It was a dreary, wet day on the streets of Seattle. Not that Sanji minded the weather usually, it was always like this. But today, particularly, he was in no mood for it. He forgot his umbrella, and didn't notice until he was stepping off of the bus when the sky had decided to open up upon him.
'Why am I even here,' he thought bleakly to himself. He knew why. He just dumped his girlfriend of five years, finding out that she was cheating on him with some hot shot casino owner twice her age. The guy was a total tool with some sort of grand scheme of how he'll own the entire world someday. What the fuck ever. He didn't even speak to her before he left. He grabbed what he could carry and left. For where, he wasn't exactly sure. He just wished he'd remembered to bring his umbrella.
Sanji was actually sort of grateful for an excuse to leave her. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, something never felt quite right inside.
Now, don't get him wrong, he loved the ladies. He'd do anything in his power to make them happy and bend over backwards for them. He lived to please. But, whenever it came time for intimacy (if they weren't scared away by his over exuberance), he always felt something in the back of his mind itching. He'd ignore it, but it would keep itching. He couldn't satisfy that itch no matter which woman he chose...
A car flew by and splashed dirty puddle water all over him, jostling him from his thoughts. Fucking brilliant.
He spit the now-soggy cigarette out and looked upwards into the sky. 'Why the fuck... What did I ever do to deserve that?' He shrugged as onlookers offered him a sympathetic glance, but nothing else. 'Fucking city people,' Sanji thought. He missed his small hometown, the people there would have at least offered to help. But no. The city was different. He scowled and continued his journey.
He trudged through the street, looking like a wet cat that had just been thrown out of a moving train. Blonde strands clinged to his face, his flannels were clinging tightly to his body, and his jeans were so saturated with water that the weight alone almost pulled them down.
'My stuff should be dry, at least,' he thought optimistically, glancing to the two large luggage cases he had with him. He glanced up at the street sign that he had been looking for: "BLUE AVE". He sighed with relief, and began looking for the hotel that he had booked for himself.
'Just until I can find a place,' he thought as he squelched his way to his destination. It was a very nice hotel; he wanted to at least stay in comfort as he looked for a new place to call home. He made his way to the front desk, the concierge looking up at him and smiling.
"My sir, you look like the storm got the better of you!" the cheerful tall man piped. Sanji looked up. An afro? Well, this was Seattle, anything goes here, even in fancy hotels. "If I went out there, I'd be blown away like a sack of bones! Yohohoho!" His name tag read: "Brook".
"I'm here to check in," Sanji replied calmly. He didn't want to take out his current frustration on the desk clerk. He wasn't that kind of asshole. "Sanji Black." He set his bags down at his feet and took off his outer flannel, revealing a very wet, white shirt underneath. The shirt clung to his very toned body, showing off every carefully trained muscle. There was still some dirt on him from the puddle incident, making him look ruggedly sexy. He flipped his hair off to the right, and threw the wet piece of fabric over his shoulder. He leaned against the counter as Brook got his key for him and entered the check-in on his computer.
Sanji's arrival did not go unnoticed.
Sanji felt holes being burned into the back of his head. He glanced behind him. There was a hulk of a man sitting in one of the lobby chairs. He was wearing a gray suit with a white, striped dress shirt, square glasses, and looking up from a newspaper that he had been presumably reading.
But that wasn't what Sanji noticed first. This man had moss-green hair. 'What.' Sanji scowled. The mystery man ignored him and continued to stare. Sanji turned back around and gratefully took the key that was being handed to him. His room was on the top floor. 'Nice' he thought, 'I'll have a nice view of the ocean from here'. He loved the ocean. It reminded him of home.
Lost in his thoughts, Sanji turned and abruptly smacked into something. Hard. He fell on his ass, and glowered up at what ever had the nerve to stand in his way. It was moss man.
"Shit, I'm sorry!" the man said as he extended his hand. His voice was smooth and deep, like rolling thunder. "Here, let me help you up. I'm so sorry."
