UPDATED CHAPTER FOUR:

This is still a Sanji only Chapter so when the line appears, it hasn't changed to Zoro's perspective, like the previous ones.

Enjoy

The Lives That Bind Us
Chapter Four: The Wolves within the Wall

Sanji

Hindsight, was a bitch.
A huge, giant, colossal bitch!

In hindsight, Sanji should've said 'no'. He shouldn't have agreed to Luffy's pleas to take the Marimo home.
In hindsight, he shouldn't have let Nami persuade him, nor should he have convinced Zoro to just play along when he complained.

In hindsight, Sanji should've just knocked Zoro out Saturday night and dragged his ass to the hospital and left him there.

In hindsight….

If Sanji had done all of that, then he wouldn't be where he was now; stood in the back room of the Baratie, holding an empty envelope in a clenched fist, the previously enclosed (and now thoroughly crumpled) letter in the other hand.
Why? Why hadn't he stopped to think? Why had he thought that they wouldn't notice?

Of course they would notice.
They never missed anything.

Ever.

"Hey, are we going?" Zoro asked, opening the door from the kitchen. Sanji shoved the letter and envelope back into his coat pocket, where he had first found it, twisting around to face the Marimo. "Uh… yeah, just… give me a second," he muttered, pushing past the man with his head down, hoping Zoro hadn't seen what was now in his pocket. Or if he had, then hopefully he had then sense not to pry.

"Oi. You don't have to do this if-"
"No, I promised Luffy and Nami I would help you out. A gentleman can't go back on his words." Zoro raised an eyebrow, but before he could start with a snarky comment, Sanji interrupted him. "Come on, let's go." And they headed out into the main eating hall.

Everyone else had already left, leaving Sanji the usual chore of locking up. It was because he was looking for his keys is to why he had ended up searching in his pockets to find that atrocious letter in the first place; scripted in crimson ink. It made Sanji shudder slightly as he pulled the garment over his shoulders, making a point not to put his hands in his pockets again as he led the way out of the restaurant. Instead his fingers curled around his key chain. He wanted to smoke, but almost dreaded searching in his other pocket, in case another surprise was waiting for him.

The drive back home was much like the one to the restaurant, although this time it was a lot longer due to the evening traffic rush. And it wasn't as comfortable either, with Sanji's brain in constant overdrive.

Zoro had it easy. He just slumped against his side of the car, letting the purring engine and radio lull him until he was softly snoring.
Sanji couldn't relax. His brain was too busy thinking. After what felt like a week, Sanji decided to ignore the lead weight letter in his pocket. There were easier things to distract him with. Namely, his sleeping passenger. In slumber, it was clear to see the frown his resting face took. A scowl even in sleep from this pain he was feeling, such he hid with a mask to hide his panic attacks.

Kuina. She was the key here.

A break up? Would Zoro really be acting like this if it was as simple as-
No. Sanji had no right to judge. He had fallen in love plenty of times before, his own experiences telling him that when he thought he found the one and lost her, that maybe he had acted just as Zoro had. Maybe worse.
He had needed Zeff, with his Fatherly-love, to barge into his train wreck life and show him things would get better.

Zoro needed the same wake up call. Tough love of an iron fist, or a nice well-aimed kick to the jaw.

But not yet. Not now, not when they had noticed him.
Or was now the right moment. The sooner Zoro was over this break up, the sooner he could be out of Sanji's life and safe again….

Sanji wanted to shout at every red light and every car that stopped in his way but he kept himself silent, his eyes trained on the road ahead, and the road only. The road, and not the green-haired man sat in the passenger seat, who had got bored with trying to sleep. Who was now drumming his fingers on the car door, his head rested against the cool glass of the window, his eyes staring at the gentle drizzle of rain that trickled down it.

Hindsight was a bitch.

It seemed to take forever until Sanji eventually pulled the car into the communal garage under the block of flats. He got only more pissed off the fact that someone had taken his fucking parking spot! Sanji felt like ramming the car out of the way, just on principle, but knowing all that would serve to do was ruin his paintjob, decided against it. He parked into the first empty bay he saw, undoing his seatbelt before the engine had completely shut off. He climbed from the car, slamming the door shut behind him in attempt to take out his frustration on the inanimate object, incidentally jogging the Marimo from the early stages of his nap. "We're home sleeping beauty. Hurry up and come upstairs or you I'll leave you to sleep in the car," Sanji threatened, distracted by the idea whether or not he should leave his coat in the car and think about the letter in the morning.
And he was back to thinking about that damn letter again!
He was in desperate need of a several.
Today had been a very long day.

