Chapter Text
Naturally, the incident is Luffy’s fault.
Sanji heards members of the crew into the galley for dinner—no fun task when it includes interrupting Robin’s reading, tearing Usopp away from an hours-long inventing binge, and kicking Marimo awake from his fifth nap of the day. He has Usopp and Robin listlessly taking their seats at the table beside the rest of the crew. Sanji is in the middle of collecting Zoro when it happens.
The swordsman is leaning against the deck railing, slouched down in a way that makes Sanji’s back tinge with horrified sympathy. Sanji crosses to him, wondering how Zoro didn’t shrivel and starve in the years before they met, and goes to wake him for food.
At this exact moment, Luffy decides to latch onto the door frame, stretch back to rack up tension, and let go. He flies toward where Sanji stands, foot pulled back and poised to connect with the side of Zoro’s slow-rising chest. “Sanji!” he cries, and Sanji is fluent in the whiney tone that includes an unvoiced dinner plea.
Sanji thinks, give me a damn second, Shitty Captain, but then he is barreled into by a blur of rubbery limbs and straw and is suddenly not thinking much at all.
The world tips and blurs. Where Sanji would usually spin with the momentum, coming out sure-footed and ready to deliver a damaging kick, he instead slips. There is Luffy’s laugh and blood and wind roaring in his ears. He sees dark sky and inky waves and shadowed deck boards. Cold night air guides his fall. And then, there is something green, something solid, and something warm.
Sanji’s lips are pressed against it.
For a moment Sanji lies on top of Zoro. Marimo’s shirt is worn and soft and he smells like sea salt and steel. Their legs are tangled and their torsos are aligned and their mouths are locked together with bruising closeness. Sanji tastes chapped lips and—oh Seas, are they moving? Sanji’s eyes, closed when he braced for impact, snap open.
He is nauseous, he is shaky, he wants to die.
Sanji pulls back, scrambling for purchase except that’s almost worse—Zoro is everywhere in bulky muscle and sword scabbards and warm breath that steams in the night air.
And he is awake.
No, no, no. Sanji is staring into muddy, brown eyes, which are looking back with shock and confusion. Sanji untangles with renewed ferocity, being none to careful about stepping on or hitting Zoro. Once free, he shoots to his feet, back-peddling across the desk to put safe, safe, safe distance between them—every inch is a balm against the panic and adrenaline flooding his limbs. His fingers twitch, not for a smoke.
Sanji’s face simmers pink and his thoughts race. He’s cursing himself for not reacting to Luffy’s attack with the furious alarm he reserves for enemies. Maybe then he’d have been prepared enough to avoid this absolutely insurmountable moment.
Sanji slaps the dirt from his clothes and swallows a lump of remorse.
He is all too aware of Zoro, still leaning against the railing, wide-awake, because he slips into alertness more readily than anyone Sanji knows. Marimo grunts, a question.
Sanji grits his teeth. “Shut up, Moss!”
“I didn’t say anything clumsy damn Dart-brow!”
“I’m not clumsy!” Sanji hisses.
Zoro crosses his arms, unimpressed. “So you meant—”
“NO!”
Sanji kicks up a barrel nearby, then hits it again before it can land, sending it cleaving towards Zoro, who catches it with a grunt.
“Say that again and I’ll cook you,” Sanji says heatedly, refusing to look at him. He turns his attention to the culprit of the night.
“Luffy!” he snarls, twisting to glare at where the idiot has managed to land in a discombobulated pile of person further down the deck.
“Shishishi!” Luffy straightens, stooping to pick up his hat and shove it back onto his head, completely unaware of the horror he has brought about. “I’m hungry.”
“I’ll feed you my boot,” Sanji declares and rears back his leg to deliver on his promise. As he pounds an unapologetic Luffy into the deck with the heel of his shoe, he pretends not to feel the weight of the Marimo’s gaze, staring at their scuffle. Sanji's is aware of his lips more than maybe ever, tasting the iron-lick of pressure and bruising. He purses them together.
When Luffy has been dealt with accordingly Sanji adjusts his collar and straightens his coat sleeves and makes a beeline back into the galley with a called “Dinner’s up!”
He leaves behind night-cold and Luffy, laughing on the deck boards as Zoro grabs him on the collar and yanks him to his feet. The pressure of waking, brown eyes lingers on Sanji's back as the galley door slams close behind him.
Inside, the rest of the Straw Hat’s cheer at his announcement. Chopper claps his hooves together excitedly, Nami licks her lips, and Usopp’s stomach growls. Sanji grabs hold of the ladle and starts to distribute the meal. Heat grows, high on his cheeks, crawling up his neck.
Luffy busts in. Immediately, he reaches for Robin’s meal. Before Sanji can kick him away for her, she smiles, twists her hand, and has a chain of arms passing a plate over for Luffy, piled with meat. He eagerly switches targets, not even noticing when Robin fixes his crooked hat, patting the straw fondly.
Sanji pretends not to see when Zoro follows their captain in, dropping into his usual seat. Tense, Sanji stares out of the corner of his eye, but Zoro doesn’t say or do anything out of the ordinary. It’s too early to be relieved, but Sanji is hopeful the incident will stay under wraps. Zoro, the taciturn bastard, isn’t likely to bring it up at a later date, and Luffy wouldn’t understand to.
Sanji shoves Zoro’s plate at him without looking and, with everyone fed, settles down to eat his own meal.
He still feels red and hot and a little queasy but no one is looking at him differently, as far as he can tell. The only one who pays him any extra attention is maybe Robin, but Robin always has that knowing glint in her eyes, and Sanji is entirely confident it could be unrelated.
So Sanji eats his food. He shoves the whole incident away, perfectly content leaving the one-time event in the past.