Sanji is nervous.
He woke up before sunrise to prepare breakfast, but decided at the last minute to let Zoro sleep in a little bit. So he placed the mini frittatas he made in a rack to cool. They taste good at room temperature.
And now to the reason why Sanji is standing in the middle of his walk-in closet wearing nothing but his navy blue boxer briefs and mid-calf high black socks.
Would it be too pretentious to show up at the dojo wearing a suit? Or would showing up in jeans and a t-shirt be too formal? What if he wears jeans and a blazer? Or a tie? Is it better to wear loafers or derbies? Should he maybe wear a bow tie? A cardigan? It's still cool outside, he can manage wearing a scarf.
Should he wear a leather jacket? Or maybe his jean jacket? Khaki pants? Black dress pants? Navy blue jeans or washed out? Fitted jeans? Skinny or loose?
Shit, he has no fucking idea what to wear! He has to make a good impression; this is the man that raised Zoro, for god's sake!
The sound of running water lets him know that Zoro is awake. He can't let the marimo know how nervous he is, or he will never hear the end of it.
Quickly, he grabs the first clothes he sees and throws together a smart casual look. He turns and looks at himself in the mirror, seeing Zoro open the door behind him.
"How do I look?" he asks. He's wearing fitted, black jeans with a long-sleeved denim shirt under a Doublju double breasted, waist long forest green pea coat with inner plaid details and a brown scarf. He's also wearing a pair of brown and caramel, leather and suede desert boots with spits.
"Hot," Zoro says, walking over to hug Sanji from behind. Because of the difference in height, Sanji can't see the marimo's face anymore. "What's for breakfast?"
"Mini frittatas with ham and cheese," Sanji says, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. "Banana or mango for you drink?"
"Can I get mango and pineapple?" Zoro asks, kissing Sanji's neck.
"How about mango, pineapple, and banana?"
"Ooh, even better."
"Get changed. I'll have it ready by the time you get down."
Zoro thinks less about what he's wearing, walking inside the kitchen a few minutes later wearing a pair of washed out jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a burgundy jacket with a hood. They eat quickly, since they're running a little late, but Sanji packs a few leftover frittatas for Zoro's father, since the swordsman is certain his sensei is going to love them. They drop off Chopper at school, the start the drive to Shimotsuki.
Sanji frets silently the whole drive to East Blue.
Zoro asked him last night if he wanted to go to the dojo with him. He's sure Zoro didn't mean much from it, he probably only wants to spar with Sanji, but this is the first time Sanji gets to meet Zoro's father.
This is a big deal for Sanji. He's never been introduced to a parent before.
Shimotsuki Central Dojo is a nice place. Like Zoro said, it has been extended into the building next door, so it's bigger than Sanji expected. Inside, the building is entirely made out of large, open spaces.
There are a couple of classes that have already started, but Zoro's doesn't start until eleven, so they have time to kill. First, Zoro leads him to the men's locker room, where he changes into his keikogi.
"Koshiro should be watching over the training," Zoro says. "C'mon."
Sanji follows him, noticing how out of place he looks. Everyone is wearing the same forest green keikogi as Zoro, their feet bare. Sanji's footsteps are loud on the wooden floors, and he can see students turning around to look at him.
He keeps his gaze on Zoro's back as the marimo leads him to an older man with long, black hair tied back in a ponytail and wide glasses.
"Sensei," Zoro says formally, bowing.
"Son, there's no need for that," the man answers kindly, his eyes moving to Sanji. "Who's your companion?"
"This is Sanji, my boyfriend," Zoro says, moving to push Sanji forward.
"It's nice to meet you, sir," Sanji says politely, copying the bow Zoro delivered. "Zoro talks very highly of you."
"Oh, so you're the one that finally got Zoro to settle down," Koshiro says, giving Sanji an appreciative look. "I guess I have you to thank for leading my son back home."
"I only pushed him around a bit," Sanji says, grinning. "You know how he is…gets lost walking down a straight path."
"Oi!" Zoro complains, but Koshiro laughs.
"You know, Zoro said you're a chef…and that container in your hands happens to smell very lovely."
"The moss head said you would like them," Sanji says, opening the container. "Frittatas. Best served warm, but they're alright at room temperature."
