Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sanji felt as the Sunny rocked gently atop the sea, just as it did most nights. With an island on the horizon, the occasional cry of seagulls pierced the night sky. The crew's soft snores echoed throughout the ship; Luffy mumbling about becoming King of the Pirates and, of course, meat. Chopper giggled in his sleep now and then, nuzzling closer to his pillow.

The faint clatter of Brook’s bones beneath his blanket had become an oddly comforting sound, while the dull thud of Franky’s metal arms hitting the floorboards was more annoying, but familiar. Usopp sometimes sat up mid-dream, declared something dramatic, then flopped back down with a snore.

Sanji knew all of these sounds by heart. They were as routine as his own nightly habit: struggling to fall asleep.

He lay twisted in his hammock, restlessly kicking off his blanket, shifting and turning until finally giving up. With a sigh, he sat up, eyes adjusting to the dark as he scanned the dim room. Every bed was occupied, except one.

Zoro’s.

It wasn’t hard to guess the moss-head was standing watch again. He usually took the night shift without being asked.

Sanji swung his legs over the side of the hammock and reached down to pick up the blanket that had tangled around his feet. The wood creaked faintly beneath him as he tiptoed out of the men's quarters, carefully opening and closing the door behind him.

Instinctively, his eyes lifted toward the watchtower. He wondered if Zoro was up there… and quickly shook the thought away, scoffing at himself for even thinking about that dumbass.

Instead, his feet carried him to the grassy deck. He wandered to the familiar wooden swing, its thick ropes damp with sea air, and sank down into the seat, wrapping his hands around the sturdy rope.

The world was still cloaked in shadow. If he had to guess, it was around 2 a.m. He sighed again, louder this time, fingers rising to his face and tangling in his hair in a gesture that had become all too familiar.

His nails pressed into his scalp.

He was so damn tired.

And yet… sleep wouldn’t come.

He hated this feeling, his frustrating disconnect between mind and body. His limbs ached with exhaustion, but his brain wouldn’t shut off. His legs couldn’t settle into any comfortable position. Every fiber of his body felt overstimulated, like he was buzzing just beneath the surface.

And the worst part? There was no real reason for it.

Just him, the night, and this gnawing, restless tension that wouldn’t go away.

The creak of wooden steps cut through the quiet night, each thud of heavy boots echoing until they stopped just behind Sanji. He lifted his head slowly, already guessing who it was.

“Huh? What are you doing out here?” came Zoro’s low, groggy voice, thick with sleep and ending in a yawn. He looked disoriented, scratching absently under his haramaki as he peered through the dimness, clearly not expecting company.

Sanji ran a hand through his bangs, smoothing them out of reflex, before answering. “None of your business, Marimo.”

He stood from the swing, stretching his arms lazily above his head before mimicking Zoro’s yawn, though his was just a bit more dignified. “I was just about to head back anyway,” he muttered, brushing invisible dust from his pants.

Zoro raised an eyebrow, unmoved. “Can’t sleep again?”

Sanji blinked. The question caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected the mosshead to notice, let alone ask. He looked away and didn’t bother replying.

Zoro didn’t push. “You can stay, y’know. I’m just looking for the bathroom,” he said with a grunt, glancing around the deck like it was his first time on the ship. “Layout keeps changing…”

Sanji stared at him blankly. “It hasn’t changed since we left Water 7.”

“I swear the bathroom used to be closer to the kitchen,” Zoro mumbled, still scanning the wrong direction.

Sanji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how you survive on this ship, I really don’t.”

“I remember where the kitchen is,” Zoro offered helpfully.

“Of course you do,” Sanji said with a bitter smirk. “That’s where the alcohol is.”

He started walking back toward the crew quarters, but paused a few steps in. His tone lightened. “You need help getting to the bathroom, Marimo?” he asked over his shoulder, voice laced with sarcasm but not entirely without sympathy.

Zoro scowled. “Nah, I just need to piss. I could go on the ledge if it’s closer-”

Sanji turned on him instantly. “Excuse me? You are not pissing off the side of the ship, you shitty swordsman!”

Zoro shrugged, deadpan. “I’ve done it before.”

“That’s vile!”

“Luffy does it too.”

“He-! No, he does not!” Sanji whisper-yelled, scandalized.

“Franky and Usopp do it. It’s normal. We’re men,” Zoro said matter-of-factly, arms folded as if he was delivering ancient wisdom.

Sanji stared in horror. “That’s not manly, that’s feral. That’s animalistic!”

Zoro shrugs, looking entirely unbothered. “Pretty sure Chopper’s done it.”

Sanji blinked. “He’s a reindeer, that doesn’t count!”

He groaned into his hand, shaking his head as Zoro confidently started walking toward the edge of the ship. Sanji turned away, hands over his ears.

“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see.”

The gentle rocking of the Sunny became his only focus as he tried to tune out the trauma.

A moment later, Zoro reappeared beside him, utterly unrepentant.

Sanji eyed him with a grimace. “Did you even wipe?”

Zoro smirked. “Real men don’t need to.”

There was a long pause. Sanji’s soul visibly left his body.

“Oh my god. You’re disgusting. Absolutely feral,” he hissed, jabbing a finger toward the kitchen. “Go wash your hands. Right now. I know for a fact the dish soap in there can strip grease off an engine block.”

Zoro grunted, half amused. “Relax. It’s just piss.”

“You’re tracking piss germs all over the deck, you unsanitary caveman!” Sanji snapped, giving him a hard kick to the back, not strong enough to hurt, just enough to push.

Zoro didn’t resist. He allowed himself to be guided toward the kitchen like a stubborn ox.

“Disgusting,” Sanji muttered, following behind with continued grumbling. “Gross. Muscle-brained idiot. Walking biohazard-”

“Didn’t know you cared so much about my hygiene,” Zoro called over his shoulder with a lazy smirk.

Sanji scoffed. “I don’t. I care about my hygiene. And this ship’s.”

But even as he said it, there was the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

After finally getting Zoro to wash his hands —thoroughly— Sanji felt the weight of exhaustion start to settle over him like a warm blanket. He found his way back to the swing, sinking into it with a soft groan as the ropes creaked. To his mild surprise, Zoro followed him out, saying nothing as he leaned against the tree nearby.

Sanji didn’t have it in him to protest.

He rested his head against one of the ropes, letting his legs gently rock the swing. The night air was cool and salty, the stars glittering faintly above. It was peaceful, save for the occasional creak of the ship or distant cry of a gull. Zoro didn’t break the silence at first, simply watching the sea— but Sanji could feel his gaze flicker his way now and then.

Eventually, Zoro’s voice cut through the quiet, low and rough with sleep. “Why can’t you sleep?”

The swing slowed, and Sanji tilted his head just enough to look over. Zoro wasn’t looking at him—his gaze remained fixed on the horizon, watching the sea roll by, but the question lingered between them.

Sanji sighed and looked up at the stars, wishing he had a cigarette. His pajamas didn’t have a pocket for that, unfortunately. Maybe that was a good thing, he probably would’ve used it to dodge the question.

“I don’t know,” he said, almost to himself. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping, I guess.”

He paused, thinking.

“When I was a kid, I’d stay up helping with food prep. It wasn’t official, I wasn’t allowed to cook yet— but I wanted to do something. I’d sneak around and learn what spoiled quickest, how to rotate stock, which knives needed sharpening. I just wanted to be useful.”

