Zoro kicked off his shoes at the door and sniffed the air. Grinning, he removed his jacket and headed to the kitchen, where he found roast salmon and white rice waiting for him at the table, and—even better—his husband at the sink, washing the knives.
"Welcome home," Sanji said with a smile, turning around. He rubbed his hands dry and folded his arms. "Go wash up. I'll pour the drinks."
"Uh—okay."
When Zoro returned, Sanji had set out full wine glasses with the bottle on the table. It was that one from Christmas that he'd never even let Zoro touch, let alone drink from.
"This looks . . . amazing," Zoro said, seating himself across from Sanji.
"Doesn't it?" Sanji exclaimed in delight. "I've been preparing since this morning, so if you don't like it I'll kick your ass!"
"Oh?" Zoro flipped his fork in his hand. "You know that's what I like."
"You're such a pervert," Sanji muttered with a fond smile.
"That's you." Zoro took a bite of the fish. "Holy shit."
He ate like a starving man, and this, along with expectantly holding his plate out for seconds, was all the praise Sanji needed.
Once they'd put their dishes in the sink, Sanji tugged on Zoro's sleeve, leading him away.
"I'll do the dishes tomorrow," he added, noticing Zoro's confused glance back. Zoro shrugged and let himself be led to the bedroom, where Sanji turned on the light to reveal candles set up around the room. He took out his lighter and went around to each of them, and when he turned back, Zoro had already removed his shirt in anticipation.
"C'mon," Sanji whispered, reaching around to shut off the light, leaving the room lit only by the flickering candles and perfumed with the faint scent of vanilla.
Zoro laid himself on his back and reached up to undo the buttons on Sanji's shirt. As he struggled to get them out, Sanji leaned down.
"Happy anniversary," he murmured.
Zoro's eyes shot open wide and he sat up so suddenly their heads collided with a coconut-like sound.
"Shit, that was today?!" he exclaimed.
"Wh—" Sanji rubbed his head indignantly. "What did you think all this was for?!"
"I thought—I don't know, maybe you were horny all day or feeling extra-nice—" Zoro looked around. "I mean, that explains a lot, but—shit, I totally forgot—"
Sanji folded his arms and crossed his legs. "It's fine," he muttered. "Whatever. It's not a big deal."
Zoro held up his hands and swung his legs around, standing. "Wait there," he ordered. "I'll be back . . . in . . . thirty minutes."
He ran for the door, slamming it shut behind him, only to open it again to grab his shirt. A moment later, the front door slammed shut.
Sanji sighed slowly and fell onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
"I'm here—"
Sanji sat up at the door opening and found Zoro, his hair a disheveled mess and his cheeks pink from running.
"I know this is last-minute," he said as he ripped off his shirt again with one hand, "but I know you like these flowers—just take them."
He shoved the bouquet of delphiniums to Sanji, looking away.
"Happy anniversary," he mumbled.
Sanji took the bouquet, turning it over in his hands and admiring the brilliant blue flowers.
Zoro turned back around, praying for no hurricane, when Sanji leaned forward on his knees and pulled him in for a kiss. By the time he pulled away, Zoro resembled a ripe strawberry.
"Yeah, happy anniversary, you big lug," he said, smiling. "Now get back on the bed."