Nicotine and Gravy

Ratings: NC-17, sex m/m and lots of it
Warnings: vaguely spoilerish, takes place after Rogue-Town, but before Whiskey-Peak. Contains slanguage.
Summary: The crew takes some down-time at a small island resort, while Sanji and Zoro do their damndest to avoid resting.
Comments: This fic was written under the influence of Beck--Midnight Vultures, and Beck--Mutations

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"Measuring your dreams
In this life seems
Like the gristle of loneliness

Don't let the sun catch you crying."

--Deadweight-Beck
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Of all the many things that freaked him out, of all the strange, the unusual, the unexpected; the things that shattered his limited world-view, showed him just how small he was, how mortal he was, how young he was...of all the things that scared Roronoa Zoro most, kissing Sanji would have to rank top amongst them.

He'd never admit it to anyone. How, every time Sanji touched him, brushed against him in the slightest, pressed those smirking lips against his, he felt like he might die. He could never articulate, either, how that just made him want it more. Small secret touches at night, when everyone else was asleep. Guilty little silences that seemed enormously loud when they did these things together.

Zoro wasn't sure what to call it. Wasn't sure what it meant, what Sanji meant to him, yet.

The first time they'd lain in bed together, anxious and awake in that big hotel room, Sanji had sidled up against him and muttered something about fooling around. Like this shocking thought had just occurred to him, and slipped the filter, straight from brain to mouth with no pause.

"Huh? Fooly...cooly?" Zoro stammered back, eyes widening, heart in his throat.

"Yeah. That." Sanji raised a hand and fingered his lips. Stared straight up at the ceiling a while, until Zoro turned his head, fractionally. Then Sanji turned _his_ head, their eyes met, and it
happened.

Wasn't anything to write home about. Not at first. But it was Sanji, not just anybody. Therefor, it was, in its own way, a remarkable kiss. Not their first. But considering the first attempt had been
less than notable, or exceptional, Zoro was willing to call it a do-over.

It shocked him to the marrow, that sort-of-a-first-kiss. It was both sudden and direct, Sanji barely angling his head, barely opening his mouth, hand just resting on Zoro's shoulder, then touching his neck. Then there was a second kiss--Sanji moving his lips, coaxing--a third, a fourth...and Zoro lost count after that. He tried to object, perhaps at some point, but then Sanji's tongue was in his mouth, and he was murmuring things.

It was all wrong. But the more his brain told him he shouldn't want this, the more his mouth seemed to egg Sanji on. And his hands, his whole body. There wasn't a part of him that didn't want to be closer to Sanji, on top of him, all over him. If things moved a bit fast, Sanji had no complaint. He merely sighed and blushed and rubbed his hands across Zoro's back, his neck, his hips. They were both clumsy, by no means experts, but it didn't take all that much to figure things out. No asking what went where, or who did what, just going on instinct.

Zoro's heart beat like a mad thing as their arms and legs tangled, and the sheets tangled with them, cool and crisp against hot skin. Hard answering clasp of Sanji's thighs, urgent and sweaty, the insistent
rub and chafe of his cock.

The raspy sound of his moans, and his "oh...christ...Zoro...please..."

Zoro couldn't say, for certain, if they'd actually done it that time. He was hardly an authority on sex in any form, let alone what counted in an official capacity. As it had always been explained to him, sex occurred when:

"The man puts his thing inside, and then stuff happens..."
He'd always ask, "What kind of stuff?"
And the adult in question would shrug, then say something vague like:

"Oh, you know, wonderful fooly-cooly stuff. Kissing and hugging,
and then the sperm and the ovum blah blah blah blah special time
of the month blah blah masturbation is perfectly natural...blah blah blah...
sacred and beautiful love between...blah blah. Does that explain things?"

It did explain, far too much, but Zoro had decided not to care. He had no interest in his thing coming within even an inch of some girl's thing. No sir. And if that was the only time sex occurred, then he had no interest in sex, period. Nor could he claim, with any certainty, that what he'd had with Sanji, was indeed sex.

It was more like fucking, he decided, as that had been explained--and in far greater and graphic detail than the whole boring sperm vs. ovum lecture. Fucking was wonderful, he'd decided. It sounded a lot like fighting, for one, which was something he excelled at. It didn't require a whole lot of messy thinking, or emotions, either. Though it could. But this. This was something pure, distilled, physical.

Something he understood.

Sanji's cheek pressed searing against his, and his mouth, and the bones of his hips; the soft ragged breathing, and the hard arch of his body as Zoro pinned him to the mattress, ground him down, the two of them lunging and rocking together like a rabid dogs. Zoro growled just before he came (Sanji's fingers digging into his hips, thigh muscles shuddering, climax jerking him, whip-like), and lost himself for one blindly ecstatic moment.

Afterwards. It was just quiet. Sanji--eyes glazed and half-lidded--clung to him, skin glued to sticky skin, and just lay for the longest time, breathing heavily. Zoro clung right back; like the world might tilt, and he'd go plummeting out of bed, if he so much as let go.

Yes, he concluded, fucking was great. While you were doing it. When it was over, though, and you remembered where you were, who you were, that's when things got all mixed up. That's when the great, big-bad pirate hunter felt most tiny, and afraid, and so many other things he'd never bothered trifling over. Under all that, too, was a sort of relief, like after a good long cry.

He blinked a few times, eyes readjusting to the dark, and he was staring across the smooth, lily-white slope of Sanji's shoulder. His head lay on Sanji's chest, ear to where his heart beat, solid and steady.

"You okay?" Sanji's fingers in his hair, hand molded to the back of Zoro's head, fitting there so perfectly.

"yeah...I guess so."

"You wanna sleep now?"

"Hn," Zoro grinned broadly, utterly besotted. "Yeah."

They'd collapsed apart eventually, half sprawled--hands and knees still just touching--and drifted off to sleep without another word.

The next morning, Zoro woke alone. Muzzy-headed, not quite fully alert, he shuffled into the bathroom, and found Sanji parked studiously in front of the mirror, trimming his goatee. Sanji turned, and greeted Zoro with the barest of nods, and continued about his business as Zoro absently brushed his teeth and washed up. All very domestic-like, casual and superficial; no weirdness like he would've expected. At least. Not until Sanji sidled up behind him, snaked an arm around his chest, and bit his earlobe.

Zoro yelped and nearly hit the ceiling.

Sanji favored him a small snort of exasperation, and sulked off.

Zoro shouted around the doorjamb after him. "Damn it. Warn a person before you do that!"

"Sorry I startled you, Mister Ultimate Warrior class..." Sanji smarmed. "Next time, I'll say en guard."

"Damn straight." Zoro sniffed, stepping from the bathroom into a pair of board-shorts and gingerly shrugging on a tank-top. His haramaki, on close inspection, seemed a bit worse for wear; but he pulled it on anyway. Was considering a pair of beach sandals, with similar scrutiny, when Sanji tapped him on the shoulder.

Zoro whirled about, half expecting another ear assault. "What?".

Sanji smirked, and said, "En guard."

Despite the warning, Zoro was taken by surprise. The kiss was open-mouthed, rough, and without much technique; Sanji's hands fisted his shirt, and lifted Zoro clean off his feet. One minute he was angling for better leverage, and the next, his heels had left the floor. He dangled helplessly, for one long embarrassing moment, before he could even think to struggle.

It never ceased to amaze, just how strong the skinny jack-ass could be. Zoro had once assumed that Sanji's hands were weak, fine, like bone china; and that was the reason he spared them from fighting. But he'd seen what those hands could do with a heavy cleaver, or an iron stock-pot. Sanji's hands were rough and scarred, like Zoro's own. His knuckles wore the shiny patina of old burns and cuts, skin thick and hide-tough because of it.

He _could_ lay a man out with one punch, or so he claimed, and sometimes it was hard to resist the urge. But he'd rather a long and fruitful career, than the momentary satisfaction. Because: "Even one broken bone can lead to crippling arthritis. For a chef, that spells early retirement, and ultimately, shame."

He handled Zoro as cavalierly and effortlessly as a fifty-pound bag of rice. Something Zoro would now never live down; the fact that Sanji matched him strength for strength, and knew it. Used it to his advantage.

"Mmm! Mmmff! Put me down, damn-it! What if someone saw?" Zoro's toes scraped at the floor. It occurred to him, he was making a fool of himself; but Sanji tended to bring that out in people.

"Aw. Don't be so uptight." Sanji cooed, nipping at Zoro's chin, then releasing him.

Zoro settled back on his heels with a grunt, and brushed himself off. "That's better."

Sanji just snickered at him, and fingered his own lips. "Again?" He said, sweetly.

Zoro screwed up his face, but ultimately: "Yeah, sure."

He'd go the rest of the day with a ghost impression of Sanji's spit on his tongue, and wonder what the hell that taste was.

He snuck one of Sanji's cigarettes, later that day, when he thought Sanji wasn't looking. Smoked it out on the inn's terrace, his eyes burning, trying to work out that nagging taste. So strange, yet so familiar, and not entirely unpleasant. All it got him was a harsh lung full of smoke, which set him coughing so violently, that Sanji heard it from two rooms over. He angrily stalked up behind, and toe-kicked the offending thing from Zoro's hand--missing his fingers by a purposeful hair's-breadth--cursing him out in the same snarky breath.

"Idiot! You wanna tear your stitches?" Sanji bent over him on the floor, face full of toothy concern.

Zoro, between coughs, barked back, pointing to the far end of their room. "You're the idiot. You wanna set the hotel on fire?"

With a mild 'tch' Sanji stalked off and retrieved the cigarette; slipping it between his lips, where it seemed to live and belong. Waste not want not. "You didn't ask, you know. I'd appreciate it if you asked before taking my shit."

"I'm sorry. I'll buy you more."

"With what money? You're broke."

"I'll pay with my body." Zoro said nastily.

"Hey, see if I care." Sanji shrugged.

"Don't pretend like you don't."

"I don't."

"Yeah you do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"Don't."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"No, you."

"All right, fine. Shutting up." Sanji pouted, and set the cigarette down on the window ledge; glowing end facing out, sparking into the wind. He shoved his hands into his pockets, tensing a bit as Zoro picked himself up from the floor.

Zoro watched him, and sauntered over. Tried not to make it look like he was sizing Sanji up, even though he was; sizing and considering his approach. Meanwhile, Sanji staring at him, frozen, eyebrow quirked. Zoro expected to hear something snide from him any moment.

"What? You wanna fight _now_?" He moved away from the ledge, suddenly damned eager to inhabit Zoro's personal space.

"No idiot, I wanna kiss you." Zoro smirked, leaning way forward. "Then, if you want, we can 'fight'."

Sanji crossed his arms over his chest, and clamped his mouth shut, glowering darkly.

Zoro placed his hands on the window-ledge, on either side of Sanji's hips, and studied him a beat. "What's wrong?"

Sanji leaned away, gritting his teeth.

"What's your problem?"

"You told me to shut-up." Sanji replied. He reached back and retrieved the dog-end, briefly, taking a long drag before setting it down again. "So I'm shutting up." He mumbled, on a cloud of noisome smoke, before resolutely setting his jaw.

"Hn." This, Zoro had not counted on. "The one time you actually do what I tell you to do. I can still kiss you with your mouth shut, you know."

Sanji glared at him, as if to say 'Try it'.

A drop of sweat trickled down Zoro's face, his eyebrow shot up, then down, then the other. "So...what? You gonna keep this up all day? Is this a joke?"

Sanji frowned carefully.

Zoro leaned even closer--all up in his face, as Sanji would say. But the man didn't flinch. "You're serious. Why? What? Did I do something? I mean...besides telling you to shut up? Whatsamatter? You mad at me? My breath smell? You don't like the way I kiss? Is that it? Huh?"

Sanji's only answer was to look increasingly uncomfortable.

"That's it, isn't it!" Zoro snarled stridently. "Like you're one to judge, ba~ka mayu!"

"Pfft." Sanji snickered, incredulous; before remembering he'd shut-up, and pursing his lips sullenly.

"You think you're really something, don't you?" Zoro continued, angling his head, almost sniffing for a reaction. Some slip, the tiniest noise, an excuse to bark and laugh and feel superior. But Sanji gave him nothing. "You're not even that good-looking, you know. You _drool_ when we--fooly cooly. Your french is atrocious. I could totally kick your ass in a fight. Nami thinks you're an idiot, and I agree."

Sanji remained impassive. All too tellingly so.

Zoro tapped his chin and thought a moment. "Oh yeah. The goatee looks stupid--you should shave it. And your head's too big for your body. I mean...it's like a freaking rock-melon!" Zoro made an expansive cupping motion. "I'm surprised you're not constantly tipping over."

Nothing. Sanji refolded his arms, and stared past Zoro's left shoulder.

Zoro gritted his teeth and jabbed again. "You can't kiss."

Finally, a reaction; Sanji bristled violently, posture gone hard and defensive. But still, not a sound out of him. The stubborn bastard was practically humming, full of pent insults and snark. And Zoro really wondered how long he could keep it up. If the pressure wouldn't cause him to burst a vein, or pitch a fit. Or pitch an object.

Or, best of all possible outcomes: pitch Zoro onto the bed and mount him. Screw him senseless.

"Mm-hmm. Terrible kisser. No technique at all. No wonder Nami won't have you."

By now, Sanji was twitching, eyes huge, teeth grinding in his jaw. Still, Zoro persisted.

"You should be thankful I even let you near me with that sucker-mouth of yours. Like a frigging lamprey. Every time you launch at me like that, I see my life flash before my eyes."

"I do not _launch_!"

"You do. Damn near split my lip open this morning." Zoro nodded smugly. "By the way, I thought I told you to shut-up."

"Oh fer--" Sanji palmed his face, grimacing.

"Heh."

"Oh yeah?" Sanji shrieked. "What about you? The way you slobber all over my face like I'm your last fucking meal..."

"Some saliva is good. And I do not slobber."

Sanji scowled for a beat, then barked out an accusatory. "Yah-hah!" Butting against Zoro's forehead; mouth snarling, chest all puffed out. He was spoiling for it all right. His breath coming just a little bit faster, cheeks stained pink, pulse thrumming along his neck.

Zoro scowled back a beat, opened his mouth, and took a deep breath. Snuck a hand up the window-frame, past Sanji's guard, and pressed in. "Is this what we've stooped to now?" He angled, and waited, mouth opened expectantly. "Sanji--"

Sanji didn't budge. "You started it." He said dryly, expression dead-pan, arms still folded. "And you know, I don't appreciated being snapped at. It's a real turn-off." He shifted off of the windowsill, dropped his arms, and tried to sulk away.

Zoro juked to the side, and thrust out an arm, blocking his escape. Sanji, unfazed, juked the other way, and took a step forward.

Zoro gritted his teeth. He'd tried to do this the traditional way. The romantic way, even--insofar as he understood how that worked. But if Sanji preferred games, then Zoro could certainly oblige. He juked again, thrust out his other arm--and by this point they'd made it a good five feet towards the bed.

Sanji scowled. Very much a 'What fresh hell is this?' scowl. "All right, cut it out."

"You cut it out." Zoro taunted.

"I'm not doing anything." Sanji was losing patience by inches. Centimeters. How much longer before he truly snapped?

"I know. Cut it out."

"Fuck, Zoro I don't have time for this--"

"Why, where is it you hafta be in such a hurry?" Zoro danced in front of him, arms akimbo, palms facing out.

Sanji shoved his hands in his pockets, and muttered carelessly. "Anywhere but here. I was actually on my way out when I heard your stupid ass choking...now move it."

Zoro's eyebrow piqued up again. "Move it?"

"Excuse me, please?"

"Fine, you can go, but you hafta pay a toll." Zoro leaned into the irate cook's face, lips puckered comically.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Sanji barked. "You just said I was a terrible kisser!"

Zoro grinned, and said sagely, "practice makes perfect."

Sanji sighed, and stood grudgingly still, like a man facing his execution with dignity. Really laying it on thick. "Fine already, go o--."

Zoro leaned in and kissed him, perfectly; right angle, right amount of force, right amount of pressure. Sanji tipped back ever so slightly, hands slipped from his pockets, slack; and Zoro pressed forward, backing him slowly towards the window, deepening the kiss by degrees, angling his head. Sanji hummed into his mouth, and kept stumbling back, unable to do much more. His hands were balled into fists, but they hung at his sides, coming up only to brace him from hitting the wall.

Zoro let go with one last suck, quite satisfied; and Sanji teetered back, gasping, cheeks stained crimson. Zoro let him catch his breath, and leaned in again, lapping gently at his mouth a few times, until his knees shook. And all right, that bit about Sanji being a terrible kisser: not entirely true. But it had gotten a rise out of him.

"Still wanna go?" Zoro grinned, rubbing up against him; both playful and antagonizing.

Sanji blinked, then pulled away, carefully wiping the expression from his face. "Yeah, I think I still wanna go." He stuck his leg out, and smoothly sidled out of Zoro's reach. Faked left, faked right, then dove suddenly for the bed, and shoulder-rolled off the other side, laughing like a maniac.

Zoro was after him in a flash, and damn, the man had legs like a jack-rabbit. Sanji was impossible to latch hold of, and armed suddenly with a pillow, he was a real threat. Zoro made a grab, and Sanji swung.

"Ow, hey! Don't--WOULFF!"

"Face it, I'm faster than you, Zoro, you're never gonna get me at this rate. Anyway...you're no match for my deadly 'way of the pillow'."

"Way of the pillow? Try way of the dumb-fuck!" Zoro grumbled at him from the other side of the bed, before making a desperate lunge under Sanji's next swing. It did not sit well with his injury. He fell just a hair short of his target, and landed faceflat on the duvet with an aborted yelp.

Predictably, Sanji yelled at him, then walked up onto the mattress and straddled Zoro's back. "Time out." He announced, pushing Zoro's head down with affectionate disregard.

"All right." Zoro gritted, voice muffled by the duvet. "And then you've got five seconds to run...'cause I'm gonna wreck you."

Sanji leaned over him, hands planted on his knees, and snickered. "Mighty big words from a guy who just got whupped by bedding."

"You're not supposed to aim for the face." Zoro pouted, then announced, "Okay, time's up. Now's your chance to run." He rose suddenly to a push-up position, and Sanji toppled onto the pillows.

"That was _not_ five seconds!" He whined.

Zoro loomed up at him on all fours, grinning. "No, but this is. Boo!" He snapped his teeth playfully, half-lunging.

Sanji looked alarmed for one gratifying moment, then quickly scrambled from the bed, and made a break for it. Zoro was quicker this time, though not by much. Purely by luck, he managed to snag Sanji by the shirt-tail, and swing him around.

Sanji, taking it naturally as an invitation to wrestle, spun into the swing, hooked Zoro's leg with a foot, and took him down. They tumbled smack to the floor in a tangle of groping hands, and flailing limbs.

"Oh, so you wanna go, huh?" Sanji panted, trying to maneuver Zoro into a scissor-lock. But Zoro was having none of that. He worked his way free, and rolled on top of the squirming cook, hoping to use weight to his advantage. Sanji just grinned, a red blush slowly creeping up his neck, and twisted from underneath; laughing breathlessly as Zoro scrambled for a half-way decent hold.

Zoro knew that if it _really_ went down, he'd win, easy.

But on the floor, with Sanji flipping and flopping, and rubbing against him, he was at a distinct disadvantage. As a natural born swimmer, Sanji knew exactly how to move his body, how to kick, and control his long muscles, in ways that defied Zoro's every effort to pin him. As his breath came in increasingly ragged pants, Zoro found he enjoyed the handicap. Or at least, the contact.

As they were grappling each other across the floor, all he could do was tease: "You know how red your face gets, Sanji? Heh...you're not gonna pop a vein on me...are you? You're not gonna have a nosebleed, eh?"

"Bastard."

