Chapter Text
The even tempo of a kick drum filtered through the dingy studio, strong enough that it made the floor reverberate, echoing into his heart to instruct the tempo into his fingers. Sanji plucked the strings of his bass, concentrated on accompanying the tempo set, building it into a solid foundation that Luffy, Usopp, and Nami could depend on as the three of them took chances only worth taking when you know someone was there to catch you. They ran amock through harmonies and melodies, throwing crescendos to each other while they swung on allegros that hung from the roots of what Sanji and Zoro had built for them, turning an original song into something far greater, something close to a masterpiece.
They were recording their debut album. Finally, after two years of planning, saving, fighting, and practicing, so much practicing, it was finally paying off. Nami had somehow conned her way into a recording studio, making friends with the tall, nearly skeletal retired rock star who ran the space and convincing him to give their band a chance like only Nami would be able to. Their excitement was heavy in the room, nerves running so hot they were nearly nonexistent, morphing into an uncontrollable energy instead that was in every beat of the kick drum, every pluck of each guitar string, every word Nami sang into the mic, all concrete, recorded. Tangible.
It had been a long time coming, and they were ecstatic. They had talked many times about what their big break would look like, late at night on the rooftop of their shared house, cans of empty beer surrounding them. They had dreamed so many times about what it would be, how they wouldn’t record anything until they had something that would change the world of music, until they’d found their sound and they’d found the right person to capture it.
It had happened simultaneously, almost serendipitously, they’d been playing at the Bark, just simple covers of songs each of them liked. They did that a lot, playing small shows at tiny bars just to practice performing, practice their stage presence, and playing in front of crowds who wished they weren’t there alongside crowds who were glad they were helped them to be ready for any outcome. They’d been in the back room when Nami had started singing a sea shanty as a warm down, her voice captivating, hauntingly beautiful in a way none of them had heard before, Sanji and Zoro stating that they’d found it at exactly the same time, much to Sanji’s deep seated annoyance.
Luffy had been so inspired by the sound that he’d written two of their first songs in the first week, bringing them to the group alongside one that Usopp had written as well, the band laying them out and finding that with a little rearranging there was a story unfolding within. An epic, like the kind written from a time long lost, full of treacherous seas and monsters that hid in the shadows of the oceans depths or behind a beautiful face. And that was it, their debut was born, their origins were coming to a close, and it was marked by the approval of the call they’d received from Brook that same evening. Nami had struck a deal, riding on the coattails of the impression they’d left on the older man and pretending like they had no idea of who he was, or the legacy he carried with him in his offer to record them.
Sanji barely remembered that night, the celebration had been something of legend, the only memories he could recall of the first time they’d played the first few bars of Luffy’s second song, the feelings of fulfillment and success that accompanied them one of the best experiences he’d had in his life. That memory, and the memory of fighting with the one band member he simply couldn’t get along with. It was Zoro’s fault, he was certain of it, even though he could barely remember what had been said or how it had started in the first place, but the good feelings of the night before had been harshly dampened the next morning when Nami had sat them down and told them point blank that they were the biggest risk to the band's success. To figure their shit out, and fast.
It wasn’t his fault that they didn’t get along. The stupid moss ball was just a classic drummer, through and through. Annoyingly loud, from his opinions to his obnoxious hair, and he had shitty taste in everything, from the booze he liked, to his drunken cigarette brand of choice, to the partners he rotated through like it was a sport. He was irritating, and seemed to live just to push Sanji’s every limit, and he was fucking flashy in the laziest way Sanji had ever seen. He swore, if he ever got a hold of one of those stupid shirts that had had the sleeves cut off until it barely had sides at all, he was going to burn it. Rip it up and use it for the mechanics rag it was and then burn it and force the drummer to watch.
Zoro was the issue, he had been since the day they’d met, when Luffy had invited Sanji to join the band as their final missing instrument. They hadn’t gotten along from that first day, the worst of it all being that the bastard was damn good with the drums, Sanji determined to surpass him in skill just to rub it in his stupid, annoyingly attractive face.
