Zoro cursed under his breath as he stared down at the sleek, overly fancy black duffel bag dangling from his hand. The stupid little embroidered chef's hat keychain dangling from the zipper confirmed it—this wasn't his bag. He must've grabbed the wrong one after practice, which meant Sanji had his.
And, of course, his phone was in that bag, because luck hated him today.
Grumbling, Zoro made his way to Sanji's apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. By the time he reached Sanji's floor, irritation had settled into a permanent scowl. He knocked on the door.
Nothing.
Zoro knocked again, louder this time, but the only response was muffled music—something that sounded vaguely familiar. He leaned closer to the door, catching the unmistakable strains of Paramore's "Misery Business" blasting from inside.
"Seriously?" Zoro muttered, stepping back and glaring at the door. "Of all the times to be drowning in emo crap…"
OKAY BIG ONE COMNG THRU
Sanji sat on the edge of his bed, the glow of his desk lamp illuminating a photo in his hand. It was a candid shot of him and Nami from high school, her arm casually draped around his shoulder. His fingers traced the edges of the picture as the chorus of Paramore's "Misery Business" blared through the speakers.
His throat tightened as memories flooded back. He hated how the past still clung to him, dragging him into this pit of regret. His free hand balled into a fist on his knee, his head hanging low as his hair fell over his face.
A faint noise behind him broke through his thoughts, but he brushed it off as part of the song.
Zoro had found a way around the outside and he reached Sanji's window. Knocking on it a few times didn't work so he pulled up on the window, luckily with ease it came up. Dumb ass left it unlocked?
Sanji snapped his head around seeing something move in his periphery, only to see Zoro climbing through the window, looking half-annoyed and half-smug. "WH-?! The hell are you doing?!!"
Zoro hopped down, brushing his hands off. "You wouldn't open the door, and I need my bag. Where is it?"
Sanji quickly wiped at his eyes, shoving the photo under a nearby book. "How about you knock like a normal person instead of breaking in?"
"I did knock. You were too busy crying to Misery Business to notice."
Sanji glared at him, his cheeks flushing. "I wasn't crying!"
"Sure," Zoro said, his tone dry as he glanced around, spotting Sanji's bag. "Now give me my stuff so I can get out of here."
Sanji huffed, standing up. "Fine, but don't touch anything, got it?"
Zoro leaned against the wall, watching Sanji with a raised brow. "Not my fault your taste in music is as dramatic as you are."
Sanji shot him a glare but handed over the bag without a word, the lingering emotion in his eyes betraying him. Zoro noticed but chose not to comment—at least, not yet.
Zoro had managed to walk up to the outside window of Sanjis room and he peered inside for a moment he could see through half closed curtains that he was in his bed looking at something in his hand and staring at it while paramore, all i wanted was playing and Zoro's eyebrows furrowed. "Seriously..." He muttered though peering in he thought it was a bit silly seeing sanji so, emo. He wasnt like this so much back then but now- well he was a walking myspace quote. He then started to knock on the window a few times before prying at the edges of the window to see if he could open it or not.
The muffled sound of knocking barely registered over the blaring chorus, but it was enough to pull Sanji from his thoughts. He frowned, glancing toward the window, his grip tightening on the photo still in his hand.
"What the hell..." he muttered, standing up and crossing the room. He tugged the curtain back just enough to catch sight of Zoro's face peering in, the green-haired idiot fiddling with the window frame.
Sanji's eyes narrowed, and he yanked the window open, glaring at Zoro with a mix of irritation and surprise.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind, moss-head? What the hell are you doing climbing into my window at this hour?"
"Why are you blasting paramore?" He says back looking annoyed with him though thankful because he opened the window. He then started to make his way in, putting one foot in then the other and he entered the room and he gave him a weird look hearing it blasting.
Sanji stepped back as Zoro clumsily climbed through the window, his brow twitching at the question.
"What's it to you?" he shot back, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall, trying to mask the lingering emotion in his eyes. "I didn't exactly invite you in for a critique of my music taste, drummer boy."
He glanced at the stereo still blaring "All I Wanted" and clicked his tongue, walking over to lower the volume—but not turn it off entirely.
"Seriously, what are you even doing here? If you've come to make fun of me, don't bother. You've already had your laugh," he muttered, turning back to face Zoro with a glare that didn't quite hide how tired he looked.
"You have my bag. I was trynna get your attention at the door, i knocked on it so many times but your music was blaring from the damn hallway." He continues though he doesnt miss the tired look and the redness in sanji's eyes, or eye since his fringe was in the way. He then started to look around the room for his bag though at the same time he dropped sanjis on his bed.
