Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You are worthless, a failure. A stain on my legacy. You will never amount to anything, yet I cannot bring myself to kill my own blood. Nor can I let the world be aware of my failure.

Cold eyes glare impassively beneath a golden helm.

“Reiju, return him to his cell. I’ll deal with your disobedience later.”

The small, pink haired girl nods, appearing calm and indifferent, but her eyes shine as she approaches Sanji.

He trembles, his voice squeaking, “No, no… Reiju, no, don't take me back there. Dad, please! Just let me go! I promise I’ll never tell anyone who I am or where I’m from! Please, dad!”

The towering form of Vinsmoke Judge turns away, pocketing the knife Sanji had threatened him with, and closing up the hidden safe of keys to the dungeon.

In a teary blur, Sanji finds himself back in his cell while Reiju straightens the bars back to closed. He sobs as she leaves without a word. He throws himself at the bars, standing much higher than her eleven year old head. “Please, Reiju, don’t leave me. You’re not supposed to leave me… I’m not supposed to be in here…”

A sickening clang echoes through the cell as he presses his head against the bars, reaching out for his sister. The iron helmet presses into his forehead and jaw more harshly than he remembers, as if it had remained the same size while its user grew into a man over thirteen years. His sobs intensify. “Please, please let me go. It’s not supposed to be like this. I’ll be good. Ich werde brav sein. Ich werde ein guter Junge sein. Das verspreche ich. Bitte lass mich gehen.”German: I'll be good. I'll be a good boy. I promise. Please let me go.

His world feels like it is crumbling as the last light from the door disappears and he is left in the dark. His sobs continue as the darkness crawls over his skin like so many bugs.

“ Ich werde brav sein. Bitte!German: I'll be good. Please! Reiju, come back! Help me! This isn’t right. Someone… help!”

“No one can hear you,” says a smooth, cold baritone voice. Ice climbs up Sanji’s spine. That voice is eerily familiar, yet unfamiliar.

“Hallo? Wer ist da?” German: Hello? Who is there?

“Vraiment? French: Really? I literally was speaking Standard.”

“Who… who are you?”

A mirthless chuckle echoes through the cell. “Oh, I’m sure you know the answer to that, Saaaanjiii.”

Sanji’s eyes adjust to the darkness and in the shadows, he sees a silhouette of a lean, muscular man approximately his same height, with three spikes of black hair, sunglasses, and a sharp, cold smile reflecting the weak light. As the figure’s features come into better focus, he sees it… the man has a spiraling eyebrow over his left eye. But where the curl of Sanji’s left eyebrow is above his nose, this man’s eyebrow curls toward his ear, just like Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji’s eyebrows.

“No… no…”

“Oh, yes…”

“But… Zoro promised…”

“‘Zoro promised,’” the man (Sanji? Other Sanji?) mocks. “And you trusted him? How could you be so naive? Has our life taught you nothing? Relying on others is a weakness.”

None of this sounds right… Zoro’s whole life revolves around keeping promises… even if he hated Sanji… and not relying on others is what got him into trouble on Zou…

“No, that’s not true… Zoro wouldn’t…”

“Does it really matter anyway? You know this is inevitable. Nothing is stronger than Germa tech. Not your foot, not your stupid swordsman, not your captain, and certainly not the poison Mother drank.”

Sanji chokes on a sob. “No… that’s not… this can’t be real… you’re lying.”

The other man barks out a cold, cruel laugh. “What reason would I have to lie? What could I possibly gain from lying to a failure like you? You couldn’t escape Germa, you couldn’t even die right! How many times has it been? The Orbit, the Rock, Enel’s lightning, Kuma? Scheiße German: Shit , you’re like a cockroach.”

The voice is even closer now, echoing within the iron helmet. “Wake up, stupid cook! This is your reality now! Wake up!”

The man grabs him in the darkness. He jumps, hitting the helmet against the bars of his cell. “No! Don’t hurt me! I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Ich werde brav sein!” German: I’ll be good!

“Wake up, Cook. Curly. Stop! It’s me.”

“No! I’ll be good! Don’t hurt me!”

The touch became firmer, more insistent. Sanji’s begging became unintelligible—a panicked mixture of Germish and World Government Standard.

“Shhh… shhh… Curly, it’s okay. You’re having a nightmare. It’s just me. I’ve got you,” a warm, familiar voice broke through the panic. Sanji clutched at the solid warmth supporting him and curled inward, blindly chasing the comfort being offered. A broad hand rubbed up and down his shoulders, giving him something to focus on to regulate his breathing.

