Archive of Our Own

“If you try to escape this island they will blow your hands off at the wrist!” 

“Big mom was thoughtful enough to lend them to me. And she has the key.” 

Sanji clenched his fists and leaned back against the wall of the galley. He blows smoke to the rafters and chews on the filter with his molars.

He’d made it away. Whole Cake was behind them and Wano lay ahead. 

The world was still moving and he hadn’t yet caught his breath, but there was one fear he hadn’t been able to leave in the wake. 

The lantern light was low and warm, it reflected off of the gold on his wrists like embers. 

In all the chaos since he’d jumped from that wedding cake, Sanji forgot to worry about the threat he carried. 

Reiju’s voice rings in his head, even toned and confident, “Oh, and I forgot to mention earlier. Those bracelets on you? They’re not going to explode. I switched them out for ordinary ones.” 

The metal still sat on his wrists, cold and deadly. 

Judge’s words are rough like gravel as he recalls them, “You have my word that I will never approach you or the East Blue again.” Everything had been settled. Sanji had turned to follow his crew when Judge had one more thing to add.

“Too bad. I should have let her get away with it.” He had spoken with the air of an afterthought, in a tone of mild disappointment. As if he’d left a light on to burn down the oil, a minor inconvenience. 

An inconvenience that made Sanji’s veins turn to ice. 

Who… did he believe? 

He wanted to believe Reiju. She was always so clever, and she had never bothered lying to him. Sanji felt she at least believed it to be true. 

But then did he believe Judge? If he were telling the truth then he’d outsmarted Reiju. 

Which would mean the cuffs were still live. 

There was a gut urge to rip them off his wrist and punt them into the sea. Surely they weren’t the real ones. The horror of the truth was so gruesome it couldn’t be possible. 

Reiju was clever. She’d probably caught Judge’s notice in her and already foreseen it. She was the one that put them on him, she had to have known if they were real or fake. 

The risk of trusting wrong was far too great. Sanji heaved, hands trembling as he tucked them crossed his waist. They were already halfway to Wano, he was on the Sunny with his Nakama. 

He was a walking bomb. 

His minds eye pictured himself standing at the stove one afternoon, two skillets going on the stove, the smell of stir fry in the air. The Sunny rocks to the side with the waves, a wash of sea crashing over the deck. The handle of a skillet shifts, spins and neatly threads into the gold at his wrist. It tugs away. 

The explosion from the galley blows out the windows and scorches the grass on the lawn. 

Sanji swallowed, throat dry. He needed to tell Luffy. He needed to stay away from everyone. 

At Whole Cake Island he’d not felt terror for others at his predicament. Everyone around was an enemy, there was no concern for the loss of anyone injured by his actions. He was only risking his own life, and what value did that hold? 

But here…

Sanji held one hand up close to his eyes, examining one cuff with a narrowed gaze. The metal was smooth and seamless. As he draws a fingertip delicately along the metal, he thinks he might feel a small imperfection. A small hole, barely perceptible, along the inside. 

For the supposed key that Big Mom had?

The cuffs are mechanical, Sanji thinks. Possibly electric as well in some component? He wonders if maybe Franky could get them off? Probably his best bet since there was no likelihood they’d come across Big Mom again to ask for the key. 

And even then… Like Hell she’d hand it over. 

He needed to tell Luffy. He was a liability. 

Sanji slid to the floor, the cupboard cool against his back. His pulse fluttered where his fingertips pressed beneath the metal. 

Sanji loved his Captain. He loved Luffy and he plans to follow him to the ends of the earth. But Luffy would never let him continue with the cuffs on. He wouldn’t want to wait to ask Franky. That was his Captain’s way. He would know how much fear it brought him to have them on and he would want to change it. 

He’d trust Reiju. 

Another scenario trickles unbidden into his thoughts. 

Luffy stepping foot on a beach, hat pulled low. Wano’s lush forests lay before them as the Sunny waits on the water behind. The rest of the crew is waiting at the treeline, anxious for their return. 

