"Well?"
….
…….
……….
"I said, 'WELL?'"
"Um,…..what the hell is that?"
"It's a CAKE, you Asshole!"
….
…….
……….
"No its not."
"What? It is too!"
"Listen, you idiot, I'm a chef. I've been one practically all my life. I know a cake when I see one, and that is not a cake."
Zoro looked like he was about to turn AbsoltelyFuckingHomicidal, which was a world away from the eager and sorta hopeful look he wore when he had first approached the cook, holding out his . . . pan of….stuff. Nevertheless, Sanji felt that this was a point he couldn't let go. Deciding to try a different approach then the one he usually used with the swordsman, Sanji took a deep breath, and continued in what he felt was a reasonable voice.
"I mean, for one thing, cakes don't usually smell like horse vomit."
Zoro paled, and stared at him in something akin to horror. The blonde wasn't sure if that meant that this new approach was working or not, but he decided to stick with it, and added in what he felt was a rather helpful manner,
"Besides, cakes are, you know, solids. That there is a liquid. A gross brown chunky liquid. I mean, are you sure it's not actually hor—"
"IT'S NOT HORSE VOMIT, YOU GODDMAN UNGRATEFUL ASSHOLE!"
Sanji was taken back by the outburst, not expecting that sort of reaction when he was being so reasonable and so helpful. Then, just before he started yelling back, something snagged his attention.
"Wait, did you say 'ungrateful'? Is this c, er, stuff for me?"
Zoro sighed, and suddenly looked slumped and tired.
"Yeah, well, it was your birthday last week, and no one made you one, and there was a cooking class in the town we were in this afternoon…."
Sanji just stared at him.
"Let's just forget it. It's stupid. I'll just throw it over the side—"
Before he had the chance, Sanji's hands shot out, and snatched the pan from him. He held it protectively against his chest, hardly caring when brown stinky goop sloshed over the side and onto his shirt.
"No! I want it! Its mine!"
Hating how his face suddenly burned, he found himself staring hard at the wooden floor beneath his feet. Neither man said a word for a very long time, and Sanji started to feel uncomfortable as the warm chunky liquid began to sink through the thin fabric of his shirt to find skin. The smell was making his eyes water.
After a while, still unable to look at Zoro, he mumbled, "Thank you."
"Whatever, Asshole. You don't even like it."
Sanji's eyes snapped up at that, and he looked at Zoro who was glaring at him with a tight frown.
"Well, I mean, I just wasn't expecting it, or anything!"
"That's because it was a fucking surprise."
"Apparently, it worked, you seaweed-headed DICK. I was pretty fucking surprised!"
"Just shut the fuck up, and get rid of that! You don't want it!"
"YES I DO! I WANT IT! I want it, and its MINE, and you MADE it for me, so why don't you just FUCK OFF and let me DRINK my goddamn CAKE in peace!"
Zoro's eyes widened at the outburst, and then shifted to focus on wall over Sanji's left shoulder. Another uncomfortable silence began to stretch, until Sanji sighed, and in a smaller voice said,
"You didn't have to."
Zoro grunted, and his eyes stayed where they were.
"But it was…..nice. Very nice. A nice cake. You're, uh, nice."
There was a pause, and then a deep bark of laughter.
"Am I, Sanji-kun? Am I a 'nice boy' for making you that 'nice' cake?"
"No, you're an ugly bastard!"
Unbothered by the accusation, Zoro kept grinning at him, and Sanji had little choice but to give in and smile back at the infuriating son of a bitch.
"I meant what I said, Asshole. You didn't have to do this."
His grin turned sly.
"Besides, you already gave me a birthday present, remember?"
Zoro shook his head, colored a bit, but kept smiling,
"You're a perverted little Love Cook."
"Are you complaining? Because, you know, I don't remember you complaining before. But, you were making a lot of noise, so I may have missed it."
Zoro rolled his eyes, but did not debate the point.
Sanji chuckled, and held out the pan between them.
"So, do you want to eat my cake with me?"
"Oh, FUCK NO."
