I do what I want
And I get what I want
When I want it
W-want it, w-want it
I'm not gonna stop
Til I get what you got
Til I got it
G-got it, g-got it
"You damn eggplant," Zeff shouted, voice ringing throughout the busy kitchen, "I said you're staying tonight." Sanji flipped the older man off as he fixed his collar. He was dressed in his favorite light blue striped dress shirt, along with black, skin-tight jeans that hugged his waist perfectly in his opinion. He was going to a club with his best friend Ace, Zoro, and the marimo's high school friend Nami. That is, if Zeff doesn't stop complaining at him.
"Shitty geezer, I'm not a kid anymore," the blonde snarled. Zeff stroked and twisted his beard in deep thought while he hummed, staring up at the ceiling. Sanji paid the old man no mind as he was exiting the kitchen. He served his hours already, so Zeff couldn't keep him here any longer than he didn't want to be.
"You know," Zeff called suddenly, stopping the cook in his tracks, "you're right. You aren't a kid anymore, which means I don't have to give you special treatment. We need someone to wait on the tables, so if you don't stay, you're fired. How's that sound?" Sanji gaped in horror at his father, who wasn't in the least bit kidding. How could he even challenge him like that? He had no skills other than cooking, and Zeff was willing to make him survive on his wits alone? He barely had any wits!
"You can't do that," Sanji shouted, peaking the other chefs' interests. Zeff smugly crossed his arms as he grinned, chuckling in the process. The blonde had two options here, get fired or party. Or he could always weasel his way around the old man's words. "So, what you're saying is that you'll fire me if you don't have anyone to wait on the tables?" Sanji pressed.
"Yep, what's your answer, brat?" Zeff asked. The blonde pulled out his phone, dialing a number before pressing the surface against his ear. As he talked, Zeff raised an eyebrow. What kind of scheme was he plotting? Once Sanji hung up, he smiled brightly at the old man. Zeff eyes widened in shock, the other never looked at him like that before. The blonde put his phone away and took the time to roll up his sleeves, heading for the sink filled to the top with dishes. Zeff opened his mouth, but quickly closed. This wasn't normal; something was gravely wrong with this situation. Sanji happily doing what he was told? Either he was severely sick or actually kidnapped. Regardless, Zeff let him wash the dishes without questioning it, and afterwards sent him outside to the impatient customers. Sanji's smile immediately turned as devious as a mouse who successfully got the cheese from the mouse trap once the old geezer was out of sight.
An ebony haired boy appeared at the restaurant's entrance, looking joyful and enthusiastic about just being alive. Sanji pulled his apron off over his head as he approached him, resting it on his friend's shoulders. Ace's little brother, Luffy, was too young to party with them, but he wasn't too young to cause useful commotion. He smiled widely as he squeezed Sanji in a fatal death hug, shouting, "Oh, hey, Sanji~! Are you serious about our deal?!"
"Yes, Luffy," the blonde grinned, "I'll make you any meat dish you want for the next three months. Just so long as you do this right. I'm finally going to get it."
"YOU GETTING IT?! THAT'S SO AWESOME~!" Luffy cried. With that, the chef was out of the building, pulling down his sleeves and letting them fall down to his wrists. He only had a few minutes to meet everyone at Nami's house before they left without him. Unfortunately for him, the orange haired beauty lived twenty minutes away. Well, these legs weren't just for show anyway.
H{}H
Ace was already in Nami's dark purple painted truck on the passenger's side when Sanji arrived. The only person still actually waiting was Zoro, who refused to step foot in the car. It was more than likely that the blonde's friends would be assholes and drive away if he didn't make it in time, which is what the marimo probably anticipated. The swordsman frowned at him once he stopped sprinting and limply stood in front of him. Sanji knew what he looked like without even needing a mirror. He could feel the sweat dripping down his cheek, and his breath was hitched and came out unevenly. He technically just ran a marathon.
"Why the hell did you run?" Zoro asked, waiting for the blonde to get in the vehicle. As the cook climbed in, he spoke in an adoring tone despite the insulting sentence, pupils turning into hearts as always when talking about a woman. "My sweet Nami can be a cruel sadist if I didn't show up on time!" The woman stuck her tongue out at him as she started the car, slowly driving off and away from her house.
Nami wasn't exactly the nicest person in their little group. Let's just say that if Ace, Zoro, and Sanji were Batman, Robin, and Superman...Nami would be Bane. Why the swordsman was friends with her wasn't much of a surprise. They constantly bickered, but at the end of the night were all friendly and buddy-buddy like Casper and his twin sister, forgetting every single hurtful thing that was said like it was never spoken.
Truly two bipolar people indeed.