“Where’s the Cook?” Zoro’s voice cuts in. He’s scowling and there's something fearful in his gaze. 

Luffy is frowning, he’s got bandages covering both arms. Nami gives a sob as she comes up behind him, holding Chopper's hand. 

“No, no, no.” Sanji whispers to himself, hands grabbing at his hair. 

They were two days from Wano where they’d meet up with the rest of the crew. 

He’d tell them then. 

At least then, if he needed to run far far away… He’d have the space to do so. 

• • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Kin’emon had set him up with a room in the middle of the market and given him directions to a man with a soba stall. 

The whole crew wasn’t together yet, Sanji told himself. 

Wano and his Nakama needed his help, he needed to put himself aside and get this done first. 

It was his fault that Luffy had been delayed coming to Wano.

Sanji told himself that he was only the one at risk with the cuffs on, realistically. He just needed to keep himself responsible for them. 

He smiles at his next customer and pours them a bowl. He thinks of Usopp telling him about the people’s trouble as he helped him set up his room. 

Sanji could deal with this and wait until his crew had the time to help him get them off. 

However, this also meant he needed to make sure they didn’t find out about them. 

A dark green obi caught in his periphery and Sanji found himself turning before he could blink. 

It was a man of the local garrison, a single katana at his hip. Sanji cleared his throat, turning back to the cauldron at his cart. 

Zoro had apparently gone undercover as a wandering ronin and had gotten into some trouble with the authorities, Usopp had told him. Which, to Sanji, sounded like Zoro hadn’t gone undercover at all . 

Nami had already been throwing him questionable looks since they’d left Whole Cake. Sanji knew he wasn’t hiding his anxiety well, but he’d been hoping to explain it off from the recent bout of trauma. There was only one person he didn’t think he’d be able to truly hide it from. 

This person, coincidentally, would also be furious when he learned about them. 

Roronoa Zoro. 

Sanji watches the local samurai walk away with an ache curling in his heart. 

Their last true moment together had been after Punk Hazard. The blond clenches a hand to his chest as he recalls it. 

╭─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────╮

The children had been carted off with the Marines and Sanji had been chain smoking his way through his feelings on the back deck as he watched the icy mountains turn into a fog on the horizon. 

Zoro stomps his way over and joins him. He’s standing tall and unwavering, his arm resting casually along Wado’s hilt. He’s the antethis to Sanji’s slunched form, the blond practically dripping into the railing with emotional exhaustion. 

“That was fucked up,” Zoro comments. 

“It was,” Sanji agrees. 

The breeze wisps around them and Sanji turns to fully look at Zoro. There was something delicate weaving between them and Sanji wasn’t sure what to do with it. 

They were the Wings of the Future King of the Pirates. The trust and respect between them ran deeper than Sanji thinks anyone else truly understands. But at some point along their adventures, threads of something gentler had been spun. 

Jabs and insults over a bottle of wine in the crows nest curled into shared stories and dreams. 

Hands reaching out unprompted to smooth a collar or tend to a wound. 

After battles, what had once been a clap on the back lingered into a grip of relief. 

Quips of “ Glad you’re not dead ” tumbling into whispers of “ Don’t you dare die on me. ”

Sanji wanted to pluck those strands and follow them to wherever they were leading, to explore the tapestry being woven between them. 

But he was also terrified of unraveling what they’d already built. 

Zoro meets his gaze and Sanji swallows, wondering what he saw. 

“Seems like there’s gonna be some heavy shit ahead, Cook,” Zoro pointed out. 

“Yeah,” Sanji takes a heavy breath of the salt in the air. “We’re fighting higher bounties with every battle. You’d think I’d be used to that by now.” 

Zoro leans over to join him at the railing, their elbows bumping, “Numbers don’t matter.” 

“You would say that, Marimo,” Sanji snorts. 

“Bounties are only proof of what you’ve conquered. Not what you’re capable of.” Zoro states, resolute. 

The blond thinks on that for a moment, then asks, “then, do you think there's a limit?”

