Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sanji Vinsmoke stood behind the school, in the shadow of an old wall, taking a drag from his second cigarette. The longer break between classes was a rare moment of peace, though he usually headed to the teachers’ lounge by this time. Today, however, he preferred to stay out of sight, delaying an unpleasant duty that hung over him like a storm cloud. He sighed heavily, extinguishing the cigarette butt in a makeshift ashtray—a dusty old jar perched on the wall. For weeks, parents of his students had been pressuring him, as their homeroom teacher, to talk to the gym teacher, Roronoa Zoro, about their complaints. Sanji had avoided this conversation as much as possible, brushing off their requests with one excuse after another. But at the last parent meeting, they cornered him, forcing a promise to address the issue. He had no choice now. He had to confront Roronoa. He glanced at his pack of cigarettes, considering lighting another, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Just like he doubted talking to the arrogant gym teacher would help his class.
In Sanji’s eyes, Zoro was an overbearing jock, someone you couldn’t have a meaningful conversation. He new that in Zoro’s mind are only two buttons - sports and annoying him at every possible opportunity. Thankfully, Sanji’s French classroom was on the second floor, far from the gym, so their paths rarely crossed. But when they did meet in the teachers’ lounge, they always fight. Even the way Sanji tied his tie—always impeccably, with elegance—was the reason for Zoro’s mockery. The shelves with class registers in the back became their battleground, where the rest of the staff quietly overheard their arguments. The female teachers, with whom Sanji spent spent most of his time, often said Zoro has a good heart and he and Sanji had a lot in common. Sanji smiled at these comments, not wanting to offend them, but in his mind he looked at them with pity.. He never experienced his kindness or saw any shared traits. Every inch of that guy irritated him.
He sighed, adjust his suit, and headed toward the gym. If he’d checked the schedule correctly, Zoro should be on a break now, probably holed up in what Sanji called the “storage room”—a cramped, old staff room filled with desks, sports equipment, and massive, perpetually jamming printers with old lamps that gave off dim light. Sanji avoided that place, partly to steer clear of Zoro and partly because of the lingering smell of an old locker room. He stopped at the door, fixed his bangs, ensured his tie was perfectly in place, and entered, quietly closing the door behind him, as if he didn’t want anyone to see him there.
Inside, he found Zoro take a nap, rocking back in an old chair at a cluttered desk. Papers, old sandwiches, and a pair of dumbbells were strewn across the surface, creating a picture of chaos. Sanji stepped closer and said:

“Hey, Roronoa.”

Silence. Annoyed, he raised his voice:

“Can you hear me?!”

“Why are you yelling, Vinsmoke?” Zoro muttered, lazily opening one eye. The three gold earrings in his ear glinted in the sunlight streaming through the dusty window. The biology teacher insisted they added to his charm, but to Sanji, they were just another thing to mock him. Zoro stretched, yawning ostentatiously.

“What brings you to my kingdom, French prince?” he asked with a mocking smirk, standing up and casually tidying the sports equipment on a shelf.

“We need to talk,” Sanji said reluctantly, trying to stay calm, though inside he was already seething. This guy only had to open his mouth to make his blood boil.

“You want something from me?”, Zoro raised an eyebrow. “That’s new.. What does His Highness need?”

“Cut the jokes,” Sanji snapped. “I’m not here to argue. It’s about my class. Parents are complaining that you’re making their kids’ lives miserable in your lessons. And honestly? I’m not surprised.”

“I’m making their lives miserable?”, Zoro scoffed, leaning against the desk. “I’m doing my job. Maybe you should try it sometime, instead of sipping that disgusting coffee.

“I’m doing my job right now, standing here,” Sanji shot back, spreading his arms. “The kids are exhausted after your classes and can’t focus on lessons. They’re not professional athletes, they’re students.”

“I’m giving them a life lesson,” Zoro retorted, crossing his arms. “They can’t run three laps because their leg hurts or the sun’s too bright. They think I don’t see them making fun of me behind my back. Should I let that slide? Parents should be grateful I’m teaching their kids discipline.”

“Discipline?” Sanji snorted. “Forcing them to do endless push-ups isn’t teaching, it’s bullying.”

“Bullying?” Zoro laughed, stepping closer. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Just because you’re a delicate pretty boy who’s afraid to sweat and ruin his perfect bangs, that’s not my problem.”
Sanji clenched his teeth but didn’t back down, even though Zoro was now so close he could feel the heat radiating from him. Only now did he notice how Zoro’s tight shirt hugged his muscular frame—and how much bigger he was than him. But that only made him more stubborn. He wasn’t about to show it had any effect on him.

“Delicate?” Sanji hissed, tilting his chin up. “Who are you talking to with that tone?”
Their eyes locked, and the air in the cramped room grew thick with tension. Zoro took another step forward, and Sanji, though his heart raced, didn’t budge an inch.

“To a fancy Frenchman,” Zoro said quietly, his tone challenging. His smirk suggested he was enjoying this game. “Unless I’m talking to the wrong guy?”
Sanji swallowed hard but held his gaze. Zoro was so close now that a slight move would make their hands touch.

“Watch who you’re messing with. I could kick your ass any time,” Sanji replied, his voice steady.

Zoro raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing more daring. Sanji’s defiance clearly caught him off guard.

“Threat or promise, Vinsmoke?” he whispered, leaning in slightly. His tone made Sanji’s breath quicken.

“Maybe both,” Sanji replied, half-closing his eyes and leaning back against the desk.

Zoro leaned closer, their breaths mingling. The room, moments ago a battlefield for their argument, transformed into something entirely different. Zoro’s gaze searched Sanji’s, as if asking for permission. Sanji, with a barely noticeable smile, tilted his chin up, as if saying, “Go ahead.”
And then it happened. Their lips met—tentatively at first, as if testing the waters. Sanji closed his eyes, catching Zoro’s scent: a mix of sweat and steel. He hadn’t expected it to be so thrilling. The taste of Zoro’s lips take control of his mind. A moment later, something snapped in them both. The kiss deepened, becoming more intense, as if they’d been suppressing this desire for ages. Sanji gripped Zoro’s shirt, pulling him closer, while Zoro grabbed his tie, as if ensuring Sanji wouldn’t slip away.
Zoro swept a few items off the desk, pushing Sanji onto the surface. His hand slid into Sanji’s hair, and the kiss grew even more fervent. Sanji felt himself losing control—he’d never experienced anything so intense. Zoro’s hand slipped under his shirt, and instead of protesting, Sanji’s fingers roamed Zoro’s back, as if memorizing every muscle.
Zoro pulled back slightly to catch his breath. Their eyes met, a thin strand of saliva still connecting their lips. Zoro’s gaze held a mix of surprise and desire, and Sanji’s uneven breathing betrayed he was just as affected. Zoro opened his mouth to speak, but Sanji grabbed his neck and pulled him back.

“Shut up,” he whispered. “Whatever you say, you might ruin it.”
Zoro smirked, diving back into the kiss. He pulled Sanji closer, sliding a leg between his thighs. Sanji let out a soft moan, which only fueled Zoro’s passion. They lost track of time in that storage room until the bell for class rang, shattering the silence. Sanji froze. Zoro pulled back slightly, still panting. Their eyes met again—full of confusion and disbelief. Sanji adjusted his crumpled tie, trying to regain composure.

“I have a class,” he managed, his voice hoarse, as the reality of what happened sank in.
Zoro nodded, stepping back. His chest heaved, but he stayed silent, as if Sanji’s earlier words still held him. Sanji gave him one last look before opening the door and disappearing into the hallway.
Zoro stayed behind, running a hand through his hair, still tasting Sanji on his lips.

“Damn,” he muttered, picking up the register from the floor.
Meanwhile, Sanji rushed to the second floor to make it to his class. His heart pounded wildly, his mind a mess. He burst into the classroom, where students were already seated. Straightening up, he cleared his throat, fixed his hair, and said:

“Bonjour!” The class responded politely. He took a deep breath and continued, “Let’s discuss chapter seventeen today…”

“But… that was last week's chapter,” said a girl in the front row said, looking at him with slight confusion.

“Oh, right. My mistake,” Sanji mumbled, glancing at the register. He closed it, fanning himself nervously. “Monsieur, your tie,” one student pointed out, laughing with a friend. Sanji quickly fixed it, feeling his cheeks burn.

“Open your books to chapter eighteen and review the topic,” he instructed, sitting at his desk. “Also... why is it so hot in here? Open the windows please... Ourez les fenêtres!” he added, laughing nervously. “Once you’ve read the first paragraph, do the first exercise, and we’ll discuss it.”
He sat at his desk, trying to focus on the lesson, but his mind was elsewhere. “Calm down, Sanji,” he repeated to himself, biting his lip.
At the same time, Zoro let the next class into the gym. He couldn’t stop smiling, which shocked the students used to his stern demeanor. Clapping his hands, he said:

“You know what? Let’s play today! Basketball, soccer, volleyball—you choose!”
The class stared at him in disbelief, as if he’d canceled lessons.

“Is he okay?” one student whispered to another.

“What’s that?” Zoro called, sorting through the balls.

“Mr. Roronoa, are you alright?” a bolder student asked. “But we never play without doing 100 push-ups first…”

“Time for a change,” Zoro replied with a grin, tossing a basketball. “Stevens, take the lead! Everyone grab a ball, shoot some hoops, then we’ll play a quick game.”

