Crestwood Island lay between two points on the log pose like a majority of the islands the Thousand Sunny stopped at to restock, repair, and stretch their legs. Too small to have its own magnetic pull, but big enough to have a bustling portside town, Crestwood made for a good stopover for the night. The crew drew lots to see who'd be on watch when, then dispersed into town.
Sanji cupped his hand and lit a cigarette as he stepped onto the dock, shopping list tucked in his pocket. The steady breeze coming off the ocean flicked at his hair. It snatched the smoke from his first exhale and swirled it away.
Zoro fell into step beside him, empty packs slung over his shoulder. Over time, they’d fallen into a habit – Zoro would play pack mule, Sanji would buy the first round and sometimes the second if he was in the mood, and no protesting was heard from either of them about the arrangement. The ship got its necessary resupplies, Zoro got free booze, and Sanji had one less headache. It was a win all around.
“Think they got those hairy red fruits here?” Zoro said, footsteps heavy on the gravel streets.
“Rambutan. Maybe. We’re in the right climate.” Sanji cut him a sharp grin. “Like those, did you?”
Zoro shrugged. “They’re okay.”
“That’s a five-star review coming from you.” Sanji eyed the shops along the street, mostly clothing and trinkets at the moment. “I’ll have to pick up more coconuts. I can make the rambutan smoothies again for after your workouts.”
Zoro nodded, sidestepping another pair of shoppers strolling down the street. Sanji was quick to nab the back of his haramaki when he started to turn a corner to steer him in the correct direction.
The town was laid out in a spoke pattern with the hub being the docks. Streets radiated outward from the waterfront, packed close with two- and three-story buildings that leaned into each other over narrow alleys, their upper floors strung with laundry lines and shuttered against the heat of the day. The air carried the damp, green smell of somewhere that rarely saw a dry season.
Sanji had learned that it was wise not to dawdle over restocking, as he never knew when Luffy would stage a coup on an island. Still, the sun was sinking towards the horizon by the time the purchases were put away and they left the ship. Sanji tried to take Robin's watch, but she deposited him on the dock with a shower of petals in refusal. Once he'd stemmed his nosebleed from her touching him, Sanji straightened his tie, and he and Zoro headed back to town.
A swell of sound greeted them as Sanji pushed through the door of a bar. Music played, people were laughing, talking to and over one another. The place was long and packed, tables shoved close enough that neighboring conversations bled into each other. The air was warm with too many bodies and hazed faintly with pipe smoke.
Zoro pushed through to the bar in the back and took up residence on a vacant stool. Sanji knew he likely wouldn’t leave it until he ran out of beli. Zoro flagged down the bartender to order as Sanji slid into the space beside him.
Sanji looked along the bar and then over the tables of patrons for any lovelies who caught his eye who might not mind being worshiped for the evening. He saw two beauties seated together without companions. While Sanji rarely got the time of day from the ladies, it didn’t stop him from trying. He had better luck with men, but Sanji was extremely picky and had to have a few drinks under his belt to loosen up enough to be comfortable. Sexuality was a spectrum and blah-blah-blah. Sanji could hear Iva mmmfufufu-ing in his head.
Sanji paid when the bartender brought their drinks. “Only one you’re getting from me tonight,” he told Zoro.
Zoro lifted his large tankard in acknowledgment and guzzled half its contents in one go.
Sanji scoffed, picked up his own glass, and sipped it at a more refined pace. “Think I’ll go see if those ladies would like my company.”
“They won’t,” Zoro said flatly, swiping his damp mouth with the back of his wrist.
Sanji shot him a sour look. “First, you have the manners of swine. Second, you don’t know that.”
“I do know that,” Zoro said, ignoring the first remark. He glanced over his shoulder, then faced forward again. “They’re women, and you’re you.”
Sanji’s foot twitched. “Women love me.”
Zoro snorted, raising his drink again. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Gonna be hard to drink when I break your jaw.”
“Just try it.” Zoro shot him a smirk. “Bet those women will be impressed when you fail.”
