Rocky Nightmares

Sanji didn't have a restful sleep.

They are in a town, some small and odd thing with strange people and houses of vivid colours- nothing unusual- but now Sanji finds himself walking through a forest, looking for plants that he can use for dinner. There's something new and exciting here to find, but he doesn't know quite how he knows that, or what's exactly he's looking for. The information is just there, tucked in his brain like a pebble in a pocket, small and unassuming but there, and so he trusts the knowledge unquestionably, feeling confident in the sureness of it. He's looking for something, something to eat.

Away from the bustle of people it's a nice forest, lush and verdant with a thick entangled canopy but one that still manages to let in the warm sun. Overall, it's calming; there's nothing exploding or crashing around him and he finds himself enjoying the walk for the activity itself, relaxed by where he is.

Deep down a winding dirt path he turns his head, hearing his crew mates around him, somewhere, but they are away in the trees and he can't see them properly, only flashes of red or orange or blue as they pass between gnarled trunks. He calls out to them that he's going to continue ahead, voice jarringly loud in the tranquillity, and hears a distant call back from one of them to carry on, they'll meet him later. He picks up the pace and walks straight, over roots and earth that smells slightly damp from a recent rain. He can hear the crash of waves in front of him which grows louder as he walks and can smell the sea in the air and knows, somehow, that what he's looking for is there. There's a tugging pull of something, drawing him forwards and he follows it unresisting and trusting.

As he moves out from the shade of the trees the sun blinds him momentarily- it's dazzling and Sanji lifts up an arm to cover his eyes and help them adjust. After a few moments of waiting, listening to the cawing of gulls and the soft lap of the sea against stone, Sanji lowers his arm and finds himself atop a tall cliff face looking out to a wide, blue sea. It is vast and unending, stretching onwards and outwards to the horizon without a ship or a spot of land to break it.

It is beautiful, but lonely and a sudden stab of fear pulses in his chest. He turns, wanting to catch a glimpse of his ship mates to assure himself that they're alright, that's he's alright, but there is nothing behind him but barren rock. He twists in panic but all around there is just himself, rock, and endless ocean.

His heart begins a practised, familiar hammer in his chest as his stomach floods with terror that spills into the rest of him.

No.

No, not again. Not now. Please, please not again.

The trees are gone, the town is gone, and the ship is gone- there is just him and this rock, this barren scar of land in the sea, stark and exposed and forgotten. The soft lapping of the water against a stony shore have become a crash of wild waves against jagged rock, a harsh sound that rips and erodes him away with each new churning beat of the tide.

He looks up to the still hot sun but he feels so cool, so cold that he shivers and he looks down at himself before crying out in alarm. He's small; dressed in tattered, dirty rags he is a child with a shrunken body and peeling, flaking skin that's the result of bearing the brunt of the sun and the weather without respite. There is nothing in his stomach but pain and dread and loss, and his voice shrivels and dies in his mouth alongside his dry hungry tongue.

It was a dream. The life he had at sea with his friends- his family- was a dream, all a dream- he never left this rock, he's been here the whole time and he's never going to leave, never going to get away because he'll die here, hungry and cold and hot and forgotten; so hungry that his stomach is eating itself and-

Sanji opened his eyes with a gasp and sat bolt upright, a hand pushing hard into his stomach and feeling clammy and shaken. He was in bed, on the Sunny Go. Not anywhere else, certainly not there and he was safe. He was fine. He was full, he was fed, he wasn't alone and he was fine.

It was dark in the bedroom, soothing and gentle with the breathy snores of Usopp fluttering through, but he felt constricted by it; the walls too close and too shadowed felt sinister, like they were pressing in on him from all sides. Sanji curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and shook his head, trying to clear away the feelings of what was quite clearly stupid nonsense and come back to himself.

