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When Zoro leaves the men's quarters and walks out onto the lawn deck, a soft breeze greets him. Overhead, wispy clouds strewn across a bright morning sky seem to be racing each other, spurred on by the wind.
He takes a deep breath. The air smells salty and clean.
Maybe he'll go bother the cook for some tea and a small snack before he climbs up to the crow's nest for his morning workout; that is, if Zoro's lucky and he's still on the Sunny: when they're docked at an island for more than a day, Sanji likes to go grocery shopping early every morning before he prepares the crew's breakfast. He'd mentioned to Robin once that he enjoys having the opportunity to pick up all the fresh produce he'll need for the day instead of having to rely on the provisions stored on the Sunny, so it seems only logical to him that the other man would do the same today.
As he crosses the lawn deck, letting the warmth of the morning sun wake him slowly, Zoro notices Nami standing by the railing close to the stairs leading up to the galley and looking out towards the other ships bobbing up and down in the same rhythm as the Sunny in the harbor basin.
Zoro hadn't expected to see her up so early, especially not after they'd gone out last night: usually, she'd be crawling out of the women's quarters some time around noon, still a little tired from all the dancing or whatever else it is that she gets up to, and she'd be gratefully accepting whatever food Sanji had managed to save for her from Luffy's claws as she hides away in a secluded corner on deck.
But today, she is up and awake despite the early hour, her eyes on the thin stripe of ocean visible between the masts in front of her as she takes small sips from a still-steaming cup she holds clutched in her hands.
Sanji might still be on the ship then, Zoro thinks as he eyes the souvenir mug. The tacky colors of the design that is painted on it are easy to spot even though the ginger's fingers do their best to obscure them.
Nami notices him approaching and nods in Zoro's direction, a small smile on her lips that is uncharacteristically chipper considering the time and a clear sign that she wouldn't mind some company right now.
He takes her up on the unspoken invitation and comes to a stop next to her, bumping his shoulder against hers in greeting.
The navigator huffs but doesn't glare at him like she usually would have in reaction to such treatment. Instead, she takes another sip from her cup before wordlessly offering it to Zoro who just shakes his head and grumbles: “No, thanks.”
The smell alone had already clued him in on what it is that she's drinking: the same scent of orange blossoms and chamomile surrounds the navigator most mornings during breakfast. It belongs to a tea blend she favors that Sanji usually prepares for her with a generous helping of honey. It turns the drink way too sweet for Zoro's taste, so he can't say he enjoys it anywhere close to as much as she does.
He only notices he's scrunched up his nose while thinking about the over-sweetened concoction as, next to him, Nami starts to giggle while looking over at him.
“I just don't like sweet things.”, he defends himself in response, but his voice stays light and even, the tilt of his head and the way the corners of his mouth lift slightly evidence enough of his faint amusement.
“Duh. Why do you think I offered?”, she replies. The sheen in her eyes is the same one Zoro has come to associate with her teasing him.
Up until now, he'd gracefully ignored the hickey only half-hidden by the collar of Nami's blouse. Unlike others members of this crew, he isn't particularly interested in hearing every last detail – or even a rough outline for that matter – of the other Straw Hats' potential and actual romantic exploits. But seeing as addressing the elephant in the room that is Nami, out on deck at this hour and still in yesterday's now very rumpled clothes, will allow him to needle her back, he might as well say something. Even if that might mean he'll have to listen to her admonishing him for even broaching the subject. After all, a lady never tells.
He knocks their elbows together after a moment of consideration.
Once Nami has turned her head towards him, he asks: “Did the girl you left the bar with not offer you breakfast on your way out?”, and he pointedly looks to her neck for a second and then back to the cup in her hands as he talks, before directing his eyes to the ship next to theirs, his posture deliberately relaxed. There, a man is currently busy carrying some crates below deck, and Zoro watches him work in order to keep himself from looking over at the woman next to him.
Nami almost chokes on her tea as soon as Zoro has finished speaking, and turns a furious shade of red as she coughs into her hand.
“I'm surprised you'd willingly talk about yesterday.”, she wheezes in retaliation as she hurriedly takes gulps of air, tears in the corners of her eyes.
