Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece. Oda owns One Piece. One Piece is in Raftel. Oda lives in Japan. Japan is Raftel?

Zoro was drifting off to sleep that night, Sanji and him still on opposite sides of the bed. He knew that Sanji wouldn't allow him to go anywhere, but the gap between them was still not closed. They had shared a couple of kisses, but they were loose and meaningless, and it didn't go much father than that. In the darkness of the room, he heard more than saw the cook roll over and face him.

"Zoro," he whispered, "You still awake?" The swordsman smirked - he had sounded like a scared child, one afraid of monsters under the bed or some such nonsense.

"Yeah," Zoro grunted.

"About the kid thing -" The swordsman squeezed his eyes shut; he should have known the topic was going to brought up again soon. "There's sort of something I should tell you."

"What's that?" his voice was flat, and didn't give anything away.

"We sort of scheduled an appointment for tomorrow with uh...an adoption agency. It's just a pre-adoption information meeting. I know you aren't interested, but I'd be sort of rude to cancel now...I..."

Zoro reached out and placed a hand on Sanji's side, cupping his waist. He rubbed up and down the man's back, trying to show the gentle side he rarely revealed. "Sanji," he said quietly, cutting the other man off. "It's just an information session. I'll go, if you want. Besides, the other Zoro wants this. I wouldn't want to take this away from him."

Sanji let loose a sound that was more akin to a dry sob than a laugh. "The other Zoro again?" he said weakly. "God, things are so fucked up, I don't even know what's going on - I'm glad we're not -" he stopped himself.

"Glad we're not bringing a child into this, right?" Zoro finished for him. "That's what you were going to say."

"No!" the cook insisted. "It's just..."

"It's okay," Zoro consoled. "I agree with you. We have a bit of a mess on our hands, between these human traffickers and then working out what's going on between us." He pulled the cook's lithe form toward him, feeling the rustle of the sheets as Sanji relented and fell into his embrace. "But it's not the end all," he assured his partner. "We're still young, and we have plenty of time. If something changes our minds, then we'll let it."

Sanji face turned up, and Zoro could see it barely illuminated. His eyes were full of hope, and it corroded the swordsman's insides to see. "You think you could change your mind?" he asked, as if too afraid to dare to hope.

Without shooting him down, Zoro considered. He thought of the children in the dojo, and how they had very easily opened up another side of him, for the innocence of children can often sway even the most hardened man. He thought that perhaps if he belonged to another life, a safer life, that he would not mind having a daughter or son, training them in the ways of the sword, with Sanji teaching them how to cook, and just trying to raise them to be a better human being than he could have been...

"Maybe," he conceded. "But right now, Sanji, can we just concentrate on us?" He grinned and hugged the blond to his chest. "I'm not willing to share you yet. In my mind, I just got you, okay?"

"Okay," Sanji said, and Zoro could feel his mouth stretch in a smile against the bare skin of his chest. "There's something I want to do before...any of that...anyway."

"What's that?" Zoro asked.

"It's stupid," the cook said dismissively, all of the sudden shy. Zoro gritted his teeth - could the man have any less confidence?

"I don't care," he muttered into Sanji's hair. "Don't bring it up and then not tell me, you fucking tease cook."

"Fine." The cook pulled back and fumbled on the nightstand in the darkness, eventually freeing a cigarette and lighting it in the darkness. The red tip glowed faintly, showing the man's face...and Zoro watched, entranced, as the man's eyes lit up with childlike glee, bespeaking of the latent dream that was about to be revealed. "I was just thinking of how profits have been so good at the All Blue, and you know how I always bitch about those prissy customers we get who waste so much food?"

"I never had patience for rich snobs," Zoro agreed.

"Well, I'm not closing the place, even if they can't appreciate some damn fine cooking, if I might say so myself." He puffed, pensively. "But I was thinking of maybe doing another joint, you know, where people would appreciate it."

"Another restaurant?"

"Nah, more like..." he chewed on the filter for a moment, trying to find the words. "A soup kitchen, you know? But not some shitty place where they dish it from aluminum catering pans and crock pots. Like some nice, quality meals for people who couldn't afford them otherwise."