Zoro frowns, “On what?” 

“Of what we’re capable of?” 

Zoro’s forearm is parallel to his own. It’s warm and steadying. Their pinkies bump as the ship rocks. 

“Well… When we fight together…” Zoro’s voice is low but no less firm, his gaze anchored on Sanji’s own, “...There’s not a damn thing I don’t think we can do.” 

 Sanji smiles fondly, “You always think like that, Moss. I don’t have anything to do with it.” 

“What, don’t believe me?” Zoro coaxes, teasing. 

“Oh no, I fully believe you think that.” The blond drawls, bumping their shoulders together as he softens, offering his words quietly to the air, “And I- I feel it too.” 

Their hands bump again and Sanji’s heart flutters as Zoro tucks his pinkie finger around his own, joining them together, “So we’ll just have to stick together, then.” 

“You’d like that?” Sanji asks, wetting his lips as his mouth runs dry, “Sounds alot like a commitment.” 

“Sure.” Zoro replies easily, head tilted close as he adds, “you like commitments, don’t you Cook?” 

Sanji takes the last drag on his cigarette and flicks the filter into the waves, “Yeah, Marimo. I do.” 

╰─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────╯

They’re on their way across the water, to Onigashima. Luffy had them start out in the early morning as it was likely to take all day to meet up with the others. Sanji has changed into a dark wine-red suit he’d been saving for a night like this. 

It was difficult to find a good suit color that hid the blood stains well. 

Standing at his locker in the hallway, Sanji slipped on his shoes and reached for another item. His hand shifted to the side from a strong wave and suddenly there was a clunky metal thunk as a bracelet knocked into the metal wall of his locker. Sanji felt a gasp lodge in his throat and he held his breath. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Four. 

Five. 

Sanji let out his breath, his hands trembling. 

“Curls?” Zoro’s call came from down the hall, his heavy footsteps following his words. 

The blond grabbed a set of black leather gloves and shoved them on, closing the locker with his heel. 

Zoro paused at the end of the lockers, brow furrowed, “Your Haki spiked.” 

Oh, fuck . Sanji hadn’t even realized he’d done it. 

“Sorry,” He swallowed, “Couldn’t find my favorite shoes for a moment.” 

At the raise of an eyebrow Sanji continued, “Just freaked me out. It’s an important battle, you know.” 

Zoro didn’t seem convinced, but his shoulders relaxed in defeat.

“My shoes are kind of like your swords,” Sanji pesters, leading out of the hallway and taking Zoro’s elbow as he walks, “Since, in a way, they're like my weapons.” 

“Mhm,” Zoro lets himself be led without hesitation, “They both get polished.” 

The blond snorts, “Yeah, that’s true.” He points Zoro to the galley, his safe space, his haven. 

The place where he can feasibly put the most distance between them. 

Sanji guides Zoro to the bench at the table and neatly swivels himself to the heart of the kitchen, starting a pot of rice to boil. They’re a good seven feet apart, he thinks. 

That's a decent distance. 

“Tell me, Marimo,” he hums, “Did you miss my cooking?” 

“Course I did, Cook,” The swordsman answers simply, tilting his head to pillow it in his fist. 

“You’ve been living in the land where all your favorite foods come from.” Sanji reasoned, hoping his blush wasn’t obvious, “I was wondering if you’d come back and tell me I’m doing it wrong.” 

“Like Hell,” Zoro scoffs, but he’s got a soft look in his eye and a crooked smile spreading on his face, “Even if I wanted to you’d kill me for saying it.” 

Sanji laughs, gods he’d missed him. 

“I missed everyone,” He says instead, but there’s only one man he’s looking at as he says it. 

Zoro meets his gaze and doesn’t waver, “You were missed.” 

While the rice cooks, Sanji turns to the island where he can start the fillings. 

He wonders if he’d be brave enough to cross the room if he didn’t have bombs strapped to his wrists. He’d like to think he would be. 

Sanji imagines that they would finally have had time to put words to what they are. 

