Authors Note; Found another Chapter for this story that I didn't even know that I had! So now, a couple of years later... Here is Chapter 2!
Sanji Blackleg surveyed the men's quarters with a tired yawn, his bleary eye struggling to keep itself open, barely registering anything beyond a blur.
It had taken a tremendous amount of effort to haul Zoro's form out of bed that morning, trying not to wake any of his crew mates as he climbed down the ladder quietly.
The cook discovered that the nicotine cravings were doing nothing to improve his mood. Sanji was always the first to rise in the mornings, and he'd been surprised to see that Zoro was missing from his bunk, along with Chopper who was probably watching Trafalgar.
Franky had at some point returned from watch during the night, and was now sleeping contently in his bunk.
Glancing at his still sleeping crew mates, his gaze lingered momentarily on the sight of the skeletal musician laying still in one of the bottom bunks. Brooks jaw hung open motionlessly, his bony legs hanging limply over the edge of the bed.
Although Sanji had gotten used to Brook's presence on the ship, it still gave him the chills every morning when he watched the man laying deadly still in his bunk. With nothing but a pair of empty eye sockets, it was impossible to tell if he was sleeping, because quite obviously, he possessed no eyelids.
Sanji wasn't easily freaked however he had to admit, it was creepy.
Grateful that the others were still asleep, the cook released a disgruntled groan, raking a hand through the marimo's ridiculous green hair.
As if making it to the kitchen in one piece wasn't enough of a challenge for the sleepy cook, he had to make a start on breakfast for the crew, as well as dressing himself in Zoro's attire. The previous night he and the swordsman had exchanged keys to their lockers, allowing them both to have access to the correct items of clothing for their current forms. Quickly and quietly Sanji opened the locker and dressed himself, wondering dryly if the swordsman's clothes had been eaten by moths.
Just how was he supposed to feel comfortable in a mere coat and trousers?
It was safe to say that since Zoro had unexpectedly pinned him against the counter that previous night, the cooks dreams had suffered as a consequence.
Fortunately for Sanji his imagination had decided to reverse the situation, and he had thankfully been restored to his own body in the dream, which as nice as it was, did little to comfort him.
It had been a miracle in itself that Sanji Blackleg had managed to get through the night without waking anyone with his incessant tossing and turning; he was paranoid that one day, he'd end up talking in his sleep...
Reaching for the handle of the door, a hand suddenly seized him roughly by the back of the swordsman's green coat, preventing him from leaving as he released a surprised yelp. The frown on his face was soon replaced by an amused smirk as he absorbed the sight in front of him.
Zoro muttered incoherently under his breath his he caught sight of the blonde's seemingly untameable hair in the mirror. The blonde stands were sticking in various directions; Sanji's usually tamed fringe failed to fall neatly in place as it usually did, and instead proceeded to flick up at the ends almost as if the swordsman had stuck his finger into an electrical socket.
Zoro could see the cook smirking in the mirror, and narrowed his eyes in irritation.
"Fix it, or I'll cut it off."
"Touch it and I'll cut something else off, and trust me, you won't be able to grow it back," Sanji replied, before adding, "Stop scowling, it doesn't suit me."
His comment only managed to have the opposite effect. The swordsman responded with a glare, raking a hand through Sanji's soft blonde hair, grimacing as his fingers met several knots. In Zoro's opinion, hair was an unnecessary nuisance, so why on earth the cook decided to wear it in such a fashion was a complete and utter mystery to him.
"Jeez shithead, you ever heard of a hair brush?" The cook asked, commanding the swordsman to sit with the motion of a single hand. The disgruntled crew mate perched reluctantly on a stool, which had originally been intended for Chopper because he struggled to reach anything above the sink.
"Ever thought about taking your own advice?" Zoro replied, eyeing the mop of messy green locks Sanji was sporting that morning.
"It was a rhetorical question shit head..."
'I could have sworn that it was in here,' Sanji thought, frowning as he searched among the maze of shampoo and fragrance bottles. He was beginning to think that Zoro needed his eye testing as he squinted into the dingy cabinet that was perched upon the wall.