Feeding the poor and needy? Zoro was grinning widely now, but the cook wasn't meeting his eyes, so he didn't see it. It was exactly the sort of thing that Sanji would want, a place to feed those who were hungry. In fact, it seemed like it was that man's mission in life. If there were anything he would want the cook to do, any dream he would want the man to achieve, this would be it. This could be one thing that the swordsman could help him with, despite it's deep-rooted nature in charity. It was just so perfectly Sanji, it fit like a puzzle piece into the man's life.

"Yeah, it's stupid," Sanji muttered, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray. "Whatever, marimo, you don't have to say it."

Zoro reached up and ruffled Sanji's blond hair in the dying light of the cinders of the mans' cigarette. "I think it's perfect, shit cook."

Sanji looked at him, eyes wide, biting back a hopeful laugh. "You do?" he asked.

"In fact," Zoro said, and he gripped the back of Sanji neck and pulled him into a head lock, pressing his fist into the man's temple as he wriggled and squirmed. "I'll kill you if you don't do it!"

"Shitty swordsman!" Sanji growled, and he flung up his leg to take Zoro out, which failed, but it forced the man to release him. "You couldn't kill me if you tried."

"I could cut your throat in your sleep!" Zoro threatened, dangerous eyes gleaming.

"Well, I could poison your food!" Sanji shot back, in equal measure. But both of the men were laughing, because not only would they never follow through on their actions, but they knew each other too well: even if it was their worst enemy, the threats suggested were too base, too low for these two men of honor to carry out. They laughed and wrestled and exchanged a couple blows that may have been too harsh for anybody else to bear with a straight face, and then they eventually wound up falling asleep, body parts strewn over each other, waiting for the morning light.

ZOSAN

It was the next day, and Zoro was sitting in an the most uncomfortable armchair he ever had the misfortune to sit in during his lifetime. The inner frame dug into all the wrong parts of his flesh, and the weak cushioning did nothing for him whatsoever. He shuffled about in it for a moment, before beginning to feel foolish, and then he just sat back and crossed one foot over his opposite knee.

Across from him, behind a desk, was an exuberant middle-aged woman, who was pushing more paperwork into Sanji's hands, as he asked a thousand questions Zoro wouldn't even think to ask. Zoro fiddled with his tie during most of the conversation - a tie that Sanji had to put on him an hour earlier.

"When are you going to learn to tie your own tie, Zoro?" the cook had asked, exasperated.

Zoro leaned in a stole a kiss, murmuring, "Maybe never, as long as I keep you around."

But now their little private moments were gone, and he had to deal with this entire adoption mess. It made him feel like wincing whenever the woman's eyes would settle upon him, because despite his clean-cut outfit that Sanji had stuffed him into, along with a ridiculous set of reading glasses that Zoro hardly needed, seeing as he wasn't that good at reading... Zoro was aware that he still probably looked like some sort of thug, with his three gold earrings and green hair. He had never let his appearance bother him before, but all of the sudden, because this appointment was important to Sanji, and thus this woman's opinion, his appearance seemed to be a pivotal point.

"Mr. Roronoa, your husband was just telling me about how you've started teaching classes at the D dojo down in Queens. My nephew goes there, funnily enough! He is always raving about Monkey Sensei and all that he learns there."

Zoro looked up, aware that the woman was addressing him. "Oh, um, yes. Luffy is great with the kids, he's basically one of them."

The woman gave a full, friendly laugh, and leaned forward, clasping her hands. Zoro realized that Sanji was looking at him expectantly, probably because he'd been silent most of the conversation, and now the female was about to pick him out on it. Shit.

"And I hear that you were raised in Japan! I've never been, but I've heard such wonderful things about the country."

The swordsman wanted to say, That makes two of us, but he surely couldn't say he'd never been to a place that he was apparently brought up in, so he quickly tore through his most recent memories, desperate for something to say, but drew up blank. "Yeah," he agreed flatly. "I grew up there."

