Property of Sanji 2
After the ceremony ends and flowers are thrown drinks start pouring for the rest of the guests, Sanji snags two for them but Zoro manages to ditch his in a plant. He doesn’t have a problem with drinking but drinking around these guys? Hell no.
The two of them are herded down a corridor by a photographer into a room clearly set up for the purpose of taking photographs. There’s a fancy looking bookshelf behind them and chairs that have convenient casters on to wheel them in and out of shot depending on who’s there. The photographs make Zoro feel more like an expensive living prop than he already is with people moving him around the picture without asking him, just telling or sometimes just grabbing him and pulling. Sanji on the other hand gets fussed over and cajoled into doing what the photographer and his relatives want.
Different groups file in and out of the room, shots with Sanji’s horrible father, shots with Sanji’s father and uncle, shots with Sanji’s extended family. After that there are pictures with Sanji’s friends, in which the blonde brightens significantly and Robin makes an appearance again, along with a skinny guy with an afro whom, upon closer inspection and a tasteless joke on the guy’s part, is revealed to be an actual living skeleton! He’s another Devil’s fruit user clearly and it leads Zoro to wonder if Sanji is too, and if so if he might be able at a later date to arrange a water based “accident” for his new master. After all, mates whose masters die under natural circumstances can occasionally be set free if it’s in the will. Though how he’d get that in Sanji’s will is a different problem.
As he ponders that problem the photographer ushers everyone else out of the room.
“Just the two of us now?” Sanji asks in a slightly disinterested voice and he slouches a little, with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Yes, now if you stand a little closer together for this shot… like that.” The photographer says manoeuvring Zoro a little closer to Sanji’s side without so much as asking him. The warmth from Sanji’s shoulder leaks across to him and makes the hairs on the back of Zoro’s neck rise up in protest.
“Hah, come on now, pretend like you like each other!” The photographer jokes. Zoro doesn’t find that funny at all seeing as how that joke line could be the script for the rest of his natural life. He glances over at Sanji who looks at him and flashes him a rueful grin.
“This is so dull, I hate having my picture taken.” Sanji says under his breath so that only Zoro can hear him.
“Come on you two, smile!” The photographer says cheesily. Zoro wonders how far through stabbing the man to death with his own tripod he could get before he was restrained. Sanji rolls his eyes at Zoro like they’re friends and this is all some big joke and reluctantly flashes a smile for the camera. Zoro gives up on trying to kill everyone in the room with his eyes and figures that the blonde probably has the right idea, the sooner he can pull off the required convincing smile the sooner he’ll be away from this mouth breathing moron of a photographer.
He calls up memories of hours spent with Luffy and Ace, laughing and drinking at their house and running around his neighbourhood getting into trouble. He conjures up memories of him and Nami at thirteen sneaking around the institute finding hiding places to stash their pick-pocketed wares and getting drunk off of alcohol they’d fermented themselves in secret. A small smile forms on his lips and he does his best to freeze it there as the camera flashes.
The photographer looks through his photos and looks pleased. Zoro breathes a sigh of relief and feels Sanji do the same next to him, one photo closer to being done, maybe it might even be the last.
“That wasn’t too bad! Now for your photos for your private album Sir Prince.” The photographer says locking the door and making his way back to them. Zoro frowns, logically it would make sense to assume that they’re going to be expected to change outfits, maybe into something more in keeping with some family tradition perhaps?
“Private album?” Sanji asks, evidently as non-plussed as Zoro is.
“Yes, it’s traditional to capture the first on camera, for your eyes only of course.” The photographer explains with a sleazy wink.
Sanji still looks puzzled but Zoro is starting to catch on and with the realisation dread starts to draw an icy finger up his spine.
“If you just unzip Sir, just pretend I’m not here, don’t mind me. A lot of young men your age like their hands in their mate’s hair like this, but whatever you fancy.” The photographer says congenially as he painfully grabs a fistful of Zoro’s hair to demonstrate.
Fear courses through Zoro and he thinks of ways that he can snap this guy’s arm. But he can’t, he wouldn’t make it out of the building unarmed like this, and even if he did he was back to that “fate worse than death” part again. It doesn’t help that he’s frozen on the spot and the only thing going through his head is a verse and chorus of “no, no, no, no, no”.
