Chapter Text
The bar thrummed with energy, music pulsing through the floorboards, laughter echoing off exposed brick walls, bodies moving together in the dim colorful lighting. Sanji stood just inside the entrance, heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape his chest entirely.
What the hell am I doing here?
He’d walked past this place three times since the crew had landed on this nondescript island but this was the first time he’d finally forced himself through the door. The rainbow flag hanging outside had been both an invitation and a challenge. Sanji had never been one to back down from a challenge, even when that challenge was his own sexuality.
The bartender, a woman with an undercut and more piercings than Sanji could count, caught his eye and smiled. Not flirtatious, just welcoming. Like she could see exactly how nervous he was and wanted him to know it was okay.
He made his way to the bar, weaving between clusters of people. Men with men, women with women, people he couldn’t quite categorize and didn’t need to. Everyone just... existing and being themselves.
“First time?” the bartender asked as he approached.
Sanji tried for his usual charming smile, but it felt shaky around the edges.
“That transparent, huh?”
“Only because I’ve seen that look a thousand times.” She slid a menu across the bar. “You’re in good company. What can I get you?”
“Whiskey. Neat.”
As she poured, Sanji let his gaze drift around the space. A couple was making out in a corner booth, hands tangled in each other’s hair. Two women were dancing close, foreheads pressed together, smiling like they shared a secret. A group of drag queens were laughing uproariously at something on someone’s phone.
Sanji felt... something. Not quite belonging, not yet, but possibility.
He’d been questioning himself for months now. Years maybe if he was honest with himself, which he generally tried not to be. It was easier to focus on women, on the familiar script of flirtation he’d perfected since puberty. Women were safe. Women made sense.
But then there was Zoro.
Stupid, infuriating, gorgeous Zoro, with his ridiculous muscles and his terrible sense of direction and the way he looked at Sanji sometimes like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Zoro, who’d been openly gay for as long as Sanji had known him, who wore it as casually as he wore his swords.
Sanji had tried to ignore the way his pulse quickened when they fought, when Zoro got in his space and growled insults that somehow felt like foreplay. Tried to ignore the dreams that left him hard and confused and reaching for his cock before his brain fully woke up.
Ignoring it wasn’t working anymore, so here he was, testing the waters, seeing if this attraction was real or just some weird fixation on the one person who challenged him as much as he challenged them.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” the bartender said, sliding his drink across the polished wood. “That’s not what this place is for.”
Sanji huffed a laugh and took a sip. The whiskey burned perfectly. “What is it for, then?”
“Being yourself. Whatever that looks like.” She winked and moved down the bar to help another customer.
Being himself. Right. If only Sanji knew what that meant.
He nursed his drink and watched. A man caught his eye from across the room. He was tall with dark-haired and attractive in a conventional way. The man smiled at him and Sanji’s stomach flipped. He smiled back then immediately looked away, heat crawling up his neck.
Get it together. You’ve flirted with hundreds of people. This is no different.
Except it was different. It was terrifying and exhilarating and—
“Mind if I join you?”
Sanji turned to find a woman sliding onto the stool next to him. She had short purple hair and a leather jacket that looked like it had seen some adventures.
“Please,” Sanji said, and this time his smile came easier.
They talked. She was funny, sharp-witted, and when she touched his arm while laughing at one of his jokes, Sanji felt that familiar spark of attraction. It was comfortable.
When a man in a crop top and tight jeans squeezed past them to get to the bar, pressing briefly against Sanji’s back, that spark wasn’t absent. It felt different, but it was still electric in a way that made his breath catch.
The woman noticed.
“First time figuring things out?”
Sanji’s face must have done something complicated because she laughed, though not unkindly.
“It’s okay. That’s what this place is for.” She echoed the bartender’s words. “For what it’s worth, you’ve got good energy. People are going to be drawn to that.”
She wasn’t wrong. As the night wore on and the whiskey smoothed his edges, Sanji found himself relaxing into conversations. A group of people invited him to their table and he went, letting their easy acceptance wash over him. He flirted with a woman who had the most beautiful laugh he’d ever heard. He flirted with a man whose cologne made him want to lean closer. He flirted with someone in a dress and heels who had shoulders broader than his and a smile that could stop traffic.
It felt... good. Natural. Like a part of himself he’d been holding back was finally allowed to breathe.
Sanji was in the middle of a story, something about Luffy and a disastrous attempt at cooking, when he felt a prickling awareness of being watched. He glanced around, still talking, and his heart stopped.
Zoro.
Zoro was here.
He was sitting in a corner booth with a beer, looking directly at Sanji with an expression that was impossible to read.
