I don't own anything but my ideas.

The Runner

Zoro turned towards the door as someone rapped sharply, looking over to Sanji as the cook looked back at him, raising one eyebrow. They'd gotten pretty good at identifying knocks over the first month living in the apartment. Killer didn't knock anymore—or never had actually; Chopper, Usopp, Franky, and Luffy all screamed something about food when they came and could be heard all the way from the front lobby; Brook could be heard singing all the way from the elevator; Nami's knock about as dainty as a butterfly's and Sanji always pranced to the door whenever he heard it; and no one else came to their apartment.

"…Who…?" Sanji asked, mostly to himself, tossing the towel he was using over his shoulder and placing his utensils back in order on the counter. Sanji never let Zoro answer the door when he was working out, he said it gave the apartment a grimy feel. Zoro made a point of beating him to the door for the next week whenever someone knocked.

Now though… Zoro was pretty sure he knew who it was. Sanji could get the door.

The person knocked again, more insistent and louder this time and Sanji growled to himself, slamming the last spoon into place next to the marinade he was working on so he could stomp over to the door. Zoro smirked to himself and resumed his barbell lunges.

"Coming!" Sanji barked as the person knocked again right as he reached the door, turning back to Zoro as he opened the door so he could snarl, "Jesus, who the fuck—"

A stake of wood shot through the crack in the open door, catching Sanji straight in the chest and ricocheting him back across the room where he did four backward summersaults before smashing so hard into the wall on the far side of the room so hard he crumpled in a little ball like a newspaper blown against the side of a building in a tornado.

Zoro's weights echoed like a bomb around the apartment as he dropped them and lunged for his swords, unsheathing them with a loud ring. He whirled to the door just as it swung the rest of the way open and ground to a halt.

"Easy, Zoro," Shanks smirked at him and crossed the threshold, cape swinging casually around him. Standing behind him in the doorway was an old man with greying blond hair, a thick mustache twisted into even thicker braids that hung down almost to his shoulders, a sour (and what looked like a permanent) scowl on his face, and a peg leg that thunked steadily against the floor as he followed Shanks into the apartment.

"Stupid little eggplant," Zeff Redleg growled as Sanji fought to find his bearings, arms and legs flailing as he tried to locate the floor. It was weird to see Sanji caught in such an awkward position, being that the cook's reflexes were normally impeccable. "You couldn't call?"

Zoro had spent a lot of time around a lot of really powerful people. Shanks, Mihawk, Law, Kid, Ace—hell, even Luffy—but his heart still did a little jump every time someone with an incredible amount of strength walked into his apartment for the first time. And Zoro could just feel the power bleeding off of the man standing in front of him. No wonder Sanji held him in such high regards—

"SHITTY OLD GEEZER!"

"What are you cooking here?"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY KITCHEN—I'M COOKING—I DON'T NEED YOUR—IT'S A CHEESE—WHO THE HELL EVEN—HOW DID YOU FIND ME?! You called him, didn't you?!" Sanji whirled on Zoro with one of the darkest glares he'd had seen since Zoro had nearly dropped Sanji's favorite mixing bowl, but Shanks cut in before Zoro had to defend himself.

"I called him." Shanks was smirking to himself, enjoying the crazy energy of the situation.

Zoro breathed a silent sigh of relief. Later he'd tell Sanji that it was his idea to get in contact with Zeff, but after Sanji had cooled down a bit. Or maybe he wouldn't tell him.

Zeff leaned over the bowl Sanji had been working on, both he and Shanks having made it to the kitchen without once being perturbed by Sanji's state of crumpledness on the floor or Zoro's frozen half-attack over in the dojo to sniff the marinade once. Because apparently sniffing it once was enough for the old man to get exactly what he needed to know. Zeff grunted to himself before pulling away to meet Sanji's furious expression and Sanji gritted his teeth tighter. Zoro could just hear him screaming, "What?! Not good enough for you?! Don't fucking touch it then! I'll give you a can of beans later so you won't starve and you can open the damn thing yourself, asshole!"

Zeff and Sanji faced off for a good two minutes like that, glaring at each other like their lives depended on it. It gave Zoro enough time to recover from the intrusion and return his swords to their sheaths and Shanks to swipe his finger innocently across the lip of the bowl and pop the mixture in his mouth. Zeff grunted harshly all of a sudden and the two turned back from their distractions to the sparks flying in the middle of the room.

