Overnight, Sanji and Zoro had been stuck to the floor in order to be mildly comfortable, so when dawn finally came Sanji was up and dragging the swordsman to the galley with him.

Of course, said marimo was none too pleased to wake up and discover he was being dragged by a certain chef.

And, hence, their bickering began.

Sanji was busy stirring the dough while Zoro sat on top of the counter bored out of his mind. In normal circumstances there was no way the cook would allow someone to sit on his counters, but as they were handcuffed and the short chain didn't allow for much distance, the two didn't really have a choice in the matter.

They both wondered when Nami would get tired of their misery and arguing. They hoped sooner rather than later since this was a bother to them.

Breakfast was an elaborate meal of sweet cream pancakes topped with fresh strawberries and strawberry syrup, eggs, and hash browns.

Before lunch, Zoro had demanded that Sanji let him work out and let the others handle the chores, since this was their fault anyways.

They'd spent a good twenty minutes arguing on how the marimo would go about exercising with the handcuffs inhibiting him the way they were.

Robin had walked by at one point and calmly suggested Zoro do sit-ups with Sanji sitting on his back.

The cook had protested vigorously.

Unfortunately, when he'd tried walking away and Zoro had gone in the opposite direction, the chain had yanked them into each other at full force and Sanji ended up sitting on the marimo's back.

"See, cook? That wasn't so hard, now was it? Turn around would you? It'll make this easier than if you're backwards," Zoro had pointed out.

The cook wanted to strangle him, but he reluctantly complied. "Fine, shitty marimo. You better make it quick, though; lunch is in four hours."

"That's plenty of time, stupid cook," the marimo had ignorantly commented.

"SHUT UP, IDIOT! There's prep time AND the actual cooking time, you know?!"

Zoro turned his head to look at the cook's angry face. He waggled his eyebrows and then raised one. "Prep time…?" He smirked.

Sanji's mouth dropped and he sputtered nonsense before lighting up a cigarette. He chewed on it in embarrassment and annoyance while he looked off into the horizon muttering about shitty perverted marimos.

Zoro just smirked away and switched to his left arm. He pushed up and down on the single limb easily, even though there was a cook on top of him.

He'd never admit that he liked Sanji sitting there. Or how he liked the current pout that adorned the cook's features.

Nope, he'd definitely never say that he wanted the cook to sit on him again someday.

—-

A/N: please excuse any ridiculous or confusing mistakes as they are the result of typing on my phone, and as such i take no responsibility for the choices it makes while auto-correcting.