The first time they held hands in public, Zoro didn't think much of it.
They'd docked at a bustling port town on a summer island, the kind with narrow streets packed with vendors hawking everything from fresh fish to cheap trinkets. The crew had scattered to handle supplies and pursue their own interests. Zoro had been about to head off to find a bar when Sanji's fingers threaded through his.
"Come with me to the market," Sanji said, already pulling him along.
Zoro went, mostly because his gut told him to. It had only been two weeks since that rainy night at the inn, since they'd figured out what they were to each other. Two weeks of stolen kisses in the galley and Sanji's hand on his back and learning what it meant to be with someone. Their palms pressed together, warm and slightly damp from the humidity. Sanji's long fingers curled around his hand with easy confidence, like he'd been doing it his whole life. Zoro didn't mind. The weight of Sanji's hand in his felt solid. Nice.
People bumped into them as they navigated the crowded street. A woman with a basket jostled Zoro's shoulder. A kid nearly tripped over his feet. But Sanji never let go, just adjusted his grip and kept walking, pointing out which stalls had the best produce and which were trying to sell day-old fish as fresh catch.
When they stopped at a spice vendor, Sanji finally released Zoro's hand to examine small bags of what looked like red dust. Zoro's hand felt empty without Sanji's in it. He looked down at his palm, then at Sanji, who was haggling with the vendor in rapid-fire speech that Zoro couldn't follow. Something in Zoro's chest felt tight.
He liked holding Sanji's hand, he realized. Liked the connection. Liked knowing exactly where Sanji was without having to use observation haki.
"What're you staring at, marimo?" Sanji asked, bags of spices tucked under one arm.
"Nothing," Zoro said, and held out his hand.
Sanji's visible eye widened slightly before his lips curved into a smile. He took Zoro's hand again and squeezed. "Let's go."
They walked through the rest of the market like that, hands linked, and Zoro focused on the simple feeling of Sanji's fingers wrapped around his own. He didn't need to understand why other couples did this. He just knew that he wanted to keep doing it.
The second time something couple-like happened, Zoro was the one who initiated it.
It was evening on the Sunny, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. Most of the crew had gone to bed early, worn out from a particularly brutal fight with a rival pirate crew earlier that day. Zoro sat on the deck, three empty sake bottles beside him, staring at the horizon.
Sanji came out of the galley carrying two cups of coffee. He sat down next to Zoro without asking and handed him one of the cups. "You did good today," Sanji said.
Zoro took the coffee. It was black, no sugar, exactly how he liked it. "You weren't bad yourself."
They sat in comfortable silence. Zoro sipped his coffee and watched the sun sink lower. The ocean reflected the dying light, turning gold and crimson. He thought about the fight, about how Sanji had covered his back without being asked. How they'd moved together like two parts of a single blade.
Without thinking too much about it, Zoro shifted closer and leaned his weight against Sanji's side. Sanji went still for a moment, then relaxed and pressed back. The warmth of Sanji's body seeped through their clothes.
"This okay?" Zoro asked.
"Yeah," Sanji said quietly. His arm came up and wrapped around Zoro's shoulders, pulling him closer. "This is good."
Zoro let his head tip sideways until it rested against Sanji's. The position wasn't particularly comfortable – they were both too big, too angular – but Zoro didn't care. This was what couples did. Being close for no reason except wanting to be close.
He felt Sanji's fingers brush against his upper arm, a light back-and-forth motion. Zoro closed his eye and focused on the sensation. The touch, the warmth, the solid presence of Sanji beside him. His body felt calm. Content.
"I like this," Zoro said.
Sanji's hand stilled, then continued its gentle stroking. "Me too."
They stayed like that until the sun fully set and the stars came out, Sanji's arm around Zoro's shoulders, Zoro's weight leaned into Sanji's side. When they finally moved to go to bed, Zoro's body felt loose and relaxed in a way that usually only came after a good training session.
The third time, Sanji surprised him.
They'd been walking through a small town, heading back to the ship after Sanji finished shopping for supplies. It was just the two of them again. Zoro noticed that happening more often lately – Sanji finding reasons for them to go places together, to be alone.
"Wait here," Sanji said suddenly, and ducked into a shop before Zoro could ask why.
Zoro waited, leaning against the wall and watching people pass by. An old woman smiled at him. A dog sniffed his boots. A group of kids ran past, laughing and shouting. He didn't understand why they were always so loud, but they seemed happy.
