Sanji had taken more than enough blows for one day. He was overwhelmed.
His world seemed as though it had been turned on its head, its contents shaken and scattered about only to see that what remained turned out all incompatible from what he'd always thought. A recipe known by rote with ingredients that suddenly didn't measure out quite right.
Male pride was replaced by a pitiable form, jealousy and scorn binding his head into a serious ache as it rest on the galley's table for some time, arms wrapping around his temples and crown as if that had ever helped anything at all. To try to alleviate something, anything of what he felt, he attempted to conjure the image of his beloved mermaids in his mind, imagining them languishing in sunshine-warmed, tropical waters. But their indecent curves were quickly and invariably sent adrift to thoughts of hard bodies, scales to scars, plush red lips to a thin pink - a chapped backdrop for a cocky, lop-sided smirk. And among the many fish in the sea (both proverbial and not-so), one stood out in the many, and Sanji imagined what it might be like to drift into him, look into his eyes for the first time as he never had bothered before - explore the unknown where his enmity had filled in the blanks as too dull and predictable to merit more than a cursory glance. Truly, truly gaze into that suddenly-alluring darkness, let it envelope him as only muscular arms and legs could, and drag him down into unfathomable depths.
And maybe, somewhere deep down in there, clarity. He didn't want to admit that he had a blind-spot as far as Zoro's better qualities were concerned, but he admired Law just enough to trust (if not fully respect) that something was there. In those suddenly playful expressions, off-character shows of affection, or just maybe in that language of the body that he had never been able to translate. Nor had he ever really tried to understand.
His attraction to Law had been unprecedented. But it was all... this was all different. Breath-taking and crushing. Awing yet awful. And it wasn't one-hundred percent wrong, what the man had said to him - it was true that hatred was easier than longing, but whether or not it applied to his situation was a deliberation that would necessitate more cigarettes and wine bottles than he had time in the world to go through before a conclusion could be made. In the meanwhile, he wondered if there couldn't be something better he could think of that might also be easier than just riding out his pain, his jealousy. Something he could place in its stead. But nothing he immediately thought of would distract from it, and it didn't help to have any more answers than he had some hours prior, but likely made it all worse.
What would take away from loving someone you could not even touch?
But not 'love', exactly. That was too much, a bit premature, and immature.
'Feelings'. Vague and stupid and unexplainable. Wanting something, but never knowing exactly what it was, and in that short period of his indecision nigh on an almost-denial, had slipped from him before he could even delve through any of the details.
Longing. Absent of definition. Loathing. For a little bit of everything, but mostly his own self.
And a heart that had a knack for always getting in the way.
Always pounding.
Always resounding.
Even then, thudding anxiously in his chest as the galley door opened and his heavy eyes did the same, watching as the shape of three-swords adjoining a long shadow against the wall emerged and then disappeared just as quickly. In the way that palpitations come and go, they slowed and stabilized with footsteps that left into the kitchen and he could have sighed aloud in relief - maybe he did, maybe he didn't, maybe maybe, maybe not caring as much as he should have at a bit of clamoring in his domain that may or may not have been a swordsman getting into his shit. Or breaking things. Or breaking the lock on the fridge. At that point, he didn't care, so long as he found what he needed and got the fuck out.
Pulse.
(Please just go away, Zoro).
Pulse.
(I want to be left alone).
Palpitate.
(I hate this).
But that was never how things worked, and Zoro came back, pausing at Sanji's side. His chest seized up entirely and something hardened like the formation of a rock in his trachea that he struggled to swallow back before it choked him, before he was reduced to common tears, when a firm hand touched upon his shoulder. With a gentle squeeze, as if to ask him 'are you okay?' (it was a stupid question, anyway) - he'd expected only antagonism, not a show of concern, but he hadn't it in him to bother complaining. It was almost laughable, fled of his last shreds of his dignity to be Sanji-like and shrug Zoro away with some biting insult as he was typically wont to do. But there was nothing more to cling to than the swordsman himself, the fragments of his remaining pride too tiny to be worthwhile, and so he allowed the man that small liberty. Zoro had never been good with words in situations like these, he knew, but they weren't needed anyway. His actions did the talking in his voice's stead-
What, shitty-cook?
What's really bothering you?
As Sanji sighed deeply, Zoro's grip on him tightened, almost imperceptibly.
- Never mind, I know that it's me.
Sanji wondered for a moment as sat there in his inarticulate slouch, how Zoro had always displayed large kindness only to children and small animals, or other defenseless and weak things that couldn't help themselves to defy their nature. He wondered how non-adult he really illustrated himself to fit into that spectrum.
