Chapter 7

A/N: Hello, dear Listeners! Before we go to the next chapter, I want to place myladyday's little drabble here based on Sweet Nothings. She wrote it under the influence of a Tumblr prompt. :D It's not part of the original storyline, but we all love these prompt-fills, don't we?

Zoro was sitting on the train, minding his own business, but subtly observed the door for any sign of that twirly brow. Even in a crowd like that on the train, the blond was easy to spot; well, he would have been if he'd shown up. But he didn't. Zoro sighed and twirled the extra pair of headphones in his pocket. "Maybe tomorrow." he thought.

~oOo~

The kitchen was clean. The flat was all but sparkling and the laundry was also done, all of that before noon. Sanji looked around with his hands on his hips. Do you know the feeling when you try to relax with all your might, but the moment you let go, an unpleasant feeling drags you into motion again? Well, Sanji sure as hell did.

The same routine that was begging him to stay in a little longer on each workday had already chased him out from under the covers early in the morning, and hadn't even left him a minute of stopping since. Running around putting things away, cleaning up, taking out the trash, doing the dishes that had piled up during the last couple of days... Holy shit, the Baratie and tending for Zeff had taken more out of him that he had anticipated.

To top it all off, his refrigerator stood so empty it all but echoed, excluding a couple of leftover eggs from breakfast. He tried to remember when he had witnessed something the like the last time. And then came the painful realization – the same view had greeted him when he had checked inside the fridge of the D brothers. True enough, theirs was in a constant state of emptiness all year round.

Sanji took his coat off the rack and stepped out over the threshold of his apartment door. The old fart lived on the floor above him. Allegedly because he didn't want any half-witted idiots – Sanji – wreck havoc above his head. The honest truth be told, though, the old man couldn't allow something as trivial as old age or a prosthetic leg to wound his pride. And with no thanks to that, it had taken Patty at least half an hour to carry his fat ass up the stairs after he had successfully sprained his one good leg in his memorable rampage...

Having shoved the shopping bags under his arm with a sigh, the cook ran over the grocery list that was at least twice as long as usual. That shitty old geezer made him work his ass off for a tiny little favour. At least Robin-chwan and Franky were free to pick any day of the next couple of months this way, and that was worth any physical fatigue.

Aside from that, he himself was starving, too. Just thinking of the generously topped, steaming hot pizzas at Supernova's made his mouth water... And if he was lucky, maybe Bonney-chan would be in to take his order, too~

Aaah, Bonney-chan... She was the sweetest, cutest, most perfect being the world of restaurants had ever seen. That sweet voice, beaming smile... And those legs...

Sanji grinned as he boarded the suburban train, submerged in his own little fantasy world devoid of the last specks of reality. Thus he bumped straight into the first person in front of him, then bounded back with the momentum towards the still open doors. But before he could have fallen out through them, a hand grabbed the front of his coat and held him in place until they slammed shut behind him.

"Hello, Curly."

"Ma-Marimo?" Sanji blinked. "What the spiralling horsecock are you doing here? And what was with you last week?"

"Well, well," the swordsman smirked. "Did you miss me, blondie?"

Sanji looked around. Near and far no free handrail was to be seen; he had no other choice but to stand in the narrow spot between the green haired guy and the door. He didn't recall ever suffering from claustrophobia, and yet this closeness irked him to no end. He would have loved to just rearrange the bastard's smug face with a few well-aimed kicks – anything to gain a bit more space. Maybe then his breathing would have calmed down...

The train began to slow, and the mass of passengers bustled to the exit as one.

"The shit do you think you're doing?" Sanji hissed at the other when the throng pushed both of them into the corner beside the door, pressing them against each other one again.

"Fuck you. You think I enjoy this?!"

Sanji turned his face to the side, out of the other man's neck. Deep wrinkles appeared on the Marimo's broad forehead, his glare all but burning a hole into the metal wall next to the cook's head. Nope, he definitely did not enjoy it.

"There! Come on!"

The blond let himself be led through the thinning crowd. The green-hair finally came to a halt between the rows of seats and pointed at an empty spot on the right.

