Chapter Text
They had gone ashore around mid-morning, Nami-san releasing everyone to do as they pleased before dinnertime had baited them back onto the Sunny. Dinner had been sea cow with the rest of their stored vegetables, seasoned with local herbs; it had been a masterpiece of cuisine, if he may say so himself. The crust had been perfectly crisp, the flavors of the meat and herbs mingling in a way that was pure goodness.
There was absolutely no excuse for Zoro to be picking it apart with his chopsticks, listlessly shoveling random bites into his mouth.
Sanji felt his eyebrow twitch. "Oi, marimo, got a problem with my cooking?"
Zoro ripped his gaze from where he'd been staring at the wall of the galley– something telling Sanji that that wasn't what he'd been seeing– to look him in the eye. He broke eye contact, though, not even two seconds later.
"No."
Sanji blinked. No witty comeback? No insult? And, though it had been short, he was pretty sure he hadn't imagined the somewhat dead expression in the other's eyes – eye. "Then stop killing the food and eat it already," he quipped, ignoring a tinge of worry. Not like the bastard would appreciate it anyway.
Nevertheless, he found himself watching Zoro a bit more closely than usual (not that he didn't tend to do so already too close for comfort) for the rest of dinner and even after everyone had gone out back onto land and into the village, where apparently a harvest festival was taking place tonight. Sanji had picked the short straw and had gotten stuck with ship watch. It didn't explain, though, why the marimo hadn't gone too. And it didn't explain why he was currently trying to train himself to death either.
"Hey, you alright?" He blurted out, cursing himself for it a second later because he had been kind of looking forward to a calm, peaceful evening, the chance of which had just plummeted. Zoro, though, just sort of tensed for a second before a miniature shudder went through him, his head dropping and… oh. It couldn't be, could it? Except... "You're alright, you're fine," he tried cautiously, and the other's whole body sort of sagged.
Oh. Well, that certainly was surprising.
While his last sentence could be taken as a simple statement, it could also hold a much deeper meaning to one who was privy to it, and apparently Zoro was. Who would have thought?
He reached for his cigarettes and lightener and let his suddenly jumbled thoughts be calmed by the familiar feeling of nicotine settling into his system.
He'd always had a hutch that Zoro preferred the company of men. Not that the other had particularly done something to convince him of the fact, though he supposed he also hadn't done anything to convince Sanji of the opposite, but it had been more of a gut feeling, a sort of 'gay radar' resulting from his own preferences. What hadn't even crossed his mind, though, was that they could be even more similar, compatible even, than that.
Zoro had resumed lifting those stupidly big barbells of his and Sanji observed him quietly. Now that he knew what this was about and what to look out for, he could read the signs, saw the restlessness in the other's movements, saw the way his shoulders hunched, how unfocused his gaze was, and he frowned. This big idiot.
"Oi, marimo, stop with the self-torture. Isn't gonna stop the drop. It's only going to make it worse, actually."
Zoro flipped him off but he stopped anyway. Sanji felt an unexpected rush of desire jolt through him and immediately felt guilty. This wasn't the time to be feeling excited over an obedient marimo. It was odd enough that it could excite him.
"Don't know what you mean. I'm not dropping anything." Zoro had turned to face him fully, expression a quite exquisite mixture of confusion, anger, uncomfortableness and plain feeling lost. It was the last one that tugged at Sanji's heart a little.
He leaned a little further forward, away from where he'd taken to resting against the railing, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "Let me guess, you're feeling like your skin doesn't fit anymore, like you wanna jump out of it and there's absolutely nothing to catch you, ground you, right?"
Zoro stared at him, shock now mixed into the array of emotions coloring his face. Then his eye narrowed. "So what?"
Sanji sighed. "That's subdrop, dipshit." For a fraction of a moment, Zoro's face screwed up and, yeah, abusive language probably wasn't the best approach right now. He continued, much softer, "Look, it's perfectly normal. Nothing to be ashamed of and one hundred percent the fault of the person" he said the word with a little more sharpness than it would strictly require "you were with. Go back, beat the shit out of them, and demand they give you the aftercare you deserve and need."
Zoro, now horrified, and it was really rather interesting to see the usually stoic marimo stutter his way through even more emotions than Sanji experienced in the span of a few minutes, stammered, "I– I wasn't–"
"Oh please," Sanji interrupted, and that took the other back to angry.
"I don't need anything except for you to leave me the fuck alone," he snarled.
Sanji felt his own temper rise and threaten to get the better of him at the tone but he killed it off. Now wasn't the time. Instead, he watched as Zoro picked the barbell back up and started lifting again. Maybe it wasn't so bad, after all. And it wasn't like he could force the marimo to go back, neither did he have any desire to. Zoro had just made it perfectly clear after all that he didn't want Sanji‘s help.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a loud splash and some pretty creative swearing. The marimo had dropped a couple of weights into the sea. He'd... dropped them. Into the sea.
Okay, so maybe Zoro wouldn't be fine.