Zoro didn’t interrupt. He didn’t even grunt. Just sat there, listening.

Sanji continued, his voice softer now, touched with memory. “It started back on the Orbit. I was part of a kitchen crew on a passenger ship before I ever met the geezer. I think about them a lot, even now.” Sanji admitted, “I just… never talk about it. It was the first place that ever gave me a shot.”

“How’d they take it?” Zoro asked from the base of the tree, finally speaking again. He was sitting now, legs stretched out, back against the trunk. His eye drifted lazily up toward Sanji.

“The chefs?” Sanji smiled faintly. “I was a little shit to them. But they still let me help. Took me in. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have made it. Wouldn’t have met Zeff. Wouldn’t be here.”

His grip on the rope tightened slightly as he glanced down at Zoro. “I must be really tired if I’m telling you all this.”

“Stupid Marimo,” he added with a pout.

The insult causes Zoro to chuckle, head tipping back against the bark. “Maybe that’s your problem.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“You’ve got too much going on up there,” Zoro replied, tapping the side of his head. “You can’t sleep, cause even your brain doesn’t know when to shut up.”

Sanji scowled, and kicked him in the head.

It wasn’t hard. Just a light tap with his heel. Zoro didn’t even flinch.

But the words stuck.

Sanji frowned quietly, letting the idea settle. He thought about it— about all the times he struggled to sleep, about the constant plans and worries he kept tucked away behind his calm exterior. Food schedules. Crew habits. Safety. Supplies. Every tiny detail. Even tonight, he’d been cataloguing who snored, who shifted in their sleep, who was missing from their bed.

Zoro, of all people, had nailed it.

“Tch… figures it’d be you who figured that out.” Sanji rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced over. “What about you, huh? Why’re you always skipping out on sleeping in the quarters with the rest of us?”

That question earned a pause.

Zoro’s shoulders tensed, barely, but enough for Sanji to notice. He smirked. So he wasn’t the only one with baggage, huh?

Sanji leaned forward a little, elbows resting on his knees, as he watched Zoro from the corner of his eye. “You’ve got some expertise when it comes to sleep issues. In fact,” he added slyly, “you sleep so little you need to nap constantly during the day. You scruffy-headed swordsman.”

Zoro side-eyed him, unimpressed. “They’re called power naps.”

“Power naps my ass. You fall asleep during meals.”

“I’m conserving energy.”

Sanji snorted. “Yeah? Looks more like a brain shutdown to me.”

Despite the teasing, there was a warmth beneath their words; a strange, quiet comfort between two people who rarely spoke this gently. The swing rocked again, the breeze picking up just enough to stir Sanji’s hair.

They fell into a brief silence, neither pushing the moment away.

Then, more softly than before, Sanji murmured, “It’s weird, isn’t it? Being up when the rest of the world’s asleep.”

Zoro closed his eyes, voice low. “Not so weird. Sometimes it’s the only time things feel quiet.”

Sanji looked at him a moment longer, then nodded.

The swing swayed gently beneath Sanji as he rested his head back against the rope. The sea was calm tonight, the stars above flickering like soft candlelight, their reflections scattered across the water. A breeze brushed through his hair, cool and salted, but it wasn’t enough to keep his eyes open. He was exhausted, and yet something in him refused to sleep.

Zoro hadn’t moved far. He sat at the base of the tree, his arms draped lazily over his knees, one eye watching the ocean, the other sneaking glances at the blond.

“It’s my duty to protect everyone,” Zoro said suddenly.

Sanji blinked, turning his head. His gaze landed on the swordsman’s profile, sharp lines, furrowed brow, shadowed beneath the canopy. He didn’t speak at first, just nodded to let him know he was listening.

“It’s just…” Zoro’s voice came slow, like he was sorting it out as he spoke. “After Luffy, I’m the strongest person on this crew.”

Sanji rolled his eyes with a soft scowl, but he stayed quiet.

“I mean it,” Zoro continued. “Everyone has a role. Nami navigates us, she controls the damn weather like it’s second nature. Without her, we’d have drowned ten times over.”

Sanji smiled at the mention of Nami, the admiration in Zoro’s voice catching him a little off guard.

“Usopp builds half the stuff that saves our asses. His lies? They’re so good they become reality. And Robin… She’s got the world’s history in her hands. Every day she gets us closer to answers.”

Zoro’s voice warmed as he kept going, not even realizing how soft his tone had become.

“Franky built this damn ship. He’s always upgrading something, half the time I don’t even realize how useful it is until it saves someone.”

Sanji listened closely. He hadn’t realized just how much Zoro paid attention. Or maybe Zoro didn’t realize it either, his words were rough around the edges, but full of quiet care.

“Brook keeps everyone laughing,” Zoro went on. “His music… It's not just noise, it keeps the crew whole. And he’s a solid fighter when it counts. And Chopper? Hell, most of us would be dead without that little guy patching us up every week.”

“Usually you,” Sanji muttered with a smirk.

Zoro chuckled. “Yeah, and you.”

The swing creaked again as Sanji rocked gently, his heart beating a little louder than before.

“And you…” Zoro turned his head now, looking up at him with something quieter in his eye. “You keep us fed. Morning, noon, whenever the hell Luffy decides he’s starving again. You somehow remember exactly how we each like our meals, and you keep track of our supplies down to the last onion. You even make sure there’s always beer on hand.”

Sanji flushed. It was stupid, really, he’d stocked beer for years. But hearing Zoro actually acknowledge it like that made his chest feel warmer than he wanted to admit.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. That’s my job,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “What about Luffy?”

Zoro’s mouth tugged into a faint smile. “He’s the captain. He gives us purpose. Keeps us chasing dreams we forgot we deserved. We wouldn’t be here without him.”

Sanji hummed in agreement. No matter how much Luffy drove him crazy, the idiot had a gravity none of them could deny.

“All of you have responsibilities,” Zoro went on. “Mine’s the sword. I protect. I take the hits. I stay awake so you can all rest.”

Sanji’s gaze lingered on him now. Not just listening, watching.

“That’s a very honorable job, Zoro,” he said softly. “But you shouldn’t have to be our shield all the time. We’re strong too.”

“I know, but-”

“As a team,” Sanji interrupted, his voice firmer. “You don’t have to shoulder everything alone, you stupid Marimo. That’s not your job.” Zoro opened his mouth, but Sanji’s tone silenced him. For a moment, only the wind answered between them.

Sanji shifted slightly, his hands tightening around the swing rope. “You think I didn’t notice? You think we all forgot what you did back then? Thriller Bark… the damage you took for him.”

Zoro’s eye flicked to him.

“You nearly died, and you never even said a damn word about it.”

Zoro looked away, jaw tight. “It wasn’t important.”

Sanji stood slowly, stepping off the swing and toward him. His voice lowered.

“It was to me.”

Zoro didn’t respond.

Sanji let the silence stretch. Then, softer still, “You bleed yourself dry for everyone, even when we don’t ask you to. I do that too. I get it. But you can’t keep living like that, like you’re only useful when you’re hurting.” Zoro’s head tipped back, leaning against the tree, eye cast up at the stars. His voice, when it came, was quieter than before.

“You know… I had someone once. Kuina.”

Sanji stilled.

