Author's note :

I'm finally done with that little bugger! It gave me all kinds of trouble for some reason. I actually had to rewrite it from scratch, or nearly, after writing about 5k words for it. Anyway, you now know why this fic is called Unripe, and now that it's out of my system, I can focus on the good parts (we're almost there!) and other commitments (you know who you are, and I haven't forgotten about you).

[off topic]On a side note, I'm aware of FFnet's recent purge of risky material, and thus, I expect most of my fics will be deleted at some point. To be honest, I've always known it would happen. I've always been aware that what I posted wasn't exactly allowed. Also, I might not have been posting stuff for too long – it's only been a year and a half – but I've actually been using this website for a long, long time. I remember the first purge, when the admins decided to delete all the NC-17 stuff (yeah, I'm that old). Anyway, I got myself an AO3 account, and I'm still on LJ – I'm violetta-jones there. Just in case this account got suspended, you can follow me there. And if you're interested, I also have a Tumblr account (I'm violettajones there as well), where I also post art (bigger version of this fic's cover, among others) and stuff (mostly ramblings, but also progress on my various fics).[/off topic]

Now, I'll let you read. Prepare yourself for Zoro being the king of understatement here.

I'm not Oda, so, I don't own anything. However, I'm the Beetroot, and one day, I'll conquer the world!

Enjoy~!

ooo

That night, after his row with the cook in the galley, the remaining of Zoro's watch feels somewhat surreal. Afterward, he won't even be able remember how he managed to get back to the crow's nest.

He feels distracted by so many thoughts, twirling in his head over and over, eclipsing everything else. As he sits down against the wooden railing, he feels overwhelmed by feelings of shame, and also anger at himself for his inability to control his own reactions. But his utter mortification is counterbalanced by the eerie feeling that all of this is completely fucked up, that it shouldn't – couldn't – be possible. Him, getting a boner – or anything even remotely close to one – over Sanji? Really? It shouldn't be possible, definitely. It shouldn't have happened at all.

Somehow, his mind can't get around the fact it did. No matter how hard he tries, he can't help but stare absentmindedly at the surrounding night, still very much unable to think. Whenever he tries going over what happened, his mind goes irrepressibly blank.

He doesn't even know if thinking about it would be a good idea, anyway. Part of him – a part that feels far, far away, muffled by his current bedazzlement – faintly wishes he could forget, as if it never happened. But despite his self-admitted reluctance to think about it, he has the nagging feeling that what happened has some significance, somehow. That, maybe, it might prove important, later, when he can get his unwilling mind to proceed the information and analyze it.

For now, it's just too big, too foreign for him to apprehend, or even acknowledge entirely.

He spends most of the night in that numb daze. At some point, he dozes off, only to be woken up minutes later, when Chopper comes to take his place. He leaves the crow's nest, and, feeling slightly thirsty, heads towards the galley to grab a glass of water. The light is off, and once inside, he can confirm that the cook is nowhere to be seen. Unwilling to admit he feels relieved at the thought he won't have to face the guy yet, he quenches his thirst. Then, after dropping the used glass in the sink, he starts heading tiredly towards the boys' cabin.

Only to stop dead in his tracks, assaulted by a very uncomfortable thought.

Obviously, since he's not in the galley, the cook will be there. And somehow, Zoro doesn't really feel like sleeping on their usually shared rug, right now. Not so soon after what happened. Not until he can think about it, and get his act together.

So, instead of going to bed, Zoro heads for the stern, settles on the floor, and starts doing push-ups. When morning rolls in, he's still there, lifting weights. He doesn't hear Sanji's breakfast call, oblivious to his own hunger.

ooo

Avoiding someone on such a small ship is difficult, and ultimately useless. One will always end up stumbling upon the person they're running away from. Zoro knows it for a fact. Which is precisely why he never really tried to avoid any of his crew members. Not even Nami, after her as-of-yet unexplained desertion. She probably knows as well as he does, he thinks, because she didn't try to avoid him either. The best – or worst? – she did back then was to avoid exchanging glances with him, and make sure they wouldn't find themselves alone in a room. He barely noticed at first, since he was busy doing the same thing. And when he did, he was somewhat grateful, though slightly pissed off, because she was acting as if nothing ever happened between them.

Why he can't feel that way when he realizes Sanji won't cross eyes with him, later that day, Zoro has no idea.

