Chapter Text
“Jinbe,” Sanji muttered as he walked past security at the Baratie, “How’s it looking today?”
“Evening, Sanji, it’s quiet tonight,” Jinbe responded, “A few drunks after dinner rush, one of them tried to take a swipe at Patty, but otherwise the guys are pretty bored.”
Sanji sighed as he waved goodbye to Jinbe and headed for the break room. A quiet night meant fewer tips and rowdier gamblers filling up empty space. He trudged past the slots, listening for muted curses as customers played the game with the least chance of payout, house edge of 10 percent or more. The quickest and most boring way to lose money in a casino. Sanji always had to resist the urge to gently let older gamblers know they shouldn’t be wasting their life savings on trying to get triple 7s. But, the Pit Boss was always watching.
When he made it to the break room, he moved to his locker and began changing into his dealer uniform. White collared shirt, black vest, black bowtie. He spent some time fussing with his hair in the mirror, slicking one side of his bangs back, letting the other fall in front of his eyes. Easier to ignore idiotic gamblers when he had a curtain over his eye.
“Sanji.”
He turned to see Carne coming in for his shift as well.
“Carne,” Sanji nodded back, straightening his bowtie and flicking off a piece of lint from his vest.
“Saw the boss earlier today, you’re on blackjack tonight.”
“Again?” Sanji groaned, “I hate dealing with the shitheads at the blackjack tables. Arrogant fuckers always think they know how to count cards and make dumb jokes about how much money they make at their shitty hedge funds. I just want cute bachelorette parties to come flirt with me at the roulette table.”
“I bet boss thinks you have the kind of face that makes the arrogant shitheads want to play blackjack and lose money,” Carne crowed, “Very smug and prissy.”
“Fuck you,” Sanji glared, “How did you even get a job here, you scare away half the customers with your complete inability to shave and who the fuck wears sunglasses indoors. You think you’re on World Series of Poker?”
“Stop fighting.”
Sanji and Carne both straightened up when the Assistant Pit Boss entered the break room. Zeff glared at them, “Sanji, blackjack. Carne, baccarat.” He began listing off the table assignments for the rest of the shift, as Sanji steeled himself for a night of frustration.
---
When the clock turned eight, Sanji filed out with the rest of the shift, heading to his designated blackjack table. Given the hour, they would be opening up a few more tables to accommodate the after-work gamblers filing in. He stood waiting patiently by the metal and glass rack containing the table’s checks.
A few minutes later, Zeff came over to unlock the rack. Sanji wordlessly counted the checks with his mentor, making sure there was the same amount as when the table previously closed. Zeff then spread two decks of cards on the table. Sanji reached for them to count.
“Don’t start any fights today,” Zeff said quietly.
“If gamblers aren’t assholes, I won’t start fights,” Sanji replied.
“We’ve talked about this, kid,” Zeff sighed, “Your mouth is the only thing keeping you from getting above the dealers table.”
“I like being a dealer,” Sanji shrugged, “Don’t have to deal with the shit that you have to deal with, old man.” He finished counting and began shuffling them, reveling in the smooth cascade of cards between his fingers. As much as he hated the customers at blackjack tables, working with cards was what he loved best. He cleared his hands, waving them over the table to show the cameras that he hadn’t palmed any cards, and put them behind his back to wait for customers. Zeff gave him a pointed look of warning, before walking away to the next table.
Sanji sighed, blowing his bangs out of his eyes to survey the pit. It was quiet today. Usually by 8 on a Friday, there was a crowd of regulars by the craps tables, and a few groups of businessmen or bachelor/bachelorette parties starting their night at the Baratie, one of the first casinos on the Strip.
“Deal me in, bud.” Sanji turned his focus to the man who had just plunked himself at the table. Fighting back a retort about the use of the word “bud,” Sanji gave him as gracious a smile as he could muster. “At least two players, sir, I’d be happy to have a waiter take your order for something from the bar while you wait.”
“I’ll play.”
Sanji looked up to see… green. The man in front of him had bright green hair and striking grey eyes. He was dressed in a dark grey suit, no tie, sunglasses hanging from his shirt, the top two buttons undone.
So essentially, he looked like an asshole.
“Excellent,” Sanji gritted out, picking up the decks of cards. The green-haired man’s eyes flicked to his hands, and Sanji put extra effort into shuffling as flashily as he could.
“Your bets, gentlemen, $10 minimum,” he said smoothly, gesturing at the boxes in front of them. The first man, Mr. Bud, placed the minimum $10 in his box. Sanji raised his eyebrow when Mr. Green placed $100 in chips on his box.
Without commenting, Sanji dealt out the hand, 5 and 10 to Mr. Bud, 6 and 7 to Mr. Green. The first hand proceeded smoothly, Sanji coolly taking both piles of chips. Both gamblers opted to continue, Mr. Green again placing $100 in the box.
After a while, Sanji’s mind began to drift. Both men played silently, tapping for hits and gesturing for stands. This was the part of the night Sanji enjoyed the most, fully focused on the movement of cards and the quick calculation of winners and losers. The house was lucky today, Sanji taking most of the hands, $100 after $100 from Mr. Green. Sanji snuck glances at him every time he lost, but his face remained stoic as he stared at the table.
Sanji often wondered about the patrons who arrived with wads of cash. Most of the time, it was businessmen or law firm associates who came after they got their bonuses, drunk out of their minds and not noticing whether they were throwing away $1,000 or $10. Zeff would stand near those particular tables, watching closely to make sure any disorderly conduct didn’t affect the integrity of the games. This was in contrast to their regulars, who would usually come to bet the minimum, happy with small boosts of adrenaline and taking home a couple hundred or losing a couple hundred at the end of the night.
This man, however, was different. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the outcome of any hand. He had a seemingly endless stack of chips, placing them on the box in an almost bored manner. Came from money? Rich heir who could throw away thousands of dollars on a typical Friday night? Wealthy businessman looking for any kind of adrenaline rush?
“Shit, it’s a bad night for me, bud,” Mr. Bud said, when Sanji again took his cards and the chips in his box, “I’ll be back later once I’m back in gods’ good graces.” Sanji bit back a remark that gods had nothing to do with probability and waved as he left. He turned to Mr. Green, “I apologize, sir, but unfortunately I can’t deal a hand with only one player at the table. There appear to be other active tables that you could join.”
“I’ll stick around,” he grinned, more of a baring of his teeth, “I’d appreciate it if you could get me a whiskey. Neat.”
“Certainly,” Sanji said, beckoning over a waiter. He took the cards and shuffled them, before placing them neatly in front of him and standing with his hands behind his back again. They itched for movement, as they typically did when he kept them restrained. But it was part of the rules, the Pit Boss making sure the dealers didn’t do anything to mess with the cards during idle moments.
