enthusiastically, off in the same place Robin was. "I've been thinking hard about it, and if Sanji doesn't know where it came from, I can at least tell you that no chemical compound can possibly do that."

"But then what is it?!" Nami snapped, obviously not entertained by the cerebral challenge.

"I don't know. Isn't it great?! This may be an entirely new phenomenon!" Chopper burbled. Sanji was too relieved that his nakama believed him innocent of a gross crime against their friendship and the holy art of cooking to care that he was being eagerly described as a phenomenon.

"Maybe it's caused by the Triangle?" Zoro suggested, still acting way too unconcerned by all this.

"We've only been sailing in the Triangle for two days," Nami pointed out.

"Maybe it's because he's improved his fighting skills a lot!" Chopper said brightly, smoothing down a cowlick of fur on his nose. "Wouldn't the arts of cooking and combat sort of go together? For Sanji?" he added a bit more uncertainly when he noticed the incredulous stares.

"That could be an explanation," Robin mused. "Or perhaps this gift has been with him all along, steadily growing along with his abilities. Sanji-san is usually a levelheaded person, particularly when he cooks, and he derives great satisfaction from it. I've noticed how I often feel content or more relaxed after one of his meals which, I might add, have been getting better and better since I've come on board."

Sanji opened his mouth, either to mumble in stunned gratitude, or to point out that any cook's food should have that effect-

And it was as if Zeff was suddenly right there, grumbling in his ear. "You're going to cool that head of yours off before you cook in my kitchen, eggplant. A mediocre chef can do what he wants, but a real chef never cooks when he's angry."

- never cook when you're angry...

"Both theories are valid, but they don't explain why the effect has suddenly become so pronounced and volatile. Tell me, Sanji-san...did anything happen a few days ago? Something that would make you more emotional than usual?" Robin was phrasing it like a question, but the way she was looking at Zoro and Sanji, she was only being polite.

The silence hung there like a noose. What am I being coy about, Sanji wondered, they saw us tongue-wrestle right there on that table.

'-but it's not going to happen!'

Oh yeah. That was why. Sanji stared at the galley floor where they'd made love last night. It'd be nice to think he at least had the memories, but that was bullshit. Memories were inert, they didn't go anywhere, they didn't breathe and laugh and gasp when touched in a certain way; all memories could do were taunt him with what was never going to happen again and clutter up the kitchen floor where he was going to have to work day in and day out.

"Well, no matter," Robin murmured, and she and Nami stood up in synch. "Hopefully now that we've uncovered the problem, our next meals-"

"It won't happen again," Sanji said, looking away towards a corner of the kitchen. "I swear it." He'd rip his heart out before letting his nakama come under the evil influence of his emotions ever again. Ripping his heart out was probably going to be a necessary step anyway. Five days. Only five fucking days since he thought he might have found 'someone special' in Zoro and almost instantly dismissed the notion and fooled himself into thinking it was something he could ignore, and now-...Oh yeah, this was going to be a fun trip in the months to come.

The girls were already at the kitchen door. They nodded and smiled at him, a tiny drop of sunshine in the gloom, and then they were gone. Chopper, Usopp and Franky also stood up. Luffy continued to eat. Sanji wondered if their captain had actually paid attention to anything that had been said up to this point.

"C'mon, Luffy," Usopp muttered. "We have to talk."

"Hmmrf shure, 'bout what?"

Usopp looked like he was enjoying the prospect of talking about what had happened as much as Sanji was going to, and if Sanji had any room left for a little more guilt at this point, he'd kick himself for what he'd apparently done to Usopp and Luffy, and Sanji could kick damn hard.

"Stuff. Come on."

"Letsh finnish th'food firsht," Luffy managed to say through several mouthfuls extending his cheeks.

Usopp stared at him with a look of defeat. Because the food might have revealed it and egged it on, but that didn't mean that the feeling Usopp had stumbled onto wasn't real, or painful.

"It's not like I've got anything left to hide," he finally muttered, turning away. "So...yeah, I'm sorry I, um, did that last night. I wasn't myself. Forget about it, okay? It won't happen again." He walked towards the door, head angled so nobody could see his expression.

