I don't own anything but my ideas.

Painting the World in Blues and Greens

"Oh look at these!"

Zoro sighed heavily, shifting the copious amounts of food in his arms so that he could see what the cook was looking at.

Sanji had stopped to peer in the window of the Pumpkin Café, nonchalantly looking through the pastries and tea sets on the shelves. He only had four bags of food, and none of the heavy stuff.

"Can you get those boxes?"

Zoro scoffed. "Carry your own damn boxes."

"Yeah, you probably can't anyways. I got them—"

"Gimme the damn boxes!"

He was an idiot. Such a kneejerk reaction to such a stupid challenge.

"Look," Sanji laughed, "they're all shaped like pumpkins!"

Zoro sighed again and turned so that he could lean his back against the open door frame and rest his arms a bit.

"…I wonder if the young lady selling them is just as cute~ I can't see her, think she's in the back~?"

Zoro grumbled under his breath, resigning to be there for a while, and set two of the boxes down on the ground at his feet so he had a free arm. He yawned and scratched the back of his neck, only half listening to Sanji's plans about the pastries he could cook for everyone tomorrow, but how he'd have to make sure everyone liked sweet things like that.

Zoro's head dropped back against the building and he closed his eyes for a moment, reopening them when Sanji suddenly stopped talking but made no move or insult to wake him up so they could continue back to the apartment. Sanji had stood up straight, looking around him in the street. He looked like he was trying to find someone who had just tapped him on the shoulder from behind and couldn't see anyone.

"…What?"

Sanji reached up and scratched something on the back of his shoulder uncomfortably, now looking past Zoro to where they'd come from. "…I thought…"

…That's… the same face Killer makes when—

When something was coming.

Zoro's eyes narrowed and his head swiveled around, zeroing in on everything in the street for whatever was making Sanji's instinct prickle. People were everywhere in the streets talking on phones, chatting with friends, carrying shopping bags, sitting outside of the teashops and restaurants of the street… He paused as his gaze flicked over Sanji's shoulder, catching movement from what looked like a fairly large group of people coming toward them.

He leaned in slightly, trying to work out what he was seeing, when the flashy white uniforms caught the light and highlighted the stripes outlined with blue accents on the shoulder of the man in front. Zoro's body reacted instantly and he grabbed Sanji's arm, yanking him back into the shop behind them.

"Hey—!" Sanji barked, catching the boxes Zoro had left outside with his toe and dragging it back with them. "You can't leave the food! What the hell are you doing, idio—"

Zoro clapped a hand over Sanji's mouth, dropping the rest of the boxes roughly on the ground so he could pin Sanji's back against his chest, keeping them flat against the wall next to the window. Sanji went silent, an all too familiar shiver drifting up the center of his spine as the feeling of his arms being locked at his side and useless sank in. Zoro hadn't felt him shake, too intensely trained on watching the group outside the window as they grew closer and closer. Sanji's toes twitched, and he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, fighting down the urge to whip his shoe over his head and right through the eye of the person behind him.

No. Not person. Zoro. Zoro's behind me.

But the shiver was getting worse. Sanji felt his breath pick up and his heart start to pound against his ribs. He reached up and grabbed Zoro's arms with his hands, pulling and digging his nails into the darker skin desperately. Zoro didn't move and Sanji froze, every muscle he had in him turning to stone.

Get off.

It's so cold.

Please get off.

Please… please…!

It's so fucking cold.

Get off get off get off get off–

Get it off.

Get it off me.

Sanji felt his leg twitch again, good eye growing dark and fangs extending, his tongue flicking in anticipation around them. Sanji opened his mouth with a low hiss, fingers locking his nails into the flesh around him.

It's bleeding already. Bleeding so easily. So easily. It smells so good. So goddamn good.

Zoro jolted as the sudden series of stabbing pains in his arm and his head snapped down. Sanji was curled in on himself, shoulders alight with a strong tremor, nails digging deep into Zoro's arm where ten drops of blood were making their way down his skin and toward the floor. Zoro released him instantly and Sanji gasped, dipping his head even lower, breathing low and steady. His hands were still in the shape of talons, the tips of his nails dyed red with blood.

Zoro froze, panicking as he realized what he'd done. His head snapped towards the window, marines no more than one hundred feet outside the shop now. Most people in the street had scattered when they saw them coming—back into the shops or off down the road. Those that had stayed were either ignoring the marines' presence or glaring blatantly in their direction. The marines were fazed by none of it.