“Know any card tricks?” the man asked suddenly.
Sanji stared at him.
“Pardon?”
“Can you do any card tricks? While we wait.”
Clenching his jaw, Sanji shook his head, “I don’t touch the cards unless I’m dealing.” Before he could stop himself, he added, “And I’m not a trained monkey.”
The man laughed, “Sorry to offend. Just seemed like you were at home with cards in your hand.”
Sanji took a quick inhale of breath, memories of playing Three-card Monte on street corners to try to get food for dinner flashing through his head. The man watched him carefully, but was interrupted from his staring by his drink arriving.
“Is this your first time at the Baratie, sir?” Sanji asked, trying to keep up a civil conversation as his eyes flitted around the room, hoping someone else would join.
“I’ve been here a few times,” the man replied vaguely, “Didn’t particularly care for any of the dealers the last times I came.”
“Well, I hope you’ve been satisfied with my service thus far,” Sanji said tightly. His coworkers were annoying as fuck but good people.
“More than satisfied,” he laughed. He leaned forward, “What’s your name, Mr. Dealer?”
Sanji shook his head, “We don’t give our names. We’re simply the house. I hope you’ll understand, security reasons. Unlucky gamblers tend to blame the dealers.”
“Are you afraid of me?” the man teased.
“No,” Sanji shot back, “It’s just protocol.”
“Well, my name is Zoro. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dealer.”
“Likewise,” Sanji replied reluctantly.
“Mr. Dealer just doesn’t feel right,” Zoro mused, “I’ll just call you Curly until you tell me your name.”
Sanji stiffened, “Don’t call me that.”
“Then tell me your name, curly.”
Glaring, Sanji looked around, wondering when his shift was up, and he could take his break. He caught Zeff’s eye. Zeff raised his fingers in the air. Five minutes. He turned back to Zoro, who smirked at him over his glass, at some point somehow having procured a second whiskey.
---
Luckily, Zoro seemed content to wait out Sanji’s five minutes in silence, crossing one long leg over the other and sitting back in his seat. Finally, Sanji’s relief came, tapping him on the shoulder. Sanji clapped and cleared his hands again, stepping to the right and still covering the table until his relief indicated he was ready. Sanji stalked away without a look back at Zoro.
Once back in the break room, he sat down heavily.
“Shitty customers?” Carne asked.
“Just one. Not even shitty, just aggravating,” Sanji sighed.
“Oh the green-haired punk?”
“Yeah, you dealt for him before?” Sanji asked, looking up.
“A few times. He plays a lot of roulette. He asked about you once actually.”
Sanji stared, “He asked about me?”
“Yeah,” Carne shrugged, “He was winning big, had a really hot hand, then suddenly was asking me all these questions about who you were when you walked by, and then left.”
Sanji frowned, “Why didn’t you tell me, that sounds suspicious as fuck.”
“You were on your way out,” Carne replied, “And I forgot.”
“So you let a weird stalker follow me out of the Baratie?”
“He didn’t follow you, he went to play baccarat. Calm down, Sanji, no one wants to stalk you. Green Hair is actually a great customer. Real polite, doesn’t talk much, just concentrates. Never argues about losing, doesn’t gloat about winning. And he’s real good too, clearly knows his stuff about gambling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him not come out positive at the end of a night. If you ever got assigned to roulette, you would have met him earlier.”
“Stop rubbing that shit in, I’m going to have zero tips tonight. Fuck,” Sanji groaned, “Zoro was probably scaring all the cute girls away.”
“You know his name?” Carne asked, raising his eyebrow.
“He offered it, I didn’t ask,” Sanji snapped back.
“He is pretty handsome. I could stare into those steely greys for days,” Carne grinned, making exaggerated kissing noises with his lips. Sanji kicked his chair leg, and Carne spluttered, nearly falling out of his seat. Sanji stood to make coffee, seething about Carne’s comment, but feeling the tips of his ears heat up. Zoro was unfortunately handsome.
---
When Sanji went to relieve another blackjack table after his break, he was gratified to see a group of women gathered at the table, already at the perfect level of tipsy that they would be fun and leave generous tips for a few well-timed winks.
“Ladies,” Sanji said, when he cleared his hands and picked up the cards, “How are we feeling tonight? Lucky?”
They giggled and placed their bets. Before Sanji could deal, he felt a presence immediately to his right and stared as Zoro sat down at the last remaining seat at his table, dumping $100 on the box.
“Are you following me around?” Sanji hissed.
“No, this was the only open table,” Zoro replied innocently.
Seething, Sanji dealt the cards.
“Any special occasion, ladies?” Sanji asked, pointedly deciding to ignore Zoro the rest of the night.
“30th birthday,” one of them sighed, “Here to gamble and drink away my sorrows.”
“Madam, you don’t look a day over 21, and I say 21 only because otherwise I couldn’t legally offer you all birthday drinks, on the house,” Sanji said, calling a waiter over to their table. He heard a soft gagging noise and turned to glare at Zoro. As the women were distracted looking over the cocktail list, he whispered viciously, “Can you leave? You’re cramping my style.”
“Is that how you normally treat customers?” Zoro asked, feigning shock.
“It’s how I treat stalkers,” Sanji retorted, returning to attend to the lovely ladies at his table.
---
Sanji managed to keep the group of women at his table for nearly an hour, making jokes and keeping them upbeat even as they lost hand after hand from egging each other on to hit when they certainly should have stayed. When they finally left, holding onto each other and stumbling toward the exit, Sanji beckoned Jinbe toward them to make sure they got safely into a cab. He turned to look sullenly at Zoro, who had stayed the entire time, coming out roughly even in the end. Zoro smiled at him, “That was a good show, I really enjoyed it.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Sanji grumbled, “That was my genuine sunny personality shining through.”
“Nice collection of tips you got with your genuine sunny personality,” Zoro said, nodding at the cash Sanji was tucking into the inside pocket of his vest.
“Honestly,” Sanji snapped, recalling all the looks he received as a child, hustling, pickpocketing, trying to survive on whatever charm he could muster, “They were going to lose all their money wherever they went tonight. I made it fun for them to do it. Stop being insufferable.”
“Sorry, curly,” Zoro said softly, “I was just teasing. They did look really happy.”
Anger deflated by Zoro’s sudden shift, Sanji turned back to the cards. He organized his station and stood at the ready for more patrons.
“Why are you here, Zoro?” he said, when Zoro didn’t move, “You’re here to gamble, aren’t you? Not to just sit around at my table until someone else joins.”
Zoro shrugged, “I’m just killing time, figured I might as well do it in good company.”
“Am I good company?” Sanji scoffed.
“You’re not bad, curly,” Zoro laughed, “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“What kind of person comes alone to a casino to kill time? I’ve seen how much money you’re throwing around. You’re on the Strip, you could just as easily toss that money at a strip club and probably have more fun.”