It's not even like he's actively seeking to be around the cook. Not that he's scared of facing the guy, no. Zoro's not a coward. Actually, it's the opposite. He doesn't think Sanji will want him around much anytime soon. And he doesn't exactly blame him, because he knows that he'd probably feel uncomfortable too, even if only just a bit, would any of his male crew-mates display signs of arousal while they're in such a compromising position. It would be just too weird for him to handle. Moreover, Sanji's reaction isn't surprising at all, considering the cook definitely likes girls. Exclusively. It'd be no surprise if the guy freaked out. No, Zoro really can't blame him, even if his elusive behavior pisses him off a little.

What really aggravates him is the fact that, because he can't even control his bodily reactions properly, such a little, irrelevant thing might have ruined their still fragile friendship. Which he came to like, somehow, along the way. He certainly liked the late night snacks and overall friendlier atmosphere between them. And he didn't mind the not-so-comfortable silences, or the awkward, implied support it entailed. Besides, he wanted to return the favor, and it's not likely going happen anymore, seeing like they're now avoiding each other. He feels responsible for screwing that up, for driving the cook away from him.

Zoro's definitely not a coward. Even if he feels tremendously embarrassed because of what happened, he also profoundly dislikes this tension between them, and doesn't want things to stay that way. He knows he should confront the cook, and find a way to tell him that what happened was nothing. That it shouldn't matter, and that they can resume their hesitant bonding where they left it at, if he still wants to.

Still, he doesn't feel like embarrassing himself further by screwing up again, which he knows will happen, because words and explanations simply aren't his thing. He feels more comfortable when it comes to fighting and handling swords. Words make things way too complicated, and he hates that.

So, despite the nagging feeling that he's running from his responsibilities, he decides to ignore the matter altogether. And he'd be successful at that, if only the shit-cook stopped staring in his general direction whenever he thinks Zoro won't notice. Which he does, of course. Every single fucking time. Being the talented swordsman he is, so used to dangerous situations, there's no way he'd miss someone looking intently at his back like that. Not even when he doesn't expect it.

It starts with a pressure at the base of his neck, and if by then, he hasn't looked around for the source of this sensation, shivers will soon be running down his spine. It rarely gets to this point, because he's generally looking before the shudders even have the chance to surface. So, he looks, and soon enough, his eyes fall on the cook, his head already turned in the opposite direction, focusing on something else. Twirling around the girls like an idiot, or looking intently at the sea, most of the time. As if he'd never been looking to begin with. As if he didn't know better.

After a while, though, he gives up on trying to catch the cook red-handed. He doesn't know what will happen if he does. He's not a coward, but strangely, he doesn't think he could stand it if the cook started looking at him with disgust. Or worse, pity.

If only the cook would stop doing that, Zoro thinks he could settle down the frantic beating in his chest, as well as the rising tension in his shoulders, every time he feels the tell-tale tingling pressure in his neck. And then, maybe he could discard his general confusion, like he usually does with things that bother him, or that he can't entirely understand.

But the cook doesn't stop, and Zoro is unable to relax, or to distract himself from the disconcerting thoughts that started occurring to him after that night. So, he busies himself with training, though it doesn't help his relentless mind.

The only thing that's clear for now is that he has trouble comprehending his reaction, back in the galley. It just doesn't make any sense to him. It's not like it's the first time Sanji's ever straddled him like that : they've been in similar positions multiple times in the past, generally while they were fighting about irrelevant things. Such an embarrassing thing never, ever happened. Moreover, he's never been attracted to a guy before, and certainly not the cook, whom he's now known for a few months. Why would it start happening now? It wouldn't make sense.

Thus, there's only one way to explain what happened, according to Zoro : it must be a mere physical reaction to external stimulus. Nothing to do with the cook, only with his stupid hormones deciding to act up at the worst possible moment. It wouldn't be too surprising, anyway. He hasn't felt particularly sex-deprived, lately, even though he hasn't gotten any in a while. But he got used to getting laid regularly in the past weeks, and he might be missing it, even if he doesn't notice. His earlier bout of self-indulgence, while on watch in the crow's nest, only serves to prove it further. It would be a logical consequence of his thing with Nami : instinct got the upper hand over his rational mind. That's what happened in the galley, that night, he reckons.

Which means he'll need to work on having better control over his body, since that reaction was clearly unwanted – and misplaced.

He adamantly refuses to think about the dreams he's been having lately, or the pull he feels whenever he thinks of the cook's blue eyes. These are complicated things he can't apprehend for now. Or ever.

He firmly believes that things will turn out right if he keeps it all simple.

ooo

It's when night falls that things become truly difficult.

At first, Zoro decides he'll sleep outside. The weather isn't too bad, a bit on the cold side, but not so much that he'd rather sleep indoors. He's quite tired : he was on watch for most of the previous night, and never got to catch up on sleep in the morning. Barely ate, too. He really doesn't feel like dealing with a fussy cook who might very well think Zoro's after his ass. Which is ridiculous, really, because the cook is the perverted one, not him.