Zoro nodded sleepily, remembering to lean over the back of the seat, to where his bags were waiting. It seemed that Luffy and Usopp had packed some of Zoro's clothes from his place, knowing he wouldn't be going back there. At least they had thought ahead. Not like a certain someone.
Sanji had been a bit shocked when the boys had pulled them forward, as if Luffy had known Sanji would say yes. But then again, if he hadn't, it was probably so that they could just take Zoro back to their dorm. Probably.

Together the pair walked to Sanji's flat in silence. Zoro kept yawning whilst they rode the elevator, and all the way to Sanji's door. Sanji yawned himself. "Shut your mouth damn Marimo. Now you're making me yawn, you bastard." Zoro laughed, tiredly leaning against the wall as Sanji fumbled with the key. He yawned again, over-exaggerating the motion.
Sanji tried to stifle his own, lashing out and kicking Zoro in the shin as he forced his way into his apartment, already agitated from his overactive brain, the idea of his new roommate and the letter that was still in his coat pocket.

"Go to bed if you're tired shitty Marimo," he snapped, unable to bite his own tongue. "Nah, I'm going to workout for a bit. Haven't done much in a couple of days. I'm getting stiff," the man said, heading towards the living room, making a bee-line towards the coffee table. "Like hell you are," Sanji snarled, chasing after him as soon as he had locked the front door. He stood in the way, guarding his coffee table from being used like a set of weights. It was pure oak and was quite expensive. It was meant for decoration, holding bowls of potpourri and the occasional glass of wine.
And a plain, cream envelope, innocently laid on the glass surface.

Sanji's eyes went wide, snatching the second envelope from where it had been left, eyes searching to the corners of the rooms, up to the second level, wishing that he wouldn't see the silhouette of a familiar assailant.

Why? Of all nights, why?

And then he remembered.
His mind shot back to the message on his mobile. He had received one this morning, but had ignored it in the rush when Zoro was hurt. Because he had put Zoro first.
He had ignored them.

"Cook?" Zoro was watching him slowly, making no move to take the coffee table anymore. He wasn't looking at the letter either. Just Sanji, who tried to pretend nothing had happened. "Dinner. I'm going to make it while you shower." He left no option for complaints, his voice a warning enough he wasn't reacy for another argument. Luckily Zoro, although thick as he was, understood not to pry about the envelope or show anything resembling compassion as he turned on his heel, grumbling something about "showered earlier."

"It doesn't matter if you showered earlier. You are going to shower again and this time wash your hair. Then I'll change your bandages because I know full well you've hurt yourself again," Sanji scowled, raising his finger when it looked like Zoro was going to interrupt. "Then you'll change those sweaty clothes. Go through your bags and sort out any that need washing."

The Marimo smirked. "Wow. I think we went from hating each other to married in a day."
Sanji scowled. "Fuck you Marimo. Now go wash before I decide to stab you." Zoro looked like he wanted to make a retort, but as soon as Sanji glanced to the envelope in his hand, he dropped it. He just shuffled back to the lower bedroom, taking his duffel bags with him.

Sanji waited to hear the shower before searching every room in the house. He didn't trust them enough to believe they would leave the letter and not stick around to watch Sanji's reaction. However, the house was empty but for himself and the Moss-head. Thank god.

And so, whilst the latter was occupied, Sanji pulled out the letter. Gingerly, he broke the envelope's seal, sliding his finger between the two bits of glossy paper, feeling the shudder creep across his skin as he got a waft of aftershave. It didn't only make him shudder. It made him gag. It made him feel sick.
There was no letter in this one. Not like all the others.

Instead, there was a single photograph.
A recent photograph.

Of Zoro.
Zoro, laid asleep in Sanji's spare bedroom.

This was…

This… was…

Sanji scrunched the photograph up, his hands shaking. He stormed over to the kitchen, his fingers trembling as he lifted the lid of his incinerator, throwing the crumpled remains of Zoro's photo into its depths. How dare they! All this time, for all these years….

Sanji could feel himself growing angrier and angrier. He shoved his hands in his pocket, pulling out the first envelope. That was ripped into a thousand pieces before joining the second letter. Sanji watched as the loopy cursive writing burnt to embers, taking the dark threat with it.

I warned you.

Sanji needed alcohol.
And not just the cooking alcohol in his cupboard or the posh Merlot that would be wasted when all he wanted to do was get so pissed he'd forget everything.

