One Piece - Laws Of Intoxication (Zoro/Sanji nakamaship)
Title: Laws of intoxication
Rating: M for sexual situations, cursing
Pairing: No pairing intended, ZoSan for the shippers
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.
Summary: Sanji is hitting the booze and needs some help. Takes place after Thriller Bark and before Sabaody Archipelago.
Unfortunately, no Beta. I am not a frequent writer and still try to learn the English language. Please tell me what you think!
I like tormenting Sanji, but do not worry; Zoro is there for the rescue. =) But do not get your hopes too high, I suck at violence.
Laws of intoxication
When it came to the topic of alcohol, Sanji usually wouldn’t let himself go that easily. Out of responsibility, he only would sip on a glass of wine in the evening or toast with a beer along with the rest of the crew.
He knew - and of course, still does -, that he will have to prepare breakfast in the morning and fix some strictly non-alcoholic drinks for his nakama. Especially the ones with a hangover.
Never mind, though, this night seemed to be totally out of control.
Nami and Robin - ah, aren’t these two just so beautiful? - sat in a little more quiet corner of this location. Robin just smiled that mysterious smile of hers - as if she knew all answers to any unasked questions - even though she might be an enigma herself.
Nami had a passionate discussion about profitable activities in this area. Judging by the unhealthy bright pink hue across her cheeks, she seemed to be absolutely happy or really, really angry.
Zoro was nowhere to be seen. He might have gotten lost on his way to the toilet. Or the marimo was already back on the Thousand Sunny, napping, fighting or drinking alone on the deck - Sanji did not care less.
Luffy, Chopper, Franky and some men unknown to Sanji danced on a table, sang along to Brook‘s Binkusu no Sake. They laughed, laughing so loud that the walls around them were vibrating.
The uproar’s echoes bounced in the blonde’s head, rang in his ears. Repeating the repeated, yet again.
The ‘Great Captain Usopp’ told his stories, performed like an animal in a circus ring. People with deep, growling voices cheered him on. Their jubilations almost drowned Usopp’s lies. But it didn’t matter - not to the strangers, nor Sanji - since Usopp had the time of his life.
Sanji felt sick. Yelled words turned to distant calls, faces to flashlights - circuiting in his head. Memories - old and new - pierced through his mind like needles as the air surrounding him got thinner.
Sanji suddenly moved towards the door - well, at least that was what he was aiming for. But the floor beneath his legs kept shaking.
For an instant, the young cook’s feet turned to sand - just like he remembered it from Arabasta’s desert. His long fingers desperately grabbed onto a nearby chair for support.
After the first wave of dizziness ebbed away, Sanji began laughing. The mental image of himself lying on the floor was just too funny. His lungs hurt a little from the outburst, and Sanji felt tears forming in his eyes.
From zero to hundred, the blond’s mood improved impressively. Well, he never was exactly a ball of joy - like his captain, for example - but since this last incident with Kuma, he just didn’t feel like enjoying anything. Whenever he looked at the half-dead, green-haired idiot, he wanted to scream. Out of anger, guilt, failure and maybe even a tiny bit of depression. All he wanted was to remove the floods of negative emotions inside of him.
Zoro was on his feet faster than he should have - or any normal human-being could have. Maybe all people by the species of marimo tented to heal faster and were more indifferent to pain than others.
Even though Sanji always hated these kind of never-ending, circling thoughts, it never ceased to amaze him how much he worried over his nakama - all of them, he added bitterly.
The exit was so close now.
As his mind kept turning in this fog of booze, the cook did not notice the foot steps that didn’t belong to his very one set of legs. And apparently no one else saw the dark shadowy appearance following behind him, either.
~ + ~
Sanji slowly set one foot out of the door. There was a fresh, but mild breeze upon his face. It didn’t ease his mind’s fuzziness, but it was certainly more pleasant than this air-stricken room full of sweating men he left a minute ago.
Still laughing at his own lame joke, Sanji wobbled his way to a quiet corner near the bar where no light burnt in his eyes, no roaring laughter sadistically ringing in his ears.
The pitch-black night held a sea of stars. But the streets were empty, just one lonely lantern adorned the sight of it.
Sanji dreaded the dizziness overcoming him as suddenly a pair of strong arms grabbed him and pushed him against a wall. Senses told him to attack, but the alcohol befuddled his aiming.
The stranger blocked the miserably poor kick with just his bare hands. This was the moment, the blond teenager noticed how rough and calloused these hands were, how large in comparison to his own, how man-ly.
“What is a youngster like you doing out so late? You should be careful not to get lost,” the stranger’s voice was nothing but a mere rumble in Sanji’s head, a continuing sound with no words to actually figure out.