Whatever. Zoro doesn't mind sleeping outside, anyway.

However, when he realizes the cook hasn't gone to bed yet, if the light in the galley is any indication, he changes his mind. He'd rather not be there if the cook decides to go out for a smoke. It would be the perfect occasion to explain, alone with him in the quiet night, but Zoro's not ready to do that yet. So, he goes to the boys' quarters and settles for the night.

Sleep finds him lying there, eyes riveted to the night sky through the hatch, which he purposefully left open, absolutely not waiting tensely for Sanji to come down.

ooo

Later, he opens his eyes, irritated to find he's slept all day. He can see the sky through the hatch, gloriously red in the receding daylight, as the sun sets over the ship. He's very hungry, too, which isn't very surprising, because it's been almost a day since he last had something to eat. He gets up, and feels slightly light-headed.

Food sounds really good right now. Especially Sanji's delicious food.

He climbs up the ladder and steps on the deck. The ship is eerily silent, but it doesn't really surprises him. The crew is probably having dinner, busy defending their plates against Luffy's greedy hands. And the door to the galley's closed, so it would make sense that he can't hear their loud banter, right?

He approaches the door to the galley, but as he raises a hand to the knob, he's suddenly filled with apprehension. He knows Sanji will be there, all elusive stares and ice blue eyes, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to put up his usual stern front, still drowsy from his much too long night, and half-famished. But in the end, his hunger is too strong and wins the battle against his nerves. He tells himself it's worth the pain in the ass and opens the door, before stepping into the room.

Because of the weakening daylight, and despite what he expected, the galley's very dark inside. The crew's obviously not there, and he wonders where the hell they went. Especially since Luffy, not-so-surprisingly, is quite finicky when it comes to the meals schedule – unless they come sooner than expected, that is. He's about to exit and look for the others, when a sudden speck of light at the other side of the room catches his attention. He narrows his eyes and finally makes out a faint shadow against the wall.

The cook is there, sitting in a corner, a cigarette whose tip is flaring against the dark stuck in his mouth, and his visible eye intent on Zoro. Curiously, it's not filled with disgust or pity, not with distrust or even hate. The cook is simply staring at him with a foreign, slightly disturbing intensity. Zoro feels his throat tightening under an unexpected surge of emotions, which he can't really make sense of. But unmistakably, he recognizes the pull he usually feels whenever he meets the cook's eyes. The guy slowly stands up, and before he knows it, Zoro motions himself closer.

They face each other, eyes locked, barely a few feet apart, for what feels like a long time. Sanji's cigarette slowly burns, emitting lazy smoke that surrounds them both in somewhat hypnotic white swirls. Zoro is compelled to touch him, and he doesn't know how or why, but he almost feels like the cook wouldn't be irremediably averse to it. It feels strangely intimate, standing there in the dark, so close to each other. He could move his hand, only a few inches further, and brush it against Sanji's, hanging relaxed at his side. He could lean forwards and breathe the other man's smell, tobacco and ginger and cologne.

The cook is so close it makes him feel dizzy.

He doesn't think it's a good idea, though. His touch is rough and blunt, much like himself. Scratchy on the edges, if anything. It's not suited to delicate and fleeting things. Sanji's far from delicate, but touching him would mean toying with their fragile bond. Zoro doesn't want to scare him away for good. He doesn't want that bond to break.

And yet, he finds himself raising a hesitant yet eager hand.

Stop me.

He places his hand on Sanji's shoulder, careful to keep the pressure light while he still can, and feels the warmth through the other man's clothes.

Tell me you don't want it.

His other hand goes to the cook's side, gently bringing his thinner frame closer.

Push me away.

Zoro knows that, if he dives in, he won't be able to stop anymore.

Don't let me hurt you.

Sanji doesn't react, his body strangely pliant and willing. But when Zoro looks into his eyes, he can't see his own reflexion in them. It's almost as if the cook was bored, thinking about something else altogether. Or worse, not really there.

Come back. Don't treat this so lightly. Come back and stop me before it's too late.

ooo

He startles awake, an arm stretched stretched before him, his hand trying uselessly to grasp at something that isn't there, and the cook's name on his lips. Realizing he's on the ship, and not wherever his latest dream took him, he blinks briskly, before slowly lying back down, letting his arm fall over his eyes. Letting out a faint sigh, he glances to his left, only to find the spot beside him empty. His eyes dart towards the hatch, still open against the dark sky. His internal – and usually pretty accurate – clock has him believe it's quite late, though obviously, it's not morning yet. He suspects the cook has given up on sleep for the time being, because, even if he decided to sleep now, he wouldn't get much rest, anyway. That idiot's almost always up with the sun.

