Title: One to a Thousand
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece
Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sanji had spent a good portion of his evening seated at a table next to Nami, and he could not have been more pleased.
The tavern they were in had a somewhat rustic feel to it—everything made out of wood, the smell of years of liquor accumulating in its oaky pores, and patrons that looked like they had slowly started to grow into the shape of their seats, after sitting in them every night for probably decades.
But even with most of the members of the boisterous strawhat crew inside, the regular patrons and the bartender alike didn't seem to mind the interruption. Considering the vast quantities of alcohol they were all consuming, there was no way they could complain. He knew Nami would be devastated when it came time to pay, but for now, she was cheerful. (Not that she had much room to complain, as she had probably had more than anyone—although that certainly wouldn't stop her from complaining.)
Sanji and Nami sat at a table which seated four, located by one end of the bar's long countertop. Throughout the night, the crew mates who sat in the free pair of seats rotated, but Sanji had been able to sit next to Nami all night.
Nami-swan, this is the best evening of my life, he thought dreamily, unable to restrain his gushing feelings.
"I keep trying to get the attention of the bartender, but he's ignoring me," Nami huffed, tapping the side of her empty glass impatiently. She stared at the bar longingly, and Sanji could barely peel his eyes away from her adorable pouting lips.
"Unforgivable, how could he ignore Nami-swan?" Sanji tried to sound outraged, but he could not strip the doting sing-song tone from his voice as he watched her.
"Sanji, would you mind going over there and getting me another?" She asked, turning toward the cook and staring at him with large, fluttery brown eyes.
"Of course, Nami-swaaaan," he cooed, jumping up abruptly as he practically danced over to the bar.
Truly, spending the evening with Nami had been amazing, although their conversations had mostly spun in a similar direction. After all, how could he be anything but completely enthralled by whatever the beautiful navigator had to say? Doting on her made him feel so happy, his heart could just burst.
The bartender was, indeed, far too fixated on his patrons at the other end of the long bar; but as soon as Sanji saw why, he immediately understood. There were two gorgeous women with bombshell bodies, clad in skin-tight, revealing dresses, who were mercilessly flirting with him. Even he found himself quickly needing to turn away, or else his nose may have started to gush blood.
Still, Nami-swan is far more exquisite, he thought competitively.
Finally catching the bartender's attention long enough to get another drink—two, actually, as he, too, was running low—he hurried back to the table, gracefully balancing the overflowing glasses without spilling a drop despite his nearly-dancing pace back to where Nami was.
When he returned to the table, however, his face darkened; there was a shitty swordsman sitting in the previously empty seat across from Nami. For a lengthy moment, he stared at the green-haired man, his face tucked into a slight grimace as he clutched the glasses a little too tightly. Then he snapped out of it and set a glass on the table in front of the navigator.
"Here you are, Nami-swaaan," he gushed, theatrically setting down the glass.
"Thanks, Sanji!" she replied, immediately grabbing the glass to take a sip. As she brought the glass to her mouth, her intelligent eyes flickered toward Sanji. He felt like, for a moment, her gaze seemed very piercing, as though she were trying to read something—but then she took a big sip and slammed the glass back on the table, grinning broadly. He brushed it off as being his imagination.
He glanced at Zoro one more time, and abruptly turned around.
Sanji took a seat near Luffy, Franky and Brook, who were seated at the bar, causing a tremendous racket. He could not even tell just what they were laughing about so heartily, but he had not exchanged many words with them that evening, and the thought of sitting at the table with the swordsman seemed distasteful.
He stole a glance back in their direction a couple of times, noticing with irritation that Zoro was paying no attention to him, even after the cook had so blatantly shunned him. Instead, he was engaged in a conversation with Nami and Usopp, who had just sat at the table with them. Well, as engaged as he tended to get—mostly downing his drink while throwing in a few aggravating comments from time to time. Or at least, Sanji assumed they were aggravating; that's how he felt whenever the swordsman opened his mouth.
The remembrance of that burning mouth popped into his mind, and he bit down on his lip. That wasn't what he wanted to think about right now.
Nami glanced over her shoulder, and once again, he noticed that astute gaze fixed on him.
