[One Piece: Zoro/Sanji] Prompt: Lovers
Title: No Matter How Long It Takes
Fandom: One Piece
Characters: Zoro x Sanji, Gin, Franky, Usopp
Prompt: 41-Lovers
Word Count: 1598
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Summary: Going Express AU; Sanji struggles to define his relationship with Zoro.
After their first time together, Sanji wasn’t entirely sure what to do. They spent the morning together, went out for breakfast and bought each other coffee. They smiled quite a bit, looked into each other’s eyes a lot, and that was nice. But they didn’t say much. And when they parted ways, Zoro gave him an awkward shoulder squeeze that Sanji just couldn’t figure out.
“You’ve been fucking,” Gin said when he walked into the Floating Fish.
“Why are you always here?”
“You’ve been fucking.” Gin stepped in front of him before he could make it back to the kitchen. “…Zoro?” He didn’t wait for Sanji to answer. “Of course it was Zoro. Who the hell else? He’s only the guy you’ve been lusting after forever.” Sanji walked around him without a word and Gin grinned, shaking his head slightly. “So, you’re boyfriends now?”
Sanji had no idea.
[--]
Zoro called him that night. For three hours, they made up for the morning’s lack of conversation. For three hours, they talked about work, television shows and video games, their favorite drinks and favorite books and favorite songs. For three hours, they talked about scars, bar brawls, and their childhood.
For three hours, they talked about everything except them.
[--]
Then nothing for three days.
Sanji chewed on his cigarettes and cut his thumb while chopping scallions.
When his cell phone started playing Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me”, he answered it hastily with a hissed, “What?”
“…Do you want to come over?”
“Yes.”
[--]
The television was on. That night’s boxing match was Luffy’s brother, Fire Fist Ace, against Blackbeard. But they weren’t watching. They’d stopped watching the moment Zoro had oh-so-casually draped his arm around Sanji’s shoulders and Sanji had given him a look that oh-so-clearly said, “Are you fucking kidding? Just kiss me.”
The hand on Sanji’s shoulder tightened when he moved his lips to Zoro’s ear. He tongued the man’s earrings, smirking at the resulting sharp intake of breath. He nibbled, sucked, on the lobe slowly, and felt Zoro’s fingers grip at his shirt, then release, grip, release.
“I, uh, bought this.”
He pulled away just enough to watch Zoro pull something out of his pants pocket. A tube of cinnamon flavored lubricant.
Sanji grinned and crawled into his lap. Zoro turned the television off.
[--]
The afterglow was nice.
Sanji lay on his side in Zoro’s bed, his legs wrapped loosely around the cop’s waist. Zoro’s lips were pressed against his clavicle; his breathing was slow and even and Sanji thought he was sleeping until he spoke, quietly, into his skin.
“This is new for me.”
Sanji glanced down at Zoro’s head, ran his fingers through choppy green hair. “You’d never fucked a guy before?”
Zoro snorted and slid a hand up Sanji’s leg, resting it lightly on his hip. “That’s not what I said.”
Sanji was a little surprised (and maybe a little disappointed, and maybe a little jealous). He’d taken Zoro’s uncertainty to mean he was inexperienced. But in retrospect, he should’ve known better. No man who moved like that was a virgin.
“Then what?”
Silence.
“Zoro?”
Nothing.
“…Sure. Now you’re asleep.”
[--]
The next day, Gin caught Sanji after he’d brought another plate of char siu to the apparently extremely hungry woman with pink hair.
“You’ve got a text,” he said.
“Why do you have my phone?”
“‘We should go out.’”
“I’m a little busy right now, Gin.”
Gin rolled his eyes and held up the cell phone. “The text. From Zoro.”
Sanji took the phone from him and smiled.
We should go out.
[--]
They went to Franky’s. Partly because they could barely afford anything else, mostly because it was a good excuse to grope each other in public.
Zoro’s hand was on his ass, the heat of his palm a teasing promise. Sanji rolled his hips as he pressed forward, their bodies moving together with the music. The way Zoro rocked against him reminded Sanji of the way he’d rocked inside of him, and he moaned a little at the memory. He leaned in and kissed him. He might’ve heard Franky whistle at them from the bar, but he wasn’t sure and he didn’t care one way or the other.
“You’re vibrating,” Sanji murmured, grinning into the kiss.
“What?”
Sanji’s fingers briefly teased the front of Zoro’s pants before dipping into his pocket and retrieving his pager.
