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The fire was warm, the sake was harsh, and Zoro was comfortable for the first time in days. He didn’t know exactly what it was, a weird twist in his gut or an assault to his senses but he never properly rested until he knew, felt, all of his Nakama around him. Even Robin, despite her newness, made Zoro feel a certain way. A certain calm. Even the Cook. Maybe especially the Cook, but Zoro tried not to think about him, about that.
No he tried not to think about the way the Cook felt blue and blonde, rough yet gentle, how everytime Zoro saw him, sensed him, it felt like the waves of the ocean were lapping at him. Strong enough to ruin him, kind enough to soothe him. Zoro watched him now, the idiot having just stopped dancing by the fire with the wolves and their idiot Captain. His face was flushed, his hair slightly sweaty. He was smiling, eyes wide - his actual state.
Zoro knew it was important to know his crew. That’s the only reason he often observed Sanji in the early mornings, still too sleepy to make his face hold it’s usual aloofness. His eyes were always wider, more vibrant, not hooded like he always kept them. Zoro understood why Sanji would try to present a different front to everyone. He looked so naive with his wide eyes, like he was soaking up every bit of life he could see. He appeared that way now, eyes dancing taking in everything, Zoro could hear his laugh ringing as he talked with Wyper. He couldn’t imagine anything the Shandorian had to say could be funny enough to draw that reaction out of his, out of their Cook. But Sanji was always so much more pliant under the influence of alcohol. Everything seemed to be funny to him when he was drunk, like the time he offered Zoro some sake after leaving Drum Island but not before taking a few generous swigs of it himself. Zoro had finished the bottle off under the light of the moon and watched as Sanji’s cheeks had slowly flushed and his eye had opened up. Zoro hadn’t known why the Cook had brought him a bottle of sake up to the crow’s nest where he was on watch, and he never got to ask either.
“We have a reindeer on the ship.” Sanji had started, giggling slightly, “We have a reindeer, we have a doctor, we have a Chopper! And Luffy and I tried to eat him. Can you believe it? We tried to eat him!” Sanji’s giggles had turned into a full laugh by then, and Zoro had been horrified to realize his chest was growing warm too despite the fact that the climate of the winter island could still be felt. He chose to blame the sake. He also knew better than to lie to himself, but he didn’t want to deal with it just yet.
Zoro had watched that night, as Sanji laughed until he couldn’t - when the fresh injury of his back came to remind him of its presence. Zoro remembers helping the Cook sit down against the wood of the crow’s nest, hands clinging to his forearms, back too injured to climb back down. Sanji had fallen asleep quickly, curling in on himself more and more as the cold began to stick to him. It wouldn’t do anyone on the crew any good if their Cook fell ill, Zoro told himself as he draped his blanket across the Cook. No one else could keep up with Luffy’s appetite, Zoro rationalized as he sat next to the blonde, determined to keep him warm.
So watching Sanji now, laughing with a hand on Wyper’s arm, Zoro knows that Sanji has likely just had a little too much to drink. Wyper wouldn’t be a good conversationalist anyways. He was too stern, too serious to keep Sanji permanently entertained.
“Our Cook is very talented, Swordsman-san, but he cannot read minds.” He hears next to him as he senses Robin moving closer to sit beside him. Zoro scoffs.
“Good, the idiot would look for any inappropriate thoughts you or Nami had ever had.” He tells her as she hands him an unopened bottle.
“He might also find the feelings you house towards him.” She says, and he turns to glare at her. She’s nursing her own drink, cheeks slightly flushed. Zoro doesn’t reply to her. He would be an idiot to try to lie to one of the smartest people on the crew. And also, he knows himself. He has to know himself. How can he be the strongest if he refuses to acknowledge his weakness? So he knows, of course he knows, he hopes it’s like a scab, these feelings he has, something that will heal and disappear with time. Watching Sanji now, he worries it’ll likely leave a scar. He stays silent.
Usopp joins them next, oblivious to the mindly hostile tension between Robin and Zoro, and begins a tale about how he bravely faced Enel to protect Nami’s honor. Zoro’s only half listening, the sake making everything fuzzy around him and Sanji has his hand on Wyper’s arm. When did he put it there? Zoro must have some sort of reaction he isn’t aware of Robin giggles to herself. He grumbles again, turning to tell her to mind her own, and witnesses her give a small smile and wave in the direction he was just looking. Zoro doesn’t even have time to brace himself as Sanji comes barreling over, way too close for Zoro’s comfort.