Oh, Nami-swaaaaaan, he thought with glee as she openly stared at him. Yes, Nami's attention was more than enough to keep his mind from drifting to the fickle swordsman... But as she turned away, he felt a twinge of apprehension in his stomach. Something about her look had made him feel inexplicably uneasy. He turned his attention back toward his drink.
"Oiii, Sanji, we need food," Luffy shouted, his face suddenly right next to Sanji's ear.
Sanji raised an eyebrow at him. "We ate before we came. Besides, the food here looks a little..." he trailed off, casting a sidelong glance at a few of the tables at the far corner of the room. Indeed, there were a few sketchy-looking plates of finger-foods scattered throughout, but it looked very unsavory.
"But it's no fun drinking when we're not eating," Luffy protested, crossing his arms.
Sanji took a drag off of his cigarette, contemplating what he should do. He was still slightly troubled by the look on Nami's face, but he definitely couldn't ignore Luffy or he might do something unfathomable—like order all of the food in the tavern's pantries.
There was no way he was going to convince his voracious captain to wait until they got back to the ship, however, so he needed to do something. "Alright, let me look at the menu and I'll order a few things." Finishing the rest of his drink, Sanji got up from his stool and wandered over to the bartender, who was finally beginning to pay attention to his other patrons again, now that the two bubbling ladies had fixed their attention elsewhere.
When he got his hands on the meager menu, however, he frowned deeply. Reluctantly, he ordered a few things that seemed the least unpalatable—enough to keep Luffy appeased until they returned to the Sunny, at least—and started to head back to the empty seat next to his captain.
For a third time, Sanji noticed a glance from Nami in his direction. This time, however, he did not feel even a hint of elation over it. Though she had only looked over for a split second, her penetrating gaze seemed to bore right through him. A moment later, Usopp, who was now the only other person seated at the table with her, peeked in his direction as well.
Sanji felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. The way the pair was leaning in closely to each other, clearly speaking in hushed voices, did not bode well at all. Suddenly, the cook felt like he needed some fresh air.
"I ordered a couple of things," Sanji said to Luffy as he approached him. "It'll be out soon."
"Hooray, meat!"
"Tch, there's not the kind of meat you want in a place like this," Sanji warned. Even if there was, it would probably be unsafe to order, he thought. "So don't expect much. I'll make you something better when we get back to the Sunny."
"Even better!" Luffy shouted enthusiastically.
With a nod, Sanji excused himself from the group—which now consisted of Nami, Usopp and Brook at the table, and Luffy and Franky at the bar—and headed for the door. It wasn't until he had stepped outside and lit a new cigarette that he realized he didn't see where Zoro had gone off to.
He almost expected the green-haired man to sneak up behind him, and to hear that rumbling voice in his ear. A shiver ran down his spine just imagining it.
Leaning against the front of the tavern, he quietly puffed on his cigarette and watched the town, most of which was already sleeping. Other than the tavern and a few homes in the distance, the entire place was dark and almost eerily quiet. No wonder there seemed to be so many regulars at the bar.
The two knockout women who had been monopolizing the bartender's time suddenly burst out of the bar—well, perhaps stumbled was a better word. Barely able to totter along in their high heels, they haphazardly made their way forward, stopping at a tree a short distance away.
"Aww, she isn't here yet," pouted the shorter woman, a busty blonde wearing a red dress that seemed to be painted to her skin. "We could've stayed longer."
The taller, auburn-haired woman clamped onto Busty-blonde's arm. "No way, she'd be so angry if I made her go in that place to find me again." She was a bit less voluptuous, but her short skirt revealed an amazing, long pair of legs that led up to an indescribably exquisite rear-end.
"I don't know why she insists on coming to get us every single time," Busty-blonde whined again.
Enshrouded in darkness, Sanji's eyes wandered up and down the two women's bodies lecherously. These were the kind of tantalizing women that made him swoon, that made his knees go weak and diminished him to a love-sick fool—they made him want to devote everything to being their love-slave, no matter how fleeting his attraction was. Even now, his heart was all aflutter with lovey-dovey sensations.