"Marimo. I'm heading out for a sec. Is there anything you want?" The Blonde called through the downstairs bathroom door, loud enough to be heard over the rush of water. "Beer," the man replied simply. Sanji rolled his eyes, fishing his keys from the side table. He didn't shout a farewell as he slipped out his own front door. Nor did he bother with his coat. Just seeing it made him angry.
Although, maybe he should've, seeing the rain as he headed down the corridor. There was no point. The convenience store was literally opposite the flats so all Sanji had to do was ride the lift down, dart across the road and back. He bought two packs of beer, vodka and coke, three cartons of cigarettes and some milk, because he was low. And because Sanji could, he bought fresh bread, salad, jam, butter, toiletries, ice cream and some DVDs in case the channels were showing shit programmes.

Outside the convenience store, Sanji lit up a smoke, taking a much needed drag. He shifted the shopping bags to one hand so that he could stuff his favourite lighter back in his pocket and the cartons back into one of the bags.
Sanji headed back over the road, mindful to keep his head down. He could feel the usual stare of their eye watching him. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of showing he was wary. But…

Zoro doesn't know.

And I left him alone!

Sanji was an idiot. A colossal idiot. Fucking king of all the fucking idiots.
He hit the stairs two at a time, his mouth a thin line ignoring the thoughts of coming back to an empty apartment.
They won't take him. Not now. It's too bold. They'd wait till they had more time.
Till night…

Till night. When both the men were sleeping. When both men had their guards down with only the security of locks of their doors to keep them out.
A whole lot of good that did them last night.

Sanji's pace quickened. He rammed his key in the lock, breathing out a sigh of relief to hear the lock click to allow him entry. But that didn't necessarily mean anything. Theycould get in an out whilst ignoring the obstacle of a locked door.

The apartment was quiet.

The bathroom door was a jar, the light on.
There was no sound of the shower.

"Marimo?" Sanji called gingerly, his feet hesitating in the doorframe. Please, please…
"Not my name," Zoro grunted upon exiting the room, wearing nothing but a towel. His face softened a fraction. "You okay?" he asked, ruffling his hair with another smaller towel in his hand. "No I just… never mind."

Sanji let out a sigh of relief, stepping into the apartment, just as a gust of cold night air followed him. Zoro shivered, the gust of wind catching his red-tinged skin from where the shower had been too hot. Sanji watched as goose bumps appeared where the breeze had ghosted across his body. Across his forearms, across his chest, merging with the steam that rolled off of his shoulder like a cape, following drops of water that fell from the tops of his hair, down onto his body, drawing out the curves of his muscles… running into the creases across his skin… down to the valleys running beneath… the towel… and beneath the towel…the gentle tufts of green…

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?

Here was Sanji fantasising about the Marimo only mere seconds after considering his brutal torture and possible death!
But still, Sanji could feel himself getting light headed, his conscious subduing to the welcomed distraction from such cruel and gory thoughts…. His only train of thought now a repeating mantra: Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare.

"Oi what you staring at cook?"

Sanji brought his hand to hide his figurative nosebleed, revealing one of the plastic bags balanced on the tops of his fingers. "You get anything good?" Luckily for the Blonde, Zoro had a limited attention span. "Stuff." Sanji's voice was muffled by his hand. He could feel his own cheeks start to heat up in embarrassment and shock. And why the hell was all the blood in his body rushing to his groin?
"Now scat. Go back to your room, dumbass before you drip water all over the floor and ruin my wood flooring." Sanji sent a few well aimed kicks in the Marimo's direction, herding him towards the door at other end of the corridor.

Then he fled to his kitchen, dumping the bought goods on the work surface. He dashed back to the bathroom on the first level, slamming the door behind him with a little too much force. He ignored the steam in the air and the water on the floor, literally diving for the tap, splashing his face to calm himself down. Luckily the heat subsided, but Sanji was still flushed.

For more than one reason.
He had thought the Marimo was hot. The Marimo, of all people! A guy, a Neanderthal, a brainless oaf that was growing grass instead of hair. No, no. Not possible. But if his erection was anything to go by, Sanji knew he wouldn't be able to convince himself otherwise…

Why? Why now of all times? Was it because he was so stressed? Was it because Zoro was the closest thing at hand? That Sanji's sex drive was finding the closest thing to latch onto? And that current thing was Zoro's dick.
Because that certainly wasn't right. Because Sanji was mostly attracted to women.

Of course there was the odd exception. Some Sanji had been approached by after a few glasses down at the club. Sanji had never approached any himself of course. He preferred beautiful curves, gentle figure, dainty hands and slim figures.
Sanji preferred girls. He preferred ladies with well-endowed bosoms, not men with firm chests and strong muscles, squared jaws and that masculine aura.
He preferred gentle figures, not males that worked out at the gym.

