Author's Note #1: I don't own One Piece. The main reason for this rewrite is because I never did get around to properly editing the story. My writing has improved since I first wrote the fic, so I'm cutting certain scenes and added in ones I think make the story flow better to improve Sanji and Zoro's development.

Beautiful Disaster
by: Setkia

Full Summary

Sanji is the assistant cook of the world-renowned restaurant, the Baratie, the only restaurant like it in the world. He's a successful chef and flirts with the customers every chance he can get but there's a problem. It's all a façade. The cooks give a new meaning to the word "abusive", both mental and physical. The only thing keeping Sanji alive is his love for cooking and a good ol' pack of cigarettes.

Zoro Roronoa is a swordsman who suddenly has more change in his pocket than he expected and enters the Baratie by recommendation. His waiter happens to be a curly browed man with an adoration for cigarettes. An attempt speak to the head chef goes horribly wrong and he gets sucked into the crumbling world of the chef's, wondering how he can possibly save him and better yet, why does he want to save him in the first place?

Chapter 2: That Marimo Bastard

The bastard was here again.

He didn't know why, but for some reason, that annoying moss-headed idiot was sitting at a seat in the corner of the room, this time in a smoking-permitting zone.

Sanji knew that pretending to be a waiter had been worth the abuse. True, he was more bruised than he probably would have been if he had just stayed inside the kitchen, but socializing with the customers was something he hadn't done in so long. The look on their faces when they ate their food, especially when it was food Sanji had prepared, was priceless.

The waiters had ignored him unless they were forced to acknowledge his presence and the others in the kitchen had given him scowls, but took the orders he had submitted and allowed him to return to serve them to the customers. It had worked once, maybe it could work again? He'd take whatever punishment those awful cooks deemed appropriate to see the beautiful Baratie being run the way he and Zeff had envisioned it.

Taking a long drag, he approached the moss-haired idiot, a notepad clutched in his hand, a menu in his other.

He doesn't know that much, he reasoned with each step, though he couldn't seem to convince himself, no matter how much he wanted to. His heartbeat was deafening in his ears. You don't know how long he was there, he could've seen nothing. Or he could have seen everything.

"Hello and welcome to the Baratie," he greeted with a smile. Whoever said it took less muscles to smile than to frown was a fucking liar. "Is there anything I can get you to drink to start you off?"

As the man looked at his menu, Sanji tried to place him. He was familiar. He had gotten the same feeling the night before. His eyes wandered to a TV broadcast, (Sanji hated the TVs, they were Carne's idea) the headline reading:

Zoro Roronoa takes first place prize in national Kendo competition!

"You're Zoro Roronoa, the Kendo champion?"

"Yeah? So?"

Fucking fantastic. Not only was he seen at his lowest point by a customer, that customer had to be Zoro Roronoa, the famous Kendo star. Sanji felt stupid for not recognizing him sooner.

"I'll have water."

"Pardon?" asked Sanji, pulled out of his thoughts.

"My drink. I'll have water."

"Of course, right away sir," said Sanji, flashing him a fake smile.

"No Mr. Roronoa today?" Zoro teased. "Or was that just a one-time special?"

Sanji ignored him. He had to figure out how he would deal with this mess, before he could even think about playing games with the swordsman.

He took the pitcher from a deserted tray on an empty table and returned to Zoro, pouring it into his glass.

The green-haired man smiled at him as he poured his drink. How long had it been since he had seen someone smile for a reason other than food with such sincerity? Better question: when was the last time someone had smiled at him?

Unsure of how to respond, he busied himself in looking around the restaurant. From the look on the clients' faces, they liked his famous soup, not that anyone had to know it was his. After all, what was an assistant chef who took credit for his own work? No, Patty could take all the credit he wanted. Sanji couldn't wait for the day when the media finally asked him how he made it and Patty gave them that blank stare.

There was a tugging at his cuff.

"Yes?"

"I'd like to order now, Cook."

Sanji's eyes widened. Of the few people he told on the occasions he managed to sneak out of the kitchens about his cook status, none remembered.

Shaking off his surprise, he nodded. "What will it be, Mr. Roronoa?"

"I think I'll have the tempura for my main dish."

"And for your appetizer?"

Zoro smirked. "The soup."

Sanji didn't have to ask which one.

Entering the kitchen with caution, he looked both left and right, making sure Patty was no where to be seen. He approached one of the less aggressive cooks (they were all aggressive in the end) and placed the order before leaving the kitchen quickly and swiftly.

People watching was a habit of his. Cabin fever, or rather, kitchen fever, did that to him. He would stare at the others around the restaurant, memorizing everything and he would store it away until he needed it again. When he was sick with loneliness.

"Sanji!"

Sanji turned at the sound of his name to see Moodie, the blonde beauty. "Hello, darling," he said with a bright smile.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Moodie said. "Fullbody's gotten unbearable. I was thinking about taking you up on that offer, if you know what I mean?"

Sanji offered her a smile in return. Fake, forced, but not as forced as usual. She always brought that out of him. "I wish I could Honey, but the Chief's got me running in circles." He gently slid his hand down her shoulder, resting at her elbow. She acted like she was touch-starved. Fullbody was an ungrateful douche. "Hang in there, alright? You're far too pretty to be wasted on some idiot like Fullbody."

Moodie smiled and let out a giggle. "I'm pretty, am I?"

Sanji let out a short laugh of his own. "Absolutely stunning," he assured her. "Now, I have to get going but I'll see you later, okay, Sweetie?"

Moodie nodded and returned back to her table where she sat with the idiot lieutenant who knew nothing about being fair to women. Sanji didn't have much experience, to be honest, but it was clear that the way Fullbody showed her off like she was a trophy was not the right way to handle a woman. If your date needed to be told she was pretty when it was obvious, something wasn't right.