"You wrestle like a girl."

"I do NOT!"

"You shriek when you yell."

"I do NOT!"

"You'll shriek when I do this..." Zoro pushed Sanji's shirt up, and laid a big, loud, messy raspberry on his stomach. Then rose up, laughing goonishly, when Sanji proved him right. "Mwoo-hah-hah-hah!"

"Oh jesus!" Sanji's eyes widened. "Is that your real laugh?"

Zoro screwed up his face. "~Yeaaah.~"

"That's absolutely insane."

"Nobody's perfect."

More flipping and flopping, and by this time, Zoro was aching hard. No pretense at all about what this was, and where it was leading. Like an unspoken agreement, though, they'd never talk about it directly. Because it was what it was. No big deal or anything. Their legs tangled, and things happened; Zoro's groping took on a decidedly different tact, hands skidding up Sanji's chest, rumpling his shirt, leaving sweaty prints. Sanji's legs sawing alongside Zoro's, foot hooking the back of one knee, sliding down the back of his calf.

Sanji twisted again, and pushed off from the floor, rolling Zoro suddenly onto his back, coming to lie plastered on top of him; nose-to-nose, and grinning. There was not an inch of him left to the imagination now. With his full weight, Zoro could feel every dip and swell, every flutter, every bit of what lay under Sanji's oh-so-hip exterior. Beneath the shirt and tie, the twill trousers, he was aroused and sweating, and far more substantial than he looked. At least, that was Zoro's impression. And his focus was narrowing by the minute, drawing into his balls, and his sacrum, making him see spots.

"Now whose face is...red...Zoro?"

"Yours still is." Zoro said with a pained smirk, lying still for just a moment, to catch his breath. Sanji, likewise, lay on top of him; a manji of sprawled limbs, gangly and awkward.

"Who would you say won that match?" Sanji panted, laboriously dragging himself up, onto his elbows; hitching against Zoro as he did so, drawing a grunt.

"Nf. It was a draw."

"Aw. Must pain you to admit that, Mr. Bushido." Sanji's grin was big and reckless.

Zoro lolled his head, and gave Sanji's tie a little yank. "You're just begging for my _terrible_ revenge."

Sanji scowled. "Not in your condition. It's okay, I can live with a victory by default. Even though..." He dipped down and kissed Zoro, quickly; partially closed mouth this time, hard and authoritative. "...you and I both know, I totally kicked your ass."

"Keh!" Zoro laughed. He placed a hand on Sanji's flank, and flipped him like a pancake; rolling up in the same motion to straddle him and gloat in triumph. "Kicked my what now?" He bore down a bit, pressing the advantage.

Sanji grinned, and let out a breathy little sound, turned even redder. "Okay. You win that one." He squirmed, and gaped at Zoro. "But only because I let you. It was a test. and, um, you passed. well done." His leg twitched, and his hips squirmed. He looked up at Zoro, pointedly not asking, not needing to.

"Hentai dayo." Zoro chuffed, just a breath of a laugh, hands planted on either side of Sanji's shoulders. "Sanji is a perrr-verrrt..." He singsonged, kissing Sanji thoroughly before he could snarl and hiss in protest. Giving a bit of a lurch on top of him, then another, until Sanji gasped against his mouth, and his hips bucked. Still taunting in between panting breaths. "I know what _you_ wanna do."

Sanji dug blunt fingers into his thighs, and lay, like a live wire, beneath him. Legs jacked up, he snarled and tried to twist free. Zoro continued to laugh at him, kissing his mouth in quick desperate pulls; not allowing him an inch of leeway. Sanji whimpered into his mouth, and struggled, but less vehemently with every passing second.

Zoro hitched, and stroked, and ground down, hunched over Sanji like a tiger over prey, all jagged teeth and shivering muscles. Sanji moaned, thrusting lazily, and the laughter died in Zoro's throat right there. He drew a hiss, one hand creeping up, between his thighs, squeezing. Arcing his back in that ticklish, stretching-out-kinks way that made his toes curl, and Sanj thrash.

"That feels goood..." Zoro purred, a cat with a throat full of grit. "Suki dayo, Sanji...do you like that? Hah?" Rocking, rolling, sprawling and digging away with his knees. The bones of Sanji's hips dug into him, and the twitch of his cock sent electricity jagging up Zoro's spine.

"Oh jesus..." Sanji whimpered.

Zoro bit his lip, and ground down more insistently. Sanji made choked sounds, and desperate little humping motions, eyes screwed shut, hands grasping Zoro's hips. He was completely and utterly at Zoro's mercy.

"Now who's the winner? Eh, Sanji?"

"Zo~ro...aw crap!" Sanji's feet scrambled for purchase, or leverage, _something_. He threw back his head, and went rigid, almost toppling Zoro flat. "aw crap...ah!"

His hands fisted Zoro's haramaki as Zoro bent to kiss him again, messily; Zoro's thighs now sweat slicked, dick hard, knees quaking, and breath coming in great heaves. Sanji worked a hand between them, grasping Zoro through his trousers, heedless of the friction.

"now come for me..." He whispered into Zoro's cheek, stroking with purpose and authority.

Zoro did.

In retrospect, he was sure he'd be ashamed of himself, the way he shuddered and thrust, and scraped for air, the sounds he made. Everything short of begging, because he couldn't even get the words out. For the moment, though, he was too shagged to care. His dignity had fucked off, and left him shaking and sodden, arms and legs like noodles. Strength training had nothing on this for sheer intensity.

"How was that?" He muttered raggedly into the hot scoop of Sanji's neck, half-giddy and grinning, laughing because the alternative was to run screaming. And that would have been rude.

Sanji did not respond. Not for a while, anyway. He just lay there, stunned and silent, sweating stickily through his clothes. And the heat of the room made its presence known, then. But Zoro couldn't move; he didn't want to get up, or let go.

Sanji was comforting and solid beneath him. He had long lanky muscles under his rumpled clothing, soft skin on the insides of his wrists and elbows, the juncture between hip and groin, right under Zoro's curious thumb. Every time he inhaled, Zoro exhaled, moving with the rise and fall of his chest.

After some minutes, stuck together like this, Sanji let out a rasp. "Shit." He said, somewhere half-way between reverence and alarm. "I wonder if anyone heard us." Then he swallowed.

It went pretty much unspoken, but, by 'anyone', he meant Nami.

"I don't think so." Zoro whispered back. "And by the way, I win."

"No fair." Sanji huffed. "You cheated."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Things changed from then on. Suddenly, they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Discretion took a back-seat, and any last remaining speck of prudishness that Zoro once possessed, was flicked clean. Nami even asked him, point blank, if he and Sanji were "doing things". He just shrugged diffidently, neither confirming nor denying; whereas before, he would've bitten her head off.

Another day, hard to count after so many, Zoro pressed Sanji belly-up against the wall and humped him raw through his clothes. A single squeeze was enough to make him come, shouting, and go utterly limp, like a wrung-out dish-cloth in Zoro's arms. Zoro held him, afterwards--the two of them seated on the floor, not speaking--and began to realize that this was as close to contentment as he'd ever been.

Maybe it wasn't the same simple sort of lazy contentment he felt, sometimes, catnapping on the golden sun warmed deck of Going Merry. Or the bright rippling aqua contentment he felt around Luffy. But it was as close, and getting closer. Maybe to the contentment he felt after a round of strenuous training, satisfyingly tired, utterly dead-weight.

And he must've said so out loud, in some brain-addled fashion: "I'm dead-weight. I can't move a muscle."

Because Sanji snickered and shot back: "Enjoy the afterglow while it lasts."

"I plan to." Zoro muttered dreamily.

Sanji smoked, and they listened to one another breathe, against the distant sussuration of waves outside their window.

After a moment, Sanji spoke up, voice threadbare. "Who would you say won that round?"

Zoro buried his nose in Sanji's hair. "Let's call it a draw."

Sanji just snickered, and said dramatically. "Never willing to admit defeat. A warrior brave and true, even to the death."

"Hnf. Whose idea was it to keep score, anyway? I highly doubt the accuracy of your points system..."

"Sour grapes, just 'cause I'm in the lead."

Zoro gave a snort, and gently whapped the top of Sanji's head. "Baka! Let's be honest about who's really in control, here. I can make you come just by looking at you."

"That's not true."

"Is."

"I can make you roll over and beg."

"What, like this?" Zoro flopped bonelessly onto his back, and began making faces, twisting, thrashing. 'Oh...jesus...Zoro...please...oh, christ...ah!'"

Sanji tensed, whirling around to snarl in Zoro's face. "Oi, you wanna settle this? Huh?"

Zoro raised his foot, and gave Sanji a nudge in the ribs. "Yeah, bring it on!"

Sanji pounced and rolled Zoro across the floor. The various thuds and thumps brought Luffy and Ussop running, in a panic, to break them up.

Luffy, wrapped around Zoro like a boa-constrictor, "Oi, Zoro, stop!"

"Huh?" Zoro blinked in confusion.

Sanji just glared, one desperately unhappy Ussop slung around his neck. "Oi, long-nose...what are you doing?"

"We thought you two were trying to _kill_ each other!" Ussop cried, damn near strangling Sanji in his overzealousy.

"Huh?" said Sanji. "No we weren't. And get the hell off of me!"

"Not until you promise you'll put an end to the violence."

Sanji grimaced.

"Oh, we'll put an end to it." Zoro said ominously.

Sanji snarled and tried to take a pot-shot.

True, there _was_ violence in what they did, but it wasn't born of anger exactly. They had no intentions of hurting one another, or following up on numerous and colorful death threats flung as casually as discaded clothing. Not that either would acknowlege the fact. There was just something about Sanji. Something about Zoro. When they got within even a foot of one another, something always seemed to click, like a switch in the room. Lights on, claws out, ready, set, fight. Much of it a bunch of sound and fury, signifying nothing. And there never was a clear winner, because neither could quite concede, or admit a loss. It seemed they always managed to butt against one another, like magnets, both repelling and attracting.

Zoro never knew quite where it'd begun, either; on the Baratie, maybe. That first sizing up, where Zoro decided he knew what Sanji was about--and vice versa--and that this was one package best left unopened. One more loud-mouthed idiot with a bark far worse than his bite. One more posturing buffoon, writing checks his body couldn't cash.

Or maybe it was that first battle, with Krieg and Mihawk, where they each came up against exactly how wrong they'd been. And, hey, maybe this guy deserved to be taken more seriously. Whatever it was, and whenever it began, it had peppered their every interaction through Arlong park, and it had only built and built, the longer they'd spent in one another's company.

By the time they'd neared the red-line, they practically sparked. Doing everything in their powers to infuriate one another--sometimes not needing to, sometimes doing so unintentionally, with but a word. But it never became truly serious. Not the way they meant it. Not that they could even explain to the others, why they fought, when they weren't ready to admit it to each-other.

"Idiot green-hair. Fine, if that's how you're gonna be! No more violence. Not even if you beg for it."

"Right. We'll see who's begging for it."

Satisfied, Luffy and Ussop righted their respective charges, brushed them off, and forced them to shake hands.

Zoro and Sanji compromised by knocking elbows, shoving each other briefly, testing.

Ussop rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "Is everything a competition with you two?"

"No. Not everything." Sanji said cryptically, before lighting a cigarette and sort of sauntering/limping from the room. "Be seeing you later, Zoro."

Zoro just grunted and cracked his neck.

Time was, anyone else opened their mouth to Zoro, the way Sanji did, he'd have laughed it off. Or cut them a second, uglier, smile. Not Sanji, though. Sanji was permitted to rile him in ways very few people could. Permitted to get right in his face, breathe his air. Push his buttons, cross the line. And all Zoro did was to egg him on, jabbing away. Hoping, pushing, for it to come to this.

Rug burns, friction burns, love-bites. If they marked each other, it wasn't always intentional. But when it was, they compared the wheels like battle scars, proudly, and in awe.

Zoro was beginning to learn what he could get away with.

Where Sanji was concerned, that was pretty much anything, and everything. Whatever Zoro brought up, or even hinted at, he was game, downright enthusiastic in fact.

He'd decided he'd liked having Sanji against the wall. So after another day, and much convincing on Zoro's end--"I'm not begging, you shitty cook! I'm merely suggesting."--they did it again; face to face, plastered to each other, hard and voracious.

Sanji hitched and squirmed against him. Whispered hot obscenities in his ear. Zoro pushed Sanji's shirt up off his belly, and unzipped his fly, inched his trousers down off of his hips, and they were skin to skin. Kissed him roughly, thoroughly, the way he liked, rubbed off with him: cock to cock, hand over fist, fist to cock, legs planted wide, knees trembling. Sanji bucking rhythmically, matching him thrust for thrust, painting their hands and thighs with slick ribbons of pre-come.

Making his usual sharp "oh...jesus...zoro..." noises, until he went hoarse.

Zoro barely made a sound; his concentration was absolute. He focused on Sanji's face, his body, his breathing, his every twitch and heave. Sanji's hands gripping him, hard, grasping, the look in his eyes when he frowned at Zoro. "stop that..." He panted.

"stop what?" Zoro ground his teeth, every nerve twanging, on the edge of pain.

"you're holding back."

"no'm not..." Zoro groaned, voice all hincky, just this shade of desperate; because like hell, this was starting to burn.

Sanji bared his teeth, hips twisting, vein in his forehead throbbing. He dragged one heavy hand up the back of Zoro's thigh, hitching it up--and Zoro went willingly along, mouth gaping open, breath coming in jags--stiff fingers streaking along Zoro's backseam, once, twice, angling up and pressing, hard. No sound from Zoro, just the chords of his neck straining, throat gone raw, coming in three quick, body racking thrusts. Sanji looking vaguely shocked, and pleased as Zoro sagged against him.

Zoro's knees gave, and he slid to the floor, cheek flushed to Sanji's belly; Sanji's cock bobbing up, stridently hard. Zoro ran a hand up his thigh, and palmed his scrotum, stroked with his thumb. Tongue lapping out, testing.

Sanji yelped, and went off like a shot, gripping his shoulder with bruising force. The taste was bitter, and most of it ran down Zoro's chin. He didn't particularly care. Wiped his mouth on his shoulder, and hugged Sanji's legs, as he tried to catch his breath.

"shit...I'm sorry." Sanji panted.

Zoro wiped at his face again, wondered why he wasn't angry, or even insulted. What it even said about him that he was flattered, amused.

Sanji preened anxiously at his nape, sticky fingered, clumsy. "You okay?"

Zoro gave a snort. "Course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're shaking."

"I'm exhausted. I need to sit down." Zoro's legs trembled. He tried to make his feet, then thought better of it, for the moment. Just plopped down on his haunches, one hand still on Sanji's leg, anchoring himself.

"Zoro...you are sitting down." Sanji pointed out, voice strangely gentle.

"I meant on the bed."

He carefully pulled away from Sanji, and somehow stumbled upright, stepping out of his now sticky trousers and haramaki--which had been pushed way askew in Sanji's eagerness. The shirt soon followed suit, cool air chilling the sweat on his back and chest. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, and just leaned back, breathing.

"You look so sexy like that." Sanji slurred.

Zoro smiled a frazzled smile. Funny, but he didn't feel very sexy. Just awkward and sticky. Sanji was practically painted against the wall: red, sweaty, hanging out of his trousers with abandon, and still breathing like he'd run a race. He pushed away with a slight sway in his step, and collapsed onto the bed next to Zoro. Lay back and wiggled out of his pants, wiped a hand down his belly, eyes closed, stroked his softening cock, twitching a bit, biting at his lip. Zoro leaned over and looked down on him.

"So when do we get to go all the way?" Sanji murmured.

Zoro tensed. Sanji's hand slid up, stroked his neck, soothing.

Sanji continued. "I've never actually fucked a guy. I wanna know what it's like...or...at least, you could fuck me, or something."

"I don't wanna hurt you."

"Oh, sure, now you say that. I still have rug-burns from yesterday you know..."

"That's not what I meant."

"You wouldn't. I mean, I trust you wouldn't, if you could help it."

Zoro just sighed at him, and let himself sink down, resting against Sanji's sticky side, not saying anything. Just measuring the quiet rise and fall of Sanji's breaths, while a thought slowly needled
away at his brain. Sharp and pricking, until he couldn't ignore it any more.

"Is this it, Sanji?"

"Huh?"

"Is this what we're all about? You know...this."

Sanji sat up, and looked at him, sweaty browed and disarmed. "I dunno." He said.

Zoro heaved a gritty sigh, and rolled away from him.

"Hey..." Sanji poked his shoulder. "Hey. Zoro, come on. Don't turn your nose up at 'this', whatever it is. I like what we do. I like screwing around with you."

"But is that all there is?"

"Well...no. I guess not." The bed shifted as Sanji settled down, lying sphinx-like behind him, muttering in his ear. "Listen, I wouldn't be doing this if I loathed you. I wouldn't kiss you on the mouth. I wouldn't sleep, in bed, with you...you know, after. And I sure as hell wouldn't be talking to you, right now. I'd be long gone." He slung an arm over Zoro, gave him a light squeeze.

"How am supposed to believe you?" Zoro murmured, tugging Sanji's arm closer around him, stroking the fine pale hairs on his wrist. "All that crap you told me before, about--breaking my heart, and stomping on the pieces? Or was that just Sanji-talk?"

"Sanji-talk?"

"Yeah. I noticed how you say shit, like how you're going to kill Ussop or put salt-peter in Luffy's food, but you never do. And how you call me useless and all that crap, but meanwhile you're all: 'Zoro, gimme a hand with this, will ya?'"

"Okayyy..."

"It's like you say one thing, but you really mean the opposite. So when you say hate, what you really mean is--"

Sanji sat up, suddenly, growling. "whoa, wait, I'm sorry I asked!"

"No you're not. You don't mean that either. You know? You talk shit to look tough. But you don't have to, Sanji." Zoro turned over, grinning. "You're one hard-ass motherfucker. For real. But you care, I can tell. You love us, like nakama, don't deny it."

"Ixnay on the ovelay word." Sanji sniffed, jutting out his lower lip, looking down his nose at nothing. "I've got a reputation to uphold."

"Reputation, hah!" Zoro laughed, and stretched his arms up over his head. "You didn't even make the Wanted posters. Even Ussop made it!"

"That was the back of his head. Anyway, it only adds to my mystery."

"Heh. Yeah, maybe it does."

Sanji looked at him curiously. "You gonna be okay?"

Zoro shuttered his eyes and sighed. "Yeah."

"Great!" Ever inexhaustible, Sanji popped to his feet; hair over both eyes, and grinning like an ass. The expression was oddly Luffy-like. "Now let's go eat. You must be starving!"

********************************************************

Luffy was still on the veranda when they emerged--both freshly showered and clothed. He said nothing, simply looked them up and down, eyebrow raised speculatively. An oddly Sanji-like expression.

Zoro grinned back at him, helplessly, and shrugged as Sanji dragged him towards the door.

Nami caught them up short. "You two going somewhere?"

Sanji lost his voice, face a frozen blank, and he went stone stock still. Nailed to the spot by guilt, or possibly terror. Zoro had to answer quickly, because Nami had that scary look again...the kind which usually ended in Zoro owing her money.

Zoro rubbed the back of his head and stammered. "Um we were just going for a snack."

"I suppose you'll want to borrow money, then. You know, you still owe me that interest from last time..."

"God damn-it, we've been over this!!! I don't owe you dime one!"

Nami chuckled. "That's true. You owe me several. I'll cut you some slack this time, but you do realize your interest will only continue to accrue. At this rate, you'll be indebted to me for life."

Zoro waved her off. "Hnf, sooou-dane. You wanna come with, or what?"

Ussop rolled off of the couch and into sudden view. "Ooh! Me too!"

Zoro called over his shoulder. "Luffy?"

