On the way back home, one thing became clear to Sanji. That the marimo was absolutely dreadful with directions.

Each time the blond barked out an instruction, Zoro would perform the exact opposite, saying comments like, "you weren't speaking clearly," or "my guts told me the opposite." What the fuck. Like hell it was Sanji's fault that this bastard had no common sense. It had been amusing to a certain extent, but at some point Sanji snapped. "That's it, marimo. I'm driving."

There was a pause. "No. My car. My rules," Zoro pressed.

He could not deal with people like Zoro when he lacked so much nicotine in his system. Evenly, he released the tension that had coiled up in his stomach, exhaling noisily. Calmly, he said, "An hour has already passed and we are nowhere near my house." It was dark as fuck. Not only there were less people outside, but less cars too. That's a nightmare for a city that never sleeps.

For few minutes the car continued to drive forward. Sanji knew that the moss had heard him, but he assumed that Zoro was ignoring him. However, few seconds afterwards, to the blond man's surprise, the car pulled over to the side.

The green haired man heaved a profound sigh, and begrudgingly he said, "Fine. But you have to get out and go around."

It was fine, as long as he was going home tonight.

Sanji stepped outside into this creepy ass neighborhood, where there was not a single soul anywhere to be found. He stayed close to the car, since the car light was the only source of light provided around here. As he went around the front, he noticed that the car was awfully small for someone macho as Zoro. Kind of girly. How unexpected. Since the two did not know anything about each other, for all he knows Zoro could be a giant teddy bear, with a pure girl's heart.

Ack. He just made himself sick thinking about it.

When he got into the driver's seat, he had to pull the seat a bit far from the pedals since his legs were longer than Zoro's. Then he pulled on his seat belt before pulling the car back on the road. To his side, the disdained man was facing the window. So in order to pick up the conversation, Sanji curiously asked, "Why do you own a convertible?" It wasn't an offensive question. In fact, the automobile was rumbling deliciously to his delight and the seats were comfortable to be in.

"Why do you care?" He responded with a question, which Sanji loathed. Only assholes answered questions with a question.

"Because..." he stretched out the word, before deciding to poke fun at the matter. "Because, you look like someone who would drive a truck instead." A snort subsequent to that confession.

The other man wasn't offended. He was probably just tired because he let out a noisy yawn. "What makes you say that?"

Damn. Sanji was kind of disappointed that an argument did not stir. For what reason he wanted it to stir? He did not know. So he continued with the matter, "Oh, I don't know. All truck drivers have similar attributes. Big, rough with words, and hairy I guess. Except you don't have hair. You have green hair, what's up with that anyways?" It was late at night. The words were starting to not make any sense.

The other man grumbled, "You just offended every other truck driver out there and me, you asshole. And green is my natural color, so nothing is up with that."

"What? Are you serious?" What the hell is with that? Perhaps his ancestry really does trace all the way back to marimos. "How did that happen?"

The other man sounded rehearsed, as though he hears this question every single day. "Some genetic thing that was passed down from my great grandfather. I know you're laughing to yourself but someone with weird eyebrows shouldn't be making fun of anyone."

The blond's smiling face faded as his annoyance flared up again. "Bastard, my eyebrows are not weird!" That was a touchy subject for him. Kids in the past made fun of him for that.

"They are curly." He said, as though those words explained it all. "Do you get it like that on purpose?" The tables have turned. It was Zoro's turn to pry into Sanji's life.

"Fuck you. It's genetics. Women love it," he bragged. That wasn't necessarily true, but it didn't hurt to tell little white lies from time to time.

Zoro snorted, "Curly cook-san." He said, as a vengeance for the blond's earlier teases. He possibly had the biggest fucking smirk on his face as he said it too.

A low growl climbed up Sanji's throat. "Asshat, don't call me that." But weirdly, simultaneously, he had the urge to crack up. It was funny. They talked about the Japanese formalities earlier and Zoro decided to bring it back for this conversation.

"The day you stop calling me marimo."

In a dramatic manner, the blond sighed. "I guess that means it will be never."

"Asshole."

Sanji laughed. Damn, when did it get so easy talking to this boring old bastard?