"I'm not made of tissue paper, you know," Sanji hissed. This guy. What was he even doing there? How did he not see or hear him approach? The guy walked with the grace and silence of a wild tiger. 'Stop thinking like that, pervert, the guy just knocked you on your ass!' his mind screamed angrily at him.
"Never said you were", the man replied snarkily, "Just trying to be decent, since you look like you've had a rough day." The man stood straight, retracting his hand and shrugging.
Sanji's face flushed. Now that the man was up close, he could take in all of what stood before him. Moss green hair, caramel colored skin, a strong jaw, molten amber eyes... 'Damn...' He lost all of his words.
"I didn't give you a concussion, did I?" The man smirked and crossed his arms as he looked down upon a very dumbstruck blonde. The man's thick arms were straining the fabric that contained them. Sanji shook his head.
"I'm fine. Just a shitty day. And I'm cold." The man looked down at him with those amber eyes. Sanji saw something flicker behind them, but he couldn't quite catch what it was.
"Of course you're cold with wet clothes like that. Come on, I'll help you carry those bags to your room." The man lifted the two bags as if they weighed nothing.
"Oi, I can get it. Besides, I'm on the top floor." Sanji stood up and dusted himself off.
"So am I. And?" The man tilted his head and gave him a look that Sanji thought only puppies could perfect. Was there a hint of playfulness in those eyes?
"Fine," Sanji gave in. Genuine acts of kindness by strangers were rare, so he might as well. If the guy tries anything funny, Sanji could easily kick his ass. "Room 34."
"What a coincidence, I'm in 33."
"Well that works out just fine then. I'm Sanji, by the way."
"I'm Zoro. Nice to have met you, Sanji."
As they made their way to the elevator, Sanji felt wandering eyes on him. He know he looked good wet, but he smelled like the streets, and he just wanted a nice, hot shower and some clean clothes. He glanced up at Zoro, who was eyeing him over.
"What?" Sanji instinctively asked. He wasn't in the mood for any rude comments on his appearance. He scowled at the man carrying his bags.
"How do you get your eyebrows to do that?" The man replied with a mocking tone.
That did it.
Sanji lifted his leg up and shoved a foot into the man's torso, throwing him into the back of the elevator, his hands never leaving his pockets. Thankfully his feet were dried by the carpet, otherwise he would have felt guilty about messing up such a nice suit. "What did you say, moss head?"
The look on the mans face was not something Sanji would expect. Normally when he snapped people become flustered, scared, apologized, or ran away screaming. But no, he was different. He just looked back at him with one of the most defiant looks Sanji has ever seen someone give him, besides his father and all of the chefs back at his father's restaurant.
"Moss head. Haven't heard that one. Mostly because anyone's afraid to taunt me like that," the man scowled. "It was a simple question. Get your damn foot off of me," he snapped back.
Sanji sighed, and put his foot down. "Sorry," he grumbled. "Why are people afraid of you? You're not so scary."
"I'm one of the top kendo fighters in the world. I'm surprised you haven't heard of me. Zoro Roronoa? The only man to fight with santoryu?" The man raised an eyebrow at him, as if he should know this stuff like it was sacred.
"Oh. I have. You're still not that scary." Sanji smirked.
"Is that so?" The swordsman laughed. His laugh was boisterous and charming. "Then you're either really stupid or really brave!"
"Brave. My kitchen knives have given me worse cuts than you ever could," Sanji snapped.
This stopped the laughing ball of moss in his tracks. "Oh? Is that a challenge? I've noticed your physique, you obviously do athletics or training of some sort with a body like that. What is it that you do?"
At the mention of the man noticing his body Sanji's face flushed. Why was he blushing? He hoped the man didn't notice. "Savate, the fighting style of my country." As he said this, his accent came through a little, and the swordsman definitely noticed.
"I know that style of fighting, it's unique. That accent... Are you French?"