He closes his eyes, and grunts. He really hopes the shit-cook isn't being ridiculous, because it's not like Zoro's going jump him in his sleep, when all their crew-mates are there. Or even if they were alone, actually. The situation's fucked up enough as it is. And he really hopes the dreams will stop, because he doesn't think he'll be able to sort his thoughts out if they keep confusing the hell out of him.

He sighs and rubs a tired hand over his eyes. He just woke up, but feels so weary, for some reason.

He glances again at the empty space on the rug through his fingers, and has to fight a sudden feeling of abandonment.

He ends up drifting off to sleep again in the faint light of dawn. When he wakes up, the sun is high in the morning sky, and he feels like his mind is a mess. When he comes to the galley to grab a late breakfast, the dark circles under Sanji's eyes are too much for him to handle.

He leaves, his stomach empty.

ooo

Five days later, it's clear to him that something's very wrong.

It's not even the fact that the whole crew has started noticing something was going on. He can feel their heavy gazes full of questioning on him, more often than not, and purposefully ignores them.

It's not the fact the shit-cook's obviously not slept much since Zoro screwed up big time, that night, in the galley, or even the fact they're now avoiding each other more drastically than they've ever done.

Zoro knows most people find him outright scary, though he honestly doesn't understand why. He's not that big of a guy, and even though he's been told that he frowns too much before, he doesn't think he looks that threatening. But he's got no problem with that. Even better, he's used this knowledge to avoid annoying questions or boring fights whenever he needed to, in the past, and every time, he felt surprised that it worked. Nevertheless, he's quite used to being on the receiving end of frightened or intimidated glances. Even from his own crew-mates – namely, Usopp and Chopper – every once in a while.

However, he never imagined the shit-cook would be scared of him, one day.

Sanji hasn't slept in the boys' cabin in days. And since Zoro's proximity seems to make the guy so uncomfortable, he decided to make himself scarce. Just to ease his anxiety. Certainly not his own. Definitely not.

He's been avoiding the galley whenever the Sanji's in there. The guy doesn't seem to sleep much lately, spending all his time cooking. He also seems to spend the night there, though what he does at that time, the swordsman has no idea. And thus, Zoro's obviously not been eating very well these past few days. But hunger is nothing. The physical discomfort it brings even helps relieve a bit of his confusion. It's something else to think about. And if the shit-cook can go without sleep, he can certainly go without food. He's done it before. He went without foot for several weeks in a row, until Luffy found him, tied to that wooden pole. He can do it again.

And after a couple days, he can't even feel the hunger anymore. Most of the time, anyway.

He knows this isn't good. There's been tension between them before, but never to that extent. He knows he shouldn't let the situation fester like this, especially when he'd like nothing more than to clear things between him and the cook. He thinks he should try and stop avoiding the guy, take him aside and talk to him. Level with him, tell him he should ignore what happened, that night. And follow his own advice, while he's at it. But, even though Zoro's no coward, he doesn't know how to approach him. He doesn't know how to face the cook, after what happened the last time they were alone. He knows he wouldn't be able to look at him, right in the eyes, and tell him nothing's wrong.

When he starts feeling light-headed, he steals a couple tangerines from Nami's trees. He makes sure to pick green ones that have accidentally fallen on the orchard's grassy floor only, since missing ripe fruits would definitely attract unwanted attention from her. Zoro doesn't feel like facing her wrath and subsequent threats of debt. Not so soon. The green tangerines are juicy, and probably nutritious, but their flavor is tangy and bitter. Zoro feels his eyes water ever-so-slightly as he bites on piece after piece, telling himself he needs the vitamins, since he won't be eating anything else for what seems to be at least a while.

But what bothers him the most is that he's starting to acknowledge a fact that has been nagging at the back of his mind for a while. He's starting to acknowledge the fact that the pull he feels whenever he thinks of Sanji's blue eyes has been there for a long time. Right from the start, actually. He's always been fascinated by Sanji's eyes. Just like the first dreams happened a while ago, and it scares him. Because it could mean his reaction wasn't caused simply by misbehaving hormones. He's not ready to acknowledge that much yet. He might never be.

It makes him feel helpless, a feeling that used to be foreign to him. Until now.

He has to admit he's a little bored, without his reluctant interaction with the cook or eventful meals to distract himself. Thus, he spends most of his days training time away. Training's the only thing that still makes sense to him, clockwork steady. When he's not training, he's sleeping, in a feeble attempt to make up for the lack of food, hoping to wake up to a normal world. A world where everything is simple and crystal clear like the water around a summer island, like the summer sky in the morning, large, light and blue, and devoid of clouds. A world he can still make sense out of.

