Chapter Text
The Thousand Sunny came into view as they rounded the final corner of the port town, her lion figurehead gleaming in the morning sun. Sanji’s steps slowed involuntarily, his hand still linked with Zoro’s. He felt something cold settle in his stomach.
Reality.
The night in the hotel room had felt like a dream, something separate from his actual life. Now they were walking back to the ship, back to their crew, back to everything that was normal and familiar. Except nothing felt normal anymore. Zoro’s hand was warm in his, solid and real. Sanji could still feel the ache in his body, the soreness that reminded him of everything they’d done. Everything he’d let Zoro do to him.
What the hell was I thinking?
“We should probably let go before we get to the ship,” he suggested quietly, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.
Zoro’s hand tightened slightly before releasing. They walked the rest of the way in silence, the space between them feeling both too close and too far. When they reached the gangplank, Sanji stopped, turning to face Zoro.
“We shouldn’t tell them,” he said quickly.
Zoro’s eye studied him. Sanji felt exposed under the scrutiny.
“You want to keep it quiet?”
“Everything’s so new. We don’t even know what this is yet. We should just... keep it between us for now. Figure things out first,” Sanji explained, the words tumbling out.
He watched Zoro consider this, his breath held in anticipation for what he’d say.
“Okay. We won’t say anything yet,” Zoro decided finally.
Relief flooded through Sanji, though he couldn’t quite identify why. Maybe because keeping it secret meant he could pretend it hadn’t happened. Maybe because telling the crew would make it real in a way he wasn’t ready for.
“Okay,” he echoed.
They stood there for another moment, the morning sun warm on their faces, the sounds of the port town waking up around them. He wanted to say something else, wanted to acknowledge what had happened between them, but the words wouldn’t come.
“I should go check on the galley, make sure everything’s still in order,” Sanji said instead.
“Yeah, I should probably get some training done.”
There was another pause, weighted and awkward.
“So... I’ll see you later?”
Zoro’s eye held his. Sanji saw something flicker there. Disappointment? Frustration? Still, Zoro just nodded.
“Yeah. Later.”
Sanji turned and walked up the gangplank, his heart pounding as he resisted the urge to run. He didn’t look back, didn’t let himself see if Zoro was watching him go. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on getting to the galley where he could be alone and think.
The ship was quiet, most of the crew asleep or just waking. Sanji made his way to his domain, his body moving on autopilot. When he finally reached, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him before he leaned against it and let out a shaky breath.
What did I just do?
Sanji walked towards the table on unsteady feet and sat down heavily, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. The morning light filtered through the small porthole, casting everything in a soft glow that felt wrong somehow. It was too peaceful, too normal.
Nothing about what Sanji was feeling was remotely normal. He could still his skin thrumming with the feeling of Zoro’s hands on his body. Could still hear his voice, rough and commanding, in his ear. Could still remember the way it felt to let Zoro take control, to beg for more.
It was the woman, Sanji told himself firmly.
It only happened because she wanted to see it and I would never deny a woman her desires. She was the one who suggested it, who made it happen. I was just going along with what she wanted.
Even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. The woman had been there, yes, but by the end of the night, Sanji had barely been aware of her presence. It had been Zoro he’d been consumed by. Zoro’s hands, Zoro’s mouth, Zoro’s cock inside him.
Sanji’s face burned with shame at the memory. Not only had he let Zoro fuck him, he begged for it, wept over it.
He stood abruptly, pacing the space of the galley. His body ached with every movement, a constant reminder of what had happened. His ass was sore, his muscles protesting, and there were marks on his hips and his neck from where Zoro’s fingers had gripped him and his teeth and lips had been.
Sanji caught sight of himself in the small mirror mounted on the wall and stopped. He looked the same as always. Same blond hair, same visible eye, same face. He felt fundamentally different, like something inside him had shifted and he couldn’t shift it back. He caught a glimpse of an angry red bruise on his neck from where Zoro had sucked at the skin and felt shame settle deep inside of him. Underneath the shame was something else, something that made his stomach twist and his cock twitch with interest despite his exhaustion.
Memory. Desire. The ghost of pleasure so intense it had made him sob. Images flooded his mind before he could stop them.
Zoro’s fingers spreading him open. Zoro’s voice praising him, calling him beautiful. Zoro’s cock filling him so perfectly it had made his vision blurry.
Sanji sat back down heavily, his head in his hands.
He’d never thought of Zoro that way, never consciously considered him as anything other than a rival, an annoyance, someone to fight with and compete against. However, in that hotel room, something had changed. Sanji had started seeing him differently. The way he moved, the intensity in his eye, the careful way he touched despite his domineering attitude. There had been softness there, affection, devotion. Sanji had responded to it. He’d wanted it.
That was the part that scared him the most. Not that it had happened, but that he’d wanted it so badly. That he’d surrendered so completely to Zoro’s touch. That he’d begged and whined and pleaded for more. That’s not who he was. He was charming, suave, a ladies’ man and a gentleman who wined and dined and doted on women in public and in the bedroom he was just as generous. He was the one in control when it came to sex. He was the one who had women begging him for more. With Zoro, all of that had dissolved.
What does that make me? What does it mean that I wanted that?
He didn’t have answers. He just had the memories playing on repeat in his mind, the ache in his body and the growing certainty that he couldn’t face Zoro right now. He couldn’t look him in the eye and pretend everything was normal. So he wouldn’t. He’d avoid him. Just for a little while, just until he figured out what all of this meant.
Just until he could breathe again without remembering what happened between them.
~*~*~
The first day was easy.
Sanji stayed in the galley preparing meals with meticulous focus. He chopped vegetables with precision, seasoned dishes with care and kept his hands busy so his mind wouldn’t wander. When Zoro appeared for breakfast, the last to arrive as usual, Sanji made sure to be facing the stove.
“Morning, Cook,” Zoro greeted, his voice neutral.
“Morning,” Sanji replied without turning around.
He could feel Zoro’s gaze on him, heavy and questioning. Sanji didn’t turn or meet his eye. He kept preparing food, kept moving, kept his attention anywhere but on the man. After a long moment, Zoro sat down wordlessly with the rest of the crew.