“You better be good.” Those had been Zoro’s first words to him, and that had been all it had taken for Sanji to decide he was his least favorite in the group, setting the foundation for their relationship from the start. Sanji shooting back immediately about how a glorified metronome had no right to speak to his skill hadn’t helped at all, earning a snear and flash of anger from the moss. It was mutual, and unspoken, even though they got in fights about pretty much everything else, anything enough to drive Sanji’s temper to fire if it was from the hands of the moss, their biggest tension was around the skill they brought to the band. They fought nearly everytime they saw each other, barbed words turning to punches with a fluidity that made them feel like natural born enemies, and Nami had apparently had enough of it.
She’d told them that they had something good, that both of them were integral to that good, but that as the ones in charge of keeping their band on time, they needed to be a team; a unit. That whatever differences they had needed to be put aside before it grew into something so out of control that it blew up their band before they even had a chance to fulfill their dream. The reality check had been a long time coming, neither Sanji or Zoro surprised in the least, and when Nami had left the two of them together to figure it out, both of them had instead sat in silence as each of them waited for the other to be the bigger man they felt they were entitled to not be.
Nami hadn’t brought it up again, though, and by the time it came to record their first album they had all put it far enough out of mind to not be an issue. Zoro and Sanji had unconsciously backed off from fighting in front of the others as much, although it wasn’t possible to keep all of their spats private, but when they did fight both were far more consciously aware of their band members’ presence around them.
Sanji didn’t completely understand why it was such a big deal anyways, because even if he did hate the bastard, and he did , and even if they did fight all the time, they sounded damn good together. It never affected their sound, or their ability to work with each other in the band. They sounded damn good, and no one could argue against that point, not once they’d heard them play, so really it shouldn’t make a difference.
The drums behind him stopped playing without warning, the rest of the band following after as Sanji was pulled back to the present, looking to Nami in confusion.
“The Cook missed his entrance.” Sanji ripped off his headphones and turned on the Moss, furious to be called out by the last person with any right to do so.
“Focus on yourself and your trashy downbeats, you shitty excuse for a drummer,” Sanji shouted, considering jumping over the large set of drums even as Zoro stood to meet his anger. “And how many fucking times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that!”
‘Cook’. Years of schooling and culinary excellence, two Michelin stars to his name and a restaurant he owned himself , all by the age of twenty five, and he’d been diminished to nothing more than the word ‘cook’. It was one of his biggest pet peeves, one of his most fragile nerves, and Zoro not only abused it daily but he’d been the one to create it in the first place. To use that nickname in the same breath that he insulted Sanji’s playing, he would kill the bastard if it wouldn’t ruin the band’s dynamic.
“Guys please! We’re not even recording yet!” Usopp yelled behind them, his hands wrapping around Sanji’s elbow to stop him from charging forward at the same time that Nami walked between them, facing Zoro with her hands on her hips.
“What?” Zoro said, his voice harsh and defensive. “I’m just holding us to high standards, isn’t it important we’re all on our game today? Or are you guys fine with a sloppy fucking recording for our debut. I know I’m not.”
“Zoro you need to take it down like two whole notches right now ,” Nami said, her voice stern. Sanji laughed in victory, only to stop abruptly when Nami turned on him next, her manicured nail like a knife pointing right for his throat. “And you , I don’t give a damn where your head was just at, but get it in gear. He’s right, you entered late, Brook’s giving us a good deal but we only have three hours in this studio and we need to be done with this by then. Unless you want to front the bill.”
“Yes, Nami, dear,” Sanji said, remorse thick in his voice as he lowered his eyes. Luffy laughed behind them, playing a chord loud and clear on his guitar to get all of their attention, successfully diffusing the tension in the room.
“Come on guys, let’s have some fun!”
♮♮♮♮
“To our first full length album, and to a finalized release date!”
The four of them cheered to Usopp’s toast, flutes of champagne clashing together in a discordant symphony as they celebrated. Zoro still couldn’t believe they’d gotten the Soul King to record their first album, let alone his team’s guidance in their marketing plan. Everything was working out almost too well, Zoro could feel his dream at the tips of his fingers, within reach. This was where it all started, in their house, the five of them around their coffee table cheering to the adventure they’d just begun.
