Me: You guys don't know how happy I am that you're enjoying the story. Your reviews keep me from breaking down and saying "I can't think, fuck the fic". I don't wanna disappoint you guys, and mypfantom, yes everyone will remember except for Franky and Brook.

My Very Own

It was his voice; Zoro would know his own voice anywhere. The shameless sound came from above, most likely in the lookout. The Merry's crow's nest wasn't an entire room like the Sunny's, but it could still hold its fair share of people. A new memory had come and gone, and the swordsman recalled being very hot. Extremely scorching skin, brusingly hard kisses and nips of flesh; the feel of comfortably sitting in someone's lap. Perhaps it was only a fantasy. Zoro was sure he never masturbated up there; other people did have watch duty every night. Maybe he assumed too early, but if that was the case, why else would he make that type of noise? The moan was so emotional, so in depth. Would it be awkward to climb up there and basically walk in on himself? It is himself, after all; nothing to be embarrassed about. Making up his mind, the swordsman began climbing up the rigging, his one dark eye focused on the wavering Straw Hat Jolly Roger straight ahead. The closer he was, the louder the humiliating sounds got. As he reached the top, a long, strained grunt was heard. Definitely not in his baritone. "Zoro, stop," the other voice was firm and serious, and Zoro could hardly believe Sanji was up there with his younger-self. Jealousy rose in his chest, along with the burning sensation of anger. What the hell were they doing up there, and why the hell was he jealous of himself?

"I said, stop," Sanji growled. Zoro heard some rustling of fabric, and his younger-self huffed irritably. The cook's light sparked many times before a thick cloud of smoke floated above the older swordsman's head, and Zoro wished he could see what was going on.

"Why?" the teen hissed.

"Because we can't," Sanji explained.

"Why?"

"Because it wouldn't work."

"Why?"

"Because we're from different times, moron."

"Why?"

"Because your dumbass doesn't know how to eat properly."

"...Why?"

Sanji abruptly stood, startling the eavesdropper. "Because you were dropped on your head as a goddamn baby," the cook spat. In a panic, Zoro quickly slid down the rope despite the terrible burning welts forming on his palms. He figured Sanji would have saw him peering in already, and if the cook did, he didn't know what to do. He felt like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar; fear-striken of what would occur next. So, once Zoro's feet touched the deck, he ran like his life depended on it.

Sanji sadly watched from above as the first mate darted inside the ship. The frustrated teen sat across from him, arms folded and a scowl on his features. Smoke flew out of his nose as the cook sighed, staring intensely at the other. Damn stubborn, spoiled brat; was Zoro always this ignorant? "Zoro, do you really like me that much?" the blonde questioned.

Young Zoro shook his head vigorously, "No, stupid. I don't like you. It's...the other one."

A smile crept onto Sanji's lips at the shy words. It wouldn't hurt if Young Zoro knew the truth, would it? Sanji's younger self wouldn't mind if the older told. Not told, but in fact, confessed. As the young swordsman stared out to sea, seeming broken and depressed from what he probably thought was rejection, Sanji brushed his blonde fringe out of his face and behind his ear. He was well aware that Zoro hadn't seen his entire face at this age, so the quizzical and shocked expression wasn't very surprising. Actually, Sanji was growing annoyed that the other kept staring. "Zoro, if you really-Oi, shithead, pay attention. If you really love me," the teen cringed at the intimate word, "then go to me."

"Huh?"

"Go. Now. Go on and tell me that. There's no use in telling me now; you need to tell the me in the kitchen."

"But...I love you."

Sanji groaned, "Dumbass, that is me. I'm just older. You'll still end up with me, Marimo."

"But I don't want to wait that long."

"Bastard, I'm twenty-one. How old did you think I was?"

"Oh. Shit. Sorry, at least twenty-six," the teen admitted. Sanji grimaced; did he really look that old? Young Zoro found his boots very interesting at the moment as he choked out his most feared question. "Are you...going to turn me down if I ask?" he asked quietly.