Nevertheless, after a few days of that situation, Zoro's more than glad when they finally reach an island. It's uninhabited, and won't provide much distraction, but he intends to spend as much time on ground as he'll be able to. Away from the shit-cook's tired eyes, elusive glances, and overall jumpy behavior whenever Zoro's around. According to Nami, the log pose will take at least twenty-four hours to set, which means he'll be able to spend the night on dry land. A much needed reprieve.

He also expects to find something to eat, on that island. Even if he has to cook it himself, which will never replace Sanji's delicious food.

He never thought he'd miss Sanji's cooking, one day.

He doesn't know how to fix things between them anymore. Maybe he shouldn't. He doesn't even know if he wants to, or if there's anything salvageable to begin with.

As he helps Usopp lay down the ship's anchor in one of that new island's cove, he hopes the cook will try relaxing a bit while he's away, but he wouldn't count on it. Seeing how jumpy the guy was in the past days, despite his obvious exhaustion, he suspects this is a lost cause.

It doesn't prevent him from hoping.

The gang plank's been extended to the shore, and he's about to get off the ship, when panicked cries start reverberating loudly behind him.

"Oh my..."

"Luffy, no!"

"Hey, that's dangerous – LET GO OF ME!"

"Shitty captain! What – HEY!"

"AAAAAH!"

"Hehehe!"

Zoro turns around when he feels something rubbery brush past him, but barely has time to understand that Luffy decided to go on an adventure. Again. Taking everyone with him, in the simplest, most violent way he knows.

The human – and reindeer – cluster hits him full speed and sends him tumbling along the mess of bodies and limbs to the soft beach beneath. When he lands face first on said beach and swallows a good mouthful of it – fortunately, he closed his eyes when the world started rolling around him – he decides he's gonna kill his captain. And when, a split second later, a sharp knee lands between his own, way too close to his very private parts for his comfort, soon followed by a body rendered heavy by the momentum and added weight – did they all land on top of me? – he changes his mind. He's killing whoever fell on him first. Then Luffy. And probably everyone else afterward.

He starts spitting sand, hearing his crew-mates complaining loudly above him.

"Ow ow ow..."

"Am I alive?"

"You... You – are – so – dead."

He can also hear Robin soft chuckles, almost drowned by their captain's loud laughter. The kid seems delighted by his own joke. He probably thinks he's very funny. But Zoro's pissed, and he got sand between his teeth – certainly not the long-awaited meal he expected. Nami's right : Luffy is so very dead.

He tries to get himself out of the human – and reindeer – pile, but his right leg is stuck under whoever fell right on top of him. He wants to crane his neck and glare, but falls very still when he sees the hand in the sand, inches from his nose. A hand with white, fine skin, and long, slender fingers, so close he can make out the small scars at the base of its thumb. A hand too large to be one of the girls', but certainly smaller than his, and much more delicate. The attached arm is clad in a black sleeve adorned with golden buttons, and he can see the sea-green shirt underneath. He turns his head a bit, and realizes his vision is obscured by fine blond hair, though he can still make out its owner's wide, blue eyes behind that thin veil. The cook's body feels warm and solid in his back.

Zoro doesn't dare moving.

But Sanji lets out a badly muffled gasp, and starts shifting faintly, as if he wanted nothing more than putting some distance between them. Zoro feels strangely hurt by this reaction, which fuels his anger even more. He's rarely felt that angry in his whole life. He feels betrayed.

In a violent surge of adrenaline, he manages to move up, sending his friends tumbling on the floor. He stands, his back tense, and slowly turns around. Nobody's saying a word. Usopp is trying to hide behind Robin, who's standing up, her face unreadable, and they're both staring. Chopper is sitting in the sound, his eyes wide, seemingly stunned by Zoro's somewhat violent reaction. He then takes in Nami's narrowing eyes, as well as Luffy's nonplussed expression. The cook is standing up as well, and soon starts brushing his hands over his suit, probably to remove sand from his clothes. He's the only one not looking at him.

The nearby forest suddenly looks extremely appealing to him. Here, on the beach, the sun is way to bright.

Right.

He growls faintly, and starts walking.

He's barely stepped inside the forest when Nami's voice resonates behind him.

"Idiot! You'll get lost!"

He grunts, purposefully ignoring her. The fact she hasn't said a word to him in forever crosses his mind, but he ignores that as well. Right now, he's angry – and maybe just a bit hungry. A few seconds later, he hears her shout again. But he's too far to make out her words now.

He keeps walking, and soon realizes he's being followed. Unwilling to stop, he slows down a bit to risks a glance over his shoulder, and catches a glimpse of blond hair amidst the foliage.