“Now if you just… on your knees.” The photographer continues, gritting his teeth, yanking Zoro’s head back slightly by his hair and kicking him in the back of the knees so he drops to the floor. His eyes are level with his master’s shiny belt buckle now. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and prays that this is just a terrible nightmare. He prays that he’s just going to wake up with a jolt staring at Luffy’s discoloured ceiling after another night on his crappy sofa, that he’ll be freaked out and Luffy will act like a moron until Zoro laughs and the horrible nightmare is forgotten.
In reality however two fingers slide under his collar and yank him roughly to his feet, his eyes fly open in terror and surprise. Sanji’s face is a picture of fury as he steps between Zoro and the photographer, almost shielding him with his body.
“Are you crazy?! I’m not going to- to- GET OUT OF HERE! That’s sick!” Sanji yells, so livid that the photographer actually backs away out of fear.
“But- but it’s tradition!” The photographer squeaks, skirting around the room away from the furious blonde.
“OUT!” Sanji bellows, chasing the photographer from the room. The blonde slams the door, kicks it for good measure and rests his head on it with a heaving sigh.
Zoro realises that he’s shaking, he catches himself and tries to force his body to stop. The last thing he wants to do here is to show weakness.
“Good god, some people.” Sanji mutters, turning against the door so that his back is resting on it. He sighs and looks at Zoro.
He’s sure that the panic must be showing on his face at least a little because Sanji feels the need to frown worriedly at him.
“Are you okay? You’re… you’re shaking.” He comments stepping closer and spiking Zoro’s anxiety higher. Zoro swallows the lump in his throat and nods sharply, not trusting his voice at this moment.
“Listen, this is pretty weird and I know we haven’t had any time to talk but-” Sanji starts off but is cut off by a loud banging on the door behind him.
“Oi, Sanji! Are you all done in there with your personal photos?” The older male voice asks with a dirty laugh. The tips of Sanji’s ears turn pink and he spins to open the door.
“What do you want Uncle Fullbody?” Sanji asks with a growl in his voice as he opens the door.
“Hey, don’t talk to your favourite uncle like that!” The slightly older lavender haired guy says, shoving his way into the room and clapping Sanji on the shoulder.
“You’re my only uncle.” Sanji grumbles at the man.
“Less of that. Come on, there’s food now!” Fullbody laughs dragging Sanji out of the room. The blonde shoots him a regretful look, but for what Zoro doesn’t know. He doesn’t follow them but he can still hear them.
“You hold onto those private pictures yeah? You get more attached to them than you might think, the mate I mean, but the pictures too - hah! Ah, I remember when I got my Rose, such fun. Unfortunately she broke her leg a few years later and the cast was so unsightly and she’d take so long to heal that I had to put her down you see. Such a shame. Ah well, I might get another in a few years though.” Fullbody says with a wistful sigh.
Zoro’s blood runs cold, that poor woman. Fullbody was talking about her like she was a dog, no, he probably treated his dogs better than that!
“What?! You and father told me that Aunt Rose got sick and died!” Sanji squawks in horror as he and Fullbody make their way down the corridor, having completely forgotten him.
“Oh stop being so wet Sanji, I keep telling you, they’re not people.” Fullbody sighs dramatically.
Zoro shuts the door, not able to listen to those two any longer. Goddamn rich bastards. Was this really going to be his life now? Was he going to be ‘put down’ like a dog when Sanji tires of him like Fullbody had of poor Rose? That said, would he want to live by the time Sanji tired of him? After all, if Sanji wasn’t so shy and disliked having his photo taken so much he’d probably be choking and gagging from his knees while some sicko took pictures.
He shudders, he wants to get away from here desperately by he knows that he can’t, the first day is such a high risk day for mates fleeing that the Royal Institute even provides its own guards. It’s all part of their ‘five star service’. He looks out of the window and sure enough he spies the familiar looking men in cheap-looking suits. They don’t have guns or weapons. They have a remote each, the remote connects to a device in the collar around his neck. The device is kind of like a taser but smarter than that, the voltage ramps up and up until either manually switched off by the remote holder or until it senses that the wearer has lost consciousness, if it doesn’t kill him first. It has a rather high failure rate but no one complains. If those guards so much as saw him trying to escape they’d use it, and after that well… things only got infinitely worse.