As Sanji’s eyes opened in the dim light of the men’s cabin, he realized he had not shoved his face into his pillow, but, rather, the plush chest of the last person he expected to be helping him in this situation.

You know that’s not true, whispered a voice in Sanji’s head. And when Sanji thinks about it, he knows that. Objectively speaking, Zoro is one of the most reliable people Sanji knows and he would never let a crew member suffer if he could help it, even if he didn’t always approach things the way Sanji would.

Sanji choked on snot and tears as they rolled down his airway. Sitting bolt upright from choking, he clocked his head on Zoro’s chin. Zoro hissed in pain and leaned away slightly, giving Sanji space, but not releasing his hold, just loosening it.

“Better?” Zoro asked, his voice lacking his usual confidence.

Sanji just shrugged and looked for one of the handkerchiefs he had stored in his bunk. Before he could find one though, a familiar black bandana was in front of his face. Hands trembling from the adrenaline, he took it with a raspy “thanks,” not even able to complain about the cleanliness of the fabric for once.

He wiped the tears from his face and looked questioningly at Zoro, who nodded and mumbled “go ahead,” before he blew his nose and started wiping off the snot.

“I’ll clean it later today,” Sanji whispered, pocketing the bandana. Zoro nodded and scooched a little farther away, giving Sanji more space to breathe, but keeping his hand on his back.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds Luffy’s snores and the whirring of Franky’s motor. Sanji heard Zoro muffle a yawn, bringing him back into the moment.

“I’m gonna head to the galley, get a head start on breakfast.”

Zoro nodded. “Mind if I come with? I was thinking of having some tea before bed anyway.”

Sanji shrugged and moved to put on some fresh clothes for the day. He decided to eschew his usual suit for now, opting instead to pull on his favorite blue hoodie with some basic slacks.

They left the boy’s cabin in silence, with only the sound of Zoro’s swords clacking against each other as they crossed the deck to the galley. Sanji’s hands were no longer trembling, but they fidgeted with the lighter and cigarette pack in the big pocket of his sweatshirt.

Once in the galley, Sanji flicked on the lights and set the kettle boiling with water. He could probably use some tea himself. He lit a cigarette and thought about what to make the crew for breakfast. With such disparate sleep schedules, he always tried to have a good spread, catered to each person’s nutritional needs and preferences.

And the fact of the matter was: he was still unsettled by that nightmare.

Pastry would probably be a good option. Smack the shit out of some butter… laminate the dough… He opened the fridge to see if there were any inspiring ingredients for fillings for the pastries and his gaze fell upon his jar of miso paste and a container of tofu. Hmmm… it is getting a bit chilly…

He kept the miso and tofu in mind as he went about gathering the ingredients for pastry dough. He could make a rough puff pastry pretty quickly, though there wouldn’t be any lamination. Maybe he could save the pastries for their afternoon snack.

When he went to the pantry for the flour, he saw a bag of high quality chocolate from the last island. Oh, Robin mentioned something about Dressrosan chocolate and churros. That would be fun and warm.

Switching gears, he began to pull out the ingredients for choux dough and the daily dashi so he could multitask in his prep.

The kettle whistled, breaking the calm silence of the galley. Sanji put some black tea in his usual mug and poured water to start the steep, letting the water cool slightly before pouring it into Zoro’s usual mug with green tea leaves, so as not to scald the leaves. Once ready, he went over to give Zoro his tea. The man had nodded off at an odd angle on the couch.

“Hey, Marimo, your tea,” Sanji said softly, handing him the mug. Zoro’s hand curled around Sanji’s and stayed there, thumb brushing the back of his knuckles.

“How’re you feeling?” Zoro asked, his lone grey eye soft like the ashes of a dwindling fire rather than its usual hard steel.

“‘Zoro promised,’” the mocking voice from his nightmare echoed in his mind. “Relying on others is a weakness.”

Sanji stiffened. “Fine,” he bit out, attempting to retreat back to the kitchen. His progress was hindered by Zoro’s grip tightening around his hand. The stupid marimo raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “I’m fine, Mosshead. Let it go.”

Zoro squeezed his hand gently, but released him and reclined back into the couch cushions with his tea.