Zoro huffs. He'd hoped he'd be able to delay the conversation that is now inevitably going to happen for a little longer. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut, should even just have walked right past her and straight to the galley after all.
“We both know you only won because you cheated.”, he retorts, unwilling to give in to his sudden wish to just leave, all consequences be damned.
“How would I cheat during a drinking contest?”, Nami answers, now having fully regained her breath, and smiles in that perfectly innocent way of hers that always works on people who've never met her before but that has lost all its effectiveness when it comes to most members of the Straw Hats. She only ever uses it on Zoro anymore when she wants him to know that she's lying but doesn't want him to have a way to prove it.
“Maybe by picking a guy as referee who turned red the second you started talking to him?”, Zoro replies, and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Being absolutely stunning isn't cheating.”, Nami retorts, a mock-pout on her lips.
The way she tilts her head as she blinks up at him would make their resident cook's cheeks flush pink, and it would have had the man from last night stumbling over his words in an even more pathetic fashion than he'd already had when the redhead had first begun talking to him.
Zoro just shoots her an unimpressed glare though. “It is when the only reason the referee decides to declare you the winner is because he's been too busy trying not to faint to actually judge which one of us was faster.”
“Aw, don't be such a sore loser.” A grin accompanies Nami's reply, and she leans back against the railing, her face now turned towards the lawn deck. “You'll just have to try harder next time.”
“At capturing the referee's attention?”
Nami snorts. “Good luck with that. You mostly just scare people off with the way you glower at everyone.” She takes another sip from her tea, and continues speaking once she's brought the cup back down, “Seems like you'll keep on losing to me, then, which, honestly, suits me just fine. I like getting to decide on how you spend your day.”
Last night, when Zoro had not yet seen who Nami had decided should function as their referee, he had still been convinced that it was a good idea to agree to their usual terms: should Zoro lose, Nami would cancel some of his debt; should she win, the navigator would get full control of what he'd be doing the following day.
Now, though, as he watches a devious smile steal its way onto the witch's lips, he is regretting his decision more than ever. “I've been thinking that, after lunch, you could accompany me to a cafe that I noticed on my walk through town yesterday. They sell ice cream that looks really good. Sadly, it's a little expensive. However, fortunately for me, they're offering deals on sundaes for couples, so, this afternoon, you'll have the honor of helping me try as many different flavors as I can for a reduced price by pretending you're in love with me.”
Zoro keeps his reaction to a simple groan. Seems like she'll be letting him escape her clutches relatively unscathed today. And, in any case, even if she weren't, he knows from experience that there is no use in complaining. The only thing that'd ever achieve is Nami doubling down on her idea. Maybe she'd even insist on him trying the ice cream too. He shudders at the thought.
“Don't look at me like that.”, the woman in question chides, an immediate reaction to the disgruntled expression on his face. “Do you know how many people would beg me to allow them to spend this much time with me?”
As if summoned by Nami's words, Sanji steps out of the kitchen just as the witch stops talking. He walks down the stairs, an empty shopping bag in hand, and comes to a stop at her side.
Inwardly, Zoro curses. Gone is the moment during which he'd hoped the cook would still be on the ship; there's a big difference between catching him alone in the galley and having to endure the endless banter and joking Nami and him both like to engage in once an opportunity to tease Zoro has presented itself.
“Is he bothering you?”, the blond asks her as he looks at Zoro with furrowed brows, his chin tilted up in consideration as he studies him.
Nami replies: “Oh, no; he's just complaining about the plans I have for him for this afternoon. Seems like he doesn't want to come with me to that cafe I've told you about.” While she speaks, she spins the cup around between her fingers and watches the tea in it swirl and eddy, but she looks up once she finishes her sentence to shoot Zoro a saccharine smile.
“I'd promise you full control of what I do today even without a bet.”, comes the expected reply. The grin on the cook's lips as he speaks is similarly sweet. Unlike the one that the navigator had flashed Zoro, it looks a lot more genuine though, despite the fact that his flirting is more a habit or maybe even an inside joke at this point rather than part of a serious attempt at wooing Nami.
