Oookay, I'm very, very nervous. This is my first multi-chapter work, my first AU and my first attempt of introspection. Too many firsts, it can't be good. LOL
This also a sort of a Prequel of my previous story So Wrong, if you're curious just have a look!
Anyway I must apologize in advance, 'cause as much as I hate it (I would have liked to have at least 4/5 chapters already done), the following chapters are still mere drafts, that need a lot of definition. I really need a new beta and I hope someone would be so kind to offer her/his help. I just couldn't wait anymore, I needed to post this and hear what you honestly think!
Well, that's all, enjoy the story and let me know what you think, please!
Pairing: Zoro x Sanji
Warnings: Modern AU
Summary: An accident brings back old memories. How they met, their lives and their relationship: it has always been about priorities.
Beta: melisandre013 Thank you so much. Your work has been great and your advices precious.
Disclaimers: Nothing is mine but my insanity.
Paris was marvelous in April. The weather was mild and enjoyable, no rain or sultry heat, just a light sun and a vernal breeze: the perfect condition for walks, excursions and everything the crazy cook had arranged for them. Zoro couldn't understand a word though, but he honestly didn't care nor he was interested in learning. He wasn't very fond of travelling, especially when it meant eight hours of flight toward a foreign country, but he might admit the blond knew how to plan a journey and make it pleasant. And a break from work was always welcomed, even if he couldn't bring his swords. Besides Sanji had been ecstatic since their arrival -five days ago- and that had meant steady good mood and great sex at the end of each day, two aspects the swordsman appreciated a lot, in particular the latter, since he had got used to the cook annoying behavior a long time ago and it didn't piss him off that much anymore.
So it seemed the blond had missed the city where he had grown up after all, despite his swearing about the Old Geezer and the shitty restaurant he run there. Zoro had met the aforementioned man and visited the Baratie, wondering how a place could be that classy and that crazy at the same time. It surely suited the owner and every employee just fine though.
On the other hand Zoro was also sure his lover was perfectly content with the life they conducted together in New York. Sanji had his own business that kept him busy -a lot- and he loved it. And it was that very business which was busying them at the moment, since they were in the middle of shopping for kitchen ware, as every utensil the cook had at home wasn't perfect enough. He didn't complain though, it was not his intention to ruin the cook's high spirit and everything that went with it. Anyway, he was very relieved when they ran out of cash, forced to take a break and search for a bank. Sanji spotted the building after a few minutes of march and Zoro followed silently.
As they entered the bank Zoro heard someone shouting and a deafening bang, like an explosion. It had sounded like a loud gunshot and his senses were alert all at once. His mind, though, was focused on the cook who had taken a step back, bumping into his large chest.
The green-headed man grabbed his shoulder instinctively, even as his attention turned to the dark figure standing a few feet from them: a man, quite tall, wearing a strange mask and grasping a shotgun. The situation was pretty clear and he sighed inwardly. Famous last words about breaks from work.
Then Sanji started trembling, and Zoro's attention was caught again by the soft hair that was lightly brushing his nose.
The delicate scent of vanilla and tobacco pervaded his senses. He loved Sanji's smell and it was so unique he could recognize it anywhere. He could also read his cook like an open book and, at the moment, he didn't like what he was reading. Something was wrong with him: his posture was rigid- almost frozen- yet he was trembling. With fear? Zoro didn't think so. Yeah, they were in the middle of a robbery, but no way was the blond scared of that freak. Who had just fired a shotgun.
Toward them.
Shit.
Zoro paled, fear freezing the blood in his veins. Suddenly he felt the need to hear the cook's voice. He wanted to hear that stupid annoying voice telling him that everything was okay.
"Sanji?" the blond stopped trembling but didn't answer and Zoro fear rose even more. He tightened his grip on Sanji's shoulder and called him again.
But there was no verbal answer- just a hand slowly and shakily rising up and into Zoro's line of sight.
The swordsman froze, wide-eyed at the sight of blood.
He was sure that it hurt like a bitch, as he was sure that it had not been the pain that had made the blond shiver.
