Sometimes when Zoro got lost, he ended up in a better place than where he’d been going originally. An entire shop full of nothing but alcohol beat a tavern hands down. Green, brown, and clear bottles in various sizes stood displayed on shelves made from old crates. The stacks of opened crates made rows as tall as Zoro. Glass sparkled in the midday sunlight streaming through the arched door. A young shopkeeper with a bristling red mustache smiled at him in greeting from behind the polished wood service counter.
Zoro wandered down one row and up another, trying not to salivate. Some of the crates were stamped with names he’d never heard of, like Domorfjord or Eimajs. He normally didn’t care what he drank, though he preferred sake if he could get it. But when faced with such temptation, he could try something new, something with more of a kick. He had the beli, for once. His share of the Straw Hats’ most recent plunder had paid off his debts, the interest, and the greedy bitch’s handling fee, and had actually left him with a small sum to spend.
Half of the amount had gone to Robin, for her to buy some replacement clothing for him. Between fighting enemies and fighting with Sanji, Zoro was close to walking around naked. He’d split Sanji’s shirt the one time he’d borrowed clothes and paid for it for weeks, something he swore he wouldn’t do again. And he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing anything of Franky’s. Robin would get him what he needed, leaving Zoro to spend the rest of his beli on more important things, like all the alcohol he could afford.
Zoro took his time, examining the bottles, selecting labels he knew and some that sounded interesting. He brought the bottles to the service counter when he neared his limit.
“Looks like you have some beli to burn,” the shopkeeper said, with a twinkle in his gray eyes. Wine racks lined the wall behind him, the slots filled with dark, corked bottles.
“Yeah.” Zoro leaned against the waist-high counter, glancing at the array of bottles he’d set down. “None of these are girly drinks, are they?”
“No.” The shopkeeper chuckled and placed Zoro’s purchases in an empty crate. “Any one of them will put hair on your chest.”
Zoro nodded in satisfaction. “Good.” He looked around, hoping he hadn’t missed anything better than what he’d selected. His gaze returned to the wine and he tapped his fingers on the counter. “Is any of that wine something a snotty cook would like?”
“Of course,” the shopkeeper said, setting the last of Zoro’s bottles in the crate. The shopkeeper turned to the wine racks. “Are you looking for a red or a white? A summertime wine or something heavier?”
“Fuck if I know,” Zoro said. “Just give me something good. The bastard’s annoyingly picky.”
“I have just the thing.” The shopkeeper slid a bottle from the top rack and brought it to the counter. “Smlernet 108, from the Ungernof Vineyards in South Blue—”
Zoro interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “I don’t care. I’ll take it.”
The street was busy when Zoro left the shop, carrying a less full crate than he’d initially wanted. Sailors and townspeople traveled between stores, loading horse-drawn wagons with wares or carrying stocked bags. Raucous kids darted from the shadowed alleys between the white stone buildings, chasing each other in play. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the open doorway of a nearby bakery.
Zoro shaded his eyes from the spring sunlight and looked both left and right. He’d had to make a right when he’d entered the shop, but he’d gone left when he’d disembarked the Sunny. So the Sunny should be back to his right, right?
“Oi, mosshead!” Zoro turned at the call heard over the clip-clopping of horse hooves. A short way up the street, Sanji sat behind the reins of a horse-drawn wagon that was overflowing with supplies. Zoro waited for Sanji to pull abreast of him.
“Heading back to the ship?” Sanji asked.
“Yeah.” Zoro swung up onto the bench seat. Sanji snapped the reins before Zoro was settled and he sat down fast as he lost his balance when the horses started moving. “Aho cook. You could’ve waited.”
“Heh.” Sanji smirked around his cigarette, a long ash dangling precariously from the tip. He glanced at the crate. “I take it you spent all your money on booze for yourself.”