Sanji’s hands were shaking as he plated the food.
He didn’t look Zoro’s way once throughout the rest of the day.
~*~*~
The second day was harder.
Sanji woke early and threw himself into prep work. He kneaded bread dough with more force than necessary, his knuckles white as he worked the mixture and got some frustration out. The repetitive motion should have been soothing, but all it did was give his mind space to wander back to the hotel room. Back to Zoro’s hands on his body, Zoro’s voice in his ear, the overwhelming sensation of being completely claimed.
He was on deck by mid-morning, chain-smoking and watching the horizon. He was on his fourth cigarette when he heard footsteps behind him. Heavy, deliberate footsteps that he recognized immediately. His heart started pounding. Panic flared in his chest, sharp and immediate. He stubbed out his cigarette and walked away quickly.
“Sanji,” Zoro called after him.
He pretended not to hear, disappearing below deck before Zoro could catch up. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears, his palms sweating as he forced himself not to run. He felt like a coward, but he couldn’t stop himself. He locked himself in a storeroom and leaned against the door, breathing hard.
I’m not ready. I can’t face him yet.
~*~*~
By the third day, the crew was starting to notice.
Sanji had perfected the art of being wherever Zoro wasn’t. When Zoro was on deck, Sanji was in the galley. If Zoro invaded the galley, Sanji slipped into the infirmary to escape him. If Zoro was in the bunkroom, Sanji retreated to the aquarium. Zoro usually took double shifts on night watch, so he went to the men’s bunkroom to sleep when he was sure Zoro was on duty. He timed his movements carefully, always keeping distance between them. However, the crew wasn’t blind.
“Are you and Zoro fighting?” Nami asked as Sanji delivered her midday snack.
Her voice was casual, but her eyes were sharp.
“No more than usual,” he replied smoothly, forcing a smile as he handed her the plate of petit fours.
“It seems different. You’re avoiding him,” she pressed, leaning forward a little to maintain eye contact.
“I’m not avoiding anyone,” he said, pouring all his usual charm into his voice.
Nami gave him a doubtful look.
“I’m just busy. You know how it is. Three meals a day for this crew plus snacks plus Luffy being… Luffy, it all takes planning.”
He flashed her his most dazzling smile, the one that usually made her roll her eyes fondly. Nami’s expression didn’t soften. She studied him for a long moment, her gaze searching. Sanji looked away and then immediately regretted it. It felt like an admission.
Nami’s smile suddenly turned sly.
“Sanji,” she said, drawing his name out playfully. His heart thud in his chest with a pang of both arousal (he couldn’t help it) and fear.
“You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”
“Wh— what?”
“Because that wouldn’t be like you.”
“No, I… I… I’m…”
Nami took another step towards him, her eyebrow raised knowingly.
“I… I think Robin is calling me.”
Nami frowned a little.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Well, you know how strong my lady radar is. I better not keep her waiting. Enjoy the snack, dearest.”
Sanji turned to flee the map room as quickly as he could.
“Sanji?” Nami called before he could leave entirely.
He turned to face her reluctantly. Nami’s face betrayed concern, making him feel even more guilty than he already did for lying.
“If something happened—”
“Nothing happened. Everything’s fine. I promise,” he interrupted.
The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he forced himself to keep smiling. Nami didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, she sighed and let it drop.
When he left, Sanji’s hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped Robin’s snacks, but at least Nami didn’t know the truth.
~*~*~
The fourth day, Luffy cornered him.
Sanji was restocking the pantry when their captain appeared in the doorway, his usual cheerfulness replaced with concern.
“Sanji, did something happen with Zoro?” Luffy asked bluntly, tilting his head.
“Nothing happened,” he said, the lie coming easier now. He kept his back to Luffy, organizing cans with unnecessary focus.
“But you’re not talking to him and he’s been really grumpy. He wouldn’t even let me nap on him as long as I usually do. Not even Chopper made him smile.”
Sanji’s chest tightened at the mention of Zoro’s mood. Guilt twisted in his stomach, sharp and painful, like a knife being slowly turned. He could feel the weight of it settling over him, heavy and suffocating. The cook’s hands clenched involuntarily at his sides as he tried to push down the feeling, but it only seemed to grow stronger, more insistent. He knew he was at least partially responsible for whatever dark cloud was hanging over the swordsman.
“We’re fine, Luffy. Just… give us some space. You know how we are. We’re always bickering,” Sanji replied, forcing lightness into his tone.
“It doesn’t feel like bickering. It feels... sad,” Luffy said, frowning.
The word hit Sanji like a punch to the gut. Was that what he was feeling about all of this? Sadness? He turned the emotion over in his mind. Guilt was easy to identify. It sat heavy in his chest like a stone. Shame, fear and desire were familiar companions, emotions he’d wrestled with his entire life. He knew their shapes, their textures, the way they twisted in his stomach and clawed at his throat.
Sadness though? Sadness was something else entirely. Sadness would imply that he missed Zoro, that he missed the warmth of his skin and the quiet intimacy they’d shared in the darkness. It would mean he missed what they’d shared that night in that hotel room, the vulnerability, the connection, the way Zoro had looked at him like he was something precious. Sadness would mean that his feelings went deeper than simple arousal, deeper than physical need or momentary weakness.
Sanji didn’t think he could face that right now. Maybe not ever.
“We’re fine, I promise. Nothing going on between us will affect the crew. Now go on, I need to finish this before I start dinner prep.”
Luffy lingered for another moment, clearly unconvinced. Sanji reached into the pocket of his apron and produced a bag of dried meat.
“Here, munch on this until dinner time.”
Luffy’s eyes lit up and he took bag before he wandered off. Sanji leaned against the pantry shelf, his forehead pressed to the cool wood.
What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?
~*~*~
The fifth day, Sanji found himself on deck watching Zoro work out. He should’ve walked away but he found he couldn’t. He told himself he wasn’t watching, that he was just taking a smoke break on the upper deck and happened to be standing where he had a full view of the main deck.