Sanji emerged from the shop carrying something wrapped in brown paper. "Here," he said, and thrust it at Zoro.
Zoro took the package and unwrapped it. Inside was a single flower, or rather, three flowers bundled together. They were simple blooms, white petals with yellow centers, tied with a green ribbon.
"What's this?" Zoro asked, staring at them.
"Flowers, dumbass," Sanji said. He looked away, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Thought you might like them."
Zoro had never received flowers before. He brought them closer to his face and inhaled. They smelled sweet, clean. Pleasant. He looked at Sanji, who was still avoiding eye contact, a faint pink flush coloring his cheeks.
Something clicked in Zoro's mind. Giving flowers was what people did when they liked someone. When they wanted to make them happy. Sanji had gotten these for him.
"I do like them," Zoro said.
Sanji's gaze snapped back to him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Zoro carefully held the flowers in one hand and reached for Sanji's hand with the other. "Thanks."
Sanji's smile was bright enough to rival the sun. "You're welcome, marimo."
They walked back to the ship hand in hand, Zoro carrying his flowers like they were precious treasure. When they reached the Sunny, Zoro found an empty bottle, filled it with water, and put the flowers in it. He set the makeshift vase on the sill in the crow’s nest where he could see it when he trained.
Every time he looked at those flowers over the next few days, something warm bloomed in his chest.
The fourth time, they were alone in the galley late at night.
Zoro had wandered in looking for sake and found Sanji cleaning up from dinner prep. Sanji glanced at him, then gestured to the table. "Sit. I made you some dessert."
Zoro sat. A moment later, Sanji placed a bowl in front of him with a creamy pudding in it. Zoro picked up his spoon and took a bite. It tasted like tangy cheese.
"Good?" Sanji asked, leaning against the counter with a cigarette between his lips.
"Yeah," Zoro said around another mouthful.
Sanji watched him eat with that look again, the one that made Zoro feel like he was something worth looking at. When Zoro finished, Sanji stubbed out his cigarette and came over to the table. He stood behind Zoro's chair.
"Can I?" Sanji's fingers hovered near Zoro's hair.
Zoro nodded. "Go ahead."
Sanji's fingers threaded through Zoro's hair, gentle and careful. He combed through the short green strands, his fingertips occasionally brushing Zoro's scalp. Zoro's eye drifted closed. The sensation was incredible, soothing and pleasant in a way he'd never experienced before.
"You've got nice hair," Sanji murmured. "Even if it is a ridiculous color."
Zoro snorted but didn't bother opening his eye. "Shut up, cook."
Sanji's fingers continued their slow exploration, massaging lightly at Zoro's temples, then sliding through his hair again. Zoro felt his entire body relax. A low, content sound rumbled in his throat before he could stop it.
"Liked that, huh?" Sanji sounded amused.
"Don't stop," Zoro said.
So Sanji didn't. He kept running his fingers through Zoro's hair, sometimes scratching lightly at his scalp, sometimes just letting the strands slip through his fingers. Zoro lost track of time. All that existed was the gentle touch and the quiet of the galley and the smell of cigarette smoke that clung to Sanji's clothes.
Eventually, Sanji's hands stilled and came to rest on Zoro's shoulders. "You're half asleep."
"Mmm," Zoro agreed. He forced his eye open and looked up at Sanji, who was gazing down at him with a soft expression. "That was nice."
"We can do it again sometime," Sanji said. His hands squeezed Zoro's shoulders lightly before he stepped back. "Go to bed, marimo. You'll get a stiff neck sleeping at the table."
Zoro stood, stretched, and caught Sanji's hand as he turned to leave. He pulled Sanji closer and pressed a kiss to his lips – brief, chaste, but meaningful. "Thanks."
Sanji's face flushed pink. "Idiot," he muttered, but he was smiling.
The fifth time, it was raining.
The crew had taken shelter in a tavern on yet another island, this one perpetually damp with mist and drizzle. Music drifted from a corner where a small band played – a fiddle, a guitar, and someone keeping time on a drum.
Couples swayed together on the small dance floor. Zoro watched them, trying to understand the pattern of their movements. It looked complicated. Step, turn, step, turn. He didn't see the logic in it.
"Want to try?" Sanji appeared at his elbow, two glasses in hand. He set one in front of Zoro – sake – and kept the other for himself.
"Try what?" Zoro took a sip of his drink.
"Dancing." Sanji gestured toward the couples with his glass. "I know you can fight with perfect footwork. Dancing's not that different."
