Archive of Our Own

The air cools fast as the sun drops down, crisp with hints of frost and the heavy scent of apples.  It’s warm by the bonfires, the smell of barbecue and smoke infusing the autumn air. Appleton, is the name of this island - a simple name that perfectly suits the small fall island and its perpetual state of ripe orchards.  There’s a classic red barn visible through the trees, and carved pumpkin lanterns all throughout.

They’re partying in the middle of one orchard now, trees overburdened with fruit on every side of the clearing, the ground beneath the trees thick with hundreds of fallen apples.  The flames of the bonfires lick higher than the orchard, sending sparks up into the stars. This place had a bandit problem before the Thousand Sunny sailed up, but once Nami got wind of the treasure the bandits had amassed by robbing visiting pirates, there was no hope for them.  

The villagers throw a good party, and Sanji is pretty sure they would have held one anyway, but the defeat of the bandits is a perfect excuse to fête the Strawhats with special enthusiasm.  Anything you can make with apple-smoked bacon, everything you can bake with the fruit, more varieties of cider than Sanji has ever tasted. He’s excited to experiment with some of the varieties himself; there are types of apples Sanji has never even heard of, each uniquely suited to baking or pressing or just eating fresh.

Even Luffy is happily eating plain fruit in between barbecued ribs and apple-glazed ham.  Usopp is up on a table, boasting about how he was the most revered apple-taster back home.  The villagers are amazed to have Soul King himself in their little town, and Brook is thrilled to have such an eager audience, leading the local musicians as they play for the dancing crowd.  It’s wholesome and charming, and Sanji has spent the evening alternating between twirling the local girls in their long skirts and helping with the barbecue.

He’s also tried more than a few of the hard ciders the island specializes in, and that’s where Zoro’s focus has been all evening.  The marimo is lounging against one of the rough log benches strewn around the clearing, and every time Sanji dances back around that side of the celebration there are more bottles surrounding the swordsman.  There’s a pumpkin with a wide grin carved into it near Zoro, and with every pass Sanji makes their expressions are more similar. The marimo could probably drink all the cider the island has made this harvest and still ask for more, but it’s enough to mellow him out, and the enthusiasm in the air is hard to resist.

The only flaw is the absence of Sanji’s goddesses.  Nami has gone back to the ship to count their new treasure, and Robin is with her, having already learned everything there is to know about the island’s peaceful, boring history.  Maybe that’s why he ends up dropping onto the log next to the marimo’s spot on the ground. Franky is showing off for the villagers and Chopper is asleep nearby, and Sanji’s not about to get involved with Luffy and Usopp’s shenanigans.  Still, he’s feeling too good not to share it with someone, and as friendly as the villagers are, they’re not nakama. So that leaves Zoro.

“Having fun, marimo?”

For once, Zoro doesn’t scowl when he looks up at Sanji.  Sanji grins back, feeling flushed from the contrast of cool evening air and the roaring bonfires, from dancing and drinking for hours.  He waves another bottle of cider in front of the swordsman, relinquishing it easily when Zoro grabs for it.  

“Not as much as you, love-cook, but yeah, this is a good island.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, not as much as me?”

Zoro gives him a lazy smirk and takes a long drink before answering.  “I’ve been watching you prance around with all those girls.”

“Hey, I’ve been cooking too.  But it would be a terrible misstep not to give all the lovely angels here the attention they deserve.”

“Then get back out there, or are you tired, cook?  What are you doing wasting your night here with me?”

It’s a fair question, and should be enough to get Sanji spitting mad, bounding back to the lively dance circling the fires.  He doesn’t, maybe because Zoro’s tone is warm and his smile is still relaxed, because they’re both taken up by the festive atmosphere and haven’t put the usual effort into bickering.  

“See if I bring you any more drinks.  Waste of my night indeed,” Sanji retorts.  “And here I am trying to make sure my crewmates are having a good time.”

He braces an elbow on his knee and leans in to put his chin in his hand, still looking down at the swordsman with a half-forgotten grin on his face.  It’s nice, Sanji realizes, to have a civil conversation. They manage it occasionally, even if they come to blows most of the time. Sanji likes that too, wouldn’t trade it for this, but the change of pace is pleasant.

Zoro slouches back, slinging an arm across the log and draping the other across his raised knee.  The bottle dangles from his hand, posture still open like it rarely is around Sanji. They’re very close, Zoro’s arm brushing against Sanji’s thigh, faces near enough to hear one another easily even over the roar of the party.  

“Guess it’s not all bad for me.  Thanks for the booze, curly.” He takes another drink, tilting his head back, and Sanji watches the swordsman’s throat as he swallows, sharply lit by the flickering flames.

For a little too long.  Zoro catches him staring as he lowers the bottle, firelight glinting in his one good eye.  Sanji parts his lips, ready with an excuse - an insult, really; he doesn’t have an excuse - but Zoro just fixes him with a level look as he licks his own lips, chasing the last drops of cider.

Sanji’s eyes follow the movement, he can’t help it.  The flush on his skin isn’t just exertion and heat and cold any more, it’s desire too.  It’s obvious Zoro can tell, as his gaze tracks across Sanji’s red cheeks, down to his mouth and back up to meet his stare.

He leans in a little, and when the marimo doesn’t do anything but smirk a little wider, Sanji moves in the rest of the way to kiss him.  It feels as natural as their fighting, simply the right way to escalate the moment.

It feels good, too.  Sanji likes kissing, and Zoro’s lips are chapped and warm, parting readily when Sanji shifts to deepen the kiss.  He tastes faintly of cider, but Zoro drops the bottle to the ground to run his hand through Sanji’s hair, grip resting at the nape of his neck.  

Sanji has always expected this to happen.  Not that he’s wanted it, exactly, but the possibility has always been there, in the tension between them, in their energetic rivalry and flawless fighting.  Sanji’s not blind to it, and he’s wondered what it would be like when this moment inevitably came.

He couldn’t have predicted this easy fit, the frictionless way they’ve come together.  Sanji has always imagined it would be during a fight, or after one; adrenaline and tempers high, judgement compromised.  But here they are, calmer than they’ve ever been together, and all Sanji can feel is pleasure, purely happy and almost innocent in its clarity.

Almost.  An especially loud burst of laughter reminds him they’re in public, and Sanji makes a deliberate effort to draw back slowly.  He’ll likely only get one chance at this, so he doesn’t want to startle the swordsman - or himself - out of whatever dream state they’re in.

“Let’s go check out that barn, marimo,” Sanji breathes, as Zoro’s hand slides off his neck.

“Are you drunk, love-cook?” Zoro asks, but his voice is barely suspicious, mostly just low and amused.

Sanji shakes his head, grabbing the marimo’s hand before it falls out of reach.  They stumble to their feet, and Sanji barely looks to see if anyone is watching before pulling Zoro into the orchard.

The scent of rotting apples rises as fallen fruit is crushed beneath their feet, but still not strong enough to rival the perfume of fresh apples on the trees as they brush through, heavy boughs knocking against Sanji’s shoulders as he leads the way.  An apple falls from a jostled branch, hitting his foot; a cat runs across their path, an owl hoots. Zoro’s hand is still in his.  

More grinning pumpkins flank the open barn door, moonlight casting odd shadows around it.  A horse stamps as they slip inside, drawing Sanji’s eye, and there’s a ladder in that direction, with a stack of heavy blankets just beside it.  Sanji picks one up, remembers seeing their like spread on the logs around the clearing, and drops Zoro’s hand to start up the ladder.

Zoro’s touch trails down his leg as he climbs, and Sanji shivers.  The hayloft is flooded with moonlight and a soft, dusty smell. Another cat jumps off the wide window, darting away as Sanji throws the blanket across a high pile of hay, and then Zoro kisses him again.

Sanji moans into it, dragging them both down onto the blanket.  The hay is deep and soft, the blanket thick enough to keep it from pricking through; the all-encompassing scent of the apples and the noise of the party are muffled by distance.  In the cool moonlight, Zoro’s warm weight is so real that Sanji can hardly remember what he imagined this might be like. Certainly nothing like this, still so steady and calm.

~o~O~o~

Sanji wakes up long before Zoro will, but it’s still later than he usually would to get started on breakfast.  Pale sunbeams have replaced the moonlight, and there’s a cat back on the windowsill, basking peacefully. This one doesn’t move as Sanji scrambles up, and neither does Zoro.

This is not ideal.  Sanji’s first instinct is to kick the idiot awake, but he’s already running late and that will definitely start a fight.   It feels wrong to just slip out, but that’s what Sanji does, making it back to the ship without seeing anyone but Robin.

She’s on the upper deck, drinking a cup of coffee Sanji is instantly overcome with guilt not to have made for her himself, but she only offers him a secretive smile as he rushes to freshen up.  A hasty call of adoration will have to do for now, and he’ll be sure to make it up to her later.

Apple fritters, cinnamon oatmeal, spiced cider.  It would be a shame not to use the island’s bounty, and of course there’s bacon and sliced ham for Luffy, milk for Brook and cola for Franky and tiny bowls of anything the ladies might desire for their oatmeal.  Chopper will want extra sugar for his, and Sanji makes a batch of more lightly sweetened pastries that Zoro will prefer.

Everyone piles in with the usual chaos, and Sanji does his best to act natural.  That means largely ignoring the marimo when he wanders in with the rest, and, well… Zoro looks the same as always.  Not that Sanji would expect anything else, but there’s absolutely no sign they did anything unusual last night.

“I was surprised you left the party, Zoro-bro!” Franky comments, and Sanji freezes.  “Thought you’d be up all night, with all that SUPER cider they make!”

Zoro just grunts, taking a bite of his unsweetened oatmeal.  “Got enough.”

“Sanji left too,” Luffy complains.  “No one else’s barbecue was as good.”  Their captain then attempts to pour the entire platter of ham into his mouth, which Sanji is almost grateful for, as it gives him the push he needs to start breathing again, and kick his captain in the head.  Luffy has already swallowed half of the ham, and doesn’t care.

“Where’d you go?” Usopp asks.  He barely sounds like he cares, just making conversation, but Sanji doesn’t know how to respond.

“Ohoho, did Sanji-san find a lovely lady to keep company after the dancing?”

“How did you like the party, Chopper?” Nami interrupts, with a glare for the whole table that firmly shuts down that line of questioning.  Sanji has never loved her more.

Chopper is excited to talk about what he learned talking to the island’s doctor, and Sanji risks a glance at Zoro.  Nothing. The marimo is just eating, not looking at all concerned by the previous conversation. His perfect indifference is exactly in character, but it’s making Sanji uneasy.

He’s thought this through, after all.  It seemed reasonable, given the inevitability of falling into bed with Zoro eventually, to consider the aftermath.  Sanji has thought of two main options: Either things will be awkward and they’ll fight it out, or they’ll be able to work what happened into their existing relationship.  Most of the time this also leads to fighting in Sanji’s imagination, but in a good way. He hasn’t made a plan for what to do if Zoro completely ignores him.

Because he does have plans for other situations.  Sanji is a hopeless romantic, but he can be realistic.  No matter how he lavishes all of the wonderful ladies they meet on their travels with affection, he could never seriously consider asking one to come with them, and he would never leave the Sunny, either.  He’s not sure the crew would believe him if he said it aloud, but Luffy and the rest of them come before romance.

Hence the plans.  If he accepts that nothing can ever come of his infatuations with all the beautiful women out in the world, it follows that if he wants a relationship, it has to be with one of his nakama.

He does want a relationship.  Sanji wants to be in love. The options are bad - he could never play favorites between Nami and Robin, even if one of them would have him, and neither could he bear to give either of them anything less than his whole heart, which makes for an impossible impasse.  Luffy is as aesexual as they come, and even though Sanji can imagine being in love with their idiot captain regardless, Luffy is the same as him in some ways. He would never be able to give Sanji the type of exclusive love he wants from a relationship, and that open affection is an integral part of Luffy’s charm.  Usopp gets a crush on a different member of the crew every week, but his heart belongs to Kaya. Chopper is a child, and a reindeer .  Brook is so much older, not to mention dead; sex isn’t the most important thing to Sanji in a relationship, but it does make the list, and that’s just.  No. Same with Franky, who is really just too bizarre for Sanji to consider romantically, and besides, Sanji is fairly sure the cyborg is in love with Robin.  He refuses to consider whether that love is requited.

It’s not like Zoro is a good option either.  All the man cares about is swords and booze; all he and Sanji do is fight.  But that’s why Sanji has plans.

They’re not complicated plans.  He always figured he’d be able to get Zoro’s attention with sex, and then work to keep it.  The idiot swordsman has a lot of good qualities under that first mossy layer. It never seemed too far-fetched to imagine falling in love with him, if they could make it past the starting line.  Sanji’s not asking for grand romantic gestures, but a reasonable amount of affection? Nothing public, but something special just between the two of them? It sounds possible. Zoro loves the crew, has a special place in his heart for Kuina; would it be so hard for him to make space there for Sanji, if he made it worth the marimo’s time?

“The log pose will be set by the afternoon, so we’ll set sail before dark,” Nami says.  “Make sure you’re all ready.”

A chorus of agreement, and everyone gets up to leave.  Zoro too, with barely a glance at Sanji. His stomach drops.  All those hopeful plans are falling down around him.

“Hey, shit-swordsman-“ Sanji begins.  Zoro turns, looking directly at him for the first time that morning.  

“What, curly?  I need to go train.”

There’s nothing different in his expression.  It’s the same face Zoro makes whenever he’s impatient with Sanji, when he’s considering drawing a blade on him to shorten the conversation.  Sanji has seen it a lot, usually right before kicking the idiot.

“Never mind,” he snaps.  “Go do your stupid training, marimo.”

Zoro growls, puts a hand on his swords, but leaves without another word.  Sanji cleans up the kitchen by rote, wondering what went wrong. He’s missed his only chance.

They set sail, the Thousand Sunny heavier by as many bushels of apples as Sanji can find room for.  They keep amazingly well, apples, and as this island has reinforced, they’re wonderfully versatile too.  He’ll make sure the crew doesn’t get bored of them.

The sea turns rough, grey under the overcast sky.  A few snowflakes blow across the deck, driven by blustery winds.  The people of Appleton say it’s not far to the next island, but the climate shift is severe.

By morning it’s cold enough that everyone has pulled out their winter gear.  Zoro is the only one not wearing a coat as he trains out on the deck - marimos prefer cold water, after all.  Sanji goes around the ship with a tray of hot, spiced cider, which the marimo rejects when he learns it’s non-alcoholic.  Zoro clearly remembers that part of the celebration readily enough - there’s no way he forgot what happened after. It takes more than a little cider to get Zoro drunk, and Sanji himself wasn’t even buzzed enough to take the edge off the memories.

“I’ll leave some on the stove for you then,” Sanji snaps, leaving the swordsman in peace with his weights.

He goes back to the kitchen and bakes, finding a few things to do with the stovetop to have an excuse to keep the cider warm.  Chocolate ganache in a slow double-boiler, that will take a while; maybe some sort of reduction to glaze his pastries...

Chopper comes in from his office, sniffing the air.  “Sanji, that smells delicious!”

Sanji gives Chopper the spoon he was stirring the ganache with.  “Test this for me, would you?”

“That doesn’t make me happy at all!  It’s so good!”

Sanji gets a new mixing spoon and Chopper sits quietly for a while, licking chocolate off of the old one.  The wind picks up outside, and more snow races past the windows. Inside the galley it’s warm, the air a heady mix of chocolate and apples.  As the afternoon passes the rest of the crew comes and goes and Sanji has to refill his pot of cider several times, but Zoro never shows.

He comes in for dinner with the rest, finally wearing his coat and rubbing sleep from his eye.  Sanji mutters something about apes scratching their stomachs at the table, and tries not to obsess over what is truly an ordinary meal.

