One Piece- "Over the Threshold"
Title: Over the Threshold
Universe: One Piece
Theme/Topic: Bloody Zoro (I am going to run out of ways to do this soon. LOL)
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Zoro, Sanji, (slightly ZoxSan)with appearances by the rest of the crew?
Warnings/Spoilers: Hinted spoilers for Enies Lobby?
Word Count: 1,776
Summary: Future fic- Sanji and Zoro have always had higher pain tolerances when they’re together than when they’re alone.
Dedication: kotszok’s birthday fic! OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!
A/N: This ended up schmoopier than I wanted.
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
The sound of a match being struck made Zoro twitch reflexively and crack an eye; the weight suddenly leaning against his back made him suck in a wet, hissing breath of protest. At both instances, he could taste hot blood at the back of his mouth, could feel himself start to stir a little from the edge of unconsciousness, instinctively.
“Fuck, that hurts,” Sanji breathed, and looked up at the sky as he took his first puff of smoke. “You dead, stupid marimo?”
“Nngh,” Zoro responded noncommittally, and the muscles in his forearms were still quivering from the aftershocks of their battle. He wondered if the aho-chef’s legs felt the same. “’m mot dead, asshole. Tough luck.”
“Yeah well, you got fucked up,” Sanji croaked after exhaling another lungful of smoke. Zoro would never understand how the dumbass could still go ahead and puff away like he was when his throat-at the very least- must have been just as dry and sore as the swordsman’s was. “You really got fucked up and when I saw you over here I thought you were dead. You look it.”
“You got more fucked up,” Zoro shot back on instinct, and choked a little when breathing enough to speak made the raw air abrade his cracked, bleeding lips. But he ignored it and felt himself starting to get pissed at that smart-mouthed idiot instead, felt himself somehow-inexplicably- find the strength to sit up a little taller. Because he’d be damned if he let the stupid love-chef get away with all this smack talk without giving as good as he got. “You look worse than dead, aho-cook.”
“You’re only saying that because you can’t see yourself right now,” the blond muttered, and pushed half-heartedly back against Roronoa’s shoulders, causing Zoro’s muscles-and probably his own too- to protest at being jostled so callously after the gauntlet they’d just been forced to run. It woke Zoro up a little more and a little more-the pain.
Gave him some energy too, because Sanji always pissed him off, and somehow he always found the strength to get pissed in the first place, no matter how much he ached, no matter how much he wanted to just slump over and fall asleep. “Same goes for you, love-cook. Bet you look ten times worse than I do.”
“That was a stupid comeback.”
Silence then, save for a few ragged breaths between the two of them. Zoro felt every cracked rib grate inside of his chest, every oozing cut throbbing on his body, every grain of dirt smeared against his skin. He really had gotten fucked up.
Sanji too, and when Zoro felt the stupid love-cook shudder and start to go limp against his backside, he leaned back sharply, jabbed an elbow into the skinny cook’s kidney-not hard, but enough to jolt. “Oi… oi… didja hear me?” he demanded, and like hell he’d let the fucker rest when Sanji hadn’t let Zoro do the same. Not yet, not yet.
The chef jerked back awake with an angry growl. “I fuckin’ heard you. Cut that out.”
Zoro ignored him. “Maybe we both got fucked up,” the swordsman compromised after a moment, pushing on with the conversation even though he made himself cough and gag whenever he spoke. He spat blood on the ground next to him and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand-getting more dirt into the angry cut dribbling red down the side of his face. It stung and he grunted, before licking his lips. “We both may have got fucked up a little,” the swordsman repeated, tiredly. That damned blondie better be listening to him. Better be awake…
The chef stirred, grunting thoughtfully. “Yeah, we both got fucked up,” Sanji conceded between ragged breaths, and struggled to lift his head again, because he knew where this was going now, felt the ghost of a smile beginning to touch the corners of his mouth when he realized what the dumbass marimo was trying to do. Looking at the fucker, Sanji hadn’t thought Zoro’d still had it in him. With some effort the cook shook his eyes open again, pulled his knee up-it was heavy like a lead weight- and rested his arm on it, cigarette dangling off of his fingers, his precious hands that were the only part of him he could still move some.
Zoro cracked a smile in response and though they couldn’t see one another sitting back to back like they were, they’d fought so many battles together-a lot like this last one they’d just had- that watching each other’s backs like this over the years had made it so they didn’t need to see what the other was doing anymore to know what was going on. Moving together almost unconsciously, they turned to look out around them, smiles turning just a little bit malicious when they did.
“But they got fucked up more,” the two strawhats agreed in tandem, and surveyed the widespread destruction around them with a grim sense of accomplishment.