Every inch of them seemed to be perfectly contoured. As Busty-blonde bent over to fix a strap on her shoe, he got a better glimpse of her slightly rounder, but equally delectable ass. Auburn-legs absentmindedly twirled a strand of wavy hair in her hand, delicious lips adorably pursed.
They were both just too irresistible for him to deny how he felt; it was surely love.
Indeed, this was a pattern that had always repeated itself. The cook just couldn't help it. Beautiful women used to always be on his mind, so that every spare thought in his head was filled with flowing hair and lipstick and bouncing breasts and lacey under-things.
Used to, he thought with chagrin. Sanji's expression darkened, and he took a slightly more agitated drag from his cigarette. Sure, he still had those kinds of thoughts—probably more than what was healthy. But now, another person had been occupying his mind, who had not a single trait that fit those lovely feminine qualities the cook adored so much...
Suddenly a short brunette with hair tied back in a smart ponytail rushed toward the two women—just as Auburn-legs stumbled on her heels, barely keeping her balance by clutching the tree, her inebriation clearly apparent.
Ponytail-girl was not nearly as attractive as the other two, Sanji observed. She was less shapely, and wore dowdy clothes so he could barely see what she actually had. Her face was a bit more plain, and she didn't seem to stand out very much. Not compared to the shining beauties she was approaching, anyway.
"Nee-chan," Auburn-legs cried out in surprise as she gripped the tree trunk, struggling to regain her footing.
Ponytail-girl scowled. "I knew it! I told you not to overdo it, but you never listen to me..." As her expression grew angry, however, her plain face suddenly seemed to be far more fetching. Her lips formed a sort of natural pout, and her narrow brows knitting splendidly. She also adorably put one hand on her hip and shook her hand at her sister as she scolded her.
This kind of girl is pretty cute, too, Sanji thought, suddenly seeing her in a whole new light as he studied her, his expression gradually turning more and more lascivious. He grinned stupidly, feeling a blush creep over his face. He imagined himself pulling her close, cuddling and ogling her, and her yelling at him to stop, calling him a pervert with that delicate, childish voice that somehow managed to sound so angry.
Sanji's heart fluttered at the thought of it—he felt like he had been struck by cupid's arrow for the third time in just a couple minute span, and it made him feel giddy with pleasure.
And suddenly, the words of a shitty marimo skipped through his head, sending his lovely fantasy crashing back down to earth.
"I don't care if you're in love with a thousand women, just as long as you're only in love with one man."
A realization dawned on him that he wasn't ready for. His lungs momentarily seemed to stop working, and he clutched at his mouth, trying to hold back the choking cough that threatened to leave his throat. The three women left, but Sanji barely noticed as he struggled to breathe again.
Sure, those bizarre words had flickered across his mind a few times, but he hadn't spared any time to really mull them over. It had been such a ridiculous thing to say, he had just chalked it up to Zoro trying to string some weird rigmarole together in a failed attempt to be slightly sentimental.
So the comment, no matter how many times it came to mind, had been quickly brushed off after a silent chuckle. It had been so corny and so nonsensical. There was no need to analyze it; it was just the best pseudo-caring words the swordsman could come up with. The marimo had said he didn't really know what he was supposed to do, after all.
But as Sanji stared at the tree where the three lovely women had been standing just moments before, the context hit him square in the chest, heavy as an anchor. He was breathing, but he was starting to feel like his heart might actually stop.
Abruptly, he headed back inside of the tavern. He wasn't ready to fully explore the notion that Zoro may have actually said something with meaning behind it—something so unspeakably devastating.
He quickly sat down with some of his crew mates again, who now had a few plates of unsatisfying-looking foods on their table that he didn't care to partake in. He had another drink and managed to thoroughly distract himself from his earlier revelation. Upon finishing his drink, he left his crew for a moment to find the restroom, which was located down a long hallway the stretched the length of the building.
His mind was now far enough removed from Zoro for him to instead be able to muse over the conversation he had just been having with Brook and Usopp. Not particularly paying attention to where he was going, as soon as he saw a sign with an outline of a male's figure, he reached out for the handle and started to push the door open.
