Work Text:
When Sanji was young, Zeff once told him a bedtime story about a human who fell in love with the god of hurricanes. The man would stand outside, high on the mountaintop where his village was built to avoid ravaging floods, exalting in the winds that whipped his hair and lashed at his face, rejoicing in the rising tide and snarling waves. He convinced himself, over time, that the god loved him as well. So, one dark night, ignoring the klaxons heralding the coming storm, he ran down the mountain, pulled out his tiny boat, and sailed to meet his love, never to be heard of again.
Patty had let Sanji sleep in his bed for the following week, taking a cot on the floor for himself, and made cautious comments to Zeff about more suitable bedtime stories for 10-year-olds. Zeff had glared at him, reminding him that fear itself was protection of both the heart and the body. So, Sanji learned to be fearful both of storms and the men that brought them.
When Sanji was 19, he met his god of hurricanes in the form of a man who welcomed and survived a slash across his chest that should have felled a mortal. Instead, he rose stronger than before, almost blinding in his faith in himself. After the battle at Arlong Park, after the whirl of blades sent Hachi flying, after Zoro calmly explained that the fish-man was nothing next to him, Zoro turned his gaze to Sanji. As if to say, you too are nothing next to me. And Sanji could only imagine himself, standing at the top of a mountain, watching the impeccable storm rage past without any interest in mortals. So he tried, desperately, to close off the valves of his heart.
---
“Zoro,” Sanji sighed, kicking at Zoro’s prone body on the Merry’s deck, one side of the swordman’s face smushed against the wood grain. His eyes opened, and his gaze shot toward Sanji.
Sanji squatted down and poked at his cheek until Zoro flipped over and sat up, the imprint of wood etched into his cheek. Sanji snickered, holding out a plate of fruit.
“Your dose of vitamins, idiot swordsman,” he said, when Zoro’s nose wrinkled, “Alcohol is only going to thin your blood and those stupid scars on your ankles aren’t going to heal properly. You need proper food for training.”
At the mention of training, Zoro immediately popped an apple slice in his mouth, chewing a few times before swallowing and reaching for another.
“The only way to get you to do anything is to link it to training, isn’t it?” Sanji mused, trying to hide his smile at the determined look on Zoro’s face as he devoured the fruit Sanji had painstakingly cut. Zoro grunted his thanks and settled down again to rest some more. The marks on his face from Merry’s deck made him look a little less intimidating today. Testing his luck, Sanji sat next to him instead of escaping back to the kitchen, fiddling with the empty tray awkwardly in his hands. He struggled to find something to say.
“Nice weather we’ve been having,” he said lamely.
“Yup,” Zoro responded. They lapsed into an awkward silence until Sanji could only flee, muttering about needing to start dinner. When he made it to the kitchen, he tossed the tray hopelessly onto the dining table and slumped to the ground by the sink. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He and Zoro had reached a détente of mutual distaste, why did he have to try and start a conversation.
His self-pity was broken by the sound of laughter outside. He opened the kitchen door a crack and peeked out to see Luffy squatting next to Zoro, gesticulating wildly with his arms and feet. Zoro was smiling, the grin on his face stretching ear to ear as he listened to their captain jabber on and on. Sanji’s heart sank, thinking about the difference between Zoro’s tense silence with him and his easy rapport with Luffy. They were two gods, one of sunshine, one of storms, seamless in their asymmetry. He closed the door quietly, trying to drown out the echoes of merriment with the clank of pots and pans.
---
When Luffy and Zoro returned from the incident with Bellamy on Jaya, Sanji watched them stoically clean the blood off their bodies, Chopper fussing at the new wounds they had allowed themselves to receive.
“Why—” he said helplessly, keeping his hands pinned to his side to stop himself from reaching for Zoro. Why not fight back? Why not show them the power of the tempest that you possess in the grasp of your hands?
Zoro said nothing, shaking Chopper off and stalking away. Luffy turned his clear eyes to him and smiled through chipped teeth, “Because dreams matter, Sanji.” And that was the crux of Zoro, wasn’t it? Who chased after dreams like sparks after gunpowder.
“You’d do it too, wouldn’t you?” Luffy asked, “Give your life up to find All Blue?”