Zoro frowned. "I don't know how."
"I'll teach you." Sanji downed his drink in one go and stood. He held out his hand. "Come on."
Zoro's gut told him this was going to be awkward. But Sanji was looking at him with expectation and something that might have been hope, and Zoro remembered this was one of the things he'd wanted to try. Dancing with someone.
He took Sanji's hand and let himself be pulled to his feet.
They moved to the edge of the dance floor. Sanji positioned Zoro's hands: one on his shoulder, the other clasped in Sanji's. "Just follow my lead," Sanji said. "And try not to step on my feet."
"No promises," Zoro muttered.
Sanji laughed and started moving. Zoro stumbled through the first few steps, his brain trying to process the rhythm and the footwork and Sanji's movements all at once. He focused on one problem at a time: first, matching Sanji's steps. Then, staying in rhythm with the music. Then, not crashing into other couples.
"You're doing good," Sanji said quietly.
Zoro looked down at their feet to make sure he wasn't about to trip. "This is harder than it looks."
"Most things are." Sanji's hand tightened on Zoro's. "But you're getting it."
Gradually, Zoro stopped thinking about the steps and started just moving. His body knew how to follow rhythm, he used it in combat all the time. This was just slower, gentler. Less about striking and more about staying close.
He looked up and found Sanji watching him with that soft expression again. The one that made Zoro's chest feel tight. Sanji smiled at him, and Zoro realized that Sanji was happy. Happy to be here with Zoro, dancing badly in a crowded tavern while rain pattered against the windows.
"What?" Sanji asked.
"You're smiling," Zoro said.
"So?"
"You're smiling because you're with me."
Sanji's smile widened. "Yeah. I am."
Something warm and bright unfurled in Zoro's chest. This was what he'd wanted without knowing he wanted it. Someone who smiled at him because they were happy to be with him.
"I like that," Zoro said.
"Good," Sanji said, and pulled him closer.
They danced until the song ended, then kept dancing through the next one. Zoro stepped on Sanji's feet twice and nearly knocked them both into another couple once, but Sanji just laughed and kept leading him through the steps.
When they finally returned to their table, both slightly breathless, Zoro felt lighter than he had in months.
The sixth time, they were alone in the crow's nest.
Zoro had been training, working through sword forms until his muscles burned and sweat dripped down his spine. When he finally finished and sat down to catch his breath, Sanji appeared with water.
"Thought you might need these," Sanji said, sitting down beside him.
Zoro took the water and drank half the pitcher in one go. He wiped his face with a towel, then draped it around his neck. "Thanks."
They sat in comfortable silence, the way they often did now. Zoro had learned that Sanji didn't always need words. Sometimes he just wanted to be near.
"Can I ask you something?" Sanji said after a while.
"Sure."
"Do you ever regret this? Us?" Sanji's voice was careful, controlled. "I know you never wanted this kind of thing before."
Zoro considered the question. Did he regret any of it? The hand-holding, the flowers, the dancing, the kisses? The way his body felt calm and content when Sanji touched him? The way his chest felt tight when Sanji smiled at him?
"No," Zoro said. "I don't regret it."
"Even though you're not..." Sanji trailed off, struggling for words.
"Even though I don't need what you need," Zoro finished for him. He knew what Sanji meant – the orgasms, the sex stuff. Zoro still didn't want those things for himself. "That doesn't matter. I like everything else."
Sanji let out a long breath. "Good. That's good."
Zoro shifted until he could lean his back against Sanji's chest. Sanji's arms came around him immediately, crossing over his chest, holding him close. Zoro closed his eye and focused on the sensation – Sanji's warmth against his back, Sanji's heartbeat steady and strong, Sanji's breath ruffling his hair.
"This is nice," Zoro murmured.
"Yeah," Sanji agreed. His chin hooked over Zoro's shoulder. "It is."
They stayed like that for a long time, Sanji holding Zoro, both of them watching the ocean through the crow's nest windows. Zoro's body felt heavy and relaxed. Content. This was another thing he'd wanted, being held. Having someone's arms around him, solid and secure.
"I'm glad you touched my back that first time," Zoro said quietly.
Sanji made a soft sound against his shoulder. "Me too."
The seventh time, they were back in their shared room at the inn.
It had become routine now, Zoro realized. After they docked at a new island, Sanji would find reasons for them to stay at an inn together. Always one room. Always one bed. Zoro didn't mind. He liked sharing a bed with Sanji.