“She was my rival. Strongest person I know. We promised to become the greatest swordsmen in the world together.” Zoro’s voice thinned out with the breeze. “And then one day… she was just gone. Fell down the stairs. Something that simple.”

Sanji didn’t interrupt. He sat down next to Zoro and listened.

“I promised I’d get stronger. That I’d carry both our dreams. But sometimes… I wonder if I made that promise because I couldn’t forgive myself for living when she didn’t.”

Sanji’s eyes lowered. “You carry ghosts.”

Zoro shifted, his shoulder brushing Sanji’s. Just slightly, “Don’t we all?”

The swing drifted gently behind them now, rocking with the wind. Sanji leaned against Zoro, arms resting on his knees.

“I used to think I had to be useful every second, or I’d be thrown away again,” he muttered. “I cooked to keep from being forgotten. I gave everything, every bit of myself, because I thought if I ever stopped, I’d disappear.”

Their confessions weren’t grand. They weren’t theatrical.

They were quiet. Real.

Zoro tilted his head. “Guess we’re both idiots.”

Sanji let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah. A pair of noble, stubborn idiots.”

The silence between them shifted— less like absence, more like comfort. The air felt heavier now, but in a way that made Sanji want to breathe deeper.

Sanji let out a soft yawn, his head tipping lazily to the side until it nearly came to rest against Zoro’s shoulder.

“I’m getting tired…” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

For a second, he didn’t move. The warmth between them, the quiet rhythm of the sea, the distant lull of creaking wood. It all wrapped around them like a blanket. But then, as if suddenly remembering who he was and who he was almost leaning on, Sanji blinked and straightened quickly, standing up too fast.

“Shit-” he staggered a little, nearly losing his balance on the dewy grass.

Zoro’s arms shot out without hesitation, catching him with a steady grip before he could fall. He didn’t say anything, just held him there, solid and sure, until Sanji found his footing again.

“I–I’m gonna clock out for the night,” Sanji stammered, brushing at his pants even though there was nothing on them. Then his voice softened. “You were right.”

Zoro raised a brow, not used to hearing that.

“I did just have too much going on in my head,” Sanji admitted, quieter now, almost like he was telling the night itself.

Zoro gave a small smile and let his arms drop back to his sides, stretching as he stood up with a huff.

“Well,” he said, voice low and rough, “I’ll be here to help shut you up anytime you need it.”

Sanji’s foot twitched, his instinct to kick the swordsman nearly overriding his exhaustion, but he let it go. Instead, he just smirked and looked away, a small breath of a laugh escaping him.

“You should sleep too,” Sanji muttered, more sincerely this time.

Zoro shook his head, opening his mouth to reply, but a yawn broke free mid-sentence, cutting him off entirely.

Sanji gave him a look, cocking an eyebrow. “Right. That was convincing.”

He turned, waving a hand lazily as he started walking back toward the men's quarters. “C’mon. Just for tonight. You’ll have plenty of other nights to play guard dog.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He just walked, barefoot and half-asleep, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his hair. Behind him, there was a pause— and then the quiet sound of Zoro’s footsteps following.

They slipped back into the room quietly, careful not to wake the others. The sounds of peaceful sleep surrounded them again: Luffy’s soft snores, the rustle of Chopper turning in his bed, the faint creak of wood settling beneath them.

Sanji climbed into his hammock, the fabric cradling his body instantly, like it had been waiting for him.

But he didn’t close his eyes right away.

Instead, he turned his head just slightly, watching as Zoro stepped out of his boots and shrugged out of his coat. The swordsman glanced over his shoulder once before grabbing the edge of Luffy’s hammock and climbing up to the one above it; his own.

Sanji didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe a word. Maybe a glance. Maybe just the usual grunt. 

But Zoro lay down without a sound.

Sanji’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, on the quiet strength in his stillness, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and something in him loosened. He let his own eyes drift shut.

And for the first time in a very long while, sleep found him easily.

Peacefully.

Chapter Text

It had been about two weeks since that quiet night with Zoro—since Sanji had sat on the swing, opened up more than he meant to, and walked back to bed with a swordsman by his side. Since then, sleep had come a little easier after that. Not perfectly, not every night, but better.

Even tonight would count as a good night, at least compared to the rest. He’d managed a few hours before waking up. Not from a nightmare, or even the need to do something, just slowly, gradually, as if his body no longer knew how to stay still for too long. The kind of waking that crept in on its own and refused to let go. And now that he was up, there was no coaxing himself back into sleep.

Sanji let out a soft grunt as he sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair. He looked around the dim room and smiled faintly. The soft sway of the ship moved around them like a cradle. Luffy snored lightly, one leg hanging off the bed in complete chaos. Chopper was bundled up so tightly in his blankets that only the tips of his horns were visible.

“Lucky bastards,” Sanji muttered under his breath, his voice barely louder than a sigh. He lingered in that quiet for a moment, watching them. It was comforting, in its own way—seeing everyone where they were supposed to be, safe, warm, undisturbed.

He slipped out of bed and crept toward the door, careful not to let the hinges creak. The moment he stepped outside, the chill hit him. It wasn’t biting—not yet—but it clung to the skin. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, goosebumps rising across his arms.

“Shit, it’s colder than I thought,” he whispered, rubbing his hands on his arms in an attempt to warm himself up. For a second, he considered turning right back around and diving under the covers, but pride, or maybe the chill’s stubborn challenge, kept his feet moving instead.

He made his way to the bathroom first, rubbing his face as he went, fingers removing the crust around his eyes. The cool porcelain tiles under his feet didn’t help the situation. Inside, he splashed cold water on his face and leaned over the sink, staring into the mirror.

The reflection was familiar. Blue eyes dulled by poor sleep, a shadow of stubble forming under his jaw, pass where he usually cleans it up at, and the kind of eye bags that spoke of too many nights spent thinking instead of resting. He'll fix himself up later, it's still too early in the night. He pressed his hands against the edge of the sink, letting the water drip from his chin.

His mind drifted. To the swing. To Zoro. The way his voice sounded in the dark. Quiet… honest. To how that one night had peeled open something fragile that Sanji hadn’t realized he was still protecting. He hadn’t meant to share so much, but once it started, it had just… come out.

The mirror offered no answers, just his own tired face looking back. He dried off, rolled his shoulders to shake the stiffness, and slipped back into the hall.

Another shiver ran down his spine.

“Should’ve worn damn pants,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Real bright idea, stripping down to just a shirt when the sea breeze feels like a slap.”

He paused on the upper deck and leaned over the railing, gazing out at the empty, softly rocking ship. It was strange—seeing the Sunny this still. No Luffy barreling through a door with Chopper and Usopp in tow.  No Nami yelling at them, while Robin laughs sweetly behind her. No Brook making lame jokes in a corner and singing a joyful tune, no Franky calling for everyone to check out his new super invention which would inevitably be used in some obscure way.

No Zoro napping on the staircase without a care in the world... Just silence, and the rocking of the ship. 

Just silence.

Just the sound of the sea.

Just… peace.

The kind of quiet that made everything feel too big and too small at once.

His gaze flicked toward the lower deck, and he sniffled, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. The chill was still biting at him, and he could already feel the stuffy nose forming.

His breath fogged in front of him, a ghost of warmth in the frigid air. Nami had told him once, that if you could see your breath this clearly, the day was only going to get colder.