"You're so crippled now that you can't hold a phone or something?"

"Or I almost died and I was a little paranoid to give away my location."

"To who? The phone pixies? Who the fuck do you think is listening in that intently to every single phone in the area?"

"Maybe the people whose truck I ended up in the back of!" Sanji snarled, shoving himself to his feet, hands clenched so tightly they were shaking. "How long was it before you even noticed that I'd been gone for a little too long?!"

Despite the situation, Zoro felt himself wanting to cross the room and tap Sanji's wrist or something to snap the cook out of his funk and tell him to watch his hands, because goddamn if he hurt himself that would just send the situation to hell in a hand basket. …Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.

Shanks shook his head off in the background, ignoring Sanji's tirade, as if he were reading Zoro's mind. "Give it a second," the look said.

Zeff grunted again. "…How long have you been here?"

Sanji winced, finally lessening his grip and flicking his eyes away guiltily.

Zeff's expression deadpanned more. "…Are you going to make me guess? Are you twelve again?"

"Two and a half months, alright?!"

"…What's wrong with your hair?"

Again, despite himself, the feral snarl that reverberated up from Sanji's throat made something jump behind Zoro's navel, and he realized happily that Sanji would probably be very worked up after this, which as of late had been leading to amazing sparring followed by even more amazing sex. Zeff didn't ask for elaboration on Sanji's eye after that, but he didn't back down from his glare either.

"You've been here twelve weeks."

"Yes."

"…You saw Conis."

"Yes."

"…You've been keeping up with your cooking."

"Yes."

"…Are you alright?"

The dissipation of the tenseness in the room was instantaneous. Sanji's clenched fists dropped to his sides as if the muscles in them had disconnected suddenly, his snarl relaxing into something much more… pained. The cook straightened slowly and slid the normal pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, ducking his head so his hair fell in front of his face while he lit it with wobbly hands.

Zoro and Shanks stood quietly off to the side, Zoro entirely at a loss for what to do at this point, especially when Sanji's shoulders shuddered suddenly and he reached up to swipe across his eyes before jamming his hands into his pockets.

Zeff huffed again, scrunching up his face as his eyes flicked around the room to anything but Shanks or Zoro and finally settled on the bowl Sanji had been working on again.

"Come show me what you're making." His gruff voice sounded odd when he was trying to be so gentle. But Sanji sniffed and swiped under his eyes once more before crossing the room to join him. Shanks smiled to himself and joined Zoro in the dojo, giving the two some space.

They stood like two macho men in the kitchen, Sanji's hands tightly in his pockets and Zeff's arms crossed like a vice, nitpicking everything Sanji had been doing. The situation wouldn't have looked like it could have been any more awkward to an outsider, but Zoro could see the lack of tension in Sanji's shoulders, and he couldn't detect any stress in Zeff's stance either.

"Told you," Shanks grinned and slid down against one of the windows in the dojo, closing his eyes to drift off, no doubt until one of the chefs said that food was ready. Zoro watched Sanji's shoulders for another moment, looking for any shift in his ease, but when none came he joined Shanks against the window and closed his eyes.

-oOo-

"Just step over them!"

"I can't SEE them, asshole! I have ONE EYE! ONE FUCKING EYE! Didn't I tell you I would kill you if I dropped any food?!"

"You didn't drop anything!"

"MOVE YOUR FUCKING SHOES!"

Zeff and Shanks shared a glance before turning back to their own respective sections of the newspaper. Zoro and Sanji had just gone out for ingredients to make sure that they'd have enough food for when the whole crew showed up, which they undoubtedly would once they heard that Zeff had come and why he was in their apartment. Not much left the city as far as information went, but not much stayed a secret within its walls either.

"They always like this?" Zeff grunted, turning the page. Shanks just nodded absently and turned his own page. "Hey, eggplant, come sit. We need to—"

"DON'T LEAVE THAT THERE, YOU APE!" Sanji launched a kick at Zoro where he'd been about to place the groceries on the ground by the door and he ducked sharply to avoid Sanji's shoe, nearly spilling the bag in the process. Sanji shrieked as the eggs flew from the bag but Zoro lunged and snatched them up, cradling them awkwardly into his chest just before they smashed. Sanji let out a feral half-growl, foot twitching as he fought not to kick Zoro again.