Admittedly, he was almost sad to go when he saw his apartment building. "Oh yeah, I live on the 7th floor, room 7G, alright?" It was weird how he was inviting a stranger to his home, but it was necessary. How else was he going to eat and shit? "Just in case you get lost or something, give me your number."

"Isn't this a bit forward?" The man taunted, obviously implicating that Sanji wanted his number.

Even though the blonde was usually quick with retorts, this time he wasn't so lucky. Instead, he lamely replied, "Shut up, just give me."

The green haired man crossed his arms, grunting, "I don't understand why you're treating me like a child. I'm completely capable of doing these things by myself." He glared at the blond man.

Sanji let out a snort.

Zoro's glare intensified, but despite his obvious objections, he surrendered to the blond's demands.

"So, what time are you coming around?" Sanji asked, glancing at the nine digits on a piece of napkin that Zoro pulled out of the glove compartment. Standing in front of the car, with the night air blowing at his face, he couldn't help but shudder a few times. He really should have worn warmer clothes.

"I don't know, you decide."

"How about six-thirty in the morning?" He suggested, knowing that it was a distasteful request. However, he doubted Zoro was someone who could be trusted with these meet up times. If he was correct, Zoro was a lot like those friends who always come three hours after the promised time.

"What? That's fucking early," Zoro's brows twitched, annoyance radiating off of him like a heater. "I have night shifts, you know, shit cook."

Damn, if this stupid marimo hadn't said the last words, Sanji might have pushed back the time. But not anymore. "Too bad, marimo. I wake up at that time. I have two jobs, you know." The first part was a lie, but at least the second was not.

Zoro groaned, probably wondering why in the hell he was helping Sanji out in the first place. Well, to Sanji, the mosshead should be grateful that he is soon to be graced by his wonderful presence. And perhaps, if he is feeling generous enough, Sanji will teach him a few recipes or two. "Fine," marimo replied before driving off, his engine cranking with annoyance, if that was even possible.

"Oi, cook! Wake the fuck up, shitty curly brows!"

There was a distant muffled sound of someone calling his name, along with loud bangs and his doorbell. Huh, who could that be? Half dazed, the blond dragged his body across the wooden floor, almost bumping into the kitchen counter as he limply swished from side to side. He yawned as he unlocked the door, his memories from last night seemingly in his consciousness like a dream.

"Yo," the green haired man greeted, dark bags under his eyes. But he had coffee in his hand, so there was a reason behind his alertness. "I didn't get the job description where I was supposed to be your alarm clock," he sarcastically remarked before barging inside, bumping shoulders with the blond.

Sanji remained quiet. He was feeling way to groggy to converse with this man. So he turned towards the bathroom, facing away from Zoro, and began to walk zombie-like all over again.

Ugh, I look terrible. And it was true. As he stood in front of the mirror, hovering over the sink, he noticed that his hair was ruffled and spiked up, puffed up like an afro. His eyes had purple shadows underneath, shading the heavy bags below his blue spherical pupils. And on the corners of his lips, there was a trail of dried up saliva. He was usually the eloquent sleeper, but there were times when he surprised himself; simultaneously, waking up like this also meant that he had a good sleep the night before.

Too bad he had to wake up to some ugly face with moss as hair.

When the blond walked outside after straightening up his appearance, he found Zoro lying on the couch- snoring. Sanji twitched. If he wasn't allowed to go back to sleep, no one was. Like a child throwing a fit, he landed a brutal kick on the man's abdomen.

"Wha-! Oof!"

When the wind was beaten out of him, Zoro's eyes flew open with a start. What the hell was that? He sat up, realizing his vision was a bit disoriented. Fuck, what a strong blow. And Zoro had a fair high tolerance to pain.

"Come on, marimo, get to cooking," the blond demanded, standing above him with a menacing smile. It was damn creepy, in Zoro's opinion.

The green haired man groaned, "What the hell is your problem, shitty cook?" He was clutching his own stomach, but not in the most obvious way. He didn't want to give Sanji the satisfaction that he had actually injured the man. "I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but I am not your slave. I volunteered for this fucking job." He stood up, locking his eyes with Sanji's until they were both on the same eye level. He bared his teeth, like a predator. He was fucking pissed.