The club was called Alabasta Smasha, a place where there was endless dance music, drinks, and late at night, strippers. Sanji didn't care much for watching them, unlike Nami, who drooled each time they took a piece of clothing off. No, tonight the blonde had business; he was going to get it. "It" being at least a kiss. "It" being at least an intimate hug. "It" being Zoro. The only people who he had revealed "it" to were Luffy and Ace, trusting the D. brothers to keep his plan under wraps. Of course, they would never back stab him, even if held at gun point.
Call him a stalker if you wish, but Sanji has had this planned for almost two months. The club, the heated moment of dancing, the alcohol in their systems, the sudden realization of their feelings. All happening tonight. The blonde would be lying if he said he didn't feel perverted for thinking of the swordsman twenty-four seven. But that was just it, he was tired of just thinking of him. He wanted him, so badly. A real relationship was all he asked and hoped for. To be honest, Sanji wasn't even sure if Zoro definitely swung his way. The cook had his hunches, but it wasn't clear proof.
The music was so loud and energetic that the four young adults had to shout to one another. Nami claimed she was getting the drinks, but everyone knew she would be ogling the male strippers. Yes, there were male ones, as well as women. This club had no restrictions when it came to gender. However, Zoro was silent the entire drive, only taking a few glances out the window from time to time. He sat on their leather couch by the far wall they reserved two days earlier. Alabasta Smasha had furniture all around the room except the dance floor. The couches and love seats weren't free, especially if you wanted to put your seats on lay away. Of course, Nami paid for the couch with all the money she makes as a sneaky lawyer. But it was surprisingly a good career choice, seeing as how much the orange haired goddess loved money.
Ace was already dancing with a few people, both men and women, and he seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much by the looks of it. Ace was always too carefree when it came to parties. The older man let his guard down when dancing, especially with feel-happy guys. Sanji had no doubt that he couldn't kick someone's ass to kingdom come if they groped him, but it was the simple fact that he could get groped that annoyed the blonde. Ace would end up assaulted one day if he didn't keep his guard up. There were all kinds of people in Alabasta.
Zoro was seated beside him, impossibly expressionless. It was the swordsman's idea to party (okay, it was Sanji's, but the marimo planned the date they all went out), and he wasn't even enjoying the time spent here. The cook gently nudged the moss head with his elbow, causing the other to slightly shift in irritation. That's when the blonde heard the smallest of snores.
"Bastard, how can you sleep at a club? You're worse than Ace," Sanji yelled, which was pretty much like using his indoor voice compared to the rave music's volume. Zoro glanced at him with wide eyes, completely oblivious to the fact that he dozed off. If his plan was going to work, the cook needed to get Zoro off his ass. Unfortunately, the swordsman has a very high alcohol tolerance, so regular drinks wouldn't work. "Oi, Nami's not even at the bar. I'll go get the drinks before the night ends," Sanji offered, standing up quickly. Zoro grunted quietly in agreement, it going barely heard.
The bar was larger than most, its counter stretching nearly across wall to wall. The wooden surface had small delicate swirls engraved into it every two inches, but somehow managed to keep its smoothness aside from the little indentions. The chef ran his fingertips over them as a raven haired woman poured others drinks behind the bar, being the only one controlling the huge space. Sanji didn't know how she managed to keep everything in check, but nothing was chaotic as it was expected to be. Her name tag was black with yellow, fancy letters spelling out "Robin" in the most graceful way possible. Sanji sat down on one of the bar stools and smiled bright at the beauty in front of him. She returned it with appreciation.
"What can I get you?" she asked, extra hands appearing near the shelves. Again, this was nothing to be scared about. Grand Lineville was known for attracting these types of oddballs or Devil Fruit users. Sanji knew little about the way they worked or even what they really were, but as long as he wasn't endangered, he didn't looked down on them. Still, the blonde couldn't help but feel uneasy. Hands coming out of nowhere? Hell, an octopus would feel threatened.
"What's your strongest drink?" he asked. Robin gave him a disapproving look suddenly, hands disappearing from the alcohol bottles. Confused, the cook quirked an eyebrow. "What's wrong, my sweet?" Sanji pressed.
"I don't think I like either of the possibilities you're trying to achieve," she explained. The cook's raised spiraled eyebrow didn't fall, almost disappearing under his hairline in interest. How did she know what kind of intension he had?
"Either you're trying to drink your problems away, or get someone drunk enough to take advantage of. Regardless, I don't advise you to do them." Sanji wanted ask how in the hell she came up with those assumptions when a slim hand sprouted out the side of his head, covering his mouth before he could speak. He panicked, but stayed perfectly still in fear.
"Before you respond, I would like to point out that people come in here all the time with those decisions, asking for the strongest alcohol beverage in order to commit them. Now, if you would like to prove to me that you are not like the scum I see daily, please do." Once the hand vanished, the blonde felt his cheeks grow hotter. Damn, he really was like those perverted bastards, wasn't he? Robin waited for an answer, but Sanji only avoided making eye contact with her. A smug hum came from the woman's throat before a large bottle was slammed next to the blonde's hand.
"Be responsible with it," she demanded.