A smart part of himself wants to cry out for help. A desperate, childish thing whispering in his ear. But that would be selfish of himself. It would be disrespectful of the battle they’re heading to, twenty years in the making. Making his Nakama worry about him now would distract them from the task at hand. 

Sanji is also well aware he owes Zoro an explanation for leaving in the first place. It was a miasma in the air between them, tainting where they were before . 

That.. Sanji didn’t have to wait to address. 

“I…” He tries, keeping his hands busy with ingredients, “I’m sorry, Zoro.” 

The swordsman meets his gaze, searching, “For what?” And Sanji knows he’s not asking sarcastically. Zoro wants to know what actions. 

“For-” The words catch in his throat and horror spikes as he realizes what he was going to say. 

For not trusting my crew to help me . The phrase echoes in his head. 

“Oh.” Sanji whispers, looking down at his wrists, “ Oh no. ” 

“Curls?” Zoro's tone completely shifted. 

The disdain for himself curled hot and ugly in his stomach and Sanji felt himself back up into the cabinets. His eyes locked on black leather. 

What had he done? He hadn’t trusted his crew to be able to save him the first time. Luffy had brought him back, he’d proven the strength of their bonds. The grit of his Captain’s determination. 

What had Sanji proven? 

That he would put his crew in danger again? 

Tears, hot and warm roll down his cheeks and suddenly there’s rough thumbs brushing them away, fingertips curling into his hair. 

“Curls, what’s wrong?” Zoro’s voice is strained as if he were in pain and he’s right there , holding Sanji as he falls apart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. ” he sobs, keeping his hands fisted and pushed against his own gut as Zoro moves closer. The thought of them even touching the swordsman makes him want to throw up. “I’ll tell you, but please . Let me start at the beginning and…” He looks to the kitchen table, “And you need to sit over there.” 

 Zoro freezes, “Why?” 

He’s too fucking perceptive. “I need space.” Sanji spits out, hands clenched in his suit coat, “ Please. ” 

“Fine.” The word is clipped, Zoro clearly does not think it is fine. 

He goes and sits back down at the table anyway, thank god. 

Sanji heaves a great sigh, feeling as if he could breathe again the further Zoro from him. His heart ached with each step the swordsman took. 

“Cook,” Zoro frowns, and Sanji can see the impatience in the taut lines of his muscles. 

“I suppose we’ll need to start at my birth…” The blond muttered. 

Sanji tells him everything about the Vinsmokes. He shares the tragedy of his mother, the cruelty of his father, the ruthlessness of his brothers, and the failure that was his own body. For the most part Zoro is quiet as Sanji painfully recounts his childhood with his blood relatives. He only cuts in with the occasional question or comment, though Sanji isn’t ignorant to the fact that Zoro’s demon aura had been steadily spilling into the room.  

“They had a funeral?” 

“Yes, so I’m told. I wasn’t present.” 

“And you had to wear a metal helmet -At the age of eight- for months?” 

“...Yes.” 

“Why are they not dead right now?” 

“Because that’s not how Zeff raised me.” 

“Let’s call him up right now. I dare you. See if he thinks Judge should be alive.”  

Sanji relays the transition to recent events, only leaving out one important gold and deadly detail. They get to the end of the story and Sanji trails off as he explains how they left Germa behind, fighting the forces on Whole Cake Island. Zoro’s still watching him carefully, his demon aura clinging to the edges of the room with a simmering anger. 

“And now we’re here. Where I’m saying that I’m sorry.” Sanji rasps, grasping the edge of the counter to steady himself. His words come out watery and run together. “Well, I’m not sorry for trying to protect everyone. I’m not sorry for letting my family live. But I am sorry for not trusting my crew to save me from that fate. I’m… I’m sorry for not valuing my own life more.” 

Sanji heaves a shuddering breath, “and I’m so sorry that I did it again.” 

He meets Zoro’s gaze once more and it breaks his heart, the desperation in Zoro’s face, “Curly, please. What do you mean?” 