"Sit."

"Who asked you to babysit me? Fuck off, Marimo."

"Sit down. You look a bit better today than a pile of warthog manure. With a little rest, you could even pass the horse dung level. That's the most I'd put past you right now."

"Wow, who would have thought you'd be able to speak in such complex sentences. Did it make your head hurt?"

"Would you just sit your ass down?!"

"No."

"Why?"

"None of your fucking business, shithead."

Zoro stroked along his chin. Stubborn asshole. On a whim, he poked his index finger into the blond's left side. The cook writhed and shuddered from it, releasing the handrail as he did. Oh, fortunate reaction! The green-head poked him a few more times until Sanji turned to him, pressing his arms to his side in defence:

"Hey!"

A prod to his other side and the blond trembled again, and as the train took a sharp turn, he plopped right down into the empty seat. The green haired man broke out laughing. Sanji felt himself sink as his blood rushed up to his face, blushing from head to toe. That bastard. He could kick his ass while being twice this tired; wait until they get somewhere with less people...

Zoro finally managed regain his self-control and grinned down on the blond.

"You finally did si–" Terrible shrieking cut his sentence in half. The passengers glanced around anxiously. Sanji sat upright: that couldn't have come from the train. It could be likened to some sort of melody. Almost like...

The Marimo reached into his pocked to fish his mobile phone out. The cook couldn't believe his eyes. A Nokia 3310, in 2013! Belonging to a twenty-something bloke, to boot!

But that wasn't all there was to it. It was the most beaten-down, tortured and mutilated phone Sanji had ever seen in his life. How had he been able to finish off the world's most durable mobile like this?! Legend had it you could punch a hole in solid concrete with it – and that one emitted submissive death-rattles in his palm.

"Hello?"

Sanji watched the guy's gaze fall onto the windows. His eyes searched the distance as he spoke, and returned only slowly from there as he hung up.

"Who was that? Is something wrong?" The cook ask after the Marimo let the phone slide back into his pocket.

"What? Oh, no, nothing. It was Koshiro-sensei. He asked about the dojo."

"Dojo?"

"I teach kids, remember? Koshiro-sensei is the master of the dojo."

"Oh, right," the blond nodded, leaning back. "So?"

"There's a flu outbreak. I sent all of the little good-for-nothings home before they could have infected each other. We're opening next week. Maybe."

"Ah, I see."

Comfortable silence descended on them. Truth be told, Sanji hated quiet, in general. He always felt as if breaching uncertain ground when things fell silent, so he had the urge to fill it with something, even if it was only superficial chatter. But this, this was nice. Almost peaceful.

While staring blankly at the passengers, a sudden idea crossed his mind.

"Then you have nothing planned for today, right?"

"Huh? Uh, no." Zoro scratched his nape. "Actually, I was heading out to eat..."

"That can wait. Come with me," Sanji said, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him out the doors of the train.

"Wha– Hey! Oh shit...!" Zoro groaned, looking at the back of the retreating metro. "You crashed my lunch time! You owe me one, Dartbrow!"

"I see you don't realize who you're talking to," Sanji smirked, igniting the cigarette hanging from his mouth. "But first thing's first. Come on, Marimo."

Sanji began walking out of the station, up a flight of stairs from the platform. He had been talking for a good five minutes already when he noticed that Zoro wasn't following.

"Damn bastard, must have caught the next train," he mumbled, turning back to take the steps down. If that idiot had left, he wouldn't have had any reason to stay.

He felt the rapidly intensifying rage ripple upwards his chest, tightening his throat. He was about to kick the vending machine at the bottom of the staircase into shambles when he noticed something from the corner of his eye. Something was moving between the rails. Something green.

No way.

"Idiot! What the fuck are you doing down there?!"

"Huh? I'm looking for the exit, of course! Mind telling me how the hell you got up there?"

"Are you a compl– No, we don't have time for that now, get out of there before the next train comes!"

