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He touches Sanji's skin with his dark, bone-long fingers. He is clinical, efficient. Gentle somehow. There are goose bumps speckled over the exposed, pale flesh of the cook, and the new lines of stitching are so clean they look like pen drawn etches.
Zoro still wants to break every knuckle of the doctor captain. This man with his long hands touching Sanji, caressing the injuries as if they were individual children he must tend to. He wraps the white bandages around Sanji, and there is no way to filter out the intimacy of it. All Zoro can do is sit and watch, playing the guard dog.
“In the morning I’ll look at them again. Do you require any assistance dressing, Blackleg-ya?”
Zoro watched the way Sanji turns, one hand already in his shirt sleeve, his blue eyes trailing up the ladder of tattoos that lead to Law’s face. Zoro sees the way those blue eyes flash. The way they lock and brighten and-
“Are you offering?”
There’s a smile playing on the cooks lips, small and taunting and unmistakably flirtatious. That look had gutted Zoro like a fish more times than once.
“Is the present company not adequate enough?”
Law flicks his gaze at Zoro, only for a moment before he’s approaching Sanji again on his long strides. They have eye contact now, silent little things slipping into their minds, and Zoro knew the moment he helped Sanji to the showers, he had always been the third, not the second.
Law begins to knot Sanji’s tie over the unbuttoned waistcoat, and there again, the intimacy .
Law touched Sanji like a lover.
Zoro leaves them. He trades watch with Usopp, knowing his mind will find no peace for the night.
-
Zoro continues to watch. It makes him feel sick the way the warlord will trade words with the cook through the porthole, like they’re faces need to be that close. Law has a stethoscope, and yet in the galley he has Sanji shirtless, pressing his tattooed fingers to that pale skin. It’s like they’re both trying to outperform one another, with all this ridiculousness. Zoro lifts weights, and adds another set every time the cook chuckles at something the surgeon says.
-
“Your ship’s cook is a special case of rare.”
They’re all eating dinner, other than Sanji who just moves around everyone, taking the empty plates and refilling any other space. He’s got a rhythm he follows. Laws eyes follow it too.
“Shishishi! Everyone loves Sanji’s food- it’s the best!”
Luffy continues his gorging, and Law takes a calm bite of his meal, showing his appreciation in a way Sanji is sure to love. Zoro grips his fork and eats more.
“Surly you realize finding a chef of such talent anywhere would be difficult, yes. But to find one with remarkable combative skill? It's as if you broke open an oyster and found a diamond.”
Zoro feels sick again, his entire throat closing up at the blush spreading over Sanji's cheekbones. He’s still moving about, acting unaffected, doing his job without flaw.
“Oysters give pearls though! You can’t grow a diamond, Nami says so.”
Nami rolled her eyes at Luffy, letting him take the bones from her plate. Law just hummed, still gaze locked on every movement of Sanji.
“There are always pearls, and you could have chosen a pearl. But it still stands that you found the diamond.”
Sanji's whole face is lightly flushed, bright red on the ears. In the low light he looks endearing and all the other things Zoro doesn’t allow himself to think.
But Law is thinking them all. Law is clearing the whole fucking path.
-
Zoro dreams of Sanji, bare chested and prone on a metal table with Law bent over him. They’re not touching, just a breath away and unmoving and Zoro isn't sure what to do, isn't sure what he’s intruding on. Then Law is cutting into Sanji, leaving gaping red lines and the blood flows like water down the pale flesh, down the table, flowing past the floor. Sanji is just lying there, staring up into Law as Law stares down, never blinking as he kills the cook.
Zoro can't move. He tries, he swears he tries again and again to move, to scream, to be known, but he is utterly ignored as the two engage in this fatal intimacy. He howls silently as Sanji smiles, sweet and content, and Law leans down to kiss him.
He wakes up, frantically checking his feet, so sure the blood had pooled around them. Then he looks to Sanji’s bunk, and it's empty, and Zoro can't move again. He can't move.
-
“You need to be more careful.”
He doesn't mean to say it so roughly, but this is how he is with Sanji. Or, this is how it had always been, how it has only ever been allowed to be. Sanji blows cigarette smoke in his face and barely glances at him.