It didn't work. The trapped, sunken feeling didn't abate and so, biting his lip to stop himself from swearing or kicking something and waking everybody up, he climbed out of bed, gingerly extracting his legs from the tangle of blankets and made his way to the door, not bothering to grab a jacket or shoes. He wanted to get out, needed to see the sea and convince himself fully of where he was to separate the then from the now, and so left the bedroom in a half run upwards towards the deck, kicking the final door open in his hurry and emerging into the night air.

Running a shaky hand through his hair, teasing out the knots left by his tossing and turning, he made his way quickly across the deck, over to the balustrade where the wood was shorter and made for easy leaning. Coming to it, Sanji gripped it, hard, needing to be grounded by something firm and unmoving as his mind continued flash and stomach roil against his will, turning over and over with fluttering nerves that hadn't quietened even a little bit since he woke up. He caught himself, noticing that his fingernails were digging in and leaving tiny crescents in the surface of the paint that Franky wouldn't notice right away but would, eventually- probably.

Thinking of his hands and the potential for splinters, Sanji forced himself to unclench them and curl the knuckles in to press upon the wood instead, holding him steady. He could feel the breeze, delicate and crisp, against his cheeks and ruffling his hair but, despite this, his breath was still coming in fast, desperate gulps and he swallowed, pushing against the railing harder and forcing his arms rigid so that his hands couldn't shake.

It was a still night. The waves were calm, there were no other ships in sight, and there was nothing around that he could see or sense disturbing the waters from deep below- monstrous and large and waiting. The sun was not yet cresting the horizon, although he knew that when it did it would appear directly ahead- the slight lightening of the sky left him in no doubt- but for now there was just stars, clustered in their thousands.

Perfect then, ideally. Smooth and silky and gentle with nothing but the minimal rocking of the waves against the hull.

Then why couldn't he calm down?

Sanji groaned, running a hand over his face before bringing it down to his chest to rest over his heart, feeling the fast thump thump thump as much as hearing it drum loudly in between his ears. He took a breath in through his nose and held it, resolutely, before allowing himself to release it through his mouth and taking another, forcing himself to relax and untense.

Stupid fucking imagination. Stupid fucking rock, reminding him of things he'd rather not think about too vividly. Because that's what it was, he knew, that had caused it- the rock they'd sailed by earlier that day. An innocuous thing, just a lump of land cut from the sea, and nothing worth docking for or looking at too closely; they hadn't even slowed down.

But Sanji had seen it and his mind had made the unwanted mental connection all too readily. It was probably the way the sun curved across it, leaving most of it in shadow- for the merest of seconds it looked exactly as the other one had when they'd been sailing away after rescue, the last sight of that hell he'd seen. The island earlier that day (yesterday, now? What are days, to this hour of the night) hadn't been the same shape, not really, hadn't looked identical at all. But it had looked similar enough; with no other land in sight for miles it had that same feeling of lonely, isolated abandonment baked in a harsh sun that he'd felt a chill run through him at the sight, a twisting in his gut.

It had passed, quickly enough, and he had continued about his day light and untroubled. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to escape it so easily, that he'd never get away clean. He never did, any time this sort of thing happened. A seed of memory had been sown and it always flowered later that night into something cold and sinister, tasting of nothing but a cracked tongue and a painfully empty belly.

And so, here he was.

He raised his hand from his chest where it was bunching the fabric of his shirt in a fist and reflexively reached to his back pockets, looking for a lighter. He didn't make a habit of sleeping with a lighter or cigarettes on his person, but it happened often enough by accident that he hoped it had happened tonight. Finding neither, he tutted in frustration and propped his elbows on the side, burying his head in his hands and pressing the pads of his fingers into his scalp.

Jesus.

He was too old for this bullshit. He should be able to handle this, shouldn't be this affected after this long.

'You look like you're gonna throw up.'

Sanji started violently, letting out a yelp of surprise and whirled around to find Zoro standing just behind him, arms crossed.

'What the fuck are you doing out here?' Sanji hadn't heard him approach at all, for someone so stocky Zoro could be extremely stealthy when he chose to be, as light on his feet as someone half his size.

Zoro shrugged half-heartedly and gestured with his head behind him to the mast. 'Fell asleep outside.'