“My Robin-chan!! Did you need something? Another drink? A warmer spot? A bite to eat? Better company?” He throws this last comment towards Zoro who scoffs.
“Better than the company you’re keeping.” Zoro grumbles at him, not being able to help the bitterness that leaks into his tone, images of Sanji still clinging to Wyper’s arm fresh in his mind.
“Shitty moss, what is that supposed to mean?” Sanji snaps, and Zoro lets himself relish a bit in the fact that the Cook’s attention is on him now, not Robin. His leg comes down right next to Zoro’s head, leaving them in a close proximity. Zoro reminds himself to talk, trying not to get too distracted by the scent of nicotine being that much closer to him.
“You’re over there practically inviting someone who tried to destroy Merry on board.” Zoro replies, not wanting to call Wyper the enemy, because he wasn’t, but still not feeling fondly towards him.
“The company I keep is none of your concern, Mosshead. Besides, if he was a bad guy, then this is how I would run from him.” Sanji says and just as quickly as he forced himself into Zoro’s space he’s out of it, slowly gaining distance before turning his back to them to fake running away. Zoro watches, horrified, as Sanji grabs the sides of his shirt and slowly starts to raise it up like he’s going to take it off, turning back to give a sneaky wink to Robin before shaking his hips and fully stripping off his shirt. Zoro doesn’t zero on on the slim waist, doesn’t watch as his back muscles pull and flex in the action, doesn’t think about the long legs that had just been next to his head.
His mouth goes dry, he takes a swig of sake, and stands up quickly as Usopp and Robin laugh at the Cook’s silly antics. Their Cook, his Cook, not Wyper’s. Sanji turns back to them all and Zoro thinks the pale collar bones could cut his lips, wants to feel what the bone is like under his tongue, and grabs the blonde’s forearm when he comes up from his bow.
“Robin said she wanted another drink, show me where they are?” Zoro asks, and despite asking for Sanji’s guidance he leads the way, showing past the people, past the makeshift tables, slightly into the trees.
“Idiot Marimo, we’re going to end up back in the East Blue if you keep leading us. This way.” Sanji finally replies and tugs Zoro back. Zoro honestly doesn’t know where he had been leading them, all he knew is that he wanted the Cook to himself for a second. And he has him, here in the dark cover of the trees, the roaring fire just bright enough to light up the fact that Sanji has his uncovered eye wide open. Happy. As if reading his mind Sanji laughs a bit, then shivers. His shirt is still clutched in his hand. Zoro should tell him to put it back on.
“Cook.” Zoro says, unable to form another thought. He steps closer, accidentally crowding Sanji up against a tree. He thinks about all the times he’s wanted him this close, under him, next to him, on top of him, and now the stupid blonde is shirtless and he looks, well he looks. Zoro wants to lean in. Sanji blinks a wide eye at him.
“What? Moss finally break into your brain?” Sanji laughs at his own comment, then reaches out a slightly shaky hand and runs his fingers through Zoro’s hair. Zoro’s breath hitches, Sanji getting confused as he continues to finger through his hair.
“Huh, it’s a lot softer than I thought it would be, not like moss at all.” Sanji says, and Zoro is a strong man. He has to be a strong man, he will be the strongest one day. But right now he’s weak, he’s really weak to the minor tugs in his hair and the scent of nicotine that floods his senses. He inhales. He thinks about Sanji’s waist, the mounds of pale skin beneath him and he touches, as lightly as a feather he lands his hands on the Cook’s hips and listens as Sanji’s breath hitches.
“Oh, oh no.” Zoro watches as Sanji whispers, more to himself than to the Swordsman. The fingers in his hair tighten their grip and Sanji looks up at Zoro with wide eyes.
“I think I would want to run from you that way.” Cook confesses, and Zoro’s smile comes to his lips naturally.
“I don’t think I would let you get very far.” He replies, tightening his hands on Sanji’s waist and leaning in closer. Their breaths mingle for a second, the heat and look Sanji gives him more intoxicating than any sake he’s drunk. Zoro watches as Sanji’s gaze drops from his and down to his lips.
“Good.” He whispers, then surges forward, pulling Zoro in. Zoro happily allows it, content to taste the cook. To feel those hips beneath his hands. To have Sanji wrap his legs around him and jump, back hitting the tree. Good, Sanji had said, and Zoro can’t help but agree.