Disclaimer: One piece and all of the characters belong to Eiichiro Oda. I don't own them.
A/N: So, this is my first OP multi-chapter fic. I think this story will have about six chapters in total.
Please read and review!
If you asked Sanji what started all of this, he would be quick to point the finger at the damn moss head. It was his fault after all.
Talking to damn moss head was sometimes like talking to a brick fucking wall! Sure, Zoro paid attention, and he knew the man cared for him, but sometimes, sometimes, Sanji felt...spiteful.
Zoro did things that annoyed Sanji to no end, and when Sanji mentioned it, he knew Zoro tried to fix it. But sometimes, Sanji didn't want Zoro to fix it! He just wanted to beat the fucking shit out of him and call it a day. Sure they sparred, but to him, it didn't really satisfy him as much anymore. He wanted to fight when they were angry! He wanted to not have to worry about anything else except for beating the shit out of each other, but Zoro loved him, and wouldn't fight him, unless they were sparring. Sanji knew this, no matter how hard he tried to piss Zoro off.
He fucking hated Zoro.
After their latest fight over something so fucking stupid he couldn't even bother to remember, Sanji had stormed out of their apartment, ignoring Zoro's calls after him. Fuck that shithead, self-righteous, moss headed little prick! He was fucking over it! He was going to show Zoro! He'd show that piece of shit he was better than him!
Sanji was so angry, he was practically shaking.
He stomped down the street, suit crumpled from a day's work at the Baratie, a restaurant his adoptive father owned that he worked at as a chef. Sanji didn't know where he was going, but anywhere was better than home where that idiot was probably waiting like a loyal dog for him to come home. Fucking predictable marimo.
Sanji didn't even stop to question himself when he walked into a local club. He didn't even bother to think when he stormed up to the bar and ordered a glass of their hardest liquor. Hell, he was so angry, he didn't even notice the very pretty woman sitting next to him. Downing the first glass, he ordered another, and another. By his fourth glass, he had mellowed out, thanks to the alcohol, and it was then that the woman had decided to make her move.
She purred "What's the matter, handsome? You look upset." Sanji turned to look at the woman, and was stunned. What a woman! Long, curly brown hair cascaded down her shoulders in a shower of ringlets and curls. Her body was magnificent, soft curves in all the right places, with a bust just the perfect size for squeezing and groping. If Sanji hadn't been with Zoro, he would have definitely done everything within his power to get her into bed with him. Sanji shook his head and said "I had a fight with Z-...my lover." The woman laughed softly and said "Poor thing, here, let me get you a drink." She then ordered Sanji another drink.
As he sipped at the drink morosely, the woman asked with that same seductive lilt "What was the fight about, if you don't mind my asking?" Sanji answered as a reflex, more than anything else "Of course not! A beautiful lady that wants to hear my story? I'm flattered!" She laughed, and said "Quite the charmer, I see. So? What was your fight about?" Sanji snorted and said a little drunkenly "Something stupid. Honestly don't remember what me an'that shit head marimo fought about." If the woman was surprised that he was gay, she didn't give anything away. She said softly "Oh dear, you poor thing." Sanji nodded in agreement, and grumbled "Let's talk about something more pleasant, my beautiful lady, like what brings you here?"
Several drinks later, Sanji was very drunk, and very into the pretty girl he'd been conversing with all night. Zoro was nothing but a distant memory. He was so happy drinking with the woman, and her flattery was so nice, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd been thinking, dating Zoro. Women were much better, softer, kinder, and definitely more understanding. So it was no surprise that when she'd offered to take him to her place for the night that he'd more than readily accepted. Getting to his feet, he held out his arm for the lovely lady, trying desperately to not sway.
Stumbling out into the night with the woman, he laughed as they waved down a cab to take them to her place.
"Oi! Shit cook! Where the fuck are you going?!"