“He’s lost it, hasn’t he?” another student muttered.

“Want push-ups?” Zoro growled, shooting a stern look.

“No!” the class shouted, scrambling for the balls.

Zoro opened the register, checking attendance. He chuckled under his breath, still tasting Sanji on his lips. He knew the boring days at school were over.

Chapter Text

Sanji breathed a sigh of relief when the bell rang, signaling the break. He tossed a few words to the students about a quiz on the last three chapters scheduled for next week, not caring whether they were even listening. As the last student closed the classroom door behind them, Sanji slumped heavily into his chair, sighing. The classroom window was slightly ajar, letting in a gentle breeze that carried the distant shouts of students playing on the school field. He rested his head on the desk, staring blankly at the open book. That lesson had been pure torture. Despite his efforts to focus on work, his thoughts stubbornly drifted back to the dark room near the gym —to what had happened just an hour earlier. He adjusted his tie, still slightly crumpled from Roronoa Zoro’s grip, and felt a flush of warmth spread across his face. “What the hell was that?” he thought, running his fingers through his blond fringe that fell over his eyes. That kiss… It shouldn’t have happened. And yet it did—in a way that made Sanji feel like someone had set his blood on fire. Zoro had kissed him with that infuriatingly cocky smirk and confidence that always got under Sanji’s skin, and now, against all logic, it was starting to draw him in. It completely threw him off balance. It wasn’t just a casual, accidental kiss—it was a complete immersion in each other, as if the world outside the storage room had ceased to exist. Sanji was convinced Zoro despised him, and vice versa. Their arguments were legendary; the entire school knew about them. They competed over everything: from their classes’ achievements to who could get the book to the staff room faster. So why had Zoro suddenly decided to kiss him? And worse, why hadn’t Sanji pushed him away but instead pulled him closer? Deep down, Sanji respected Zoro’s tenacity, his accomplishments, and his courage in many matters, though he’d never admit it out loud. Yet in that moment, that man had completely taken over his body and mind.

“Why do I want to do it again?” he muttered under his breath, feeling his heart race at the mere thought of that moment. Zoro was never one for words. He didn’t join in the conversations with the female staff members, with whom Sanji spent breaks laughing and flirting. Truth be told, Sanji knew very little about him—he’d never tried to get to know him better. And now he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He couldn’t deny that Zoro was ridiculously attractive. Those broad shoulders, the way he moved with confidence as if the world belonged to him, and those eyes— they’d looked at him with an intensity that still made Sanji’s head spin. But why should he care?
He grabbed his head, sighing heavily. “This is going to be a disaster,” he thought. How was he supposed to approach Zoro and talk about what happened? Should he even bring it up, or just assume it was a one-time moment of weakness? They were both single men who probably rarely went on dates. Maybe it was just an impulse? A way to mock him again and have a chance to make fun of him? But even if they tried to brush it off, how was Sanji supposed to look Zoro in the eyes without thinking about how their lips met, how Zoro’s hands tightened on his tie, and how his own fingers roamed over the gym teacher’s back? Sanji felt another wave of heat. He glanced down, noticing his trousers starting to tighten. “Damn it, why am I reacting like this?” he scolded himself mentally. He stood up, smoothing out his crumpled tie again, and headed toward the staff room to pick up the grade book for the next class. He only hoped he wouldn’t run into Zoro before he could sort out his thoughts.
Meanwhile, Zoro leaned against the gym wall, filling out the grade book. His thoughts kept drifting to Sanji Vinsmoke. The image of the French teacher—disheveled blond fringe, tie askew, and those blue eyes sparking with determination—haunted him. Those lips, the scent of cologne, Sanji’s hands gripping his tracksuit… Zoro clenched his teeth, trying to focus on work, but increasingly inappropriate images flooded his mind. A smile appeared on his face, knowing exactly why - that kiss wasn’t one-sided, and that pleased him more than it should have. He slammed the grade book shut with one hand as he climbed the stairs, unaware that Sanji had just entered the teachers' lounge and was heading toward the coffee machine. He hoped the steaming drink would help him organize his thoughts. The door creaked open, and one of the teachers walked in, chatting with Zoro. Sanji heart leaping into his throat. Too soon! He wasn’t ready yet.

“Oh, Mr. Vinsmoke!” woman called out, smiling warmly. “We were just talking about introducing electronic grade books at our school. What do you think?”
Sanji cleared his throat, trying to sound casual.

“I’m more of a fan of traditional methods,” he replied, pouring coffee into his mug. Zoro snorted softly, instantly catching Sanji’s attention. As if by magic, all his fears vanished, and he switched to battle mode.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Roronoa?” he snapped, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing. Just the answer I expected,” Zoro replied, leaning against the doorframe with a slight, teasing smirk. Sanji narrowed his eyes, feeling irritation mix with something he didn’t want to name.

“Suddenly you know me so well?” he shot back sarcastically.

“Well enough to know you’re scared of change,” Zoro said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not scared of change,” Sanji protested, though his voice sounded less confident than he’d hoped. “Traditional grade books just have soul.”

“Right, romantic Vinsmoke,” Zoro chuckled, his laugh warm, almost infuriatingly relaxed. It stung Sanji enough to make him clench his teeth.

“And you, of course, are all for these electronic wonders?” Sanji asked, trying to sound mocking.

“If it means I don’t have to run to the second floor to drop off the grade book,” Zoro gestured to the book in his hand before grabbing another, “then yeah, I’m for it.”

“I thought you liked exercise,” Sanji quipped, unable to hold back.

“Oh, right, I forgot you’re the expert on sports,” Zoro teased, and Sanji felt the blood rush to his face.

“Listen, back off my profession and—” Sanji started, but the teacher interrupted, glancing at her watch.

“Oh gosh, five minutes until class! I’m off! See you at lunch, Mr. Vinsmoke!” she said, hurrying out, sensing the brewing storm. Sanji sighed, gripping his coffee mug and glancing at his watch. Zoro was still standing a few steps away.

“You’re gonna stink of that nasty coffee all day,” Zoro remarked, eyeing the mug in Sanji’s hand.

“Better that than an old sock,” Sanji retorted, pretending to step back and wave his hand in front of his nose. Zoro laughed briefly, then grabbed his tracksuit and sniffed it theatrically.

“Right now, I smell like expensive French cologne,” he said, flashing a grin that made Sanji freeze. Zoro turned and left, knowing the bell would interrupt them soon.

“Was he just flirting with me?” Sanji thought, his heart racing. No, it was probably just another jab, like always. Right? Right?! It wasn’t. He wasn’t fooling himself. He tightened his grip on the mug and took a sip of coffee, only to grimace and set it down. “He was right, this tastes like dishwater,” he admitted mentally, agreeing with Zoro for the first time in ages.
The first conversation with Zoro after the storage room incident was a disaster, as was every lesson Sanji taught afterward. He made small mistakes, lost his train of thought, couldn’t focus—all because his mind kept circling back to that kiss. He wished the day would end, but it was barely afternoon. At lunch, Sanji sat in the staff room with a few female teachers, trying to act normal.

“Oh, Sanji, your lunch is a masterpiece as always,” said Ms. Robins, the older geography teacher, admiring his neatly decorated bento box with omelets. Sanji flashed a charming smile.

“Your smile is the masterpiece, and my food is just a humble meal,” he replied, making the teacher blush slightly.

“You make me feel twenty years younger,” she laughed, and the rest of the table joined in with light chuckles. Ms. Russo, the biology teacher, brought up the topic of recent vacations.

“Sanji, any plans for the upcoming days off?” she asked, munching on the cookies he’d brought.

“I was thinking of going sailing,” Sanji replied, sipping tea instead of coffee. “I love the sea. I live close to the coast and always felt connected to it. Sometimes I rent a small yacht for the weekend and take evening walks on the beach.”

“That's wonderful! I didn't know that about you. Where do you rent the yacht?” Ms. Russo asked, intrigued, grabbing another cookie.

“In Green Bay,” Sanji said, handing her another.

“Green Bay?” Ms. Russo repeated, biting into the cookie.

“Yeah, near the fish market,” Sanji confirmed.

“Mr. Roronoa hangs out there a lot too, he mentioned it once,” Ms. Robins added, reaching for another cookie, unaware of the impact her words had on Sanji.

“Roronoa?” Sanji raised an eyebrow, his voice faltering slightly, hoping it went unnoticed.

“Yeah, he sails too,” Ms. Robins said, grabbing another cookie. “I told you before, Sanji, you two have more in common than you think. By the way - these cookies are pure poetry!”

Sanji smiled politely but didn’t respond. Had he really not noticed this before, or had he deliberately ignored everything about Zoro? Now, every new piece of information about him seemed sharper, as if Zoro’s name echoed louder in his mind than usual. What else didn’t he know about this man? And why did he suddenly feel a burning need to find out? He shook his head slightly, popping one of his cookies into his mouth, as if the gesture could silence the chaos in his thoughts. He challenged him then and didn't think Zoro would accept the challenge.

Chapter Text

Sanji tried to focus on the last lesson of the day, mentally reciting the names of fish species to calm his mind. He often did this—listing various ingredients not only to memorize them better but also to keep his thoughts occupied.
The after-school French club he led was his favorite part of the week. The kids were ambitious, asked many questions, and he could show off his passion for the language, culture, and even cuisine, discussing the essential art of French cooking.
But today, he wanted to wrap it up as quickly as possible.