“I can take care of myself, so piss off.”
Zoro stands a bit closer, trying to get Sanji to look at him. He won't.
“He’s a warlord . He’s different from us.”
That gets a reaction, gets a glare and more smoke in his face. Zoro doesn't flinch. He wants to be seen, he wants to be heard .
“He could be another god for all I care. Doesn't change shit.”
“You’re being reckless.”
Sanji flicked the ash into the sea, mouth a tight line.
“Are you trying to control me, Zoro?”
Zoro almost takes a step back, hit by that implication. Freedom, to all of them, was something treasured and desired above air itself.
“As your nakama, I’m warning you against getting too close to him.”
Zoro thinks that’s appropriate. As nakama they are equals. They are comrades. But Sanji laughs, flat and cold.
“Luffy doesn't give a shit. No one else gives a shit. I don't even give that much of a shit. But guess what? Still my fuckin’ choice. You have no say in this, and that’s not something you get to argue.”
Sanji makes to leave, tossing the unfinished cigarette off the side of the ship. Zoro wants to reach out, grab onto him, anything.
“He could hurt you.”
Sanji does stop at that, not fully turning around, just giving Zoro the shell of his ear.
“Since when do you give a fuck about my feelings, huh?”
And Zoro is struck again, realizing the misunderstanding and all that came with it. Here he was, worried about all the blood in Sanji’s body but not his heart. It set a cold weight in his chest, this thought that Sanji cared enough to be hurt by this man in some way that Zoro could not stop with a sword.
“I just don't want you to get hurt. In any way.”
There’s a flicker of blue as Sanji turns a little more, and then it disappears as he turns fully away.
“As nakama, i’m sure.”
He started walking away, and Zoro couldn't stop him this time. He didn't know what words were right, they all felt dumb and clumsy in his head. There was only fear, and that ugly little thing twisting in his soul which he refused to call jealousy.
-
Zoro wanted to talk to Sanji again that night, but in his rush he didn't consider there would be a need to knock on the galley door, and didn't think it odd the light was on. He just opened the door as he normally would, and there was Sanji, being kissed by Law and kissing back.
They had the decency to break apart, Sanji far more alarmed than the surgeon, shouting about manners and privacy and all sorts of normal Sanji things. Zoro just stared at Law, and he knew there was something dark and primal and wrong on his face. Law just looked back at him, this horrible knowing glint in his eyes, taunting Zoro as if to say what will you do, what will you do?
Sanji was buttoning up his shirt, something Zoro didn't notice had been undone. It made him lock his jaw to keep from screaming, because this was not his claim. Sanji was right of course, saying that Zoro had no say. As each button was done up, all the heat in Zoro cooled down, and suddenly he just wanted to lie down somewhere quiet, and alone. Somewhere he could grieve in peace because whatever he wanted with Sanji?
It wasn't something he could have.
“Well did you want something??”
Sanji lights a cigarette, flushed, disheveled and beautiful.
“No. Sorry.”
He flees. He ends up in the crows nest, skin crawling because they’re sure to continue down there, and Sanji’s skin will surely be marked, will surely be kissed, will surely be touched by hands that are not Zoro’s. But Zoro quieted his mind. He eased open his heart, and let the hurt wash him clean so he could look at his own mistakes. He would not succumb to this failure; he could still grow from this.
Did you ever even try to tell him how beautiful his strength is?
Room for growth. Room for growth.
-
“They’ll be others after me, you know.”
Law was about the last person Zoro wanted to be in the company of. It was his watch, so he couldn't escape the ship, and this was his territory anyways. He would not be scattered.
“Luffy has lots of friends. Alliances are guaranteed.”
Law looked at him with his heavy stare. Zoro just looked back.
“I was meaning bed-mates. He is attractive and strong, and so it is natural. Will you fight him against every single one?”
Zoro didn't like the way Law tried to pry himself under his skin like that. Chopper was a doctor too, but he was kind and soft in all the ways Law was cold. The man was all sharpness and trauma.
“No. He does what he wants anyways.”
Law gave a small turn of the lips at that. Not quite a smile, but less dark than his resting face.
“He certainly does.”
Zoro growled; one warning given. Law raised a hand in a half hearted gesture.