“Obviously we’re heading into a winter climate zone,” Nami says, once the initial commotion has died down.  Now that Luffy has his mouth full they’ll be able to hear her talk. “The villagers said it’s only a day or two sailing to Ghiawell.  It’s the closest island, and they have a good relationship with Appleton. We shouldn’t have trouble there.”

“Don’t say things like that, Nami,” Usopp moans.  “That practically guarantees there’ll be flesh-eating rabbits, or violent natives, or a civil war-”

“Don’t question Nami-san,” Sanji snaps, whacking Usopp with a pan.

“But Sanjiiii…”

“That just means we’ll have time to play in the snow!”  Luffy exclaims. “Franky, how big of a snowman do you think we can make?”

“We’ll make a whole army of GIANT snowmen,” Franky promises.  “And snow women! Snow cyborgs!”

“Snow reindeer?” Chopper asks hopefully.

“Definitely, tanuki-bro!”

“Ohoho, do you think we can make a snow skeleton?”

Usopp looks thoughtful at this.  “It might be hard to make thin pieces like that.”

Sanji can practically see he and Franky’s brains flip to invention mode.  Franky produces some graph paper from somewhere in his chest, Usopp pulls an engineer’s pencil out of his pouch, and the two are as good as gone.

“-depending on the ambient temperature-”

“-if there are any prevailing winds-”

“-what kind of snow has fallen recently?  What if-”

“-use an interior armature, but that’s-”

Sanji starts cleaning up as his nakama finish eating.  It’s Usopp’s turn to help with dishes, but Sanji won’t mind if he forgets tonight.  Seeing his friends happy, engaged in the things they love, makes Sanji happy in turn, and he’ll have fun giving the long-nose a hard time about it later.

“Can I get you anything else, Nami-swan?  Dessert?”

“Maybe later, Sanji-kun.”  She looks around the table as he takes her plate.  “Zoro!”

He looks up with a suspicious expression.

“Switch dishwashing shifts with Usopp.”

“Why should I?”

“Listen to Nami-san, you meat-headed-”

“Because I said so,” Nami says.  “These two won’t be good for anything tonight.”

She waves at Franky and Usopp, who don’t even twitch.  Luffy is draped off Franky’s shoulder and Chopper has wiggled into Usopp’s lap, and still the two are talking shop like no one else exists.

“Thank you for the meal, Cook-san,” Robin says as she gets up to leave.  Sanji turns away from Nami and Zoro’s staredown to wish her a good night, and when he looks back Nami is smirking at Zoro’s sullen expression.

“That’s what I thought,” she says.  “See you later, Sanji-kun.”

Sanji finishes clearing the dirty dishes, and Zoro trudges over to join him at the sink.  This would be a good time to talk to him - that would be the mature thing to do, before Sanji really ties himself up in knots over sleeping with the man.  Unfortunately it’s already too late for Sanji’s peace of mind, and the Snow Army Planning Committee (SAPCOM for short) is still sitting across the room. What would he say, anyway?  Hey marimo, why didn’t making out in a barn make you fall in love with me?

He’s thought through what Zoro might say if Sanji asked him for a date out of the blue.  Best case, Zoro would be confused and brush him off. More likely, the swordsman would laugh at him and ask if he was feeling okay, or take insult somehow and start the usual fight.  Assuming Zoro took the question seriously, he would certainly turn Sanji down.

This situation is close enough to asking him cold that Sanji won’t bother.  Reaching for a plate, Sanji settles in to bicker with the marimo as usual while they wash.  They’re both red-faced and shouting by the time everything is clean, a perfectly normal evening.

The fighting has driven SAPCOM from the galley, and Sanji actually feels a little better after blowing off some steam.  He brings the ladies their dessert, works on some inventory and meal planning, and doesn’t really think about Zoro for the rest of the night.

Sanji’s subconscious didn’t get the memo.  He wakes up unsettled by a series of dreams where life on the Thousand Sunny was exactly the same except for Zoro, who was affectionate with Sanji in small, established ways that still feel real by the time everyone comes in for breakfast.

Real enough that he smiles a little as he hands Zoro his plate, partly distracted by Nami’s beautiful bedhead and the rush of cold air as Chopper scurries in late.

“Creepy,” Zoro comments.

“What’s creepy, shithead?!”

“Tha’ smile,” Zoro says, stuffing a whole hard-boiled egg into his mouth.  Sanji did not painstakingly peel those for them to be simply inhaled, thank you very much.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, heathen,” Sanji snaps automatically.  “At least I know how to smile, stone-faced gorilla!”

“Better unlearn it,” Zoro drawls, already looking away.  Sanji lifts a foot.

“Sanji-kun, more coffee?”

“Of course, Nami-swan!  I’m so sorry you even had to ask!  More for you as well, Robin-chan?”

“Please.”

“Anything for you, Robin-chwan~!”

Sanji sneaks a few glances at Zoro throughout breakfast, but the rest of the meal passes uneventfully.  Once he has everything squared away, Sanji wanders out onto the lawn, where the usual suspects are making a racket.

It’s still snowing, and Usopp has brought Chopper’s microscope out on deck.  Franky is looking over the sharpshooter’s shoulder, and Chopper is bouncing around them.

“Sanji, Sanji!” Chopper says, running over.  “We’re doing snow fortunes! Come on, you have to do one too!”

“Snow fortunes?” Sanji asks.  It looks like Usopp is just examining snowflakes.  He has his sketchbook out next to him, the page full of drawings of their unique shapes.

“Yeah,” Usopp mumbles, glancing up.  “You take the slide-”

“Like this!  Hold it in your right hand!” Chopper instructs.

“-and think about what you want to know in your future!  Catch the snow on it, not too much, just one layer, it’s no good if you can’t see the individual snowflakes-”

“It only takes a second or two!  Get ready, Sanji!”

“-and then I, the Great Soothsayer Usopp, will interpret your results!  Hey Franky, look at the crystallization on this one, the fractals are awesome!”

“Yow!  Inspirational stuff!  Shapes like that, you’d think-”

Sanji suspects this was not originally a fortune-telling game, the way Usopp and Franky devolve into talking about physics.  Or whatever it is. Still, he lets Chopper hand him the slide and tell him when to give it to Usopp.

“Perfect, these ones are starting to melt,” Usopp says, putting the final touches on a sketch.  “I mean, great! Let the Supreme, Most Omniscient Usopp reveal what the fates have in store!”

Chopper squeals in excitement and Franky takes a few notes in his own sketchpad as Usopp swaps the slides.

“Ooh, there are some really cool ones here, I’ve never seen one with this kind of curly edges, it looks like your eyebrows!”

Sanji glares at the back of Usopp’s head.  He didn’t come out here to be insulted.

The sharpshooter seems to feel his chances waning.  “That is, you clearly caught the right snowflakes to reveal your future.  Let me see, ummm… True love, probably! Or at least a passing fancy, it’s hard to tell… let’s go with true love.  In your near future! Like, maybe the next island.”

“Lucky, Swirly-cook!  Long-nose, let me have a look,” Franky demands.

“Check out that one at the top left,” Usopp comments, moving to start a new sketch.

“True love!” Chopper chirps.  “Wow, Sanji! How can you know, Usopp?!”

“When I was but a youth, I visited the secret island of fortune-tellers, a place always swathed in storms…”

Sanji sighs, tunes out Usopp’s story, and looks up to where Zoro is doing crunches upside-down over the rail.  True love… if he could be so lucky. Apparently he’s not even worth a comment after a one-night stand.

Nami is up there too, near her trees, watching the rest of them down on the lawn.  She catches his eye with an unreadable expression, and rather than bubbling over with the urge to help her tend her tangerines, Sanji feels caught out.  Could she hear Usopp’s bullshit fortunes from there?

“Don’t look so glum, curly-bro!” Franky says, clapping him on the back hard enough to send Sanji stumbling.  “We’ll be to the next island before you know it, and you’ll meet your SUPER special lady!”

He says this loudly enough that it attracts Zoro’s attention, the swordsman shooting them a disdainful frown from the low point of his next crunch.  Franky follows up with a laugh, clearly not taking Usopp’s game too seriously, but Sanji is not having fun.

It’s almost time to start lunch anyway.  He’ll make a fresh pot of soup, that will fill the time better than throwing together leftovers, and it’s the right weather for it besides.

The soup goes over well; lunch passes quickly.  It usually does, as the crew returns to whatever they were up to before Sanji called them.  It’s Brook’s turn to help with dishes, and once everything is clean again it’s time for Sanji to bring the ladies their after-lunch drinks.

Robin is nowhere to be found, which occasionally happens.  Sanji doesn’t look too hard, respecting her space and making a mental note to bring her a fresh pot of tea later.  He finds Nami working on her maps.

“Hot cocoa with infusion of orange, Nami-swan?  Can I bring you a snack?”

“Thanks, Sanji-kun, but we just finished lunch,” she says absently, taking the mug.  “This smells great.” She holds it for a moment, making a notation in the margins of her latest map with the other hand.  Sanji soaks in the moment, beautiful Nami-swan working so hard, and prepares to leave. This is the part where she usually kicks him out.

Instead of dismissing him, she looks up with an expression like she’s just remembered something.  “Sit down for a minute, Sanji.”

“Of course, Nami-swan!”  He has to take a few rolled maps off the spare chair to sit, and holds them carefully in his lap.  What an honor to be touching Nami’s work!

“Hold on a second,” she mutters, writing a few more notes.

Sanji would wait for hours!  What could she want to talk to him about?  Has she thought of something he could make for her?  Sanji does his best, but neither of his angels often make a specific request.  Could… could she have decided that she loves him after all? Sanji has realized that he could never love Nami or Robin more than the other, but he’ll figure it out!  Surely Robin would understand; maybe the two of them discussed it beforehand. Maybe-

“What’s going on with you and Zoro?”

The daydream pops like a soap bubble, and cold reality crashes in.  “Come again, Nami-swan?” 

“The spacey looks, the shifty behavior,” Nami says impatiently.  “You’re watching him all the time and blowing up at him more than usual.  Did he walk in on you with a girl at that bonfire, or something?”

“No!” Sanji gasps, horrified.  Sure he’s gone home with girls on other islands, once in an infrequent while, but he tries to be discreet about it.  His lovely Nami-san shouldn’t have to think of such things! “Nami-swan, you know my heart belongs to-”

“I guess he’d be acting weird too, if that was it,” Nami says.  “Did you catch him with somebody? If it was just a normal fight you wouldn’t be acting so flighty, but seeing that idiot take an interest in anyone would freak me out too.”  She trails off, looking mildly horrified at the thought. “Don’t tell me the details if that’s it.”

“Nothing like that, Nami-swan,” Sanji says weakly.  It’s not really a lie. Zoro doesn’t have an interest in him, apparently.  “Really, it’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sanji-kun,” Nami snaps.  “Spit it out, so I can help you get your head on straight.”

“I don’t deserve your time, Nami-swan~!  Truly, just the thought that you’re worried for me is-”

“ Now , Sanji-kun.”

“I slept with him!” Sanji yelps, heat flooding his face as Nami’s expression morphs into pure shock.

“I guess straight’s not the word for your head,” she says, like the news is something wondrous.  “What in the world…”

“It’s always - I’ve always - hasn’t it seemed sort of inevitable, with how… but don’t worry, Nami-swan!  Just forget about it!” Sanji pleads. “Let me bring you a snack. I can bake some cookies, or maybe you’d like a cheese plate?  With apple slices, the cute rabbit ones-”

“Shut up a second,” Nami says, holding up a hand.  Sanji shuts up. “You slept with Zoro. You and Zoro had sex?  That’s what you just told me?”

Sanji nods pitifully.  “Don’t remind me.”

“I mean, you’re right that the tension has been there for ages,” Nami mutters.  “I always thought he was too single-minded and you were too much of an idiot to do anything about it.”

“Nami-swan,” Sanji whines.  “Please, can we forget this conversation ever happened?”

“You still haven’t explained what the problem is,” she says.  “If you expected it to happen eventually, why are you acting so anxious about it?  And why only you?”

“Because he hasn’t said anything,” Sanji admits.  “I guess the mossball doesn’t care. He’s acting the same as always, and I always thought that if we finally did-”

He’s saved from spilling the truth of all his plans at Nami’s feet by the sound of Franky bawling.  Very close by.

“Waaah!  Swirly-bro, you shouldn’t try to carry such a sad deal by yourself!  That’s what we’re here for, bro! We’re a family, we gotta look after each other!”

Sanji turns slowly, seeing Nami do the same with a dangerous expression on her face.  The door is slightly opened; Sanji hadn’t closed it entirely, expecting to be back to his kitchen in seconds.  Franky is peering around the doorframe, crying up a storm.

“You shoulda come to Big Bro Franky for advice, cook-bro!  I’m a SUPER romance expert, you know! Yow!”

Where are the Marines when Sanji needs them?  This would be a great time to fight off a surprise attack.  But no, they’re alone on the snowy seas, not even a freak storm to rescue Sanji from this moment.

“Franky,” Nami asks in a deceptively pleasant voice, “How long were you eavesdropping?”

“I wasn’t!  I just heard you ask Swirly-cook if he and Swordsman-bro were okay, and thought I’d see if I could help!”

So, the whole conversation.  “If you say anything to anyone I’ll end you,” Sanji threatens.  “Forgive me the violence, Nami-swan.”

Nami sighs, very deeply, and rubs at her temples with both hands.  “Franky.”

“Yeah, girlie?”

“Give Sanji some time to figure this out before you tell everyone, or I’ll send all those letters you write and then hide in your workshop back to Water 7.”

Franky pales.  “Sis-”

“Sanji-kun.”

“Yes, Nami-swan?”

“Sort yourself out, or I’ll let Chopper confiscate your cigarettes.”

Sanji nods; no cigarettes, he can survive that.  How long does withdrawal take? He’ll be okay after a few weeks, probably.

“And I’ll tell Zoro you’re pining over him.”

Franky starts sobbing again.  “Yow! Curly-cook, I’m here for you!  Take all the time you need to confess your passionate feelings for Zoro-bro, your bro Franky won’t say a word!  My lips are SUPER sealed!”

“Pining?” Sanji gasps.  “I assure you, Nami-swan, I couldn’t possibly be lovesick over that idiot marimo, there’s nothing to worry about, don’t waste any more of your precious time thinking about-”

“Both of you, get out!” Nami snaps.  They get out.

Sanji retreats to the kitchen and starts dinner.  It’s a bit early, but there aren’t many other chores he could do with the snow still coming down outside.  Franky is lurking around rather visibly instead of tinkering with one of his projects deep in the Sunny, so the galley is the safest place to be.  Making another over-complicated meal is preferable to talking about Zoro at the best of times, and these are not the best of times.

Of course, no matter how long Sanji spends preparing food, his nakama will consume it at the same harrowing speed.  Nami gives him a few narrow-eyed looks throughout the meal, especially when he has to interact with Zoro for one reason or another, and Franky looks like he’s going to choke on his own tongue from keeping his comments to himself.  There’s no doubt that Robin notices, her gaze calculating in a way that makes Sanji shiver. Robin-chan is so clever!  

Franky corners him after dinner.  “I’ll trade turns with you,” he says to Luffy, and their captain is out the door before Sanji can so much as complain.  He’s beginning to wish they had better rules against dodging your proper turn helping with dishes.

“So, how long have you been in love with Zoro-bro?” Franky eagerly asks, the moment everyone else is out of the room.

Sanji drops an armload of dishes into the sink with more aggression than they deserve.  “I’m not in love with that shitty marimo!” He’s not. Probably. Just because having Zoro genuinely smile at him was as warming as the firelight doesn’t mean he’s in love.  Especially not if the idiot swordsman will never do it again.

“Aren’t you?” Franky’s voice is serious, his expression more shrewd than usual when Sanji throws a glare at him.