Shit.

He really doesn't want to find himself alone with that idiot right now.

He resumes walking at a faster pace. He doesn't dare hoping he can lose the cook, with his long, swift legs, not even in this thick undergrowth, the sneaky bastard. But he'll sure as hell try. The other keeps up silently, aside from the occasional muffled curse escaping his mouth. Curiously, it reminds him of yet another dream he had, some time ago. A dream where he as the one following the cook in an eerily similar forest, except the guy quickly lost him. The situation is reversed here, which Zoro finds troubling. He starts feeling quite uncomfortable at that thought, and slows down ever-so-slightly.

He doesn't keep track of time, but after what's probably a short while, he can't take it anymore. He stops dead in his tracks and turns around to face the other, eyes narrowed, as if to pierce through him and figure out what the hell the cook is thinking. The latter is still following him at a steady pace, hands in his pockets and cigarette in his mouth. He stops not three feet from him, and hangs there, not looking at him, his posture seemingly relaxed, but Zoro knows better. They've been fighting alongside for some time now, and there's no way he wouldn't notice the rigidity in the other's shoulders, and the slight tension in his stance. He's also pretty sure Sanji's clenching his fists in his pockets, thinking Zoro won't see.

Which makes him all the more irritated. Why is the cook following him if his mere proximity makes him feel so nervous? Narrowing his eyes further, he stares at the other, who pointedly evades the glare, looking at some bushes, taping the tip of his polished shoe against the earthy ground. At that small sign of discomfort, Zoro almost snorts. Except he's not really amused right now.

"Stop following me, shit-cook."

Sanji's head bows as his eyes set on the ground he's still poking, and he lets out a faint chuckle.

"No can do, dumbass." He raises his head and glances briskly at Zoro, before focusing on the ground, kicking some invisible dirt he's obviously the only one to see. "Nami-swan trusts me to prevent your mossy head from getting lost in its natural habitat." He nods at the surrounding greenery, a faint smirk on his face.

Oh. That explains it, then. Of course, she'd ask him, knowing he wouldn't be able to refuse anything to one of his female crew-mates. Trust the witch and the shit-cook to make his daily life a lot more complicated than it should be. Snorting in a somewhat disgusted fashion, Zoro turns away from the other, and resumes walking.

Of course, the cook is quick to follow him again.

They keep walking like that for a while, Zoro leading and Sanji following without a word. It feels strange, to him. It's usually the other way around. The cook won't ever let him lead him anywhere, whether they're exploring an unknown island or shopping for food, because he supposedly has no sense of direction.

They keep walking, and he soon notices that the shit-cook's breathing is a bit short. Not surprising, considering that idiot hasn't slept much lately. He must be very tired. Serves him right, Zoro thinks, walking faster. Sanji manages to follow for a while. But after some time, he hears him starting to run in his back, until he catches up and grabs Zoro roughly by his shirt, preventing him from going further.

"Stop running away, marimo."

He pauses, and for a moment, it seems the guy has actual trouble breathing, which worries Zoro a bit, despite his irritation – the guy just implied he's a coward, after all. But now that he's looking from closer, the shit-cook really looks frighteningly exhausted. Paler than usual, his skin so white than it looks almost translucent. Zoro can see the veins beneath the skin of his wrist where his shirt pulled back a bit, when he grabbed him. For a few seconds, he can't tear his eyes from the cook's hand.

Snap out of it, or you're going to screw up again.

"We need to talk," Sanji adds after a while, his breathing a bit more even.

Zoro raises his eyes to look at his face. The dark shadows under his eyes are a stark contrast against that strangely delicate-looking skin. He feels irritated at the cook's persistence, as well as his stupidity, and even more at his immature reaction to the situation. Which doesn't prevent him to wince inwardly at the thought that the exhaustion the guy is currently facing is partly his fault. Grunting, he violently tears himself away from the cook's grasp, but doesn't try to leave. Despite what the cook seems to think, he's not a coward, and he's not running away.

"I don't wanna talk," he growls through clenched teeth.

"Oh, really?" The cook reaches inside his jacket to retrieve a cigarette, and proceeds to light up. "Well, good for you, because I, for one, have something to say."

Zoro grunts dismissively. He'd rather be elsewhere, anywhere but here, actually. Because he knows, more or less, what the cook's about to tell him about. With his rigid posture and the tension in the guy's jaw, he can't imagine what else he'd like to discuss, in the middle of a wild forest, on that uninhabited island. He knows things might get even worse if they start talking about it. They might never be friends again after that, and Zoro doesn't want that, though he reckons that the current tension between them is hard to bear. But there's no running away from it, if the cook decided it was time to talk. So, he waits tensely, foreboding anxiety taking hold of his gut.

