( to zoro, it makes sense that they're becoming like this: touchy, handsy, feely. they've had their hands all over one another since the moment they met. how long after sanji joined the crew were they trying to kill each other? a week? a day? touching is so engrained into their relationship that for it to come to this, hands on hips, fingers sliding back into cropped blonde hair and curling there, feels natural. even the way sanji's head rests against his feels right, though it's missing the accompanying yell and glint of teeth bared and ready to bite. it's just fighting with all of the fighting stripped away, new and familiar at once. )
Yeah... I won't.
( he closes his eye, reveling in that sense of shared warmth. it's more than just thumos; it's something about being known, and being there for someone in the ways he always wished he could be. he wants to ask if sanji is selfish enough to think that he's the only one struggling, if he's the only one facing doubts. like if zoro was strong enough for sanji to place his faith in, he would have never had a reason to leave at all. that's zoro's struggle: not being strong enough for the people who need him. or maybe sanji just didn't believe that he was strong enough, which is somehow worse.
was he giving up on sanji, or was sanji giving up on him?
for them to end up here, both of those things have to be true to some extent, right? once upon a time, zoro might have said something like this can never be repaired after being damaged so deeply. now, he isn't sure.
when he opens his eye to look at sanji, his cheeks are more red than before. there's something more final in his gaze, too. )
...Stay here tonight.
( if sanji strains, he can hear the implied 'i want you to' that isn't being said.
unsurprisingly, zoro hadn't noticed the way sanji's gaze trailed down to his lips and lingered there, but zoro can be a bit dense with those things. it doesn't stop him from looking sanji's lips now, and then kissing them with his whole heart. sanji kissed him first, back in the carriage, and this feels like another of those fighting, competitive spirit things between them. zoro has to deliver, since sanji striked first the last time, and zoro can't wait around for sanji to be the one initiate things every time. sometimes, zoro instigates their fights, too. plus, sanji's an idiot. he probably doesn't even get the obvious things, like the fact that he could have kissed zoro at any point, at any time, and it would have been fine with him.
they haven't done anything at all since that time in the carriage, and it's not as if zoro has spent every single day of charm school thinking about it in a completely normal, uninterested sort of way. if anyone asked, he'd say he hadn't thought about it at all. but with the way he kisses sanji now, of course he's thought about it. chances are it's the only thing he's thought about, more than swords and sake combined. zoro has thought about the feeling of sanji's mouth on his the same way that sanji thinks about women: respectfully, mostly. )
[ this really does feel much of the same for them, and yet, not at all. they've always lingered close, foreheads nudged firmly together as they growled their threats between their teeth, often requiring someone like nami-san or usopp to pry them apart before they tore the ship to pieces with their aggressive competitiveness. but the atmosphere changes when truth is expressed out loud for once, rather than assumption, confessions allowing a weight to drift from sanji's shoulders so that he's left drifting helplessly back into zoro's space where a piece of himself has always lived, in one way or another.
he doesn't assume this is the end of it. they'll find another reason to argue again, whether about this or about something petty and inconsequential, but it does feel like he'd been pried free from at least one of his many shackles still gripping him down, and likely what had been the heaviest one as of late. though he still owes it to zoro to prove his trust in him, to rely on the strength that he's always so freely offered to him to lean against, the existence of its invitation is enough to calm the living storm in his heart tonight.
when zoro asks him to stay, he peers up to meet his gaze, no words from his lips even if he already has his answer.
it doesn't matter that they've stayed together in the same room countless times before, numerous nights crammed together in a cabin with the rest of their boys, feet kicking faces while still dozing, mumbled dreams about food and candy and machines all stemming from different voices as they try to catch as much sleep before the early sun, before sanji rises an hour before everyone else just to have breakfast ready by the time all their eyes open.
the difference here is that it's zoro asking, a willingness in his quiet voice, an honest want that sanji isn't left with too much time to consider before the collision of lips keep any sound from leaving him at all.
things in the carriage had happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that sanji had left it with the insistence in pretending it'd never happened at all, aware that sorting out the implications would leave him swirling about amidst his determined reluctance to admit the way he'd allowed it all to happen without much resistance. especially since it'd been his mouth that had first found zoro's then, making the entire thing a lot more complicated to untangle. but if he'd spent any time through his days at the charm school cursing his choices then, there's really no hint of it now, giving in to zoro's kiss as if he'd been starved for it.
the way he kisses him back might suggest that his previous mirrored confession of "i want it to be you" bears a lot more weight even now, especially now, when he knows it's zoro who sees him, who he wants to see him, for all the broken pieces he'd been too frightened to show. just as he wants zoro to see himself for more than just his strength and power, for those raw open wounds to be just as willingly shared in reverse, for their trust to mean exactly as they intended it.
he sighs against his lips, almost in relief, be it from the kiss itself or simply the accumulation of everything else building up to this moment. his fingers clutch tighter now, low at his back, digging against the fabric to grip at the muscle beneath — craving touch, contact, closeness — pulling him in until he can't be pulled any closer. it's the answer to his request — stay here tonight — as he nestles his chest in tightly, mouth meeting mouth to match equal yearning, making it clear that he has no intentions on going anywhere. ]
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Yeah... I won't.