Sanji stumbled over his words, recovered and then finished the story to polite laughter. His attention was fractured now, hyperaware of Zoro’s presence like a compass needle pointing north.
Of course he’s here. He’s gay. Why didn’t I think of that?
Zoro didn’t approach. Just watched, his face carefully neutral. Sanji didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know if he wanted Zoro to come over or stay away, didn’t know if this changed everything or nothing.
So, he did what he always did when emotions got too complicated: he threw himself into the moment. He laughed louder, flirted harder and tried his best to ignore the weight of Zoro’s gaze on his skin.
~*~*~
Zoro had come to this bar specifically because he knew Sanji wouldn’t be here.
The Sunny’s cook had been acting weird ever since they landed on this island. He was distracted and snappish in a way that felt different from their usual antagonism. Zoro had needed space to think, to drink, to maybe find someone to take the edge off the want that had been building in him for months. Years.
The want for someone he couldn’t have.
So of course, because the universe had a shitty sense of humor, there was Sanji. Right here in the middle of the queer bar Zoro had been coming to since they’d docked.
His first instinct was to leave. His second was to march over and demand to know what the hell Sanji was doing here. His third, which he actually followed, was to sit down in a corner booth and try to process what he was seeing.
Sanji at a queer bar, looking nervous and excited and so fucking beautiful it made Zoro’s chest ache.
Does this mean...?
But no. Zoro couldn’t let himself hope. Sanji was probably just here with some women who’d roped him into this or he came out of morbid curiosity.
Except Sanji was alone for the most part and he was flirting with everyone.
Zoro watched as he charmed a woman at the bar, then a group at a table, then a man who leaned in close to hear him over the music. He watched as that nervous energy transformed into something magnetic, the way it always did when Sanji felt comfortable. People gravitated toward him like he was the sun and they were planets caught in his orbit.
Zoro knew the feeling. He’d been caught in that orbit for years, pretending he wasn’t.
He’d known he was gay since he was fifteen. He’d never seen the point in hiding it. Life was too short and he had more important things to worry about than what people thought of who he wanted to fuck. The crew knew. Most people they encountered figured it out eventually.
He’d never told Sanji how he felt about him because Sanji was aggressively, performatively straight. Their friendship, if you could call their constant bickering friendship, was too important to risk. Zoro had convinced himself that wanting something he couldn’t have was just part of life.
Except now Sanji was here, in a queer bar, flirting with men, and every certainty Zoro had built was crumbling.
A server came by and Zoro ordered another beer, eyes never straying from Sanji. He should leave. This was clearly something Sanji was figuring out on his own. Zoro’s presence would only complicate things, but he couldn’t make himself move.
He watched Sanji laugh at something a person in a sequined dress said. Watched him lean into a conversation with a man whose hand rested casually on Sanji’s lower back. Watched the way Sanji’s eyes kept darting around the room, like he was looking for something or someone.
Their gazes met across the crowded bar and Zoro saw the moment Sanji recognized him. He saw surprise flash across his face, followed by something that might have been panic, or excitement, or both.
Zoro raised his beer slightly in acknowledgment.
Sanji’s expression did something complicated then he turned back to his conversation, but his body language had changed. He was more aware, more tense.
Fuck.
Zoro should definitely leave. but the beer was good and he’d paid for it. He wasn’t going to run away just because the situation was uncomfortable. That wasn’t who he was.
So he stayed, watched and tried not to think about what it meant that Sanji was here. Tried not to imagine what might happen if Sanji was actually, finally, possibly interested in men.
He tried not to hope.
~*~*~
The man’s name was Sadaichi and he was exactly the kind of handsome that should have made Sanji’s brain short-circuit. He was tall and well-built with dark eyes and a smile that promised interesting things. He’d approached Sanji about an hour after the Zoro sighting and Sanji had been grateful for the distraction.
“So what brings you here tonight?” Sadaichi asked, leaning against the bar next to Sanji. Close, but not invasive. His cologne was nice, woodsy and warm.
“Curiosity,” Sanji replied, which was true enough. “You?”
“Same thing I’m always looking for.” Sadaichi’s smile widened. “Good company. Good conversation. Maybe more, if the chemistry’s right.”
Direct. Sanji could appreciate that. “And is it? The chemistry?”
“I think so.” Sadaichi’s gaze traveled down Sanji’s body and back up, appreciative but not leering. “You’re gorgeous. You’ve been lighting up this whole bar since you walked in. Hard not to notice.”
