Work Text:
✦
The bells on the door of Going Merry — Search for the One Brew jangled as trouble breezed in. A recently served customer dissolved into the swath of earlybird caffeine chasers scattered throughout tables against the wall. The uneven wooden surface was cluttered with portraited scenes related to the sea. Zoro mindlessly stacked paper cups as he watched the striking portent which had docked at their shore from his peripheral.
The man had silky blond hair that partially curtained over his ocean eyes and nearly reached his chiseled jaw. There was a light dusting of scruff on his chin. He wore a clean suit that hugged his slender yet muscular figure. His outfit was a striped blue undershirt with a charcoal jacket and tie, matching slacks to the latter, and shiny black shoes. He wore an unmistakably high quality shoulder bag littered with pins of assorted aquatic critters. He was a beacon that stood contrast to their usual trickle of haggard college students, varied openly queer folk, and frazzled middle class families. He didn’t entirely clash with the theme, though.
Nami dragged her gaze up from the cash register and froze. Tashigi paused her cleaning and clutched the rag tighter.
The atmosphere was charged like every molecule was braced for a storm.
“To go for Sanji, and make sure they spell my name correctly on the cup, that’s S-A-N-J-I. They always put Sonny or Sandy. I can’t stand that.” He continued, “I’ll have a café au lait. Please use soy milk — no more than four ounces or the grounds won’t have the right texture — with two blonde shots. Affogato and ristretto! I’d also love three vanilla pumps at the very bottom, then add the coffee after.”
The line that had gathered behind him — while he had seemed to pointlessly peruse the menu — vented with a chorus of groans. Zoro swiped his finger under his nose with practiced calm. He’d hardly taken a breath. He wondered if the shithead had taken a wrong turn down their avenue. Nami quickly scrawled all of that in shorthand on a bright orange sticky note.
She wiggled it behind her and called, “We’ve got a full Douchebag, this one’s all you, Zoro.”
Zoro grabbed the note, smacked it to the machine, and slashed through his work with the sharp edge of his brutal efficiency. They depended on him to avoid the dreaded May I Speak to the Manager situation. Tashigi resumed her maintenance, but Zoro caught with a glance that her shoulders were shaking with barely restrained mirth. Sanji sidled to an empty stretch of the counter as he waited. The jaunty tunes from the Bluetooth speakers spiked.
He asked, “Do you know the condition of the farms where your beans are produced?”
Nami cast a withering look at him and turned to address the next customer. Sanji gusted his bangs and produced his phone to apply deliberate taps. Zoro prided himself in being the quickest barista on the Grand Line with strange or complicated orders, and the type of drink that would shiver the timbers of a thirty-plus age ranged football mom was no exception. Under the lid of the cup, he wrote — Shitty Latte — in stark navy marker. Sanji was startled when Zoro presented him with the disposable cup.
“Thank you. I hope you’re gettin’ a fair wage for your expedience.”
At least he was polite, Zoro allowed.
✦
Mr. Prince of Espresso must’ve enjoyed his coffee and not taken insult from their reactions. Mondays and Fridays at precisely thirty minutes past nine, the well-dressed nuisance with the bitchiest order on the planet appeared like clockwork. Zoro started squishing his face against the wide window to watch for his arrival. He crossed the street via the same painted lines with a resolute gait that suggested he would slam his heel into a bumper if the vehicles dared to not give him the right of way.
For his transgression, Zoro received window wiping duty, but it was a worthy sacrifice.
Zoro wrote something different on Sanji’s container every time and none of those etchings were his actual name. It included gems such as:
-
Dave
-
3:00
-
Dry Clean Only
-
Troublemaker
-
Goth x Prep Lovechild
-
Shittybrow
-
Fish’n’Chips
-
Bougie Bastard
-
Joli gâteau
After Sanji offered to pay on behalf of the distressed customer in front of him who had forgotten her wallet — a regular whom they all knew was living paycheck to paycheck with two young kids at home — Zoro jotted the title Kind of a Good Guy. Luffy was delighted when Zoro told him about it on his break. He privately considered it a victory when the latest one — Gay or European? — evoked a smirk and raised eyebrows before Sanji left. Most of the time, it seemed he was too hurried for Zoro to witness his reaction.