Enemy fighters groaned and bled and cried everywhere, and even if it had just been the two of them left behind to stave off this small army while the others went about their own important tasks, Zoro and Sanji both managed to take down seven hundred of the marines apiece that afternoon.
In the background, the tatters of a world government flag burned.
Some good work. Sanji supposed he wouldn’t mind going out like this-at the height of legend. He felt the muscles in his back relax again at the peaceful thought, felt his eyes start to flutter closed…
“I got seven hundred’n one,” Zoro felt the need to clarify, suddenly, out of nowhere. Asshole. “One more than you. I always get more than you, eh? Oi… you hear that, love cook?” The swordsman rolled his arm as he spoke-presumably stretching it-and the edge of his shoulder blade jabbed unceremoniously against Sanji’s spine whenever the idiot marimo moved like that, causing the blond to stir uncomfortably. He momentarily forgot about blissful, beckoning unconsciousness and shot back with an elbow into Zoro’s side. Purely reflex.
“I’ll fuck you up worse, you don’t shut the hell up,” the cook murmured, also feeling the need to clarify a few things to the idiot while they were on the subject of clarification.
Zoro snorted, but didn’t say anything more as they sat there in the middle of the now quiet battlefield, Sanji smoking and Zoro getting to know the taste of his own blood intimately. It tasted like burning, but it kept him awake as he sat there, gathering what strength he could. He closed his eyes-just for a moment- and breathed deeply. A nap sounded heavenly, he thought, and wouldn’t it be nice to be back on the ship, sitting in the crow’s nest fast asleep during his watch?
He sighed.
Just a breather, was all he needed. Just a breather and then they’d get up and go.
But just when it felt like things were starting to get comfortable again, that damned love-cook snapped his head back a little sharply, bopping the back of Zoro’s neck with just the slightest hint of force.
The swordsman winced, and his eyes shot back open.
“Think Luffy’n the others got through?” Sanji asked, and kept on talking like he hadn’t moved at all just now, the chef grinding his cigarette out in the dirt at their sides. He watched it smolder for a bit, between his fingers.
“Of course,” Zoro grunted, and licked blood from his arm, letting the burn wake him up again. He stirred, moving to physically shake his head to clear the fog.
Sanji nudged him again, maybe just to make sure, maybe just to be an ass. “Think they still need our help?”
Zoro laughed at the notion, and it hurt enough when he did that it renewed his spirits some. Fucked up maybe, but still alive. “No,” he answered, honestly. “They don’t need our help. But I think they’d want us there.”
Sanji laughed too then, and the sound of another cigarette being lit up filled the air around them. “Five minutes,” the blond breathed shakily, beginning to slump again despite his valiant efforts to stay conscious. “Gimme five minutes to finish my smoke and we’ll go.”
Zoro shifted. “I only need three,” he challenged, as loudly as he could given his parched throat and cracked lips.
A beat.
Sanji’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you. I only need two.”
“One.”
“Let’s go right now. Right now.”
“You’re on.”
The two struggled to their feet then, and each knew that in all the world, it was only the other person beside him right now who could drive him to this after what they’d both been through. And in all the world, it was only Luffy and the others who they would both do this for.
“I feel fine,” Sanji announced, once they were on their feet again, wobbly.
“I feel great,” Zoro countered, and stood up a little higher than the chef even though it ached to do so. His leg was probably broken.
Sanji snorted but didn’t say anything after that, and inch by inch, moment by moment, they moved forward, through the chaotic mass of bodies they’d created here today.
One step at a time.
They leaned on one another the entire way, and with great effort-and many, many insults- eventually made it back to the others’ sides, all in one piece.
When they finally saw-amidst great chaos and destruction- the welcome sights of Luffy’s smile, Chopper’s concern, Nami’s relief, Usopp’s incredulity, Frankie’s thumbs up, and Robin’s grateful eyes all looking back at them from down the enormous corridor of the world government’s main headquarters, something about their resolve decided it was safe to crumble now-when they saw those faces- and the two of them chuckled in relief before collapsing right then and there, on the very spot they were standing on.
“Fucking finally. I’m so damned sick of having to carry your weak ass all the time,” Sanji breathed to the swordsman, right before he passed out.
“Likewise,” Zoro grunted, and followed not a moment after him.
Luffy-sporting his own ridiculous injuries with fervor- laughed at his pair of silly crewmates, and then put his hands at his hips and announced that he was definitely glad they’d all found a way to make it here safely.
In the meantime, Zoro and Sanji were snoring peacefully away right there on the floor together, because both knew instinctively that now, everything was really okay.
