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It's Probably Nothing...	By : Synvamp Category: +M to R > One Piece Views: 5561 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece nor any of the characters in this story and I do not make any money from this story or any associated products

Chapter List
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The kitchen seemed oddly quiet after Zoro’s whirlwind visit. Sanji used the time before dinner to gather up his disparate thoughts. To help the thinking process he performed a few of the little rituals that ordered his chaotic existence.

First, he smoked several more cigarettes, slowly lingering on each breath as he chopped vegetables and mixed sauces. He stopped occasionally to stretch and practice his snap kicks, using the narrow confines of the kitchen to perfect his aim. Despite Zoro’s weird behaviour, it would be just like the king of random to still try to pick a fight. Once everything was cooking, he changed his clothes, carefully selecting a pastel green shirt with buttons that were impossible to undo.

Wouldn’t do to clash with the mossy idiot.

The cook returned to his kitchen just in time to remove his simmering dishes from the oven. He took his time arranging the plates and making everything look perfect. He used green and burgundy as his colour palette; it suited the bronzed orange nicely. After a quick clean up (mostly involving hiding the remains of the table in a store cupboard), he also broke the sad news to Franky who had not taken it like a man… or a man-robo… whatever he was.

By the time everyone piled into the kitchen for dinner, Sanji had managed to compose himself.

“What happened to the table?” asked Chopper, a latecomer to the rather empty looking kitchen.

“Did you really have to?” the cook muttered, as Franky launched into a second rendition of the stirring emotional ballad he had written about a table taken before its time, complete with a two-minute guitar solo.

“We’re eating out on deck tonight,” Sanji explained incompletely, herding the bewildered reindeer away from the warbling shipwright.

He returned to the kitchen and carried his masterpieces back to the linen draped table, laid with silverware under the sinking sun. He set out the beautifully crafted dishes to bring out the colours and noted that Zoro was absent from the group.

“Excuse me, my dear,” the cook said to Nami, stepping around her to climb the first few steps to the stern, “OI ASSHOLE!!! FOOD!!!” he shouted through cupped hands.

“I’m right here,” the swordsman answered, walking down behind Sanji in his annoying silent way.

“Dinner,” Sanji huffed, waving his arms in the direction of the table and refusing to look at the offending Marimo.

Zoro passed him without comment and took his place at the table, staking a claim on a piece of duck before the captain ate the lot. Sanji had already served the ladies so he left the rest of the crew to battle Luffy and selected a seat as far away from Zoro as possible. He felt slightly awkward after their last encounter. It was as if they had crossed an invisible line when Zoro held him so close and kissed him so tenderly… He was willing to put it down to random Zoro being random…

But if it wasn’t…

Sanji sighed.

Before now it had been so simple; mechanical, even. He had discovered almost by accident that Zoro was a sexual dynamo and, after some careful coaching, he had been able to use the swordsman to sate a need that had been driving him insane. It was wild, fast and raw. Nothing but pure sex for the sake of digging his nails into hot flesh and screaming…

But that kiss…

He chewed his duck barely tasting his thoughtfully prepared glaze.

“Sanji-kun? Hello? Can you please pass me the salad?” Nami’s sweet voice disturbed his revere.

“What was that, Nami-swan?” he asked, ashamed to have missed what she said completely.

“The salad,” she indicated with an imperial finger.

He fawned appropriately and passed the dish, making a concerted effort to join the conversation. When he was finally brave enough to sneak a look at the swordsman, he was half turned away, smirking into his black current sauce.

“What’s so damn funny Marimo?” he challenged.

“Nothing,” Zoro laughed.

Sanji ignored him and returned his attention to the ladies.

Idiot can wait.

Finally, with every scrap of food cleaned from every dish, dinner was declared over. Sanji cleared the dishes expertly and turned to kick the replacement table neatly into the kitchen.

“Want a hand?” asked Zoro, appearing from nowhere.

Who does he think he is? A freaking ninja?

“Ok,” Sanji replied, crossing his arms and waiting for Zoro to pick the table up, “you first.”

Zoro gave him a slightly puzzled look but obliged, hefting the huge weight without batting an eyelid and lumbering awkwardly into the galley.

Sanji followed close behind him and, as Zoro was putting the table down, he turned the bolt on the door.

“There,” Zoro said, having gotten the table mostly straight. He looked up and saw the cook standing still, his fingers still resting on the bolt.

“You decided you wanted seconds after all, hey?” Zoro said, grinning and reaching down to pull his shirt off.

“Not so fast, moss for brains,” Sanji stepped forward, tapping his foot on the floor in a gentle warning, “We need to talk.”

“Talk? You’ve got to be kidding,” Zoro said, deflating onto a nearby chair, “What?”

“You’ve been… different. What is happening?” Sanji let the question hang in the air and reached for his cigarettes, letting Zoro know he could take his time.

“What are you on about?” Zoro growled.

“Are you getting serious on me Zoro?” Sanji asked clearly, remembering that he was talking to an idiot.