One day, there was a significant morning rush, and it reached quarter to ten with Sanji nowhere to be seen. Zoro tried to disguise his disappointment but ebbed into a cross demeanor with customers and co-workers alike. Nami indicated the time when the hour terminated and rapped the cup cooling on the counter with her knuckles.
“Sorry, looks like your boyfriend’s a no-show.”
“Not my boyfriend,” Zoro muttered.
He popped the lid off and grimaced at the contents. He threw his head back and chugged it down. Oh, that’s fucking nasty. It was mostly too sweet, but it finished with a sharp, bitter jolt that he coughed through. Tashigi made a horrified teapot noise. Nami clicked her tongue and swatted him.
“You didn’t have to drink that garbage.”
Zoro crumpled the cup. “Yeah, I did.”
“Let’s rejoice that it wasn’t a seasonal brew.”
✦
Zoro handed Sanji the coffee before he could even open his mouth. Their fingers brushed, and the transferred voltage capsized his heart like a ketch in the deluge. He pulled it to his chest, but his lips drew into a frown. “Actually, I was gonna have my drink here —”
“Do you want a medal?”
“I mean, you didn’t have to use the cup.”
In a waspish tone, Zoro replied, “Should I make you a new one in a mug? Sir.”
“No, no, but please ask me in the future.”
“As your highness wishes,” he griped.
He went to fiddle with the machine while not approving Nami’s arched eyebrow with his attention. Sanji seized the nearest table and unfolded a laptop. He took frequent gulps between his frenzied typing. Occasionally, delighted or irritated sounds floated from his direction that left Zoro to flounder. On his way out, Sanji glided to a halt. He leaned his elbow on the counter and propped his chin with his curled hand.
“You lot always have my coffee prepared lately. I hadn’t — have I really been comin’ here that consistently?”
“Zoro started watching for you at the window like an anxious dog,” Nami divulged in a bored tone.
“Shut up, Nami.”
“That’s no way to speak to your lovely cashier,” Sanji admonished him. He winked at her.
“Cute, but I have a girlfriend.”
“Can’t blame a guy for tryin’ can you?” He scooted over to address Tashigi instead. “And you, my dear?”
“Asexual and I’m not into dudes or western Europeans,” she responded with a pitying smile.
“Damn. That’s fair.”
“Our man friend sulking over there is single, and he likes men,” Nami stated.
“Not sulking.”
Sanji was striding toward the door, and he paused. “I’m unsure why it is you’d think I need to know that.”
“The rainbow flag in the window isn’t just for show.”
Sanji gave her a baffled side-eye. “Good for you?”
Then, he was gone.
✦
Sanji’s nose crinkled. “What is this? It smells different.”
“Something new,” Zoro supplied. He was quietly embarrassed by his failure to tamp down his fluttering pulse. “Just try it.”
Zoro passed him a spoon. He dipped it across the surface of the cold brew and popped the utensil in his mouth. After he withdrew it, his eyes widened, and he glanced down at the drink like it had bestowed him with secrets of the universe.
He scowled and wrapped his fingers around the mug.
“Citrusy. Tangerine cream? Splash of vanilla?” The pitch of his voice brushed the air as though it was finely spun glass.
“Yeah.”
He leveled a contrary hostile look at Zoro for a moment before he swept off with his ruffled feathers and the beverage in hand. Though his fingers flew over his keyboard as he worked, he would tip his head back and close his eyes for a moment when he sipped his coffee. His expression carried a faint indecency like he was getting blown under the table. It was unlike the last time, where his drink had seemed like an afterthought to be guzzled for the sake of its boost alone.
Later, he stretched across the counter with folded hands and called, “Hey, you! Mosshead!”
Zoro turned to him and tapped his tag. “I have a name.”
“Don’t know what possessed you to make something I didn’t order —”
“Saving you from yourself.”
“— and I hate to admit it, but that coffee was good. I’ll take it as my new usual,” Sanji said.
“Coffee’s about the only thing that Zoro can or will make with any flavor. He barely adds butter to his rice,” Nami chimed in. Zoro ignored her. She could sue him for all he cared over gaining a new hobby to distract him from withdrawal symptoms.