END
EDITS?
Universe: One Piece
Theme/Topic: Bloody Zoro (I am going to run out of ways to do this soon. LOL)
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Zoro, Sanji, (slightly ZoxSan)with appearances by the rest of the crew?
Warnings/Spoilers: Hinted spoilers for Enies Lobby?
Word Count: 1,776
Summary: Future fic- Sanji and Zoro have always had higher pain tolerances when they’re together than when they’re alone.
Dedication: kotszok’s birthday fic! OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!
A/N: This ended up schmoopier than I wanted.
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
The sound of a match being struck made Zoro twitch reflexively and crack an eye; the weight suddenly leaning against his back made him suck in a wet, hissing breath of protest. At both instances, he could taste hot blood at the back of his mouth, could feel himself start to stir a little from the edge of unconsciousness, instinctively.
“Fuck, that hurts,” Sanji breathed, and looked up at the sky as he took his first puff of smoke. “You dead, stupid marimo?”
“Nngh,” Zoro responded noncommittally, and the muscles in his forearms were still quivering from the aftershocks of their battle. He wondered if the aho-chef’s legs felt the same. “’m mot dead, asshole. Tough luck.”
“Yeah well, you got fucked up,” Sanji croaked after exhaling another lungful of smoke. Zoro would never understand how the dumbass could still go ahead and puff away like he was when his throat-at the very least- must have been just as dry and sore as the swordsman’s was. “You really got fucked up and when I saw you over here I thought you were dead. You look it.”
“You got more fucked up,” Zoro shot back on instinct, and choked a little when breathing enough to speak made the raw air abrade his cracked, bleeding lips. But he ignored it and felt himself starting to get pissed at that smart-mouthed idiot instead, felt himself somehow-inexplicably- find the strength to sit up a little taller. Because he’d be damned if he let the stupid love-chef get away with all this smack talk without giving as good as he got. “You look worse than dead, aho-cook.”
“You’re only saying that because you can’t see yourself right now,” the blond muttered, and pushed half-heartedly back against Roronoa’s shoulders, causing Zoro’s muscles-and probably his own too- to protest at being jostled so callously after the gauntlet they’d just been forced to run. It woke Zoro up a little more and a little more-the pain.
Gave him some energy too, because Sanji always pissed him off, and somehow he always found the strength to get pissed in the first place, no matter how much he ached, no matter how much he wanted to just slump over and fall asleep. “Same goes for you, love-cook. Bet you look ten times worse than I do.”
“That was a stupid comeback.”
Silence then, save for a few ragged breaths between the two of them. Zoro felt every cracked rib grate inside of his chest, every oozing cut throbbing on his body, every grain of dirt smeared against his skin. He really had gotten fucked up.
Sanji too, and when Zoro felt the stupid love-cook shudder and start to go limp against his backside, he leaned back sharply, jabbed an elbow into the skinny cook’s kidney-not hard, but enough to jolt. “Oi… oi… didja hear me?” he demanded, and like hell he’d let the fucker rest when Sanji hadn’t let Zoro do the same. Not yet, not yet.
The chef jerked back awake with an angry growl. “I fuckin’ heard you. Cut that out.”
Zoro ignored him. “Maybe we both got fucked up,” the swordsman compromised after a moment, pushing on with the conversation even though he made himself cough and gag whenever he spoke. He spat blood on the ground next to him and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand-getting more dirt into the angry cut dribbling red down the side of his face. It stung and he grunted, before licking his lips. “We both may have got fucked up a little,” the swordsman repeated, tiredly. That damned blondie better be listening to him. Better be awake…
The chef stirred, grunting thoughtfully. “Yeah, we both got fucked up,” Sanji conceded between ragged breaths, and struggled to lift his head again, because he knew where this was going now, felt the ghost of a smile beginning to touch the corners of his mouth when he realized what the dumbass marimo was trying to do. Looking at the fucker, Sanji hadn’t thought Zoro’d still had it in him. With some effort the cook shook his eyes open again, pulled his knee up-it was heavy like a lead weight- and rested his arm on it, cigarette dangling off of his fingers, his precious hands that were the only part of him he could still move some.
Zoro cracked a smile in response and though they couldn’t see one another sitting back to back like they were, they’d fought so many battles together-a lot like this last one they’d just had- that watching each other’s backs like this over the years had made it so they didn’t need to see what the other was doing anymore to know what was going on. Moving together almost unconsciously, they turned to look out around them, smiles turning just a little bit malicious when they did.
“But they got fucked up more,” the two strawhats agreed in tandem, and surveyed the widespread destruction around them with a grim sense of accomplishment.