“I wish,” Zoro said. He set the crate between his feet, pulled out the bottle of wine, and handed it to Sanji. “One fucking bottle of that crap lost me eight bottles of what I wanted. I don’t even know why you like wine. It tastes like piss and vinegar to me.”
“Yeah, well, who asked you to buy it?”
Sanji’s voice sounded weird. Zoro grinned, leaned over, and his lips brushed against the reddened shell of Sanji’s ear as he whispered, “You’re welcome.”
Made self-conscious, Sanji shoved him away. “Shitty marimo.”
Chuckling, Zoro settled more comfortably on the bench seat and closed his eyes for a nap on the ride back to the ship.
When he opened his eyes again as the wagon stopped, he didn’t find the Sunny moored in front of him. The harbor was missing, too. Instead, he and Sanji were surrounded by blooming sakura trees. The branches curved over the street that wove through the countryside. Fallen pink petals sprinkled the grass. Sanji hopped from the wagon and tethered the horses to a low branch near the road.
“Why are we stopping?” Zoro asked, stretching. Sanji gave him a look that Zoro couldn’t misinterpret. Heat pooled in Zoro’s gut and a smile spread across his lips.
“Grab what you want.” Sanji nodded towards the crate as he shed his jacket and left it on the seat. He crushed his cigarette butt beneath his toe.
Zoro picked a bottle from the crate at random, jumped down, and circled the wagon. Sanji was searching through the supplies. Zoro pressed up close behind Sanji, sliding his arm around Sanji’s waist. His swiftly hardening cock nestled perfectly in the crease of Sanji’s ass.
“Gerroff.” Sanji shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t actively force Zoro to let go. Zoro used his teeth to tug at the loose collar of Sanji’s blue shirt, exposing the pale nape of Sanji’s neck.
Sanji found what he wanted from the wagon and slithered out of Zoro’s hold before Zoro could mark Sanji’s milky skin. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Zoro was just fine with screwing Sanji against the wagon. Or being screwed by Sanji against the wagon. He wasn’t choosy.
Sanji picked up the wine from the bench seat, and with a wheel of cheese in his other hand, headed off into the trees.
Zoro sighed and followed.
Sakura petals floated down when Zoro’s shoulder brushed against a branch. He could hear the faint laughter of children in the distance. Small birds flit from tree to tree. Sanji stopped far enough from the road to give them some privacy, but where they could still see the wagon. Beneath a blossoming sakura tree, he folded his long legs to the ground and smiled up at Zoro. Dappled sunlight played across his features and highlighted his golden hair. “Sit down, dumbass.”
Zoro sat. He’d gone a little weak in the knees, anyway. The mouthy bastard sometimes had that affect on him. After leaning his katanas against the tree, Zoro yanked the cork from the bottle in his hands and took a long guzzle. The smoky-flavored alcohol slid down his throat. It was a brand of drink he hadn’t had in the past and was very smooth.
“No sake?” Sanji asked, prying off the wine’s waxed cork with his thumbs.
“Thought I’d try something different,” Zoro replied, wiping his chin with the back of his wrist. He re-corked the bottle, set it aside, and reached for Sanji. He got a wheel of cheese shoved in his hands.
Zoro glowered. Sanji’s lips quirked, knowing exactly what he was doing to Zoro. “Cut that.”
“With what?” Zoro said.
“Your katana. What else, idiot?”
“I’m not cutting cheese with my katana!”
“I want to fully appreciate the wine some very romantic sap gave me and that requires the proper counterpart,” Sanji said. “But if you want to spoil my gift…”
Zoro’s jaw ticked. He drew his katana. “This had better be the best sex ever,” he muttered, as he abused Wadou indecently.
Sanji’s gaze danced with mischief and affection, as he popped a small chunk of cheese into his mouth.
Stupid Sanji and his stupid ability to make Zoro do stupid things.
“Hmm,” Sanji hummed delightedly when he took a drink of wine. He looked at the label. “This is really good.”