Sanji considered this for a moment, thinking in practicalities. What use was it to find All Blue if he couldn’t live to experience it, to cook for others with the bounty of the sea? It wasn’t a title that was a one-time achievement, not Pirate King, not world’s greatest swordsman. He thought about the people who ridiculed him for believing in the existence of All Blue. Would he do anything other than glare viciously at them? Would he allow himself to be brutally attacked for simply imagining the perfect waters? Was the gulf between him and Zoro so very wide?
“I don’t know, Luffy,” he said finally, words feeling like a betrayal, “I don’t know.”
Luffy simply smiled, joy still on his face, “What’s for dinner, Sanji? I’m starving.”
Sanji chuckled weakly, pushing himself away from the table and heading to the kitchen, “Give me half an hour, captain.”
In the kitchen, he found Zoro rummaging through his alcohol stores. Sanji raised a foot to boot him out but stopped when he saw the bandages on the swordsman’s handsome face. Zoro looked up, hands already on the hilt of his swords, having expected blows as soon as Sanji entered. He relaxed slightly when Sanji walked past him to open the fridge.
“I’ll make you a drink,” Sanji said, “You drink straight alcohol too much, you’ll destroy your liver. Lemon and mixers with rum. Go away and I’ll bring it to you soon.”
Zoro stood up, but instead of leaving, he sat down at the dining table, resting his chin on his arms as he watched Sanji work.
“You making sure I actually add alcohol to it or something?” Sanji muttered.
“I’ll be able to tell if you don’t,” Zoro shrugged.
“Then why are you bothering me?” Sanji asked. He clamped down viciously at his beating heart and the larynx that wanted to bellow, “Stay, stay, stay.”
Zoro shrugged, “Trying to avoid Chopper.”
“Right,” Sanji sighed. Of course. He carefully cracked an egg, allowing the egg white to plop into his cocktail shaker.
“Why are you adding eggs?” Zoro asked, curious.
“Just egg white,” Sanji shrugged, “Makes it frothy and creamy.”
Zoro stood up and approached Sanji, whose breath quickened with every heavy footstep. He stiffened when Zoro halted next to him, the fine hair on his forearms rising. Zoro reached and grabbed the tiny saucer in which Sanji has placed the egg yolk. Before Sanji could stop him, Zoro tilted his head back and swallowed the yolk in one gulp.
“You—” Sanji spluttered, staring at him incredulously.
“Not wasting food,” Zoro shrugged, “And it’s good for training.”
“I was going to use it for Hollandaise sauce,” Sanji hissed, face darkening, “Did you really think I was going to throw it out, you ant-brained, muscle-obsessed, shitty marimo?”
Zoro grinned viciously, “That’s more like it, cook.” He turned and left the kitchen, “Stop being so mopey and boring, curlybrow. You’re more fun when you’re on edge.” Sanji watched the door close, feeling like he’d just been battered against multiple sets of rocks by the wave of Zoro’s disapproval. He clenched his hands, leaning against the counter, cursing the control Zoro had on his ability to feel joy and pride. This was what Zeff had warned him against. Falling in love with someone, something that did not care if he was swept away in its path of ruin.
But he had dinner to prepare, which would take his mind off who Zoro was and who Sanji was not.
---
Thriller Bark was devastation for Sanji. To realize that Zoro didn’t consider Sanji’s life sufficient to replace his own or to sacrifice for their captain was a revelation of the worst kind. Sanji sat by him while he recovered, watching his chest rise and fall, feeling his own heart sink at any pause in the rhythmic breathing.
“He’ll be fine, Sanji,” Nami said gently, putting a soft hand on his shoulder.
“I know, he’s indestructible,” Sanji replied, leaning into her touch. His eyes roamed across the hills and valleys of Zoro’s toned muscles, the strong jaw that gripped Wado with enough force to cleave mountains, the furrowed brow that contained commitment in spades. Even covered in wounds, clinging to life, Zoro made Sanji feel inadequate.
“I’ll take over watch,” Nami said. Sanji nodded and walked away, not wanting to be there when Zoro woke up.
Zoro sought him out after he regained consciousness, but Sanji did his best to hide, finding reasons to be in the kitchen (to cook), to be outside (to smoke), to be with others (to seek comfort where he could actually find it). Finally, Zoro cornered him in the Sunny where he had sought shelter in the library.