Sanji tried kicking him again, again and again. But his attempts were futile. As if his strength didn‘t have any physical effects, Sanji let his body go limp - giving up on fighting in place of scheming.
If there is no change to out-power an enemy, there is always a possibility to out-smart him.
“What is it? Don’t you want to have a little fun with me?,” a cruel smirk appeared on the shadowed face in front of him. Large hands locked tighter around Sanji’s wrists and brought the cook’s arms above his head.
Bringing them face to face, the older man was so close to him, that Sanji felt the man’s gaze lusting over him and his stomach hurled in protest.
In the distance, he could hear the laughter and the cheering of his nakama. Mocking him with enjoyment and delight while his own bones froze with fear.
He didn’t want his breath to mix together with a stranger’s - especially not a man‘s, for that matter. He didn’t want to feel rough hands holding him down, crushing him against a wall. He didn’t want to feel this weak.
The world around him ticked slowly away. Time changed cruelly, memories flooded his mind, bringing him back to the last time he felt this… helpless. When water surrounded his body and the ship he called home stumbled under the catastrophically strength of nature. Breaking, crumbling, sinking…
A daring tongue transported him back to reality. This man licked over Sanji’s lips, savoring the taste of the youth and alcohol for a moment. Disgusted, the blonde turned his face away. But this action only caused an angered shove against the wooden planks of the bar’s walls.
Sanji saw stars for an instant, between animalistic grunts he might have heard mumbling - but it made no sense. Maybe it was just a muffled moan leaving the man’s throat as he rubbed his groin against Sanji’s hips.
That lusting glimmer in these dark, emotionless eyes sent a shiver down the cook’s spine. One last try to free himself passed before it started. His intoxicated body was not able to move anymore.
Pain pierced through his arms and back, and it only grew by each passing minute.
“You sure are a pretty one,” the man continued, moving his one unoccupied hand over Sanji’s thin chest. That caressing touch alone intensified the anguish.
But Sanji never was the type of person who would give up that easily. While he still felt defenseless in this servile position, he at least wanted one single shot:
Without thinking first - the way he usually would - Sanji spat in the other man’s face. The fluid dripped off his nose, down his chin - pure hatred-filled anger rose in the man’s dark eyes, revealing the mistake the blond made. Something in that moment of heavy silence made Sanji hold his breath. Just waiting for the answer to come.
A clenched fist crushed like thunder down on him. Sanji’s brains rattled, and only a cloud of pain remained. His surroundings started circling again, pictures morphing into colors, turning to a black hole inside his head.
“And I was playing it nice for you. But if you want it rough, so be it!,” the growl returned. “Can you take a real man? Or did you just get fucked by your little wanna-be pirate-boys?,” the man’s sinister chuckle heralded his intentions.
One again, Sanji’s instincts told him to struggle. And struggle he did, like a mad cat fighting for its life.
Sanji was scared by what was about to come as the hip-rocking became more rhythmic. Was scared that he might have heard a crack in his shoulder - which alone was worth a thousand martyrs - as his torturer narrowed the space between their hands.
In the corner of his one visible eye, Sanji saw the man fidgeting with his leather belt, obviously trying to reach the zipper of his pants.
Silence engulfed the cook. He tried to hide his face as fear flooded every last inch of his body.
Just before he was about to release a whimper, his ears registered the familiar sound of unsheathing swords.
“Hands! Off!,” Zoro’s words, spat like poisonous arrows, clearly surprised Sanji’s attacker as he could already feel one of Zoro’s swords on his throat. They were no simple demands, they were threats to his manhood and life.
Anger oozed out of every pore on the swordman’s body. Murder was written in bold, capital letters on his face, like a wolf defending its territory, ready to kill. With this look, Sanji knew it by heart, Zoro had the ability to sweep the bravest off their feet.
The man slowly released Sanji’s wrists, raising his hands in fear. Judging by the sweat that broke out on his forehead, he lacked much fighting experience after all. Under different circumstances, the picture in front of Sanji and Zoro might have had a hint of cowardly facetiousness:
A ragged-toothed, bulky man - pants loose due the lack of a belt - scared by two words.
Without another sound made, Zoro flung the handle of Wado-Ichi-Monji against the man’s temple. The force catapulted him a few meter away from the mugiwara-duo, leaving him motionless.
Zoro’s eyes scanned Sanji’s body for any possible harm. If he would have found more than just a bruise on his comrade’s skin, the man might have lost his head.
But he didn’t, so he tried to act as untouched and careless as possible. No sound was made, even Sanji was quiet for once.