Zoro didn't really grasp the panic on the blond's face, but he accepted the hand extended towards him. Even if it would have been easier to climb up alone... He was barely out of the rail pit and on the platform when rumbling was audible in the distance, and a faint gust of air brushed past their cheeks. In just a few moments, there the train was, its breaks screeching next to them.

"What the hell were you doing there?" The blond grumbled, shoving him towards the exit.

"Whaddya mean 'what'? I was looking for you. I thought you got lost or something. And let go of my arm already!"

"Fat chance. I don't feel like looking for a lost child again."

"Who the hell are you calling lost child?! And where are we going, anyway?"

"You'll see," Sanji muttered.

A few minutes later, they were well in the city centre. The blond was still unwilling to let go of Zoro's coat sleeve, and the green haired man noticed how more and more pedestrians whispered amongst themselves and pointed fingers at them as they walked by. A group of middle school girls rapidfired in their general direction with their camera-endowed phones.

Jesus.

The cook, as though only having waited for this very moment, twirled around and bowed to them, flashing his brightest, most toothpaste commercially smile. The girls screamed and hid behind each other.

Ugh. Gross.

"What was that for?"

"What do you mean?"

"From before, with the girls. What are you, some kind of charmeur?" Zoro grumbled.

"That, too," came the offhanded reply. "By the way, we're here."

Zoro raised his eyes onto the front of the building before them.

"Den Den Mushi Phone Co. Outlet and Repair. What are we doing here?"

"Getting a new phone, for you."

"I don't need a new phone."

"I'd say they don't need the likes of you," Sanji pointed out. "I'd like to give your phone a proper burial. I'm thinking of adding a national flag to the grave, for the brave little soldier."

"... I'm going to get you a referral to a doctor friend of mine. The weather front must have messed with your head. Even your eyebrows are dizzy."

Zoro didn't remember the last time he got a kick to his ass that hard. Its force let him fly through the door, straight under the information desk. The woman behind said desk was gasping for breath, but calmed instantly when she saw the cook waltz in right after.

"Ah, Mr. Black! So glad to see you here again! How may I help you?"

"Thank you, Rose. We would like a new device. For this one," the blond pointed down onto the new 'pattern' on the linoleum floor. Zoro sent his fiercest death glare his way, twitching and trying to climb up. Sanji ignored it all but completely, sticking his fingers back into his pocket to play with his lighter.

"Come on, Marimo, let's not keep the dear ladies waiting." Just like that, he made his way to the back of the store.

Zoro followed, however reluctant. The blonde asshat stepped around the furniture with practiced ease, not even paying attention, among the friendly greetings of the employees. Obviously, it wasn't his first time here. What a trend whore.

"So, what can we do for you today, Mr. Black?" The Smiling Staff Member No. X+1 asked as they were seated.

"Kelly, how many times have I asked you to just call me Sanji? Last names are so cold coming from a beautiful thing like you."

The corner of the woman's mouth gave a twitch.

"As you wish, Sanji."

Zoro was watching the passers-by through the window. To be frank, he hadn't the faintest why he hadn't split yet. But he knew for damn sure that the moment they leave here, this pansy slime-ball would pay dearly for the ache in his hind regions.

Sanji, huh... Somehow that name rang a bell...

"... guy I've told you about, remember? He made all this. I can't wait until you two get to know each other! I think you two'd get along!"

"SANJI?!" The blond felt as if steel wires would have been thrust through his shoulders. He almost fell back with his chair. The Marimo's face was only inches away from his own. "You're Sanji!"

"... Yeees?"

"I'm Zoro!"

Sanji wrinkled his forehead. Was that supposed to mean something, or...?

"Yeah, so? Whatever, Marimo." And with that, he pushed the green-hair back to his seat with his palm pressed into his face.

Zoro swatted his hand away, but Sanji was already, once more, immersed into flirting with all his concentration. Could this guy really have been the one Luffy had been talking about? No doubt, with his long fingers, he could have been a pianist, even, but on closer inspection, he noted the many small, thin scars covering them – memories of cuts, healed long since. Adding to that, if Luffy told him the truth, the Baratie was in the state of utter chaos because of the many absences. It fit all too perfectly that the blond bastard looked as run-down as the new girl at the brothel every time he saw him...