“Not my scene,” Zoro shrugged, “And why is the ‘house’ so interested in me now? You won’t tell me your name yet you want to know why I’m not hanging out with strippers?”
“That’s not what I said,” Sanji replied hotly, “And you’re right, I don’t give a fuck.”
Zoro chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled at Sanji, “Okay, since you care so very much, I’m a professional gambler.”
“No, you’re not,” Sanji glared.
“That’s pretty rude.”
“You’ve done nothing tonight but lose money.”
“I’m not here tonight to win money,” Zoro shrugged, “Sports betting and poker is where I make real money anyways.”
“You’re talking out of your ass.”
Zoro grinned, “You wanna look me up? I was a brilliant young math PhD before I turned to the dark side.”
“Don’t care,” Sanji replied, very much caring. He eyed Zoro, trying to imagine him dicking around with math problems and failing. He found himself staring too long at the exposed tanned skin on Zoro’s chest and turned back to looking around the pit.
“You look like you’re part of the mafia, a hitman for hire,” he grumbled.
“That’s my side hustle,” Zoro chuckled.
“Have you been hired to murder me?” Sanji asked, as nonchalantly as he could manage, “One of my colleagues said you were asking about me.”
Zoro actually flushed at that, and Sanji watched interested as he looked down at his empty whiskey glass.
“Nope, you’re safe from me, curly,” he said finally.
“So why are you asking about me?”
Zoro scratched awkwardly at his cheek, “I thought you were attractive, honestly. And you’re good with cards. I’ve never seen a dealer with as much card control as you.”
“Oh,” Sanji responded, feeling his own cheeks heat up.
“But now that I’ve met you, I’m not so sure…” Zoro continued, eyes twinkling at Sanji.
“Fuck you, I’m the whole fucking package,” Sanji glared.
Zoro was laughing now, his handsome face bright as he looked at Sanji. “You’re a weird dealer, curly. You try to act all professional and composed, but you’re just raring to fight, aren’t you?”
“Just certain people,” Sanji sniffed, “And I’m not allowed to fight or harm any customers, even if they’re rude to me, unfortunately, otherwise I would have sent you packing for being annoying already.”
“Sure, curly,” Zoro grinned, “I have a feeling I’m starting to grow on you.”
“The only thing growing is the phytoplankton on your head,” Sanji hissed.
“Customer,” Zoro said annoyingly, pointing toward the man sitting down at his table. Sanji immediately switched over to his smile as he surveyed the already inebriated man clumsily pulling out his chips, and groaned internally. He noted Zeff rotating over to his table and instantly felt more at ease.
“Oi, dealer, give me a good hand,” he said, plopping down $200 on the box. Sanji sighed, hoping he would at least bet less so when he lost, he wouldn’t throw a fit.
“How is your evening going, sir?” he asked casually, hoping to develop some rapport with him.
“Shitty,” he responded, sitting back and waving over a waitress, “Really bad luck tonight.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here, hopefully your luck will turn,” Sanji said smoothly, dealing out the cards. He paused, noting that Zoro hadn’t put any chips in the box, instead staring at the man with cool eyes.
“I need to deal you in, or I can’t deal him in,” Sanji said quietly, worried about telling the drunk man to go another table where he would bother other customers. Zoro nodded, adding just $10 to his box but keeping his eyes locked on the other man.
Sanji dealt a 10 on top of the man’s 6 and 8, and reached for his cards and chips.
“Not going to apologize?” the man asked sourly.
“So sorry sir, maybe next time,” Sanji responded, unclear what he was supposed to be apologizing for.
As the waitress brought over a tray of drinks, Sanji tensed. Zeff was now standing close to the table, and Sanji hoped his obvious presence would temper the increasingly rowdy man.
He continued dealing, busting each of the man’s multiple hands, and was asked for an apology each time. He gritted his teeth and complied, wondering when he could call for Jinbe to kick him out.
Then, when Sanji beat the man’s 21 hand with a natural blackjack, the man picked up his cards and threw them at Sanji’s face. One of the cards fell off the table. Biting back his rage, Sanji called out, “Card down inside,” and a nearby dealer came to pick it up so Sanji could continue covering the table. Sanji checked the card to make sure it wasn’t damaged, before inserting it back into the deck.
“Problem, sir?” Zeff asked quietly, standing ominously by Sanji. The table was tense. Sanji noted Zoro’s clenched fist on the table, his usually neat pile of chips scattered in front of him, and put a careful hand on his shoulder. Starting a fight at his table would be a bad look.
“No problem,” the man said, downing his drink, “Can I get a new dealer?”
“You can visit another casino,” Zeff responded, “You can find other dealers there.”
“Fuck you, old man,” the man growled, standing up. Zoro stood up too. Sanji felt his hand rising up and realized how tall and imposing the man was now that he was standing next to him. Annoyed, Sanji pushed down on Zoro’s shoulder until Zoro turned to look at him, before sitting back down.
“That your fucking guard dog?” the man spat out.
“No, he is,” Sanji said, pointing as Jinbe came to their table.
“If you’ll come with me, sir, I can escort you safely out of the Baratie,” Jinbe rumbled in his calm voice. The man stood up meekly and allowed himself to be dragged away by Jinbe, who had a foot and a half on him.
“Please tell the Pit Boss that I want to do roulettes from now on,” Sanji groaned to Zeff.
“I don’t control the Pit Boss, but you can take your break at least,” Zeff said, “You handled that well, kid.”
“I was ready to break his fingers,” Sanji muttered.
“But you didn’t, and I don’t need to remind you, but you can’t touch customers even in self-defense. I’m going to have Carne cover this table for your… customer,” Zeff said, looking at Zoro. Sanji removed his hand from Zoro’s shoulder quickly.
“I’m heading out,” Zoro shrugged, “Don’t bother.”
Sanji, with Zeff’s help, closed down the table, locking up the checks and stashing the cards for disposal.
Zoro waited until they finished, polishing off the umpteenth whiskey he had likely consumed that night.
“By the way, I was taking care of it myself,” Sanji said, tugging at his bowtie as he gave the table a once over, “You didn’t need to get all huffy.”
“Bastards like him make gamblers look bad. I hate that shit,” Zoro responded, “I can tell you can take care of yourself.”
“Good, just checking,” Sanji nodded, mollified. “Have a good night then,” he continued awkwardly, preparing to head to the break room, feeling suddenly wistful.
“Wanna grab a drink with me?” Zoro asked casually.
Sanji stared at him. Zoro returned his gaze, face impassive.
“It’s a 15-minute break,” Sanji heard himself saying, “And I’m not allowed to fraternize with customers.”
“What about after your shift?” Zoro asked, not missing a beat.
“That’s… four hours away,” Sanji said, checking his watch.
