The swordsman had been acting strange, and Sanji was not the only person who had noticed. The cook's suspicions were confirmed when Nami expressed her opinion that the green-haired man seemed different—and around Sanji, specifically.
"Did something happen between you and Zoro?" she'd asked him one afternoon.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Why do you ask, my sweet?"
"A few of the crew commented that things have been oddly quiet on the ship, and I'm pretty sure it's because the two of you haven't been fighting lately."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"Usopp and Franky think so, since they don't have to fix whatever the two of you usually break, but I'm getting a little concerned. It's been almost a week, and I don't think I've heard Zoro exchange so much as a word with you. He's just been staring like he doesn't know who you are or something," she commented idly.
"Staring? At me? I'm sure you're imagining things. What would that idiot have to be concerned about me for?" he argued, laughing at the notion that Zoro would spare him even a thought.
"You haven't noticed? It's not like he's trying to hide it," she told him, shrugging prettily. "Oh well. I hope it blows over, whatever it is. Not having the two of you bickering all the time is so weird—it's like the lack of tension between you is somehow creating an uncomfortable atmosphere of restlessness for the entire crew."
"I guess I can ask him what his problem is," Sanji told her, smiling placatingly, "but I'm sure it's nothing. Don't worry your pretty little head over us, Nami-swan."
The navigator rolled her eyes in exasperation, leaving him to his thoughts. The cook wanted to doubt her suggestion that Zoro was somehow preoccupied with him, but she was a lady after all, so he had no choice but to heed her words and see if there was any truth to them.
Now that the issue had been brought to his attention, Sanji realized that the swordsman really had been staring at him. Whenever they were in the same room, Zoro would follow his movements with a strange, contemplative expression as though the cook were a difficult puzzle that needed solving. It was definitely weird, and more than a little creepy, but Sanji was confused by the intensity of his gaze and didn't know how he should go about bringing it up.
One time he had purposely met the green-haired man's eyes and barked, "What? You got something to say, shitty-swordsman?", which usually would have pissed him off and inevitably started a fight. Instead, Zoro had just frowned at him, his brow furrowing in concentration as he continued to scrutinize the cook with unabashed attentiveness, and Sanji had stormed off in annoyed confusion.
On a different occasion, the blond lost his patience with demanding answers from the swordsman, who never deigned to answer him with a single word, let alone one of his typical insults, so he had simply waited to see if the bastard would eventually stop. On the contrary, Zoro had taken advantage of the opportunity and spent a good fifteen minutes staring, and frowning, and even muttering to himself as he looked at the cook.
It was beginning to concern Sanji, too. Did I piss him off somehow? No, that can't be it—we're always mad at each other for something. This is different…he thought, truly bemused. There wasn't a single reason he could think of for Zoro to have suddenly become so fixated on him. What the hell was going on in the stupid marimo's head? His brain was probably too small to focus on more than one thing at a time, so why was he putting so much thought into Sanji of all people? What did those penetrating looks mean?
It was honestly driving the cook crazy wondering about it, which was ridiculous since Zoro was the one who seemed to have sort of problem with him. He even asked the beautiful Robin-chan for her advice, hoping that his highly observant crewmate might have some insight into the matter, but her answer only confused him even more.
"Swordsman-san seems rather frustrated, don't you think?" she'd asked him with that strange, secretive smile of hers.
"But why? I don't understand what could have changed, and the idiot refuses to talk to me about it. When he isn't glaring at me, he's avoiding me. It's so fucking childish! Oh—pardon the vulgar language, my darling. It seems I'm a little out of my mind. I'm more frustrated than he is!" Sanji told her irately. She giggled and looked at him in open mirth, her beautiful lips quirking into a sly grin.
"I wonder if you're feeling the same sort of frustration as Zoro," she mused with a purposeful look that went right over the cook's head. It wasn't until much later, when he was lying awake and thinking about how he should handle the strange tension that had developed between him and the swordsman, that her words came back to him, and he suddenly realized that there might have been a double meaning.