Why (are you suddenly being so good to me)?
Why (does it make me feel so small)?
How pathetic did one really need to be, how remarkably powerless and how childlike?
That thought - that word made his hand drop from the table to grasp onto Zoro's thigh, the closest part of him that he could reach, and dig his fingers in deeply with secret meaning. The man was physically rock-solid everywhere - Sanji was too in his own way, in so much less mass - but he could notice the difference from this vantage, how their bearings were all shifted around, and he wondered if it had always been this way. He wondered how long he had been oblivious to how developed Zoro truly had become over time. A man now, capable of seeing something, liking it, and going for it without tripping over his own heartstrings, and welcoming it that quickly into his bed.
"You stink like sex, Marimo," he finally said, snorting derisively at his companion, but it was half-hearted, really. "If you haven't washed that hand on me, I swear that I'll fucking kill you."
An amused huff, soft breath of air, but Zoro said nothing and that was just as well. Sanji hadn't the energy to fight with him, for once. Just let things be and allowed the swordsman to do as he liked; it didn't matter at this point, in any event... or so he thought. Because he hadn't expected the unexpected, Zoro leaning over him to wrap him up in his arms properly and hold him against his naked chest, still absent of his coat. A touch of lips in his tousled hair came so gently that it might have just been an illusion that it'd happened at all, only Sanji's imagination that the slightest movement shifting the air was more than merely that. Just air. Maybe a distant hope for some form of validation because the other man's skin was so warm that he couldn't help but press his cheek into it with no excuses for his actions. So very, very warm. And despite all put-on pretense, the heady fragrance of his body - sweat, sex, virility, adulthood - it all smelled so good.
"You're thinking too loud," Zoro eventually said, his voice low but seeming so large and significant, "I can feel all that noise in your head and that says something; my kenbunshoku haki is kind of shit, but I can still tell that you're being a moron from the other side of the ship. You want something that you can't have, but you can't have anything because you never even try, and you're all that surprised that you've got nothing?"
"You know that's bullshit. I try. I give everyone my fucking all - every women I've ever admired. I mean, look at Nami - I devote everything to her and you know that. But the first male I'd ever met that I'd actually wanted, I barely even had a chance to think of the possibility -" He pulled away from muscular arms when he would have rather stayed as long as possible and let himself drown into that alluring blend of Law-scent on Zoro-skin, magnified by his immense body heat.
Instead, he found himself looking the man squarely in the eye as it was what the situation seemed to call for. And unfortunately, Sanji was always calling the loudest, even when he never meant to.
"And I think about you like I can't fucking help it - whatever the hell you are - you're the only person I can't figure out now. I've never known you to want anything. Or anyone. Until now." He swallowed thickly. "You and Law seem to get it on just fine, anyway, and I'd hardly say either of you tried at all."
"Hn. True, but I'd chalk that up to chemistry. Physically, yeah, its all pretty effortless - no one has ever made me feel as good as he does. I'd be surprised if anyone else could get close to his level," Zoro admitted quietly, meeting his gaze, "But I did at least flirt with him a little. Kind of made innuendos, but I didn't think he'd act on it. Especially as quickly as he caught on. It's not like I'm a virgin or anything, but that guy knows his stuff. And exactly what I like, better than I even do." He gave a satisfied grin while Sanji felt his throat go dry and stiff. There was probably a deeper meaning to the fact that both swordsmen over-shared their stance towards their sexual escapades with each other when neither were the sharing type. Not in any sense. He really didn't want to know any more, nor explore why that was, pressing his lips together into a thin line as though trying to keep the questions and comments from popping out.
But he had also said it himself - I can't fucking help it.
"So I heard. And saw. But I didn't think you had really talked, at least no more than the two of you getting all hot under the collar over a shitty sword before hopping into the sack together."
Zoro, simple-minded as he was, reverently eying the beautifully well-crafted blade that always accompanied the shichibukai. Acting as though he could practically get off on the thing, traipsing his fingertips so delicately and deliberately, smoothing them up and down's the swords hilt as though it were-
It were-
... Oh.
Just "Oh."
Phallic symbolism then, was it?
"Oh, God damn it, you stupid, shitty moss ball, where the hell have I been and when did you learn how to be that slick?" And for how long had he been reading the man's motives so erroneously? He exhaled deeply as he continued, "You've definitely changed... I guess have too, without noticing. We all have to at some point, even if not at the same pace. I guess that's why personal revelations always happen when you least expect them." And the meaning to those words... he'd care not to embellish, and it likely wasn't necessary, anyway.
