"Are you aware of the underground swordsmen meetings?" Tashigi furrowed, pinching on the bridge of her glasses.
"I am," Zoro answered quietly. Of course he was goddamn well aware of the meetings which were organized in a random corner of the country every year. He actually wished he never knew about that illegal contest of swordfighters, since knowing about it and being forbidden to participate after he'd got the scar on his chest there once was by all means disappointing for the man who desired to be the best swordsman in the world.
"There are some really tough guys as I've heard," the secretary swallowed thickly.
"I wonder where you heard this," the green haired man snorted. The meetings were well hidden from the eyes of normal citizens after all.
"Koshiro-sensei told me," Tashigi scowled, like it was an obvious thing.
A frown on Zoro's forehead was deepening with her every word. Koshiro was the one who rejected Zoro's pleas to fight at the meetings, and after that accident six years ago the swordsman didn't even know where and when the contests were taking place.
"It starts tomorrow morning," she sighed ever so slightly. "Koshiro said that since some Hawk-guy is–"
"Hawk?" Zoro's eyes widened. "Hawk-Eye?"
"Yes, something like that," Tashigi winced when the swordsman gripped her shoulder a bit rougher than it was needed.
"He'll be there?"
"Koshiro said so, I don't know any more," she shrugged Zoro's hand off.
Overwhelmed, the swordsman peered absently at his crossed shins. Hawk-Eye, the unbeatable sword master who'd shown up last time at the competition the year Zoro was participating. The man with a morbid aura of destruction was the one who cut off Zoro's chance to participate there annually, giving him a rough wound on his chest.
"And Koshiro wants me to go there?" he asked carefully as if the chance to surpass his old rival could be scared off like a bird.
Nodding, Tashigi reached into her chest pocket.
"I've already bought you tickets," she waved some papers in front of his nose.
Zoro couldn't believe his ears. Not that he wasn't prepared – since that grim day of an absolute failure he'd promised himself that one day he'd overcome Hawk-Eye. And since that day, he continued training, and he trained hard. It wasn't revenge for the wound on his chest – the wound on his pride wouldn't heal as simply as his skin. If he was going to be the best, he'd surely have to defeat his every opponent, even the invincible one – or so the younger Zoro used to think.
However, he'd become more mature, wiser at some point. Now he knew that a simple win wouldn't gain him anything besides temporary self-esteem boost. Throughout the years he learned that the result wasn't everything.
Tashigi had driven him to the train station, and he'd sensed her concerned gaze lingering on his face before he closed his eyes and buried himself deeper into the train seat. That woman's demeanor showed so much worry it was ridiculous. He wasn't going to die, not yet at least.
Arriving to the so-called town that was more like a tiny mountain village, where even cell phones weren't working, made Zoro's insides itch somewhat excitedly.
The Underground Meeting had no settled rules as an ordinary competition would. Most of the participants seemed to be non-professional swordsmen in terms of sports, which meant the styles they were using would usually be mixed. They had special alias for each fighter in order to not reveal their identities. No matter what type of sword Zoro's opponents used: katana like himself, wakizashi or hamidashi, all sorts of western swords like rapier, saber, short sword and many others, he always won without any extra diligence, which made him a little bored.
Only on the third day of the meeting he'd faced a tough opponent. Tall and broad, a shaved-head bull with a perky name Mister One, the guy used two cutlasses. Zoro welcomed the fucker with a smirk – it was a perfect opportunity to finally reveal the true power of his three-sword style he'd developed by himself but never used outside the dojo.
Besides that enormous guy, however, there weren't a lot of worthy fighters. It was a little disappointing – last time the green haired man took part in the event things had been much more difficult, thus more interesting. So, all Zoro had to do was to wait for Hawk-Eye to appear. The sword master made him bit on his nails a bit.
Under a fog of mystery and terror, Hawk-Eye appeared, looking at everyone from above, contemptuously. No wonder a bunch of his assigned opponents retreated even before their fights started. Only some hot-headed newbies tried to face him, failing after a short moment of their presence on the ring. The green haired swordsman chuckled at them – raw kids, exactly the same as he'd been once.