He stood there a moment longer, then sighed. “Alright, tea first.”

Sanji made his way down to the kitchen, slipping inside with practiced ease. It was warm in here, thankfully. He filled the kettle, set it to boil, and moved over to his small shelf grabbing his notes. He thumbed through the pages slowly, eyes scanning the ink-stained corners and scribbled revisions. Maybe something with fish. A stew. Something warm enough to cut through this kind of morning. He didn’t need anything fancy. Just something that felt like comfort, a fish stew or something with miso. Something warm to stick to the ribs.

“Maybe nabe,” he mumbled to himself, pulling the kettle hissed softly before he caught it, pouring hot water into a waiting mug, and setting the lid on top to let it steep. The steam rose slowly, swirling into the air as he leaned against the counter and watched it.

After a few moments, he picked up the mug, took a slow sip, and let out a satisfied sigh. It was easy to lose track of time like this. The ship is quiet, the sky outside still dark, and the smell of tea rises into the warm air.

“Alright. Let’s see what the fish situation’s lookin’ like.”

Mug in hand, he padded softly toward the aquarium bar.

The moment he opened the door, a different kind of warmth enveloped him—warm, clean, almost gentle. The room hummed with quiet life. The glow from the tanks cast shifting patterns across the walls, soft blues and greens dancing like the sea itself had decided to stay still for once.

The tanks glowed softly in the low light, casting blue and green shadows across the floor. Schools of fish swam lazily in their enclosures, bubbles rising up in rhythmic trails. It was beautiful here, calm. Serene, even.

Sanji stepped inside, letting the door click quietly behind him.

He looked into each tank, the soft glow of the water casting shifting patterns across his face. Every fish the crew had caught was here, gliding lazily through their enclosures, their scales catching the dim light. Sanji studied them carefully, recalling the texture of their flesh, the flavors they held—the way they'd taken to certain spices and cooking methods. Some were too delicate for what he had in mind. Others were too small, good for garnish or frying, but not the kind of fish that could hold up in a hot broth without falling apart.

He wrapped his fingers tighter around his mug, the warmth of the tea seeping into his hands as he leaned closer to one of the tanks, eyes scanning the silvery blur of movement inside.

“Too flaky… too bony…” he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe the Priestfish… could hold up in nabe if I cut it right,” he says, leaning in a little closer. His breath fogged a faint circle on the glass. The mug in his hands was finally warming his fingers, the ceramic radiating gentle heat as he sipped quietly between thoughts.

He was so caught up in examining the fins and weight of one particular fish, he didn’t notice the quiet creak of a stool behind him.

Zoro sat, finishing the last of his third beer, elbow propped against the counter.

“What the hell are you muttering about, shitty cook?” Zoro’s voice cut through the quiet like it always did. Low, casual, annoyingly close.

Sanji jumped slightly, startled by the sudden voice. He recovered quickly, of course, and sent a swift kick toward Zoro’s side. The swordsman blocked it with the flat of Wado Ichimonji, hardly flinching.

“When the hell did you get in here, Marimo?” Sanji asked, setting his foot down with a huff. He was more annoyed by the fact that he hadn’t noticed Zoro than anything else. The mug in his hands remained miraculously full. Thank god for good balance, it’d be a waste to spill decent tea. Small victories.

“I was already here when you came in,” Zoro replied with a shrug, unconcerned as he removes his swords and places them on the couch as he settles into the couch with a grunt. “You were too busy making goo-goo eyes at the damn fish to notice.”

“Tch. As if,” Sanji snorted. He rolled his eyes and moved to sit beside him, the firm red cushion dipping slightly under his weight. “They’re breakfast, not a damn date. I was checking which ones are good for nabe.” The aquarium light washed everything in soft blue tones, painting Zoro’s features in sharp lines and shadow. He smelled like steel, sweat, and beer—faintly earthy in a way Sanji had come to associate with him. It wasn’t a bad smell. It was kind of warm.

“Drinking already?” Sanji asked, glancing at the empty cup on the bar. “I mean, I’m not surprised, but it’s still ass o’clock in the morning.”

Zoro gave a slow shrug. “Alcohol keeps me warm. Haven’t felt cold in years.”

As if to prove his point, he tugged his sleeves down, letting his arms rest freely over the back of the sofa. His chest stretched with the motion, lean muscle shifting under pale skin. The light from the tank reflected faintly across his scars, shiny patches of pink and silver. Sanji’s eyes lingered for half a second too long on the lines tracing across his side and the stretch marks hugging close to them.

Sanji had some of his own, of course, mostly around his hips. Scars, marks, calluses. They all did. But Zoro’s seemed louder under the light—impossible to ignore. The swordsman’s voice broke the quiet again. “What about you? Can’t sleep?”

Sanji nodded before he even thought about it. “I’ve been sleeping better lately,” he admitted. “Just… woke up, and couldn’t get back under. Even tried closing my eyes again, but no use.”

He leaned his head back, letting it rest against the cushion, eyes drifting to the glow of the tank in front of them. The slow motion of the fish, the sound of the water filter, and the hum of the ship. It was almost enough to lull him. Almost.

“At least it's been better, right?” Zoro asked, casting another glance Sanji’s way.

Sanji nodded, slow and thoughtful, the movement smooth as he leaned into the quiet hum of the aquarium bar. The light danced across Zoro’s face in soft blue tones, flickering with the gentle ripple of water behind the glass. There was a long pause between them, not awkward, just thoughtful… Zoro tilted his head toward the tank, watching the flicker of scales, the steady rhythm of fins cutting through water. He never really looked at the fish. Not unless Luffy or Usopp dragged him into some commotion. But tonight, something about the stillness of it, the way Sanji sat beside him so quietly, made the fish seem important. These fish were Sanji's entire life.

“Which one?” Zoro asked, not looking away from the tank.

Sanji turned slightly. “Hm? Which what?” He looks at the blue glow on Zoro's face. He sits up to focus on the tank—though he couldn't remove his eyes off the swordsman.

Zoro motioned toward the swimming blur of shapes with a slight nod. “The fish. Which one are you using for breakfast?”

Sanji blinked, then sat up a bit straighter to scan the tank. His eyes lingered on the motionless shape of a strange fish resting at the bottom, camouflaged almost perfectly into the tank’s sand-covered floor. All the fish in the tank could be eaten, but some where just there as decoration, the fish Sanji had his eye's set on was horrifyingly ugly.

“That one,” he said, pointing. “It’s called a Priestfish. Ugly little thing, huh? But it’s good for what I’m making.” He couldn't help but pass a glance and Zoro 's reaction, who looked repulsed.

He squinted. “That thing looks like it crawled out of a nightmare.”

A short laugh escaped Sanji as he leaned back again, arms folded loosely. He could see the face Zoro was making, equal parts confusion and barely-contained disgust. “A lot of people think that. Most assume it’s poisonous. But it’s not. It’s actually sweet, mild, but sturdy. Good texture, good flavor. You’ve had it before, you just didn’t know.”

“You’ve fed that to us?” Zoro asked, lips curling like he’d been tricked.

“Plenty of times,” Sanji replied with a smirk. “And you gobbled it up each and every time."