Impossible, he growled inwardly, his face growing warm at the notion. What the hell am I even thinking? Robin-chan would never suggest something so lewd—especially not about that sexless sword-freak.
No, it didn't make sense for her to have been insinuating that, and besides, even if that were true, and the mature lady's feminine perceptions had led her to assume that their crewmate was experiencing some sort of sexual deficiency, then why in God's name would he be acting strange around Sanji?
He wanted to laugh at himself for even thinking it, it was so ludicrous. Even so, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that Robin's intentional slyness had been hinting at something of that nature despite the fact that, true or not, it seemed irrelevant to the current issue. He decided to bury the silly idea in the back of his mind and try a new approach.
He was going to force that idiot to talk whether he liked it or not.
The next night, he waited until the rest of the crew had gone to sleep before cornering Zoro in the one place that he knew the marimo wouldn't be able to escape him easily—the crow's nest. Sanji was careful to climb up to the trapdoor as quietly as possible and make a quick entry, slamming it closed behind him and locking it before the swordsman even had a chance to look up from his workout.
"What the—get the fuck out of here, curly. I don't have time for you," he snapped rudely, averting his gaze as Sanji approached where he was sitting on the bench with long, deliberate strides. The cook immediately noticed the familiar way that Zoro had recently started bristling in agitation at his very presence, like a cat sensing another feline that it wanted desperately to leave it alone.
"Why are you tensing up like you think I'm gonna attack you or something? This bullshit attitude of yours is getting real old. Are you gonna tell me how that stick got up your ass, or what? I'm getting tired of looking at your stupid face," he jeered, pausing a few feet away from the other man to square up for the inevitable bloodbath that was about to happen if the swordsman didn't hurry up and explain himself.
Something flashed in the other man's eyes at the cook's last words and he tossed his weights aside with an exasperated growl. "God dammit—I can't fucking stand this!" he muttered angrily, pressing the backs of his palms to his eyes and clutching his head like he was trying to hold in his sanity.
"I swear I'm going to smash your skull in if you keep being so cryptic! What exactly is it about me that you suddenly can't stand? I'm no different than I have been since I joined the crew, moron. You're acting insane," he accused, fuming.
Zoro dropped his hands into his lap, seeming defeated as he stared down at the floor, his eyes blank and glazed over. "That must be it. There's no other explanation," he said distractedly.
Sanji felt the tiniest hint of trepidation at that admission. What was the stupid-swordsman talking about? He couldn't really think he was insane. What could have created such intense turmoil in the other man that Sanji could possibly be responsible for?
"Just leave me alone, Cook. I don't want to look at your face either—anything but that," he stated imploringly, bringing Sanji's blood to a sudden boil.
"What's that supposed to mean, asshole?! 'Anything but that?' All you've been doing for the past week is staring at me like a weirdo, and now you're saying you can't even look at me when I'm talking to you?"
"I…really can't. It's driving me crazy. I'm gonna have to leave the crew," he said despairingly, turning his face towards the ceiling as if he could see right through it into the sky and beyond.
"Leave the—I'm serious, bastard, you'd better tell me what the hell is going on right now."
The look on the other man's face was so traumatized that Sanji's anger melted away and was replaced by sharp concern for his crewmate's apparent distress. Something seriously was bothering him, and it couldn't be something insignificant if he was saying that he'd have to leave the crew. For a moment, Robin's words invaded his thoughts again, daring him to believe for even a moment that the cause of Zoro's frustration was related to an inappropriate desire for him.
There's no way, Sanji told himself again, terrified to even consider it. The swordsman knew that he was unequivocally a ladies' man through-and-through. Something like that would send the balance between them spiralling out of control. It was unthinkable—disastrous to imagine—so completely mind-boggling to comprehend that Sanji was sure he would have absolute no idea how to handle it. He wouldn't be able to just let the other man down easy and go on like nothing had happened, because he would always know. They would both always know, and Zoro was not the sort of person who could outgrow feelings like that. He was an all-or-nothing kind of guy who either didn't feel anything or felt things intensely.