The cook broke contact. He walked over to the drawer next to the couch that Zoro had took a short nap on. His fingers pulled a cigarette pack and a lighter. Then leisurely placed the stick in between his lips and lighted the end. Zoro had to admit that the sight was kind of mesmerizing in its own way, not that he would ever admit that to the blond. Sanji took a deep sip from the end and allowed the smoke to seep out from the corners of his lips. He suddenly appeared unnervingly calm, which Zoro guessed was the immediate effect of the nicotine.

"Oi, sorry, man." Sanji spoke, holding the cigarette in between his fingers, wisps of smoke escaping with his words. "I need my daily dose of cigarettes."

"Fuck you, don't take your crap out on me, you shithead," Zoro snarled, baring his teeth again.

The blond cracked a grin, "Don't tell me you actually felt that, I held back a ton. Thought you were tough?" He cooed.

"I am tough," the green haired man scoffed. "I would have hit you back, but you see, I have this policy to not fight back against cripples." His mouth curved upwards. Fuck yeah.

The blond snarled, "I am not a fucking cripple." He sent out a rapid kick, aiming for Zoro's left aside

Luckily Zoro's reflexes were fast enough to dodge that, because he swore he heard a whistle as the cook's leg sliced through the air. "Huh, not bad," Sanji sneered before switching legs, aiming for Zoro's ribs this time.

"Augh!" The man was sent flying, somehow missing all of the furniture on his journey to the wall. He coughed out violently when his back thudded against the wall and as he slid to the floor, his head throbbed with the nastiest, most vile profanities meant for the blond.

Sure, he was a swordsman, but he could still fight bare handed. And that was more than enough to win against a prissy blond like Sanji.

The cook was relentless, sending double kicks towards Zoro. But since Zoro knew what to expect this time, he was able to dodge those kicks by swishing to the side. His concentration was at its peak, sharp and crisp. When the blond clenched his teeth angrily, probably by the fact that Zoro was able to dodge, he lifted himself off the air before diagonally slicing the air upwards. To his misfortune, Zoro had already spun out of the way and had been given an opportunity to grab those legs that were in air. Without further ado, Zoro pinned the man to the floor, face down, but made sure his hands were free from any suppression, in fear of injuring his hands any further.

Sanji flailed like a fish beneath him. "Get the hell off me," he hissed, half gasping for breath. Zoro was sitting on the back of his thighs, holding down his legs and the back of his neck in order for the blond to be at his complete mercy.

"Admit that you lost," the swordsman demanded, feeling pretty satisfied for putting Sanji in his place.

The blond remained abruptly still and silent.

"Admit that you lost," Zoro repeated when Sanji refused to talk. Stubborn asshole.

The blond flailed one more time like the dramatic bastard he is before admitting his defeat. "Fine, I fucking lost! Now get the hell off of me!"

Feeling like his pride had just been restored to its peak, Zoro lifted himself off the blond. He even helped Sanji up, knowing that it would be a struggle for the blond to get up without his hands.

"Damn you," Sanji spat. His face was scarlet red, perhaps from the strains of the battle or from the mortification of losing. Whatever it was, Zoro wasn't about to question it. "Are we going to go through this process every morning to get my breakfast?"

"Hey, you attacked me first," Zoro defensively called out.

"Whatever," the cook said with a slight movement of his hand, but winced. Apparently it was still painful. "What can you make for me?"

Uh, oh. This prissy blond is not going to like this.

He scratched the back of his head and asked, "Do you like ramen?"

Oh, fuck. This idiot can't cook.

But just to make sure, to cling on to that little hope inside of him, Sanji asked, "I'm kind of up for eggs benedict."

"Uh, eggs... what?" The green haired man's eyebrows furrowed from confusion.

"Dammit, marimo!" He exasperated, pointing to the kitchen, ignoring the throbbing pain in his hands. "Just go in there. I'll teach you how to crack an egg or something." How could he not know what eggs benedict was? The most simple, basic American breakfast dish that was famous for its English muffin, topped with ham or bacon, and poached eggs. To him, a professional chef, it was simply shocking how little everyday people knew about cooking.

"Don't boss me around. I know how to crack a fucking egg. How hard can that be?" Zoro said confidently, marching into the kitchen like a troop.