Luffy stopped eating so abruptly that Sanji supposed a badly placed fishbone was involved. But then their captain swallowed his food in one gulp, pounded his chest once and aimed a rare frown at Usopp's retreating back. "Why not?"

"Why not...what?" Usopp asked, slowing and looking back reluctantly. "Um, say, can we talk about this-"

"I liked fooling around. I want to do it again."

"-outside," Usopp choked, going scarlet. "You- no-you- Luffy, it wasn't- you didn't-..." Usopp gave the interested audience a look halfway between pleading and resentful, but nobody seemed ready to leave. The only nakama Usopp might have guilt-tripped out of that kitchen at that point was Sanji, and the latter owed a greater debt towards Zoro. Zoro, having finished the congee, was picking his teeth and obviously not going anywhere, so neither was Sanji.

"Look, I remember damn well what happened last night," Usopp snapped, "and it was me who- I mean- you never- you never were all that interested. I mean, you did get interested once I- oh god. But you weren't the one who jumped me, you never- you were never affected by any of this, just like they said, even though you eat ten times more than we do! It was just- You don't have any feelings for me, and I don't-"

"Of course I do," said Luffy, looking a little hurt. Luffy looking hurt had the stopping power of a bullet, because it happened so rarely. Even Usopp stuttered to a dead halt for a few seconds - and it occurred to Sanji fleetingly that the only other time he'd seen Luffy lose that sunny boneheaded countenance of his, Usopp had also been involved...

"You...have feelings...for- No, I don't mean buddies, damn it!"

"I know what you're talking about, idiot." Luffy's face had that look of innocent wisdom only he had ever mastered. "I thought you liked Kaya, and you just wanted to be friends with me. That was okay because I like being friends, and fooling around just never came up. But if you like me even more than that, that's a whole lot better," he declared with a bright smile, which then transmuted into the kind of scowl that suspected Usopp had a pork joint hidden on his person and was holding out on his captain. "Why don't you want to make out again? I thought you had fun. I did."

Usopp stared, eyes glazing like he'd been hit with a large hammer. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

Zoro lounged back, hands behind his head and chair idly balanced on two legs. "Chopper?"

Their doctor had been examining all this with scientific interest. Sanji had to suppose that now that there was a 'phenomenon' involved, their doctor was insulated from shock and mortification. "Yes?"

"You and Robin said the food brings emotions the person already has deep inside to the surface. So say that Sanji fed someone who does not keep anything at all inside but wears his heart and everything else on his sleeve at all times, would you expect any particular reaction? One that would actually be out of the norm?"

Chopper looked intrigued. "No idea. Though...Robin seems a good deal more, um, self-knowledgeable than us, and she showed little to no reaction. Involuntary reaction, that is. Whereas you and Sanji-"

"Oi," Sanji muttered, giving their doctor - but still emergency food ration in a pinch - a look that dared him to finish that example out loud, go on, try it.

A long silence ensued. Usopp stared at Luffy. Luffy stared back for half a minute, then started eating again. He'd nearly polished off the whole table. Sanji absently reminded himself to set an early lunch, because Luffy and Zoro were the only ones to have had breakfast. There was no doubt their captain would be hungry again by then.

Usopp looked terminally confused, and who could blame him. There were a lot of really big 'ifs' implied here, as well as the wildcard effect of Sanji's food, but...maybe Usopp had learned something these past few weeks, because this time, he didn't run away.

"Um...Luffy...we don't really know...kinda confused myself...coulda just been the food...but...um...next time we make landfall...do you...maybe...want to go out? With me? Alone? I mean, together? Alone together I mean. With just me. And you."

Luffy tipped the last bowl of pork and rice into his face and beamed. "Shure!"

Usopp nodded to himself as if surprised he'd had the guts to say that without drowning it in bombast or bolting for the door. He was thoughtful as he walked out without a further word. Chopper followed him, muttering about combs and static cling. Luffy followed on their heels, obviously looking forward to a brand new day full of adventure now that he was adequately fueled. Franky was the last, stopping in the doorway.