The woman frowned, just ever so slightly. "Sanji and I were just discussing, also, the social hardships that couples like yourself face when trying to adopt a child."

"Hardships?" Zoro asked.

"You know, the child may have difficulty explaining it to friends at school, and you may be judged by the parental community of your child's peers. It's going to be a rough road, and I was wondering if you were prepared to deal with these prejudices."

"Because we're men?" Zoro pushed, finally starting to see the point. The woman nodded, which caused the swordsman to scowl. "Well, I'd kill anyone who talked badly to Sanji or any child we would have together."

The woman gave a nervous laugh, and out of the corner of his eye, Zoro saw Sanji slapping his forehead with the bottom of his palm. "That's a...protective thing to say, Mr. Roronoa, but I'm sure we both know violence isn't the answer," the woman suggested.

Zoro's hand itched toward where his swords would usually lay on his hip, but of course, they weren't there. He gritted his teeth, trying to reign in his temper, because this woman's unnatural smile and high cheekbones were beginning to grate on his nerves in the worst way. "No, violence isn't the answer," he echoed back to her, through grounded teeth. Sanji seemed to deflate in relief when the swordsman said these words.

The cook reached over and placed a hand on Zoro's knee. "Forgive my husband, it's been a long week for the two of us." He flashed the woman his most winning smile. "And thank you so much for your time, Madam. I heard there was a social hour after the personal meetings. Would you mind telling me where that would be?" He patted Zoro's knee, as if he were a growling dog to keep at bay. "I would love to discuss prospects with the other parents-to-be," the cook gushed.

The woman fell under the blond's easy charm, and directed them down the hall and to the left, where they would find refreshments and some snacks, as well as all the other couples or single members of society who had come to this ridiculous information-seeking session. The cook gathered up the piles of paperwork and fliers and brochures the woman had given the and thrust them into Zoro's arms.

"Carry these," he said gruffly, and then pulled Zoro from the room, giving the woman his most sincere thanks and over-warm goodbyes.

As he tugged the swordsman down the hall, he paused for a moment, and pressed a quick kiss to Zoro's lips. "You did wonderful," he said, honesty ringing in his voice. "Thank you so much for this, it's almost over."

With that kiss, all of the frustration Zoro was bottling seemed to fade. He bent down and laid a few kisses along Sanji's jaw, and whispered to him, "Well, you'll have to make it up to me tonight, cook."

Sanji blushed furiously, which caused the swordsman to have the most unwelcome reaction in his groin, where his pants drew just a bit too tight over his front. He withdrew his lips from the cook's smooth skin before he ravaged him in the hallway. "Let's go," he insisted. "I want to get this over with."

And so, hands still clasped, the cook led him down to an open room, where there were quite a few people milling about, most couples, nibbling on muffins and sipping coffee, making small conversation with each other. The first thing Zoro noticed, besides the fact that the muffins were huge and delicious-smelling, were the proliferation of couples who had taken to the corners to quietly and stiffly argue with each other. It seemed as though Zoro and Sanji were not the only two a bit unsure about their foundations.

When some of the people around them noticed the swordsman and the cook, they fell into a hushed silence, their eyes betraying their shock. Quickly, Sanji tried to release Zoro's fingers, but Zoro clamped down and dug in his fingernails for extra effect. "Don't you dare be ashamed of us, cook," he growled.

Sanji gulped, his Adam's apple working double-time on his thin neck. The conversation in the room had started up again. His eyes flitted to the tacky table of refreshments. "Could you get me a coffee, Zoro?" he asked, and his voice sounded all of the sudden like he was parched.

The swordsman was about to tell him that he could very well get a coffee for himself, but then he saw the desperate look in Sanji's eyes, and nodded quietly, releasing the man's hand and making his way to the table, pouring some lukewarm sludge into a paper cup. The cook wasn't going to be happy about the quality.

He frowned to himself before adding two sugars and some milk...and then some more milk, because it didn't look quite right. The woman beside him sniffed impatiently and snatched the creamer from the table, muttered a curse to herself that sounded something like, lying bastard. Zoro scooted away from her as quickly as possible, terrified she would start up conversation, and searched the thin crowd for Sanji, eventually seeing him chatting with a young couple that couldn't be much older than themselves.