“Ah-that’s work.” Zoro frowned as he took it, his movements slowing, then stilling. “I have to go.”
They made their way off the dance floor and Zoro left him at the bar with a quick kiss to the side of his mouth. He sat down and Franky came over to him, lowering his shades to give him a curious look.
“What’s going on with you two?”
Sanji shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
“Well, I know one thing. You can’t let yourself think you’re more important than the badge.”
“Thanks for the words of wisdom. Now shut up and pour me a drink.”
[--]
The month that followed was wonderful and confusing.
Week One. Six phone conversations and handholding on the platform for the Going Express. Zoro dozed in a booth at the Floating Fish while waiting for Sanji to get off work. They skipped dinner and went straight to Sanji’s place for a nightcap, but Zoro left before morning.
Week Two. An argument when Zoro went undercover for four days without telling him. Make-up sex, during which there was one deliciously woozy moment when Zoro’s teeth left an angry mark on the inside of his thigh. (But was it make-up sex if they didn’t exactly break up in the first place? If they couldn’t break up, even, because they weren’t exactly together?)
Week Three. Zoro gave him a Phil Collins cassette tape, said it was a Lost reference. Sanji lost sleep and drove himself crazy watching the first two seasons online before giving up.
Week Four. One phone conversation and no sex. Sanji nursed a constant migraine.
[--]
They sat together on the Going Express, but didn’t speak, didn’t make any plans for that night or the next night or any night.
Mere minutes away from Sanji’s stop, Zoro asked, “You all right?”
“I’m great,” Sanji said, barely resisting the urge to kick the shit out of him.
Zoro nodded, apparently convinced. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Sanji gritted his teeth and stood as the train came to a stop. The doors opened and he paused before stepping out, looked back at the other man over his shoulder.
“What am I to you?”
The question surprised him, Sanji could tell. Was he really that oblivious? “You’re-Sanji.”
“What does that mean?” Sanji asked, unable to keep a faint whine of frustration out of his voice.
Zoro just looked at him, just looked, and Sanji couldn’t decide if he was an asshole or an idiot or both.
[--]
Sanji found a cheap boombox in the back of his bedroom closet. He wiped the dust off and put in the cassette tape. He lit a cigarette and sat on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, back against the wall. He closed his eyes and listened to “Another Day in Paradise” and “True Colors”.
While “Easy Lover” was playing and Phil Collins was telling him “you’d better forget it, you’ll never get it”, there was a knock at the door. Sanji knew it was Zoro. He wasn’t going to let him in.
When the song changed to Phil Collins’ cover of “You Can’t Hurry Love”, Sanji opened the door.
“Were you trying to make me sweat?”
Sanji raised, lowered one shoulder. “Was it working?”
“If I say yes,” Zoro sighed, “will you let me in?”
Sanji reached out, slipped a hand around his neck, and pulled him inside for a kiss.
They had slow, quiet sex on the living room floor. Sanji raked his fingernails down Zoro’s back and brushed his lips against his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. And Phil Collins continued to serenade them from the other room.
“No, love, love, don’t come easy/but I keep on waiting, anticipating, for that soft voice/to talk to me at night/for some tender arms to hold me tight”
[--]
“What are you doodling?”
Usopp glanced up from where he sat, cross-legged, on the ground. “I don’t doodle,” he sniffed, sounding more offended than he probably was.
“Uh-huh.” Sanji scooted a little closer to Zoro on the park bench, giving him a little smile as he opened the take-out box on his lap. “Sushi?”
Zoro eyed the food skeptically. “I’ve never tried it.”
“But you’ve always wanted to.”
“…No, I haven’t.”
“Just open your mouth.”
Zoro obeyed and Sanji’s smile grew. He picked up a piece of sushi carefully and very delicately…tossed it into Zoro’s mouth.
The cop coughed as he swallowed it. “Bastard, I thought you were going to feed it to me!”
Sanji laughed and gave him a pat on the back.
Usopp cut his eyes at them. “What happened to the interest in my doodle?”
“I thought you didn’t doodle.”
“Do you want to see it or not?” Without waiting for an answer, he held up his sketchpad. On the page, two very familiar figures were sitting on a park bench and looking at each other, just looking. “I call it ‘Lovers’,” he teased. “What do you think?”
Sanji looked at Zoro, and Zoro looked at him, and maybe they’d both been a little oblivious.