Zoro froze as he witnessed the cook retrieve a white bottle from the cabinet, watching as he flicked open the cap and poured a small amount of the pale substance into his hands. As the cook approached him with an outstretched hand, Zoro recoiled slightly, his eyes focused on the mysterious substance with a confused stare.
"Keep still dammit," the cook scolded as the swordsman flinched, proceeding to run Zoro's fingers though his own blonde hair.
"Errr-" Zoro responded in protest as he felt something cold being weaved through Sanji's locks. "What the fuck is this shit?!"
"None of your buisness," the cook replied, raking a hand through his blonde fringe. As always, the product worked a miracle; the formerly devious strands of sun kissed hair were falling neatly in place, the unsightly kinks and tangles disappearing gradually one by one as he worked the swordsman's fingers into the fine stands.
Zoro tried his best to remain still, however now and then he could help but release a squirm of discontent. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed. "You're so gay!"
"Shut up and stay still!"
"You didn't deny it though-"
"What part of shut up didn't you understand Marimo?! Keep still, or I'll make you eat it too!"
Zoro frowned. Oh how he'd love the cook to shut him up in a completely different way- by using his big mouth. Ignoring the man's threat, his mind continued to wonder into dangerous territory as Sanji continued to fix his hair, probably unaware of the swordsman's distant and cloudy eyed gaze. The feeling of someone running their hands through his hair was beginning to send him to sleep.
Suddenly, he was beginning to feel tired again.
"Earth to Marimo! Are you receiving me-"
The swordsman responded with a glare and much to Sanji's surprise, Zoro reached up with the cook's slender hands and raked the long fingers through his green hair, making his own form look reasonably presentable.
Without uttering a single word, he left, leaving a dazed cook behind him as the door clicked shut.
Sanji could have sworn he heard a mutter that sounded suspiciously like 'Thank you.'
It was a warm day for the crew of the Sunny.
Although there was not much impressive scenery to keep them entertained from the confines of the docked ship, there was a cool breeze that offered comfort from the rays of the beaming sun.
As he frequently did, Zoro was out upon the deck on the ship, relishing in the odd sensation of the cold grass between the cook's toes. He'd kicked off the irritating black polished shoes not long after he'd settled into a comfortable position leaning against the ships railing, watching the tide as it lashed softly against the anchored ship.
Reaching up with a slender hand, he loosened the cook's collar, feeling confined in the long sleeved shirt he'd chosen from the blonde's locker.
He missed the comfortable green coat and the haramaki secured snugly around his waist.
For the past half an hour he'd been absorbed in his newly found activity of watching the tide from the ship, ignoring the urge to disappear into the crow's nest and work up a much needed sweat. Sanji had made it clear that he wouldn't appreciate his body being worked to death. The swordsman had insisted that he would be fine with light exercise, however the cook had merely glared in response, adding shortly after that if he caught Zoro lifting any weights he'd force him to start digging his grave... with a spoon.
Although he usually enjoyed irritating the blonde, Zoro had learned to respect his wishes because he knew that if he kept his end of the bargain, Sanji would keep his too, which included avoiding cigarettes.
He was feeling fidgety.
Since he was having so much trouble, the swordsman just didn't know what to do with himself.
He just couldn't relax.
He'd been tempted to retreat to the crow's nest and polish his swords until he'd remembered that he'd already done so that morning. There was only so many times you could clean them until it got boring, and he didn't want to cut the cook, because that would give him another reason to be pissed.
Closing Sanji's blue eyes, he titled his head towards the sun, relishing in the pleasant warmth.
He could hear the sound of almost inaudible footsteps approaching him, moving across the deck until they ceased beside him. After meditating for many years, Zoro had learned to recognise and even the smallest of sounds.
If anyone listened carefully enough, it was easy to distinguish between the footsteps of each crew mate; for example, whilst Franky tended to make much more noise because of his bulky figure, Luffy could be heard wondering across the ship in his equally noisy sandals. Sanji usually wore black polished shoes that made a distinctive tapping sound when they made contact with the wooden floors of the ship, and Choppers feet made a very distinctive clicking sound.