“Focus, damn it, how old are you, five?” he scolded himself mentally, writing exercise topics on the board.

The students were diligently taking notes, but he felt his concentration slipping with every passing moment. When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the lesson, Sanji sighed with relief.

“I can finally go home,” he thought, packing his notes into his briefcase.

Suddenly, he froze. “If Zoro shows up in the hallway before I leave the school… No, I can’t let that happen. I need to escape before we run into each other.”
At this hour, there were hardly any teachers left in the school, so there was a good chance they’d be alone.
Especially since the kids’ training sessions took place at the same time as his French club.
If they met, they’d be alone, and that meant one thing—he’d have to bring up the subject of this morning’s kiss.
What was he supposed to say?

“Listen, it was amazing, but we can’t do it again, even though I really want to”?

Since when did he admit he wanted to do it again? Pathetic.
He couldn’t let it come to that. He will pretend that they couldn't find each other, so he didn’t have a chance to talk. He wasn’t running away.

“I’m a coward. But right now, I’d rather be a coward than look like an idiot in front of him,” he thought.

When the last student thanked him and left, Sanji tucked his briefcase under his arm and hurried toward the school’s exit.
He’d never been so glad to have taken all his things with him.
The hallways were emptying, students rushing home, and he felt like a fugitive.

“Just don’t run into him. Please. I need more time.”

On his way, he bumped into Miss Russo, the biology teacher, who waved at him with a smile, holding a stack of notebooks.

“Mr. Vinsmoke!” she called, jogging closer. “I wanted to ask about the event on Friday we were supposed to discuss…”

Sanji paused for a moment, but his mind was already plotting an escape. “Not now, I don’t have time. Zoro could be anywhere.” he thinks.

“I’m sorry, Miss Russo, but I’m really in a hurry. I agree to whatever you come up with,” he replied politely, with a slight bow and the charming smile that worked on women. “I promise we’ll talk tomorrow. Goodbye!”
Without waiting for a response, he quickened his pace, practically running down the stairs.

Miss Russo blinked in surprise but shrugged and walked away. Sanji stepped out of the school, feeling relief as the fresh air hit his face.

“I made it. I’m free.” But in his mind, he cursed himself: “Coward. Loser. Coward. Fugitive. Coward.”

This was the second time he’d avoided a confrontation with Zoro, and the second time he felt bad about it.
He hurried toward his apartment, a long walk from the school. He always walked, as it calmed him down.
The streets buzzed with evening activity—kids on bikes heading to dinner, mothers with groceries, fathers returning from work—but he moved as if in a trance, avoiding eye contact, cutting through the air like an arrow.When he reached his building, he climbed the stairs to the second floor and opened the door to his modest apartment.
He was greeted by the familiar, soothing scent of fresh herbs—basil, thyme, and mint—that always lingered in the air.
The apartment was small but elegantly furnished, reflecting his personality.
The living room merged with the kitchen: on the left, a large, comfortable navy-blue sofa, next to a desk with a lamp and a stack of cookbooks filled with bookmarks and notes on new recipe variations.
The centerpiece of the living room was a large painting of a stormy sea.
His kingdom, however, was the kitchen—cozy, with wooden cabinets and a massive fridge for such a small space.
Sanji adjusted the fresh flowers in a vase on the dining table, which was really just a small table with two chairs against the wall, perfect for solo meals or a dinner for two—though he hadn’t had the chance to use it that way in a long time.
The living room led to a tiny bedroom: a simple bed with white linens, a dresser for clothes, and a mirror where he checked daily to ensure his tie was perfect.
Kingdom of his apartment was a kitchen but a hidden gem was the small balcony off the living room, where Sanji grew herbs in pots - all carefully watered and trimmed.
The balcony overlooked a quiet street, and the view of the trees always calmed him. He ended each day with a final cigarette, gazing at the city where the sea shimmered on the horizon.Sanji tossed his briefcase into a corner of the living room, ignoring the mess—unusual for him—and sighed deeply.

“I need to clear my head, or I’ll go crazy.”

He went to the bedroom, shed his jacket and shirt, and put on athletic wear that highlighted his slim but fit physique.
Unlike Zoro, he avoided the gym but ran regularly to stay in shape.
He put a pack of cigarettes in his hoodie, which he had brought with him in case it got windy. Looking in the mirror, he adjusted his bangs, though honestly, he didn’t want to meet his own gaze. His slightly curled eyebrows glared at him. He was angry at himself.He left the apartment, heading toward the beach—his favorite place. The route took him through housing estates, a park, and then down to the sea.
When he reached the sand, he took off his shoes and ran barefoot, feeling the waves lap at his feet. The wind tousled his hair, and the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange.

“Why does this affect me so much? Zoro… that idiot. He’s always annoyed me, but it’s not like I hated him. Sometimes I said that in my head, but I never really meant it. What do I suddenly see in him? His snarky comments, that tracksuit, those stupid earrings. I want to feel his hands on me again. Damn it, what’s wrong with me? Maybe it’s just tension, loneliness. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time—embarrassing to admit. It's not that he never tried, but surprisingly, the ladies weren't as interested in him as he thought they would be.
But why Zoro? That one moment when he looked at me, and my knees buckled, like he saw something more in me, like he could figure me out with a single glance. Maybe that’s why his jabs are so spot-on? Because he actually sees me.”

He ran faster, as if he could outrun his thoughts. His pace quickened, feeling like he was losing his mind.

“If I see him, I’ll act like nothing happened. Even though I don’t want to pretend. But what if he brings it up? What do I say? ‘Hey, it was nice, but let’s forget it’? That’s a lie. I want a repeat. But if he doesn’t, how fast can I move on? Has our relationship changed for good? Sanji, get a grip!”

Suddenly, he stopped, shouted, and kicked the water, splashing it around. He jumped in the waves, trying to vent his emotions. He grabbed his head, clutching his hair. Why was he so stupid? Why was he running? Why were his heart and mind at war?

“Besides, he kissed me first, didn’t he? He should bring it up, right? Exactly! Let him explain himself! The fact that I challenged him and pulled him close doesn’t mean anything… Argh… Who am I kidding? I’m looking for excuses. I’m just as guilty of this.”

After an hour of running, exhausted and sweaty, Sanji slowed down, leaving the beach for the promenade. He bought a bottle of water at a nearby shop and took a swig, wiping sweat from his forehead. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice.

“Please, Carl, can you give these keys to Davis tomorrow?”

Sanji froze. It was Zoro. His heart leapt to his throat, and he nearly dropped the water. He instinctively scanned his surroundings, panic washing over him like a wave.

“No, not now! Not here!”

He spotted a large rock by the shore, covered in seaweed, and without thinking, dove behind it, hiding in its shadow. He pressed his back against the cold stone, breathing heavily.

“What am I doing? Hiding like a kid? But I can’t… I’m not ready.”

He cautiously peeked out from behind the rock, staying low. At the fish shop—a small building with a “Fresh Fish” sign—stood Zoro in a leather jacket, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular arms.
The owner, an older man in rubber boots and worn fishing pants, was locking the door, shaking his head.

“Mr. Roronoa, what’s in it for me?” the owner said, chuckling more as a joke than expecting anything.

“When I sail out in two weeks, I’ll bring you some shrimp. How’s that?” Zoro laughed warmly, and Sanji couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Give me those keys,” Carl said. “Davis has been complaining for a week that you must’ve gotten lost five times since you can’t get these keys to him.”

“Mhm,” Zoro mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind and forgot I had them. I’ll need them again in two weeks anyway,” he grinned.

“Gotta run, I’ve got training. Thanks, Carl!” he said, walking off as Carl locked up the shop.

Sanji ducked back behind the rock, hoping Zoro hadn’t seen him.

“Great. First, you avoid him, and now you’re a stalker?” he thought.

So, Zoro does sail, like Miss Russo mentioned. He also takes keys from Davis for the boats, so they probably share them often.
Sanji peeked out again as Zoro reached the parking lot by the shop.
There stood his motorcycle—a massive, black beast that always irritated Sanji with its roar and exhaust fumes.
Zoro put on his helmet, swung his leg over the seat with ease, and started the engine.
The loud rumble filled the air, and Sanji felt his annoyance flare up again.

“That smoke-belching monster polluting the beach air.”

But before he could curse under his breath, Zoro revved the engine, and the bike shot forward, kicking up a cascade of sand as it sped toward the road.
Zoro’s figure—leaning forward, arms tensed, the wind whipping the edges of his jacket—looked… masculine.
Incredibly masculine.
Sanji blinked, caught off guard by the shift in perspective.
He’d always hated that machine, but now?
It seemed like an extension of Zoro’s wild, untamed energy.

“How is this possible? Just a moment ago, I despised that junk, and now… Damn, it looks like something out of a poster.”

He realized Zoro always said he was tired from training late. He tried to recall what sport it was—kendo? Once, he’d tripped over Zoro’s three shinai, a kendo swordas, in the teacher's room, and it sparked a huge argument.
Zoro called him clumsy prince, and he shot back that Zoro should keep his gear in the locker room, not by the desks.
He started recalling their countless petty arguments and banter.
Though they rarely saw each other, it was hard to imagine the school without it.
Without those sparking glances, that adrenaline now mixed with something deeper.
Sometimes, he just wanted those jabs, that thrill. He wanted someone to challenge him, to match him. Winning or losing their battles was already part of his routine. Could it ever end?