Sanji returned to the kitchen to resume preparing the churros. With a freshly lit cigarette between his lips he pulled out his wok for frying, a saucepan for the chocolate, and a pot for making the dough. He’d probably have to work in batches as the crew trickled in with their staggered waking times.

He glanced over his shoulder at Zoro. The man looked tired as he sipped on his tea. The ever-present furrow in his brow was just a touch deeper than usual.

With that in mind, Sanji went to the pantry and grabbed a couple of his pre-portioned dashi packets and the rice bag. He washed the rice while the dashi packet and water came to a boil in a small pot, then started the rice cooker. Once the dashi was done, he separated about half to use later and kept the rest in the pot.

He grabbed eggs from the fridge, deciding at that moment to make an omelette for the mosshead, so he could get some protein instead of forcing himself to tolerate the sweet breakfast planned for the rest of the crew. Not that he was doing anything special. Just… Zoro’s protein needs are higher than everyone else’s… and he was making the rice anyway. Omurice would probably have been a better choice if he wanted to pretend this wasn’t just for Zoro, but he didn’t have leftover fried rice to use, so tamagoyaki would have to do.

Working quickly and quietly so as not to draw attention to himself, he got to work while the rice finished. Conveniently, some salmon he’d salted a couple days ago was ready to use, so he pulled that out to pop under the broiler once he was done with the blanched spinach and sesame salad. While the salmon broiled, he worked quickly to whisk and roll the omelettes, setting them aside to serve with everything else.

As the final step, he carefully whisked the miso into the dashi and cut the tofu into small cubes, warming it in the simmering broth with some seaweed.

Zoro was snoring away on the couch when Sanji finally approached him with the traditional Wanese breakfast he had assembled. He gently removed the empty mug still in Zoro’s grip, though the movement was enough to wake him up with a start.

“Wuzz happenin’?”

“Want a refill?” Sanji asked, gesturing with the mug. Zoro blinked sleepily and nodded, eye widening as he slowly took in the array of food in front of him.

“Cook, what’s all this?”

“Breakfast. I’m making something else for the others, but I know you’ll hate it. This is better for you anyway.”

Sanji looked away, but not fast enough to miss the parade of emotions flying across Zoro’s face as he picked up his chopsticks.

He set the kettle to boil some more water and noticed that it was a bit past five o’clock, meaning Brook could come in any moment now, so he got the coffee pot started too. He moved to the sink to wash the dishes from cooking for Zoro, trying to stop the echoes from the voices of his nightmare from returning.

He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice the kettle whistling, or that Zoro had finished eating, until the swordsman was standing at his side, carefully trying to sneak his dishes into the sudsy water of the sink.

He jumped with a start, narrowly avoiding tossing the sponge at the wall. “Shit, Marimo, you startled me.”

Zoro looked excessively contrite, mumbling an apology. They stood there awkwardly for a moment before Sanji decided to turn his attention back to the dishes.

Zoro continued to stand too close, so Sanji grabbed a dish towel and tossed it on his head.

“If you’re gonna hover, make yourself useful.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes before Sanji finally couldn’t hold back his thoughts any longer.

“You probably think I’m weak, huh?” Sanji choked out in a harsh whisper.

Zoro paused in drying the bowl in his hand and raised an eyebrow before huffing out a quiet laugh and bumping Sanji’s shoulder with his own and resuming his work. “You’re a dumbass.”

Sanji balked, throwing the sponge into the sink and turning on Zoro. “What?!”

Zoro carefully finished drying the last bowl and put it away, placing his towel on the counter before turning to meet Sanji’s hurt gaze. “Why would I think you’re weak?”

“Because you were… you know… and I was… you know… I got snot all over your bandana!”

“So? You were having a nightmare.”

“So?! That’s…”

“That’s not weak. Usopp has nightmares, Chopper has nightmares, Brook has nightmares, Luffy has nightmares, I have nightmares. Hell, I bet the girls do too. We’ve all had life throw some intense shit at us. It’s normal.”

Sanji glared at him.

“You know… this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you like that. It’s just the first time you’ve actually woken up.”

Sanji’s jaw dropped.

“Yeah, sometimes when I head to bed from watch, one of you is having a nightmare. Usually all it takes is putting my hand on your shoulder ‘til your breath evens out; since touching your hair like I do for Chopper and Luffy doesn’t work. But this time was different. Took a lot longer.”