Sanji flicked an eye to it and, sure enough, the patch of grass directly underneath was still somewhat flattened, a clear indication that some bulky lump had been laying on it until very recently. He hadn't seen Zoro when he'd come out, although, to be fair, he hadn't bothered looking for anyone.

'You woke me up when you kicked open the door, like an inconsiderate bastard.'

Sanji scowled at him. 'Well, if you slept in a normal place like a normal fucking person, you would still be asleep.' And oh, how Sanji wished Zoro were still asleep, preferably somewhere far away deep in the hull of the ship; he wasn't in the mood to put up with Zoro's bullshit right now.

Zoro tutted in irritation but then Sanji caught something in his eyes, a careful knowing that he rarely saw from Zoro, directed towards himself at any rate, and he felt a prickle of fear at the sight of it, at the potential places this conversation could go. But then Zoro tilted his head, face turning apathetic. 'Was tired- I was worn out doing all of the heavy lifting of saving everyone today. I can't blame you for not understanding how tired pulling your weight makes you, seeing as you did jack all.'

Although he knew it was a weak jab, testing the waters more than anything else, Sanji let himself recoiled in fury, leaning into the familiar part of this well-done play- shoulders pulling back and legs tensing. There had been a brief interaction with another group of pirates that day, nothing too extraordinary or difficult but they'd put up quite a fight. 'I distinctly remember you getting clocked in the head and me having to come in and clean up for you.' Sanji hissed in return, feeling anger heat his cheeks.

'No, you pranced in and took a swing at someone but missed and I had to go in there to save you and then I got hit in the head by a fucking huge hammer because you kicked up a fuss about not wanting to hit a woman.'

'Why is that a surprise to you, you know I don't hit women!'

'She was ten times your fucking size!' Zoro bared his teeth and dropped a hand to his swords. 'If she clapped you on the shoulder to say hello, she'd knock your head off! My bad though, I should have known better to think you'd have some common sense in fighting.'

Sanji let out a bark of incredulous laughter. 'Me?! Me lacking in common sense! Ho, that's rich coming from you, the one who got lost on their fucking little tugboat of a ship when you were left alone for two seconds! Luffy had to go and find you because you got stuck in the hold! TWICE!'

Zoro opened his mouth to say something, eyebrows pulled down low, but Sanji shook his head, holding up a hand and waving it dismissively as the fight unexpectedly drained out of him. 'You know what? I don't even give a shit.'

He turned back to the sea and propped his elbows on the side again, heart still pounding in his chest and anxiety spiking in this stomach. He needed to calm down and shouting verbal sense into Zoro was never an activity that lowered his blood pressure, an impossible task that it was.

There was a pregnant silence behind him, not the sound of disappearing footsteps that he would have liked, or the click of swords to dodge that he expected. Instead, Sanji could feel himself being watched, eyes prickling against the exposed skin on the back of his neck.

'Go away, shithead, I'm not in the mood to deal with your stupid.'

There was a slight shuffle of movement in the grass, Zoro shifting his weight from one foot to another. 'I'm hungry.'

Sanji blinked in surprise and turned to look at him. 'What?'

Zoro gave a one-armed shrug, before moving an arm to scratch the back of his head, looking somewhat embarrassed. 'I'm hungry. Make me something.'

'Make you…' Sanji trailed off, momentarily baffled into silence. 'Why the fuck are you hungry? I fed you- I fed everyone a giant portion each at dinner.'

Zoro frowned and popped a sword out of a scabbard with his thumb, then clicked it in again. Then out, in. 'Obviously, you're not very good at it; I'm hungry again.'

Sanji gritted his teeth to prevent himself from telling Zoro to fuck off, no he wouldn't cook for him in the early hours of the goddamn morning, because he knew that, now Zoro had said that he was hungry, Sanji wouldn't be able to sleep for thinking about it until he'd seen him eat something. No matter how much he hated the stupid swordsman, or thought that his ability to function as a decent, normal human being was severely compromised, Sanji could never let him go hungry.

