(One Piece-General. 072. Pensive.)
Title: Something
Author: formerly princeivy, now under cuethe_pulse
Fandom: One Piece
Characters: Sanji, Zoro
Prompt: 072-Pensive
Word Count: 790
Rating: bordering PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: None; just some angst
Summary: “You always expect them to be there, even when you know they’re not.”
Nothing. He is surrounded by nothing. There is nothing pretending to be ocean, pretending to be grass and trees and rocks. But after so long, so many hours, so many days, it isn’t convincing him. It’s nothing. It’s all nothing. And there is nothing inside him. He is starving. His stomach is eating itself. Soon it will be nothing. His whole body will cave in on itself, and then he, too, will be nothing. Nothing. Nothing here, nothing there, nothing inside, outside, nothing on the horizon, nothing coming for him, nothing for him, nothing for-
“Zeff!” The name came out choked, a hoarse gasp. Sanji found himself awake, staring at the dark wood above him as his crewmates snored in their hammocks. He sat up from the floor, shakily, his hand moving to cover his mouth; he bit at his palm, absentmindedly, worried the skin between his teeth.
“He’s not here.”
Sanji dropped his hand and looked down at the man on the floor beside him. Zoro’s eyes were open, watching him evenly, his arms folded behind his head. His expression was unreadable, but Sanji got the feeling the swordsman was judging him. He bristled, scowled.
“I know that, shithead. I just-” He stopped, biting his lip. He didn’t owe Zoro any explanation. Especially not one that would probably make him look weak and childish in the swordsman’s eyes. Not that he cared what the other man thought of him.
“You had a nightmare.” He said it plainly, the most normal thing in the world, not at all in the teasing tone Sanji expected. The simplicity of the statement made Sanji hesitate.
“Y-Yeah.” He cleared his throat.
“You haven’t had one of those in a while.”
“I know, I-How would you know that?!” An image of the swordsman watching him sleep flitted through his mind and he wasn’t sure if he was horrified, disgusted, or really turned on.
“You always wake me up when you’re having a nightmare.” Zoro shrugged, nonchalant. “I guess they’re pretty intense.”
Sanji stared at the other man for a moment before looking away and muttering a quiet, “Yeah. They are.” He didn’t know what it was: the peaceful feeling in the room, or the gentle rocking of the ship, or Zoro’s simple sincerity, or some mixture of all three. Or maybe it was that post-nightmare feeling, that little kid feeling. But for whatever reason, he felt like opening up to the swordsman, confiding in him, telling him something and maybe getting something in return. Something to chase away the nothing. “I had them a lot when I was little, after getting off the island. And everything was still fresh then, you know?” He didn’t expect a reply, so he didn’t wait for one. “When I had them, I would go to the old man’s room. It was the only time he’d let me in there. In my mind, no one could understand how I felt, not like he could. I guess I still believe that. Anyway, I suppose some part of me still wants that. You always expect them to be there, even when you know they’re not.”
There was silence, except for the snores, and for a minute, Sanji thought that Zoro had fallen back asleep and hadn’t heard a word he’d said. But then there was some shifting and he felt Zoro’s hand close around his arm. He allowed the swordsman to pull him back to the floor and they lay side by side, close enough for Sanji to feel the heat of his body. He swallowed hard.
“I know what you mean.”
Sanji tried to meet Zoro’s eyes, but they were focused firmly on the wood above them. Instead, the cook’s gaze went to the three swords propped against a nearby wall, the white sword in particular. He’d forgotten about her, the girl. Zoro had never told him anything about her; he probably never would. But he wondered about her. He wondered what Zoro’s nightmares were like, if he woke with his eyes searching for the child he’d made his promise to.
“One day,” Zoro said, his low voice breaking into Sanji’s musings, “we’re gonna wake up and expect them to be there, too.”
Sanji didn’t need to ask who “they” were. Them-their snoring comrades. Them-Nami-swan, Robin-chan. Them-one another.
“Yeah,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “And that’s the worst nightmare of all.”
Zoro didn’t agree in words, but Sanji didn’t need him to. He stayed awake with him for the rest of the night, not speaking, just laying beside him, breathing beside him, just there. And Sanji knew he would be there for as long he as he possibly could. And that, at least, was something.