“I hate him!” Sanji growls.  “I mean, I’d die for him and it’s kind of cool to watch when he gets serious.  But he’s a mannerless oaf and it was just one time, I’m not in love!”

That feels strange to say.  Sanji is used to declaring his undying affection as freely as breathing.  Insisting the opposite feels wrong, and not only because he’s not sure if it's true.

“I’m just shocked he hasn’t reacted at all,” Sanji continues, ignoring Franky’s attentive stare.  “That’s all. He’s probably waiting to make fun of me, he’ll use it to start a fight or something.”

“It’s okay not to be sure, cook-bro,” Franky says, bypassing all the nonsense Sanji just dumped.  “You just gotta be honest with yourself. What did you want to happen?”

Flushing, Sanji resists the urge to kick Franky across the galley.  “That’s none of your business.”

Franky just grins at him.  “Oh? Sounds like our swirly-cook has it bad, if you’re that SUPER embarrassed to talk to your bro Franky about it!”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” Sanji snaps.  

“Yow!  That’s the spirit!  Tell me, curly-cook, did you or Zoro-bro make the first move?  I gotta know who started this manly and passionate encounter!” Franky adds a lecherous wink.

Instead of responding, Sanji kicks the cyborg over the counter and through the galley door.  Franky gets the message this time, and only grumbles a little over the damage to the ship. Replacing the hinges is less than the cyborg deserves.

Sanji finishes the dishes alone and goes to bed early.  He has a night watch right after Zoro tonight, and even though he’s not feeling particularly charitable he’s still the ship’s cook, and it’s his job to look after the crew.  He gets up a few minutes early and heats a bottle of sake for Zoro, leaving it in the galley with a snack. Should be safe unattended for a few minutes, at this time of night.

“Get out, marimo,” Sanji snaps, slamming his way into the crow’s nest.  Zoro’s eye widens, even though the marimo must have been able to sense him coming.  “There’s sake in the galley. Go drink it before it gets cold.”

“What’s got you all huffy?” Zoro mutters.

“Nothing.”  

The marimo doesn’t look convinced, but he gets up from the bench where he’d been watching anyway.  It’s cold up in the crow’s nest, and Zoro offers Sanji the blanket he was sitting with, pushing it up against his chest as he passes.

“It’s been quiet,” the swordsman says, as Sanji clutches the blanket in surprise.  “Hard to see much in the snow. Don’t drift off, love-cook.”

Zoro disappears down the ladder while Sanji is distracted by the thoughtful gesture.  It’s just a blanket, one they keep up here most of the time anyway. Still, it’s surprising that Zoro would give it to him directly, and Sanji can still feel the marimo’s body heat lingering in it.  He’s probably overthinking things - it’s so easy to do at this disconnected time of night - but Sanji feels a little less frustrated regardless.

Night watch is always a bit strange, but tonight is especially surreal.  The snow is falling thicker than ever, swirling across the windows in shapeless clouds that Sanji can nearly see figures in.  His breath fogs the glass when he leans too close and every shift of his limbs lets cold air into the blanket cocoon, so Sanji keeps as still as he can, turning only his head to look out into the white.

It ought to be a good time to think.  Sanji refuses. All of his thinking and planning hasn’t helped, and if he keeps reflecting on his situation with Zoro he will have to take Franky’s advice.  Being honest with himself is not one of Sanji’s strong points.

So he sits in the crow’s nest as the snow blows past and the sky slowly brightens, mind carefully blank until a sleepy Chopper comes to relieve him.

“Good morning, Sanji,” the little doctor yawns.

“Hi Chopper,” Sanji says, feeling like he’s woken up from a dream.  He stretches, wrapping the blanket around Chopper, who gives a happy hum.  “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Waffles?” Chopper asks, all wide hopeful eyes.

“Sure thing,” Sanji replies, mind already racing through recipes as he leaves.  Apple and cinnamon for sure, but he’ll make a few kinds. Extra sugar and whipped cream for Chopper, a less heavily sweetened batter for Zoro, carved fruit garnishes for the ladies.  Sausages for Luffy.

It’s a good thing waffles are simple and reheat well, because the island comes into view just as Sanji is plating the first batch.  New adventure is the only thing that will distract Luffy from food, and thanks to the snow their first glimpse of the island is already close off the bow.  Sanji finishes cooking his waffles - a touch underdone for better toasting - and sets them aside, washing as many of the prep dishes as he can in the meantime.  There should still be just enough time to eat before they hit shore, once everyone calms down.

“Yahoo!  Let’s GO!” Luffy yells, as if they’re not already.  “How long, Nami?”

“Maybe an hour,” Nami says, peering at the island’s indistinct shape through the snow.

Luffy bounds away to sit on the figurehead.  Sanji returns to his kitchen. To his surprise, Zoro follows him.

“What do you want, marimo?”

“Breakfast?” Zoro says, one eyebrow raised.  “We’ll be crawling all over that island soon enough; I don’t need to stand out in the snow staring at it.”

That’s more or less why Sanji came back in, so he can hardly complain.  “Sit down then.”

Sanji tosses a few of his less-sugary batch of waffles onto the oven toasting rack and finishes mixing the spiced apple garnish, feeling Zoro’s eye on his back the whole time. 

 “Here, marimo.  Not too sweet, just for your plebeian palate,” he says, setting the finished plate in front of Zoro.  He gets himself a cup of coffee and sits, spinning through a few ideas.

He’s been too sharp with the swordsman since Appleton.  They need to get back to how they were, so Sanji needs to readjust.  Who knows; that night was inevitable, in his mind, so maybe he’ll get a second chance if he doesn’t ruin the prickly camaraderie the two of them share.

“You do a lot of that,” Zoro suddenly says.

“A lot of what?” Sanji asks, looking between his coffee mug and Zoro.  Drinking coffee? Clear as mud, as usual.

“This,” Zoro says, waving at his own plate.

“Cooking?” Sanji asks blankly.  He just resolved to play nice...ish, at least, with the marimo, but the man makes it hard.

“How it’s not so sweet,” Zoro says impatiently, like Sanji is the idiot here.  “I know you made sweet ones for Chopper and the girls, that’s what they like. Luffy and the rest of them will eat anything, so I don’t know why you bother.”

“You’ll eat anything too, uncultured marimo,” Sanji mutters.  “It’s my job. I know what you all like, and I care. Making waffles is easy; I’m not gonna make you eat ones you won’t enjoy when I can just make another batch.”

Zoro doesn’t respond, just looks at Sanji and slowly chews a bite of perfectly golden waffle.

“What of it?” Sanji finally wonders.

“Nothing,” Zoro replies, still just watching him with that implacable expression.  It’s not as flat as usual, and the scrutiny makes Sanji uneasy.  

Luckily, Robin comes in moments later, and Sanji is overjoyed to cater to her.  The rest of the crew arrives soon after, and Sanji is kept busy with breakfast until they’re all piling out again, excitedly discussing the SAPCOM snowman project.  Sanji leaves the dishes to soak and heads out on deck with the rest of them.

Ghiawell is an ordinary-looking island, on the small side with two mountain peaks visible in the center.  According to the villagers from Appleton the main settlement is on the south side, but they’re coming in from the east so Nami navigates them in toward the coast to circle around.

There’s not much to see as they go, just a lumpy landscape of snow-covered evergreens and the occasional bare rock face as the ground rises or falls.  Nami keeps a firm hand on Luffy’s collar to prevent him from rocketing off, shouting instructions to Franky at the helm.

“I hope the town hasn’t been destroyed by an avalanche,” Robin idly remarks.

“A-avalanche?” Usopp stammers.  “You don’t think-”

“If the town is on the coast, I think the mountains are far enough inland to make that unlikely,” Chopper says.  “Don’t you think, Robin?”

Robin just smiles at them.  Sanji sees Zoro roll his eye as Usopp works himself into an anxious mess, although the effect is lessened with Chopper not joining in on the concern.

They catch sight of smoke above the trees moments later.  Soon the Sunny sails around a high spur of rock to reveal a harbor, nestled in a natural bay with high cliffs on the far side.  A small boat skips across the waves to meet them.

“Welcome to Ghiawell, Strawhats!” the woman at the prow of the boat greets them.  “We heard about what you did on Appleton. Rest assured that our town has no problem with pirates who don’t cause problems, as it were.  I am the harbormaster here; our harbor is fairly shallow near shore, so we use a mooring buoy system for larger ships. Please follow me and I’ll assist with finding you a good spot.”

They choose a place to moor the Thousand Sunny that meets both Nami and Franky’s demanding preferences, and pile into the Mini Merry.  Usopp gives the snowy cliffs across the bay and the mountains looming inland a leery stare, and volunteers to look after the ship.

“I’m afraid our governor is out of town at the moment,” the harbormaster tells them once they dock.  “His son and a few other local teenagers have been missing since yesterday. It’s avalanche season, so the governor and a few others went out to look for them.”

She doesn’t seem very alarmed.  Sanji supposed that on an island like this, avalanches must be commonplace.

“There haven’t been any big ones so far this year,” the woman continues, “So we’re not panicking yet.  I’ll show you the town in his place.”

It’s a picturesque town, even after the warm charm of Appleton.  Neatly shoveled streets, log-frame houses with steep roofs, evergreen trees and rosy-cheeked townspeople bustling about in fur coats.  The log pose will set in just over a day, and the harbormaster offers them rooms at an inn.

“After you helped Appleton, it’s only right,” she explains.  “They’re one of our most important trading partners. We use their produce in the popsicle factory up in the mountains.”

“Popsicle factory?!” Chopper and Luffy exclaim in unison.

The harbormaster laughs.  “Yes, it’s one of the most prominent industries here.  Closed for the season - the building is in a steep area, and the passes are often blocked by avalanches.  The wildlife is more active this time of year as well.” She gestures at a road leading up out of town.

“Why did you build it in such a risky place?” Nami asks.

“It was originally a Marine science facility, but they abandoned it years ago.  We altered some of the machinery for our own purposes rather than letting it go to ruin.  The factory only uses a small part of the facility, actually.”

Chopper pouts.  “Aw, if it’s closed we can’t get any popsicles.”

“Don’t worry,” the harbormaster says, leading them into the inn.  “We plan for the off season; there is plenty of stock left.”

There’s a glass-lidded freezer just across the lobby.  Sanji is torn between swooning over the harbormaster’s beauty as she lowers her hood, and examining the unusual food storage.

“Here,” she says, offering them a handful of frozen treats.  “Give these a try.”

“Wow!  This is so good!” Chopper exclaims.  Luffy inhales his popsicle and starts grabbing at the rest of the crew's.

Sanji has to agree, as he fends off Luffy’s hands.  These people clearly know what they’re doing.

“Let’s go see the popsicle factory!”  Luffy decides. He tucks Chopper under one arm and dashes back through the door.

Franky looks between Luffy’s rapidly vanishing form in the window and Nami’s furious expression.  “Abandoned Marine tech - Wait, Luffy! I’m coming too!”

“Ohoho!  Perhaps I will bring one of these delicious treats back for Usopp-san,” Brook says, edging around Nami and booking it back to the harbor.

Sanji looks at Zoro, but the swordsman seems unconcerned by Nami’s building rage.  He meets Sanji’s eyes and takes a slow suck of his popsicle, and the unexpectedness of the action makes Sanji’s cheeks flame.  Does the marimo even realize what that looks like?

“That rubber idiot…” Nami growls.

Zoro glances at her and bites a chunk off his treat.  Sanji winces.

“Are they familiar with winter islands?” the harbormaster asks tentatively.  “Like I said, the mountain passes can be dangerous this time of year.”

“Chopper is,” Zoro dismisses, as if that matters when Luffy is the one leading the charge.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Nami says darkly.  “But you two are going after them if they aren’t back in a few hours, Sanji-kun, Zoro.”

“At least let us wait until morning, witch,” Zoro complains.

“They’ll be halfway up the wrong mountain by morning,” Nami snaps, before Sanji can even kick the marimo for talking to her that way.

“We’ll go whenever you say, Nami-swan~!”

The harbormaster looks doubtful, but asks them to wait at the inn while she gets them some extra equipment.  Zoro decides to take a nap right there in the lobby, stretching out against the wall next to a roaring stone fireplace.  Nami gets a map of the island from the innkeeper and ushers Robin and Sanji over to a cluster of plush chairs around a low table.

“Okay,” she sighs, tracing lines across the map.  “This is the path the harbormaster pointed out, that goes to the factory.  Luffy started out that direction, and it looks pretty steep near the path. Chopper will probably keep him going straight until at least here, where it looks like the slope plateaus for a while.  Depending on when Franky catches up to them, they’ll definitely decide to try a shortcut.”

Robin laughs softly.  “I wonder what sort of wildlife the harbormaster was talking about.  That may affect their route as well. Hopefully it’s nothing too dangerous.”

“Don’t even start,” Nami grumbles.  “There isn’t much wildlife that can stop Luffy, not with Franky and Chopper there.  I just hope they don’t bring any of it back to the ship.”

By mid-afternoon Zoro has woken up, the harbormaster has returned with extra mountaineering gear, and Nami has had enough of waiting around.

“I’m counting on you, Sanji-kun,” she says as she waves them off from the comfort of the inn.  The fire of Sanji’s determination not to disappoint her keeps him warm until he and Zoro are out of the village.

After that he needs his coat.  The sky is clouding over and wind is rushing down out of the mountains, blowing the loose top layer of snow into their eyes.  The sun is already beginning to set, and the island’s western peak will block it from sight any minute.

Sanji can’t say he likes winter islands, no matter how long ago Drum Island was.  It feels like his spine twinges every time he looks at the snow-covered slopes around them.

“Shitty rubber idiot,” he mutters, looking at the irregular footprints weaving off into the distance.  They’re nearly covered by the drifting snow, but he can still make out Franky’s weird clomping gait and Luffy’s haphazard bouncing trail.  There’s a messy depression in a snowbank at the edge of the village and a line of tiny hoofprints leading out of it where Luffy must have put Chopper down.

Zoro sighs in agreement.  “No way we catch up to them tonight.”

Sanji hefts his backpack and makes sure to keep Zoro in his peripheral vision as they trudge off into the mountains.  The last thing he needs is a lost marimo on top of a missing captain.

The villagers clearly don’t leave town much this time of year.  Before the sun fully vanishes they’re off the beaten path, and the road is covered with unpredictable snowdrifts.  Luffy’s trail cuts off into the forest almost immediately, and Sanji sighs.

He shares a look with Zoro.  “Guess we’re off-roading it.”

“That idiot,” Zoro grumbles.

It’s worse in the woods.  Sanji stumbles through a few deep patches of snow before he gets a feel for where it gathers, and his shoes and pants are soaked to the knees.  At least he and Zoro can still get a bead on Luffy where the snow is deep - in the lighter patches, the trail has already blown away. The trees break some of the wind, but not enough.

The forest thins out almost immediately anyway, giving way to scattered patches of evergreens and sweeping waves of snow.  Occasionally they find a spot where Luffy’s roughhousing has made a lasting impression, but most of the windswept landscape is pristine.

As they climb, the snowpack deepens.  Sanji’s steps only sink into the first few inches, overall, but there are places where the layers are weaker and he breaks through to his hips.  Zoro breaks through even more often, and sometimes has to wade a few steps in snow nearly chest-deep before he can reach a spot sturdy enough to pull himself out onto.

“How did that shitty cyborg get up here?” Sanji mutters, watching Zoro snarl and glare at the crumpling snowpack around himself.

“Fucker probably has snowshoes built in,” Zoro says, sounding a bit out of breath.

Sanji peers up the mountain, and the last beam of sunlight stabs him in the eye, escaping the stormy clouds in one final taunt.  When he looks back Zoro has pulled himself out of the snow, stance wide and suspicious on top of it, and dusk has fallen.