“Maybe it was always more than just irritation? Maybe those jabs were our way of… flirting? No, that’s crazy. It’d be the worst flirt in history.”

He pulled his hood over his head, tightening the drawstrings until only a narrow slit for his eyes remained.
He wondered if Zoro was thinking about him too. Did he feel this as deeply?
His nonchalant attitude during the conversation with Carl made it seem like it was no big deal… Had he already forgotten?
But he flirted with him today, didn’t he? He must remember.
Maybe to him, it was just a casual kiss that meant nothing. But that look, when he pulled back for a moment, staring with such determination. He silenced him, but his eyes spoke… For that one moment, Sanji felt Zoro truly desired him. Was he imagining it?

“Enough. I have to talk to him tomorrow. I have to. Otherwise, I’ll not only drive myself crazy, but avoiding him forever might not be possible.”

Sanji didn’t want to be the one to bring it up first. But he decided he’d see how things played out when he met Zoro tomorrow. If he pretends it's nothing, Sanji will do the same. If he senses even the slightest chance that Zoro isn't indifferent to this feeling... then maybe... maybe then he'll admit for a moment that he wants to try something. He didn’t want to lose to him, even in something like this.
The worst thing that could happen is Zoro mocking him, saying he's pathetic for thinking that kiss really meant something.
With that thought, he went to bed, trying to fall asleep. Tomorrow, everything would become clear. Tomorrow we will find out who will win their biggest duel yet.

Chapter Text

Sanji woke up drenched in sweat. He pulled the blanket up to his chest, clutching his head. The nightmare still pulsed in his mind, vivid and painful, like an open wound.
He had dreamt of Zoro—standing before him in a dark room, but this time his gaze was cold, almost mocking.

“You think that meant something, Vinsmoke? I teased you a bit, like I always do, and you fell for it right away? Please. No wonder no woman wants you when all it takes is a pair of puppy eyes to bring you to your knees. Pathetic.”

His laughter echoed as he turned and walked away, leaving Sanji alone in the darkness.
Sanji tried to say something, to reach out, but the words caught in his throat, and shame and humiliation burned like fire.
He woke up abruptly, struggling to catch his breath. He glanced at the clock—four in the morning.
“Great. Just great,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hand. He’d slept maybe three hours. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, obsessing over the dream, was pointless. He got up.

“I need to move. Work. Focus on work. If you focus, you’ll stop thinking about all this,” he told himself.

A quick shower relaxed him a bit, and one of his favorite suits was supposed to give him confidence.
In the kitchen, he crafted a culinary masterpiece for his lunch bento, though his breakfast was limited to coffee and a cigarette on the balcony.
He didn't have the strength to swallow anything anyway. Running his fingers through his hair, he grabbed his briefcase and left the apartment.
The cool morning air stung his cheeks, but he considered it a plus.

“Good. That’ll wake me up,” he thought, heading toward the school.

The walk passed quickly. The streets were still quiet, with only the distant sound of passing cars.
Sanji entered the teachers room, where a blissful silence reigned. Clearly, he was the first to arrive at work today.
He sat at his desk, opened the grade book, and started planning the day’s lessons.

“It was just a dream. Don’t be an idiot. He didn’t say anything.”

Then he heard the familiar roar of an engine outside the window.
He cautiously peeked through the curtain and saw Zoro removing his helmet in the parking lot.
The morning sunlight glinted off his three gold earrings, and when he ran a hand through his hair, Sanji sigh.

“He’s really handsome.”

He couldn’t deny it—Zoro had something about him that attract Sanji.
No wonder the female teachers, and even some students, swooned over him, though he never showed them the slightest interest.
Unlike Sanji, who, despite his charm and chivalry, was mostly ignored in his flirtations by the female staff.

“What does he have that I don’t?” Sanji thought, feeling a pang of jealousy. Maybe it was the same mysterious aura that now drew Sanji to Zoro?

“Enough of this. I need to talk to him. Now. This is the moment. Or I’ll think about it all day and lose my mind.”

He stood, adjusted his bangs and tie, and headed toward the gym.
Each step down the stairs made his confidence waver. His legs felt heavier, as if someone had strapped gym weights to his feet.

“You’ve got this, Sanji. Just say, ‘We need to talk about yesterday.’ Short, direct, no emotions. Wait for his reaction. Play it by ear,” he repeated in his mind, trying to calm his nerves.

But when he reached the hallway leading to the gym, he saw Zoro talking to Miss Russo. He froze.
Zoro leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, already changed into the school tracksuit—black with red stripes and the school logo.
He didn’t seem particularly engaged in the conversation, but when Miss Russo grabbed his arm and spoke animatedly, he sighed, gave a small smile, and nodded.
The teacher beamed, and Sanji felt something twist in his stomach.

“What’s this… is she… asking him out? No, that’s ridiculous. In the middle of the day, in the school hallway. And she has a boyfriend, she told me herself… I think.”

Now he wasn’t sure of anything. His throat went dry. He stood there, staring at them, his thoughts racing.
Miss Russo noticed him and waved cheerfully.

“Mr. Vinsmoke!” she called out loudly, and Zoro turned his head, searching for him.

Their eyes met. The same intense, brown, wild eyes that had pierced him yesterday.
Before he could say anything, Sanji forced a wide smile and approached the teacher.

“Oh, my dear Russo, there you are! The sun shines brighter when I see you,” he said, bowing slightly. “May I escort you to your class?”

Miss Russo laughed, nodding.

“Always always so polite Mr. Vinsmoke,” she replied. “I’ll just confirm something with the janitor and be right back.”

Zoro snorted as she walked away, and Sanji immediately shot him a glare.

“Something wrong?”

“You’re such a charmer,” Zoro mocked.

“Just because you can’t appreciate subtle feminine beauty doesn’t mean every guy’s as thick-skinned as you.”

“I don’t need to kiss up to anyone.”

“It’s called courtesy! You’d understand if you had even a shred of tact!”

“Tact is not mocking your curly brows all the time. Do you curl them with a curling iron?”

Sanji touched his temple and scoffed, narrowing his eyes.

“Choke on it, Roronoa. A gorilla like you teaching me style, when you think wearing whatever your closet spits out is fashion?”

“I’d rather die than parade around in a fancy suit all the time.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, because I’m waiting for that day.”

They both narrowed their eyes, glaring at each other angrily.
Sanji felt his adrenaline spike again.
He wanted to say something else, but a group of kids ran past, lightly bumping into him.
Sanji grabbed one by the collar.

“Davis! What did I tell you about running!” he said.

“Sorry, Mr. Vinsmoke. But we’re playing volleyball, and…” the kid started.

“Since when do you like PE?” Sanji muttered, glancing at Zoro, who stood nearby with his arms crossed.

“Mr. Roronoa promised we’d play volleyball today, and it’s my favorite sport, and… we are playing, right?” the kid said, looking uncertainly at his green-haired teacher.

“Sure, kid,” Zoro said, ruffling the boy’s hair with his large hand. “Now go get the balls.”

“But no running!” Sanji added, sighing. “What’s with the change of heart, Roronoa? No more laps around the field? Tired of torturing the kids?”

“Let’s just say someone was convincing yeasterday,” Zoro said with a teasing edge.
Sanji looked at him, surprised. He’s doing it again—making his heart race. Before Sanji could respond, Miss Russo reappeared.

“I’m back,” she smiled, and Sanji offered his arm, which she happily took.

“See you, Mr. Roronoa! And don’t forget!” she called to Zoro as they walked away.
Zoro nodded in acknowledgment. Sanji felt Zoro’s gaze on him, though he didn’t turn to confirm.
What was he supposed to remember? His heart pounded as he thought about Zoro’s last words, but before he could overanalyze, Miss Russo spoke.

“Wait, Mr. Vinsmoke, weren’t you headed somewhere? You looked like you were going to the gym. Did you need something?”

“Damn, she noticed.” he said to himself in his mind

“Insightful as always. It’s nothing big. I’ll handle it later. I’ve got time, and right now, you’re more important,” he said quickly.

“Speaking of time… I meant to remind you yesterday that the dance starts at seven tonight. Could you come a bit earlier, say 6:30, to help set up?” she asked, and seeing his confused look, she added with a smile,
“The one we talked about last week, and you confirmed yesterday, saying you’d agree to anything I planned.”

The dance? He’d completely forgotten they’d discussed it. He vaguely recalled Russo asking for his help supervising the older students at the school dance, but it was a hazy memory.
He was too distracted by the sight of her breasts protruding from her low-cut blouse - which, he now realized - was probably not a random choice of outfit. Oh he loved that lavender blouse…

“We did talk about a dance,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Please, don’t let me down! I need you, Mr. Vinsmoke!” she said, giving him a pleading look while pressing her chest against his arm.

“How could I disappoint a lady?” he replied. “Of course, I’ll be there at 6:30.”

“As always, indispensable!” Russo clapped her hands. “All the other teachers have kids or evening plans, and I can’t manage this alone. These are hormonal teenagers in hormonal fog, they can’t be left unsupervised.”