"I was joking about the drugs earlier, man. I haven't known you long, but I can already tell you're a good bro, you wouldn't do that to family. But can I say: hot damn! You're the best and most hellacious cook in the world! What an effect! Definitely Super! Hey, is there any of that soba left?"

Then Sanji and Zoro were alone.

Zoro was still tipped back in his chair. He put a foot against the bench and gave it a small shove away from the table, an obvious invitation.

Sanji was already talking before his rear end made contact with the wood. "I'm sorry, I know you're not going to forgive me anyway, and you shouldn't, hell, I'm not going to forgive myself either, but I am sorry, I know you didn't want- you know I'd never do anything to get between you and your dream or distract you or- or force-"

"I know," Zoro said with a shrug, his chair legs thudding back to the floor as he reached over, grabbed Sanji by the open collar and hauled him into a rough kiss.

"Muwhaaa!?" said Sanji, and then managed to jerk his mouth out of reach. "What the fuck did you do that for, you shitty bastard?! I was trying to apologize and put it behind us and you go and do that, what are you doing, are you looking for a fight?!"

Zoro scowled, hand still fastened around Sanji's lapels. "Do you want me to answer any of that drivel?"

"Why the hell did you do that? You don't want this!"

The statement was meant to be firm and cutting. It came out mainly angry and rather hurt.

Zoro heaved a big, annoyed sigh that managed to sound apologetic when put through the marimo-filters, though one had to know Zoro very well to catch that. "Look, I know what I said the other day: that you were distracting me and that I didn't want that, but I was really angry, okay? That was your fault, by the way."

"No it was yours," Sanji immediately countered. "You're the one who flipped me off and got me mad while I made the bread."

Their faces a foot apart, he could actually hear Zoro's teeth grind. "...Cook...can you shut your big yap for just one minute?"

"No," Sanji said on principle.

Zoro shook him by the collar, and spoke before Sanji could break away and kick him. "Shut up and listen. When I said I didn't want this a few days ago, I'd been going through months of this one-sided shit and yeah, it was distracting at times, and I resented that. A part of me was furious that you had the power to hurt me and confuse me, and you didn't know or care. But now you do know and care. You feel the same way. I watched you struggle with it too and I just realized last night, I don't want to see you go through months of this like I did. I don't care if you get roughed up in a fight, hell, I'll do it myself when you annoy me, because you're a tough bastard for all you're a lanky, trash-talking twit. But I don't want to see you get hurt where it can't be stitched up."

It turned out that Sanji could shut up for a minute. And gape. He could do that too.

"I think screwing our brains out last night helped make up my mind too, because that was fun," Zoro smirked, a candidly carnal expression that Sanji had only ever seen when Zoro faced some seriously badass opponents. Considering former context, it was rather unsettling, but it abruptly reminded Sanji that his food only seemed to unlock what was already there..."I can live without it if I have to, but I'd sure miss it. I bet it's good for endurance, too. Of course, getting into each other like that is going to be really distracting all over again. But that's our challenge to overcome. I got used to your flirting, your big mouth and wanting to kiss you every time we fight. We can get used to anything."

Sanji got rocked back and forth gently by his collar, as if to underline the next statement with added seriousness. "I can promise you one thing, Sanji. You won't ever compromise my dream. Because you don't want to, and I damn well won't let you, and same goes for you. Right? So, what do you say?"

"Oh, you mean I'm finally allowed to talk?" Sanji said a little acidly. "Look- don't- it's not that simple, you idiot."

"It can be, but I'm sure you're gonna find a way of making it damn complicated."

Sanji made an exasperated sound, and then as an afterthought detached the bastard's hand from his collar. "The problem is that-...um...stop smirking and give me a minute here, I've had a long morning. It will be complicated if we hook up, because we don't actually get along all that well, and we're on a ship, you fucking numbnuts, we can't afford to- that's just- that's way too complicated."