It was surreal, they had a recording. A real, actual recording, that they could pull up at any point, listen to whenever they wanted to, and Usopp was already planning a release party that would be complete with a rented club and press coverage. Everything, everything , was good. With one exception.
“I’m going to get started on dinner.” The exception in question stood from his seat taking his champagne flute with him as Zoro watched him leave with no small hint of disdain. Sanji was a thorn in his side. Or maybe more accurately, his foot, making each step forward way more painful than it needed to be. Sure, he maybe hadn’t made the best first impression, but it said a lot more about Sanji that he’d never been allowed to make a second one.
He hated the cook, hated that he turned everything Zoro said into a fight, like he was just waiting for him to speak so that he could kick him in the face. He hated that the blonde seemed to flirt with anything that moved, that he smoked that old ass brand of cigarettes like he was in his sixties, and that he cooked some of the best damn onigiri Zoro had ever tasted in his life.
Zoro had no idea who had managed to convince him it was a good idea to have the band all under one roof. Whoever it had been had made damn sure he’d completely forgotten Sanji was a part of said band when they’d made the pitch. They got along like oil and water, and the entire band knew it, and they fought what felt like daily at that point, often coming to blows to the point that the coffee table was kept to the side by default. They’d had to pay to replace at least three since they’d moved in.
“Going to get a beer,” Zoro said, setting down the flute of champagne and standing.
“We got the drier champagne for you, Zoro!” Usopp said, grabbing his arm, “are you not gonna drink it? You don’t like it?”
“I will, relax, just want a beer, too,” Zoro said, shaking him off and walking to the kitchen. Which was true, he did want a beer. Not necessarily at the same time as champagne, but an opportunity to get a beer and piss off the cook was not an opportunity he turned down unless he had no other choice.
“I’ve told you I don’t want you in my damn kitchen, Moss.” Zoro ignored him, the tactic always the quickest way to get an even bigger reaction out of the cook. Instead of responding he opened the fridge, squatting down and drumming a beat with his fingers against the grate of the shelf as he looked at his options.
“Don’t ignore me.” Zoro grinned as he reached for a Hamm’s, keeping his vow of silence as he pulled back from the fridge, cracking the can open and taking a drink of it right in the kitchen. He knew what he was doing, but when it came to messing with Sanji, it was like he had no control over himself. It was like an art to him, the kind of thing he just couldn’t help but to create. Something about letting sleeping cats lie. “Hey.”
A kick to the back of his leg made his knee buckle, pitching him forward as the beer he’d been drinking poured all over the front of his shirt, soaking him and wasting a good beer. “What the fuck , Cook?”
“I told you not to ignore me,” the blonde defended, Zoro looking down at his third favorite band shirt, anger he couldn’t control rushing him forward.
“You’re the one who never wants to waste food, how about I make you fucking drink what you spilled,” Zoro growled, pulling his shirt off and grabbing Sanji in a headlock before he even had a chance to react, twisting the shirt and wrapping it around his fist. He was perfectly positioned to wring his shirt all over Sanji’s face, it was going to be the sweetest revenge, but just as he was about to he was flipped on his ass, Sanji’s elbow in his gut and his forearm against his neck.
“I told you to leave me the hell alone when I’m cooking, it’s a fucking simple request,” Sanji growled, Zoro thrashing in his hold until he was able to get his arm around the blonde’s waist, trying to flip their positions, only to end up fighting for control with Sanji, both of them twisting and punching and kneeing anywhere they could reach.
“I did , I was just getting a fucking beer,” Zoro growled, squirming his way out of Sanji’s hold until he was able to kick the blonde so that he slid across the kitchen floor and away from him. He took the opportunity to catch his breath, sitting with a hand over his knee as he glared at Sanji defensively, earning the same spite in turn as the cook considered whether it was worth a second bout or not.