“About what happened, cook,” Zoro said, not letting Sanji slip past him, Zoro’s wide frame blocking the door completely.
“I won’t tell anybody, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Sanji muttered, “You don’t have to threaten me.” He scuffed at the burn mark on the wood floor with the heel of his shoe, a remnant from a fight he and Zoro had after Water 7 that was stopped quickly by Robin to protect the flammable paper in the library.
Zoro frowned, “I’m not threatening you, I just want to talk.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Sanji said bitterly, “You won, didn’t you, in the end? Proved yourself to be the strongest, a god walking among men, fucking typical."
Zoro’s face darkened, “You’re being shittier than usual.”
“Just leave me alone, Zoro,” Sanji said, pushing Zoro aside more forcefully than he intended. Zoro hissed, clutching at his shoulder, face screwed up in pain. Sanji’s eyes widened, remembering everything Zoro had just been through. He reached for Zoro, fingers a fraction away from contact, before he pulled back and fled.
Zoro didn’t try to find him again, focusing on an even more intense training for the next few weeks until they were separated by the same man who had put him through hell. But Zoro always rose, always relentless in the path forward that he carved for himself and only himself.
---
Two years in Kamabakka Kingdom taught Sanji a few things. How to run, how to fly, how to cook, how to forget.
As he wandered down the paths in Sabaody, he wondered how he would feel to see Zoro again. Sanji had spent their separation reminding himself of all of Zoro’s faults. Poor hygiene, poor communication skills, poor bedside manner, poor manners in general. He had set about to make Zoro as small in his mind as he could.
Then Zoro decided to make his re-entrance into Sanji’s life at the expense of a galleon cut in two, the swordsman rising out of the water astride the victim of his blade like some wrathful warrior of the sea. The cigarette dropped from Sanji’s slack jaw when Zoro stood, impossibly bigger than before, cut from a combination of warm bronze and cold steel. He smirked, looking down at Sanji. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent a spray of droplets flying off Wado before sheathing the sword, the click of the guard meeting the collar bringing a rush of memories back to Sanji.
“Cook,” Zoro said, jumping off the galleon to stand inches from Sanji. Sanji breathed in Zoro’s quintessential smell, cloves from choji oil, caramel from whiskey, both diluted and enhanced by the scent of the sea that still clung to Zoro’s clothes from his impromptu bath. It was intoxicating. Sanji had been an idiot to think a mere two years could stop him from longing to orbit Zoro.
“Marimo,” Sanji responded, fumbling to pull out another cigarette to hide his discomfort.
“You’re late, number 7.”
Sanji looked up from lighting the new cigarette to see Zoro grinning at him. He narrowed his eyes. If the mosshead wanted to pick a fight as soon as they reunited, so be it.
“You fucking got here by chance, and the first thing you did was get lost and try to get on the wrong boat, shithead,” he hissed. Sanji thought he saw a flash of hesitation across Zoro’s face, which was quickly replaced by a matching glare.
“You haven’t changed,” Zoro said sullenly, and he might as well have punched Sanji in the gut, the force of the words more cutting than North Blue winters. You haven’t changed. You haven’t gotten stronger or worthier. You are still small.
“Neither have you,” he replied, turning away, shoulders tense with the weight of disappointment.
“Fuck, cook,” Zoro said, exasperated, “I—”
Sanji waited, rotating his gaze back to Zoro, who looked strangely conflicted. Zoro rubbed the back of his head and blurted out, “How have you been?”
Too shocked to respond at first, Sanji managed to find his voice, “Learned small talk wherever you got sent?”
“Fuck you,” Zoro frowned, “I’m trying to— It’s been a while since we’ve— can we just… act normal or something?”
“Normal,” Sanji repeated slowly.
Zoro groaned loudly, “Fuck, never mind.” He shuffled his feet and changed the subject, “You haven’t seen Luffy yet, have you? He still hasn’t arrived.” Sanji shook his head, business as usual, their captain always the priority.
“Haven’t seen a commotion yet, so assuming he’s not here,” Sanji said, checking his watch, “I need to shop. Get supplies for our next trip.”
“I can help,” Zoro said quickly. Sanji paused again, shocked into silence for the second time in the span of a minute.
