Hello, welcome to my first ever story published on here... Um, hope you enjoy it. Major shout out to SerpentWolfFang for betaing this for me, and encouraging me to actually do something with this, you rock!


Zoro wasn't sure when this became normal and he honestly couldn't remember when things had really started. When did a door slamming in the middle of the night wake him so easily? Roronoa Zoro, soon to be the greatest swordsman in the world, who routinely slept through marine attacks. He cracked open one bleary eye and looked towards the door, listening to the quick steps echoing down the hall. Groaning he sat up in the bunk, cradling his head in his hands. It had to be almost three in the morning.

"Zoro." Luffy's soft voice made the swordsman look up across the room at his captain. The boy glanced at the door then looked back to Zoro, tilting his head in question.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going," Zoro groaned. He tugged on his boots, and debated momentarily on bringing his swords. No, he should be fine. They had only just recently left port, and Nami had said the next island wasn't for another two weeks or so, provided the nice weather held out. Plus, the longer stretch between islands decreased the likely hood of any marine bases being close by or them running into a patrolling ship.

"I'll bring them up if you need them." Luffy smiled at the swordsman before pulling the infamous straw hat back down over his face.

"Thanks," Zoro mumbled, still not quite awake. He moved as quietly as possible across the room, softly shutting the door behind him. He yawned and cracked his neck as he made his way up the stairs of the Sunny.

Standing out on the grass deck he arched his back, stretching more of his body in an attempt to chase away the lingering fuzziness that came with being woken up out of a deep sleep. He couldn't help but think about how easy it was for him to wake up from a dead sleep now-a-days. Whether that was from the individual he was about to go deal with, or just life on the sea he couldn't say, though he begrudgingly thought the former was the cause.

Looking up at the night sky he also couldn't help but wonder why exactly Luffy had decided to wake him up the first time this had happened. It had to have been shortly after Sanji had joined; the rubber captain had woken him up in the middle of the night telling him he needed to go up to the galley. Memories of Arlong Park still fresh, his sleep deprived state of mind had thought they were under attack and he remembered rushing into the kitchen swords drawn expecting Marines, rival pirates, hell he wouldn't've even batted an eye if goddamn mermen had been attacking again.

Instead he had found a very different situation.

Starting to feel more awake he took one last look up at the sky before making his way towards the kitchen. The strong smell of cigarette smoke and the sound of dishes crashing and being hastily moved around announced to him the sort of night it was. He slowly opened the door, squinting at the accompanying blue haze. Damn, he didn't think he had taken that long getting up. Either that or tonight was worse than he had expected.

"Sanji," he called, looking around for the chef. Pots and pans were scattered across the prep counters and miscellaneous plates and flatware were haphazardly scattered across the table. He sighed, definitely worse than he had thought. A loud thump followed by an even louder, "SHIT!" from the back of the kitchen told him where the blonde cook had hidden himself.

"Sanji?" Zoro called again, poking his head into the pantry to see a disheveled Sanji pushing a sack of potatoes off of himself. "What are you doing?" He couldn't help but smile a little, it was an amusing sight in spite of the situation.

Sanji all but snarled as he stood and shoved the offending fifty pound bag of vegetables back into its spot. He fixed Zoro with a glare that was a little too panicked for the swordsman's liking before gritting out, "counting."

"I can see that," Zoro said flatly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the man. "Why are you counting? We shipped out from port two days ago."

"Because," Sanji snapped, pushing a shaking hand through his hair before lighting another cigarette. He turned his back to Zoro, hands running over the supplies in front of him. He was muttering under his breath as he continued counting, apparently ignoring the fact that the shelves were so full they were practically bursting.

At this Zoro did roll his eyes before heading back over to the counters. He found it was best not to intervene with the cook's counting on nights like this. The first time he tried he had a less than pleasant encounter with Sanji's boots. The blow had taken him by surprise and sent him crashing through the Merry's small kitchen. He was lucky that, at the time, his chest wound had been mostly healed other wise the force of the kick might have opened it back up. They hadn't yet run into Chopper, and the thought of sewing himself up on his own again still gave the swordsman chills.

As he listened to Sanji rummage around the kitchen pantry Zoro did some searching of his own though the cabinets. He first grabbed a package of ground coffee, then Robin's box of assorted teas and set that aside on the crowded counter top. Opening the bag in his hand, Zoro practically groaned at the heavenly aroma, it was seriously too damn early. After dumping some grounds into a filter and placing that loudly into the coffee maker, he grabbed the pot to fill with water.

"Hey mosshead don't fucking touch my pots," Sanji yelled.

"I'm not touching your shitty pots, love cook," Zoro called back, shutting off the tap and pouring the water into the machine. Flipping the switch on he turned to his next task, tea.

Zoro browsed through the collection of teas until he found what he was looking for: chamomile. Setting that bag aside he grabbed the kettle from the stove, filled it with water and set it to boil. Next he filled a small mesh ball with the dried leaves, closing it and while he was snagging a clean mug hanging from the back wall, hooked the little ball and chain to the cup. On second thought, he grabbed one for himself as well for when the coffee finished. While waiting for the water to boil he ran over the past few day's events, trying to think of anything that might have triggered this behavior in the cook. Nothing easily came to mind, leaving him frowning at the kettle.