"Are you so desperate you need to try to peek at girls in the toilet now, ero-cook?" Zoro's voice appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Sanji started in surprise.
The swordsman grinned at him, hands calmly resting on his hips, as though he was patiently awaiting the cook's retort.
Sanji stared at him, his jaw slightly agape, cigarette precariously teetering on the edge of his lip.
Finally, Sanji's mind started churning again, albeit with great effort. He turned his head to the bathroom sign again—still a man's sillhouette—and then back to Zoro, a vein in the cook's forehead noticeably twitching.
"Are you going blind, shitty marimo? This is the men's toilet," he finally replied.
Zoro's irritating grin broadened. He stuck out a thumb in the direction of another restroom door. "Take a closer look. There's a big 'X' drawn across the pictures."
"Yeah, I see that," Sanji replied, looking at the door again. He had assumed it was just somebody's drunken graffiti. "Why the hell would an X on there make a difference?"
"It's on both of them. It's because they're swapped."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Sanji muttered, as he furrowed his brow at him. "Are you telling me I'm supposed to use the toilet with the picture of the woman on it?" he asked incredulously.
Zoro nodded affirmatively.
"Tch, you must think I'm as dumb as you, shitty swordsman," he muttered, pushing the door open.
Before he had a chance to step inside, however, the door to the other toilet swung open, and a large, burly man with a shaggy beard and a protruding gut walked out, hiking up his pants as he waddled by.
Dumbfounded, Sanji pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and stared, jaw agape. He also quickly let go of the door to what apparently really was the women's restroom.
The bearded man noticed the stare and nodded at him, chuckling as he walked by. "Wrong one, pal. I almost did it once, too."
"Ah, I was about to go in," Sanji nodded in awe. Once the large man had toddled out of sight, he turned back toward Zoro.
"See? I tried to warn you," Zoro smirked, his expression obnoxiously victorious for someone who had not won a damn thing.
"Where the hell have you been, anyway?" Sanji abruptly changed the topic, suddenly realizing the other man had disappeared ages ago.
"What, were you looking for me, ero-cook?" Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow. Then he scratched his head, nonchalantly breaking eye contract as he replied. "I was on my way back..."
The cook's brow twitched; those familiar lines were a little too easy to read between. "Are you telling me you got lost in this hallway?" But he already knew the answer. Without waiting for a response, he jammed his cigarette back into his mouth and pointed an irritated finger down the hall. "It's right there. There's no other turn you could possibly make, marimo."
Then Sanji abruptly walked past him, toward the door with the stupid picture of a woman with a shitty 'X' crossing it out, as if anyone in the damn world was going to know what the hell that meant.
He had just started to relieve himself when he heard the door open behind him. He didn't bother looking—it was bad men's room etiquette, after all—but he could tell who it was. An irritating energy seemed to resonate around him, filling the room.
"Won't even stop smoking while you take a piss, huh?" Zoro commented, his intonation lacking any judgment, but still crawling deep under Sanji's skin.
The cook's brow twitched, and he clamped his jaw down on said cigarette. "Where am I supposed to set it down? It's a damn bathroom."
He zipped up his fly with aggravation, pointedly avoiding Zoro as he headed to the sink to wash his hands.
He couldn't help but notice Zoro was just standing there, however. "Oi, why the hell did you follow me in here?" he asked indignantly. "It's creepy, you just standing there watching me while I take a—"
Sanji abruptly stopped speaking as an unexpected heat suddenly loomed far too close to him, warm breath drifting toward his neck as a firm body pressed against his back.
"I thought I'd see if I could get you to put it down," the swordsman rumbled near his ear.
Although Sanji was a bit mystified as to what Zoro meant—and admittedly, the first thing that came to mind for him to put down seemed perplexing indeed—he was quickly more distracted by the swordman's actions than his words. Strong arms reached around his shoulders, wrapping around the cook securely in a strange sort of backward embrace. Sanji's heart pumped a bit harder; he was pretty sure he hadn't been held quite like this before.
Lips just barely touched his ear, making him flinch away instinctively, even though the sensation was far from unpleasant. The teasing lips slowly made their way down the side of his neck toward his throat, still just grazing his skin enough for him to feel a heated tingle. Then, while he was distracted, he felt the cigarette being plucked out of his mouth.