“It’s going to snow any second,” Sanji sighs.  “We won’t be able to see a thing with the cloud cover.  Might as well stop while we can.”  

“They’re just gonna get more lost if we stop,” Zoro says.

“I know that, marimo,” Sanji snaps back.  “But we’re gonna get lost if we try to climb this mountain blind.”

“Would not,” Zoro retorts.  Sanji walks away, making for one of the more substantial stands of trees.

It doesn’t look too welcoming, but Sanji remembers hearing something about taking shelter in pine trees, so he shoves through the first prickly layers.  Snow falls down his collar and gets in his eyes, but there’s a surprisingly cozy open space in the center of the grove. Some of the biggest trees don’t branch out until well over Sanji’s head, and there’s not much snow on the ground beneath them.

Zoro crashes through a moment later, grumbling about something.  It’s too dim to make out his expression, and Sanji doesn’t really care.  “Help me make a fire, marimo.”

No matter how well the trees block the drifting snow, everything is still wet.  They gather enough dry wood for a fire, barely; but then they have no choice but to hunker down on the floor of damp pine needles, watching the quick-burning pine stutter and pop.

“This sucks,” Sanji mutters, trying to heat up the packed dinner he brought for them.  They’ll never get warm at this rate, let alone dry.

“Didn’t bring any booze, did you?” Zoro asks.

Now that they’re out of the snow, Zoro looks unconcerned.  Sanji watches him out of the corner of his eye, envious. Another use for muscle after all; the shit-swordsman is practically never cold.

Sanji can’t help remembering how warm Zoro is up close.  The memory stings, especially because Sanji is freezing now that they’ve stopped moving, and it would be so easy to curl up next to the marimo.  They could cuddle for warmth, and the classic understanding is that sharing body heat always leads to more intimacy, so maybe Sanji will get a second chance much sooner than he could have hoped, and make better use of it this time-

As if!  Sanji would rather freeze to death than go crawling to the swordsman so soon after being ignored!  He’s not so pathetic that he needs to beg for attention in such a stupid, cliche way! He’ll never beg the marimo for anything, and if that idiot thinks-

Sanji snarls, jumping up and kicking over one of the smaller trees with a satisfying snap.  Zoro looks startled, not least by the vicious glare Sanji shoots in his direction as he kicks the tree apart.  Serves him right if he’s confused; Sanji has been confused for days!

He’s more than fired up enough to get a Diable Jambe going, and the heat is plenty to start even the fresh pine burning.  A white plume of smoke billows up, gathering in the dense branches above them before rising through. Sanji kicks up another couple small trees for good measure and sits, feeling a little better.

“What’s up with you lately?” Zoro mutters.  Sanji fusses with the fire, finding the best spot for his boxed dinners.

“At least now we won’t freeze to death.”

“Dramatic.  We’re not gonna freeze to death.”

“Not now we won’t!” 

Zoro looks at him sidelong, and stretches his hands out toward the fire.  Sanji takes a deep breath. It’s hard to remember this morning’s resolution, to be only as contrary as he usually is with the marimo.  Sanji is used to wearing all his emotions on his sleeve, and all his feelings about this idiot are still running too hot.

“Think we’ll be able to actually find Luffy?” Zoro asks.

“Maybe,” Sanji grumbles.  “Knowing him and Franky, half the mountain will explode.  Then we’ll know where to look.”

Zoro groans at that.  Sanji checks the food, deeming it properly warmed.  They eat, idly wondering what nonsense tomorrow will bring, and Sanji counts a few extra heartbeats before responding every time he wants to yell at the marimo.  Zoro gives him a few weird looks, and finally sighs.

“Seriously cook, what’s wrong with you?” he asks, setting his meal down and bracing like he expects a fight.

“What’s wrong with you ?”

Zoro rolls his eye.  “You’re all but biting through your own tongue every other sentence, and biting my head off on the rest.”

“I just don’t like this island,” Sanji snaps, willing the mosshead to drop it.  

“Why, the girls wearing too many clothes for you?” Zoro sneers.  Sanji sits back, stung at the accusation of being so blatantly shallow.  It’s obvious that Zoro is trying to provoke him into a real answer, but Sanji does not want to get into this now, alone like they are.

“No,” he retorts.  “Are you disappointed that they make sweets here instead of booze, shit-swordsman?”

Grinding his teeth, Zoro puts a hand on his swords.  Sanji feels vindicated and disappointed all at once. Zoro doesn’t really want to talk about it; he just wants Sanji to stop irritating him.

“It’s nothing you need to strain your meagre brain cells on, marimo,” Sanji says, turning away.  As he does, a rustling noise comes from that side of their shelter.

Zoro gets his swords out and Sanji jumps to his feet instantly.  The outer ring of branches parts, and a large furry head pokes its way into the firelight.

It doesn’t look threatening, with wide dark eyes and no visible teeth, so the two pirates just watch warily as the creature pads into the clear space between the trees.  Shaped like a river otter but the length of a horse, the animal has thick white fur dappled with grey. It pulls its tail into the shelter and sits up on its haunches, peering down at Sanji and Zoro from a height taller than either of them.

No one moves.  The fire pops, the heavy smoke increasing for a moment as a fresh branch catches.  Sanji takes out a cigarette. “What the hell.”

“Uh, hi?” Zoro says, putting his swords back.  The otter watches them expectantly, preening itself a little as it waits.

“Is that… Franky’s shirt?” Sanji asks, gesturing at the animal’s neck.  Tied there like a bandanna is a piece of fabric with a very familiar looking pattern.  The otter cocks its head at them. “Franky?” Sanji says again. “Did you meet him?”

The otter nods, getting up and nosing at the trees again.  It looks back at them and slaps its tail on the ground.

“I think it wants us to follow,” Zoro says, taking a step closer.  Much faster than Sanji expects, the otter butts its head into Zoro’s chest, flipping the swordsman up on to its back with a yelp.  “Hey now-”

“Oh no,” Sanji says, backing away.  “I’m not riding some shitty giant otter through the mountains in the middle of the night, no way-”

His refusal is not considered.  The otter tosses Sanji over its shoulder and he slams into Zoro, who grunts and reflexively wraps an arm around his waist.  Romping around the fire a little, the otter tests their weight, and then dives out into the dark. Its momentum sprays snow across the campfire, extinguishing the light, but that’s the last thing on either of their minds.

Sanji screams, grabbing a handful of Franky’s shirt and a handful of smooth fur.  A pine branch whacks him in the head, needles catching in his hair, and Zoro curses behind him.  Crashing through the snowpack, the otter sends a great wave of snow over them. Sanji sputters and screams some more, glad for the moment that Zoro is hanging on to his back for dear life.  At least part of him is staying warm.

As they race away from the stand of pines, Sanji can see a plume of white smoke still rising from the trees like a beacon.  No wonder this creature could find them.

The otter swoops and slides like it’s swimming, sometimes breaking through the deep snowpack and sometimes skimming across the top crust.  Its movements are playful, occasionally doubling back up certain slopes for nothing more than the joy of sliding down them again. After a bit Sanji gets used to the way the animal moves, and begins to enjoy the ride.  The sky has cleared enough for the moon to shine through, lighting the snowy mountainside with a timeless glow.

Zoro’s arms loosen a little, and Sanji feels a breath of cold steal across his lower back.  “Where are we going?” the marimo asks, voice low in Sanji’s ear.

He shivers - definitely because of the cold.  No other reason. “How would I know?”

“Think Chopper talked to this guy?” Zoro takes an arm off Sanji long enough to thump the otter’s side, but an abrupt turn has the marimo pulling back close right away.  “Coulda asked ‘im to take it easy with the swooping.”

“Probably.  Guess we’ll find out.”

Sanji tries to let some of his stress blow away into the night, watching the moonlight sparkle on the untouched snow.  Zoro leans around him a little and actually rests his chin on Sanji’s shoulder, making the moment feel even more surreal.  As much as Sanji would like to knock the overly familiar idiot off into the snow, it feels nice, and he’s still appreciating the marimo’s solid warmth behind him.  The rushing wind from the speed of the otter’s gait is icy.

The otter goes back for a particularly good slide and Zoro whoops a little, the sound barely reaching Sanji’s ears before the wind tears it away.  He grins, leaning in a little and turning to get a glimpse of the marimo’s expression. Zoro’s grinning too, easy and childish, and he thumps his forehead against Sanji’s temple when he catches him looking.

“Watch it, marimo,” Sanji grumbles, but he’s getting the same feeling they shared on Appleton.  Calm and familiar, like nothing fits together nearly so well as they do in this moment. Zoro snorts and goes back to watching the scenery, chin still tucked against Sanji’s shoulder.

It’s just as well they can’t really talk or move apart.  The otter is not privy to Sanji’s emotional crisis, swooping along just as before.  There’s nothing to do but enjoy the moment, and Sanji is enjoying it, to his own shame.  More than the exhilarating ride it’s the atmosphere that’s getting to him, the intimacy of that close feeling and the physical closeness of Zoro draped around him.  He really is in trouble, getting so attached like this.

They’re approaching a steeper area, dark slices of mountainside visible where the snow has sheared away.  Leaping up a few exposed ridges, the otter skids to a stop in a spray of snow. Wiping it from his eyes, Sanji looks around.

The flat space is smaller than the deck of the Sunny, and the snow is especially deep where it meets the mountainside in a vertical cliff.  There’s a cave mouth in the rock, and as the otter bounds closer a familiar blur rockets out of it.

“Shishishi!  They’re here!” Luffy calls, knocking Sanji and Zoro off of the otter and deep into a snowbank.  “Hi guys!”

Zoro sits up with a growl, shoving Sanji deeper into the snow as he does.  Luffy rolls off of them, scampering away in another spray of the stuff. Well, there goes the pleasant glow of warmth and affection Sanji had been enjoying.  Winter islands suck.

Chopper pokes his head out of the cave, and the otter licks his face.

“Thanks, Nibbles!” Luffy says.

“Nibbles?” Zoro mutters.

Luffy extends his arm, showing off several long slashes in the fabric of his coat.

“Okay,” Zoro sighs.  Sanji shakes his head.

“He’s very friendly,” Chopper assures them.  Nibbles sits up, towering over him, and grins.  Moonlight gleams on the wet surface of his teeth, as long as Sanji’s fingers.

“Thanks, Nibbles,” Sanji repeats.  The otter happily slaps his tail on the snow, burying Chopper.  “What’s going on?”

“We were gonna get more popsicles but now we have to take care of these guys-”

“Some of the villagers got injured looking for their kids-”

“-and it’s too cold and dark so we had to wait,” Luffy grumbles.

“-and they need a doctor!  Franky went ahead to make sure the road is safe,” Chopper explains.

Sanji brushes himself off and heads for the cave.  There’s a fire going at the back of it, with three guys bundled up around it and a much smaller otter near the entrance.  The little otter bounds up to Nibbles as everyone else comes into the cave, and the village guys flinch away.

One of them has a bandage wrapped around his forehead, and there are slashes like the ones on Luffy all over their clothes.  Visual storytelling at its finest, Sanji thinks, as Nibbles hisses at them and Luffy laughs, ruffling the fur on the otter’s neck.

“Doesn’t everyone know not to get between an animal and its young?” Zoro asks under his breath.  Sanji shrugs.  

They stop side by side across the fire from the villagers as Chopper rushes to fuss over them, close as if Zoro has forgotten he can move away after being pressed together on the way here.  It’s like their argument in the trees never happened, but Sanji knows the marimo is biding his time. Zoro is patient; he doesn’t forget things or let them go once he’s decided they matter. Hopefully Sanji can come up with a good story by the time Zoro’s done waiting.

For now they stand with their shoulders brushing, as Luffy clambers all over Nibbles and Chopper changes a bandage.  It’s nice to get warm, truly out of the elements in the cave, and Sanji is content to be still until someone explains what’s going to happen next.

Turns out the guy with the head wound is the least injured of the three; one of the men has broken ribs and the other has his arm in a sling.  No wonder Chopper made Luffy stop for them. They’re probably lucky Nibbles didn’t kill them.

“There’s a spot the kids like up near the factory,” the governor tells them.  He’s the one with the busted arm, and he’s still eyeing Luffy and the otters like he expects one of them to lunge at him.  “That’s where we were headed. There’s bad weather rolling in, I can tell. Those young fools will be stranded for days if the road gets snowed out.”

Sanji makes eye contact with Zoro, who gives him a long-suffering eye roll.  They can both do the math.

“We’ll go find them,” Sanji says, pulling out their map.  “We can meet up with Franky, send him back to build you guys a sled or something, and round up your missing kids.”

“I’ll stay here,” Chopper chirps, like it wasn’t obvious.  “Bring me a popsicle!”

“I’m gonna GO!” Luffy yells.  A chunk of snow breaks off the mouth of the cave with a heavy whumph.  

“Can we get a nap first?” Zoro asks, but Luffy is already pulling him out of the cave.  Sanji tightens his scarf and follows.

Since it stopped snowing, they can still follow the trail Franky left.  It’s blown smooth in places, but they’re out of the prevailing winds in the lee of the mountain now, and Franky sure left his mark on the snowpack.  There’s less evidence once they’re back on the road, with the mountains rising sharply on either side, but there’s only one way to go.

Sanji looks up at the snow clinging to the steep slopes, and gets out a cigarette.  Why are they out here again? Oh yes, because Luffy wanted a snack.

Zoro is eyeing their surroundings with the same leery attention.  “We’ve got to be nearly there,” he says, skirting around a deep drift.  The road curves, passing through an even steeper cut, and Sanji looks to their captain instead of the narrow strip of sky above them.  Any minute now Luffy will get bored and go haring off again.

Huffing out a breath, Sanji watches the mix of smoke and heat dissipate in the frigid air.  “Should be around the next turn.”

“Close?” Luffy asks, and Zoro grabs his collar before he can bound off.

A faint mechanical sound echoes around the side of the mountain, and the road leads them out of the gorge.  It twists around the mountainside now, steep rock on one side and empty air on the other, as the mountain splits.  The factory is visible down the way, with a splash of bright blue and red beside it.

“Go ahead,” Zoro says, and Luffy sprints away, yelling for Franky.

Sanji and the marimo follow at a more sedate pace.  The shining white moonlight is beginning to shade pink and blue, sunrise creeping in at the edges.

Franky is sitting on the front steps of the factory with a pair of tweenage boys and a crate of popsicles.  He does some of his more low-key robot tricks as Luffy rummages through the crate, head and shoulders entirely buried in it.  The kids are starry-eyed and open-mouthed, exactly the right demographic for Franky’s bullshit.

“YOW!” Franky yells, doing one last pose before standing up.  “Now that Cook-bro and Zoro-bro are here, we can go get the rest of your friends!”

One of the boys looks at them sullenly, and the other’s eyes fix on Zoro’s swords like magnets.  “Are those real swords?!”

“Zoro’s gonna be the best in the world!” Luffy’s muffled voice exclaims.  He emerges from the crate, three popsicle sticks in his mouth and his fists full.  He’s already turning blue from cold.

“Wow,” the kid breathes.  Sanji and the other boy roll their eyes simultaneously, and that makes Sanji pause.  Maybe he should be a little more mature than a what, thirteen-year-old?

“Zoro’s pretty SUPER!,” Franky agrees.  “But we need your help to find your friends.  Will you guys show us your awesome secret spot?”

“You can’t tell our parents,” the sullen kid grumbles.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Franky promises.

Apparently accepted as Cool Adults, the Strawhats follow the kids up a narrow path behind the factory.  The eager one keeps glancing back at Zoro’s swords, occasionally nudging and whispering to his friend.

“I think you’ve got an admirer,” Sanji teases, elbowing Zoro.  The swordsman growls and lays a hand on said swords, which just makes the kid gasp and stumble, trying to walk backwards and watch them at the same time.

