In his sleep he sensed warm skin brushing over his neck. Without opening his eyes, he groaned stiffly and quickly swept back into his dreamless slumber.
He woke up reluctantly after what seemed like a couple of hours. Warm sunshine licked his bare skin. It wasn't too hot outside, since the spring was still early. But the warmth that had focused on his back became heat after a while, making him sweat.
Kicking the thin blanket off his naked body, Sanji flipped his eyes open. The room was filled with golden light, which suited the best for a day-off. And his twenty-fifth birthday.
Glancing shortly to the nightstand, the blond noticed a piece of paper near the alarm clock. Sitting up in the crumpled bed, he reached out and grabbed the note.
Good morning, Love-Cook. You didn't wake up when I tried to force you, so... I'll come home at about 7 PM.
Zoro.
P. S.: Congrats with getting your stupid ass older.
Sanji snickered at the idiot-Marimo's greeting card (which was made of a ripped notebook sheet) and picked up his pack of smokes from the stand. Lighting up a stick and pushing his back to the pillow, he threw a quick glance at the clock. Half past nine. He still had some time before going.
Both he and Zoro were pretty busy at work – Zoro at his uncle's dojo and Sanji at his foster father's restaurant. They rarely got a chance to spend some time together recently, so Sanji decided to take a day-off to celebrate his birthday.
He didn't like birthdays that much, though. Yes, he usually threw parties for a small circle of friends. But he didn't enjoy the feeling of non-accomplishment, which crept into his chest every year he grew older. He'd been wanting to become the grand chef of his own restaurant since forever. But despite his culinary talent, he was still stuck in the geezer's restaurant as a sous-chef.
His swirly eyebrows knitted stubbornly at the reminder of the fact of what a loser he was. Now a loser at his twenty-five. A quarter of a fucking century.
But then, he had Zoro with him. The man had a tendency to be annoying – most times he drove Sanji plainly nuts. But with this ambitious swordsman Sanji learned that none a dream was impossible to achieve when you believed in your strength.
Zoro wanted to become the greatest swordsman and was slowly but successfully moving towards his goal. At the age of nineteen he won a contest in a teenage group of sword fighters, and from that time more and more prizes had gotten to his special shelf. There were also tough times, injures and downfalls, but Zoro was more stubborn than that.
Sanji couldn't believe Zoro was a world champion when he'd first met him three years ago. A cocky, irritating bastard who'd complained about the liquor bill at his restaurant was looking nothing like a respectable swordsman. He was just... a sassy moron with stupid green hair.
Sanji chuckled at the memory. Indeed, he taught the idiot-swordsman a lesson about manners back then. With his feet.
So, Sanji was going to flee to the Baratie to give some tasks to older stupid chefs and then he was free for the whole day. And after that would come the weekend. He looked forward to spending an evening and two days together with Zoro. Not going outside, not thinking or talking about work.
Squinting his eyes, Sanji imagined what they'd do after Zoro's return. They'd eat and drink and chat until it'd be too hot for staying in the kitchen. Then they'd kiss throughout their apartment, hands all over each other. After reaching the bedroom, they'd strip their clothes off, eagerly, impatiently, barely able to wait to get undressed fully, touching each other's skin with heated lips. When they'd both be naked, they'd fall right onto this bed. Zoro would tease him – oh that fucker, he always liked to tease. His lips would brush over Sanji's chest, stopping to circle around his hardening nipples, then lower, paying attention to each inch of his skin until his breath would tickle the blond's crotch. Then Zoro would raise his head and smirk at Sanji, who'd clench his fingers into the soft green hair, not able to wait a second more. And Zoro would obey the plea, taking the blond's throbbing cock into his heated mouth without averting his eyes from the blond's. And Sanji would watch, eyelids half-lowered, as his length would disappear behind those goddamn, incredible lips as the talented tongue would flicker around his head and...
Sanji caught himself palming his morning erection and biting his lower lip. The cigarette he'd been smoking burned to the edge and fell to his collarbone. Cursing, Sanji hesitantly tore his hand off his needy cock. He had to wait just till the evening, and Zoro would take care of it. The swordsman was such a good fuck after all.
He got up lazily, put on his favorite blue-striped shirt and black slacks. After brushing his teeth and shaving carefully so not to ruin his perfect goatee, he went to the kitchen to have a cup of espresso. Finishing a toast, coffee and a cigarette, he caught his mind drifting again to the directions he didn't want it to wander off now. The blond closed his eyes, waiting for the hard bulge in his pants to calm down.
He'd driven to the Baratie and after half an hour of irritated shouts finally got free from orders for the chefs. On his way home he stopped by a gourmet store to pick up the best ingredients for the dinner. Fine liquor as well. Grabbing a bottle of vermouth for himself, he next stopped at a shelf of stronger drinks. Their very first quarrel was about booze, and Sanji knew what a big fan of heavy alcohol Zoro was. He chose a bottle of blue agave tequila, which would go well with spicy fried pork he was going to prepare. Shrimp cocktail with mid-spicy onion sauce would be fine as well with both their drinks.
After paying for the purchases (the price for which was pretty high, not that he cared about it today), Sanji packed the bags and hurried to drive home. The road was almost empty, and he hummed to the song on a radio, carefree and high-spirited.
The unwanted for now image of the swordsman's lips around him popped into his head again. He shifted in his seat, trying to think of something less arousing. Taxes. Bills. Apartment rent. Today's dinner cost him so much that they'd have to tie their belts tight for a couple of weeks. Also, Sanji was twenty-five now. Which meant thirty with its midlife crisis was close.
Swallowing thickly, he welcomed the previous image back into his mind. Much better. Even if his pants became uncomfortably tight again.
