"Who's there?" A voice called out from the locker room.

"No one," Zoro answered in a low composed tone of voice that he always has. The blond, on the other hand, could not speak at all with the marimo's calloused hand covering his mouth, his back pinned against the wall behind him.

Sanji struggled against the swordsman but the man held him tighter with every resistance. When their eyes met, the blond noticed great concern within those brown eyes of his. So he stopped his futile attempt at struggling around. Zoro's face was very close to his own, so close that the blond could feel his breath on his cheek and could see beads of sweat rolling down his temple. Zoro gave him a stern look which shushed anything Sanji was about to say. "I'll meet you outside, just be quiet and get out," he whispered before releasing Sanji and walking back into the locker room.

"What took you so long?" Sanji heard the kendo teacher ask inquisitively.

"I thought I saw something but I was wrong," Zoro responded nonchalantly, not mentioning Sanji at all, which brought more questions to the blond's thoughts.

The blond ran outside of the room, following the marimo's instructions.

What the hell just happened? He wondered silently.

Sure, everybody had secrets, but what he witnessed just now resembled a TV show, not your everyday story about average Joe. It would not have been as suspicious if Zoro had just introduced Sanji to the kendo teacher instead of hiding him like that because it's not odd for two swordsman to know each other since not many swordsman reside in big cities like this. However, Zoro had hid Sanji as though he was afraid for him, which did piss the blond off to a certain extent. He did not need to be treated like a helpless lady, he was a man, goddammit!

When Sanji reached the staircase, he carefully pulled out a cigarette as he leisurely traveled down. He did not light the end part of the stick until he reached outside though, in honor of the 'no smoking' sign posted everywhere. Trying to light a lighter with his bruised hands was a difficult task, though he managed to do so at the end.

He smoked three sticks before Zoro caught up.

"Sorry," the green haired man said as if that explained everything.

The blond dropped his cigarette then stepped on the cherry of the joint to put out the fire. "Well?" He asked, expecting Zoro to fill in the blank spots.

The marimo furrowed his eyebrows. "What?" He asked. Either he was playing dumb or he was actually dumb. How could he not get the hint?

Sanji cupped his forehead with his palm, burrowing his hand under his bangs before sighing out edgily, "Stop being a dumb ass, what the hell was that?" He asked, unintentionally sounding rude.

The green haired man scowled. "If you want something from someone, don't be fucking rude about it," he snapped.

Sanji blinked. "I-"

Zoro shook his head, his gaze shifting from the blond. "Forget about it, where are we going now?" He asked, cutting Sanji off and changing the subject.

Sanji wanted to pursue the subject, but it really wasn't any of his business, as Zoro made it clear with his actions. And if the other man did not want to talk about it, who was he to push for an answer? Loudly, Sanji's stomach answered the question that had been hanged in the air by Zoro.

By the grumbling, continuous sound, Zoro's lips curled into a smirk.

How embarrassing. Why didn't I eat anything this morning? Sanji thought to himself, his cheeks and ears burning with embarrassment.

"So, time for lunch?" The man asked snidely, eyes burning through the blond.

"Shut up, marimo," Sanji responded as he turned his face away. "Let's go, I know some well-known restaurants around here." His brain mapped out the neighborhood the two of them were in and located the best nearby restaurants near here. "Come on," he gestured for the other man to follow, but stopped when the marimo appeared hesitant. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know..."

"Why? You don't want to go?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head. The other man was pouting a little, giving him a smaller frame than he actually was.

The moss head frowned, stared at him with an uncertain gaze, hesitant in what he was about to say. "Don't I have to feed you?"

Huh. The reality of the man's words had not dawned on him until a scene popped up in Sanji's head. Zoro holding a fork out with spaghetti wrapped around the utensil saying "Ahh," then Sanji coming forward to chomp on the food held out for him. Huh. That would be awkward. "Oh." He mouthed before idiotically stammering, "Then, uh, we should... go to some other place."

His stomach grumbled loudly again. Zoro raised an eyebrow.

"Look, how about we go to that place... uh, Barabing?"

Sanji twitched, "You mean Baratie, you bastard?" He had an urge to kick his face in again.

The marimo's lips pulled into a straight line. "Yeah... I still haven't tried the food there."

It was actually a good suggestion. Even though Sanji's shift did not normally start until three o'clock, if he ate there instead, he would not have to waste any extra money nor be embarrassed by Zoro feeding him. Well... he would not be embarrassed if they were eating on the balcony instead of the dining room specifically made for the chefs. The chefs, if they comment on Zoro being anything more than an acquaintance to Sanji, it would drive the blond cook out of his mind.