"Oi, Marimo. Hellooo?" The cook looked at him questioningly. Zoro realized he must have been spoken to for a good while.

"Yeah?"

"Your new phone. Be thankful, asshole."

Zoro glanced down, then after a moment of hesitation, he pushed the cook's hand with the box in it aside.

"Get this touch screen bullcrap away from me. I'm not a priss like you, shit-cook."

"How dare you speak like this in the presence of a lady, you useless swordsman?" Sanji hissed. "There's more manners to a rotten egg than your whole fucking existence, you genetic trash!"

"Shut it, princess!"

"You–!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen! Please." The woman at the cash desk coughed discretely and adjusted the uniform-scarf around her neck.

"Oh, dear Kelly, forgi–"

"Some react this way to touch screen devices, yes. Though not really at your age... But fortunately, we keep a few older models for such cases." The shop assistant was now directly speaking to Zoro, and tried her hardest to keep the eye-contact. As careful as she was with masking it, the swordsman saw the tiny signs – the blond was driving her crazy, and she just wanted to get over with the issue quickly.

"I don't need any new model," he declared, crossing his arms on his chest. "Give me a new one from the same model I have now so Curlyque is satisfied, and we're done."

"I'm sorry to say we don't have that on sale, but may I show you any other models you might be inte–"

"Oh Kelly, please, allow me to choose. This neanderthal couldn't even tell the difference between a lawn-mower and an electric razor," Sanji pleaded with a smile of hundred gigawatts.

The assistant gave him a desperate glance, but she didn't find Zoro in a helpful mood. An idea started to form in his head.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"To the left and at the end of the corridor."

Zoro nodded. The room he happened upon after a short while of wandering around was full of mops and cleaning supplies. No sign of any bathroom. But no matter. On the contrary, it fit his purposes much better than a public bathroom he could be heard in or opened in on.

He turned the key in the lock while pressing the 'down' button on his mobile, until the sought-for name appeared on the display. He raised the receiver to his ear and prayed that Luffy's lying abilities have improved through the years.

~oOo~

"So, is the little Marimo happy now?"

The green haired man gave no answer. He merely kept pressing the buttons on his new mobile phone.

"It's small."

"Your eyesight is remarkable." The cook wrapped his palm around the flame of his lighter.

"And flat. It's like a damn chocolate bar."

Sanji inhaled the smoke in deep. Goodness, it had been three hours already since he had last lit up.

"It's a Walkman Mobile, you ungrateful moss-for-brains. You can load a ton of music onto it – look, you even got free earphones with it."

Zoro hummed in approval and rummaged through the contents of the box.

"I swear, I hate this part the most."

The green-hair raised and eyebrow and glanced over at the blond. His stomach tightened into a cramping ball in a single moment: Sanji was fiddling with his old phone. If he saw Luffy's number in it, his whole plan would be busted!

"Oi, don't mess around with other people's stuff, Curly," he said as he grabbed the Nokia that had seen better days and shoved it into his back pocket.

"I just thought I'd help you copy over the contacts," the cook muttered. The nicotine was still inflicting its beneficial influence on his nervous system, otherwise he would have kicked the mossbrain's head off long ago.

"No need. I have a notebook."

"A notebook," Sanji repeated, slowly, letting it sit. "What are you, some kind of old man?"

Zoro didn't answer, just proceeded with examining his new phone. It wasn't the first time he had been called that, and if he was honest to himself, he understood the reason. The behaviours, fads and popular topics of his age group were more often than not completely alien to him. He didn't see why he should have told the cook, but he had already been the fourth owner of his ex-mobile. Koshiro had insisted on him to take it when he had arrived back home a few weeks before. His sensei hadn't been fond of not being able to reach him while he had been abroad for training – not at all during the day, and only with a generous amount of luck through the night, before he had collapsed due to exhaustion and had gone right to sleep. In short, that phone had practically been the first he had ever used, honestly.