Zoro shrugged. "Yeah, it could get messy, but this ship's been fine even when we fight on a regular basis, and it failed to sink last night because we boned each other instead. If things get ugly, we'll deal. If things get real ugly, Luffy will bang our heads together until we sort ourselves out. What's the other option anyway? Going around pretending we don't feel anything for each other now that we both know the score? If the last two days are anything to go by, that's what'd turn out to be really distracting. I'd rather face it head on. I'm sure it'll be rough at times, but at least it won't be boring, and this way we can have sex."

Sanji propped an arm up on his knees and let his forehead sink into his hand. "Right. Bonehead Logic. I'd forgotten."

Zoro's eyes narrowed, his primitive instincts informing him that he'd been insulted, but the higher mammal portion of the brain failing to kick in in time to catch it.

"You should be thanking me," Zoro said after a beat, "I'm saving you from your own undisciplined libido by the looks of things."

"Oi."

"It's sure that if we go around with our heads in the sand, your food's gonna get really weird."

"My food is not-"

Zoro's smirk fastened on Sanji's lips mid-rant. The kiss was hot and hard, fingers pulling at blond hair, twisting Sanji's head around. Sanji made a mental note that next time Zoro interrupted him like that, the shitty swordsman would get a kick to the head, but because of the Soba Incident, he was willing to waive the cost this time.

The kiss played teeth against tongues, too hungry and fraught to calm down and melt together. A lick caught the corner of Sanji's mouth, a wet shudder of pleasure. He tilted his head so he could fasten their lips together properly, deepen it and go for the core...

Breath licked Sanji's lips as Zoro pulled back only as far as was needed to speak, harsh and curt. "We're going to find the All Blue, defeat Mihawk, fight for the One Piece alongside Luffy, and I pity the poor bastards who get in our way."

"We'll slaughter them," Sanji whispered against his lover's mouth.

"Damn right."

The bench scraped against the floor as Zoro pulled him closer, knees banging into knees. Sanji reached down and put his hand on Zoro's thighs to lean over and catch his mouth again. Zoro's grip on his waist steadied him, but it felt like the whole ship was slowly turning over, and when it finished rolling they'd be sailing on a course towards loads of complications and embarrassments, possible pain and pitfalls, and a whole lot of stupid fun and pleasure glimmering on the horizon like an elusive ocean...

"Ship ahoy- it's a ghost ship! Ghost ship straight ahead!" Chopper suddenly shouted. Sanji accidentally bit Zoro's lower lip as he jumped back a few inches.

"Ghost ship?" Franky grumbled - from just outside the kitchen porthole, the big lewd bastard. "Is it the real deal this time?"

"AGH IT'S FLOATING! THE KEEL'S NOT TOUCHING THE WAVES!"

"...I guess it is the real deal."

"Wow, Usopp, that was such a funny face you made there! Do it again!" Luffy shouted in delight - from just outside the starboard set of portholes. Sanji took a second to wonder how hard it was going to be to not get angry while cooking in the foreseeable future.

Zoro was smirking at him. Sanji felt his mouth twitch in response. Maybe it wasn't that complicated after all. It was certainly straightforward right this minute.

"Time to go to work, sounds like," Sanji murmured.

"Yep. I wonder if real ghosts can be kicked," Zoro added with a parody of concern, "I don't want you to get hurt trying to fight them."

"I wonder if they can be cut. If they can't, just talk to them and watch their skulls implode."

"Huh-uh. Maybe they can't be killed at all and we're all screwed," Zoro said, bloodthirstily cheerful. "Only one way to find out. They could have a good sword on board."

"It's getting closer! It's getting closer, what do we do it's getting closer-"

"Don't panic, Chopper," came Nami's command from the cockpit. "Damn, I wonder how they're sailing when there's no wind?"

"AUGH! ON THE DECK! I SEE DEAD PEOPLE!"

"I SEE THEM TOO I SEE THEM TOO!"

"Will you two chill? Where's Luffy- oh no, not again. Luffy, come back! We need to figure out what the hell we're facing!"

It turned out that real ghosts were quite hard to harm, but could indeed be kicked. And cut. And pummeled. And electrocuted and shot and gored and- well, it was an interesting morning for everyone involved, particularly those without a pulse.