Zoro shrugged and then shook his head in exasperation, “I guess… I don’t know. I don’t sit up at night thinking about it.”

“Well maybe you should!” Sanji shot back, lighting his smoke and puffing angrily.

The swordsman glared and fingered the binding on Wadou, “Well I don’t!”

“Just. Focus. On. The. Question. What the hell is going on?” Sanji demanded.

Zoro stood up and moved closer, his hands twitching against his scabbards.

“Nothing is going on unless you want something to be going on, ok?” he growled.

“What if I do want something to be going on?” Sanji replied, moving close enough to knock the scowl right off Zoro’s face.

“Then whatever!” Zoro snapped.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Sanji, snatched the smoke from his mouth, switched his weight to his back foot and glowered, smoke curling from his nostrils like a sleeping dragon.

“I want something to happen, ok! I want to get serious!” Zoro shouted.

Finally! Took the asshole long enough to admit it!

“Well… good!”

“What?” the swordsman asked, blinking.

“I think we can do that,” Sanji said, trailing off somewhat abruptly at the end.

“You want to try it?” Zoro confirmed, amazed.

“Yeah, I guess so. Why not?” Sanji said, trying to come across as non-committal and failing badly.

“So what do we do?” Zoro said, a smile slowly gaining hold on his surprised face.

“Do I have to think of everything?” Sanji replied, puffing on his smoke to break the awkwardness that Zoro was apparently immune to.

“Well…” the swordsman pondered, “You want to come hunting?”

“Why would I want to come hunting?” Sanji rolled his eyes.

He couldn’t think…

“Like a date,” Zoro huffed in annoyance.

Yep. He does.

“You can’t go hunting for a date! Did you grow up in a monastery?” Sanji cajoled, “Don’t answer that. We need to do something romantic, moron. Like a meal.”

“We could have dinner,” Zoro suggested helpfully.

“I think I just said that. Try to keep up,” Sanji quipped.

“What about now?” Zoro said, raising his dark eyes to meet their pale blue reflection.

“We just had dinner, you can’t be hungry already!”

“No, not dinner, do you want to go and sit on the deck or something? The sun’s almost set but there’s still colour in the sky.”

It was a bit sudden but… what the heck.

“Ummm… ok.”

Sanji put out his cigarette and then stepped aside to let Zoro unlock the door. Just as he passed the cook he turned back, his eyes twinkling in the low light. Slowly he drew his arms up and discarded his shirt on the galley floor.

His skin looked darker in the dying light, the shadows clinging to the ridges of his muscles. The one blemish – the scar that was the gift of Mihawk – seemed to add to the perfection. It made the sculpted flesh real. Zoro always looked so fucking good with his clothes off…

Show off!

“Won’t you get cold?” Sanji asked, raising one curly eyebrow.

“Nope,” Zoro grinned and walked out onto the deck.

The swordsman led the way to a spot on the stern of the ship. It was out of sight but still allowed a gorgeous view of the sun sinking into the rippling waves of the Grand Line. The horizon shimmered in the summer heat, the cool breeze of evening was yet to come from the west and blow the stifling air away.

The cook approached slowly, distracted by Zoro’s naked chest.

He so did that on purpose! Not fair!

He found a spot on the railing and leant there, admiring the view. Zoro walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around the cook’s waist, resting his chin on Sanji’s shoulder. The gesture was unexpected, but nice. He gently squeezed the cook into a hug, keeping him warm against the breeze that was just beginning to stir.

“You think that Franky believed you about the table?” Zoro said softly in the cook’s ear.

“That a wild octopus attacked it? Not even a bit, but he didn’t ask any questions… he just sang a lot.”

“That’s two tables, three workbenches and…uh…”

“Three beds,” Sanji finished.

“What about the hammocks?”

“Hammocks don’t count,” Sanji dug his elbow back playfully and Zoro crushed him just a little.

“It’s been fun,” the swordsman huffed in Sanji’s ear. The cook enjoyed the feeling of the strong chest pressing into his back, he felt perfectly comfortable. Despite how weird it was, it just seemed natural. It also reminded him a bit *too* much of the position they had been in only a few hours earlier. His body began to heat and Zoro’s touch started to stir his libido.

“It has been pretty good,” Sanji admitted grudgingly as he turned around in Zoro’s arms to face him, close.

Zoro felt the pressure of Sanji’s arousal against his hip and smiled, “Isn’t this supposed to be romantic?”

“We can always come back tomorrow,” Sanji murmured, pulling the swordsman into a kiss.

Zoro wrapped the cook in his embrace, one hand entangled in corn silk hair, the other resting on the small of his back. He leaned closer, into the kiss, chewing Sanji’s lips gently and moving with him.

As they finally parted, Zoro adjusted himself conspicuously with a sheepish grin, “Your fault, pervert. What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ve got first watch tonight…” Sanji began but was cut off by an eager swordsman grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the ladder to the crow’s nest.

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It's Probably Nothing...