“I think it’s a masterpiece.”
Fandom: One Piece
Characters: Zoro x Sanji, Gin, Franky, Usopp
Prompt: 41-Lovers
Word Count: 1598
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Summary: Going Express AU; Sanji struggles to define his relationship with Zoro.
After their first time together, Sanji wasn’t entirely sure what to do. They spent the morning together, went out for breakfast and bought each other coffee. They smiled quite a bit, looked into each other’s eyes a lot, and that was nice. But they didn’t say much. And when they parted ways, Zoro gave him an awkward shoulder squeeze that Sanji just couldn’t figure out.
“You’ve been fucking,” Gin said when he walked into the Floating Fish.
“Why are you always here?”
“You’ve been fucking.” Gin stepped in front of him before he could make it back to the kitchen. “…Zoro?” He didn’t wait for Sanji to answer. “Of course it was Zoro. Who the hell else? He’s only the guy you’ve been lusting after forever.” Sanji walked around him without a word and Gin grinned, shaking his head slightly. “So, you’re boyfriends now?”
Sanji had no idea.
[--]
Zoro called him that night. For three hours, they made up for the morning’s lack of conversation. For three hours, they talked about work, television shows and video games, their favorite drinks and favorite books and favorite songs. For three hours, they talked about scars, bar brawls, and their childhood.
For three hours, they talked about everything except them.
[--]
Then nothing for three days.
Sanji chewed on his cigarettes and cut his thumb while chopping scallions.
When his cell phone started playing Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me”, he answered it hastily with a hissed, “What?”
“…Do you want to come over?”
“Yes.”
[--]
The television was on. That night’s boxing match was Luffy’s brother, Fire Fist Ace, against Blackbeard. But they weren’t watching. They’d stopped watching the moment Zoro had oh-so-casually draped his arm around Sanji’s shoulders and Sanji had given him a look that oh-so-clearly said, “Are you fucking kidding? Just kiss me.”
The hand on Sanji’s shoulder tightened when he moved his lips to Zoro’s ear. He tongued the man’s earrings, smirking at the resulting sharp intake of breath. He nibbled, sucked, on the lobe slowly, and felt Zoro’s fingers grip at his shirt, then release, grip, release.
“I, uh, bought this.”
He pulled away just enough to watch Zoro pull something out of his pants pocket. A tube of cinnamon flavored lubricant.
Sanji grinned and crawled into his lap. Zoro turned the television off.
[--]
The afterglow was nice.
Sanji lay on his side in Zoro’s bed, his legs wrapped loosely around the cop’s waist. Zoro’s lips were pressed against his clavicle; his breathing was slow and even and Sanji thought he was sleeping until he spoke, quietly, into his skin.
“This is new for me.”
Sanji glanced down at Zoro’s head, ran his fingers through choppy green hair. “You’d never fucked a guy before?”
Zoro snorted and slid a hand up Sanji’s leg, resting it lightly on his hip. “That’s not what I said.”
Sanji was a little surprised (and maybe a little disappointed, and maybe a little jealous). He’d taken Zoro’s uncertainty to mean he was inexperienced. But in retrospect, he should’ve known better. No man who moved like that was a virgin.
“Then what?”
Silence.
“Zoro?”
Nothing.
“…Sure. Now you’re asleep.”
[--]
The next day, Gin caught Sanji after he’d brought another plate of char siu to the apparently extremely hungry woman with pink hair.
“You’ve got a text,” he said.
“Why do you have my phone?”
“‘We should go out.’”
“I’m a little busy right now, Gin.”
Gin rolled his eyes and held up the cell phone. “The text. From Zoro.”
Sanji took the phone from him and smiled.
We should go out.
[--]
They went to Franky’s. Partly because they could barely afford anything else, mostly because it was a good excuse to grope each other in public.
Zoro’s hand was on his ass, the heat of his palm a teasing promise. Sanji rolled his hips as he pressed forward, their bodies moving together with the music. The way Zoro rocked against him reminded Sanji of the way he’d rocked inside of him, and he moaned a little at the memory. He leaned in and kissed him. He might’ve heard Franky whistle at them from the bar, but he wasn’t sure and he didn’t care one way or the other.
“You’re vibrating,” Sanji murmured, grinning into the kiss.
“What?”
Sanji’s fingers briefly teased the front of Zoro’s pants before dipping into his pocket and retrieving his pager.