"Oui. Je suis français." Sanji liked showing off his language to Americans once and a while.
"Ah," Zoro nodded. "Watashi wa Nihon kara kita."
"What." This guy wasn't American. Sanji knew that was Japanese. But he didn't know if he had just been insulted or proposed to. He only knew a few select words with his dealings in seafood. He trained under a famous sushi chef one summer at the insistence of his father. After all, the Japanese knew their way around a fish. He learned a lot that summer.
Zoro chuckled, "I came from Japan. Pretty common around here, considering there's just an ocean between me and my country. But you, France is a far ways away from here." He tilted his head as the elevator dinged. He picked up the bags once again.
"I have my reasons." And with that, they reached Sanji's floor. He stepped out of the elevator and read the room numbers until he came to his. With relief, he opened the door and stepped in. It was a lovely room with a breathtaking view of the skyline and the sea. He turned to Zoro.
"Uh, thanks for carrying my stuff. You didn't have to." He picked up the bags and made his way to the living area in the suite.
"I wanted to. I could see you were having a shit day. Maybe, uh..." He scratched the back of his green hair with his hand, shifting his glasses a little. "Want to go grab a drink later? I'm interested in learning more about that fighting style of yours. I like learning about those kind of things." Sanji detected a hint of rosiness from the caramel colored skin. Did this guy just ask him out? And he was... Blushing?
"Uh, sure." Why the hell not. Sanji liked drinking. He could use one after the day he just had.
The man looked up at him with a stoic smile, but Sanji could see the twinkle in his eyes. "Great! So uh, meet in the lobby around 7?" The man looked at his watch.
"Seems alright to me. You know any good bars or should I pick?" Sanji asked, already kicking his shoes off and tossing the contents of his wet pants onto the counter in the kitchen area.
"You can pick. Beer is beer." Zoro shrugged.
"Great. See you at 7." And with that, they gave a short wave and Sanji shut the door.
'What am I DOING? I'm going to a bar with a guy that literally knocked me on my ass a few minutes ago? I don't even know him. I know who he is, but...' Sanji gave a frustrated huff and peeled his wet and dirty clothes off. He hung them by the heater, and took a much needed shower.
It was 5 o'clock now. He dried himself off, and opened his suitcase that had his clothes. Thankfully, he didn't have too much to bring. He had taken to living a simpler lifestyle than his one back home: a new suit every day, ties, dress shoes, cufflinks. He didn't bring any of those with him.
He grabbed a heather gray v-neck and a pair of old Levi's. This would do. Comfy but good looking. 'Why do I care if I look good?' he thought. He picked up a pair of worn out Converse and a pair of dry socks. He also made sure to pick out his comfiest boxers. He took his black leather jacket out and put it on the coat hanger near the door. There, outfit complete.
He got dressed and wandered into the suite kitchen. Not bad, for a hotel. He'd have to go grocery shopping tomorrow. He went and flopped onto the bed. He didn't feel like cooking tonight, he'd find something later.
He glanced at the clock and was shocked to find that it was 6:30. He should probably think about going soon. Humph. But the bed felt so nice. He sat up and smoothed out his shirt. He got up and looked in the mirror on the vanity in the room.
He looked good, he'd have to admit. A little scruffier than usual, since he hadn't shaved for a few days, but his hair was perfectly tousled, his shirt was fitted to show a suggestion of muscle but not obnoxiously. His jeans showed off the lean and powerful legs he worked so hard to get, while hanging a little low on his hips, the way he liked to wear them. The elastic band of his boxers peeped through a little on the top, but it looked good. Satisfied with his appearance, he grabbed his keys, shoved his wallet in his pants, and slid into his leather jacket as he headed out for a night of god knows what.
Well there you have it, guys. My first fanfic chapter! I have to admit, I was super nervous about starting one, but before I knew it I had 18 pages written. This will be updated regularly, and prompts are always welcome! ^^ Thank you so much for reading this. It means the world to me! ~heartpiratesanji