One Piece- "Wiles"
LATE FOR SANJI'S BIRTHDAY MY BAD. -_-;; ALSO THIS IS RETARDED TIMES A BILLION.
Title: Wiles
Universe: One Piece
Theme/Topic: Sanji’s Birthday
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: ZoroxSanji
Warnings/Spoilers: None I can imagine. BUT LOTS OF OOC SORRY ABOUT THAT.
Word Count: 1,159
Summary: fic in the Switch Switch verse- Zoro knows what Sanji wants. It’s just an issue of handing it over.
Dedication: kotszok, who has been pestering me for WEEKS to write OP. LOL sorry it took so long! And that there is no blood. >> I SUCK OK?! *sob*
A/N: LOL I definitely did not write Zoro right here. SORRY KAJA. I FAIL AT LIFE.
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
As it tended to be year in and year out, the fact that tomorrow was Sanji’s birthday posed a bit of a problem for Zoro.
And just to be clear, it wasn’t problematic simply because he was expected to be nice to the dumbass (though that was usually a pretty big part of it too, all things considered).
No, the main problem was the fact that Zoro wasn’t a good shopper. And just because he sometimes turned into a girl didn’t change the fact either, though Nami had suggested he try going out on a trip to the marketplace in his female body just once to see if things in the spending-money category improved with the help of the extra estrogen in his system. He’d gotten lots of good ‘pretty girl’ discounts from the pervy looking vendors sure, but the experience still hadn’t made him actually want to buy anything in particular just for the sake of buying it.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he supposed. He had wanted to buy some slightly more conservative women’s clothing for himself just so he wouldn’t have to continue borrowing Robin’s or Nami’s stuff whenever he needed to go out in public as a girl. Wearing their tiny, tiny little strips of cloth-called-outfits while a bunch of drooling guys looked at his bouncy parts was admittedly a bit off-putting.
But the sudden desire to cover himself still didn’t help him with the fact that tomorrow was Sanji’s birthday and he currently had nil.
No one else on the crew was of any help in the finding presents category either-Luffy and Chopper always found the chef some nice shiny rocks while Robin traditionally let him rub suntan lotion on her back on his birthday. Nami usually just gave the cook a cute picture of herself with a reminder of how much money he currently owed her written on the back, and this year Usopp was planning on presenting Sanji with a promissory note vowing to stop wasting ketchup and Tabasco sauce and other various food items when loading his arsenal of projectile weaponry.
And while those were all good and fine for the rest of the crew, Zoro had the sneaking suspicion that those sorts of things wouldn’t fly with him if he were to try them, because he might possibly be held to a different standard than everyone else considering the fact that there was sex involved between he and the chef.
It was just a hunch.
One that maybe was built on the fact that last year, when he’d tried to get in on the whole shiny rocks plan with Chopper and Luffy, Zoro had been the only one of the three rock presenters kicked rather viciously in the head afterwards.
Thus, the problem.
And so Roronoa Zoro spent the remainder of the afternoon on the eve of his lover’s birthday sitting alone on deck and trying to determine whether he should go through the trouble of buying something or just kill the idiot before midnight tonight so as to make gift giving moot altogether.
Option two was very, very tempting.
Especially considering how singularly unfair it was that more was expected of Zoro than anyone else when Sanji knew very well that the swordsman wasn’t any good at this kind of stuff in he first place. The girls (or the born girls, rather) were the ones who were good at buying nice things, and it was a supreme injustice that despite that, they didn’t even have to get Sanji anything really. The dumbass probably would have been happy with something as simple a little wink or a smile from either of them, or even just the chance to watch them turn left in those scandalous little skirts of theirs and…
Pause.
Blink.
Waitaminute.
The swordsman’s severe expression suddenly turned inspired as realization dawned on him. “Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself, and recognized the fact that he might just have the perfect present for a perverted idiot like Sanji in mind after all. And one that required absolutely no shopping at that.
He just needed to gather up the courage to use it first.
But Roronoa Zoro- be he in male body or female body-was no coward, and as simple as that, his course of action was decided for him, even despite his minor misgivings.
He was going to give that goddamned love-chef the present of his life.