Sanji was a cook. A damn good one, very talented despite his young age. In his twenties he was already head chef in one of the fanciest restaurant of New York, and he needed his fucking hands to keep being that good. He took care of them doggedly, always being so damn careful. That's why his long fingers were scarred but soft, his grip gentle but strong.
Zoro liked being cop but he loved to fight with his swords; Sanji loved to be a chef because he loved to cook, his hands not a simple tool but a part of his dream: that was the difference between them. Lucky cook, he could fulfill that dream and get also a great paycheck from it. Zoro, on the other hand, risked ending up in jail every fucking time he found a good opponent for an underground fight .
Zoro came to his senses, his thoughts cut short after a few seconds, when he registered the presence of the robber mere inches from his cook. The man seemed just as shocked as them.
In his years of experience Zoro had encountered plenty of scared and desperate John Does, with a weapon they didn't even know how to handle. This one looked no different. Sometimes they also had a good reason to act that way, however that didn't stop his protectiveness from showing up.
"Do. Not. Touch. Him." The words had left his mouth before Zoro was aware of what he was saying, and then it was the robber's turn to freeze, taken aback by the demonic presence the swordsman was now exuding.
The thug, though, recovered quickly, backing away but intimating that they should sit on the floor like everyone else. "J'ai presque fini, connards.(1)" He concluded, returning to the bank clerk who was filling a sack.
Zoro didn't need to understand French to know that was some kind of threat, he started to form a reply anyway, something that stressed the need for a doctor, but was interrupted by Sanji's voice.
"Let's sit, Marimo." The tone was quiet but firm. "There are other people here and you can't endanger them with your usual annoying behavior."
Zoro resisted the urge to teach the fucking robber a lesson; he was unarmed after all -not that he couldn't kill the moron with two fingers- but he also had a bleeding cook to take care of. Besides Sanji knew very well that hostage situations weren't Zoro's selling point, hence his advice.
So he growled in disapproval, but followed the blond as he sat down on the cold floor and leaned back against the bank wall. It seemed that the cook was calmer now. Maybe his hand wasn't hurting that much or maybe he had simply understood that this wasn't the right place and time to freak out. Zoro felt sympathy for his lover, because he had a rather good reason to panic but he just couldn't (without being a little whiny bitch, at least).
"Let me see" he said gently, sitting cross-legged in front of the blond.
"It looks like hell…" the cook whispered while the green-headed man examined the wound. Zoro realized that Sanji was trying hard not to freak out again at the visible hole in the middle of his palm.
"I see," the swordsman said softly "It doesn't seem too serious though." He then unwrapped the black piece of cloth from his muscular arm, and silently thanked that habit. All his friends -Sanji included- teased him relentlessly for wearing a black bandanna on his left arm. But now it was the perfect item to stop the bleeding of the cook's hand, so he tied it tightly around the wound. A hiss of pain escaped the cook's lips.
"Oi," Zoro admonished half-heartedly while his thumb gently brushed the pale fingers in apology. "Don't be a pansy."
Sanji simply smirked.
***
Here's the second part!
Six minutes later, the stupid robber was still collecting money, Sanji was shivering and Zoro was looking at him quizzically.
"What?!" The blond snapped after a few long seconds of scrutiny.
"You're shuddering", was the obvious statement.
"Yeah, so? It's fucking freezing here and this marble floor isn't helping."
"Pansy…"
Zoro started to unbutton his shirt though, then placed it over the shivering form of the blond, like a blanket. Sanji's expression softened, and he thanked his companion with a light nod. He then braced himself against the cold with the new layer.
The swordsman saw the blond stiffen for a moment but relaxing almost immediately.
"What's wrong with you?" He was starting to feel exasperated by the strange behavior of the cook.
"Nothing is wrong Marimo-head." Sanji sounded annoying as usual, his good mood clearly a light year off.
"You're acting weird."
Zoro felt like investigating, even if the reason was quite obvious. He just wished the jerk would finish soon, so he could bring Sanji to the hospital and, with any luck, go on enjoying their vacation the next day.