Sanji’s stricken with the way Zoro is looking at him. He knows. He knows something is wrong and it’s eating him alive. The blond deflates and tugs off his leather gloves, the cuffs shimmer in the roll of the light from the waves. 

“I left something out of the story that no one knows,” He holds his hands up, displaying the bracelets, “Zeff wasn’t the only insurance Judge had on me.” 

There’s a thick pause before the swordsman’s voice cuts in, tight and deadly, “The fuck are those?” He asks, but the way his hands clench at his knees reveals he already has the right idea. 

“Judge’s failsafe. Their compact versions of the collars on the slaves in Sabaody. If I try to remove them they’ll-” 

He nearly can’t get it out, he swallows around the thick lump in his throat. “They’ll take my hands off at the wrists.” Sanji explains, trying to keep his voice even and pragmatic. He pulls his hands close again, rubbing around the edges of the bracelets with his thumbs. 

“What?” 

“I… I don’t know how to get them off. Only Big Mom had the key.” Sanji stutters, chest tight as he finds himself spiraling, “I wanted to wait to bring it up until we were all together again. So we could figure out how to get them off together, you know? I didn’t want anyone worrying until then. But then we got pulled all over the place and Wano needs us and-” 

“ Cook, ” Zoro seethes, but it's louder- closer and Sanji jolts to realize he’d gotten up and was heading towards him. 

“No!” Sanji snarls, heaving backwards, “I don’t want you near them!” 

“Fuck you!” Zoro shouts back and presses forward. The blond throws a leg up to launch him back across the kitchen but Zoro snarls and blocks him with Wado’s sheath. 

“Zoro!” Sanji says his name like a curse as his hands are snatched up, tears spilling over. “You need to stay away from me.” 

“I think we’ve been apart long enough, don’t you?” Zoro growled, gathering Sanji’s hands between his own and knocking their foreheads. His gray eye was a storm. Fury and despair in tumultuous waves. 

“I’m a walking bomb , Marimo.” Sanji cries, his body still tense. 

The swordsman takes a heavy breath and then turns his head to shout, “ CAPTAIN!”  

More tears fall, his vision blurs around them but Sanji hears the scramble as the whole crew gathers. There was no room for error in Zoro’s hailing, given in the same tone as a holler from the crows nest. 

Sanji was a threat to the crew and Zoro intended to resolve that. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, shutting his eyes tight curling in on himself as Zoro surrounds him, “I should have said something earlier. I’m a danger to the crew. I’m sorry .” 

“ Fuck , Curls,” Zoro’s voice cracks. He presses his nose into Sanji’s cheek, warm against his teartracks , “You seriously think I’m angry about that? You’re the one in danger.” 

Footsteps echoed and doors clattered as the crew spilled into the galley. Sanji drops his head in shame and there’s a growl at his ear, “Fuck, I can’t believe that bastard. ” 

“What’s going on!?” Nami asks, breathless. 

“Why is there screaming?!” Usopp. 

“Are you guys okay?” Chopper’s cry of concern. 

“Zoro,” Luffy’s voice is low and clipped. It’s an order and a question. Sanji blinks and raises his chin to see his Captain come into view, perched on the galley island. 

“Judge put bombs on the Cook,” Zoro scowled and held Sanji’s trapped hands up to display the golden rings. “The kinds like the celestial dragons have.” His demon aura spilled off of him in heavy, snaking waves and Sanji found himself tucking closer to the man; as if he could calm him. 

“I thought they were fake,” Sanji explains in a rush, “Reiju, my sister. She said she replaced them with fakes, so I thought they were. But- But then right before we left, Judge said…He said that he should have let her get away with it.” His hands tremble and Zoro holds tighter. “He knew . Which means they’re real .” 

Sanji meets his Captain’s eyes and tries to be brave, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now. I didn’t want to get in the way but I’m trying… I’m trying to be better.” 

“Thank you for telling Zoro, Sanji.” Luffy tells him with a soft smile, “Now, let’s go outside and we’ll get those off of you.” 

“What?” Sanji bristles. 