Enemy fighters groaned and bled and cried everywhere, and even if it had just been the two of them left behind to stave off this small army while the others went about their own important tasks, Zoro and Sanji both managed to take down seven hundred of the marines apiece that afternoon.
In the background, the tatters of a world government flag burned.
Some good work. Sanji supposed he wouldn’t mind going out like this-at the height of legend. He felt the muscles in his back relax again at the peaceful thought, felt his eyes start to flutter closed…
“I got seven hundred’n one,” Zoro felt the need to clarify, suddenly, out of nowhere. Asshole. “One more than you. I always get more than you, eh? Oi… you hear that, love cook?” The swordsman rolled his arm as he spoke-presumably stretching it-and the edge of his shoulder blade jabbed unceremoniously against Sanji’s spine whenever the idiot marimo moved like that, causing the blond to stir uncomfortably. He momentarily forgot about blissful, beckoning unconsciousness and shot back with an elbow into Zoro’s side. Purely reflex.
“I’ll fuck you up worse, you don’t shut the hell up,” the cook murmured, also feeling the need to clarify a few things to the idiot while they were on the subject of clarification.
Zoro snorted, but didn’t say anything more as they sat there in the middle of the now quiet battlefield, Sanji smoking and Zoro getting to know the taste of his own blood intimately. It tasted like burning, but it kept him awake as he sat there, gathering what strength he could. He closed his eyes-just for a moment- and breathed deeply. A nap sounded heavenly, he thought, and wouldn’t it be nice to be back on the ship, sitting in the crow’s nest fast asleep during his watch?
He sighed.
Just a breather, was all he needed. Just a breather and then they’d get up and go.
But just when it felt like things were starting to get comfortable again, that damned love-cook snapped his head back a little sharply, bopping the back of Zoro’s neck with just the slightest hint of force.
The swordsman winced, and his eyes shot back open.
“Think Luffy’n the others got through?” Sanji asked, and kept on talking like he hadn’t moved at all just now, the chef grinding his cigarette out in the dirt at their sides. He watched it smolder for a bit, between his fingers.
“Of course,” Zoro grunted, and licked blood from his arm, letting the burn wake him up again. He stirred, moving to physically shake his head to clear the fog.
Sanji nudged him again, maybe just to make sure, maybe just to be an ass. “Think they still need our help?”
Zoro laughed at the notion, and it hurt enough when he did that it renewed his spirits some. Fucked up maybe, but still alive. “No,” he answered, honestly. “They don’t need our help. But I think they’d want us there.”
Sanji laughed too then, and the sound of another cigarette being lit up filled the air around them. “Five minutes,” the blond breathed shakily, beginning to slump again despite his valiant efforts to stay conscious. “Gimme five minutes to finish my smoke and we’ll go.”
Zoro shifted. “I only need three,” he challenged, as loudly as he could given his parched throat and cracked lips.
A beat.
Sanji’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you. I only need two.”
“One.”
“Let’s go right now. Right now.”
“You’re on.”
The two struggled to their feet then, and each knew that in all the world, it was only the other person beside him right now who could drive him to this after what they’d both been through. And in all the world, it was only Luffy and the others who they would both do this for.
“I feel fine,” Sanji announced, once they were on their feet again, wobbly.
“I feel great,” Zoro countered, and stood up a little higher than the chef even though it ached to do so. His leg was probably broken.
Sanji snorted but didn’t say anything after that, and inch by inch, moment by moment, they moved forward, through the chaotic mass of bodies they’d created here today.
One step at a time.
They leaned on one another the entire way, and with great effort-and many, many insults- eventually made it back to the others’ sides, all in one piece.
When they finally saw-amidst great chaos and destruction- the welcome sights of Luffy’s smile, Chopper’s concern, Nami’s relief, Usopp’s incredulity, Frankie’s thumbs up, and Robin’s grateful eyes all looking back at them from down the enormous corridor of the world government’s main headquarters, something about their resolve decided it was safe to crumble now-when they saw those faces- and the two of them chuckled in relief before collapsing right then and there, on the very spot they were standing on.
“Fucking finally. I’m so damned sick of having to carry your weak ass all the time,” Sanji breathed to the swordsman, right before he passed out.
“Likewise,” Zoro grunted, and followed not a moment after him.
Luffy-sporting his own ridiculous injuries with fervor- laughed at his pair of silly crewmates, and then put his hands at his hips and announced that he was definitely glad they’d all found a way to make it here safely.
In the meantime, Zoro and Sanji were snoring peacefully away right there on the floor together, because both knew instinctively that now, everything was really okay.
END
EDITS?