He turned away from the swordsman and towards the tabletop again, palming his face and running his fingers upwards into his hair. He could hear Zoro move around him, making himself useful for once in his life for more than just stabbing things with pointy objects (or making sexual innuendos with them, apparently), collecting the empty glasses and Law's plate from the table. It reminded him that he had better things to do than sulk all day, but heartache had the better of his more industrious nature.
"Maybe. I've been kept too constantly busy the last few years for any of those. But if it'll help you feel settled, Cook, I can take some time after we finish our business with Doflamingo to rethink things over. And then I'll let you know what I find. But that's not the kind of shit that just happens in a day."
Sanji tilted his head at that, eying the swordsman askance as the man busied himself in filling the sink with soap and water. He hadn't even noticed that he'd brought in all of the lunch dishes from outside when he'd first came in. It was strangely thoughtful of him, his actions and words both. If Zoro'd meant what he thought he'd meant...
"You..."
Why (would you do that)?
"I'll think things over," Zoro repeated firmly, "Later."
"But Law, though..."
"Isn't gonna be here," Zoro answered to his unasked question, an unhappy growl subtly tinging his voice though Sanji couldn't wager a guess at whether it was meant towards the situation or towards himself in a loss of patience. Either way, it was a little (unadmittedly) attractive. "But while he is, it's exactly what I want right now. I'd like to keep seeing him, if he'd let me, but I don't think he's likely to go for that. The timing isn't exactly great, here."
"I can see that much; Law mentioned something of a similar vein... but if that's what you want, then what the fuck is stopping you? You can't have anything when you never even try - that sound familiar?"
Zoro sighed irately with his submerged hands stilling for a moment. "Yeah, but you also said it yourself, that you didn't have time to think of the possibility. I don't need to." He moved on to the next plate. "Like this alliance, it's only temporary. It serves both of our purposes for now, but after this is all said and done, if there's anywhere else to go but against each other... I can't see it."
"I can," Sanji replied easily.
He can and he could because, while he was a stranger to homosexual coupling, he knew how to read emotions, no haki required. Ever the expert in how it was to dream a dream and lose it (yourself) to something that others would call less grandiose only because they simply couldn't understand until they saw it for themselves (a calling; something you needed to answer to, damn the consequences, and damn what anyone else thought).
"Is that so?"
It was so. The mad feeling of confusion and hiding it behind a mask of indifference (why do you want it? why can't you forget about it? why does it soothe your soul and split it into twos by one-and-the-same gestures?) The losing of control, forgetting what's supposed to be more important to you (All Blue) and your focus just narrows to nothing (nothing at all) but (the heart's) desire. The thing that you want just for yourself alone. A certain someone you want beside you that assures you that your dreams still matter. That you matter.
"I know the look in that man's eyes, Zoro..."
The way that Sanji looked at mermaids.
The way Zoro sometimes (but platonically) looked at Luffy -
(The beginnings of a new dream.. fresh, tentative, and uncertain, but there, regardless).
- however significant... wasn't Sanji's place to reconcile for them. And so, "It worries me," he continued to say as he looked on towards Zoro doing what was supposed to be his job, rather guiltlessly swerving this subject off its course. "He looks at you like he wants to make you dirty."
The swordsman paused and glanced over his shoulder, his grin fierce.
"I know he does. I like it."
"Of course you do. I'm sure you also like it when he donkey punches you before he... Ugh. Never mind. Just... be careful. If I ever have to overhear a safe word out of you more than once, don't think that I won't hesitate to kill him," Sanji sighed, disturbed by his own line of thought as he reached for his cigarette pack, tapping one free. "Or whatever. You're both creepy as fuck. You're probably made for each other."
Zoro hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing but said nothing, and Sanji was grateful for that - the sound of the dishes clacking together in the sink made everything feel a bit more ordinary, made him feel like things made more sense. Even if the swordsman washing them himself voluntarily without being harassed or blackmailed into doing so was vastly outside their established conventions. Much like the fact that Zoro had tried at lending him some comfort, had held him like a friend, like a brother - as though he were loved - had showed him some amount of empathy and wasn't met entirely with a kick upside the head in exchange for his effort.