Zoro had stripped down to just his pants, his chest bare and gleaming with sweat in the sunlight. He was doing one-armed pull-ups on the rigging, his muscles flexing with each controlled movement. Up, down. Up, down. The rhythm was hypnotic.
Sanji’s eyes traced the lines of Zoro’s body without his permission: broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, the defined muscles of his back shifting and bunching with each pull, the flex of his bicep as he lifted his entire body weight with seemingly effortless strength. Sweat ran down the groove of his spine, catching the light.
Heat pooled low in Sanji’s belly, unwelcome and undeniable. His cock stirred in his pants, responding to the sight of all that masculine strength on display and the memory of what it felt like to have those muscles surrounding him, holding him down, moving inside him.
It confused him. He’d always been attracted to women and their softness, their curves, the gentle swell of breasts and hips. To delicate hands and sweet voices and the way they moved with fluid grace. Everything about women had always made sense to him, had always felt right in a way he understood. This was different. This was hard planes instead of soft curves, rough calluses instead of smooth skin, raw strength instead of gentle yielding. Despite that, his body wanted it anyway, wanted him.
Sanji’s cigarette trembled slightly between his fingers as he remembered the hotel room. The way Zoro’s body had looked in the candlelight, all that controlled power coiled and ready. The way his muscles had shifted as he moved, as he’d positioned himself behind Sanji, as he’d...
Sanji had been transfixed watching Zoro’s body move, the flex and release of his muscles, the casual display of strength, the way he’d commanded the space around him with nothing but presence and physicality. He still was.
Zoro shifted to two-armed pull-ups now, his pace increasing. His abs contracted with each lift, the defined ridges of muscle standing out in sharp relief. His pectorals flexed while his forearms were corded with tension. Sanji’s mouth went dry.
He wanted to touch, wanted to run his hands over all those hard muscles, feel them shift beneath his palms. He wanted to dig his fingers into those shoulders while Zoro fucked him, wanted to feel that strength holding him down, claiming him, making him beg for more.
He shook his head, sucking hard on his cigarette as he tried to banish the thought. He glanced down and grimaced. His cock was half-hard now, pressing against his pants in a way that would be obvious if anyone looked.
This was everything he’d walked away from. This body. This man. This overwhelming, terrifying want that didn’t make sense but consumed him anyway.
Zoro was right there, close enough to touch if Sanji just crossed to the main deck. Close enough to grab and kiss and beg to take him somewhere private.
Sanji was standing here half-hard, wanting him desperately... Panic fluttered in Sanji’s chest. Small at first, then growing. He still wanted Zoro’s body. Still wanted those hands on him, that strength surrounding him, that overwhelming presence claiming him completely.
His breath caught as Zoro suddenly looked up and caught his eye, suspended midair while in the middle of his set. Sanji found himself trapped there for a moment, unable to look away. He could read all of Zoro’s emotions in his eyes.
Frustration clear as day in the hard set of his jaw and the tension around his eyes. Anger, maybe. Something sharp and defensive in the way his shoulders had gone rigid. Underneath it all, buried beneath those easier emotions, was something that looked like hurt. Raw, genuine hurt. The kind that came from being ignored by someone who mattered to you, from reaching out and finding nothing but empty air.
Sanji’s stomach twisted with guilt so intense it made him nauseous. He’d done this. He’d put that look on Zoro’s face.
Sanji’s cigarette burned down to the filter between his fingers, forgotten. He barely noticed the heat against his skin until it singed him. He stubbed it out with shaking hands and turned away from the deck, forcing himself to walk back to the galley with measured steps.
His legs carrying him below deck even as everything in him screamed to stop, to turn around, to apologize. Every step felt like wading through deep water. His body moved on autopilot while his mind raged against itself, a civil war between what he should do and what he was capable of doing.
The want followed him inside, settling heavy and aching in his gut. He went back to prep work, his hands shaking slightly as he julienned vegetables, trying desperately not to think about what he’d just felt.
He spent the rest of the day in the galley, deep cleaning the entire kitchen from top to bottom. He scrubbed counters until his knuckles ached, organized spice jars by color and then by alphabetical order, polished every pot and pan until he could see his reflection in the bottoms. He kept his hands busy so he wouldn’t have to think about the look in Zoro’s eyes.
~*~*~
The sixth day, Zoro decided he was done waiting. Sanji was in the galley cleaning up after dinner when Zoro appeared in the doorway.
“Cook, we need to talk,” the swordsman said by way of greeting.
“I’m busy,” Sanji replied without looking up from the dishes, his hands moving mechanically through the soapy water.
“Sanji.”
The way Zoro said his name made something clench in his chest, but he forced himself to keep scrubbing the plate in his hands.
“I said I’m busy.”
He heard Zoro take a step into the galley and panic flared inside him, sharp and immediate. He whipped around to face him and held up a hand defensively to stop him from getting closer.
“Don’t. Just— don’t,” Sanji warned.
Zoro’s eye searched his face. Sanji saw the brief flash of hurt before the frustration intensified.
“You promised. You promised you wouldn’t push me away,” Zoro said quietly, his voice rough.
“I’m not—”
“You are. You’ve been avoiding me for almost a week. You won’t look at me, won’t talk to me, won’t even be in the same room as me if you can help it.”
Guilt crashed over Sanji like a wave, threatening to drown him in its cold, suffocating depths. He wasn’t as stringent about vows as Zoro was. Hell, the mosshead treated promises like they were sacred oaths carved in stone. Still, Sanji wasn’t the type to break his promises. He prided himself on being a man of his word, someone people could rely on when it mattered most.
He also knew he had a bad habit of letting his fear take over his reason. It was something he’d struggled with for years, that gnawing anxiety that crept in when things got tough. Fear had a way of clouding his judgment, making him second-guess himself and act on impulse rather than logic. That fear had taken over the second he saw the Sunny come into view while he still held the weight of Zoro’s hand in his own. It overrode everything else, including his promise.
“I need time,” Sanji defended, his voice barely above a whisper.