The wind picked up, smacking Sanji in the face with its frigidness. Zoro, however, seemed completely unaffected. Only his green hair and the three golden earrings on his left ear were disturbed. The clinking of the three metals created a chime, which was soon to be carried away by the wind.

"Okay, let's go," Sanji decided.

Zoro perked up, his composure breaking a slight bit. "Okay, let's go then," he demanded as he began to walk down the sidewalk, leading the two.

"Oi, oi, you're going the wrong way, dumbass."

The second time Zoro entered the Baratie, it was not any less mesmerizing than it had been the first time. And the smell, it wafted over to him, making his mouth water and stomach growl with hunger. When the cook and he entered the dining room, the waiters glanced at them for a second before turning their attention back to what they were doing before. It seems that they all know who Sanji is.

"Oi, love-cook, are you sure we can just barge in like this?" He followed behind Sanji, who confidently strode across the dining room, heading up the staircase.

The cook gave him a puzzled glimpse, "Why not? My old man owns this place."

Huh. But according to his memory, the blond did not have a family, at least that's what he told Chopper. It was Zoro's only reason for following Sanji around like a lost puppy, taking orders from him like a servant. "I thought you didn't have any family members?" He asked, trying to sound disinterested.

Above him, the blond threw him a guilty glance, "I do have family members." He either paused or Zoro could not hear him anymore because he turned his head forward once again. "You'll see," he whispered, which Zoro barely caught.

"What the hell does that supposed to mean?" The green haired man asked. The two of them were on the second floor now, where there were two large doors leading to the kitchen. A waiter came out of that boisterous room and slid past by them, passing by Sanji without a comment.

Sanji opened the two doors, and Zoro paced right behind him. The mouth-watering smell was much more intense in the kitchen, where there were many chefs aligned next to one another. Most of them grumbling insults or customer's orders to each other.

"Your cooking is nauseating, shitty cook."

"Who are you to talk? A costumer vomited from eating your food before."

"That was fucking five years ago, and it's still not as bad as that costumer who got food poisoning from your food."

"You wanna go?"

To Zoro, it was like listening to a bunch of Sanjis, coming from every direction. Every one of them owned a foul mouth and a grouchy tone of voice. If they all had curly brows and smoked cigarettes all day, Zoro would not be able to distinguish between them.

All the arguments came to a halt when they turned to see Sanji(with Zoro) by the door.

"Oi, Sanji," a large man with meaty arms approached them with an idiotic grin. "I saw you when you dropped that expensive wine yesterday. The head chef was furious after you left in the middle of your shift." He was clearly trying to rile Sanji up.

The blond cook groaned. The other chefs were sneering and snickering at Sanji, mumbling 'idiot' or 'suckup' among themselves. Strangely, the green haired man felt a strange bond between these cooks. It definitely was hidden beneath all those jibes and shouts they threw at one another, but it was still there, a bizarre type of bond that he was able to sense.

"Shut up, Patty. Move aside before I kick you aside," Sanji threatened, glaring at the man called Patty.

"Mere bastard," Patty grumbled before scooting aside, heading back to his station.

Some of the cook raised their eyebrows towards Zoro's direction but no one cared enough to raise a question. Well, they didn't care enough or break focus in whatever they were doing.

"Oi, marimo, are you going to follow me or not?" Sanji asked, snapping the man out of his thoughts. He became aware that Sanji had already walked across the kitchen and was all the on the other side of the room.

The green haired man stumbled across the room, dodging foul mouthed cooks who had dangerous kitchen tools in their hands on the way. Sanji began to walk again when Zoro reached where he had stood before. "Curly, when are we eating?" He asked as they pulled away from the delicious scent from the kitchen.

"Wait shithead, I have to tell my old man what happened last night and how you are going to be working here instead of me." The two began to climb up another set of staircase, but this time, the top of the staircase appeared dark.

Few seconds bypassed before the words were actually processed. "Wait, what?" Zoro asked. He did not sign up to be some waiter. "I have to wear your stupid waiter uniform?"

"Yes, marimo," the cook said, strangely calm. "If you're so dissatisfied, you can wear the waitress's uniform."

Zoro grunted. He hated losing arguments, and as he found out recently, especially against the cook. But admittedly, the cook got him this time.