“I didn't come to aggravate you. I was simply curious as to why you wouldn't act on such obvious infatuation when it could be received positively.”
Positively. That word didn't mix with sentences including Zoro and Sanji.
“I’m not playing this game with you.”
“What game would that be, Zoro-ya?”
Zoro gave Law another look . He knew Law was smart. He also knew by comparison, he wasn't so much. It didn't mean he was a complete moron, despite the cook’s thoughts.
“You come up here and give me bad matchmaking advice out of boredom, I get my hopes up, the cook gets put in an awkward situation and no one wins. You end up on the other side of the world with your own crew laughing about it at some point, and I’ll always get played the fool.”
Law hummed, facial expression unreadable. Zoro wished he had a drink, something harsh and throat numbing. He could see it all now, distantly in the future where older Zoro sat with some bullshit broken heart and Law remembered great sex with Sanji.
“He finds you unreadable. It frustrates him, not being able to understand your signals, and I believe a large part of that is because you don't understand the signals you’re giving. You’ve probably never done this before.”
Done this before. When had anything he’d ever done on this goddamn sea ever been ‘done before’. When had anything to do with Sanji ever been done before .
“And what signals am I giving then?”
Another hum. The afternoon shadows made the bags under Law’s eyes seem twice as depressing. Twice as frightening.
“That you want him. That you despise him. That you trust him, but won't spend time with him. How is he supposed to know which side of the coin you’re standing on when you flip every 2 seconds?”
“I’m honest with him. I don't needlessly flatter him or-
“Show appreciation? Show affection? Tell me, how do you think I found his favor in a matter of days when you, his nakama, have failed to gain it over years of sailing together?”
Zoro hadn't really thought of that. Law was a powerful man, tall, and maybe called attractive. Who knows what he said to Sanji, other than the right things.
“I am not you. I wouldn't do the things you did.”
“No. But you could always use my steps as a guide.”
“I’m not looking for you guidance into getting into his pants.”
Law barked a laugh, a sharp note that put Zoro on edge. He wondered if there was anything Law did that wasn't just a bit disturbing.
“Sex is certainly a...bonding experience if nothing else. You can learn a lot about a person through it.”
Zoro tried not to think about all the ways Law knew Sanji. Every place he had placed his hands, not tainting the flesh, but in Zoro’s mind close to harming it. Using it in a way that was vile when it should have been sacred. Sanji’s body, a fighting vessel, given wilinging seemed almost holy.
“Why did you come up here.”
Again, such a blank look from the older man. Like he was waiting for something exceptional to happen, but knew it wouldn't.
“Your crew’s health benefits my cause. Simply put, you getting your shit together means you’ll fight better, and the victory I desire will be that much easier. So, will you continue to torment him like a child, or confront it all?”
Zoro thought about Sanji. As a person, whole and raw and imperfect. He cooked food. He fought well. He loved hard, with everything inside him, and hurt inwardly. He cared about everything. Sometimes he cared too much. He liked the color blue. His eyebrows weren't such a weird thing. He was selfless.
He probably didn't love Zoro. He probably didn't even like Zoro. Zoro loved him though, and maybe, if things were really simple and somewhere out there god was generous, Zoro could break off some of that love and throw it at Sanji and Sanji would keep it. Maybe that could turn into something, and maybe that something could be great.
-
Hours after Law left, dawn greeted Zoro the same time Sanji did.
Not directly, as the man and the sun both silently moved across the deck, casting shadows and bearing their own gifts. Zoro watched him disappear behind the galley doors, lost to his own creations until the sun brought the others to him.
He wanted to lay himself down for Sanji, to kneel by his feet, whisper his praise through his very veins so that Sanji might finally hear him and accept some part of that love. Zoro wanted so many words to leave his head, to stop buzzing around and distracting him because Sanji- he was incredible. Sanji was remarkable . Sanji might not ever know this.
I will give you all the blood in my veins. I will give you all my bones ground to ash.
He wanted to write it in Sanji’s soul. He wanted Sanji to understand.
I will give you all that I am, I will give you anything.
He would lay it down on stone and diamond if he had to. He’d make the sky write it out.
I love you, I am not worthy, but I love you.
