The first couple of hours really hadn't had been so bad. But now, as Sanji observed the last rays of the sun sink below the horizon, he was feeling downright bitchy.

An entire day had passed since he had last had a cigarette. To make matters worse, it would be another two days before they would be at the next supply port.

Not wanting to risk taking out his foul temper on Nami-san and Vivi-chan, he had spent most of the day avoiding his crewmates. He had been sitting here, quietly, out of everyone's way, minding his own miserable sulky business, until Zoro had walked up, and without a word, sat down next to him. And immediately took a nap. Even though there was tons of open space all over the ship, the swordsman just had to choose the space right next to Sanji to sleep. Unconscious fucker.

At that moment, Sanji hated him with every nicotine-deprived nerve in his body.

He wondered at the morality of kicking an unarmed sleeping man in the head.

He wondered if he cared.

He was leaning towards no.

"It's your own fault, you know."

The asshole was awake. Good. There was no need for further debate. He flexed his leg muscles.

"Smoking is a disgusting habit. It makes you stink, and your mouth tastes like an ash tray."

And just like that, he was back asleep.

Sanji smiled his first real smile in hours. He leaned over, very close to Zoro, until his lips brushed against the rim of the sleeping man's ear.

"Hey, Asshole, are you awake?"

Only deep even breaths answered him.

"Know what? We're out of booze, too."

He planted a soft peck to Zoro's tan brow.

"Sweet dreams."