"…Loud," Zeff commented after a minute and Shanks nodded again.

"I'll kill you!"

"Try me, shit cook!"

"Come sit!" Zeff screamed above the noise and whipped the napkin at his place at Sanji's head where it hit him across the face with a definite smack, making the two halt just before they launched themselves at each other. "We have to talk about you staying here or not! …Useless little eggplant."

Shanks nodded again, still reading the newspaper. "And from the groceries it seems like we don't know how much time we'll have before we get a certain group of visitors for dinner. Unless you don't mind talking about it when everyone's here."

Sanji cringed and gave up on their glaring contest, standing to light a cigarette before the trudged across the room and kicked back one of the chairs at the dining table. Zoro growled, debating leaving his boots where they were, but he kicked them out of the way and toward the shoe tray before going to join everyone at the table.

They sat in an incredibly uncomfortable silence for way too long. So long that Zoro almost fell asleep. And then Zeff grunted harshly, as Zoro was starting to notice he did before speaking, and he jolted back awake.

"What do you want to do?"

Sanji took his time answering, blowing out a deep breath of smoke before he said anything.

"…Dunno."

Zeff gave him an impressively flat look.

"What do you want me to say, old geezer?! You know what happened, that shit's gonna happen no matter where I am. Nothing's changed since I broke out the first time."

"Always such an extrapolator," Zeff said dryly. His expression looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes and Sanji growled loudly. Wow, Zeff was the first person Zoro had met that could rile the cook up faster than he could, or get him to show the more feral side of the NSPH virus. Sanji was sounding like a wild animal more today than he had for almost the entire time he'd been in the city.

"I mean," Zeff continued, ignoring Sanji's black look—holy shit, the cook's pupils had actually grown like he was a predator zeroing in on his prey—"do you feel safe here?"

Sanji quieted at that question, his eyes slowly returning to normal as he leaned back in his chair, puffing more steadily now. "…I don't know how safe I'm going to feel back home anymore either, to be honest."

"So you don't feel safe here." Zeff reiterated and waited for Sanji to nod before he continued. "Someone following you?"

"…I… I felt someone for a long time. It was fine for a while, but then I kept getting these prickles," he reached up to rub the back of his shoulder. "It's been about a month now."

Shanks leaned forward onto the table, finally interjecting. "How bad?" He knew about Killer's instincts and how the younger boy could just tell that things were going to happen. He also knew that this "ESP" of sorts could determine how immediate the threat was by how badly it "prickled." And he had a job to do to make sure that no one was infiltrating his city.

Sanji shook his head. "Not too bad. Just there. Pretty consistently. I actually haven't felt it since the fight, when Ace brought Conis and Laki up, but it was always there until then."

"But you had that at home too," Zeff said and Sanji nodded again.

And look where it got you, Zoro thought scathingly, not pleased at how blasé everyone seemed to be about Sanji's, you know, life.

Shanks leaned back in his chair, resting his arm across his lap as he thought. "…This might just be something that comes with the territory. No pun intended. You got out of the facility much later than either Conis or Killer, and I check in with both of them pretty regularly, neither have said that they've noticed someone following them."

Jesus, so Shanks new about Conis too? Well, it made sense actually that Ace would have told him, but really, what didn't the guy know?

"You're much more easily identifiable. Our objective here might be less about hiding you and more just about keeping you safe."

Sanji nodded slowly, like he'd already, and sadly so, come to the same conclusion.

"The stronger you are," Shanks continued, "and the more people you have behind you, the better your chances are of being left alone. You have both Zeff and I, as well as our territories and our strongest fighters. Whitebeard is a loose cannon and really operates on his own agenda, but I think Ace might be able to convince him into this if a situation arose where the government was actually challenging us, though I think that would take a lot of catalysts to change this that drastically."

"…I don't want to hide," Sanji grumbled quietly. Zoro knew the cook was admitting something personal and intimate and clearly he wasn't comfortable doing so. But he also couldn't stay locked up behind the walls of the city.

Zeff shifted uncomfortable but Shanks shrugged. "I get that. I don't see why we can't keep you on as the traveling cook for the fighting team, especially since you'll be with a good number of the stronger fighters of the city."