Before he knew it, he'd moved fully away from the railing and was standing next to the other man who was still swearing and looking back and forth between his barbell and the sea, one hand unconsciously grabbing for the nape of Zoro's neck.
Zoro went completely still. Sanji rubbed his thumb and forefinger along the tense muscles and the other sagged a little. He put more pressure on then, properly digging his fingers into a knot, and Zoro moaned. It was a small sound, cut off at the end, and it went straight to Sanji's dick.
He didn't waste any time contemplating as to why exactly the marimo had such an effect on him where he most definitively shouldn't but instead quickly assessed his possibilities.
Option A, leave Zoro to deal by himself as he'd demanded Sanji do. The thought left a stale aftertaste.
Option B, literally drag the other back to the person that had done this to him. He felt bile rise in his throat.
Option C, take things into his own hands. Yeah, right, like that was gonna happen.
Zoro let loose another suppressed groan, shifting slightly.
C it was.
While he'd done the thinking, his fingers had continued to knead the nape of Zoro's neck, and the marimo looked halfway to purring by now, head tilted backwards and eye halfway shut. Sanji slid closer, settling his other hand on Zoro's chest, right above his heart. If he breathed in deeply, the other's hip would poke him in the stomach.
"What are you trying to pull, cook?" Zoro had turned his head to look at him, eye open and sharp again.
"Aftercare," he drawled.
Zoro stared at him blankly.
"Please tell me you at least know what that is."
More staring.
Sanji groaned. "What the hell were you doing up until now?"
Zoro coiled a little into himself and he heightened the pressure of his hand on the other's chest, his thumb rubbing calming, soothing circles into the fabric. "Sorry."
"For what?" Zoro's voice sounded distant, like he was beginning to drift, and he subtly arched his chest into Sanji's hand, probably thinking he wouldn't notice.
"For yelling at you when you're like this," he answered.
Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. "When I'm like what?" Zoro snapped, leaning away from his touch, though not pulling out of reach completely, as Sanji couldn't help but notice. Seemed like the marimo really did need it. "When I'm weak? Pathetic?"
"You're not pathetic! And neither does this make you weak!" He snapped back, his cool quickly leaving him. He didn't have a lot of patience for Zoro on a good day and this was getting tiring fast. "I told you, it's normal. Hell, it'd be stranger if it didn't happen. Let me guess, it's one of your first times submitting?"
Zoro froze again, if at his directness, tone, or the question itself Sanji didn't know but he was done tiptoeing around the subject in any case. Straightforward had always worked best with Zoro after all. The marimo didn't answer, though, and when he searched the other's face, he found it beautifully flushed.
"Your first time?" He asked softly. Slipping a finger under Zoro's chin and tipping it up and around, he forced the other to look him in the eye. Zoro's gaze dropped again immediately, though he didn't fight Sanji's hold on him, and Sanji had his answer.
"Answer me," he demanded nonetheless and after a moment's hesitation, Zoro nodded.
"Words, Zoro," Sanji murmured quietly, running his thumb along the other's jaw.
Zoro's breath hitched. "Y-yeah," he said, and Sanji would've missed it had he not been inches from the other's face. Zoro, he realized, was expecting him to laugh.
"Good," he hummed approvingly, and Zoro let out a shuddering breath.
"Cook, I–"
"Hush, you don't have to do anything. Leave everything to me," Sanji soothed, and the marimo really must be feeling like shit because he let himself be led into one of the guest rooms under deck without resistance. If he wanted Zoro to open himself up, it sure as hell wasn't going to happen out in the open.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, extending a hand to the other who was still standing in the middle of the room, looking a hairsbreadth away from bolting. "C'mere."
Zoro didn't but instead eyed his hand warily. "Why're you doing this?"
"Out of the immense goodness of my heart."
Zoro, the asshole, didn't look convinced one bit. "What's it to you, anyway?" He prodded stubbornly.
Sanji sighed. "Look, I do care about you, okay? Yeah, we fight a lot, but you're still nakama and I don't wanna see you truly hurt... unhappy." He quickly changed his word choice when Zoro's face darkened. Stupid marimo and his stupid pride. "So come 'ere and let me cuddle the shit out of you." He made grabby hands at Zoro who snorted but actually did sit down this time.
Sanji clicked his tongue. "What, I'm Luffy now? My arms won't reach that far. You're gonna have to come a little closer here." Zoro flat-out ignored him and Sanji smirked. They could do things that way, too.
"Come here, Zoro," he said again, tone gentle, yet steady and firm, clearly an order. And this time, Zoro obeyed immediately. Sanji quickly dropped the grin, lest he'd have the other thinking he was making fun of him. He observed Zoro sideways, realizing the man was watching him just as intensely, something in his expression telling Sanji that he had absolutely no idea what was going on. Which made two of them.
He reached out to stroke the back of his hand along Zoro's temple.
Zoro flinched initially, then looked like he was trying very hard not to lean into the touch and, no, that wouldn't do. "Take off your yukata, lie down on the bed, stomach down, hands flat on your sides." Zoro moved without the slightest bit of hesitation, just throwing a glance in his direction, and Sanji's stomach did a little flip-thing, heat punching into his loin.