In the end he decided to disappoint Zoro, like usual, flipping him off with both hands as he stood up, pulling his carton of cigarettes from his pants pocket as he returned to whatever he’d been cooking when Zoro had first interrupted him. Zoro took the dismissal for what it was, grumbling an insult as he reached into the fridge for a new beer, leaving the cook to whatever stupid meal he was making. He couldn’t give a fuck about the blonde.
He had a blissful hour with the band while Sanji was cooking- rough housing with Luffy and practicing pong throws with Usopp, who’s aim was something unbeatable. Nami was humming one of their new songs where she sat sipping champagne on the couch, occasionally trying to convince one of them to take a bet on who would sink first throw.
By the time Sanji rejoined them with dinner Luffy had conscripted Usopp’s help to wrestle Zoro to the ground, Zoro indulging them as he used only enough strength to keep them worried that he might escape, the two crowing in victory when they had him on his back. It was like entertaining puppies. He could hear Sanji entering the room just after he’d let himself get dragged to the floor, an unimpressed click of a tongue like a knife under his skin, irritation a natural reaction.
“Thought you were supposed to be strong, Moss head,” Sanji observed, Zoro completely forgetting what he was doing as he stood from underneath the pile that was Usopp and Luffy, Usopp making a noise of disappointment when he realized Zoro’s loss had all been for show while Luffy simply hung persistently with a strict hold around Zoro’s leg.
“What the hell did you say, you shit Cook?” Zoro growled, walking up to the blonde and completely ignoring the weight hung around his leg.
“I said you're weak and I hope you drop dead,” Sanji said snidely, crossing his arms over his chest, his chin rising in the air. “And that dinner’s ready.”
Zoro scoffed audibly as Luffy completely abandoned him, all three of his other bandmates turning coat as they rushed to the table with visible excitement. The stupid cook had an unfair advantage with his second skill and he used it all the time . Zoro was fairly certain that if it wasn’t such a useful way to fuck with Zoro’s quality time with his friends, Sanji probably would tell everyone in the house to cook for themselves instead of acting like a private chef for a picky billionaire every day.
They glared at each other for a few more seconds before Zoro finally gave in, huffing in annoyance and stepping around the blonde to go to the table where the rest of them were waiting with unimpressed patience. Sanji made a quiet noise of mocking victory just low enough for only Zoro to hear as he followed behind him, it taking everything Zoro had in him not to turn and clock the bastard right in the jaw. Zoro liked to fuck with Sanji, yeah, but Sanji made it a point to bait him in front of the rest of the crew just so that he’d be the one to get in trouble, Nami always charging him extra on rent for ‘effecting the vibe of the house’.
He sat down grumpily at the table, looking at the spread of food in front of him and finding a mix of all of their favorite dishes, his hand reaching for the onigiri that was meant for him. He and the cook had a tense relationship, sure, but even he wasn’t too proud to admit the bastard was damn good at what he did, that Zoro was never disappointed by a meal in their house. Even if Sanji liked to put little seaweed dicks on the side of his onigiri, like he had done once again that night, the piece of shit. He’d show Sanji and eat them anyways, dumb fucker.
“Speech, Luffy,” Nami demanded once they had all had their glasses refilled with champagne and finally sat in their places around the table, Sanji slapping Zoro’s hand when he went to start eating his food. He turned to glare at him, finding the same look mirrored right back at him as Luffy stood on his chair in their peripheral.
“We did it guys!” Luffy said, finally catching their attention as the two turned away from each other to watch their fearless leader. “I knew we could do it, now all that’s left is to rock the world! And eat!”
They all grinned at that, lifting their respective drinks at the simpleness of Luffy’s request, the faith they all felt in the people around them strong, that trust that the person sitting next to them had that same dream. It was what made them such a good band, really, that shared belief, their unified drive, and the willingness to see it through. They’d pushed through those years of living as struggling artists, and collectively they all knew intuitively that this was their big break. They had no issue celebrating before their success, and it was because of the certainty they had in their victory, and in their bandmates.