Sanji might joke about the other man being an unemotional rock with the sexual prowess of a wet blanket, but that was only because he knew that Zoro didn't care about things unless there was a significant reason to. He had never imagined the taciturn swordsman experiencing passion, since it would likely take more than any normal person could give to move the unmovable.
Wait, wait, wait, I'm getting way ahead of myself. I'm not that conceited—there's no reason for me to believe I could ever get under his skin like that. I hate to think it, but Robin was probably just messing with my head. I love her to death, but she does have some twisted notions of what constitutes fun. Yes, that was all it was—his lovely lady playing mind games and trying to psyche him out.
"Okay…I know this isn't how we usually do things, but let's call a truce for a minute, eh?" Sanji said finally, transitioning into a serious tone to indicate that they could actually talk to each other like normal people for once. "You're really torn up about whatever this is, so just tell me what's the matter, and we'll never speak of it again," he offered, prompting Zoro to look at him like he'd spontaneously grown a second head.
"Holy shit—you had a heart all along, Cook. Who knew?" he asked wryly, cracking a smug smile that made the blond instantly flush an angry red.
"Fuck off, man. Even if I act like I want to kill you half of the time, I'm still your nakama. What kind of pirate would I be if that didn't come first?" he asked sincerely.
"Wow. Now I definitely know I'm insane, because I actually appreciate you saying that," Zoro replied in genuine bewilderment.
"Save it—just tell me why you've been so weird lately," Sanji repeated, supressing the desire to hold his breath in anticipation.
The swordsman sighed heavily, seeming to come to a decision. "Alright," he began uncomfortably, "but don't laugh."
The cook waited patiently while the other man collected himself, feigning nonchalance even though he was secretly panicking inside. He really wasn't good at this sort of thing, or at least, not with men. He'd spent most of his life living on the Baratie with a bunch of tough-ass ex-pirates who had the emotional range of a teaspoon, so it was no wonder that he'd never learned to talk about feelings. It wasn't necessarily a gender thing, either—he just personally didn't have any conception of the rules outside of the context of women when it came to emotional bonding. Men typically bonded in more physical ways.
The thought immediately made his heartrate spike. Damn my perverted mind, he thought woefully. Why the hell am I still thinking about that? He isn't going to say that he's attracted to me—I'm just getting all worked up because of what Robin said, he rationalized, pausing to light a cigarette to hide his nervous gestures.
"About a week ago…I had this dream," Zoro started finally, instantly capturing the cook's attention. "It was so weird—I haven't been able to get it out of my head," he explained, sending Sanji's thoughts into a frenzy.
Holy shit—a dream? W-what kind of dream?! he wondered, unable to prevent his mind from jumping to an obvious conclusion given his perverted train of thought. "You mean, like, about me?" he asked hesitantly, paling when Zoro gave a curt nod. Oh, fuck.
"It really messed me up. I feel like I don't even know who I am anymore," he lamented, drifting off into silent contemplation.
Sanji's knees suddenly felt weak and he had to sit down, dropping into the vacant spot beside the other man. He wished his legs hadn't chosen this moment to give out on him, because it would've been nice to just be an asshole and high-tail it out of there before Zoro said anything more—but no, he couldn't do that. Nakama did come first. He had to see this conversation through.
"Okay…" he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Can you tell me what it was about, or was it…you know…?" he trailed off awkwardly and kept staring straight ahead when he felt the other man stiffen beside him. Zoro made a strangled noise of surprise, obviously understanding what the cook was implying.
"What the hell? N-no! Jesus—not everybody is a fucking pervert like you, Cook," he stuttered, cheeks flushing crimson.