Apparently it was the hardest task this idiot has ever done.

"You retard! Just crack it!" Sanji demanded.

The idiot green man indeed cracked it, but the egg had exploded in his hand. "What the hell! I said crack it, not destroy it!" By this point, he was completely convinced that this task was damn near impossible for someone like Zoro. He never knew it was even hard to crack an egg. Maybe it was difficult to crack it with one hand, but even a child should be able to do it with two hands.

"I'm trying!" Zoro was frowning down at the egg, attempting to scare the yolk out of its shell.

"Well, try fucking harder!" Sanji pressed. This man was wasting valuable ingredients! Maybe he should just get his eggs benedict from a nearby Mcdonalds. Then he shuddered at the thought. The last time he visited one of those fast food chains, he got cardboard in a burger form for five dollars.

Sanji closed his eyes and held his forehead in his palm, about to give up on this idiot. At least Mcdonalds did not give him headaches.

"Cook, I did it!"

Sanji looked into the round bowl skeptically, narrowing his eyes a bit. Within a whole bunch of shattered mess, there was indeed a perfect egg yolk that had not been crushed yet. He looked up, glanced at the man who held his half cleaved shells proudly. On his face, smeared all over his right cheek, there were remnants of the egg yolk that had exploded earlier. The blond began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" The man almost sounded offended, puffing out his chest and all.

Sanji shook his head, "Nothing, you have shit on your face, that's all."

The man frowned, pawing at his cheek, spreading the yolk even more. "Here?"

The blond chuckled, "No, you idiot, let me help." He reached out, grazing his thumb over Zoro's cheek to wipe the yellow gooey substance off. It must have been a surprisingly gentle gesture because Zoro almost jumped out of his skin by Sanji's touch. "Uh, there." Then he moved away from the man to wash his hands in the sink. "Just take the egg shells out of the bowl so we can put it over the frying pan."

"Whatever."

The man managed to burn only a few pieces of eggs, which was quite the feat for a cooking impotent like him. At least it only took them an hour or two to make two plates of scrambled eggs. Sanji groaned. If it had been him, he would have only took three minutes to make scrambled eggs seasoned with salt and pepper, a spoon full of creme fraiche, bits and pieces of scallion, and some butter. Damn, it has been a day and he already misses cooking.

"This is pretty damn good," Zoro praised himself as he chewed his food, showing Sanji what exactly he was chewing on.

That's disgusting. "You eat like a barbarian," he commented on the man's table etiquette, or should he say, no table etiquette.

"Shut up, you're such a prude. I'll pin you down again," Zoro continued to speak with his mouth full.

Sanji rolled his eyes. "That was pure luck, marimo. Just in case you forgot, my hands are still hurting like hell, but once I heal, then I'll fight you seriously." He told the other man with confidence, wavering towards his arrogant side.

"That wasn't my best either because I don't fight with my bare hands," the man grinned, clearly beating Sanji at his own game.

The blond lifted one of his brows. "Then... what?" Probably weapons... but what kind of weapons? Probably not guns because that would be cheating. Maybe archery? But that's not close combat... Probably swordsmanship then...

"None of your business," the other man tried to close the topic.

Anger stirred within Sanji again, but he endeavored to keep a composed facade. "We might as well get to know each other since we're spending a week together," he suggested, trying to reason with the other man.

"That's cute," Zoro sarcastically remarked. He pushed his empty plate forward, evidently finished with his food. At least this man did not have the annoying habit of leaving any leftovers.

Sanji's voice lowered half a step, pitch darkening as his anger began to boil. "Marimo," he snarled, threateningly.

The green haired man belched loudly and patted his stomach before acknowledging Sanji's menacing tone. "Alright, you stubborn cook. I use swords, specifically katanas. Any questions?" He mocked again, smirking.

Right on the mark.

"Huh, swords are so ancient though," he said without really thinking over his words. It's funny how swords are so ancient yet he can perfectly imagine Zoro handling them. Perhaps that meant Zoro is ancient as well.

The swordsman yawned. "So? Swordsmanship is still respected throughout the world." He sniffed once then continued to speak, "Oh, and since I answered one of your questions, you have to answer one of mine." The blond raised an eyebrow at that but acquiesced with a nod of his head. "Where did you learn to kick like that?" He was trying to hide his amazement but Sanji could tell beneath all that stoic persona of his.