Who knew that an obedient marimo would be this hot? But he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. This wasn't about him; it was about Zoro, meaning the marimo's needs came first.
He didn't know whether what he was feeling was disappointment or something else over the fact that apparently today was a day Zoro was wearing underwear.
"Just relax," he murmured and, after a quick assessment, settled himself on his knees next to Zoro, experimentally stroking a forefinger down the other's spine. "That ok?"
He liked to think he knew Zoro rather well, so this shouldn't be too hard, right?
Zoro nodded, stiff as a board. But now that touch was fine, Sanji would get to working on that. "Concentrate on my finger on your skin, nothing else," he mumbled before continuing to paint invisible lines along the marimo's spine, into the dip of his lower back, along the broad curve of his shoulder blades. The man really was ripped, and that not even for the sake of vanity.
Somewhere along the way, the tension had begun to bleed out of Zoro until he was making soft little noises that Sanji was pretty sure he wasn't aware of. That's when Sanji drew his finger back.
Zoro made a sound that was perilously close to a whine and he made to lift his face from where he'd buried it into the pillow. Sanji shushed him, stroking a strand of green hair out of his now-lax face before gently pushing it back into the pillow. "We're not done yet, marimo. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."
Zoro grumbled contently and sagged back onto the bed. "Good boy. Now roll over for me."
To his credit, the man clearly tried, but in the end, it was with heavy help on Sanji's part that he got settled on his side, arms flopped out carelessly in front of him.
Sanji only hesitated for about a second before moving into position next to him, sliding closer until his chest was resting flush against Zoro's back.
The marimo sighed happily and Sanji slid an arm around his waist, overwhelmed by how right this felt.
"You alright in there? You still with me?" He whispered into the other's ear, pressing a kiss to the soft skin behind his ear before he could stop himself.
"Yeeahh," Zoro slurred, clearly anything but with him right now, and Sanji felt a fond smile tug on his lips.
This had always been his favorite part, and with Zoro it was even better.
The marimo was unexpectedly cute like this and Sanji was equal parts surprised and touched that Zoro had slipped so far under. It meant that Zoro trusted him one helluva lot, which, of course, he'd known, somehow, but it was still nice to have it confirmed.
He looked at Zoro, at the way he was a puddle in Sanji's arms, face red and lax, completely out of it and so very trusting– he really was a natural– and warmth pooled in Sanji's gut.
He curled his arm tighter around Zoro's waist, laughing quietly. "Sure you are, buddy."
Zoro frowned, or at least he tried to. "'am," he protested weakly, and gosh, that had no business being as sweet as it was. Even completely out of it, the marimo felt the need to argue with him.
"Yeah, okay," Sanji appeased and Zoro relaxed back against him.
"That's it, exactly like that. Just relax. Isn't that better?" He soothed further and Zoro whined. He practically folded himself over the other man. "I've got you, you're alright."
The marimo hummed approvingly while Sanji continued with a litany of praise, and it was probably over an hour later that Zoro began to stir in earnest, signaling that he was coming back.
Now came the potentially awkward part. The part that had him explaining to perfectly sober Zoro as to why he was draped over him in a way he might as well be trying to crawl inside the other and was, in fact, quite unwilling to let go.
Zoro stiffened; Sanji didn't let go. And there was the awkward.
"Let go of me," Zoro finally said.
"Uh," he responded, thinking hard. "No," he added.
"No?" Zoro asked incredulously.
"No," Sanji confirmed.
"Cook–"
"The moment I let go, you'll run away, right?" He blurted out.
Zoro didn't deny it, and he tightened his grip even further, stubbornly clinging to the other. For all he tensed up, Zoro didn't just throw him off and into the next wall, which Sanji counted as a win.
"Look, I know this is somewhat awkward, okay a lot awkward but–" he trailed off, not having thought this part through.
"But?"
"But... don't run away?"
Zoro snorted, and Sanji grinned sheepishly. Relief flooded him and he realized that, on some level, he'd expected the other to punch him in the face. Because that was how his life usually went.
He peeled himself off Zoro.
"We good?"
"We're good," Zoro affirmed.
The marimo made to climb off the bed and Sanji sat up, one hand reaching up to tug at Zoro's sleeve.
"What."
"I–" He swallowed, suddenly nervous. "I don't know, just, don't hold it in, I guess?" He stared at Zoro's sleeve. The sleeve came closer until a hand cupped his chin and tilted it upwards with surprising gentleness.
Zoro's gaze was calm, almost soft. "I won't," he said, and for one long moment Sanji thought the other was going to kiss him. But then the moment was over and Zoro was straightening back up.
He blinked. "Good." What the hell was he feeling disappointed for?
Zoro, already at the door, paused with his back to Sanji. "Thanks." The word was spoken quietly but there was so much meaning behind it.
He got up, walked over to the other. "You're welcome," he said, equally quietly.
And then he leaned in, finishing the job Zoro had left undone.