Standing behind the ring, Zoro watched Hawk-Eye's fighting. The swordsman fought with a giant cross-shaped sword, the type of which the green haired man couldn't recognize. Encrusted jewels and gothic-like carvings suggested it had been made specifically for Hawk-Eye. Although he gave incredibly brusque blows with it, Zoro couldn't comprehend how he was able to move so quick with that, at first glance, hulking piece of steel.
But all Hawk-Eye's movements were an embodiment of grace. It was almost impossible to catch with an eye, but Zoro managed to descry a subtle balance of the man's stance. He wasn't abutting fully on his feet, and that weird sword played a role of his supporter. Judging by the movements of his hands, he was concentrating his strength in his wrists and then in his fingers, arms almost frozen before he'd strike a blow. Still, Zoro couldn't fully understand how that technique worked, since Hawk-Eye was moving too fast for being caught by sight.
When Zoro's turn finally came, the green haired man breathed a lungful, steadying his somewhat erratic heartbeat. Tying a black bandana over his head, Zoro finally stood in front of Hawk-Eye. He slowly unsheathed his oldest katana – Wado Ichimonji – out of the white saya and placed her between his teeth.
"Playing tricks, Pirate Hunter?" his opponent chuckled darkly.
"I've learned something since the last time," Zoro smirked, his hands gripping the hilts of his two other comrades.
"I see," Hawk-Eye raised his chin ever so slightly.
Before Zoro could focus, the first strike was given. He barely dodged, bringing Sandai Kitetsu in his left hand down, where the opponent's shin was just a second ago.
"Too slow."
A sharp pain in his eye hit Zoro out of the blue. His vision reddened, making his head both light and heavy.
"First cut! End of the round!" He heard a voice from somewhere far away.
"Hawk-Eye," he husked. A dark figure loomed over him, but Zoro couldn't see its face. "Someday..."
"Someday, Pirate Hunter."
"The cut didn't affect my eyeball though," Zoro hurried to add, noticing how the blue eye widened in terror.
"Thank God," the cook turned away abruptly, resuming chopping a red pepper. "What would I do with a blind Marimo, huh?"
"I wouldn't be blind without one eye," Zoro folded his arms over his chest. "Are you dumb, Love-Cook?"
"Oh, fuck you," the blond snorted. "I'm just–"
"Worried about me?" The green haired man couldn't suppress a cocky grin that stretched his mouth.
"Pfft, in your dreams," Sanji rolled his eyes. Although a corner of his mouth rose visibly as if he thought Zoro wouldn't notice that small smile.
Stepping closer to the counter, Zoro wrapped his arms around the busy cook's waist, clenching his fingers on the man's abdomen. The scent of cigarettes, shaving lotion, musk, a lightest tone of sweat hit his nose when he buried it among golden locks.
"So, you didn't defeat him," Sanji muttered.
"No. But one day I will."
"Is this disappointing for you?"
Zoro's brows knitted together, making his head ache slightly.
"Why would it be?"
"Because..." The blond cut himself off, probably pondering. "You wanted to win, didn't you?" he asked, turning his face a bit over his shoulder.
"Well, that would be nice, but I'm still not the best," Zoro chuckled lightly. "But after I faced him, I know I have a lot to improve."
"So you learned something," the cook concluded, throwing the cut pieces into the bowl.
"Kind of," Zoro whispered into his ear, brushing the earlobe with his lips.
After finding the solution to their problem, Zoro felt a bit exhausted. The overwhelming truth hit the swordsman hard and suddenly pacified him so much he almost melted into a puddle.
When he'd returned this morning, he was shocked to discover a dozen of filled ashtrays around his suddenly clean apartment. Nobody had a key except the cook, so Zoro didn't suffer much to put two and two together. But even though he knew the blond was a heavy smoker, he physically couldn't smoke that much in one visit, so he'd probably returned there several times.
Zoro had headed to Chopper, and the little doctor told him (after several minutes of freaking out about the green haired man's fresh injury) that he did see Sanji from the distance a couple of times in the evenings when he'd hurried to his nightshifts, but didn't have any chance to talk to the blond.