There was only one crew mate that could walk across the deck making almost so noise at all, and that was the skeletal musician.
"Enjoying the weather as always I see," Brook commented, bones making a distinctive tapping sound against the hard wood as he drummed his skeletal fingers. "Any plans for today?"
"Chores," the swordsman replied simply, opening his eyes and watching the calm tide ebbing against the side of the ship. "How about you? Out to get a tan?"
Had Brook possessed lips, he would have without a doubt curled them into a small smile. "I'd be out here for centuries," he said with a laugh, glancing up at the sky through a pair of pink tinted sunglasses.
The audible sound of Usopp's screeching could be heard emerging from somewhere below deck; he appeared to be running after Luffy who had probably been raiding his tool box again. Luffy merely retorted with a proud grin, "Want it? Come and get it!" The sniper responded with a string of curses, and the sound of something crashing echoed throughout the entire ship.
'Usopp's out for blood again,' Zoro thought, hearing the sniper shout something that sounded suspiciously like swearing. "They make enough noise to wake the dead," he commented.
"I feel fortunate that I do not have ear drums to shatter," the musician said, the sun beaming brightly on the orange feather boas that were draped around his neck. Since the crew had reunited, it had become apparent to the crew that Brook had developed a new taste in flamboyant clothes, a striking contrast to the black suit he'd been seen sporting for so long. His floral red trousers and orange feather boa where perhaps just as blinding as the blazing sun; the skeletons new wardrobe certainly reflected his intriguing personality. Gazing at the musician and his flamboyant attire, Roronoa Zoro found it difficult to be intimidated by the skeleton, despite the fact that he stood at an impressive eight foot five. Being the oldest crew mate at the age of ninety years old, Brook was certainly a well-respected member of Luffy's crew.
He had no organs to speak of, yet he still had the ability to feel pain, cry, and eat.
The skeleton was truly fascinating.
Zoro would hardly describe himself as a social butterfly, however he had to admit that since joining Luffy's crew, he'd changed in many ways.
Although he enjoyed spending the day peacefully perched in the crow's nest or sleeping sprawled across the deck, he always felt at ease in the company of his crew mates, with the exception of a blonde cook of course...
It wasn't unusual for him to feel his stomach clench when the blonde did simple things, such as sitting close to him, pass him on the deck, or even light a cigarette.
Only Sanji could make such an innocent gesture seem so very wrong. The way he toyed with the smoke between his lips was almost torturous.
Not long after the crew had reunited, Zoro had risen from his bunk earlier than usual one particular morning. The first few weeks back on the ship had been hard to adjust to. He'd attempted to go back to sleep, however he'd soon surrendered and crawled tiredly from his hammock. It had been no surprise to him that Sanji had already risen- the cook was always the first to wake, with the exception of whoever had been placed on watch duty during the night.
Intending to spend the morning training in the crow's nest, the swordsman had left the men's quarters, climbed the stairs, and strolled wearily towards his destination.
Upon his journey he'd caught sight of a familiar head of ruffled blonde hair through the window in his peripheral vision.
The swordsman watched as Sanji began to complete his stretches gracefully, stretching his arms above his head. Zoro felt surprisingly guilty for watching the him like this, yet he found that he was unable to move, as if he'd lost the sensation in his legs. He was transfixed, at the mercy of the cook and his impressively flexible limbs.
As the blonde began to reach for his toes, the swordsman observed with a piercing black eye, watching the cook bend further and further, until he was touching his toes-
He'd been annoyed earlier for not being able to go back to sleep, however it had certainly been worth waking early to steal a glance at that mighty fine ass-
'Fuck.'
As Sanji began to continue his stretches, the swordsman's mind began to lurk dangerously in the gutter as the blonde began to bend and stretch on deck. Zoro only wished that he could see the x-rated version of the routine that the cook was performing…
"You're looking bored Zoro," Brook observed, watching the swordsman visibly sink his shoulders in defeat.
"Yeah..."