"Are you sure? 'Cuz I didn't even finish my sentence and you knew exactly what I was talking about," he teased, hoping that humor could disguise the flood of conflicting emotions that overwhelmed him. It was a confusing mixture of relief, embarrassing, and a distinct sense of disappointment that shocked him into silence. He wondered if he was a narcissist, because he definitely shouldn't be feeling disappointed that Zoro hadn't just confirmed his suspicions.
"It wasn't like that, idiot. It started off completely normal—everybody was on the ship doing what we usually do, but then you came out of the galley with drinks for each of us, and…"
"And what?" Sanji pressed with bated breath.
"You were too far away for me to notice it at first, but then you walked over to hand Luffy and I the glasses, and the normalcy just…shattered."
He paused again, running his fingers through his short hair in distress as if recalling the scene was even more traumatizing than he remembered. "It was like realizing that nothing was the same even though everything else was familiar…God, it was so wrong."
"What was wrong? Just spit it out already, marimo!"
"Your eyebrow…" he said distantly.
"My…what?"
"It was…normal."
"…"
"…"
"EXCUSE ME?!" Sanji exploded, completely thrown.
"It was the most horrifying thing I've ever seen—it was so disturbing that I woke up in shock, and I can't stop picturing it no matter what I do."
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?! That's what you've been stressing over this whole time?! My bloody EYEBROWS? I will seriously murder you for doing this to me!" Sanji raged, nearly tearing his hair out as he grabbed at in in frustration.
"That wasn't the worst part, though."
"What, did you look in the mirror and see that your goddamn hair was normal, too, moss-head?"
"No, I woke up from the dream, remember? I swear it felt like I was being haunted by the image. It made me realize…fuck…"
"I hope you weren't in the middle of a tough workout because I'm going to kick your goddamn ass all over this room in a minute, and I seriously might kill you if you don't fight me with every once of your strength," Sanji told him dangerously, still seething with rage.
"You don't understand. I can never unsee it, and now I know that I…I actually…prefer it curly," he admitted, so quietly that it was almost a whisper.
"You weren't fucking joking—you're actually insane. We're gonna have to put you in a straitjacket and lock you in the brig."
"It's a big deal, alright?"
"But why? Who fucking cares?!"
"I do! It's my favourite thing to insult, and now I don't even have that. I've been shit-talking it for years, but at some point I must've gotten used to how you look or something. I can't accept that."
"Do you seriously have nothing better to do than obsess over my goddamn eyebrows? No, you know what? I'm glad that you're suffering over something so utterly stupid. Have you ever even thought that maybe I already had a complex about it and you've been a huge fucking asshole?!" Sanji yelled, surprising the other man with the force of his words.
"I…I guess I hadn't thought about that. Does it really bother you that much?"
"YES. I hate you so much right now that I can taste bile!"
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry—"
"Fuck off! I don't know why I was even worried about you. Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is? I actually thought that something serious was going on, and then you had to give me a bloody heart-attack talking about weird dreams, and it was all because of my eyebrows?!"
Zoro just watched him rant in silence, seeming all the more conflicted now that Sanji knew what had been the cause of his strange behaviour. The cook threw his cigarette butt against the far wall with a violent toss, scowling angrily at the bastard. He couldn't believe that he had come up here to clear the air between them only to be insulted again. It was bad enough that the other man constantly teased him about something that was admittedly one of his biggest insecurities, and now he was essentially saying that his hatred for the cook's unfortunate genetic trait had been a defining aspect of his identity.
Sanji contemplated kicking the swordsman—he even briefly considered punching him, which would be the first time he'd used his hands for violence since he was a little kid—but there was one thing that he was sure would be an even greater act of revenge. Slowly his racing heart calmed down, and he was able to think rationally about it. It would be the first time since as far back as he could remember, and he was definitely hesitant to bare his insecurity so openly, but it would be so worth it.
