Amat



Sometimes, Zoro's penchant for getting lost had its advantages.

Sanji sat ensconced at an intimate table for two at a boutique restaurant called Amat. Polished silverware and filigreed china dressed the pristine white linen tablecloth. Elegant red candles nestled in a wreath of velvet roses at the table's center, their light catching in the crystal goblets half-filled with burgundy wine. A trio of violinists strolled between tables on Sanji's side of the dining room, trying to drown out the ruckus happening at the door.

Sanji twirled angel-haired pasta onto his fork and took another bite. He moaned inwardly with pleasure at the taste. The pasta was made from local nut flour, giving it a heady flavor. Paired with a sweeter sauce, it was heaven to his palate.

He glanced across the table at the plate of half-eaten fish in front of an empty chair. Zoro had ordered a simple meal that, like Sanji's pasta, wasn't simple in taste. The nutty sauce imbued the fish with scrumptiousness. Sanji planned to compliment the chef in person, and perhaps get the recipes. Reaching across the table, Sanji speared another forkful of Zoro's meal. Delicious.

It wasn't often that Sanji got to dine at places finer than the local tavern. Zoro wasn't big on romance and "all that girly shit", so getting the directions to the restaurant in writing spoke volumes to Sanji. It would be even better if Zoro would hurry the hell up so they could share the meal together.

Zoro soared past, crashing into the wall, creating a marimo-shaped dent in the ivory stucco. Sanji arched a brow at him. Zoro pried himself free, grinned unabashedly at Sanji, and dove back into the fray. Sanji shook his head. Such an idiot.

The cacophony by the door grew in volume. The violinists played even harder, in vain. A gang of roughshod pirates had arrived a few minutes ago and demanded a table, something the restaurant would have provided - they'd let Zoro in, after all - if the demand hadn't come with a punch to the MaƮtre D's face.

"I'll take care of this," Zoro had said, tugging his cloth napkin from his shirt collar.

Sanji had spared a glance over his shoulder at the pirates and had returned to his meal with a negligible wave of his hand. "Try not to break anything."

So far, Zoro had broken a few heads, a table, the Maitre D's host stand, and now the wall. Not too bad, considering Zoro had toppled entire buildings before when fighting.

A climactic bellow preceded a sudden, sharp silence. Then the patrons facing the door began applauding. Zoro strode back to the table, pulling the bandana from his hair. He lifted his leg to straddle the seat across from Sanji.

"Took you long enough," Sanji commented, eyeing the bloody nick on Zoro's neck with a moue of displeasure.

Zoro shrugged, and frowned at his plate. "Did you eat my food?"

"Of course."

Zoro's frown melted into a slow, easy smile. "I like that."

Sanji's face heated at the implied intimacy. "Shut up."

Zoro laughed and reached across the table to stab a forkful of Sanji's pasta. Sanji allowed it without any grumbling.

Sometimes, Zoro's penchant for getting lost had its advantages. It reminded Sanji how much he loved Zoro.

End