Zoro waited for Zeff to interject with something about Sanji's safety, but he must have known that that would just be clipping Sanji's wings, because he said nothing.

He finally grunted though before saying, "So it sounds like you'll be wanting to stay here."

Sanji waited another moment before nodding and Shanks shrugged. "If they see you coming and going, Red-leg, it might help to defer potential attackers. Knowing that we're backing this together."

Zeff nodded at that, taking it as the best offer available, and then turned back to Sanji, gesturing flippantly at Zoro. "So you broke up with Conis for this?"

Sanji coughed sharply, spewing smoke everywhere before he recovered. Zoro just turned his eyes to the table, glaring heartily. He didn't mind talking about it, it was just the fucking way that everyone kept saying it, like he and Sanji were their personal soap opera and everyone had hoped for them to end up with someone else.

"What about it?" Sanji hissed under his breath. "You got a problem?"

Zoro blinked up at the cook. Now that was new. What was with that… possessive tone? It made something in Zoro's heart splutter unevenly.

"No," Zeff said coolly. "He going to grow ovaries any time soon?"

Now it was Zoro's turn to choke.

"Unlikely," Sanji spat, eyes black again. "Not that I really want to pass on my fucked up genes."

"You're genes are fine."

"My genes are a death sentence," Sanji crossed his arms tightly. He'd started flicking his cigarette up and down in between his lips, and every once and a while the light flashed off of his now-elongated fangs when his upper lip stretched slightly.

"What about his?" Zeff waved back in Zoro's direction.

"Ask him yourself." Sanji's lip had pulled back in a definite snarl, fangs long enough now to leave some deep wounds if he lost his cool. "His sitting right there."

Zeff turned to stare intimidatingly at Zoro and Zoro crossed his arms, used to glaring at Sanji and not at all worried about what this old geezer could throw at him. Zeff looked him up and down three times before Zoro finally snapped, "What?"

"Am I going to get grandkids?"

"I don't fucking know!" How senile was this asshole?! "Ask me in ten years or so!" Jesus, he was barely old enough to legally drink in the US!

Having kids now would be like…!

…Like Kid and Law.

…Not that he even knew if he and Sanji would be together long enough to think about kids.

Kids in general were an obscure thought though. There was a good chance he'd die fighting to be the best, and the road getting there—even if he did make it—was not something that he wanted to drag a child down.

The yodels of several people echoing up from the main lobby through the elevator shaft interrupted them suddenly and Sanji stood, pushing the chair back with a groan across the floor to start on dinner. Shanks was the first to recover and quickly said his goodbyes to duck out before the chaos started. If Zoro knew the man at all, he'd take the stairs to avoid getting sucked into all the mayhem. They weren't so lucky, what with living in the apartment and all. He sighed and braced himself for the rest of the crew.

-oOo-

Zoro had watched Sanji the entire night. The outward appearance from the cook had been no different than usual. He'd been energetic and fine to yell at the trio of chaos and welcome everyone else the second they bounded in the door and happy to cook and even happier to cook with Zeff and watch and laugh as everyone introduced themselves to the famed Red-leg and finally get Sanji's background story. Zeff had even spent a portion of the informal stand-up dinner entertaining everyone with semi-embarrassing stories from Sanji's teenage years.

Outwardly, everything had been the same. But when Zoro looked closely at the cook's shoulders he could see the lack of tenseness, but he could also see a slight… drag in the way Sanji mixed and stirred and threw things at Luffy and Usopp and handed Nami her drinks and served his meal. It was a lack of energy that Zoro hadn't seen before in the cook, and that made it more unsettling than it probably should have been, especially after such a heavy conversation earlier. Zoro hadn't been able to place the lack of energy for the longest time. Sanji still moved with fervor and seemed to be enjoying what he was doing… and then it had hit him.

Sanji's shoulders weren't carrying his passion.

Zoro's mood had taken a sharp dip at the sudden thought that Sanji's passion for what he did wasn't helping him through this. Sanji's love for cooking had gotten him out of bed the first week in the hospital after it looked like he'd be crippled for months. Sanji's cooking had grounded him, had given him and Zoro something to bond over, had given the people joining them a reason to give the cook a chance, had breathed life into him again when he'd been broken nearly beyond repair.

Why wasn't his art… working?