Before Sanji could kick Zoro’s head off his shoulders, a well-groomed gentleman with a full, neat beard and sharp mustache stepped into the space on Zoro’s other side and laid a hand briefly on Zoro’s shoulder. “Buy you a drink?”
Zoro turned his head, glanced at the hand on his shoulder, and shrugged it off, even as he said, “Why?”
“Thought you might like the company.”
“No.”
The man’s joviality faded. “Bit full of yourself, considering.”
“Considering what?” Zoro said, with an edge to his tone.
“That you’re a skin boy.”
Zoro frowned. “A what?”
Sanji knew what the guy meant. He had a skin boy magazine hidden deep in his locker on the Sunny, stuffed between the pages of a cookbook. “He thinks you were in a porn rag.”
Zoro’s gaze snapped to Sanji. “What?”
The man made a sound of disdain. “In Green. Don’t play coy, most of you love the attention.”
Half a second later, the man flew across the room, crashed into a post, and cracked it, causing the ceiling to crumble a little.
Sanji lowered his foot. “Asshole.”
Zoro stood abruptly and charged out of the bar without even finishing his drink. Sanji blinked, downed the rest of his, and went after him.
“Where the hell are you going?” he said, catching up on the street.
“I want to see what he meant,” Zoro said.
“Obviously, he was wrong.” Sanji dodged around a group of revelers. “Unless you’ve been posing for pictures in secret.”
“No.”
“Then he was wrong,” Sanji repeated. “The light in the bar was shit. Think your one eye would clue him in that he got the wrong green-haired beefcake.”
“Still want to see.”
Sanji snagged his haramaki and steered him toward a newseller. “I’m not buying you another drink after this.”
Zoro shoved open the door to the newseller’s and glowered at the shopkeeper. “Where’s your porn?”
The shopkeeper cowered and pointed to a rack of magazines near the counter.
Sanji kicked Zoro in the calf. “Don’t be rude, shithead.”
Zoro ignored him and stormed over to the rack. He glared at the number of titles lined in rows, tucked behind discreet black cards that hid the cover models’ assets. “Which one is it?”
Sanji joined him and scanned through the titles. He spotted Green on the top row, left side, tucked between Fresh Catch and Rawhide. He picked it up and handed it to Zoro. “Here.”
Zoro took it, frowned at the cover, then began going through the pages. Sanji folded his arms and leaned against the shelves. “That guy was just being a dick because you turned him down.”
Sanji came on strong, but he knew a no was a no. He didn’t know how often Zoro got hit on. While they were actually friends despite their acrimonious displays, Sanji didn’t normally stick around after paying for their drinks, content to leave Zoro to his booze and himself to his pursuit of a hopefully happy ending to his evening.
He was about to mention getting back to that pursuit when Zoro paled suddenly, eye going wide as he stared at a page in the magazine.
“What?” Sanji said, unfolding his arms.
A devastated look swept across Zoro’s face. He crumpled the magazine in his fists and fled the shop with it.
Sanji stared at the door as it swung shut behind him. Did that mean…?
The shopkeeper cleared his throat. “He didn’t pay for that.”
Sanji shot the shopkeeper an annoyed glance and went to the rack. He pulled another issue of Green and flipped quickly through the pages. He froze when he found a familiar face.
In the magazine, Zoro was splayed bare-skinned on a bed, head turned on a pillow, eye closed and blush staining his cheeks. His knees were spread open, hips tipped up by a cushion, red, puffy hole leaking spend. Dark green curls furred around the base of his stiff cock resting small against his lower belly. His balls were drawn tight, arousal evident in the flush across his scarred chest. His blind side faced the camera, hands curled near his face.
He looked innocent. Vulnerable. The complete opposite of the tough, stoic brute Sanji saw every day. Something seized in Sanji’s chest.
He was beautiful. Perfect.
Sanji stood staring at the picture for another moment before his senses came back to him. Zoro had not reacted well to this reveal. He obviously hadn’t known he was in the issue. Sanji flipped back to the front of the magazine and read its tagline. Virgins taken for the first time!
For a second, it didn’t register. Then a rage so hot flared in Sanji that the magazine caught fire in his hands. He let it burn to ash, then grabbed the other copies from the shelf and burned them, too.