"Zoro, go warm these up for me," Koshiro says, handing the container to the marimo. "Sanji, come sit with me."
Zoro scowls, but obeys. He knocks Sanji's shoulder deliberately, so the cook sticks his foot out, making Zoro stumble. The swordsman turns to glare at him, but Sanji is already sitting next to Koshiro, smiling innocently at him.
"Damn curly," Zoro mutters, walking away.
"I'm glad to see you don't easily get pushed around," Koshiro says, saving Sanji from lapsing into an uncomfortable silence.
"Like that stupid swordsman can push me around," Sanji scoffs.
Koshiro laughs softly. "I've been wanting to meet you, Sanji. I hadn't seen Zoro in five years, and when he comes back, he keeps talking about a blond cook that irritates him to no end. I have to say, I was curious."
"A good curious, I hope," Sanji says, letting a little of his misgivings color his voice.
"You care about him," Koshiro says. "And he cares about you. The last time I saw him this comfortable with somebody, my daughter was still alive. I hope you and him make this relationship work."
"I hope so, too," Sanji murmurs. Sanji has already invested all of his heart into the relationship. He's so fucking stupidly in love, it's not even funny. But he has yet to tell Zoro. Which is strange, since Sanji has never had a problem professing his love for anyone before. Just yesterday, he spent the day telling Koala and Robin how much he loved them.
But it's different with Zoro. Because the feelings he has for Zoro are so intense, the word love doesn't seem enough. If he were to confess to Zoro, it wouldn't mean anything. After all, Zoro knows how easily he says those words.
He once read that cursing too much lessens the meaning of insults. You grow so accustomed to hearing them, that you don't find them insulting anymore. Sanji thinks it's the same the other way around.
If he were to Zoro he loves him, would Zoro even believe him? Would he say it back?
These thoughts have been bothering him for weeks now, so much so that he's sure Zoro has noticed something is wrong.
Sanji turns his gaze to the students practicing in front of him. He sees a few new people arriving, probably the next class, and Zoro walks up to them and starts talking.
Sanji studies the green-haired man, wondering how strong of a swordsman he really is. Zoro is a challenge, but Sanji has only fought him at around forty percent of his true strength. Of course, Zoro hasn't trained in the art of the sword for almost five years, and Sanji has worked with the very best to perfect his fighting style for the last twelve years. It's not right to compare their strengths. Perhaps, if Sanji had met Zoro eight years ago, he would not have been able to defeat the swordsman.
"…cook!"
Sanji jumps, startled, and glances at Zoro. "Huh?"
"Didn't you hear me calling you?" Zoro snaps, rolling his eyes. "This is Toma, a friend."
"Oh, nice to meet you," Sanji says, shaking hands with the freckled boy.
"So you're Zoro's boyfriend," Toma says, giving Sanji a slow onceover. "No wonder Zoro doesn't flirt around."
"Yeah, I'm too hot for the moss head, I know," Sanji grins.
"Hah, yeah right," Zoro snorts. "How can you be hot when that stupid eyebrow of yours keeps scaring the students away?"
"Not as stupid as your grass head."
"No, seriously, you'll hypnotize someone with that thing."
"I'm surprised no flowers have started popping out of your head, now that I force you to take daily showers. Oh, but flowers need nutrients, and there's nothing in that giant head of yours."
"Having nothing is better than those perverted thoughts of yours, Mr. Nosebleed."
"That was one time!"
Zoro snickers as a blush explodes over Sanji's face, painting the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, and the tips of his ears red.
"You're a jackass," Sanji mutters.
"Ha, look who's talking."
"Wow, you guys sure have that love-hate thing down to a T," Toma snorts. "The makeup sex must be off the charts."
"Shut up, kid," Zoro snaps, hitting Toma on the back of the head.
"You two should go get ready," Koshiro interrupts. "I saw some of your students starting to arrive. I'll clear the floor for you, Zoro."
Zoro and Toma move to the entrance to greet the newcomers. Koshiro stops the class and gives out advice to a few of the students he finds lacking, before dismissing them. Zoro's students train in the room Koshiro just emptied, while Toma's students are in the room next door.
Since all of the rooms are separated by sliding doors, Sanji gets to see as Toma guides his students through a few basic stances.
Zoro's students are more advanced, so the marimo has them paired against each other while they practice. Zoro himself is with one of the better students, going through katas.