"Sanji, your order's here!"

Sanji quickly checked his watch. The later in the night it got, the more the cooks hit the booze. It was nine. He was safe for now.

He dove into the kitchen quickly, grabbed Zoro's order and was half-way out the door when he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and yanked back by a big meaty hand.

Fuck.

"What were you doing out there, eh, Shit Cook?" demanded Patty. "Playing servant?" He looked at the bowl of soup in Sanji's hands and scowled. "You wanna feed someone this shit? You'll need to clean up the puke when they hurl." Sanji lost his balance as Patty punctuated his sentence with a push forwards, making Sanji tumble out the swinging doors, the bowl falling from his tray. There was a clatter and everyone's eyes turned towards him. Including Zoro's. Fuck.

Sanji tried to ignore the whispers as he cleaned up the mess quickly before racing back into the kitchen. He went to the backroom to make a fresh pot of the soup. He could forgive their rudeness, it was the waste of perfectly good food that had him boiling.

Once it was finished, he made extra sure that no one was around and dashed out the kitchen doors. Speed was something he had learnt was very beneficial to him if he used it to his advantage. He could be in and out of the kitchen in no time at all, leaving the other cooks wondering if he had ever really been there to begin with.

He walked over to Zoro's table, bavo in place. His shirt clung to his body, still damp and probably smelling of soup but he ignored it and placed the soup on Zoro's table. "Sorry for the wait, there were … complications."

"Complications?" Zoro looked Sanji up and down.

Sanji knew that Zoro had seen his fall, so he wasn't staring at his chest in order to identify the wet blotch, so then, why was he staring? He wasn't wearing white, there was no way Zoro could see the scars— was he … checking him out? Sanji mentally shook his head. That was preposterous. Paranoid regardless, he left Zoro to his own devices and headed to his next client.

Once Zoro's food was ready, Sanji speedily went in and out of the kitchen, returning quickly before Patty had another chance to get to him. It was nine thirty and though he hated to admit, Zoro's dinner experience was probably crippled and took longer than most.

Placing the food on the table, this time Sanji stuck around, watching as Zoro ate. There was something so open about how the swordsman enjoyed his meal that reminded Sanji why he was still here after all these years.

As Zoro cleaned his plate, Sanji spotted Moodie sitting next to Fullbody. That man was pure scum and yet somehow, a woman with as much beauty as Moodie had become his latest reluctant companion. It made Sanji's blood boil—

"—was yours, right?"

Sanji's head snapped back to Zoro and gave him a strange look. "Pardon?"

"That soup, it was yours, right? You made it."

Sanji could only nod numbly. How had this man figured it out before the press?

"Anything for dessert, Mr. Roronoa?" asked Sanji, trying to cover up his surprise.

Zoro shook his head. "Can I have the check please?"

Sanji nodded and returned moments later with it in hand.

"How's your diaphragm?"

Sanji choked. Zoro didn't look up from his wallet, leafing through it to get out the 130 00 yen he needed. "You're short about 50 00 yen."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," said Zoro. "I don't really make that much and besides, I have to keep bailing my friends out of jail so with those fees and all—" Zoro coughed into his hand and Sanji wondered why the man was being so awkward. Then it hit him.

He knew.

Did he feel sorry for him? Was that why he was sharing so much? The last thing Sanji wanted was pity. What could he possibly do to keep Zoro from telling? How could he make Zoro forget?

Seeing the trouble the green-haired man was in, Sanji came up with an idea. It was a long-shot but he needed to try it.

Leaning over the table, Sanji lowered his voice. "I'll let it slide, the money I mean, if you forget about what you saw."

Zoro gaped at him.

"So?" Sanji asked. "What do you say?"

"Fuck no!"

Everyone turned to Zoro's table once again and Sanji sighed, biting down harshly on his cigarette. Would it kill the moron to be quiet?

Sanji sent him a glare and Zoro had the sense to look slightly embarrassed. "Fuck no," he repeated in a quieter voice.

"What do you want?" he asked. "What's it going to take for you to forget?"

Without a beat, Zoro replied, "This table."

Sanji let out a laugh. "Sorry Mr. Roronoa, we don't sell them. Go out to a nice furniture store, I'm sure you can find one just like it."

Zoro gritted his teeth. "No, you bastard, that's not what I meant. I want this table reserved for me. Every night."

Sanji raised a surprised eyebrow. "Okay," Sanji said disbelievingly.

"I'll pay you whatever's in my wallet. All of it. If I have 150 00 yen, I'll give it to you, even if the meal only costs me 125 00 yen. Whatever cash is in my wallet at the time, I'll use to pay you. The whole contents of it."

"What, nothing left for gas money?"

Zoro ignored him. "Do we have a deal?"

"If I do this, reserve this table for you every night, will you forget what you saw?"

"On my honour."

"Oh, a swordsman's honour! It's practically God's word!"

"Do we have a deal or not?"

Sanji frowned at his finished cigarette. Pulling out a new one, he lit it up, hoping Zoro didn't notice the way his hand trembled with the lighter. Tossing the finished cigarette into the ashtray, he breathed in the smoke. "Deal." Looking behind him, he saw Patty's silhouette in the kitchen doors. "Now, if you would excuse me, Mr. Roronoa, I have a job to do."

"Zoro," the swordsman said. "Call me Zoro."

Sanji let out a bitter laugh that held no happiness or joy. He sent him a harsh glare. "Don't push it."

With that, he walked to the kitchen, already able to feel the rolling pin crushing his ribs.

Author's Note #2: The thank-yous!

bakayaro onna: As I said in the 1st author's note, it's not exactly a rewrite, so much as a revised edition.