"I'm sure Sanji could find you something to do-"
"Hell no! I broke a plate yesterday... He's probably going to crucify me."
The skeleton laughed and removed his bony hands from the railing, scratching his impressive afro contently before turning swiftly on his heel.
"I'm glad someone finds it funny," Zoro replied, trying his best not to smile. Brooks laugh was absolutely contagious- once the musician started, there was just no stopping him.
No matter how many pieces he was in, Brook always seemed to be able to make a skull joke to liven the atmosphere. The swordsman wondered if it was his way of dealing with tough situations- even at the most inconsiderate of times, the musician always managed to find the strength to laugh it off. It was no wonder that Brook and Luffy had gotten on so well within seconds of meeting each other.
"I'm sure that he'll forgive you eventually!" Brook exclaimed with his usual joyful tone. "Perhaps you should try and sweeten him with an apology-"
"He's not interested in anything that he can't use to batter me with."
"Yohohoho!"
Before the poor musician could comprehend what was happening, he found himself being knocked off of his feet as a familiar figure collided with him. Luffy, attempting to avoid being chased by a livid Usopp, had been a little careless in watching where he was going, eventually running into the innocent skeleton, who landed on the grassy deck with a yelp.
"Sorry Brook!"
Clambering off of the skeleton with a laugh, he picked his hat up from the floor, perching it back on his head, climbing to his feet. As he extended a hand to the skeleton in a bid to help him up, he was surprised to find that Brook lay motionlessly on the deck- Usopp prodded the musician and shrieked.
"He's not breathing! You killed him Luffy!"
"I didn't kill him silly, he's playing dead! Hey Brook, can I play too?"
"Murderer!"
"Idiots..." Nami sighed from her deckchair, basking in the rays of the sun with a cocktail in her left hand. "Of course he's not breathing you moron, he doesn't have any lungs!"
Eventually, the bored swordsman managed to slip into a light slumber as he lay sprawled across the warm deck. He dozed on, oblivious to the loud clanging noises emerging from Franky's weapon development room below deck.
He loved sleeping on warm days like this.
For Zoro, sleeping was just like meditation- an escape.
A while later, slowly emerging from the depths of slumber, Roronoa Zoro became aware of the sound of a familiar voice slowly drifting through his ear drums- his own.
After realising dismally that he was just hearing Sanji talking to Nami and Robin whilst he refilled their glasses, the swordsman succeeded in tuning out the tedious chatting and decided to catch another few minutes of shut eye.
Just as he was close to falling asleep, something began to distract him.
Something was giving him a headache, the powerful smell of- well, he wasn't sure what it was exactly, however knew that it was making him feel nauseous.
The swordsman inhaled deeply, trying to analyse the scent in frustration. He recognised the familiar smell. It was similar to Sanji's cologne. It was one of the scents that was always detectable on the cook, aside from the waft of cigarette smoke that followed him around the ship like his second shadow.
What puzzled Zoro the most, was the fact that he hadn't put on any of Sanji's cologne that day, only leaving one remaining possibility.
"What do you want?" the cook asked bluntly.
The swordsman groaned, pinching the bridge of the cook's nose. "That crap you've got on stinks- you're burning my sinuses!"
"I think you'll find that they are my sinuses shit head."
"Whatever. God. I smell like such a pansy!"
"A caveman like you wouldn't appreciate smelling like anything other than shit-"
"You're not wearing that tomorrow!" Zoro declared boldy, pointing a finger accusingly at the cook. "I swear to god next time I'll make you wash it off by throwing you in the ocean!"
Sanji Blackleg couldn't resist the urge to deliver a kick to the unsuspecting swordsman, who recoiled with a hiss as a foot collided with his thigh. Although it hurt Sanji to beat his own body, he thought that the shit head could do with learning some manners; unfortunately, it seemed that he was going to have to beat them into him.
His head was pounding like there was no tomorrow, aching and throbbing in protest at every sound.
Sanji hated taking pills, and avoided them whenever he could, unless he was being harassed severely by Chopper. The way they caught in his throat every time he tried to swallow them...