Sanji, in his drunken haze, looked up to see his lover standing a good thirty feet away looking worried and confused, his brow furrowed as he saw the cab. Sanji shouted back "Where's it look like, dumbass?" Before Zoro could respond, his lovely companion stuck her head out and questioned "Sanji? Are we going?" Sanji grinned at her and said, managing to not slur his words "Sure beautiful, just gimme a sec." He turned to Zoro, and smirked, sticking his middle finger up at Zoro, he said sounding smug "Later, shit head." He got into the cab and it drove off, leaving Zoro behind outside of the club.
If Sanji had been sober and less angry, he would have hated himself for what he was about to do to Zoro. But, drunk as he was, he could only think 'Good, let that shit head worry.' It didn't matter to him that as he'd left the club and Zoro behind, Zoro had looked hurt. Like- Like he might cry. Zoro never cried. Ever. He was too tough and full of pride and shit, for that. But that expression then...it was like Zoro had heard some horrible news and was about to cry.
Sanji didn't feel any sadness, or remorse then. He had just simply thought that now Zoro was going to feel the restlessness, the anger, the irritation with their seemingly stagnant relationship. It wasn't that he didn't love Zoro, don't misunderstand, he loved Zoro more than anything, but this relationship felt like it was missing something. It was like the spark in their relationship had died, and everything just felt…..routine, boring. For some reason, that pissed Sanji off to no end. It was like, why couldn't Zoro stop being such a fucking wimp and fight him? What had happened to the Zoro that was hot headed, and easily riled up by a few insults from Sanji? What the fuck had happened to Zoro? It was like the man had killed off that passion, that fire, the very reason Sanji had fallen in love with the man in the first place!
Maybe that was why he was following this woman home and taking her clothes off. Maybe that was why he was sleeping with her and not his lover. Hell if he knew for sure though.
What he knew right now, was that these moans weren't Zoro's. This body, soft and pliant under his hands, wasn't scarred. This chest, soft and full, wasn't hard as steel, and didn't feel like velvet under his talented hands. Her cries, so vocal, like Zoro, but there was no cursing, no swearing, no "shit cook!" no "Fuck! Do it like that!" There was no teasing response from his lips, only gasping breaths and the woman's cries of "Yes! Yes! Oooh, yes!" and her pig like squeals of pleasure. He knew when he reached down, he wouldn't be jerking off Zoro's dick, he'd be touching soft pussy.
She wasn't Zoro.
And he fucking loved it.
Sanji pulled out with a grunt, spilling his seed all over the small of her back, as she orgasmed beneath him. Together, in a sweaty mass of limbs, they collapsed on the bed, passing out in a tangled heap, the smell of sex and sweat choking the air.
The next morning found Sanji waking up earlier than his bedmate beside him. At first, he'd thought it was Zoro, the haze of sleep confusing him, but when he'd wrapped his hand around her waist, intending to wake his lover with some morning sex, he'd found pussy instead of dick. It was as if he'd been doused with a bucket of water, because everything came rushing back to him. Sitting up with a sudden jerk, he stared down at the sleeping woman in horror.
Had he really?
Sanji studied the woman and realized with a feeling of dread that yes, yes he had.
Sanji was going to be sick.
Staggering to his feet, he managed to find a bathroom before he dropped to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Wiping his mouth, he flushed the toilet and got to his feet. Rinsing the taste of vomit from his mouth, he straightened up and turned to look back at the woman in the bed behind him.
Not Zoro.
What had he done?
Fuck!
Sanji had been angry, but he hadn't realized he'd been that angry. Sanji, in a daze, wandered over to sit back down on the edge of the bed. Resting his head in his hands, he furiously gripped his hair. What had he done? God! He was such a fucking douche bag! He'd slept with some- some woman while knowing that he was with Zoro. God, he fucking loved the man, how could he do this?
As angry as he was, Sanji couldn't help but think bitterly 'If you fucking loved the moss head, you wouldn't have gone to a bar, gotten shit faced drunk and slept with some fucking woman.' God, Sanji felt like such a fucking asshole. Not to mention he was hungover as all hell and he had a pounding headache. Getting to his feet, Sanji finally seemed to reach a conclusion. He needed a fucking smoke, and then he'd apologize to Zoro, repeatedly, and beg for forgiveness. Then they could talk this out like reasonable adults, and life would continue like it always had and he wouldn't make the same mistake again.