Tonight, Sanji had requested it openly. "Want to get a room for the night?" he'd asked as they walked through town, his hand warm in Zoro's.
"Yeah," Zoro had said, because his gut told him that was what he wanted.
Now they lay in bed together, both clean from the bath, comfortable in the darkness. Rain fell outside – it seemed to follow them, lately – and the sound of it against the window created a soothing backdrop.
Sanji's fingers traced idle patterns on Zoro's chest. Not sexual, just touch. Connection. Zoro had learned the difference over the past few weeks. Sometimes Sanji touched him because he wanted sex. Other times, he touched him just to touch.
They'd taken things slow since that first night. Mostly kissing and touching. Zoro had used his hand on Sanji several times now, and he'd gotten good at it. But they hadn't tried anything beyond that yet. Sanji had said there was no rush, that they could take as much time as Zoro needed to figure out what he liked and didn't like. Zoro appreciated that.
"Hey," Zoro said. "Can I ask you something?"
"Always."
"What do you get out of this?" Zoro focused on putting his thoughts into words. It was hard sometimes, making his brain cooperate with language. "You do a lot of things for me. The flowers, the dancing, the touching. What do you get?"
Sanji's fingers stilled on his chest. Then Sanji shifted up onto his elbow to look down at Zoro in the dim light. "I get to be with you," he said simply. "I get to see you smile when I give you flowers. I get to feel you relax when I touch you. I get to hold your hand and know you want to hold mine back."
Zoro processed that. "So you like doing those things because I like them?"
"Yeah." Sanji's hand cupped Zoro's cheek. "I like making you happy."
The pieces came together for Zoro. This was what couples did – they made each other happy. It wasn't complicated. It was straightforward. Sanji liked doing things that made Zoro happy, and Zoro liked doing things that made Sanji happy.
"I like making you happy too," Zoro said. "Like when I touch you. You seem happy then."
Sanji laughed softly. "I'm very happy then."
"Good." Zoro reached up and pulled Sanji down for a kiss. Their lips met in the familiar dance they'd practiced over and over again. Zoro still loved kissing – the warmth, the pressure, the way it made his body tingle from head to toe.
Sanji deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against Zoro's. Zoro responded in kind, chasing and retreating in their private sword fight. When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder, Sanji rested his forehead against Zoro's.
"I could kiss you forever," Sanji murmured.
"That's a long time," Zoro said, but he was grinning. "Might get boring."
"Never." Sanji kissed him again, quick and light. "Want to try something?"
Zoro's body immediately went on alert. That usually meant sex things. "What kind of something?"
"The kind where I get naked and you touch me until I lose my mind," Sanji said bluntly. "But only if you want to."
Zoro searched his feelings. Did he want to? His gut said yes. He liked touching Sanji. Liked watching him fall apart. Liked being the one to make him feel good. "Yeah, okay."
Sanji grinned and kissed him again. "You're perfect, you know that?"
"Shut up," Zoro muttered, but he was pleased.
They shifted positions until Sanji was lying on his back and Zoro was kneeling beside him. Sanji was already hard, his cock straining against his sleep pants. Zoro helped him remove them, then studied Sanji's body in the faint light.
He'd seen Sanji naked plenty of times now, but he never got tired of looking. Sanji was all long limbs and lean muscle, his skin pale except where scars marked him. His cock curved up toward his stomach, already leaking at the tip.
"Tell me what you want," Zoro said.
Sanji's breath hitched. "Your hand first. Then I’d really like your mouth, if you're still willing."
Zoro wrapped his hand around Sanji's erection, using the firm grip he'd learned Sanji liked. He stroked slowly at first, watching Sanji's face for reactions. Sanji's eye fluttered closed, his lips parting on a soft moan.
Zoro increased his pace, his forearm muscles flexing with each stroke. This really was like polishing his swords – the rhythm, the pressure, the focus. Except Sanji was warm and alive beneath his touch, making sounds that went straight to something primal in Zoro's chest.
"Fuck," Sanji gasped. His hips started moving, thrusting up into Zoro's grip. "Faster. Please."
Zoro obliged, pumping Sanji's cock with steady efficiency. He watched Sanji's face twist into that pained expression that meant he was close. Zoro leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sanji's lips, swallowing Sanji's moans.
"Gonna come," Sanji warned breathlessly.
