Prompt from Candy-of-Doom: ZoSan(or SanZo). Gay chicken game.
It was extremely frustrating to be so evenly matched in strength and skill. Every one of their fights ended in a draw. Of course, they never aimed to actually hurt each other (at least not beyond the inevitable bruise or scratch), but whenever one managed to land a clean hit or came close to hitting a vital spot, the other met it with a hit or threat of their own. There was a perfect balance between the two of them, and it was irritating beyond belief.
"How about from now on, the first one to pull back loses?" Nami suggested innocently to the men that were currently getting into each other's faces. She'd had about enough of their arguing over who was better.
Sanji pulled away from his argument with Zoro and sent her a questioning look.
"What was that, Nami-swan?"
"See how close you are right now? From now on, whoever moves away, on their own with no shoving," she added with a warning look to both of them. "Will be the loser," she finished, standing from the table and leaving the galley.
She was sure they'd be standing there all day, neither daring to move away from the other. She was looking forward to a very quiet afternoon.
Sanji looked back to Zoro. They stood only a few inches apart, glaring at each other as if their looks could intimidate the other into backing away. They stayed locked in this hateful staring match for several minutes before and idea occurred to Zoro.
"You know, Cook," Zoro's smile turned predatory, they way it looked just before he cut his enemies in half. "She never said anything about not moving closer."
With that said, Zoro moved a step closer, invading Sanji's personal space entirely. Sanji let out a sort of choked noise in displeasure, and moved to take a step backwards before freezing.
No way was he going to let the marimo win this one, two could play at that game.
As close as Zoro's step had brought them, Sanji moved closer still, shoving his face into Zoro's the way they usually did when they fought, but given the circumstances this was far more unnerving.
Sanji smirked up at Zoro, challenge lighting his eyes as he dared the marimo to keep his place.
Zoro wasn't afraid of a little challenge though. He welcomed it, in fact. He knew how to win this particular battle. All this time of knowing the cook he knew the man's weaknesses. A lover of women but a hater of men, this wasn't the kind of game Sanji could win at.
Zoro placed a warm hand on the cook's leg. Starting just above his knee, and innocent neutral zone, Zoro dragged his palm up, feeling the muscles tense beneath the finely tailored pants. He kept eye contact with Sanji, watching the cook for a sign of defeat as his hand reached the cook's upper thigh and up to his hip.
Sanji swallowed down his revulsion. The urge to pull away from the touchy marimo nearly overwhelmed him, but he held his ground. He'd faced tougher enemies than some shitty green-haired swordsman, and he was going to lose so easily.
Instead of backing down, Sanji's own hand moved up Zoro's arm, fingers gently caressing but the tanned skin from wrist to shoulder, and across to the marimo's neck. His fingers held the skin and muscle there, gently, and he used it as leverage to pull himself closer, their foreheads were so close now Zoro's features were blurred to Sanji's eyes, but the cook was fairly sure he could see the discomfort in them.
Zoro was still for a long moment, unsure of how to continue. With no space between them he was running out of options. But he knew, knew, Sanji would be giving in any moment now. He just needed one final trick.
The hand not resting on the cook's hip moved, trailing up Sanji's spine with it's fingertips. While his hand moved, Zoro tilted his head just slightly, bringing them closer still. Their breath mingling as they each took shallow breaths.
Their lips touched, hardly, just the barest brush Zoro's sun dried lips against Sanji's much softer, smoke flavored lips before they sprang apart instantaneously.
Zoro spat, rubbing viciously at his mouth with the back of his hand as if he could scrub away the memory with it.
"What the hell, Cook?!" He shouted in between swipes.
Sanji had spun quickly and turned on the faucet, letting the water run over his mouth, spitting and sputtering under the stream.
"Me?" He cried, pulling away from the water just long enough to speak. "You're the one that kissed me!"
"I did not!" Zoro argued. His mouth was sore and red from his scrubbing, but he could still feel the shitty bastards lips against his. "Whatever. You pulled away first anyway. I win."
"What!?" Sanji hissed venomously, twisting around so quickly that his back popped. "We pulled away at the same time! If anything I was faster because it takes longer for things to sink in through all that moss!" He shouted.
"What the hell did you say?!" Zoro shouted back.
It was only a few minutes later that the galley door banged open and Zoro and Sanji emerged, exchanging blows and insults and generally ruining the peace of the day. Nami sighed heavily. They hadn't even lasted as long as she'd hoped they would.