Zoro hesitated on the threshold of the bathroom. Full moonlight shown through the curved aft window, giving the multi-patterned floors and walls a creamy glow. The shower head dripped on the polished wood bench that stretched beneath it. A single lantern burned on the edge of the large onsen-style tub situated beneath the window. The room was designed for multiple people to use at once, as the men of the crew had done many times. Zoro had hoped, this late at night, it would be empty. It wasn’t.
A curl of cigarette smoke rose toward the ceiling. Sanji sat in the tub, blond head leaning back, a folded towel draped over his eyes. His bare chest gleamed damply in the lantern light. An ashtray with a few crushed cigarette butts sat on the tub’s edge at his elbow.
This was the first time they’d been alone since the Straw Hat crew reunited. The Sunny left Wano Country three days ago. Zoro had barely spoken to Sanji in over a month outside of tactics and the usual insults. The most important conversation they’d had was Zoro promising to kill Sanji and that had only lasted a moment, and he had no idea what the promise was about. They used to talk all the time, usually after they fought. Or just before they fought. Or both. Sometimes, they fought in the middle.
But Sanji had run off. Sure, he’d left a note saying he’d be back so it wasn’t as if he’d quit the Straw Hats. But when Nami explained the reason why he’d gone, it’d pissed Zoro off - saying he had to fight his past on his own. Tch. Didn’t Sanji know the crew was nakama? That they helped each other? Instead, Sanji had left and Zoro had only gotten part of the story from Brook after the fact. He’d been pissed off then and he was still pissed off. There was also an irksome knot in his chest that had been there since Sanji took off that still hadn’t gone away.
“Are you coming in or what, marimo?”
Annoyance prompted him out of his hesitation. Zoro set down his katanas, dropped his yukata on the bench, kicked off his sandals, and wrapped a towel around his waist. “Don’t tell me what to do, Prince Vinsmoke.”
Sanji’s response was as sharp as one of Zoro’s blades. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s your name.”
“No.” Disgust and loathing dripped from the word. But underlying it was deep, dark pain. If Zoro hadn’t known Sanji so well, he wouldn’t have noticed it.
Zoro frowned. He stepped into the hot water and sat across from Sanji on the bench seat that circled the tub. Steam rose from the surface, and his entry made small waves. He leaned back and folded his arms. “You’re the one who ran off like a dog when they called.”
Zoro’s arms barely shot up in time to block the kick that came flying at him. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub. Sanji stood in front of him in his towel, fists clenched, breathing heavily in anger. “I am not a dog!”
“Then why the hell did you go?”
“Because if I didn’t, they’d kill someone I cared about, you stupid ape.”
Zoro scowled at him. “We can take care of ourselves.”
The anger drained from Sanji. He put his hand to his face, shook his head, and laughed quietly. “Not the crew, dumbass. My friends from the time we were separated. Zeff and those on the Baratie.”
“Oh.” Zoro felt like an idiot. Of course Sanji knew the Straw Hats could protect themselves. He lowered his chin and muttered, “Still should’ve asked us to help you.”
Sanji exhaled a sigh and sat down beside Zoro. “You don’t know them.”
“Then tell me about them.”
Sanji’s whole body tensed and then he seemed to deflate. “Yeah, I guess you deserve to know.”
“You guess?” Zoro shot him a sideways look of irritation.
“Fine. You do. Happy?”
Zoro grunted in satisfaction.
Sanji sighed and looked across the tub to his cigarettes and ashtray. “I trust you’ve figured out that Zeff isn’t actually my family.”
“Family is whomever you want it to be,” Zoro stated. It was the truth to him. The Straw Hats were Zoro’s family, and there were a few extended family members scattered throughout the Grand Line.
Sanji flashed a brief smile, but it faded as he began to tell his tale. “I was born a Vinsmoke. I stopped being one when I was eight, when my father- when Judge made me promise never to tell anyone I was related to them as a condition of my being allowed to escape.”
Zoro’s brow furrowed. “Escape?”
Sanji was silent for a moment. Zoro could see him drawing in on himself. His voice was low and rough when he spoke again. “I was a failure to him, you see. Not… good enough to be his son, like my brothers and sister. He, uh, hated me enough, I guess, that he declared me dead to the public and locked me up in the dungeon. He stuck an iron mask on me so no one could see my disappointing face. I was there for six months before my sister helped me get out.”