"At this point in time? Hell no, I was stark craving mad for you." Sanji supposedly forgot that everything he said to the younger automatically transferred to his Zoro, so the words left his mouth without a second thought. Pale fingers gently caressed the younger's cheek, making him jump from the unexpected closeness of the other. A small smile grazed Sanji's lips as he rubbed the soft skin. Sweet memories flashed across his eyes; memories on the Merry. Little things that he used to do for and to Zoro, and never got suspected or caught doing it warmed his heart immensely. "I know this might sound sappy, but every night when we go to sleep, I kiss your forehead and scratch your scalp. I always make sure your favorite sake never ran out in the liquor cabinet. I secretly love patching you up after a fight and wish that Chopper would just butt out once and a while. I could go on for hours, Zoro, and I'll still be doing all those things when I'm gone. I love you in this time, and I still will two years later. So," Sanji took a long drag, "I suggest you tell me before all those things stop."

The teen didn't respond as he began climbing down the rigging. Sanji sighed and figured that he should do the same. After all, the sharpshooter had watch duty tonight.

XVX

The young cook sat in the dark of the galley, the sun finally no longer in the sky. Dinner wouldn't be for another hour, though the main course was finished. Zoro peered in from the porthole, feeling guilt gnaw at his insides; the cook looked miserable. He felt like such an ass for leaving in the first place, especially after a memory of the older blonde's heartfelt confession manifested. The Sanji he was looking at, he did many kind things for him, and possibly even more. Zoro couldn't figure out if the older cook forgot who he was talking to or not, but nonetheless, it was still him, which made it all the more special. Perhaps he should tell the younger cook as well, but the swordsman certainly knew he'd technically be talking directly to the older, and wouldn't forget any time soon. Zoro actually felt scared of pouring out everything he ever did for Sanji on the Merry, but he knew his younger self wouldn't man up and do it.

Opening the galley door, the blonde instantly looked up and gave a wide toothy grin. Oh, God this wasn't going to be easy. Zoro never wanted to see that adorably handsome face fall, and now he might be the cause of it doing so. "Sanji," he stated, no nickname or insult, "I need to tell you something important."

"Are you staying?" the teen beamed excitedly.

"...Uh, if you want to get technical, then yes? Look, that's not what I came in here for." Zoro pulled out a chair and sat beside him, readying his unkempt nerves. "How the hell do I start?" Zoro groaned, lazily rubbing his eyes. "I...you know how you always find a little note clipped to the storage door whenever we stop at an island?"

Young Sanji nodded slowly.

"Well...it's me. I'm the one that's been taking inventory for you all this time."

"Wha-wait, huh? It's been you?!"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, I know how tired you get after cooking all day, so I do it when you make preparations. Why are you so surprised?"

"It-it's just that...the note; the handwriting. It's so elegant and fancy that I've been thinking it was Nami-san or Robin-chan. Not one of you ungraceful oafs!"

"Gee, you're welcome."

"No, no, thank you really, Z-Zoro. It was just a shock, that's all. I appreciate it."

"Don't tell me that. Tell me that."

Young Sanji raised a curled eyebrow in confusion, but understood sooner than most people would have. "While I'm saying all this sentimental crap, I...polish your shoes for you once in a while," the swordsman's cheeks grew hotter with every confession, "I touch your hair whenever I get the opportunity to 'cause it's just so calming and soft. And I can't believe I'm actually telling you this, but w-when we fight back to back, I can't help but to get...a-a hard-on. M-My point is that, Sanji, I love you, maybe more than any normal man's soul can handle. I always have, and it's definite I always will. But right now, I'm too much of a chicken to say it face to face. So, would you be willing to, I dunno...?"

The young cook's mouth was on the verge of splitting in two from happiness. His eyes were so watery Zoro wondered in awe how no tears had fallen yet. "Do you know where you are right now?" the teen asked eagerly, practically bouncing in joy. Zoro smiled; he and Sanji would be together in no time with the blonde's impatience. Unfortunately, he doubted that his younger twin and the cook would still be in the crow's nest, so he shook his head solemnly. That didn't stop Young Sanji, though. He nodded at him and darted out of the room with determination, grunting when he collided with something tall and firm. "He's in the storage room," the older blonde informed matter-of-factly, walking into the galley. Zoro willed his blush to fade before the cook saw, knowing it would still be visible. He wished he could just disappear into thin air. Did he really just tell his darkest secrets? Hell, Zoro considered his confession to be more embarrassing than Sanji's. The love-cook basically defined the reason why Zoro calls him that.