Zoro’s attention drifted away from their supposed breakfast, as another set of fish caught his eye. Two small, striped ones swimming in circles around each other. Their bodies flickered like gold in the light, spiraling in and out of view like a practiced dance. Sanji noticed. He leaned forward, his voice a little quieter this time. “Northern Akumafish. Those two are a mated pair.”

Zoro glanced at him sideways, listening without interrupting.

“This is the only species of Akumafish that bond for life,” Sanji continued. “Swim side by side each and everyday, share food, protect each other. It’s kind of beautiful, right? Easy. Like— love’s just the natural choice.”

Zoro didn’t respond right away. The words settled between them, soft and slow, lingering longer than they should have. He could feel the heat rising to his ears and looked away, shifting his weight slightly. Of course Sanji can find his way to mention love and romance, even in fish.

“Sounds nice,” he muttered, looking away from the tank and settling his body into a more comfortable position.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Sanji agreed, still focused on the tank. His gaze moved from fish to fish, slow and attentive. “They're not the only ones either. So many fish have relationship with their partners, Seabras for example—the males carry the babies for the female,” Sanji looks around for the creature around the tank, but there doesn't seem to be any around this part.

“And Vagabond Beefish form strong pairs that last for years, often swimming side by side” Zoro followed his line of sight, spotting the pair Sanji pointed to—two vivid flashes of orange and violet weaving through coral in unison, like they couldn’t move without the other.

“Some fish find a partner and just… stay with them. Northern Akumafish, Beefish, even little Seabras. Doesn’t matter how big or flashy they are. It’s not about power, it’s just that… when they find the right one, they don’t look again. Guess even the sea has its love stories.”

Zoro breathed in, slow. He didn’t know what to say to that, not really. So instead, he let the corner of his mouth tilt upward. “You’re too romantic for your own good, Love-cook.”

Sanji chuckled at that, leaning back on his hands. “Someone’s gotta be.”

Zoro turned his head slightly, taking another slow look at the glowing tank. It had never been more than background noise to him, just another part of the ship, just another form of food, It's hard not to think so when you have someone making delicious meals out of them. But now, the fish, the glow, the quiet... it all felt different. Meaningful, somehow. Like Sanji had pulled the curtain back and let him see a secret world hidden in plain sight. Zoro couldn't help but wonder is Sanji thought of it as a mini All Blue? Made just for him.

Sanji’s eyes trailed over Zoro’s back, taking in the way the muscles shifted. Unlike the front of the swordsman, etched with scars and stories—the back was untouched. Smooth. Strong. Like a canvas left blank on purpose. Sanji didn’t look away, focusing on the grooves of muscles that lined his back.

Zoro felt Sanji's silence and reached into his haramaki, pulling out a slightly crushed box of cigarettes. It wasn’t Sanji’s usual brand, but he tossed it toward him anyway. Sanji caught it on instinct, blinking. He turned it over in his hands, brow raised. The scent was familiar, though different—subtle floral notes mixed with the minty sharpness of tobacco. He turned it over once more.

“When did you get this?”

His hands fidgets with the box familiarly, pulling out one of the sticks, fingers curling around the filter naturally. The wrap was thinner and more translucent than his usual brand, but it didn't seem too bad.

“Last island,” Zoro said with a shrug. “Thought you’d lose your shit if you went another day without one. You were getting quiet, so I figured…” Sanji looked up to see the pink creeping into the tips of Zoro’s ears. He smiled, setting the cigarette aside without lighting it.

“I was looking at your back,” Sanji said softly.

Zoro blinked. “Huh?”

Sanji’s voice stayed even, almost thoughtful. “It reminded me of something you said when we first met. Or... more like declared.”

Zoro frowned in thought, trying to reach back through memories blurred by time and battle. He honestly could barely remember half how he and Sanji met. One minute he’d been eating at a restaurant, laughing at Luffy, the next Sanji was just... part of the crew. Besides Zoro declares a lot of things. But Sanji remembered.

He moved closer, lifting one hand and pressing his palm gently to Zoro’s back. The warmth of skin surprised both of them. Zoro twitched slightly but didn’t pull away.

“Your hand’s warm,” Zoro murmured.

Sanji laughed lightly, fingers trailing over the curve of muscle, feeling the slight tension relax under his touch. He wanted to speak and say it was from his tea which has long gone cold but he continued…

“It was when you fought Mihawk,” he said. “You stood there, bleeding, proud. Said something about your back.” He leaned in a little closer, resting his forehead against Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro hums in acknowledgement, remembering that day. That fight he lost. The scar he gained. "You said something about your back, seeing it again, so close, reminded me of it now."

Zoro hummed, eyes half-closed now. “Scars on the back are a swordsman's shame,” he said, quietly.

Sanji nodded against him. “That’s the one.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The room had grown warmer somehow, not from the heaters, not from the tanks, but from them.

Sanji didn't know why but he found himself leaning forward, his forehead reaching the wall of muscles. Sanji shifted, turning his face so his cheek rested against Zoro’s shoulder instead. His tiredness was an excuse, the body he leaned on was soft—pillowy when it finally relaxed.“You wanna know something?” His voice dropped, hushed but steady. “Even if Luffy begged me to join... I probably wouldn’t have. I joined because of you.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get why.” His voice low, looking for reasoning.

“You stood there ready to die for a dream no one else believed in. So sure of yourself. It was reckless, stupid, full of pride... but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” Sanji looked up, gaze trailing over Zoro’s jaw, the curve of his ear, the gold of his earrings catching the light. “I followed you because I didn’t understand you. And I wanted to.”

Zoro didn’t answer right away, but his chest rose, slow and deep. It wasn’t pride or embarrassment that held him still, it was something heavier, warmer. Like the weight of being seen.

Sanji sat up and took a long drink from his tea, now lukewarm and bitter. He swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled faintly.

“Of course I remember that moment,” he said. “It was the first, and last, time I thought you were cool.”

Zoro chuckled. “What about Thriller Bark? I was cool there too.”

Sanji snorted. “Oh were you? I thought nothing happened. Don't remember a thing," his tone was teasing.

Zoro looked over, eyes narrowing. “You liar.”

Sanji’s voice shifted, just a little more serious. “What you did there was stupid. Brave, but stupid. You were ready to die again... but this time for someone else’s dream. Why didn’t you fight to live for your own?” Remembering the events of that day, before he was so… worried. Now he was angry about it—thinking about it made him angry, how stupid, how foolish, how dumb.

The words caught in the air like a spark. Sanji’s head lowered again, resting just below Zoro’s back shoulders.

“Dumb fucking swordsman,” he mumbled. “You forget people care about you.”

Zoro took a breath, steady and full. “I couldn’t let it be you.”

“You should’ve let it be us” Sanji said, voice shaking slightly.

Fuck… “I'm sorry” Zoro voices reassuringly.

The blonde's cheeks flush, and he gets closer to Zoro, “Just… stop being dumb.” He smiles, “I know that's hard for you though.”

Zoro huffed a quiet laugh and shifted, letting Sanji lean fully into him, his head settling on his shoulder. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t resolved. But it was enough.

Sanji yawned loudly, a deep, drawn-out sound that rippled through his chest. Tiredness crept over him again like a wave, unexpected but not unwelcome. With a quiet grumble, he gave in, letting his full weight rest against Zoro’s back, head settling on the swordsman’s shoulder with a soft, tired whine.