Ergh.
As much as he wanted to cease the tantrum in his head, he stubbornly insisted to himself that he didn't need to seek the help of the ship's doctor; the poor reindeer was busy enough watching over Trafalgar, without Sanji asking for tedious advice regarding headache cures. He wasn't prepared to face another lecture about the dangers of smoking again. Once had been enough, and there wasn't anything that could persuade him to sit through another session ever again. Although it was heart-warming enough that Chopper was concerned, he didn't need the reindeer to tell him how bad it was for his health. He knew that already. The only thing preventing him from curbing his addiction was stubbornness.
Stubbornness...
The word itself reminded him of another crew mate in particular- the shitty, green haired swordsman.
Oh was he stubborn.
The man tried to idiotically refuse help even when he was bleeding profoundly in what seemed like rivers across the clean deck. Honestly, Sanji had wondered if the swordsman possessed some weird fetish of some sort, because he seemed far too eager to bleed whenever the opportunity arose. The cook had seen the bastard drenched the foul crimson liquid like he'd been standing under a waterfall, and still the moron tried to insist that he was fine. Sanji wondered, was it stubbornness, pride, or just plain idiocy?
The man looked appealingly dangerous when he was covered in blood...
"-kick me for?"
The sound of his own voice raised in irritation interrupted the cook from his thoughts.
He was in no mood to fight, especially not with Zoro of all people.
Since the transition from his body to the swordsman's, his passion for kicking the brute's ass had almost completely disappeared, like the extinguishing of a blazing camp fire. It just wasn't the same kicking his own ass- it completely lacked the usual thrill he usually got from such a motion.
The cook's next move surprised Zoro, Nami and Robin.
Instead of barking back with a bitter insult or curse in his usual fashion, Sanji ignored the provoking swordsman, and disappeared back into the haven of his kitchen, the empty tray tucked under his arm.
For what had felt like the millionth time that afternoon, Sanji Blackleg gazed longingly at the packed of cigarettes that sat a little distance across the table from him, fighting the urge to surrender to the tantrum he was currently battling in his head. Somewhere deep down, he wanted nothing more than to lunge for the pack and fumble desperately for a lighter; he wished it could be that simple.
Sanji had done a lot of thinking for the past few hours, about a variety of topics, from the transition into Zoro's body, to what he was going to make for dinner that evening. Among the thoughts drifting through his mind, there was something bugging him slightly; despite the fact that it was a trivial matter, it irritated him just the same.
For the past few hours he'd been craving a smoke, ignoring the pounding he was experiencing in Zoro's head dismally, trying to find something he could concentrate on in the hope that he'd forget about the urge to reach for a lighter.
He thought that it was particularly strange that he still fancied a smoke after transitioning into Zoro's body. Surely, wouldn't it have made more sense for Zoro to be craving a cigarette?
Their souls resided in each other's bodies, but without Trafalgar's knowledge, no one really knew the true extent of the switch. Sanji wondered, just what did the soul really consist of? He had no idea how any of this was even possible... Just thinking about it made his- Zoro's head pound even more.
Surveying the large fish tank surrounding the room, he watched its inhabitants swim through the water languidly beneath the artificial lighting, listening to the sound of the humming filter that filled his ears. He couldn't deny the fact that Franky had done an amazing job with the ship. The word amazing itself was one hell of an understatement. Sanji felt privileged to be able to live in such a well designed ship. Often he found himself sitting at the aquarium bar and watching the fish contently, relaxing at the table with a drink in his hand before bed. Upon seeing the kitchen for the first time, the cook had thought that he'd died and gone to heaven. At the moment, his kitchen had begun to seem more like a hiding place than the luxurious, creative room it had first been destined to be.
For the past day or two he'd been moping around in the kitchen to avoid interaction with the other crew mates like some kind of vampire. He didn't want to subject the others to his foul moods, in the hope that by confining himself he would somehow be able to pull himself together.
Averting his gaze back to the pack of cigarettes on the bar table, he extended a hand eagerly. When Zoro's fingertips reached the pack, an unexpected voice emerged from behind him, making Sanji jump in his seat.