H{}H
The marimo clumsily stood up from the couch, waving the large bottle Robin gave Sanji in his hand. The blonde growled as he continuously tried to rip the alcohol from the swordsman's grip, but it was always pulled out of reach. When he wanted to get Zoro drunk, he hadn't meant he wanted to kill what was left of his brain cells. The moss head's cheeks were impossibly flushed, along with his clouded, golden eyes flickering rapidly around the room. Damn it, he felt terrible about disappointing a wonderful woman like Robin. As for getting Zoro officially drunk...the blonde smirked. Not so much.
"S-Shit-cook, I...I gotta be honest wit' you," the swordsman shouted, the bottle finally in Sanji's grasp. The cook yanked it from Zoro, much to the other's dismay, setting it on the small table by the couch. The marimo stumbled over his own feet, leaning on the blonde for support. Sanji never would have thought Zoro could get drunk. He especially never thought that he would see the beloved kumdo teacher so uncoördinated.
"I've been meanin' to ask you...sumtin' fo' a looonng time." The way the marimo used him for support consisted of long tan arms draped around his neck; bitter, strong breath hovering just over his pale cheek. Zoro had a lazy grin on his face as he stared into Sanji's sober blue orb. The swordsman was extremely close, literally inches away from the blonde's mouth. His support-hug tightened as he attempted to stand on his toes, but failed miserably. He only ended up putting all of his heavy weight onto the cook, causing them both to fall backwards roughly on the couch. Zoro was pressed up against the sous-chef's chest, ruffling his dress shirt. As soon as their eyes met, Sanji blushed, blood running to the tips of his ears while the swordsman giggled childishly.
"Cook, ser'ously. Ever since I met you...I wan'ed to confess," Zoro obnoxiously announced. Sanji grinned as his hand found a spot on the other's back, an innocent enough gesture to unperverted minds around them. The swordsman took this as an opportunity to wrapped the arm he wasn't laying on around the cook's waist affectionately. This was a good sign, Sanji thought. A reaction even in a drunken state was better than none.
"Oh, really?" Sanji said, grin only becoming more broad. Zoro vigorously nodded, rubbing his chin across the blonde's chest in the process.
"Yeah, it's been killin' me fo' months." The blonde's heart skipped several beats at the words. Just what was Zoro talking about? He hoped and prayed that he was stating what Sanji thought he was stating. The swordsman meekly pushed his upper body up, using the cook's stomach to do so. Sanji's hand willingly fell off of the other's lower back as his other hand was being held. The marimo curled his long fingers with the chef's, gazing into his eyes with a determined look.
"Cook," Zoro breathed, slowly leaning closer to the now flushed blonde. Right now, the music, the loud conversations, Ace and Nami; they were all forgotten in this enticing moment with his best friend. The gentle way Zoro's eyes blinked unfocusedly, alcohol stained exhales, the sheer closeness of it all drove Sanji to the edge of insanity. He wanted "it" like he never wanted "it" so badly before.
The drunken swordsman stroked the hand he had captured in awe as he slurred, "I...'ave been jelly of you."
Jealous? Sanji didn't understand what the other could possibly be jealous about, especially something in his life. Living alone, working endlessly with Zeff, sex deprived; his life was plain shitty. Zoro used this moment of silence to continue.
"I luv your hands...they're jus soo soft 'n' small 'n'..." the marimo trailed off. Sanji chuckled, an idea suddenly springing into his mind. He took his fingers out of the limply grasp, receiving an irritated whine in return. The blonde held his hand mere inches away from his mouth, smirking as he made sure Zoro watched.
"If you love my hands so much, why don't you follow them?" he said, slowly placing fingertips on his bottom lip. Immediately, Zoro's body lunged forward to press his own lips against the welcoming ones. Sanji wasn't expecting the kiss to be so brutal, but he gladly took the lead. The swordsman let the cook shove his impatient tongue past his full lips, assaulting the roof of his mouth. An eager moan shamelessly escaped from the marimo, much to Sanji's happiness. If Zoro was straight, he wouldn't have dared to kiss him, even if eye-reddeningly drunk. Any kind of approach was good enough.
"Uh, am I interrupting?" Nami's voice came into earshot from behind the couch suddenly, causing Zoro to pull away and growl loudly in anger.
"Go fuck a stripper, damn it," the swordsman tried to capture those addictive lips again, but Sanji shoved him away hard. He fell backwards on the couch's armrest, disappointment glowing on his detailed features. Sanji's love for women took over the moment Zoro disrespected the beautiful orange haired goddess, filling him with rage.
"Don't talk to Nami-swan like that, bastard marimo," he yelled over the music. Zoro wasn't even looking his way anymore. His entire head was facing towards the dark brown wall that brushed against the side of the couch. Pissed, Sanji grabbed a fistful of the swordsman's green locks roughly, jerking his head around.
The bastard fell asleep again.