Heat crawled up Sanji’s neck. He was used to compliments, used to flirting, but this felt different. More real, somehow. Or maybe that was just the whiskey talking.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Sanji said and was rewarded with a laugh.
Sanji learned that Sadaichi was a merchant, docked at this port for a few days. He’d traveled to half the islands in the Grand Line. He liked whiskey, spicy food and had opinions about the best fighting styles that Sanji found himself debating with more enthusiasm than he expected.
It was easy banter. It was comfortable. When Sadaichi’s hand found Sanji’s knee under the bar, he didn’t move away.
“I have a room upstairs,” he said eventually, voice low. “If you’re interested.”
Sanji’s heart kicked into overdrive. This was it. The moment of truth. He could say no, could keep this at flirtation, could go back to the Sunny and pretend this night had never happened.
Or he could say yes. Could find out if this attraction to men was real, was something he wanted to pursue. He could stop wondering and start knowing.
He thought about Zoro still sitting in that corner booth. He wondered if Zoro was watching, what he’d think if he saw Sanji going upstairs with this man.
He pushed the thought away. This wasn’t about Zoro. This was about Sanji figuring out who he was.
“Yeah,” he decided, his mouth dry. “I’m interested.”
Sadaichi’s smile was triumphant. He paid their tab and led Sanji toward a door at the back of the bar, toward a staircase that led up to private rooms. Sanji followed, his pulse pounding in his ears, very carefully not looking toward the corner where Zoro sat.
~*~*~
Zoro watched Sanji disappear upstairs with the dark-haired man and something ugly twisted in his gut.
Jealousy. That’s what this was. Pure, irrational jealousy, and Zoro hated it.
He had no claim on Sanji. No right to feel possessive. Sanji was figuring himself out and that was good. That was healthy. The fact that it was with someone who wasn’t Zoro was irrelevant.
Except it didn’t feel irrelevant. It felt like watching something precious slip through his fingers before he’d ever really held it.
Zoro drained his beer and signaled for another. He should go back to the ship and hit the weights until his muscles screamed and his brain shut up. Instead, he stayed, drinking steadily, eyes fixed on that back staircase, waiting.
He told himself he was being stupid, told himself Sanji was fine, was probably having a great time, was exactly where he wanted to be. Still, some instinct Zoro had learned to trust over years told him to stay, so he waited.
When Sanji finally came back downstairs a half hour later, Zoro knew his instincts had been right.
Sanji was limping. Not obviously, most people probably wouldn’t notice, but Zoro noticed everything about Sanji, had been cataloging his movements for years. Sanji’s gait was off, he stepped carefully down the stairs like he was in pain. His expression was carefully blank, but Zoro could see the tightness around his eyes, the way his jaw was clenched.
Zoro was on his feet before he’d consciously decided to move, crossing the bar in long strides. Sanji saw him coming and surprise flickered across his face followed by relief and then a desperate attempt at his usual cocky mask.
“Fancy meeting you here, mosshead,” Sanji said, voice only slightly strained.
Zoro stared at him quietly for a moment. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”
But Sanji’s eyes slid away, and as he shifted his weight, he winced slightly.
Anger flared hot in Zoro’s chest. “Did he hurt you? Did he—”
“It was consensual,” Sanji cut him off, voice sharp before it softened. “It was consensual. I wanted it. It just... wasn’t what I hoped it would be.”
The anger didn’t dissipate. It wasn’t directed at Sanji, but at the man upstairs who’d clearly done a shit job of taking care of him. Zoro’s hand went to his swords instinctively.
“Zoro, don’t.” Sanji’s hand caught his wrist, grip surprisingly strong. “I just want to leave.”
There was something raw and vulnerable in Sanji’s voice that Zoro had never heard before.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
~*~*~
The walk back to the Sunny was quiet. Zoro stayed close, not quite touching but near enough that Sanji could feel his presence like a shield. It should have been awkward. Zoro had clearly seen him leave with Sadaichi and could guess what had happened. Instead of awkward, it was... comforting in a way.
Sanji’s body ached. Not in the good way he’d hoped for, but in a way that made him feel used and cheap. Sadaichi had been charming downstairs, but upstairs he’d been different. He’d been impatient with Sanji’s inexperience. The preparation had been cursory at best and when Sanji had tensed up, had tried to say it hurt, Sadaichi had just told him to relax and kept going.
It was consensual. At no point had Sanji told him to stop or that he didn’t want it, but it had just been... bad. It was painful and awkward and nothing like the fantasies that had been plaguing him for months.