Sanji's gaze flicked to the bag Zoro tossed onto his bed before he quickly looked away, running a hand through his hair as if trying to compose himself.
"Tch. You could've just waited till morning," he muttered, though there wasn't much heat in his voice. He shifted slightly, as if shielding the corner of the bed where the photo was still half-hidden under the book.
As Zoro moved around the room looking for his bag, Sanji leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He couldn't shake the self-consciousness gnawing at him under Zoro's sharp gaze.
"Look, it's probably over there somewhere," he added, nodding toward the desk where his things were haphazardly piled. He kept his tone brusque but couldn't help glancing at Zoro again, catching the way the other man's eyes seemed to linger a little too long on his face.
"What? Never seen someone listen to good music before?" he asked, a defensive edge creeping into his voice.
Zoro rasied his brows at his reaction when he looked at his face again just out of habit and he looked to be cringing then eyeing the cook. "I guess not. Must of been the best song ever because you looked like you were crying." He says turning to find his bag at the edge of the door to sanji's room and he kneeled down to open it to make sure sanji didnt throw his shit out otherwise he'd fight him right here. But luckily everything was in place, his phone and his drum sticks.
Sanji stiffened at Zoro's comment, his jaw clenching as he quickly turned away, pretending to fiddle with something on his dresser.
"Don't flatter yourself. It wasn't the song," he snapped, though the faint tremor in his voice betrayed him. He grabbed a stray cigarette from a pack nearby, lighting it with a practiced flick to distract himself.
He glanced over his shoulder as Zoro rummaged through his bag, puffing out a thin stream of smoke.
"Everything there, or should I brace myself for one of your infamous tantrums?" Sanji quipped, though the usual bite in his tone was dulled. His gaze lingered on Zoro for a moment before he looked away again, muttering under his breath.
"And for the record... I wasn't crying."
Zoro zipped the bag up and he picked it up off the ground and he turned to see him and he smelt the smoke from the cigarette he had. "So you were just staring at nothing blasting music. If someone broke in you'd be dead." Though, he doubted that because sanji could handle himself well, he knew it because he fought him before many times-
Sanji exhaled a plume of smoke, narrowing his eyes at Zoro's jab as he leaned against the wall. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, letting the silence hang for a moment before replying.
"Tch. If someone broke in, they'd have bigger problems than me being distracted," he muttered, his gaze briefly flicking to Zoro. He hated admitting it, but there was a certain truth to what the moss-head was saying.
Still, the idea of Zoro pointing it out—like he had some kind of upper hand—irked him. Sanji tapped the ash off his cigarette into a makeshift ashtray, his posture tense but trying to play it cool.
"Anyway, thanks for the concern, mom," he added with a sharp smirk, though the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. He turned his attention back to the stereo, fiddling with the volume knob again as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.
Zoro huffed at that jab and he pushed sanjis bag off the bed for that and he sat down in its spot just to annoy him. "Seriously, what's got you distracted anyways." he questioned him crossing his arm and he turned his head to look at him. Punk vs Emo.
Sanji's jaw tightened as he watched Zoro casually shove his bag to the floor and make himself at home on his bed. The cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he glared at the swordsman—no, drummer now—his sharp blue eye narrowing.
"What makes you think it's any of your business, moss-head?" he snapped, but his usual venom lacked its full punch. He turned his back to Zoro, grabbing the photo he'd stashed earlier and shoving it face-down onto the dresser under a book.
He flicked the cigarette into the ashtray with a sharp motion, taking a moment to gather himself before leaning against the wall. His arms crossed over his chest, mimicking Zoro's stance, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
"Shouldn't you be running off to wax your drumsticks or something?" he shot back, the quip feeling hollow even as it left his lips. He avoided Zoro's gaze, though the weight of it bore down on him. Emo versus punk, and tonight he felt like he was losing.
"I was." he says just to amuse him though he noticed more than Sanji thought here and he caught his eye on the movement he was doing with the book. "Whats that." He nodded his head at the book befroe furrowing his brows at him.
Sanji froze for a split second, his fingers instinctively tightening over his arms as Zoro's question landed. He glanced at the book on the dresser, cursing himself for not being quicker about hiding it. The cook's usual bravado faltered, replaced with something far more defensive.
"It's nothing," he said sharply, though the edge in his voice wasn't convincing. His hand twitched, as if debating whether to move the book again, but he stopped himself, not wanting to make it obvious.