“How much time?” Zoro asked, an edge to his voice.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“It has to be. I can’t— I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to talk to me. I want you to stop running. I want you to keep the promise you made because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to pretend it never happened,” Zoro said, taking another step forward.
“I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask to feel like this! To want…” He cut himself off, his face burning.
Zoro’s expression shifted, something vulnerable flickering across his features before his jaw tightened.
“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know how scared you are?” Zoro asked, his voice quieter now.
“Then why are you pushing me about this?” Sanji demanded, his voice cracking.
“Because I’m scared too! I knew this might happen, but I did it anyway and now…” he stopped, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
Sanji stared at him, his heart pounding.
“What do you mean you knew?”
Zoro let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair.
“I knew there was a risk that you might panic. That if you ever gave me the time of day at all, you might decide it was too much. That’s part of why I was careful and didn’t say anything about how I felt for so long. I knew that if I pushed too hard too fast, you would run.”
He looked at Sanji and the pain in his eye was unmistakable.
“And you did, just like I was afraid you would.”
The guilt that had been building in Sanji all week crashed over him with crushing force.
“Zoro—”
“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. I’m saying it because I need you to understand. I took a risk. I knew what I was risking and I did it anyway because I thought— I hoped that you felt the same way,” Zoro interrupted, his voice tired.
“I do feel— I mean, at the time I— I don’t know— I just don’t know.”
Sanji sighed in frustration, most of which was directed at himself. He hated feeling so helpless and out of control. His fingers dove into his hair involuntarily, pulling at the strands enough to make his scalp sting in an attempt to ground himself. The sharp pain was a welcome distraction from the chaos swirling in his mind, the thoughts that wouldn’t stop racing no matter how hard he tried to silence them. He could feel his pulse hammering in his temples, his jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Get it together, he told himself, even as his hands trembled slightly when he finally released his grip on his hair.
“I just— I need—”
“You need time,” Zoro finished, his voice flat.
“Yes.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, the tension thick enough to cut.
“How much time, Sanji? How long am I supposed to wait while you figure out if I’m worth the risk?”
“That’s not fair,” Sanji replied, his voice shaking.
“Isn’t it? Because from where I’m standing, it feels pretty accurate.”
Sanji’s throat tightened. He wanted to argue, wanted to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. Zoro was right. That’s exactly what he was doing: weighing the risk, trying to decide if what he felt for Zoro was worth the fear, the shame, the uncertainty.
“I’m sorry. I just need—”
“Time. I know. You’ve said that.”
He turned toward the door and panic flared in Sanji’s chest unbidden.
“Zoro, wait,” he implored.
The swordsman turned to give him an expectant look, his dark eye searching Sanji’s face for an explanation maybe, or an apology. Sanji opened his mouth to say something. What? He wasn’t sure. An excuse? A justification for his behavior? Some half-baked reason that would make this whole mess make sense?
No words escaped his lips. It was like it all got stuck in his throat, tangled up with everything else he couldn’t say, wouldn’t say. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Zoro nodded to himself as if confirming some thought he’d privately had, some theory about Sanji that this moment had just proven true. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of disappointment or resignation on his face.
“I can’t keep watching you run from me every day. So, take your time. Figure out what you want. When you’re ready to stop running, you know where to find me.”
He left without another word, the door closing behind him with a quiet click. Sanji stood alone in the galley, his hands shaking so badly he had to set down the plate before he dropped it.
The guilt was overwhelming now, crushing him under its weight. Even feeling the guilt and the pain and the desperate urge to run after Zoro and apologize, he couldn’t make himself move. The fear was still there, still dominating everything else. Fear of what it meant to want Zoro, to need him. The fear of what his crew would think, what Zeff would think, what it meant about who Sanji was.
Until he could face that fear, he couldn’t face Zoro.
He stood alone in the cramped galley, his shoulders hunched and trembling. The dim overhead light flickered occasionally, casting harsh shadows across the worn countertops and stained metal surfaces. He gripped the edge of the sink with white-knuckled hands, staring at his distorted reflection in the tarnished faucet, and hated himself for being such a coward. The shame burned in his chest like acid, eating away at whatever dignity he thought he had left. He should have spoken up. He should have done something, anything, but instead he’d just stood there, frozen and silent, while everything fell apart around him.
Now Zoro was gone.
He should’ve been happy, relieved even, but the only thing he felt was his heart breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. This was supposed to be the moment he’d been waiting for, the outcome he’d worked so hard to achieve. Yet instead of triumph or satisfaction, all he could feel was an overwhelming emptiness spreading through his chest. The weight of it was almost unbearable. He had no one but himself to blame for how things had turned out, and that realization stung more than anything else. Every choice, every decision, every word he’d spoken or left unspoken had led him to this exact moment of hollow victory.
~*~*~
Zoro stopped approaching him after that. He didn’t try to corner Sanji in the galley or catch him alone, didn’t follow him with hope in his eye. Sanji felt the difference keenly.
At breakfast, Zoro sat at the table with his usual plate of food, but his eye tracked Sanji’s movements through the galley. Not with longing but with something closer to assessment. It was clinical, detached, like he was cataloging every movement Sanji made as he refused to look his way.
His hands shook as he poured coffee. The pot rattled against the rim of Nami’s cup and he had to steady it with both hands to avoid spilling it. When he plated breakfast, he fumbled the garnish twice.
Stop looking at me, Sanji thought desperately, his chest tight.
When he finally risked a glance toward the table, Zoro was watching him. Their eyes met and Sanji’s breath caught. His heart hammered against his ribs. Every instinct screamed at him to look away, to run, to escape that steady gaze, but he couldn’t move.
Zoro didn’t look away either. He didn’t smile, didn’t scowl, didn’t show any of the hurt or frustration or hope that had been written across his face for the past week. He just looked for a long moment. Then he returned his attention to his food, dismissing Sanji entirely.
Sanji’s brows scrunched in a bit of confusion, but Zoro was already engaged in conversation with Franky, listening intently to something the cyborg said. His whole body was relaxed, his expression open and easy like nothing was wrong, like Sanji hadn’t just spent a week tearing them both apart.