“Ah-that’s work.” Zoro frowned as he took it, his movements slowing, then stilling. “I have to go.”
They made their way off the dance floor and Zoro left him at the bar with a quick kiss to the side of his mouth. He sat down and Franky came over to him, lowering his shades to give him a curious look.
“What’s going on with you two?”
Sanji shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
“Well, I know one thing. You can’t let yourself think you’re more important than the badge.”
“Thanks for the words of wisdom. Now shut up and pour me a drink.”
[--]
The month that followed was wonderful and confusing.
Week One. Six phone conversations and handholding on the platform for the Going Express. Zoro dozed in a booth at the Floating Fish while waiting for Sanji to get off work. They skipped dinner and went straight to Sanji’s place for a nightcap, but Zoro left before morning.
Week Two. An argument when Zoro went undercover for four days without telling him. Make-up sex, during which there was one deliciously woozy moment when Zoro’s teeth left an angry mark on the inside of his thigh. (But was it make-up sex if they didn’t exactly break up in the first place? If they couldn’t break up, even, because they weren’t exactly together?)
Week Three. Zoro gave him a Phil Collins cassette tape, said it was a Lost reference. Sanji lost sleep and drove himself crazy watching the first two seasons online before giving up.
Week Four. One phone conversation and no sex. Sanji nursed a constant migraine.
[--]
They sat together on the Going Express, but didn’t speak, didn’t make any plans for that night or the next night or any night.
Mere minutes away from Sanji’s stop, Zoro asked, “You all right?”
“I’m great,” Sanji said, barely resisting the urge to kick the shit out of him.
Zoro nodded, apparently convinced. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Sanji gritted his teeth and stood as the train came to a stop. The doors opened and he paused before stepping out, looked back at the other man over his shoulder.
“What am I to you?”
The question surprised him, Sanji could tell. Was he really that oblivious? “You’re-Sanji.”
“What does that mean?” Sanji asked, unable to keep a faint whine of frustration out of his voice.
Zoro just looked at him, just looked, and Sanji couldn’t decide if he was an asshole or an idiot or both.
[--]
Sanji found a cheap boombox in the back of his bedroom closet. He wiped the dust off and put in the cassette tape. He lit a cigarette and sat on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, back against the wall. He closed his eyes and listened to “Another Day in Paradise” and “True Colors”.
While “Easy Lover” was playing and Phil Collins was telling him “you’d better forget it, you’ll never get it”, there was a knock at the door. Sanji knew it was Zoro. He wasn’t going to let him in.
When the song changed to Phil Collins’ cover of “You Can’t Hurry Love”, Sanji opened the door.
“Were you trying to make me sweat?”
Sanji raised, lowered one shoulder. “Was it working?”
“If I say yes,” Zoro sighed, “will you let me in?”
Sanji reached out, slipped a hand around his neck, and pulled him inside for a kiss.
They had slow, quiet sex on the living room floor. Sanji raked his fingernails down Zoro’s back and brushed his lips against his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. And Phil Collins continued to serenade them from the other room.
“No, love, love, don’t come easy/but I keep on waiting, anticipating, for that soft voice/to talk to me at night/for some tender arms to hold me tight”
[--]
“What are you doodling?”
Usopp glanced up from where he sat, cross-legged, on the ground. “I don’t doodle,” he sniffed, sounding more offended than he probably was.
“Uh-huh.” Sanji scooted a little closer to Zoro on the park bench, giving him a little smile as he opened the take-out box on his lap. “Sushi?”
Zoro eyed the food skeptically. “I’ve never tried it.”
“But you’ve always wanted to.”
“…No, I haven’t.”
“Just open your mouth.”
Zoro obeyed and Sanji’s smile grew. He picked up a piece of sushi carefully and very delicately…tossed it into Zoro’s mouth.
The cop coughed as he swallowed it. “Bastard, I thought you were going to feed it to me!”
Sanji laughed and gave him a pat on the back.
Usopp cut his eyes at them. “What happened to the interest in my doodle?”
“I thought you didn’t doodle.”
“Do you want to see it or not?” Without waiting for an answer, he held up his sketchpad. On the page, two very familiar figures were sitting on a park bench and looking at each other, just looking. “I call it ‘Lovers’,” he teased. “What do you think?”
Sanji looked at Zoro, and Zoro looked at him, and maybe they’d both been a little oblivious.
“I think it’s a masterpiece.”