“That swill you were drinking was a crime against humanity. I can’t believe I was letting you pay for that abomination,” Zoro professed.
Sanji blinked at him. “Heh, you tried one for yourself?”
“No — well, yes — when you didn’t show up last time, I drank yours.”
“What. Why?”
Zoro shrugged one shoulder. “I premade your order and you didn’t show, that was on me. I wasn’t going to waste it, even though it was lukewarm and disgusting.”
“You —”
Sanji looked like he might be close to a cardiac event. Zoro watched as red threads burst suddenly from his nose. It dripped past his parted lips, and he didn’t seem to notice. He discreetingly stashed the provocative image in his catalogue for a certain nightly ritual.
“All in one go. I used to do keg stands in my freshman year of EBU, so it was nothing,” Zoro added. He offered a bundle of napkins. Sanji glanced at them like they were lit on fire.
“For your nose,” Zoro explained in a patient tone as though speaking to an attention deficit child. “It’s bleeding.”
“Shit —” Sanji snatched the napkins and pressed them to his face. “Change in air pressure or somethin’ — excuse me.”
“Whatever.”
“Anyway, the fact it tastes terrible is exactly the reason for it.” After he wiped his face clean, Sanji elaborated, “If I get a coffee that’s guaranteed to have a shitty flavor profile no matter who makes it, then I can never be disappointed. I get my caffeine and go in peace.”
Zoro flicked his eyes to the side with half a blink as he avoided rolling them completely out of his head. “That is the dumbest shit I ever heard, offense intended.”
Sanji tapped the counter with two fingers. “My apologies for doubting you. I checked the reviews of this place, but it was a habit.”
Zoro trailed away to occupy himself with his job. However, Nami — always the cunning busybody — snagged that as an invitation. “So, Sanji — if you have a minute — I have a fun anecdote for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Zoro used to work for Shells Bounties by the beach, but he got fired. Wanna know why?” He couldn’t fathom where Nami was planning to sail the vessel, but he kept his ears perked.
“Ooh, consider me intrigued, please tell me.”
“Okay, this huge douchenozzle fratboy comes in, right? Stinking entourage with him, like four or five ego-tripping morons. This little girl who was a regular customer was bringing in a couple of rice balls for Zoro and his co-worker, Koby,” she relayed.
“Mmm.”
Nami’s voice clinked with promise as she continued, “She ran into the ringleader, accidentally smeared them on his clothes, and he was a massive dick to her. He even stomped one of ‘em. Our buddy Zoro eats that one right off the floor and claims it’s delicious. He puts the other one back on the tray and tells Dickhead to eat it and apologize to her.”
Zoro couldn’t resist stealing a peek. Sanji had a palm on his cheek, and he looked enraptured. A funny feeling started to form in the vicinity of his stomach. He rearranged some utensils with more force than necessary. Tashigi gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze as she passed.
“Did he?”
“No. Guy says something like — do you know who I am? He squares up, and Zoro doesn’t give a shit, of course. Ends up fighting him and his whole dumbass posse without breaking a sweat.” Nami broke off as she cackled. “Apparently, it got so wild that Koby hid under a table. Management had to let him go, naturally, but if you ask me —”
“He’s a goddamn hero,” Sanji interjected like he was a devout worshipper who’d witnessed the second coming of Christ. He had also sprouted another nosebleed, and Zoro was beginning to suspect it had nothing to do with the weather.
“I wasn’t gonna put it quite like that, but sure,” Nami gushed with a smile. She turned to Zoro with the most smug raised eyebrows he’d ever seen, and he nearly threw a stack of cups at her.
✦
The next time that Sanji acquired coffee and stayed, Nami kept making harsh gestures at him.
With a hushed tone, he eventually snapped, “What?”
“Oh my god. Take a break and sit with him, idiot.”
“My break isn’t for three hours.”
Nami squeezed her hand in the air like she wanted to strangle him. “Fucking — it’s slow today — and you know Luffy won’t give two shits. Stop your stupid sad pining and do something.”
He growled a little. “Fine.”