If Sanji did something while the street was so quiet like this…

Zoro body reacted again, spinning Sanji harshly around to face him. The cook choked out another thick gasp, strangely dark blue eye locking onto Zoro like a predator in the black of night. Zoro could see brilliant white fangs poking out over his lips. Shit. He had to do something to throw him off.

The blood.

Zoro grabbed Sanji's hands—lightly this time, keeping as far from forceful as he could—and stuck them in his mouth without a second thought, just hoping to god that this would work. Sanji jolted, head snapping back and away from Zoro as the swordsman sucked at the blood. He had to get the smell off of the cook.

Sanji's eye had gone back to it's vibrant blue, fangs receding as he got over the shock of finding himself held between the teeth of someone else instead of the other way around. It had kick started his thought process enough to get him to be aware of what was happening again and get ahold of himself. Someone was… biting him.

…Not someone. Zoro.

Sanji licked his lips, finally noticing the violent tremor in his shoulders and fought to still his body as Zoro finished with the last of his fingers. He jerked again as two hands suddenly landed on his shoulders and Zoro pulled him abruptly into his chest. The swordsman was holding the back of his neck. Carefully this time. Tenderly. Déjà vu washed over him as he remembered how Zeff used to hold him after he'd first broken out of the facility. Even when he was screaming and lashing out in panic, Zeff would just hold the back of his neck like this to keep him from hurting himself or someone else and rub his back until he calmed down.

Sanji flexed his arms and Zoro moved with him so that the cook could be as mobile as he wanted. Sanji sucked in a shaking breath and closed his eyes, burrowing his face in Zoro's shirt as Zoro rubbed his thumb carefully up and down one of the clenched tendons in Sanji's neck.

It was so warm.

Zeff was warm like this.

"I'm sorry," Zoro whispered into his hair. "I didn't even think… there are marines coming. They have a good enough idea what I do for Shanks; it'll be bad if they see me. They don't have anything on me, but they've questioned other people before and they'll see you if they do."

Sanji nodded, keeping himself firmly pressed into the warmth, agreeing wholeheartedly that he didn't want anyone with enough outside connections like marines to see him.

He had to see them though to know what to avoid, and forced himself to leave the warmth to look down the street. Fifty feet from the shop, a large man with a white coat flapping in the wind and two bars on his shoulder was leading a group of ten spritely looking men in white uniforms and caps. Each one of them was loaded up with guns at their hips, backs, and arms; overloaded even. Sanji couldn't recall anyone here carrying guns with them—even the people that made weapons and worked with machines—and yet these marines acted like they were walking into what could be their final battle.

Zoro moved slowly farther away from the window, taking Sanji with him, but the windows were big, and Sanji could tell from his lingering claustrophobia that the shop was small. The marines would see them either way when they walked by. Sanji wasn't sure when the last account of violence had been, or if there had ever been an attack on the marines, but things seemed pretty well contained and he was assuming that the marines didn't really have a reason to carry all of those firearms.

A form appeared suddenly at their sides and both men jumped before they registered the young woman no more than Nami's age next to them. She untied the strings on the edge of the shades and yanked the cloth closed, holding it together tightly with her hands just as the shadows of the marines passed in front of the windows.

Zoro cocked his head to the side, recognizing her from somewhere, but—oh. She worked the betting booth some nights at the arena. What the hell was her name? If Sanji had met her, Zoro would have remembered her name from the disgusting and drippy way the cook had said it, but as of now he had no reason to.

"…They're not welcome here," she murmured under her breath, "but I can't keep them out if they want to come in."

Zoro nodded, keeping as flat against the wall as he could. He noticed with a start that the door was still open next to him, but it was too late to do anything about it.

"…Captain," a woman's voice spoke up. "Do you think we should go into a couple of the shops? Everyone's acting so…"

The captain grunted, his voice dull and annoyed. "We're here to protect the people, not to be home invaders. I don't care what the other captains do, terrorizing people is not our job. If we see someone suspected of anything, we'll engage, but until then there's no reason to bother innocent people."

"Y-yes, Captain."

"Hey!" one of the marines laughed. "They look like pumpkins!"