Zoro looked around at his friends, at Luffy’s brazen confidence, Nami’s unashamed motivation, Usopp’s uncontainable creativity, and Sanji… Well, Zoro would admit there was a lot to be said for the blonde’s perseverance and his dedication. And if his eyes lingered a beat longer on Sanji’s wide smile than they did the rest, or he caught the way his visible eye crinkled at the corner whenever he was really happy, it was neither here nor there.
♮♮♮♮
Sanji kissed the hand of one of Nami’s beautiful guests, complimenting her outfit with an unending stream of flattering adjectives as he thanked her for coming, complimenting the way her blue hair fit perfectly with her golden accessories. Nami came up to greet her only a moment later, whisking her away from his flattery with a hand around her waist that made Sanji grin, always happy to see one of his friends experiencing the finer parts of life.
Love, that was the finer part of life. It was the point of life, really, love served as muse, guidance, friend, enemy, a siren and a saint all wrapped in one and bursting with all the fruits and light and depths and despair that life had to offer. To love was to live, to Sanji, and there was nothing better in the world to him than to see that his friends got to experience that life. Especially when he himself had been so unlucky in that department.
Yes, he was an unending flirt. He probably fell in love at least six times a day, he loved to spread compliments with the freedom they were able to be given, he loved to celebrate love, but in the end it was also something he was terrified of. He had a strict rule, when it came to flirting or wining and dining anyone.
If he couldn’t look someone in the eye after their first date and see a future with them, he wouldn’t waste either of their time just because he was a little lonely. That was his rule, and he stuck to it, even if it meant a dry spell a little longer than could reasonably be called a spell. So even if their release party made him feel damn confident, and more than a little bit important, it felt a little lost without someone to share it with, someone like his friends had found.
They were having a listening release party, a large countdown clock placed above the bar that told them they had two hours before the worldwide launch of their first album. They’d been running an exhaustive social marketing campaign complete with an entire team of strategists alongside Brook, who had officially signed on as their producer and investor, using the power behind his brand to give them a leg up. It had worked well, to the surprise of all of them besides Nami, who was the only one with any semblance of business experience.
Sanji couldn’t understand at all how there could be demand for something that didn’t exist, but somehow Nami and Brook and a team of marketers had made it happen, and he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. People were excited about it, so excited that friends who hadn’t surfaced in years were suddenly DMing him on his socials like they’d been there the whole time, begging for invitations to their listening party.
Their listening party that they’d been forced to cap the guest list on, that they had made exclusive. Nami had even decided to enact a rule that every attendee had to leave their phone in a safe at the bar so that the music couldn’t be leaked, since they were going to perform a few songs from the album before the full release. It had turned from a small gathering of family and friends celebrating to a full publicity stunt, and Sanji was pretty sure every one of them would be liars if they said they weren’t really damn excited about it, and more than a little scared.
The party had turned out great, though, the lights Usopp had rigged were perfect for the playlist they had playing in the background. They’d put together all of the songs they’d covered in the last year and a half of playing in shitty bars and underground venues with three people in the crowd, and it was serving as their opening band as they led up to the release.
It was great, Sanji was getting a chance to dance some, drink, host his friends and his family from the restaurant, and get to see all of his band's hard work paying off. Nami and Usopp both had brought the people they were seeing, Luffy’s brothers were already making fools of themselves on the dance floor, the chefs from the Baratie, along with Zeff, were at a quieter part of the bar, laughing and talking quietly together as they waited for the show to start.
They all had their people there, even Zoro, who had never had anyone over to the house, had a couple of friends. Johnny and Yosaku, if Sanji had heard correctly when Zoro had introduced them, who he was sitting with chasing back whiskey shots like they were water at the bar. They all had someone there. They had each other, and they had all of their people surrounding them, the support was nearly something spiritual. He couldn’t wait to play for them.
Sanji was down on the dance floor, flirting casually with nearly everyone he came in contact with as he spun across the floor to one of his favorite songs, occasionally glancing at the clock as it neared the fifteen minute marker, his heart beating to the sound of the bass. He spun around and came face to face with Nami, smiling wide when he saw her and putting his hands in the air to snap in invitation as he popped his hip out. She shouted something he didn’t hear, his face dropping before he smiled again, throwing his head in indication. “Dance with me, Nami dear!”