Afterward, Sadaichi had been dismissive. He’d basically told Sanji he could see himself out, like he had been a means to an end, nothing more. It shouldn’t have stung as much as it did. Sanji had gone into this knowing it was just sex, just experimentation. Somehow it had still felt like rejection, like confirmation of every shitty thing he had ever thought about himself.
They reached the Sunny and Zoro led him to the galley. He pulled out a bottle of sake and two cups, pouring generously.
“You don’t have to—” Sanji started.
“Drink,” Zoro said. Not an order, but not a suggestion either.
The sake burned less than the whiskey had or maybe he was just getting numb.
“Want to talk about it?” Zoro asked after a long silence.
“Not particularly.”
“Okay.”
But as the silence stretched, Sanji found words bubbling up anyway. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the way Zoro was looking at him with concern rather than pity, being present but not pushy.
“It was my first time,” Sanji admitted quietly. “With a guy anyway.”
Zoro’s hand tightened around his cup.
“Your first—” He cut himself off, jaw working. “Fuck, Sanji.”
“Yeah,” Sanji laughed, but it came out bitter. “Not exactly the magical experience I was hoping for.”
“What happened?”
Sanji shook his head, staring into his cup. The sake rippled with the slight tremor in his hands. “It doesn’t matter. It was consensual. I wanted to try it. He just... wasn’t very good. Or maybe I wasn’t. I don’t know.”
“It wasn’t you.” Zoro’s voice was hard, certain. “If someone’s first time is bad, that’s on the person who’s supposed to know what they’re doing. They’re supposed to take care of you. Make sure you’re ready. Make sure it feels good.”
Something in Sanji’s chest cracked at that. He set his cup down carefully, afraid he might drop it.
“Well, he didn’t. He barely prepped me. Just—” His voice caught. “Just enough that he could get in. When I said it hurt, he just told me to relax. Like it was my fault for being tense.”
Zoro’s knuckles went white around his cup. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”
“I don’t think he meant to hurt me, he was just focused on himself, on what felt good for him. Afterward...” He swallowed hard. “Afterward he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. Like I’d served my purpose.”
“Sanji—”
“I’m fine.” But his voice cracked on the word, betraying him. “It’s fine. At least now I know that men aren’t what I thought they’d be. Or maybe I’m just not cut out for this.”
“That’s bullshit.” Zoro leaned forward, his intensity almost overwhelming. “One bad experience doesn’t define anything. That guy was an asshole who didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve the chance to touch you.”
Sanji looked up, met Zoro’s eye. There was something fierce and protective burning in his gaze that made Sanji’s breath catch. “You don’t have to—”
“I’m not just saying it.” Zoro’s voice was rough. “You deserve someone who cares. Someone who’ll take their time. Make sure you’re comfortable, make sure you feel good. Not some random asshole who’s just looking to get off.”
“Yeah, well.” Sanji looked away, unable to hold that intense gaze. “Not sure where I’m going to find that.”
Zoro was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “You’ve been questioning things? Your sexuality?”
Sanji sighed in response before nodding.
“I think I might be bi. I’m attracted to women, I know that. But men...” He thought about Zoro, about the dreams, about the way his pulse raced during their fights. “Yeah. Men too.”
“And you came to that bar to figure it out.”
“Yeah.” Sanji poured himself more sake, needing something to do with his hands. “I’ve been... confused. For months. Maybe longer. There’s this—” He stopped himself before he could say ‘person.’ “I started noticing men the way I notice women. I needed to know if it was real or just... I don’t know. Curiosity.”
“And now?”
“Now I know it’s real. The attraction is real.” Sanji’s voice dropped. “The sex just sucked.”
“I’m sorry your first experience was shit.”
Sanji huffed a laugh. “Me too.”
They drank in silence for a while. Sanji felt the sake smoothing his edges, making the ache in his body more distant. Zoro kept pace with him and gradually the tension in Sanji’s shoulders eased. At some point, they’d shifted closer on the bench, their knees almost touching.
“Why were you there?” Sanji asked eventually. “At the bar.”
Zoro shrugged. “Same reason I always go. To drink, relax. Bars and clubs are good for that. When we’re in ports and I need space, I usually look for places like that.” Zoro’s eye met his. “I’m gay, Sanji. Have been for years. Thought you knew.”
“I knew. I just... didn’t think about it much.” A lie. He’d thought about it constantly, especially lately. “Does the crew know?”
“I never made a secret of it.” Zoro poured them both more sake. “It was easier than I thought it’d be. Coming out.”
“When did you know?” Sanji asked. “That you were gay?”