He backs away from the window with a sigh and turns back to the door. Robin is standing there in her pretty dress, watching him with an expression that he can’t place. Her sudden appearance makes him jump, once again he didn’t hear the door open and it’s shut again behind her.
“How do you keep doing that?” Zoro frowns at her. He doesn’t know why he’s talking to her, perhaps because she’s the only one yet to both say more than two sentences to him and treat him like a human being. God his standards are low.
“How do I keep doing what?” She smiles at him sneakily.
“Appearing and disappearing like that. Is it part of your devil’s fruit power?” he questions her. All his training in manners is reprimanding him inside for being so informal with someone so above his station, someone who is titled as Lady no less.
A disembodied hand pushes him gently away from the wall towards her. He gets the hint and walks willingly forwards.
“Everybody has their secrets Zoro. Now come, they’re serving great food out there. It’s the second best food that you’ll ever eat.” She smiles at him coyly as she links her arm through his and walks him down the fancy corridor.
“Second best eh? How can I saw no to that?” He smirks at her, getting a wry grin back in return.
Robin leads him into a banquet hall that is positively bustling with people, both dressed up dinner guests and servants running around hurriedly with plates of food. The room is plushly decorated of course with thick and elaborately patterned carpet that Zoro’s feet sink into with every step and gigantic glittery chandeliers throwing sparkles around the room.
Zoro spies Sanji sitting and the top table next to his father Spandam. The older man is talking, gesticulating wildly and punctuating his points with a thump of his fist on the table. Sanji flashes a tight grin at his father and whilst he’s not looking necks the entire glass of champagne in his hand in one go. It is very quickly refilled by an attentive servant girl and eyed by Sanji as if he is weighing up whether he can do the same to this one before his father turns his attention back on him.
“Oh dear, Sanji shall be very drunk very soon if he keeps that up.” Robin says worriedly.
Great, so his master was a drinker then, that was going to work out just peachy for him wasn’t it? Next he’d find out that the guy had a violent streak too. He’d already seen the guy’s temper at he photographer - none of this boded well for him. Nevertheless he parts ways with Robin who places a polite kiss on his cheek as she goes to her table with the afro wearing skeleton, leaving him to navigate his way to the top table and sit next to Sanji. He sits down but finds Sanji too deeply engrossed in, or at least too absorbed in listening, to a debate that his father and uncle are having about some administration board. It sounds dull as dishwater to him so he tunes them out completely, a skill that he learned from years of being around Nami bitching.
A fancily dressed servant stops by him and delicately places a gorgeous looking plate of food down before him with a short respectful bow/curtsy hybrid.
“Oh, thank you.” He says looking up at the servant who stares back at him with wide surprised eyes. The guy seems so shocked and Zoro realises that it’s because he thanked him.
“You… you’re welcome.” The guy stammers and places another plate down in front of Sanji too. The blonde however is too busy downing another glass of champagne with his eyes shut to even notice let alone thank the guy. Rich bastard.
Zoro eats his food in silence, it’s good food, the best that he’s ever eaten in fact, but his sour mood caused by the heavy padlock at his throat significantly dampens his enthusiasm for the meal. Sanji for the most part stays silent, only participating in discussion with his father and uncle when actually asked for his opinion. Sanji never even talks to him or looks at him, which is fine by Zoro and he can hope only that Sanji plans to continue that way for the rest of their lives - though he doubts that he’ll be so lucky.
Plenty of people stop by the top table to give their congratulations to Sanji on his new acquisition, namely him. The blonde appears pleased to see some people but not all. Several of the guests pinch Zoro’s cheeks or pat him on the head like a pet.
Many of them have mates of their own with matching collars to Zoro - though the padlocks are all different. Most of the mates keep a respectful few paces behind their masters with quiet expressions and downcast eyes. A few walk alongside their masters with happy expressions, though Zoro doesn’t think that any of their smiles quite reach their eyes. Zoro wonders if they’re remembering the day when they were sat in his seat, beside someone that they neither knew nor chose.
The evening stretches on and Zoro is aware that soon he and Sanji are supposed to dance. He’s not worried about that, formal dancing is something that he’s always been quite good at and got good marks in. It’s like sword drills except less fun, just a pattern to remember. However, Sanji is so drunk by now that Zoro is doubtful as to whether the man will be up for anything more complex than standing, let alone dancing. It seems not as a blue haired man taps him on the shoulder as he’s en route to the bathroom.