Zoro saw red. His hands clenched so tightly his fingernails caused his palms to bleed. “I’ll kill him.”
Sanji rested his hand on Zoro’s shoulder. “No. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” Zoro fumed. “He… you… it’s not okay!”
Sanji’s face softened. “It was a long time ago– erp!”
Zoro grabbed Sanji abruptly and hugged him tight. Then he shoved Sanji away, face heating, and folded his arms again. His chin tilted, daring Sanji to say something about what he’d done.
Sanji looked stunned. Then, his cheeks turned pink and he slid quickly across the tub to his cigarettes. He lit one, his back to Zoro.
“Well, tell me the rest. About this wedding bullshit and why Brook said that you saved that bastard’s life.”
“You know why I did.”
Zoro huffed. Yeah, he did know. Sanji wasn’t the type of man who would knowingly allow his relatives to die, even if they deserved it. “Stupid cook.”
Sanji faced him again, settling back on the opposite side of the tub. The end of the cigarette glowed as he inhaled. After a few moments, Sanji started talking again, filling Zoro in on the events at Whole Cake Island. Brook hadn’t told Zoro about half the stuff that had gone down. Zoro reigned in his anger before he ended up stealing the Mini Merry and ushering the male Vinsmokes to their graves. Possibly this Pudding chick, too, though Sanji seemed to be sympathetic toward her.
“I can’t believe you told Luffy you weren’t coming back, and that you were going to go through with getting married,” Zoro said, when Sanji’s story ended. “Stupid love-brow.”
Sanji shrugged. “I was trying to make the best of the situation.”
“You wouldn’t have been in that situation if you’d have asked for help.”
Sanji ducked his chin, his hair shielding his face, and murmured, “I needed to face my past. I’d been hiding from it for too long.”
“Tch.” Zoro didn’t like it, but he understood. “Dumbass.”
“Hn.” Sanji stabbed the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray.
“At least you’re done with them now.”
Sanji stretched his arms out on the edge of the tub. His finger tapped an uneven rhythm. “Hopefully. I destroyed the raid suit and disclaimed them again. And you’ve promised to kill me if I turn into one of them.”
Zoro scrunched his brow. “Yeah, what’s that all about anyway?”
Sanji told him. Zoro saw red again. “Death is too good for that man.”
Sanji looked bemused. “You’re very murderous tonight.”
“And you’re not murderous enough,” Zoro growled. A thought came to him. “Wait… does this mean I can’t hurt you anymore?”
“You couldn’t hurt me before,” Sanji scoffed.
Zoro narrowed his eyes. Sanji smirked.
A second later, they were fighting.
Sanji sprang and leapt and launched himself from the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling. Zoro’s no sword style became twin-bladed as soon as he could reach his katanas, and he cut new designs in the decoration. Their fight was both serious and not at the same time, just like always, and it was exhilarating. Water splashed everywhere, flooding the bathroom floor and putting out the lantern. Zoro almost went out the window at one point, catching himself with a finger before spearing back inside. Their towels, sandals, and clothes became casualties to blades and fire kicks. Adam wood saved the Sunny’s bathroom from complete reconstruction.
The fight ended with a draw, both of them standing in the half-filled tub, Sanji’s ugly toes a centimeter from Zoro’s nose and one of Zoro’s katanas under Sanji’s chin. Sanji’s grin and the happy look in his eyes made the knot in Zoro’s chest finally unravel. Sanji was back. Really and truly back.
Zoro lowered his blades. Sanji lowered his foot.
They stood in front of each other, the glow from the moonlight highlighting their damp, bare skin. Zoro felt his breath stutter when he inhaled. The air seemed to crackle around them. It felt new, different. Better.
And then Sanji kissed him.
Zoro’s heart leapt to his throat and his vision blurred as he stared close up at Sanji in surprise. Sanji’s lips were chapped, rough, right. And suddenly he couldn’t breathe.
Sanji pulled back, just far enough that they could see each other clearly. He studied Zoro’s face, and one corner of mouth quirked. “Breathe, you idiot.”
Zoro’s breath left him in a whoosh. He stared at Sanji, confused and apprehensive. “You kissed me.”
“I did.” Sanji continued to study him, one hand looped around the nape of Zoro’s neck, their bodies almost touching.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not one of them.”
Zoro got it. “No. You’re not. You’re one of us.”
“Yeah.” Sanji’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Though I’m still better than you.”