Someone did that to Zoro. Someone took trust and put it on display. Zoro hadn’t known, and a most intimate moment was now available for anyone to see.
Sanji threw money at the shopkeeper hiding behind his counter before storming out of the shop. Smoke and flames licked along his skin, and he stalked the streets, locating all the shops that sold magazines, destroying every issue of Green he could find in town.
He was going to kill the man who did that. Kick him into a pulp, then crush his remains beneath flaming feet. Then he was going to go to the publisher and burn it to the ground!
By the time Sanji made it back to the Sunny, his rampage through Crestwood hadn’t gone unnoticed. The local police stood at the end of the dock, firearms pointed at Sanji. He’d paid for every magazine he’d destroyed – though he loathed to do it – so all the police could do was escort him out of town.
“Whoa, cook-bro, what’s up with the cops?” Franky said as Sanji came onboard.
“Nothing. You see Zoro?” Sanji said.
“Yeah, he came back earlier. Went right up to the crow’s nest,” Franky said.
Sanji nodded. “You can take off. I’m not leaving the ship again.”
“Won’t say no to that!” Franky clapped him on the back, then left.
Sanji went up to the galley, still hot under the collar. He yanked off his tie, shoved it into his pocket, and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his dress shirt. Rolling up his sleeves, he threw together a plate of onigiri. Then he peeled and diced some rambutan they’d bought earlier and tossed it with cucumbers, tomatoes, shallots, minced red chili, fresh mint, cilantro, and a lime-fish sauce dressing. He snagged an unopened bottle of chilled sake from the fridge, paused, and grabbed a second, putting all of it on a tray before locking the fridge again.
He stepped outside the galley, tray balanced on one hand, and looked up at the crow’s nest. Zoro probably didn’t want company, but Sanji cared about the jerk and would check on him anyway.
He climbed the rigging to the ladder and pushed through the protected hatch into the crow’s nest. A cushioned bench seat ran around the circular room, with the center being taken up by Zoro’s weights.
Zoro sat on the floor near the barbell rack, knees pulled to his chest, katanas resting against the bench nearby. He lifted his head when Sanji entered, and another spurt of rage flared when Sanji saw the tear tracks curved along one cheek.
“Piss off,” Zoro muttered, lowering his forehead to his knees again.
“Brought you some food and sake.” Sanji kicked the hatch closed behind him and walked over to Zoro. He set the tray down by Zoro’s feet, then folded himself into a sitting position at Zoro’s side. He lit a cigarette, exhaling the smoke toward the arched ceiling, watching it get caught by the breeze coming through the open window.
They sat there in silence, Zoro’s body tense and curled in on itself, Sanji smoking, tapping ash in his pocket tray when needed. Outside, the sounds of the port rose up to them – ships bumping against the docks, the creak of rigging, the cries of gulls searching for scraps. The night sky shone through the window, studded with stars. The wall sconces in the crow’s nest threw soft light across the room.
“Why did he do that?”
The soft, rough question wavered when Zoro finally spoke. Sanji’s chest drew tight, and he had to fight not to gather Zoro into his arms. He crushed the butt of his cigarette instead. “He’s an asshole.”
Zoro pulled his knees tighter against himself. His forehead stayed pressed against the top of them. “I thought he liked me. That’s why I–” He cut off his words.
Fuck. Sanji looked up at the ceiling as his heart tore in two. “Was that your first time?”
Zoro didn’t answer, which was an answer itself.
Sanji wanted to rampage all over again. Zoro was straightforward and logical, but soft at heart, and the fact that someone crushed it like this… “I’m going to kill him.”
Zoro didn’t respond to that, either.
They sat there again in silence. Sanji straightened the roll of his sleeves and thought about all the ways he would murder the man.
Zoro finally turned his head, resting his temple on his knee. The sheer hurt in his expression gutted Sanji. “Should’ve said no. Should’ve waited like I originally wanted.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sanji said immediately. “You’re allowed to have sex with who you want, when you want it.” It was a lesson Sanji was still learning, but that didn’t make it less true.
“Have you…?” Zoro started and trailed off.