All three in the shop froze, eyes flashing to each other before back to the window. Zoro wracked his brain, trying to remember how bright it was outside and if the girl would be backlit against the shades. The marines hadn't passed the open door yet.

"That place is great, my wife brought me some yesterday morning. We should go in!"

"I know the girl that works there is hot too."

"Ok, now we have to!"

The temperature in the room dropped another ten degrees and the girl looked apologetically at them, glancing at the door to the back of the shop where she'd been working when they came in. If they moved though, the marines would see the shadows through the curtains.

We might have to.

Zoro shifted his feet, Sanji following suit to stay with his motions and anticipate his next move. The girl held her hand up suddenly and waved for them to wait, shaking her head.

"Men!" the captain barked, and Zoro could see the marines straighten back up, falling into formation. "We are marines, and you will act strong and professional on rounds in the city! We are here for the good of the citizens and I won't have my outfit distracted by food!"

"Yes sir!" the marines chorused, and followed their captain with renewed fervor in their tramping up the street. Zoro peered around, looking out through the doorframe, waiting until they left and the street started coming to life again with the people that had hidden as they passed through.

He felt Sanji shift against him and dropped his arms so the cook could move away. Sanji's arms twitched like he was going to hug himself, and Zoro blinked at the look of longing that crossed his face. Sanji ducked his head and pulled his lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, flicking the cigarette to life with his head still down to hide the expression. Something in Zoro wanted to apologize again, especially as he saw the scabs forming on his arm. How could he not have guessed that would happen?!

Stupid!

"Are you ok?"

Zoro looked up to where the girl was pointing at his arm and nodded, reaching up to scrub the rest of the blood away.

"Just… caught myself on a corner coming in."

She nodded, tugging the shades open again and flooding the shop with sunlight. "I'm always in a hurry to get away from them."

Sanji let out a slow breath, turning to her. "Young lady, my dear, thank you so much—"

"Think nothing of it." She waved her hand in his direction with a light smile. "Anything to help one of Shanks' best fighters. Can I get you something to calm you down?"

Sanji shook his head. "That's incredibly kind of you, but I'd rather buy some of your magical looking pastries."

"You don't need to thank me, really—"

"Please, I'd like some pastries anyways. And what better time to celebrate such an act of bravery for us poor, undeserving souls?"

The girl sighed but moved to the back of the counter with a smile anyways. "What can I get you then?"

Zoro followed Sanji to the counter and stood at his side as the cook looked over the pumpkin-shaped things in the case. The woman kept smiling at him, and eventually his hand drifted up to the back of his neck to scratch at a nonexistent itch and he scowled uncomfortably.

"So… uh…" He hated small talk. "You been to one of the fights recently?"

She shook her head, grin widening. "Not lately. I was wondering if you'd recognize me. I'm Laki, by the way." She held out her hand to him across the counter and he took it, shaking her tiny fingers gently before releasing her.

"Zoro. Roronoa."

Laki. That's her name.

"I remember you from when the city was being rebuilt too, when everyone was just starting to go to fights. Your name was big along with a couple others for protecting the city."

This was becoming a theme. Zoro sighed internally.

"My sister knows Ace D. Portgas and his brother, and I remember that you three were some of people that killed the most of those monsters."

Zoro grimaced slightly and caught Sanji's flinch out of the corner of his eye, but the cook was immediately back to picking out pastries like nothing had bothered him.

"Whatever… happened to the blond boy that used to hang around Ace?"

…Blond? Who—oh.

Zoro shook his head and Laki nodded, her smile growing sadder. It had been a while since someone had asked about Sabo.

"I used to hate this city," Laki said quietly, looking out of the window to the tables outside the restaurant across the street where people were eating happily. "I hated the cards it had dealt me. I had just moved here two months before everything started happening. It was my first apartment, my first time away from my family. And then everything happened and there were so many times I thought I would die and I couldn't even get a phone call through to my family to tell them what was happening."

Zoro didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to hear everyone's recount of the days before the city rose again. He had his own demonic memories; he didn't need theirs too.

"But now that things are coming back together, and everyone is working together to make things happen, accepting help when they need it and offering it without hesitation when it's needed… I was suddenly very proud to call this my home, and I can't imagine moving away and losing the connection I've made with everyone here."