The chair Young Sanji sat in was quickly taken by the older, and Zoro felt fingers lightly claw at his curly green locks. All former nervousness aside, he chuckled as the fingers continued, but the cook stayed silent. Absently leaning into the touch, the first mate sighed pitifully, "Guess asking if you hate me or not is pretty useless now, isn't it?"

"Ask and I'll hog-tie you, Marimo," Sanji lovingly growled, never ceasing his movements.

The delicate fingers were so soothing, it was an honor for Sanji to even touch him with his cooking tools. "Mm, no wonder I always got a good night's sleep," he mumbled.

Sanji snickered, "No wonder you always insist on walking behind me after a fight."

"O-Oi! Don't talk about that now, asshole!"

"Oh? Then maybe I should mention the weird knots I'd get in my hair in the morning."

"...Damn you for using this to your advantage."

"Advantage? Next time you shouldn't leave physical evidence, Mosshead."

The wandering fingers became an entire hand, and gently guided Zoro's head to his chest. The swordsman plopped onto the cook more limply than Sanji expected, which made him laugh at the marimo's willingness. "When do you think it'll happen?" the cook asked, barely above a whisper as he rested his chin on Zoro's head.

"The memories or...us?"

"Both," Sanji clarified.

Zoro considered this, and then a sudden warmth engulfed his chest from just being next to the blonde. "I'd say now."

XVX

Young Sanji excitedly headed to the storage room, stopping once he heard a faint voice coming from behind the door. It sounded extremely frustrated, and Sanji could hear a pencil scribbling against paper. He smirked, taking off his apron and hanging it from the lantern-holder in the hall. Opening the door, Sanji cautiously poked his head through, immediately spotting Zoro's back by the crate of apples. The swordsman's legs were tightly crossed as the notepad lay in his lap. The barrel that supported him was one of the smallest, similar to a child's step-stool. "Fuck, wait, okay. So, that's two crates of apples, and two crates of pineapples. One box of pears, kiwis, and bananas. Three boxes of-What the hell are ram-bu-tans? Ew, looks like a goddamn sea urchin. Damn ero-cook, buy regular food."

"Don't wanna."

Zoro jumped about three feet in the air from the unexpected voice, knocking over the barrel in the process. The notepad and pencil were quickly hidden behind his back as he turned to face the smugly grinning blonde. "I-I..." the swordsman stuttered helplessly, "It'snotwhatyouthinkIfellalseepinhere." Sanji chuckled; Zoro couldn't get his words out fast enough. The excuse sounded so rehearsed that the cook would have been insane not to laugh. Huffing in defeat, Zoro set down the notepad and writing utensil on a nearby shelf and silently awaited criticism. Instead, an arm wrapped around his shoulders confidently, pulling him into a tight hug.

"You told me how you're taking inventory every day for me," the blonde said, his words muffled by the swordsman's shirt.

Blushing furiously, Zoro hurriedly countered, "Well, you told me about the late-night skull massages."

Sanji laughed despite the bubbling humiliation forming in his stomach. Finally holding Zoro, his Zoro, it sent pleasant shivers up his spine. How long had Zoro felt this way about him? How many months had they wasted? The swordsman eased into his touch ever so quickly, feeling as if one of his 892 pound weights were lifted off of his shoulders. Sanji grabbed the other's face and pressed his lips onto Zoro's, who immediately wrapped his arms around the blonde's neck. The lip-crushingly passionate kiss lasted for what seemed like an eternity, neither wanting to pull away ever again. unfortunately, Sanji felt his lungs beg for him to do so. Zoro gazed into those shining blue orbs he's come to love so much, and the older blonde was right. It was still him.

"Sanji, I-I...I love y-you," the young swordsman murmured hesitantly as if the cook would turn him down. The young blonde eagerly gave the marimo's cheek a quick peck before smiling and embracing him tighter as if he'd vanish. "I love you, too, Mosshead."