It's a matter of practice, Zoro knows; by now, the cook has truly perfected his flirty smiles: they're bright but soft, and just salacious enough to excite curiosity despite their perfect charmingness. Zoro hates that he finds them so hard to ignore, and he involuntarily ends up watching the way the cook's eyes crinkle lightly as the corners of his mouth move upwards every time he thanks a waitress or hands Robin her coffee or interacts with anyone he finds even remotely fascinating, which includes far more people than Zoro thinks is reasonable.
“In fact, I'd gladly take over for that oaf.”, Sanji continues on while batting his eyelashes at the navigator all prettily, completely unaware of Zoro's internal struggle.
Nami narrows her eyes at him though, and doesn't stop shooting him small looks as the cook keeps talking: “The marimo doesn't know how to act around a lady anyway. And he can't even appreciate how wonderful it is to spend an entire afternoon in your presence.”
Zoro scoffs once more, and a plethora of insults he's longing to throw at the other's head is already burning on his tongue, only fueled by how much it irritates him that he's secretly glad that he now finally has an opportunity to contribute to this conversation in a way that doesn't include him watching on as the cook's lips never lose their smile, even as they curl around the words he speaks.
Before he can get past the “Fucking loser!” he manages to mutter, Nami interrupts him by glaring at him before she turns back to face Sanji with a far kinder expression on her face that has the cook's cheeks turn pink: ”Oh, I know! He's horrible. However, unfortunately for him and me both, he still has to repay his betting debt with me somehow, so I fear I'll just have to put up with it.”
Then, her eyes light up for a moment, flashing with an unspoken threat as she glances back over to Zoro quickly, before directing her full attention at the man on her other side: “Maybe he'll appreciate spending time with me more if I send him along with you on your grocery run. You always have use for a pack mule, right?”
Normally, Zoro's sense of honor forbids him from breaking any promise he's given, no matter how trivial. In this moment, he considers it regardless.
“Nami, dear, how could you wound me so!”, comes Sanji's immediate response. “I offer you a way out and you repay me by siccing that dolt on me instead. I'll probably have to babysit him the entire time to make sure he doesn't run off.” He smiles at Nami as if they're sharing an inside joke, all familiarity and jest.
He doesn't say no though, doesn't refuse. If letting oneself be soft-soaped into fulfilling every single one of Nami's whims were a sport, Sanji would be the undisputed world champion. Whoever comes second wouldn't even come close.
The witch joins the cook in soft laughter, clearly in on what the other man is alluding to, but looks over at Zoro all the while who subtly shakes his head while trying to hide the alarm that must be showing in his eyes before the cook can spot it.
Nami sees it though.
She thanks Sanji for helping her raise her green-haired problem child – as far as Zoro is concerned, they can both get fucked – as she quickly finishes her tea. Once she's done, she presses the empty cup into the cook's hands with the request to please carry it back to the kitchen for her.
It's a clear attempt to get him to leave them alone for a moment, but Sanji doesn't complain and instead does as asked.
Once he has walked up the stairs and disappeared behind the galley's door, Nami turns to Zoro, a small grin on her lips as she looks at him as if she were saying “Well?”
“What are you doing this for?”, Zoro hisses quietly, unable to keep the uneasiness he's feeling from showing in his voice.
“That's what you get for bugging me about where I was last night.”, she retorts, keeping her voice low, and sticks her tongue out at him. “Cheer up! At least, this way, instead of sulking, you'll have something to talk to me about when we're trying all that ice cream. It'll make our beautiful romance seem more believable when you're not just being silent, even if you'll be gushing about another man.”
Zoro can't ignore how she phrased the last part of her answer. He knows exactly what she's alluding to, what it was that they'd talked about over half a year ago after she'd pestered him about it for over to hours. “I regret ever telling you about this.”
“Don't be such a baby. If anything, I'm actually doing you a favor, if you think about it: you'll get to look at his ass whenever he bends over to look at the vegetables.”
“Shut up.”, Zoro mutters deliberately evenly, but the way his ears flush betrays his calm facade. Nami laughs.
“Don't tell me the real reason you're taking him with you this afternoon is that you actually prefer him to me.”, Sanji interrupts their half-whispered conversation as he looks over at the scene in front of him while walking down the stairs again. There's a levity to his voice that makes it obvious he's just continuing their bantering from before.