“Part of the path got snowed in,” the sullen kid says, giving the eager one a disparaging look.  “We came up later and couldn’t get through, so I guess the others can’t get back down.”

“Franky will take care of it!”  Luffy declares.

Before too long the winding path hits a wall of snow.  It’s a crumbled pile of chunks of snow like boulders, with bits of trees sticking out in places.  The snow blocks the path completely, and the surface of it on either side is obviously unstable.

“Stand back!” Franky says.  Sanji and Zoro take a good step away.  Luffy leans forward.

With a loud whirring sound, parts of Franky’s forearms rearrange into shovels.  Sanji has long since stopped thinking too hard about all that.

The kids scurry back when Franky charges into the blockage.  Snow flies everywhere, and in short order Franky has carved a new path through the debris.  

“This isn’t a good consistency for snowmen,” Franky comments critically, and it takes Sanji a moment to remember the SAPCOM project.  “We could figure something out, though.”

“If you can get Usopp to come off the ship,” Sanji says.  “Bet he still thinks we’re all about to be killed by an avalanche.”

Zoro chases after Luffy as he darts through Franky’s tunnel, shouting something about following the kids who are trailing behind them.  This leaves Sanji alone with the cyborg, who is giving him one of those looks, the kind that lead to well-meaning but terrible conversations.

“How are you doing with Zoro-bro?” Franky asks, lifting his sunglasses to peer at Sanji.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Sanji snaps.  No irrational sensitivity, no painful fighting, no moments of perfect connection.

It’s like Franky heard everything Sanji didn’t say.  “You should probably just talk to him, little bro.”

“And say what?” Sanji grumbles, following after their vanishing captain.  “Don’t answer that. I’m not going to talk to that shit-swordsman.”

“Just tell him how you feel!” Franky says.  This selective hearing is really irritating.  “Have a manly heart-to-heart, share your SUPER passionate love!”

Sanji gags a little.  “Please shut up.”

Franky winks at him.  “Wouldn’t you like to heat up this winter island?  I bet Zoro-bro would be more than happy to-”

“I’ll buy you sugar-free cola,” Sanji threatens.  “The marimo’s not - there’s nothing to share. You know him.  I’m the only one with feelings. Not that I’m feeling anything like that!”

“You sure?” Franky asks, but he doesn’t press further when Sanji glares back at him.  They pick up the pace, closing the gap between them and the others.

“What was that about?” Zoro asks, the harried look on his face making it clear he doesn’t care what Sanji and Franky were talking about, only why they weren’t helping him wrangle Luffy.

“These kids say how much farther it is?” Sanji asks instead of answering.

“‘Round the bend or something,” Zoro shrugs.

Sanji catches Franky looking at them and realizes he’s right in Zoro’s space again.  The cyborg gives him a very unsubtle thumbs-up.

At least he still has this.  Once Sanji can stomp down this swell of - of desire, he’ll acknowledge that much, this feeling is affection and want but not more than that, it can’t be - once he gets rid of it, he and Zoro can go back to their comfortable animosity.  All of those plans were clearly a bad idea.

The kids scramble up and around another outcropping of rock, Luffy close on their heels.  Sanji can’t help despairing a little over how easily their captain fits in.

The path opens up onto a semi-sheltered cove.  It’s scooped out of the mountainside with a shallow cave at the back, a thick stand of trees where the path comes up, and a stunning view of the ocean.

Three more kids are huddled around a haphazard fire in the most sheltered part of the cave.  They watch the treeline warily as everyone pushes through, and jump up when the Strawhats’ guides rush over.

“How did you get up here?” A girl asks.

“The whole path was blocked!” a third boy exclaims.

“That’s nothing for my SUPERRRRR rescue capabilities,” Franky boasts.

“You’re not supposed to bring grownups here,” the second girl hisses.

“Would you rather wait for a thaw?” the sullen boy snips.  “They’re pirates anyway, they’re not gonna tell anyone.”

“They’re so cool!” the eager boy adds, jabbing at Franky.  “Hey, hey, show them the hair thing!”

Sanji wanders away while the kids - and Luffy - ooh and ahh over Franky’s ridiculous hairstyles.  Next is robot impersonations, then sparkling lights and firecrackers, and Sanji supposes they’re not in a rush.  Might as well let Franky show off, and the kids are clearly enjoying it, even the sullen boy and the girl who was so suspicious when they showed up.

“Yow! If you think that’s cool, wait until you see this!” Franky exclaims, and Sanji glances their way.  Usually the cyborg gets back on track eventually, but he’s really into it today.

Franky is posing in front of the kids with his arms over his head, fists twisted out and stars matched - the classic Super Franky pose, but there’s a rocket launcher ratcheting out of his shoulder that looks suspiciously like something the cyborg only uses in fights.  Zoro takes a step toward him, with a narrow-eyed expression Sanji thinks must match his own.

“Hey Franky-” the swordsman begins, but the cyborg drowns him out.

“SUPERRRRR BLASTER FIREWORK SPECTACULAR!” Franky bellows, and that is definitely a rocket launcher.  The missile shoots out of his arm in a cloud of colored smoke, to the children’s delight, and explodes a safe-but-barely distance above everyone’s heads.

The colors are pretty spectacular, Sanji will admit.  Usopp probably had a hand in this trick; the artistry has the sharpshooter’s mark all over it.  Luffy and the kids’ whooping nearly masks the rumbling up higher on the mountainside. Nearly.

“Shit,” Zoro mutters.  The kids cluster together, looking up in dawning fear.  

Sanji has time to shoot Franky a reproachful look, but no more.  A massive slab of snow shears off of the slopes above them, dragging down with increasing speed.  Powdered snow fills the air, accompanied by the sound of snapping trees.

“Take care of those kids!” Zoro shouts, waving an arm at Luffy and Franky.  He and Sanji are on the opposite edge of the flat space, and the view is already veiled in falling snow.  Franky herds the kids back into the cave, and the last thing Sanji sees is Luffy inflating himself to block the entrance.

Zoro throws himself at Sanji.  They’re swept off the cliff together, and Sanji has the presence of mind to grab Zoro’s head and tuck his own into the marimo’s shoulder, but not much else.  Snow is supposed to be quiet, Sanji thinks distantly, but the avalanche is roaring down the mountainside in a cacophony of rumbling and snapping and rushing air.

It seems to go on forever, until it’s silence roaring in Sanji’s ears instead and he opens his eyes to darkness.  He’s afraid to move, doesn’t want to know how small this dark space is, doesn’t want to check for broken bones. But he can feel Zoro’s hair under his palm, the marimo’s head cradled in Sanji’s hand, and the shifting of Zoro’s chest as he breathes, so at least they’re both alive.  They can handle anything that comes next.

Sanji tries to untangle their legs, relieved that the motion doesn’t inspire more pain than falling off a mountainside deserves.  It’s a lot, but nothing feels broken. There’s something more solid than snow against his back, though, and the snow pressing in from every other angle doesn’t leave much space to move.  One of Zoro’s arms is wrapped around his waist, pinning him further, and is it just him, or is the air getting stuffy? The darkness is nearly complete but the snow has a faint bluish tinge in one direction, so Sanji does his best to twist and scrabble at it.

The thing behind him is stone, Sanji realizes, and several broken trees lodged against it allow for the little pocket he and Zoro are trapped in.  As he digs at the snow between the logs - he still can’t move much more than one arm, the other caught under the unconcious marimo’s stupid heavy body - some of the snow falls away and a little more light filters into the space.

With the light comes a breath of fresh air, and even though the hole is too small to even get his arm through past the logs, Sanji goes limp with relief.  They’re both alive and likely to stay that way long enough to get out of here. If he keeps telling himself that maybe he’ll be able to keep his head.

Curling back against the marimo, Sanji drops his forehead to Zoro’s shoulder.  “Hey shithead,” he mumbles. “You better not be all dramatically injured or something after pulling a stunt like that.  Wake the fuck up.”

Zoro actually shifts.  Sanji perks up, propping himself up over the marimo’s chest as best he can, and watches Zoro crack his eye open.

“Ouch,” Zoro mutters.

“Feel anything broken?” Sanji prompts.

The marimo squints, and shakes his head.  This dislodges a clump of snow near his ear, which falls into his face.  Zoro tries to get an arm up to brush it away, can’t in the limited space, and shakes his head again, spluttering.

Sanji can’t help laughing at him, which earns him an ineffective whack where Zoro still has an arm tucked around him.

“Asshole,” Zoro says.  “What happened?”

“What’s it look like?” Sanji asks rhetorically.  “Franky started an avalanche, we got swept off to who knows where, now we’re buried in a tiny snow cave.  Can you move your shoulders at all? My arm is falling asleep under your dumb heavy muscles.”

Zoro manages to get his elbows braced on the snow beneath them and lever himself up enough for Sanji to pull his arm free, even with Sanji’s weight mostly on top of him, so maybe the marimo’s muscles aren’t that dumb.  Folding his arms on Zoro’s chest, Sanji rests his chin there and tries not to think about how that swell of motion rolled their hips together. He doesn’t want to make an already compromising position even more humiliating.

“What was that about, anyway,” Sanji accuses.

“What?” Zoro asks.  He looks distracted, hands resting on Sanji’s ribcage.  It would be rather cozy, if they weren’t trapped.  

“Lunging for me like I needed saving,” Sanji says.

“You’ve got a bad track record with this winter island stuff,” Zoro retorts defensively.  “Avalanches and all that.”

“I have a bad track record?  You froze yourself in a river!”

“Excuse me for caring.” Zoro rolls his eye, looking away from Sanji.

Sanji can’t muster up the will to keep yelling in Zoro’s face.  That’s what he wanted, after all - care. “I don’t need saving,” he says, sounding petty even to his own ears.

“Never said you did.”  Zoro gives him an awkward pat, legs twitching uncomfortably where they’re still tangled with Sanji’s.  “Still wasn’t gonna watch you get swept away without trying to help.” 

The scorching awkwardness of this moment ought to be melting them right out of their prison, but no, Sanji has to stay draped across Zoro’s chest and accept that comment with something approaching dignity.  Or not.

“Fuck you, marimo,” Sanji mutters.

Zoro just raises an eyebrow, hands steady on Sanji’s sides.  The corner of his lip twists up in a smirk and Sanji stares at his mouth.  He could-

A fresh avalanche of snow collapses onto them.  For a moment Sanji is sure the weight will only increase, that they’ll be crushed for real this time, but instead one of the logs is flung away and something scrapes across his back.  It feels like claws, and moments later a familiar furry face snuffles up next to his and Zoro’s.

“Nibbles,” Zoro gasps, his breath washing over Sanji’s face.  They’re all three nose-to-nose, and when the otter grins in greeting his teeth are really far too close.

With a defeated groan, Sanji closes his eyes against Zoro’s shoulder and lets Nibbles dig them out.  Within minutes they can scramble out of the ravaged pit.

Sanji pushes himself off of Zoro and is immediately freezing.  Nibbles grabs him by the back of his coat, flinging him out of the collapsed cave with a twist of his neck.  Lying in the snow a few paces away, Sanji takes a moment to appreciate the control Nibbles has over those teeth.

Zoro gets the same treatment, landing near Sanji with a huff of breath.  “I could have gotten out myself.”

Nibbles chirps, bounding around in Luffy-like excitement.

“He means thank you,” Sanji sighs, reaching up to scratch behind the otter’s ears.

“I really don’t,” Zoro mutters.

“How did you find us so fast?” Sanji asks, ignoring the marimo.  Obviously Nibbles can’t answer, but he rubs his face against Sanji’s in what Sanji can only assume is smug success.  Over the otter’s shoulder, Sanji can see Zoro cross his arms with a sullen frown.

It would have been a good kiss, Sanji reflects.  The way the marimo keeps glancing at him, gaze flicking down Sanji’s face, makes it clear Zoro is thinking about it, too.  That’s surprising, and makes Sanji glad of the large furry body between them. He can hide his blush against the otter’s warm fur.

Nibbles lets them climb onto his back by themselves this time, after nosing at Sanji some more and enthusiastically knocking Zoro back into a snowbank the first time he tries to stand.  Getting up onto the otter is trickier than Sanji expected - Nibbles’ fur is deep and soft and smooth, and Sanji doesn’t want to grab and pull, so he starts sliding off at first. Zoro puts a hand under his thigh and shoves, almost hard enough to throw Sanji over the other side.  His touch lingers, maybe to steady Sanji, but the slow way he drags his hand off and the glimpse of heat in Zoro’s eye as he looks away belie that.

“Idiot cook,” the marimo says, jumping up behind him.  Nibbles wiggles, making sure they’re secure, and zips away before Sanji can try pushing the shit-swordsman off.

Exhaustion hits Sanji like another avalanche.  For once it would be nice to arrive on an island without leaping into multiple days without sleep.  Now that they’re relatively safe and hopefully on the way back to a warm bed, it’s catching up to him.

Zoro is wrapped around him more closely than staying on Nibbles demands, but like the marimo’s hand up earlier Sanji can’t be sure it’s a come-on.  Both Zoro’s arms are snug around his waist, the marimo’s thighs pressed tight to Sanji’s hips. Sanji is certainly feeling warm from it, but the marimo is a practical man.  This could be nothing more than circumstance.

Even if it’s not, it doesn’t mean Zoro would want anything more than the physical, and while the physical was good Sanji knows he wouldn’t be satisfied with that.  Call it greed, call it selfishness or hunger, but Sanji needs everything, or he’ll have to hold off at nothing more than they already are. Still, none of that stops him from appreciating the feel of the marimo behind him any more than it did the first time Nibbles came to get them.  This is not helping his resolution to stop wanting Zoro that way.

It’s not even about the closeness, though that’s certainly nice.  No, Sanji is near-swooning over the intimacy, how easy it is to understand Zoro, how smoothly they move around each other without words.  When did rolling his eyes and scoffing at the marimo become a private language between them? Sanji is messing that up, with his discontent pining and snapping.

Pining?  Stiffening, Sanji tries to shove the word away, but it echoes around in his head, drowning out the rush of wind and heavy thump of Nibbles’ paws hitting the snow beneath them.  It fits too well, more than just affection, more than simple desire.

“What?” Zoro murmurs - says , just says, it’s only so quiet and intimate because of the moment, Zoro is certainly not whispering sweet nothings into his ear.  Sanji has got to get it together. But the marimo knows him well enough to react to even this slight change in body language, without so much as a word from Sanji, and this is why they’re spiralling out of control.  The shit-swordsman won’t give Sanji the space he needs to get over it, because he has no idea what the problem is.

Meanwhile the marimo’s hands are warm on Sanji’s sides even through their winter gear, and Sanji’s heart is pounding so hard he’s sure Zoro must be able to hear it.  Or feel it, where the idiot’s face is mashed up close to his throat.  

“Nothing, marimo,” Sanji lies, with a vague gesture into the trees around them.  “Thought I saw something moving off that way.”

Zoro grumbles and re-settles against him, nosing into Sanji’s hair and squeezing his hips between the marimo’s thighs.  Resigning himself to misery, Sanji still does his best to memorize the feel of Zoro pressed so close.

Nibbles doesn’t play around much this time, instead running in a near-straight line in what Sanji assumes is the direction of the town.  There’s still some swooping, and the otter slides down every slope they come across with great enthusiasm, but most of the trip is a smooth blur of pristine, snow-covered plains and scattered clumps of trees.  The wind is biting, the air sharp against Sanji’s exposed skin and the sunlight reflecting off the snow too bright in his eyes. Even so, it’s with bittersweet relief that he slides off of Nibbles at the outskirts of town.  Cold rushes into the space where Zoro was holding on to him.