The swordsman walked over and handed the cook his coffee. "Thank you," he said softly, and then took a sip, scowled, and spit the coffee back up into the cup.

"That's disgusting," Zoro commented. "What did you expect, anyway?"

Sanji glowered at the cup and at his husband, before braving another sip, this one that he swallowed. "It tastes like mud mixed with milk," he observed disdainfully. Zoro shrugged - the cook was probably right, it certainly seemed unappetizing.

"I'll be waiting over here," Zoro answered, gesturing to an empty patch of wall. "You socialize all you want."

The cook nodded in understanding, and thus the swordsman dismissed himself, leaned up against the wall in the dim side of the room, hiding under the dark lighting and watching the interactions of the people with discerning eyes. Sanji moved from one group of people to the next, the definition of a social butterfly, occasionally pausing to point at Zoro, where Zoro would stop his musing and lift his head in a nod to whoever the group was that the cook was introducing him to from afar. "My husband, Zoro," he heard Sanji say at one point. "He's the quiet type, don't mind him."

All in all, the entire ordeal wasn't that bad. It was uncomfortable, that was for sure, and it almost made Zoro feel like he was wearing some sort of costume, pretending to be a person he wasn't. But in all honesty, he had imagined that it would be much worse. Maybe it was his demeanor or his appearance, but it seemed like the people in this building were more than happy to leave him well enough alone.

"Roronoa-ya."

Zoro's ears twitched. He glanced around the room swiftly, but absolutely nobody was looking at him. Everyone was immersed in their petty conversations, laughing and chatting and sharing facts from little white print-outs.

"Don't move, Roronoa-ya," the voice repeated, low and quiet and deep. It sounded strong, calm and, most definitely, Zoro's instincts assured him, dangerous. "I just want to talk to you without being overheard, or seen, and this seemed like the best place to do it."

"Who are you?" Zoro demanded. He didn't move from his patch on the wall, but he now figured out that the person speaking to him was on the opposite side of the structure from him, leaning against the wall probably just like he was, arms crossed, defensive and stiff.

"You don't recognize me," the voice pouted over-dramatically. "I'm hurt." The statement was so forced and fake that it spoke of how unhurt the man truly was. He sounded like a spider weaving webs, like a snake in the undergrowth, and Zoro didn't like it at all.

"What do you want," the swordsman growled from between a clenched jaw.

"Just a friendly warning," answered the voice. "Hearsay informed me that you have engaged and are planning to further engage those connected with a certain criminal warlord by the street name of...Joker."

"Never heard of him."

The voice scoffed and tutted, and Zoro heard light tapping from the other side of the thin, plaster wall, as though the man were drumming his fingertips. "I don't want to say any names, Roronoa-ya. Come now, you must know who I'm talking about."

"Unless you are talking about Dofla-"

"Shut up!" the voice hissed. "And yes, that's who I meant." He growled deeply. Zoro kept his eyes fixated on Sanji, becoming nervous when somebody edged too close to him, his battle senses telling him that a predator was in the room, and that he must protect himself and his mate.

"I don't know why I bothered," the predator's voice continued, "But I just came here to warn you, acquaintances that we are." He sighed, collecting himself. "I trust in your abilities, Roronoa-ya, but I was once a subordinate of the man you are entangled with at the moment. I know him rather well. My suggestion is to..." he breathed in deeply again. "Run."

Zoro itched to turn to corner and see who this man was, but he stayed put, respectively bunching his fists until his fingernails dug into his palms. "I'm not running from anybody," he insisted. "But thanks for the advice."

The swordsman expected the man, whoever he was, to push and to demand and threaten and share stories, but he just tutted once more. "Well, it can't be said that I didn't try," he said, slightly mournful, although it was clearly another act. "Tell Mugiwara-ya that the doctor said hello for me, would you?"

"Sure, doctor," the swordsman growled.