Sanji closed his mouth. This had been one of the worst nightmares he’d had in years. The combined stress of seeing his blood relatives at Whole Cake Island and however the fuck his body was reacting to using that raid suit in Wano was a recipe for disaster.

“Relying on others is a weakness,” a harsh voice echoed in his mind.

Zoro’s hand twitched like he was stopping himself from reaching out to touch Sanji. “Sometimes, Usopp and Chopper like to talk about their nightmares.” He paused, then continued in a quieter voice, “Would you want to do that?”

Sanji raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would I want to do that? You and I don’t talk, Marimo. It’s just not something we do.”

Zoro looked at the floor and muttered, “We could.”

Sanji just stared at him, eyes widening.

Zoro continued, a little louder, “I mean, shit, Curly-brow, maybe we don’t have to talk, but I want to help you. I don’t like seeing anyone on the crew suffering, and, yes, that includes you.”

Sanji’s ears burned. He wanted to argue; to spit vicious insults and deny Zoro’s words. Something in the conviction with which Zoro spoke stopped him though.

“Fine. Maybe we can talk later. But right now I have breakfast to prep for the rest of the crew and you should get some sleep.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Zoro said through a yawn. “Anything I can do to help with breakfast?”

Sanji rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. “Sure, finish the dishes, so I can get started on cooking. This isn’t excessively complicated, but it’s a little more involved than what I usually make.” He paused and thought about the menu. “And, you know what? When you’re done with the dishes, you can cut fruit for a fruit salad.”

Zoro hummed in agreement as Sanji dried his hands and went to pull out some fruit. He always liked to use mikans from Nami’s trees when he was able and he knew they had some berries and grapes from the last island. He checked the fridge and saw that there were also a couple melons, some kiwi, and a pineapple waiting to be utilized in any manner of ways.

Pleased with the assortment, Sanji got started preparing the fruit so that Zoro would know what shapes Sanji wanted. It wasn’t completely abnormal for the swordsman to help the cook with knifework, but he always benefited from instructions or a template of sorts.

It was rather soothing to core and skin the pineapple to the sloshing of the dishwater.

Once Zoro finished the dishes and drained the sink, they switched positions, so Sanji could wash the grapes and berries. It was nice being able to work in a quiet peace; Zoro too sleepy to be anything but docile.

While Zoro made the fruit salad, Sanji got to work on the churros. Choux dough was always fun because of how differently it was prepared than regular pastries. And from what Sanji could tell reading the recipe Robin gave him, churros were made similarly to choux pastry, just deep-fried instead of baked. The recipe author was also adamantly opposed to tossing the fried dough in cinnamon sugar or filling it with anything. They insisted the only true way to eat churros was dipped in thick, drinkable chocolate. Sanji would probably make all of the preparations eventually.

“Here, Cook, all the fruit is chopped. What next?”

“Uh… go work out or meditate or go to bed or something. I don’t really have anything else for you to do. Unless you want to chop the chocolate for me.”

“Is it okay if I clean my swords in here afterward? Promise I won’t do it at the table or the counter.”

“Sure, that works. Now, scoot. I gotta focus and make sure this dough doesn’t scorch.”

He turned back to the stove and heated the wok filled with oil to the correct temperature. He brought a saucepan of water, butter, and salt to a rolling boil, then he added the flour to the boiling mixture and stirred vigorously until a sticky ball of dough began to form. Once the dough was pulling from the sides of the pot, he removed it from the heat and beat the eggs, which he then poured into the dough while stirring.

While he was searching for his piping bag and tips, the galley door opened, revealing Robin and Brook chatting quietly.

“Ah, good morning, my angel and skeleton! Coffee? Tea?” Sanji said, hoping that no traces of his nightmare remained on his face.

“Tea for me, please, Sanji-san!” Brook chirped, his skeletal smile looking broader than usual.

“Coffee would be lovely, thank you, Sanji,” Robin smiled. She looked at the array of ingredients on the counter. “Oh, this looks different than usual. Are you using that churro recipe I found in Dressrosa? Any special reason why?”

“I am and do I need a reason? What if I just want to treat my crew to a fun breakfast for the sheer novelty?”

Robin giggled as she sat down at the table and pulled out a small paperback novel. Brook did the same, pulling out the same novel. Ah, shit. I haven’t had time to read for our book club.

“So, Robin, how far are you in The Marked Souls?” Brook asked as Sanji brought over the tray with their beverages and placed it in front of them. “Have you met the lost prince’s family yet?”