Zoro immediately moves away from Nami, having subconsciously leaned closer to her during their discussion. There's a rigidity to his stance now that he doesn't like, but he feels like deliberately changing the set of his jaw or the the way his shoulders have moved closer to his ears would draw even more attention to it so he stays the way he is, straight back, balled-up fists and all.
Nami, on the other hand, looks to be as relaxed as ever as she replies: “Don't worry; it's just that I enjoy torturing him a little too much!”
“I don't think that's all you're doing.”, the cook answers under his breath as he comes to a halt next to Zoro.
Zoro takes this as the slight towards him that it was surely meant as and tries to step on the cook's stupidly shiny black shoes in retaliation. The look Nami shoots him has him aborting mid-movement though.
Sanji's elbow knocks into Zoro's side as he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt just then, entirely on accident of course. The shopping bag still dangling from his arm brushes against Zoro's knee when he pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants after.
Nami, for once, decides to ignore their antics, and, instead of reprimanding them, she just raises her hand to wave them both goodbye: “Well, have fun out there, kids! I'll be going to sleep now. I had a busy night!”
While Sanji utters whatever phrases he deems fitting in reply, Zoro just glares at the navigator. She really won't be showing him any mercy.
The expression on his face has Nami laughing, and she blows a kiss in his direction as she walks away that Zoro answers by flipping her the bird.
Sanji hits him on the back of his head immediately and grabs him by his elbow to haul him away and off the Sunny while telling him off, his ears faintly pink.
In the distance, Zoro can hear Nami's cackling turning fainter as they leave the Sunny behind, the dock's planks creaking under their feet.
He doesn't really pay attention to her anymore though. And neither does he listen to the cook's rant about chivalry. Instead, he finds himself way too focused on the way his skin gives under the other man's grip, his hand cold and strong, as he is guided towards the market.
Slowly, they're leaving the harbor behind. The big ships make way for small fishing boats as the first residential buildings start to appear. Zoro watches fishers haul whatever they've caught this morning off their boats to carry it off in the same direction they're currently headed as Sanji's voice cycles through swear word after swear word in a strangely melodic rhythm.
Only once the cook starts listing off all the things he wants to buy, now finally done with his pointless attempt at talking some courteousness into him, does Zoro tune back in to the other's monologue: “And you better pay attention too!”, he ends his list, “I don't want to wander around this market for hours looking for the fucking pears or whatever; I've got breakfast to make, and I'm not going to be responsible for Luffy being in a bad mood all day because he had to go longer than twenty minutes without food after waking up.”
It's funny in an unfairly charming way how intense Sanji gets when it comes to his job; as if he hadn't proven that he is entirely nonexpendable to this crew a long time ago.
“I'm always attentive.”, Zoro just grumbles in reply and decidedly doesn't express his thoughts.
“Hah! Don't make me laugh.” Sanji tugs at his arm sharply once before letting go, “Remind me again: how often have I had to go looking for you because you got lost on your way to the Sunny just this year alone? That's right, twenty-four! Which is twenty-four times too many, idiot!”
“What, you actually count how often you've been sent after me for no reason? Because, for the record, I haven't gotten lost even once in my life.”, Zoro raises his eyebrows and scoffs.
“Shut up or I'm actually going to hold your hand the entire time like a child's. Or should I leash you instead so you can't run off?” There's an angry twinkle in Sanji's eyes but he seems more amused that truly enraged if the small smile on his lips is anything to go by.
“And ruin your chances with everything that moves and can smile in your direction?”
Zoro only barely manages to evade the swift kick Sanji aims at his knee. “My chances with anyone are nil either way today; with a moss-headed oaf like you by my side it doesn't matter if you're walking next to me or if I have to drag you after me by the scruff of your neck.”
Secretly, Zoro enjoys squabbling with Sanji like that. By now, he's fairly certain that, just like the cook's flirting with Nami, this, too, has long ago turned into an inside joke or a habit for the both of them rather than an actual attempt at getting under the other's skin. It's familiar ground, one that they both know how to navigate: over time, they've learned where the lines lie that neither of them should cross, which words elicit which reaction.
“Because people are usually practically throwing themselves at you whenever I'm not around.”, Zoro retorts then, and is silently delighted by the immediate flush of pink that predictably rises to Sanji's cheeks as he cusses him out in indignation.