Nami leaned in instead, cupping her hand around her mouth so that she could be better heard, Sanji leaning his ear in to help her. “Where is Luffy!”
Sanji looked back at her, looking around them before pointing back towards the stage where he could see the top of Luffy’s straw hat poking out of the crowd, Usopp next to him as they fiddled with some wires on the stage. They’d all been instructed on what to wear, avoiding using any of the outfits they had prepared for the album so that they could reveal them on a future tour, but there was no stopping Luffy, who wanted to start wearing his seafaring costume right away. Luckily it wasn’t obvious enough to completely give them away, so the rest of the band had allowed it, dressing in the dark clothes they’d decided on themselves while Luffy wore his small vest, cutoff jeans, and strawhat. “It looks like they’re setting up!”
“Zoro?” Nami shouted, Sanji making a noise of irritation in the back of his throat he was certain Nami shouldn’t be able to hear, although the unimpressed look she shot him told him his face said plenty on its own. He looked around them again, trying to spy the shock of green, looking at the bar where he’d last seen the moss to find Johnny and Yosaku left alone, Zoro nowhere to be found. He looked to the stage again, even going as far as to glance at the drums, finding nothing there other than empty space, no hint of green seemingly anywhere in that club.
“I’ll go find the idiot!” he yelled, Nami holding up both of her hands with a warning look, Sanji checking over his shoulder to see that they were on in ten minutes. Stupid waste of a lawn ornament drummer needed to get his shit together, if they went on late because he got himself too drunk to stand, or lost somewhere in the warehouse they were in Sanji was going to find a way to kill him secretly and painfully.
He made his way through the crowd, smiling and excusing himself with each arm that reached for him, hating Zoro more and more as he passed by beautiful woman after beautiful man, certain that each new person he had to gently brush off could have been the one. And that stupid, horrible drummer was standing in his damn way. He made his way over to Johnny and Yosaku, figuring he’d start where the moss was last seen and wait to put up missing persons posters until he knew for certain that no one knew where the hell the moss had gone.
“Where’s the moss?” Sanji asked in lieu of a greeting once he’d made it to the two men, both of them cheering at him drunkenly and trying to offer him a shot. He waved it off, needing to remember that whatever his beef with Zoro was, Johnny and Yosaku were likely plenty nice. “No, no I’m fine, thank you, we’re trying to get staged and I need the Moss.”
The bald one grinned wide at him, his cheeks pink as he leaned foreward, pointing at Sanji drunkenly. “My god, you have a crush on our sweet Zoro!”
“An affair between band mates can be dangerous territory, young padawan,” Johnny teased, tipping foreward on his stool as Sanji wrinkled his nose.
“I don’t have a …!” he paused, gritting his teeth as he tried to breath, looking around himself to make sure no one was overhearing their conversation, “I don’t have a crush on the Moss, I just need to know where the idiot is. Do either of you know or am I wasting my time and risking my brain cells on you two?”
“You’re as funny as he says you are,” Yosaku grinned, reaching a hand out and shaking Sanji by his forearm until he was thoroughly confused and dizzy. Yosaku’s face fell as fast as it had broken into a grin, though, his mouth dropping open in what looked like despair and realization at the same time, the guy leaning in and looking at Sanji as if he was about to cry. “But, oh no, oh you might be too late, he went-”
“Yosaku! Shut it!” Johnny admonished, slapping his pointing finger out of the air just too late to stop Sanji from seeing it. Sanji didn’t stick around to watch the rest of their idiotic show, scoffing in annoyance as he shook Yosaku off and followed the direction he’d pointed, heading for the door that led to the green room. The moss had probably gone to decompress away from the noise before the show, it wasn’t an uncommon ritual for him to partake in, taking a moment to meditate before they went on stage.