Sanji turned his head slightly, his fringe casting a shadow over his expression, shielding the lingering vulnerability in his gaze. He leaned harder against the wall, trying to appear unbothered, but the tension in his frame betrayed him.
"Mind your own damn business, Zoro," he muttered, his voice quieter this time, carrying a note of something closer to resignation.
Zoro looked at it and he wondered, if he should be a pest and try and grab it from him or not. So... he chose the latter. Randomly out of nowhere, he reached out, stadning from the bed and he reached for the book that he was trying to tuck away in his arms.
Sanji's eyes widened as Zoro moved suddenly, his hand darting toward the book like he had no sense of boundaries—or self-preservation. Instinct kicked in, and Sanji twisted his body, clutching the book against his chest as he backed up into the wall.
"Oi! What the hell do you think you're doing, you bastard?!" he barked, his voice rising in alarm and irritation. His cheeks flushed slightly, not from embarrassment but from the sudden surge of panic as he held the book tightly in his arms.
Sanji's heel hit the baseboard as he glared daggers at Zoro, his free hand lifting as if ready to shove him away.
"You really don't know when to quit, do you?!" he hissed, trying to shift his weight to dodge in case Zoro made another grab for it.
After a few minutes of scuffing Zoro had managed to best him here and he swiped the book up before walking back and he opened it holding it above his head though he wasnt expecting a photo to fall on his face and it landed on the floor between them. Well. there was his answer. He moved his arms down and he looked down at the photo, it was just a old picture of him and nami back in highschool and he looked at the cook with a confused look.
Sanji stood frozen for a moment, his breath catching as he watched the photo flutter to the floor. The brief scuffle left his hair disheveled, and he looked both annoyed and... exposed. His lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something softer—pain, maybe, or regret.
He stepped forward quickly, snatching the photo from the ground before Zoro could get a better look at it. His hand trembled slightly as he held it close, his knuckles whitening around the edges.
"Happy now?" he muttered, his voice low and biting. He turned his back on Zoro, shoulders tense as he stared at the picture in his hands. After a moment, he let out a sharp breath and shoved the photo back into the book, slamming it shut.
Sanji glanced over his shoulder, his expression hard but tinged with something more vulnerable.
"It's nothing," he said again, though this time, it was clear he didn't expect Zoro to believe him.
Zoro wasnt sure what he expected but, this totally made sense now and he just stood there unsure what to say, though he did note how upset about it he was. No freaking wonder he thought. His face went from slight curiousity to a regular scowl though he looked unreadable for a moment. "You're still hung up on that?"
Sanji's shoulders stiffened at Zoro's words, the bluntness of the question hitting harder than he wanted to admit. His grip on the book tightened, but he didn't turn to face him right away. Instead, he let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and tinged with frustration.
"Yeah, well..." he started, his voice low, before trailing off. He finally turned, his expression a mix of defiance and something softer, almost raw.
"What can I say? Guess I'm just a sucker for things that don't work out," he muttered, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. He leaned back against the wall, one hand raking through his messy hair as his eyes darted to the side, avoiding Zoro's gaze.
"And you? Got any more insightful observations to add, or are you just here to rub it in?" Sanji's tone was sharp, but the weight behind his words made it clear he wasn't looking for a fight—not really.
As much as Zoro wanted to rub it in, or laugh at the situation, he for somereason couldnt come up with a laugh, or even a malice thought just.. it didnt seem like something he should pick on. He just stood there looking confused at him before sighing, he wasnt good with relationship things but he knew when things where too much to bear. "I guess I really didnt know what to expect." He said though he seemed more sympathetic just in the slightest.
Sanji's breath hitched slightly at Zoro's words. The rare hint of sympathy from the swordsman caught him off guard, and for a moment, he simply stood there, unsure how to react. The hardness in his expression softened just enough to be noticeable, though he quickly masked it with a scoff, trying to shake off the feeling.
"Yeah, well... it's not like you're supposed to," Sanji muttered, his voice quieter now. He looked away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find something to focus on, anything to avoid facing the sudden vulnerability Zoro had unknowingly dug up.
He hated this feeling—hated that Zoro, of all people, seemed to understand just a little too much about what was going on inside his head.
"I'm fine," he added, trying to make the words sound convincing, though it was clear they were anything but.
But the truth was, maybe—just maybe—he was a little relieved that Zoro wasn't making it worse. Even if he couldn't admit it out loud.
"I dont believe it." He says though he decides to avert eyecontact by sitting on sanji's bed and he took a near by tennis ball off the ground and he started to play with it.
