Author's Note: Okay so if you've read my chapter 22 which wasn't really a chapter of Escort Me, you'd know I'm editing Escort Me. I've decided in order to have a fresh new opinion of this story, I will be posting a new story which is basically just Escort Me, revamped, so that it isn't such a horrible mess and you guys don't remember the horrible mess it was before. So yeah ... Edited, longer chapters that make more sense. Updates will happen every 2 weeks to make sure I'm happy with the kind of content I'm posting. Chapter 1 and 2 are relatively the same but I would still love feedback, I'm not sure if people have ever done this before in this manner, but yeah ... I don't own One Piece. This story is really just going to be more organized, and even if you've read the horrible mess that's Escort Me, I hope you still find it within you to review to this story and tell me if this is happening any better. And now on with the story! No flames please, please don't judge me for this, I'm figuring my own way out of this.

Escort Me
By: Setkia
Dedicated to CaptainNapkincause you're awesome and you totally saved this story from having serious plot issues.

Full Summary

Sanji is an escort in order to pay off debts and buy back the Baratie from Don Krieg. He is charming, flattering and a complete prude. He has a hatred for his job, not at all proud that he's been reduced down to having such a despicable occupation but a certain green-haired regular makes things a bit more bearable.

Roronoa Zoro is a member of a gang, the Shichibukai, and he's regretting it deeply. In order to obtain back a sword of his departed friend, he joined their ranks. He can't handle it some days and goes to rant about it to a curly browed escort. However things change when the gang decides to recruit a member by the name of Sanji.

PART ONE: RECRUITMENT

Chapter 1: The Number One Requested Host

"Sanji, someone's asking for you again!"

The blond smiled at the red haired he was currently speaking to and motioned for her to wait a moment. She did so with a smile on her lips, a giggle escaping her mouth. She wore far too much make-up in Sanji's opinion. Natural beauty was better than cosmetics. Sanji fastened up the middle button of his blazer and strode over to the tall man in the degradable outfit. His voice annoyed Sanji beyond belief, but he dealt with it anyway. He had to.

"Who is it?" he asked, glancing over the man's shoulder as though this would help him. He ran his fingers through his blond locks, fixing them up. That girl liked to play with her hands and they were rather sharp to be honest. "Do I know them?"

"It's a man," said his co-worker. "Name's ..." Bentham checked the clipboard but before he could speak, Sanji cut him off.

"Roronoa, right?" Sanji dusted off his blazer and paused for a moment, contemplating. She was a nice girl tonight, a bit annoying but then again, he couldn't adore every one of his clients. Did he want to end it because of that stupid Marimo? "Tell him to wait fifteen minutes, I need to finish up with my current client before I can take him on."

"Sure, but Sanji ..."

"You're begging to ask a question so ask it."

"I thought all of your clients were female."

Sanji thought about this for a moment. "They are," he said slowly. "Just ... Not this one."

It was clear he was even more curious now, after all, a cryptic answer was always less satisfying than no answer at all. Sanji had a way with words that had people clinging to his every last one, regardless of which sex would hear him speak. There was something about his baritone that others found relaxing. He didn't know what it was about the man before him that had him getting laid every other night, his voice was nauseating and quite frankly, he hated it. From the look on the man's face and the way his eyes seemed to narrow, his blue eyeliner becoming more accented with this motion, he was probably questioning what had suddenly made Sanji change his tune. Or rather, his team. Of course, any assumptions he made would be false, but Sanji was too tired to argue with him over it; they could have that conversation another time and knowing the man, there would be no avoiding it.

"If you don't mind, I have to get going," Sanji said. "Can't keep a lady waiting, can I?" He flashed the man a grin before striding back towards the woman, a smile plastered onto his face, his blue eye sparkling with just a tad more light.

Zoro was here.

Honestly, Sanji hadn't expected him to turn up again but he had been coming twice a week for the past two months. Host clubs were more for women rather than men, at least that's what Sanji thought but two months ago a green-haired man had stumbled in, obviously drunk. He had randomly latched onto Sanji while he stood outside the club on his break, trying to avoid others. As a result, he was forced to sit in the back of the club while listening to the man rant about how his life was strange, unbearable and absolutely regrettable. As though that wasn't Sanji's life in a nutshell. Eventually the man had sobered up and left. Despite the fire that had engulfed him when speaking to the strange man, something clicked in his head, there was just something liberating about talking to a drunk man while sitting in between dumpsters. Strange, but so was his life.

He hadn't thought the man would've even remembered, being so hammered, but eventually he had come back, sober, asking for the blond. Sanji wasn't sure why he still saw him, perhaps because of how easy it was to let his mask slip and let loose, allowing himself to feel everything he held back during the day.