“That is none of your business!”
“Thank god.”, he says, doing his best to keep the bitterness he feels rising up inside him sudden and entirely unbidden from showing in his voice. At least, he thinks, their contrived manner of communication lends itself almost perfectly to hiding how he really feels about a situation behind empty insults.
His response earns him another elbow in the side that doesn't hurt nearly as much as his frustration with himself.
“I should have refused to take you along.”
“As if you could.”, Zoro shoots back, thinking of Nami's smile that must surely seem winning to someone like the cook.
The “Shut up.” Sanji utters back is curiously muted, and he quickly shifts his eyes towards the market that is now visible just a few meters ahead instead of fixing Zoro with another one of his glares as Zoro would have expected.
Maybe he'd been wrong about Sanji's flirting no longer being a serious attempt at wooing Nami, Zoro thinks. Why he seems to be so embarrassed by the whole matter though, he doesn't understand. The blond spent forever throwing himself at her, it wouldn't be all that surprising if his feelings for the witch - gross, by the way - were still there.
Before Zoro even manages to completely consider the implications of this thought, the other man has already taken off and disappeared in the crowd milling about between the colorful booths and stalls that fill the entire square up ahead, his step hurried by some emotion Zoro isn't able to decipher from the firm set of his shoulders alone.
Zoro rushes after him, unwilling to get turned around in the almost labyrinthine layout of the market after all. He's not in the mood to get yelled at.
Once he enters the space shaded by the umbrellas and awnings of the stalls, the crowd becomes thicker, their chattering and shouting growing louder in turn. Most people step out of his way the second their eyes land on the three swords hanging at his side though, so he has no issues spotting the cook up ahead, standing at a stall that sells vegetables.
Zoro dodges a small child that is running around between the adults' legs as he makes his way over to him.
The uneven cobblestone beneath his boots forces him to keep his gaze directed at the ground. In the sea of sandals and slippers, Sanji's brogues stand out like a fish on land.
He comes to a stop right next to him, deliberately knocking his shoes against the cook's in the process to catch his attention.
It works, and Sanji says: “My pack mule has arrived!”, in a celebratory tone to the man in dungarees across from him as he hands him a small pile of coins. Whatever it was that he'd been feeling before is no longer visible on any part of him.
The vendor takes this as his cue to hand over the burlap sack the cook had just purchased to Zoro who accepts it with a small nod of his head. Immediately, he huffs in surprise as he notices how heavy it is.
The vendor snickers in reaction to Sanji raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms.
“What's in this?”, Zoro mutters.
“Potatoes. I told you I need fresh ones for the gratin I'm making.”, the cook replies. “What, are they too heavy for you?” The smile on his lips is just mocking enough to stir an impatience in Zoro that he has to try hard to contain.
“You know they're not.”, Zoro manages to answer evenly only thanks to a concentrated effort, and adjusts his grip on his cargo.
“Yeah, sure.” Sanji chuckles. And as he nods in the vendor's direction in goodbye, he says: “Now get a move on! We haven't got all day.”
Zoro lets his sheathed swords bump into the cook's leg as he turns around; it's as close to an all-out challenge as he'll let himself get. The tap against his right boot that Sanji delivers with a swift move of his leg remains similarly subtle but clear in its message: I'd be at your throat by now if we didn't have to get back to the Sunny soon.
It has Zoro feeling wired, it always does: having someone by his side who will always indulge him whenever he wants to spar, someone who can keep up with him like no one else isn't something he'd ever actually thought he'd need. But now that he's grown used to it, he has a hard time imagining what his life would be like without. Maybe that's part of the problem, actually.
Just then, Sanji stops by another stall abruptly, and Zoro almost crashes into his back.
In front of them, by sowly-melting blocks of ice, butter, milk and the like are presented next to different cuts of meat. The blond eyes them carefully first, and then proceeds to ask the vendor questions about how scraggy the lamb is and what piece she would recommend for the roast he's planning to make.
For the first minute or so, Zoro still vaguely listens to their conversation as he studies a piece of butter whose shape resembles that of a dolphin. But then, Sanji shifts his still-empty shopping bag from one arm to the other and begins rolling up the sleeves of his light-blue shirt. Bit by bit, he first reveals the sleek watch that sits on his left wrist and then the rest of his faintly-freckled underarms.
