Author's Note #1: So I don't own One Piece, I have a long 3 week period of exams coming up in June and then it'll be summer! I've had a pretty good week, aside from studying like hell. I decided to put this up early just so that the anticipation for the next chapter (which will differ greatly from the original chapter 3) will get you guys pumped up. As I said, the first 2 chapters are pretty much the same, but I really think I needed this reboot, I'm not going to screw this up this time around. I'll try not to do this with other stories. The next chapter will be out in June. The thanks for the reviews will be at the end along with a chapter question.

Escort Me
By: Setkia
Dedicated to CaptainNapkin cause you're awesome and you totally saved this story from having serious plot issues.

Full Summary

Sanji is an escort in order to pay off debts and buy back the Baratie from Don Krieg. He is charming, flattering and a complete prude. He has a hatred for his job, not at all proud that he's been reduced down to having such a despicable occupation but a certain green-haired regular makes things a bit more bearable.

Roronoa Zoro is a member of a gang, the Shichibukai, and he's regretting it deeply. In order to obtain back a sword of his departed friend, he joined their ranks. He can't handle it some days and goes to rant about it to a curly browed escort. However things change when the gang decides to recruit a member by the name of Sanji.

PART ONE: RECRUITMENT

Chapter 2: The Number One Gangster

"Where is it?"

The middle aged man tried to grab onto the brick wall of the alleyway, but his nails merely scratched and tore under the hard surface. There was no escape and by the fear that entered his eyes, he knew that. Of course, he'd still try to run like all the idiots did. Perhaps he felt shameful that he was being attacked by someone who was more than half his age.

"He'll have it soon," choked out the fat man with his chubby cheeks. "Soon," he repeated in an echoey voice as though to reaffirm himself.

"Define soon."

"Within a week."

SLAM!

The man winced, closing his eyes for the blunt of the blow. His head banged painfully against the wall, certain to have caused damage. The blood trickled down his forehead, getting in his eyes. He looked woozy at the sight of blood. Pathetic,

"Question one!" he spat in the man's face, "what is the rule of the turf?"

"Don't do anything on the turf of someone else without their permission."

"So you do know something," he leered, his lip curling nastily. "Next! Question two: what happens if you go onto someone's turf without their permission?"

"You pay a fine," squeaked the fat man, seeming to lose weight in mere seconds from the pressure he was under. He could smell the fear radiating off of him.

"And what happens if you're late on paying the fine?"

"People come after you." The man licked his lips, trembling. At least he knew when to be scared, he knew his place in the hierarchy system of the streets. "But—"

"There's no exceptions," snapped he. "Hey, can you tell me something else?" the green-haired man purred, leaning even closer. His stomach knotted, he hated the stench of sweat and fear, the way his fingers had to curl around the collar of the man's shirt, practically tearing at the seams. He hated the way he had to use his height to his advantage. "How much force does it take to split the skull in two?"

"I ... I don't know."

"I'm feeling in a scientific mood. Care to be my Guinea pig?"

The man shook his head, his sweat spraying him slightly in the face. "N-no sir!"

"So how about you tell your boss that he's late on his payments and if we don't have them in the next three days, the entire crew will be my test subjects."

The man nodded and his attacker loosened his grip. The man fell down on his backside, scurried to his feet and ran away, practically tripping over his own limbs as he ran to get away.

Doing this always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Only seventy-five million more yen.

"So?"

Roronoa Zoro threw a cheque at the man in the feathered hat. His cat-eyes analyzed it carefully while the green-haired man took a seat across from him. He tightened his jacket around himself, feeling the ink burn into his skin. It would never come off, he knew that, but still ...

Mihawk frowned. "This is—"

"I told you, he's a stubborn bastard," Zoro cut him off. "You can get the little ones to pay, but you know how Crocodile is. He and his minions are set on being independent."

Zoro vaguely remembered Crocodile, and none of his memories of the man were pleasant not that the last two years of his life had been a joy ride. When he had first started in the gang, he remembered Crocodile sneering at him and yet almost immediately after he had seen Zoro in a fight, he had asked if he was willing to join his rebellion; a group of gang members that Crocodile was planning to lead once he cut his ties with the others. Zoro had rejected him, mainly because he thought Crocodile was insane.

"Damn bastards ..." Mihawk crumpled the cheque in his hand, his eyes piercing straight through Zoro.

"I'm done for the night?" Zoro asked. It was a Wednesday. Though it was never said, never spoken aloud, Zoro had gotten into the habit of calling Wednesday and Sunday routine days.

"You know, I think I should keep you on a tighter leash," said Mihawk, his sharp eyes focusing on the swordsman. "I think I give you too much freedom."

Freedom? This is a gang, this is one step away from yakuza, what makes you think this is freedom?

The outline on his back hurt even more, scorching his flesh.