His first attempt to seriously talk to Zoro had failed.
For the rest of the day, Sanji was busy with work—not surprising, since that’s what he was supposed to do in this building. And he genuinely tried to do his job well.
Oddly, he didn’t run into Zoro once that day—and this time, he wasn’t avoiding him.
“Is he avoiding me?” the thought crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
There were weeks when they didn’t see each other for days, so it wasn’t unusual. A few times, he mustered the courage to head toward the locker rooms where he might find Zoro, but someone was always there—students, another teacher, the janitor.

“I can’t talk about this with people around. What was I expecting? It’s a school, it’s full of people. Not exactly easy to have a private conversation,” he mocked himself.

He finished his last class at 3:00 p.m.

“I’ll have time to change before the dance,” he decided, though it was honestly the last thing he felt like doing. Well, maybe except for talking to Zoro.

At home, he tossed his briefcase on the couch and picked out an outfit for the evening: sharp black dress pants that accentuated his slim figure and a navy blue shirt.
He skipped the tie to feel more relaxed. He tried to convince himself that the dance wasn’t such a bad idea—after all, it’s hard to dwell on things when music’s pounding in your head.
When he arrived at the school, the gym looked wonderfull. Four hours of work under Miss Russo’s supervision had transformed it into a magical place: red and gold garlands adorned the walls, and paper stars hung from the ceiling, glimmering in the spotlight.
In a corner, a DJ was setting up, testing the speakers with a song Sanji didn’t recognize.
In the hallway by the locker room exit, tables held snacks—cookies, sandwiches, fruit—and pitchers of juice.
Miss Russo approached him with a smile.

“So, Mr. Vinsmoke? What do you think?” she asked, gesturing to the decorations.

Sanji nodded, returning her smile.

“It’s stunning,” he said, and Russo beamed.

“The students will arrive in twenty minutes,” she explained, adjusting a garland.
“I’ll patrol the school to make sure no one’s wandering the halls. Mr. Roronoa will be by the dance floor, and you can stay here by the entrance, near the food table.
I know you’d probably love to prepare the buffet yourself, and I’m sure it’d be spectacular with your skills, but one of the student’s parents runs a small catering business, so I thought…”

“Roronoa?” Sanji interrupted, ignoring the rest.

“He’s here? I didn’t even think of that!”

Russo nodded as if it were obvious.

“Yes, as I said, not many teachers are single with no evening plans.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Miss Russo?” he thought with mock offense, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed, seeing his reaction.

“Oh, please, don’t take it personally!” she said with a playful smile before heading off to open the school for the students.

She disappeared into the hallway, and Sanji leaned against the doorframe, sighing.
The gym began to fill with excited girls in light dresses and boys in t-shirts pretending they weren’t nervous about the whole event.
The school dance was a regular event in their town, where teens could have fun under supervision.
Miss Russo made sure of that, which is why many students liked her. The music started, and the dance floor came alive with chatter and movement.
Sanji stood by the entrance, watching the crowd, but his eyes kept wandering, searching for a familiar figure.

“Where is he? Russo said he’d be by the dance floor,” he thought, feeling nerves twist his stomach.
“Why am I even looking for him?”

He walked to the snack table, pouring himself a cup of orange juice more to occupy his hands than out of thirst. Suddenly, he heard a low, gruff voice behind him.

“Checking the food supply?”

Sanji jumped, instinctively striking a defensive pose and spilling a bit of juice on the floor.
Zoro stood right beside him, leaning over to grab a sandwich.
He popped it into his mouth, chewing with puffed cheeks like a hamster.
He wore a black shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and dark pants.
Sanji had forgotten how he looked out of the school tracksuit.

“They roped you into this too?” Sanji muttered, trying to sound casual, though his stomach was in knots. He straightened up, hoping it would boost his confidence.

“Yeah… Russo ambushed me this morning as I was coming in. She was going on so loud, and I was too tired to argue,” Zoro replied, shrugging.

“So that’s what I saw in the hallway,” Sanji thought, recalling how Russo had grabbed Zoro’s arm. It wasn’t a date. Of course not. Why did he even think that?

“Tired from training?” Sanji asked before he could stop himself.

“Huh?” Zoro looked at him, surprised, raising an eyebrow.

Sanji froze. “Damn, I shouldn’t know that,” he thought, remembering he’d overheard it.

“Just a guess,” he lied, seeing Zoro’s expression.

“Yeah, I had training late,” Zoro said, tossing a handful of grapes into his mouth.

“You were late. Probably napped somewhere, as usual. I didn’t see you on the dance floor where you were supposed to be,” Sanji said, raising an eyebrow, trying to slip back into their usual banter.

“I wasn’t late,” Zoro replied, leaning casually against the table, arms crossed. His shirt tightened slightly, highlighting his muscles, and Sanji had to look away to avoid staring too long.
“Had to check the locker rooms to make sure no one was drinking anything suspicious. Think like a teenager.”

Sanji lowered his head, staring at the juice cup in his hand, trying to distract his thoughts.

“I wish there was alcohol in this,” they both said simultaneously, looking at their cups.

Surprised, they looked up, staring at each other. Zoro chuckled under his breath, and Sanji felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward despite himself.

“Missing wine, Frenchie?” Zoro teased, his tone almost playful.

Sanji shook his head, trying to keep a poker face.

“I doubt a gorilla like you could appreciate a fine French wine. But if you must know, I’d rather have a vodka drink like a Double Ocean, or better yet…”

“…a cold beer,” Zoro finished, and Sanji, surprised, nodded, admitting that’s exactly what he was thinking.
He brightened. It was the most relaxed, easy conversation they’d had in forever. They exchanged a couple more sentences before a silence fell between them, though the music from the gym blared loudly. Sanji clenched his teeth.

“This is it. Say it. Now,” he told himself. He took a breath, gathering his courage.

“Listen…” he started, but before he could finish, a group of teenage girls rushed into the hallway, surrounding him with excited squeals. They were his students—three giggling girls from his French club, his favorites.

“Mr. Vinsmoke!” one called, grabbing his sleeve. “Please, dance with us! Just one song!”

“Yes, please!” another added, clasping her hands in a pleading gesture.

Sanji looked at them, trying to stay serious.

“My dears, I can’t. I have to supervise,” he said, but his tone was less firm than he intended.

“Please! Really, just one song! You can supervise from the dance floor!” the third girl insisted.

Sanji sighed. He could never say no to a woman’s request. He didn’t even glance at Zoro, knowing exactly the challenging smirk he’d have.

“One song. Not one more,” he relented, and the girls squealed with joy, grabbing his shirt and pulling him to the dance floor. Sanji smiled, seeing their excitement.

He stepped onto the floor hesitantly, but when the music—a lively pop song—hit his ears and the students surrounded him with their cheerful energy, he decided it was their night.
He had to give the kids some fun, and a dancing French teacher would surely be a funny thing.
He started moving, cautiously at first, then more freely, spinning with the girls and swaying his hips to the beat.
His movements were fluid, and the smile on his face was genuine. The students clapped, some joining in, and Sanji was having more fun than he expected.
Zoro leaned against the doorframe, watching with his arms crossed. The sight of a laughing Sanji made him unable to hold back a smile.

“That idiot,” he said to himself with affection. Sanji, spinning on the dance floor, looked stunning but also just… happy, enjoying the moment fate had given him.
Zoro’s gaze involuntarily traced Sanji’s figure, lingering on his hips and butt as they moved to the music.

“Sexy…” he thought, then covered his mouth with his hand, looking away.

“Fuck” he muttered, as if scolding himself for the thought. He shook his head, trying to regain control, but the image of Sanji dancing was burned into his mind.

The song ended, and Sanji, unaware of Zoro’s gaze, basked in the students’ applause as they thanked him for the dance.

“Thank you, Mr. Vinsmoke!” one girl called, and the others nodded, waving.

“My pleasure,” Sanji replied with a smile, giving a theatrical bow before heading back to the snack table, trying to look casual.

He had a plan: Zoro would tease him about his dancing, he’d snap back, and then they’d talk, and… He wasn’t there. Zoro wasn’t at the snack table. Sanji clenched his fists.

“Why does this keep happening?! That idiot drives me crazy! I had it all planned in my head, and he disappears!” he thought, frustration rising.

He pushed through the crowd of students, ignoring their laughter and chatter, until he spotted Zoro heading toward the school bathrooms.
He quickened his pace, adrenaline pulsing through him.

“Now. I have to do this now.”

He entered the bathroom and found Zoro at the sink, splashing water on his face. Making sure they were alone, he started.

“Roronoa,” he said firmly, though his voice trembled slightly. “We need to talk.”

Zoro looked up, wiping his face with a paper towel.

“Hmm?” he grunted, his nonchalant tone grating on Sanji’s nerves.

Sanji clenched his fists, determination mixing with nerves. He stepped closer, pointing a finger.

“We can’t keep putting this off. We need to clear up what happened yesterday. I can’t live like this, not knowing where I stand. I can’t keep delaying. And why are you grinning like that? You’re no better, avoiding the topic despite all the chances…”

He suddenly realized how close he was when his outstretched finger touched Zoro’s chest.
The silence between them lasted only a few seconds but felt like an eternity.

