The walk took place in silence, with a certain distance between them, as if they preferred not to be seen together on the streets of Wano. At least, not yet. They navigated through the people rejoining the party, a dance driven by Luffy and Usopp. Zoro was several metres ahead, and Sanji smiled when he saw him steal a bottle of sake from a drunk who had the misfortune of crossing his path. Zoro took a long swig from the bottle and, while wiping his mouth with his sleeve, turned his head towards him and raised the bottle, toasting from a distance.
The crowd dancing in the main street of Wano grew as they approached the kitchen of the Dinner, where Sanji cooked for the feast. Amidst the chaos of singing and music, Luffy intercepted Zoro and forced him to dance. He wrapped his arm around Zoro's waist five times and dragged him to the middle of the street, into the dancing crowd. They spun round and round. Zoro complained and struggled, but Sanji knew he was enjoying it, so he moved ahead and let him pretend to be annoyed in peace with his captain.
In a corner, half-hidden, Trafalgar Law watched the scene. Sanji noticed him by chance and hid beside him when he gestured for silence with his finger. He leaned against the wall next to him and took the opportunity to finish his cigarette. Trafalgar turned towards him, arms crossed, and his face shadowed by the white hat.
With a nod of his head, Trafalgar pointed towards Luffy.
"Does he ever run out of energy?"
"Yes, but he falls asleep while dancing and recovers that way."
"Is that a joke?"
Sanji let out a laugh. He finished his cigarette and crossed his arms, resting the back of his head against the wall. Something told him to wait, that Trafalgar wanted something from him.
"Is it thanks to the little doctor that smoking so much doesn't leave you with any side effects?"
Sanji raised an eyebrow.
"White teeth, fresh breath, glowing skin."
"Is that how doctors flirt? It's terrible."
"It's professional curiosity."
"I'm not your patient."
Something in his reaction made Trafalgar stop asking questions. He nodded once and stared straight ahead. Nothing in his expression changed. Something kept Sanji leaning against the wall anyway. Perhaps the moon, demanding attention, or the desire for Zoro to find him with Trafalgar just for his reaction. Their relationship was based on finding ways to annoy each other; one more would add to their conversation.
"I can also heal myself."
Trafalgar had spoken loud and clear, but Sanji was so immersed in the responses he would give to Zoro if he played the jealousy game with him that he had to replay the phrase in his mind to understand it.
"Excuse me?"
"It's not that special," Trafalgar clarified. "The self-healing ability. It's not uncommon."
Trafalgar's monotone voice should have been indecipherable, but Sanji understood he was trying to comfort him. After processing what he had just said, he smiled. He suppressed that smile and swallowed a friendly insult, because between them the interaction was always kind, sometimes conversational, but there wasn't that much trust to pretend conflict just for fun.
The wall was cold. Sanji pushed himself off it and stretched, relaxing his shoulders. He searched for the mosshead among the crowd and, when he realised he would make the most of his time with Luffy, Sanji proposed to repay Trafalgar's kindness in the only way that felt natural to him.
"Are you hungry?"
The door opened several times, mostly by people looking for someone else or drawn in by the aroma wafting from the wok. But when Zoro finally entered, Sanji was already waiting for him. Trafalgar was there too. A bowl of rice sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by countless plates of roasted vegetables.
Sanji smoked, leaning against the counter in a carefully planed nonchalant pose. Trafalgar had been left mid-sentence, saying something about a man from his childhood whom Sanji reminded him of, about hope that fades into tragedy but still lingers.
Sanji smiled when he locked eyes with Zoro and closed his eyes as he smoked. He took his time approaching the table, analysing the space they both occupied, the distance between them. For a moment, Sanji thought he was going to leave.
"How did you escape from Luffy?"
"I pointed in any direction and shouted 'Torao's over there' at the top of my lungs" Zoro replied, finally walking towards the table. He dragged a chair into the small space available between Sanji and Trafalgar. "So keep an eye on that window; he could appear at any moment."
"That's why I came to hide."