And so Zoro found himself at a complete loss for anything to do once everyone had left and he was leaning quietly against the counter watching Sanji finish up with the last of the dishes. Even Zeff had followed after the crew with plans on sleeping somewhere that Shanks had set up for him, even though Zoro and Sanji offered their spare bed. Zoro had helped Sanji load the dishwasher, but there were certain pans that the cook liked to clean in a special way. Like the cast iron pans. Zoro had no clue why you wouldn't use soap to clean something you cooked in, but the cook knew what he was doing, so he let Sanji clean them the way he wanted.

Sanji's shoulders were still hanging, like his muscles had atrophied or he'd never worked them hard enough to get them to the point where they'd be able to hold themselves up. It made Zoro hurt to see it. He knew what to do if the cook's shoulders held a tenseness: provoke the cook into a fight that would quickly become fucking and one of them would drill the other into oblivion, and then they would shower and wash all of the lingering negativity down the drain with the dirty water.

This Sanji was different. Zoro wasn't even sure if he could be provoked into a fight right now. Aside from outward appearances, he really hadn't put up a fight on Luffy and Usopp being too crazy around the expensive furniture or Zeff telling stories at his expense.

This Sanji was hurting, and Zoro really didn't know what to do.

He wasn't sure what made him cross the kitchen, be he had almost before he even realized what he was doing. His arms found their way around the cook's lithe middle and Zoro pressed his front flush against Sanji's powerful back, breathing in time with Sanji's own rise and fall. Sanji had stopped his scrubbing and turned slightly to look over his shoulder at the swordsman. Zoro didn't look up to meet his gaze. His hips fell into line with Sanji's and he reveled in their power and steadiness for a moment before his body unconsciously squeezed to pull Sanji tighter into him and he laid his head in the crook where Sanji's shoulder met his neck.

Zoro could feel the slight shift in Sanji's muscles as the cook's body moved in time with his train of thought, following along as Sanji debated leaning back into him, and then started to resume his scrubbing, stilled for a moment, and ultimately decided against finishing the pan and let it slide back into the soapy water. Sanji's long fingers plucked the towel from the counter and dried his hands, slowly and deliberately, and then he reached up slowly and worked his fingers into Zoro's hair, turning to lean his head against Zoro's.

Zoro let out a slow and empowered breath and squeezed Sanji's middle tighter. He hadn't been expecting the cook to welcome his touch so openly. Sanji normally fought him a bit with a snarky comment or a joking insult, if not something physical like a smack on the head with the towel, though he never really backed away. Zoro shifted slightly to lay his lips on Sanji's neck without taking away the support for the cook's head and Sanji's torso shuddered as he let out a shaky breath. Zoro sucked in a quick breath through his nose and slid his tongue across Sanji's warm skin, pulling the cook in tighter still when Sanji shuddered again, leaning his head back to give Zoro more access.

Zoro made a small sound in the back of his throat, hips rocking unconsciously into Sanji's back. Submissive Sanji was something very new too. The cook always made it very clear that he was in charge, regardless of the situation. Zoro knew that he hated being caught off guard, and completely understood with his background. But Sanji was…

Zoro decided to test his luck and opened his mouth more to take a larger portion of Sanji's skin in between his teeth and tongue, adjusting his grip on Sanji's middle to slide his hands up under the cook's shirt. Sanji let out a slow breath and dropped his head back to lean against Zoro's shoulder as the swordsman found his nipples and began playing with them idly. Zoro made another sound and thrust again, harder this time and more deliberate, sucking harder when Sanji returned it with his own small whine. The cook's hand on his head had found the back of his neck and was pulling gently at the short and delicate hairs there, shifting intermittently to massage Zoro's tendons leading down into his shoulders. Zoro gritted his teeth and pushed one hand down into Sanji's pants while his other hand kept playing with the cook's nipples, grunting and twisting his hips forward when the cook let out a sharp breath and jolted as Zoro's hand found his cock.

"…Tell me what to do," he mouthed against Sanji's neck.

"…Wha…?" the cook breathed back, twisting his own hips back into Zoro's, one hand tight in Zoro's hair and the other resting on Zoro's hand over his shirt.