Robin took the glass of frosted lemon crush, but refused to talk about last night's events in a totally charming way. For his sanity's sake, Sanji hoped that what had happened after the Soba Incident was just a one-off thing, and that she and Franky would never have cause to use the Sunny's brand new Honeymoon Suite; a former small storeroom quickly retrofitted with a bed and lock which Franky had set aside 'for those who might need it', the dysfunctional, meddlesome punk.

Sanji distributed the lemon crushes to the rest of the goons in plain mugs, knowing he could have just as well used a bucket. The route back to the kitchen passed near the spot where Zoro was training in the sweltering heat. The ghosts this morning had not been strenuous enough for the big ape, and he was now on repetition twenty-thousand, or some other clinically insane number.

"Your drink is in the fridge, dumbass. It'd taste foul if it melted, and I have too great a respect for my cooking to let that happen while you pump your little muscles." Sanji didn't deign to even glance at the sheen of sweat over Zoro's bare back. At least, not more than once or twice.

"Thanks, pervert-cook, I needed a reminder that you have this deranged fascination for food." Zoro was looking at him over his shoulder even as he moved the weighted iron with a grunt of effort. His eyes seemed drawn to the way the faint breeze ruffled Sanji's bangs.

Sanji opened his mouth to retaliate, but it came to him that the way their lips were twitching upwards into involuntary smirks was making this less a trade of insults and more a game of verbal footsie, and it was excruciatingly embarrassing to be doing this in public with their nakama watching them curiously and slurping drinks. Time to leave before the mushy stuff got out of hand. Pray god the honeymoon period would be over soon and they could start trashing each other again like they meant it. At least while they were out on deck.

Finally Sanji was at liberty to take the frosted, sugar-decorated glass up to the tangerine grove. His Nami-swaaaaan looked a little dispirited in her sun chair among the trees. She let him grovel at her feet for a while before waving away his apologies.

"Feelings for Franky?" Nami showed the extent of her vague-a-l'âme when she failed to hit Sanji over the head for the very suggestion. "Don't be ludicrous. I was just...I couldn't sleep...I just wanted to see what they were doing...But Franky- I mean, no."

"And what you feel for Robin-chan is perfectly sisterly," Sanji said, very gently and without the slightest hint of a question to embarrass her.

Nami scowled, the expression weak for her. Then she took the drink off the tray and sloshed it around in the glass. "You're right. Totally right, so you can pack that innuendo away, Sanji-kun, along with your undoubtedly steamy imagination. But...I guess I just wanted to have those feelings. Everybody else seemed to be falling for each other all over the place last night, and all I felt was annoyed. I...just wanted to feel that for someone..."

"Nami-swann my sweet! You have to but say the word-" at which point Sanji's reflex romantic élan tripped over a rather large detail and fell flat on its metaphorical face. Ah yes. Black Leg Sanji was no longer a free man.

Nami rolled her eyes at his expression. "Yeah, that's right. You and Zoro. I was there, remember?"

Sanji did remember, despite a very decent attempt at repressing it. He was discovering all sorts of interesting fall-out from last night's Soba Incident, starting with Luffy asking him for sex advice right after this morning's battle, Chopper taking observation notes and measurements while Sanji prepared lunch, and the girls looking at him and giggling behind their hands in a lovely, dimpled way that had never, ever happened when he'd been trying to elicit that reaction on a daily basis.

"Humf. I think you two deserve each other," Nami said without qualifying that statement. But her gaze became dull again and she was still staring down at her drink. "I just wish...I just hope I find someone who will make me feel that way one day..."

She blinked her beautiful eyes but didn't pull away from his fingers as he lifted her chin.

"You will." She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. "Trust me. You will, Nami-chan. And that man - or woman - will be the luckiest person in the world. Now, drink that up, it's getting warm."

"Okay," Nami whispered, then focused abruptly on the lemon crush with a highly suspicious look.

