Chapter song: "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" by Queen (aka. Sanji's song)
Sanji followed the waiter who was seating him at La Maison de Poisson. He was the first to get to the restaurant, because the shitty swordsman had gone somewhere with Robin-chan and promised to meet him there afterward at seven o'clock. The cook took a seat at one of the booths, informing the waiter that he was expecting someone named Zoro, and ordered a glass of wine while he waited. It wouldn't surprise him if the directionless idiot got lost and never showed, but Sanji was ten minutes early, so he was willing to wait around at least until the time they'd agreed on.
He swirled the red liquid around in his glass, trying to locate the source of his sudden anxiety. Maybe it was because he was sitting there alone, facing the possibility that the moss-head wouldn't be able to find his way and leave the cook looking like he'd been stood up, or maybe it was because Zoro would show up—they were going to have dinner together in a fancy restaurant, and it had been Sanji's idea. He refused to admit it to the other man, but he had meant for the swordsman to join him when he'd mentioned going out for seafood.
Great. It's a date.
Zoro's words kept repeating in his mind as he sat there nervously sipping wine. He'd even consciously worn his best suit for the occasion, but now he was starting to sweat in it with the prospect that he had actually agreed to go on a date with the idiot-swordsman. We didn't agree to it though, he reassured himself. It's just dinner. No big deal.
He was still stressing over the situation, wondering if it would feel awkward and whether or not Zoro did consider it a date, when his eyes caught the movement of someone approaching his table. A gentleman in a dark, well-fitting suit stopped in front of Sanji whose eyes panned up to the man's face with growing disbelief—they trailed over elegant fabric clinging to muscular legs, swept across the impeccably defined torso, and paused to appreciate how the bright green shade of his silk tie perfectly matched the man's slicked-back hair. Golden cufflinks glinted as he slipped his hands into his pockets, complementing the three gold earrings dangling from his left ear.
"Is this seat taken?" Zoro asked ironically with a tilt of his head. His earrings clinked together and fell against tanned skin, which drew Sanji's attention to his well-sculpted jaw, the curve of his neck, and the strong bones dipping under the white collar of what the cook reluctantly admitted was a truly dashing suit.
He was at a total loss for words—it was absolutely disgraceful. Sanji knew that his eyes had gone wide as he openly stared at the other man, mouth slack and fingers clenched around the wine glass, but he couldn't seem to gather his wits long enough to offer a response, let alone stand and give him a proper greeting. Zoro laughed, flashing the cook a brilliant smile as he slid into the booth across from the stunned blond.
"Okay, it was worth Robin convincing me to put on this monkey suit just to see your dumbstruck expression." He paused for Sanji's response, waving a hand in front of his face when no words came out of the cook's mouth. "Oi, anybody home?"
"Wha—uh…well, I…I guess a monkey suit is appropriate for an ape like you," he found himself saying.
Zoro frowned, putting on a mocking tone when he said, "Tch. A 'hello' would have been nice." Sanji recognized that as a repetition of his own words from the morning after they'd spent the night in that hotel, and he felt his cheeks heat at the reminder.
Yeah, it's definitely a date, he decided, feeling lightheaded—and not because of the wine. "You…that outfit…it looks good," he got out lamely. "I—I mean, it's a nice change from the rags you usually wear."
"It obviously looks a hell of a lot better than 'good' since you can barely form a proper sentence," he teased.
Sanji's cheeks continued to blaze under the swordsman's painfully sexy glare. What the hell is wrong with me? he wondered, resisting the urge to loosen his collar or nervously fidget with his cuffs. This is pathetic behaviour from someone who claims to be a smooth-talking gentleman. It's just a nice suit! That's still the same idiot-marimo sitting there, he told himself firmly—but it wasn't just a "nice suit."
It looked fucking incredible on him.
Even his hair, which usually would have been offensively green, was combed and slicked back with something that made it shimmer exactly like the silk of his tie. The dark navy material of the blazer and dress pants was perfectly suited to his complexion and tailored magnificently to accentuate every perfect curve of his arms and chest. The cook felt his mouth begin to literally water as if he were looking at a beautifully plated meal and could imagine how succulent its taste would be. His entire face felt embarrassingly hot, but thinking about it only made his thoughts transition to how hot Zoro's face was, and then he could feel his skin burning with the desire to lean across the table and—
Holy shit, Sanji, get it the fuck together! he hissed inwardly. Just calm down—he took you by surprise with that get-up. He knows how doe-eyed you get over a good suit…amazing suit, rather. The cook hastily took another sip of his wine, hoping to disguise the blush with his alcohol intolerance, and carefully set down the glass as he met the other man's eyes.