( he closes his eye, reveling in that sense of shared warmth. it's more than just thumos; it's something about being known, and being there for someone in the ways he always wished he could be. he wants to ask if sanji is selfish enough to think that he's the only one struggling, if he's the only one facing doubts. like if zoro was strong enough for sanji to place his faith in, he would have never had a reason to leave at all. that's zoro's struggle: not being strong enough for the people who need him. or maybe sanji just didn't believe that he was strong enough, which is somehow worse.
was he giving up on sanji, or was sanji giving up on him?
for them to end up here, both of those things have to be true to some extent, right? once upon a time, zoro might have said something like this can never be repaired after being damaged so deeply. now, he isn't sure.
when he opens his eye to look at sanji, his cheeks are more red than before. there's something more final in his gaze, too. )
...Stay here tonight.
( if sanji strains, he can hear the implied 'i want you to' that isn't being said.
unsurprisingly, zoro hadn't noticed the way sanji's gaze trailed down to his lips and lingered there, but zoro can be a bit dense with those things. it doesn't stop him from looking sanji's lips now, and then kissing them with his whole heart. sanji kissed him first, back in the carriage, and this feels like another of those fighting, competitive spirit things between them. zoro has to deliver, since sanji striked first the last time, and zoro can't wait around for sanji to be the one initiate things every time. sometimes, zoro instigates their fights, too. plus, sanji's an idiot. he probably doesn't even get the obvious things, like the fact that he could have kissed zoro at any point, at any time, and it would have been fine with him.
they haven't done anything at all since that time in the carriage, and it's not as if zoro has spent every single day of charm school thinking about it in a completely normal, uninterested sort of way. if anyone asked, he'd say he hadn't thought about it at all. but with the way he kisses sanji now, of course he's thought about it. chances are it's the only thing he's thought about, more than swords and sake combined. zoro has thought about the feeling of sanji's mouth on his the same way that sanji thinks about women: respectfully, mostly. )
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he doesn't assume this is the end of it. they'll find another reason to argue again, whether about this or about something petty and inconsequential, but it does feel like he'd been pried free from at least one of his many shackles still gripping him down, and likely what had been the heaviest one as of late. though he still owes it to zoro to prove his trust in him, to rely on the strength that he's always so freely offered to him to lean against, the existence of its invitation is enough to calm the living storm in his heart tonight.
when zoro asks him to stay, he peers up to meet his gaze, no words from his lips even if he already has his answer.
it doesn't matter that they've stayed together in the same room countless times before, numerous nights crammed together in a cabin with the rest of their boys, feet kicking faces while still dozing, mumbled dreams about food and candy and machines all stemming from different voices as they try to catch as much sleep before the early sun, before sanji rises an hour before everyone else just to have breakfast ready by the time all their eyes open.
the difference here is that it's zoro asking, a willingness in his quiet voice, an honest want that sanji isn't left with too much time to consider before the collision of lips keep any sound from leaving him at all.
things in the carriage had happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that sanji had left it with the insistence in pretending it'd never happened at all, aware that sorting out the implications would leave him swirling about amidst his determined reluctance to admit the way he'd allowed it all to happen without much resistance. especially since it'd been his mouth that had first found zoro's then, making the entire thing a lot more complicated to untangle. but if he'd spent any time through his days at the charm school cursing his choices then, there's really no hint of it now, giving in to zoro's kiss as if he'd been starved for it.
the way he kisses him back might suggest that his previous mirrored confession of "i want it to be you" bears a lot more weight even now, especially now, when he knows it's zoro who sees him, who he wants to see him, for all the broken pieces he'd been too frightened to show. just as he wants zoro to see himself for more than just his strength and power, for those raw open wounds to be just as willingly shared in reverse, for their trust to mean exactly as they intended it.
he sighs against his lips, almost in relief, be it from the kiss itself or simply the accumulation of everything else building up to this moment. his fingers clutch tighter now, low at his back, digging against the fabric to grip at the muscle beneath — craving touch, contact, closeness — pulling him in until he can't be pulled any closer. it's the answer to his request — stay here tonight — as he nestles his chest in tightly, mouth meeting mouth to match equal yearning, making it clear that he has no intentions on going anywhere. ]