Title: Leaving Your Mark
Author: Celeste
Rating: PG… um… PG-15? Does that exist? Cuz there's yaoi. There will pretty much always be yaoi.
Genre: Humor/Romance (I am unable to do anything serious. Ever.)
Feedback: (yes!)
Pairing: ZoSan (Ah, my favorite trainwreck of all time. Right up there with YohjixShuldig for cryin' out loud.)
Summary: Zoro makes a claim. Sort of. Well, he forgot to not make a claim.
A/N: Second One Piece fic. So I still suck some. But I feel more confident lately. I think it's because I've only been eating sugary foods with no real nutritional value so I tend to be happy about everything because I'm on a sugar high. So naturally, it's boosted my self-confidence and I feel pretty okay about this fic. Plus ShadowOmega will beat me up if I say too many disparaging things. Or maybe she won't beat me up, which is worse. I'm sick sometimes. But I feel the need to apologize for the randomness, because it really was random when I tried to get deeper into Zoro's head.
Dedication: To JaB (Capriccioso), the love of my life. She and I can make dogs howl when we're both all asquee in fangirlish goodness together.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sadly enough, I don't even own any One Piece merchandise. Not a whit of it. Nothing. Bad fangirl. Bad!
Distribution: Hahaha, oh please. You don't want this. You know you don't want it. That's just silly. Silly, silly rabbit.

Sanji shuddered, muscles clenching and head thrown back, a breath deflating from his lungs in one long sigh before he went completely boneless, slack and warm and slick with sweat as his body relaxed, falling back into the gentle warmth of the mattress underneath him.

He murmured happily, completely incoherent, eyes hooded as a smile fluttered precariously at the corners of his mouth.

And then Zoro came crashing down on top of him.

Gracelessly, the swordsman fell forward, grunting out what seemed like a sound of slack-jawed appreciation. His breathing was harsh and heavy against Sanji's ear, and the cook made a noise of distaste as he pushed ineffectually against the brainless mound of muscle sprawled heavily against him.

"Oi…getoff," he muttered, sounding entirely not intimidating with his voice muffled and noise all smashed against Zoro's sweaty shoulder.

"Nnnnngh," Zoro responded, eloquent as ever.

Sanji scowled and squirmed under the weight. "Oi…"

"Gimme a second, asshole," Zoro managed to grumble, pushing his weight down to stop the blonde's continued wiggling.

Sanji protested by biting at his collarbone.

The swordsman growled. "Ow…fucker."

Begrudgingly, he pushed himself up onto his forearms, freeing the chef to breathe again. "You're such a goddamn…"

Sanji blinked as Zoro trailed off. "Forget what you were going to say?" he sniped smugly, finally getting the freedom of movement required to stretch his arms and legs after they'd been locked around the other man in a series of awkward, almost impossible angles.

"Shit," Zoro cursed, eyes widening slightly.

"What?" Sanji asked mid-stretch, instantly suspicious of the other man's tone.

"Er… nothing. Go to sleep."

The blonde scowled. "Do you honestly think I'm as dumb as you?"

Zoro's eyes narrowed at the jab. "Just go to sleep. It's nothing, love-cook."

"Liar."

"Wrong crewmate."

Sanji, decidedly irritated, shoved Zoro back and forced his muscles to awaken from their formerly happy-jelly state so he could sit up. "You always have to ruin the glow by being a shithead," the blonde muttered irritably. "Now what the hell are you going on about?" He glared at the swordsman.

Zoro squirmed a little bit under his appraising look, feeling a bit guilty. "Uh…"

Sanji crossed his arms, staring expectantly at the green haired man. Unnervingly.

"Well, it's not a big deal or anything, so don't freak out…"

The chef didn't like where this was going.

"But I sort of left a… mark."

"What?!"

"Would you shut up, you idiot? You're gonna wake up the whole damn town!" Zoro hissed in whispered alarm. "It's just like…a bruise. It's no big deal."

Sanji smacked him upside the head.

"Ow… the hell!?"

"Where?"

Zoro gestured vaguely to the region of his neck with one hand, using the other to rub at the back of his head where Sanji had struck him sulkily. "That hurt, asshole."

"Fucker." Sanji sighed and got out of bed, dragging himself over to the nearest reflective surface. Face to face with the mirror he blinked to clear his vision, eyes narrowing to slits in search of the mark Zoro-idiot had left. He arched his neck to the right, studying what was looking to be the beginnings of a rather monstrous teeth-shaped hickey. "Shithead! No visible marks, remember?" he cussed, whirling on Zoro in cool anger.

Zoro swallowed, doing his best impression of a backwards crab scuttle on the rumpled sheets. "Oi… don't make it sound like I did it on purpose, you stupid love-cook!"

"It looks like you tried to bite my head off!!"

"Che…can't we just tell people that then?"

Sanji smacked himself in the forehead. "You're an idiot."

"Well I didn't mean to! And if you weren't so goddamn pasty it wouldn't show up like that!" Zoro protested weakly in his defense.

"Do you ever want to get laid again?"

The swordsman's jaw snapped shut. He continued to scowl with his eyes in indignant protest.

It wasn't his fault he got…overzealous…sometimes.