She turned to look at him. "It's like, even the people you haven't met, you understand each other so much more than anyone from the outside could. But this city is amazing. My parents are very protective of my younger sister. She's… sick, I guess is the best word, but they've agreed to let her come visit me because they can tell how protected it is. This might even convince them that she can start a life on her own. Have you picked out everything you wanted?" she turned back to Sanji and started ringing the pastries up when he nodded. "You're not from here though, how did you end up here?"

Sanji blinked up at her, in the middle of getting out his wallet. He turned to give Zoro a questioning look, but the swordsman could only shrug in return. There was no way he'd be able to explain it.

"How could you tell I'm not from around here?"

Laki gave him a smile, placing the pastries in a bag with a smiling pumpkin with wings on the front. "It's not a bad thing, if anything I'm glad you missed what happened. It's not something I'd wish on anyone."

"But how could you tell?"

Now it was her turn to pause. "…I'm not really sure, I guess. It's something about the way you…" She placed the bag on the counter in front of her, thinking. "…Everyone here has such faith in this city. You still look over your shoulder, like you're waiting for something to come up behind you. I didn't even notice the marines until the street went silent because I trust the people around me so much. Even the ones I barely know."

Sanji nodded after a moment and laid some bills on the counter. She plucked them up and handed Sanji the bag. "Will I see you two at the next fight? I'm working that night."

Zoro grunted. "I think I'm fighting. I can't remember who, though."

Laki laughed and nodded. "I'll bring you something. See you then!"

"Goodbye, my luscious goddess~! My eyes will weep for the loss of your beauty until we see each other again~!" Sanji gushed, blowing kiss after kiss, suddenly rejuvenated by the idea that he wouldn't be seeing her shortly. Zoro rolled his eyes and went to pick up the boxes he'd dropped.

Once they were outside, the cook went silent, walking in a steady pace just in front of Zoro. Zoro grunted, shifting the boxes to make sure he didn't lose the cook and get himself lost. There was no tenseness in Sanji's shoulders, but Zoro didn't like the drag in them either. He hadn't even lit another cigarette, and the other had burned out a while ago.

"…What I don't get is why people keep bringing up NSPH in front of you even though they know you're not from here," he tried, watching Sanji's reaction. Almost none of the country knew exactly what had happened, and those that did didn't advertise it.

"…Maybe they assume I know because I'm with you."

No luck.

Zoro couldn't help but find himself speeding up to walk in time with the cook. Sanij's face was blank, staring straight ahead with the dead cigarette butt hanging out of his lips.

"…You know you're not like that."

Zoro could practically see the sigh in Sanji's frame. "…What?"

"You're not like them. A monster."

Sanji took so long to answer that Zoro thought he wasn't going to at first, but Sanji was surprising him more and more these days. Especially with how much he was letting Zoro see his soul.

"…I kinda am. I do everything that the monsters she remembers do, with very few differences."

Zoro's lips pinched together and his grip on the boxes tightened. "You're nothing like them. You and Killer, nothing you do is—"

"You know, back in the shop—when you grabbed me—I was thinking over the trillions of ways I could kill you. All the ways in which I could keep your blood from dripping onto the floor so I wouldn't waste it. You started bleeding so easily, even with the thick skin you have. It would have been so easy."

"…But you didn't."

"I was pretty damn close."

"But you didn't."

Sanji spat out his cigarette butt and turned to glare darkly at Zoro with his one eye. "Are you not hearing me—?!"

"I am. And the only thing I hear is that you didn't go for me. Those things that attacked us years ago were mindless. They'd run right into my swords trying to get to my neck. Maybe you wanted to, fine, but you didn't. You took the time to think before attacking. They didn't do that. That's what I hear."

Sanji's expression turned flat and he looked back at the road, fishing around in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. Zoro huffed and turned back to watch where he was walking. He couldn't see around the boxes enough to know he wouldn't run into something.

"…The differences between you and them," he said quietly, "may be few, but they're big ones."

Sanji slid his lighter away and tipped his head back, letting out a breath of smoke above him.

"…I'm going to stop looking over my shoulder, like Laki said I do."

"Jeez, at least listen—"

"It doesn't help, and I sense most things instinctually anyways. So I'm going to stop."

Zoro growled. Fine, if the bastard didn't want to talk, they wouldn't.

"…I want to… keep as much of me human as possible. I can't do that if I'm always tuned into the part of me that isn't."