Zoro brewed a hazelnut medium roast with a dash of almond milk and slipped into the seat across from Sanji. His expression was hidden behind his computer, but there was a conspicuous gap in the rhythmic clicks of the keys. They resumed for a moment, then decelerated until the noise petered off again. He lowered the top to peer askance at him.
“Can I help you, Mosshead?”
He blew on his coffee and drew a leisurely sip. “Mind if I join you, Wheathead?”
“You’ve already welcomed yourself.”
“Want me to leave?”
Sanji briefly compressed his bottom lip with a flash of teeth, and that was not a view that Zoro was prepared to endure. “No. But why are you here?”
“Keep you company. You’re always alone.”
“I think I’ll survive.”
Zoro dropped his mug to the table and mildly cleared his throat. “I wanted to hang out. Don’t be weird about it.”
“Didn’t take you for the socializing sort.”
“Not just you.” Zoro shared, “Nami thinks the blame’s on what she calls my resting murder face.”
Sanji grinned. “That could be it. So, are you actually an extrovert?”
“Not really. I have strict limits, but if I go too long without human interaction outside of work stuff — as Nami claims — I get testy,” he explained.
“Hm. She knows you awfully well, yeah?”
“We met through our manager and best friend back when we all started college. He kind of — more or less — dragged us into orbit.” Zoro took a fortifying swallow of coffee. “We went through some rough shit together.”
“Trauma bonds forged in flame?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like how Robin and I —” Sanji shut his laptop and leaned with one arm folded over it. “Well, I understand what you mean.”
“What are you always doing on your computer with such focus?”
Sanji sighed. “Cooking blog and college coursework.”
“What’re you studying?”
“Culinary Arts and Business.”
Zoro nodded. “I have Kendō — swordsmanship — competitions, but I recently completed a Bachelor’s in Criminal Justice.”
“Oh?”
“I discovered that the landscape — right now — isn’t the best. If I ended up working for the wrong department, I wouldn’t want to look like —” Zoro gestured loosely at his own countenance. “— some kind of traitor.”
“I see — yeah — these are certainly times that we live in. Maybe you could teach sword swingin’ classes?”
Zoro slightly snorted into his mug. “You’re not the first to suggest it. I have a question. What’s up with your name?”
“My — my name?” Sanji’s tone had taken an unusual tight quality that gave Zoro the sense he was meant to tread with caution.
“Well, it’s Japanese and you’re white or white passing, so.”
“Most people assume I’m one of those anime obsessive types.”
Zoro gave him a deadpan look. “You’re not.”
Sanji laughed. “No, my birth family is descended from generations among colonizers of an island off the coast of Japan. They were there for long enough they absorbed and leaked the culture from their pores.”
“I might be something like a sixteenth Asian or less, but I’m not sure,” Sanji tacked on. “They were the sort of aristocratic freaks who believed in selectively breeding people.”
“Odd to specify.”
“What?”
“Birth family.”
“I was adopted later by an Englishman who moved to France.”
“This explains — so much.” Zoro nudged his empty mug aside. “British accent, French attitude, some mannerisms and values I recognize from my homeland. Finally, it all makes sense.”
Sanji giggled even more. Zoro was irreparably enchanted. Abruptly, Sanji’s expression settled into gravitas, and he tossed his bangs. He brought his fingers together like he was about to negotiate a corporate deal. Zoro felt trapped by the intense cerulean of his eyes.
“Would you like to come over to mine and have drinks tonight?”
Heat suffused Zoro’s cheeks, and his heart pounded out a concert. He gathered his faculties and flicked a large coin — drawn from his pocket — across the table. Sanji held it up between his fingers and scrutinized the engraved object. “What’s this?”
“Six months of sobriety chip. Try again.”
“Ah. Dinner?” Sanji slid the token back to him with a fingertip. “I can cook. Would you like ale or rum in your food or is that against the rules? The process eliminates alcohol.”
“Sure, I can deal with the taste. It won’t throw me off the wagon or anything,” Zoro insisted.
“Good, I wouldn’t want to be held responsible.” Sanji produced a plastic rectangle that he placed between them. Zoro was distracted by his long, elegantly controlled fingers for a moment. “Put your number in my phone?”