For days, Zoro had been pursuing him and Sanji had been running. He’d even been using that pursuit as justification.
I’m avoiding him because he won’t leave me alone. I’m keeping distance because he keeps pushing, he thought.
Now there was nothing to run from. Zoro had stopped chasing. Without that external pressure, without that pursuit to resist against, Sanji was left alone with the truth he’d been trying so desperately to avoid.
Sanji wanted Zoro.
He wanted Zoro’s hands on him, wanted his voice in his ear, wanted to feel claimed and possessed and wanted in a way that made his entire body ache with need.
And he’d thrown it away.
Fuck.
Things didn’t get any better after the realization.
Sanji was a complete wreck in the days that followed. He burned the rice, something he hadn’t done since he was a child at the Baratie. The smell of scorched grains filled the galley and he had to throw out the entire pot and start over, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold the spoon.
He dropped a knife and nearly sliced his own foot. The blade clattered against the floor and Sanji stared at it for a long moment. He forgot to add salt to the soup. He over-seasoned the vegetables. He plated Nami’s breakfast with the garnish on the wrong side (a tiny detail that no one else would notice, but made Sanji want to scream).
Every time he turned around, Zoro was there doing something else.
Living.
Existing.
Moving on.
At breakfast, Zoro sat with Robin and Franky, his posture relaxed in a way that made Sanji’s chest tighten. He was telling some story about a bar fight from before he’d joined the crew, his voice steady and amused. Robin was laughing, her hand covering her mouth in that elegant way she had.
Zoro looked fine. Not at all like someone carrying the weight of heartbreak. It was like he hadn’t spent two years wanting someone who was too much of a coward to want him back even after giving him hope that he did. Sanji watched from the galley doorway, something cold clawing at his throat.
Part of him had expected that Zoro would still be hurt, still be waiting, still be something other than this easy normalcy.
Instead, Zoro was laughing at something Franky said as he reached for his coffee with the same casual confidence he always had. Sanji had to turn away before anyone noticed him staring.
By mid-morning, Sanji was burning another pot.
This time it was the sauce for lunch, a delicate reduction that required constant attention. He’d turned away for just a moment, lost in his thoughts, and when he looked back the bottom of the pot was scorched black.
“Fuck,” he hissed, yanking it off the heat.
The acrid smell filled the galley and he had to open all the windows, his hands trembling as he scraped the ruined sauce into the trash.
Get it together. You’re better than this.
But he wasn’t. Not right now. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Zoro’s face. Saw that easy calm. That complete lack of... anything. Zoro had stopped fighting for him and Sanji didn’t know how to feel about it.
At dinner, Zoro sat between Usopp and Brook.
Usopp was in the middle of one of his elaborate lies. Something about fighting a sea king the size of an island with nothing but a slingshot and his wits. His hands were gesturing wildly, his voice rising and falling with dramatic emphasis. Zoro was listening, his eye focused on Usopp’s face, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. When Usopp got to the part about riding the sea king like a surfboard, Zoro huffed a quiet laugh.
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” he replied, but there was no heat in it, just amusement.
“It’s true! I swear on my name as a brave warrior of the sea!” Usopp protested.
“Sure it is. And I’m the King of the Pirates,” Zoro said, reaching for his sake.
“Yohoho! Our swordsman has jokes!” Brook laughed, his skeletal hand slapping the table.
Zoro’s smirk widened slightly, and he took a long drink.
Sanji watched from his position at the stove, supposedly focused on plating the next course. His hands were shaking so badly he nearly dropped the plate.
Zoro’s smiles were already so rare. Sanji hadn’t seen it in days, a result of his own actions, and now it was back. Now that he’d given up on Sanji. The panic in his chest was a living thing now, clawing up his throat, making his chest tight and his vision blur at the edges.
He’d thought Zoro would wait, would keep pushing, would refuse to let Sanji run. Instead, Zoro had done exactly what Sanji asked for. He’d given him space and time. Meanwhile, he was moving on, living his life like Sanji was just another crewmate. Nothing special. Nothing worth fighting for.
Sanji bit his lip and turned away, shoving down every bit of emotion before it could show on his face.
~*~*~
The absolute worst was when he happened upon Jinbei and Zoro sparring together.
Sanji had been on his way to deliver dessert to Nami and Robin when he spotted them on the main deck. He stopped mid-step, the tray balanced perfectly in his hands, and watched.
Zoro moved with fluid precision, his swords flashing in the afternoon sunlight. Jinbei countered with fishman karate, his movements powerful and controlled. They circled each other, testing, probing for weaknesses. It was beautiful to watch. The way Zoro’s muscles coiled and released with each strike. The way his feet shifted across the deck with perfect balance. The way his face was set in concentration, his eye tracking Jinbei’s every movement.
Sanji had seen Zoro fight countless times. He’d watched him train and had admired his dedication and skill, had sparred with him too many times to count. That’s what this was. Friendly, competitive training that pushed both fighters to improve. The kind where they grinned at each other after a particularly good exchange, where they called out encouragement and corrections.
The kind Sanji and Zoro used to do.
They used to spar all the time. Nearly every day actually. It had been the way they connected, the way they pushed each other, the way they showed respect. Sanji had always looked forward to the challenge of matching himself against Zoro’s strength. To the satisfaction of landing a solid kick. To the grudging acknowledgment in Zoro’s eye when Sanji pulled off something particularly impressive. Since that night, since Sanji had started avoiding him, they hadn’t sparred once.
Now Zoro was sparring with Jinbei instead.
He watched as Zoro blocked a strike and countered with a sweep of his blade. Jinbei dodged, laughing and said something Sanji couldn’t hear. Zoro’s mouth quirked in what might have been a smile. It was easy, comfortable, like they’d been doing this for years. Envy twisted in Sanji’s gut, sharp and ugly.
That should be me.
He should be the one out there trading blows with Zoro. He should be the one making Zoro smile like that. He should be the one Zoro sought out when he wanted to train.
He wasn’t because he’d pushed Zoro away, had avoided him, had made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with what had happened between them. Zoro had found someone else to fill at least this space.