"You know why I'm here," Zoro told Mihawk, his jaw set in a firm line. "You know my condition."

"You wanted money, correct? And wanted to get it fast. How's that working for you, Roronoa-dono?"

"Just wonderfully," he replied through clenched teeth.

Getting out of his clothes, he glanced at himself in the mirror. Turning around, he caught sight of his back and felt nauseous. Bold, dark and vibrant colours all intertwined in the image of a Chinese dragon, snaking from just beneath his shoulder blades to the very dip of his back, bordering on his hipbone. The dragon curled and coiled over a dark black stencil for the kanji for strength. Almost immediately, he pulled on a shirt, making sure it hid everything. Sometimes, if he wasn't careful, the slightest of scales were visible and to do that would be taboo. Even more taboo than joining a gang in order to obtain money.

He made sure the material was black and dark, even if he started sweating nothing could be seen and otherwise dressed casually. If he wore his pants too low though, there would also be a problem. He made sure everything was covered, the dragon kept tucked away and impossible to see, before calling a cab.

Why he was here was beyond him. One night of drunk stumbling around had landed him in the red-light distract and he had ended up speaking to some blond with fucked-up eyebrows. He knew that no one else could see it, see that insignia on his back, but he knew it was there as much as he wished it wasn't. He knew others were oblivious to its existence and yet every time someone looked at him, he was sure they could see through his thin clothes, through his disguise, see through his soul. He felt as though everyone was staring at his back, trying to find it, if they didn't know it was there already. Except for when it came to him.

"I'm here for my regular," he told the strange make-up covered man.

Around him, the music was nauseating and pulsating. It made him dizzy and unsteady, pounded at his head almost as much as a hangover. God he hadn't had a good one in a while (and by good, he meant bad). He couldn't understand how people could stand the whole smoke and mirrors business, keeping things secret and under wraps, he was nearly suffocating from his secret alone. At the same time as being able to be as you wished in the club, there was also the privacy of being a secret member. You traded the secrets of your life for a secret life under strobe lights and martinis.

"Regular?" repeated the man. God his voice was so nasally and annoying.

"Blond, thin, smokes a lot, wears black?"

The man nodded, raising an eyebrow, making his ridiculous face look even more ridiculous. "And who are you?"

"Roronoa Zoro."

The man nodded and fiddled with his clipboard and pen for a moment as though he had no idea what to do with it before shoving it behind his ear and rushing off to get him.

The problem with this place that always made Zoro wonder why he came (though he always did come) was the blond. Oh sure it was nice to talk, get some stuff off his chest, to rant about just about anything, regardless if it was relevant or important, and yet where he found his solace in being free, he was trapped.

If he said too much, he was in trouble. If he let too much show, he'd be found out. Barely anyone trusted him, if there was a leak, they'd think it was him. He had to be careful. He had to watch his words and his actions and yet though it was risky and perhaps made him hide more than he'd have liked, he felt so normal. As though his biggest problem was coming up with the wittiest remark to that sharp-tongued smoker.

It was liberating.

But never free. No, he traded his freedom in a long time ago.

Bodies were moving against each other and it felt as though he really had entered a different dimension, where people could sway against each other and listen to nauseating music and forget the world. The club was like being on ecstasy, forgetting the world around you and succumbing to everything you were forbidden to.

After a few minutes, the man came back. "Sanji will see you now."

It was a fight to get across the dance floor. There were girls who latched onto him, clung to him and trekked to flirt, but he pushed them off. In the streets he looked like a predator, in the night club he looked like a great fuck, or so he was told.

Walking down the long hallway towards the backroom, the music seemed to fade out, still loud no doubt, but slightly less pronounced, less overwhelming as though he were entering a door within the different dimension, a specialized escape for him alone.

The moment Zoro walked into the room, he felt his breath catch.

Laying outstretched, unbuttoned shirt, lazily spread out was the most popular host in the club. Oh Zoro knew there were female hosts too, he knew it very well, they all tried to jump on him and molest him whenever he walked in, but even as infuriating as this blond was, he had something that let Zoro just go, be and flow and whatever other zen shit you wanted to say; he felt as though the chains were just a bit less intense, maybe just a bit looser, had a bit more oil, they didn't creak every time he walked or moved, almost like they weren't there.

"Curly Brow," he greeted with a smirk.

"Shitty Marimo," Sanji fired back.

Of course he went for his hair. Zoro smirked. "Curlicue."

"Moss-head."

"Dart Brow."

"Ahou."

"Ran out of creative comebacks did we?"

"So want to tell me about your shitty day?" It was almost like he wanted to divert the conversation to something Zoro was most uncomfortable about, but to be honest, Zoro was pretty sure it was cause he couldn't think of anything wittier.