The first few times this had happened Zoro hadn't thought much of Sanji's behavior, he had just chalked it up to simple insanity. The fact that Luffy had kept asking him to go up and talk to him during these episodes had pissed him off to no end. He really didn't get along with the cook and hated the idea of loosing a night of sleep thanks to his odd behavior. But, an order from Luffy couldn't be ignored for long. So, after a few bruised ribs and sleepless nights under his belt, he slowly started getting more of a handle on reading the blonde.

He didn't discover the real reason behind these episodes until after several failed attempts at calming the blonde, when he finally stumbled upon the tea remedy.

After a few times of trying (and failing) to make any conversational headway with Sanji - and some very one sided conversations with Luffy - Zoro was ready to give up. Frustrated and feeling like he was close to his breaking point, he tried something on a whim, tea. Nami swore it was the best way to relax at the end of a long day, and the swordsman was quite frankly desperate. Chamomile tea to be precise; he had found was the most soothing, and usually helped calm the cook enough that Zoro felt secure in leaving him to his own devices, fairly confident that the worst of any attack had passed. The attacks began to lessen after that discovery, dropping from roughly once a week to once a month at worst, and strangely, Zoro found himself becoming less and less annoyed with Sanji. Yes, they still argued like hell, and constantly intentionally pissed each other off, but it felt more like friendly teasing than outright hostility.

The soft whistle of the kettle water beginning to boil brought the swordsman out of his thoughts. As he poured water for the cooks tea, the coffee machine gurgled as it finished brewing. He quickly made himself a cup, taking a few sips of the heavenly liquid. Topping off his glass, he took the two drinks over to the galley table carefully moving a few stacks of plates onto another counting before setting them down. Certain none of the remaining smaller piles of dishes would fall, he turned back to the pantry.

"Oi, curly brow," he called, poking is head back in. Sanji was standing still, his back to Zoro, a hand running repeatedly through blonde hair, while the other held his cigarette. "Oi," Zoro repeated, making the cook jump.

"What?" he all but snarled.

Zoro rolled his eyes. "Stop counting and come sit down before I drag your lanky ass out here and make you."

Sanji gave him assessing look, as if deciding whether or not to take the swordsman's threat seriously. Evidently Zoro's unimpressed scowl was enough to convince him to relent, and he exhaled a long stream of smoke before snubbing the cigarette out and heading over to the table. He dropped down into his seat with a weary sigh and droop of his shoulders. Zoro shut the door to the pantry and sat down beside the cook, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Zoro?" Sanji's voice wavered a bit, and his hands still shook slightly as he pulled the mesh ball from his cup of tea. "Thanks."

Zoro grunted, taking another sip of his coffee. No, that wasn't a smile he was hiding behind the mug. As he watched Sanji take a drink of the tea, his shoulder visibly relaxing, he couldn't help but feel some relief himself.

They sat in quite silence for a while. Zoro thought back to the first night he had gotten Sanji to drink the tea. After hauling the cook to the small table back on Merry, and forcing him to sit still for one moment dammit; he finally had calmed down enough to focus on the drink. He had been skeptical and accused Zoro of attempting to poison him, but had eventually tried it. The change had been almost instant as his whole body practically melted, slumping against the table while he cradled the mug.

After a few sips in the silence, he finally started talking and Zoro had listened quietly as Sanji told him a story. A story about when Sanji was young and a storm had caused him and the crazy chef back at The Baratie to end up stranded on a rock in the middle of the ocean. A story about how they survived for longer than should have been humanly possible, and of the grisly things they had done to survive – before, by some miracle, being rescued. Zoro had sat quietly, listening and looking at man before him a new found respect and understanding.

Post traumatic stress disorder, PTSD, was the most likely cause of the cook's behavior, according to Chopper. Something would trigger Sanji's memories of his time on the rock, putting him in a state of panic. His obsessive counting of their food stores was born from his anxiety about such an event happening again and taking every possible precaution to ensure the crew was prepared for the worst case scenario. The triggers could be almost anything thing, sometimes large and obvious, sometimes smaller and more subtle. As Zoro interacted with the chef more, he slowly began to pinpoint the things that triggered the cook. A storm passing by the in the distance for example, or long, monotonous stretches of time on the sea between islands. Days when the crew had been particularly rowdy at meal times often triggered the worst attacks. Sometimes, though, he wasn't sure what triggered the blonde, and just did his best to help.

Sanji leaning against him startled him out of his thoughts. He blinked down at the lanky man slumped against him. This was certainly different.

"Hey, shit cook," he murmured, jostling him. Sanji groaned, shuffling closer and resting his head on Zoro's shoulder. After a moment the blonde moved again, frowning and arranging arranging the two of them so the swordsman's arm was wrapped around his shoulders. Seemingly happy with this new position he sighed, relaxing against Zoro's chest.

As he looked down at the of lanky blonde currently content to curl up against him Zoro stubbornly tried to deny the warm glow of affection growing in his chest. The cooks breathing was slowing and growing more rhythmic as he seemed to be falling asleep. The swordsman debated for a moment on if he should wake the cook up, but decided against it.

Whether Zoro had intended too or not, the stupid cook had become someone important to him; someone who was quickly surpassing the title of friend, even perhaps of nakama. Wondering briefly to himself if Luffy had expected something like this to happen he dropped a quick kiss into soft blonde hair. "Shitty cook," he breathed. "You don't have to thank me."