Sanji turned back around, reexamining the mark, rubbing his fingers up and down gingerly on it. "I don't even own a turtleneck," he groused to himself. "They don't even make turtlenecks that cover that much neck."

Zoro, brow furrowed, continued to look indignant. Or possibly pouty, but he'd slit the throat of the first person who dared associate him with such a pansy adjective.

It wasn't that big a friggin' deal for crying out loud. The blonde was such a drama queen sometimes.

The worst thing that could happen was someone would notice and think Sanji'd gotten lucky with some chick from one of the local dives or something.

A really aggressive chick with big old honking jowls.

It could happen.

And it wasn't like someone would look at that thing and instantly suspect Zoro of being the one who put it there. Not with all the shit Sanji put up to dissuade everyone of any possibility of the two of them touching each other than to draw blood and break bones.

It was no big deal, goddammit.

Like he said, any person worth their salt would laugh before even considering that Sanji would ever be in a position to let Zoro give him a love-bite with all the shit the blonde put up to make them look like they loathed each other.

Because Sanji always made it known loud and clear to all who were listening, that there was no one on this earth he hated more than Roronoa Zoro.

The chef put on a pretty goddamn convincing show.

That kind of miffed Zoro sometimes. And he was cool, and should never have to be described as feeling miffed. It was a word right up there with 'pouty'. But yet, inevitably, this very topic always seemed to make him behave as such.

Right now, he was goddamn miffed.

Because… well, it was just a stupid goddamn mark. Who the hell cared anyway? It wasn't like it was anyone else's business what he and that shitty love-cook did in their free time. It wasn't like they got that much free time anyway.

And so what if people saw and suspected?

If they said anything stupid, well, just because they were two guys that did stuff together didn't mean that he and the chef were any less ass-kicking than they'd be if they weren't.

So they'd just kick the asses of people who were stupid and said stupid things, and that was that.

Because they could. And so why the hell did they always have to worry about covering it up and making sure no one knew anything and remembering to hate each other in front of others a lot more than they already hated each other when they were in bed anyway.

He did. Hate Sanji, that is. But he didn't hate him that much.

He was a stupid love-cook, was what he was.

Zoro furrowed his brow thoughtfully mid-mental rant. What had he been talking about?

Oh yeah.

And what was so bad about marks anyway? The swordsman admitted to having felt a small thrill upon seeing the angry line of his teeth marks along the column of Sanji's throat, though at first it might have been from the eminent threat of being kicked within an inch of his life once the cook had found out what he'd done. But he was pretty sure the thrill that remained even after that was from knowing that he'd done that the blonde and for all intents and purposes, Sanji had let him.

And yeah, that Sanji was his.

Even if he hated him for being a stupid love-cook who made the swordsman act like he hated the chef even more than he already did.

It was stupid.

It was a bruise. It was there. It would go away eventually. Zoro might do it again for the hell of it. And it didn't matter who saw it and it didn't matter what they said (cause he'd just kick their asses anyway), and was it really that bad if everyone saw?

It wasn't any of their business to care anyway. What mattered was…

Sanji was his.

And he was…

…Zoro.

Yeah.

Roronoa Zoro was still Roronoa Zoro and Sanji belonged to him and if anyone had anything stupid to say about it if they found out, he'd kick their ass.

So it didn't goddamn matter if anyone saw. Not to the two of them, anyway.

And it wasn't that big a deal.

And yeah, he had to admit, he kinda liked it there. Heh.

Thus resolved, Zoro climbed purposefully out of bed after Sanji, who was still preening sulkily at the mirror.

Grabbing the cook around the waist with one arm, the swordsman pulled the other man's skinnier frame back against him, taking his free hand and tracing the bite mark on Sanji's neck with his fingers, studying it with his eyes.

"Oi…what the hell are you…"

"Shut up, asshole," Zoro murmured, pushing firmly into the tender flesh with the pads of his fingers.

Sanji winced and shuddered simultaneously. "Bastard…that hurt," he protested for the sake of protesting. It didn't actually hurt.

Zoro dropped his hand and planted a firm, wet kiss on the purple bruising, completely unapologetic. "It doesn't goddamn matter, okay?" he grumbled, resting his chin on Sanji's shoulder and staring into the mirror. "It's not that big a deal, you stupid pretty boy."

Sanji glared at him through their reflections. "Why not?" he asked, though his voice wasn't as harsh as it had been earlier.

"Because I say so. Now shut up and let's go to sleep. I'm fucking exhausted."

Abruptly, he released his hold on the cook and walked back to the bed. Falling into it, he buried his face into his pillow and shut his eyes, not bothering to look back at the cook who was contemplating the swordsman's every movement carefully.

Reaching up, Sanji traced the mark with his own fingers, feeling the remaining wetness of Zoro's kiss on his skin before sighing to himself. "So it's not that big a deal, eh?" he mused aloud as Zoro's gentle snores began filling the room.

Chuckling quietly, the blonde shook his head and started towards the bed himself, climbing in and lying on his side facing Zoro. Eyeing the swordsman for a moment, the chef, resigned and suddenly reminded of how exerted he currently was, brushed a kiss on the other man's exposed shoulder blade before turning to lie his back beside the other man thoughtfully. "Che… it's not that big a deal."

The next morning, Zoro woke up with "Sanji's Bitch" scrawled across his ass.

END