The room is loud, since every time a student strikes, he yells out.
It isn't until they move to free-sparring that Zoro becomes stricter, often stopping and admonishing students for errors Sanji can't see. He doesn't know the correct way a swordsman fights, he only knows that none of these men can defeat him.
"You are all stuck in your ways!" Zoro suddenly lashes out angrily, stopping the crowd. "None of you will be able to move on to the next level if you continue acting like this. A true swordsman isn't a rod of steel that cannot move when the blade comes! If you want to defeat your enemies, you must learn to adapt!"
"Adapt to what?" a large man with long red hair tied back in a ponytail sneers. "If your enemy comes, then you slice through him! If you trust in your sword, there is nothing you cannot cut!"
Sanji can't help but snort. That guy sounds just like Kaku…well, at least until Sanji got to him.
"You got something to say, blondie?" the man barks at him, leering. "Just 'cause the sensei's kid is giving it to you up the ass doesn't mean you got a say in our business. Just stay back and enjoy the show, sweetie."
"Fucking talk to me like that again, and I'll fucking break your shitty neck," Sanji growls, glaring at the larger man.
"Shit, that's great!" Zoro suddenly exclaims, turning to look at Sanji whose scowls deepens. "Come fight this guy, cook."
Sanji starts. "You're joking right?"
"What's wrong? Scare of cutting up your Armando shirt or whatever?"
"Armando…? It's Armani, you idiot," Sanji sneers. "And this is Chanel, I'll have you know."
Zoro gives him an unimpressed glare.
"Fine," he sighs loudly, moving down to take off his shoes. "But if he messes my shirt up, you're buying me a new one, got it? This one goes with everything."
"It's a black shirt, shit cook. The world isn't going to end."
Sanji glares at him and sheds his pea coat and scarf. He wavers for a moment, before mentally shrugging and taking off his shirt, too. He walks up to Zoro and glares at the red-head, grinning a little bit when he sees arrogance give way to hesitation.
Sanji knows that with his clothes on, he looks thinner and lankier than he really is. Nobody really expects to find a well-muscled, arduously marked chest underneath the form-fitting clothing. But that's part of Sanji's fighting style: if the enemies underestimate him, they've already lost.
Sanji's body is compacted, sleek, every edge and turn accentuated with speed and elegance. His clothes hide most of it, but his build is better than even Zoro's, which is saying something. Though he's sure that if Zoro keeps training the way he's been doing these past couple of weeks, he'll soon get bigger than Sanji. Damn brat and his stupid wider shoulders.
"If you can defeat Sanji, I'll tell everyone you're better than me," Zoro tells the red-head. "But if he manages to knock you off your feet, then you're on cleaning duty. For a month."
"Alright," the man laughs. "I'll enjoy everyone finally realizing what a shitty instructor you are."
Zoro takes a step back as he feels Sanji tense beside him. The red head moves to attack, his shinai held stiffly in front of him. He's fast for a man his size, but nowhere near the cook's speed.
Sanji puts his hands in his pockets and relaxes his upper body, moving his left foot back to tap his toes on the ground. As the man reaches his range of attack, the cook drops to the ground to deliver a sweeping kick, knocking the man off his feet with one leg. Before the man can do more than gasp for breath, Sanji strikes again, this time kicking the man's chest and completely knocking him out.
It literally takes him two seconds.
Zoro stares at the crumpled form of one of his best students—despite the temper—and groans. "Goddamn it, curlicue; can't you at least make it fun?" No later is the last word out of his mouth that he has to duck to evade one of Sanji's perfect kicks.
"I thought he was going to be more of a challenge, shitty moss," Sanji growls, twisting to follow up with a backhand kick. "You made me get up for that?"
Zoro moves his sword to block Sanji's kick, but the cook is already using his hands to do a handstand. He hooks his foot around Zoro's neck and brings him crushing down, instantly jumping from his handstand to land on the marimo's back.
But Zoro is quick, too, and he retaliates with a backhand slash that would've ripped Sanji in half if he hadn't flipped back quickly. Zoro unsheathes his second sword, and Sanji grins.
Testing Zoro's strength and agility, Sanji instantly falls into one of his more powerful kick combinations, staring with a mid-air attack, lashing out with one leg forward, the other kicking back to provide the necessary momentum. Zoro barely manages to block it, but Sanji is already falling into his next attack.