The next day, long after Luffy and Chopper had presented their shiny rocks, Robin had gotten her suntan oil, Nami had given her picture, and Usopp had made his promise, Zoro gritted his teeth, clutched his water bottle in hand, and approached the chef.
“Oi, dumbass,” the swordsman began; challengingly deliberate as he faced the other man head on.
“What, not even rocks this year?” Sanji started back waspishly, immediately on the offensive and calling Zoro out on the whole not-having-a-present-to-give-him-at-dinner-like-everyone-else thing.
“Shut the fuck up for a second, will you?” Zoro ground out, and set his jaw determinedly as he slowly uncapped the water bottle in his hand. It was now or never, do or die.
Zoro promptly dumped the whole thing over his head.
The chef gaped. “L-lola-chwan?” he asked, and clearly had not been expecting that (of all things) as Zoro stood there in front of him, now a foot shorter, long-haired, and sporting a pair of boobs in a really wet, oversized T-shirt.
“Happy birthday,” Zoro announced then, and then promptly lifted up the front of said really wet, oversized T-shirt.
He counted backwards from three.
Though Sanji passed out before he could even finish saying “one.”
Zoro lowered his shirt then, and looked down at the unconscious, grinning idiot at his feet. He nudged the blond with his toe, and got some sort of happy shivery reaction in response.
And despite the fact that he’d just flashed a guy, Zoro couldn’t help but feel oddly satisfied with his gift to the chef this year, given the reaction he’d just gotten out of the usually smug bastard.
Apparently 2.5 seconds of boobs was definitely a step up from shiny rocks.
That done, Roronoa Zoro (in Lola form) headed for the shower to go clean up and figured that the stupid love-cook would probably be able to regain consciousness in the fifteen minutes it would take for him to go grab a nice hot shower and get ready for the birthday sex that would inevitably follow getting the best present ever.
The swordsman grinned to himself and whistled all the way to the bathroom.
And, he told himself happily, the best part about the whole thing wasn’t the fact that he’d clearly won in the kick-ass present category. No, the real best thing about all of this was the fact that now, now Zoro knew exactly what to do for the pervert on his birthday next year as well.
Next year he’d just count backwards from five.
END
EDITS PLZ.
Title: Wiles
Universe: One Piece
Theme/Topic: Sanji’s Birthday
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: ZoroxSanji
Warnings/Spoilers: None I can imagine. BUT LOTS OF OOC SORRY ABOUT THAT.
Word Count: 1,159
Summary: fic in the Switch Switch verse- Zoro knows what Sanji wants. It’s just an issue of handing it over.
Dedication: kotszok, who has been pestering me for WEEKS to write OP. LOL sorry it took so long! And that there is no blood. >> I SUCK OK?! *sob*
A/N: LOL I definitely did not write Zoro right here. SORRY KAJA. I FAIL AT LIFE.
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
As it tended to be year in and year out, the fact that tomorrow was Sanji’s birthday posed a bit of a problem for Zoro.
And just to be clear, it wasn’t problematic simply because he was expected to be nice to the dumbass (though that was usually a pretty big part of it too, all things considered).
No, the main problem was the fact that Zoro wasn’t a good shopper. And just because he sometimes turned into a girl didn’t change the fact either, though Nami had suggested he try going out on a trip to the marketplace in his female body just once to see if things in the spending-money category improved with the help of the extra estrogen in his system. He’d gotten lots of good ‘pretty girl’ discounts from the pervy looking vendors sure, but the experience still hadn’t made him actually want to buy anything in particular just for the sake of buying it.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he supposed. He had wanted to buy some slightly more conservative women’s clothing for himself just so he wouldn’t have to continue borrowing Robin’s or Nami’s stuff whenever he needed to go out in public as a girl. Wearing their tiny, tiny little strips of cloth-called-outfits while a bunch of drooling guys looked at his bouncy parts was admittedly a bit off-putting.
But the sudden desire to cover himself still didn’t help him with the fact that tomorrow was Sanji’s birthday and he currently had nil.