“And that’s why… why… I…” he stammered, looking into Zoro’s eyes. He saw Zoro leaning toward him.
Their lips were so close he could feel Zoro’s breath. He closed his eyes, ready to give in to the feeling, to taste his lips again… but approaching footsteps of students snapped them out of it.
They pulled away instantly—Sanji suddenly fascinated by his reflection in the mirror, Zoro washing his hands as if nothing happened.
A group of students walked in, gossiping and joking, too cheerful to notice their teachers.
Sanji’s heart pounded in his throat. He felt himself spiraling, adrenaline fading into panic.
When the students finally left, he started toward the exit.

“So what happened, Vinsmoke?” Zoro’s voice stopped him.
Sanji turned and saw that infuriating, teasing smirk.
His heart stops. Was Roronoa really brushing it off?

“So that’s how it is,” Sanji said, trying to sound calm, though he was falling apart inside.

“We pretend nothing happened. Got it, Roronoa. You’re keeping it professional, I respect that. It was a moment of weakness. Let’s forget it. We won’t do it again.
Stay away from each other and don’t even talk. You’re the PE teacher, I’m the French teacher, and…”

“It wasn’t a 'nothing' for me,” Zoro interrupted, his voice serious.

“I wanted to kiss you then. Just like I wanted to kiss you just now. Though I admit, I was messing with you a bit because you were so tense,” he added with a light chuckle.

“You idiot, if you think you can mock me like that, I swear… wait, what?” Sanji’s brain caught up with Zoro’s words.

“It wasn’t a 'nothing' for me.” Sanji repeated the words in his head

His heart pounded wildly, his cheeks burning.
Before he could gather his thoughts, Zoro pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and took out a simple white business card with his name, surname, and phone number.
He handed it to Sanji, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Here’s my number,” he said calmly.

“If you think, like me, that it was something—text me. If you regret it—don’t. If I don’t hear a message from you by midnight, I’ll assume you want to forget it, and we’ll never bring it up again. I won’t come near you again.”

“Your move, Vinsmoke,” and left, leaving Sanji holding the card.

Sanji slowly turned to the mirror—his face as red as a tomato, his hair slightly messy, his eyes gleaming with emotion.

What just happened?

Chapter Text

The dances ended at 11:00 p.m., to the students’ disappointment.
The gym was slowly emptying.
Sanji said goodbye to each student he passed in the hallways with a warm smile, returning their enthusiastic farewells.

When only a handful of teachers remained in the school, Miss Russo began gathering garlands and empty trays, insisting that Sanji should go home, because together with Mr. Aders, the janitor, they would handle the cleanup.

“Really, Mr. Vinsmoke, we’ll manage! You’ve earned a rest,” she said, waving her hand with a smile', she said

Sanji shook his head, returning a faint smile.

“No way, Miss Russo. I won’t leave you with this mess,” he replied, picking up scattered cups and napkins.

Cleaning was just a pretext, a way to delay the moment when he’d have to face his own thoughts.
He glanced at Zoro, who stood on a ladder, unfastening paper stars from the ceiling.
Sanji sighed and quickly looked away, working faster.

The night air was crisp, the streets quiet—only the distant rustle of trees broke the silence.
Back in his apartment, he felt exhaustion wash over him.
He collapsed onto the couch, pulling Zoro’s business card from his pocket.
He turned it in his hands, glancing at the clock above the desk.

11:55 p.m.
Five minutes to make a decision that could change everything.
What should he do? Write? Not write?
If he didn’t write, his life would remain unchanged—orderly, predictable, safe.
Just the way he liked it.

11:56 p.m.
But if he didn’t write, he’d never feel again what he felt when Zoro had pressed him against the desk.
Something he’d never experienced before.
He had promised himself that if Zoro wanted to try, then he would too.

11:57 p.m.
Do I… like Roronoa Zoro?

11:58 p.m.
Sanji grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling as he typed the number from the card. How could he pour all those emotions into one message?

11:59 p.m.
“This definitely wasn’t an accident. Vinsmoke.”

He hit “send” before he could change his mind, then tossed the phone onto the couch as if it burned his hands.

12:00 a.m.
He stood up, stepped onto the balcony, and lit a cigarette, staring out at the distant sea.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed.
Sanji lunged back to the couch, nearly tripping, cigarette still in his mouth, desperate to grab it.
His heart pounded wildly as he unlocked the screen.

“We’ll talk on Monday. I’ll find you.”

A broad smile spread across his face.
He returned to the balcony, staring at the message on his phone, taking a deep drag.

"He’ll find me…", he chuckled quietly to himself.

Wait. Monday? That’s in two days?! Has he lost his mind? What, does he think I’ll just sit here and wait for two days?!
“I hate that guy,” Sanji muttered, crushing the cigarette in the ashtray with unnecessary force.
He collapsed onto his bed, unsure if he even had the energy to wash up.

He woke up Saturday morning, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.
It felt like he hadn’t slept at all.
He glanced at the phone on his nightstand.
No messages. What had he expected?
He picked it up and typed:
“Hey, how are you after the dance?” but quickly deleted it, tapping the phone against his forehead several times.
No way was he sending that.
He’d already taken the first step—starting that conversation in the school bathroom and admitting to feelings he didn’t fully understand.
He wasn’t about to start groveling now.
“I’ll find you,” he mocked in his head, mimicking Zoro’s message. Yesterday those words had made his heart race, but today? Today they annoyed him.
What, is he some mysterious superhero now?

“Two days,” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed.

He smelled like old cheese.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, he went straight to the kitchen.
He brewed herbal tea, hoping it would calm his nerves, and sat at the table, staring at his phone as if willing a message to appear.
This is really happening. Me and Zoro, dating?
He had always appreciated the charm of both women and men. But he’d imagined himself more with a delicate lady with a generous bust and big eyes—or perhaps with an older gentleman.
Not with a green-haired gorilla who sometimes made him wonder if he even knew how to string a proper sentence together…
And now what—he was waiting for his message?
No. That couldn’t be.
He threw on a coat and headed to the local market—he loved picking out fresh ingredients. And now he needed something to do.
Interacting with vendors, sorting through produce, and inventing recipes on the spot always soothed his nerves.
He bought fresh herbs, vegetables, dairy, and a bottle of good white wine.
At his favorite fish shop, Carl, a burly fisherman with a friendly smile, greeted him.

“Sanji! Long time no see! How’s school?” Carl asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

Sanji smiled, grateful for the distraction.

“It’s true, it’s been a while. Last time your wife helped me—such a lovely woman. And school’s fine. The kids get rowdy, but they’ve got spirit. And how about you?” He leaned over the salmon, pointing. “Beautiful.”

“Best in town,” Carl said proudly, handing him the glistening fillet.

“Your colleague, Roronoa, helped me catch it this morning when my worker fell ill. Don’t know what I’d have done without him. The guy’s a beast—hauled in the nets without even using the winch.”, he said, arranging the fish

Sanji froze, the fillet suddenly feeling heavier in his hands.

“Roronoa?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah,” Carl chuckled.
“Quiet, but strong as an ox. Didn’t even want payment—said he needed to keep his head busy. I’d hire him in a heartbeat.”

"Keep his head busy? With what?", Sanji feigned indifference, though he sounded more curious than he intended.

"Zoro didn’t want to think about something? Could it be… about him? Was he restless too?", such thoughts immediately stuck in his head

“I didn’t ask,” Carl admitted.
“He’s not much of a talker. Only thing I told him was, ‘the sea always helps.’ Because that’s true, Mr. Sanji. Whenever something weighs on me, the first thing I do is sail out.”

“Ah, I see. Thanks for the advice. Take care, Carl!” Sanji said, packing the salmon into his bag.

Stop it, Sanji. You’re imagining things. There’s no evidence—none at all.

Back home, he threw himself into cooking.
Focus on the food, he kept repeating.
He spent the afternoon in the kitchen, preparing a lavish meal: grilled salmon with mint sauce over roasted vegetables.
Cooking was his way of relaxing.
He found comfort in precise chopping, experimenting with flavors, creating art on the plate.
Whenever his thoughts drifted to Zoro, he worked harder. He baked fresh bread and two sponge cakes. He even started canning preserves.

"Stop. Enough!" he thought, setting the knife down. At this rate, I’ll cook enough to feed the whole building.

He sat down to dinner, but the salmon didn’t taste the way it usually did.

"What does he eat every day? Probably some grocery store sandwiches after training. With all that working out, he must eat properly to keep his strength. I could learn his favorite dishes, cook for him. I wonder if he likes salmon…", he poked at the plate with his fork.

"Why am I even thinking about this? He wouldn’t appreciate any of my meals anyway!" he sighed, shoving another bite into his mouth.

After dinner, he sat on the couch and opened his laptop.
Before he knew it, he was browsing social media. Zoro’s profile was practically empty—one picture, a name, nothing else.
Sanji felt like a stalker, but he couldn’t help himself.
He switched to the school’s page, searching for photos of him.
Zoro was always off to the side, whether at the school festival or handing out sports medals.
Without realizing it, Sanji saved three half-decent pictures.
Sanji stared at the poor-quality photos as if they would reveal all the details of Zoro's life to him.

"What am I doing?", he sighed, staring at the screen. He just wanted to know him better. That’s what he told himself. He was embarrassed and couldn't stop.

Sunday began much the same. He brewed tea, lit a cigarette on the balcony, and stared at the horizon, planning his day to keep himself occupied.
Reading? Twenty minutes in, he was imagining Zoro as the hero of his romance novel.
Writing recipes? Twenty-five minutes before he realized he’d stopped noting ingredients and was just thinking about him.
Cleaning? He zoned out after five minutes.
He wanted to go jogging, but it seemed to him that it was just an excuse because he might bump into him on the beach.