He seamlessly combines his training in savate and capoeira, moving from lethal kicks to dance-like movements that allow him to evade Zoro's swings. He switches flying roundhouse kicks to twisting axe drops in a single, complex dance. Butterfly kicks turn into skipping side kicks. He stretches is body to its limits, flexes in ways that no human can achieve without intensive training. He lets his body flow through Zoro's attacks, never attacking more than he has to. He doesn't want to kill, so instead of delivering kicks that can break through metal, he delivers attacks that will only bruise.
His strength lies in not letting himself be caught, on flowing through Zoro's swords like running water. He ducks and swirls, bending his body backwards to escape the unforgiving swords. He lets his legs fall in a split, then—still on a handstand—tucks his body in before exploding into a double kick straight to the swordsman's face.
Zoro freezes for a moment, and Sanji knows that if his kick hits its mark, he'll break the swordsman's jaw. So at the last moment, Sanji opens his legs and pushes into the movement. He hooks his legs on Zoro's shoulders and lifts his body up until he can grab a hold of green hair. Zoro's hands automatically go to hold his waist, and he's now effectively sitting on Zoro's shoulders.
"What the hell is your problem, marimo?" Sanji snaps, squeezing his knees threateningly around Zoro's neck. "A kick like that would've knocked your teeth out."
"You let me win," Zoro breathes out, staring at him with wide eyes. "That day…back with Robin…you let me win."
Sanji rolls his eyes. "Flirting 101, shitty moss; you don't beat up the guy you like." He pulls on Zoro's hair until he can plant a firm kiss on his lips, then lets go and falls backward into a headstand, letting go of Zoro's shoulders before straightening up. "Now, continue on with your class, sensei."
Zoro's confusion drops as a scowl replaces his frown. "Look who's got jokes. I'll get you back for this, cook."
"You can try," Sanji says, taking his seat again. He doesn't bother putting his clothes back on. It's still chilly outside, but he's warmed up from the impromptu sparring. He only hopes the marimo keeps deodorant and body spray in his locker.
Zoro returns to his students, who seem more willing to follow their sensei's advice now that they've seen how easily it is to be defeated, even using swords. Toma finishes up his class before Zoro and joins Sanji. He's playing on his phone, though, so they don't fall into conversation.
Zoro has gotten stronger that the first time they fought. A few times, Sanji had been forced to abort an attack to protect himself from the swordsman's attacks. Humility has never been one of Sanji's strong points, so he knows he's a hell of a fighter and that no one in this dojo can defeat him in a fight.
The way he and Zoro moved was like a dance, like the sway of the ocean and the moon. With a little more training, a bit more polishing, Zoro will transform into a dangerous opponent. Sanji shivers in anticipation: if the swordsman improved this much in the last three months since they fought at the rings, how strong will he be in, say, a year?
Sanji's eyes fall on Zoro again, just in time to see him show one of his students a particular kata, one that makes the muscles on his chest flex impressively. Sanji licks his lips and grins.
That is definitely something to look forward to.

Zoro isn't one for romance. Why waste your time in stupid gestures like presents or flowers when you can just tell someone you love them? Why is there a need for theatrics?
But Zoro also knows that Sanji is a sucker for romantic gestures. And since Zoro still hasn't figured out what's upsetting the cook, he's gonna do something nice for the cook.
And that's the reason why Sanji is sitting on a barstool in the kitchen island while Zoro is cooking and Chopper is hanging out with Luffy, the only single person in their group. Even Usopp grew the balls to confess to Kaya in time for Valentine's Day, and the couple are enjoying their first date in Alabasta.
"If you overcook the spinach, it'll get bitter," Sanji says conversationally.
Zoro curses and moves the pot from the flame.
"You're over-whisking the egg whites. They'll separate," Sanji adds.
"Shit, how can you even tell?" Zoro growls, but turns of the stand mixer.
"You know, Pavlovas keep up to two days. You could've made them in advance, that way you wouldn't have to cook them with the chicken."
"You have two ovens. I can just use the second one."
Sanji only hums and runs his finger down the edge of his ceramic plate. "The chicken stock needs to simmer, not boil. The flame is too high."