"Oi, what the hell?" he said, his tone needlessly angry, in an attempt to mask his confusion. It dawned on him that the cigarette must have been what the swordsman was actually referring to him putting down, but he didn't care to think of it much longer. After flicking the burning cigarette into the dirty sink, Zoro roughly grabbed the cook's jaw and yanked his head to the side, forcing him into a wolfish kiss.
Oh, shit, was all Sanji could think as the swordsman desperately crushed their lips together, his eager mouth hungrily tearing into him. Pinned against Zoro's body, his back pressed against him, with the sink in front of him, there was no way he could escape; but fortunately for him, the thought of escaping didn't really cross his mind.
A hand creeped down his body until it rested on his thigh, sensually massaging an area just close to enough to that place to make him moan and shudder in pleasure. With his body so close to the swordsman's, he could tell they were both in a similar state, even though they had only just begun. He could feel it raging even through all of their layers of clothes, as Zoro pulled his body closer and closer.
Their lips broke apart and Zoro began to nip at his neck, his tongue tracing along Sanji's skin. The blonde man raised a fist to his mouth, biting down on it to try to hold back a cry that was going to be far louder than he wanted it to be. He felt perspiration begin to bead down his forehead, threatening to drip into his eye, and he raised his hand to wipe it off.
And then, looking upward, Sanji became aware he was in front of a mirror. It was a dirty, old mirror that time had turned permanently foggy, but it was enough for him to notice all the embarrassing things he didn't want to see... and things he sure as hell didn't want Zoro to see, either.
Like how his cheeks were flushed scarlet. Or how his face would contort when one of those pleasurable whimpers rolled out of his mouth—no matter how hard he tried, when the swordsman's hand or tongue hit one of those sensitive spots, he couldn't hold it back. Even how he squirmed as Zoro ran his hand up his shirt, which had somehow become unbuttoned and untucked even though he hadn't really noticed until he was staring at his own reflection.
But despite the shame of watching his own discomposure, he realized his position had certain advantages, as well; this way, he could see the reactions the other man assumed were hidden.
He could see the slight wrinkle in Zoro's brow as he grinded his body against Sanji's. He noticed the eager sweat accumulating on his forehead, the tinge of pink on his nose and cheeks. And best of all, he could see the unbridled pleasure on his face when he gasped in pleasure.
He let himself get lost in it for a moment, focusing only on the ferocious lips and the fervent hands exploring his body. But once again, he was abruptly reminded they were in a very public place when he heard roaring pipes echo across the room, presumably because somewhere in a nearby room, someone was using water.
"Oi, marimo, we can't keep doing this here," Sanji barely managed to utter, as Zoro bit down on his neck, harder than before, sending an electrifying tingle through his body.
The swordsman ignored his comment, sliding Sanji's unbuttoned shirt open until one shoulder was exposed, tracing his tongue along the lines of his muscles.
Sanji clamped a hand over his mouth, struggling to hold back a gasp. "Oi, I mean it," he repeated, displeased at himself for the way his voice was a little bit higher in pitch than he wanted it to be. What the hell was he supposed to do, though? The hand still rubbing his thigh was slowly creeping closer to that dangerous zone; he was afraid that at any moment, he would feel the swordsman's hand slide over that aching part of him. And a small part of him was even more afraid that maybe he wouldn't.
Zoro ignored his concern, his mouth continuing its conquest over Sanji's trembling body.
The cook glanced around the room desperately. One sink. Two urinals. Two stalls. There weren't a whole lot of options.
"In there," Sanji uttered quickly, twisting his body in an attempt to break free. "Come on," he breathed, grabbing Zoro's wrist and tugging him in the direction of the nearest stall.
Surprise flicked in Zoro's eye, but he obliged without hesitation, allowing himself to be dragged inside. As Sanji turned the lock, he felt the slightest shred of relief that at least it wasn't one of those flimsy stalls with gaping cracks around the edges of the door; this one had an actual door and walls, made of wood like almost all of the furnishings in the tavern.