Sanji knew what he was asking. He nodded. “Yeah. Not often. First time with a woman, I was still on the Baratie. Bled so much she thought she killed me and skipped out.”
“Figures,” Zoro scoffed softly.
Sanji knocked the side of his foot against Zoro’s. “Shut up.” He paused, gathering his resolve, because this was something Zoro needed to hear. “First time with a guy was on that marine ship on Punk Hazard.”
Zoro’s mouth dropped slightly.
Sanji pushed on before he could talk himself out of it. “Almost got caught, but… I liked it. I like men, too. Sometimes.” He cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “Anyway, what matters is that I wanted it, and I went for it, even if it was something I wouldn’t normally do. And that– that’s the important part.”
Zoro sat looking at him quietly, to the point where Sanji was about to kick him in the face to get him to stop. But then he whispered, “Thank you.”
Sanji blew out a breath. “Yeah. Whatever. Stupid moss.”
A corner of Zoro’s lips quirked. “Ero-cook.”
“Eat your food, seaweed head.”
Zoro shifted, lowering his legs to rest the tray on them. His face was still pale and tear-streaked, but he no longer wore that devastated look. Sanji took one of the onigiri and the napkin he knew Zoro wouldn’t use.
“Wonder what everyone else is up to,” Zoro said as he dug into the salad.
“Haven’t heard any explosions, so maybe Luffy ate himself into a food coma.”
They ate companionably, musing on what the others were doing, throwing occasional insults at each other. After the food was gone, Zoro set the tray aside and opened one of the bottles of sake. He drank most of it down in one go, then stared across the crow’s nest with a furrow to his brow. “Why are there a bunch of people with guns pointed at the ship on shore?”
Sanji activated his observation haki, too, and saw them still there. “I might’ve destroyed all the copies of that magazine on the island.”
“Oh.” Zoro glanced at him, then down at the bottle in his hand. He drained the rest of it, set it aside, and reached for the second. He paused and instead reached behind him and pulled out the crumpled magazine. He smoothed it out, looking down at the cover.
Sanji’s chest tightened again. “Want me to burn that one, too?”
Zoro shook his head, then opened the magazine to the page his picture was on. He stared down at it with an unreadable expression.
Sanji tried not to look, to preserve Zoro’s privacy, even if it was too late. He stole the second bottle of sake, opened it, and took a drink himself.
“Would you have sex with me?”
Sanji choked on the sake. He coughed, setting the bottle down quickly. Zoro thumped him hard on the back until Sanji batted him away. He caught his breath, turned his head, and stared at Zoro like he’d lost his own. “Did you really just ask me that?”
Zoro shrugged and looked away. “Thought you might want to.”
Sanji looked dumbfounded at him for a moment. “You don’t even like me.”
“Like you enough,” Zoro mumbled. He worried the edge of the magazine in his lap.
It drew Sanji’s attention, and his heart ached again. “Hey, I know that memory’s tainted now, but don’t do something you don’t really want.”
“Is it because I’m not–” He tapped the picture, low, and didn't finish.
Sanji looked automatically, and the arresting image struck him all over again. “No. You’re perfect.”
A blush crawled up Zoro’s cheeks and tinted his ears.
Sanji smothered the desire to gather Zoro into his arms again and protect him from the world. “Listen.” He cleared the roughness from his throat. “You want me sometime in the future – really want me for me – ask again.”
Zoro nodded, still looking down at the picture.
Sanji picked up the sake again, brought it to his lips, and thought better of it. He shoved it in Zoro’s direction. “You’re only getting two bottles.”
Zoro scoffed quietly as he took it, though he still didn’t turn his head. “I can just go into the Aquarium Bar and get more.”
“Not chilled, like you like it,” Sanji said, stacking the empty plate and bowl on the tray and collecting the empty bottle. He wasn’t fleeing. He was making a tactical retreat before he did something stupid. “Bring that bottle down when you finish it.”
“Okay.”
Sanji pushed to his feet, balancing the tray on one hand. He glanced down at Zoro and the magazine still open in his lap. He paused for a second longer, and because he was love’s fool, he said, “Hope you’ll ask me one day.”
Then he tactically fled.
End