However, he began to like this new one more and more.

"Here." Zoro took the scrap of paper that was pushed under his nose. "My number."

"And why would I need your number?" The swordsman wondered.

Sanji grumbled and extinguished his cigarette by stepping on its remains on the ground.

"How the hell else will you find someone to haul your ass the next time you get lost? Someone to identify your corpse when your brain gives up on lying to itself and turns back into sea algae? Hmm?"

"Stop your yapping before somebody calls an ambulance. The local idiot, everybody."

"Bastard!"

"Skirt-sniffing monster!"

"Muscle-head!"

"Ero-cook!"

Zoro felt a vein throbbing threateningly on his forehead. He turned on his heel and sprinted away into the opposite direction, not even attempting to confirm whether the blond was following him. He turned around two corners, ran through under an archway and past a pet shop, before finally stopping. That asshole had pissed him off to the extent of him not having a clue what to do with the guy. He couldn't have just started a brawl on the streets in broad daylight. He knew what he was like while fighting – and he didn't exactly feel like going to jail for destroying public property.

He heaved a big sigh, looking down at the mobile phone's box in his hand. The whole thing seemed like the Gordian Knot of cables and wires, not to mention the fact that he wasn't even sure if he would ever make use of it all to upload something onto the phone itself. Not only had he never known anything about all that technical bullshit in his life, nor did he have a computer, for now. Luffy and Ace could have only been of help with blowing stuff up. Chopper was miles away and he didn't want to disturb the kid with this stuff, either; his work at the hospital was more than enough for him right now. And Nami he only wanted to see as frequently as the back of his head.

Zoro let out an irritated huff and fished his old phone from his pocket. He barely unlocked it when his address list popped up on the screen, with Lucci at its very end. Just one more push of the button and the cook would have arrived at Luffy's name. The swordsman contemplated a quick prayer of thanks, but he discarded the thought quickly – he didn't have anyone to pray to, anyway. He searched his pocket for the crumpled piece of paper and unfolded it.

"Cook?"

"Where the hell are you?" The voice on the other end of the line grumbled.

Zoro looked around. "No idea."

"How can you have no idea? You made a run for it barely ten minutes ago, how far could you have gotten?!"

"So far that I don't recognize anything?" The green haired man rolled his eyes. "I've just got back from being abroad for two years. The streets must have been rearranged while I was gone, or something." The swordsman heard a sharp sound then, from the other end – skin slapping sharply against skin. "What was that?"

"Never mind. What can you see around you?"

Zoro looked left and right.

"Mouldy brown walls. A pet shop – Gaimon's Little Paradise, it's called. I kind of remember seeing a playground somewhere on the left." He already ran out of things he could have mentioned, but there was still no reply coming from the receiver. Heavy silence. "Cook?"

"Say... Is there a military shop nearby with the sign saying Little Garden?"

"Oh, yeah," Zoro noted, squinting, "on the other end of the street."

"Start walking towards that."

The green-hair shrugged and headed in the direction he was instructed. Barely did he arrive at the corner of the building, his neck suffered a stinging clap coming from the left.

"Ow! What the fuck?!"

"This is what little brats get for wandering off."

Baffled, Zoro stared at the scowling blond reason for the smarting pain on his nape. How had the cook gotten here so fast? Why is there a red hand-imprint on his forehead? And how the hell had he not noticed his presence earlier?

He peered over the curly-brow's shoulder. The Den Den Mushi store was there, barely a few feet away. The gigantic snail logo was hard to miss.

"Don't tell me..."

"Yep. You ran around the building," Sanji sighed, rubbing his brow with his palm that was just as red as the fading mark beneath it. The swordsman began to realize how that could have gotten there...

For a while after that, they walked in silence beside each other. Or, more precisely, Zoro did, while having to listen to the blond silently and incoherently mumble on and on to himself as they went.

"Oi, cook. What the hell is it?"

"Nothing. I just lost my shopping list. Must have fallen out down at the subway."

The swordsman's stomach rumbled in discomfort. The breakfast he had skipped and the tomfoolery with the mobile phone hasn't done any good neither for his digesting system, nor his mood.