“Jeez, cook. You’re heavy,” Zoro muttered, voice low and amused. Still, he didn’t move to push him off. Instead, he adjusted his position just slightly, shifting enough to make room, to make it more comfortable. Sanji followed the movement instinctively, settling into place like it was second nature.

“What time is it?" Sanji mumbled, eyes slipping closed.

Zoro tilted his head toward the old clock nailed to one of the wooden beams of the bar. Not the most reliable thing in the middle of the Grand Line, but good enough. "It's nearly four a.m.," his gruff voice answered. His voice was rough with sleep, and he felt the quiet hum of Sanji’s throat as the blond gave a muffled sound of acknowledgment.

Sanji shifted again, arms curling around Zoro’s torso without thinking. "I got…" he paused for a moment, breathing in deeply like one does when they're about to go to sleep, "got to be up by five to start breakfast…" he muttered, breath softening as sleep pulled him under again. "Wake me…" His arms tightened, fingers locked loosely around Zoro’s waist.

Zoro felt his cheeks heat up at being held and truly wanted to get angry and push Sanji off, but with alcohol as an excuse, he let it happen. He nodded, "I'll wake you up, you shit cook, go to sleep." He commanded, but Sanji was already gone—breathing even, face tucked into the crook of Zoro’s shoulder, weight settled completely against him. The warmth of him was strangely comforting. Zoro let his eyes drift shut too, just for a moment.

When Sanji woke up, he was laying down. The room was still dim. His head lifted slowly from where it rested, eyes adjusting to the soft glow of the aquarium lights that painted the walls and floor in hues of blue and green. Somewhere faintly above, a violin’s hum floated down from the deck.

He blinked a few times, trying to remember where he was, and what the hell had happened.

He sat up with a slow yawn before noticing what was under him.

Zoro’s head was resting on his arm, the other draped over Sanji’s back. He was still and slowly breathing, soft breath rising and falling, lips barely parted. No tension in his brow. No scowl. In fact, he seemed peaceful as he slept.

Which only made Sanji pissed.

Sanji’s eye twitched.

How dare he! Having Sanji be in such an embarrassing position, laying on him! Of course he’d end up like this. Laying on Zoro, wrapped around him like some cheap romance drama. He was supposed to have beautiful women falling asleep in his arms, not wake up tangled around some stubborn, sweaty swordsman.

His cheeks flushed a deep red, but—from embarrassment, at least he told himself. Not anything else.

Gritting his teeth, he carefully peeled himself from Zoro’s hold, mindful not to wake him. That would be too humiliating. He’d give the idiot a piece of his mind later. Glancing at the clock, he noted the time as 5:53, much later than the time he initially wanted to wake up. “Ugh. Useless swordsman didn’t even wake me up,” Sanji muttered under his breath. Still... he felt good. Rested. Like his body had finally gotten what it needed. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. It was a better morning than most.

He actually felt energized and ready for the day.

Before he left, he glanced back.

Zoro hadn’t moved, still half-curled on the couch in his green coat. Sanji smiled without thinking, a soft expression that barely touched his lips. He reached for a folded blanket and laid it over Zoro’s shoulders with a practiced hand.

Then he stepped out into the cold.

The day was cold, and its winds bit immediately—sharp and unforgiving, quick to affect Sanji. For someone who was born in the North, he couldn't help but have his hands shake and bruise as he squeezed them together, trying to warm up as best he could. He hurried into the men’s quarters to get changed.

Once dressed in a thick, fur-collared coat that he'd worn a handful of times and some of his thicker dress pants, he finally headed out and toward the kitchen to cook up breakfast. On his way up the stairs, the sound of the violin got louder, with its master at hand.

Sanji smiles seeing Brook who in response gives a dramatic bow.

"Good morning, Sanji! How rare for you to wake after me. Did you rest well?" Brook asked, following Sanji into the kitchen. They closed the door behind them to not let any cold air in, and the cook began to wash his hands. He thought about Brook's question for only a moment.

Sanji smirked, shaking off the cold. “Better than I expected, I guess. How about you? It’s freezing.”

Brook nodded, "I slept like the dead… though with a bit more rattling. Yohohoho~!" Sanji only shook his head with a smile at the skeleton's expected joke. "Despite lacking the sense of cold myself, today’s weather seemed to demand something warm and soulful. A good breakfast, perhaps?" Brook looked at the cook and gave one of his weird smiles—the ones where you know he's smiling, but with a face full of bones, he can't express it.

"I know what you mean, that’s why I’m making nabe," Sanji said, grabbing the large pot from the cupboard and placing it on the stove. "I picked out a fish last night." He began taking ingredients out of the fridge and storage.

"Ah! So that’s why you were in the aquarium bar?"

Sanji froze.

"What—"

Brook blinked, then realized he said something wrong and tried to correct himself, "Ah—nothing, nothing, Sanji-san!" Sanji narrowed his eyes, but before he could press, the door opened and Robin stepped in, dressed in a long violet coat and her usual serene smile.

"Cook-san was where?" she asked curiously while walking in. Taking a seat beside Brook, she greeted him with a smile before laying her attention on Sanji.

Sanji blushed, embarrassed. Brook saw him and Zoro in the Aquarium Bar. He wouldn't be reacting that way if he didn’t. He sighed and smiled, trying to compose himself. "Nowhere, my sweet Robin-chan. Just checking our fish storage last night. Making sure we had what I needed." His voice was calm and sweet as he explained. He started making her morning tea, ingredients already being out and ready.

Robin smiled and leaned on the counter with her arm. "Oh, I see. How strange, then, that breakfast isn’t already cooking. You’re unusually slow today. You’re usually so punctual." Her voice was sharp, and if it was anyone else, what she said might even seem rude, but Sanji knew the beautiful woman in front of him was nothing of the sort.

He let the tea leaves steep once the kettle began to boil. "I just overslept. It seems like I needed more rest than I thought." He laughed, glancing at Brook, who just nodded passionately. "I'll get to cooking just now, and don't worry, the food will be out at the usual time." He reassured her, handing her the perfect tea and a couple of flowery biscuits on the side.

He makes one for Brook too, just because he dropped a couple of leaves into another cup, with honey and cream…

Robin nodded wistfully, smelling the tea before taking a sip. "I'm sure it will. You do such a wonderful job every day. It’s good you got proper rest. I was just worried and curious." She got up. "Anyway, I'll be in the study. Nami wanted me to do a bit of research on an upcoming island. I'll be waiting for breakfast." She smiled and started to head out.

"Wait, may I accompany you, Robin-san?!" Brook said, getting up as well. "I play best when surrounded by beauty, and I’m sure you’d like some background music as you study." He took the tea Sanji made for him and began to walk out with Robin.

"That would be lovely, Skeleton-san," was all Sanji heard as the door closed behind the pair. He sighed and continued on with his cooking, placing some dried kelp and bonito flakes into a water-filled pot, setting it to heat up and create an Awase Dashi. He placed a steam rack on top to start steaming some foie gras he had saved. He would have used the Priestfish variant if he had any, but he used it up last week…

While the liver and stock kept cooking, he prepped the vegetables, cutting a clean leek into diagonal slices and cutting some green onion to add to the mix. Next, he took Napa cabbage into bite-sized pieces—at least bite-sized for normal people. For Luffy, they were probably mini-sized.