There's a reason he'd stopped coming along on these grocery runs, Zoro thinks then, as Sanji tells the vendor how much meat he'd like to for her to put aside for him for when they're on their way back to their ship, and how many bottles of heavy cream he'll be purchasing: with no viable opportunities to channel his frustrations into a sparring match or to distract himself in some other way, all he can do is watch on as the stupid cook moves and smiles and amuses the vendors with his unnecessarily extensive cooking knowledge.
It's irritating, truly.
So irritating, in fact, that, once Sanji has said his thanks, Zoro pulls at one of his belt-loops and says: “I thought we haven't got all day.”, to get him to speed things up. He can't wait for this to be over.
“Do you want to be responsible for when Robin inevitably doesn't finish her portion if I pick out the wrong piece?”, comes the cook's reply, and he shoots Zoro a look over his shoulder that's part incredulous, part challenging, as he walks off in the opposite direction of where Zoro would have gone next.
He leads them to a corner of the market that smells almost oppressively of freshly baked bread.
While Zoro studies the different stalls, looking for any evidence that one of them sells the specific type of spiced brioche that the cook had mentioned he wants to buy, Sanji walks up to one of the stalls to his left that is currently being beleaguered by a small crowd without pausing once.
Zoro follows him at a distance, his eyes still caught on the baked goods the other booths offer.
When he comes to a stop behind Sanji who has started queuing up, he spots small, shiny brioche loafs stacked up in one of the baskets in front of them. They match the description the cook had given him perfectly.
“For a moment I thought you'd gotten lost.”, Sanji half-whispers in his direction when Zoro bumps his shoulder into his to announce his arrival. The ironic tone in his voice is evident despite its low volume.
“S' not my fault you've got a sixth sense for these places.”, he mutters back just sullenly enough to elicit a small laugh from the other man.
“Bullshit, sixth sense. I just pay attention.”
Before Zoro can reply, the vendor turns to them to take their order. Sanji immediately directs his attention to him and begins listing off everything he'll be needing.
At this angle, Zoro has a perfect view of the light flush had that begun to settle on the cook's cheeks over the past few minutes: it's the heat that'd begun to build up, especially here, underneath the canopy of umbrellas and awnings that accompany the different stalls, that must be getting to him, Zoro thinks. After all, he'd never been one to enjoy such temperatures.
He wipes at the drop of sweat that'd begun moving down his temple while he watches on as Sanji carefully places the variety of paper bags the vendor hands him in his shopping bag.
Only when the cook knocks his arm against Zoro's does he think to take the bag from him.
He busies himself with adjusting its straps on his shoulder right away, grateful to finally have found an opportunity to distract himself, if only for a short while. The fact that, this close, he can smell the other man's perfume, perfectly familiar in its powdery warmth, isn't helpful at all though.
He definitely needs to get this under control.
When they pass by a booth that sells handmade pieces produced by artisans around the island, Zoro decides to use the chance and stops to study a set of knives made by some local blacksmith.
Sanji notices his absence almost immediately and turns to looks around, annoyance and confusion equally evident in his frown. His expression clears up once he spots him though, and he quickly nods his head in the direction of the stall he's headed to next – a small wooden contraption that is basically bending under the weight of vases, baskets and boxes all full of dried as well as freshly-cut herbs.
Inwardly, Zoro sighs with relief. Not only will he finally get an opportunity to calm the fuck down, it seems he's chosen the right time to do so too: if there's one thing Sanji can truly get lost in for hours, it's spices and herbs. And while it doesn't necessarily bother Zoro to listen to him go on and on about the subtle differences between this kind of sage and the other, there's only so many times he can say “Those smell the same to me.” before the cook starts to unfortunately but inevitably lose his mind.
So he allows the vendor in front of him to explain what steel had been used to craft the knives and which ones can be used for what purposes somewhat extensively before he excuses himself and heads over to where the cook is currently discussing what seems to be ordinary rosemary sprigs with the man behind the register.
As he comes closer, the aromatic smell emanating off the herbs becomes almost overwhelming. Not as overwhelming as the smile Sanji directs at the vendor though, that comes dangerously close to the one he'd shown Nami earlier this morning.