He waited until Zoro met his gaze searchingly—probably wondering why the cook was suddenly so quiet after his angry outburst—and then he took one hand and very deliberately ran his fingers up and over his forehead to push the blond fringe of hair back and expose his entire face to the other man.
Whatever Zoro had been expecting, it was certainly not that. His eyes widened in surprise, locking onto the unbelievable view in front of him as if he couldn't comprehend that the cook really had a second eye and spiraling eyebrow under there. Sanji had anticipated an angry reaction from the other man, or perhaps an exclamation of frustration over being forced to look at what he apparently hated so much and was now extremely conflicted over, but he had not expected the other man to stare at him with unmistakable awe as though he'd just been given a precious gift, which he sort of had considering that Sanji had never shown that half of his face to anyone.
Instead of feeling like he had just gotten revenge, the blond recognized the telltale blush that covered the swordsman's cheeks and felt his own face reddening in response. He was acutely aware of the fact that Zoro was drinking in the image of his face like it was a precious secret, and not only that—he was observing it with the distinct expression of someone who undoubtedly appreciated what he saw. Sanji felt a sudden pang of delight when he realized that the swordsman actually liked the way his face looked—he had never been able to bring himself to show anyone this complete part of him, because his anxiety over the genetics he had inherited from his family had always outweighed any confidence that might have allowed him to expose himself to another person so openly.
Zoro was looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Sanji's heart started beating erratically, pounding so loudly in his chest that he was suddenly afraid the other man could actually hear it. Panic washed over him as he realized his own feelings in response to the swordsman's obvious approval—he was actually glad that Zoro seemed to find him attractive. He remembered the earlier twinge of disappointment when he thought that he'd been wrong about his crewmate's feelings, and suddenly Sanji wanted to escape the situation more badly than ever.
It was one thing for the swordsman to state that he couldn't accept his preference for the blond man's curly eyebrows, but the cook was about ready to have a conniption at the notion that he might actually want Zoro's attention and was happy to discover that he might've been worrying needlessly over his appearance all these years. This can't be happening, he told himself in complete denial. There's no way I care what that idiot-swordsman thinks about me—I can't accept that kind of interest from a man. I'm Sanji fucking Blackleg—I only care about the ladies, he reminded himself.
All of this went through the cook's head before the swordsman uttered his automatic response, which turned out to be a half-breathless exclamation of, "Holy shit…" The sound of Zoro's deep voice seemed to pierce Sanji's skin right down to his bones, making the cook shiver unconsciously, his face flaming. He sucked in a quick breath and held it, frozen under the swordsman's penetrating gaze. The panic inside him swelled as he desperately tried to understand what was happening to them. It quickly overwhelmed him, and he made a move to instinctively drop his hair fringe back into place, longing for the safe familiarity of the blond curtain protecting him from the other man's eyes.
"Wait!" Zoro said sharply, catching his hand on its decent to prevent him from covering his face again. Sanji jumped at the unexpected feeling of Zoro's fingers sliding into his hair to hold it in place, his palm resting over the cook's trembling hand, soothing it into stillness. He felt lightheaded and had to release the breath he'd been holding in a stuttering gasp to keep his lungs functioning.
"S-sorry," Zoro told him, seeming embarrassed. "I just…"
Sanji looked at him like a deer in the headlights, his words caught in his throat. He wanted to toss some sort of insult or clever comeback at the other man and make fun of him for his unwanted touch, but it wasn't necessarily unwelcome, and that fact blew the cook's mind for a second time. He found himself dropping the hand that had been resting under Zoro's so he could feel the swordsman's heat at his scalp, letting him slide his fingers deeper into the roots of his hair to anchor it away from his face.
Sanji couldn't stop staring at the other man, either. Their eyes had locked like it was some sort of competition, and neither of them seemed willing to lose by breaking the gaze first. It was strange seeing the swordsman without the obstruction of his own hair. His face seemed somehow clearer, brighter—although, that could have been a trick of his mind. He'd never had difficulties seeing before since he'd always had to look through that blond curtain, so it was second nature to him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was seeing Zoro differently anyway.