"Sanji-kun, do you have to leave?" asked the girl with a pout. Her glossed lips were sparkly and purple under the dim light of the side room.

Sanji sat down next to her and grinned. "I'm terribly sorry to say that I do have to leave you now, but feel free to come back whenever you want, I'd be glad to see you at any time."

The girl frowned. "But ..." She trailed off, her hand resting on Sanji's thigh. "We didn't get to—"

"I have someone waiting for me darling," Sanji said smoothly. "I need to be going now."

Reluctantly, the woman let him go and walked out with what seemed to be left of her pride. Apparently, she hadn't expected Sanji to reject her.

Sanji walked into the bathroom and undid his tie, putting it in the back pocket of his black pants, unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt. It felt good to breathe. He undid his cuff-links and then after making sure he still looked presentable, he walked out and entered the room again.

He laid himself out on the love seat, relaxing. Having Roronoa Zoro as a customer was like having a break in the middle of the day. It was absolutely wonderful and Sanji was beyond grateful the man had never asked for a different host.

"Curly Brow."

Sanji scoffed, feeling no need to straighten himself out at the entrance of his latest client. "Shitty Marimo."

The tall tanned man smirked at him. "Curlicue."

"Moss-head."

"Dart Brow."

"Ahou."

"Ran out of creative comebacks did we?"

Sanji rolled his eyes and laid out comfortably on the love seat, grinning at him. "So want to tell me about your shitty day?"

There was something about Roronoa Zoro that was different. There was no way being a host in one of the dodgiest areas of Tokyo had ever been Sanji's plan for a sustainable lifestyle; this was a temporary setback and as such, he cared very little of the lives of his clients outside of his workplace. Of course he still heard stories, heard the rumours, learnt about cheating wives or unfaithful husbands, but those stories were stored away into a file in his mind labeled: pointless crap that's heard daily. Maybe it was the green hair that had him intrigued, or how very vague the man always was when speaking about his day. He still didn't know his profession, though Sanji was sure there was a reason for that. If he knew, he'd have more insults for him and of course, the Marimo would hate to lose that competition.

"Just dealing with the typical assholes," said Zoro with a shrug. "Nothing unusual. They really need to learn about punctuality or else I wouldn't have to be so hard on them ..."

It was things like this that made Sanji think perhaps Zoro was a teacher or the chief of something or another. If he was though, why didn't he arrest them all? Technically the club wasn't the most legit place in the world and clearly there were prostitutes and the like, yet they had never been called on it before. Then again, if he was a police officer, he wouldn't have given his real name, would he have? Then again, the occasional police chief would come in. What was his name? Sanji wasn't too bothered by his lack of remembrance; all he needed to remember was that the guy stunk up the place with his cigarettes faster than Sanji could light his own.

They spoke very little, considering how little Zoro liked to reveal about himself and Sanji didn't press. The silence was welcome when he compared it to the loud blaring, pulsating music of the dance floor. Zoro had never been as talkative as he had been that first night.

The club's very existence was for the purpose of allowing others to escape reality and do as they pleased, all their dirty secrets revealed and yet kept under wraps. Customer confidentiality. That was why Sanji found out about all of the married women who liked to cheat on their husbands. If Zoro didn't feel like divulging such information, then Sanji was okay with that, that was his right.

It didn't mean he wasn't curious though.

"Why do you come here?"

Sanji always asked him this. The first few times, the man had looked like he had wanted to give a reply, an honest reply, but he held himself back. He always felt like he was holding himself back.

Instead of answering, the green-haired man would grin at him and flash him a cocky smirk, taunting him to ask more; if he dared.

"Why are you here?"

A question Roronoa Zoro never forgot to ask. Sometimes during the silences or while he gave him a tip, the words never failed to leave his lips.

Sanji, of course, could never tell him the truth and logically liked to spice up his answer.

"To see you of course," he replied today.

Roronoa snorted and handed him a five thousand yen note. Tips were always rare to come by. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said dryly.

"It's all mine," that cocky bastard said with a grin.

When going home in the odd hours of the morning, Sanji reflected on his day and came to the same realization several times. If it weren't for Roronoa Zoro, Sanji might've already lost himself entirely.

A customer that didn't ask much, wasn't pressing for sex, just a bit of conversation and comfortable silence. Someone he didn't need to impress, someone who wasn't trying to impress either. Someone he could be his rotten self with.

Unlocking the door to his rusty old apartment, Sanji fell asleep on the couch despite knowing there would be hell to pay in the morning and drifted off, dreaming of better times with screaming cooks and a loud, full kitchen.

Author's Note #2: I hope you guys like this new version of chapter 1, please let me know what you think!