The third floor was quieter in comparison to the other floors; or perhaps, since the others floors were so noisy that the silence on this floor felt especially uncomfortable for him. The hallway was quite narrow so Zoro was stuck walking behind the cook. With each step they took, the wooden floor beneath them creaked with pressure. They passed by many rooms, which reminded Zoro of a motel, but stopped in front of a door that looked like the rest.

"Old man!" Sanji shouted, followed by a very obnoxious and loud knocking.

From inside the room, a worn out voice commanded, "Come in, Eggplant."

Since there was a large window in the room, it was much brighter than the hallway. The contrast of lighting made Zoro squint his eyes to get accustomed to his new surrounding. When he regained his vision, he saw an old man sitting on the bed. He wore a chef's white uniform and a very elongated white top hat. His hair was dirty blonde, slightly darker than Sanji's own, and his mustache was braided, which was a peculiar sight. However, the most unusual thing about this old man was his leg, or the lack of his leg. Where there should have been a leg, there was a wooden stick instead.

Zoro could not help but gape at it.

"What are you looking at, shitty grass field?" That wooden leg moved faster than the lightning itself before striking him on the top of his head.

What the fuck!

The pain was indescribable, presumably because the old man had so much power behind that hit. And suddenly, he had an idea where Sanji had learned all of his techniques from. His hands reached up to the top of his head and felt a huge bump forming. He cursed the old man silently in his mind. Sanji clearly attained the foul, impatient personality from this man too.

Sanji was snickering at Zoro until the wooden leg swung and socked him as well. "What are you laughing at, shitty Eggplant? You better have a helluva good reason for bailing out yesterday. We didn't have enough waiters until Patty volunteered to do it. Thanks to that, we lost customers," he growled, making clicking sounds as he stepped back.

The blond was slowly recovering, eyes twitching madly. "Shitty old man," he coughed. "That's why I came today to explain."

"What the fuck," Zoro spurted, grabbing both of their attentions. His hands were still gripping the fresh wound on his head.

The old man glanced at him with a puzzled expression, as if just realizing that Zoro wasn't one of his employees. "Who the hell is this?"

Pissed off that the old man had kicked him just for the hell of it, he snapped, "Why the hell did you just kick me, old man?" But instead of responding with words, the head chef flashed him a sadistic grin before swinging his legs again, this time hitting Zoro square in the face. "Oof," Zoro spat out as he flew towards Sanji.

"You Eggplants got me so riled up." The old man sat back down on the bed.

Zoro glared at the old man. Beating up disabled people was against his policy, but this guy was really ticking him off. He felt someone squirm underneath him before it dawned upon him that he was sprawled out on top of Sanji.

"Marimo, get the hell off of me," the blond growled.

The old man's eyes gleamed with amusement as Zoro lifted himself off of Sanji and helped the blond up as well. Zoro's temper flared. The old man had lashed out on him for no apparent reason and he didn't appear even a bit sorry. Instead, he appeared pretty damn pleased with himself. But before the green haired man had anything to say, Sanji cut in."Old geezer, I swear I'm going to haunt you if I ever die before you."

The head chef grinned lopsidedly, his lips slanting upward and his white teeth showing. "That's not a way to talk to your head chef, eh Eggplant?"

Sanji waved his hand dismissively at the comment, then pulled back his hand, cringing a bit. "I'm just here to inform you that this cactus," he pointed at Zoro, "will be working here instead of me."

"Who are you calling a cactus, you stupid dartboard?

The blond threateningly shot a glare his way, one side of lips creasing, making him look like a wild animal. "You wanna go, marimo?" He snarled, bringing his face closer towards Zoro, their foreheads smacked against one another's.

Zoro did not back down. Instead, he pushed back, growling, "Bring it, cook!"

The two were struck by the swinging wooden leg again. "Shut it Eggplants, just explain," the old man strictly ordered, looming over them with menacing eyes. In most cases, Zoro would snap back against those who order him around like what the old man was doing right now, but something about the situation just shouted 'shut up,' and Zoro listened to his instincts.

As the blond began to explain the general picture of what had happened to the old man, Zoro zoned out of the current situation, his memory flashing back to the conversation he had with the kendo teacher earlier in the day.

"Hey, you took a while." The man leered at him with that creepy smile of his. Zoro remained silent. "What a nice surprise, partner." Zoro twitched at the last word.

Zoro glowered at the man. "Only at work," he warned. Even in his own ears he could hear the danger behind the tone of his voice.

"Of course," he paused, walking over to the bucket of bamboo swords. "So Roronoa, I see." Zoro swallowed. He felt his saliva sliding down his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Personally, I don't really care about your 'real identity.' But you better be careful, Roronoa, there are some people out there who wants your head real badly."