A low chuckle sounded from the other side of the wall, and it swiftly got quieter, as Zoro sensed the man was pulling away. "Goodbye, swordsman," the voice finished, and Zoro could hear the quiet tapping of shoes as they made their way down the hall and disappeared. It wasn't until he could hear them no longer that Zoro finally relaxed. The voices in the room, which had been previously dimmed due to his heightened sense, rushed back tenfold. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"Are you okay?" he heard Sanji ask, and he felt the cook place a hand on Zoro's shoulder. "I was going to say that we could leave, if you are ready, but you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not seen," Zoro said, "Heard."

The swordsman opened his eyes to see the cook giving him a skeptical look, but the man was refraining from mocking Zoro just yet, waiting to see if he had something more to say.

"Just got a warning about the cruise we're taking soon from some doctor-ya."

Sanji looked around the room quickly. "Trafalgar? I don't see him. Why would he be here?"

"Trafalgar? Is that his name? So I do know him..."

"Yeah," Sanji said, gripping Zoro's shoulder tightly and steering him from the room, avoiding everybody's curious gaze. "Trafalgar Law, surgeon. Interesting fellow." The cook scowled. "Dangerous fellow...too mysterious for my liking, but Luffy seems to trust him for some unexplainable reason. He always goes and visits him at the hospital." Sanji pursed his lips. "Well, I mean the shitty brat always gets wounded somehow and winds up at the hospital, where he finds Trafalgar, but whatever."

Zoro pulled his shoulder free from the cook's grip and began making his way down the hallway swiftly, turning corners here and there. He wanted to get out of this building as soon as possible. It felt violated and unsteady. If some random man named Trafalgar Law could find him here, then who else could? Zoro wondered absentmindedly if he should have taken Smoker up on his offer for extra protection. Cursing to himself, he eventually found his way to the exit of the building, Sanji tagging behind him - if only he had his swords, he wouldn't feel this nervous, this naked, this exposed. He needed nine to ten feet of sharpened steel on his right hip, and nothing else.

"What did he tell you, marimo, that's got you all in a fit?" Sanji asked, and Zoro heard him clicking his lighter, starting his first smoke now that they were outdoors.

"Just that he used to work for him, and that we should run," Zoro groused. "Nothing unexpected, just stupid warnings." He walked to the car and tossed Sanji the keys, looking in the dark tinted windows first before letting the cook open the door.

Sanji was practically growling at him. "I hate it when you go in assassin mode, you know that?" he spat, sticking the key in the lock and flinging the door open. He flicked the button on the inside and the swordsman's passenger side door unlocked as well. "If you aren't going to listen to him, then why are you so worked up?"

Zoro climbed in the vehicle and shut the door, glancing behind them into the backseat for just a moment, before gesturing to the cook to drive. "Because if he could find us here, then anybody could. I've forgotten we aren't safe." As they pulled from the parking lot of the place, Zoro could feel his body tense even more as they entered the roadway. Lights, blaring horns, people running back and forth across the streets - it was chaos, and such madness was perfect for an assassin to easily take one of them out. "I've let my guard down," he berated himself. "Just because we aren't being chased by Marines doesn't mean we're safe..."

"We're fine, shitty marimo," Sanji said, and then cursed as somebody cut him off, slamming on the brakes. Zoro's arm flung out and held the cook against his seat.

Sanji growled and swatted his arm away. "Stop that!" he lectured. "Stop going all mother hen on me, you know I hate it! I've taken care of people out for my blood for years, shitty bastard -"

Zoro froze. "What do you mean? Why is somebody out for your blood?"

Although it was a side view, the swordsman could see the cook visibly pale. "Ah, it's nothing, I mean...uh..."

"Are you hiding shit from me again, you fucking bastard?" The swordsman slammed his fist on the dashboard in frustration. "What the hell, Sanji! What is it now!"

Sanji grabbed a smoke and lit it up. "Don't hit the dashboard," he ordered. "This car only has 25K miles on it, and I'm not taking it to get work done because you can't hold your shitty temper." He groaned, puffing furiously. "I knew I shouldn't have taken you to that meeting, you were bound to get worked up somehow..."