Luffy raised his other eyebrow, and cocked his head.

"You hungry or not?"

Luffy grinned, and bounced up. "Hell, I'm _always_ hungry. Let's go!"

Nami, meanwhile had twigged to Sanji, and was waving a hand in front of his face. "Oi, Sanji. Sanji? Are you all right?" Frowning, she grabbed Sanji by the shoulders, and shook him until something rattled. "Sanji!"

He came to, and went immediately moon-eyed. "Yes Miss Nami!!!!"

Satisfied, she smiled and nodded. "That's what I thought. You had me worried for a second there. Where should we eat?"

Sanji frowned thoughtfully, then looked about the room, then at the rest of the group. "Let's have a cook-out."

The announcement was like a starter gun, spurring everyone into action. They went scrabbling for their beach gear, and swim attire, tossed whatever food into baskets, argued about this and that while changing clothes, and fought to be the first out the door.

"Let's roast a whole pig!" Luffy crowed, all but dragging Sanji by the arm.

"Where are we supposed to get one on such short notice?" Zoro sniped. "You don't _plan_ for shit, Luffy!"

"Aw, it'll work out!" Luffy said dismissively.

"We could always go fishing." Ussop suggested.

"Yeah, we always could." Luffy agreed

They burst through the hotel lobby, and mobbed the doors, bolting outside and down the cracked paving stones towards the beach. Surfboards and wakeboards hoisted, they hit the white sand running, and made for the shade of the palms. Sanji paced the area a bit before proclaiming it ideal, and lighting up a cigarette. "Zoro, go gather wood for a fire."

"As if." Zoro grumbled, but complied, snagging Ussop and dragging him along.

Luffy bounded up, hitching at the waist of his pareo. "Sanji, oi, Sanji! I'm hungry. What are we gonna do for food?"

"We've got fruit, and these tuber-like things..." Nami held up a pair, one in each hand. "But we really ought to have a main course."

Sanji smiled and looked out at the water. "Don't worry about it. Nature will provide."

Ten minutes passed. During which: Nami guarded the picnic basket from Luffy's ravenous advances, and Sanji hollowed out the fire-pit. Ten more minutes, and Luffy was growing sullen. Sanji had taken to the water, pail in one hand, improvised spear in the other. "Nature will provide, like I said. She just needs a little help sometimes."

And they waited. Nami had wrapped the vegetables in palm leaves, and set them by the empty fire-pit. "What could be taking them so long?"

Sanji dug another clam from the water's edge, and chucked it into his pail. "I think I have an idea."

Nami slumped, and propped her hand on her fist, not even looking as she side-armed Luffy away from the food. "He went to find liquor, didn't he?"

"Meal just wouldn't be complete without it." Sanji shrugged, inspecting the pail's contents, and surveying the water at a good distance. The swells were low, breaking gently about his ankles; and he seemed completely at home there, like a stork, or some other sea-bird. Toeing at the hard-packed sand, dipping every now and again, spear at the ready.

"I think we need to talk to Zoro about his drinking." Nami said quietly, digging her toes into the sand. "I mean, he drinks _a lot_, even for a pirate."

Sanji grinned under the fall of his fringe, and snickered. "Don't worry, I usually water down the rum. He hasn't figured it out yet, why he doesn't get drunk on the stuff."

Nami palmed her face, and nodded ruefully. "Something tells me he's going to. And it's not going to be pretty."

"Don't worry, Miss Nami. I'll talk to the idiot."

Zoro and Ussop returned after a full thirty minutes, by estimation, carrying in tow a good quantity of wood, and two large jugs of an un-named substance.

"Dare I even ask?" Nami accepted one of the jugs from the grinning Zoro, and hefted it critically.

"Palm wine!" He exclaimed. "What, you think we'd come back empty handed?"

Ussop and Sanji were already preparing the fire, arguing snappishly over the best way to do so. 'No, tinder goes in the middle! You're stacking them too tight...fires need oxygen...no, not like that!' 'Oi, I think I know how to light a fire! If the wood's too dry, it'll burn out faster! Use more green--' 'Gimme that!'

Nami uncorked the jug, and took a whiff. "Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, from some guy back there." Zoro said offhand, wandering towards the fire-pit, hailing. "Yo, Sanji! Need help over there?"

Sanji looked up, and stared at him far too long before answering. "Not just yet."

************************************************************

Sanji caught three large fish that afternoon, and roasted them, along with the taro-root, clams, and some pineapple, directly over the fire. The palm wine turned out a great deal more potent than Zoro expected, and he was soon conked out, fast asleep, against Sanji's back. Like he just didn't give a damn. Sanji, unwilling to wake him, sat there and watched the others play in the water.

After a while, he lit a cigarette and said: "This is what it's all about."

Zoro gave a snort and twitched abruptly awake. "Huhn?"

"Never mind. You're drunk, go back to sleep."

"Nani yuttendayo?" Zoro slurred. "I don't get drunk."

"How much of that stuff did you have?"

"A little."

"How much is a little?"

"I dunno." A slightly nervous pause. "Come to think of it...I don't feel so great."

"I'm not surprised. It was bound to catch up to you, sooner or later."

"But I always drink a lot. Last week I drank three bottles of rum, and never got anything worse than tipsy! This stuff must be hella strong." Zoro gave one nearby jug a nudge with his toe. It sloshed, sounding nearly empty. "I only had half."

Sanji took a long, bracing drag, and stealed himself. "There's something I have to tell you, Zoro. Promise you won't be mad?"

Zoro flopped over, and snaked an arm around Sanji's waist, yanking him backwards into a jumbled scribble of limbs, looming up on him with a devious little smile. "What?"

Sanji spat out sand, and tried to maintain some tiny shred of dignity, tried to twist free as gracefully as possible and right himself. He was getting nowhere, though. The harder he struggled, the more entangled they became. Zoro had a drunkard's strength, all chords and sinew, and he would not let go. Finally, Sanji just let up and lay back, stretched out half under, half-beside his soused partner.

Sanji frowned thunderously and gritted his teeth. "I've been watering down your rum."

Zoro grinned at him, his voice full of anything but smiles. "Why?"

"You promised you wouldn't be mad."

"No, I didn't."

"Oh."

"Sanji, why?"

"It was for your own good. That stuff's foul. Evil. You know what it--"

"I don't need you to baby-sit for me." Zoro said, voice frighteningly calm and reasonable. "If I wanna drink a hole in my gut, it's my damn choice."

"You know, I could've just spilled out all of the rum. I should have."

Zoro flicked his earlobe, hard. "Idiot. Then what would we drink if the water went stagnant?"

"The water doesn't go stagnant. These aren't the dark ages any more. And why would you want to drink a hole in your gut?"

"I don't. 'M just sayin', if I did, it's my damn choice." Zoro rolled away, huffily, arm still flung weightily across Sanji's chest.

Sanji took a drag on his smoke, and watched the pink and purple clouds dust across a turquoise daguerrotype sky. Palms waved dizzily overhead, and the wet salt air permeated everything. "Fine." He said. "Drink a hole in your gut. Fuck yourself up." Then more quietly. "See if I care."

The arm across his chest tightened. Zoro said nothing.

************************************************************
Sanji smoked about a pack's worth of cigarettes that night, after they'd returned to the hotel. Zoro watched him, and counted them, and it made him a bit uneasy. But he couldn't say anything about it. He knew Sanji was either a)trying to prove a point, or b)more upset than usual. He was going to leave it be, in either case. Let Sanji sit and stew in his own vapors, let him stink up the sheets with smoke, let him be childish.

However, after vomiting three times in very short order, Zoro stomped into the room, and snatched the last cigarette out of Sanji's frozen hands. Flung it down and stamped it out, and realized he hadn't exactly thought this whole thing through. So he just stood there, looking at the floor, stomach still roiling, head aching dully.

"What was that for?" Sanji asked hoarsely. If it was from the smoke, or something else, Zoro couldn't tell. Didn't bother asking.

"People in glass houses 'n all that shit." Zoro grumbled cryptically, before creeping off once again, to heave up what little still remained in his stomach.

Of course, Sanji had another smoke in reserve. He always did. Was mouthing it resentfully, lighter in his hand, when Zoro crawled from the bathroom, and flopped into bed behind him. Zoro hadn't the heart for a repeat performance, so he just curled up, and moaned miserably into his pillow. Sanji shifted, and flicked the lighter a few times, before setting it, and the unlit cigarette, on the night stand. He stood up and slouched past Zoro's sight line, into the bathroom, slouched back out, holding a washcloth and glass of water.

"Don't need nurse-maiding." Zoro complained.

"Humor me." Sanji said snidely, his weight dipping the mattress, pinched expression and concern swimming into sharp focus. He reached down and applied the cool washcloth to Zoro's face.

"Pirates drink." Zoro muttered, voice wanting to clot in his throat. "It's what they do."

"Pirates also die of liver cirrhosis, and malaria, and gangrene. Look. Don't believe all the yarns Luffy spins about life at sea. It ain't all romance, adventure, and coconuts. It's nasty sometimes. It's ugly. I've seen people lose limbs, seem 'em lose half their guts...and I worked at a frigging restaurant for god'sake!"

"I knew that when I signed up. But if it hadn't been for Luffy and his 'yarns', I'd be dead." and then, more quietly. "Those yarns are what keep me going."

"Then why do you drink like you've got a death wish?" Sanji's voice was thick, strangely adult, in that way he sometimes had. When it wasn't all just an act. "You think it makes you look tough? You trying to forget something?"

"I dunno. Seriously. Why does it bother you so much?"

Sanji bit his lip, thoughtfully, looking lost. "You ever watch someone drowning, Zoro? And you knew you couldn't save them? It's really fucking painful."

Zoro shook his head fractionally, and touched Sanji's knee. "I don't need saving, damn it. Stop being dramatic."

"All right, I'll be straight with you. Keep drinking the way you do, I guarantee, you'll be dead in five years. If you want my advice? Switch to cognac...it'll kill you slower." His chin twitched, and he reached for a non-existant cigarette.

"Come on, baka." Zoro reached up.

"Fuck you!" Sanji shrugged away. "I can't do this. Look at me, I'm just as bad as you are. How the hell am I supposed to help you? I'm so stupid! This whole fucking thing is stupid!" He jerked to his feet, kicked over a lamp, and stormed out. Shouting one last "Stupid!" as he went.

He was angry for approximately two hours. Zoro counted. He listened to the various snarls and screeches from the other room, Luffy's muttered words of comfort, and the rest silence. He crawled out of bed and righted the lamp, cleaned up the bits of broken bulb, and drank the water Sanji had left. At some point, he must have fallen asleep, though he couldn't remember doing so. When he woke, though, it was dark, and the clock on the wall read half-past 22:00. The suite outside his room was dim and quiet, not even the usual sounds of muffled snoring. So he assumed everyone was out, or at least just outside, perhaps getting custard without him. He supposed he deserved that. With a sigh, Zoro shrugged on a lightweight shirt, and padded out towards the veranda.

He found Sanji sitting out under the lantern light, folded with his back against the door; classic brooding posture, lazy streamers of smoke rising.

"Yo." Zoro said, quietly, still hanging on the edge of the threshold.

"Hey." Sanji answered.

And that was that, as far as that was concerned. Things eased back into normalcy, more or less. They fought as pointlessly and stupidly as ever. Sanji smoked, Zoro sneered, and the two of them dicked like monkeys whenever they weren't busy smoking or sneering. Status quo in all its dysfunctional glory.

*******************************************************************************

Their stay at the island was only supposed to be five days, at the most, but extenuating circumstances arose, as they seemed to do. The supplies Sanji had ordered early on, most of it perishable goods like meat and fish, had been delayed indefinitely. Day four, he'd spoken to the harbor-master. "She was blown off course by a typhoon, but she oughta be comin' round any day now..." was the story he got. Initially. But after a few minutes of strenuous argument, the story changed: "Like I told you, they were held off in Tortuga, ship sprung a leak. But she oughta be comin' round any day now."

Day five, day six. Sanji seemed to keep a remarkable stranglehold on his patience. He grumbled at the officials, and used many big important sounding words, as Luffy recounted; but it looked as if they were stuck. There were not enough supplies to be had on the island itself--unless one counted the endless wealth of pineapples and home-distilled rot-gut--and their next stop, crossing the red-line, was weeks from even the smallest of islands.

Their stay of six days soon gain a seventh, and began to threaten another week.

During which time, Nami agreed to keep a friendly eye on Zoro's drinking, and Sanji took to gnawing carrot sticks and smoking only three cigarettes a day. They cultivated their tans, and moved into a cheaper hotel, in the part of town where the sidewalks buckled, and stray dogs roamed. They took to cooking on the beach, holding impromptu luaus, and other beachly pursuits to ease the doldrums. Sanji and Zoro took to surfing, competitively; against one another, and against the villagers. They became rather good at it, and the one-up-man-ship only increased.

On day eight, they helped some villagers with a dispute, and repaired a few of the buildings damaged by it. They were rewarded with an elaborate dinner and bonfire celebration. Sanji danced by the firelight, like a wild, pale creature, streaked with body-paint, warrior cloth around his hips, braided grasses adorning his head. Zoro watched him with nothing less than total shock and awe. Later that night, they made strange, dream-like love, behind some sheltering stones. Sanji, on his back, then straddling Zoro, strangely receptive, divine seeming.

Zoro woke with sand in places he'd be embarrassed to show his doctor, and half-smeared designs painted all over his body. Sanji sitting up in the rocks above him, bowl of poi in one hand, cigarette in the other. Greeting him with a lazy eye and a slurred, "Morning, fuck-face."

Zoro wasn't sure why he blushed. After all, hadn't he been the one to take Sanji, and not even vice-versa the way he so often planned? He ought to have gloated about it, at least a little. It ought to have been a big deal. Except it really wasn't. Zoro even started to think, that maybe, maybe it was a mistake. He ought to call a do-over, or say something to piss Sanji off. Say anything, in fact, because Sanji was now looking at him funny.

"Zoro, you okay?"

"I should be asking you that question."

Sanji snorted, and then laughed. Exactly the wrong way to react in this situation. Reassuringly typical of him, though. Zoro jumped up and tackled him into a dune, they two of them rolling in a fury of flying sea-grass and sand, until they came to rest--still spitting and snarling--at the very feet of the rest of their crew.

Day nine, thus off to a rip-roaring start, turned to a morning of idyll and ukelele lessons. Every last one of the crew, as it turned out, had less talent put together, than most people alone. Sanji could not carry a tune in a bucket, but compensated by being loud. If he hit any recognizable note, it was purely by accident, and usually brought him up short: "Oops, a little off key there. Lemme try again." His repertoire consisted mainly of drinking songs, and sea shanties, many of which he made up as he went along. He also happened to speak several languages, poorly, and incorporated them as well.

"Oi," observed Zoro, "I think your voice could kill a man at twenty paces."

"Shut up if you're not gonna contribute!" Sanji barked. This, punctuated by an agonized twang from Luffy's ukelele. Nami and Ussop just watched the whole proceedings with pained perseverance, every now and again, grimacing.

Pouting, Zoro had stomped off, and returned, carting several small drums. With a grave air, he sat down, and arranged them in front of him. "All right. Watch me blow the rest of you tone-deaf losers clean out of the water."

And their group gained a drummer. Who was no less than simply awful, but enthusiastic, at least.

None of them could read a note, or sing, or even tune their instruments. In the end, all agreed, that they should form a band. Definitely.

Nami agreed that they were all smoking the bad-drugs, and needed to cut it out before they managed to summon something abominable with their satanic caterwauling. Then Luffy stuck a recorder in her hands, and she seemed to change her tune.

Things were going great, and they'd almost forgotten they were stranded here. Until the murky skies darkened overhead, and a blustery wind kicked up. A tropical storm had blown in, and soon everyone was running for whatever shelter they could find.

"Save the instruments!" Zoro cried, hoisting his drums.

"No!" Ussop cried. "Leave them! Please, if you have any humanity..."

Everyone ignored him, and grabbed what they could, running up the beach-head and onto the road through horizontal sheets of rain.

Just like that, the good cheer that had sustained them through the hold-up--and the harbor master's continuing evasions--evaporated. They reached their hotel and quickly changed out of soaked garments. Thunder boomed, shaking the walls, and they watched the lightning for a while. But when that lost its allure, they found they were rather sick of each other.

They scattered as best they could, before an argument had time to blow up. Luffy went to practice his ukelele in the bathtub; Nami wandered off to the bar downstairs; and Ussop threatened to stand out in the rain, with his mouth open, until he drowned. "Luffy! Give it a rest already."

Disheartened, Luffy scraped and sighed and moped a while, before just knocking off for a nap. His snores were a marked improvement from his playing.

It was about that time, that Sanji began chain-smoking again. Seriously. One after the other, with almost trance-like efficiency. When Zoro finally found him, huddled in the center of the bed, he had shadows under his eyes, and a bloody nose.

"You satisfied?" Zoro asked, trying not to breath too deeply. If there was a hell, he thought, this was how it'd smell.

"No." Sanji sighed, tossing his lighter down, and hugging his knees. "I'm so bored my brain's running circles around itself. I think I'm going crazy."

Zoro plopped down beside him on the bedspread, nearly upsetting an ashtray filled to brimming with dog-ends and ash. "I'm not surprised. With all the crap that's in these things...you ever think of quitting?"

"No. I knew a guy that smoked these since age eight, and he lived to be a hundred! Even though he only had one lung."

"You're not too bright, are you?"

"Hey, fuck off, if you're gonna be like that! I don't need health advice from the booze hound."

"Oh, this from a guy that smells like burnt dead dog!!"

They bristled and snarled at one another, both tensing to lunge, when Luffy hollared from the other room: "Oi! Both of you knock it off! Or I'll come in there and knock it off for you!"

Knowing full well that Luffy was dead-simple, and therefor a man of his word, they grumbled quietly for another minute, then settled into a good hour long funk. Flopped together in a sullen tangle on the bed, spatters of rain coming through the partially opened window. Eventually, Luffy wandered in, shut the window, and flopped down to join them. Then Ussop, then Nami, not long after.

"Orgy, anybody?" Sanji joked, from somewhere at the bottom of the dog-pile.

As one, they heaved him out of bed by his arms and legs, then dragged him into the shower, fully clothed, and doused him in cold water. He sputtered, and howled good-naturedly, then proceeded to shiver and look pathetic until they took pity and dried him off. Zoro and Ussop bundled him into bed, and wrapped him in a tight cocoon of blankets.

"Oi..." He said, warily. "You're not just gonna leave me like this...are you?"

The rest of the crew regarded him from the foot of the bed. Luffy fought back laughter, and Zoro looked carefully serious.

"We don't want you catching hypothermia." Nami said, giving Sanji's quilted stomach a friendly whack.

"Why don't you warm me with your body, then?" He suggested, moon eyed.

Ussop sighed and dutifully began shrugging off his shirt.

Sanji's eyes went wide with alarm. "Hey! Not you, idiot!"

Ussop launched himself onto the bed, and landed next to Sanji with a carefully studied come-hitherness. "What? I'm warm."

"Wait...Zoro! Hey, get him off of me!!"

"Don't be afraid of your destiny Sanji," Ussop puckered his lips. "It was fated to be!"

"Zoro!" Sanji barked, trying to roll away; but to no avail. "Why aren't you stopping this?"

"Me?" Zoro feigned confusion. "Why me?" He then stuck his hands in his pockets and casually sauntered off, smarming. "Come on you guys, let's leave the two love-birds alone."

They all skipped off, laughing and waving.

Once they were gone, Sanji sighed crankily, and accepted his lot.

"You don't really find me repulsive, do you?" Ussop challenged, face sly.

Sanji's expression softened. "Of course not."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He bussed Sanji's temple, and gave him a quick squeeze.