“C’mon!” Luffy orders and hops off the counter, “Bring’em here, Zoro!” 

“What?” Sanji tries again, but Zoro still has his hands in a gridlock and he’s started tugging him out of the galley, “I’ll go, Moss. Let go you don’t need to hang on-,” 

Zoro pivots, close in Sanji’s space as he replies, “ Together. Remember?” 

Sanji lets out a sad, wet laugh, “This isn’t the kind of commitment I was hoping for.” 

“Too fuckin’ bad.” Zoro curses as he drags them both out to the deck. 

Luffy is standing tall near the railing, the rest of the crew gathering in a semi-circle around them, and Sanji kind of feels like he’s walking to his execution. Zoro leads him up so they're all standing together, still holding on to Sanji’s wrists. 

Sanji feels panic well up. His Nakama surround him, mere feet away while he stands breathless, endangering them all. “Can everyone… move further away?” He prompts warily. 

“No,” Robin chirps happily, and no one else appears to disagree with her. 

“We’re with you, Curls.” Zoro presses, finally removing his hands from Sanji’s wrists only to curl them around the blonds waist instead. 

“I can take these off no problem,” Luffy grinned, “But I also gotta throw ‘em so they can blow up somewhere else.” 

“I suggest away from the Sunny.” Franky deadpanned in the background. 

Luffy snickers, beaming with confidence, “ready, Sanji?” 

“Y-yes, Captain.” He nodded, holding his arms out and trying without success to keep them from shaking. Zoro, still pressed close, readjusted to follow the stretch of his arms until he had both of Sanji’s forwarms within his grip. Zoro’s cheek tucked against the blond’s ear, his breath warm and even as he helped hold him steady. 

“Alright!” Luffy grinned. He reached out and grabbed a cuff in each hand, there was a burst of Haki and the metal imploded beneath his palms. The instant it was released, Luffy threw both handfuls off as far as he could launch them. 

BOOM!

The explosion rolled thundering waves into the Sunny and a shockwave of hot air across the deck. 

It wasn’t a strong enough blast to unsteady him, but Sanji collapsed to his knees all the same; eyes burning from the sight of charcoal clouds and the tangy sharp burn of chemical smoke. He grabbed at his wrists, his hands , still attached to his limbs. Barren and free . 

Sanji was reeling from the relief, the weight removed from his soul, and the shock of horror that the explosion had been real . He might have been a pathetic, wailing mess, but nothing was really registering past the exposed skin of his wrists and the presence of his Nakama, piling into a hug around him. 

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but the moment is quickly pulled away by the sound of cannons in the distance. 

Fuck. 

There’s still a battle to win. 

• • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Sanji knows it’s cruel of him. 

It hadn’t been his intention when he’d slipped the transponder into Zoro’s haramaki. 

“After the battle… If I’m not in my right mind… I want you to kill me.” 

But his crew needed him to trust them. 

Even if he couldn’t trust himself. 

• • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The war was not won lightly. There are casualties and untold damages to the land. 

The people of Wano see past all of it with wide, thankful eyes and Sanji’s heart bursts with pride for them. 

After all, he’s not unfamiliar to a kingdom soured by its ruler. 

Sanji spends his time during the celebrations between two places. The kitchen, and Zoro’s bedside. Nami chides him for working but feeding the townspeople and recovering warriors brings him joy beyond measure. 

Zoro and Luffy’s sickbed room is an ever-revolving rotation of people. Most often Chopper and Law, of course, since they were their patients. 

Sanji finds his way there between meals and makes sure to dote on both of them as best he can. Unfortunately he’s already well versed in preparing the nutritional needs of a comatose Marimo. 

Hyori comes by at least once a day as well to help with the routine care, her gratitude and guilt anxiously transferring in her actions. Of which, Sanji could heartily relate. He’s also not blind to the way her gaze lingers on the swordsman, but regrettably, he doesn’t have the heart to try and dissuade the sweet girl. 

Zoro will have to sort that out when he wakes up. 