Zoro did not know what point the man was trying to make, but he did not like how the scale between them had tipped off the balance. "Look, if you want me to trust you, you have to give me your name." His glare did not falter one bit as he said these words. He still felt like the other man had something on him.

The man appeared worn-out, with those dark bags under his eyes, and he appeared unaffected by the weight of his partner's glare. After a few seconds that seemed to last a few hours, his baritone voice cut through the silence like a knife. "Law. Law Trafalgar, nice to meet you Zoro Roronoa."

The blond was making all type of gestures with his hands. Although his hands have not healed yet, it was obvious that his hands were rapidly patching itself up. Quite like himself, Sanji was an unusually fast healer. The abnormal bruises and colors on his hands were beginning to fade away like a washable marker.

Curiously his eyes trailed towards the man's face, noting how strikingly dark his blue eyes were. Then, his eyes traveled south, past the aquiline shape of his nose and a bit of hair underneath his lips, past his pale neck where his collarbones showed visibly, then past his thin chest, flat stomach, and eventually his long legs. Though his legs appeared lean and scrawny, from Zoro's personal experience, he knew better. Those legs contained immense amount of power, enough to send anyone across the room, and maybe, just maybe, enough to defeat Zoro.

He snapped his attention back to the two chefs, noticing how the man glanced and examined him like how Zoro had been observing Sanji. Huh, creepy old geezer.

"So, you are telling me that your hands are disabled like my leg and that he volunteered to take care of you?" The old man asked, shifting his gaze back to Sanji.

The blond puffed on his cigarette, slowly exhaling as he answered the head chef, "Yeah.

The head chef, whose name that Zoro finally figured out by the tag on his shirt, Zeff, laughed out loud. "Does this guy even know how to carry plates?" He snorted, laughing at his own joke.

Zoro bristled in annoyance. "Oi, don't talk about me like I'm not here. How hard can carrying few plates be?" He arrogantly asked, recalling vaguely the last time he said something along those lines.

The blond's stomach growled noisily. The two men whose names started with the letter Z turned their head towards Sanji simultaneously. A streak of scarlet crept across the man's pale feature. "I'm just hungry, dammit. Don't stare at me!" He flustered, taking a drag on his cigarettes much faster now.

Zeff paid no heed to Sanji bridling with embarrassment. "Fine, I'll accept this shitty excuse under one condition. If there is a screw up, I am firing both of you," he warned, his eyes being dead serious.

The young blond took a moment to let these words settle in before his expression contorted with anger. "WHAT?" He yelled before throwing a glance at Zoro, "But he's definitely going to screw up and you know that!"

"Oi," Zoro said.

The head chef continued as his fingers fiddled with his braided mustache. "I wanted to fire you lately anyways. All you do is pick fights with customers and flirt with every lady in sight. I don't need useless employees, damn brat. Get a life of your own."

Sanji was literally huffing with frustration, fuming with anger. Without a further argument, he childishly ran out of the room, stomping his feet as loudly as he could, leaving a trail of smoke behind him. Zoro and the old man were left alone. "There is another reason for this, isn't there?" He asked the geezer, piqued with the tiniest interest for the situation.

The chef grinned, hiding millions of secrets. "What would you know about that, shitty Eggplant? Now get out of the room, leave me in peace." He swung his leg again but missed purposefully, a deliberate scaring attack to chase him out of the room.

When Zoro was within the safety of the narrow, bare hallway once more, he had one objective in his mind. To find the cook. He assumed that the blond had stepped outside of the restaurant to cool his hothead, so he searched for the staircase that would lead him to the kitchen; however, instead, he found a balcony. Before turning back, he spotted the rising grey smoke just outside of the glass door. So he stepped outside into the cold air and immediately and involuntarily smelt the cigarette fume.

"Marimo," the blond simply stated, not looking up at him. "Why are you here?"

Zoro grumbled, "Where else would I go?" Then he took a seat across from Sanji, staring at the man who took continuous drags from his cigarette.

The man did not answer and Zoro assumed his answer was good enough to stay across from him. And though the air was cold, Zoro became drowsy with every intake and outtake of the blond's. The lack of sleep this morning hit him with full force and soon he was sleeping against the rails.

AN: There! You guys got some part of Zoro's mysterious job and Sanji's relationship with Zeff. I feel like the story is proceeding very slowly but that's the way I like it.

I'm revising this from the very beginning, so if the next chapter is worse than the last, that means I'm still working on it~