"If you don't get me out of this, though? I'll feed you to the sea-turtles."

**************************************************************************

About once or twice every day, Sanji would sit in front of their open window and smoke--bare-chested, unshod, hair ruffled by the wind. Just sit there, still and calm as anything. Wouldn't bother Zoro with chatter or small-talk; wouldn't hang all over him while he tried to do things. For that hour or two, Sanji seemed to be in his own little world. It wasn't a meditation, exactly; but Zoro didn't know what else to call it. All Sanji ever seemed to do was stare out at the ocean. Until his cigarette ran down to the filter, and he'd either light another or slip off someplace for a few minutes, wander aimlessly through the hotel, or through town.

Sometimes, Zoro took that opportunity to do some wandering of his own. He walked the entire length of the beach, and back, until he grew bored of it. Combed tide-pools for interesting shells and driftwood. Even visited a museum or two. During one of these frequent educational forays, he bumped into Sanji, quite literally. They'd been ogling the same mural, and backed right into one another. The resulting blow-up alerted one of the docents, and nearly got them kicked out by force. They'd run from the museum hot on one another's heels, and collapsed on the steps, laughing hysterically.

"Zoro...heh...did you see the huge titties on that statue?"

"That's what you were staring at? Snrk. Pervert."

On this day, though, Sanji sat up in the windowsill as usual--legs crossed, slouching a bit, hands in his lap--smoking; and stared out over the ocean, out to where the sky dropped down, and clouds seemed to skate over its surface. While Zoro sat and polished his weapons in bed--legs crossed, slouching a bit, hands on the sword in his lap. Looking up only occasionally to see that Sanji hadn't moved, not knowing why that reassured him so.

He'd never interrupted Sanji's meditation. There seemed to be some unspoken understanding--at least in Zoro's mind--that he wasn't to be disturbed. But something about today, or Sanji's posture, or the look on his face, made Zoro want to rethink that rule. Maybe Sanji's quietness bothered him. Or maybe it was the soft slice of light on his cheek, the sweep of his neck, that made Zoro unfocus his eyes and lift up a hand.

He mimed stroking Sanji's neck. Knowing full well how idiotic he'd look. He dropped his hand. "Oi. Sanji..."

Sanji turned, and smiled and stubbed out his cigarette, then moved carefully onto the bed. Waited there patiently, cross-legged, mirroring Zoro, until one by one he sheathed his swords, and leaned forward to claim a kiss. Gratified, and a little surprised when Sanji met him half way, and it all seemed so natural.

"I thought you didn't wanna be bothered." Sanji muttered against his mouth.

"Ah?"

"When you're with your swords...it's like you're off in your own little world. You know?"

Zoro made a thoughtful sound, and draped an arm around Sanji's shoulders. "Sometimes. I guess we all have our little rituals. Like...you know, how you sit there and stare at the ocean all the time."

Sanji pulled away slightly, then lit into this great big grin. "You ever hear of All Blue?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the second week threatened to gain a third, it became increasingly difficult for Zoro, or Sanji, to catch the other alone. The boredom and burn-out had everyone living in each other's pockets, moping around, hoping to be entertained. Ussop and Luffy were back to puppy-dogging Sanji, not leaving him a moment's privacy, until he was near tears, sometimes taking to the roof to escape. Nami had even begun stealing again, and admitted to it.

It was enough to make a man drink.

Zoro discovered the honor bar, and began nipping from it, periodically. Refilling the bottles with water, or tea. But as the piffling amount of alcohol dwindled, he began to feel guilty, and stopped.

He took to waking Sanji at midnight, whinging in his ear that the lack of fucking wasn't good for his health, and they needed to amend that post-haste.

They started against the wall farthest from the nearest room, and sometimes, when the weather abided, they'd sneak out into the palm grove, and palaver in the sand.

But more often than not, they'd end up in the bathroom, crushed up against the door, guiltily exploring each other in the dark, struggling to keep quiet. Invariably, one of them would start giggling, or Sanji would whisper filthy things in Zoro's ear until some noise outside made them freeze, and quickly separate.

The noise was always 'probably Nami.' Sometimes it was 'probably Ussop.' Once, it was 'actually Luffy', and no-one knew quite how to explain, so all concerned agreed, nothing happened, and nobody saw a thing.

On several occasions, Zoro slept alone, in bed, in a snit.

"Idiot," Sanji muttered at him from the cot.

"Tch, shut up."

"I know you're still hard over there. Come on. Don't be stubborn."

"Just go to sleep, Sanji."

Silence for a beat, then, "not until you quit being a jerk."

It didn't help that their room and the bathroom adjoined Nami's, and that they shared a wall. Anything that went on, she might have heard. This, Zoro explained, whispering to Sanji in the dark, trying not to let the disappointed groans sway him. Eventually, he just stuffed his head under a pillow, and ignored the faint whimpers until sleep overcame him.

Needless to say, Sanji spent a lot of time in the shower some mornings.

Shooting Zoro a catty smirk when he emerged--chest splashed a deep pink, cock still swollen and faintly plum tinged, eyes hooded--as if to say: 'Guess what I just did!'

"Bathroom's yours, Zoro. Need any help?"

Zoro blushed, mind suddenly filled with images of Sanji lathering him up and smearing him across the bathroom tiles. He grinned suggestively, before he could stop himself.

Sanji glowered at him, arms folded, tapping his foot a bit. "I meant help washing up."

"Hey, I wasn't thinking that!" Zoro folded his arms as well, red-faced and pouting. Then, almost under his breath: "Keh. As if I need help jerking off. Kono sukebe."

"Could've fooled me." Sanji shrugged on a bathrobe and lit a cigarette. "Go on, then. I'll call down for breakfast." He slunk off into the outer suite, hand shoved in one of the bathrobe pockets. Walked casually past Luffy and Ussop sprawled on the couch, both looking shades of bored and irritable. He nudged Luffy's foot with his knee. "Yo, you two want anything?"

Zoro stood quietly, and closed the door to Luffy's enthusiastic cries of "MEAT!"

On the way to the bathroom he stubbed his toe on the leg of the metal folding cot, and growled out a string of incendiary curses. He bloody hated the thing. This would be the third time he'd stubbed a toe, or barked a shin, and wondered why the damn thing was still there. It was rusty for one thing. Probably had all manner of springs poking out.

They hadn't said anything about not wanting a cot, so one had been sent. It went unused, for the most part. Beyond Sanji sitting on the edge from time to time, and smoking, watching Zoro with a stern eye, making sure he behaved himself. Zoro had teased him about his 'tough-love' and gotten roundly cursed out.

Outside his room, he could hear that idiot cook arguing loudly with Luffy about something equally idiotic. It was comforting in a way, the fact that no matter what else changed, Sanji was still Sanji.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sanji worried.

He could only bullshit so well--under the best of circumstances--and certainly wasn't fooling Zoro with his horrible, sulky, pokerface of fake disdain. He was worried, and sullen, and always there, and it was rapidly working Zoro's last nerve.

Zoro tried to make reassurances: he was fine for fuck's sake, and didn't need baby-sitting. But Sanji hadn't taken him seriously, or hadn't listened. He just sat there, smoking, silent, and frowning. It wasn't that Zoro was sick of him, exactly; he just needed a break. Before he went insane and took everyone with him.

"Two hours, Sanji. That's how long you've been sitting there, doing nothing. You've gotta be bored by now."

To which Sanji shrugged, before he resumed making fireballs with his lighter. It had been novel the first time, and charming the second; but after about the tenth time, it had started to make Zoro nervous. Lack of fear was one thing, but at what point did that shift over to Unhealthy Fascination?

"Sanji! Stop that!"

"mou," Sanji grumbled, flicking the lighter shut with a sharp click. He eyed Zoro leerily.

"Come on, there must be something out there you wanna do...shopping maybe...or embarrassing yourself in front of some girls...they have karaoke, you know. Why don't you go out, have a drink, and embarrass yourself singing in front of some girls?"

Sanji again shrugged, and moped, and ashed his cigarette into a tea-cup, causing Zoro to grimace. "We did that last night. And come to think of it, the night before."

"Oh. Well. Why don't you go swimming, or wake-boarding or something? Aren't you missing the water already?"

"nn." Sanji shrugged again, with even less effort than before. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Yes." Zoro said, flatly.

"Wouldn't you rather--"

"No."

"Fine." Sanji snorted, tipping up to his feet, jamming his hands in his pockets. "Just lemme get dressed for the beach. You can join me when you get over yourself."

At that point Zoro just had to kick him out. Physically. Swim-shorts tossed over one shoulder, bottle of suntan oil jammed into his hand, and an angry scowl on his face.

"I'll be fine, now go." He leaned out and pecked Sanji on his sullen lips, before calmly slamming the door in his face.

Alone, the first thing he did was take one more pace around the suite, enjoying the silence, feeling the space around him, filling it with his presence; before retreating to the bedroom, and fixing himself some vetted tea from the stuff in the honor bar. Didn't think much about it as he topped off the remaining bottles with water, and replaced them, with no-one the wiser. In between sips, seated on the floor, he slipped into his yoga ritual; idly relaxing, testing his muscles.

He started stretching a bit, at first, as recommended. And he was going to stop and rest after twenty minutes, also as recommended. But he happened to look over at some point, to where Ghost and his other two swords lay across the dresser top, also resting; and reasoned that a few katta wouldn't hurt.

Lost in his thoughts, a little exercise soon stretched into an hour or two, or more...he couldn't have been certain. But the shadows lengthened, and sweat had started to sting his eyes. He felt a bitt off kilter, as well, but not enough to want to stop.

He had no real idea of the state he was in, until Sanji returned, and quietly said. "Zoro, that's enough."

Zoro paused, mid-katta, and turned carefully to ascertain the threat; a reflex which probably saved Sanji's life.

"Shit," He eased out of his stance, lowering Ghost until the tip touched the floor. It hit him then. The pain. Like being stabbed all over again, and again; an uncomfortable sort of de ja vu, as Zoro lost count of all the many times he'd met the business end of a blade.

Suddenly he just wanted to lean on something, anything other than his sword--out of respect for it, and the floor. But he couldn't seem to make his hands work, or anything else for that matter. Collapse, then, seemed to be his next best option. He staggered, and Sanji caught him with a rough shoulder, and a frown.

"Huh?"

"God-damned stubborn idiot," Sanji growled, bare-chested and pink-skinned, smelling of coconut oil. "Why is it, every time I come back here, I find you doing something self-destructive or stupid? It's a wonder you've lasted this long on your own, Mister fucking Bushido. Idiot greenhair."

He wound one sun-heated arm around Zoro, and marched him straight to the bed; carefully taking Ghost from his numb fingers, and sheathing it as reverently as if it were his own. And who else would've had the guts to take that liberty, let alone gotten away with it? Zoro wanted to be angry, but Sanji smelled too good, felt too good next to him. So he settled instead for cranky.

"You've been drinking again?" Sanji asked, quietly.

"Not hardly. It was a like a thimbleful!"

Sanji pressed a hand to Zoro's face. First his cheek, then his forehead, anxiously checking his temperature.

"Stop fussing, damn-it." Zoro growled. "I was just stretching, so my muscles don't heal all stiff. I'm fine!" He shivered, a cold flush spreading over his body.

"You were pushing it. You'll be lucky if you didn't tear something." Sanji placed a hand on the back of Zoro's neck, and left it there. "You feel kind of warm."

"In case you haven't noticed, it's like forty-five degrees in here. Why are you back so soon, anyway? Why aren't you hanging out with Nami or something?"

Sanji looked away, quickly, nervous, then back at Zoro without really meeting his eyes. "Nami went...shopping. Besides, she's a big girl, she can take care of herself." Then, more pointedly, "she doesn't need constant supervision, unlike some people."

Zoro bristled at the implication, face gone hotter than feverish. Sanji always knew just how to rile him, how to get under his skin like nobody else. Angry as he was at Sanji for doing so, Zoro was angrier at himself for allowing it.

Not that it stopped him. Because it gave Zoro an excuse to jab back, to make Sanji snarl and squawk like an angry bird, all sleek sinew, ruffled feathers and indignity. And Sanji was sexy as hell when he was mad.

"Hn. Just wait 'til these stitches come out, shit-head."

"Why, what are you gonna do? Spank me?"

Zoro pulled a smirk. "Oi, Sanji, I didn't know you were into that sort of thing. But if you want, we can give it a try." Zoro made a grab for Sanji's waist, only to have his hand smacked away.

"Calm down. That's not how I meant it...pervert."

Without thinking, Zoro whipped a pillow at his face--a bit harder than he'd intended--and knock Sanji onto his ass. "Don't call me a pervert, eyebrow." He sniffed, waiting for Sanji to jump up and return volley.

Sanji didn't. He simply sat up, hand to his head, grimacing. "God-damn it! That..._hurt_." He bit his lip, and drew up his knees, and that was it.

Zoro froze, uncertain. "Sanji? Hit me back. Come on..."

No such luck. Sanji just pulled his knees close to his chest and hugged them, tightly wound. The tightest Zoro had ever seen him. And it struck him as wrong.

Zoro leapt off the bed and bent over him anxiously, cautious hand on his upper back. "Oi, you okay? Sanji? Did I really--"

"I'm fine, asshole." Sanji sighed, gnawing some more at his lip. "If you're so sick of me, why don't you just say so? I'll sleep out there from now on..."

"What? Sanji, I was just messing around...what's your problem?"

"No problem, just take your hand off of me."

Zoro retracted his hand, as if stung, and sat down hard in front of Sanji, sprawling. "I'm not sick of you. I just needed to be alone for a while. Before I went nuts. Come on. Say something. Come on baaa~ka, lemme see you smile."

Sanji sat stiffly for another moment, before gingerly uncoiling his arms, and sprawling out a leg. He swept some hair from his face, and took a small hitching breath. His expression was wan. "Hn."

Zoro cocked his head. "That's not a smile."

"I don't feel like smiling right now." Sanji muttered sullenly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm...sorry I called you a pervert."

"Anou saa. Doesn't really bother me." Zoro shrugged.

"Then why did you peg a fucking pillow at my head?" Sanji barked, launching forward, and giving Zoro's thigh a stinging slap.

Zoro hissed and jumped a little, cheeks reddening. Sanji had slapped him. With his hand. He'd actually forgotten himself, and slapped him. Hard, too. Much to Zoro's undying chagrin, his cock twitched imediately to attention.

He eyed Sanji for another shocked moment, before smiling, slyly. "Maybe I _am_ a pervert. I think I want you to do that again."

He made a playful grab for Sanji's arm, only to be pushed away. "Come on, I'm not playing, do it again. Then I'll do something you like. Slap the other one, do it!"

Sanji ducked his head and laughed shakily, grappling with Zoro's hands, wrestling him into a brief tangle on the floor, showing him a mouthful of teeth. "Ah, you're such a weirdo. I'm _not_ slapping you."

Dragging a kiss across Zoro's mouth, and pressing him down. But something in him held back. Zoro could feel it: a shivery tension, like he wanted to bolt.

"Oi, Sanji...Sanji-kun..." Zoro groaned, still laughing, but worried a bit. His hands anxious on Sanji's back, trying to hold him still a moment, look him in the eye. "You already did slap me. Do it again...just a little. Please."

"All right, all right you sex-maniac." Sanji straddled Zoro's thigh, and gave it a desultory whack, kissing him in the same motion, forceful. Pulling away, and settling back on his haunches, taking a swipe at his nose; his hair over both eyes now. "Now we're even."

Zoro leaned back, hands planted behind him, considering Sanji's unsmiling mouth, and his red-blotched cheeks. "No we're not. You don't look so happy...I don't consider that even at all."

"I said we're even." Sanji growled, flopping over to lie across Zoro's lap, head on his thigh. "We're both fucked up and in pain, and we're both sexual perverts. Only...you're twice as fucked up, and I'm twice the pervert."

Zoro frowned, and gently ran a few fingers through Sanji's hair, teasing pale strands away from his face, carefully avoiding the neat line of butterfly closures above his left temple. Sanji's eyes were closed, mouth drawn into a frown. "Maa, Sanji-kun, you're not either."

"Yeah I am." He insisted, curling against Zoro's hip. "I'm a pervert, and a lech."

"Stop talking shit. I think the sun's gotten to your brain again. You're just Sanji, okay? Sanji, the idiot cook." Zoro brushed the hair away from his nape, petting, because Sanji liked to be petted. As much as he'd never admit it. "I don't care what you wanna call yourself. When you're with _me_, it doesn't matter. Got that?"

"Hn. Fine, whatever." Sanji sniffed. "At least you can't call me fish-belly anymore."

"No. I'll call you lobster-boy, instead. What'd you do? Barbecue yourself?" Zoro hooked a finger into the waist-band of Sanji's shorts, inching it down slightly. "Hmm, is it an all-over tan? I wonder..."

"Hey!" Sanji planted his hands on the floor, and rocked forward, pressing Zoro onto his back. Growling, nipping none too gently at Zoro's exposed hip. "Don't you dare peek, you bastard!"

"AH!" Zoro yelped, then laughed. "Ah-hah! Dog-boy! Now I'm scared...oi, don't maul me!" He laughed even harder at Sanji's glare; laughed until his head swam dizzily, and he had to stop.

"Idiot." Sanji sniffed, wobbling upright to straddle Zoro, half-askew. A sliver of white showing just above the waistband of his trunks.

"Jeez, Sanji. Did you fall asleep in the sun, or what?"

"That's enough." He growled, not sounding dangerous, so much as threatened.

"Hey, hey," Zoro said gently, stroking Sanji's knees. "All right. Sorry I laughed. Seriously..."

Sanji heaved a disgruntled sigh. "Don't apologize. Kiss me."

Zoro was only slightly taken aback. "After all of that, with the teeth?"

"Fuck off." Sanji purred, but without much conviction. "Just kiss me." His eyes were forlorn, but not in any obvious way; not in a way anyone but Zoro might have noticed. "Don't fucking look at me like that, just--"

Zoro shrugged into a sitting position, and quickly tugged Sanji into a kiss, effectively cutting him off. Sanji reciprocated with ferocity, grabbing Zoro by the shoulders, climbing and kissing him hard, dragging his mouth away and crushing Zoro into a fierce hug.

"Oi, Sanji...what is this?"

"hn," Sanji groaned into his neck, grinding on him slightly, intent just a bit shy of _very_ serious. All-the-way serious. Because he was getting hard, Zoro could tell, and wasn't kidding around anymore.

"A hug. You do know what a hug is, don't you?" Sanji pulled away, and he was grinning, a bit lopsidedly. Lips bruised red, and spit slick.

"You've never...hugged me before. It was different. Nice." Zoro smiled. "Feeling better yet?"

Sanji didn't answer. Instead, he reached down and grabbed Zoro's hand, placed it palm-flat on his chest. Right in the center. "Feel that." He pressed in, eyes hungry.

Zoro rubbed the spot gently, tracing muscle and flesh, the hardness of bone. He began to stroke downwards, unsure of what Sanji meant, just going on instinct. Sanji stopped him, dragging the hand back to where it had been. Stubborn, gaze petulant and unwavering. "No. _Feel_ it, Zoro."

His heart was pounding under Zoro's hand, just like it was wont to do, quite scaring the crap out of him. Because he could. Feel it. As if it were that close to the surface, as if he could just dig his fingers in, painless and bloodless, and touch the living, beating, muscle.

"That's for you." Sanji said, voice low, and far too grown-up for the awkward sprawl of him and his nervous breathing.

Shifting closer, up on his knees; Sanji took Zoro's shoulder in hand, pulled him to, and kissed him thoroughly on the mouth. Sucking and pushing, kneading at Zoro's neck, and shoulders. Urging him, growing quickly frustrated when Zoro couldn't match his pace.