By now it’s nearly midday, and the townspeople give them a wide berth as they make their way to the inn.  Sanji can’t blame them, with the way Zoro is scowling around, and Nibbles strutting along beside them. The otter looks pleased as punch, and Sanji is too tired to do more than smile wanly at the nervous townspeople.  Even the pretty girl with her hair in long braids who gasps and scurries across the street to avoid them.

Sanji can hear excited voices well before they get the door open, and Chopper pounces on them as soon as he and Zoro step inside.  Luffy is sitting nearby with all the kids and their parents from earlier, and Franky gives them a guilty look as they come in. Sanji makes sure to hold the cyborg’s eyes as Zoro picks Chopper up.  They’re going to have words about appropriate use of fireworks.

Later, though.  Sanji is tired enough to drop, and Chopper is more than happy to direct him and Zoro upstairs.

“We’re having a party later,” Chopper chirps, to no one’s particular surprise.  Zoro grunts and submits to their little doctor’s prodding. There’s always a party, after an adventure like this.  At least they have time for a nap first.

Eyes wandering around the room as he waits for Chopper’s attention, Sanji is about ready to pass out.  It’s a perfectly ordinary room, two beds and a thick rug in front of a fireplace, a heavy wooden wardrobe and another door part way open to a washroom.  The windows on the far side have snow caught at the edges of the narrow panes, with more swirling in the air beyond them.

“Well, you don’t have a concussion,” Chopper announces, and Sanji turns back to the room.  Chopper hops off of Zoro and herds Sanji onto the other bed, beginning his usual litany of tests.  The marimo throws his boots in the corner, rolls himself up in the blankets of his bed and is out like a light, the simpleton.

“Everyone made it back safe,” Chopper tells him.  “I can’t believe Franky, he tried to make it sound like the avalanche just happened all on its own, but I could hear those fireworks from all the way back in the other cave!”

“I’m going to have a talk with him about that,” Sanji promises grimly.

“Nami already did,” Chopper says, absently poking through Sanji’s hair.  “Does that hurt? No? Well, you’re probably fine, but if you feel sick or dizzy tell me right away!”

Sanji nods.  He’s heard the concussion speech before, and he can rest easily knowing that Nami-swan has already reamed Franky out for that stunt.  Though the idiot had better apologize, if he values his cola supply.

“Thanks, Chopper.”

“That doesn’t make me happy!  Now get some sleep, doctor’s orders!”  Chopper scowls, peering the wrong way around the doorframe before closing it behind himself.  Sanji listens to his little hooves click along the hallway, and looks back at the marimo.

He snickers.  The quilt on Zoro’s bed is green.  It’s too bad the swordsman is already asleep; that’s some good teasing material right there.  Kicking his shoes off, Sanji manages to get most of the way under his own blankets before falling asleep himself.

When he wakes up, it’s to the familiar soft sounds of Zoro cleaning his swords.  He’s sitting on the floor, with damp hair and a freshly-washed glow to his skin. The marimo glances up when Sanji moves, but his attention immediately returns to his task.

Sanji lets himself look, giving the half-dressed marimo an appreciative once-over under the guise of rubbing his eyes.  He’s really unfairly attractive, in the warm sunset glow of the early winter evening.

“Robin came by,” Zoro says.  “Two hours before the witch wants us all down in the lobby.”

Sanji makes an inelegant sound, choking on all the urgent responses he has to that statement.  Don’t call Nami that, why didn’t the marimo wake him up if Robin-chan was here, how long ago was this?  What kind of party is this, does he have time to get back to the ship for fresh clothes?

“She dropped some stuff off for you,” Zoro adds, and Sanji realizes that the marimo is wearing his nice pants.  Well, the pants he owns that pass for nice. Nice enough. Sanji feels he can be forgiven for missing that at first pass, with the glaring shirtlessness of the rest of Zoro.

“When?” Sanji snaps, before he can get distracted by said shirtless idiot.

“Little while ago,” Zoro shrugs.  Sanji snarls and throws himself into the washroom.  It’s anyone’s guess how much time he actually has.

When he gets out, matching the marimo’s state of undress and frantically towelling his hair dry, Zoro is just sliding his third sword back into its sheath.

“Where’s the fire, cook?” he asks.  “We’ve still got like, an hour, probably.”

Sanji flops onto his bed, the towel falling over his face.  Easy for the marimo to say; he doesn’t even brush his hair most days.  After a moment of lying still, Sanji lets his head drop over the edge of the bed enough to get Zoro in his field of vision.  There’s something Sanji can’t quite recognize in the marimo’s expression.

Zoro looks up at him from the floor, putting the rest of his cleaning supplies away.  It’s a brazen look, raking up and down Sanji’s body, but there’s something false about the bravado in his voice.  “So… we didn’t get to the good part, on that last island.”

Sanji freezes, too startled by the abrupt proposition to do more than gape at the marimo.  Maybe lying upside-down has scrambled his brain. Rolling onto his stomach puts Sanji’s face very close to Zoro’s, but that just gives him a good vantage point to peer at him.  “I thought it was pretty good,” he stalls.

“Yeah,” Zoro says, “but I meant you could fuck me.”

From frozen to burning in heartbeats, and Sanji is sure his brain doesn’t stand a chance.  He forces himself not to grab the marimo, not to drag the man into a kiss, and scrabbles for some shred of self-preservation.  Being… not even fuckbuddies, but rivals-with-benefits? Whatever that relationship would be, it would only drive Sanji crazy.

He’s thought this through too, after all.  It’s always been a possibility, that the marimo would be content to bed him but nothing more.  This is the bad-ending finale to those daydreams of earning Zoro’s love. It won’t be enough.

“If you’re into that,” Zoro adds, looking slightly to the side of where Sanji’s eyes are.

“I can’t,” Sanji hears himself say.  It’s the right response, it is! But Zoro’s face falls and he turns back to his sword kit, shoulders tense.

“Whatever,” the marimo mutters.

“I can’t,” Sanji repeats, desperately.

“Heard you the first time,” Zoro says, shooting him a glare.  “I get it. I won’t ask again.”

“No, I mean, who wouldn’t be into that - into you - but I don’t want-”

“Why are you still talking?  Shut up, twirly-”

“I don’t just want to fuck you!” Sanji says, trying to get the words into a coherent order.  Zoro’s expression goes from angry to irritated and wary.

“What, looking to play out some weird fantasy?” Zoro challenges.  “Never mind, ero-cook. Forget I said anything.”

It’s hard not to take the bait.  Sanji is torn between picking a fight and trying to guess what kind of weird fantasy the marimo is imagining.  He’s got a few, sure, but - 

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Sanji says, not through organizing his thoughts but at least he’s not asking Zoro what kind of thing he considers too weird, “I mean I don’t want something physical.  Just physical. That’s not enough, I want more.”

“Try stringing together a sentence that makes sense,” Zoro says, still looking wary, but less upset.

Sanji growls and grabs the marimo’s chin, yanking his face closer.  Getting himself under control, he places the gentlest kiss he can manage on Zoro’s frowning lips.

This is a kiss for lovers.  This is soft affection, not a prelude to sex.  In all honesty it’s not so different from their first kiss - that was gentle too, surprisingly so, and equally sweet - but Sanji holds the marimo still for a long moment anyway, willing the idiot to understand.  Zoro shifts slightly, raises a hand to Sanji’s wrist and parts his lips a little, but otherwise lets Sanji have this.

He tilts his head, and moves his hand from Zoro’s chin to the back of his head, making the marimo’s hand slide along his arm, resting lightly in the crook of his elbow.  As he kisses Zoro more deeply, the marimo wraps his grip around Sanji’s bicep instead.

It’s easy, again.  Almost too easy, after all the denial and worrying Sanji has been working through.  He nearly forgets himself in the heat of Zoro’s mouth and the marimo’s firm hold on his arm.

A burst of wind rattles the glass in the window, and Sanji remembers - they’ve only just come in from the cold, they have other places to be.  He pulls himself away, holding Zoro’s head back with his hand in the marimo’s hair as he tries to lean in after Sanji.

“Stop,” Sanji says breathlessly.

Zoro stops resisting, frowning back at Sanji in an entirely new way.  “What now .”

“I want this,” Sanji tells him, holding the marimo’s gaze.  “Something with you, more than just fucking. Understand?”

He can’t ask if the marimo wants him that way, but Zoro responds with a firm nod and quiet affirmation.  Sanji isn’t sure what it means, but his expression is softer and deeper than mere lust.

There’s enough of that to drown in, though, and Sanji can feel his heart pounding, sending heat rushing through his body.  “We can talk about it later,” he says, trying for control. “We have to go to the party, first.”  

He briefly considers staying behind, telling Nami that they’re too tired.  That, if nothing else, convinces Sanji that they need to get moving. He can’t start inconveniencing his angels for Zoro’s sake.

“Really?” Zoro grumbles, breaking eye contact to look down at Sanji’s mouth.

“Yes, really,” Sanji responds, failing to put anywhere near enough certainty into it.

The marimo smirks, caressing Sanji’s arm where his hand is still wrapped loosely around it.  Not a particularly erotic touch, or it shouldn’t be, but Sanji can hardly hold still through it.  

“Gonna take me up on my offer when we get back?” Zoro asks, and Sanji has to take a sharp breath through his nose.  Will he ever.

“We’ll see how the party goes,” he says instead, once he can see straight again.  It’s hard to shake the desire.

“Right,” the marimo drawls, standing up with an indolent stretch.  Sanji watches, unwilling to take his eyes off of Zoro, and knows he will be doing the same all night.  Even the most beautiful stranger cannot compare with the potential Zoro is offering him.

It’s a little easier to look away once the marimo gets his shirt back on, and Sanji hastily dresses as well.  They head down to the lobby, ribbing at each other until Sanji stops feeling startled every time Zoro meets his eyes, and regains a normal sense of seething irritation.

“You’re just in time,” Robin informs them.  “The governor sent carriages for us, although the party isn’t far.”

She settles a fur-lined robe over her shoulders, swaying out of the way as Nami drags Luffy past them, Usopp scurrying along at her heels.  Their captain is whooping about dinner, and as the doors close behind them, Sanji can hear Nami yelling about appropriate party tricks.

“You look stunning, Robin-chan!” Sanji gushes.  “Like a fairy-tale queen! Surely you’ll be the most beautiful woman at this party, there’s no question-”

“Shall we, Cook-san?”  Robin asks, taking Zoro by the elbow and waving Sanji to the door.  Chopper is waiting outside, perfectly at home in the lightly falling snow.

“Franky went ahead to talk to the locals about snow breaks and different ways to prevent avalanches,” Robin tells them, “but we’re all meeting at the village event lodge, on the outskirts of town.”

There are two carriages lined up in the street, tall wheels and four horses apiece, their harnesses strung with bells.  One of the horses stomps its wide hoof and Chopper pats its leg, giggling.

“They’re very proud of their manes today,” the little reindeer says, pointing to the elaborate braids.  The horse tosses its head and huffs, prancing in place.

“As they should be,” Robin says, and Sanji is so taken by her gracious manners that he forgets to give her a hand up into the carriage, and doesn’t get a chance to try to sit beside her.  He winds up next to Chopper instead, feet tangling with the stupid marimo’s where the man is seated across from him.

There are heavy blankets and a thermos of hot chocolate waiting for them, so Sanji spreads one of them across his and Chopper’s laps and gives the doctor a cup of cocoa.  It’s hard to be mad with Chopper wiggling happily at his side, but Sanji still takes the time to glare at Zoro when the man refuses the hot chocolate. 

The bells on the harnesses chime as they pull away from the inn, and the world outside the carriage’s small windows takes on a dreamlike quality.  Sanji can’t see much through the twilight, only whirling snow and the warm glow of streetlamps.

“Nibbles said to tell you guys to take care,” Chopper says, kicking his hooves against the base of the seat.

“He’s not coming to the party?” Sanji asks.

“He’s an otter, of course he’s not coming to the party,” Zoro snarks.  Sanji kicks his ankle, and they scuffle around while Chopper talks.

“No, he wanted to go home, and the villagers would have been scared, probably.  Luffy was disappointed.”

“I bet,” Sanji says, distracted.  He’s managed to pin Zoro’s calves between his own but the marimo only looks smug.  The shit-swordsman slides their legs together and Sanji blushes, letting the marimo free when he realizes that Robin is watching them.

“I heard our friend Nibbles rescued the two of your from a cave-in?” Robin says, with a playful sparkle in her eyes.  “How fortunate that neither of you was crushed.”

“Twirly almost crushed me,” Zoro grouses.  “Got stuck on top of me when the avalanche buried us-”

Sanji squawks and swings a leg up, intending to kick the loudmouth marimo in the head this time, but of course Zoro throws up an arm to block him.

“And after I went out of my way to save his ass,” Zoro adds, smirking.  Robin giggles behind a hand.

“I’ll kill you,” Sanji hisses.  “Save me, my ass. Who ended up unconscious, huh?”

“Yeah, from you landing on me,” Zoro retorts.  “Maybe you should lose some weight, shit-cook.”

“That’s it, meet me outside, I’m gonna-”

“I believe we’ve arrived,” Robin interrupts.  “Perhaps you can save the revenge match.”

“Of course, Robin-chan!”  Sanji still trips Zoro on his way out of the carriage, but who could blame him.

Warm light spills from the lodge, windows all along the front of the log building revealing flashes of merriment within.  Snow piled on the sills and caught in the dips between the logs frosts the building like a cake, and the entrance is decorated with vibrant green pine boughs.  Sanji doesn’t get much of a chance to admire it before Luffy runs up to them, wrapping an arm around everyone and dragging them into the party.

It’s easily as welcoming inside, with hundreds of candles sparkling in lamps hung from the beams criss-crossing the ceiling, at least two stories above their heads.  What looks like half the town is there, and they all cheer when Luffy crashes in.

Some of the kids from earlier run up to them, and as soon as the word buffet passes one of their lips, Luffy is halfway across the room with them.  

“He’s their problem now,” Nami says, making for the bar on the other side of the room.  Sanji hastens to accompany her.

All the townspeople want to stop and thank them, so it takes a while to get across the floor.  By the time they’ve both gotten a drink Sanji is so well settled into the pattern of greetings that he startles when Nami turns to speak to him alone.

“So, Sanji-kun,” she says, fixing him with a stern frown, “Did you get all that with Zoro sorted out?”

“Nearly, Nami-swan!” Sanji assures her, feeling his face heat.  He glances around, hoping no one else heard, but they’ve managed to snag a moment alone.  

Nami looks surprised when he turns back to her.  “Really?”

“Nearly,” Sanji repeats.  He hopes it’s true. “There’s nothing you need to worry about, my dear!”

“Huh.  Well, better than I expected,” Nami says, watching him with a rare, uncritical gaze.  “I don’t want that kind of drama on the ship, so finish clearing the air before we leave, okay?”

“Of course!” Sanji promises.

Nami down the rest of her drink, setting it aside with a sigh.  “You know, Sanji-kun, I’m not just saying this because I don’t want to deal with the tension.  If telling Zoro you want…” she pauses, scrunching up her nose, “whatever it is you want, I can’t imagine, but if telling him makes you happy, then do that.  If it wouldn’t, then just get the two of you back on stable footing.”

“I do want… more,” Sanji admits.  “I told him that. We need to talk about it, is all.”

“Good,” Nami say, with a firm nod.  “Great. Don’t you dare tell me any more details, it’s like knowing my brothers are - Never mind.  I need another drink. Go dance or something, get out of here.”

While he would never admit wanting an escape from one of his wonderful, perfect angels, Sanji is happy to take the excuse to get out of that conversation.  He avoids the dancing - mostly Luffy and the kids jumping around near the buffet tables - and peers around for Zoro.

There’s no sign of the marimo, so Sanji chats his way over to the buffet.  The local cuisine is heavy on apples here too, but also cold-water fish and winter vegetables.  Picking through his plate, Sanji hangs back near the windows until he can spot Zoro.