As he thought on it, he likened the moment to something as anomalous as being cradled in the arms of a large dragon. A human could never feel entirely at ease in such a stiff, unpracticed show of warmth, but being that unpracticed was what made it infinitely poignant. Such an atypical, surprising, beautiful and profound thing. The fact that Sanji had so easily let him go seemed almost criminal now that it was over and done with. Being cared for like that... made him feel...
Feel...
He flicked his cigarette ashes in the tray with a one-two-three tap.
Feelings.
If it could happen again, perhaps being pathetic and weak had its own set of perks.
And perhaps it was better if the two swordsmen never figured out just how common the ground was that they both tread upon before parting ways. It was selfish, but then, Sanji had never claimed to be a saint, and had plenty of perverse thoughts running through his mind at any given point to prove that. Still, if it meant that he didn't have to feel so alone and unwanted anymore... even if he had to hurt someone else, too... sigh. That he was even vaguely entertaining the thought of sacrificing his nakama's happiness for his own was completely and utterly fucked up and made him feel like an even worse pile of crap than anything Law'd had to say.
"Knock it off over there, shitty cook - I can hear your brain simmering from here."
He looked up at that, eyes boring a hole into the back of the swordsman's head at his rather idiotic and sorry attempt at a cook pun. "Idiot. You can't actually hear my thoughts, can you?"
"Thankfully, no," Zoro replied, somewhat belatedly as he swapped one dish in hand for another, "But I can tell you're over-thinking shit. If you've really got so much free time, you should spend it trying harder not to be a dumb ass."
"Yeah, free time, says the man doing my chores for me." But he didn't quite feel like fully rising up to the bait, no matter how tempting - he, after all, wasn't the one who spent half his day staring at the back of his eyelids and/or the bottom of a sake barrel. When not training, that is, and Sanji didn't have adequate enough free time as he'd like for that, either. Though it wasn't a complaint. Merely a fact.
"And anyway," he continued, "I have every right to have a lot on my mind, asshole. Not everyone is just as fuck-all satisfied as you are with just doing or saying the first thing that comes to mind, damn the consequences. I'm out of my element, here, and it makes me all-" like a little kid all along, playing pretend at being a man... but Sanji would never share that thought aloud. He sighed, stubbing out his cigarette, his nerves still all a'fray. "I don't know. Like my skin doesn't fit right. Like I'm a waste of it entirely. And it's stupid, but I feel like I'm going to be just as unwanted the rest of my life as Law made it very clear that I am right now. It's always the same, and I can't take this shit anymore."
Zoro openly scoffed at that - rudely, bluntly and as insensitive to Sanji's confession as anyone would expect of him as he turned to look at him over his shoulder. "Then fucking do something about it - take some goddamn initiative instead of acting all lovesick and hoping something comes of it. What did you even say to Law, anyway? Instead of doing the right thing and shoving your tongue down his throat to get your point across, you got all desperate with him and made pathetic heart eyes like a moron. Am I right?"
"What? Fuck you! No, I..." he faltered there, because it wasn't the way that Zoro had put it, but desperate might have been close enough of a word to be the correct one for how he had behaved. But he had zero interest in letting the swordsman weigh in on the conversation he'd had with the shichibukai, for several reasons, though humiliation was far up on the list. And not so keen on giving him ammunition for future insult-wars, in any event. "We just talked, and it went bad - he fucking cut me down before I could barely get a word out... let alone try and make out with him like a fucking barbarian... what the hell, Marimo? I'd just caught you two half-naked together doing God-only-knows-what to each other. What kind of an asshole would do that to his nakama?"
"I don't know - do we really look that conventional to you to give a shit? You keep talking as if this is more complex than it actually is-" Zoro flicked his hands free of dishwater, wiping them dry on his pant legs as he turned to give the cook his full regard, weight resting back against the counter top. "Well. Is and isn't. Everything is always pervaded by complications. Nothing is really pure, or black and white, and everything is convoluted. But if you let that scare you off, then you are an idiot and a coward. In this instance, you should already be aware that your chances with Law and actually having a normal relationship are basically zilch even without me standing in the way. He has his own ship, and crew, and goals, and they aren't ours. This overlap is temporary. You get that? So what would you have done with knowing that - let it go?"
"Probably... I don't know. I don't exactly enjoy signing myself up to be hurt," he huffed in reply.