*That's for you.*

"Jesus, Zoro..." He hissed. Tiny catch in his voice, tiny tremor in his lip. "Zoro..." He tried to grab Zoro's hand, and drag it up his thigh.

But Zoro balked.

Placed his hands on Sanji's hips, tried not to make it obvious he was holding him back; thumbs rubbing and tracing his leading lines, cautiously stroking him. "Sanji, what's going on?"

"What does it _look_ like?" Sanji snarked. "I'm seducing you, jackass."

"No, not that. I mean...what's going on? Why did you come back so soon?"

"I didn't. I was out there four hours." Sanji's expression turned serious. "Now, kiss me, you wibbling pile of puke!"

"Shit. You're sexy when you snarl." Zoro grinned, now rubbing Sanji's arms, eliciting a sharp hiss.

"Oh. So _that's_ why you delight in constantly pissing me off." Sanji drawled. Then he didn't so much kiss Zoro, as heave off and attack him by way of mouth.

"nnf!" Zoro struggled, and somehow managed to peel Sanji off. "Why...do I get the feeling...you're avoiding something?"

"What, this?" Sanji muttered, guileless, hand going for Zoro's crotch.

"No, not that!" Zoro snapped at him. "Something you're not telling me."

"Why the hell do you care so much?"

Zoro slitted his eyes, dangerously, voice dropping an ominous octave. "Because, I let you put your hands on my body. I don't do that for just anyone. The last man who put his hands on me? Lost 'em in one stroke."

Sanji's eyes widened, scowl sharpening. "Are you threatening me?"

"No, dipshit. I'm saying I trust you. Now tell me what your problem is, 'cause it's bugging the hell out of me!"

"I don't have a problem. Can't I just be upset about nothing without you getting all up my ass?"

"No."

"Fine," Sanji said quietly, expression tired. "I can live with that."

"Idiot." Zoro sighed, rubbing harder, running his hands up Sanji's arms, grabbing him by the shoulders; kissing him roughly, because rough was the only language Sanji seemed to understand. "You were crying. Again."

"No I wasn't." Sanji mumbled against Zoro's lips.

"Yes you were." Zoro mumbled back.

"Wasn't."

"Were. I can taste it."

Sanji loomed up over him, eyes red-rimmed, but defiant. "I was in the ocean."

Zoro frowned some more, still tasting salt. "If you say so."

"I was." Sanji kissed him again, open mouthed, tongue to tongue.

About sucked the air from his lungs, left Zoro gasping. Left him pulling away; a real fight, this time, forcing himself to hold Sanji back. "Why were you crying? Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened."

Zoro turned Sanji's face, kissed him forcefully on the cheek, and just held on. "Oi, you're starting to worry me, baka-mayu."

Sanji's arms tightened, fingers bunching the fabric of Zoro's shirt. "This isn't like you, either...you damn chowderhead. You're not supposed to worry about me."

"Don't tell me what I'm not supposed to do." Zoro kissed his other cheek, laid cool palms on his back. "Just gimme the short version, all right?"

"It's so stupid. You're gonna think I'm an idiot."

"I already think that. Now just tell me."

"I--spoke to the harbor master, two hours ago. He said our supplies finally came in. We'll be leaving in two days." He buried his face in Zoro's shoulder, and clung. "You're the first person I've told."

Zoro turned and tried to kiss Sanji's temple. "You don't wanna leave? That's what this is all about?"

Sanji raised his drawn and miserable face. "I guess it is. I guess I don't want us to leave. 'Cause as soon as we get back on that ship..."

"You know, nothing has to change." Zoro tipped Sanji's chin, and planted a series of kisses along his jaw. "We'll just have to find a little space of our own...then we can fooly and cooly all we want!

Sanji sneered. "It's not that simple."

"It is that simple." Zoro insisted.

Sanji sighed, and slowly, hesitantly, reciprocated, kissing the corner of Zoro's mouth. "What about Nami?" Then with growing enthusiasm. His hand went for Zoro's crotch again, unimpeded this time.

Zoro gasped and splayed his legs apart, tipping back to allow Sanji more leverage. "What _about_ Nami?"

"That's what I just asked you!"

"If you tried something like that with Nami, she'd kick your ass." Zoro panted, hands running up Sanji's thighs. "You really think she cares what we do? 'Cause I told her, and she doesn't."

"Shut up. You did not!" Sanji reared back, and gave him a shove, hip checking, sending him prone. A reminder that Sanji didn't convince. He pushed.

Again, it shocked Zoro how easily Sanji was able to do that, using just his body. How easily Zoro let him. Because he liked watching the man in action. It gave him such a thrill. To invite this upon himself. Arching a bit, Zoro wiggled out of his shirt, and tossed it aside.

Sanji hovered over him on hands and knees, and kissed him with careful deliberation, gentle, then rough again, then gentle again. "You're lying. You did NOT tell Nami--" ran a hand up Zoro's stomach and lats, stopping where the bandage started, skimmed past it to rub at one of his nipples.

"So did." Zoro panted between kisses. "And if you tried that, she'd murder you. And I don't mean like...oooh, I'm really gonna kill that Sanji...I mean _murder_ you dead, and leave your body in a ditch somewhere."

"There are no ditches at sea. And stop trying to be funny. This is serious. You did not tell her."

Sanji flicked his tongue-tip over Zoro's lips, still hovering, and backlit by the afternoon sun. He was ever so lightly shaking, muscles tense and shivery, and breathing a bit too fast.

"I'm trying to lighten you up, stupid cook. Like hell I told her." Zoro smoothed his hands up Sanji's back, lightly rubbing, until a wince made him stop. "Come on, take it easy. You don't hafta do this right now...if you don't want. You're all sunburnt...look at you."

"I do want." Sanji said, face tensing as he moved to kiss Zoro's neck. "That's what scares me. I want _badly_. All the time. I'm not supposed to feel this way. It's all so...fucked up. I want like hell. I dunno what to do anymore...Zoro...I'm so confused."

Zoro ran his hands up through Sanji's hair--it felt good under his fingers, even damp and gritty as it was. He smelled of the ocean, tobacco, and suntan oil.

"What you're doing now...that's a start." Zoro gasped, voice low and demanding, hips rising to meet Sanji's. "Why are you confused?"

"I just am, damn-it!" Sanji rocked, hips fitting neatly into the vee of Zoro's legs. Shifting purposefully, making damn sure Zoro felt him, hand gripping Zoro's bottom. "I'm...a confused person..."

"your dick doesn't seem confused." Zoro hissed, squeezing Sanji's thigh, leaving white fingerprints. "Why not...let's go with that...for now?"

"oh...christ..." Sanji whimpered, damn near dragging Zoro across the carpet.

It came back to Zoro, hammered into him actually, just how badly he'd anticipated this. Wanted it. On his back, legs spread. He couldn't even pretend otherwise, couldn't get angry and push Sanji off, couldn't care as much as he made himself think he did. Couldn't think about anything other than getting off with him, any which way. This way, especially.

He'd caught on, very early, just how sensitive that little area of his anatomy was. Zoro wholly believed that if doing something felt good, it was best to do it as often, and vigorously as possible. Even if god and half the world told him it was dirty.

"Ch'kuso." He hissed.

And Sanji hissed back, running a hot hand down Zoro's thigh. "Hey, Zoro. What'd happen if I tried _this_ with Nami?" Sanji worked a hand under Zoro's knee, hiked it up to his waist; pressed into him with a shudder, rolling his hips, biting his lower lip. "uhhh..." Moaning low in his throat, arching his neck, making a show of it. "haahhh..."

"I dare you to find out." Zoro groaned, back arching, hands grasping.

Sanji grinned savagely. "Do you?"

"hnn...okay...just this once, I take it back."

As much as this thrilled Zoro, it also, sort of, frightened him. Sanji on top of him...growling...mounting. Sanji being in control. So in control, he seemed a whole other person. Someone who delighted rather cruelly in making Zoro blush, in making him make a fool of himself, making him moan, scream, lose it.

This was a Sanji who took what he wanted, who dared to grip the waistband of Zoro's trousers, drag them off his hips. Dragging his own shorts off in the same brisk, no-nonsense manner, lining himself up.

Lifting Zoro's hips for a better angle, reaching down, rubbing that spot with his thumb, pressing. Zoro gasped, urgently sawing his thigh along the side of Sanji's leg, seeking contact. The shocking heat of Sanji's cock and balls. Finding himself tangled, pants about his hips, frustrated growl creeping from his throat.

Sanji kissed him sloppily, on the mouth, on the jaw, down his neck. "So beautiful..."

Zoro groaned and clutched at him. "I'm not beautiful..." His fingers dug convulsively at Sanji's back, the next thrust making him pulse, sending his vision full of spots, driving his shoulder in a hard arch against the floor. Shocking a gasp out of him. "Sanji...don't say I'm beautiful, damn it. Take it back."

"You are." Sanji moaned, easing up a bit, half-crouched and on display. Flagrant. En flagrante. Kissing Zoro's sides and stomach, then stroking, fingers tracing the curves and paths of individual muscles. Mapping Zoro's body with careful attention; an artist's rough, practical hands. "But in a manly way...really, really manly..." He said, all but drooling.

Zoro made helpless noises, and tried to wiggle further out of his trousers, "Sanji-kun, at some point...don't you think we should take this to bed?" Zoro grated out, trying not to sound urgent. Failing. The trousers were half-way down his thighs now, Sanji's hands never missing a beat.

"Why muck with tradition?" He said, slicking Zoro's cock with long business-like strokes. "The floor's worked fine so far..."

"Yeah, well, I'm getting sick of rug-burns. Luffy kept asking me...about them the other day." Zoro huffed, trailing fingertips down Sanji's belly, watching his cock jump and twitch in response.

Sanji drew a shuddering breath. "Everyone must know by now..."

"So what?" Zoro clutched at his back, pushing and pulling at the same time. "So what...I don't care..."

Sanji jerked slightly, finding a new angle, whimpering through his teeth. "Then I don't care either."

"Sanji, bed." Zoro snapped, leg now hooked over Sanji's shoulder. Worried that this was going to be it, that it would all be over if he so much as twitched.

"ohhh...I could fuck you right here...on the floor..." Sanji whined at him, fingers teasing, body pressing forward, cock nosing insistently at his perineum. "I want it sooo badly..."

"Try it. You won't get anywhere." Zoro said obstinately, clenching his muscles, glaring.

"All right, all right already." Sanji crawled off of him slowly, backwards, hand cupping himself; and Zoro rolled quickly into a crouch.

Sanji backed away, and flopped into bed, laughing. Zoro pounced. Straddled and pressed Sanji into the mattress, grinning down in triumph. Kissing him before he could blurt out whatever snarky little thing now formed the shape of his lips. Tangling with his legs, and arms, and rolling. Sometimes Zoro was on top, and sometimes Sanji. The only constant was Sanji's hand, waiting, cupped and seeking at Zoro's bottom. Fingers teasing him to a frenzy, thighs trapping him still.

Sanji made a low growling noise and there were teeth at Zoro's neck, then a more gentle sensation, suction. Sanji's hand, spreading him open, a cool spit-slicked finger dipping in, pressing. Zoro moaned, and shivered, and he forgot to roll. Lay on top of Sanji, right were he was, just rubbing and shivering.

Sanji groped out towards the night-stand, knocking the bottle of suntan oil onto the bed, trying to fumble it open with suddenly clumsy hands. Zoro took it from him, and popped the cap off, poured oil on himself, poured it on Sanji's hand, slicked his fingers up, and said: "Now."

"Enough oil? We're not basting a turkey here..." Sanji breathed unevenly, planting his feet.

"How many times have you done this?"

"Um...by this you mean, what exactly?"

"Forget it. I think I know what I'm about." Zoro said confidently, reaching back, planting Sanji's hand on his butt. "Just do it."

Sanji complied.

"Shhhi--" Zoro went still, reminding himself to relax. He'd done this exactly once;albeit, by himself. He knew how it was supposed to go. It'd taken a few tries, and an hour in the warm bath, to accomplish. But it was all good in the end. "ah..."

"did I hurt--"

Zoro panted, hips jerking, "no...keep...keep doing it." Sanji held him, and stroked into him with careful concentration, focused, and just lying there, cock twitching mournfully every now and again. He squirmed occasionally, and Zoro wanted to fuck him right through the mattress, fuck himself back on Sanji's fingers. Fuck something, damn it!

Sanji stroked Zoro's thigh, wiggled his fingers in a way that made Zoro's mouth gape, soundless. Warmth spread throughout his body, tightening his belly, tightening, tightening; he whimpered and fisted his cock. Uneven, halting thrusts, because he wanted to stop and--uhn--not so soon, but he could barely make the words out.

"hahh...Sanji...wait..."

"You're so undone, I got your number all right, Zoro." Sanji mused, squirming his hips, hooking a leg over the back of Zoro's, pulling him prone, hips only ever twitching, working Zoro from two angles, like it was his job. Whispering again, voice pure sex. "Come for me."

"k'so~yarou..." Zoro growled, clamping down. Sanji's fingers hooked inside of him, scraping. He let out a yell, driving his hips, rocking hard on top of Sanji, knees digging into the bed. He lost it, in torn gasps, and cramping muscles, came hard, shuddering as he did so.

"I'm not finished yet," Sanji breathed, stroking Zoro's face with one hot hand, leaving a careless smear of wetness. And Zoro truly was undone. Sanji slipped his fingers out, a slight burn reminding Zoro just how many nerve endings he had back there.

"Shit...." Zoro panted. "You're not?" Then sort of flopped back on his haunches, and just sat, catching his breath. One sweaty hand curled, almost neatly, against Sanji's hip. Sanji half-hard, come pooled on his belly, everything about him blushing, or red, or raw, absolutely debauched, and he wasn't finished yet.

Zoro flopped over onto his side, and then levered up, drunkenly.

"You need a breather? Huh? You all worn out on me already?" Sanji curled into him and kissed a line up his thigh, his hip, his oblique, thumb stroking and kneading him there.

"Don't be dumb."

"Would you let me..." Sanji whispered, gently brushing Zoro with his knee, rolling. "let me, please. zoro. please?"

"Convince me," Zoro murmured at him, reaching back, stroking the inside of his thigh, palming him until he was fully hard again.

"jeez," Sanji whined, hooking Zoro's waist, playing footsy with his stomach. "I thought I'd done that already."

"Seduce me." Zoro demanded.

"You really are lazy." Sanji snickered at Zoro's bristling. "I'm tired. Why don't _you_ do some of the work for once?"

Zoro flipped over, mock ferocious, teeth bared at Sanji's face. "Oi, this is work for you!?"

"You're so troublesome, c'mere." Sanji laid the flat of his hand on Zoro's hip, and sat up beside him, hooking a leg around, kissing his neck. Overtaking him by degrees, until Zoro was on his back, so far gone he would've agreed to anything at that point. Sanji settled in closer, half-draped, and calmly stroked him a while, hand heavy and warm on Zoro's flank.

"Don't go to sleep on me now." Zoro warned. Sanji's hair, now dry, tickled his collarbone. Just to make sure, he snuck out a hand, and gave Sanji's nipples a small tweak.

Sanji nipped at his earlobe and threw a leg across him again, half-thrusting, lazily, at his hip. Voice hissing, "Turn over..."

He slid a hand down Zoro's belly, idly playing with him, teeth, and tongue and lips still at his neck. Zoro allowed himself to be coaxed, turned. Sanji turned with him. Body flush to his back, hands slow, more oil--still warm from the sun--slicking him, spreading him, and a thick pressure. Thicker than what he'd expected.

Zoro gasped, and gripped Sanji's thigh.

"Relax..." Sanji whispered, and sucked air through his teeth, pushing in slowly, carefully, until his hips brushed Zoro's. Then he was in, and he felt simply huge, trembling and squeaking, and burning hot. Zoro let his breath out in one long shuddering stream, and Sanji did also, sliding his arms around Zoro's chest and just holding him for the moment. Zoro still gripping his thigh, pulling it over his own, drawing a shivery little thrust.

"Oi, please...move or something...don't just lie there." Zoro gritted, trying to push back, a teasing little frisson of pleasure sparking at the edges of him. Friction. He needed more of that.

"Sh-Shh..." Sanji mouthed his shoulder, callused hand scraping down his chest, down to his belly, gripping. Pulling out with a slow gasp and thrusting into him smoothly, once, then a few times. "You're too tense." He whimpered. "Relax."

"I'm trying. This isn't like...oh god...I've never felt like this before...ah!"

"sorry...sorry..."

"don't be..."

Zoro groaned; shaking, he slid a feverishly unsteady hand down his own body, stroked until his cock swelled, slowly, heavy with blood. Sanji's hand closed over his, intensifying his efforts, twisting his hips, growling and thrusting.

Zoro clawed at the sheets, and pushed back, now face-down like a dog, begging for it, more, harder. Sanji obliging like this was competition, like this was making up for lost time, raw gasps tearing from his throat, not even so coherent as his usual babble.

"ah...zoro...ah...fuck..."

Zoro, through it all, grinning, because he had him, damn it. Right where he wanted him. "I...win..." He panted.

And he came a second time, back pulling a long, toe-curling stretch. There were edges to it, too sensitive, sharp, raw feeling that scraped him inside out. Sanji pumping into him with a stream of broken, disjointed words--hand biting into his shoulder, rocking with the full weight of his body--until he went rigid, shivering, choked little "uh" eking from his mouth.

It might have been a sob, for all Zoro could tell. He really hoped it wasn't.

"etto, Sanji..." Zoro whispered, voice muffled by a mouthful of linen, strange sensation of heat filling him; tiny little twitches, and shocks, and the burn. Sanji mouthed the back of his neck, still shivering, half-limp now. "Sanji? You okay?"

Sanji mumbled something incoherent, and relaxed, breathing slowed to slightly this side of ragged. He managed something close to a 'yes,', and drunkenly rolled onto his side, pulling out as he did so. Zoro grimaced, and collapsed, and noted--with no small touch of affection--that Sanji was drooling.

"Heh." He reached over and wiped Sanji's chin. Sanji smiled.

They lay sprawled like that for a long while, haphazard, and wasted. Sanji rubbed his head against Zoro's shoulder, butting at him, claiming him. "damn," he muttered dazedly. Zoro rolled into him, then flopped onto his back.

"hell..." said Zoro, smiling weakly.

Sanji leaned up on his elbow, eyeing Zoro with sated laziness. He poked his shoulder lightly with a fingertip, then trailed it a bit. "You okay?" He whispered.

"I'm fine..."

Zoro yawned and stretched and turned gingerly back onto his side, still facing Sanji. And one very big wet spot. With another grimace, he scooted away from it, his wound reminding him of its presence with an itchy twinge. He'd have to check on it soon, make sure he hadn't torn anything.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Sanji asked warily, reaching for Zoro's bandaged side. "Your injury...is it okay?"

Zoro blinked a few times. "It's fine."

Sanji nodded quietly, without snark, or comments, or any of his usual attitude. No real feat, considering he was half-asleep by this point.

The sun had gone down by the time they crawled out of bed, and dragged themselves into the bathroom. Sanji ran a hot bath, and sat Zoro on a stool and removed his bandages.

"Tch." He hissed, seeing the raw red tissue, swollen up around the sutures. "We should've been more careful when we did this." He wouldn't articulate which 'this' he meant.

Zoro winced, and bit his tongue when Sanji's fingers brushed him there, even gently. "It's not infected." He huffed.

"No, but it's getting there." Sanji looked up into his face with a scowl. He poked around carefully, a few more times, until he was sure every hair on Zoro's head stood on end.

Zoro grated his teeth, and bore with it. "If you hadn't sewn it up, it might be a lot worse by now."

"Damn." Sanji looked around the bathroom. "We really need a doctor on this fucking crew."

Zoro slumped, which right away, was a mistake. But he didn't let on, other than grimace, as he rested his arms on his thighs.