A minute passed in silence before Sanji opened his mouth, and abstruse, vague words reached the swordman’s ears:
“Shaan-kyu, shiddy marii-mo~!,” Sanji almost sang it, eyelids half-closed. A shadow of intoxication hang lazily upon him, everyone could see that the blond had more that he could handle.
“Chuu willnot beliiieve ‘t, me hada driink twooo musch!”
Zoro wanted to run in order to save himself (and maybe Sanji, too) from this embarrassment. Every last inch of respect he might have had for the cook vanished by each passing second.
It was the first time he saw Sanji this wasted, this graceless and stripped off all self-esteem.
‘He surely cannot hold his liquoir!,’ Zoro ascertained bitterly, but still didn’t say anything. He wondered if the cook will remember all this mess in the morning, if he talked just to get rid off the freshly created memory,…
“Scchhhtopp!,” Sanji screamed, ripping Zoro out of his train of thoughts. His long fingers curled around his face.
“Noo… Stop!,” he said a second time, his voice much quieter and remorseful. “Head ‘sch spinning!”
The cook tried to get on his feet. But his body shook wildly. His usually strong legs did not carry him any further. Supported by the wall he was pushed against a few moments ago, he tried his best to just stand.
Yet again, Zoro looked at him, cursed himself for what he was about to do. Just away from here. Away from the chanting from the bar, away from the unconscious body next to them, away from what-would-have-been images in his mind.
With one fluid motion, Zoro grabbed Sanji’s right arm and put it over his obviously more muscular right shoulder. He pulled him over his back and wondered what a lightweight Sanji really was. Sure, he looked skinny as hell, but there was absolutely no way he weighted a tenth of his training devices. Zoro even was sure that he felt bones sticking out of Sanji’s ribcage.
“North,” the drunken voice informed him. Without further ado, the green-haired man walked straight ahead until Sanji annoyed him again:
“Noo… go rii~iight!,” feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Zoro did as he was told.
“Not t’schis right… the other right!,” he didn’t even notice that he actually did choose the left side instead of what the blond told him. It still irked him that his sense of direction was even worse than a drunken, almost passed-out man’s.
Neither one of them knew how long it took for them to reach the Sunny.
Still, Zoro just wished Sanji wouldn’t remember in the morning, because if he would have gotten depressed over it, Zoro would have returned to the city and disemboweled that disgusting man single-handed - in the worst possible kind of way
Finished: 22nd of October 2010
Rating: M for sexual situations, cursing
Pairing: No pairing intended, ZoSan for the shippers
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.
Summary: Sanji is hitting the booze and needs some help. Takes place after Thriller Bark and before Sabaody Archipelago.
Unfortunately, no Beta. I am not a frequent writer and still try to learn the English language. Please tell me what you think!
I like tormenting Sanji, but do not worry; Zoro is there for the rescue. =) But do not get your hopes too high, I suck at violence.
Laws of intoxication
When it came to the topic of alcohol, Sanji usually wouldn’t let himself go that easily. Out of responsibility, he only would sip on a glass of wine in the evening or toast with a beer along with the rest of the crew.
He knew - and of course, still does -, that he will have to prepare breakfast in the morning and fix some strictly non-alcoholic drinks for his nakama. Especially the ones with a hangover.
Never mind, though, this night seemed to be totally out of control.
Nami and Robin - ah, aren’t these two just so beautiful? - sat in a little more quiet corner of this location. Robin just smiled that mysterious smile of hers - as if she knew all answers to any unasked questions - even though she might be an enigma herself.
Nami had a passionate discussion about profitable activities in this area. Judging by the unhealthy bright pink hue across her cheeks, she seemed to be absolutely happy or really, really angry.
Zoro was nowhere to be seen. He might have gotten lost on his way to the toilet. Or the marimo was already back on the Thousand Sunny, napping, fighting or drinking alone on the deck - Sanji did not care less.
Luffy, Chopper, Franky and some men unknown to Sanji danced on a table, sang along to Brook‘s Binkusu no Sake. They laughed, laughing so loud that the walls around them were vibrating.
The uproar’s echoes bounced in the blonde’s head, rang in his ears. Repeating the repeated, yet again.
The ‘Great Captain Usopp’ told his stories, performed like an animal in a circus ring. People with deep, growling voices cheered him on. Their jubilations almost drowned Usopp’s lies. But it didn’t matter - not to the strangers, nor Sanji - since Usopp had the time of his life.
Sanji felt sick. Yelled words turned to distant calls, faces to flashlights - circuiting in his head. Memories - old and new - pierced through his mind like needles as the air surrounding him got thinner.
Sanji suddenly moved towards the door - well, at least that was what he was aiming for. But the floor beneath his legs kept shaking.