"Color me impressed, marimo. Suddenly I'm remembering why it's possible that I'm even remotely attracted to you."
"Ha! Thanks, but that's a little rude, don't you think? I haven't spent years training and perfecting this body to be your personal eye candy," Zoro admonished him with another too-handsome-to-be-legal smirk.
"True. You aren't sweet enough to be eye candy. You're more like a tough piece of meat."
"So just a piece of ass then?"
"Well, you're definitely an asshole, but I'll concede that you also have a nice ass."
"I'm sure you're dying to get in it, but we're about to eat dinner, curly-brows, so how about you use those manners that you take so much pride in and save the verbal foreplay for the bedroom."
Sanji made an affronted noise but was prevented from making a scathing reply by a young waitress who stopped at their table and handed them each a menu. "Good evening, gentleman. My name is Elizabeth, and I will be your server today. Our soup du jour is a traditional bouillabaisse, and we have a special on tonight for half-priced house wine—it's the finest quality Merlot that you'll find on the island," she told them with a carefully trained smile.
Zoro took the menu in silence, seeming content to let Sanji handle the social graces while he began flipping through the pages with a tiny frown. "It's all in French. Here's where you'll actually come in use, Cook. What are we having?" he looked expectantly at the blond who mirrored his frown and turned back to the beautiful waitress.
"My apologies—Zoro hasn't been properly trained for polite society, so please excuse his neglectful attitude towards a lovely maiden such as yourself! My name is Sanji, and it's a pleasure to be served by you, Mademoiselle Elizabeth." He returned her smile with a genuine one of his own, ignoring the kick he received under the table for this comment.
"It's no trouble at all, Monsieur Sanji. What can I start you gentlemen off with tonight?" she replied swiftly.
"I guess I'll try your house wine," Zoro said unexpectedly. He almost never drank wine, opting instead for any liquor that was dark and heavy or else the cheapest ale he could get his hands on.
"I'll take another glass myself, dear Elizabeth, and perhaps an order of saumon fumé to start?"
Once she had left to have their appetizer prepared, Zoro asked him to translate the French dishes on the menu. "I thought we could try their smoked salmon first, but I don't know what kind of seafood you feel like eating. Give me something to start with—do you want muscles, crab, more fish…or how about escargot?"
"Yeah, don't know what that last one is."
"Snails."
"Ick. They got any real meat?"
"Of course you come to a seafood restaurant and ask for meat. I swear, you're as bad as Luffy. How about their filet de boeuf au morilles then? That's grilled fillet mignon—steak, in laymen's terms—with a mushroom brandy demi-glace."
"I'm hearing the English, but it still sounds French to me. You know what I like to eat—order for me?"
"Ugh. Fine, but only because it's more painful to watch you think."
"You're the best, curly."
"Shut the fuck up, moss-head."
Elizabeth returned with a bottle of wine and second glass for Zoro. She filled them with a graceful pour, leaving the two men in comfortable silence after taking their order and bringing them their appetizer. Sanji did all of the talking, which suited the quiet swordsman just fine.
While they shared the salmon dish, Zoro relayed the details of his shopping trip with Robin, which had apparently been eventful due to his tendency to wander off and take the long way back to his crewmate, and the tedious visit to the haberdashery where he had apparently drawn a crowd while trying on different suits.
"It was ridiculous. I mean, why bother giving your opinion to a complete stranger like that?" he asked obliviously, referring to the group of women, and even a few men, who had joined Robin outside of the dressing rooms to offer their input on various outfits.
"You should always be attentive and appreciative of any lady's advice, you ungrateful brute! I don't know why they'd be interested in watching you try on suits, but who am I to question a woman's idea of a suitable pastime? Those men, on the other hand, were probably just trying to get a look at your freakish hair," Sanji told him.
"Drop the act, Cook. You know I look damn good in this stupid thing, so don't try to act like there's zero appeal in watching me put it on…or take it off," he added with his typical lack of subtlety.
Sanji took another careful sip of his wine. "I thought we were saving the verbal foreplay for the bedroom?"
Zoro shrugged. "Unlike you, I don't claim to be a refined gentleman. Like you said, I'm just an ape in a monkey suit."
The cook finished his second glass of wine and boldly gave the swordsman an appreciative once-over. "It's a damn fine suit, marimo. Who did your hair? You sure clean up nice."