Sanji sighed, and calmly went into the other room, returning with a jar full of sea-salts. "I'm sorry to have to do this...but it's the best I've got." He poured the lot of it into the bath, and gestured for Zoro to get in. "It's gonna sting like hell. I'm warning you now."

"Appreciate the thought." Zoro grumbled, easing himself into the water, and trying best not to scream.

Sanji plied him with diluted rum, "for medicinal purposes only, you understand?" And when that threatened to go awry, tea. He then took some fresh tea-bags, steeped in clean, hot water, and pressed them to the wound as a makeshift poultice.

With some careful negotiating, he managed to pour himself into the tub, facing Zoro, leg over leg, watching him anxiously for a while, until his face relaxed. Until burning and itching and pain subsided to a dull throb.

Sanji smoked, and idly massaged Zoro's feet as he half-dozed, exhausted and full of rum. Zoro was hungry, and suspected Sanji was too, but couldn't muster the effort to even grunt out 'dinner?'.

Luffy came wandering by at some point, calling for them from the other room, voice traveling as he searched the whole of their tiny suite. Zoro peeked an eye open, and Sanji motioned for silence with a
conspiratorial grin.

Belatedly, Zoro remembered, they'd left both doors unlocked. "Oh, shit. Sanj--"

Luffy barged in without a care for modesty, and stood there looking at them, hand on the doorknob, casual as anything. They froze, wearing identical expressions of blank shock. The empty bottle of rum teetered by the door, and finally fell over with a dull clonk.

"Oh, there you guys are." Said Luffy. "What are you both doing in the tub?"

"Whoa--do you mind?!" Sanji sputtered, winging the tiny bar of hotel soap past Luffy's face. "Get the hell out of here!"

"What? Why should I get out?" Luffy folded his arms with exasperated patience. "Sanji, it's nothing I haven't seen before. Trust me."

"This is the limit..." Zoro groaned, unfreezing enough to flounder, and create a mess of sloshed bath-water. Almost kicked Sanji in the face, before his foot was caught by the ankle, and held. Sanji alternating long suffering glares between the two of them.

"Don't you know how to knock?"

"I did knock, I called for you five times. You never answered." Luffy glared back at Sanji. "Now, are you coming out to dinner with us, or not?"

Sanji turned to Zoro, far too nonchalant all of the sudden. "Dinner, Zoro?"

Zoro choked, and contemplated drowning himself.

Sanji turned back to Luffy, casually ashing his cigarette, anger forgotten. "I think that's a yes."

"Sweet! Don't worry, I won't tell Nami you were screwing around again." Luffy rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't want anyone getting ~jealous~."

Sanji floundered, trying to bolt from the tub with a savage noise. "Wait a second--all right, now I'm gonna kill you! You stinkin' rubber brat!!!"

Zoro lunged, and managed to catch hold of the slippery cook, long enough for Luffy to make good his escape.

"Luffy, just go wait for us outside."

More floundering, as Zoro and Sanji became effectively tangled, resulting in a doused cigarette, and more water on the floor than in the tub. Suddenly, cuddling seemed the least fun idea in the world.

"Get the hell off of me...the faucet's in my back!" Sanji scrabbled at the tub ledge, trying unsuccessfully to extricate himself.

"I can't go anywhere unless you move your leg."

"There's nowhere to move it."

"Well move something, before one or both of us drowns."

"In a bath-tub? Nice, Zoro." Sanji squirmed; and Zoro floundered some more, biting back a yelp when the wrong move sharply disagreed with him.

There was more cursing and floundering, and water sloshing across the threshold, but finally Zoro managed to extricate himself from the tub, whereupon he collapsed on the bath-mat, gasping angrily.

Luffy called from the other room. "Give it a rest you two. You wanna turn me off to sex forever?"

"I could just kill him. I really could, sometimes." Sanji muttered darkly, limply re-arranging himself, and heaving himself upright, dripping. "I could make it look like an accident. You'd vouch for me, Zoro, wouldn't you?"

"Hn. I don't dig on murder. Lets just put salt in his coffee one morning. He'll never see it coming."

Sanji rose from the tub, and snagged a towel from the rack nearby. "I wouldn't waste good coffee like that. Let's hide some of his clothes. It drives him nuts when he can't find something."

Zoro grinned, already up, and clumsily drying himself. "How about, when he's showering, I get it so that cold water comes out. Or better yet, I can shut it off, and when he comes running out of the bathroom, covered in soap, I can have a bucket rigged to dump flour on him, or feathers."

"Or dirt." Sanji snickered, and half-tackled Zoro into a quick shoulder-hug. "Man, together, we can be an unstoppable force. Spreading mischief and ass-kickings across the seven seas."

"I like the sound of that. Partners, then!" Zoro linked arms with Sanji, and grinned.

"Fuckin' eh!"

They marched back to their room, arm in arm, where Zoro promptly collapsed across the foot of the bed and lay, unmoving, for quite some time.

Dinner was late that night, but for once, Luffy didn't mind the wait. He sat silent and watched Sanji clean and bandage the swordsman's wound, hands reverent and gentle. When Zoro woke, Sanji dumped clean clothes on him, and let him dress.

Luffy watched them quizzically for a full minute, arms folded across his chest, before something seemed to occur to him.

"What was all that about a bucket?" He said, all false wide-eyed innocence.

Sanji just grinned evilly at him, and lit a cigarette.

"Oi!" Luffy went after him as they headed out the door. "Tell me what's up with the bucket! Sanji!"

They headed out, down the hall, and the wide staircase which lead out onto the lobby. Luffy muttering snarkily about the things he had in store for Sanji; Zoro with swords at his one side, and Sanji at his other; covertly supporting him in his stumbling, keeping him on even keel. Nami and Ussop met them just outside the door, and of a piece they wandered through the lantern-lit streets, stopping briefly to pick up a few bottles of cheap wine.

The found a small outdoor café, down some winding forgotten back-street, and proceeded to take up space there, in the way pirates did. There was one other table of patrons, with whom they socialized randomly. Already into the first bottle of wine, they got loud, and made strange, daring food choices.

"Baby bees over vermicelli, in a white-wine sauce..." Sanji muttered over his menu. "Now there's something I haven't tried yet."

Zoro made a face. "That's horrible."

Sanji eyed him curiously. "How would you know? Ever had it?"

"Geh. No."

Sanji tried winning him over. "If I got it, would you at least try some?"

"No. They're larvae, it's disgusting! No way would I eat a bug. Ever."

"Not even if you were starving?" Nami prodded.

"Man, heh-heh, I would've killed for larvae on that island." Sanji mused over his menu, fresh cigarette between his lips. "You don't know disgusting until you've tried carpenter ants. Centipedes. Now they're nasty. You don't wanna eat one of those."

"mou, I think I'll just stick to something safe. Really." Zoro pored over the menu, Sanji's that is, rather than his own.

"Think about the babies, Sanji." Luffy frowned. "They never really had a chance at life...it's kinda sad, if you think about it."

"They're bees. They live to do two things: make honey and make more bees. And the worker bees don't even get to mate with the queen. I honestly don't think they're missing out on that much." Sanji grinned, still poring over the menu. "Anyway, veal is baby cow. You eat that. An egg is a baby chicken...or it would be if it were fertilized. Ever have lamb?"

Ussop made a face. "I think I just became vegan."

"I'm getting the lamb!" Announced Nami.

In the end, even Sanji wasn't adventurous enough to risk the bees. He chose the more pedestrian roasted hare, and horrified Ussop with the gory details of its slaughter and preparation.

"That's why, on the Baratie, we'd always order them pre-killed. The screams tended to upset the diners."

Zoro eyed Sanji warily, and muttered around a mouthful of bread: "You're nuts."

"Hey, I'm not the one that ordered Fugu. Good luck with _that_, my friend."

The meal passed in a haze of warm camaraderie, and sloppy drunkenness, and ended in a dog-pile of everyone passed out in various beds, or wherever they happened to fall. There was a hand on Zoro's ass at some point, and it may or may not have been Sanji's.

Because Sanji seemed to be sprawled across the pillows, and Zoro seemed to be curled up somewhere diagonal to that. There was somebody behind him, then, curled up against his back. A smaller someone smelling vaguely of vanilla and snoring faintly.

Nami. He supposed he didn't mind so much, as he drifted off to sleep, he trusted she wouldn't try anything fresh. Not with the hangover she'd have the next morning.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was dark when he woke, sitting up almost dreamily, feeling like his head were filled with week old garbage. Skin uncomfortably warm and oversensitive. Sanji was sprawled out next to him, one leg hanging off the bed, shirt half off, mouth open and drooling onto the pillow.

Nami was sprawled halfway across the both of them, and muttered angrily when Zoro had to pry her arm from around his waist. Zoro slid carefully to the edge of the mattress, and ran a hand up his ribs, wincing hard at the sudden burning tightness. He couldn't tell if it was a normal healing sensation, or the inevitable infection. Not without looking. Even so, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

With a groan, he flopped back down, and Sanji jerked awake, searching the gloom with a few confused head-turns. Noticing Nami, then Zoro, then sitting up on his knees, face unreadable in the dark. "Zoro?"

"yo," he answered weakly, throat feeling like something had crawled down it, and was not quite dead yet.

Sanji motioned for him to lower his voice. "What's going on?"

Zoro rubbed his head stiffly, wound itching something fierce. "We were all pretty drunk...I guess." He could almost see Sanji taking mental inventory. "Nothing happened. I don't think. Did it?"

Sanji slumped; hard to tell if it was relief or disappointment, though. "You feeling okay?"

Zoro whimpered and stuck out his tongue. "bleah." Which, by way of response, said all that need be said. "What is it about red wine...that always gives me the worst fucking hangovers?"

Sanji crawled up next to him, gently disentangling himself from Nami, and re-arranging her on the pillows. She made angry noises and rubbed her eyes, then rolled over and lay still; more or less out of it. "Wine kind of sneaks up on you, doesn't it? And there was that rum earlier."

"oh. the demon rum." Zoro dropped his head miserably, wanting to crawl under the bed and sleep for several months. "Shit. How much of that did I have?"

"Enough. Poor idiot Zoro." Sanji murmured, head-butting his shoulder. "Does your skin feel like it's been sandpapered all over?"

"yes." Zoro leaned into him gingerly. Every movement was a new exercise in raw, grated nerve-endings. "And my head...is killing me. I mean, it literally is killing me. With explosions, and knives, and...ow."

"Feel like you wanna throw up?"

"I'm considering it."

"Well don't do it on me," Sanji grumbled, still reassuringly prickly. "Want me to go order you some tea, or something?"

"No. I wanna stop feeling like French-fried shit."

"Then go back to sleep." Sanji murmured, yawning. "The rum might've been my idea, but no-one forced you to drink all that wine. That was your own damn choice."

"Oi, shut up. Enabler."

"You shut up, ya sot." Sanji's eyes slid closed, he slumped over a bit, drooling on Zoro's shoulder.

"I'll shut up when you shut up."

Sanji muttered something, and tried to nest in the crook of Zoro's arm.

"Sanji-kun?"

A muffled "what?"

Zoro jerked his chin, trying to point without making it obvious. Behind him, Nami sat up.

"Oi, you two," She drawled sleepily, "What ungodly time of the night is this?"

Sanji grinned, and Zoro made a snarling face which was largely lost on him. "It's late, Miss Nami. Or early. I dunno. Go back to sleep."

"How can I go back to sleep with all that talking going on..." She yawned, then flopped over to crawl up beside them. "What are you two doing?"

With a spark of alarm, Zoro noted she was wearing most of Sanji's clothing: his pants, his shirt, and his tie. Sanji was in nothing but boxers, and a shirt, unbuttoned, which may or may not have been Nami's. Thank god, at least, he wasn't wearing her bra. That was lying somewhere across the room, and Zoro dimly remembered how it had gotten there. The conspiratorial giggles, the last night's weirdness as he lay half out of it in bed, and Nami and Sanji traded clothes.

"We're sleeping." Zoro grumbled. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Oi, do you two always sleep in the same bed?"

"Do you always climb in with us?" Zoro shot back. Nami shoved a sheaf of hair from her eyes, and raspberried him.

Sanji gave Zoro's shoulder a shove, almost toppling the three of them over, and off of the bed. "Stop fighting with Miss Nami."

"Don't gang up on me! What'd I do?" Zoro slipped out of bed, and Sanji sprawled onto his face, Nami draped over his back...wearing his clothes. "Mou." Zoro clutched his head, and wondered if it was safe to leave the two of them. He couldn't help the nervous, high-pitched, laugh that worked its way out; like a small animal desperately fleeing his throat.

Sanji mumbled something, then forced his eyes open. "Zoro, where do you think you're going?" He struggled to right himself, Nami clutching at his shirt-tails, accidentally hiking his boxers from one hip.

"urk...I, um, changed my mind about that tea."

Nami propped herself up, creating a tableaux that Zoro would forever have etched in his mind. Whether he wanted it there or not. And there was some confusion on that front. Nami smiled lopsidedly, looking equal parts roguish and drunk. "In that case, order up some fruit..."

"I want a hot chocolate." said Sanji, husky voiced. Nami sat down abruptly, straddling his backside, looking suddenly bored, "oof. And a little somethin' somethin', you know?" he appended with a giggle.

Nami loomed over him, hands on her knees. "No. You'll have coffee, and water. No somethin'."

"Aw, you're no fun." Sanji giggled. "Not even a little somethin'? Just a little?" The light had gone watery gray, and Sanji's blush became glaringly evident. Not only that, but he seemed to be wearing make-up. Zoro couldn't recall if it'd been there before dinner, or had happened afterwards. An even closer inspection revealed something vaguely goatee-ish drawn on Nami's chin, in eye-liner. She winked at him coyly.

Now Zoro was _really_ loathe to leave the two of them alone. But even more afraid to stick around and see what new weirdness developed. He ducked into the outer sitting area, silent and empty in the smoky pre-dawn, and grabbed the phone-snail; tried not to drop the thing when it
extended an eye stalk and tried to suckle his fingers.

Nami and Sanji hadn't moved an inch since he'd left them, and were in the middle of some drowsy early-morning conversation.

"...the last time I was this drunk." Nami rattled on quietly. "And the greens keeper chased me through half the village with a rake."

"Then what?"

"I woke up in my boat several hours later, and a sea-gull had shit on my head. And there was a thousand belli in my bra, but I don't remember how it got there."

"That's nothing." Zoro tossed back, settling cross-legged on the floor, trying to coax the phone into cooperating with him. It made a plaintive noise and tried to escape. "I got so drunk once, I
fell asleep in a refrigerated crate."

"So?" Sanji muttered, chin in his hands.

"It was filled with squid." Zoro managed to dial room-service, somehow, and by the end of the call he'd ended up ordering a full-course meal for five.

"Dead or alive?" Nami prompted.

"Those fuckers were alive, and they were _angry_." Zoro ran a hand through his hair, spiking it out every which way.

Sanji crooked a finger at him, beckoning. "C'mere you sexy idiot. Enough talk about drinking, okay? We all had too much, and it's not gonna happen again. Agreed?"

"Aw, don't swear us to something like that." Zoro groaned.

"Yeah, Sanji, don't be such a square."

"I'm not asking you to become tee-totallers, for christ's sake. Just a little moderation. That's all I ask. Come on, you'd do it for me, wouldn't you?" He grinned his winning grin, and beckoned some more.

Zoro stood, and flopped onto the bed, arranging himself in some sprawled fashion, noticing as the first weak wash of sun lit the sky outside their window. "All right, for you. Bastard."

Nami eyed Zoro with lazy half-interest, and reached out to flick at his earrings. "Are you pierced anywhere else?"

"*snrk* You've seen every bit of me there is to see. Whatta _you_ think?" Zoro ducked away, shaking his head ticklishly.

"The two of you hold still." Sanji whined crankily, trying to shift his hips, or trying not to. He attempted to peek under Zoro's bandage, blunt fingers delicate and serious. "I should probably have another look at this."

Zoro nudged his hand away. "Later, it's fine. Stop worrying."

"I'm not worried. Idiot." Sanji growled affectionately. "Let me look at it."

Zoro grumbled something unintelligible and flopped back onto his elbows; continued to gaze out the window, while Sanji peeked under his bandage. "Is there a reason you two are in drag?"

"Nami said I made a pretty girl." Sanji said dryly, giving a tiny wince at Zoro's side.

Zoro snorted, then laughed out loud. "Nami makes a prettier boy than you do a girl. In fact you're the fugliest girl I've ever seen."

Sanji stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated mope, Nami cooed at him. "Aw, it's okay San-chan. Zoro just has no taste in women."

"I have better taste than _he_ does." Zoro teased, rolling suddenly off the bed when Nami turned and walloped him with a pillow. "owwww."

"Dozie lackwit. Did you hurt yourself?" Sanji peered over the edge of the bed.

"No," Zoro groaned. "I think the floor broke my fall." He sat, and dragged himself halfway up over the edge of the mattress.

Nami had sprawled over backwards, feet propped on Sanji's bottom, and was lighting a pair of cigarettes. Sanji rolled onto his back, indolent and half-aroused, stuck out his arm and waggled his fingers until Nami sat up and handed him his smoke. She flipped her hair out of her eyes, again, cigarette jutting lazily from the side of her mouth.

"Hey, hey, watch what I can do." She said, blowing smoke-hearts over Sanji, and over Zoro's head. Giggling smoke through her nostrils as well, then launching into a coughing fit.

"Sexy." Zoro dead-panned at her, ducking to avoid another incoming pillow.

Sanji sighed, content. "Zoro, get your ass back up here. I don't wanna have to ask again."

Zoro threw himself back in bed, and lay, head pillowed on Sanji's belly, while Nami sat beside them, smoking. Ever so often she'd drop her hand and toy idly with Zoro's hair, still staring vacantly out the window.

A knock at the door shook them from their reverie.

Nami turned to look back, cigarette poised rakishly between well-manicured fingers. A bathrobe-clad Luffy shambled past the open door, and off to the entry-way, muttering and scratching his head.

Sanji went "Uh-oh," and scrambled out from under Zoro, to go rescue their food.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Breakfast was an odd, giddy affair. Half of them still on some strange alcohol fueled kick from last night, running on little sleep, and incipient hangovers to boot. The lot of them barely awake at that, and sort of drifting about in an addled daze, or in Ussop's case, still sleeping altogether. Nami wore bug-eyed sunglasses as she ate, still in Sanji's clothes, still smoking. She'd thrown up twice that morning, hungover like a dog, but weathered it with the aplomb of a seasoned drinker.

"And that's not even the sickest I've ever been," She explained, carefully spreading herb-cheese on a roll. "Oi, Zoro, remember that evil smelling stuff we brought back from Ussop's village?"

"Ech. Do I ever." Zoro made a grimace. "Tasted like turpentine, or cologne or something. We drank four bottles and puked for an entire day! Luffy was hella pissed."

"You wouldn't let me have any." Luffy muttered, pouring half the carafe of creamer into his coffee. "And who d'you think had to mop up after you two were done hosing all over my ship?"

"Ussop!" Nami cackled.

"Well, hey, I helped a lot." Luffy protested. "I even held your hair back..."

"And I appreciated it." Nami said sweetly.

"No-one held my hair back." Zoro sulked.

"Hah hah, you've barely got any! Why would you need me to?" Luffy barked, grinning.

"I've got feelings too, you know. You never even asked if I felt okay...Sanji always asks. He's so thoughtful." Zoro continued, flopping over Luffy half-backwards, and earning himself a shove. He made himself deadweight and flopped down further, until the enterprising Luffy popped a spit-slicked finger into Zoro's ear, and swirled.

Zoro let out a holler, and shoved Luffy's face into his cereal bowl. "Disgusting!!"