The envy deepened, spreading through Sanji’s chest like poison. It wasn’t just about the sparring. It was about everything the sparring represented. Connection. Trust. Friendship. All the things Sanji had thrown away. Jinbei said something else and Zoro actually laughed, a real laugh, not just a huff of amusement. The sound carried across the deck and Sanji felt something crack inside his chest.
Sanji had been so easy to set aside. So easy to move on from. Nothing worth fighting for. Nothing worth keeping around. Just another person who’d walked away and Zoro had shrugged and found someone else to fill this particular need rather than come to Sanji.
Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? I gave him nothing but rejection and distance. Why would he want to keep trying?
Zoro blocked another strike, his movements sharp and controlled. There was no hesitation in him. No sadness. No lingering hurt. Just focus and strength and that easy camaraderie with Jinbei that made Sanji want to scream. He was nothing to Zoro, just a convenient fuck, just someone to pass the time with. The pain of it was worse than Sanji had expected. Worse than the panic, worse than the fear, worse than the shame.
This was a real, tangible loss. The loss of something he’d valued more than he’d realized. The loss of a connection he’d taken for granted. The loss of a friendship that had meant everything, even before it had become something more.
He couldn’t watch anymore, couldn’t stand there and witness Zoro laughing with someone else, sparring with someone else, being happy with someone else while Sanji fell apart inside.
He turned away, his vision blurring slightly, and started down the stairs that led to where Nami and Robin were sunbathing. He needed to get away. He would deliver this dessert and retreat to the galley where he could pretend everything was fine.
He made it down two steps before he slipped.
The world tilted violently. The tray flew from his hands, desserts scattering. Sanji’s arms windmilled, trying to catch his balance, but his momentum was already carrying him forward. He was going to fall down the stairs.
The realization flashed through his mind with crystal clarity. He was going to fall, it was going to hurt and be the embarrassing cherry on top of this shit sundae.
Before he could tumble, strong arms caught him.
Sanji gasped, his body jerking to a stop mid-fall. He was suspended in the air, held against a solid chest. For a moment, he couldn’t process what had happened. Then he looked up. Zoro’s face was inches from his own. And the expression there—
Oh.
Pure panic. Pure fear.
Zoro’s eye was wide, his pupil blown, his face pale beneath his tan. His arms were locked around Sanji like iron bands, trembling slightly with the force of how tightly he was holding on.
They were frozen like that, Sanji cradled in Zoro’s arms, both of them breathing hard. Sanji could feel Zoro’s heart pounding against his side, could see the way Zoro’s throat worked as he swallowed.
Zoro’s eye traveled over him urgently, searching Sanji’s limbs, his head, his body, looking for injuries with an intensity that bordered on frantic. His gaze moved quickly, desperately, like he needed to confirm that Sanji was whole, that nothing was broken, that he was truly okay.
Suddenly, Sanji remembered.
Kuina.
Zoro had told him about her in the early months of their voyage during one of their late-night conversations. His childhood friend. His rival. The girl who’d promised to become the world’s greatest swordsman alongside him. The girl who’d fallen down the stairs and died.
No wonder Zoro looked so terrified.
“I’m okay,” Sanji whispered, his voice barely audible. His hand lifted almost without conscious thought, reaching up to cup Zoro’s cheek.
“Zoro, I’m okay. Nothing’s broken. I’m fine.”
Zoro’s eye snapped to his face. Sanji saw the fear there, raw and vulnerable and so unlike the swordsman he knew.
“I’m right here. I’m fine, I promise. You caught me in time,” Sanji continued softly, his thumb brushing across Zoro’s cheekbone.
For a moment, they stayed like that: Sanji’s hand on Zoro’s face, Zoro’s arms still locked around him, both of them suspended in this intimate, fragile moment.
He could see the fear slowly fading from his eye, before Zoro’s expression shuttered completely. He set Sanji down on the deck carefully, his hands lingering for just a moment before he pulled away.
“Be more careful,” he said gruffly, his voice rough.
He turned and walked away. He didn’t look back, just walked back toward where Jinbei was waiting, his shoulders tense, his hands clenched at his sides. Sanji stood there, his legs shaking, his heart racing.
The desserts were ruined, scattered across the deck in a mess of cream and fruit and broken porcelain. Sanji couldn’t bring himself to care.
Zoro had caught him. He had moved faster than Sanji had ever seen him move, had crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat, had caught him before he could fall and looked terrified at the thought of Sanji getting hurt. Part of it was likely trauma from Kuina, but more than that, Zoro still cared. At least enough to not want Sanji to fall down the stairs.
It was such a small thing. Such a basic thing. Of course Zoro would catch a crewmate who was falling. That’s what nakama did. But the fear in his eyes hadn’t been the fear of a crewmate watching another crewmate fall. That had been something deeper. Something more visceral. Something that looked like the fear of losing someone you—
Sanji cut the line of thought off before it could finish.
It didn’t matter that Zoro had caught him. Didn’t matter that he’d looked scared. Didn’t matter that his hands had trembled when he’d set Sanji down. He’d still walked away, still left Sanji standing there alone, still went back to Jinbei, back to his new sparring partner, back to the life he was building without Sanji in it.
~*~*~
Four days.
It’d been four days since Zoro had stopped trying. Four days since that look of resignation had settled over his features like a death shroud. Four days of watching Zoro move through the ship like Sanji didn’t exist, like they’d never touched, like that night in the hotel room had been nothing but smoke.
Sanji was exhausted. A bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion that left him staring at his reflection in the galley’s polished counters and not recognizing the hollow-eyed man staring back. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep running.
The realization hit him during breakfast prep one morning, his hands moving on autopilot as he diced onions. The knife slipped, just enough to nick his finger, and he watched the blood well up with a strange detachment.
I’m going to lose him if I don’t do something. I’m going to lose him and it will be my own fault.
The thought was clarifying in the terror it induced.
He finished breakfast service in a daze, barely registering the crew’s chatter whether it was Luffy’s enthusiastic praise, Nami’s concerned glances or Robin’s thoughtful gaze. He cleaned the galley with mechanical precision when everyone cleared out, his mind already racing ahead to what he needed to do.
