Author's Note: Don't own One Piece, need to write as much fluff to get over episode 483. Also, Beautiful Moments will be getting an update tomorrow. Been checking out my favorite tsunderes though, my favourite ones are always male, they pull it off so much better than women. InuYasha, Zoro (don't tell me otherwise, Zoro is a tsundere in my mind and shall remain that way forever!) Also, congrats to me for doing my first ever NON-AU story for One Piece.

Dough
by: Setkia

It was like the shit-cook was kneading his skin, rough yet gentle at the same time— wait, kneading …? "Fuck, are you treating me like dough?"

There was a perfectly good reason for why the swordsman of the Straw Hat pirates was currently grinding against the mast of the Crow's Nest in broad daylight while his crew-mates played joyfully on the lower deck of the Going Merry.

Roronoa Zoro's back hurt like a bitch.

Their latest opponent had been harder than Zoro had anticipated and as a result, the swordsman now had a stabbing pain in his back and neck, causing his meditation to have to take a pause in order for him to unknot his horribly painful muscles.

Body-slamming himself against the Crow's Nest was hardly efficient, but Zoro couldn't think of another way he could possibly relax until the stress left his body.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Zoro looked up to meet the chef of the ship, staring down at him with a raised eyebrow. Then again, with those crazy-ass eyebrows of his, it was almost impossible to tell.

"None of your business, Shit-Cook."

"You're going to break the ship," Sanji said, rolling his eyes. "Usopp can barely fix it as it is."

"Like I care," Zoro muttered but his movements were less harsh as he rubbed a tad more gently against the wooden mast. "What are you doing up here?"

"Watching a Marimo pole dance, it appears."

"You're hilarious, ero-cook," Zoro muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Back pain?"

Zoro turned his head away. "No ..."

"Liar."

"I'm not Usopp."

"Doesn't mean you aren't a liar."

"Stop smirking Curlicue, don't you have some snacks to make?"

"Finished them already."

Of course he was going to make this difficult for him. It was just like him too. "Yeah well, fawn over the girls why don't you?"

"Am I annoying you?"

"You're not worth my attention."

Suddenly, Sanji grabbed Zoro by his shoulders and flattened him onto his stomach. The area of the Crow's Nest was way too small for this and ended up with Zoro rather uncomfortably smashed against the wood. "Stop complaining," Sanji said, "you're useless if you're stressed." The cook cracked his knuckles.

When Sanji decided to use his fingers, Zoro knew something was serious. A cook can never damage their hands, that would make their skills in the kitchen useless, that's why he fought with his legs, so he couldn't damage his hands.

"Oi, what's the big idea—?" Zoro was cut off by a gasp when he felt Sanji's hands on his back, pressing into his neck harshly. He heard a crack and realized it was his back bones. The next breath he took felt much more relaxed than the one before it.

"Good to know you can be quiet too," Sanji mused.

His hands were rough and gentle at the same time as his fingers swept across the plane of Zoro's back, releasing the tension that Zoro thought only meditation could cure.

It was like the shit-cook was kneading his skin, rough yet gentle at the same time— wait, kneading …? "Fuck, are you treating me like dough?"

Sanji's fingers tensed. "No."

"You are, aren't you?"

"No I'm not."

Zoro rolled his eyes. "You're kneading me like dough, the only thing you haven't done is throw me around."

"I kick you around plenty, and even if you were dough, I would only toss you if you were pizza. Otherwise I have no reason to want to throw you, you're heavy as a brick and about as graceful as an elephant." He pushed himself off of Zoro, deciding he wasn't wanted.

The cook began to walk off when Zoro called back. "Oi, I never said I didn't like it."

Sanji paused and glanced at him. "What?"

"Don't make me say it again, shitty ero-cook," Zoro muttered. His back was cramping up again, this had nothing to do with his fondness or lack thereof of the cook.

"Does the great Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro need me, a lowly chef?"

"Don't push it," Zoro snapped.

Sanji sighed and swayed. "I suppose I could be of assistance," he said. He plopped back down and continued with his kneading of Zoro's skin. His hands did wonders to the knots in Zoro's back and he could feel himself relaxing underneath him greatly.

Shit this felt good.

As time passed Zoro could feel himself becoming sluggish in Sanji's hands and eventually he fell against the cook, letting out a content sigh. This was probably blackmail material but it wasn't that way if he didn't think of it that way.

As Zoro was coming close to sleep, Luffy's voice rang out.

"Oi, Sanji! When's dinner?"

"Looks like I gotta get cooking," said Sanji.

"Yeah, seems so."

Neither of them moved.

"You should go."

"I should."

Neither budged.

"OI, SANJI I NEED MEAT!"

Sanji sighed and stood up from his spot behind Zoro. The swordsman had begun leaning unconsciously against Sanji's back, who had been leaning against the mast so when he hit his head, Zoro let out a moan of complaint.

"You're such a baby, shitty Marimo."

"Am not!"

Sanji kissed the crown of Zoro's head, where the slowly developing welt was.

Zoro shut up and watched Sanji walk off.

Dammit, he was like putty in the cook's hands, wasn't he?

More like dough, he thought bemusedly to himself.