Zoro looked over carefully at him at that, but said nothing. Something like that didn't merit an answer. He had heard, and Sanji knew he'd heard. That was that.

They walked in silent after that, Sanji smoking calmly, his spine straight and the confidence back in his walk, all of the lifelessness gone from his shoulders.

Sanji may not have had the same demons Zoro did, but without a doubt he had his own, and Zoro could feel the connection that had formed between them just from that as strong as the connection he had with anyone from the city. Laki was wrong. Sanji was from here. He may not have come from the city and he may not have been here when it fell, but he understood the pain and persecution that the people here had gone through like almost no one else could.

Sanji belonged here. He belonged with everyone else around them. He deserved to be like the people here: as happy as if nothing had happened three years ago, strong enough to look past their demons and move on with life. He deserved to look past the things that had happened, and he belonged with those that understood what he was facing and could help him through.

-oOo-

Zoro lazed into the kitchen, looking around for wherever Sanji had chosen to put the booze. The cook was way too organized; everything was so damn hard to find. He'd forgotten again where the sake was, though it was only their second day in the apartment and there was no way in hell he was going to remember everything's new location that fast.

Behind him, everyone was piled into the new chairs and couches purchased just this morning for the living room-dining room area. Franky and Brook were animatedly telling a tale of their passionate solos one night playing at an art opening and how they had charmed the masses. Those that weren't chortling at their antics (Nami) had found other ways to amuse themselves, touring the new apartment and taking in everything the space had to offer.

Usopp leapt up onto the table, brandishing his fork from dinner like a sword over his head and Chopper jumped up after him, head butting his hip playfully like a dog. Luffy laughed loudly and leaned back to clap his feet together before deciding that the table looked like more fun and launched himself at the two wrestling on the tabletop. Their resounding scream could have been heard down the block before Luffy crash-landed on top of them.

"Hey, hey," Franky called lazily, a half-empty glass of rum and coke swinging between his fingertips. "You all need to be—"

"GET OFF THE FUCKING TABLE, SHIT HEADS!"

A stainless steal pan was launched across the room, and Luffy and Chopper ducked with a shriek, leaving Usopp to take the attack right in the middle of his forehead. He toppled off of the table with a loud crash, pan clattering on the wood beside his head. Zoro could almost see the little stars floating around his eyes. Sanji slammed his hands on the countertop, making the bowl of dessert batter he was mixing jump dangerously, glaring over at Luffy and Chopper as they scuttled to safety behind a bookshelf filled with Sanji's favorite cookbooks.

"Nyeh nyeh!" Luffy stuck his tongue out from between the books, waving his arms out the side like flags. "Can't get us here, Sanji!"

Sanji growled and Zoro chuckled at the veins popping out of the cook's forehead. He bent down to check under the sink, pretty sure that—nope, not there either.

Goddamn, where is it?

"THAT'S MACASSAR EBONY WOOD! AND BRAND NEW! YOU BREAK IT AND YOU'LL BE WORKING PROBONO FOR ME WASHING DISHES FOR THE NEXT DECADE! AND DON'T PUT YOUR FEET WHERE WE PUT FOOD!"

"Hey cook."

"What?"

"Where did you put the booze?"

"Jesus, for the fifth time, it's up above the sink. The doors have glass panels! You can see right through them!"

"Whatever," Zoro muttered, reaching up to pull down a large bottle of sake.

"Zoro~!" Brook called from the dojo where he and Franky had migrated to look out over the city. "Will you pass us a bottle of something nice? You're out of coke, but I think Franky will manage."

Zoro nodded and shuffled through the bottles until he found an open bottle of tequila and a half-finished bottle of gin, holding both up so the two could choose.

"Oh…" Brook put a finger to his lips, mulling over the options. "Choices."

"Gin is pretty super, but I don't think I could have it without tonic. You got any tonic, bro?"

"Then again the tequila would go nice with the view."

"Oh!" Franky pulled back from Brook, looking impressed. "Super point! You really can see the romance in the view!"

"JUST PICK ONE!" Zoro barked, growling as he heard Sanji laugh quietly beside him.

Brook threw his hands into the air, his cane swinging around his wrist and narrowly missing Franky's nose. "Send us the tequila, my good man!"

"Suuuuuuuper!"