Zoro considered. “Always, I think. But I didn’t have words for it until I was a teenager. I grew up in a dojo full of guys. I kept noticing them in ways that felt different from how the other students talked about girls. First time I kissed a guy, I was fourteen. It just... clicked.”
“Was it good? Your first time?”
“The kiss was. The sex...” Zoro grimaced. “First time’s usually awkward. But he was patient. Made sure I was okay. That’s the difference. He cared about my experience, not just his own.”
Sanji absorbed that, the contrast stark against his own experience. “I don’t know why I expected it to be different. I don’t even know him.”
“You expected basic human decency. That’s not too much to ask.” Zoro’s hand moved, almost unconsciously, until his fingers brushed Sanji’s. “You deserved better than what you got tonight.”
The touch sent electricity up Sanji’s arm. He didn’t pull away. “I have... issues. With self-worth. Always have.”
Zoro’s eye sharpened. “Because of your family.”
It wasn’t a question. They all knew bits and pieces of Sanji’s past: the abuse, the rejection, the way his biological family had treated him like garbage. Sanji had never talked about it in detail, but the crew had figured out enough after Whole Cake.
“Yeah.” Sanji’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I know, logically, that I’m worth something. That I’m a good cook, a decent fighter. That the crew values me. But there’s this voice in my head that says I’m not enough. That I’m fundamentally broken. And tonight just... confirmed it.”
“You’re not broken.” Zoro’s hand covered his fully now, warm and calloused and steady. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. And I don’t just mean fighting.”
Sanji looked at their hands, at the way Zoro’s fingers curled around his. “You don’t have to—”
“I’m not just saying it,” Zoro repeated. “I mean it. You’re strong, Sanji. You survived hell and came out the other side still able to care about people. Still able to feed everyone, to protect the crew, to be kind even when the world’s been shit to you. That’s not broken. That’s fucking incredible.”
Something hot and tight lodged in Sanji’s throat. He blinked rapidly, refusing to let tears fall.
“Any asshole who makes you feel less than that isn’t worth your time.”
They sat like that for a long moment, hands clasped on the table, the weight of Zoro’s words settling into Sanji’s chest. It felt like something was shifting between them, some fundamental change in their dynamic that Sanji couldn’t quite name.
“Thank you,” Sanji said finally. “For tonight. For listening. For not judging.”
“Never.” Zoro’s thumb brushed over Sanji’s knuckles, a gesture so gentle it made Sanji’s breath catch. “You can always talk to me. About anything.”
“Even about being attracted to men?”
“Especially about that.” Zoro’s smile was small but genuine. “I know what it’s like. The confusion, the fear. Wondering if you’re normal, if you’re broken. You’re not alone in this.”
Sanji felt something in his chest ease, a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. “It’s scary. Not knowing. Feeling like I’m figuring out who I am all over again.”
“That’s normal. Sexuality’s complicated. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.” Zoro squeezed his hand. “Take your time. Experiment if you want. Just... be safe and don’t settle for assholes who don’t treat you right.”
“Noted.”
They talked through the night. About sexuality, about the crew, about their dreams and fears. Zoro told him about other experiences he’d had, good and bad, about learning to be comfortable in his own skin. Sanji talked about his confusion, his fear, the way he’d been raised to think there was only one way to be a man.
Slowly, the hurt from earlier faded. Not gone, but manageable. Zoro was here, he understood and he wasn’t judging him. Zoro was just present, solid and steady and real.
At some point, Sanji’s head ended up on Zoro’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure how it happened, just that the sake coupled with the whiskey from earlier had made him loose and tired. Zoro was warm and comfortable. He didn’t push him away, just adjusted so Sanji could rest more comfortably.
“You’re not as much of an asshole as you pretend to be,” Sanji mumbled.
“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”
Sanji smiled against Zoro’s shoulder. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
When Sanji finally stood to go shower and sleep, he swayed slightly. Zoro steadied him with a hand on his elbow, then his waist, keeping him upright.
“Thanks,” Sanji said quietly, looking up at Zoro. They were close, closer than they’d ever been outside of a fight. Sanji could see the flecks of gray in Zoro’s eye, could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “For tonight. For everything.”
“Anytime, cook.” Zoro’s hand lingered on his waist for a moment longer than necessary. “I mean it. Anytime you need to talk, I’m here.”
The way Zoro said it, the intensity in his eye, made Sanji believe him. Something warm and hopeful bloomed in his chest despite the hurt.
As Sanji walked away, he felt Zoro’s gaze on his back. For the first time that night, the ache in his body felt less like pain and more like a reminder that he was alive. That he’d survived. That maybe, just maybe, there were better experiences waiting for him.