“I’ll handle it, don’t worry about it,” he replied, waving Zoro away and walking back toward the Sabaody shops. Zoro followed him, a few steps behind, all of Sanji’s senses forced to hone in on the figure behind him until Sanji finally whirled around.
“Why are you following me, marimo?”
“’m not following you,” Zoro muttered, “Just walking in the same direction.”
“Can you walk in a different direction?” he barked out.
Zoro looked at him helplessly, and Sanji instantly regretted his tone. Zoro couldn’t find the sun on a clear day. Asking him to look for Luffy on his own would only result in Zoro slicing another innocent ship in half.
“Sorry, mosshead, I’ll help you find Luffy. He’ll probably be where the food is, and that’s this direction.” Zoro blinked at him, confusion on his face.
“That’s what you’re doing, right? Looking for Luffy?” Sanji asked, eyes narrowing.
“Luffy will find us eventually. I… I was just… you—” Finally, he admitted, “I’m hungry.”
“Oh,” Sanji said, “Why didn’t you say that earlier?” He unslung the backpack from his shoulders and rummaged around inside, looking for the food he’d packed from Momoiro Island. He tossed Zoro a package of steamed buns wrapped in banana leaves.
“That should tide you through to dinner,” Sanji said, a quirk on his lips when Zoro immediately opened it and stuffed a bun in his mouth. They were packed with high protein, high fiber boar meat and vegetables, surely enough to sate the swordsman’s appetite. Duty accomplished, Sanji put his backpack on and began walking away, raising a hand in the air in farewell. “See you later then, mosshead.”
As he headed for the crowds by the market, he snuck a glance behind him. Zoro hadn’t followed, his tall form now a small dot in the distance. Sanji pushed back the touch of disappointment he felt and busied himself planning for his crew’s meals.
---
Sanji watched Zoro call for Luffy in Punk Hazard, walking amongst the G-5 Marines like they were merely butterflies before a hurricane visited upon them from the other side of the world.
“Get a grip, this is just the beginning of the New World,” Zoro roared at their captain.
“Yeah, sorry, I won’t drop my guard again,” Luffy grinned, certainty in his eyes as he ran to challenge Caesar a second time.
“He’s so tough on himself,” Sanji muttered, feeling a chill run up his spine at witnessing the madness in Zoro’s eyes. Zoro was an unstoppable force, a maelstrom dressed in human clothing.
After Caesar was subdued, after Luffy somehow won the allegiance of a warlord, pirates, and marines alike, Sanji found Zoro sitting away from the group. He wordlessly handed Zoro a tankard of ale.
“Stupid fucking cold place,” Sanji muttered, pulling his coat tighter around him. Zoro shrugged, broad chest exposed to the elements, and shot Sanji a grin, “Nice weather we’ve been having.” Sanji frowned, recalling his attempted conversation starter after Little Garden. Surely Zoro didn’t remember that awkward moment, wasn’t calling it back. He tried to decide what to say in response.
Zoro’s smile disappeared when Sanji didn’t answer and instead tilted his head back to finish the ale in one go.
“I’ll get you another,” Sanji said, reaching for the tankard. Zoro grabbed his wrist. “Stay,” he said, and Sanji bristled at the command, wrenching his hand away.
“Please,” Zoro added, and Sanji nearly cringed. Zoro didn’t say please, didn’t need to say please. He could take what he wanted and then some, and typically did.
“Why so polite?” Sanji mumbled.
“So you don’t run away.”
“I wasn’t running away,” Sanji replied indignantly, “I was offering to get you more booze, you shitty excuse for an alcoholic.”
“I don’t want more booze,” Zoro said, gaze fixated on Sanji. In the white hue of Punk Hazard, Zoro’s grey eyes looked warmer than usual, pools of amber that threatened to pull Sanji closer. Sanji forced himself to blink, putting his hands in his pockets and gripping them in fists so tight his fingernails nearly drew blood from his palms. Fear is protection of both the heart and the body.
“Curly,” Zoro continued, voice hoarse. Klaxons heralding the coming storm.
“Nami said she needed me earlier,” Sanji said abruptly, “Enjoy the rest of the party, mosshead.”
And he ran.
---
“Ran away again,” Zoro said coldly, when he and Sanji had a moment to breathe in Wano. Sanji tore his eyes away from the rippling steel of Enma, coursing with danger and power, so befitting its new owner.