Zoro sank into the chair and placed his swords on the table. He linked his fingers behind his head and stretched, taking up as much space as possible.
"Yes, because of Luffy, of course."
He seemed ready to fall asleep in that position, but he didn't close his eye. He didn't focus on either of them, instead staring at the table and the half-empty plates.
"Where's my dinner, cook?" There was still enough for two more plates, but Zoro had to start a conflict.
"What? Did you lose your other eye?"
Zoro growled softly and served himself. In doing so, he exposed the bandages wrapped around his arm. He had removed some too early, without Chopper's permission, and the cuts that were still healing gleamed in the light. His fingers were covered in scratches. Seeing this, Sanji looked at his own hands, unmarked. He tried to be discreet, but not enough, as Zoro noticed and, without saying anything, adjusted his kimono sleeve down to his wrist.
"What were you talking about?" Zoro started eating, trying to revive the conversation, as the silence with a third person present was uncomfortable.
"Childhood memories," Trafalgar murmured.
Zoro choked and coughed, hitting his chest. Sanji laughed and patted the swordsman's back to help him recover.
"Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter, demon of the East Blue, defeated by a grain of rice."
"Shut up."
With a gesture of annoyance, he snatched the sake bottle that Trafalgar was handing him and took a sip. Sanji kept laughing, to the point that he didn't realise his pats on Zoro's back had turned into a circular caress between his shoulder blades. Trafalgar smiled upon noticing and looked away. Sanji withdrew his hand and crossed his arms, letting Zoro pass when he got up to spit into the sink.
"Beast. Don't be disgusting in front of our guest."
"Not a guest." Zoro wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Not our kitchen."
Trafalgar stood up and slung his sword over his shoulder. He waited for them to stop arguing and pointed at Zoro with a nod as he left.
"You should take care of those wounds, Zoro-ya."
"He doesn't listen to Chopper; imagine another doctor."
"Tsk. Shut up, eyebrows."
"Thanks for the meal, Sanji-ya."
"It's my job."
"Thanks anyway."
Trafalgar left without looking back.
Zoro resumed dinner, standing. And then, Sanji noticed.
"You're bleeding."
Zoro looked down at his chest, where Sanji had placed his hand. Red lines seeped through the bandages. The coughing fit had reopened a wound. Zoro cursed under his breath and let his kimono drop off his shoulders to avoid staining it. Sanji guided him to the counter until he bumped against the edge and searched for one of the clean cloths from a shelf. Zoro didn't refuse the treatment, but he clutched the sake bottle once again to keep drinking while Sanji cut the bandages with a knife. It would take less time than trying to undo Chopper's professional work. He gathered the stained cloth remnants ( "You should have changed these bandages hours ago, you disgusting mosshead" ) and threw them away. The wound was healing well; it just needed cleaning and rebandaging. At least Sanji could help with the first, as he always did when Zoro avoided Chopper and went to find comfort with Sanji in the Sunny's kitchen.
"Childhood memories, uh?"
The question sounded casual, but Sanji knew it wasn't. Unbelievable.
"He told me something about his past; I'm not going to break that confidence."
"But you are both from the North Blue."
"And how do you know that?"
"Nami."
Sanji nodded, taking advantage of having something to do with his hands to feign disinterest in the topic.
"My childhood was…" Sanji searched for a word that wouldn't break his voice when he said it. "…isolated from the rest of the world."
"You must still have a lot in common."
"I doubt it, really." Sanji bit his lower lip before adding, "He said I remind him of someone from his childhood."
"Someone important?"
"It seems like it."
"That explains why he sometimes stares at you so much," Zoro took another sip "as if you were a ghost."
"Stop fucking moving, mosshead."
"An ex-lover ghost or something."
"A father-figure, you idiot"
"So he called you Daddy?"
"So you want a kick in the head."
"Torao might."