Zoro wasn't sure what had made him say it. And he knew for a fact that there was no way he'd be able to find the words for what he wanted to say. Tell me what to do to make this easier, to make this better, to make you happier, to make this hurt less, to make—

To make you love me.

Zoro's heart spluttered as the thought shot like a lightning bolt through his mind and he latched on to Sanji's neck with renewed enthusiasm, pushing his cock into Sanji's ass as he wrapped his hand around the cook's manhood and started working his hand up and down. Sanji spasmed, letting out a small cry and his hand dropped from Zoro's head and hand to grip the counter and give him something to hold him up.

I love him.

Zoro slid the hand under Sanji's shirt back to wrestle first the cook's pants down and then his own so they caught around their thighs and Zoro could press his cock into the cleft of Sanji's ass.

I love him.

Sanji gasped as Zoro worked two fingers inside of him. Zoro buried his face in the back on Sanji's neck as the cook pooled forward against the counter like a ragdoll. He was giving in entirely to Zoro's strength, completely relying on the swordsman to keep him upright, and Sanji leaning on him both literally and figuratively was giving Zoro the most raging hard-on he'd had in years. Zoro groaned into Sanji's back, pulling out his fingers so he could position himself, and he leaned forward and slid into the cook's impossible heat.

I love him.

Sanji's breathing had picked up significantly as he gripped the counter like a vice, leaning forward so that Zoro could thrust as deep as possible, Zoro's hand still working rapidly over Sanji's cock.

I love him.

Zoro's pulled back slightly to rotate himself to hit that place inside Sanji and the cook nearly flopped into the full sink as Zoro thrust forward with an unrestrained groan, catching the nerves hard. Little black spots started to burst behind Zoro's eyes at the sounds Sanji was making, picking up his pace and driving deep and hard into Sanji's body.

I love him.

Zoro pulled himself up close to Sanji's back, holding the cook to him with one hand on his chest and one hand wrapped around his cock, trying to get so deep into Sanji that the cook would never feel anything but him.

He wanted to hide the cook away from anything that would ever hurt him, take him from whoever was threatening him and making him hurt and making him lose the passion for his cooking. Deep down he knew that tomorrow Sanji would be fine and he'd make the most elaborate dishes that he could as an apology to his utensils for not worshiping them like he always did tonight, but he also knew that he wanted to find whoever made Sanji lose sight of that passion in the first place and end them. He wanted to remove every threat that could possibly come after Sanji, take away everything to make the cook scared to go home, scared to see his father, scared to be himself in the open, scared to make a name for himself lest people find out who and what he was.

I love him so much.

His mind was screaming for his tongue to form the words that were scorching his mind and he bit into the side of Sanji's neck, grinning to himself when the cook shuddered harshly at the stimulation and curled in on himself suddenly, hot and thick liquid dribbling down through Zoro's fingers.

He wanted nothing more than for Sanji to understand, for Sanji to never question how important he was, for Sanji to want to find his attackers and end them too. He wanted to take the cook's mending body and mind into his heart and hid them in his ribcage and offer himself in whatever way he could to help Sanji heal. He wanted to know Sanji, be with Sanji, stay with Sanji always.

And he wanted nothing more than for the cook to return what he was feeling.

I love you.

Zoro groaned deeply, muscles locking with a wave of extreme heat and cold that tore its way up from his toes all the way to his shoulders, clawing through his body as he came hard into the cook, his body commanding him to hold Sanji tight and never let him go.

Zoro let go of Sanji's cock to wrap his arms tightly around Sanji's middle and nuzzle his face into the back of his neck, kissing him again and again on the sensitive skin at the top of his spine as they panted together.

I love you.

Zoro's lips almost formed the words, but at the last minute he tipped his head forward and kissed Sanji again tenderly, hoping with everything in him that somehow Sanji would understand.

-oOo-

"Do we really have to do this?"

"Yup," Sanji nodded unapologetically, holding up a deep forest green dress shirt to Zoro's front. "When you said Nami-swan would murder you if you ruined those clothes, I didn't realize that by that you meant those were the only dress things you owned. You need some dressy things for certain occasions."

Zoro huffed and looked away, letting Sanji select a couple more shirts off of the rack. They'd ended up back in the most expensive store in the entire city where Sanji had stocked up on his own clothes. "Just make sure I can move in them," he grumbled.