Yosaku and Johnny had clocked him in less than a minute, was he really that obvious? And the moss had called him funny… Had Zoro really called him funny? It was the last thing he needed to be thinking about minutes before they took the stage to perform their debut album, and now on top of hating the guy he refused to admit he did, in fact, maybe have a thing for, he hated his best friends too.
Sanji made his way through the door to the back hallway with a huff, looking towards the green room only to come to a complete stop as he was met face to face with one of the last things he wanted to see. Zoro was pressed against the wall being kissed within what appeared to be an inch of his life by an impossibly tall woman, his hands wrapped around her waist and laying flat against her lower back, inching horrifyingly lower.
“Moss!” Sanji shouted before he could stop himself, watching the two startle and pull away from each other, Zoro looking confused until he met Sanji’s eyes. He looked surprised, and then embarrassed, and then annoyed, scoffing as he leaned back against the cement wall of the hallway. The woman who’d just been trying to suck the drummer’s face off looked over her shoulder, slapping Zoro on the gut when the silence stretched to something awkward.
“Curls, Kiku, Kiku, Curls,” Zoro introduced, as if it mattered. As if it wasn’t testing all the restraint and honour Sanji had. As if he wasn’t looking at this beautiful woman, far more beautiful than he could ever dream to be, and instead of wanting to shower her in praises he wanted to scream at her to back off, to get her hands off of him. He hated Zoro so much.
“It’s nice to meet you dear, although I regret that our meeting must involve me telling you that the moss here is riddled with diseases, just full of them, a medical mystery. You should steer clear, my darling, you can do much better, and we wouldn’t want you to catch anything,” Sanji said innocently, stepping between the two of them at the same time that Zoro started to yell behind him. His sudden temper seemed to spook Kiku more than Sanji’s words, as she put her hands up and excused herself, rushing out of the hallway and back into the club at the same time that Zoro rounded on him, fury in his eyes.
“Why the hell do you always do that?” He demanded, Sanji shrugging and turning towards the green room.
“Come on,” he said flatly, Zoro grabbing him by the arm.
“Like hell, that was an dick move. I should kick your ass,” Zoro hissed, Sanji brushing him off as he turned to glare at the moss.
“We go on in five minutes, you moron, get your shit together. If you ruin this for us-,”
“If I ruin this for us?” Zoro shouted, pushing Sanji against the wall roughly, enough that it made his shoulder sing with pain as he came in contact with the concrete brick. “I want this just as much as the rest of our band. This is everything to me. If anyone is going to stand in our way it’s the one trying to live two dreams, Cook .”
“Shut up!” Sanji yelled, kicking before he even had a chance to think better of it, his kick coming into contact with Zoro’s nose. Sanji faltered when he saw blood dripping from his nose, a falter that he would come to regret as Zoro swung his fist right into his right eye, luckily catching him in the brow harder than anywhere, but still sinking into tender flesh that felt like a sharp stone to the face.
The two of them paused after their first strikes at the realization of what they’d just done, before they seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time; that if blood was already dripping from Zoro’s nose, and if Sanji’s left eye was already swelling shut, there was no point in going back. They dove at each other at the same time, vicious kicks and punches shared until they were physically ripped apart, shouts from their entire crew filling the hallway around them as they were forced to opposite sides of the hall.
“What the hell? ” Nami shouted, her face red with anger as she got straight in Sanji’s face, pointing at him to stay as she rounded right on Zoro. “We’re late to go on, this is our first fucking performance , what the hell? ”
“Nami-,” Sanji started, only to be silenced by her hand making a closing motion at him, her focus shifting between the two of them.
“I thought I told the two of you to nip this in the bud, and yet here you are, ruining our opening night. Are you two fucking dense ?” She demanded, silence filling the hallway as she waited for an answer neither of them were sure they were supposed to give.
“He fucking started-,”
“If you say he started it… Actually- say it Zoro, I dare you,” Nami yelled, Luffy shaking his head at Zoro in indication of what his answer should be. Sanji glared at Zoro, daring him, knowing he’d won the second the moss’s eyes met his.
“ He fucking started it .” Zoro walked through the group, stubborn as ever as he left to go set up, leaving the rest of them in the wake of his anger.