"N-no! There's nothing in it! I mean- not that I-" Sanji was waving his hands about in horror. "I wasn't thinking about a thing! Mind completely blank! As empty as the marimo's, I swear! I-"

Nami rolled her eyes. "'Marimo'. Oh, Sanji-kun, give me a break." She sighed and lifted the lemon crush. "I hope it was happy thoughts."

"Only happy thoughts from now on, Nami-chan," Sanji answered just as softly, and leaned forward to drop a - regrettably brotherly - kiss on her forehead. She giggled and shoved him away, but only after he was done. And then she took a big swallow of the lemon crush and grinned.

"Ah, that's nice! It's so hot again. The weather should break tomorrow, and we'll finally get some real wind in our sails -"

"Hey Usopp! Want to go for a date in the crow's nest?"

Luffy was just below the tangerine deck, though the whole ship had heard that overly loud suggestion, and people back in Water 7 were wondering if they should see a doctor for that distant ringing noise in their ears.

"Whaaat?" Usopp wheezed.

"It's your turn on watch, right? And you said we should try to go on a date when we can be alone, and if we go up there we'll be alone, right?"

Sanji and Nami had wandered over to the railing to watch Usopp's face go red. He was slowly getting habituated, because Sanji only put that shade at 'Terra Cotta', though Nami argued it was still 'Lobster', or at the very least 'Vermilion'.

"Oh boy," said Sanji, lighting a cigarette and watching the circus, "Usopp's opened himself a can of worms."

"Oh boy," Nami-san echoed with a return of her old fire, "are you ever one to talk!"

Sanji argued for days on end with the wit of a lawyer and the passion of a poet. Now that he knew about the effect, it was no longer going to be a problem! Zeff had taught him to fight and to cook in the same state of inner serenity, his entire being focused on the now. So maybe he'd screwed up a bit during that regrettable episode a couple of weeks ago- okay, okay, he'd screwed up a lot ("and you can stop throwing that in my face, you bloody marimo, it was your fault too, if you hadn't- I'm so sorry, Nami-swan, of course we'll stop arguing!")

But his point was still valid: Sanji's emotions were now strictly under control whenever he cooked. Nobody had suffered any odd effects from his food since then, right?

Or at least, nobody had mentioned any effects. Though Sanji's overall mood was pretty damn good these days; it was possible his nakama just didn't mind.

Whatever the reason and despite Sanji's arguments, the shitty sign stayed nailed to the kitchen door, a perpetual reminder of his small lapse in control. A sign that was bound to puzzle and confound any invading Marines who might make it that far.

By Captain's orders but everybody else says so too
it is FORBIDDEN to make Sanji think too hard while he cooks
Also, Zoro has to keep his shirt on when Sanji is in the kitchen
signed MONKEY D LUFFY PIRATE KING ONE DAY

Bastards...

Chapter Text

"It’s spicy!" Usopp exclaimed before he’d even tasted it, alarmed by the sauce’s bright red color. Idiot. Sanji might give the guys the slightly overripe pieces of meat, since they did not have the delicate palate of the ladies, but he’d mixed the chili and spices to the sauce as he'd assembled the meal on each plate, the quantity measured to each individual, as would any ship's cook worth his dose of fine-ground rock salt. There should be no grounds for complaint.

For instance, there was no sauce or meat at all for Chopper, who had a double helping of the vegetables instead, and the little ship’s biscuits that Sanji had spent an entire night designing specifically for him when the doctor had first come aboard; a mixture of rough barley flour, fishbone meal, salt, milk, honey and water. It paid to keep their emergency food ration alive and healthy, Sanji had commented when Chopper had tried to thank him the very first time (it had taken two hours to talk Chopper out of the hold). Sanji lived for the prize that was the All Blue, but until then he honed his skills on all the challenges he found upon the Grand Line, like Zeff had. The old man had taunted the young rookie over his inexperience for years, but even Zeff had never run the gauntlet of feeding a human-reindeer an appropriate and pleasing diet. The crap bastard would be crying in his shitty soup in sheer envy when Sanji returned to the Baratie.