Zoro kept stroking through Sanji's orgasm, watching as his cock pulsed and released in thick spurts. Sanji's entire body went taut before collapsing back onto the bed, boneless and satisfied.
When Sanji's breathing evened out, he reached for Zoro and pulled him down for a kiss. "Thank you," he murmured against Zoro's lips.
"You're welcome." Zoro wiped his hand on the sheets, then looked at Sanji thoughtfully. "You said you wanted my mouth too."
Sanji's eye went wide. "You don't have to–"
"I know." Zoro cut him off. "But I want to try it."
Sanji made a strangled sound. "You're going to kill me."
Zoro snorted. "I'll be careful." He'd thought about this since that first night, when he'd compared it to putting Wado in his mouth. The idea didn't bother him. He trusted his body to know what to do, the same way it knew how to move in a fight.
He settled between Sanji's legs, studying Sanji's cock. It was already starting to firm up again, which Zoro found interesting. "Tell me what to do," he said, glancing up at Sanji's face.
Sanji's hand came down to card through Zoro's hair, gentle and grounding. "Start slow. Just lick it, get used to the feel. And remember, no teeth."
"I know that," Zoro muttered. He wasn't an idiot.
He leaned forward and gave Sanji's cock an experimental lick from base to tip. Sanji's taste was salty, musky, distinctly him. Not unpleasant. Zoro did it again, paying attention to how Sanji's breath hitched and his fingers tightened in Zoro's hair.
"That's good," Sanji said, his voice already rough. "You can take the head in your mouth now, if you want."
Zoro did. He wrapped his lips around the tip of Sanji's cock and sucked gently, the way he'd seen people suck on hard candy. Sanji made a choked sound above him. Zoro took that as encouragement and took more of Sanji's length into his mouth.
This was different from using his hand. More intimate. He could feel every twitch and pulse of Sanji's cock against his tongue. Could taste him more intensely. His jaw stretched around Sanji's girth and he focused on keeping his teeth out of the way.
"Move your head up and down," Sanji instructed breathlessly. "Use your hand on what doesn't fit in your mouth."
Zoro followed the directions, bobbing his head while his hand worked the base of Sanji's cock. It took some coordination – like learning a new sword form – but Zoro had always been good at that. He found a rhythm that worked, moving steadily while his tongue pressed against the underside.
Sanji was making continuous sounds now, gasps and moans and muttered curses. His hips started moving, thrusting shallowly. "Is this okay?" Sanji panted. "Not going too deep?"
Zoro hummed his approval, and Sanji jerked hard at the vibration. Interesting. Zoro did it again.
"Fuck, Zoro, I'm gonna–" Sanji's warning came just seconds before his cock pulsed. Zoro held still as Sanji came in his mouth, the bitter-salty taste coating his tongue. He swallowed reflexively, then again, until Sanji was spent.
When he pulled off, Sanji was staring at him with dazed eyes. "You just... you swallowed."
Zoro wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Seemed easier than spitting it out."
Sanji's laugh was breathless and a little unhinged. He reached for Zoro, pulling him up for a kiss that tasted like both of them. "You're incredible," Sanji murmured against his lips. "You know that?"
"You keep saying that," Zoro said, but he was pleased. His jaw ached a little and his knees were sore from kneeling, but overall it hadn't been bad. He'd do it again.
Sanji settled beside Zoro, letting himself be pulled into an embrace. Sanji's arms came around him, holding him close.
They lay like that in the darkness, rain pattering outside, comfortable in each other's presence. Zoro felt that now-familiar contentment settle over him like a blanket.
"Zoro?" Sanji said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
The words should have scared Zoro. Should have made him want to flee. But they didn't. They just felt right. True.
Zoro thought about what love meant for him. It meant trusting Sanji at his back. It meant wanting to hold his hand. Its meant liking when Sanji smiled at him. It meant being happy to touch him, to kiss him, to be close to him.
"I love you too," Zoro said, because it was the truth.
Sanji's arms tightened around him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Zoro turned his head and pressed a kiss to Sanji's jaw. "You're my person."
Sanji made a choked sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. "You're mine too, marimo."
They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, the rain falling steadily outside. Zoro's last thought before sleep claimed him was that he was glad he'd taken that wrong turn to the bathroom all those weeks ago.
Because it had led him here. To holding hands and flowers and dancing. To being held and touched and kissed. To someone who smiled at him because they were happy to be with him.
To Sanji.
And that was exactly where Zoro wanted to be.
End