It’s not that he isn’t enjoying the party, but Sanji wishes he’d gotten more time to talk to the marimo earlier.  He’s not sure if he said what he needed to, if he really made it clear what he wants. Those questions make it hard to concentrate on celebrating, when he would rather be back at the inn, figuring out what the two of them can be.

Luffy races through the crowd nearby, laughing and chasing some of the kids, and Sanji finally spots Zoro through the clear space left in their captain’s wake.  He’s doing much the same thing Sanji is, lurking half-behind a curtain with a tall glass of something Sanji can only assume is stronger than beer.

“Zoro-bro’s been pouting over there all night!” Franky says, nearly giving Sanji a heart attack with his sudden appearance.  Shit, he’s really distracted, if the cyborg of all people can sneak up on him.  

“Pouting?” Sanji mutters, but that’s what it looks like.  The marimo has his arms folded across his chest with a sullen scowl, enough that the townspeople are giving him a wide berth.

“Same as you,” Franky laughs.  “It’s suuuper obvious, curly-cook.”

“I’m not-”

“Not pouting, not pining after Zoro-bro, definitely not in love, I hear ya,” Franky says, clapping him on the shoulder.  “But last I heard you didn’t think Zoro-bro felt anything for you, and let me tell you, that? Is not a man who’s indifferent.”

“No, I…” Sanji sighs, looking back at the marimo while Franky waggles his eyebrows at him.  Even set in that grumpy expression, the angle of the marimo’s jaw in the candlelight makes Sanji’s heart pound.  “I know.”

“You do?” Franky asks, with the same look of pleasant surprise Nami was wearing earlier.  “I mean, YOW! Of course you’d figure it out. Go get ‘im, little bro!”

Another heavy pat on the shoulder turns into a shove, and Sanji stumbles out into the crowd.  As he approaches Zoro he can see the swordsman’s expression lighten, just for a flash, before falling into his usual flat stare.

“Happy to see me?” Sanji teases, to cover the way Zoro’s expression got to him.

“Who would be,” Zoro grumbles.

“Franky says you’re pouting,” Sanji tells him.  “Eager to leave?”

“Gonna be eager to get outside and kick your ass in a minute here,” Zoro warns.

Sanji swallows a laugh, taken off guard by his own bright contentment at this easy interaction.  “I’m ready to go,” he says, leaning in close to Zoro’s ear to do it.

“Don’t you have a million women to compliment?” Zoro asks, but he doesn’t pull away and there’s heat in his eye as he says it.

“As much as it pains me to leave a party early, I have a date tonight,” Sanji informs him.  He hopes it’s a date, and not just a hook-up.

“A date, huh?” Zoro says, raising a hand to Sanji’s waist.  They’re standing so close together, it’s not likely anyone would notice more than that, but Sanji hardly cares. 

“I’m really looking forward to it,” Sanji purrs, letting his eyes go heavy-lidded as his lips fall into a lazy smirk. 

“How far from that inn are we?” Zoro demands.  Lacking as the question may be in romance, Sanji can’t complain about the marimo’s enthusiasm, as he starts pulling Sanji through the crowd before waiting to hear the answer.

Of course they end up at the far end of the lodge, and Sanji enjoys the frustration rolling off the swordsman for a few minutes before turning him around.  “Door’s that way,” he advises.

They take advantage of another empty swath of floor left in Luffy’s wake as he races through the party, making a clear line to the door this time.  It’s freezing out by the entrance, blustering winds blowing snow in to buffet around them, but Sanji can make out the lights from the town down closer to the coast.  It’ll be a long walk.

The door opens behind them, spilling light and noise into the darkness, and one of the townspeople hurries out, pulling on a coat.  “Strawhats! Saw you head out, need a ride? I’ll bring the horses around.”

“I wouldn’t want to pull you away from the party-” Sanji begins.  Zoro steps on his foot.

“It’s no problem!” the man says, waving off his concerns.  “You lot brought my little girl home safe, it’s the least I can do.  Won’t take long anyway, I can come back after.”

“Then thank you,” Sanji says, relieved that he and the marimo won’t have to trek through midnight snow again.  The man strides away and Sanji takes a moment to light a cigarette, catching a glimpse of Zoro’s face in the gleam from his lighter.

The marimo is watching him with a measured intensity Sanji isn’t used to.  It makes him glad his cheeks are already pinked with cold. Having Zoro’s attention is heady, whether they’re fighting or not, but this calm regard is new and exciting.

 Chiming bells signal the carriage driving up, the horses’ breath forming clouds of white that catch the light coming through the lodge windows.  They trot through the slices of brightness escaping through cracks in the curtains, and toss their heads as the driver halts the carriage.

“Back to the inn?”

“Please,” Sanji confirms.  Zoro only grunts and drags him inside.

Sanji starts to sit on the far side of the carriage, but Zoro makes a put-upon face and pulls him down beside himself.  Side by side, knees touching, and Sanji realizes - he can do whatever he wants. So he scoots closer, presses their bodies together, and drapes one of the cozy blankets over their legs.

“Sap,” Zoro says, as Sanji tucks them in.

“You’re the one who wanted to cuddle,” Sanji retorts, despite being unsure whether the marimo would want that at all.

“Whatever,” the marimo grumbles, leaning in to brush his lips over Sanji’s cheek.

It’s all Sanji can do to sit still.  They can’t start making out in the back of this carriage, they’ll be back to the inn in minutes.  He can wait that long. He’s waited for years already, after all.

Through the tiny carriage windows, there’s nothing to see but vague shining sweeps of moonlight on snow.  No sound but the creak of the wheels and the horses’ quiet steps, and Sanji is shocked by the noise when their hooves begin to ring out on cobblestones instead of the packed snow road.  Sooner than he’s ready for, they slow to a halt, and Sanji can hear the driver soothing the horses.

Zoro huffs, pulls the blanket off, and throws the door open.  Sanji stumbles out behind him in a daze, still hypnotized by the snowy landscape.  But they’re at the entrance to the inn, and Zoro is completely ignoring the driver to go inside, so Sanji has to thank the man and then rush after the marimo, if only to prevent Zoro from wandering into someone else’s room.

There’s no one at the front desk, which Sanji is grateful for as he grabs Zoro’s hand to lead him up the stairs.  This is strange enough without anyone watching.

Then they’re standing in their little room, and Sanji goes to stoke the fire by rote, leaving his shoes at the threshold.  Something to do with his hands, and it’s getting cold in here. When he turns around, Zoro is waiting quietly by the door, boots placed neatly beside it, watching Sanji with a serious expression.

Suddenly awkward, Sanji brushes his hands off on his pants, and hangs his jacket by the bed.  They’re gonna - and he wants it, he’s already agreed to this - but it feels so artificial all of a sudden and that’s not what he wants, Zoro hasn’t said anything since they left, he has to make himself clear - 

“What’s up?”  Zoro asks, grabbing Sanji’s shoulder as he starts to turn away.

“I love you,” Sanji blurts out, and is startled to see a blush spread across the marimo’s cheekbones.  “I want to be serious. Us. A serious thing.”

Zoro scrubs his free hand over the bridge of his nose, and meets Sanji’s eyes with a determined set to his mouth.  Sanji is momentarily distracted, looking at his lips, before lifting his own gaze back to Zoro’s.

The marimo nods, and guides Sanji down to sit on the nearest bed,  “I want that too,” he says, voice clear of any doubt.

“Really?” Sanji stares up at Zoro, unsure despite all the ways the swordsman has said yes already.  It’s hard to accept, when nothing in his life ever goes this smoothly. Not that this has been smooth, but the important moments have all been so easy, so right.

“What, you thought I just got bored and decided to mess around with you ?” Zoro asks.  “I’m not stupid enough to risk a disaster like that without being serious about you, cook.” 

Sanji is fairly sure he should be insulted about some part of that, but he’s too relieved to do much more than sigh and go limp, days of anxious tension all flowing out at once as he falls into the blankets.  “Why didn’t you say anything, dipshit?”

“You left before I woke up,” Zoro shrugs.  “Acted all normal, like nothing had happened.  Annoying as ever. Figured you thought it was a mistake.  Guess I’m glad to be wrong.”

The marimo comes to the bed, kneeling over Sanji where he’s slumped against the pillows, and kisses him.  No fanfare, but no awkwardness either, simple and warm. Their lips press together for a few slow moments and part just as easily, though Zoro stays leaning over him with a contented expression.

Sanji doesn’t have a good excuse for leaving without a word that morning, nor for bottling all this up inside afterwards.  It all just kind of happened.

“I thought the same thing, when you came back,” Sanji sighs.  “I didn’t want to make things worse, between us.”

Didn’t want to finish ruining this chance.  It probably sounds like cowardice to someone as straightforward as the marimo.  No doubt Zoro thought it through and put it behind him, and here Sanji’s been a mess over it for days.

“I was disappointed,” Zoro says.  “Always thought it’d be nice, to have something with you.”

How can this idiot say that kind of thing so casually!  Sanji reaches up to fuss with his hair, unable to look the marimo in the eye.  He can feel a blush rising in his cheeks.

“I’ve known it has to be you for a while,” Sanji says, unsure if he should explain.  It will sound terribly unromantic, and won’t cover any of the important things, like how his heart races when he looks at the man, or how Zoro has become a necessary strength in his life.

“Never would have guessed,” Zoro comments.

“Well, me neither!”  Sanji snaps. Just like that, everything feels comfortable again, ease filling the room like the heat from the fireplace.

“‘Cause you’re so uptight all the time,” Zoro smirks.  “Can’t make anything easy.”

“And you do?”  Sanji demands.

“You bet,” the marimo responds, that smirk stretching across his face.  “I can be very easy. Offered already, didn’t I?”

“Zoro!”  Sanji gasps, one part scandalized but a larger part turned on by the reminder.   

“So can we get on with that?”  Zoro asks, running a hand along Sanji’s jaw.  Fingers trail down to his chin, up and over his lips.  Sanji grabs the marimo’s wrist and kisses his palm, letting his lips part against Zoro’s skin as he opens his mouth to answer.

“Get undressed if you’re going to make this so easy,” Sanji demands.  It’s hard for Zoro to comply, because Sanji follows his words with a forceful kiss, leaning up into the swordsman’s space to affirm his claim.  

Zoro allows it, bracing a hand between Sanji’s shoulder blades to keep him close.  They sit up, and Sanji pushes his hands under the marimo’s clothes to explore the muscles of his abdomen before gathering the material into his grip.  As they break apart he does his best to strip everything off of the swordsman in one firm movement.

It makes Zoro snort and reach for Sanji’s shirt, and it’s a challenge for Sanji to leave enough space between them for the marimo to get at his buttons.  Touching his skin is addictive. He traces across Zoro’s chest, not quite the path left by his scar, and appreciates the look of concentration on the swordsman’s face.

Once the shirt is gone Zoro pushes him back down against the pillows, kissing his throat and collarbone before moving his lips lower.  As much as Sanji wants to get things moving he can’t begrudge the foreplay; it’s a luxury he’s not very familiar with, and certainly not one he expected to get out of Zoro.

“Are you sensitive here?” the marimo asks, one hand solid at the bottom of Sanji’s ribcage as the other teases his nipples.

Sanji hums in agreement, relaxing under the attention as Zoro kisses him there.  He runs his fingers through the marimo’s hair and eventually can’t resist tugging a little, bringing Zoro back up to eye level once his sensitivity begins to be too much.  The marimo’s lips are wet and red, his pupil dilated and cheeks flushed. He looks the way Sanji feels, blood rushing everywhere but to his higher brain functions.

Sliding a knee between Zoro’s thighs, Sanji can feel that the marimo is getting just as excited as he is himself.  He increases the pressure and reaches for Zoro’s belt as the swordsman settles against him. It’s a simple thing to roll them sideways, wrapping one arm around Zoro’s neck while he undoes his belt with the other.  The marimo takes his cue readily, burying his face in Sanij’s shoulder and going for the fastening on his pants.

The first touch of Zoro’s warm hands on his skin in that intimate place is jolting, and Sanji’s hips jerk into it.  Zoro makes a low sound and sits up again, tearing their pants off and moving back down beside Sanji before he even has time to acknowledge the rush of cold air.  Or take in the view, which is a shame. It was dark in the hayloft, and Sanji would really like to get a good look at what Zoro’s offering, but he’ll have his chance.

Zoro tosses a small bottle onto the bed as he comes back into Sanji’s arms, which must mean he had it in his pocket the whole evening.  Sanji smirks at the realization and nips at Zoro’s shoulder, groping down the swordsman’s hip and thigh.

The marimo is apparently done playing around - his hand moves straight for Sanji’s cock, which goes from heartily interested to fully erect in instants.  Sanji gasps, his grip tightening on Zoro’s upper thigh.

“Nice,” Zoro rumbles, and Sanji chokes on a laugh.

“Could say the same thing,” he drawls, hand slipping lower, between the marimo’s legs.  He bypasses the man’s dick, and only lightly caresses his balls before stroking deeper past them.  “Pass me that bottle, marimo.”

“I did that while I was in the bath earlier,” Zoro mutters.

“Eager?”  Sanji asks, even as he feels heat crashing through him.  Imagining Zoro arching back, getting his fingers inside himself while thinking about being ready for Sanji… 

“I want you to pound me,” Zoro says, point-blank.  “Didn’t want to worry about wasting time on preparing.”

Sanji doesn’t take his hand from between Zoro’s legs, but he does use the other to pull the marimo’s head closer and mash their mouths together, pushing Zoro onto his back.  This means Zoro has to take both their weight, but the man is good for it, muscles flexing as he adjusts.  

“Too bad we spent so much time at the party,” Sanji breathes, lips still brushing Zoro’s as he does.  “You’re going to have to be patient while I finger you open, marimo.”

There’s a blush high on Zoro‘s cheeks as Sanji pushes away, releasing the swordsman’s head to get an arm under himself.  Zoro doesn’t look too upset at the prospect of having Sanji prep him.

“Don’t take too long,” the marimo grumbles, gnawing his lip for a moment before lying back.  Sanji follows him down, placing a kittenish lick on that reddened lip as he settles his weight between Zoro’s knees.

Sanji spreads the marimo’s legs wider, because he can , and watches Zoro shift and squirm under his gaze.  Sitting back up, he tucks his knees beneath Zoro’s thighs and strokes the taunt muscles of his abdomen.  The heat from his cock is obvious even before Sanji touches it, and when he finally does, Zoro outright gasps.

“I’m going to take exactly as long as I want,” Sanji informs him, lightly feeling out the shape of the marimo’s dick as he reaches for the lube.

Zoro rolls his eye and nudges his heel against Sanji’s side.  “I’ve done this before, you don’t need to be too careful.”

“No such thing as too careful,” Sanji mutters, letting go of Zoro’s erection to slick his fingers.  “Relax, marimo.”

That said, he doesn’t bother with much ceremony, carefully sliding his whole finger into Zoro in one measured motion.  Not all the marimo’s effort earlier was wasted; there’s no real resistance, and Zoro closes his eye to breath out a quiet moan.

Sanji does his best to get more of that sound, spreading lube into the swordsman’s body in firm strokes.  Zoro takes it beautifully, arching into Sanji’s touch and leaving banter by the wayside.

“Knew you’d be good with your hands,” Zoro says breathlessly, as Sanji pulls back to add another finger.

“And you wanted to skip this part,” Sanji grins, feeling almost lightheaded himself.  Zoro scoffs at him but doesn’t tense up, even as Sanji gets to stretching him in earnest.  Dropping to his elbow over Zoro, Sanji kisses his throat and rests his forehead against the marimo’s chest for a second.  His skin is so warm, it’s intoxicating.