"Yeah, that's part of your problem. You can't know that you're going to get hurt. And even then, so fucking what? Experiencing a full gamut of emotions, especially the bitter ones, makes you stronger for them in the end - they're necessary. You can try and wait for everything to be sunshine and rainbows and blah blah blah and treat love like it only happens when its pretty because you think its the right thing to do, but its all just a cover for what you're really feeling, which is afraid. Of getting hurt, or losing a part of yourself if you give in to more honest, base actions. I'm not always satisfied, but I know I can trust my gut, because I have a shitload of experience in making these kinds of choices. So do you. You just start being a total pushover when it involves romance as if it makes that huge of a difference, when we both know that you know better than to think you're going to be all broken if your choice isn't always the right one."
And with that, the swordsman turned back to his task almost dismissively, letting his words sink into the cook as they hit every nail painfully on every head and left him stunned with their jarring impact. This wasn't the first time that random bits of actual wisdom came from the man's mouth, incredibly rare, and shocking the hell out of Sanji in its occurrence, revealing from time to time that Zoro was more than a monosyllabic, petulant asshole and a metric fuckload more thoughtful and perceptive and sagacious than he never let on. Or really liked to let on. And how does one measure a fuckload metrically, anyway? Does a load of fuck come by volume? Either way, it came so infrequently that sometimes it was too easy to forget how much depth the swordsman actually had at the fine, bottom line of that seemingly black and white (and green) psyche... that actually held quite the spectrum of colors, when he bothered to give it more than just a cursory glance.
"Both looks and brains, I do like that in a man," came a soft drawl from the doorway that gave the cook a start, though the swordsman reacted as though he'd almost expected Law to be lurking there - as if that always had been the case. Propped against the frame with the most delicate, bare hints of a smile toying at the corner of his cupid-bow lips, casual, temperate as always, bastard that he was. Why did he always insist on looking so damn good?
"Don't get your expectations up too much in the brains department or you'll be setting yourself up for disappointment," Sanji replied, shoving his anguish from his expression and down into his stomach as he stood, rolling up his sleeves to nudge Zoro aside and away from the sudsy water with his elbow bumping into his ribcage, "It happens sometimes that he's got something good to say, but his two working brain cells rotate in a lunar cycle - it'll be another full month before you'll ever see them realign."
Zoro scowled at him and opened his mouth for inevitable rejoin, which would have likely consisted of his extended vocabulary of insults and a possible threat on one or more parts of him being cut off, or just a threat on the cook's life in general... but then decided against it. Largely in part to Sanji leveling him with a look and subtle jerk of his head over his shoulder towards Law's direction in indication that he should go on and join the other man in whatever horrifically debauched activity they had planned for the rest of the afternoon/early evening.
But he couldn't have them thinking that this was a kindness on his part, because that wasn't entirely true. Despite what Zoro had said and however much shitty sense it made, he still needed his space to think, but disguised it as such:
"Now get the fuck out, both of you - I have actual work I need to do."
"One moment, Kuroashi-ya." The expression Law adorned himself with was deliberately coy while the rest of him remained characteristically neutral, detached and aloof, relaxing in his posture with one ankle crossing against the other. Casual. Maddening. Calculating. "I wish to demonstrate something that may be of further insight. Are you interested?"
He swallowed down hard, sharply, looking back at Law apprehensively, wondering just how much he was going to regret his reply of, "... Yeah, sure." More lightly put than a sudden awful, very bad feeling worming through his gut as swordsman and doctor traded glances, communicating something between them in the language they shared of subtle nuance in body and eyes. A feeling all the more exacerbated by the silence stretching the room that provoked more questions out of him than it did anything else and answered nothing. As frustrating and rudimentary as an infatuation growing with no actual precedent, or the stance of a man-gone-mysterious that he'd thought he'd known all of the pieces of, all his in's-and-out's, until placed into the context of being someone else's lover.
A silence seemed to reign on and on and on, the moment punctuated by ellipses between his pins and needles and the frustrating taciturn look that Law offered as his only reply.
Dot. Dot. Dot.
Question mark?
"Oi, cook, stop looking at him and look at me."
Palpitation.
"Hm?"
Glancing up, there was a mental whiplash effect to the wide-eyed bewilderment of how suddenly close he was to Zoro and how acutely he could feel everything of him and the substantial heat of his body that begged for him to press into it, be held once again in a poignant, dragon-like embrace. A steady and sure heartbeat thrummed in his ears as loud as his own that they could have been one and the same were they not ever-so-slightly off measure as Sanji's own kicked up in speed. The movement of air expanding his chest with the sound of his breath, and whatever dwindling remains of something he had to say in rejoin with a mildly quipped tone... lost... left behind... made unimportant by blunt fingernails dragging through his scalp to find a place of leverage in his hair - twining, tangling, then clenching into blond strands to roughly jerk back and force the tilt of his neck to the claiming of his mouth. Any complaint or protest he may have had went silent before they could truly manifest, gone into a gasp that was licked away from his lips and sucked at with the nip of sharp teeth.