Having no idea what could've brought the cook back to the place he moved out from, Zoro flipped his phone, which had finally come under coverage, open and called Usopp. The long-nosed guy wasn't surprised to hear Zoro and told him in brief that he hadn't seen Sanji in a while, since the cook was now living in the restaurant and seemed to be overly busy. Thanking Usopp hurriedly, Zoro rushed to the Baratie. No matter what the truth behind Sanji's visits was, the blond apparently needed him for something. Deep down in his heart Zoro had been hoping to hear a certain thing from the cook, but Sanji's behavior turned up to be just... overwhelming.
They'd returned inside the Baratie after the talk, but the moment Zeff noticed Zoro in the kitchen, he roared like mad. That old man was always against Zoro being in his beloved kitchen, no wonder he kicked them both away, complaining and cursing. Among those words a statement that Sanji's work-day was over for now slipped, and the blond smiled softly at the infuriated old man.
Nevertheless the cook seemed just a bit insecure when they stepped outside the restaurant. An unlit cigarette hanging from his slightly parted lips thoughtfully, Sanji flicked his eyes askew to Zoro's side.
"What's wrong, Curly?" Zoro asked, confused.
"Well, now I'm free, but I kind of… have nothing to do for today," the blond shrugged matter-of-factly. The swordsman raised an uncomprehending brow at him.
"You actually have," he snorted. "We're going home, and then you feed me. I'm starving."
The cook chuckled, taking his fancy lighter out of his pocket.
"No wonder why, living on instant noodles all this time."
After that string had been pulled, Sanji successfully retorted every Zoro's twit. They'd been bickering all the way to the car and continued on their way home, the argument slowly fading. Right in the middle of another not so offending insult, Sanji suddenly cut himself off with an excited "Oh!", his face brightening with delight.
"I totally forgot to tell you! You got me off track with your stupid talk, you moss-head."
"What's it?" Zoro tried to frown, but somehow he couldn't stay indifferent to that toothy grin of the cook's.
"Well," the blue eye flickered at the mirror conspiratorially, "I actually have my own restaurant now."
Zoro's eye got so wide he thought his eyeball would fall out. The news was way too overwhelming to be blurted out so casually, and for a moment he couldn't form any words, just staring at the grinning driver.
"Wait... How? When? Just–"
Sanji gave a pleased chuckle, obviously satisfied with the effect his act had on the dazed swordsman.
When the blond finished giving him a detailed explanation of what had actually happened during those solemn days, they'd already got home. Being swept into his own story, Sanji forgot to pay a visit to the store and cursed before rolling the wheel.
Zoro had always known that Sanji had a seemingly stupid dream of having his own restaurant. When he'd first heard about it, he just shrugged. The swordsman, who was fighting for the sake of his goal every day of his life, couldn't understand why having some stupid dining place would be so important. But the more Sanji spoke about it, the more Zoro watched the blond cook, it became more obvious to him that it was Sanji's own matter of importance. Sanji's bright smile spoke of pure enthusiasm every time the theme was touched, and Zoro finally started to get it. And if it would make Sanji happy, Zoro was ready to support him no matter how ridiculous his wish had seemed to be.
Having eventually returned home, Zoro somehow couldn't wait patiently for the dinner. The circumstances had been just insane, throwing him from the state of mournful solitude and stoic determination to their regained sanctuary, where the warm feelings were overflowing him and almost bursting out along with his aching insides.
Hearing Sanji's merry voice humming, seeing his lips stretching in a wholehearted smile affected something in Zoro's stomach so hard he couldn't stop grinning like an idiot. His cook actually wanted to be with him – all the swordsman's dread had been for nothing. Only a day ago Zoro had been positive he'd never see Sanji anymore. At least not so happy, not so light-hearted, not wearing such a genuine smile that added that special glint to the blue eye. No matter how Zoro wanted Sanji back, he still couldn't believe the cook wanted the same. It was just beyond him.