And that was the last thought Sanji managed to spare for the bathroom stall. Zoro reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking the cook toward him domineeringly as he locked him in another one of those lust-fueled kisses that made Sanji feel like he couldn't breathe. Sanji found himself pinned against the wall, the swordsman's hard body seeming to surround him.
His heart pounded out of control. Even in the stall, this still felt terrifyingly public. The terror and the thrill messed with his head, jumbling his emotions and his lust until he couldn't even think clearly. But gradually, his desire started to take over and his body responded even as his mind reeled. Zoro's insatiable hands didn't really leave him much choice. And his mouth...
He could not remember the last time he felt like he wanted something so badly, let alone someone. Greedily, he wrapped his arms behind Zoro, so that the swordsman was completely unable to pull away from Sanji's zealous kiss.
The temperature of the room seemed to be rapidly rising, until it felt positively burning. The cook unthinkingly pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, until the light fabric dropped to the ground. He would probably be disgusted when he picked it up from the floor of the filthy bathroom later, but it was the last thing on his mind at that moment. Sanji slipped a hand inside of Zoro's clothes, hand rubbing the bare skin of his chest, which seemed to radiate with heat; a warmth that made him feel an inexplicable rush of arousal.
Just then, he realized Zoro's hand was dangerously close to that very sensitive place again—and a moment later, he felt a slight release of pressure as the swordsman managed to pluck open the button of his pants.
"Oi, what are you doing?!" he whispered in shock, pulling away from their breathless kiss.
"What?" Zoro asked, clearly not as concerned about keeping his voice down. He grinned widely as he nonchalantly reached up with his free hand to wipe a drop of sweat from Sanji's brow.
His heart skipped, and for a moment, his body was torn in several different directions. There was something about the affectionate gesture that made him feel moved. Another part of him berated himself for feeling like a giddy schoolgirl over something so seemingly insignificant.
The swordsman wasn't really giving him the opportunity to mull over all of these difficult thoughts and inner conflicts he was having, though. Rather, his prevailing concern quickly became the bare hand touching him there, applying pressure and forcing him to clamp a hand over his mouth to hold back his moan.
"D-dammit, not here, you shitty marimo," he barely managed to pant. He clutched Zoro's shoulders tightly to emphasize his seriousness—or maybe just because he could barely take how blindingly good it felt, and had to grasp onto something.
"Then tell me to stop," Zoro grinned again, not drawing away.
Sanji opened his mouth, but he couldn't actually bring himself to say the word. The motion was slow, deliberate, a little bit teasing, and completely overwhelming.
And then the hand suddenly ceased moving, and for a moment, Zoro broke eye contact as his gaze drifted toward the door. "Someone's coming," he said lowly.
At first, he didn't hear it—to be fair, he was more than a little preoccupied—but suddenly a loud, female voice seemed to drift toward him, although he could only make out the angry tone and not the words themselves. As the door to the men's room suddenly burst open, however, they became crystal clear.
"... And like that's not bad enough, of course that asshole had to be drinking the darkest, most disgusting beer!" Nami shouted furiously, her shoes clacking loudly on the tile as she stormed into the bathroom. "And it was full, too—I'm completely drenched!"
"Oi! Wait, Nami!" Usopp called out from the doorway, a tinge of nervous panic in his voice. "This is the men's room—the signs are swapped. You're supposed to use the one with the picture of—"
"I don't care what bathroom it is, I just need a sink," she barked with irritation. The sound of rushing water soon followed.
"Ugh, this place is disgusting. There's even a cigarette butt in this sink."
"Yeah, well it is the men's toilet..." Usopp replied warily, stepping next to Nami.
"And why does it smell so bad in here? I can smell it over the stench of this awful beer!"
"They tend to sort of be like this."
As this conversation unfolded, the two men in the bathroom stall simply stared at each other, unmoving, frozen with Sanji's arms lustfully wrapped around the swordsman and Zoro's tense hand still inside of the cook's trousers.
"Look at this, Usopp, it's even in my hair," Nami complained.
"Oi, Nami," the sniper said quickly. "There's somebody else in here. We should go."
Sanji's heart felt like it came to a skidding halt.