"Thanks," he said, seeming genuinely pleased at the compliment this time. "Robin put some shit in it."
Sanji felt the tiniest stuttering of his heartbeat at the way Zoro smiled, attacking the last of the salmon with a contented look on his face. The way his cheeks puffed out as he chewed was suddenly endearing to Sanji, who couldn't shake the word "cute" from his mind.
"Now this feels like a dream," he commented absently, still staring at the gorgeously dressed man in front of him. "You're actually eating slow enough to keep it all in your mouth."
"It tastes okay, but it's got nothing on the salmon you can make, so I can stand to pace myself seeing as we're in a fancy-shmancy restaurant and all."
Sanji paused at that, his chest squeezing in a way that wasn't uncomfortable—rather, he was aware that the tightness was due to his genuine pleasure at hearing Zoro actually praise his food. The swordsman was never that forthcoming with compliments, so it was extremely gratifying to receive proof that Zoro had a high regard for the cook's skill in the kitchen. "Thanks," he said tentatively. "I'm glad to hear you like it. I'll have to make it more often."
Zoro nodded, distracted by the arrival of their entrees. Elizabeth handed him the plate of fillet mignon, and set another in front of Sanji. "Mmm, what's that? It smells great."
"Bar au beurre blanc et crabe—seabass with crabmeat in a sherry butter sauce," Sanji told him, catching the waitress' attention with his proficiency in French.
"Tu parles trés bien, Monsieur. Parlez-vous français?" Elizabeth asked him curiously.
"Oui, mademoiselle, but my partner here isn't fluent in the least, otherwise I would gladly strike up a conversation." She smiled understandingly and made a small bow before leaving them to their meals. Zoro didn't make a move to touch his food and had instead paused to stare at the cook with barely concealed wonder.
"You really like me, huh?" he said wryly, causing Sanji to pause with a forkful of fish halfway to his mouth.
"What makes you say that?"
"Just now, you referred to me as your partner and refused to talk to the pretty waitress in French, because it would make me feel left out. Your flirting with her seems a little half-hearted, too."
As soon as he said it, Sanji realized that it was true—he hadn't been going full-on heart-eyed mode with the beautiful Elizabeth, and he had unconsciously used the word "partner" instead of something else that would have implied a strictly plutonic relationship.
"Don't read too much into it and overinflate your ego. I'm just less embarrassed to be seen with you when you look like that," he said casually, though it probably had less to do with Zoro's new suit and more to do with the swordsman's pleasant attitude. Sanji was, in fact, quite enjoying himself. Huh.
"Whatever. I don't care if you don't want to label this a date—I'm just glad to be spending time with you without us getting into some sort of fight. I was worried we wouldn't be able to go a whole evening without one of us ruining it by going for the other's throat."
"The night is still young, shitty-swordsman," Sanji reminded him, but his pulse was suddenly racing a mile a minute as he realized that he felt the same way. It was…nice…to be like this with Zoro. They could get along if they tried, and it wasn't nearly as awkward as he'd feared.
They struck up another conversation over the main course with Sanji revealing that he had originally begun learning French from a customer at the Baratie, who had been quite persistent at enticing him into bed and barely spoke a lick of English.
"She taught me the basic commands anyway," he explained sheepishly.
"Commands? Yeah, I'll bet she did," Zoro remarked with an amused snort. He pitched his voice, surprising the blond by imitating a woman moaning. "Baise moi, Sanji! Plus fort!"
The blond almost swallowed his fork at that and was unable to stop the bubble of pure mirth from slipping out. "Oh my God," he got out between choked laughter.
"Oh, mon Dieu!" Zoro translated, grinning at Sanji's inability to reply due to a fit of very unmanly giggles. "What, did you think you were the only one who's had sex with a French girl?" he asked the cook.
The blond wiped away a tear, coughing to clear his throat of any lingering laughter. "Well, shit. As hilarious as it was to hear those words come out of your mouth, please don't ever imitate a woman's voice again," Sanji told him once he'd finally gained control of his speech.
"Deal."
After that, the topic of conversation switched to Zoro as he was forced to reveal the circumstances in which he'd bedded a woman who spoke fluent French—Whiskey Peak had been a pretty lively island, and the swordsman was dense enough not to have realized that the lady was speaking a completely different language until they were halfway through.
By the time their entrees were finished, they had somehow managed to transition from Zoro's first time with a Frenchwoman to his first time with a man, and the cook curiously inquired about a comment Zoro had once made about his childhood friend teaching him that the outer package isn't necessarily as important as what was inside. It was a fascinating topic to Sanji, because he still had those moments when he was with Zoro and couldn't believe that being intimate with another man felt so right.
