Zoro glowered for the umpteenth time and tugged at the pin-striped tie knotted around his neck.   He stood uncomfortably in his black suit; too tight in the shoulders, too long in the waist. It had been stored in his locker for too many years, last worn when he was a different man - younger, smaller, more naive. A patch was sewn at the back of the calf where a rodent had carried off a piece to her nest. His boots stayed the same, as did the ratty green haramaki snug around his middle, reminding him and everyone else that he was still Zoro underneath the monkey suit. 

He cut a glance at Sanji, who looked the same as always - uptight, unruffled, like he'd stepped out of a men's upscale clothing catalog. Deep blue this time, so dark it seemed black - a mistake Zoro only made once and his shin still hurt. Crisp white shirt with an incongruous yellow tie around his neck. Blonde hair blowing in the breeze that carried off his cigarette smoke, occasionally revealing both gray-blue eyes that looked upon Zoro with warm humor. 

"Pulling at it won't make it go away," Sanji said. 

Zoro scowled, and complained once again. "Don't see why I had to wear this stupid thing." 

Gemma appeared at the back of the grove, resplendent in white. A surge of pride filled Zoro's chest.

As the wedding march began playing, Sanji leaned closer to his husband to murmur, "Yes, you do, Dad."