And instead of pushing Zoro away, he pulled him closer with hands pulling at the back of the other man's naked shoulders, fuller against him, everywhere seeking more. Because Zoro's mouth was hot and alive, taking him over in sensory overload with the faintest tingle of haki on the tip of his tongue, immovable and firm and yet soft and pliant, saliva-wet conductive to the electricity singing across his taste buds. A flavor there that he couldn't recognize, couldn't name, but took it all in as if it were as necessary as breathing air, an essential to life itself.
y.
And Sanji couldn't help himself but to come apart in malleable innocence.
With the smallest whimper catching between them, soft and throaty and needier than he would have liked, Zoro moved back from him. And when his eyes fluttered open and apart to gaze into the single dark one that bore his reflection in its blackblack too-black iris, he thought he'd see the desire he felt also mirrored there, but didn't. Thought he'd see the longing he felt mirrored there, but didn't. Thought he'd see coveting there, but didn't. Thought he'd see a sudden wanting, or something bigger and better than anything they'd had between them before. Thought he'd see the sudden surge of his own emotions there... unfathomable, unexplainable feelings...
But didn't.
That had been nothing to Zoro.
'He's a man of extremes; he challenges my skill. You can't know what its like, nor should you.' And now he had just a small taste of what Law had meant by that.
Mother. Of. Fucking. God. Damn.
"You alright, love-cook?" Zoro's voice was tinged with amusement, but otherwise unaffected. "You seem a little off." Understatement of the fucking year, and he glared at the swordsman but said nothing. Instead, taking a deep breath as he attempted to smooth down the lines of his suit until all pleats were in perfect arrangement once more, and with it, his posture.
He'd always dreamed of being kissed exactly that way.
He'd never imagined that Zoro would be the one to do it.
That talent with his mouth...
"Having experienced that, would you so readily insult kissing someone like that or implying that it's barbaric or means less than words?" Law asked, eying him interestedly and paying little to no mind as the younger of the two swordsman slunk back against and practically melted into his side. "I caught what you said before; I couldn't agree with you less or Zoro-ya any more. For future reference, let your actions speak for you. Words have their place, sometimes. But have the most effect on those who are equally as meaningless as the semantics they'll tirelessly argue."
"You sure about that?" Zoro tilted his view askance from Sanji and in Law's direction as he furtively traced the shape of a tattoo on his forearm where it lay beneath his jacket's sleeve. A modest show of flirtatious affection. "I can think of a few things that I could use some help defining. Like what exactly makes rough sex 'rough' and how much roughness is necessary to be more than just plain sex. But if words are too meaningless for you..."
"Well." Law's expression lifted, a hint of white teeth baring at the edge of a half-grin, smiling at him like he couldn't help it when they both knew better. "I did say that words had their place sometimes. If you need some assistance with your... inquiry... I have some fairly good examples I could show you..."
"Enough of that, you two are done here - get the fuck out of my kitchen at let me work, for real," Sanji finally bit out, feeling the lines of his proverbial limit pressing at his skull. "And if either one of you two perverts are even a minute late to dinner, I'll be kicking so far up both of your asses, you'll be tasting heel for weeks."
"I'd like to see you try, shit cook," Zoro snorted as his hand came up to rest on the small of the shichibukai's back as they stepped from the galley together. Unhurried enough that Sanji didn't miss Law's vague and distant reply that had the other man grinning sharply, almost sickly.
"I would like to see that, too. But only because it has certain potential."
As the door fell to a close behind them, Sanji's weight sagged and he resisted the urge to bang his head repeatedly against the counter top, but instead gathered the silver and remaining dishware from the bottom of the filthy sink water to finish up the afternoon's cleaning, feeling at the frayed ends of his proverbial rope.
You're both creepy as fuck. You're probably made for each other. His own words came back to haunt him - it'd been a jibe, but what a true fucking statement that was. Heathens. Both of them. But there were a number of ways, and not just in having an extremely twisted sense of... well, there was humor, but also life as a whole - that they paid compliment to each other. What wasn't a similarity was a fine-fitting match. What wasn't a match could be a beautiful coordination.
Though one couldn't ignore the more outstanding aesthetic value of their interactions.