When the food had been ready, he swallowed all of it indiscriminately, not forgetting to lick his plate over. An amused look Sanji was giving him, a cigarette hanging between his thin fingers, implied that the cook took his behavior as a gratitude.
"You know," Sanji moved closer to him, brushing the stripe of his eye patch with warm fingertips, "for me, you still look hungry."
"I'd say thirsty," Zoro corrected, glancing at the fridge.
"Whatever you say."
The blond's eyes covered by a misty shadow, he leaned in to Zoro's recklessly parted lips. His tongue, not demanding, but asking, brushed Zoro's upper lip just slightly before the swordsman welcomed that heat, tilting his head to the side and pushing his own tongue into Sanji's longing mouth.
It wasn't long before they ended up on the couch, Sanji sitting on Zoro's lap while the swordsman stroked the back of his neck, forcing him closer to get more and satisfy his craving. Occasional bites Zoro was giving him only seemed to fuel the blond's hunger: Sanji sucked his tongue eagerly as if trying to devour Zoro's mouth.
The cook's hands lingered on Zoro's chest for a while before he pushed the swordsman back into the couch, parting the kiss and watching Zoro with an amused grin. His thin fingers worked fast on the tiny buttons of his dress shirt, showing Zoro the countdown to the point where the swordsman would be aroused so bad he'd groan from anticipation.
Their gazes locked without breaking, eyes watching each other intently. Zoro felt familiar fire in his muscles when the blond's hairy chest became unhidden for his eye. Wasting no time, he lifted his hoodie up through his head and dropped it to the side. The blue eye shifted to the scar on his now revealed chest, the corners of the cook's greedy mouth quivering excitedly before Sanji leaned in and placed a wet kiss to his collar bone.
Lacing his fingers through the blonde hair, Zoro watched Sanji's tongue slide down his chest, lingering on his nipple. An encircled motion of the moist flesh made Zoro's loins burn, his head falling back on the couch as he breathed out his stiff voice.
His ear caught a clink of a belt unfastening, and the loss of pressure on his thighs made him aware that Sanji slid down and dropped to his knees. Another clink, fast unzip, the blond's thumbs slid under the edges of both his jeans and boxers, and Zoro found himself naked, his hard cock quivering in need – everything in just a second. Lowering his head, he watched Sanji's fingers clasp around his erection, and as the cook's hand moved down, the swordsman snapped his eyes shut. A groan escaping through his teeth, he clenched his fingers into the pillows. Those warm fingers moved too slow, painfully slow. Zoro could barely restrain his hips from thrusting up and changing the teasing pace into something more, and when a wet feeling on his tip made him aware of what Sanji had in mind, the only thing he could do was obey and wait.
The blond's tongue rolled over the head, passing the electricity throughout Zoro's tense body. A not so fulfilling lick along with slow strokes were still painful, but that pain was so overwhelmingly good he felt more and more conflicted about it. The cook's mouth took him deeper, and while the fingers on Zoro's cock were still, damn it, slow, he felt a slight pressure on his entrance and instinctively spread his legs wider.
Sanji's finger pushed inside him at first carefully, but when the cook pulled it out a bit and thrusted back in deep, Zoro felt his jaw fall open, his throat letting out syllables he didn't want to imagine how loud. He felt the blond's lips stretching around his flesh, and with the next push Sanji swallowed him deeper into his mouth, letting his slick length slip inside almost to his throat.
Being penetrated and sucked off, Zoro fantasized how Sanji would withdraw and replace his finger with his cock, his hard length would pound into Zoro fast and steady, pushing in and pulling out, making his breath harder and harder before he'd lose himself completely in perfect ecstasy, screaming for more.
But Sanji's touches ceased abruptly, making Zoro snap his eye open. Sanji was facing him now, his finger still working in his ass. The blond leaned in and kissed his neck. Bites and licks made Zoro roll his eye in bliss, and he cupped the cook's jaw to turn him back to his face.