'Fine.' He hissed. 'Fine, I'll fucking feed you, like the animal you are.'

He pushed off the side and moved past Zoro in the direction of the kitchen. 'Come on then shit bag, I ain't delivering it to you out here.'

Zoro said nothing, but Sanji could now hear him following, footfalls oddly soft in the grass behind him.

Entering the kitchen, he flicked on a light, bulbs popping to life quickly and illuminating the room. It was a nice kitchen- it was a lovely kitchen- but when there was no one in it Sanji did think it looked a little lifeless, devoid of any real feeling. There was nothing wrong with it, of course – Franky made sure of that- and it lacked for nothing, but it was very wide and spacious with tall ceilings and room to spread out. And, without people in it, that space became an entity of its own, a thick thing that lay heavy on you, amplifying your footsteps until they rang in empty echoes.

The Going Merry was still Sanji's favourite kitchen of all he'd cooked in and was, in every sense of the word, the exact opposite from the current one in the Sunny Go. Small and cramped, old and always somewhat dim; it had been so battered by the time they'd left it he'd been surprised, at times, to find that things still worked properly. The table had been chipped, sideboards nicked, the odd dent in a pan and cupboards overflowing, with that one chair that was a danger if you didn't sit on it in a particular way.

But Sanji knew it like the back of his hand, had learnt to jump around it in a fast, dizzying dance without so much as knocking a thing out of place. Knew which plate to lay on which part of the table so that nothing slid about, knew which bowl to stack the fruit, which pan had the dent that fit perfectly on the slightly lopsided left stove hob.

It was a true lived-in home, for all its faults.

But the Sunny Go was lovely too and Sanji liked to come here to think, alone, to plan out meals properly and carefully stack his growing collection of expensive pots and pans. It could be relaxing, in its size; open and calming compared to constricted and squashed. Different homes for different parts of him, different flavours for each stage of his life.

Zoro lumbered in after him, door swinging shut with a dull thud, and the spell was broken- the stark and almost soulless feeling was gone and it was once again their kitchen, despite the gleaming table and unwobbly chairs and the air that still smelt slightly new. Zoro dragged out a high-backed stool and sat on it with confidence, certain in its stability, and leant into the back of it, heavy and loose limbed.

'What do you want?' Sanji called over his shoulder, opening the fridge and regarding what was in there with experienced eyes.

'What about the-'

Sanji reached in, grabbed what he needed, and shut the fridge. 'That was a trick question, you don't get a choice.'

Zoro huffed but didn't argue, he knew he didn't have a say in anything relating to food. Sanji moved about with practised ease, opening and shutting cupboards, grabbing ingredients and utensils as he went, and running through meals in his head that could be done quickly but were still up to his usual high standard of fare. Just because something was quick and easy, didn't mean it couldn't be good.

A light pasta, he decided, something warm and creamy. Mushrooms? Yes, but not garlic…onion will do, and some chives. Salt, obviously, with a bit of pepper. Probably not cheese though, too strong for this time of night. Egg?

He could feel Zoro's eyes on him as he moved about but quickly lost himself, getting things ready and settling into the rhythm he knew so well, soothing in its banality. He was halfway through chopping onions, the silence companionable between them, when he realised that his hands were no longer shaking, heart no longer deafening him.

He allowed a small smile, turned away so Zoro wouldn't see, and carried on.

Bastard.

AN:
Howdy! I had some One Piece feelings hit me out of nowhere all of a sudden. I've not written these beanbags in a while and I missed them; I will forever hold the opinion that Zoro is a teddy bear of a person encased in a very thick rock so softer emotions for him usually come out in rather odd ways, which is always fun to explore.

This isn't set in a particular time, just that the Sunny is there and not the Merry, so place the story in a timeline that works best for you. (Although, I must admit to being very out of date with the manga, anime, and the fandom, so if this is totally unusual for modern things please forgive me.)

Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed please leave feedback letting me know what you thought!