They looked, for lack of better words, hot together, and ridiculously so, albeit a little too kinky for Sanji's delicacy of both mind and sexual desires, the leches. Even then, all that calm, confident, and deadly carriage they both commanded in their step, while aggravating, was also incredibly sensual when placed in the context of the bedroom. Or men's quarter's, much to the suffering of his still-shattered heart - the outbreak of heartbreak, all jagged at their splits and difficult to mend back into place, still tormented by those moans that had resounded in the darkness. Made worse by knowing the way that Zoro could kiss when he considered it, when he put his fingers to his own lips and traced them as the other man had with his tongue. It tied his soul, heart, body all up in knots, yet Zoro was the one who submitted under Law's strength, shuddering as he came undone beneath the warlord's hands.
And Sanji found himself there again, sounds echoing in his thoughts as though he were still laying on the bunk rigged beneath Zoro's own, listening heavy-hearted as each sound was ravished from the telltale slurps of french-kissed skin from amused lips that he, for a moment, allowed himself to imagine as dutiful, greedy, over-eager as they were stretched wide apart. Running hot and wet, licking up and down every one of the green-haired swordsman's sensitive spots and swallowing down mouthful after mouthful of a hard, blood-thickened cock. The way that Law must have looked, then... the intensity in his yellow eyes, flecked gold with lust...
He breathed in deeply. 'Bad thoughts, Sanji,' he inwardly warned, but thoughts he was at least thankful be alone with, though he wondered how it was that he'd let his mind go to the gutter once more without the single fin of a mermaid and if his rationale had fled along with his sea-dwelling beauties.
Regardless, Sanji's relationship... friendship... nakamaship... call it what you will... with Zoro forever suffered in how easily they both were quick to take offense (and make no mistake, he knew that offense was most always something taken, not given, yet they equally somehow seemed to excel at both in each other's regard) merely at the thought of the other's existence. But the thinner side of Law's skin was only really theoretical, and something that only Luffy knew how to miraculously produce from the otherwise discreet and tranquil warlord.
And knowing Zoro the way that Sanji did (like the back of his hand and every line, even the most fine), at least the parts that weren't all distorted and confused by revelation - eventually, that quality of Law's would begin to irk the everliving shit out of the man. Under the skin was a place that he simply liked to be. Whether by just being his usual infuriating self whist marauding about the sea as the cockiest asshole who'd ever hoisted a sail to it, or by way of peeling it all back with a sharp katana's edge, guided by the taste and touch of his blood lust - literal and proverbial flaying was his bread and fucking butter.
And Law was, of course, very keen on his feelings towards bread.
But then again, Sanji could be wrong. He could be over-thinking it all. It could just all be a bad side effect of not being able to keep his heartaches and headaches and all otherwise aches down and bottled. His inability to keep it to his self and bide his time when, as both men had pointed, their own time together was not one without limitation. As it was, he'd probably blown any chance he might have had with at least one of the two swordsman if not both - as at that point, it would be a miracle if Law had even an iota of respect for him, and heaven only knew that once Zoro got around to re-evaluating his thoughts on the matter, the moment would be long expired and dead in the water. And even then, he'd just be a means to an end - a rebound and eventually dismissed.
Which made it a 'now or never' kind of moment. Because he'd royally fucked up. Not even just that day, but fucked up over time in how he'd taken Zoro for granted in a long history of constant fuck ups, and he'd probably keep on fucking up, but now that he could see it, at least he could have it happen somewhat on his own terms. Not sitting about all heartsick and sad, dropping mental flowers on the gravestone of his yearnings for companionship long before that grave had ever been even dug, letting the eulogies of half-baked fantasies and mermaids sing him to rest.
No. He wanted what Zoro had, and in that, it meant that he'd have to take away what Law had. But that wasn't fair to either of them. But that didn't mean he had to stand to be a child about what he wanted any longer.
That child in him, all-too-willing to strike only when the iron was no longer hot, fearing the burn.
It was about time that he learn to grow the fuck up.
You just start being a total pushover when it involves romance as if it makes that huge of a difference, when we both know that you know better than to think you're going to be all broken if your choice isn't always the right one. And though he hated to give the man any large amount of credit, he had been completely right.
Though Sanji's appetite was mostly shot, once he actually got into the thick of preparing their evening meal, it came back with a fiery vengeance and a craving that he couldn't quite place. Since they were about to hit land the following morning, he could afford to be a little indulgent if that meant he could restock a few things. Though by 'indulgent', he hadn't really thought that he'd end up with half the refrigerator's contents disgorged onto his counter tops as he re-visualized his dinner plans with more variety... perhaps a wide assortment of tempura? And yesterday's fish bones could make a good soup stock and he had just enough time to set that up to boil.