Though it wasn't intentional, the flattery behind it kind of got to Sanji. He grinned widely, revealing his teeth, "I'll tell you, but you have to feed me first."

Zoro grumpily abode, murmuring something about Sanji being a prude again. "Open wide, shit cook," he announced as he 'accidentally' aimed for Sanji's cheeks instead of his mouth. "Oops," he said with no repentance behind his tone of voice.

The blond glared at the man. "I hope you know that I hate you." He wiped his cheeks by brushing the side of his face on his sleeves. Then his eyes traveled to the clock on the wall, which read nine-thirty. "Shit!" He cursed out as he hurriedly ran out of the kitchen to scramble around the house, leaving Zoro behind at the table.

Sanji managed to pick things up with his foot and to put on his clothes without the use of his hands because hell would turn upside down before he would ask marimo to help him change clothes. So, yes. It took him awhile but he managed it.

The two of them walked over a few blocks and stopped at a place about half an hour away. The place was called 'many martial matches,' not a very clever play of alliteration. On their walk here, Sanji had explained how this was his second job asides from Baratie, the restaurant that had miraculously brought them together.

"The place is pretty chill, so an outsider like you can even watch how I teach the class," Sanji told him before they began to climb up the stairs, leading both of them to the second floor where the actual 'many martial matches' was on.

Zoro immediately recognized the faint scent of sweat, cries of taekwondo, and bamboo swords meeting another.

The place itself was covered in white, badly done paint jobs that tried to cover up the graffiti marks done beforehand. There was a class for self-defense for women when they first walked in, which they bypassed quietly by treading on the edges of the room. They entered a wide hallways, each side with rooms that pertained to its individual form of martial arts. Since none of the rooms were fully closed, Zoro could see different age groups of children and adults as he passed by. He perked up with interest when he passed by the kendo room. Perhaps there is someone good here, enough to challenge him.

"Okay, here we are," Sanji told him, stopping in front of the room across from judo class.

When they stepped inside, children from about age nine to sixteen were seen, performing a martial art similar to what the blond had used earlier. They used their feet as their main weapon, fists only when it was absolutely necessary.

One of the kid lowered his legs as he spotted Sanji coming in. He shouted, "Mr. Blackleg, you're thirty minutes late! You're being awfully tardy!"

"Shut up, brat. I'll just have to train you extra hard to make up for it," the blond yelled before slipping inside the locker room.

The others proceeded with their practices except for a single little girl who approached Zoro instead. "Who are you, mister?" She asked in a sweet, high-pitched tone of voice. It was strange how she was so small compared to Zoro. Almost half his height, a bit taller.

Then another brat approached him. "Why do you have green hair? It's not cool!" He mockingly grinned, reminding Zoro why he used to dislike kids.

Instead of getting riled up by a kid, he had a better plan. "Hey, kid, you want to brawl with me?" He asked, smirking mischievously.

As soon as Sanji stepped outside of the locker room, he heard the cheers and booing of children. What the hell?

As expected, the rowdiness of the room was entirely marimo's fault. He was fighting against ten boys all at the same time and winning against them. Sanji decided to step forward to put an end to this. "Okay, okay, stop fighting." His attention shifted singly towards Zoro. "Oi, marimo, stop beating up my students. That's my job," he chuckled and some of the kids laughed along. "But of course, that doesn't apply to you lovely ladies," he smiled courteously towards the young females in the room.

Zoro snorted. "Do you always sound like a pedophile?"

The children who understood the meaning behind that term laughed alongside with Zoro while others frowned in puzzlement. Sanji could almost imagine the little ones going home and asking their parents what 'pedophile' meant.

That idiot! Not in front of the kids!

Sanji's eyebrows were twitching in aggravation. "Maybe I should practice my skills on you," he growled.

"You already did, remember?" Zoro snidely replied, implying that Sanji attacked him and lost, which irritated the blond even more.

The children swayed their head from side to side, from their teacher to this mysterious green haired man.