Sanji nodded, not really paying attention and picked up a grey shirt with asymmetrical cubes next. "How are you on patterns?"

The cook looked over when Zoro didn't answer, staring blankly at the swordsman's flat expression for a second before he seemed to rethink his question and put the shirt back on the rack. Zoro sighed again, looking over to the chair where Sanji had picked out a dark grey and a black suit. Now he just had to match the shirts and ties. Zoro still didn't think this was necessary. He never wore this sort of thing anyways.

"Try these on," Sanji stuffed a pile of shirts into his arms and spun him, pushing him towards the dressing room. "And put the ties on. Those are just as important."

Zoro grumbled and closed the door behind him. He moved to just take off his shirt and jacket, but Sanji tossed the black suit over the door and Zoro caught it, huffing again, loud enough so that Sanji could hear him, and started stripping. Goddamn shit cook.

They'd been doing much more… couple-y things together as of late. Zeff had hung around for three days before going back to his own territory and they'd had him over every night. Law and Kid had even joined one night to meet the infamous Red-leg and it had felt incredibly and uncomfortably like their parents were meeting each other for the first time. Which was kind of what it was, not that Kid or Law or Zeff acted like it was, but neither Sanji nor Zoro had been able to enjoy the night until everyone had left and Sanji had fucked Zoro's brains out, still snarling about Zeff riling him up while Law and Kid looked on in amusement.

But aside from that, Zoro joined Sanji for shopping now at the grocery store, he never went to Kid's garage anymore without the cook accompanying him, everything held at the arena they went to together, Sanji had even suggested that they go for a ride on Zoro's bike so he could get used to the stupid thing and nuzzled himself comfortably into Zoro's back for the entire ride. Not to mention the fact that Sanji had yet to go back to his own bed to the point that the sheets were starting to smell like both of them, which meant fantastic naps for Zoro, all wrapped up in the cook's essence. Zoro had yet to find a reason to complain.

Until today. He gritted his teeth and pulled at the tie around his neck, fiddling with the too-tight collar and unbuttoning the top of the shirt so he could actually breathe.

"Jesus, marimo, what's taking you so long?"

Zoro banged the door open, revealing Sanji's unimpressed face until the cook actually turned to look at him and his expression dropped slightly, eye popping as he stared.

"…What?" Zoro snapped, already done with waiting for the cook to say something. He remembered how long Sanji took shopping for himself, and he wasn't about to agree to taking that long just because the cook was in the store with him.

"…Uh…" Sanji seemed to be trying to find the best way to word something. "I… I don't like the color, but…"

"Good, me either," Zoro grunted and disappeared back into the dressing room with another bang of the door.

Sanji reached up slowly and ran a hand down his face slowly, trying to get his heart rate back to normal by slowing his breathing. He'd almost choked on his tongue when Zoro had stepped out, and now it was all he could do to keep his… nether regions from expressing their approval of the suit.

Blue was definitely not the marimo's color though. Which in a way was almost good, with Sanji's blond hair and pale skin and Zoro's green hair and deep olive skin, they would never clash with outfits because they wore such different colors.

Zoro tromped out of the dressing room again, this time in the sage shirt with an emerald tie with light green diagonal stripes draped around his neck. Apparently he'd thought that doing the tie every time was a pain.

Sanji swallowed inconspicuously behind his hand, standing to half-tie the tie so he could get a better feel. Zoro huffed again but didn't stop him from doing so. Zoro's incredibly powerful shoulders were almost too big for the jacket, but they couldn't really do anything about that, and honestly the fact that the swordsman's muscles were visible through the material really wasn't a bad thing. The rest of the suit was perfect, it clung to the marimo in exactly the right ways to make Sanji drool, and he filed away in his head a reminder to coerce Zoro into one of the suits the next time they were home alone. He was sure the moss head wouldn't object if he said it got him hard. Which it was doing quite nicely.

"This is a good color," he commented offhandedly and Zoro shrugged, as if to say, "Sure." The marimo was usually pretty good once he realized… once he realized that…

Sanji ducked to hide him smile and pushed Zoro back towards the dressing room before the moss head saw it, turning to sit back down and covering his smile with his hand.

…I can't believe I didn't realize that before.

Zoro was good once he seemed to realize that it would make Sanij happy.