Here, in this moment, he was unworthy. He was only a man who had failed. He was only a human who didn't understand.
Room for growth, he thought. This is it, right here.
He left the crow’s nest, not knowing who would be up there next, not caring. He entered the galley, and Sanji stood half turned with a bowl in his hands and his eyes on Zoro.
He thought about all the things he could tell Sanji. All the ways he could sing his praise by scratching it into his skin and brushing his veins. Some days Zoro wanted his swords to clear the way to the bone whites under all Sanji’s skin, to cut him apart and make him bare. Other days he wanted to kneel, to strip himself of every organ in his body and lay himself, prone and empty to Sanji. It was the most complicated thing in their lives, and it was how the two of them, when together as one, were contradictions of all forms of love that was supposed to be gentle and sweet and were . A constant and never ending battle of love and hate, two hands trying to hold and strangle and release all at the same time. No such thing as meeting half way- it was either kill or be killed. You die or you live, and someone the other. Who is loved today, who is hated today, what is the answer, what is the feeling. Sanji and his giving and expression and affection, electrically charged against a man like Zoro, who learned to not feel the way frostbite stings, only the way cold can touch, and that emotions, like all things, could be trained away from.
To Sanji, it was to love, to love, to love. Ones heart is only as good as the receiving vessel, and you are always looking for your other half. He would give himself away to the sky, the sea, a goddamn stone if it asked with the compassionate honesty of the heart. He could stand at the edge of the world, having stopped all sorts of different hells from opening up, and still he would stand on that edge and chant his own uselessness. Asking if he was good enough now that someone knew his name well enough to delivery a eulogy.
“I don't want this to be like it was.”
These were the words Zoro chose. Here, in the safety of Sunny where Sanji would always be beautiful, and always be devastating. Here, where Zoro was so sure his heart would skatter in the wind and his numbness would keep him safe.
“You have to tell me then.”
And once Zoro might have argued. That was the way it was, living with Sanji, breathing with him; it was a fight. Not a constant hatred at all, but a repeating reminder that there is a better you, always there is a better you, and he will bring him out.
“I want this to become something. I was us to be- us.
And Sanji looked at him. Eye wide open, ready to bear witness. Honest and glorious.
“That’s not good enough. I want to know everything- I have that right, don't I?”
Demanding. Always asking for more of Zoro, pushing him farther, making him greater . He did have this right. He had the key to the lock, but instead of ripping open the door he wanted Zoro to be the one to open it and invite him over the threshold. Gracious as it was maddening. All Sanji, all Zoro wanted.
“I want to be the only one to touch you. I want you to want to touch me back, and I want it to be more than touch alone. I want what we are, as two people, to be united like that.”
And that was that. All Zoro could hope for was that Sanji didn't ask for something more. He didn't know what he’d say.
“...This is more than fucking, then.”
Zoro smiled, graced by the upturn of lips on Sanji’s face.
“This is more than fucking, yes.”
And then Sanji wasn't looking at him. Sanji was right there, with a hand brushing the tiny hairs on the back of Zoro’s neck, agonizingly close and too far away for it to be fair.
“But there’s still going to be fucking.”
Sanji’s lips were nearly on his, but Zoro wanted this spelled out with his head still clean. He knew Sanji, knew the way he could get under the skin like snake in water. Knew Sanji was too smart sometimes.
He put his hand over Sanji’s chest, gentle. It made Sanji pause.
“I want to know what you want, Sanji.”
And then Sanji was kissing him, slow and hard and it was like Zoro had a bullet stuck in his lungs. It was like someone was cutting him open. He had never been alive before.
“I want this.”
Sanji’s hand rested over Zoro’s heart, mirroring the other man. Hands over hearts, touching souls.
“I want this.”
There was so much violence in the action of simply kissing Sanji. It made Zoro so fucking hungry for all the ways their bodies could intertwine, all the ways he could be with Sanji. Have Sanji. Something inside Zoro nearly fell to bits at the thought of all the ways he and Sanji could be Sanji and Zoro . All the possible ways that a touch could grow to be soft.
“I want this.”
Zoro just let go of it all. Sanji held everything, and it was addictive, the way he was holding Zoro’s whole life like that.