As busy as he was, he barely noticed when Zoro eventually re-entered the galley and greeted him as flippantly as usual, though the aura he carried in with him was... perplexed, if he were to give name to it. Not troubled, exactly, but not entirely as all together as he'd been only an hour ago, either.
"What is it now, Marimo? You miss these lips already? Can't get enough?"
"Not quite," Zoro snorted as he strolled fully into the kitchen, wearing his coat and sash once more with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the top of the partition. "It's about what I said a little bit ago - I meant it all, but I pulled a few punches I wouldn't have once I figured out that Law was probably eavesdropping. That nodachi of his is... well. Never mind, anyway, what I said was for his benefit as much as yours. I don't actually have any right to lecture you."
Sanji looked to Zoro with wide eyes underneath the confused furrow that had taken to his curled brows. "Was that... an apology? - the fuck is this world coming to?"
"No, I'm only admitting to being a little hypocritical... with Law, I guess..." his voice dropped; whatever he said here, this was definitely for Sanji's ears alone. "I'm scared too, cook. But it's not about me getting hurt. It's him. I don't want to..." he huffed, running a hand up the back of his neck agitatedly, frustratedly, rubbing through his hair where it grew the thinnest and finest at the base of his skull. "Fuck. I'll explain it to you this way: If you hadn't had a man-moment over seeing him with most of his hand up my ass this morning, you think you would have even realized that you wanted to bend over for him too?"
Sanji put down the spoon he'd been measuring spices for the soup with before he could find himself using it to take out Zoro's good remaining eye. "Tact, Zoro-kun, seriously. And I didn't even see anything - it sounded like he was blowing you. I really didn't need the extra mental images, thanks."
"Well, he was doing that, too," he groused impatiently, "Just answer the question."
"Fine, asshole. The answer is 'no'. He's hot. I like looking at him. But sleeping with him or even touching him hadn't even really crossed my mind until then. Maybe it would have later... if I got to know him better... I don't know. I knew that I liked it when I had his attention. That was all."
"I thought as much. Letting something go is pretty easy, but watching someone else have it is a different story. Law's not immune to it; he thinks he is, but he's not. Even though kissing you was his idea-"
Sanji interrupted there, curious. "Why did he want you to do that, anyway?"
"- To prove a point. Either way..." he tugged at the hem of his coat near the collar until it slid down across his left shoulder, letting Sanji's eyes discover the shape of a hideous bruise above his clavicle that had definitely not been there an hour ago, flourishing as an unsightly black-purple blossom with mottled red tinges blending into flesh tone on its outward-most edges, along with the indents of teeth that had broken skin in some places. A fresh mark and already that vibrant - it was going to look pretty nasty come the next day; it was already enough of an eyesore. "See, there's this rule Law and I have about not leaving any physical evidence... or at least trying not to. He did this on purpose; that's a mark of possession if I've ever seen one. Pretty sure it bothered him seeing us kiss, even if he wants to act like it's totally fine... it's really not."
Sanji hummed, eying him half-impressed, but half-skeptical as the swordsman smoothed his green coat back into its rightful place, effective covering the swollen bite mark once more. "So why are you telling me this? You need me to kiss it better or something?"
"If you want. But I need you for a bit more than that," he replied with this oddly determined look on his face, even amongst that confusing mix of errant emotion running off his aura and into Sanji's senses - uncertainty, intensity, conflict, lust, passion, spite - all of these things reaching out to him, in a way. About his fingers, wrists, drawing him in, tugging him forward. It would be so warm, wouldn't it?
His throat felt dry. "What is it?"
I need you for a bit more than that-
I need you for a bit more-
I need you-
"Help me make Law jealous, cook."
I'm a mix between very happy and very unhappy with this chapter, but it is what it is and I can't quite put my finger on it to do any more editing and fretting than I already have... which is A LOT. I'mma just pin the blame on Sanji for that since I keep getting a mental image of Law donkey punching Zoro and I totally lose my shit. XD For those not familiar with the term, it's the myth that when a man clocks his partner on the back of the head mid-coitus, it makes their ass tighten up, thus he'd achieve stronger orgasm. While this is totally not true, I still find it hilarious in this context. XD
Next chapter: Sex. A lot of it.