The eager, devouring kiss made Sanji withdraw his hand. Now pressed to each other again, they grinded their hips towards each other, the motions messed and erratic. Gripping the edge of Sanji's boxers and lowering the annoying cloth, Zoro glanced down at the blond's erection. He looked so hard as if he was about to burst, and the swordsman clasped their cocks together in a fist, pumping them in a quickly increasing pace.
Parting the kiss, Sanji still brushed Zoro's lips with his, occasional groans leaving his mouth open. His fingers dipped into the swordsman's shoulders, and that would probably leave scratches, but the feeling of the cook's nails on his skin made Zoro shudder in pleasure. With his free hand the green haired man lowered Sanji's pants down fully, grasping the cook's buttock. An appreciative moan parted Sanji's writhing lips, but his hips stopped the pace that was leading them both to the climax.
"I want to fuck you," Sanji husked into his ear. "Turn around."
Hearing that deep sensual voice so close, so audible even if it was quiet, made Zoro's blood scream with desire. He didn't need to be told twice and shifted on the couch, gripping into its back.
Sanji's hand traced down his chest, stopping below his abdomen and returning higher while the other one was apparently lubing his length. Feeling a slick tip press to his entrance, Zoro parted his knees for a better access. The filling pressure overflowed him with the first thrust, accompanied by Sanji's raw moan.
A steamy kiss below his ear made Zoro's muscles relax, but he tensed once again as Sanji drove inside him. Watching his own cock joggle with each thrust, feeling Sanji's balls flop over his own, Sanji's sharp breath on his neck, Zoro gripped hard into the couch, panting from the overwhelming rhythm.
The cook's hands slid over his chest, tightening a hold on his muscles, his thin fingers pinching on his hard nipples. As Sanji was pushing his cock inside and pulling it out faster and faster, Zoro imagined how the blond would suddenly flip him over to his back, sit up on his chest and grind his cock over Zoro's pecs, pressing his palm down on it and jerking, jerking hard, cursing under his breath when he'd be on the edge, his thighs trembling in the building orgasm. With furious thrusts Sanji would come on his chest, on his neck, on his face, all over his fucking face, and shove his cock into Zoro's mouth to make him lick the come off and swallow it.
"Zoro..." Sanji wheezed into his ear and ceased.
The swordsman felt the blond's knee shifting. Sanji placed one of his feet on the couch, the other one still pressing into the sitting. Zoro felt the flesh inside him pulse, and spread his thighs wider. The perfect angle made him twitch in the building agony when the tip of Sanji's cock brushed over the needed spot inside him.
The thrusts became ravenous, their sweated bodies were shaking visibly. Zoro moved his left hand to grip Sanji's thigh by his side, his fingers clenched it with a silent plea. Yet the blond only increased his wild pace, pounding into Zoro so hard it became raw and almost painful. So pleasurably painful.
"Sanji," Zoro husked, his throat sore. "I swear, another thrust, and I'll come."
Stopping abruptly, the blond panted into his ear. His quivering cock inside Zoro wasn't helping the swordsman's agonizing state.
"What's it?" the cook asked hoarsely.
"I want to make you feel good too," Zoro whispered erratically and felt the pressure inside him loosen.
Sanji collapsed on the couch, his chest raising and fading fast. Leaning over the blond, Zoro grabbed the bottle of lube from the floor.
"C'mon, I'm gonna die if you don't– ah"
Zoro drove himself in between Sanji's tough, powerful thighs. Pressing his slick tip to the hot tightness, Zoro leaned in and sucked on the blond's earlobe. One Zoro's hand clasped on the back of Sanji's neck, the other gripping the inner side of his thigh, and the swordsman rolled his hips forward. The cook's neck arched as Zoro's cock slipped inside and instantly was pulled out in half, Sanji's throat letting out a voluptuous moan. As much as Zoro's mind was misted by the close release, he enjoyed the view of the blond's sexy face twitching, the feeling of his nails dipping into Zoro's back.
Feeling the wave of bliss ready to overflow him, Zoro knew he'd be done after just a couple of movements. But Sanji's deep groans and writhed lips, his lidded blue eyes made Zoro desperate to last a bit more. Pounding deep into Sanji, he slid his hand up the blond's thigh and gripped his cock, pumping it fast, causing intense arching to Sanji's spine.