Zoro tossed it through the living room past everyone else's heads, ignoring Usopp's scream as something shot past his ear. Brook caught it nimbly with one hand, sweeping down into a bow and unscrewing it at the same moment so that he could pour Franky a shot the second he'd spun to a stop. He snapped back up into a dramatic pose, filling his own cup effortlessly and clinked it with Franky's before they both tipped their heads back and drained the alcohol.

"AMAZING!" Chopper gaped, his own bottle of beer clutched tightly in both hands. "SO FLUID!"

"Hey, Chopper!" Luffy called, leaping up to the top of the bookshelf and holding out his arms like a football goal post. "Try and get it through my hands! Throw it like Zoro did!"

"Yeah!"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"But Sanjiiiiiiiii~"

"NO!"

"Will you idiots sit down?!" Nami screeched from the balcony. "We don't want to piss of Sanji and Zoro's new neighbors the first night they're here!"

"There are more people here?!" Luffy's eyes lit up. "Let's go invite them in!"

"NO!"

Zoro grinned at the cacophony of their new apartment, leaning back against the counter. He'd forgone the cup in favor of nursing the bottle itself. It made the sake taste stronger anyways. Luffy careened through the kitchen, grabbing at something Chopper was trying to keep out of his reach, and Nami appeared from the top of the stairs to punch him into silence.

"GYAH! Call a doctor!"

Yup, all was normal.

"Hey marimo, taste this."

Zoro looked over to where Sanji was holding out the spatula he'd been using to spread the dough into a pan. Zoro made a face.

"I don't like sweets."

"Hey hey, don't insult my cooking," Sanji waved the spatula in his face and Zoro leaned away, swatting the offending tool. A splop of batter flung off of the end at the connection and flipped back, just missing Sanji's apron and landing on what was visible of his shirt. Sanji blanched, his cheeks sucking in like a dehydrated fish, and Zoro barked out a laugh at his expression.

"Shitty marimo!" Sanji yelled, but a manic grin crossed his face, betraying his lack of anger. He lunged forward with the spatula brandished like a fencing sword and smeared the batter back across Zoro's cheek with a loud smack.

"Hey!"

"This is a three hundred dollar shirt, asshole!"

"Why the hell do you need a three hundred dollar shirt?! You cook! They must get fucked up every day!"

"I have enough class to keep what I wear clean, you uncultured swine!"

Nami watched the two quietly from her seat in the incredibly comfortable and what must have been incredibly expensive chair in the living room. They fought like a cat and dog most days, and were it not for the stupid machismo grins they both got whenever they did this, she would have thought they actually hated each other. The first few times of watching them interact, Nami could practically see the sparks starting fires in the air between them.

As it was, even as they attacked each other, Sanji's shoes and Zoro's fists flying through the air, they couldn't have looked more comfortable with each other.

Nami smirked, sipping at her glass of wine. Sanji and Zoro bought an apartment together. Sanji and Zoro's apartment… Sanji and Zoro…

It had a nice enough ring to it.

But Sanji had bought an apartment with Zoro. And that meant that the cook was planning to stick around for a while. And with Zoro, no less.

That in and of itself was endlessly intriguing.

Across the floor in the kitchen, the two idiots had finally settled down enough for Sanji to finish putting the pan in the oven and then move on to washing the dishes and Zoro to clean the mess off of his face and the spot on his arm where Sanji had caught him once more. Nami watched Zoro swipe a larger glob of the batter onto his finger and pause just before he was about to wipe it on a towel. He blinked down at it, brain ticking slowly as he wondered. He looked over at Sanji's back once and then stuck his finger in his mouth.

"…It's good. It's not too sweet at all."

"See?" Sanji snapped, a smile apparent in his playful tone. Nami could only guess that he wouldn't turn around because he didn't want to show Zoro. "I know you don't like sweets, dumbass. I'd be a horrible cook if I couldn't even figure that out."

Nami's smile stretched and she curled farther into the cushions. Zoro finished cleaning himself up and picked up his bottle of sake, moving over to lean back against the counter next to the sink, unconsciously putting himself as close as he could to the cook. Sanji's eyes flicked up at the sudden invasion of his space and Zoro looked down, realizing suddenly how near to each other they were. They exchanged a look that bordered on embarrassed before both looked away sharply, Sanji scrubbing furiously while Zoro chugged the bottle in his hand like it was his last drink in life.

Nami giggled, hiding behind her wine glass. It's like a soap opera.

-oOO-