"Cook, let's stop for a while. I think I saw a McDonald's some streets away."

The green haired man had never seen anyone grow deathly pale quite so fast. Sanji gave him a look as though he had just confessed that he was a time-travelling serial killer, who had just murdered his parents and had declared that therefore the blond would dissolve into atoms and vanish in thin air, as if he had never been born.

"Don't you dare say that again in my presence!" The cook's face went from white to green as he sneered the words.

"What? You mean McDo–"

"SHUT UP!" The blond yelled. The whole street seemed to freeze in place, the people around looking at them uncertain. "If you have to stuff yourself with junk food, do it right!" The sleeve of his coat fell victim to the blond's grip again as the idiot all but broke out in a dash.

"So that means you're paying?" Zoro grinned. "You still owe me lunch!"

"Fine, Marimo," hissed the blond, still dragging him along. Luckily, Bonney's pizzeria wasn't too far away, so he might have just as well...

"And while we're at it, you could explain how to put music onto this thing."

"What do you mean 'how'?" Sanji stopped at the brink of the stairs leading underground. "Just like you did onto your music player. There's no difference, at all."

"Oh, that was Mar– uh, a friend of mine who did that." Shit, he couldn't say names. Who knows who the blond would recognize? If he knew Luffy, he most probably was acquainted with Ace, and that way, he would definitely know about the ominous Marco. Those two had practically been joined by the hip ever since they had met at the fire station. In the worst possible meaning, if the latest news were to be believed.

"Then you get it. That's basically it."

Zoro hummed to that, staring at the end of the cable. And Sanji was more and more agitated by the fact that they were standing around on top of a shitty stair like two fucking diarrhoeic pigeons, and the Marimo was just looking at that accursed cable-end as if he would expect it to break out in a song, starting on the Ode to Joy. A frightening thought occurred to him.

"You... do know what a computer is, don't you, Marimo?"

"Fuck you, cook," Zoro growled. How wouldn't he know what a damn computer is?! The only thing was that he had traded it in a few years ago, having been short on money. He didn't especially mind. Sandai Kitetsu was resting peacefully at home thanks to that. "I just don't have one, not right now. But I'll work it out."

Sanji sank into thought for a moment, his fingertips drumming on his lips.

"And how about," the said, "I cook you something for lunch so delicious that you'll kiss the ground I walk on for the rest of your pitiful life, and," he raised a finger to keep the brute from interrupting, "I'll even help you transfer as much music onto your phone as you want. In return, you only have to lend me a hand with shopping. Deal?"

The swordsman obliged without much contemplation. The thought of food was just too tempting at that time of the day, and he didn't really have anything against the blond's company. Well okay, he had to admit, when he didn't get a spontaneous idiocy-attack and wasn't in the midst of running after another skirt, the shitty cook proved to be nice to hang out with, sort of. Sanji was witty, more intelligent than smart and he loved to ask questions. Zoro could barely keep dodging, not to mention anything that would reveal him.

That proved to be harder of a task as time went by, since apparently, the blond was friends with basically everyone the green-hair knew, too. He spoke of Franky as if they had been childhood friends despite only having known him for two years, whereas he hadn't been the one hanging out for years in the Franky Brothers' garage, with Usopp and Luffy after school. Then again, Zoro realized he had no clue who Vivi or Kohza was, he had never met Brook, and didn't even know that Chopper had gained his doctorate in the meantime. Guilt crept into his chest. Chopper was like a little brother to him, and he hadn't even called him up after arriving home...

The conversation held out on the way up to Sanji's apartment, the cook excitedly talking about the upcoming marriage and the surprise cake he was planning the bride- and groom-to-be. The swordsman tried to pay attention, but he got more and more distracted; the blond's posture gradually relaxed while he was cooking, his motions nimble and fluid. It looked as if water was flowing through his limbs whilst soft noises of stirring and delicious smells filled the kitchen's air.

"Oi, Marimo! Don't sleep in someone else's kitchen, dammit!"

