Rating: PG

Warning: language

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji

Timeline: Sometime after Enies Lobby

~*Captivation*~

Running a trembling hand slowly and reluctantly across the fogged mirror to clear the blurry moisture, he couldn't stop the sigh that escaped his slightly chapped lips. He never got used to this moment, no matter how many thousands of times he had stood in this very position, wiping the vision clear and taking in the heart-wrenching view.

Staring at his pale, lithe form in the glass, white towel slung low on his lean hips, he dipped his chin slightly, feeling his flesh buzz at the anticipation he always harbored for this one miserable moment a day.

In truth, it really wasn't that horrible of a sight. But to someone like Sanji, who took great pride in his appearance and presentation…it was nothing short of painful.

So painfully distracting that he almost didn't hear the heavy boot-steps that pushed the door open and thumped over to stand directly behind him. He'd have to commit to memory the fact that there was now a lock on the bathroom door of the new ship, the Thousand Sunny…not that it would make much of a difference to the intruder.

Hard, callused hands glided with an unexpected gentleness up his long, ivory arms braced upon the porcelain lavatory, coming to softly massage his tense shoulders free of the newest knotted muscles.

A small sigh of gratitude fell from his mouth as he leaned back into the welcoming embrace, strong arms crossing over his tight, alabaster chest. The heated tan flesh standing out in stark contrast to the nearly colorless skin it rested against.

A firm chin slid to lay along the junction between neck and shoulder, planting a soft, chaste kiss along the pulsing tendon, then – for one terrifying moment – their eyes met in the mirror; dark jade locking onto one sparkling, but nervous, ice-blue orb.

Smaller, shaking hands came to grasp the caramel-colored forearms across his chest, squeezing tightly as if a silent plea to never let go. But that's exactly what the beneath arm did, sliding from below the clutched limb and trailing slowly up the collar bone and neck, coming to rest on a sharp chin.

He could feel himself tense, regardless of the familiarity of this touch and the frequency of this moment. No matter how many times Zoro had forced this revelation…it never got any easier and he was always filled with such nervous anticipation that one day the swordsman would decide that he didn't like was he saw.

But Zoro knew these thoughts, every fear and discomfort that plagued the pale cook in his grasp. He never forgot the images that scared the cook out of his wits, no matter how the bastard tried to conceal it. He knew his weaknesses…but he would never use them against him.

That was the unspoken code between the two pirates: Never use the other's grave weaknesses to defeat them.

Sanji never stabbed at the swordsman about his promise and devotion to the dead dojo girl that made him who he was that day. Zoro never kicked the martial artist in the back over this one dark secret that only he and Chopper were privy to.

The bushido, on the other hand, considered it somewhat of an honor that he was the only one, save the furry little doctor, that was allowed to slide his hand beneath that heavy golden bang that concealed the left half of the cook's face.

Sliding his fingers through the baby-fine strands, he pushed the barrier back, and the smaller man flinched visibly.

Staring at the one part of Sanji that was uncharacteristically out of place, Zoro couldn't help but wonder what was so earth-shattering about this deviation. Why the cook was so keen on keeping this one slight malformation hidden was beyond his realm of understanding, because in all actuality, it wasn't that bad. Zoro had scars and he didn't try to hide them...why should Sanji?

"Open your eyes, Sanji…"

He could feel the trembling of that lithe man against him, those lids slowly lifting to reveal two contrasting visuals.

Sanji's right eye was clear and blue as an overcast sky – an icy reminder of the sometimes-cold personality – but also sparkling like the amazing man that everyone knew he was beneath that hard-ass façade. This was the eye that narrowed during fights, squinted with laughter at the captain's antics, took on a heart-like quality in the presence of the ladies, and frowned with concern when something unfortunate happened to one of his nakama.

But the left eye…

This orb was a startling white, clouded over with blindness and discolored from an old infection. The whites were tinged with grey, and the pupil was milky with cataract-like appearance. Where there was once a twin blue iris was only a sickly pale reminder of the life that once flourished beneath the haze.

But though this dysfunctional eye brought Sanji much pain and sorrow…Zoro found a strange fascination with it – thinking it even more captivating than the still working one.

Sanji felt himself shrink under the heavy scrutiny of that green gaze, unable to do anything but avert his half-functional sight to the sink below. A tug on his forehead where a sturdy palm rested quickly righted the situation, his frightened eyes locking fearfully onto the others'.

"Go ahead…say it's ugly. Call me a freak and get it over with…"

Zoro didn't frown or protest, instead closing his eyes softly and burying his nose in the freshly clean, damp blonde hair, "You're still beautiful."

He could feel the man tensing once more, so he continued, "Hey…I know you hate it when I say that, but honestly that's all I can come up with. It doesn't make you a woman. Beauty isn't reserved for them alone. I find beauty in very few things: a good fight, the ocean on a clear day, reaching a goal, our crew altogether and happy…and you."

The tension flooded from the cook's frame, settling tiredly into the firm arms that held him, a lone tear streaking down his cheek from the good eye, dripping onto that well-toned forearm below.

"You idiot…" was the raspy reply, mouth quirking into grin, "I never knew you had a romantic side."

The grin was returned with a smirk of his own, "Only for you…"