"Kuina didn't really teach me to think that way, or at least not directly—we were too young when she died for us to have been discussing that kind of thing…actually, all we really talked about was swords."
"She sounds like a female version of you," Sanji remarked, laughing a little as his wine-drunk mind ran with the thought. "A female you would've caught my attention a lot sooner, even if she had green hair and atrocious table manners."
"Actually, I think she's kind of like a female you...or you're a male her, I guess."
"Really? You think I'm like her?" Sanji asked, surprised.
"Maybe it's just that you've always reminded me of her, because Kuina and I were rivals constantly striving to be better than the other. She gave me just as much shit as you do, too, and she always talked like it was a damn chore to be around me…but we understood each other and respected each other's talent, you know? At the end of the day, we enjoyed fighting and welcomed the chance to test our skills against a worthy opponent. You and I are just like that, huh?"
Sanji slowly nodded, struck speechless by the comparison. He thought about Wado Ichimonji and the loving way in which Zoro took care of Kuina's sword, wielding it between his teeth on his journey to fulfill their promise to become the greatest. The cook suddenly recalled the day he'd fallen down the stairs—Zoro had been beside him in and instant, his fingers trembling with panic in the blond's hair as he felt for a head wound like the one that had killed his friend all those years ago. Zoro had first kissed him, without any hesitation, because he knew that he had the chance to save Sanji when he hadn't been able to save Kuina… "because you're important to me," he'd said.
"Zoro."
The name came out hoarsely, distorted by the emotion swelling inside the blond. He looked the swordsman in the eye and placed his forearms on the table so that he could lean towards him. For once, the oblivious man understood the hint and leaned in to meet Sanji's lips in the middle. They kissed slowly, Zoro groaning either from the magic spreading through his body or from something else entirely—Sanji heard himself mirroring the sound, and he knew it wasn't the magic that drew it out of him.
They broke apart, falling back into their seats and breathing hard. Both of them had moved during the kiss to take the other's hand in one of their own, and they stayed like that for a long moment with their fingers interlocking across the table. "We're halfway there," Sanji told him with a quiet smile. "That was kiss number 50. Halfway."
Zoro beamed at him, squeezing the blond's hand in acknowledgment. "I think it'll be a memorable one."
"I'd hope so, seeing as how it happened on our first date."
"So it is one? I mean, you think we're—"
"Yeah, yeah, it's a date. Don't let it go to your head, dumbass."
"You're the dumbass for dating a dumbass."
"We're not dating! I didn't agree to that yet."
Zoro quirked an eyebrow up. "Yet?"
Sanji withdrew his hand to furiously run his fingers through his hair. "You're impossible, moss-for-brains! Stop trying to trap me with your sneaky romance—I'm not falling for it."
"We'll see about that…You were right, you know," he said, transitioning into a more serious tone.
"I usually am, but what about this time?"
"I had given up. I really didn't think that you could ever be interested in me as anything more than your rival, or nakama, or a quick fuck if I was lucky. I didn't see any point in pursuing you the way I wanted, but that was a cowardly way to think. I decided that I'm not gonna quit that easily, so prepare to be wooed, Cook."
"You're such a fucking dork," Sanji snorted.
"Yeah, but you want to fuck this dork."
"Well, you did offer."
"The offer still stands," Zoro assured him, swallowing down the last of his wine. "We don't have to do that tonight though. It wouldn't be classy after a first date."
Sanji smirked. "We're pirates, idiot. There's a time and place for classy, and it ends once we leave this fine restaurant."
"Are you saying you want to get the check?"
"I didn't say that…but I was definitely implying it."
Zoro instantly stuck out a hand to flag down their waitress. She noticed his enthusiasm and quickly went to prepare their bill. "I'm paying for us both since I kind of invited myself. That makes it official—it's a date."
"Then I'll pick up the hotel tab since you let me stay for free last time."
"You want to go to a hotel?" Zoro asked in pleasant surprise.
"It beats going back to the Sunny where we'll get teased by Robin and hounded for details about our evening. Plus, you told Franky not to build us a comfortable bed, and I totally forgot to buy extra tablecloths."
"Well that was stupid. It looks like we're out of options then," Zoro agreed, letting his gaze roam hungrily over the blond. Sanji was likewise starved and quickly joined the swordsman in drinking in the other's appearance across the table.
The bill couldn't come fast enough.