“I’ll book a room, take a nap,” Zoro shrugged.
Heart pounding in his chest, Sanji considered his options. He would get off work at 4 AM. At that hour, the best place to get drinks were at the Baratie bar, which would be awkward with his colleagues around. Everywhere else would be seedy. Or drinking in a hotel room, which Zoro was apparently planning to book. Did he want to get drinks with Zoro? As much as he initially disliked the man, he was now intrigued by the handsome gambler. What if Zoro really was a hitman for hire and was planning to murder him in the hotel where he worked?
“I’ll just come back tomorrow,” Zoro said finally, “Or you can tell me to fuck off. It’s totally fine, curly.”
“No, I— drinks would be good,” Sanji blurted out, “I’ll… meet you at your room.” He winced at the implication of his statement. “We can figure out what to do then,” he added on, “For drinks…”
“Okay curly,” Zoro grinned, “Will you tell me your name at some point?”
“Maybe,” Sanji sniffed, turning on his heel and heading to the break room, tingling from nerves and excitement.
---
Fifteen minutes later, Sanji hustled back to the pit after downing his third coffee of the night. The night shifts were hard, but they paid better. Just outside the break room, he felt someone grab his arm and stiffened, ready to fight.
“Curly,” a low voice rumbled, and Sanji turned to see Zoro standing by the entrance to the break room. He let go and handed Sanji a keycard. “3211,” he said awkwardly.
“That’s a penthouse suite,” Sanji said, shocked.
Zoro shrugged, “That’s where I prefer to stay.”
“You—” Sanji spluttered, “Just so you know, it’s just drinks. I’m not—” He flushed, “Don’t get any ideas.”
“I know, curly,” Zoro laughed, “You think I’m annoying, but you’re slightly intrigued, a little bit flattered, that’s the only reason you agreed to drinks. I’m not expecting anything more.”
“Good, just so we’re both clear,” Sanji said, “Wouldn’t want you wasting money and be disappointed.”
“Crystal,” Zoro nodded, a slight smirk on his face.
“Okay, see you later,” Sanji said, heading to his table.
---
Sanji adjusted his shirt nervously, standing outside Room 3211. After his shift, he’d changed out of his uniform into the casual sweater he’d come to work in, tossed on some more cologne, and splashed water on his face to look more alive.
He tried to decide what to do. Zoro had given him a keycard. Should he just open the door? What if Zoro wasn’t ready? He could just knock instead.
The door opened suddenly, and Sanji found himself staring at Zoro.
“Curly,” he said, a grin spreading on his face, “You actually came.”
“You weren’t expecting me too?”
“I had it at 80/20 odds. I’m sure you’re tired.”
Feeling anything but tired, Sanji shrugged, “I’m used to the night shift. Where were you going?”
“I heard the elevator and thought it was room service,” Zoro shrugged, “You finished your shift early.”
“Had a few other shitty customers, Zeff gave me early release. What room service?”
“Figured you might be hungry, ordered a few things,” Zoro said, turning to retreat into the room. Sanji followed tentatively, touched by the move. His stomach was gurgling slightly, unsatisfied by the break room snacks.
The bed in the penthouse suite was still made. Zoro must be a night owl as well. Sanji walked past his computer, and glanced at it quickly before scoffing, “Are you making sports bets from your penthouse suite in a hotel casino in Las Vegas? Are you trying to be a cliché?”
“I’m going to win big tomorrow,” Zoro chuckled, “Then we’ll see who’s laughing.” He paused, standing at the bar, “I... I got some things to make drinks. Or we can go somewhere else.”
Interested, Sanji peeked behind the bar to see a large collection of alcohols and mixers. He raised an eyebrow, “Did you buy out an entire liquor store?”
“I’ll finish these myself eventually. Didn’t know what you might like.”
“What can you make? You’ve already got a full bar, we can just stay here,” Sanji said, settling down on a bar chair.
“Martini?” Zoro asked, pulling out glasses from the cupboards.
Sanji nodded and watched Zoro expertly make the drink, giving him time to take in the man while he concentrated. Zoro was still wearing the collared shirt, his suit jacket tossed carelessly over a nearby chair. He had rolled his sleeves up, exposing corded forearms. Sanji’s gaze drifted up to his face, the strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, straight nose, grey eyes. Sanji sighed, resting his cheek on his hand.
“What?” Zoro asked, looking up.
“Nothing,” Sanji said, embarrassed at how loud his sigh was.
“Why the sigh? Already regretting this, curly?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow and handing him the drink.
“No,” he replied hurriedly, “Just a little shocked, I guess. Not exactly what I was expecting to be doing tonight when I showed up at work.”
“You don’t get asked out for drinks by customers every night? Surprising,” Zoro said lightly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
Embarrassed, Sanji didn’t answer, taking a sip instead.
“Is it okay?” Zoro asked, watching him closely.
“It’s good,” Sanji replied, “Thank you. For doing all this.” The words felt awkward as soon as they came out, but Zoro smiled broadly, raising his glass. They sat in silence, Sanji drinking faster than he should have until he tilted the glass back to finish the last of it.
“Another?” Zoro asked.
“Gonna pace myself,” Sanji shook his head, already feeling his head swimming. A knock sounded at the door, and Zoro padded toward it, returning with a cart full of dishes.
“Didn’t know what you’d like at this hour, so I got a bunch of random things. I’ll pack home what you don’t want,” Zoro said, uncovering each of them and revealing what looked like filet mignon, a pasta dish, an omelet, a salad, and various small appetizers.
“Wow,” Sanji said, staring at all of it, “Were you planning to feed an army?”
“I heard the food here is good,” Zoro shrugged.
“It is,” Sanji replied, preening at the compliment of the Baratie’s kitchen. He stood and brushed past Zoro to find dishes in the cupboards. “We can do a tasting,” he said, placing the dishes on the table and cutting up the various meals, arranging them neatly on the plates. Zoro took a seat at the table, watching him.
“How long have you worked here, curly?” Zoro asked.
“Ten years,” Sanji responded, “I actually started as a line chef in the kitchen. My mentor, the Assistant Pit Boss you saw earlier today, found out I was good with cards and brought me to the dealers’ room. He was Pit Boss at the time, decided to retire but couldn’t quite leave the pit entirely.”
“How did you get good at cards?” Zoro asked, nodding his thanks when Sanji placed a loaded plate in front of him.
Sanji hesitated, hands frozen in place clutching the knife and fork tightly. He looked up to see Zoro waiting patiently.
“Grew up mostly homeless,” he said finally, “Hustled tourists on the Strip and did little magic tricks for kids to get by. Still have the deck of cards I first found in the garbage behind a casino. Took some time, but I got pretty good.” Maybe it was the early hour, still dark but the anticipation of day humming in the air. Or the fact that he had finished a martini, which certainly had more alcohol than a usual martini, on an empty stomach. Or perhaps it was Zoro, whose expression was soft and became softer with every word Sanji spoke.