For an instant, the young cook’s feet turned to sand - just like he remembered it from Arabasta’s desert. His long fingers desperately grabbed onto a nearby chair for support.
After the first wave of dizziness ebbed away, Sanji began laughing. The mental image of himself lying on the floor was just too funny. His lungs hurt a little from the outburst, and Sanji felt tears forming in his eyes.
From zero to hundred, the blond’s mood improved impressively. Well, he never was exactly a ball of joy - like his captain, for example - but since this last incident with Kuma, he just didn’t feel like enjoying anything. Whenever he looked at the half-dead, green-haired idiot, he wanted to scream. Out of anger, guilt, failure and maybe even a tiny bit of depression. All he wanted was to remove the floods of negative emotions inside of him.
Zoro was on his feet faster than he should have - or any normal human-being could have. Maybe all people by the species of marimo tented to heal faster and were more indifferent to pain than others.
Even though Sanji always hated these kind of never-ending, circling thoughts, it never ceased to amaze him how much he worried over his nakama - all of them, he added bitterly.
The exit was so close now.
As his mind kept turning in this fog of booze, the cook did not notice the foot steps that didn’t belong to his very one set of legs. And apparently no one else saw the dark shadowy appearance following behind him, either.
~ + ~
Sanji slowly set one foot out of the door. There was a fresh, but mild breeze upon his face. It didn’t ease his mind’s fuzziness, but it was certainly more pleasant than this air-stricken room full of sweating men he left a minute ago.
Still laughing at his own lame joke, Sanji wobbled his way to a quiet corner near the bar where no light burnt in his eyes, no roaring laughter sadistically ringing in his ears.
The pitch-black night held a sea of stars. But the streets were empty, just one lonely lantern adorned the sight of it.
Sanji dreaded the dizziness overcoming him as suddenly a pair of strong arms grabbed him and pushed him against a wall. Senses told him to attack, but the alcohol befuddled his aiming.
The stranger blocked the miserably poor kick with just his bare hands. This was the moment, the blond teenager noticed how rough and calloused these hands were, how large in comparison to his own, how man-ly.
“What is a youngster like you doing out so late? You should be careful not to get lost,” the stranger’s voice was nothing but a mere rumble in Sanji’s head, a continuing sound with no words to actually figure out.
Sanji tried kicking him again, again and again. But his attempts were futile. As if his strength didn‘t have any physical effects, Sanji let his body go limp - giving up on fighting in place of scheming.
If there is no change to out-power an enemy, there is always a possibility to out-smart him.
“What is it? Don’t you want to have a little fun with me?,” a cruel smirk appeared on the shadowed face in front of him. Large hands locked tighter around Sanji’s wrists and brought the cook’s arms above his head.
Bringing them face to face, the older man was so close to him, that Sanji felt the man’s gaze lusting over him and his stomach hurled in protest.
In the distance, he could hear the laughter and the cheering of his nakama. Mocking him with enjoyment and delight while his own bones froze with fear.
He didn’t want his breath to mix together with a stranger’s - especially not a man‘s, for that matter. He didn’t want to feel rough hands holding him down, crushing him against a wall. He didn’t want to feel this weak.
The world around him ticked slowly away. Time changed cruelly, memories flooded his mind, bringing him back to the last time he felt this… helpless. When water surrounded his body and the ship he called home stumbled under the catastrophically strength of nature. Breaking, crumbling, sinking…
A daring tongue transported him back to reality. This man licked over Sanji’s lips, savoring the taste of the youth and alcohol for a moment. Disgusted, the blonde turned his face away. But this action only caused an angered shove against the wooden planks of the bar’s walls.
Sanji saw stars for an instant, between animalistic grunts he might have heard mumbling - but it made no sense. Maybe it was just a muffled moan leaving the man’s throat as he rubbed his groin against Sanji’s hips.
That lusting glimmer in these dark, emotionless eyes sent a shiver down the cook’s spine. One last try to free himself passed before it started. His intoxicated body was not able to move anymore.
Pain pierced through his arms and back, and it only grew by each passing minute.
“You sure are a pretty one,” the man continued, moving his one unoccupied hand over Sanji’s thin chest. That caressing touch alone intensified the anguish.
But Sanji never was the type of person who would give up that easily. While he still felt defenseless in this servile position, he at least wanted one single shot:
Without thinking first - the way he usually would - Sanji spat in the other man’s face. The fluid dripped off his nose, down his chin - pure hatred-filled anger rose in the man’s dark eyes, revealing the mistake the blond made. Something in that moment of heavy silence made Sanji hold his breath. Just waiting for the answer to come.