“Right.”
Sanji unlocked the screen. Zoro delicately took the cellphone in one hand and winced. He examined the case which was pale turquoise decorated with small pink dolphins, beige shells, and yellow starfish. The wallpaper was some rustic photograph of a kitchen. He pulled out his own simple, dark green device and slapped it to Sanji’s outstretched palm. His thumb hovered over the screen as he struggled to pick out the correct application. There was a ridiculous plethora of colorful, unlabeled icons.
“What the fuck is this?”
Zoro looked up to see Sanji dangling the Nokia flip like it had a contagious disease. “My phone. For your number.”
“This isn’t a cell, this is a relic,” Sanji complained. He pried it open and starting pushing down with his thumb while he glowered.
“It’s only a few years old, and I like buttons,” Zoro defended. “The shitty touchscreen ones kept getting busted. Plus too many apps and menus, I’d get lost. You’re lucky if I don’t factory reset this thing.”
“It’s not their fault if you’re a mossbrained brute!”
He rolled his eyes and returned to his attempt at deciphering the riddles of Sanji’s luxury smartphone that had probably cost more than his fucking rent. Zoro finally located what he needed and slowly input his number. He had to erase digits several times and was ready to toss the annoying thing at the wall by the end. They swapped phones back.
“I hate this fancy crap.”
“You’re worse than my dad,” Sanji lamented. “You’re like a grandpa. It’s kind of adorable.”
“Shut up.”
✦
It seemed to Zoro, the date had gone well. As a bonus, Sanji was a skilled chef and his meal had been the most amazing that Zoro tasted in his life. He didn’t want to eat anything homemade by anyone else, ever.
“Ooh, you looked like you creamed your pants from my cookin’ — must’ve liked it.”
Zoro peered at Sanji where he wiggled in place wearing a wide grin. He said, “Don’t act like you weren’t savoring that coffee I make like it was going down on you the first time you tried it.”
Sanji chuckled and started clearing the table. He washed the dishes while Zoro dried, and they settled on the couch. Though it felt a little awkward being cozy in Sanji’s place on the first date, he wasn’t eager to leave. Sanji leaned in and kissed him. Zoro went warm to his toes at the enthusiastic yet gentle caresses of Sanji’s soft lips. Their embrace lasted for a while. Sanji’s tongue found entry and learned every nook of Zoro’s pliant mouth.
He moaned frequently due to Sanji’s attentions, but he didn’t seem to mind. He carded his fingers through Zoro’s hair and briefly pulled back with a little shaky gasp that gave Zoro goosebumps. He dove in again and devoured him.
When he started to trail his damp lips down the side of his neck, Zoro cut in, “Wanna watch a movie?”
Sanji stilled. Zoro felt him nuzzle under his jaw, then he retreated. Zoro’s stomach was in knots, and he slipped the bandana from his bicep to twist in his hands. When he met Sanji’s gaze, he was relieved that he didn’t look upset. They reached agreement on a film, and Sanji flicked it on.
A quarter or so of the way through, he detected Sanji’s hand sliding past the curve of his thigh. He palmed Zoro’s slight bulge. Zoro jumped and clasped his hand to draw him away. Sanji didn’t fight his grip, but he made an inquiring sound.
“I wanna take it slow.” He braced himself with the fortitude of cliffs facing tidal waves.
“Oh — Zoro, I didn’t —” Sanji smiled with a tenderness that crawled inside Zoro and ached. “My mistake.”
Zoro’s next inhale stung him. “Shit. I should’ve known —”
Hurtling over him, Sanji continued, “Forgive me, I’m used to goin’ fast ‘cause usually nobody wants me around for long. I — ah — started rushin’ the sex before they’d get sick of me. But I can — I can do slow. It’d be my pleasure, actually.”
Zoro released a shuddering exhale. “Yeah?”
Sanji nodded. He leaned in to place a light kiss on his lips. Sanji slung an arm around him, and they finished the movie. Sanji brushed another kiss to his mouth then placed one to his knuckles before Zoro departed. He returned to his apartment with enough elated butterflies to create an entire conservatory. He greeted his cats with such inordinate cheerfulness that Kitetsu hissed at him. He went to bed grinning so hard it hurt.