"Uh deux trio," a familiar high pitched voice rang before either of the two could lash an attack on the other. Oh, fuck. The person who was at the bottom of 'don't want to see' list was heading towards them, spinning around in circles. "Cook-chan," he cried out, winking his way.

Sanji speedily dodged to his side as a hairy leg swiped the air next to his head. "I missed you yesterday!" Few more head shots left and right, which Sanji was able to dodge easily. As soon as an opening was shown, the blond spun in place and shot out a powerful kick, not enough to send the opponent flying but enough to knock him off of his feet.

"Stop joking around!" A male cross dresser who wore flamboyant ballet clothes, swan themed, and a pink overcoat, quickly got on his feet to perform some ballet steps. On his face, he wore a very heavy makeup that still could not hide his disgusting features.

Sanji angrily snarled, "Bon, I'm trying to teach a class."

The cross dresser was evidently distracted, not paying any attention to Sanji. "Who is this handsome man?" He spun around a few times towards Zoro, bouncing up and back down, landing very lightly on his ballet shoes.

Zoro appeared startled, taken back by the man's appearance.

"That's moss head, you should give him a free lesson," the blond suggested, trying hard not to crack up.

The marimo's eyes enlarged but managed to keep his composed front. "No, I'd rather go to the kendo room," he told Bon as he backed away little by little.

Bon puckered his lips, "Don't be shy, darling. I'll take you to the kendo room after I teach you some of my techniques." Zoro perked up by the word 'kendo' and began to follow after Bon, but still appeared uncertain about this condition.

After the two annoying men left, Sanji was left alone with the children. "Mr. Blackleg, what do we do now?" With all the hype in the room, the children appeared eager to start.

The blond considered his options, thinking what would be best for these children. "I actually liked the marimo's idea. Everybody line up, if you can land a hit on me, you automatically earn a black belt."

.~.~.~.~.~.

The children were wheezing and heavily breathing, sprawled out on the floor. Their sweat stains remained on the mats even after they peeled their bodies off the floor. On the other hand, Sanji did not even break a sweat. "It's already twelve, time to get changed and go," he announced, nudging some of the kids with his feet.

After all the children gave him their farewells and left the building to meet up with their parents, Sanji decided to check up on Zoro by heading over to Bon's classroom. He was very cautious though, since the last time he had been in that room, he had almost been turned into a woman. Not a pleasant experience at all. But likewise, he had a full desire to see the marimo bastard get a makeover or forced to perform okama kenpo, ballet fighting style that Bon taught.

He stepped eagerly stepped inside the room, but found it empty. No green haired bastard or cross dresser anywhere.

Hm... maybe they went to the kendo room?

Sanji double checked, looked around the pink room full of swan posters. Then he shuddered because the room brought back terrible memories. He closed the door behind him and continued to stroll along in the empty hallway, passing by few rooms that still held classes in them. He peek his head inside of the kendo room before realizing that this room was empty as well. He looked over to see a basket of bamboo swords in the corner of the room, posters of swords hanging on the walls, and an open door leading to the locker room.

From the locker room, Sanji heard a voice. "What is your business here?"

Mosshead?

"Relax," the kendo teacher's voice was heard, reassuring Zoro's tense tone of voice. "This is my job."

Though Sanji wasn't the type to eavesdrop, this situation was way too tempting. He leaned back against the wall next to the door, then listened to the conversation between the two swordsman. What the hell is going on here? He wondered.

"How about we just pretend to not know each other," Zoro's voice suggested.

The kendo teacher snorted, "It's already too late since you acted like a fool in front of that cross dressing freak."

"It's not my fault that you scared the shit out of me! I thought you were tracking down my life aside from the job!"

"Now, why would I be interested in that?"

The blond tried to breathe in and out lightly, but he accidentally released a lot of oxygen from his lungs when his head began to take a toll from his light breathing.

There was a sudden silence in the locker room, followed by Zoro's voice, "Shit, I think we got a listener."

Sanji's heart leaped from panic. Where to go, where to go? But it was already too late, the swordsman had already stepped out of the locker room.

AN: Yes, but which swordsman? Ah, ha!

(This is my third revision. Oh god, how terrible my English was. So thank you for those who stuck with me throughout the whole thing. It pains me to re-read this and fix the thing.)