Sanji wiped away the little blood that had come out from the wound. It wasn't an emergency, but he stretched the care to avoid having to look up to Zoro's eyes. They were close again, and Zoro was no longer paying attention to his hands but to his face. Sanji couldn't complain, that game had been his idea, but he knew it was nothing more than a joke. Sanji turned to the sink to rinse the cloth and, when he pressed it against Zoro's chest again, he shivered. Zoro had grabbed onto the hair at the nape of his neck, in a gesture between firm and affectionate. He tangled the lock between his fingers and pressed his palm against his skin. A silent question, patient.
There was a hesitation that allowed him to refuse, an opening that Sanji didn't take. He melted a bit, enough to fit perfectly in Zoro's palm, like honey in a spoon. Zoro leaned in, serious, lips parted, but stopped at the last moment to observe him—eyebrows, mouth, eyes—and smiled as he does in battle.
They locked lips and held the contact without moving, somewhat frozen to savour, somewhat fighting over who would yield first to the need. Zoro yielded first, and as he deepened the kiss, he sought his upper lip with the tip of his tongue. Sanji nibbled in response.
They parted slightly, and Zoro hadn't stopped smiling. Their noses still touched each other.
"Does a little blood really get you this intense, mosshead?"
"Well, it's not because of your stupid eyebrows."
They kissed again, a little harder. Sanji slid his hands over the counter, to Zoro's sides, and pressed against him. It had been a long time. Years. So long that Zoro didn't grip him around the waist as he used to, but held onto his face with both hands, cradling him as if he were a fragile, beautiful thing. He could feel it all. Caresses on the cheekbones with his thumbs. Playing with the locks. Hunger in the contact. Sanji used to hate being treated as if he were weaker than Zoro, but then he craved it to affirm himself that he was human still.
The intensity of the kiss increased when Sanji let out a moan, an intense longing, an acceptance that this intimacy was his home too, and that he had finally regained it. Zoro's hands moved down at the same time, symmetrically, and he traced from the shoulders to the elbows, squeezed at the bend of the arms, sought his body. One hand took the shape of his waist. Zoro knew that was his weakness, so Sanji finally wrapped his arms around him.
The kiss broke. With another moan, Sanji tangled his fingers in his hair to pull him back, but Zoro went down his neck and held back a bite just below his jaw. The bite turned into a suck, the suck into desperation. He focused on one point, relentless, in a hidden corner of the neck where no one should see the dark mark he was about to leave. Zoro advanced with him towards the table, and gave him a comand to sit on the edge. Sanji obeyed.
"I don't feel you any different," Zoro whispered against his skin, so low that both could have pretended he hadn't said it. Sanji decided to believe him, already on tiptoes, although he knew that from that moment on Zoro could bite him, tear a piece of him, and heal before the night ended. No mark, good or bad, desired or wounded, would remain in his body.
A little anguish settled in his chest, enough to struggle and pull away. When Zoro understood that rejection wasn't part of the game, he let him go. He was agitated, with swollen lips. He dug his nails into the counter behind him and cleared his throat. Zoro didn't ask if he was okay, but the question was implicit in the way he looked at him.
"Too much, too sudden," Sanji said, and nothing more.
Zoro nodded, his gaze fixed on the door. He crossed his arms and calmed his breathing.
The party outside began to lower its volume. Wano needed to sleep too.
"Should I go?" Zoro asked, wiping the outline of his mouth with his thumb.
Sanji shook his head.
"Do you still want to talk?"
At that question, Sanji tousled his hair and looked at the floor. He dropped his arms to his sides and nodded. He didn't really want to, but his body demanded it, like hunger, like thirst. To release the weight from his shoulders once and for all, to have closure. Only Zeff knew the complete truth about his family. During the days on Whole Cake Island, he felt desperate for someone from his crew to know, for someone who cared for him to connect the dots and make everything easy. To explain the reasons for his mistakes on his behalf. And pick up the pieces.
"I need a shower. Can you go after that to my room?"
Zoro nodded without adding anything. He didn't follow when Sanji left the kitchen, but Sanji saw him serving himself all the remaining rice and vegetables and starting to eat.