Clearly, the other guy is enjoying this: Zoro comes to a stop by the basil plants as he says something along the lines of the cook's presence being refreshing as he smiles back and points to the mint he is currently adding to the bill.
Zoro scoffs, irked by something about this situation that he maybe knows how but definitely doesn't want to define.
Sanji's reaction is instantaneous: the kick he aims at his thigh is quick and painful but precise enough that Zoro doesn't end up dropping any of the bags he's holding.
He can't stop himself from wincing.
Neither can the vendor. And despite the cook's insistent apologies for the moss-headed ape at his side – uncalled for – the vendor's smile stays tight throughout the rest of their interaction. He even refuses to look up from the notepad on which he's writing down the prices of everything Sanji is buying the whole time except to shoot Zoro a wary glace whenever he shifts his position.
The “Thank you for your purchase.” he utters once he's handed off about a hundred small paper bags to Sanji who hurriedly packs them into the bag Zoro is carrying sounds perfunctory.
The second they're out of earshot, the cook says: “This is what I meant when I said you being here is enough to kill any conversation, by the way.”, while Zoro mutters: “Can't believe there's someone out there whose pick-up lines are even more pathetic than yours.”
“Excuse me?”
“I feel kind of sorry for interrupting. You two were clearly made for each other.” Zoro puts on his best mocking grin. It works just as he'd hoped it would.
“I'm going to take those swords of yours and cut out your tongue.”, comes the cooks reply, his tone both acerbic and sweet. He even moves to grab Wado's hilt but his attempt is only pretend. Zoro still swats his hand away.
“Talk about a conversation killer.”, he retorts.
A woman walking in front of them turns around to shoot them a dirty look while covering her child's ears.
Sanji immediately apologizes, and sees himself forced to kick Zoro in the shin when he doesn't follow suit. The woman clearly doesn't appreciate his efforts and walks away with an affronted frown directed at both them and her child, too, who is now laughing.
The embarrassed flush that creeps onto Sanji's face in reaction has him hurrying up to reach a stall that sells fruit a handful of steps to their left.
Zoro's frankly undignified snort accompanies him to the pears stacked up in a crate at the booth's right end.
“Don't laugh. This is a serious matter.”, he says as he crouches down to busy himself with studying the fruits.
“What, your fantasies of mutilating me?”
“No, the fucking pears, moss-face.”
That the abrupt change of topic is clearly a result of his embarrassment is the only reason why Zoro goes along with it, unwilling to let the mood actually sour. After taking a glace at the crate's contents over Sanji's shoulder he says: “They look fine to me.”
“Fine, my ass.” Zoro can practically picture the offended scowl that must've made itself at home on the cook's face in this moment based on the way his shoulders tighten. “They're clearly not ripe enough! If I want to make the perfect poire belle hélène they need to be just right.”
“Aren't you gonna cook them or whatever anyway? What's it matter?”
“What does it matter? You're unbelievable.” Sanji can no longer restrain himself and turns towards Zoro who stands right behind him. “Depending on the degree of ripeness, the flavor profile is completely different! I can't believe that the infallible Nami would ever think that sending such a moron as yourself here with me would be a good idea. You'd be halfway to ruining dinner if I let you.”
Normally, Zoro would take this as his cue to interrupt the cook's rant with a well-placed insult. But he finds that the way the man has to crane his head up in order to flash his eyes at him all angrily from the position he's in is a little too distracting for him to play his part: there's a drop of sweat running down Sanji's throat that, ordinarily, Zoro would have missed but that he can't look away from now. His eyes follow it all the way from his jaw to the point at which it disappears behind the unbuttoned collar of the cook's blue shirt.
The fact that he must have just been asked a question only registers with him when Sanji shoves at his knee impatiently.
Fortunately for him, before he even has the opportunity to try and come up with a response that won't make it seem like he'd just been entirely too lost in his thoughts, an older lady who'd stopped at the stall at about the same time they had steps in. With a polite smile she turns to the cook and says: “I'm sorry if I'm overstepping but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I think I might be able to help: there's a stall by the market's southern exit that sells wonderful pears. You might want to have a look there.”