“So yeah, to answer your question earlier tonight, I know some card tricks,” Sanji shrugged, turning to his food, “I’m going to eat now before I barf out all the alcohol in my stomach.”
Zoro nodded, doing the same. They ate in silence, Sanji making small humming noises as he tasted each dish. The quality hadn’t gone down since he’d left the kitchen.
“Thank you, curly, for telling me,” Zoro said, after he polished off his plate.
“Well, I guess, thank you for feeding me, don’t have much to offer in return but sob stories,” Sanji replied.
Zoro winced, “No, that’s not what—, please, curly, I’m not doing this expecting something in return.” He paused, gripping the napkin in his hand, “I just wanted to treat you and have a chance to get to know you. If it’s too much, I can take it down a notch. We can go to McDonald’s after your shift next time.”
“Next time?” Sanji chuckled, feeling giddy at the thought.
“If you want.”
“Let me make you a drink,” Sanji said, standing up, “I’m tired of seeing you drink whiskey straight. How about an Old-fashioned? You can tell me more about your gambling problem while I make it.”
“I don’t have a gambling problem,” Zoro laughed, “It’s my job.”
“The first step to recovery is acceptance,” Sanji said, picking up a bottle of Henry McKenna Single Barrel Bourbon, “Now did you come first or did the movie 21 come first?”
“How old do you think I am?” Zoro asked.
“Late 30s?” Sanji mused, looking him up and down, “Figured the green hair was a way to reawaken your youth.”
“You’re an ass,” Zoro responded, “I’m 33. And I don’t count cards. I just use computer software and big data to crunch numbers. It’s not much different than the stock market."
“Well then anybody can do it,” Sanji said, handing him a drink.
“And yet nobody does,” Zoro shrugged, knocking the drink back.
“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Sanji hissed, “I’m making you another, and you’re drinking it like a normal person so you can actually taste it. All this good shit you bought is wasted on you.”
“Trying to get me drunk, curly?”
“I’m not sure it’s possible, by my count, you had eight drinks tonight already,” Sanji grumbled, starting yet another drink, “Don’t you need your wits about you when you gamble thousands of dollars? How much money did you lose tonight?”
“At the casino?” Zoro asked, “Couple hundred. I don’t usually play blackjack. It’s a lot of chance if you don’t count cards. I prefer roulette.”
“Why’d you choose tonight to play blackjack?”
“I think you know why.”
“Fine,” Sanji flushed, “Why did you choose tonight to come talk to me?”
“Slow night, you’re usually surrounded by a bunch of assholes.”
Sanji sighed, “How long have you been watching me?”
“A few weeks,” Zoro said, putting his arms on the counter and placing his head on them to observe Sanji.
“That’s a long time to wait,” Sanji said, depositing another drink in front of Zoro. Zoro sat up and took slow sips this time. Sanji began making another for himself.
“You know, you have a tell when you’re really annoyed,” Zoro said, “You’ll drum your fingers on the table like you’re playing scales on a piano.”
“If you’re a pickpocket, you have to keep your fingers limber,” Sanji replied.
“Do you still do that?”
Sanji paused, “I did it a few times when I was working in the kitchens to diners who were being assholes. Mostly would lift their wallets and throw them on the ground a few feet away to give them a scare when they’re trying to pay. The Pit Boss is always watching in the pit though, too many cameras. Don’t need to anymore, anyways. And don’t want to let Zeff down by doing it for the money. But old habits die hard.”
“Could you steal my wallet?”
Sanji raised an eyebrow, “You keep it in your back pocket, of course I could.”
Zoro reached back instinctively, and Sanji grinned at him, taking a sip of his drink.
A frown on his face, Zoro beckoned to the couch, “More comfortable over there, though maybe I should keep a barrier between you and me before you steal my watch and phone too.”
“I’m clean these days, Mr. Policeman,” Sanji giggled, but followed Zoro to the couch, sitting cross-legged and balancing his drink in his lap. Zoro sat and propped his legs up on the ottoman, grabbing a remote and clicking a few buttons. The shades rose slowly, and Sanji found himself staring out at Las Vegas in the wee hours of the morning, the bright, colorful lights of the Strip sparkling in the early glimpses of sunlight.
“I see why you always have to stay in a penthouse suite,” he said hoarsely.
“I was just trying to look cool,” Zoro laughed, “I live in a townhouse a few miles away, not in the habit of staying in penthouse suites on the Strip.”
“Well, I guess I should be honored then, if you don’t usually take dates to the penthouse.”
“I don’t take people on dates much, curly,” Zoro said, “But you’re right, you should be honored.” Sanji half-heartedly threw a pillow at him, but immediately reached for it again, propping it behind his back and settling down.
“You seem like you take people on dates all the time,” he teased, “Constantly wining and dining young, innocent men like me."
“Why do you make me sound so creepy?” Zoro frowned, “I work nights, best time to place bets, and spend the rest of my free time in casinos. Not exactly a recipe for starting a relationship.”
“Nobody said anything about a relationship, you’re surprisingly a romantic,” Sanji chuckled, “Is that what you’re looking for? A relationship with a dealer so you can keep spending all your free time in casinos?”
“I—” Zoro paused, looking hesitant, and Sanji immediately regretted being so carefree with his choice of words.
“Sorry, that was rude,” he said, “Forget I—"
“Whatever you want, curly, it’s up to you,” Zoro continued, cutting him off.
Sanji watched him carefully and saw no pretense. Zoro really did mean it. Sanji could walk out of the room at that moment, and Zoro would accept it. No expectation, no pressure. Zoro wanted him, that much was clear, but would take whatever he could get.
“Why?” Sanji asked, “Why me?”
Zoro shrugged helplessly, “I like you, being around you, even just watching you, makes me feel like I’m at lost at sea.”
“Is that supposed to be a good thing?”
“I’m a professional gambler, curly, I thrive off risk and the unexpected,” Zoro said, eyes shining now, “God, curly, you make things interesting. I would sit at the roulettes closest to the blackjack tables to hear you change yourself like a chameleon for each of your customers. I can’t stop staring at your hands, they look like they can do anything under the sun, giveth and taketh away and shit like that. I can’t quite pin you down, and that gives me more of an adrenaline rush than putting a hundred thousand on the result of a 5 v 5 basketball game. Now that I know a bit of your story, I’m even more fucking captivated by you, and I only want to know more, pull back all the layers. And you’re really hot and charming and look like you could probably kick my ass, which I like. Does that answer your question?”
Sanji put his drink carefully on the nearby table and leaned forward, roughly grabbing Zoro’s chin and pulling him toward him. Zoro’s breath hitched when their lips touched, but surged eagerly toward him.