"I'm–" the cook only managed before letting out a prolonged moan, his come spilling out and staining Zoro's rough fist and his own abdomen. The pulsing heat inside Sanji tightened firmly around Zoro's length, and the swordsman followed, cursing and groaning in pure ecstasy.
The tension in his muscles vanished so suddenly he almost collapsed onto Sanji's slick chest. But before the exhaustion won over him, the blond pulled him close in a hug.
They panted, raw and worn out, for a long while. For a moment Zoro was drifting away into a drowsy state, but the feeling of Sanji's fingers stroking his hair made him stay conscious.
"You know," the blond muttered after clearing his throat quietly, "it's kind of weird, but... I think I love you."
Zoro's head, so light and fogged, spun as his heart almost broke through his rib cage.
"What's so weird about it, dumbass?" he chuckled lightly, slipping his arms underneath the blond's back to wrap them around Sanji's waist.
"That's the best fucking answer I could get from such a moron like you," the blond snorted, but Zoro felt his lips forming into a wide smile.
"I actually have no idea why I love such an asshole like you," Zoro whispered, placing a small kiss to the blond's neck.
Woken by a muted tune of raindrops knocking over the window, Zoro curled up under the warm blankets. Vaguely conscious, he buried his face deeper into the pillow, trying to hide a lazy smile.
Sanji had been babbling about his new restaurant the whole previous evening. Drinking beer and not very attentively watching some movies on TV, they'd sat on the couch, hands clasped together. Zoro had been listening to Sanji's daydreaming with a small grin. The details of menu and names of dishes, the name of the restaurant itself, the staff and positions of tables – the cook looked so excited talking about these things. Although the wide smile on his face faded a couple of times when he audibly reminded himself that "It's all still just a project". Zoro had stroked his thumb over the blond's wrist, assuring him that if he was so close now, nothing would go wrong. And Sanji's face had immediately brightened, corners of his eyes wrinkling with joy. That expression was so confident, so determined, that Zoro couldn't help but be happy for his lover. Being proud of him, and he was ready to help him with whatever he was able to do. Ready to always be by his side, no matter how hard the circumstances would try to bend them. Now Zoro was sure nothing in the world would draw them apart again.
Zoro stiffened under the blanket and outstretched his arm to wrap it around the blond's waist. But his palm met only the crumpled blankets.
Snapping his eye open, the green haired man found himself alone in their large bed. An anxious feeling of emptiness touched his chest for a moment, but he shrugged it off. Sitting up on the bed, feet pressing to the floor, he sensed the too familiar scent somewhere far away. A stupid wide grin plastered on his face, he slipped into his sweatpants and headed to the kitchen.
The morning coffee was boiling on the stove, he wasn't mistaken. The other scent his nose had caught was proceeding from the cigarette the cook was holding between his fingers.
Sanji stood near the windowsill with his bare back to the doorway, face to the window. Zoro approached quietly, and when his hand landed onto the cook's shoulder, Sanji flinched slightly. Turning his face to Zoro, the blond beamed with all his teeth.
"Good morning, Marimo," he muttered, placing a short kiss to Zoro's jaw.
"Morning," the green haired man smiled softly.
"Zoro," Sanji turned to face him fully and handled something to the swordsman. "What's this?"
Some ragged wrapping paper, a wrinkled ribbon and a small box.
"Oh," Zoro's eyes widened. He'd almost forgot. "It's for you."
"Hm?" The blond's curly brow rose curiously.
"It's a present I bought for your birthday," Zoro uttered, scratching his neck. "Open it."
Thin fingers worked fast to unfold the remains of the paper and to open the box. When the silver chain appeared in his view, Sanji's face bloomed with the most pleasant smile.
"Well, not bad for a dumbass Marimo," the blond chuckled, taking the watch out and examining it enthusiastically.
"Happy birthday," Zoro squeezed his shoulder, not able to drive his eye away from Sanji's gleeful face.
"Thank you, Zoro."