"I was fine until we were stalked by some bloody doctor and now apparently you're lying to me!"

"Not lying!" Sanji insisted. He flicked some ashes off his cigarette out the window. "Just...uh...not telling the whole truth." He gritted his teeth. "I know you don't get it," he said, pointing his cigarette at Zoro in frustration, "because you tell the truth about everything, it isn't in your nature to lie, but I just..."

"Just what?" Zoro pressed. His voice was hostile and aggressive, and he was enticing the cook into anger as well.

"I just never wanted you to feel guilty!" Sanji yelled. Outside of his cracked window, some pedestrians turned their heads for one moment, before looking away swiftly. The cook tossed his cigarette and pressed a button to roll the window up. "Why did you think Ace and Marco knew what I meant by take out the trash? You think that nobody put two and two together before, and found out where you lived? This is just the first time that you knew about it, that's all!" He shook his head furiously, dismissing anything that Zoro was about to interject. "I never wanted to say it, I never wanted you to know, because I knew that if you knew, you'd treat me like I was..." He clenched the steering wheel, knuckles creaking, and bit his bottom lip, trying to keep the words inside, but it snuck out, like a whisper of wind under the crack of a door, as he said, "weak."

They had arrived at their building. Sanji pulled the car into their designated spot and turned off the engine. He made no move to get out of the car, and didn't look at Zoro. Instead, he just leaned back in his seat, defeated, spent. Zoro picked up the papers that were laying in his lap and placed them on the dashboard. He leaned back and pushed his glasses out of the way for a moment to rub at his eyes. "Weak," he repeated, it wasn't a question, just an assertion.

"How long are you going to think that, you stupid fucking cook?" His swift, strong, callused hand shot out and grabbed Sanji's chin, turning the man's face toward him, where he met the cook's quivering gaze. "You starved, didn't you? Look, I don't know your bloody story, not even from the life I remember, but you starved, right?" Sanji nodded slowly. "Yeah, and you are still alive. Fucking miracle, I guess you think, but no, I don't think so. And instead of moaning about it, you go and make it your life's mission that nobody has to starve like you did, ever again. You made something out of your suffering. I don't know anybody else who has done that, okay? You think I fell in love with you because you're sexy and you cook good -"

"Well," Sanji choked out.

"Well?"

"It's cook well. Proper grammar."

"Shut the fuck up. Anyway, you think that's why? I mean, come on, Sanji, you and I like to fuck women most of the time, don't we? But I don't want some woman or some other man, because I want you, somebody strong, somebody..." Zoro trailed off. His speech had been on a roll, and all of the sudden he couldn't find the right word to summarize it.

Sanji chuckled and removed Zoro's hand from his face, where his fingers left red marks in his skin. "That's the most I've heard you talk at once in a while, shitty swordsman." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, massaging out the marks on his chin, "Usually you let your swords do the talking."

"If I did that this time, then I wouldn't be getting dinner tonight, would I?"

"Nah, I'd still feed you," Sanji relented, and he opened the door and got out the car, Zoro following suit.

"Even if I killed you?" Zoro teased.

Sanji scoffed. "I told you that you can't kill me, but yeah, sure, even if you killed me, I'd still cook for you." He pointed at the swordsman threateningly. "I'm not having any other bastard making you breakfast in the morning after I'm gone, you hear me?"

"Got it," Zoro relented. He yawned as they walked into the lobby and made their way to the elevator. "I'm gonna take a nap before dinner, okay, shitty cook?"

"Yeah, whatever you lazy ass bastard," Sanji retorted, but there was no fire in his words. Zoro belated realized he left all the adoption information papers in the car, but he figured it was nothing to worry about, and followed the cook back to their apartment.

A/N: I was really trying to get the smut in this chapter, too, but ..er...plot bunnies got in the way. I foresee it in my reader's near future though, and I promise I shall make it worth all the torturous wait! Now please read and review, or don't review, and I'll just never give you smut ever again. BWAHHAHA.

Just kidding. I like writing smut, so that's not going to happen.