A clenched fist crushed like thunder down on him. Sanji’s brains rattled, and only a cloud of pain remained. His surroundings started circling again, pictures morphing into colors, turning to a black hole inside his head.
“And I was playing it nice for you. But if you want it rough, so be it!,” the growl returned. “Can you take a real man? Or did you just get fucked by your little wanna-be pirate-boys?,” the man’s sinister chuckle heralded his intentions.
One again, Sanji’s instincts told him to struggle. And struggle he did, like a mad cat fighting for its life.
Sanji was scared by what was about to come as the hip-rocking became more rhythmic. Was scared that he might have heard a crack in his shoulder - which alone was worth a thousand martyrs - as his torturer narrowed the space between their hands.
In the corner of his one visible eye, Sanji saw the man fidgeting with his leather belt, obviously trying to reach the zipper of his pants.
Silence engulfed the cook. He tried to hide his face as fear flooded every last inch of his body.
Just before he was about to release a whimper, his ears registered the familiar sound of unsheathing swords.
“Hands! Off!,” Zoro’s words, spat like poisonous arrows, clearly surprised Sanji’s attacker as he could already feel one of Zoro’s swords on his throat. They were no simple demands, they were threats to his manhood and life.
Anger oozed out of every pore on the swordman’s body. Murder was written in bold, capital letters on his face, like a wolf defending its territory, ready to kill. With this look, Sanji knew it by heart, Zoro had the ability to sweep the bravest off their feet.
The man slowly released Sanji’s wrists, raising his hands in fear. Judging by the sweat that broke out on his forehead, he lacked much fighting experience after all. Under different circumstances, the picture in front of Sanji and Zoro might have had a hint of cowardly facetiousness:
A ragged-toothed, bulky man - pants loose due the lack of a belt - scared by two words.
Without another sound made, Zoro flung the handle of Wado-Ichi-Monji against the man’s temple. The force catapulted him a few meter away from the mugiwara-duo, leaving him motionless.
Zoro’s eyes scanned Sanji’s body for any possible harm. If he would have found more than just a bruise on his comrade’s skin, the man might have lost his head.
But he didn’t, so he tried to act as untouched and careless as possible. No sound was made, even Sanji was quiet for once.
A minute passed in silence before Sanji opened his mouth, and abstruse, vague words reached the swordman’s ears:
“Shaan-kyu, shiddy marii-mo~!,” Sanji almost sang it, eyelids half-closed. A shadow of intoxication hang lazily upon him, everyone could see that the blond had more that he could handle.
“Chuu willnot beliiieve ‘t, me hada driink twooo musch!”
Zoro wanted to run in order to save himself (and maybe Sanji, too) from this embarrassment. Every last inch of respect he might have had for the cook vanished by each passing second.
It was the first time he saw Sanji this wasted, this graceless and stripped off all self-esteem.
‘He surely cannot hold his liquoir!,’ Zoro ascertained bitterly, but still didn’t say anything. He wondered if the cook will remember all this mess in the morning, if he talked just to get rid off the freshly created memory,…
“Scchhhtopp!,” Sanji screamed, ripping Zoro out of his train of thoughts. His long fingers curled around his face.
“Noo… Stop!,” he said a second time, his voice much quieter and remorseful. “Head ‘sch spinning!”
The cook tried to get on his feet. But his body shook wildly. His usually strong legs did not carry him any further. Supported by the wall he was pushed against a few moments ago, he tried his best to just stand.
Yet again, Zoro looked at him, cursed himself for what he was about to do. Just away from here. Away from the chanting from the bar, away from the unconscious body next to them, away from what-would-have-been images in his mind.
With one fluid motion, Zoro grabbed Sanji’s right arm and put it over his obviously more muscular right shoulder. He pulled him over his back and wondered what a lightweight Sanji really was. Sure, he looked skinny as hell, but there was absolutely no way he weighted a tenth of his training devices. Zoro even was sure that he felt bones sticking out of Sanji’s ribcage.
“North,” the drunken voice informed him. Without further ado, the green-haired man walked straight ahead until Sanji annoyed him again:
“Noo… go rii~iight!,” feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Zoro did as he was told.
“Not t’schis right… the other right!,” he didn’t even notice that he actually did choose the left side instead of what the blond told him. It still irked him that his sense of direction was even worse than a drunken, almost passed-out man’s.
Neither one of them knew how long it took for them to reach the Sunny.
Still, Zoro just wished Sanji wouldn’t remember in the morning, because if he would have gotten depressed over it, Zoro would have returned to the city and disemboweled that disgusting man single-handed - in the worst possible kind of way
Finished: 22nd of October 2010