"Maybe because it's my first robbery-party. Sorry if I don't ask for a professional advice but I seem to remember your first time ended up with an explosion, right?"
"Asshole."
The idiot was fine and that had been an accident, of course.
Ten minutes later, the stupid robber was shouting at the poor clerk, Sanji was still shivering and Zoro had placed himself beside him in order to take a nap and hopefully warm up the blond. Now his soft snoring was audible even through the loud voice of the freak and also in the half-asleep state Zoro could sense the cook's irritation: Sanji hated his slumber habits8. He snuggled closer with a content sigh.
Pissing the blond off was always fun.
And then twenty minutes later the moronic robber was panicking. The police were outside, shouting something on a megaphone. Yet Sanji wasn't pay attention, he was feeling lightheaded and queasy.
Zoro was startled by a loud shout, smacking into the miserable cook who moaned in discomfort. He looked around: they were in the same pre-nap situation, nothing had changed. Then he looked at the blond: Sanji was ashen and looked like he was going to be sick at any moment. And was still fucking trembling. Damn.
Ignoring his complaints, the green-headed man put the blond on his lap and embraced the shaking form, worry creeping up again.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" It felt like holding a trembling icicle, damn it.
"I told you, nothing is wrong, just leave me alone." No insults or swearing, fight at minimum level. Something definitely wrong and range narrowed from fear to pain.
"Just try to relax, I'm sure this farce will cease soon."
"I'm not nervous, you idiot! Stop treating me like a frightened hostage. You're not credible anyway."
Zoro noticed the grumble was followed by a forceful struggle this time.
"This usually works just fine, Love Cook. Is that hurting a lot?" He then asked pointing at the bandaged hand.
The cook sighed in defeat.
"You are not going to give up, aren't you?" Zoro tightened his hold on the blond, not bothering to voice the answer. Sanji wasn't expecting one in any case.
"Not feeling so hot. I'll be fine 'cause I'll be the one taking a nap for once. Wake me up when they close the curtain."
Zoro relaxed a bit. Naps usually did good to him and the witty sarcasm was back. Maybe the situation wasn't that bad. He shifted a little until he felt that both of them were comfortable enough and snorted.
"Idiot."
After forty minutes the robber was on the phone, negotiating something with the police. Yet Zoro wasn't paying attention. Something was very wrong. Why in the world had he just thought the opposite? The blond was in a cold sweat and pale like a sheet. He had checked his hand, but that seemed ok, it wasn't even bleeding anymore. It couldn't be just the freaking hand! Sanji was fucking freezing and moaning in pain… And he seemed a little delirious too, like he was tipsy or feverish.
Something was so very wrong and Zoro was starting to hate the fucking vacation. They were supposed to spend some pleasant time in Paris, visit Zeff's damn restaurant and enjoy the city, not end up stuck in a fucking robbery-situation10 with a fucking asshole who couldn't even rob a bank without messing everything up. And he most definitely wasn't supposed to hold a suffering blond with no clue on what was ailing him. Zoro had tried so hard to remain cool, but now it was him that was on the verge of freaking out. He had constantly kept an eye on the blond and there was no doubt the cook's condition was deteriorating, really fast. The stupid robber was screwing up royally with the police and the hell with being on holiday, in a different country and without a weapon, once he found out what the fuck was hurting the cook he was going to deal with the fucking moron.
He shook the blond awake and was greeted by an unfocused and pain-clouded eye. He bristled even more, because it had been years since the last time he had seen that expression on the cook's face and he had really, really hoped not to see it again. He swallowed his worries once more though, trying to focus on the current plight rather than on sorrowful memories.
"Sanji, you've got to tell me where the pain is", so he insisted with a little squeeze of his arms.
"I think I'm gonna be sick… " the blond uttered instead.
Alarmed, the swordsman lifted the cook a bit, preventing potentially choking him. Then he started to stroke the golden locks, a gesture that always seemed to calm the blond.
"No, idiot, you won't", he then assured softly. "Take a breath, c'mon"
The cook tried to follow the advice, but whimpering he hunched over his abdomen. "Ouch… fuck!" he cursed through gritted teeth.
