Title: Just a Girl
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: ZoroxSanji, mentions of Zoro+Tashigi
Topic: Jealousy
Word Count: 2,383
Warning/s: Sap, Fluff, OOC, idiocy. Sorry!
Summary: CR Universe ficlet- Jealousy rears its ugly head.
Dedication: for tokkichan— A deceptively difficult prompt! Especially since you said you wanted schmoop. Well! Here is schmoop! Not particularly good schmoop, but schmoop all the same. XD;;
A/N: This is very openly sappy. Which probably means it's a physical impossibility, even in the sappiness of CR universe. MIND BOGGLING isn't it? And probably too fluffy for very serious fans of OP who insist on quality control and um, realistic-ness. Ah well, it was an interesting write, if anything. XD;;

Rationally he knew he wasn't being fair. Every pretty girl he ran across meant hearts and stars in his eyes, praise from his lips, music to his ears.

For Zoro, it was just the one—that single one in all the world-- who he reacted to, and that reaction was, admittedly, to turn around and run away.

But still…something about that made Sanji, well, not unhappy exactly, but not exactly perfectly fine either (though he'd never, ever admit it out loud).

And the rational part of him knew it wasn't fair to think like this anyway. Zoro would just roll his eyes at the blond when his head would turn at the sight of a pretty passerby, would maybe just put an arm around the chef as they walked for the second Sanji let it be there before he kicked the possessive idiot in the head, and that would be the end of it. Not a word about it otherwise.

This? This had Sanji frowning and thinking on it for hours afterwards. Long ones.

Maybe it was the fact that it was just the one girl that bugged him. She was cute after all, and liked to point sharp phallic things at Zoro's face and threaten him with violence, which the chef knew was some sort of weird turn on for the idiot.

It was just one girl, he told himself over and over and over again—a pretty one at that—and Sanji couldn't believe that she bothered him, and not in the fun way.

One girl in all the world who could make Zoro freeze in his tracks.

And because she was that girl, she made Sanji frown instead of cause his heart to pitter-patter in his chest like she should.

A beautiful girl. Making Sanji not happy.

That was how much that asshole marimo had screwed the chef up over the past few months.

And now look at him!

He was jealous (sort of, but not really. Okay maybe a little…) of a pretty girl. A pretty girl he wasn't even thinking of romancing at all. Ever.

The cook sighed to himself and smoked rather viciously. This could possibly be horrific. Zoro was making him gay... er. Gayer.

And it kind of pissed him off.

Meanwhile, from a safe distance away, the aforementioned asshole marimo watched his glowering spouse and tried to figure out what the hell he'd done wrong this time before he took any steps to correct it. He'd long since learned that going in half-cocked wasn't the strategy (at least when dealing with marriage—it was a perfectly fine plan when otherwise battling), mostly because the last time he'd tried to make up for what he did (and wasn't sure what that was), he'd been cut off for like, three days. God.

As such, to discover this cause for the blond's chain-smoking irritation today, the swordsman went through the standard mental checklist of things that had potentially pissed Sanji off over the past few days and came up with… absolutely…nothing.

He hadn't performed any of those little public displays of possession the chef hated (as far as he knew anyway)—they'd only touched down on an inhabited island for about an hour and a half before the goddamned marines (and that woman) had chased them off, after all. And it wasn't like there was anyone here to try and be modest around—everyone had walked in on an eyeful or two between the newlyweds in the sort of inevitable way living on a ship this size mandated between crewmates.

Couldn't be that then.

He hadn't forgotten to set the table or do the dishes once for at least… two weeks now, either.

He hadn't broken anything in the kitchen.

Hadn't wasted any food.

Hadn't wasted any booze either (not that that pissed the cook off or anything, but he thought it was a good point he might as well add to the side of the list he marked as "things I didn't fuck up").

Hadn't left any visible marks during sex—that was usually a big one.

Hadn't forgotten to warn the blond when he was gonna come—also a big one, especially on nights the chef had already washed his hair and didn't fancy having to do it again so soon.

Hadn't forgotten to buy new mouthwash, and definitely, definitely had tons of lube.

Took out the trash every freakin' goddamned day.

Clean underwear—check.

Clean shirt—check. Mostly. Only on it's third day, in any case.