Kissing Zoro was like sparring, Sanji mused, both of them trying to take control. Zoro dragged him into his lap, but Sanji kept both his hands on Zoro’s face, directing the pace of their kiss. Zoro’s breath came in short gasps whenever they parted for breath, gazing almost cross-eyed at Sanji before Sanji pulled him back for more. Sanji moaned when Zoro’s hands gripped his hips, pushing up his shirt, scalding hot on his bare skin.
“Curly,” Zoro groaned, breaking away, “Curly, what do you want? What can I do?”
“Whatever you want, idiot,” Sanji whispered, nipping at Zoro’s neck. He yelped when Zoro stood up, picking him up easily with a firm hand under his ass and another at the small of his back. Sanji gripped Zoro’s shoulders tightly as he carried him to the bedroom, depositing him on the bed with a thump.
“Wait, wait,” Sanji said. Zoro immediately froze, looking down at him anxiously.
“I have not showered, and neither have you,” Sanji continued, “I refuse to do anything until that has been resolved.”
“We’re just going to get sweaty again,” Zoro said, blinking confused.
“Then we’ll shower again,” Sanji gritted back, “Now take me to the baths, peasant.”
Zoro laughed and lifted him up, carrying him to the bathroom. Sanji whistled at the room, marble tub, a huge glass-walled shower. Zoro placed him on the vanity and kissed him languidly, as he unbuttoned his own shirt, letting Sanji slip it over his arms and dropping it to the floor. Greedily, Sanji gripped at the muscle he now had full access to, running his hands up and down Zoro’s chest, feeling Zoro shudder under his fingers.
He broke out of the kiss and in one swift movement, removed his own shirt. Zoro leaned down, breath ghosting over one of Sanji’s nipples.
“May I?” he asked, the exhale of warm breath causing Sanji to shiver.
“Yes, get on with it,” Sanji sighed, moaning when Zoro’s tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, tracing circles in an expert way that made Sanji breathless with anticipation about what else he could do with it. Zoro’s hand came to play with his other nipple, thumbing it gently. Sanji almost threw his shower rule out the window when Zoro sucked and tugged, moving briefly to leave tiny hickeys on his chest. He would settle for something in between.
“I’ll let you fuck me in the shower,” he gasped, “Now take your pants off.” Zoro stumbled backwards, fumbling with his belt, as Sanji quickly discarded his own pants and briefs, moving to the shower to turn the water on. When he turned around, he gulped. Zoro was stunning. Sanji found himself worrying his lip as his eyes looked down at Zoro’s firm, and very large, erection.
“I have lube,” Zoro said hurriedly.
“I thought you said you weren’t expecting anything more,” Sanji said, letting out a bark of laughter.
“There’s a difference between expectation and planning, curly,” Zoro called from the bedroom, returning with a grumpy frown and a bottle in his hand, “I don’t expect to win every gamble I make, but I am planning for my taxes if I do win.”
“Can you stop with the really awful and unfitting analogies to your gambling addiction?” Sanji groaned, stepping into the shower and sighing as the hot water cascaded over his skin. Zoro slipped in after him, immediately holding him from behind. Sanji felt Zoro’s cock, hot on his back.
“I had the odds of fucking you tonight at— ouch.”
Zoro let go, clutching his stomach after Sanji elbowed him viciously. Reaching for the bottles of soap the Baratie provided, Sanji glared at Zoro through his wet bangs, “I’m serious, if you use the words ‘odds’ or ‘probability’ or ‘bet’ one more time tonight, I’m kicking you out of your own suite. Now come here, so I can clean you.”
Obediently, Zoro stood in front of Sanji, letting him run his hands all over his body, soaping his chest and arms. Zoro gasped when Sanji gripped his still-hard length and ran his hand up and down a few times, before moving to his thighs.
“This is lot more thorough than I’m used to,” Zoro said lightly, when Sanji reached behind him to massage his ass, appreciating the firm muscle.
“Rinse,” Sanji said in response, reaching for the soap again. Zoro grabbed it before he could, squirting soap into his hand and looking expectantly at Sanji. Sighing dramatically, Sanji turned and felt Zoro’s hands gently apply the soap to his back.
“I’m not going to break,” Sanji grumbled. Zoro rubbed hard, in circular motions across Sanji’s body, pausing to massage his shoulders and work out the knots until Sanji thought he might collapse from the careful and needed attention. Then, Zoro’s hands slipped down between his legs and Sanji was embarrassed to hear a squeak come out of his mouth. He felt rather than heard Zoro’s chuckle, as his fingers caressed Sanji’s thighs. Zoro knelt down, both hands tracing down Sanji’s legs, the water rinsing the remaining soap away.
“Turn,” Zoro whispered. And Sanji did, gasping when Zoro immediately took his erection into his mouth.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, “Zoro, god, that’s good.”
Zoro smiled, head dipping forward and back, applying the perfect pressure. Sanji’s cock hit the back of his throat, Zoro accepting him easily. His tongue ran along the bottom of Sanji’s cock, Zoro pausing to give the tip extra attention every so often. Sanji leaned back against the wall of the shower, enjoying the cool glass on his back as he looked down hazily to watch Zoro give him the best blowjob of his life. Zoro’s own erection hung heavy, bobbing up and down as he moved.
Sanji wanted it.
“Zoro,” he choked out, “I don’t want to come yet.”
Zoro let go with a wet pop, squinting up at Sanji as water ran down his face. “Why? Everything okay?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse from taking Sanji down his throat, lips glistening and swollen.
“I want you in me when I come,” Sanji responded.
“Okay,” Zoro said, more a sound than a word, scrambling to stand up and find the lube. Sanji stepped away from the water, shivering at the loss of heat but knowing lube would be less effective with scalding hot water washing it away. Zoro replaced it with the warmth of his own body, wrapping Sanji into his arms and reaching behind him to spread his cheeks.
“Curly,” he whispered in Sanji’s ear, “I want to know your name before we do this.”
“Oh,” Sanji said breathlessly, honestly having forgotten that he hadn’t told Zoro yet, “It’s, um, Sanji.”
“Sanji,” Zoro repeated, and Sanji shivered more from the longing in the way Zoro said his name than from the cold. He clutched at Zoro as he slowly inserted one finger, pausing until Sanji relaxed around him before continuing to move.
Sanji gasped when Zoro added another, the wet sound of Zoro’s fingers dipping in and out only barely drowned out by the noise of the shower. Zoro curled his fingers, working Sanji open slowly.
“You’re tight, curly,” Zoro muttered.
“It’s fine, I’m ready,” Sanji whined, wanting Zoro’s cock inside him as soon as possible.