“Yo, you’re Zoro right?” The blue haired man asks. He looks at him quizzically, the guy has a massive sky blue quiff of hair and, very oddly, a metal nose and a really weird three pointed chin. He figures that it’s the result of some kind of accident and it would be rude to stare or ask.
“Yeah.” He answers instead.
“Super. I’ve got Sanji’s car to take you back.” The guy beams at him and spins a key ring with car keys on it around his little finger.
“You’re his driver?” Zoro asks curiously following the man as he beckons him along.
“Heh, something like that. After I drop you off I’ll show ya around, then I’ll come back to pick up Sanji, possibly literally if he continues drinking like that.” The guy snickers.
Definitely a history of drinking then he notes mentally, the guy is probably an alcoholic.
“So…” Zoro begins and he follows the blue headed guy down the long corridor, he realises suddenly that he doesn’t even know this guy’s name. The guy obviously picks that up as he suddenly introduces himself.
“Franky! Pleased to meet you!” The guy says enthusiastically, rolling his r’s and shaking Zoro’s hand in his massive one so enthusiastically that Zoro thinks his arm might rip off.
“Franky.” Zoro smiles, rubbing his arm when Franky turns back to walking. Perhaps he can make friends with this guy, maybe if he does he’ll help him hide from Sanji if he’s especially drunk and/or violent. He doesn’t like being manipulative like this but all the same he’d rather survive. Besides if he and Franky became friends he’d do what he could to protect Franky should the strange man ever need it.
“What’s Sanji like?” He asks as he and Franky exit the building out into the cool night air. It soothes Zoro’s flushed skin which is clammy from the crowded room. It’s as if being around all those evil rich people has brought him out in some kind of allergic sweat.
“Sanji is a pretty super guy. I guess you’ve not had much time to get to know him after all the commotion today.” Franky muses, ushering him into a dark blue metallic flying car. Zoro slides across the back seat, his suit creasing against the smooth leather. He sits on the opposite side of Franky in the back so that he can see more of the man’s expressions when he speaks.
“So?” He prompts, hoping for more information out of Franky.
“Oh, you know. He’s nice and all, talented too. Pretty short fuse on him though, I can tell you. And I wouldn’t want to be one of the poor bastards that really pisses him off!” Franky chuckles.
Zoro leans back in his seat. Shit. That had to be a warning didn’t it? Keep quiet, keep your head down if you know what’s good for you. Zoro wonders how much first hand experience Franky has with Sanji’s temper. Was the injury that caused him to need a new nose inflicted on him by Sanji? After all, Franky couldn’t very well come out and say so, so obviously he had to allude. But to Zoro Franky may as well have hung up a banner that said “broken bones are in your future my boy!”
Zoro slides lower in his seat and looks out of the windows at the tips of the skyscrapers whizzing by at incredible speed. Once again his sour mood spoils what should be “oh boy I’m flying!” feelings.
They land on the gravel driveway of a building that is more country manor than castle, it’s certainly more modest than the place that they only just left. Franky drives the car into the garage on its wheels and parks it before making his way to the back of the car and letting Zoro out. He didn’t even bother trying the door himself, no doubt they’re security locked.
The blue haired man leads Zoro up a set of steps and into the house proper, the larger man turning on lights as they go. Gone are the fancy chandeliers and plush carpets. This place is all white, blue and chrome with bright lighting, big windows and clean lines. Great. He and his master share décor sensibilities, that’s sure to make his time here more bearable - not.
“Sooo… kitchen through that door, you can’t miss it. My room and Usopp’s room- you’ll meet him tomorrow- are down there if you need us. And you and Sanji are this way.” Franky explains as they walk down what must be the west wing of the house.
They come to a thick oak door along the long corridor which is dotted with other identical doors. It’s the last door on the end of the corridor though. As it’s late in the evening however the large windows don’t illuminate the hallway at all and Zoro irrationally feels like their darkness is seeping into him.