Usually, Sanji visited the temporary infirmary between each meal of the day. But Luffy had awoken that morning and thrown Sanji’s routine out of line as he had to suddenly help the local kitchens supply the needs of his ravenous Captain. 

He was anxious to get back, Sanji was sure that Zoro wouldn’t be far behind Luffy in his recovery. 

As he’s nearing the door to the infirmary, a gruff voice makes his heart skip a beat, “Where’s the Cook?” 

“I do not know, Zorojuro.” Hyori’s demure tone trickles in after. 

Sanji tries to stamp the victorious flare of his jealousy back down as he swings the door open and strides in, attempting to keep his smile dampened, “Marimo, back among the living, I see.” 

Zoro is very much alive, he’s sitting up on his cot with his arms crossed and a frown like a petulant child. But the tension in his shoulders drops as Sanji makes his way over, his eye quicking assessing the blond for injuries. 

“I've recovered, thank you.” Sanji tuts, kneeling next to the swordsman’s cot and setting aside the broth he’d brought for his dinner. 

Unbidden, Zoro reaches out and gathers Sanji’s hands up the moment they’ve let go of his parcel. He says nothing aloud but his gaze is restless. 

Zoro’s not letting their overdue discussion wait a moment longer.

“Hyori,” Sanji swallows, “Could you give us a moment of privacy, please Dear?” 

The young woman squeaks out an assent and gracefully takes her leave with a bustle of fabrics. 

“Curls,” Zoro grumbles the moment she’s gone, strained and tense. His thumbs are tracing along Sanji’s pulse, over the delicate bruises from the bracelets, “you asked me to kill you. ” 

Sanji’s throat hitches and he nods, helplessly. He wonders if words will even be enough this time. 

But, as always, Zoro is too good for him, too noble, too understanding. His world is black and white but he will always stop to listen. 

Just as he waits now, pressing for answers; but at least willing to hear them. 

“The Raid Suit,” Sanji starts, because there’s really no better place to. “I thought- I was feeling strange and I thought it might have triggered something.” 

The recognition on Zoro’s face is bitter and devastating, “Curls, you would never .” 

“I know,” Sanji immediately soothes fingertips tracing the scars along Zoro’s palms, “I think I know that now. I just didn’t want to hide anything again. I thought it was better, in case you need to… do it.” His voice trails off quietly and he drops his gaze to their joined hands. Soul laid bare, Sanji waited to see where Zoro would land. 

He wouldn’t blame him, Sanji thinks, if he didn’t forgive him. 

“Cook,” Zoro’s voice was clipped, tinted with anger, “ Never ask that of me again,” he demanded. 

The hands holding his own pulled away and Sanji blinked as he watched them retreat, hoping to keep his tears at bay as they gathered at the edges of his eyes. This was it, he thought. This was the thread on their tapestry he shouldn’t have pulled. 

But Zoro’s hands are suddenly pulling him close, holding his face and pressing their foreheads together. Sanji’s breath catches at the look of determination on the swordsman’s face, “If you want to trust me.” Zoro rasps, “Then trust me to save you. ”

And oh there’s nothing else Sanji can do with that other than selfishly tug the man closer and press their lips together. Zoro’s lips are dry and his face is rough from stubble but he’s tangible and so perfectly human and he’s kissing Sanji back . 

Zoro’s hands slide into his hair and hold him close, keeping them together as they kiss. Sanji parts his mouth only slightly to share breaths, his nose caressing a cheek as he seals his lips on the corner of Zoro’s mouth, then each lip. Sanji pulls back to breath, grinning as Zoro chases, warm and persistent. The swordsman trails his nose along Sanji’s jaw, and the blond tugs him back, laughing. 

They’re crowded together, Zoro’s got a knee tucked in between Sanji’s legs to get himself closer. Sanji’s hands are clenched in the fabric of Zoro’s robe over his heart and selfishly he wants . 

So he offers. 

“Together, right?” Sanji asks, breathless. 

Zoro grins and leans in to kiss him again, tender and soft, “Together.”