Shit. Fuck. Shitty fuck. Zoro fucking practiced, why the fuck is he messing up so much? Every piece of advice Sanji is giving him, Zeff gave him yesterday, while he was teaching Zoro how to prepare…whatever the hell he's making now.
And how the fuck does Sanji know what's supposed to happen if Zoro hasn't told him the recipe?
"Do you need help?"
"I've got this!"
"Really? Because the egg whites are falling and you need to add the raspberry juice and make peaks."
Zoro spares a look at the egg whites, but the liver is burning. He moves the pan off the flame, then adds the raspberry juice to the egg whites and turns on the mixer again. He adds salt and pepper to the spinach and sets that aside, then checks the ravioli. It's soft, like Zeff said it's supposed to be, so he turns that flame off.
"Ha! I told you I had it. Any more comments, cook?" Zoro sneers.
Sanji sighs and places his chin on his hand. "Once you add the mushroom mixture and radicchio leaves to the chicken liver, it needs to refrigerate at least for an hour, up to three. Which means your appetizer and side dish will get cold. At least the dessert will be ready on time, since the meringue needs to bake for two hours. The curd is supposed to be refrigerated for a day, but it'll still taste good if you leave it for two hours."
Zoro stares at his chicken liver, which is slightly burnt. The spinach is already getting cold, and the ravioli is splitting.
"Do you need any help?"
The answer is petulant. "Yes."
Zoro steps back and watches in grudging respect as Sanji fixes the mess he made. He heats up the spinach on low, and re-stuffs the ravioli, making a thick sauce to pour on top and keep the filling from coming out again. He takes out two slabs of salmon and seasons them with cayenne, salt, and pepper. He cuts up a lemon, places two slices on top of each slab of salmon, and puts it in the oven.
He forms the Pavlovas and puts them inside the second oven, and starts on the custard. After fifteen minutes, the oven timer rings and Sanji turns it off on his way to the refrigerator, where he puts the custard. He takes out the salmon, cooked to perfection, and serves it with the spinach. He takes two ravioli and places them on bowls, then fills them up with the chicken broth.
"We'll eat the radicchio and mushroom chicken roulade tomorrow with the raspberry-cream pavlovas," Sanji says, placing the salmon and ravioli on the kitchen island Zoro cleared for them.
Since there's only the two of them, it feels a bit silly to use the huge dining room table.
"Thanks, cook," Zoro mutters. "I'm sorry about the food. I just—."
"It's fine," Sanji interrupts, smiling. "It took me a whole year to be able to cook a whole course meal at one time. Besides, Zeff told me how hard you worked to learn."
"He told you?" Zoro groans. "Shitty old man. I begged him not to!"
"This is nice, though," Sanji smiles, taking a bite of his ravioli. He winces, but continues eating. "I mean, please never cook again, but the thought is nice."
"Hey, I can cook," Zoro mutters, taking a bite of his salmon. Bastard, it's perfect. "You know, I didn't just feed Chopper instant noodles and take out before I met you."
"Don't talk about what from now on will be known as the Dark Ages."
"Ha. Ha. So funny."
"No, really. If you want to learn how to cook, I can teach you," Sanji shrugs. "And stop being a coward and taste your own food, grass-head."
Zoro makes a face and takes a small bite of ravioli. "Oh god, how can you eat this shit?" Zoro groans, spitting the food out into his napkin.
"You know the rules, Zoro," Sanji tuts. "We don't waste food in this household."
"That shit is going to give us food poisoning!"
"Food poisoning isn't caused by bad flavor. That's the taleggio cheese you used instead of parmesan. Honestly, how did you get the two confused? Taleggio stinks!"
"All of your cheeses stink," Zoro shrugs. "Zeff told me not to doubt the recipe."
"Yeah, and the recipe called for parmesan," Sanji snorts.
"You're the one that wants to eat it," Zoro shrugs.
"Happy Valentine's to you, too, asshole."
They continue to bicker and eat. Zoro honestly feels like he's going to throw up every time he takes a bite out of his ravioli, so Sanji gives him his salmon and takes Zoro's bowl of ravioli. Zoro wants to put up more of a struggle, but it's hard when the salmon tastes just so damn good.
And then Sanji reminds him that he didn't prepare a drink, and brings out a bottle of sake from the bar. Sanji doesn't hold his liquor well, though, so Zoro stops him from drinking more than two cups.