The way Sanji smiles at her as he gets up is perfect in its dazzling charm. “Thank you, belle Hélène!”, he says as a soft gust of wind gently tousles his hair as if he were the main character in some tacky romance.
The woman makes a gesture of refusal. She turns a little red nonetheless as she says: “Please, boy!”
Zoro huffs, but the triumphant smile on the cook's lips has him keep his mouth shut about that horrible food-related line.
He lasts until they're done picking up the lamb and the heavy cream, and are on their way to the booth the woman had described. Only then does he murmur under his breath: “How are you actually worse than that guy who sold us the herbs?”
The way Sanji immediately squares his shoulders and the deeply offended expression on his face that Zoro loves to coax out of him more than make up for the ordeal he'd just had to endure.
“If you want to make it back to the Sunny before tomorrow you better shut up or I'm leaving you behind.”, comes the cook's quick reply, and he hastens his steps.
Zoro trails after him, vaguely amused. It's all empty threats. After all, Zoro is carrying their groceries.
The booth they end up arriving at is notably smaller than the previous one. Sanji still seems satisfied though, especially after taking a thorough look at the pears.
The vendor, who had just greeted them with a sunny smile, must have noticed his happiness with his produce too as he point to the pears and asks the cook if maybe he'd like to try one.
Sanji has never been one to refuse such an offer, especially not if it means he gets to make sure that what he ends up cooking will be according to his own standards, so, of course, he accepts with a nod of his head and a smile of his own.
The fruit he picks out is on the smaller side but it must still have met his expectations: upon taking a bite, his smile grows wider almost instantly, and he begins complimenting the taste and the texture as he puts his free hand in front of his mouth.
He is, in fact, so busy raving on about it and then answering the vendor's question about what he plans to do with the twenty pears that he had immediately ordered, that he seems to fail to notice the drops of the pear's juice meandering down his fingers to cross his palm and then move to his forearm. They gleam in the sun like little diamonds before they inevitably disappear in the fabric of the rolled up sleeve by the crook of his elbow.
Zoro thankfully doesn't even get the chance to properly lose his mind about it because, a moment later, the cook already reaches across the stall to pay for his purchase, generous tip included - out of his own pocket, of course; he'd never do that to Nami - that the vendor thanks him for with another one of his grins.
Zoro reaches for the big paper bag the man is holding out before Sanji can even tell him to do so, way too grateful for the fact that, at least, they're done with their grocery shopping now.
He marches off towards the market's exit the second the cook finishes saying his thanks.
Sanji, too seems to be glad to finally be able to get on the way back to their ship. Instead of complaining about Zoro's fast pace, he pulls a cigarette from his pants pocket that he twists around between his fingers as they weave through the remaining crowd.
He lights it once they leave the market behind, a small smile on his lips as he closes his eyes against the still-low sun while taking his first drag. He exhales a cloud of smoke a moment later. The vaguely sweet smell of the tobacco engulfs them both.
Only once they can already see the Sunny up ahead does Sanji interrupt the silence that'd settled between them by saying: “You're a horrible pack mule.” His smile is practically audible. It's as close to a “Thank you!” as he'll ever get.
Zoro understands it nonetheless. “I should have just left.”, is what he says in reply. The “Anytime.” stays implied but couldn't be more obvious.
It's already close to midday when Nami leaves the galley with a small tray in her hand.
From where he is hiding away in a shaded corner to cool off after his post-breakfast workout, Zoro watches her through a half-lidded eye as she does her best to keep the glass of juice, the plate stacked with freshly-made pancakes, and a bowl of the blueberry compote they'd all had this morning that the cook had lovingly arranged for her from slipping off the tablet as she walks up to him.
With a smile she sits down next to him before handing him a plate with a cut up pear that had been hidden behind the pancakes. “From Sanji.”, she says, and adds on: “He said he didn't need all the pears you guys bought.”
Zoro grunts in thanks and tries not to let his embarrassment show as he picks up a slice to take a bite.
It really is delicious.
Nami watches him with a grin on her face and, once he is done, asks in a mock-conspiratorial tone: “Don't like sweet things, huh?” in an allusion to their conversation from this morning.
Zoro mutters: “Shut up.”, but he doesn't really mean it.