“No, you’re no–” Zoro’s squawk of protest was cut off by another kiss. This time… Zoro still wasn’t ready for it. His entire body tingled and felt like it was on fire at the same time. He didn’t know what to do.
Sanji did, though. He pulled away, took Zoro’s katana from him, and set them aside. Then he took Zoro’s hands and put them around Sanji’s back. Sanji’s thumb brushed Zoro’s earrings as he wound his hand behind Zoro’s neck again. Their bodies were touching, from knees to chest. Zoro could feel Sanji hardening against his groin, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “How… why…”
“If you have to ask that, you’re as dumb as I thought you were.”
Zoro blinked as the words penetrated his brain fog, then he scowled. “I’m smarter than you.”
“Then kiss me already, marimo.”
“Fine. But not because you told me to,” Zoro was quick to point out. He pretended his hands behind Sanji’s back weren’t shaking and pressed his mouth to Sanji’s for his third ever kiss.
And he wondered why they’d never done this before.
Zoro’s arms encircled Sanji further, pulling him in more snuggly. He wasn’t soft or delicate. Zoro didn’t feel like he might break the other man. Sanji was built of planes and angles and hard muscle that fit against Zoro perfectly. Sanji was his complement. His equal. His nakama. Family.
And when Zoro floundered, not sure what to do next, Sanji took over and showed him. No hesitation. No awkwardness. When one of them stumbled, the other was always there, even if sometimes stubbornness or self-sacrifice got in the way. But that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the feel of Sanji against him, with him, where he belonged.
Moonlight was the only witness to the gasps, the quiet laughter, and the soft moans. More water splashed over the edge of the tub. Sanji’s cigarettes floated away. The cool breeze from the open window cooled their heated flesh, when done.
Zoro leaned against Sanji’s chest, gazing at the stars outside. Sanji’s arm was around him, the other hand groping for cigarettes that were no longer there. “Damn it. That was a new pack.”
“You have more.” Beneath what was left of the water, Zoro’s finger traced absent patterns through the hair on Sanji’s thigh. He was more relaxed than he had been in a long while.
“Not here, I don’t.” Sanji sighed. “Trust you to make a mess and soak them.”
“I made a mess? I think you had a hand involved,” Zoro said. “And feet.”
He felt Sanji’s smile against the back of his head. “Worth it.”
A flush spread across Zoro, and Sanji chuckled softly. “Shut up,” Zoro muttered.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, until Sanji’s need for a cigarette made him grow restless. “We’ll have to clean up this mess before we go. Nami-san will kill us otherwise.”
“I don’t think we destroyed the mop,” Zoro said, as he reluctantly rose. He offered a hand to Sanji and pulled him to his feet.
“No. It’s outside the door, along with the bucket and other cleaning supplies.” Sanji stepped out of the tub and padded to the closed door. “More towels, too.”
It wasn’t until Sanji left that Zoro felt suddenly self-conscious. A towel hitting him in the face snapped him out of it. “Here. Put that around you, marimo,” Sanji said. “You’re scaring the neighbors.”
Zoro glanced out the window. There had been no ships in sight for miles around the Thousand Sunny, the last time he’d been on deck. Sanji chuckled when he did so. Zoro scowled. “Shut up, cook.”
Sanji gave him a rotten smile. “Make me.”
Zoro picked up his two katana and grinned in return. “You asked for it,” he said, and launched an attack. Sanji met him head on. Like always.
Neither of them won the fight, but neither of them really cared. It took them more than an hour to clean the bathroom when they were done. They couldn’t do anything about the new designs sliced and burned into the decor.
Sanji gathered his tattered clothing and slid his feet into his still-whole sandals. He paused in the doorway, as Zoro gathered his own things. “Hey, Zoro?”
Zoro frowned at what was left of his yukata, which had burned to the size of a Beli. “Yeah?”
“I’ll ask for help next time.”
Zoro’s gaze turned toward Sanji. “What makes you think I’m going to let you out of my sight?”
Sanji’s face pinked and he let out a startled laugh. “Idiot swordsman,” he said, then slipped out the door.
Sanji thought Zoro was kidding. He wasn’t. Not that Zoro would stick to Sanji’s side at all times, but that stupid cook wasn’t running off again. Not without Zoro. Besides, Zoro wanted to explore this new thing between them. He liked it, and wasn’t going to let it disappear.
Clothing remains in hand, Zoro took one last look around the bathroom. He was satisfied that everything - including with Sanji - had been put to right.
End