“I have, and judging from where you’re holding the book, I take it you’ve reached the point where his mark has spread across his whole left shoulder and onto his chest?”

“Oh yes! The author’s description of the ever deepening shades of green in the mark that seem to shift like ‘a forest of kelp, swaying in the current,’ was just beautiful. And then the prince’s monologue about feeling unworthy of such a love and a deep bond with his erstwhile partner? Oh, my heart shattered. Or it would have, if I still had a heart! Yohohoho!”

What the fuck even is this book? Sanji thought as he finished filling his piping bag with the churro dough and moved to the stove to make the chocolate dipping sauce. He poured half the milk into the pan and added the chopped chocolate, stirring gently to melt it while Brook and Robin chatted away about the book that Sanji was probably never going to read at this point. Once the chocolate was melted, he turned off the heat and mixed cornstarch into the remaining milk and added the slurry with the sugar into the chocolate mixture. He turned the heat back on and whisked until the chocolate thickened to a ganache-like consistency, then removed it from the heat and whisked until smooth.

With the dipping chocolate prepared, he moved on to the trickiest part of his breakfast plan: deep-frying on a moving ship. Checking that the oil was still a steady 360 degrees Fahrenheit, he carefully piped four short lines of batter into the oil through the star tip.

As the dough sizzled, he began mixing up some cinnamon sugar to toss some of the churros in. The simplicity of the task as he monitored the frying dough allowed his mind to wander back to his nightmare and everything that had happened since Dressrosa. The crew had definitely been treating him differently since their reunion. Some of it was welcome; he’d never really noticed before, but the expressions of gratitude toward him at meal times had been much more noticeable. Some of it was less welcome; Chopper and Nami in particular sometimes seemed to be walking on eggshells around him. He wasn’t sure where Zoro helping him with nightmares fell into this. Especially since he’d said this wasn’t the first time, which meant it could have started as early as the East Blue.

He pulled the first batch of churros out and tossed half in the cinnamon sugar, plated them, and presented them to Brook and Robin.

“Here you go, churros con chocolate and fruit salad. Let me know if you prefer plain or cinnamon sugar for your next round.”

As he walked back to the kitchen, he felt a tug on his apron. The mosshead was looking up at him from his position on the floor, where he’d been cleaning his swords.

“Could I try one? They smell pretty good.”

Taken aback, Sanji nodded.

There was enough space in the wok to fry a larger batch this time, so Sanji got to work, steadily piping churros into the oil, again tossing half of them in cinnamon sugar, and piling them up on two serving platters.

He handed Zoro a plate with a single plain churro on it as he went back to serve seconds to Brook and Robin. On his way back, he saw Zoro smiling with his cheeks puffed up like a hamster.

The sight definitely didn’t make his heart skip a beat.

A bang echoed through the galley as Luffy flew through the door, dragging Usopp and Chopper along with him. “SAAAAANJIIIIIIIIII!!!!! What’s for breakfast?!?! It smells so gooooooood!!”

Behind them, Franky came bustling in with his toolbox, looking disgruntled at the treatment of his beloved ship.

“Yeah, yeah, sit down, idiots. I’ll bring it to you.”

Sanji prepared three plates of mixed churros with ramekins of chocolate and brought them to his youngest crewmates. Knowing a single plate wouldn’t be enough for the bottomless pit they called “captain,” he decided to try making a large spiral churro like he remembered seeing in Dressrosa.

Quickly whipping up a new batch of dough and filling the piping bag, he carefully piped a spiral starting from the center of his wok until the final ring reached the edge and the piping bag was empty. He monitored the fry more closely than the other churros, checking for even browning. When he saw the color reaching about two-thirds of the way up the sides, he took his two longest wooden chopsticks and carefully lifted the pastry from the hot oil.

CRASH! Luffy’s attempt to steal Usopp’s churros had the sniper deflecting a rubber arm directly into Franky’s back, causing the cyborg to drop the screwdriver he was holding into his toolbox with a loud clunk.

Startled, Sanji dropped the flipped churro the rest of the way back into the oil faster than he intended, causing oil to splash his left hand.

“FUCK!”

Suddenly, elegant hands sprouted from the counter, taking the chopsticks away and shoving him toward the sink, where another hand was turning on the water.

“Sanji! Oh my god, what happened?!” Chopper shrieked as he scurried over to the kitchen from the table.