“What’s it to you?” Sanji asked, thinking about Whole Cake and the family who had forsaken him. About the family who came to find him.
Zoro didn’t answer, staring moodily out at the ocean in front of them. Clouds drifted by, and Sanji felt himself being lulled to sleep by the sound of the relatively calm waters breaking against the cliff below.
“A few days before you all arrived, there was a hurricane on Wano,” Zoro said quietly. “I watched it, from here.”
“Must have been fun for you,” Sanji replied, “You seem like the type to love hurricanes.”
Zoro snorted, “There’s an East Blue myth about the god of hurricanes.”
Sanji felt his mind dissociate from his body at Zoro’s words, suddenly watching the two of them from afar as Zoro told Sanji the story that had frightened him so as a child.
“The man ran down the mountain, pulled out his tiny boat, and sailed to meet his love,” Zoro said.
“Never to be heard of again,” Sanji finished, snapping back into his body harshly.
Zoro frowned, “No, what? That’s fucking depressing, cook. You’re ruining my storytelling flow. Guy ran down the mountain and sailed out. He was buffeted by the waves, boat torn to pieces by the force of the rushing water, and he thought he was going to die before he could meet his love. And then he and the remains of his broken boat were carried up on a slipstream that rose straight into the sky. Like fucking Skypeia, curly.” Zoro was smiling, eyes shining as he told the story. “The man found the god of hurricanes, who had been watching him for decades standing on that mountain, unafraid. The god had loved him and had been waiting for the man to join him, finally. And then I forget the rest, happily ever after and all that shit. But it’s a cool story.” He turned to Sanji, an open fondness on his face, “Can you believe the madman? Running toward a storm searching for love. And he fucking found it. Kuina and I used to idolize him."
The turbulence in Sanji’s body was nearly painful.
“Cook?” Zoro asked, face falling, “You okay?”
Sanji shook his head, and Zoro moved over quickly, putting a hand on Sanji’s shoulder as he leaned forward, concern written in bold letters across his face.
“Should I get Chopper? You’re pale as a sheet. Fuck, did you get injured?”
“You, Zoro,” Sanji wheezed out, “You are my god of hurricanes.”
Zoro stared at him, “What?”
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Sanji said, a dam breaking, “But I was afraid of being nothing but driftwood chasing after you.”
“You wanted me?” Zoro asked, incredulous, “Sanji, I—” At the sound of his name, Sanji looked up and found a radiance on Zoro’s sharp features, sunshine on cut glass.
“Sanji, I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you,” Zoro said, “Y-you’re always running away, I thought you… I just thought that you couldn’t stand me. I’m the god of hurricanes? Sanji, have you seen yourself? You make tidal waves with a glance. The way you fight is a gale. I-I’m not good at it, but I’ve been trying to make you see me, standing on the mountaintop, wanting desperately to be caught in your path.”
Klaxons heralding the coming storm.
Sanji reached for Zoro’s collar and dragged him close, mashing their lips together so forcefully Zoro hissed into the kiss but didn’t retreat. Sanji savored the copper taste of blood, his or Zoro’s he couldn’t tell, on his tongue. Zoro’s body weighed down on his, their clothes and legs tangled as they kissed. Sanji’s lungs burned, longing for air, but he relished the feeling of drowning.
Finally, hearing the calls of their crew members, Sanji pushed Zoro off, smiling at the sound rumbling in Zoro’s chest as he chased after Sanji’s mouth.
“Later,” Sanji gasped, putting a finger to Zoro’s swollen lips. Zoro kissed the pad of his finger lightly, before standing up and adjusting his disheveled yukata. He pulled Sanji to his feet and did the same for Sanji, fingers brushing across Sanji’s heated skin as he tugged the yukata snuggly across Sanji’s chest.
Sanji snickered, loosening his yukata slightly. Zoro immediately pulled it tight again, seemingly intent on covering as much exposed skin as he could.
“Hypocrite,” Sanji pointed out.
“No one’s looking at me,” Zoro laughed, tugging Sanji toward him for one more kiss.
“Stop running from me,” he said quietly into Sanji’s ear. Sanji rested his head against Zoro’s shoulder. “Riding the slipstream of seawater and splintered wood up to the heavens, then?” he said lightly.
“See you at the top.”