“Okay, your room is here- there’s a bathroom all to yourself connected to it, and Sanji’s room is that one.” Franky says pointing to the room across the hall behind them. Franky opens the door to Zoro’s new room and he can’t help but gasp. The room is easily as big as the D-brother’s whole house. The room is decorated in a variety of forest greens with natural wood being the theme of the room with a desk, a table and matching chairs all made out of oak. Zoro’s eyes land on the huge four poster bed and a nervous lump forms in his throat. Just what does Sanji have in mind with the design of this bed and it’s long thick wooden posts? Is the blonde planning on tying him up so that he can’t escape or is it something more sadistic? Franky seems oblivious to his thoughts and claps him on the shoulder with a merry ‘goodnight’ and walks off down the hallway to the garage to fly back to fetch Sanji.
Left on his own Zoro shuts the door behind him walks into the centre of the room and carefully hangs his jacket of the back of an oak chair. He looks around the room a little more carefully, trying to take in all of the details of the room but his eyes keep coming back to the bed. All he can think about is what’s due to happen there tonight. He’s been skirting around the idea all day. With the ceremony, with Robin’s strange powers and with the drive over he’s managed to keep his mind ever in the present and away from what awaits him here. Now however, standing in the middle of the room and staring at the massive bed, he can’t escape reality.
He stares at it in trepidation and does a little mental arithmetic. It took Franky five minutes to fly him here, the man seems to be able to fly quite fast once he gets above building level. The blue haired man is probably just taking off now, so… five minutes to get back there, five to extract Sanji and five to get back here. Even being conservative about his time estimate that gives him no more than fifteen to twenty minutes before Sanji gets back and he’s, and there’s no point in sugar coating it now, raped.
A cold sweat breaks out on Zoro’s skin and he backs away from the bed as if the thing was made of pure evil. He turns to look out of the window as he presses his palms to his temples and tries to focus on breathing. He knows that this, however terrible it is, is the lesser of two evils. Escape means capture, the shock collar and a fate worse than death. A fate worse than this is the thing he needs to focus on. Perhaps when he’s lying there, after all it’d be best probably not to fight Sanji, he can focus on that idea - like a mantra.
A sick feeling crawls up his throat and he only just makes it into the bathroom in time to throw up. He retches and allows his eyes to run, telling himself that it’s just a reflex to being sick, he’s not crying regardless of what sounds like sobs coming from his mouth. He doesn’t want this, he can’t cope with this. He’d always known that this was coming but now, being here, waiting for it to happen, he hadn’t appreciated how terrible his situation really was. He can practically feel Sanji’s hands on him already, touching him everywhere and leaving horrible prints of shame all over his skin.
Eventually he forces himself to stand on shaky legs, he flushes the toilet and stumbles to the sink. He rinses his mouth out with water and thankfully discovers a toothbrush and toothpaste already waiting in the mirrored cupboard on the wall. He quickly gets to brushing his teeth, hoping that the act will both wash away the taste in his mouth so he isn’t sick again and that the familiar action will soothe him. He brushes his teeth every day after all, in the morning when he’s barely awake and in the evening when all is well and he’s going to go to sleep. Perhaps in some bizarre way his conditioned brain is hoping that if he brushes his teeth it’ll mean that he can go to bed and sleep to wake up and find that this was all a dream. He focuses on the repetitive motion and forces his conscious mind to ensure he’s covered every millimetre of his mouth instead of thinking of worse things.
Simple math tells him that he must have been brushing his teeth for ten minutes because a door slamming in the house makes him jump so violently that he almost stabs the toothbrush through his cheek. He spits into the sink and sees that he brushed long enough and hard enough to make his gums bleed. He rinses his mouth out and leaves the bathroom to stand in the centre of the room, trying not to visibly tremble. He won’t show fear, he won’t. He won’t let Sanji know that he’s hurting him, he won’t show weakness. His pride won’t let him.
A doorknob turns and a door opens, but not his. Zoro holds his breath, not allowing himself to hope for anything.
“Wait, this iz my room.” Sanji’s overly loud voice slurs outside in the hallway. He hears Sanji stumble unsteadily and he opens Zoro’s door and practically falls in the room as the thing swings open. Zoro forces his feet to stay where they are and not retreat from the blonde.
“Zoro!” The drunk beams happily and shambles over to him. Zoro stands frozen on the spot. Sanji puts his hands on both of Zoro’s shoulders with a grin and Zoro has to focus very hard to repress the urge to rip his hands off of him and flee.