✦
“Hey, love. Hope you don’t mind if I let myself in, I’ve got—” Sanji was stuck in his tracks by the scrutiny of an unknown man at Zoro’s low table. He was pinned like prey by impossibly intense hazel eyes. “Who’re you?”
“Dracule Mihawk,” he placidly answered, “the Four Blues’ greatest swordsman.”
“Who are you to Zoro?”
“A friend.” Mihawk adjoined, “He ran to the store. Since you appear to have a key to his place, I take it that you’re Sanji?”
“I am.” He was unsettled and couldn’t pinpoint the reason. He gathered his courage and strode to the kitchen to lay out the items he’d brought.
He realized with a crackling jolt — which tugged the hair follicles of his arms — that he’d seen the imposing figure at the shop before, on the day he’d expounded the merits of his former horrid coffee request. He had been seated with a lively red-haired man and an impish pink-haired woman. He watched Sanji like a hawk during his exchange with the Going Merry employees. Sanji had dismissed the peculiarity as a disgruntled past customer of the Baratie, an associate of the Vinsmokes keeping tabs on him, or something of that nature.
He lowered himself to the cushions across from Mihawk. “He hasn’t mentioned you.”
“No surprise there. He doesn’t like me speaking to his significant other.”
Mihawk tilted his head in a way that might’ve been the equivalent of a smirk.
Sanji hummed. Despite his usual ease in regards to charming people, he was at a loss. He had the sense he was treading into territory that resembled a minefield. Mihawk took a long draw from the straw in his reddish orange beverage. It had a tiny umbrella in it. The contradiction would’ve been amusing if he didn’t feel like he might piss his pants.
“Might as well get to it, then.” Mihawk continued, “What are your intentions with Roronoa Zoro?”
“I want to bring smiles to his face every day and be a dependable presence in his life.”
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Sanji didn’t understand why the hell he was being interviewed. “Owning a successful ethically sourced restaurant that doesn’t waste anything and have put rings on our fingers, if I’m lucky.”
“Hm. Good answers.” Ice clinked as Mihawk swirled his glass.
“I’m sorry, are you sure you’re not his father?”
The glass met the table with deadly silence.
Mihawk stared directly through him like a whetted blade. “Don’t insult me in such a heinous manner.”
Wow. Okay then.
“I don’t mean — you look — not old, but —” Shut. Up. He bit down on his lip.
“His sperm donor is a heartless piece of shit.”
“Ah, I see. I apologize,” Sanji choked out. He could relate, and how.
“You’re his longest relationship.” Mihawk lifted his chin in a way that made Sanji feel puny. “Most of his previous dates sought to make him a notch on their bedpost as soon as possible. Are you aware he hasn’t experienced sexual intimacy?”
This guy is so fucking blunt. Justifying his relationship with the bizarre stranger was rapidly grating on his nerves. “No, but he told me he wanted to take it slow, so I am. I’m in love with him. How do you know we haven’t done it yet?”
“I had him make a pact that he would inform me when he cashed his V-card.”
Sanji was at least eighty-five to ninety percent certain that Mihawk had phrased it that way to fuck with him. “Really.”
“He will be permitted to drink celebratory sake with me toasted to having a partner we’d each kill and die for,” Mihawk elucidated like he was talking about weather. Sanji’s fingertips went numb and his mind became a wall of static.
The door swung open. Every muscle in Sanji’s body went on alert at once.
“Mihawk. How the hell do you always ambush my partners?”
“If it’s any consolation, he technically ambushed me.” Mihawk casually sipped his drink as though he hadn’t been interrogating Sanji with a tone like he’d rather see him six feet under.
Later, when the interloper was gone and their bellies were sated, Sanji broached the topic. “So, Dracule Mihawk. I don’t scare easy, but I’m reasonably sure he could kill me, bury my body under his floorboards, and get away with it.”
Zoro barked a rare laugh from his gut. “He’s an unrepentant asshole and one of the most important people in my life.”
“He told me he’s a friend, but the protective way he acts about you—”
“We crossed paths in competition when I was seventeen. It had been my goal since childhood to take him down, I followed his career closely, but when the time came, I failed,” Zoro explained. “It was devastating. Then I—I tried to convince him to sleep with me.”