No one else on the crew was of any help in the finding presents category either-Luffy and Chopper always found the chef some nice shiny rocks while Robin traditionally let him rub suntan lotion on her back on his birthday. Nami usually just gave the cook a cute picture of herself with a reminder of how much money he currently owed her written on the back, and this year Usopp was planning on presenting Sanji with a promissory note vowing to stop wasting ketchup and Tabasco sauce and other various food items when loading his arsenal of projectile weaponry.
And while those were all good and fine for the rest of the crew, Zoro had the sneaking suspicion that those sorts of things wouldn’t fly with him if he were to try them, because he might possibly be held to a different standard than everyone else considering the fact that there was sex involved between he and the chef.
It was just a hunch.
One that maybe was built on the fact that last year, when he’d tried to get in on the whole shiny rocks plan with Chopper and Luffy, Zoro had been the only one of the three rock presenters kicked rather viciously in the head afterwards.
Thus, the problem.
And so Roronoa Zoro spent the remainder of the afternoon on the eve of his lover’s birthday sitting alone on deck and trying to determine whether he should go through the trouble of buying something or just kill the idiot before midnight tonight so as to make gift giving moot altogether.
Option two was very, very tempting.
Especially considering how singularly unfair it was that more was expected of Zoro than anyone else when Sanji knew very well that the swordsman wasn’t any good at this kind of stuff in he first place. The girls (or the born girls, rather) were the ones who were good at buying nice things, and it was a supreme injustice that despite that, they didn’t even have to get Sanji anything really. The dumbass probably would have been happy with something as simple a little wink or a smile from either of them, or even just the chance to watch them turn left in those scandalous little skirts of theirs and…
Pause.
Blink.
Waitaminute.
The swordsman’s severe expression suddenly turned inspired as realization dawned on him. “Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself, and recognized the fact that he might just have the perfect present for a perverted idiot like Sanji in mind after all. And one that required absolutely no shopping at that.
He just needed to gather up the courage to use it first.
But Roronoa Zoro- be he in male body or female body-was no coward, and as simple as that, his course of action was decided for him, even despite his minor misgivings.
He was going to give that goddamned love-chef the present of his life.
The next day, long after Luffy and Chopper had presented their shiny rocks, Robin had gotten her suntan oil, Nami had given her picture, and Usopp had made his promise, Zoro gritted his teeth, clutched his water bottle in hand, and approached the chef.
“Oi, dumbass,” the swordsman began; challengingly deliberate as he faced the other man head on.
“What, not even rocks this year?” Sanji started back waspishly, immediately on the offensive and calling Zoro out on the whole not-having-a-present-to-give-him-at-dinner-like-everyone-else thing.
“Shut the fuck up for a second, will you?” Zoro ground out, and set his jaw determinedly as he slowly uncapped the water bottle in his hand. It was now or never, do or die.
Zoro promptly dumped the whole thing over his head.
The chef gaped. “L-lola-chwan?” he asked, and clearly had not been expecting that (of all things) as Zoro stood there in front of him, now a foot shorter, long-haired, and sporting a pair of boobs in a really wet, oversized T-shirt.
“Happy birthday,” Zoro announced then, and then promptly lifted up the front of said really wet, oversized T-shirt.
He counted backwards from three.
Though Sanji passed out before he could even finish saying “one.”
Zoro lowered his shirt then, and looked down at the unconscious, grinning idiot at his feet. He nudged the blond with his toe, and got some sort of happy shivery reaction in response.
And despite the fact that he’d just flashed a guy, Zoro couldn’t help but feel oddly satisfied with his gift to the chef this year, given the reaction he’d just gotten out of the usually smug bastard.
Apparently 2.5 seconds of boobs was definitely a step up from shiny rocks.
That done, Roronoa Zoro (in Lola form) headed for the shower to go clean up and figured that the stupid love-cook would probably be able to regain consciousness in the fifteen minutes it would take for him to go grab a nice hot shower and get ready for the birthday sex that would inevitably follow getting the best present ever.
The swordsman grinned to himself and whistled all the way to the bathroom.
And, he told himself happily, the best part about the whole thing wasn’t the fact that he’d clearly won in the kick-ass present category. No, the real best thing about all of this was the fact that now, now Zoro knew exactly what to do for the pervert on his birthday next year as well.
Next year he’d just count backwards from five.
END
EDITS PLZ.