"He’s testing me, isn’t he? Waiting to see if I’ll write again. Not happening. I won’t lose."

Zoro had said he wanted to kiss him again. Would that happen tomorrow? Had he even thought of Sanji this weekend?

“You’re such an idiot,” Sanji muttered to himself, clutching his head and staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He closed his eyes, trying to get at least a little rest.

Chapter Text

Sanji jumped out of bed on Monday morning.
He ran to the bathroom, grabbing the toothbrush and scrubbing his teeth with such intensity that he felt a slight pain.
His body was acting like on autopilot, as if someone had switched him to a different mode.
Shower, quick breakfast, suit, shoes, bento box, and bag—he has everything.
As he left the apartment, he glanced at his watch: 6:30 a.m.
Too early, definitely too early, but he couldn’t sit still.
He headed toward the school at a brisk pace, only to realize halfway there that he was almost running.
He stopped, panting slightly, and grabbed his head.

“What are you thinking, Sanji? That you’ll walk into school, and he’ll be standing there with a bouquet of flowers like in some romantic comedy?”—he scolded himself in his mind, feeling how childish his expectations were.

He was one of the first to arrive at the teachers’ lounge—no surprise there.
He sat, opened his planner, and started preparing materials for lessons.
That day, he was teaching mostly the youngest grades, which were also the most rambunctious.
Focusing on work helped him slightly occupy his thoughts, though he kept glancing at the door, as if expecting to see Zoro there any moment.
Finally, he slumped into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the clock on the wall.

“I’ll find you”—he recalled Zoro’s words.
“Sure, where is that idiot? I’ve been sitting here for an hour!”—he thought, probably not realizing how comical it sounded.

He looked out the window at the parking lot.
Zoro’s motorcycle was already there.
Sanji clenched his teeth, grabbed a pen, and started writing notes with such force that the words began to imprint on the next page.
Is he even trying to find him? Is there a more obvious place than the teachers’ lounge?
Lessons passed relatively calmly, though Sanji had to stay on guard not to lose his composure.
Even Charles from second grade, who usually annoys him, couldn’t break his calm today.
Sanji was strict, not lenient with anyone today, even the sweetest of female students.
But no one paid much attention to his mood, as among the students, the number one topic was still the school dance.
During the lunch break, Sanji pulled out a plastic container with sponge cake he baked over the weekend.
A few colleagues gathered in the teachers’ lounge: Miss Russo, Mrs. Lira, the math teacher, and a young intern who had only recently started learning the charms of teaching at their school.

“Please, help yourselves,” he said, opening the container and placing it on the table.

“I baked it yesterday, but I made a bit too much. Take some home, it’d be a shame for it to go to waste.”

“Mr. Vinsmoke, you’re probably trying to fatten us all up,” the intern threw out with a smile, reaching for a piece of cake.

“It looks like it’s from a bakery! Where does all this motivation to bake come from?”

“I baked to stop thinking about a certain idiot”—flashed through his mind, but aloud he only said:

“Cooking is my passion. When I bake, I can’t do it small.”

“These cookies are finger-licking good.”—Mrs. Lira exclaimed, swallowing a bite.

“You should open your own bakery instead of wasting away at school.”

“Maybe someday,” he replied with a slight smile, not wanting to dwell on the topic too much.

The whole day passed without a trace of Zoro.
Not in the hallway, not in the teachers’ lounge, not on the sports field, which Sanji “accidentally” passed by while heading to class (though it was completely out of his way).

“So this is how he’s ‘finding’ me”—he thought bitterly.

“Maybe I should draw a target on my forehead and grab a megaphone? Why did I even write that damn text?”, such thoughts occupied his mind

Frustration grew with every hour, and mental exhaustion started to outweigh the physical.
He finished his last lesson at 3:00 p.m.
He grabbed his bag and headed to a place he often visited at school, known to few—a small wall with a few steps where he could smoke in peace.
Cut off from the school’s hustle, it was his place for reflection.
He leaned against the wall, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a cloud of smoke, staring at the sky.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

Sanji flinched, nearly dropping his cigarette.
He turned his head and saw Zoro standing a few steps away, with that infuriating, cocky smirk.
That smile always got on Sanji’s nerves, but now it made his heart beat faster.
But still, in his head, he had the fact that he made him wait two days. Two days of torment.
He tightened his grip on the cigarette and narrowed his eyes, putting on a sulky expression.

“Well, look at that, you found me. Congratulations,” he threw out sarcastically, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “How’d you know where to look?”

Zoro stepped closer, leaning against the wall opposite him and crossing his arms behind his head.

“You’re visible from the gym,” he replied, pointing a finger at the building across the courtyard. “The windows look right out at these steps.”

Sanji raised his head, looking in that direction. He hadn’t realized.

“Stalking me?”—he asked, balancing between a joke and a provocation.

The corner of Zoro’s mouth twitched in amusement.

“I just have eyes, Vinsmoke,” he replied with a hint of irony. “And I know the ‘smoke’ in your name isn’t incidental.”

Sanji snorted, looking away to hide that the joke amused him. But then he got serious.

“Why Monday?”—he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you make me wait two days?”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by the change of topic.

“Hm?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Sanji grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why did I have to wait until now?”

Zoro sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I was out of town most of the time,” he explained calmly. “I didn’t want to talk to you in a rush, on the go, when I hadn’t sorted it out in my head.”—He looked at Sanji with a slight smile. “Patience isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

Sanji huffed loudly.

“I’m only impatient when it comes to you,” he retorted sharply. “You weren’t exactly busy looking for me today, were you?”

“You know I work here?”—he threw out—“Lessons, training, some kids spilled juice in the gym. Not everyone has time to treat interns to cake.”

“First you stalk me, now you eavesdrop?”—Sanji asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t need to eavesdrop when that new girl brags about your sponge cake to the whole school,” Zoro replied with a smirk.

“Jealous, huh?”—Sanji teased.

“Of sponge cake?”—Zoro muttered. “I’m not a fan of sweets.”

The tension between them grew, almost tangible, as if the air had thickened.
They didn’t look at each other, but neither wanted to leave.
Zoro suddenly stepped closer, standing next to Sanji.
Their shoulders almost touched.
He sighed, as if gathering his thoughts.

“Look… I’m glad you texted, okay?”—he said suddenly, his voice carrying a hint of awkwardness.

Sanji looked at him, surprised, feeling his ears redden. He tried to hide it, staring at the tips of his shoes.

“Though, I admit, waiting until 11:59 was pretty dramatic. Trying to make a scene?”—Zoro continued. “I was sure you wouldn’t write.”

Sanji snorted, trying to mask his embarrassment.

“I had to get back from the dance. What’s so surprising?”—he replied, though they both knew it was a lame excuse.

“Vinsmoke…”—he muttered, nervously picking at the plaster on the wall. “Listen… How about we go out tomorrow night?”

Sanji blinked, not believing his ears.

“You’re… asking me to…”—he started, but Zoro cut him off with a slight smile.

“A date,” he clarified, with a hint of unease in his voice. “No misunderstandings. A date.”

“A date?”—Sanji repeated, still in shock.

“Are you gonna repeat every word?”—Zoro grumbled—“You showed interest, so I’m asking you out. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

Sanji felt his heart jump to his throat.
The cigarette fell from his hand and started smoldering on the concrete.
His cheeks flushed and smile spread across his face, one that could not be suppressed.'

“Take me somewhere, Roronoa,” he said, looking at him, grinning.

Zoro stepped back slightly, as if in disbelief.
Sanji had never smiled at him so joyfully, so sincerely.
That smile, which he always watched from afar, was now directed at him.
Sanji looked so pretty, so radiant…
For a moment, Zoro seemed to forget what to say.

“Seriously?”—he blurted out, disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah. Though I never thought I’d say that to you,” Sanji replied, still smiling.

“I’ll pick you up around six, alright?”—Zoro said, regaining his confidence. “Send me your address. You have my number.”

Sanji nodded, still glowing.
Seeing him like this, Zoro smiled back.
Sanji smiled at him. At him! He still couldn't believe it.
They looked at each other for a moment until Zoro snapped out of it.

“I gotta go. Still got some things to wrap up at school,” he said, heading down the steps.

“Roronoa?”—Sanji called out suddenly.

Zoro turned, looking at him questioningly.

“I… I’m glad I texted too,” Sanji said, and Zoro smiled, nodding at him.

When Zoro disappeared around the corner, Sanji slumped against the wall.
He slid down, crouching and burying his face in his hands. He felt his own skin burning.

“A date?”—he whispered to himself, not believing it was happening.

He was going on a date with Roronoa Zoro.

Sanji walked home with a smile that wouldn’t leave his face.
The sun suddenly seemed to shine brighter, and the wind, which had irritated him on the way to school, now pleasantly brushed his hot skin.
Each step made him feel lighter, as if he’d shed a weight he’d been carrying for days.
Zoro’s words echoed in his head: “A date.”

He, Sanji Vinsmoke, was going on a date with Roronoa Zoro.