He took a heavy plate off some tofu he’d firmed up and cut them into squares. By the time that was done, he thought about going to get the fish, so he started cleaning up his station a bit to prepare.

But then the door opened and there it was. The exact fish he needed.

And Zoro.

He walked in holding the fish in a net. His coat and swords were on him as usual, and Sanji almost seemed to zone out looking at him before the mosshead yelled, "Where do I put this damn thing?!" which snapped him back into reality. He started to point toward the sink.

"There, there, in the sink, idiot! Close the door—you’re letting the cold in!! You’re dripping water all over my kitchen!" In a rush, the Priestfish was in the sink, the kitchen door was closed, and Zoro had two mops in his hand cleaning the water he dragged in.

"I was about to go get the fish, why did you bring it?" Sanji asked, taking a knife to quickly kill the ugly fish, cutting its head off in the sink and putting the head on a plate to save it for later. Especially those cheeks, he could make some crevice for a snack today. While in the sink, he cleaned the fish off, removing the organs and most of its slimy coating.

“I saw it and figured you’d need it,” Zoro said plainly, drying his hands after mopping.

Once Sanji was done cleaning the Priestfish, he placed it on a cutting board, one used only for fish meat. Zoro, done with mopping, sat down to watch. With some fish scissors, Sanji cut the top, side, and bottom fins, throwing them away.

"Why didn’t you cut those with a knife?" Zoro asked. Sanji placed the scissors down and pulled at the back skin of the fish, pulling gently but effectively. He grabbed a knife, which seemed to make the swordsman happy.

"It’s too slimy to cut with a knife. The blade could slide off." The cook poked the knife through the exposed backbone and cut the meat off it. "I could have also torn the meat by accident, but now that there’s no skin I can cut through easily like this." He removed the spine completely, showing off the two large chunks that were left over. He put the spine into the stock to steep with everything, removing the foie gras off the steamer to cool and cut later.

Zoro nodded at the explanation and let the cook continue to do his thing. In quick maneuvers, the membrane on the meat was cut off and discarded, then both pieces were flipped over and the same thing was done, until there was a clean piece of Priestfish that Zoro would actually eat.

The fish was large, as was normal in the Grand Line’s waters. Each piece was nearly the length of Sanji's long legs. Changing knives, the tender meat was cut into one and a half-inch pieces. Then the liver was cut similarly, but into rounds.

Zoro watched as the blond took the cut fish into a different pot of boiling water, adding and removing the chunks every fifteen seconds, placing the boiled fish into ice-cold water. "Why that?" he asked, confused, just as Sanji finished doing the process to the last pieces of fish.

Sanji strained the ice-cold water and set it aside. "It removes the smell, and it helps the meat firm up," he explained, going back to where the vegetables were, cutting up shungiku, enoki mushrooms, and some shiitake mushrooms, cutting an X shape on the tops.

Zoro again had questions. "Why do you do…" he pointed at the mushroom top, "this?"

Sanji took the cut pieces from the tops and put a piece in his mouth, giving one to Zoro. "Snack…" he joked, though the swordsman took the X shape and ate it as well. "Joking—it just makes it look nicer," he explained, starting to peel carrots. Zoro took more of the mushroom scraps to snack on. Sanji didn’t mind. He would have eaten them himself…

"Why make it look nicer if we're just going to eat it anyway?"

He shrugged. "Because I love you."

Sanji paused for a moment, almost cutting himself with the peeler. "I mean!" his face turned red once more. "I do it because it’s how I show, you know…" He peeled the carrots aggressively. "I don’t love yo…" He looked at Zoro, who started to eat the carrot peels. "Zoro—take that out of your mouth!" he yelled, throwing a kick at him over the counter.

Zoro nearly dodged but still got kicked. “Ow! The hell, cook?!” He let go of his "snacks" and looked at Sanji with a loud, gruff sigh that sounded like a wounded Lapahn. "I don’t get it."

The blond just sighed and took out a cigarette, the ones Zoro gifted him, and began to smoke. "Would you have eaten the fish before or after I cut it up?" Sanji asked, pointing at the fish with a knife before slicing the carrots into coins.

Zoro thought about the ugly fish and nodded. "I understand it now."

Sanji just smiled and puffed out some smoke. "Thought so." He took out a couple of small shape cutters and pressed them into the carrot coins, making heart shapes out of the carrots. Sanji held them up happily. "Cute…" he muttered before cutting more.

Now that all the ingredients were prepared, it was now time to put it all together.

He turned the stove on to a low heat setting and placed a large stew pot on top. First placing the Foie Gras liver, he let it cook until it began to release oil. Using a large wooden spoon he mashed it down into a texture that was reminiscent of ground beef, letting it slightly char before adding miso into the mix. Giving it a taste to check the salt levels.

Slowly, he poured in the awase dashi, mixing until the miso dissolved. Then, adding mirin, sake, and soy sauce, he stirred it well.

Zoro helped by holding the board of vegetables, watching the leek and green onion go in first, then the thicker, tougher parts of the cabbage. Sanji opened a cupboard and pulled out some dry, pre-made noodles, placing five rounds into the pot. In went the enoki mushrooms, and the priestfish. The cook stirred it all together, took another taste, then held the spoon out toward Zoro’s mouth.

Zoro tasted the soup as is, clearly impressed. He nodded. “It’s good.”

Sanji smiled. “I know.”

After a couple of minutes, the tofu cubes were added with the shiitake mushrooms. Sanji waited for the soup to start boiling before adding the top parts of the cabbage and the shungiku, along with the heart-shaped carrots and the ones with heart-shaped holes. He covered it and looked at the clock, then removed the cigarette from his mouth —now just a short bud— and stubbed it out in the sink before tossing it. “Let’s get the table set up,” he said, naturally including Zoro in the task.

Zoro nodded, not minding. It’s not like he had any other chores.

The two changed the tablecloth because Sanji didn’t like the color. As Sanji placed plates and bowls, Zoro set down the spoons and forks, well, chopsticks for himself.

“Sorry I didn’t wake you up this morning,” Zoro said, breaking the silence.

Sanji almost wanted to be annoyed, even just to tease, but Zoro’s tone was too genuine. “It’s fine,” he said after a beat. “I’m kinda glad you didn’t. I really needed that sleep.” He finished setting the table with cups. “I slept well.” His mind drifted to how he’d woken up. His head on Zoro’s shoulder…

“I’m glad,” Zoro replied, voice a little quieter. “I don’t mind doing it again. If you need me.”

Sanji looked at him, at the subtle flush in his cheeks. “You... you do something to me.” The words slipped out, and once they started, he couldn’t stop. “I feel so vulnerable around you, even when I’ve got my guard up.” Zoro didn’t answer right away. He looked conflicted, like he wanted to say something, but Sanji didn’t let him.

You’re so stubborn, and I truly hate you, but I also…” Sanji stepped toward him. He wanted to punch him. His hands curled into fists. He would probably dodge… He’d dodge.

His arm swung toward Zoro—who didn’t dodge.

Instead, Zoro grabbed his arm and used the momentum to pull him forward, his free hand catching Sanji by the nape, pulling him in-

And kissing him.

Sanji’s fist relaxed. And almost naturally, his whole body did too. His hand pressed against Zoro’s back, clutching the green fabric.