"Don't even think about it."
Sanji recoiled upon hearing the sound of his own voice.
"I thought I locked the door..."
"You did," Zoro replied simply, watching the cook gaze longingly at the pack of smokes laying inanimately across the table.
"How did you get in?"
"I used the lift..."
Sanji realised that he'd been so absorbed in his thoughts, that he hadn't heard the clicking of the lift door coming from the ship's mask behind him. The crew could gain access to the aquarium bar by either using the door or the lift that was built into the mast, which had originally been built so Sanji could easily transfer drinks and food back and forth from the kitchen.
"Are you... ok?"
"My head-"
"My head," Zoro corrected.
"-feels like it's turning inside out," Sanji continued, resting his head in his hands as he proceeded to watch the fish swimming in the aquarium.
Sanji liked to watch the fish most evenings, retiring to the bar before bed if no one was currently occupying it. He felt guilty as he watched the creatures swim happily, because he knew that one day he'd be dissecting them on his hopping board.
"You know, this would be a good opportunity for you to quit," Zoro suggested, resisting the urge to grimace. He couldn't believe that he just attempted to offer the cook some advice.
"I'll stop smoking when you stop drinking, shithead. I don't need any more of these conversations," the cook insisted. "I already had one from Chopper, and it still gives me nightmares..."
"Know how you feel," Zoro muttered, remembering a similar incident he had with the small reindeer in the sick bay. "He kept showing me diagrams and shit..."
"Come on Marimo," Sanji retorted, a smile threatening to tug at his lips. "You're leaving me in suspense here."
"Don't make me talk about it, or you might see that salad you made at lunch again..."
Sanji was just waiting to be ambushed by Zoro for kicking him earlier- he wondered just how long it would take before the moss head would snap.
Zoro wondered if the transition had done anything to correct Sanji's short fuse. He wondered if he was dreaming. If he was dreaming, there would be beer, and currently, he couldn't find a damn trace of it on the ship. It was almost as if it had disappeared entirely. He had a funny feeling that the disappearance of the booze had something to do with the cook. He could have sworn that there was at least four bottles left, because he'd heard the princess say something about going shopping to stock up...
He had to be hiding it somewhere.
The swordsman released an audible sigh. "This is so..."
"Insane? Unbelievable? Take your pick," Sanji replied. "I'm gunna kick his ass when he wakes up, and that's a promise."
"Is it so bad being me?"
'Well,' Zoro thought as the words left his lips. 'That didn't sound pathetic at all...' He blamed the cook's big mouth. If only he could put it to some good use...
"I didn't mean it like that," Sanji replied, feeling like a total jerk. "It's just- Everything I do seems to be more clumsy that usual, you know? Like I don't really have any control over anything..."
"Does this have anything to do with the smashing sound I heard earlier?"
The way that the cook was staring so intensely at the counter with his head down, it almost seemed as if he were trying to make himself invisible.
He looked embarrassed.
"I broke a jar."
"Don't try and blame your clumsiness on me," the swordsman replied accusingly, folding Sanji's arms.
"I wasn't clumsy shit head! I was just holding it, and it just... smashed."
"I guess sometimes I don't realise my own strength-"
"Don't flatter yourself asshole!"
"Well, since we're back to arguing again, where the hell did you put the beer you shitty love cook?!"
It sure was nice to know that his efforts hadn't remained unnoticed, although Sanji had to admit, the swordsman was developing a habit of rifling around in his kitchen.
He wondered sometimes if Zoro was an alcoholic.
"Somewhere where you can't find it, moss head."
Zoro frowned, tapping the cook's long, slender fingers on the hard table in thought, muttering a string of curses under his breath. He was certain that he'd checked all of the right places... Sanji wasn't a complete idiot. The cook wouldn't hide it somewhere that it would be easily accessible, meaning it was either concealed very well, or perhaps he just wasn't looking hard enough. Not in the least put off by his unsuccessful quest so far, Zoro decided that he still had plenty of searching to do.
"Whatever. I'll find it myself..."