Sanji's gaze flicked toward Zoro as he casually tossed the tennis ball in his hands, the action almost annoyingly nonchalant. But it did manage to ease the tension in the room, just a little, even if Sanji wasn't sure why it felt like a small comfort.
He opened his mouth to protest, to snap back with something sharp, but his words faltered before they could escape. The anger was gone, replaced by a quiet frustration he didn't know how to voice.
Instead, he just shook his head, a small sigh escaping him as he leaned against the dresser again, staring at the floor.
"Whatever, then. Believe what you want," he muttered, trying to put on his usual cocky front, but it came out weaker than he expected.
The silence stretched between them, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. At least, not for Sanji. It felt like an unspoken understanding was hanging in the air, something he wasn't sure he wanted to acknowledge.
Zoro played with the ball to ignore the fact that his heart felt a random pang of something though he wasnt sure what it was just yet. "Do you think you'll get over it."
Sanji blinked at the question, his breath catching slightly as it cut through the quiet. He hadn't expected Zoro to ask something like that—especially not in such a straightforward way. For a moment, he didn't answer, his fingers idly brushing against the edge of the dresser as he tried to collect his thoughts.
Finally, he shrugged, letting out a humorless chuckle.
"Hell if I know," he said, his tone lighter than how he actually felt. He looked up, his gaze briefly meeting Zoro's before darting away again.
"I guess you just... deal with it, right? People move on. Or they don't."
Sanji's voice dropped slightly, carrying a weight he couldn't quite mask.
"Not like it matters much either way." He reached for another cigarette but hesitated, instead just fidgeting with the pack in his hand.
"What about you, huh? You ever been hung up on something you couldn't shake?"
"Not really." he tried to think but all he remembered he was hung up on one time he was rude to a girl and they got him expelled and he later regretted his decision and before he could tell her sorry, and make up he had moved. "You can think of the past but dont let it take over you." He says sounding more wise than anything as he laid back sideways on his bed throwing the ball in the air still not lookign at him.
Sanji huffed a quiet laugh at Zoro's sudden moment of wisdom, though there was no malice in it—just a faint, tired amusement. He leaned back against the dresser, his arms crossing over his chest as he tilted his head to glance at Zoro.
"Didn't know you were capable of giving advice, let alone decent advice," he said, his tone teasing but softer than usual. The edge in his voice had dulled, replaced by something closer to reluctant gratitude.
He stared down at the floor again, Zoro's words sinking in more than he wanted to admit. Maybe he was right—not that Sanji would say it out loud, of course. But a part of him knew he couldn't keep dragging himself through memories that only made him feel worse.
"Guess even a mosshead can have his moments," Sanji muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. He shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts and straightening up slightly.
"So, what now? You planning to stay here and annoy me all night, or are you finally leaving?"
Zoro wasnt sure now, he oddly felt comfortable here though, he knew that he wouldnt have a place to sleep other than the floor or the ugly couch that sanji has. "I dunno." he says though he stopped throwing his ball to look at the cook, for all his emoness, he could find it at least interesting to look at.
Sanji raised an eyebrow at Zoro's nonchalant response, the corner of his mouth twitching in mild annoyance—or maybe amusement, though he wouldn't admit that either.
"You don't know?" he repeated, shaking his head with a sigh. He crossed the room and snatched the tennis ball out of Zoro's hand, spinning it once in his fingers before tossing it onto the desk.
"Well, if you're planning on freeloading, the couch's yours. And don't you dare complain about it, because I'm not giving up my bed," he added, pointing at Zoro with mock sternness, though there was a faint, playful glint in his eye.
Sanji turned back toward his dresser, his fingers brushing idly against the cigarette pack he'd left there. He glanced at Zoro out of the corner of his eye, hesitating before speaking again.
"You hungry or something? If you're sticking around, might as well make myself useful." His voice was quieter this time, as if he didn't quite know why he was offering.
Zoro also realized, maybe he should eat because back at home, there was always scraps because Luffy ate most of the fridge when it gets stocked so he sat up. "Fine." He gave in.
Sanji smirked, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as he moved toward the tiny kitchen tucked into the corner of the apartment. He grabbed a pan from the rack and set it on the stove, his movements quick and precise despite the cramped space.
"Fine, he says," Sanji muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a faint grin. He opened the fridge and scanned its contents before pulling out some eggs, vegetables, and leftover rice. It wasn't much, but it was enough to whip up something halfway decent.
As he worked, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, his focus shifting to the rhythm of chopping and stirring. The sizzling sound of the pan filled the room, accompanied by the faint remnants of Paramore still playing in the background.