Finally, he found his voice and was able to comment on the other man's strange behaviour. "Oi, you're not supposed to like this," he complained instantly, remembering his previous intent on revenge.
Zoro's blush deepened, and he immediately tried to deny it. "I—I don't! I'm just relieved that you weren't hiding a normal eyebrow under there after all. That would've been even more ridiculous than them both being curly," he reasoned, though he didn't look away or mask the obvious expression of wonder on his face.
The cook's eyes narrowed in suspicion, anger and annoyance spiking in him sharply. "Don't fucking lie to me," he growled, inexplicably hurt.
Zoro's eyes widened impossibly larger at the pissed off cook's retort, and he slowly retracted his hand, though Sanji's hair remained swept back over his forehead. The swordsman mirrored his frown, seeming a little guilty about his automatic insult.
"No…you're right. That was rude of me. I don't—I mean, I like them, okay?"
"Just the eyebrows?" Sanji inquired wryly with a knowing smirk, causing the swordsman to finally break their gaze.
Zoro was trying so hard to look anywhere but at him, yet his eyes kept flitting back to the cook's exposed face almost as if he were shy. It was so completely out of character for the restrained swordsman to be this visibly affected that Sanji wanted to laugh in pleasant disbelief.
"They look fine. You…look good…I guess," he got out lamely, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "How the hell does your hair stay so perfect, though? You shouldn't be able to just rearrange it however and just have it mold into that shape. That's the weirdest part," he rambled awkwardly, glancing away again when Sanji cracked an amused grin.
"You're such an idiot," he remarked, surprising himself with the fondness in his voice, which caused the swordsman to frown at him adorably.
Fuck no—this is Zoro I'm thinking about! He isn't adorable—that's impossible, he told himself while casually replying, "Thanks…I guess."
"…You're welcome."
They kept looking at each other, neither of them able to find the words that would end whatever this was and return them to their usual exchange of insults and banter. Sanji honestly didn't want the moment to end so quickly because it was kind of a nice to not have to focus on constantly one-upping the swordsman or insulting him when he didn't have a better comeback. He'd never thought about how mentally tiring it was—always being on edge around the other man and exercising all of that brainpower…and for what? So they could keep up this pointless rivalry between them?
Suddenly, it was clear to the cook that it was pointless. Sure, maybe it benefited them to test themselves against the other's strength and wit, but that could just as easily be done if they were friends. Instead, they'd fallen into a routine where it had become so natural to behave like enemies that, before they'd known it, there was seemingly no going back. This conversation had just proved that their entire relationship, founded in needless jealousy and machismo, was based off of the assumption that it was necessary to disregard the underlying admiration that existed between them. No wonder Zoro had been shocked by Sanji showing open concern for him—they were both so used to pretending they didn't care that they'd forgotten what it meant to be nakama.
The cook knew he was onto something, but even that didn't completely explain what was happening between him and the swordsman. There was something else in the beating of his heart, the fluttering in his stomach, and the heat spreading through his body, that indicated the development of something more personal. Zoro seemed to be thinking about it as well, his brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to understand the growing tension, and then his eyes slid to Sanji's lips and paused there. Fuck, I know what it is, the cook thought, his head spinning at the sudden compulsion that filled him. Robin really is a genius.
He cut off his own thoughts, shutting down his brain for the moment. Zoro was leaning toward him, ever so slightly, with his eyes still trained on the cook's mouth like he was in some sort of trance. Neither of them were thinking anymore—it was just happening, and Sanji didn't think either of them could have stopped it if they'd tried. If he'd been thinking then he would have realized that he didn't even want to stop it. He remained completely still as the swordsman's lips approached him, and then suddenly they were kissing.