"Just dealing with the typical assholes," Zoro said with a shrug. He had learnt early on to hide his hesitance and have something ready at the drop of the hat, some reason or another that would make sense. He found he was telling this blond stranger more truths than lies. Perhaps he knew the most about him, which was a pretty sad thing; when the host at some dodgy club knows your whole life story. "Nothing unusual. They really need to learn about punctuality or else I wouldn't have to be so hard on them ..."

Zoro wasn't sure why but silence with the host was never awkward or suffocating. The occasional comments to drag him out of his thoughts, but otherwise nothing of much substance. The way he looked at him, it reminded Zoro of her.

If she knew what would she think? He could imagine her running her fingers down his back, tracing the outline of the ink, muttering about how it was unfair, that Zoro was allowed into the club because he was a man, because he had muscles and no rack. Then again, he might not be in this position had she not ...

"Why do you come here?"

Zoro was shaken out of his thoughts by the host's low baritone. It was always this part of the night Zoro hated most. Not because he was parting with the bastard, but because of the look he gave him. The look he gave him was so much like hers, it shook him to the core. Questioning, slightly envious (why this man was envious of his situation, Zoro didn't know, though he supposed the man didn't know his business), as though trying to solve a puzzle and the last pieces just wouldn't fit, mystified and just a tad enraptured.

Instead of answering his question, Zoro gave him a cocky smirk.

"Why are you here?"

Assumptions were things Zoro learnt to never make. He knew that people would make assumptions about him, about his earrings, about the marking on his back, about the scar across his chest, about his green-hair, about the way he always seemed to be glaring, about the way he chose to wear dark colours, the way he was always quiet and was always drinking. About his choice in career. He knew he hadn't ended up this way because he wanted to be. He had ended up this way because of circumstance. Because of need. And he was never going to make assumptions about someone else and so he always gave the man a chance to explain himself.

"To see you of course."

Zoro snorted and handed him a twenty. And as always, the bastard gave up the chance to clear things up. He was pretty damn close to saying the man did it because he liked sex.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Sanji said in that voice of his that sounded so sensual and yet at the same time, was filled with mirth.

"It's all mine," Zoro shot back.

He didn't want to mention that the only reason he was probably still sane was because of these meetings. He felt as though Sanji had an already big enough ego, being the most requested host of the place did numbers to your self-esteem, so he wouldn't mention it.

Of all the members of the Shichibukai, Zoro was the only one with no murders under his belt.

This was a fact he constantly reminded himself of. Causality count: zero.

It was the one last shred of his humanity left.

Author's Note #2: The thank-yous! I'm also going to try and thank every new follower and favoriter, (I know that's not a word), just cause I think you deserve recognition). And I also have great news. A couple of months ago I had to write a short story for a provincial competition against 23 different schools in a special school board that spreads across the province (including my own) (I'm Canadian) and my school came in 1st, and it was my story! So really, I want to appreciate everyone who appreciates my writing because you guys have no idea how much it means to me, even though it sounds really cheesy, a writer really is nothing without readers. You guys help encourage me to continue writing even though I have parents who yes, encourage me to do what I want, but rather I have a stable job than write for a living. You're wonderful for my self-esteem in writing, and I'm really happy so many of you like my writing!

lilcutieprincess: Thank God, that was kinda the purpose of the reboot, I wasn't happy with chapter length and such, but I do think I can do this right.

a reviewer: The way the boys met changed, if you didn't notice, in this story rather than coming directly into the bar, Zoro stumbles around the front and meets Sanji by accident, rather than Sanji being on his shift. I do intend on writing maybe a one-shot about the meeting.

crystalbluefox: By extension, I must mention you for being so good as to bother with this renewal of the story. I know it must be annoying to read the same story over again, but I promise, I'll make it good!

Thank you for:
Favoriting:minichampi, Son Kumkio, SoulKagome, eyes0nme19, DarkerThanBlack1209, Freedeal, Aj the human, Eternal-Flame-Babe, goldyylocks, DarkerThanBlack1209
Following: minichampi, SagaE, lilcutieprincess, clementyneoh9,roaer, LilMizFuNsiZe, Son Kumkio, Gumbyfair, SoulKagome, AirieDLokie, Flika, goldyylocks, Freedeal, KuraiFlame16, bakayaro onna, Aj the human, Cottonpaw, draugs, arisa4

So now my question for this chapter: Those of you have read Beautiful Disaster know I am a sucker for references, I always like it when something I like references something else I like, so I did it in here. Zoro's confrontation with the man who was too late to pay the fee of entering enemy territory is a parody/mimic of a certain beginning chapter of a certain other Shonen Jump series that is part of the big 3. Better yet, if you can name the top 3 Shonen Jump mangas (there are 3 in particular I'm thinking of, who seem to almost always stay in the top seat of scantalations at least) I'll give you bonus points and an extra shout-out. So what manga is Zoro's confrontation mimicking?