1 PM. Sanji took a short shower after returning home – very short, trying not to rub anything sensitive too intensively. He dried his hair and smoothed it with gel. One strand wouldn't get into shape stubbornly, and he spent some annoying time in front of the mirror, trying to fight that shitty curl.
2 PM. He watched some culinary shows, taking notes into his recipe book. Not that there was anything he hadn't already known. But a few interesting tips popped from time to time.
4 PM.Sauce was indeed the heart of any dish. Pork should be served hot, and shrimps fresh, so he started to prepare the onion sauce. It was an easy task for a chef of his practice, however he was making it very carefully, as if it was a piece of art.
5 PM. After putting the sauce into refrigerator, he sat by the dining table to have a smoke break. It was still too early to cook the rest of the dishes. Zoro would come at 7 PM, then he'd probably want to take a shower. So they'd eat about 8 PM. And then fuck hard at about 10 PM. Sanji's lips curved around his third in a chain cigarette.
6 PM. He was getting a bit sleepy, but his smoothed hair didn't allow him to take a nap. Also, he was dressed up in a fine gray shirt and a narrow black necktie. So, no naps. He went to the balcony to smoke a cigarette there. The breeze outside wasn't cold, but it was chilling, and his drowsiness soon vanished.
6.30 PM.He smashed the pork before roasting it. Shrimps would be ready in a dozen of minutes, so he decided to set them boil right before Zoro's return.
6.40 PM. He scratched his chin. Almost forgot the glasses. A shot glass for Zoro, a tall glass for himself. Vermouth with or without ice? Did he even set the ice? His eyes widened as he rushed to the refrigerator's door. The ice was there.
7.05 PM. Five minutes. Too early to worry, right? The stupid swordsman had never been punctual anyway.
7.15 PM. He also had that awful tendency of getting lost even on a straight line.
7.20 PM. The hand on Sanji's wristwatch was no faster than a turtle. That moron probably got on a wrong subway chain. Thank god he didn't drive.
7.23 PM. Slamming his phone open, the blond quickly flipped through his contact list. He clicked 'Marimo' and thought of renaming the contact to 'Unworthy Marimo'. Or 'Good for nothing Marimo'. 'Good for nothing other than a perfect blowjob Marimo'.
"Yes?" The grumpy voice caught his flowing attention.
"Where the hell are you?" The blond snapped.
"Oh, it's time already?" The noises on the background made Zoro's voice hard to hear clearly.
"It was time twenty-three... twenty-four minutes ago," Sanji glared at his wristwatch as if everything was its fault.
"Okay, I'll come in half an hour then."
"Half an hour?!" Sanji's brow twitched. Blowjob at 11 PM then, damn it. It would better be fucking good now.
"Curly, I know I promised," Zoro's voice lowered but now was easier to hear, it seemed the swordsman cupped his hand around the phone. "Just, Johnny and Yosaku arrived today–"
"The hell?!"
"They forced me to go to a bar despite I wasn't going to."
"Then why did you go, idiot?" Sanji knocked his knuckles over the wooden surface.
"I haven't seen them in ages. They're my friends, after all." Zoro sighed. It wasn't his favorite topic, but Sanji couldn't care less already.
"Friends, okay. Who am I then, a stranger?"
Maybe Sanji didn't mean to sound so needy and offended, but his tongue made him, despite his will.
"Listen, Cook." Zoro now spoke barely audible. "I'll get rid of them now and come in thirty minutes. Then I'll fuck you hard until you're so raw you can't move a finger."
Sanji's brow twitched again, as well as his suddenly hard cock in his pants.
"Sounds about right, you useless Marimo." He grinned and hanged up. 'Good for nothing other than a perfect blowjob Marimo', indeed.
7.53 PM. Sixth cigarette in a row. The blond loosened his tie and unbuttoned the dress shirt halfway to his chest.
8.01 PM. The subscriber's phone is switched off or is out of the coverage area. Please, try to call later.
Contacts – Change information – Change name.
With furious fingers, Sanji typed:
'Good for nothing Marimo'.
9 PM. Cold pork wasn't that bad. The problem was, Sanji wasn't hungry anymore. His stomach growled loudly, but not even a bit would go down his throat.
10 PM. He changed his shirt and slacks to a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants. Much more comfortable, though it didn't make him at ease.
10.27 PM. He uncorked the bottle of vermouth.
10.45 PM. It wasn't that bad even without olives or ice.
10.55 PM. But was even better after five cigarettes.
11.10 PM. The subscriber's phone–
He dried the remains of the bottle in one gulp.
11.30 PM. His stomach was warm, his head tipsy just a bit.
11.36 PM. The cold pork appeared to be the best goddamn dish in the world.
11.55 PM. He hated to waste food, but it wasn't his fault that his stomach decided to throw its contains up.
00 AM. Much better, except that his head was trying to kill him. Do not get drunk on empty stomach, he noted to himself, swallowing painkillers.
00.15 AM. His whole body ached as if it got hit by a truck. Painkillers didn't help much. Cigarettes tasted like shit.
00.27 AM. He was on his way to the bedroom when he heard the front door open.
Apparently, Zoro wasn't expecting Sanji to attack him right in the doorway. Not able to suppress his anger, the blond kicked him furiously right in the face. The crack he heard was disturbing. Being used to Zoro's perfect defense in their sparring matches, Sanji didn't even think that the swordsman would miss his blow. The blond's throat was letting the angry words out before his mind would even proceed with their meaning. Zoro, bloody all over his face and neck, was looking at him with disbelief in his dark eyes. Never takes me seriously, good for nothing bastard. But Sanji was dead serious.