The guy breathes out smoke through his nose, and lets out a sigh, before opening his mouth. And, inevitably, the words Zoro's been dreading since that huge blunder of his fall through his lips.

"About that night..." He mutters hesitantly, before trailing off, clearly embarrassed and apparently looking for his words.

And it's not surprising, really. Of course, the cook would feel awkward about what happened that time. But Zoro doesn't intend to go over that stupid night, no more than he intends discussing the mess they're currently in.

"There's nothing to talk about," he says, his tone cutting like sharpened steel, and his eyes, narrowed. "Nothing happened."

Sanji doesn't answer right away, his face almost perfectly blank, if it weren't for the small twitch in his curly eyebrow, betraying his irritation at Zoro's dry retort. Then, after a while, he shakes his head slowly, and drags heavily on his cigarette.

"Right." His tone definitely displays a slight aggravation at Zoro's denial, despite his obvious effort to hide it under a cool exterior. "What's got your panties in a bunch, then?"

Zoro cringes ever-so-slightly at Sanji's words of choice, though he doesn't want to think about his reasons for doing so. He'd rather have the cook leave him alone for the time being. He doesn't need what's happening. And despite his earlier assessment that he's not a coward, he doesn't feel ready to acknowledge what happened, and certainly not to the cook.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please. You've been avoiding me for the past two weeks." He narrows his eyes, and, once again, Zoro feels scrutinized. "Why, since nothing happened?"

Zoro doesn't reply right away, not trying to make up for time, but simply not knowing how to reply to that. Of course, if nothing happened, there shouldn't be any problem between them. He doesn't know how to get himself out of this, aside from admitting that something did happen. And he's not about to do that. It might seem petty, which Zoro prides himself in not being, but he doesn't want to look like he's contradicting his own behavior. Furthermore, he's certainly not gonna tell the guy that he feels weirded out by his own reaction, or that he sometimes feels off when the cook's around. He's not going to tell him that he's afraid of Sanji's reaction, if he ever starts doing weird shit again, unable to control his instinctive, physical responses when the cook's too close to him for comfort. Not any time soon. He still has trouble even admitting that to himself.

It's too much for him to tell the cook yet. Instead, he finds himself naturally falling back on something he's familiar with : aggression.

"You're the one who's been avoiding me, curly-brow."

He stops, waiting for Sanji's retort. When it unexpectedly doesn't come, he looks up at him, only to find him standing very still. He'd almost looks like he's going to run away, any moment from now, if it weren't for the very tense expression on his features.

"That's – shit, that's not true!" Sanji finally replies after a moment, stuttering in his apparent haste to justify his behavior, and his voice just a tad too high.

"Oh, really?" Zoro presses further, crossing his arms and frowning, feeling he's got the upper hand in the conversation, for once. "Then tell me why you're not sleeping around the crew anymore?"

In the same room as me, he wants to say, but doesn't dare. The cook seems to catch the barely disguised insinuation, though.

"I – that's – well, I..." Sanji stops, clearly unable to find what to retort. "Shit," he mutters through clenched teeth.

He lets go of his slowly extinguishing cigarette and smashes it vengefully under his sole, before reaching into his jacket for a new one. He lights up, and Zoro notices his hands are shaking.

"I..." He starts again, avoiding Zoro's gaze, fumbling into the ground with the heel of his shoe.

The swordsman waits not-so-patiently for him to go on, but after a while, it doesn't seem like he's going to. Zoro's not too far from seeing red. What's with that fucker's unusual elusiveness – because Sanji's never at a loss of word, is he? Is he playing for time? Before he knows it, he finds himself ultimately opening his mouth.

"Whatever," he growls exasperatedly. "You don't seem to think I'm worth spending time around, and you made that pretty clear. Why should I even bother, anyway? Every single second spent around your pansy-arsed self is wasted time, shitty cook." He adds, raising his eyes to glare at the guy. "I don't c–"

But he stops when he notices the cook's posture has changed. He's still avoiding Zoro's eyes, looking at his shoes, face hidden by his blond hair. His shoulders are slumped, yet his whole body is strained by tension, and the shaking seems to be getting worse. When he finally looks up at Zoro, the latter has never seen such a dejected look on the other man's face. And immediately, he regrets opening his big, clumsy mouth.

"You..." He starts, but has to stop, interrupted by violent shudders that shake his whole body. It almost looks as if he's about to start sobbing, but his eyes, filled with intense hurt and anger, are clearly dry.