He knew Zoro’s routines by heart, a by-product of living on a ship and being the cook responsible for tracking everyone down when it was time to give out snacks or drinks. After breakfast, Zoro napped under the mikan trees, catching up on sleep he missed from pulling double duties on night watch. Luffy and Chopper usually joined him for those naps. When he woke, he’d workout or train with Jinbei. After that, he usually would take another nap, but he’d do so in the aquarium since Luffy, Usopp and Chopper would be up to their shenanigans and making too much noise on deck. The aquarium was one of the quieter spaces on the ship, peaceful and hypnotic in a way the Crow’s Nest wasn’t during daylight hours.
Sanji’s feet carried him there almost without conscious thought, his heart hammering against his ribs with each step. The corridor leading to the aquarium felt impossibly long, each footfall echoing too loud in his ears.
He could do this. He had to do this. He’d talk to Zoro, tell him he was sorry, tell him he wanted… he wanted him.
He rounded the corner and stopped.
Through the window in the door of the aquarium, he could see Zoro lying across the long couches. The blue light from the tanks washed over him, making him look almost ethereal. His head was cushioned by his hands while his eye was closed and his swords were sitting on the couch next to him.
He looked peaceful.
Sanji froze.
What was he supposed to say?
‘Sorry I broke my promise’? ‘Sorry I’m a coward’? ‘Sorry I can’t handle what I feel for you’?
His throat closed up and his hands started shaking. Any words he could’ve come up with scattered like leaves in a storm. What if Zoro doesn’t want him anymore? What if he already ruined everything? What if Zoro looks at him with that same resignation, that acceptance that Sanji wasn’t worth the effort?
The panic hit him like a physical blow. His vision tunneled. His chest constricted. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but turn and flee. He didn’t remember the walk back through the corridors, didn’t remember his feet carrying him away from the aquarium, away from Zoro, away from the one thing he wanted most in the world.
All he knew was that he was running again.
And he hated himself for it.
~*~*~
The storage room was dark and cool, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the ship where supplies were kept for emergencies. Sanji stumbled inside and let the door swing shut behind him, plunging himself into near-total darkness.
The first sob caught him by surprise.
It tore out of his chest like something physical, raw and jagged and painful. His legs gave out and he sank to the floor, his back against a crate, his hands coming up to cover his face.
Coward. Fucking coward. You had one chance and you ran. You always run. You’re nothing but a failure of a man.
The tears came hot and fast, streaming down his face, soaking into his hands. He couldn’t stop them or control the way his body shook with the force of his crying, the way his breath came in hitching, broken gasps. His hands moved to his hair, fingers tangling in the blonde strands before he pulled hard. The pain was sharp and grounding but not nearly enough to distract from the agony in his chest.
You’re destroying this. You’re destroying something that could be the best thing that ever happened to you because you’re too scared to face it.
He pulled harder, felt strands give way, felt the sting across his scalp. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.
Zoro deserved better than this, better than him. He deserved someone brave enough to stand beside him. Someone who doesn’t run every time things get hard. Someone who can look him in the eye and say ‘I want you’ without falling apart.
Sanji curled in on himself, drawing his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible in the darkness. His whole body trembled with the force of his sobs, his throat raw from crying, his chest aching with each breath.
He had him. He had someone who looked at him like he mattered. Like he was worth something. Like he was more than just a failure, a disgrace, a mistake. Instead of cherishing it, instead of holding it tight with both hands so it didn’t flutter away, he ran from it.
The self-loathing was a living thing inside him, clawing at his insides, making him want to tear himself apart. He pressed his forehead to his knees and let himself break completely, let the darkness swallow his sobs, let himself drown in the shame of his own cowardice.
He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. Time lost meaning in the darkness. All he knew was the pain in his chest, the tears on his face, the crushing weight of everything he’d lost.
The sound of the door opening barely registered.
“Sanji?”
Robin’s voice was soft, concerned. He heard her footsteps, felt her presence as she knelt beside him in the darkness.
“Oh, Sanji,” she murmured.
There was such gentle sadness in her voice that it made him cry harder.
Robin settled beside him, her back against the same crate, her shoulder touching his. She didn’t try to make him look at her, didn’t try to force him to talk. She just sat with him in the darkness, a quiet presence that somehow made the pain a little more bearable. They sat in silence for a long time. Sanji’s sobs gradually subsided into quiet tears, then into shaky breathing, then into exhausted stillness.
“I was looking for extra medical supplies. Chopper asked me to check the emergency stores. I heard you from the corridor,” Robin said eventually, her voice conversational.
Sanji said nothing. His throat was too tight, his shame too heavy.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but I think you need to tell someone. Keeping it inside is only making it worse.”
“I can’t,” Sanji whispered.
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
The question was gentle but pointed.
“Both,” he admitted.
Robin was quiet for a moment.
“Does this have to do with Zoro?”
Sanji’s breath hitched. His hands clenched into fists against his knees.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ve known for a while there’s something going on between you two. I’m not blind and neither is half the crew. The way you two look at each other, the way you’ve been avoiding each other lately, it’s not exactly subtle.”
“You don’t understand,” Sanji said, his voice breaking.
“Then help me understand.”
Sanji shook his head, fresh tears burning behind his eyes.
“I can’t— I don’t know how to…”
“Start with what hurts most. I find it’s more useful to rip the bandage off such wounds. Get it over with, so to speak.”
Maybe it was the darkness. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was because it was Robin asking or maybe it was the fact that he was tired of carrying this alone. Either way, he turned to face her slightly before starting to speak.
“I’m losing him, it’s my fault and I don’t know how to stop it,” Sanji whispered.
Robin’s hand found his in the darkness, her fingers warm and steady.
“Tell me,” she requested.
So he did.
The words came haltingly at first, then in a rush. He told her about the hotel room, the threesome and the way Zoro made him feel things he’d never felt before. He told her about the panic, the fear, the running. He told her about watching Zoro withdraw, about the resignation in his eye, about the way Sanji had tried to approach him in the aquarium and failed. When he finally fell silent, his throat raw and his eyes burning, Robin squeezed his hand gently.