Sanji OK'd the sage green and emerald combo, and after that the hunter green shirt and black tie with gold designs and the white pinstripe shirt and black tie, but all of the blues and greys were basically a fail. If he let Zoro go out in any of them he'd be humiliated for allowing the marimo to even buy them in the first place; his reputation with style was on the line.

"…You need some more colors," Sanji said unhappily, looking around the store after Zoro had stepped out in another wash up of a pinstripe grey shirt and black tie. "Green is great but you have so damn much of it."

"Whatever," Zoro grumbled, scratching the back of his head. He was losing his patience fast. Sanji had maybe three more tries before the ape just stalked out of the store altogether—oh!

Sanji's hand whipped out and he snatched a maroon shirt off of the rack. He was so stupid!

Zoro grunted as Sanji threw the shirt at his head and he pulled it off just to be hit in the face with… a purple one?

"What the hell color even is this?" he held it up. It looked girly as fuck!

"Lavender pinstripe," Sanji called from behind another rack. "And you need a patriarch purple tie with that, maybe with polka dots or checkers, I just can't find—got it!"

The tie came flying at Zoro's hand and he dropped the shirt to catch it, staring down in almost disgust at the colors. It was like the most abhorrent version of magenta possible.

"The maroon goes with the black tie, so that's fine, but I really want to find a good green for this," he held up another shirt that was almost screaming with how vibrant it was. Zoro was pretty sure that if he stood under a black light in that he'd blind some people.

"What the hell color is that?"

"Eminence, and stop griping, this will really look good with your skin tone."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Go put that one on while I look!"

Zoro groaned loudly and bent to pick up the other shirt, disappearing back into the dressing room with the… stupidly complex colors. Really? Purple?

He stood for a moment looking between the two shirts. The maroon was fine, he liked that color, but the purple… Zoro eyed it with his lip curled like he'd smelled something nasty. There was no way that'd look good on him.

"Come on, marimo!"

Zoro sighed and moved to unbutton the one he was wearing.

Sanji took his place in the chair outside the dressing room, waiting patiently while the swordsman came to terms with the colors he'd been given. The door clicked after a moment and Sanji reached up as something came flying at his head. The maroon shirt?

"That one's fine."

"…Alright." Sanji gave up with getting him to put it on, adding it to the pile of accepted shirts and ties before he turned back to Zoro and stopped short.

…Purple was definitely his color. The lavender was perfect for his skin and his hair, and the patriarch couldn't have fit the shirt better. Lucky bastard, Sanji couldn't wear those colors no matter how much he wanted to.

"Well?" he asked, unable to keep the excitement out of his tone.

Zoro gave him an unsure look, crossing his arms uncomfortably. "…What's with that voice?"

"You look good. Sue me."

Zoro's lips pinched together and he huffed again, his cheeks taking on a slight tinge. He turned to the mirror, face scrunched up in embarrassment.

Sanji huffed to himself. If the marimo didn't like it, there was no point in forcing him into it. …No matter how good it looked. "…Do you really not like it?"

Zoro grumbled again under his breath, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. "…No," he admitted finally. "It's just… purple."

"There's nothing wrong with purple. And you happen to look damn good in it, so I say we get it."

"Fine, whatever," Zoro turned back to him. "Any others?"

"Just this." Sanji handed him the eminence shirt and dark green tie, not bothering to hide his smile. Zoro's face darkened and he snatched the two, ducking back into the dressing room with another bang.

Sanji had gotten a little bold with the last one. That color purple was definitely out of Zoro's range of colors that he would ever chose, and the tie had subtle green paisley embroidered into it, but—

Zoro stepped out again, definitely louder in color than he would ever pick for himself… but goddamn if he didn't look fucking amazing.

"Yeah," Sanji said finally with a huge grin, leaning back and crossing his arms to survey his handiwork as Zoro flushed again. Ok, he was out of time now. Marimo had hit his quota. Time to clock out. "…You hungry?"

"Thank god," Zoro breathed, looking up at the ceiling like he was actually singing his praises to the heavens before he turned back and closed the door behind him. Sanji stood to gather the other clothes, trying to decide what he should make for lunch. The moss head definitely deserved a reward after this.

And maybe he'd model a full suit for Sanji if the cook blew him.

Now they just needed an occasion for Zoro to wear it so Sanji could show him off.

-oOo-