Sanji sighed a smoky sigh, and propped his face on his fist. For someone who'd been so reluctant to join them at the get-go, he always was the first to feel left out when they got like this. Yet he never complained. He simply eyed them wistfully, and smoked his cigarettes. Zoro did feel guilty for the cliquishness, but not by much.

The idiot would be back to his usual antics soon enough. He'd be included then, all right.

Sure enough, Sanji got frisky, later, and threw a grape down Nami's shirt--probably in the hopes of retrieving it afterwards--laughing and apologizing as she tried to wrestle him under the table and choke him. He was wearing another of her shirts--orange fitted tee, glittery red star on the chest stretched over his not unimpressive muscles--a pair of his own trousers, and a knit olive-green scarf around his neck. Nami discovered that it made quite a nice leash, as he tried to wiggle stealthily away.

"I'll let go when you promise to behave."

"Of course Miss Nami, anything for you, Miss Namiiii!"

Zoro wasn't too interested in their little power-plays at that hour, though he did spend some time puzzling over Sanji's sudden role reversal. A dandy in glitter, rakish, flamboyant, but a total man in the bedroom. Nami's bitch no matter where, no matter what.

Musing this, Zoro nursed his headache, and drank his coffee black; a milk-sodden Luffy collapsed, moaning, against his arm. "You have no head for alcohol, kid."

"Jeeez, don't kid me...I'm not that much younger."

"Well, you drink like a kid, and you act like a kid. Now eat your cereal and shut-up."

"Ew. Not after my head was in it! Peel me an orange."

"You can peel it yourself."

"I can, but I'd rather you do it for me. Pleeeease?"

Zoro complied, taking half the orange for himself, or a third anyway. He fed Sanji a few slices when he managed to evade Nami's grasp, and stood hanging over Zoro's shoulder, like a cat waiting to be fed.

Ussop was inside, sprawled face-down on the couch, only raising his head when Sanji crept up and held a coffee cup temptingly under his nose. "Ussop, coffee?"

"thnks"

"Ussop, breakfast?"

"'nthnks"

"You sure?"

"g'way."

Sanji grinned a knowing grin. "That's what I thought. At least eat some toast. You'll feel better, I promise."

Another sound of misery. "Sanji?"

"Yes, Ussop."

"I am never, ever, ever, drinking again. Ever."

"Hm. Never's a long time. Are you sure?"

Ussop raised his head, and glared at Sanji with bruised, hung-over eyes. Even way out on the veranda, they all shrank back. "EVER." He reiterated, then hastily added, "until I'm twenty."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Later on, they headed back into town, and split up to get the necessary shopping done. It would be their last full day on the island.

Luffy took it upon himself to handle the grocery list, which left Sanji to follow, completely at his mercy. Zoro tagged along to help with the heavy lifting, and Sanji said not a word about it. The weather was pleasant, not stifling hot, not particularly humid. Just right.

And Sanji was in a good enough mood, still a bit goofy since breakfast; and _still_ wearing Nami's shirt, scarf, and a pair of his own sunglasses. He slouched along, glittery, tomboyish thing, hands in pockets, hips shoved forward, cigarette in his mouth. Very male, despite every last affectation, or perhaps because of it. He took up space, and stood with his feet apart, when not moving; strode with authority when he was.

Zoro wanted to tug him off behind a tree and debauch him. But couldn't, with Luffy around, and shopping to accomplish.

"Oi, you know," said Luffy. "You guys walk the same."

"Huh?" Zoro had turned to look at Sanji, who was oblivious at the moment; smoking and striding along, cocksure, without a care in the world.

"You walk in step." Luffy insisted, with a tinge of awe and curiosity. "_Perfect_ step."

Zoro had shrugged. "Ah. I suppose we do." A grin crept up and caught him by surprise. "I never noticed it before."

"Oi, Zoro." Luffy said gravely, then, something which surprised him. "Some day, I hope I have a partnership with someone as strong as you two."

Sanji looked over without comment. Just watched them, just as surprised.

"Oh yeah?" Zoro grinned, with no small sense of brotherly pride. "With a girl, or a boy?"

"Ehh, a girl, I suppose. I'm not too worried about it yet, though." Luffy said, with a carefree shrug and a smirk.

"Hn." Sanji grunted, a short little laugh, and a puff of smoke. "When I was your age, no, _younger_, it was practically all I worried about." He'd waxed suddenly nostalgic, sighing, then, ashing his cigarette. "What a time it was."

Zoro laughed at him, loudly, rudely. "Ah, so jaded. And you're all of what? Eighteen?"

"Older!" Sanji growled. "It's not polite to ask a gentleman his age." He flicked ash again, and took a resentful drag of smoke.

"Sanji's twenty-five." Luffy said, frowning, bemused. "At least...that's what he told me."

Zoro, still walking, bent over a bit and peered at Sanji. He gave a light snort. "Well he lied, he's not twenty-five. If he's twenty-five, then I'm the stinkin' pope."

Sanji gritted his teeth, audibly, and sneered. "Idiot. How can you doubt my maturity?!?"

"Maturity? Pull the other one."

"Yeah, tempt me!" Sanji threatened, half-lunging at Zoro.

"Bite me, you big-headed baby."

"Now who's immature?"

"I know you are, but what am I?" Zoro shot back, grinning.

Sanji ground out a long-suffering sigh.

"All right, that was fun. But seriously," said Zoro. "How old are you? If you've been smoking for exactly as long as you said...your face would be like old leather by now."

"Is this leading up to another one of your lectures about the eeevilles of tobacco? 'Cause if it is, you can blow it out your rear."

"No, but now that you mention it--"

Sanji blew a huge cloud of smoke in Zoro's face, and continued walking, while Luffy quickly stepped in to prevent the inevitable foufaraw. Zoro sputtered and strained to get at Sanji, coughing, and barking after him:

"Fine, then, fucker! Keep smoking. Maybe, eventually, you'll cure yourself like beef-jerky. Or you'll start coughing black-lung oysters into the soup. See who'll want your cooking then!"

Sanji frowned, miffed, and not a little hurt. "Hey, that's taking things a bit far."

"How can you be so god-damned dense?"

"How can you--"

"Sanji, Zoro..." Luffy said, quietly, but ominously, in a way that brought them both up short. And when he had their full attention. "STOP FIIIIIIGHTIIIIING!!"

Birds exploded from the trees, leaving behind an eerie silence.

Zoro gave a small squeak, eyes large; Sanji simply gaped at him, and at Luffy. "But he--"

Luffy cut him off. "No, that's enough already. Can't you just give it a rest?"

Sanji looked at Zoro, and he at Sanji, askance. Then, in unison, they each pointed at the other and shouted: "But he started it!"

Luffy gave a small, perturbed growl, then cocked his hat, and jammed his hands into his pockets. He muttered as he walked away. "All right then, you two can stay here and settle this by yourselves. I'll be on my ship if you need me."

They glared at each other. For exactly five seconds. Both broke it off at the exact moment; Zoro rubbing the back of his head and looking sheepish. "Shit, did we just make Luffy abandon us?"

Sanji looked around guiltily, trying to figure out which narrow, winding, back-alley Luffy had disappeared down. It seemed he had indeed abandoned them. "I can't believe him." He muttered, ruefully. "It wasn't even a serious fight."

"Heh," Zoro chuckled. "Who says?"

"I say."

"Well, on what authority?"

"My authority!"

"Your authority's bullshit!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sanji's grin had taken on a sly tilt. "Well, whatta you plan on doing about it?"

Zoro looked around nervously at the small buildings and shops. They'd managed to cross into the center of town, out onto a small square with a fountain in the middle. A few people came and went, going about their daily businesses. From the open windows, other people watched: old men smoking pipes; bored children crowded up to the sills; busy housewives in the midst of chores, looking out upon the town and whoever happened past.

"I plan on kicking your ass," Zoro smirked. "Utterly, and thoroughly."

"You'll land us both in jail."

"So what? It'll be worth it."

"Right, then. Designate a time and place, I'm there!"

"Half an hour from now, out by the pier. Gingko berries at twenty paces, last man standing and all that crap."

Sanji nodded and saluted him, grinning. "Agreed. Go with god, my good man!" He suppressed a snicker, and turned on his heel to strut off. Zoro stooped, pegged a handful of gingko berries at his back, then quickly lit off in the other direction, whooping and hollering like a mad-man, Sanji in hot pursuit.

So they ran, sweating and gasping in the heat, off into a dense thicket of jungle, not stopping until the last bit of daylight was barely visible, cut off by the lush canopy of leaves. It was there that Zoro pinned Sanji against the trunk of a giant tree, and kissed his laughing mouth. Sanji tore at Zoro's clothes, and rubbed against him, the planes of his body warm and live. The hard jut of his cock, pulsing under Zoro's hand.

"tell me what you want..."

Sanji growling against his mouth, hungry, and climbing his leg, gone from zero-to-desperate in a very short time-span. "I want it against the tree." he hissed against Zoro's neck, pushing against him with quick, hard thrusts. "Lift me up..." He quickly yanked down Zoro's trousers, then his own, and tried to wrap a leg around Zoro's waist.

"Whoa," said Zoro, between kisses. "I don't know if that's gonna work."

"I'm limber," Sanji panted, toeing off his shoes.

"I know, but there's no oil..."

"Oh. We'll improvise then."

So, they improvised, in the usual fashion. And things were going great. Until Zoro had to get too caught up, and blurt out something he probably shouldn't have, while coming. Once it was out, it wasn't like he could take it back. It didn't even have time to hang there, Sanji bucking against him, eyes gone wide with shock, too caught off guard to do more than squeak.

And, oops.

The silence afterwards was like the proverbial elephant in the room, large, ungainly, a little embarassed to be there. Neither of them said anything while they cleaned up and quickly rearranged rumpled clothing. Not until Sanji toed his shoes back on, and looked at Zoro, then looked away, blushing.

"Oi, Sanji...you okay?"

"I told you," Sanji said, already edging on irriated, fingercombing his hair back into place. "I'm fine!"

Zoro just cleared his throat, nervously, wishing there were a bed nearby to crawl into, and sheets to pull up over his head. "Yeah, but, that was--I mean--I didn't mean to--it slipped out."

"Zoro?" Sanji grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt, looked him directly in the eye, "Shut-up with the apologies. What's said is said. You don't have to take it back, okay?"

"What was all that then?"

"All what?"

"You know...all that."

"I'm fine. Stop acting all wierd."

"I'm not acting all wierd. You are!"

"It's just a word, okay? I told you, it's fine." Sanji pulled away, shoving more hair out of his eyes, straightening his sunglasses. "Hn. Come on, let's just try and catch up with the others."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Eh, what's eating you?" Ussop had turned from the window display he'd been eyeing. His arms were already weighed down with packages, and Nami was sure to be back with more at any moment.

Zoro all but jumped out of his skin, but failed to answer, still too caught up in whatever was currently "eating him". He and Sanji hadn't succeeded in catching up with Luffy at that juncture; but they had, however, managed to run into Nami at the local Curio Cabinet. She'd already made quite a dent in the small-provisions list, but left much of the serious kitchen-related acquisitions for Sanji to handle. They'd made their way to the food-market, and split up from there.

Sanji had left Zoro to his own devices, without so much as a word, to wander alone. Which he'd done, woefully out of sorts, until he was well and truly lost. Ussop had bumped into him by chance, and pretty much made it his mission to keep an eye on Zoro. Like he'd needed watching, or taking care of. Him.

"Yo, Zoro. I said, what's eating you?"

Zoro tried to fold in on himself, sitting, as he was, crouched with his back against the wall. "Hn, it's...nothing."

"Really? That didn't look like a 'nothing' kind of look to me. Did you and Sanji have a fight, or something?"

"What?!? No. I mean...not that it's even any of your business...but, no."

"So what's your problem, lately? This whole time you've been walking around, looking like you just lost your best friend. Or stepped on a bug." Ussop frowned gravely, eyebrows doing an uneasy dance. "With you, it's sometimes hard to tell.

"Have I?" Zoro had asked ruefully. Though, he was pretty certain he had. "I was just thinking about...stuff. That's all."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Nothing I can talk about with you."

Ussop gave a snort, smirking at him. "So it's about sex then, huh?"

"No. And...even if it was...which it isn't, it's still not something I'd discuss with you."

"Why not? Afraid I'll tell somebody?" Ussop teased, grinning, waggling his eyebrows.

"No. There's nothing _to_ tell. You wouldn't understand anyway."

"Hey, age isn't always commensurate with experience, you know."

"Tch. What kind of experience are we talking about here? And don't give me some big exaggerated tale of the dozens of girls you've seduced."

"Fine, I won't. There was only one girl, and there still _is_ only one girl." Ussop had sighed, genuinely wistful. "What counts is the time we spent together, and the true, amazing, _heartfelt_ love we shared. The kind of devotion they compose songs about, Zoro! In fact, there was a song. It was popular for a whole six months. We won awards for it."

Well, Ussop wouldn't be Ussop if there wasn't _some_ embellishment.

"So, whatever it is you're not telling me, it's probably nothing I don't already know about. I mean...generally speaking. Love is love, isn't it?"

At that moment, Zoro had decided, he could not possibly have felt worse. Much to his embarrassment, he felt a lump rise into his throat; but it was an angry lump.

"Oi, Zoro? Zoro, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, damn it!" he snapped, muttering, as he turned stubbornly to face the direction opposite. "That's enough out of you."

"What'd I do?"

Zoro folded his arms, tightly. "Nothing. Just forget it. Anyway, it's not love. It's not anything like that."

"Could've fooled me." Was all Ussop said, casually, before turning back to the display, and fogging the window.

Could've fooled me. Zoro bit the inside of his cheek, hard, and it was all he could do not to fire back with some snarky self-incriminating little comment. Because, maybe the twerp had something there.

And he kept thinking back on Sanji's words that day, in the galley, and cursed himself for a fool. Perhaps he'd just made his very last stupid mistake.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was about two in the afternoon by the time they caught up with Sanji again; and by then, Zoro had other worries on his mind. Such as food. His stomach had started to growl audibly, and Ussop kept on teasing him about it, until a casual threat of violence put an end to that.

They'd scoured the streets twice over already, looking, until Zoro heard faint snatches of a familiar voice. And from the direction of said voice, like a beacon, trailed a faint streamer of smoke.

"Sanji!" He'd hailed him from across the crowded fish-market. "Yo, Sanji, it's us!" He was so momentarily happy, he forgot himself, waving his arms, jumping up and down like a buffoon. Ussop had joined the hailing, too, not one to be left out.

"Sanji, oi, Sanji, don't pretend you can't hear us. I can see your noxious smoke-trail from over here!"

An answering shout, and Sanji's voice _carried_. "Keep your pants on, shit-head. I heard you both the first time."

Above the swimming sea of tourists, and their ugly hats, Zoro spied Sanji's hand held up high; another, familiar hand in his grip. They waved, and then disappeared.

"Hang on, don't go anywhere!" Sanji came weaving through the crowd, triumphantly dragging Luffy in tow by one long taffy-stretched arm. "Guess who I found?"

Luffy grinned as the rest of him caught up, knocking Sanji off balance. Zoro, moving purely on instinct, juked, lunged and caught him--along with his two sacks of groceries--before disaster struck. Luffy reeled his arm back, and grinned an all too knowing grin. Sanji blushed furiously, and bristled.

"Yo, Sanji. That was a close one." Zoro wasn't sure why, but he felt like grinning. For all of Sanji's glaring, he had every opportunity to disentangle himself, and be free; but he simply glowered and let Zoro give him a squeeze. Prickly, but self-satisfied knowing he was loved--or simply liked, whichever the less scary thing was.

"Hn, moron, you can let me go already." He gave a chagrined little smirk, and half-heartedly pushed against Zoro's chest.

Zoro remained stubborn. "Don't think I wanna do that."

Sanji's eyes darted nervously around. "You don't mind that everyone's staring?"

"Let 'em stare. If they've got something to say about it, they'll have me to answer to." After a brief while, he let go, but left one arm slung over Sanji's shoulders. It stayed there, casual and companionable, as they rescued Ussop from the crowd, and sought out Nami.

Locating her did not take long, and afterwards, they all adjourned to their tiny cafe of choice, already regulars. They ordered far too much food, and drank beer rather than wine. If they talked a bit too loud, and stayed a bit too long, no one complained. Nami chatted up one of the waitresses, while Sanji looked on, moon-eyed. They ordered very small, strong cups of coffee, and a desert which arrived on fire. It would be a shame, all agreed, when they had to leave.

Zoro, feeling the effects of the beer on top of the day's weight of activity, had been all too happy to just sit there, and lean against Sanji a bit. He hadn't made an attempt to really talk to him--not more than a few words--but that didn't matter. Words were stupid anyway. So, better to let actions speak for him.

The fact that Sanji leaned against him, in return, and didn't pull away; that was telling. His knee touching Zoro's under the table, and his relaxed air, also telling. He was quiet, and close, and
comfortable, and that said more to Zoro than any stumbling awkward thing he could've coughed out. No questions, no apologies. Perhaps Sanji was right, and Zoro _was_ the one who'd been acting wierd.

It was only a word. It wasn't a word Zoro tended to just toss about, willy-nilly...but then, maybe others didn't invest the same importance in it that he did. Hell, take a look at Luffy. He loved everything. He loved food. He loved soap. He loved his own damned feet with the same intensity that he loved his hat. He loved love, but didn't seem to feel it was that big a thing.

Zoro sort of envied him that. But it _was_ only a word. Just like 'shitty' was only a word. Just because Sanji called everything shitty, did that make it literally so? No.

So why did it nag at him, still, like a parasite in his gut? Shouldn't have said it. Should have left well enough alone. Shouldn't have made things awkward.

"Hey, Zoro," Sanji murmured at his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Just peachy," he answered, somewhat vacantly. "Why do you ask?"

"You haven't touched your beer."

"Oh. I was just thinking."

"Really?" Sanji lit a cigarette. "Well, careful you don't strain something."

Again, why'd he have to go and say it?

**********************************************************

It was an almost painfully beautiful morning when they set out from town--painfully perfect blue sky, scattered with perfect fluffy cumulus clouds, and a perfect sun overhead. A light breeze blew, heavy with the scent of flowers, scattering with it gentle showers of petals from the trees they passed.

They'd taken about two or three trips from Hotel to pier, to gather their two week's accumulation of supplies and various other sundries. During their stay, Nami had managed to acquire several more bags of clothing, from the local consignment:

"Actually, half of these are for you guys. Especially you, Zoro."

Zoro had tweaked, quickly looking down at himself. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"Nothing. Except, that's all you ever wear."

Meanwhile, there was Sanji, in the background, holding a pair of black gaucho pants and a white oxford shirt against himself. "Miss Nami has such wonderful taste!"

Zoro quailed. "Most of these are...women's." He said, warily inspecting one bag's contents.

"They are not! Look, here's a size large...at least try it on."

Zoro made a concession to the basketball shorts and tank, but balked when Nami suggested chucking his beloved haramaki.

"It doesn't exactly go," She prodded his mid-section. "It's ruining the line of the clothes."

Sanji butted in. "At least untuck your shirt, you're an embarrassment like this!" He yanked Zoro's shirt up, and matter-of-factly rearranged it.

"I will so kick your ass for that." Zoro promised, but he let the shirt hang, readjusting a bit for his swords.

Trip number one put an end to the clothing problem, for the time-being. They loaded the lot of them to the deck, and left them to sort later. The dry goods and utensils were next, loaded onto two small carts, and also left to sort later. Trip three included a long detour around town, to acquire the huge fish Sanji had ordered, pulled fresh from the water that morning. Also acquired: two large sacks of rice, another crate of smaller salt-fish, a freezer crate with fresh meat, and another with cured salt-meat. There was also a palette of vegetables, fruit, and eggs, packed carefully with straw, and drawn by two loaned oxen.