Something broke inside him, and whatever was let out consumed them both immediately. His mouth parted on instinct as the rest of him opened up to the swordsman, seeking the other man's heat. Warmth filled his entire body as if he'd swallowed it. Zoro's heat was pressed against his lips, the only place where they touched, but he felt it in every inch of himself—raising every hair, shaking every muscle, and spreading to the tip of every appendage.
They kissed wildly—restraint a thing of the past—until Sanji swore he was on fire. Suddenly Zoro's hands were back in his hair, and the heat seemed to increase tenfold. Their knees knocked together on the bench—vaguely Sanji realized that they'd both turned toward the other, though he couldn't remember either of them moving a leg to the other side—and then his hands were on Zoro's biceps, pulling the other man closer.
He didn't remember them leaving the bench, but the next time he looked up, gasping at the feeling of the other man's mouth against his throat—kissing, biting, sucking at random intervals—they were on the floor of the crow's nest with considerably less clothing. His memory of the next however many minutes (hours?) was fragmented into a slideshow of highlights.
Zoro's hands firmly gripping his waist, his tongue wetting the skin of Sanji's chest, stomach, thighs. Fingers digging into muscle, his own as well as the swordsman's, sliding through silky hair. Zoro's hair had been surprisingly soft and easy to grab. He remembered the taste of his lips, his throat, his cock, although the latter was completely unexpected and foreign to him. The swordsman's lips on his cock had nearly blinded him, torn him apart at the seams, and scattered the pieces to the wind.
Friction—more heat—sweat and sliding skin against skin. And oh God the suction—a welcomed distraction to the fingers slipping into places he would never have expected to allow entry. New and exciting places that only Zoro would see, touch, feel—he screamed the first time he felt delicious pressure against the secret part of him that wanted this so badly. Legs quivering, toes curling, and chests heaving at the effort of containing all of the sensations—they burst out of him anyway in the form of gasps, and moans, and more screams. Zoro kissed him whenever he could, until their lips were both swollen. Sanji left bloody trails on the swordsman's skin from the unconscious dragging of his fingernails over the man's broad back.
Shivering pleasure was a good way to describe it all—shivering pleasure that ended in an explosion of heat, bone-deep satisfaction, and wetness. Zoro's heat remained in him for some time after, and then the two of them just melted into the deck, a mess of tangled, sticky limbs and aftershocks. Amazingly, Sanji's hair stayed pushed back from his face, and when it had shifted, Zoro had held it in place with strong yet gentle fingers. The cook's eyes had never seen the world quite like they had that night, even though he'd only experienced such perfect clarity with the inside of the crow's nest, a few small patches of sky, and Zoro in his sights.
The cook felt like crying and laughing. His brain rebooted slowly, spitting conflicting thoughts that sent his mind whirling as he tried to understand what had happened. He had just experienced something amazing—he had royally fucked up—he wanted to do it again—he was never going to be the same—it was a horrible, horrible mistake—he wouldn't trade it for the most beautiful woman in the world—he needed a woman—he needed the swordsman beside him—he felt hungry—he didn't want to leave the circle of this man's arms—he wanted to sleep forever—he loved the sound of Zoro's heart beating hard in his chest. There were so many feelings to work through that he wanted to just shut his mind off to procrastinate dealing with them.
"Oi, cook…what the hell?" Zoro said to him after an immeasurable period of contemplative silence. "I never would have expected you to like that," he commented, echoing the other man's earlier words of surprised disbelief.
Sanji sucked in a breath, prepared to deny it. Zoro would understand. That was how they worked, after all. The blond couldn't admit to enjoying this even if it was obvious that he had—his pride wouldn't allow it. He should tell the swordsman that it had been completely spontaneous—an experiment that had gone a little too far. He could say that he regretted it, but thanks anyway, he'd had worse sex before. The cook opened his mouth with a compilation of these excuses on the tip of his tongue until Zoro squeezed him slightly in the embrace they shared, whispering two heart-wrenching words into his ear.
"Don't lie."
And Sanji knew that he couldn't—not even to himself.