A powerful kick met his shoulder and the green haired man fell from the barstool. He was up again in an instant and in fighting stance when he realized what had happened.

"Why the hell did you kick me, shitty cook?"

"Stop daydreaming, you mold-brained fucker!" The blond spun on his heels, and if Zoro's reflexes had been a little less sharper than a Gillette blade, he definitely would have ended up with a really painful, masterfully clean fracture in his jaw.

The blond chef was so furious, he didn't even get a chance to explain himself. He really was an attention whore, wasn't he? He hadn't fallen asleep, for fuck's same. He was meditating. Sure, it went a little deeper than he had wanted, but watching the cook had an affect on him. Like looking at the ocean, deep and ageless, yet full of life and fuck, it was radiating from him! Damn this shitty cook in particular!

Zoro blocked another roundhouse-kick, then grabbed the blond's leg. Sanji tried to shrug his hands off, but the bastard was holding on tight.

"Let me go!"

"Calm the fuck down, all ri–" Then, something happened Zoro would have never expected in his dreams. The blond's spine formed an arch as he bent himself back, down until his right hand touched the tiles. Shortly after, he raised his left leg off the ground, sneaked his foot around the swordsman's neck and pulled him forward with force. Zoro landed back-first on the floor with a great thud, with a stupid blond sitting on his chest. The cook was merely watching how the mosshead was trying to figure out what had hit him, grinning.

"Don't be so cocky, Dartbrow. I was just surprised you could fight at all," the swordsman said, trying to shake the dizziness out of his head.

"What a shame I'm the only one in this room who can," smirked the blond.

"I said, don't be so cocky," Zoro retorted, grinning himself, as well. After freeing his arms, he grabbed the cook's shirt and rolled on top of him, pinning his body to the floor this time. The blond was flushed and panting, looking up at him with piercing blue eyes. They looked like a frozen-over hell, burning with blue flames of rage, confusion and shame.

The cook struggled underneath him, but Zoro didn't let him go. Using his upper body strength, he pinned the cook's thin wrist over his head and leaned closer to him. The man's one visible eye widened in horror and panic. The swordsman grinned and bent even closer. His breath tickled the soft skin behind the blond's right ear...

"You'll burn the meat, cook."

Those seemed to be the magical words. The green haired man found himself flailing and falling down to the left, the cook stumbling over him, cursing on his whole way to the oven. Zoro couldn't help but laugh, and went sprawling on the cool surface spreading beneath him.

"Oi, Marimo, get your ass over here."

Zoro raised himself to sit back to the table, and shortly, Sanji set a plate down before him.

"Dig in."

The swordsman eyed the steaming dish suspiciously for a moment, but after the first mouthful, he was lost. The curry was pretty fucking awesome and warm and spicy and all the gospel of the angelic choir; especially after those instant meals he had lived on the past few days. He opened his eyes again, just to met the cook's cheeky smile.

"Pretty good, isn't it?"

Dammit. He was not here to inflate his ego.

"You know, it could've used one more ingredient."

Sanji raised his eyebrow. He hadn't heard that one for a long, long time.

"And what could that possibly be?"

Zoro had wolfed down half of his plate by then, vigorously scooping the rest of the meal inside his mouth, to save everything he could before he answered, just in case.

"Well, maybe you could have added some talent."

Another round of sparring, cursing and kicking followed the comment. It was strangely fun, however – that cook really could kick ass. Or mountains. They were on the same level, with no chance of beating the other, but hell if they didn't try. Neither of them wanted to step back first. God knows how long they would have continued if Zoro's old mobile hadn't started ringing.

The creepy sound of it pulled them back to reality, and after the Marimo finished the call with – as it turned out – the parent of one of his students, they could actually sit down decently, and the blond showed him how to download music to his new phone.

And even though the birdbrain didn't deserve it, Sanji put some curry in boxes and threw them into the wide-eyed swordsman's hands, before slamming the door into his face.

TBC

So much. So beautiful - thanks to my great translator and editor, Chibikanakonyu

Comments, questions greatly appreciated below.