That's more than enough for the cook's tongue to loosen, and he starts bawling over how much he misses Chopper, and why isn't he here? He doesn't believe Zoro when the swordsman reminds tells him Chopper wanted them to have a special day for themselves, and Zoro has to physically wrestle the phone from him before he calls the poor child.
Zoro blends together the sweetest fruits he can find and gives them to the cook to sober him up a little, then forces him to drink a couple glasses of water. The last thing he needs is for Sanji to fall asleep tonight.
Valentine's Day means sex, right?
Unfortunately, all of his hard work goes to waste when Sanji downs half a bottle of Grappa 120 Proof. A bottle of that shit's strong enough to get Zoro buzzed, and Sanji just swallowed half.
"Goddamnit, cook!" Zoro growls, trying to drag the cook upstairs. Well, his night of ridiculous hot sex just got flushed down the toilet. Hopefully, a cold shower will keep Sanji from throwing up at night. He should probably take a couple of water bottles upstairs, too, and some Advil.
"I need to call Chopper. I'm gonna call him," Sanji slurs, trying to fight off Zoro.
The damn cook is just as slippery drunk as he's sober. Maybe more so.
"Shhh! Don't yell! Chopper needs me to call!
"Chopper needs you to leave him the hell alone," Zoro mutters. Sanji freezes and Zoro takes the opportunity to drag him the last couple of steps into their room. He pulls the covers off the bed, but when he turns to the cook, he's surprised to see him crying, big fat tears rolling down his face.
He's hunched down, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, and his eyes are huge as he looks up at Zoro.
"Chopper doesn't want to see me?" Sanji asks him, voice breaking. "He doesn't love me?"
"Oi, cook, stop crying!" Zoro exclaims, but the cook only starts sobbing, his shoulder shaking.
"But I wanna see him! Take me to him! Take me! Take me!" The tears stop as Sanji starts his temper tantrum, kicking at the base of the bed.
"Fine!" Zoro yells, surprising the cook. "I'll take you to him. But you have to be patient. Chopper's asleep, and you don't want to wake him, do you?"
Sanji hunches his shoulders and covers his mouth with a hand, shaking his head slowly. "You'll take me to him?" he whispers through his fingers, the words barely recognizable through his slurred speech.
"Yeah, sure I will."
"Yay!" Sanji exclaims happily, leaning heavily against Zoro. He touches Zoro's lips and smiles widely. "Je t'aime. Je t'adore. Tu es l'amour de ma vie."
Zoro rolls his eyes. He can never understand the cook when he's talking in French, and when's drunk, the words sound even more confusing.
"Est-ce que tu m'aimes?" Sanji says, looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes and a hesitant smile. Zoro is trying to get his jacket off so that he can put the cook in the shower and get him to sober up a little, but the cook only tugs at him and repeats the words
"Yeah, yeah," Zoro says, hearing the slight tilt of a question. Sanji laughs and hugs him tightly, taking Zoro by surprise and making him stumble back into the bed. "Fuck!" he curses, rubbing the shin where Sanji accidentally kicked him. "That hurt, shit cook."
"Zoro," Sanji says quietly, and Zoro gasps when he sees Sanji's eyes. They're dark with want, his lips bitten-red. His cheeks are flushed and there's a slight sheen of sweat on his collarbones and Zoro gets the strong urge to lick them. Sanji leans a little closer to him, still kneeling on the ground between Zoro's legs and massages his thighs slowly.
Shit, is Zoro really gonna get his night of hot, wild sex?
"Veux-tu m'épouser?"
He has no idea what Sanji just slurred out, but his hand is getting really close to Zoro's crotch, and Zoro can read the context. He's about to say yes when Sanji leans back a little frowning at a spot on the wall, before his eyes grow wide and he throws up the night's dinner on Zoro's shoes.
"Ugh…Zoro…I don't feel too good," Sanji grumbles, wiping his mouth on Zoro's knee.
Zoro feels his erection wane as the smell of puke hits him, even worse because Sanji was nice enough to eat the stinky cheese Zoro didn't like. It only gets worse when the cook remembers Zoro's promise to take him to see Chopper and starts another temper tantrum.
If there is a god, then he fucking hates Zoro.