"So, what's it like living with Luffy, anyway? I'm guessing it's a lot of chaos and no food," he asked casually, glancing over his shoulder at Zoro with a smirk as he cracked an egg into the pan.
"Starving shit house." He says leaning against the counter to watch the cook make a meal from scratch.. he should of thought of this weeks ago when he moved back in to just come for food...
Sanji chuckled softly at Zoro's blunt description, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and sympathy as he stirred the eggs in the pan.
"Sounds about right. Luffy's got an appetite that could rival an army, and the rest of us are just... living in his food shadow," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a wry smile. He tossed some vegetables into the pan, letting them cook with the eggs as he added a dash of soy sauce for flavor.
He glanced over at Zoro, noticing the way he was watching the food, and smirked.
"Maybe I should charge you for this. Since you're so used to starving, I can make a menu for the 'Zoro Special.'" He teased, though there was something oddly comfortable about the banter now, even if it was just the two of them standing in this small, cluttered apartment.
"Anyway, you can hang out for as long as you want, but don't get too comfy. The couch is a one-night deal." Sanji shot Zoro a sidelong glance, the teasing edge still there but with a faint undercurrent of something else—something almost friendly, despite the usual tension between them.
Zoro rolled his eyes before nochanlantly moving away from the counter to wander off to the couch he hated and he frowned at it though he sat down and it was still, as uncomfy as ever. sure he could leave.. he might maybe but. something in him urged him to stay and it felt uneasy, blocking the feeling he grabbed a remote to turn on the box tv in front and he put on comedy central for the night. though he turned it down to hear the cook. "You should get a different couch, this sucks ass."
Sanji, busy with the food, shot Zoro a sideways glance as he heard him plop down onto the couch. He couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips, even though he was focused on getting the food right.
"Yeah, well, it's either this or a floor mat," Sanji shot back, his voice slightly muffled by the sizzling sounds from the stove. He tossed the cooked eggs onto a plate, arranging the meal with an almost exaggerated care, before sliding it onto the counter for Zoro.
As the sound of the TV filled the room, Sanji moved over to grab a glass of water, his eyes flicking toward the couch where Zoro had settled in, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to leave.
"You could always just go home, you know. But I'm guessing you're sticking around for more than just the food," he teased, his voice light, though he kept his focus on the task at hand, not letting on that he noticed the quiet way Zoro stayed in the room.
The thought crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Zoro was Zoro—always a challenge, always ready to leave but never really doing it.
"Im staying for the food." He says though he turned to see sanji bringing over a quick meal that looked insanley delicious, one plate for him and the other for sanji. grilled cheese and tomato soup.
Sanji set both plates down on the coffee table with a quiet thud, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and amusement as he slid the grilled cheese and tomato soup in front of Zoro.
"You better be," Sanji muttered, a smile tugging at his lips despite his attempt to act tough. The meal, simple as it was, looked perfect—golden, crispy grilled cheese with a steaming bowl of tomato soup beside it, the steam rising in a gentle cloud.
He then sat down on the other side of the couch, casually pulling his plate toward him as he dug into the soup, slurping it up with satisfaction.
"Honestly, it's not much," Sanji said, his tone almost smug as he watched Zoro's reaction to the meal. He was keenly aware of how it might hit—how anything he made was bound to be better than whatever the hell Zoro had been dealing with at home.
He noticed the stupid look in his eye. "Dont get cocky, cook." he says though, he never could lie with his food, it was insanely good and he was already taking a bite and distracting himself with the tv.
Sanji raised an eyebrow at Zoro's gruff response, but he couldn't suppress the satisfied smirk that curled onto his face as Zoro dove into the food without hesitation. The compliment was unspoken but obvious, and it was enough to make Sanji feel a quiet sense of pride.
"Keep eating, mosshead," Sanji teased, taking a bite of his own sandwich before leaning back slightly to give Zoro space to enjoy his food in peace. It wasn't often he got to cook for someone else like this, especially someone who was so... difficult to impress.
For a moment, Sanji let the silence stretch between them, the hum of the TV the only sound filling the room as the night settled in. He glanced over at Zoro from the corner of his eye, noticing the relaxed way he was eating—like he was actually comfortable for once. It was a small thing, but it was enough to make Sanji feel like maybe, just maybe, this wasn't so bad after all.
After the two finished, Sanji got up from his side of the couch, grabbing his and zoro's bowl with no words as he walked to the sink. He made his mind, unreluctatnly though.
"You can sleep on the couch. Just dont drool all over it." He says spraying the water.
Result. Zoro spent the night on the couch he verbally said he hated. He couldnt get himself to leave.