Sanji gaped at him for a moment. He took a deep breath and held Zoro’s hand. “He didn’t—”
“No. Decisively refused, shot me down hard, but once I gave up the badgering, he decided to mentor me. I guess he became something like an older brother,” Zoro said.
“Thank goodness, he had integrity — holy shit Zoro —”
“I was in a bad place,” Zoro muttered. “With his brand of training, I got better emotionally, too. I befriended Luffy, Nami, Vivi, and Usopp. I quit drinking. I owe him so much for the man I am today.”
Sanji softly asked, “Mihawk told me about — is it true you’ve been hurt a lot by guys you went out with?”
Zoro stared at their joined hands. “Yeah. Mihawk has a partner, a man. They’re not married on paper but it’s — fuck — they’re everything to each other. I guess he takes my failure of a love life personally.”
“He didn’t even threaten me,” Sanji imparted. “But he didn’t have to.”
Zoro developed a sheepish grin and shook his head. “Bastard.”
✦
Sanji leaped out of his skin when a gruff voice spoke up beside him. “Those are terrible for you. Do you not wish to give Zoro many of your years?”
“I’ve been smoking since I was twelve, so I think the ship has sailed on the case for my lungs,” Sanji replied and flicked the ash from his cigarette as though Mihawk hadn’t nearly caused his soul to depart his mortal flesh.
“It’s not too late,” he said.
Sanji studied him from the corner of his eye. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
Mihawk placed a hand on his shoulder. It sent a prickling shiver along his spine. “I’m pleased to see I didn’t scare you off those few weeks ago. You’ve been good for him.”
“Not lookin’ for a blessing or what have you, but I wanna tell you. I intend to propose soon,” he announced. He pulled the box out of his pocket to show Mihawk the ring he’d painstakingly chosen. His hand dropped away.
There was the slightest twitch at the edge of Mihawk’s lips to one side. “It is rather fetching. You will make him incredibly happy.”
“What brings you to Luffy’s birthday party, anyway? Doesn’t seem like your scene,” Sanji commented as he stowed it with an absent-minded pat.
“You don’t know what my kind of scene is,” Mihawk refuted. “Luffy is like an unoffical Godson to Shanks.”
“Shanks,” Sanji echoed without comprehension.
“My partner.”
“Oh, okay. That makes sense then.”
Zoro rescued him from the judgemental glances after a minute and grumbled, “Will you leave him alone.”
“I think he likes me,” Sanji declared and snatched a wine glass that he downed in a few hefty gulps.
Zoro gave him the most bewildered look that Sanji ever saw. “Mihawk more than tolerates exactly four people.”
“Hey, he practically endorsed our future marriage,” Sanji distantly said as he scanned the jubilant crowd for anyone halfway lucid.
“Our what?”
“Oh —”
Luffy who’d unfortunately been standing behind them — at that precise instance — released an earsplitting shriek. “ZORO AND SANJI ARE GETTING ENGAGED,” he hollered through cupped hands. “Everybody congratulate them!”
Sanji was grateful he had the foresight to carry the ring along. He took Zoro’s hands. “Roronoa Zoro, as much as you can drive me up the wall, I’ve enjoyed every bit of the challenge. Since our relationship began I’ve been the happiest —”
“Yeah, I’ll marry you.”
Sanji laughed and slid the ring on his finger. “I had a whole speech. I practiced in the mirror and with Enma staring me down.”
“Tell me later ‘cause I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Disregarding all sets of prying eyes, Zoro gave him a deep kiss. Sanji stroked his nape as Zoro broke into chuckles against his neck when Luffy wiped under his eye and said, “Best birthday present ever, guys.”
That evening after they slept together for the first time, he discovered that Zoro had one for him as well. “I was gonna propose on your birthday a couple months ago, but it went missing. Showed up in the laundry.”
Sanji teared up. “It’s just beautiful, Mosshead. Not more than you, but still.”
“Oh, shut up.” Zoro tried to bury his face in the pillow. Sanji tucked around him.
“Never,” he whispered like a vow.
✦