“We’re going to talk about this after. You’re both putting the band at risk,” Nami said, Luffy and Usopp both nodding in agreement behind her. Sanji didn’t move until the three of them had started to walk towards the green room, following behind them sullenly. At least he would be able to use his bangs to hide his swollen eye.
♮♮♮♮
Zoro moved the second the lights flicked off, three hands patting him on the back as he moved past them, Zoro trying not to think of the absence of the fourth as he rushed blindly to his drums. He sat down just as a hush fell over the crowd, making the hair on his arms stand on end as he got himself set up, taking the chance to breathe out the fight and breathe in the feeling of electricity in the air, the responsibility of beginning to set the atmosphere for the rest of the band. He could use this anger.
As soon as he had his drumsticks in hand he set his foot against the kick pedal, taking one last breath to align the beat in his veins. With the end of his exhale he let his foot drop down on the pedal, the sound of the kick drum suddenly filling the silence, the crowd cheering as a soft spotlight began running without any direct path around him. Zoro’s eyes strained to see his bandmates running onto stage between the bump of his drum, Zoro starting to hit his drumstick against the metal ring around the snare on an offbeat once he saw Nami’s bright hair flash by, the sound of Luffy testing his guitar making the crowd’s noise swell within the room.
“Welcome, friends and family and new friends!” Nami introduced, her voice singing the words in a monotone that wasn’t quite speaking, and wasn’t quite singing. The spotlight sped up before finally settling on her, growing brighter as the crowd cheered, Nami waiting for them to quiet down again before she spoke. “Welcome, we’re so glad to have you with us here tonight.”
Zoro hit a doublebeat before returning to his slow four-four beat, emphasizing the pause before Nami continued. “You all are making this first night of the rest of our careers very special for us, and we can’t thank you all enough for coming out and supporting us from the start. Without further ado, let me introduce our band to you.”
“In the back is our resident introvert and talented drummer, Roronoa Zoro!” Zoro grimaced as the light moved right into his eyes. He was glad they’d practiced this before as he played a run down his set completely blind, ending on a cymbal crash before returning to the steady beat he’d been maintaining. The crowd cheered loud before lowering again as the spotlight that had lit him dimmed, moving around the stage again.
“Doubling on the rhythm guitar and the keys is our multitalented artist, the great Usopp!” Nami introduced, Usopp playing a small riff on the electric piano before he waved to the crowd, receiving a few whistles alongside the cheers. Nami turned and grinned wide at him before turning back to the crowd, throwing her arm out confidently. “To my left is our resident casanova on the bass, that’s Blackleg Sanji!”
Zoro’s eyes followed the spotlight again, even as he didn’t want to, anger and compulsion warring as his eyes took in the lit silhouette of the cook, who seemed completely recovered from the full punch he’d taken not only minutes ago. Zoro barely heard the small bassline the cook played as his intro, his gaze instead tracing the shape of the blonde where he stood confidently, his back straight and his hips leaned into his guitar as he lifted his hand in the air, waving in greeting to the crowd. He hated how damn enticing Sanji’s wide shoulders were, hated that he held that poised relaxed stance even while wearing a suit under hot lights in front of a sold out crowd of two hundred, the way he leaned into his left hip and always knew exactly how to get under Zoro’s skin, even with his back turned to him.
“On the lead guitar and backing up vocals we have our fearless leader, Strawhat Luffy!” Nami said, Zoro grinning wide as he changed the beat he’d been playing to compliment the over the top guitar riff he and Luffy had practiced for the last two days. He caught Sanji turning to look at him over his shoulder, surprised at the unannounced accompaniment, Zoro unable to help but feel a swell of pride at having caught the blonde off guard. He lifted his middle finger as he returned to the normal beat, knowing Sanji had seen it when his head snapped back to face the crowd as Nami finished their introduction.
“And last but not least, I’m the beautiful, talented, awe-inspiring and ever so humble face and business genius on lead vocals, catburglar Nami. We are the Straw Hat Crew, and this is your first look at our debut album, Romance Dawn!”