Zoro runs a hand through Sanji’s hair and leaves it at the nape of his neck, thumb ticking against his skin.  A third finger, and Sanji moves to kiss the marimo, forcing his hips up to manage the angle. It’s messy, mostly tongue and not much finesse, but Zoro’s sure not complaining as Sanji licks the heightened moans out of his mouth.

They break apart, panting.  “Okay, mossy, how do you want to do this?”  Sanji asks, sitting back to give the marimo a breather.  Zoro leans up on one elbow, wiping his other hand across his mouth, and then moves into the middle of the bed.

“This good?”  Zoro asks, voice rough as he gets up, twisting around and placing his hands on the mattress.

Sanji doesn’t get it at first.  There’s a flash of hesitation as the marimo turns his back to him, so miniscule Sanji would never have noticed if he didn’t spend hours nearly every day looking for an opening in the shit-swordsman’s facade.  But it’s there, just the barest moment of discomfort as Zoro gets to his knees on the bed.

His slow comprehension can be forgiven in these circumstances, Sanji is sure.  He’s more than distracted by the view, still reeling from the way Zoro reacted to his touch.  As he takes in the smooth expanse of muscle the marimo is offering, though, he remembers - this is Zoro, who wants to be the greatest swordsman, who never turns his back to an enemy, who considers the smallest scar there an irreparable shame on his ambitions.

Sanji is not an enemy.  He’s not even in the mood to fight Zoro right now, but the trust in this position is still overwhelming, once it trickles through his arousal-soaked mind.

Touching the small of the swordsman’s back, right above the dimples of his butt, Sanji slides just the tips of his fingers all the way to Zoro’s hairline.  Resting his other hand on the marimo’s hip, he slowly strokes part-way back down, caressing the nape of Zoro’s neck and each of the first few vertebrae along his spine.

“Nice view,” Sanji says, keeping his tone light.  Not a mark to be seen on any of the tanned skin under his hands.  He thinks the careful touch will be enough to tell the swordsman he understands.

Zoro scoffs, that second of unease washed away, and settles a little lower on his elbows, arching his back.  “You’re such a pervert, ero-cook.”

“Oh?” Sanji grins.  “But you’re showing off for me, so you can’t talk, lewd marimo.”

“Wish you would stop talking,” Zoro complains, but his pupil is blown and the tips of his ears are red, and he’s still lifting his ass toward Sanji in the most blatant invitation he’s ever received.

Who is he to refuse.  Sanji slides closer, moving behind Zoro and running his hands along the man’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart just enough to get a good look at his hole.  The marimo makes a startled sound as Sanji touches him there, enjoying how soft and slick it is after all the attention.

Sanji lines the head of his cock up and holds it against the reddened muscle, groping the marmo’s asscheek and thigh one more time before getting inside him.  Zoro twitches, breathing heavily.

“I thought I said to pound me,” the marimo huffs.

“Getting there,” Sanji purrs, and grips Zoro’s hips, tightly enough that his thumbs leave red marks and Zoro can’t keep trying to force him in.  Instead, he pulls the marimo back onto his cock, as slowly as he can manage. He comes easily, each inch sliding in ever so gently.

“You shitty tease,” Zoro gasps.

“You look so good, though,” Sanji praises, lust dripping from his voice.  Even more than the sensation, the sight of Zoro taking his cock so well is overwhelming.  What can he say; it’s an impossibly enticing sight.  

Zoro gasps, a sharp intake of breath ending on a growl, and flexes in Sanji’s grasp.  “Enough staring, love-cook, now move!”

“It would be my pleasure.”  He can stare and move at the same time, after all, and Sanji’s not going to let a second of seeing Zoro like this go to waste.  The unshakeable marimo spread open beneath him, pinned down on his cock, and all so willingly.

He won’t give Zoro what he asked for, not yet, and won’t let the marimo take control.  It frustrates the man, as Sanji settles into a slow, gliding pace, and Zoro rumbles beneath him.  But after a few languid strokes Sanji finds a good spot, and the marimo’s breath stutters, muscles trembling under Sanji’s hands.

“There,” Sanji purrs, letting go of Zoro’s hips with one hand to pet his flank, fingers tracing the place they’re connected before resuming his hold.  The marimo’s skin is stretched so tight there, but maybe another time he’ll slip an extra finger in, and open the swordsman even wider for him. “I know what I’m doing, just let me.”

“Fine,” Zoro says, tone perfectly encapsulating an eye-roll even as his voice hitches, “but don’t think I’ll forget, shitty pervert.  You better make this good.”

Sanji does, nailing the marimo nice and deep with enough force to rock him unsteadily on his knees, back arching into each thrust.  Gradually, he picks up the pace, until the exertion has sweat glistening on both of their bodies and Sanji can’t focus on anything but Zoro’s gasping breath and the pulsing heat around his cock.  He’s well proven his prowess, Sanji thinks, lifting his head to take in the flush spreading down the marimo’s neck, full across his upper back.

“Deep enough, marimo?  This what you wanted?” he pants, surprised by the breathless husk of his own voice.

“Harder,” Zoro demands, because of course he does.  Sanji has had enough of denying him.

“Remember you asked for it, if walking is a pain tomorrow,” he retorts, leaning down to Zoro’s ear to breathe the words like a secret, before moving one hand to the back of the marimo’s neck, pushing him into the pillows.  “I’m not afraid of hurting you.”

He never will, not like this, but the stupid swordsman responds well to the implied promise, going lax under Sanji’s grip and spreading his knees a little further to take it.  That sends another stab of heat through Sanji’s already fevered body, and he feels like the flush on his cheeks will surely burn up all of his skin.

There’s no way he can last, so Sanji does his best to make Zoro finish first, snapping their hips together with as much strength and precision as he can bring to bear.  Within what feels like seconds the marimo tenses beneath him, jerking erratically into Sanji’s thrusts, and then Sanji has to stop moving as Zoro’s body tightens around him.  Hearing Zoro’s low moan as his muscles flex under Sanji’s hands is the final straw and he comes, the rush of heat prompting another gasp from Zoro. Sanji hisses, hips thrusting against Zoro’s a few final times until his arms tremble and he collapses into the bed, cock slipping out as he curls around Zoro.

The marimo shifts, shoulders heaving like he wants to get up, or at least get out of Sanji’s arms.  Sanji just holds him tighter, throwing a leg across both of Zoro’s as he tries to move them.

Nuzzling into the marimo’s shoulder, Sanji does his best impression of their captain and refuses to let go.  Cleaning up can wait. There’s another bed across the room that they haven’t even touched yet, and if Zoro thinks they’re going to sleep apart after that, Sanji is prepared to fight him about it.

“Cook,” Zoro complains, but it’s a token protest.  His muscles bunch and flex under Sanji’s touch, but he doesn’t really try to pull away.

“Cuddling now, marimo,” Sanji mumbles into the nape of his neck.  

The swordsman sighs and relaxes, resting a hand over one of Sanji’s and drawing his arm tighter across his chest.  Sanji hums, smug and happy. Twining their legs together more intimately, he settles in to enjoy whatever post-orgasm haze Zoro will allow.

It might be uncharitable to say Zoro is only allowing it.  The marimo’s breath is deep and steady, and Sanji knows him well enough to read contentment in the lines of his body.  Besides, Zoro has been surprisingly receptive to this whole thing. Maybe it’s not such a reach to think that the marimo will want some of the same intimacies Sanji does.

Eventually they cool down enough that the heat from the fireplace isn’t sufficient to cut the winter chill in the air, and Zoro tries moving again.  Sanji grumbles about it, curling in and pressing his forehead to the marimo’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna wash up,” Zoro growls, leaving no room for disagreement this time as he pries himself out of Sanji’s arms.  “Quit whining about it and we can get back to bed faster.”

“Together?”  Sanji asks hopefully.

Zoro gets off the bed with a faint wince and stretches.  Unabashed, but his wry expression makes it clear he knows Sanji is enjoying the sight.  “That’s what you want, isn’t it, ero-cook? Besides, it’s freezing on this damn island.”

“Since when do you care what I want?”  Sanji says, rolling out of bed to follow Zoro into the washroom.

“You don’t have to fish for affection, idiot,” Zoro retorts as he finds towels.  The water is slow to heat up, but they make do. “Obviously I care. Not that I’m going to let you have your way all the time, but I do.”

“I’m not used to that,” Sanji lightly says, grateful for the cold water to calm the furious blush the marimo’s straightforward words brought to his face.  He cleans up as quickly as he can, the marimo doing the same.

Zoro sighs, bundles Sanji into a large towel, and pushes him back into the bedroom.  “You’re a mess,” he informs Sanji, tumbling them both into the clean bed. “Now stop thinking so much and go to sleep.”

~o~O~o~

No one comes to wake them, and when Sanji finally opens his eyes the sunlight is lancing through the windows with that particular piercing clarity only freezing winter days achieve.  The fire has burned down to embers, and it’s a perfect morning to stay in bed with a lover.

Which is what he’s doing!  The tip of Sanji’s nose is cold, so he turns his face into Zoro’s hair, unable to suppress a grin.  Curled up against him, the marimo mumbles a little and shifts in his sleep.

Sanji’s arm is stuck beneath Zoro’s dumb heavy body yet again, which will no doubt hurt like a bitch and give him a good reason to pick a fight with the marimo later, but even that can’t affect Sanji’s satisfaction now.  Zoro is warm and cuddly in sleep, despite being all hard muscles. It’s more than enough to fulfill Sanji’s fantasies of waking up with someone this way.

Still, he won’t tempt fate by trying to enjoy the moment for too long.  It’s suspicious enough that Luffy hasn’t charged in to find them yet, and it sounds like there’s some kind of commotion out in the square.

“Wake up, marimo,” Sanji demands, trying to sit up and pull his arm free.  He’ll give Zoro a fighting chance before kicking him out of bed.

The marimo grumbles and does not move, so Sanji disentangles their legs and thwaps his shoulder a few times.  “Wake up .”

“Why,” Zoro finally asks, muffled against Sanji’s skin.

“Somebody’s gonna crash in here and wake us any minute, that’s why.”

“Someone is already doing that,” Zoro accuses, lifting his head enough to give Sanji a sleepy glare.

“Well, we can’t stay in bed all day!”

“Can so.”

Sanji sighs, collapsing back against the pillows.  Zoro makes a satisfied noise. There’s definitely excited yelling happening outside, but maybe it doesn’t have to involve them.

Something explodes, rattling the glass in the windows.  Zoro echoes Sanji’s sigh.

“That was a tiny explosion,” the marimo mutters.  “I’m sure it’s under control.”

“We should probably make sure,” Sanji says, making no move to get up.

Neither of them budges for a long moment, then Zoro props himself up to give Sanji a quick kiss.  “Fine.”

“Morning breath,” Sanji complains.

Zoro headbutts him in retribution, and rolls out of bed.  Sanji gives himself a moment, watching the marimo find his clothes while blood returns to his pinned arm.  Bending to pick up his pants, Zoro shoots him a smirk. “Sure you don’t want to stay in bed?”

Blood is returning to other places too, so Sanji all but flings himself out of the bed, before his libido can beat his resolve.  “Yes.”

He still gropes Zoro’s ass as he snatches up his own clothes and escapes to the washroom, followed by the marimo’s indignant exclamation.

“You’re a menace,” Zoro says when Sanji comes back.  Sanji sticks out his tongue and shoves the swordsman toward the door.  

“Hurry up.”  Imagination is the only limit to whatever might be happening outside, and Sanji just doesn’t have the right kind of creativity to guess what the rest of the crew is up to.

When they get out to the square, a giant robot is stomping around the fountain, with a crowd of preteens chasing after it.  The robot looks an awful lot like General Franky, except for the fact that it appears to be made of snow. As the crisp winter air steals Sanji’s breath, one of the children fires a suspiciously new-looking miniature cannon at the robot.  With a loud bang! and a puff of smoke, one of the robot’s arms falls off.

“Yeah!” several preteens cheer.

“Hehehe, I’ll never surrender, you bastards!” the robot giggles.

“SO COOL!” one of the kids yells.  Oh wait, that’s Luffy in a pom-pom hat.

“That doesn’t make me happy at all!

“Pit stop!”  Usopp calls, drawing Sanji’s attention to an area of the square that’s out of the wind.  Beside a mountain of fresh snow and piles of replacement snow robot parts, Franky is making notes on a clipboard while Usopp sketches.

“SUPER job!”  Franky tells the kid with the cannon.  “Try aiming for the head next time, little bro!”

The two Strawhats attach a new arm to the robot while the crowd of children chatter.  A hatch opens in the front of the thing and Chopper pokes his head out, waving at Zoro and Sanji.

“Look!  It worked after all, look what we made!”

“SAPCOM is a SUPER success!”  Franky adds. “Snowbot General version… what are we on now, Nose-bro?”

“Seventeen, I think,” Usopp says.  “Seventeen point four, after this arm.”

They finish the repair and the kids chase Chopper back into the square.  Watching warily, Sanji ambles over to the impromptu workshop. “Did you give all those kids live guns?”

“Nah, it’s all automated,” Usopp says, scribbling another note.  Franky flashes his clipboard at them - it’s all switches and buttons on the side the kids couldn’t see.  “None of them could hit the broad side of a barn, so Franky is just knocking off limbs every so often to keep it fun.”

“We had to use a metal frame to keep everything together, so why not make it a game, is what I say,” Franky explains.  “They’re shooting dummy rounds, but it still makes a good bang.”

“You dragged me out of bed for this,” Zoro gripes, elbowing Sanji.

“Watch it, or I’ll land you in Chopper’s infirmary bed,” Sanji warns.

“Quit flirting, you guys,” Usopp mutters.

“So,” Franky begins eagerly, “Sorted yourself out, did you, Cook-bro?  Figured out how to express your SUPER passionate feelings and confess to Zoro-bro?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Sanji protests, while Zoro levels him with a betrayed glare.

“You told Franky about us?” the swordsman asks.

“Nah, I overheard him talking to Nami,” Franky assures him, giving them both a broad grin.

“You told the witch about us?!”

“I didn’t mean to, but Nami-swan is so persuasive, and hey, don’t call her that-”

“But you two are a thing now?”  Usopp interrupts. “That’ll take some getting used to.”

“None of your business,” Zoro growls.

“It’s SUPER!  Can I build you guys your own room?”  Franky asks. “There’s some renovations I’ve been meaning to do, I can add it in - oh, hold on bros.”

“Get him, get him!”  One of the preteens screams, as the Snowbot General comes around their side of the square again.  Guns fire, Franky presses a button, and the robot’s head flies off.

“Nice shot!”  Usopp praises.  “Worthy of the great master sniper Sogeking himself!”

Sanji watches, feeling a bit green.  Sullen, Zoro stands beside him with folded arms and a deep scowl.

“So, how about that room?  It’ll be SUPER,” Franky promises.  

“I’m not gonna stop you,” Zoro says, “but don’t add anything weird.”

“No worries!”  Franky declares, picking up another clipboard.  “Look, I was thinking-”

Sanji peers at the design, tuning out the explanation.  It appears to involve hydraulics, and something in the floor looks like it’s designed to spin.  “No way.”

Chopper brings the Snowbot around for repairs, and Franky is distracted from his cursed bedroom planning.  If they can just keep him busy, maybe he’ll forget about it. There’s no way Nami will approve costs for something like that, anyway.

“But it’d be nice to have a private bed,” Zoro says, glancing sideways at Sanji.

“Not like that,” Sanji sighs.  “We’ll make do, marimo.”

No reason to fall right into Franky’s crazy schemes.  Zoro rolls his eye, but they settle in side by side to watch their nakamas’ antics for the rest of the morning.  Sanji wouldn’t ask for anything different, even if it eventually ends with a collapsing robot burying them all in snow. 

It all feels so right, the perfect culmination of a hundred little things, and Sanji never could have guessed he’d fall so hard.