He was kissing a man who drinks while everyone’s asleep. A man who pisses off the ship’s ledge and doesn’t wash his hands. A man who makes his heart boil over the dumbest things. And worst of all, he was kissing a man he liked. A lot. Too much. It pissed him off.

They let go of each other…

And then Zoro got kicked. He groaned in pain, and just as he caught his breath, Sanji hit him again. This time, with a rough kiss.

“You’re so dumb!” Sanji yelled, trying to kick him again—Zoro deflected.

“I hate you.” Another kick—deflected.

“Stupid fucking Marimo!” One more. Deflected again.

Zoro reached to pull him in, but Sanji stopped him, placing a hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare try kissing me again, Marimo!”

“What? Why? The last one was you!”

Sanji smacked his chest. “Just shut up!" He really needed Zoro to be quiet, he can't think, there were moss balls in his fucking head. Fuck fuck fuck. "Do you like me?" he whisper-yelled, voice cracking with frustration and revelation.

Zoro blinked. “… Am I supposed to?”

Oh.

Oh, Sanji was going to kill him. “Yes? You don’t just go around kissing people, you dumb fuck—”

“I like you then. Can we continue? Or-”

Sanji flushed. Zoro was blushing too. Was he actually embarrassed and just too fucking dumb to realize it, or— “… Breakfast first.” Sanji straightened up, pulling off his coat to reveal just a turtleneck. It was too warm. His heart was racing. He was agitated. He wanted to kill Zoro. Not actually. But maybe.

Zoro also straightened up. “You need help getting the pot to the table?” he asked, knowing full well Sanji didn’t need help, he just wanted to help… and maybe show off a little.

"I—no… actually, you know what, yeah. Just put it on," Sanji gets a wooden trivet that has the same texture as a corkboard and places it in the middle of the table, "this, place it here." Zoro nods and walks towards the pot, putting on mittens to help deal with the heat. Once it's lifted off the stove, Sanji turns it off and helped guide it across the galley, watching for any possible spills.

Once it was safely placed down, both men let out a breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding.

“Nice. Okay. Breakfast is ready on time! Everyone should be coming in soon. Let’s get some drinks to pour-”

“Do I get a reward?” Zoro asked, proud.

Sanji blinked at him. “What?”

“Reward.”

“… Yeah, eating. Anyway, I’m thinking warm sake, and maybe some spiced milk for Luffy and Chopper—oh, maybe I should make a big batch for-”

“Kiss me.”

Sanji stared at him. The audacity. The sheer, bold audacity of this moss-headed man. The balls on this guy, really. It look more than it should for Sanji not to smile.

“Fine… last one. Seriously, though, we need to talk about thi-” Sanji talked too much sometimes. Zoro liked to shut him up.

Their lips press together, slightly parting to take in each other's tastes. Sanji’s arms rest on the Marimo's shoulders, fingers curling in the fabric of Zoro’s coat like he’s bracing himself. Zoro's hands tighten around Sanji’s waist, rough palms spreading warmth through the thin fabric of his turtleneck.

The kiss should’ve been brief, a reward, a joke, but Sanji tilts his head just a little, deepens it, lets it linger. He tastes sake on Zoro’s breath, the faint edge of mischief behind the firmness of his mouth. Zoro hums low against him, coaxing more than just a reaction, like he's testing the line between casual and something more.

Sanji breaks it first, just barely pulling back, his breath hitching when Zoro leans in like he’s not done. Their foreheads bump lightly.

"... You’re such a pain in the ass," Sanji murmurs, voice low, soft, but not annoyed. Overwhelmed maybe.

Zoro smirked, still close enough that Sanji feels it more than sees it. “And you kiss me like you mean it.”

Sanji exhales a laugh, more flustered than amused, cheeks a little warmer than before. He glances toward the galley door, then back at Zoro. “They’re gonna walk in any second, you know.”

"Let 'em. We’re just celebrating a successful pot placement." Zoro grins and squeezes his waist again, a silent thank you hidden beneath the teasing.

Sanji leaned in one last time, pressed a softer kiss to Zoro’s lips. Less fire, more warmth. Familiarity. He pulls away with a sigh, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

And of course, that’s exactly when the galley door creaks open.

They both turn sharply, a little too sharply as Usopp stands frozen in the doorway, one slipper halfway on, hair still a bit lopsided from sleep, and a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

There’s a beat of silence. All three of them just… stare.

Usopp squints. Points his toothbrush slightly. “… Were you two just—”

"No," Zoro says, too fast.

"Yes," Sanji says at the same time, dragging a hand down his face.

Usopp slowly pulls the toothbrush from his mouth, eyes wide with the kind of expression that says he’s replaying the last five seconds like a crime scene in his brain.

“You kissed! In the kitchen? Before breakfast?!”

“It was before anyone walked in,” Sanji mutters under his breath, clearly regretting everything about his timing and his life choices.

Zoro shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s not like we were on the damn counter.”

“Yet,” Usopp says dramatically, raising both brows. “I need to tell Nami. I need to sit down. I need warm juice or something.”

"Eh! Wait no, no, no you're not telling anyone anything! At least not until I figure everything out!" Sanji panics throwing his arms around Usopp's shoulders, "What do you want, a warm drink I can make-"

"I just wanted to know what was for breakfast!” Usopp cries, scared of Sanji but more so of Zoro who just stood there so calm it was scary.

He detaches Sanji and Usopp and gives the long-nosed man a push towards the door, “It's ugly fish soup, go tell everyone.”

“It's NABE! Do not tell everyone it's ugly fish soup Usopp I will kill you!” Sanji yells as Usopp runs out the door. He turns towards Zoro “You!” he truly hates this man.

Sanji groans and leans his forehead against Zoro’s shoulder. “I’m gonna die.”

Zoro chuckles, wrapping an arm lazily around him. “Hey, at least he didn’t drop anything.”

“… I was so close to having an almost normal morning,” Sanji mutters.

Zoro leans over and kissed his temple. “Not with me around.”

Sanji sighs again, then pulled away with a resigned shake of his head. “Fine. Let’s serve breakfast before Usopp convinces the rest of the crew we’re making out on the soup pot.”

Zoro nods and starts pouring soup into bowls while Sanji gets drinks ready. The crew starts pouring in, and slowly they all settle down to eat, Usopp said nothing, but watched them both with haunted eyes.

Robin was also staring at the two but with a soft smile on her face, Brook ate next to her watching her watching them. Still, he tried to play it off as normal and not as if he told Robin that he saw Sanji and Zoro cuddling to sleep.

The rest of the crew was quite normal. Luffy was filling his bowl up for the third time and was even eating some of the vegetables, Chopper was sleepy and sipping mostly on broth, taking a couple bites of the fish and vegetables here and there. A hand popped up on the table here and there helping Chopper wipe his mouth. Nami was shivering until she saw the hot nabe made for breakfast thanking Sanji, which sent him over the moon. Franky ate happily, already thinking about new inventions, though he looked ready to collapse back into bed.

The crew ate and talked, and Sanji's heart felt full.

He sat down, and Zoro poured him a bowl. Sanji smiled, watching him laugh at something Luffy said. Under the table, his hand reached for the familiar scarred one beside him.

The grip was tight. Reassuring.

He was truly vulnerable.

But he didn't mind. Not with this crew.