BO? Not really. Maybe a little sweaty, but Zoro was pretty damned certain that Sanji liked that despite how much he denied it (the frequent tonguing during sex said something after all, even if the lying horn dog bastard didn't).

No important dates missed as far as Zoro knew either—asshole chef's birthday was months ago. Anniversary approaching but not here yet. Unless there was an eighth month thing. Was there something you were supposed to do for your eighth month? Nami was supposed to warn him about these things goddammit—that's what he paid her for.

Well, that probably wasn't it then. If anything she was a shrewd (demonic) business woman—she wouldn't give up that 10 stake in Zoro's share of booty just to spite him. Hopefully.

Maybe there was some weirdo holiday he didn't know about or something. National Cook's Appreciation Day. Gay Pirate's Day. Gay Pirate Cooks' National Day of Appreciation.

Eh… probably not.

National I Fuck Hot Swordsmen Day?

Hmm… maybe.

Or not that either, really.

I Fuck A Hot Swordsman Day.

Better. Much better.

But still. Argh. Zoro scowled to himself and continued to watch Sanji scowl and smoke to himself down the way a little bit.

Zoro was fairly certain whatever it was wasn't his fault.

Though he was also pretty certain—knowing the aho-cook—that it could be made to be his fault with just the proper wording.

A dilemma.

But still, Zoro's instincts were screaming something at him, and maybe it was in the way the chef's pissed off mood was a little bit of something else as well today, that it wasn't just pure anger coming off the blond but that there was something melancholy about it too.

That really bothered the fucking shit out of Zoro because he was doing his damned best (goddamit) so that the stupid prissy bastard chef wouldn't have anything to be sad (and thus pissed at Zoro) about.

It was the Zoro system. Angry was okay. Angry was natural. Sad didn't fit into the scheme of things as Zoro saw the world. Sad was a goddamned waste of time. And pathetic. Really, really pathetic. Not manly at all.

And Sanji sad made his stomach churn in a weird way. Sort of. Maybe.

Argh.

Stupid chef made him so goddamned gay sometimes. Thinking about feelings and stomachaches and sadness. Fucking sadness!

Zoro's jaw twitched. Only one thing left to do then.

Sanji in the meantime, had gotten to predictions about what strangely violent children Tashigi and Zoro would have if it came to that— nearsighted hulking blue-and-green-haired babies who believed in justice and that animal crackers were cookies and not crackers even though that was obviously wrong. They'd grow up wielding six swords apiece and never learn how to appreciate the finer culinary arts because all they'd eat all their lives was meat their papa grilled until it was black and doused with salt 'cuz that was "good enough." They would also all have unbelievably high pain tolerances and as adults, have eight month long flings with chain-smoking blonds until they wised up to the truth in life an settled down with a good woman.

There would be two boys and one girl. Sanji didn't know why he imagined that specifically, but it all really made sense in his head. None of them would ever know that a good brandy was far superior to a cheap grog, and well worth the extra cost even if the volume sold per unit beli was less.

The thought somehow, made him feel strangely…sad.

Which earned him a sharp rap on the head a moment or two later, when Zoro appeared behind him looking more surly than usual.

"The hell was that for?" Sanji growled reflexively, and elbowed the swordsman in the stomach in retaliation.

Zoro grunted but didn't fold, wrapped two heavy arms around Sanji instead and rested his head on the chef's shoulder like he liked to do. "The hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Sanji told him, and continued to smoke. But he settled back against Zoro a little bit, and that was really a big old screaming clue (like everything else was) that the aho-cook was troubled.

Which Zoro took as a sign that read "Approach with Caution."

"Are you mad at me?" he asked next, and figured "caution" was just a fancy word for "pussyfoot" anyway.

Silence.

And then a sigh and a tired sounding, "No, I guess not."

Okay. Not that then.

Which kind of meant Zoro was out of options, since it was usually the safe bet to assume that the blond was mad at him. Usually he was just prepared to deal with that.

Well shit.

"Hmm," Zoro grunted then, and suddenly found himself in uncharted waters. Because while Nami had given him probably every possible hypothetical scenario of the things he was going to do wrong, she definitely, definitely hadn't talked to him about what to do if Sanji wasn't mad at him. Guess she supposed that would never be an issue.