Sanji, at the head of the group, kept the oxen on a steady course, as he sang some boisterous off-key tune--the gist of which seemed to involve whiskey, whiskey, and more whiskey. He grinned as he kept a very watchful eye on the palettes, and fumbled to light a cigarette; while Zoro trudged wearily, but contentedly behind, grimacing each time Sanji hit a high note.

Nami kept pace a bit behind them, drawing another small pallette loaded with fertilizer, and several medium-sized potted plants; while, bringing up the distant rear, Usopp and Luffy staggered under the weight of the enormous, canvas-wrapped, fish.

"Oi, you two," Sanji called back cheerfully, "You'd better be careful with that. When we get back, I'm going to prepare a special dish for our lovely Miss Nami!"

Behind him, Zoro made a quizzical face. "tch."

"Oh, you can have some too, of course." Sanji said, rather sweetly. "Yup. Plenty for everyone." He then turned and gave Zoro an expectant look.

Zoro cocked his head, face a perfect blank. "What?"

"I'm going to need help cleaning and scaling it of course...something this large takes a lot of time. It'd go much quicker with two people..."

Zoro groaned, slumping, albeit good-naturedly. "Shoulda known. I always get the slimy jobs."

Sanji just grinned. "Congratulations, you just volunteered."

Zoro grumbled. "You were looking right at me. That's not fair. I un-volunteer!"

"Tch. Too late."

"Shit, Sanji." Zoro wimpered. "How about a nap first?" He dragged his feet for a few paces, looking quite worn, and not a bit sore--from his wounds, most likely. But still, smiling a slightly dazed smile. The same one he'd worn all day.

"Fine, fine. It can sit in the cold-room for a while." Sanji began humming tunelessly, then, pausing only when Zoro 'accidentally' tangled one of his legs and tripped him.

"Oi, quit fucking around!" Sanji barked, having grabbed one of the oxen's beards to keep from falling. He now had a hand covered in bovine snot, and god knew what else, which he tried frantically to flap away. "Don't think I won't retaliate, just 'cause you're injured."

"Bring it, dirt-bag!" Zoro challenged with a grin, trying to tangle Sanji's feet again, until one of the oxen skunk-eyed him, and swung its head in warning.

Sanji, not missing an opportunity, stuck out one of his long, long legs, and tried to clothesline Zoro over the palette.

Nami skipped a few steps ahead, and quickly pulled the two of them apart, snarling. "Not now, you two morons! We've delayed enough already. If you'd like to continue your _foreplay_ once we get back to Going Merry, that's fine. But not out here!"

Zoro choked and turned a healthy shade of red, which he quickly tried to hide behind the sacks of rice on his shoulder.

Sanji played innocent. "Whatta you mean, Miss Nami?"

"'fmatta yew mean mi' nami'." Zoro taunted under his breath.

Sanji's head jerked around, and he barked even louder. "That's real fucking mature!"

"He's just trying to egg you on, Sanji." Ussop called out. "Ignore it."

"Just wait'll we get back." Sanji muttered gravely.

"Che'." Zoro snorted. "You're all talk, baka cook. I know you're not gonna do anything. You're too damnded in--"

"Zoro, shut up..." Sanji hissed.

"Oi, don't tell me what to do!"

"Don't snap at me!"

"Don't be so stubborn!"

"Don't be such a moron!"

"I'm not a--"

"Ba~ka, ai ben, balalao, agilipallao, moron."

"Oi, you want a language battle? Chingate!" Zoro extended a middle finger, and grabbed at his crotch. "Up yours."

Sanji grinned, all fangs. "You wish."

Zoro glared daggers and muttered under his breath. "Don't have to."

Sanji lunged, grabbing a fistful of Zoro's shirt, the veins in his neck jumping. Packages flew everywhere. "Watch what you say, ya dirty lech! Nami's standing right there--"

"Oi, where do you get off calling _me_ the lech?"

Nami continued to watch them both, saying nothing, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Fine choice of words."

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

Zoro wrapped Sanji's tie in his fist, easily yanking him forward, rice sacks precariously balanced. "You don't order me around. I'm my own fucking person, you got that?"

And they were back to square one, nose to nose and snarling. "Ara, I think you two fought _less_ before you started boinking." Nami mused offhand.

They both froze, mid throttle. Sanji had gone white.

"We did what!?" Zoro frowned, Sanji's tie still wrapped around his fist; and one utterly indignant Sanji at the end of it, cigarette dangling from his lower lip.

"This is getting repetative." Nami said with another wave, "I don't care in any case. If you two want to kill each other, I won't stop you. Just do it quickly, so we can get going already."

Then she walked on a few paces, leaving them in guilty silence, as the others strove to catch up.

"Yo," Hailed Luffy, grinning. "What was that all about?"

Sanji tapped Zoro's head with his foot, muttering. "Nothing. I told you to be careful with that!"

"I am, I am." Luffy sighed. "I don't see why we always hafta get stuck carrying your stinky fishes." He spared a glance back at Ussop, tail end hoisted over his shoulder, frowning and sweating unhappily.

"That's fish, numbnut." Sanji said, mildly, smoothing out his tie. Zoro had bent to retrieve some of their dropped parcels, and wordlessly handed them back to Sanji, rice sacks still balanced on his shoulder.

"And it had better not stink." Sanji added. "Otherwise, it's not fresh, and we'll have to take it back."

Luffy grumbled gamely. "All fish stinks to me."

"Well, then you don't have to eat it."

Luffy stuck out his tongue. Sanji calmly reached out a hand and grabbed it. He gave a yank, pulling, until he had about an armslength of stretchy, pink, gum-gum tongue in his grasp. Luffy made several angry and unintelligable noises; unable to retaliate with the fish held over his head. Behind him, Ussop chortled noisily.

"Oi, if you're done fucking around, Sanji..." Zoro cut in, giving him a sharp nudge. "I'd really like to get back. And let go of that, who knows where else it's been?"

Sanji complied, with one last rubber-band stretch, the recoil snapping Luffy's head back. Luffy made exaggerated spitting noises, and aimed a half-serious kick at Sanji's backside. "Oi, next time you can carry your own fish, Sanji! I'm sick of being your chore-boy. It might've flown on the Baratie, but _I'm_ the boss now! Hey!" He aimed another kick.

Sanji ignored him, neatly sidestepping the kick. "Why? Eager for another round, Zoro?" He pouted. "Well, you can just forget it. You might make Miss Nami jealous."

"Hey, if she wants, she can have you." Zoro muttered, trudging along as he had before.

"Oh no, he's all yours, Zoro." Nami called back over her shoulder, turning to wink. "Blonds aren't really my thing."

Zoro twitched, wide-eyed, and called back. "Stay out of this! It's bad enough you want me to dress like him...there's no way you're gonna lead me around on a string!"

Sanji bristled in mock affront. "I think my feelings are hurt."

"Ooo-hooo!" Ussop sing-songed mockingly, from a ways back. "Want me to kiss 'em and make it all better, Saaaan~jiii-kuuun?"

Luffy snickered. "Want me to lick 'em?" He stuck his tongue out again, waggling it daringly.

Sanji turned his head furiously, careful not to dislodge any of his packages, and snarled. "Not if you were the last two bi-pedal organisms on earth."

"Now _my_ feelings are hurt!" Luffy mocked, glaring daggers. "On principle!

Ussop made a face. "You probably taste nasty, anyway. Like an ashtray." As if to emphasize this, he spat on the ground. "Biida!"

"Yeah, but it kind of grows on you." Zoro muttered lightly, almost to himself.

If anyone heard, they gave no acknowlegement, and that suited him just fine.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The third trip took far longer than they'd anticipated.

Zoro didn't want to admit it, but not even halway back, he was feeling winded; far worse than his playful footdragging might indicate. Sanji started eyeing him, dropping back to keep pace with him when he fell behind. The oxen seemed to know the way without his help, and kept on, oblivious.

Pretty soon, Luffy and Ussop had dropped back as well, both keeping an eye on Zoro. He spared them an irate bark. "Stop looking at me like that, I'm fine!"

Nami turned around and started to double back. "Don't be pig-headed, Zoro. No-one's life is at stake here, it's okay if you need a break. I'll just have to go ahead without you is all."

"Nope. I'm okay, we're almost there, anyway. I think I can see the mainsail from here..."

Sanji 'tched' him with mild vexation. "That's a lamp-post. Besides, the harbor is that way." He pointed off to the left, where the road began to fork past a large dune. "You sure you don't wanna switch loads with me?"

Zoro shifted the rice sacks. "This is way too heavy for you, I'm fine."

Sanji scrutinized his face for a moment. "No you're not. Come on, idiot, we're stopping to rest."

Zoro glowered straight ahead, but stood at pause, sweating and resentful. Let Sanji get a good look at him pouting. Bastard.

"What about your fish, Sanji?" asked Luffy.

"All of you just go ahead. We'll catch up." Sanji set his bags down, and fished a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it from the butt of the last one. "Zoro..." His tone held a mild warning. Unmistakable.

"stupid cook..." Zoro muttered, teeth gritting as he set the two fifty pound rice sacks down in the road. The muscles along his sides crawled and twitched in protest. Suddenly, he felt like sitting down, trudged over to the shade of a tree, and did so; collapsing awkwardly against the trunk and sliding down. Sanji joined him with a sigh.

Zoro glared at him. "If you expect me to lay my head in your lap, you can just forget it."

"You'd only be spiting yourself."

"Fine." Zoro harumphed, toppling over stiffly, and laying his angry head on Sanji's thigh. "Happy?" He grated.

"Oh, ecstatic," Sanji dead-panned. "Be honest with me. How bad is it?"

Zoro allowed himself a slight moment of inventory. In truth, he didn't feel well. Not well at all. But he could remember feeling worse. He said as much. "I've had worse than this. It'll take more than a little infection to lay me up."

"So it is infected." Sanji frowned over him. "We should've gone to a doctor."

"I went to the chemist when we got here." Zoro waved his hand dismissively. "He gave me some pills."

"You shouldn't just take pills without seeing a doctor first. How do you know they're the right ones?"

"Don't lecture me. I do this all the time. Haven't died yet."

"Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything. Remember your ambition?" Sanji muttered at him, quietly. "What would happen if you got _really_ sick? Or lost the use of your arm? Or--"

"I have another arm, and I've got my mouth." Zoro muttered back, then, a bit flustered. "Why do you worry about me so much?"

"I thought we've been over all this. I'm just looking out for you. Fuck-head. Because you won't do it for yourself. I'll always look out for you, 'cause that's what partners do."

"Partners?"

"Yeah, like your word...nakama."

"They're not the same." Zoro muttered.

"No?"

"Listen up. Before you butcher any more of my language: Nakama is something more like a brother, something like family...not necessarily blood-related. Saying you're like one of my family is pretty strong,"

"Yeah, but aren't we like family? We sure fight like it," a ruminative pause. "Do you really love me?"

"Yeah, like I do Luffy, and Nami, and even Ussop."

"That's a crock."

"It's not."

"You don't fuck Luffy, Nami, or Ussop. At least, not that _I_ know of."

"Fine. So I meant it a little differently."

"I know you did. Just admit it."

Zoro laid a hand on Sanji's thigh, and squeezed lightly. "I love you, all right? S'got nothing to do with the sex. I like it and all, but there's more than that. You know? It's like, we get each other. I dunno how else to explain it."

"Yeah. So?"

Zoro sighed against Sanji's leg. "I'd be proud to call you nakama. Just don't get all full of yourself. Okay?"

Sanji said nothing for a minute, just laying his hand on Zoro's upper back, and rubbing. "Heh. Okay."

They sat quietly for another moment, a long one, Zoro let his eyes slip closed, telling himself he was only going to rest for a second. Sleep seemed to tug at him like a weight, though, and it would've been all too easy to just let it take him. Sleep there under a tree and not worry about the waiting ship, not worry about anything for that matter. And so what if he did die? It's not like he'd notice, being asleep and all. The weight was so heavy, and he could feel it growing heavier. Pulling him. What if he just let it take him?

His eyes flew open in a panic.

"You wanna sleep?" Sanji asked quietly.

Zoro shook his head hard, which helped for all of an instant. He was awake now, but quite dizzy as well. "Not here. Let's just get back..." He wobbled upright.

"You sure? I mean, if you wanna nap for fifteen minutes, I don't mind."

He'd already re-shouldered his load, bending laboriously at the knees, and standing with a shocked grunt. He just shook his head, not turning, trusting Sanji was just behind him. And Sanji was.

If the walk back had seemed long before, it seemed even longer now. Zoro let himself numb to it after a while, head down, barely noticing the scenery that crawled past. Dumbly obeying Sanji's directions of: "turn here, this way, just a little further, watch out for that rock."

In that way, he kept on, not even noticing they'd reached the ship until Sanji stopped him.

"Zoro, we're here."

Hand heavy on his shoulder, prompting him to look up, the rough wooden hull mere feet from his nose. Luffy was waiting there to meet them, and he quickly grabbed a bag and handed it off to Ussop, then the other. Zoro was left feeling strangely weightless with the absense, as if he could just take off and fly up over the rail. He grinned, wobbling on his feet, the world tilting strangely.

"Oi, Zoro!" Sanji dropped everything, and caught Zoro as he listed dangerously to one side. "Take it easy, shit-head." He grumbled, supporting him upright, all but dragging him to the gang-plank.

"I can climb the rope..." Zoro slurred, body moving him forward with a will of its own; pretty much on autopilot, without an ounce of real strength. He let it, hating the feeling, but trusting it to do its work. His hands groped forward for the rope, and closed on empty air. Sanji's hand squeezed his shoulder, preventing what could have been a rather embarassing spill.

"Too late, we're already on board."

Zoro sagged in disappointment "Mouuu." Sanji supported his full weight now, a vague impression of warmth at Zoro's side. He tried to look up, but his eyelids were so heavy he only managed it half-way. Everything around him seemed to take place from a distance, and he felt strangely detatched. He knew the punch-drunk feeling from experience, and wasn't alarmed; but he could only imagine what everyone else must've thought, staring at him like that.

Luffy dashed over to them, carrying several bags and packages, "Sanji, I brought the rest of your stuff up. You dropped it."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Eh." Luffy shrugged, then bent down to Zoro's eyelevel, face wrought with concern. "Zoro, are you okay? Zoro! Say something!"

"I'm fine." Zoro grumbled. "Don't worry about me, worry about getting us under way."

"He's just tired." Sanji said, weight of his arm steady at the middle of Zoro's back. "And he's going straight to bed without any arguments. Or else."

"Che'." Zoro spat weakly. The next thing he remembered, after that, was his back meeting something soft. He sank gratefully into the mattress, just conscious of a presence beside him, and somebody gently undressing him.

It was only Sanji, or he would've raised an almighty stink about such treatment. As it was, he was too sleepy to even thank him properly, the weight once again tugging him down. He let it take him, pulling the dark around him like a blanket, only distantly aware of Sanji sinking down next to him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When he woke, it was still light out, the space beside him was warm, but empty. He rolled into it, an experimental stretch yielding sore muscles and burning skin. His side still ached, and the sick feeling had not quite faded. But again, he could remember feeling worse. Yawning, Zoro rolled to his feet, scratched his head, stepped into a pair of pants, and rambled off in search of Sanji, coffee, and or food. He found Sanji in the galley, sprawled at the table with a cigarette, coffee, and the morning paper. A bright sunny grin greeted Zoro as he walked past, foggily searching for a mug.

"Yo, Zoro, it's on the table."

"Oh." He looped back and sank into a chair. Sanji poured his coffee, eyes sliding back to his paper, never spilling a drop.

"Where is everybody?"

Sanji set down the carafe, and pushed the sugar dish towards Zoro's hand. "Down on the deck, doing whatever. I saved you a few sandwiches, they're sitting in the fridge."

"Sandwiches for breakfast, Sanji?"

"Nope. Sandwiches for lunch, which was..." he checked his watch, "...several hours ago."

Zoro choked on his coffee. "You let me sleep past lunch?"

Sanji finally looked up. "You needed it. Calm down, the world didn't grind to a halt in your absence. It's not as if you don't sleep most of the afternoon anyway."

"Well...that's 'cause I train all morning. Shit. How many hours did I lose?"

"You'll make it up some other time."

Zoro slumped back in his chair, arms folded, pouting. "If I take that lazy attitude, then I'll never become the best."

"You're already the best I know."

Zoro blushed, but took umbrage all the same. It was the principal of the thing. "Then I wanna be better. Better than the best!"

"If that's what you want. " Sanji sighed philosophically. "Now go eat something. You're going to need your energy to help me with dinner."

Zoro favored him a curious sidelong glance, before helping himself to the contents of the ice-box. He wolfed down a few sandwiches, and a bowl of sliced fruit, then took care of the dishes without a word of complaint. Sanji watched him casually the entire time.

"Admiring the view?" Zoro teased, back turned, as he dried his plate.

"And why the hell not?" Sanji answered, voice smirking.

Not two minutes passed, before the galley door banged open, and Luffy came bounding in; slinging himself literally around Zoro's neck, and hanging there.

"Oi, Zoro! Watcha doing?"

"Dishes. You wanna help, or you wanna stretch out my neck?" With seemingly infinite patience, Zoro peeled one long, rubbery arm away, and then the other.

"Ah, never underestimate the virtues of a stretched neck!" Luffy said, sagely, stretching his own neck to illustrate.

Sanji watched them, and nodded to himself. "Just like family." He mused, before returning to his paper.

**************************************************************

Over the course of the next three weeks, Zoro kicked his infection, and resumed training at a near fanatical pace. He worked out harder than ever, and seemed to sleep more than ever. Sanji asked him one night--after a particularly grueling session left him passed out against the galley door--if he was purposely wearing himself out to avoid sex. Sanji got only a grunt in reply.

They crossed hundreds of leagues, and passed several small island chains. They rescued a dragon, and helped a small girl, and fought amongst themselves as if nothing had changed. But on rare nights, when Sanji could count on finding Zoro alone, or vice versa, they slipped into old habits like well-worn pairs of shoes. The moments were all the more intense for being few and far between, and they learned to savor them, quietly, in the time intervening. During one of these rare moments, Sanji sat up and mused: "I think you're beginning to rub off on me. Or is that vice-versa?"

"I thought we weren't keeping score of that stuff any more?"

"Not what I meant, you nit. I mean your influence. It's almost like, we season each other. We could be the perfect dish, you know."

Zoro rolled over and tried, unsuccessfully, to kick him out of the hammock. "NO, still a little on the salty side."

But he understood the truth of it. The way he knew how Sanji tasted, because it was always on his tongue, that faint impression of tabacco, like spice, or sugar. He'd always bear it, no matter what happened, all across East Blue, to the next island, wherever and whenever that happened to be. And that suited him just fine.

**************************************************************

~end~

When they beat upon a broken guitar
And on the streets, they reek of tropical charms
The embassies lie in hideous shards
Where tourists snore and decay

When they dance in a reptile blaze
You wear a mask, an equatorial haze
Into the past, a colonial maze
Where there's no more confetti to throw

You wouldn't know what to say to yourself
Love is a poverty you couldn't sell
Misery waits in vague hotels to be evicted
You're out of luck, you're singing funeral songs
To the studs, they're anabolic and bronze
They seem to strut in their millenial fogs
Until they fall down and deflate

You wouldn't know what to say to yourself
Love is a poverty you couldn't sell
Misery waits in vague hotels to be evicted

Oh now you've had your fun under an air-conditioned sun
It's burned into your eyes, leaves you plain and left behind
I see them rise and fall into the jaws of a pestilent love
You wouldn't know what to say to yourself
Love is a poverty you couldn't sell
Misery waits in vague hotels to be a victim

Beck--Tropicalia