“I told the guy to give me something only a shitty cook would like.” Zoro apologized silently and profusely to Wadou as he cleaned her with his bandana.
Sanji took another drink, corked the wine, and put it aside. Avoiding the cheese in the grass between them, he swung his leg over Zoro’s and settled onto Zoro’s lap. Zoro had moved Wadou clear when he’d realized what Sanji had intended. He didn’t hesitate to let go when Sanji took Wadou from him and slid her into her sheath. He leaned close when he propped the katana against the tree with the other two swords. Zoro inhaled the scent of cigarettes and salt from the sea as he wrapped his arms around Sanji. The bandana fluttered to the grass.
“Zoro,” Sanji breathed softly, when Zoro’s lips touched his neck. The sound of his name tripped Zoro’s emotions. Zoro exhaled heavily, arms tightening around Sanji. He hated how something so simple could make him feel so alive.
Sanji’s fingers threaded into the short strands of Zoro’s hair and tugged lightly. Zoro tilted his head back and welcomed Sanji’s kiss. The banked fire of arousal caught ablaze with the feel of Sanji’s mouth against his. He kissed Sanji deeply, tasting the gifted wine on Sanji’s tongue.
Sanji pressed his knees against the sides of Zoro’s hips and ground against Zoro. Zoro clenched a fistful of shirt between Sanji’s shoulder blades and tugged him back. The kiss broke wetly. Zoro dove in to suck on Sanji’s neck, earning a curse of pleasure. “Fuck, yeah.”
“He said a bad word.”
Giggling and stifled speaking yanked Zoro away from Sanji’s neck. Sanji stilled at the same time. Zoro looked past Sanji and found that they had an audience. Four children, around ten years old, peeked from behind two trees close by. He closed his eyes and let his head sink against Sanji’s shoulder with a quiet, “Damn it.”
“I didn’t think they were that nearby,” Sanji said. He sighed in displeasure and removed himself gingerly from Zoro’s lap.
Zoro’s cock throbbed unhappily. He grabbed his drink, guzzled a good amount, and flopped back against the tree trunk. Sanji took a long drink of wine, as well, looking as uncomfortable as Zoro felt. After adjusting himself as unobtrusively as possible, Zoro stretched his legs in front of him and closed his eyes. “Wake me when they go away.”
“Hn,” Sanji grunted, with a snick of his lighter. The wind blew gently through the sakura trees.
Zoro suppressed his grin when he heard Sanji mumbling about ways to cook children.
Zoro awoke to something tickling his nose and a warm weight settled comfortably on his chest. The tickling sensation went away as he exhaled. Cracking open an eye, he saw blossoms falling from the sakura tree above him. Visible through the branches, the sun hung lower in the blue spring sky.
He opened his other eye and glanced down. Sanji lay sprawled on his stomach in the vee of Zoro’s legs, using Zoro’s chest as a pillow. His faint snore drifted to Zoro’s ears. Zoro’s hand lay protectively on Sanji’s back, holding him in sleep.
Craning his neck slightly, Zoro saw that the children were gone and so was the cheese. Two corked bottles were nestled together in the grass beside him. A bird sang nearby. The breeze rustled the tree branches and more blossoms floated to the ground.
Zoro slid his hand up Sanji’s back to the nape of his neck and traced meaningless symbols on the smooth skin. Sanji stirred slowly.
“Hey,” Sanji murmured eventually, not moving from his spot.
“Hey.” Zoro twined a blonde lock around his finger and pulled gently free. “When do we have to be back to the ship?”
“Not ‘til late,” Sanji rubbed his cheek lightly against Zoro’s chest, “which is good, because I’m comfortable right where I am.”
“Yeah.” Zoro played with the strands of Sanji’s hair and watched as the sakura blossoms fell around them like a soft, pink rain. Contentment hummed in his heart. “So am I.”
Fic based on fanart by Sayaka Konno