“No,” Zoro chuckled, “Not my rules.” He inserted a third finger, and Sanji’s legs almost buckled. He leaned into Zoro and let a strong arm hold him steady. His erection brushed against Zoro’s, both splayed between their bodies. Sanji bucked his hips, trying to find some measure of control and relief for his aching member. He was rewarded by a gasp from Zoro, and a deep thrust of fingers that made Sanji groan through gritted teeth. He repeated the motion, pushing back onto Zoro’s fingers before pumping forward, trying desperately to rub his cock against Zoro’s. Closing his eyes, Sanji rode Zoro’s hand as much as he could given their position, his arms around Zoro’s neck, his legs intertwined with Zoro’s seeking leverage.
“Alright, curly, okay,” Zoro muttered, pulling his fingers out and grabbing Sanji’s hips, turning him around and guiding him back under the water. Sanji braced his hands against the glass, feeling one of Zoro’s hands leave his hips, and then the hot tip of Zoro’s cock was pressing against him.
“Ready?” Zoro panted.
“I’ve been ready,” Sanji shot back, and Zoro pushed in.
“Fuck,” they moaned in unison once Zoro was fully seated. Zoro leaned forward, leaving gentle kisses on the ridges of Sanji’s spine, as Sanji tried to catch his breath after being so filled.
“I’m moving,” Zoro murmured.
Sanji simply nodded, as Zoro pulled out momentarily before snapping back forward. Sanji nearly shouted, both hands pushing hard on the glass as he reared back trying to meet each of Zoro’s thrusts, trying to make each forceful pound hit deeper.
“Fuck, god, Zoro,” he groaned, “Harder, please.”
Zoro grunted, shifting himself to get better purchase and crowding Sanji against the glass. He began thrusting harder, his own gasps punctuating the slap of his hips meeting Sanji’s ass. Pressed against the glass, Sanji could faintly see their figures in the mirror of the vanity, too fogged up to perceive any of the extremely hot details, but even watching the shadowy motion of Zoro fucking the living daylights out of him brought him closer to completion. If he had any space left in his head other than Zoro, Zoro, Zoro, he would have marveled at the idea of him, ever-paranoid Sanji, allowing a customer to fuck him in the penthouse suite of the Baratie on a first date. Then Zoro grabbed his hips, grinding deep inside him until Sanji saw stars, and all worries were forced away as his orgasm mounted to an almost painful level.
“I need—“ he whined.
Zoro immediately reached in front of him to grab his cock, pumping in time to his thrusts.
“Faster,” Sanji commanded. Zoro complied, speeding up the movement of his hips as he worked Sanji’s cock expertly.
“Sanji,” Zoro sighed into his ear, and Sanji’s orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut. His whole body tensed as spurt after spurt of cum hit the glass of the shower wall. Zoro came too, his loud moan echoing around the bathroom as Sanji felt him pulse inside.
Sanji’s legs gave out, and Zoro immediately took his weight, slowly dropping down until he was sitting on the shower floor, Sanji on his lap.
“I guess this does make it easier to get cleaned off,” Zoro said, clutching Sanji tightly, placing his forehead on Sanji’s shoulder, hiding from the rush of water.
“Is that all you’ve got for tonight?” Sanji asked flippantly, “I was expecting to get sweaty again.”
“It’s morning, curly,” Zoro chuckled, “But making love at sunrise does sound nice.”
Sanji almost reflexively made a joke about Zoro’s use of the words “making love,” but stopped himself.
“You didn’t like that, did you, curly?” Zoro said, as if reading his mind.
“No, it’s fine, I like it,” Sanji replied, glad that the hot water was hiding the flush he felt creeping up his neck as Zoro squeezed him tighter. “But can we actually get out, I’m turning into a raisin.”
Zoro let go and helped him up, his dick slipping out as Sanji shakily stood and scrubbed himself quickly before turning the water off. Opening the door, Zoro ran to retrieve towels, returning to throw one over Sanji’s head before helping him dry off.
“You look like a lobster,” he laughed, holding Sanji’s hand as he stepped out of the shower, towel draped around his shoulders.
“You look like seaweed,” Sanji muttered in response, looking pointedly at Zoro’s dripping wet hair. Zoro shook his head, spraying Sanji with water.
“Are you an animal?” Sanji glared, wiping his face and drying his own hair with the towel before letting it fall to the ground and moving to the bed, falling facedown onto the comforter and letting out a contented sigh. His bones felt like liquid after the hot shower and orgasm.
The bed shifted when Zoro joined him, propping his head on his hand as he surveyed Sanji, eyes openly warm. Embarrassed, Sanji buried his face in the pillow.
“Seems like that was all you had for the night,” Zoro teased, running a finger lightly down Sanji’s arm.
“If so, I have an excuse, I worked all night while you sat around drinking.”
“Fair enough,” Zoro laughed, “But let’s get you under the covers if you’re going to sleep.”
“How long do you have this room?” Sanji asked blearily.
Zoro turned and grabbed the phone by the bed.
“Zoro Roronoa. 3211. I’d like the suite for another week. Thanks.”
“I have this room for a week,” he said, flipping back around, a huge grin on his face.
“You should have just asked for a late check-out,” Sanji grumbled, unable to stop the smile on his face from betraying his words, “What are you planning on doing in the Baratie for another week, Mr. Roronoa?”
“Am I allowed to make gambling-based analogies again?”
“No,” Sanji said, wriggling to pull the covers out from under him and cocoon himself in the soft silk. He tugged at the sheet below Zoro, who took the hint and slid under the covers himself. Sanji pulled himself toward Zoro, letting the larger man wrap his arms around him. He could hear Zoro’s slow heartbeat, his head rising and falling with Zoro’s breath.
“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” Sanji said, enjoying the quickening of Zoro’s heart rate.
“Are you fishing for compliments, curly?”
“Yes.”
Zoro laughed, “I was playing roulettes, you brushed by me on your way out, I caught a glimpse of your eyes and wanted to drown in them.”
“I’m putting a ban on cheesy phrases like that too,” Sanji muttered, hoping Zoro couldn’t see his face.
“Your fingers are playing the piano on my chest,” Zoro pointed out, “Does that mean you’re happy? Tell me about the first time you saw me.”
“Well, it was tonight, and I assumed rightfully that you were an asshole and dreaded having to deal for you.”
“But it turned out okay in the end,” Zoro said, placing a kiss on the top of Sanji’s head.
“Maybe, only time will tell,” Sanji replied drowsily.
“Tired?” Zoro asked, “You should get some sleep.”
“Can you wake me up in a few hours?” Sanji asked, feeling himself drift off as Zoro’s thumb traced small circles on his shoulder.
“Yes, Sanji, I will.”
---
When Sanji woke up, the bed next to him was empty. He leapt out of bed, worry rising in his throat, but found Zoro sitting at the table, staring at his computer.
“Well, that is a vision,” Zoro smiled, turning to look at Sanji standing naked at the bedroom door.