“Sanji, can I tell you what I think,” she asked, her voice warm with understanding.
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
“I think that you’re not just afraid of being with a man. I think you’re afraid of how much you care about him. You’ve known Zoro for how long now? Two years? Nearly three? You’ve fought beside him, argued with him, trusted him with your life. You’ve built a friendship with him, a connection that existed long before that night in the hotel room.”
“That’s what makes this so terrifying,” Sanji whispered.
“Yes, because you’re not losing a casual lover. You’re losing someone who knows you. Really knows you. The way you think, the way you move, the little things that make you who you are.”
Sanji felt tears sliding down his face again.
“Have you ever known a woman the way you know Zoro? Have you ever let a woman see you the way Zoro sees you?” Robin asked gently.
“No,” Sanji admitted, his voice barely audible.
“And has any woman ever known you the way Zoro knows you? Not your secrets, I’m not talking about knowing everything about your past. I’m talking about the small things. The way you take your coffee. The way you move when you’re tired. The way your voice changes when you’re worried about someone.”
“No,” he whispered again.
“That’s why this loss feels so deep. It’s not just about attraction. It’s not just about physical intimacy or sexuality or any of the things you’ve been telling yourself. It’s about losing someone who sees you, truly sees you, and still wants you.”
Sanji’s chest felt like it was cracking open.
“I’ve never—” he started, then stopped. He took a deep shaking breath before continuing.
“With women, I always knew what to do. I knew how to act, even if it’s been admittedly over the top sometimes. I knew what to say, how to woo a woman, how to make her feel special, even if it was just for a night. It was like playing a role. Not like it was something I was masking myself with, more like it just was… easier, comfortable. But with Zoro—”
“You can’t hide behind any script or template of what you should do or who you should be. He knows you too well and brings out too much of who you really are,” Robin finished.
“Yeah,” Sanji breathed.
“And that terrifies you, because if he knows you that well and still chooses to walk away, it means the real you isn’t enough. Perhaps you’re pushing him away so you won’t have to face that prospect one way or another.”
Sanji made a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh.
“You’re really good at this.”
Robin let out a short laugh.
“I’ve faced my own crisis of romance and self-worth when Franky and I first became interested in one another. It was quite the time of reflection and introspection. It was not fun but it was valuable experience clearly,” Robin said, a smile in her voice.
They were quiet for another long moment as Sanji wiped his face clean of the tear tracks and stretched his legs out so they wouldn’t cramp.
“Sanji, can I ask you something?”
“Might as well.”
“What are you more afraid of? Being with a man? Or being with someone who knows you well enough to hurt you?”
The question hit him like a physical blow. He sat with it, turning it over in his mind, examining it from every angle.
“The second one,” he finally admitted.
“I think— I think I’ve been focusing on the first one more, because it’s easier to be afraid of what people will think than to be afraid of…”
“Of being vulnerable, of giving someone the power to destroy you.”
“He already has that power, that’s what scares me. He’s had it for a while now and I didn’t even realize it until now,” Sanji whispered.
“I’m going to tell you something and I need you to really hear it.”
Sanji glanced over in the darkness, scrunching his brows at the seriousness in her voice.
“Okay.”
“Fear is stealing your happiness. Your trauma, everything your family did to you, everything you’ve survived, it’s trying to convince you that you don’t deserve this. That you’re not worth loving. That anyone who sees the real you will reject you,” Robin started, her voice firm but kind.
Sanji’s hands clenched into fists, not denying her words.
“But Zoro has seen the real you. He’s seen you at your worst. He’s seen you panic and run and push him away. Despite all that, he left the door open for you to go to him when you’re ready. He still wants you even if you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite. He’s been patient with you, gentle with you, even when you’ve hurt him.”
“I know and that makes it worse because I keep hurting him anyway,” Sanji said, his voice breaking.
“Because you’re afraid and that’s understandable, but Sanji, you have to decide which emotion you’re going to serve. Fear or love.”
The words settled over him like a weight.
“You can let your fear win. You can keep running, keep pushing him away, keep protecting yourself from the possibility of being hurt. You’ll be safe, but you’ll also be alone. You’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been if you’d just been brave enough to stay.”
Sanji felt fresh tears sliding down his face.
“Or, you can choose love. You can choose to be vulnerable, to let him in, to risk being hurt. It’s terrifying, I know it is, but the depth of your fear tells me something important.”
“What?”
“It tells me how much you love him. You don’t fear losing something you don’t care about. The fact that you’re this terrified means what you have with Zoro is real. It’s deep. It matters,” Robin said gently.
Sanji looked away as he pressed his hands to his face, his whole body shaking with fresh tears.
“You deserve happiness, Sanji. You deserve to be loved by someone who sees all of you and chooses you anyway. Zoro is offering you that. The question is: are you brave enough to accept it?”
“I don’t know if I am,” Sanji admitted.
“Then start small. You don’t have to have all the answers right now. You don’t have to stop being afraid. You just have to decide that your fear isn’t going to make your choices for you anymore.”
She squeezed his hand again in encouragement.
“Talk to him, tell him what you told me, tell him you’re scared, tell him you’re sorry, tell him you want to try. He’ll meet you halfway, I know he will, but you have to take the first step.”
Sanji sat with her words, feeling them settle into his bones. The fear was still there and it probably always would be, but underneath it he could feel something else, something that felt dangerously close to hope.
“What if I mess it up again?” he whispered.
“Then you apologize, try again and keep trying. That’s what love is, Sanji. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about choosing each other even when it’s hard.”
She stood, her hand slipping from his. He heard her moving toward the door before she paused.
“Sanji?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re braver than you know. Don’t let your fear convince you otherwise,” she advised, warmth in her voice.
The door opened, letting in a sliver of light, then closed again, leaving Sanji alone in the darkness. This time, the darkness didn’t feel quite so suffocating.
This time, he could see a way forward.
He just had to be brave enough to try.