The way Chopper's big eyes would go round, wobbly and full each time he found his special biscuits on his plate was kinda worth the effort as well. The little reindeer seemed to be constitutionally unable to take nice gestures in his regard for granted.

Usopp was prodding his food with his fork as if testing whether the metal would melt on contact, but Sanji had poured on his crewmate’s portion of the salsa sauce before adding any extra seasoning at all, since the guy was an ineffable coward in just about every realm except that of his imagination.

"Yeah, it’s spicy alright," Usopp announced after his first bite, and then beguiled Luffy, Chopper and the rest of the table with the grandiose tale of how he’d once downed a whole bottle of Flaming Hot Lava Delight sauce on a dare, the kind of sauce that could be used in lieu of gunpowder, earning a free meal from the admiring innkeeper for Captain Usopp And His Iron Stomach.

Of course that just made Franky laugh hard enough to choke and mention his iron stomach. The real deal, pal! Which it was, of course, not that that made a difference as far as a cook was concerned. No, there was a far better reason why Franky's salsa had plenty of chili seeds, but no other spices worth mentioning. It hadn't taken Sanji long to figure out that their shipwright had lost 90% of his sense of taste along with his nose. He suspected Franky hadn't truly realized it himself; he'd survived a pretty traumatic accident after all, and lived off liquid nutrients and colas for months until he'd rebuilt his jaw. Like a partially deaf man using vibrations and sight to compensate without fully realizing it, Franky used memory and texture cues when eating, so Sanji always made sure Franky got the crunchier veg and gristlier meats and added a few odds and ends to make the dish interesting.

One of these days he'd add a few metal wingnuts and bolts in there too, just to see how their shipwright would react, especially if Franky continued his indecent mentions of that night with Robin-chan. Bawdy bastard.

Luffy’s dish was barely seasoned as well. No point in Sanji wasting his precious hoard of herbs and peppers on his captain, since Luffy lived mainly for meat. Sanji had rolled the vegetables into strips of pounded ship’s jerky to get the guy to absorb at least some vitamins along the way, and there was a large joint of smoked ham on the bone to go with it. Sanji hadn’t needed Chopper’s diagnosis to figure out that protein helped their captain recover from beatings that would kill a dozen men, Devil Fruit or no. These days they were never far from a fight, so Luffy always had plenty of meat at hand, his chef made sure of that.

Luffy dug in like he hadn’t eaten for three days. He was easy to cook for, Sanji thought with a grudging sense of affection. Dinnertime was Luffy’s favorite meal - as were lunchtime and breakfast and snack-time and party-time, or any time that involved food and having his nakama around enjoying themselves.

By contrast to their captain's trough, the plates for the ladies had been delicately spiced to stimulate the appetite, carefully arranged with shavings of the smoked ham to delight the palate and a fine wine to wash it all down. Sanji had the same arrangement on his own plate, though without the flower shapes for the vegetables, just the plain, professional arrangement a chef would expect.

Nami said "Yummmm!" in a way that made Sanji’s blood pressure spike. There were many layers of understanding to Sanji’s relation with Nami-san, but this was where it was at its simplest. She enjoyed being treated like a princess, after years being treated like a clever pet at Arlong Park, and Sanji enjoyed being able to please someone after years of trying to impress the crap-geezer. The flirting was just, oh, icing on the cake. He did not have the same onion-layers of meaning with Robin-chan yet; the faint smile as she thanked him was only slightly less mysterious now then the day he’d threatened to shoot her and she’d shoved him over the railing onto his ass. But that was part of her charm!

Then finally came Zoro’s plate, and that had plenty of bite. Since it was the last one prepared, and for an uncultured thug, Sanji had spent no time on it at all; no more than the minimum it would take to do a job that wouldn’t shame him. Certainly no more time than that of the ladies. It was truly a coincidence that the green beans and the long strips of preserved yellow peppers nestled together in layers that were not all that displeasing to the eye, a generous portion of smoked meat heaped to one side, emblazoned like a dare with the hot red sauce. A coincidence everybody pretended not to notice.

Zoro didn't say anything, but these days, instead of being the first to get up from the table, he was always the last.