Zoro was startled by the sudden motion but promptly regained his composure and quickly grabbed Sanji by his shoulders, moving him away from his chest and forcing the blond to look at him.
"What, love-cook?! What hurts?" He anxiously urged.
"My stomach… I thought that… ow shit! It feels like it's burning…",
Sanji was mumbling incoherently but he didn't wait for clearer explanations. He unbuttoned Sanji's jacket, fumbling with the stupid buttons. In those frantic moments Zoro kept mentally kicking himself. What sad excuse for a cop was he? He hadn't even checked through Sanji's body, his attention on the fucking hand all the fucking time. His chest tightened and he silently gaped at the huge bloodstain in the blue shirt. He couldn't believe his eyes.
Fucking black jacket had hidden the stain all the time.
And again that was a view he had desperately wished not to see again.
Predictably the first word that slipped from his lips after the visual shock was a curse.
"Holy shit." Two words, actually.
"What?!" the cook demanded strangely aware and quite alarmed by the seriousness of his tone.
Ignoring the blond and his questioning look, Zoro laid him on the floor, using the jacket as a pillow, and took off the soaked item, glancing at the oozing wound in Sanji's left side. Too much blood was covering his abdomen, crimson color more intense due to the paleness of his skin.
The situation was seriously getting on his nerves. Zoro didn't know who was going to kill first, the cook, the fucking weirdo or himself. A hole in the belly. For fuck's sake. Sanji needed to see a doctor immediately. By what Zoro could observe the cook was definitely suffering from massive blood loss and rapidly going into shock. He knew a couple of thing about first-aid but he didn't fucking know what the bullet had pierced and all he could do was trying to stop the fucking bleeding. So he pulled off Sanji's undershirt and pressed it with force on the wound, causing another moan, almost a cry this time, from the wriggling blond who was frantically trying to escape the excruciating weight.
Stupid, idiotic shitty-cook!
How could he have been so stupid and not have figured that out sooner? He should have stopped the bleeding sooner- And how could someone end up with a hole in the belly and only notice a stupid scratch on his hand?
FUCK!
Damn cook and his fucking priorities and damn the shock that hadn't let them think straight during the entire ordeal.
"Stop, Zoro… Mpf"
Sanji was biting his lip, and he finally noticed that the cook was writhing under the pressure of his hand, so he stopped his mental cursing. Zoro realized that being angry wasn't a solution. He was hurting him more and God knew the idiot was suffering enough.
When the hell had he become so liable to freak out?
He loosened up the pressure, adjusting the blond head on his bent legs, silky hair grazing his bare hipbone.
"Sorry…", he then murmured apologetically, squeezing the blond shoulder to stress his word. He couldn't even continue with the soothing gesture on the bangs, 'cause also his free hand was covered in blood due to the prior examination. And that stupid, simple thought put the swordsman on the verge of despair again, making him feel more useless and guilty than ever.
It was Sanji's voice that drove him back to reality.
"Still feeling like crap though…" the blond deadpanned.
The idiot!
"I bet, dumbass! You got an open hole in your stomach too!" Was the frustrated reply, his temper rising again but such a better feeling compared to the previous.
"Oh, thank god…" Sanji sighed with relief, provoking a jolt in the man who's holding him.
"For what?!" Zoro asked in astonishment after a second of gaping. "Are you going nuts, crap-cook?"
"Oh shut up, Marimo! I was starting to think that I was a pansy for real…" Sanji responded with a smirk, masking the umpteenth grimace of pain.
Zoro chuckled, his heart lighter as new determination was flooding in his veins. Sanji always managed to ease his mind, even with the most innocent statements. He laid a light kiss on the cook's head. That was exactly why he loved the idiot so-
Another cry from the robber and a crash broke his thoughts off: the moron had just thrown the phone that was using to communicate with the Police, hitting a poor woman.
And that was enough. Zoro was going to put an end to the freaking situation once and for all.
(1)I'm almost done, fuckers.