"Fine, that's about all I can do here, anyway," Nami cut him off, abruptly shutting off the water. She sighed exasperatedly. "I can't remember the last time I've been so pissed at somebody. I have half a mind to go out there and crack him over the head a few more times times."
"I think you hit him enough already..."
"I haven't! First he tries to hit on me by bringing me a revolting beer, and then he spills it all over me. And what was with that cocky attitude, like I should've been falling at his feet or something—"
Under normal circumstances, Sanji would have been raging with jealousy over something like this. He probably would have gone after the oaf himself, spilled beer or not, for daring to flirt with his sweet Nami-swan.
But just then, the shitty marimo did a shitty thing that made Sanji instead want to fix all of his murderous rage on Zoro, instead of Nami's admirer.
Zoro chose that moment to remove his hand from the sensitive area it had been resting on within Sanji's pants. Even just the release of the pressure was almost unbearable. With every ounce of willpower he had, he struggled to hold back his voice, but the tiniest, breathiest whimper escaped.
He tried his best to shoot a deadly gaze at Zoro, but even he was certain that he looked more horrified than anything else. The swordsman's face seemed calm and expressionless, but Sanji could feel the muscles in his body tensing as they waited to see if their nakama had heard.
Sanji was fairly certain his heart had completely stopped. Nami had quit speaking mid-sentence, and now, neither she nor Usopp were making a sound. It was a terrible, excruciating pause, and it seemed to drag out forever. Sanji knew the silence could only mean one thing: Nami had heard. He recalled how she and Usopp had been leaning in toward each other earlier while they were in the main room of the tavern, and the image of those astute eyes periodically flitting toward him.
A string of profanities flashed through Sanji's mind. Unconsciously, he gripped Zoro's shoulder more tightly.
The sound of footstep broke the awkward silence, gradually heading away from the direction of Sanji and Zoro's bathroom stall toward the doorway.
"Everyone is about ready to leave, so we're going to go back to the Sunny," Nami announced.
"Yeah, I already know that, Nami..." Usopp said, a bit puzzled.
"I wasn't talking to you," she replied simply.
Sanji buried his face in his hand, cursing inwardly.
But then, a voice he hadn't been expecting suddenly replied to her.
"Ah, I heard you, I'll be out in a couple of minutes," Franky called from the stall next to them.
The stall they had thought was unoccupied.
Mortified and confused, the pair looked at each other as the realization that the cyborg had been in the bathroom with them the entire time slowly sunk in.
Agonizing seconds later, a toilet flushed and the stall door next to them opened, followed by the sound of a squeaky faucet and running water.
Franky... The entire time...
Sanji wasn't even sure what to call the emotion he was feeling. He felt so far beyond panic and embarrassment, it just felt like his insides had turned to stone and now he was numb to whatever the hell else could happen to them.
"Ow, that was super entertaining, guys," Franky called out enthusiastically as he made his way toward the exit. "If you'd rather stay here for awhile and meet us back at the Sunny later, I can let everybody know."
Covering his face with his hands, Sanji sighed. "We'll be there in a minute," he said through clenched teeth. Zoro raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged helplessly. Fuck it. There was nothing else to be done.
His body feeling inordinately heavy, the cook started to pull away as the door to the bathroom closed. But Zoro yanked him back toward him, pressing their mouths together, hungrily pulling Sanji into a stunning kiss that somehow made his mind go even more blank than it already was.
"You said we had a minute," Zoro murmured, not quite pulling their lips apart as he spoke, barely taking a breath before he renewed the greedy kiss.
"Hah?" Sanji yanked away for a second and he squinted at Zoro in confusion, but a rough hand at the base of his neck forced their lips back together immediately.
"You said we'd be there in a minute. So we have a minute."
The cook's eyes widened in surprise, but immediately, his expression softened. "Mm, I guess I did," he murmured into the other man's eager lips. "But only one, shitty marimo."
Oddly enough, when the pair finally reunited with the remainder of the crew at the front of the tavern, the awkwardness that Sanji thought would surely come never actually happened. Nami even tolerated him ruthlessly flirting with her for the entire walk back to the Sunny.