"You're an asshole," he starts again, his voice tight with fury. "You're a fucking asshole, you know that? All this time, I've... I..." He stops, apparently unable to find words strong enough to express his disgust. "You're an asshole, and I'm an idiot," Sanji adds, finally succeeding in muffling his anger quite effectively, and eying Zoro coldly, "for hoping, even for a second, that you weren't that bad. That there was more to you than you'd like the world to think. How silly of me," he snorts, his tone sarcastic.

His words hit Zoro like a punch in the gut. He'd almost forgotten how highly the cook thought of him. Looked up to him, in a weird way, which never failed to make Zoro feel warm in the face. This time, too, he can feel his face heating up, but for a vastly different reason. He feels like he missed the point entirely.

"Huh?" He manages to blurt, feeling utterly confused. "You're the one who freaked out..." He trails off, frowning, still not willing to mention what happened in the galley a few days ago.

Sanji looks at him coldly, before dragging on his cigarette, and letting out unamused chuckles.

"Not only are you an asshole, but you're also a real moron."

He suddenly walks up to Zoro and grabs his collar, before sputtering at him, cool composure all but forgotten.

"When will you finally figure out that what happened that time is totally irrelevant? It was NOTHING!"

Sanji now looks infuriated. His blue irises, filled with cold rage, are piercing through Zoro, who doesn't understand what the cook's telling him. He feels dazed, and narrows his own eyes, as if trying to decipher what the other's face is trying to show him, past all the angry words, so close to his own he can feel the heat from his ragged breathing. But he can't understand. Nothing makes sense anymore. And there's only one thing he can think of right now.

It was nothing? Then...

"Why are you so angry?" He mutters before being able to stop himself.

Once again, Sanji starts chuckling almost manically, but that sound fills Zoro with dread, grating at his eardrums more effectively than a thousand nails on a chalkboard.

"I'm angry, you big idiot, because I thought we were – that we could be friends, and at the slightest slip, you kicked it all into the long grass!"

After such a heartfelt confession, he looks breathless. The silence around them is suddenly deafening.

After a while, Sanji releases Zoro's collar, pushing him backwards so hard he falls on his ass.

"Get lost, asshole. I don't want to see your ugly mug," Sanji tells him coldly, turning his back so Zoro can't see his face anymore.

But Zoro is unable to move for now. He's stunned, and pretty much unable to comprehend what just happened. The cook was supposed to be afraid of him. Disgusted, most likely. Pitying him, maybe. Not angry. Certainly not angry at him because he thought Zoro regarded their friendship so poorly that he didn't think it could withstand such a little thing as Zoro getting a fucking boner while the cook was straddling him.

Nothing makes sense.

A couple seconds later, Sanji turns around, and of course, Zoro's still sitting there, his mind completely blank.

"Piss off!" He shouts dryly, but his tone isn't as cutting as before. Zoro absentmindedly thinks he really sounds tired.

He slowly stands up, not knowing if he should apologize or just leave, as the cook is asking him, and avoid fucking up things even further. It occurs to him that he might have hurt Sanji more than he thought was possible, and guilt fills him like burning sand. He'd better leave.

He steps in whatever direction is before him, not caring where he'll end up, just willing to put as much distance as he can between them. But after a few steps, he hesitates. He wonders if apologizing wouldn't be better, after all, even if he now feels it's utterly useless. There's nothing salvageable here. Nevertheless, he finds himself slowly turning around, trying vainly to ignore the trembling in the cook's slumped shoulders as he does, and opening his mouth.

"I..."

He wants to tell him he's sorry, but he finds himself ultimately unable to. The words are stuck in the back of his throat, caught in the space between drive and speech. Grunting and shaking his head, he decides not to bother, and finally give Sanji the space he asked for. His ears barely register the faint rustling sound behind him. When he glances in the other man's direction, he sees the cook bracing himself against a large tree's mossy trunk. He takes in the wavering legs, the ragged breathing. He's already starting to go back, as Sanji manages to sit down, slumping against the tree.

"I told you to leave, dumbass. I..." He says, his voice faint.

As if to contradict his latest words, he grabs Zoro's forearm as he kneels down next to him, and his fingers around him are shaking.

"I'm not feeling too well," the cook soon adds, sounding as if talking was nearly too much of an effort to him.

Zoro doesn't know what's happening to Sanji, but he suspects it has to do with the lack of sleep he's had to endure. Eying the other man and trying to muffle a sudden surge of concern, he briefly wonders if the guy's slept at all since that fucking night.

"Shut up, curlycue," he says, sliding his arms under Sanji's and lifting him over his shoulder. "I'm taking you to Chopper."

But Sanji doesn't hear, because he's quietly passed out against Zoro's shoulder.