He preferred dainty hands that would caress his skin, cup his groin carefully; not thick large fingers that would pump his shaft rhythmically, their large tongue tasting the underside of the skin, their deep baritone voice laughing haughtily as they pulled moans and gasps from the shaking blonde, caring not for the fingers encircled in their green locks or the way that Sanji called Zoro's name as he came…

Sanji's eyes shot open. He just….
In his head, in his hand, he just…

Sanji stared at the tissue in his hand, instantly throwing it down the toilet as if it was infected. It vanished with the spiral flush.

That never happened, Sanji told himself, straightening his top, his trousers his hair in the mirror. That never happened!

Sanji washed, and then rewashed his hands. He threw a towel on the floor to mop up the Marimo's mess, grumbling under his breath as he did. Afterwards he strode out of the bathroom, straight into the main part of the house. He didn't bother scanning the room for Zoro, instead heading to the shopping bags. He put the beer and vodka on the side and the remainder in the fridge or cupboard.

Zoro didn't help, but simply watched from the living room doorway. He had changed into loose jogging bottom trousers and a black tank top. God did he look a million- NOPE! Sanji scowled to hide his blush. "I bought alcohol and a movie. Choose which ever while I cook," he said, planning to hide himself in the kitchen. Zoro followed, dumping himself on the sofa, picking the first movie he laid eyes on. Sanji made a quick risotto, then wished he had made something more elaborate and more time consuming.

They both lounged in front of the TV whilst they ate, commenting on the flick and nothing more. It was filled with beautiful views and lots of action with exploding cars.
Zoro complained about the gun fights and said that fighting with swords was cooler, but once he was on his third beer, the marimo began to quieten down. Eventually, he fell asleep, about halfway through the second movie.

Sanji's brain was too switched on to let him sleep and the alcohol wasn't helping. He watched the second movie all the way to the end, and simply flicked to the music channel when the credits appeared on screen. He wasn't tired. This was his third glass and usually by now Sanji would be feeling something, so opening another would be pointless. He had been hoping he'd just drift off, but that wasn't the case.
And he couldn't be bothered to go to bed.

So Sanji listened to the charts, accompanied by the soft sounds of the Marimo's snores.
The Blonde glanced over to the other sofa. Zoro was laid on his back, his mouth slightly open, his empty beer bottle balanced in one hand. Zoro seemed to fit into Sanji's life quite nicely. His snoring and his attitude, although mostly annoying, was welcomed all the same.
It made Sanji feel like he had someone in his life. And maybe it would be nice that there was someone waiting for him when he returned home after working at the restaurant. And when he cooked meals, he could sit and enjoy basic conversation rather than sit in silence with only a cancer stick for company.
As if Zoro would fit into a domestic life with the cook. He would cause problems wherever he went, annoy Sanji at every chance he got. But at least nights at home wouldn't be boring anymore…

No.
Sanji couldn't.

Zoro had to hurry up and get out of the Blonde's life as quick as he could. If he didn't, they would drag him down. If not, Sanji would be the one to drag him down.
And Sanji would be the one to kill him.

A little flashing light distracted Sanji.
His mobile blinked at him from where he had dumped it earlier.

Only one person would text him at midnight. Slowly, Sanji reached over to the coffee table and picked up his phone slowly, as if the thing could explode any second. He pushed the button at the top and watched the screen illuminate. Sanji's turned his head from the sudden bright light, blinking several times to try and rid himself of the imprint of his screen that had burned into his eyes.

There, in the centre of the screen, were two identical boxes with the same, familiar words.

Unknown Number
1 New Message(s)

Unknown Number
1 New Message(s)

Sanji opened the first, sent this morning at 9:00 on the dot.

Rainbase
12:00

The Blonde's eyes grew wide. He had missed a summons.
The letters. The threats. They made sense now.

Sanji opened the second message, reading a similar text.

Rainbase
24:00

The message had been sent from the same concealed number, but didn't matter.
Sanji knew who had sent them.

Silently, Sanji pocketed the mobile. He glanced over to the Marimo sleeping soundly.

With a defeated sigh, Sanji stood. He tiptoed out to the corridor, grabbing his shoes, keys and coat before creeping out of the front door, shutting it behind him as quietly as possible. Sanji walked quickly to his car, pulling the collar of his coat up around his neck to stop any unwanted breeze sneaking between his layers of clothing. It was cold, and when he breathed out, he could see his own breath swirl around him as mist. Autumn was quickly changing to Winter, and Sanji was not looking forward to the snow and ice that would come with it.