Sanji put his hand under the water. He’d been cooking for over half his life, he knew how to handle a kitchen burn. Of course, that didn’t stop Chopper from fussing.

“Keep your hand under the faucet for a MINIMUM of ten minutes!”

Sanji was about to protest for the sake of Luffy’s churro, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zoro step in front of the stove.

“Tell me when to take it out of the oil, Cook.”

“Ugh. Fine. Put on an apron though.”

Zoro grabbed the yellow spare apron with the duck on the chest and looked at the churro. “How do I know when it’s done?”

“Once the color is even. You can lift the sides. If it’s even, carefully remove it onto that wire rack.”

Sanji’s hand tingled as the cool water rushed over it. He watched as Zoro stared at the frying dough, brow furrowed in concentration. He looked like he wanted to fight the oil for harming his crewmate. Or, more likely, he was pouring his usual amount of effort (all of it) into his task.

He’d probably be able to take over as ship’s cook if he tried. Sanji scoffed. Wouldn’t that be rich? Just another way to be better than me… show that I’m not needed… weakass cook turned into a blubbering mess from a bad dream, burned because he’s off his game… psh, he claims he has nightmares too, what the fuck does he have nightmares about?

“You know this is inevitable. Nothing is stronger than Germa tech. Not your foot, not your stupid swordsman-”

Well, Zoro’d certainly disagree about that. Hell, it’s probably a reason he thinks he’s better than me, since he earned his strength, instead of-

Zoro’s laughter snapped Sanji out of his spiraling thoughts. The marimo had one of his now-rare grins splitting his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he lifted the massive churro from the oil.

“Did you mean to deepfry your own eyebrows for breakfast, shit-cook?”

Sanji waited until the churro was safely deposited on the cooling rack before aiming a kick at Zoro’s ass. Zoro just laughed as he dodged, deflecting the blow slightly.

“SANJI! Keep your hand under the water and NO. FIGHTING,” Chopper yelled from the table, the sharpness of his instructions muffled slightly by the dough, sugar, and chocolate in his mouth.

Sanji rolled his eyes, but obeyed. “Mosshead, grab a spoon and sprinkle cinnamon sugar over half the churro, then take it to Luffy. He also probably needs a refill on chocolate. And Robin probably needs fresh coffee.”

Zoro waved him off, but followed his instructions, even impressing Sanji with his ability to balance all the dishes he needed to carry to the table.

“Hey, dumbass, Chopper told me you could take your hand out of the water. You gonna let me help you now?” Zoro asked, already holding the kitchen’s first aid kit.

Begrudgingly, Sanji removed his hand from the cool water of the faucet and offered it to Zoro.

You’ve already been helping.

Gently, carefully, Zoro applied Chopper’s special burn cream onto Sanji’s hand with a sort of reverence he hadn’t expected. He recognized the look on Zoro’s face as the same one he wore when he was tending to Wado. He bit back a gasp at the realization. A glance around the room indicated that no one was paying attention to the intimate moment.

“Can I help with the rest of breakfast? It was kinda fun,” Zoro asked, voice low as a light blush colored his cheeks.

Sanji felt his ears warm up as a small smile curled onto his lips. “I still don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me this morning, but sure. Chopper’ll probably yell at me anyway if he sees me near the oil again. But don’t get any ideas, Mosshead. This is still my kitchen, and I’m still in charge.”

“Yes, Chef!” Zoro blinked his eye and smirked.

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Idiot Moss, you can’t wink.”

Snickering, Zoro stood by the wok and looked at Sanji expectantly for instructions.

“Here’s the batter,” Sanji handed over the piping bag after he filled it with more dough, “gently squeeze a few sticks into the oil, then flip them just like you did with Luffy’s giant one.”

They worked together frying churros and making fresh dough over the next hour or so. Eventually, Nami and Jinbei joined the crew in the galley, causing Sanji to do his usual “mellorine” wiggles as he brought them fresh coffee.

When Sanji returned to the workstation, he nudged Zoro and whispered, “Hey, Marimo, lend me a hand for ten seconds. Can you distract Chopper to give me enough time to make some churros for Nami and Robin without getting yelled at?”

Zoro rolled his eye but nodded and walked over to the table where he started telling Chopper a story about something that Sanji couldn’t hear. Quickly, he grabbed the piping bag and piped out some heart shapes into the hot oil, taking care not to get his bandaged hand too close to the oil. Keeping one eye on the churros and the other on Chopper, he fried the hearts to golden-brown perfection and prepared plates of heart shaped churros. If anyone were to notice that he put a plain one aside… well, he’d just say it wasn’t perfect enough for the ladies, before giving it to its intended recipient.