“What time is it?”
“2 PM. I was going to let you sleep till 3. I’ll order something to eat.”
“Leftovers from yesterday are fine,” Sanji yawned, walking over to drape himself over Zoro’s shoulders, “What are you betting on now?”
“Horses,” Zoro grunted, tilting his head to kiss the corner of Sanji’s lips. Sanji marveled at the contentment of it all, the ease with which Zoro made him feel wanted. It hadn’t even been 24 hours since he met the man, and they were already being… domestic.
“I got you some clothes,” Zoro said, “Figured after your insistence on showering before sex that you wouldn’t be the kind of person who would put on old underwear.” Sanji turned to where Zoro was pointing and saw a few neat stacks of shirts, pants, and underclothes.
“These are really nice, Zoro,” Sanji said, staring at the brands.
“I asked them to pick out a few outfits for a prickly, picky blonde man. Guessed at your size based on how it felt holding you in my arms. If the size isn’t right, I can do some more research.”
“What did I say about cheesy lines,” Sanji glared as Zoro grinned at him.
“I’m really just doing it to bother you now,” Zoro laughed. Sanji stomped over and grabbed his hand, dragging him to the bedroom.
“Is that a yes to more research? I was betting on stallions, are you—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Sanji shrieked, “Take your clothes off and get over here.” Zoro quickly did so, standing by the bed, waiting.
“I’m riding you,” Sanji said, eyes narrowing, daring Zoro to make another equestrian-related joke. He kept his mouth shut, falling backwards onto the bed and stroking his already erect cock, staring at Sanji hungrily.
Before long, Sanji was lifting himself up and down Zoro’s cock, feeling the breath being punched out of him every time he dropped down. In control now, he experimented with the angle, quickly finding the perfect one, hands behind him resting on Zoro’s thick thighs, and set a punishing pace.
“Sanji, I’m not going to last long,” Zoro moaned, “You look so fucking perfect.”
Knowing he wasn’t going to last long either, Sanji continued, raising one hand to stroke himself as he watched Zoro through hazy eyes. The look on Zoro’s face was driving him mad, the intensity of want written in bold letters in the way that his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing in particular, roving all over Sanji’s body. His mouth was slack, breath coming out in huffs as his fingers scrabbled at the sheets.
“Sanji, I’m coming, please, I want you to come with me, I want to see you,” he begged, muscles in his abs and biceps tensing as he bucked upwards.
Sanji bit out a moan as he came, spurting his load onto Zoro’s wide chest, gasping as he leaned forward, coming undone. Zoro’s hands came to his hips, fingers digging into his skin as he held him still through his own orgasm.
“Zoro,” Sanji managed to say, trying to force everything he was feeling into the name. Safety, security, a place to call home.
“I know, Sanji, fuck, I know,” Zoro answered, lifting Sanji off his cock then dragging Sanji down into a bone-crushing embrace. Sanji ignored the cooling cum, slippery between them and relaxed, riding the last of the waves of his orgasm.
Finally, he rolled to the side, feeling suddenly shy as he looked up at Zoro. He reached up, tracing a line along Zoro’s chin up to his cheekbones and down the line of his nose before landing on soft lips. Zoro opened his mouth and gently took Sanji’s fingers between his teeth. Sanji held his breath as he felt a rush of adrenaline at his precious fingers existing so precariously. Zoro gently sucked and licked until Sanji pulled away, giggling.
“You like my fingers.”
“I do,” Zoro said, interlacing their hands.
“Would you ever bite down?” Sanji teased.
“Never.”
And Sanji believed him.
---
He spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on Zoro’s lap as the gambler watched a basketball game on the huge TV, eyes switching between the screen and a line of numbers on his computer.
“What is your computer doing?” Sanji asked, popping an orange slice into Zoro’s mouth.
“Running odds, collecting data for future use,” Zoro responded, absentmindedly chewing.
“How much money are you planning on making today?”
“Couple hundred thousand,” Zoro said nonchalantly, “Could lose that much too.”
“How much money do you have, actually?” Sanji asked curiously.
“That’s third date information,” Zoro laughed.
“Afraid I’m a gold-digger or a conman?”
“Yes, terribly afraid,” Zoro deadpanned, “You have admitted that you used to be on the wrong side of the law.”
“I swear those days are in the past,” Sanji grinned, “But here’s your watch back.”
Zoro stared at the watch in Sanji’s hand and grabbed it, grumbling as he put it back on.
“Wanna see some card tricks?” Sanji asked, sitting up, feeling stupidly giddy as he gazed at Zoro.
“Sure, curly,” Zoro laughed, “Blow me away.”
Sanji winked, “Thought I already did that, but give me a sec.” He went to retrieve the pack of cards he always kept in his bag, gently rubbing at the lucky spade on the case that had long been worn away. He returned to Zoro, who was sitting up expectantly, television now off, computer turned away.
“Pick a card, any card,” Sanji said, holding out the deck.
---
Sanji wandered to the break room from the elevator, still feeling like he was walking on clouds.
“Where are you coming from, kid?”
He jumped when he heard Zeff’s voice behind him.
“Nowhere,” he blurted out unconvincingly.
“Hm,” Zeff responded, falling into step with him, “Saw Green Hair earlier today, coming from the same penthouse elevator.”
“Why the fuck are you so nosy, old man?” Sanji groaned, “Stop snooping.”
“I was Pit Boss, eggplant, I see everything.”
“Well you’re not Pit Boss anymore, you’re just a creepy geezer.”
Zeff cuffed him over the head, “You making safe choices?”
“I’m 28, I do not need this lecture from you,” Sanji responded, “But yes, I am making ‘safe choices.’”
“Just making sure, you’re on roulette today.”
Sanji perked up, “Is the Pit Boss taking pity on me?”
“Seems like it,” Zeff responded, turning into the floormen office.
Sanji entered the break room and changed into his uniform, taking a moment to breathe in the smell of his shirt, Zoro’s cologne still clinging to it, before preparing for the shift.
---
Keeping the wheel spinning, Sanji glanced around the room, trying to find a hint of green. It had been a good night so far, plenty of customers, plenty of tips. As usual, roulette was fun, though Sanji had to explain the rules multiple times to a group of drunk college kids before they gave up and went to try their hand at slots.
He was exchanging cash for special roulette checks when a hand reached forward, placing a single red check on 11.
“Straight bet on 11, risky, sir,” Sanji said lightly, not looking up.
“I’m feeling lucky,” Zoro grinned. Sanji tried to hide his smile, waiting for the other gamblers to place their bets before waving a hand over the table and saying, “no more bets.” He went to take the ball out of the charge cup and flicked it into the spinning wheel, watching chance dance around before slowing to a stop on 11.
<3. Thank you dear Bacon for the incredible art!