The man let his mind wander with such things as the weather as he approached his car. Anything to distract himself from the impending doom. He wasn't even thinking about the eyes that watched him from his apartment block window. If he had, maybe he would have seen the silhouette, not of Zoro, but a little girl…

Sanji pulled up behind the Rainbase Casino along Alabaster Road. The street was busier than many of the others; the streets filled with clubbers, drunkards and party goers. The pavement wasn't normally this crowded, but there seemed to be some sort public celebration and the crowds were out in troves.

Sanji ignored the people as he manoeuvred into the Casino, heading past the bustle of slot machines and bars. He stepped into the elevator on the far side, sliding a card key into the slot and hitting one of the gold buttons near the top, reserved for casino staff… and special guests.

Sanji tapped his foot impatiently, lighting another cigarette as the elevator trundled up floor after floor as it got closer to the penthouse. The penthouse.
Some place Sanji dreaded every time he entered this bloody building.

The elevator reached the desired floor, resounding a firm bell noise to indicate Sanji that the doors were about to open. They slid open painfully slowly, revealing a small corridor that took barely five strides to cross to the double mahogany doors opposite.
Sanji stepped through the threshold, blowing out a long trail of smoke into the dimly lit room. The doors behind him closed and Sanji all but lost the ability to see. That didn't matter. This room hadn't changed. Not once, in all the three years he had been coming here…

Sanji wasn't alone in the darkness.
Someone was in front of him, sat at the end of a very long table. His face was partially lit by the end of a glowing cigar; the noxious smoke barely enough to cover the stench of aftershave the man seemed to drown himself in on a regular basis.

Slowly, the room began to lighten, as the moon peered in through the large windows; previously obstructed by clouds.
It cast a faint blue glow as if the pair were somewhere underwater.

"Mr Prince," came the gravelly voice that belonged to the man at the far end of the room. "I'm glad that you received my message. Good that you responded so quickly." The hint of sarcasm in his words was enough to make Sanji want to kick the man's cigar across the room before rearranging the man's ugly face twice over.
Apparently the Blonde's silence amused the man. He laughed harshly. As he did, a spiral of smoke billowed from the man's mouth, smelling strongly of rich tobacco and spice, reminding Sanji of some far off tropical resort. He wished he was there. Not here.

Sanji blew his own stream of smoke. "Well I wouldn't want to keep you waiting," he responded in a deadpan tone, his eyes turned away. He didn't see the glint of teeth as the man expressed a wry smile, his lips drawing back as he spoke again.
"No. You wouldn't."

There was another moment of silence as the men puffed on their smoke.

"I have another… request," the man said eventually, as if, at first, he had forgotten why he summoned the young Cook to his lair. He took his cigar between two fingers, leaning forward so that he could stare Sanji in the eyes.

Sanji's own had adjusted enough for him to see the man now; the large silhouette of a leader on his throne. Behind him was the unmistakable shadow of his assassin, to his right, his personal weapon. Sanji chose to ignore them, the alcohol in his system giving him more confidence than what was deemed safe. He laughed slightly, blowing out another puff of smoke, folding his arms together to hide the way he dug his nails into the palms of his hands. "You make it seem like I could decline."
The other man laughed also, although the sound was harsh, and not at all joyful. It made Sanji's spine shiver. He regretted his words, but he could not take them back.

The man at the far end of the table drummed his fingers on the wooden surface, his eyes dangerously focused as he spoke again. "We both know what would happen if you did."
"Of course," the cook said, his voice restricted, his body tensing at the dark atmosphere. "You remind me every time we meet."

"Because some dogs need reminding who their masters are."

Sanji was able to repress his hiss. He simply dug his nails deeper into his palms. He felt like he was being suffocated with mere words, as if the man was trying to choke him with his cigar and aftershave stench.

The Blonde silenced his tongue, watching as the man at the far end of the table nodded slowly, taking another large drag. He rested back in his chair, interlocking his fingers and smiled around his smoke stick. It was irritating, the way he was acting; as if it was a simple chat and he wasn't making threats to Sanji's life.

A long moment of silence followed.

"Well let's get this over with," Sanji said, feeling himself getting agitated. It was more being in the man's presence rather than the fact he was still awake at one o'clock in the morning. Besides, he had left Zoro too long. He didn't want anyone taking him while he was here…

"Always quick to business Mr Prince."

"It"s not business, its blackmail Mr.0."

And the plot thickens!