With that plan firmly in place in his mind, Sanji set about collecting his clothes. He dressed hastily, as if he couldn't get out of there fast enough, which, coincidentally, was true. He couldn't.
Once Sanji was dressed, he took one last look at the sleeping woman. He paused, seriously considering waking the woman and thanking her for last night. Sanji snorted quietly, wasn't he ever the fucking gentleman? With a shake of his head and the realization that he didn't really care what she thought because this wasn't going to happen again, he left.
Sanji flagged down the nearest cab that he could find, and gave the cabbie the address to the apartment he shared with Zoro, with a promise of a little extra if the man got there quickly. Paying the cab fare, and the tip, he watched the cab speed away. Looking up at his apartment building contemplatively, Sanji felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn't do this. He was terrified of doing this. Shaking his head, he chose to instead take a cigarette from the pack in the breast pocket of his rumpled suit and light one up. Stuffing the pack and his lighter back in his breast pocket, he took a deep breathe, using the familiar motions and the nicotine to help calm his nerves. He'd need it, with what he was about to do, he'd need the nicotine. He owed Zoro an apology. Big time.
By the time he was on the butt of his third cigarette, Sanji realized that he was stalling.
Fuck.
Sanji took a deep, shaky breath. He was fucking Sanji Black! He wasn't a fucking coward! He could do this! He would do this! He had to, or he'd never forgive himself and Zoro would hate him forever.
With that steely resolve in mind, he put out the butt of his cigarette. He then found himself marching into the lobby of their building, waving casually at the man behind the front desk, and stepping into the elevator. Riding the elevator up to the eleventh floor, he stepped out of elevator and took a left, going down the long hallway until he reached the apartment number marked '1123'. Staring at the door for a brief moment, he willed himself to pull out his key and open the door. Hesitantly, he placed his key in the lock, but found he couldn't quite bring himself to open the door just yet.
He was afraid.
What if Zoro didn't want him back after this?
What if Zoro left him?
Or worse, what if Zoro hated him?
Sanji couldn't stand the thought of Zoro hating him, but he knew, that if Zoro did indeed end up hating him, he deserved it. He was such an ass to Zoro, he wouldn't blame the other man if he ended up hating him. He hated himself right now too.
With a firm, and not so steely resolve, Sanji pushed the door to their apartment open, only for the words of apology to die in his throat.
Their apartment was, in a word, a mess.
Everything in the living room was destroyed.
The couch was hacked to bits, their coffee table lay in ruins, pictures of Zoro and him throughout the years lay scattered about the floor, some of the framed pictures were even broken. Sanji was shocked by the state of the place, it was as if someone had come in and ransacked the place! It was with little relief, and a sickening feeling in his gut that he realized that his kitchen was perfectly untouched except for shattered glass from several glasses and bottles, as well as the mess of what looked like some leftovers he'd cooked for a meal earlier in the week.
Their bedroom however, was a different story. The bed was demolished, feathers, shredded bedding, everything was scattered everywhere! All of their clothes were strewn about the place, like a mini hurricane had come through. Sanji normally would have thrown a fit that his suits were on the floor, and wrinkled, but that didn't bother him.
No, what bothered him most was that on the wall, they'd placed a special set of hooks where Zoro could hang up his three swords when he wasn't using them for sparring, or for competitions. Those were gone. Gone.
As Sanji walked further into their destroyed bedroom, he could see that Zoro's duffle bag was missing, along with some of his clothes, or that's what Sanji assumed anyways, he couldn't really tell with the destructive mess that Zoro had left behind. Besides, Sanji knew his lover too well. The swords were gone too, which meant Zoro was going to be gone for more than a night. He always brought them with him if he was going to be gone for more than a night, his swords were that precious to him. Only, this time, this time Sanji realized that Zoro had taken his most valuable possessions, the swords with him.
Fuck.
He'd really messed up, and now, now-
Zoro was gone, and he wasn't coming back.
Sanji cried.