“I wanted to talk to ya, I didn’ get tha’ chance to before. That’s cause of my fuckin’ family. Hate those bassstards sooo much. Can’ be sober around ‘em, can’t survive.” Sanji slurs, shaking his head with distaste.
“Y’know, I’ve usually got v’ry good alcohol tolerance… jus- just champagne goes right to my head.” Sanji adds, flicking his finger up in the air and throwing in some kind of strange ‘whoop’ noise to illustrate it going to his head. Sanji seems to think that it’s funny at any rate as he collapses against Zoro’s chest giggling.
Zoro doesn’t know how to react to any of this. Sanji seems drunk and well… harmless. His head is telling him that harmless is the last thing that Sanji is and that he’s not out of the woods at all, but his gut is telling him that this is okay, that he’s alright.
“So… yes!” Sanji exclaims, pulling back and looking at Zoro brightly.
“I came in here to talk to you an to tell ya something!” he adds and then looks at Zoro expectantly as if expecting some sort of insightful response from him.
“Oh…kay?” Zoro ventures warily, causing a face splitting grin from the blonde.
“I wanted to tell ya, tha’ you dun hafta worry about me. I’m not… I’m not like all those other guys, y’know?” Sanji insists with drunken earnestness. He pulls back a little more and looks at Zoro, his eyes hazy from the alcohol.
“So you Mr…. gorgeous, with yer green fuzzy hair that… ooh, it feels kina like moss.” Sanji smiles distractedly as he rubs his fingers through Zoro’s short hair.
“Is that even yer real hair colour? Oh wow, it is, your eyelashes are green too!” Sanji exclaims, clearly excited about this.
“Um… I was sayin’ somethin’…” Sanji frowns in confusion, one hand still absently ruffling Zoro’s hair. Zoro mentally worries at this but again his gut tells him that he’s in no danger. He trusts his gut, it’s rarely led him wrong before, although it doesn’t quiet the panic in his mind.
“Uh… you were saying that you’re not like everyone else.” Zoro prompts, carefully removing Sanji’s hands from his hair.
“Oh yes! I’m not like everyone else! So you, moss hair, don’t have to worry ‘bout me! You’ll be safe as… a very… safe thing here. Very safe, around me.” Sanji nods drunkenly.
The blonde pushes away off of Zoro’s chest and stumbles across the room unsteadily.
“An’ now, I’m goin’ to bed. Cause otherwise I’m gonna pass out!” Sanji declares loudly, wrenching a door open dramatically and stepping through, closing it after himself.
Zoro stands uncomfortably for a few moments before reluctantly following Sanji and opening the door. He turns the light on in what turns out to be a walk in wardrobe to see Sanji without his jacket and his shirt halfway undone looking around with a mild air of confusion.
“Ah, forgive me but… this is a wardrobe.” He says carefully to the blonde.
“I did wonder where my bed went.” Sanji agrees before shambling out past Zoro and out into the corridor. He struggles with his own door for a moment before opening it and literally cartwheeling inside with a delighted ‘yay!’. Zoro hears a soft thump and the sound of bedsprings squeaking followed almost immediately by a very loud drunken snore.
Quietly and gently Zoro closes his own door and steps back a fair way until his calves hit the bed and he falls back onto it.
What. The. Fuck?
He swallows in confusion and tries to order his thoughts. What the hell just happened? He’d been expecting rape and brutality when instead he got drunken babble, vague flirtations and cartwheels! He couldn’t think of two more disparate outcomes!
He allows his heart rate to slow and for the slight tremor that had invaded his body earlier to fade. He’s… he’s going to be okay. For tonight at least. A sick feeling in the back of his throat reminds him that he’s merely had the inevitable delayed, not removed.
Carefully, as if expecting a trap, he peels off his fancy suit and rests it on the back of the chair with his jacket. He keeps his eyes constantly on the door in case Sanji should burst back in. He pulls back the covers on the oversized green quilted bed and is pleased to find some loose pyjamas there. Or rather they’re supposed to be loose. A normally built man would find them so but not he. The shirt is practically skin-tight on him and the trousers hang slightly on his hips.
Still, it’s more clothes than none. He slides under the covers and sighs as a blissful reflex, the mattress is perfect and it makes his muscles practically purr to be on it. He rests his head gingerly on the pillow and falls into a fitful sleep.