Bitch.

And so there was silence between the two of them for a good long while after that, and the fact that it was quiet with Zoro's arms still around the blond like they were kind of made him nervous. He wondered if just apologizing anyway would fix it. Or something. At least get a smug smile out of the asshole and then…

"Oi… I'm…er… I'm… tch. Never mind."

Dammit. Still some things he couldn't just do, he supposed. Pride and all that.

But Sanji started the conversation anyway, began with the customary "Hey, asshole…" and paused to stub out his cigarette before speaking again, "that marine girl… she's pretty cute, huh?"

Well. That was weird.

"I uh, I guess she's not ugly," Zoro offered, tentatively.

"I think maybe she likes you."

"Huh," the swordsman grunted, and realized that hearing Sanji's voice when he talked like that was making his stomach turn in not-nice ways again. "I think she wants to kill me?" he put out, and wasn't confused about that part, at least.

"Lots of people want to kill you, dumbass. I think she likes you."

"Huh," Zoro echoed. "And?"

"She's cute," Sanji reiterated, nonchalantly. "I mean…I'd do her."

Zoro's eyes narrowed a bit. "You would, huh?"

Sanji shrugged. "Wouldn't you?"

Zoro supposed this was good—that uneasy feeling in his stomach was beginning to burn into something much more familiar. "I dunno, I never thought about it," he said, and his voice might have been just the slightest bit clipped.

"No?" Sanji pushed, and felt like his throat was dry. Weird. Maybe he was catching a cold.

"No!"

"Not even accidentally maybe? Had a dream or…"

This was really fucking annoying. "I once dreamed she took two swords, put 'em together and used 'em like scissors to cut my goddamned head off! The hell is wrong with you, dumbass?"

Sanji blinked, and looked vaguely stunned when he heard that. "Scissors?"

Zoro glowered upon realizing what he'd just admitted. "It's possible, ya know," he muttered, and sounded almost embarrassed.

"Scissors?"

"Shut the hell up," Zoro snarled. "It was kind of horrible until I realized you were crying over my body. Then I knew it was just a fucked up dream."

"I definitely wouldn't cry," Sanji agreed, as expected. But his voice was a little softer now, and it didn't make Zoro's stomach revolt any when he heard it.

Probably because the image of Zoro's head getting cut off by a pair of giant katana-scissors was amusing to the bastard in a grotesque way.

Which was an assessment Sanji would agree with. As well as admit to himself that it was oddly comforting, too.

Pause.

"So…" Sanji started after a moment, and felt kind of idiotic, "eight months, huh?"

Zoro blinked at the sudden segue, the noticeable change in the chef's tone. "You are so fucking weird, aho-cook," he muttered, and was vaguely horrified when it came out more mystified than annoyed.

Sanji's eyes narrowed a bit at that, but not in a way that set any of Zoro's self-preservation (sex-preservation) instincts on edge. "I'm not the one who clearly forgot the eighth month mark,"the blond declared after a moment, and looked at Zoro expectantly.

Shit, so that's what it was?

Zoro scowled to himself and promised to give Nami an earful for not telling him about the whole thing later.

In the meantime, Sanji looked like he was laughing at him—at least in the eyes—and Zoro felt his stomach settle for the first time all day, which was probably the only reason the laughing asshole wasn't pissing him off with all that attitude, even if Zoro was the one at fault for having forgotten an important day.

"You're so fucking weird," the swordsman reiterated after a moment, and absently kissed the back of the cook's throat as he said it. "Happy eighth month then, I guess," he added, though it only seemed to amuse the blond even more when he did.

What an asshole. Seriously.

Well, he supposed he could let it slide this time.

Because while he wasn't exactly sure how (or who'd been shooting at him, exactly), Roronoa Zoro was pretty damned certain he'd just dodged some sort of bullet.

And his gut told him it had been a pretty big one, too.

Sanji in the meantime, thought that—despite his facetious nature at the present moment-- in the future, the eighth month marker would more likely than not become something worth celebrating between the two of them after all.

Because he was beginning to learn that the anniversaries of discoveries were perhaps even more important than the anniversaries of the occasions that led to them.

Zoro, predictably, didn't get it.

END