The plates prepared, he sauntered over to the table to serve the ladies with a flourish.

“Oh, Sanji, these look lovely!” Nami cooed, breaking one of the churros in half to dunk in the chocolate. Her eyes rolled with pleasure. “You’ll definitely need to cook these again sometime.”

“Yes, Sanji, these really were delicious,” Robin agreed. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Sanji put on an exaggerated pout, “My heart breaks to hear that, but I understand. You did get to try the first batch.”

Robin smiled and gently handed her plate to Jinbei and Franky to share.

Sanji went back to the galley, pulling Zoro with him by his apron strings. Once they had the next batch started, he handed the swordsman the reserved heart-shaped churro.

Zoro looked at him with a wide eye and a light blush dusting his cheeks. Before he could ask “why,” Sanji cut him off and said, “It wasn’t pretty enough for the girls and it looked like you enjoyed the one you had earlier. And, well… since you only got to have the one, I figured you could have another. For helping me… and stuff…”

To his credit, Zoro didn’t push further, accepting the churro with a small nod. He’d only taken one bite before he stopped, put the plate down, and said, “Hang on, wait, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“We’ve been in here for hours and you haven’t eaten at all morning. You’ve been smoking but you haven’t eaten.”

Sanji scoffed around his cigarette. “How do you know? Been watching me the whole time? I snacked on fruit while we were making the fruit salad.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, seeing right through Sanji’s lie. Then he grabbed Sanji’s shoulders and guided him right back to the dining room and gracelessly shoved him into the chair next to Nami.

“Sit here. I’m making you breakfast.”

He then marched back to the galley, looking as serious as a man in a yellow duckie apron could.

Nami and Robin exchanged looks before Nami elbowed him, “So, what was that about?”

Sanji blushed bright crimson. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mellorine. You know that the mosshead is stubborn as hell when he gets an idea in his head.”

Nami and Robin just giggled.

Sanji leaned back in his chair and relaxed, feeling the last dregs of anxiety from his nightmare leave him as he exhaled a plume of smoke away from the crew.

“Sanji! I’m so glad you’re eating with us!” Luffy crowed, a rubbery hand reaching across the table to ruffle his hair. “This was such a yummy breakfast!”

Sanji smiled tiredly, his heart full as the rest of the crew echoed the captain’s sentiment.

A few moments later a plate was placed in front of him with three churros that were longer than the others he’d been making and a ramekin of chocolate. The churros were arranged in an X shape with the third crossing them horizontally, similar to how Sanji had seen Zoro draw his Three-Sword Style for Chopper.

He looked up at his mossy server, who was standing over his shoulder with his arms crossed and a smug expression on his face.

“Thanks, Mosshead,” Sanji whispered, ears feeling warm. He broke off a piece of churro and dunked it in the chocolate. It was exactly what he had needed all morning. The chocolate felt like he was eating a hug. Specifically, it felt like he was consuming the feeling of Zoro holding him in his arms.

How ridiculous.

How… wonderful.

He sat and finished his churros and a scoop of fruit salad, before returning to the kitchen to make one last batch of churros and declaring the kitchen closed so he could have time to prep for lunch.

After the last crew member left, Sanji and Zoro moved on to doing the dishes once more. Zoro made Sanji dry so that his bandages wouldn’t get wet. They worked in a comfortable silence; more comfortable than they’d had all morning. Sanji felt a small smile creep onto his face as he noticed Zoro stifling yawns.

He put away the last plate and clapped his hand on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro jumped, clearly having drifted off slightly.

“C’mon, Marimo, I gotta prep lunch and you haven’t slept.” He guided Zoro over to the couch. “You’re welcome to stay in here if you want, but get some sleep.”

Zoro grumbled but didn’t protest being manhandled down horizontally. Sanji arranged a pillow under his head and pulled the blanket over him.

He looked down at his rival curled up on the couch. With his face soft and lax, he looked almost… sweet.

Before he could think about it, an impulse took over. He ducked down and dropped a soft kiss on Zoro’s forehead, right where the scar cut through.

As he straightened up, he saw a soft smile sitting on the swordsman’s face. Maybe… just maybe… we’ve got each other…