A week ago, he would’ve laughed in the face of anyone who suggested it.
Now? The thought alone made his heart race and his cheeks burn.
He entered his apartment, tossed his bag and jacket onto the bed, and flopped face-down, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to his face.
He started kicking his legs in the air, like a teenager who got a text from their first crush.

A date. A date with Zoro.

He grabbed his phone and typed out his address, sending it to Zoro with a short message:

“This is where I live. Near the market. Where are we going?”

He stared at the screen, pillow still pressed to his cheek, waiting for a reply.
Soon, a message popped up:

“I’ve got an idea. And you’re patient, right?”

Sanji shook his head in disbelief. More secrets?
He wanted to tease him, push his buttons, but decided arguing over text wasn’t the best idea.
He tried typing: “I'm just curious about you.” but quickly deleted it, feeling his face heat up.
“No, no, I can’t. Not yet.”—he thought, blushing.
Finally, he wrote:

“I’m patient. I’ll be waiting outside at 6:00. Don’t get lost.”

He hugged the pillow tighter, feeling his heart pound.
In that one moment, he was sure he was the most impatient person in the world.

Chapter Text

Sanji woke up feeling confident, bursting with energy like never before.
For the first time in days, he'd slept through the whole night, even though he'd spent the evening lost in thoughts, imagining scenarios for their date that night.
Where would they go? What should he wear? What would Zoro put on? What would they talk about? Thoughts like that spun through his mind.
Usually, he'd panic in situations like this, but today he felt strangely calm. Probably because he finally knew where he stood.
He stood in front of the bedroom mirror, dressed in his favorite wine-colored suit that hugged his slim frame just right.
He ran his fingers through his blond bangs, making sure they fell lightly over one eye—the way he liked it.
He cupped his chin, gently stroking his neat beard as he eyed himself critically. It looked good.
School passed surprisingly peacefully. Sanji taught his French classes with the same energy he'd had before all this mess started.
His voice flowed like music, and the students picked up on his good mood, making the time fly by.
As he left the teachers' lounge for his next class, Sanji spotted Zoro coming from the other end of the hall.
Zoro had his grade book tucked under his arm, wearing his usual tracksuit.
He always looked so good in it—or was Sanji just starting to notice today?
Their eyes met, and Sanji's lips curved into a soft, almost shy smile.
Zoro nodded back, like a quiet confirmation.
No one at school knew about their date tonight, and that secret fueled Sanji's excitement.
But honestly, even if he told someone, would anyone believe him?
In his next French class, Sanji perched on the windowsill, reading passages from the textbook to the students.
Just one look at Zoro today had lifted him up completely.
The lesson felt totally different from the calm one that morning.
Now his voice sounded like he was reciting poetry, not boring grammar.
The kids listened, fascinated— some scribbling notes, others simply just lost in the flow of his voice.
They asked questions, and he answered with saint-like patience.
Suddenly, a whistle from the field caught his ear — Zoro was leading his class outside for baseball.
Perfect.
Now he could dive deeper into new parts of the french language while having a prime view of Zoro.
He kept teaching, but his eyes kept drifting out the window, watching Zoro swing the bat, demonstrating something to his class.
Heaven on this sunny day.
Suddenly, Zoro wiped sweat from his forehead and lifted his shirt a bit, revealing his muscled abs, beaded with sweat, shining brightly.
Sanji's voice cracked mid-sentence as he read the next line from the book.
He stared out the window, eyes widening.
The students looked up, confused.

"Excuse me, sir?" one girl said.

"Ah..." Sanji snapped out of it "I lost my place in the text. Where was I? Oh, right... Oui, le verbe est important car il exprime l'action, l'état ou le changement dans une phrase..."

He jumped right back into the reading, steadying his teacher voice.
A few kids leaned over to peek out the window, wondering what had grabbed their teacher's attention. They saw the lively field. Nothing special, right?
But even from the second floor, Sanji could clearly make out the outline of Zoro's muscles, tense and shining with sweat.
The image burned into his mind, stirring up thoughts that made the rest of the class a battle to focus on grammar.
Carved like a Greek god.
He'd always been drawn to well-built guys, but Zoro... this was something else. He looked incredible.
Sanji started fanning himself with the textbook to cool off while the class worked on exercises.
When the final bell rang, Sanji gathered his things and headed home with quick steps.
He had so much to do, so the moment he crossed the entryway, he threw himself into prep mode.
First, a shower—he scrubbed his body and hair thoroughly, using way too much strawberry-scented body products.
He trimmed his beard carefully, leaving just the well-groomed chin strap.
He slathered on a moisturizing face mask and even painted his nails with clear polish.
Every detail had to be perfect, even if barely noticeable—it boosted his confidence.
Then came picking an outfit, which turned into pure torture.
He stood in front of his open closet, tossing clothes around in growing frustration.
Navy blueshirt? No, Zoro had seen him in that at the dance. Blazer? Too formal. T-shirt? Too plain.
After the tenth change, he flung another shirt onto the bed, furious.

"What the hell am I doing?" he growled, raking his hands through his hair. "This can't be that hard! It's just a date!"

Deep down, he knew it wasn't just any date.
It was a date with Zoro.
And a date with Zoro felt like a challenge he desperately wanted to win.
He wanted it to go perfectly. He wanted to impress him.
He didn't know when it had started to matter this much.
He glanced in the mirror, seeing his messy hair and flushed cheeks.

"When was my last date?" he muttered, trying to remember.

Three years ago? Maybe. He couldn't recall. He'd had a few casual hookups—coffee, walks—but nothing serious.
There was that inferno of passion, short fling in the harbor a couple years back, but it was mostly physical attraction.
Not that it wasn't important.
Zoro turned him on like crazy, but for the first time in ages, he want to know what went on in the guy's head.
That riddle of this man drew Sanji in like a magnet.
What did he like to do? What food did he love? What were his habits? Blue or yellow?
He wanted to know it all.
But right now, his biggest worry was—what to wear when he had no clue where they were going?

"Please don't let it be the gym," he thought, figuring that'd be so Zoro.

In the end, he went simple: fitted black pants and a light blue shirt with rolled-up sleeves.
It matched his eyes and Highlighted his golden locks.
He looked good. No—amazing.

"Zoro should be grateful I even agreed to let him take me anywhere," he told himself mentally, building up his nerve.

The clock read 5:00 PM.
One more hour.
What to do for an hour?
Stand outside like an idiot?
He sank onto the couch, trying to chill, but his hands kept shaking.
He didn't even dare grab a drink, scared he'd spill it.
He ran his fingers through his hair for the hundredth time, checking the bangs.

"Okay, Sanji, you got this," he said to the mirror, pumping himself up.

"It's just Zoro. The same annoying gorilla you've been bickering with for years. Nothing's changed. If he gets too cocky, you'll put him in his place like always. You'll just talk. Maybe kiss a little... Stop it!" he scolded himself.

He was a grown man, a respected teacher, and his heart raced like mad at the thought of kissing Zoro.
And where did he even get the idea they would? It was a date, so sure, there were expectations, but... stop!
He headed downstairs at 5:55, not wanting to risk keeping Zoro waiting.
He leaned against the wall, lit a cigarette to steady his hands, and stared down the street.
6:05. "Where is he? Already late? Did he stand me up?"
Panic rose as he nervously checked his phone.
But at 6:10, he heard that familiar engine roar.
Zoro pulled up on his motorcycle, pulling off his helmet and running a hand through his hair.
He wore a leather jacket and dark jeans that fit his biker vibe perfectly.
He grinned when he saw Sanji.

"Ready, Vinsmoke?" he asked, handing him the spare helmet hooked on the back.

Sanji stubbed out his cigarette and walked over.

"So, Roronoa, you ferry all the girls around on your iron horse?" he shot back with a smirk.

"You're the first since I bought it. Feel honored, princess," Zoro replied with a cheeky grin.

"I've never ridden a motorcycle," Sanji admitted, feeling a bit like a kid as he turned the helmet in his hands.

"Put on the helmet, sit behind me, and hold my waist. Easy. What, Vinsmoke? You're not scared, are you?""

Sanji snorted, striding over with faked assurance.
He buckled the helmet, swung onto the seat behind Zoro, and hesitantly looped his arms around his middle.
His fingers instantly felt the hard muscles of Zoro's abs under the thin shirt—the same ones he'd seen on the field that morning.
The shock nearly made him slip off so he instantly tightened his hold around him.
He rested his head against Zoro's back, like he might fall anytime.
Zoro sensed it and smirked to himself.

"Hold on tight. Falling is not on the schedule tonight."

The engine roared, and they took off.
The ride wasn't as long as it seemed, but for Sanji, it felt eternal—not just from the speed and cool wind he wasn't used to, but from being so close to Zoro.
He shut his eyes tight, surrendering to the feeling.
At tight curves, his hold tightened, sensing Zoro's heat seeping through the cloth.
Finally, they stopped.

"You can let go now," Zoro said. Embarrassed, Sanji lurched away, totally unaware the ride was over.

He handed back the helmet and looked around.

They were in front of a small spot right by an old harbor he'd forgotten even existed.
Honestly, it was barely a harbor—just a narrow wooden pier with three boats tied up.
The wooden front, weathered by sea salt and algae, looked like it'd survived plenty of storms.
Old fishing nets hung by the entrance with big lanterns and vines swaying on them.
At first glance, the restaurant didn't scream "perfect first date spot," but warm light from lantern and sea-fresh scent carried a magnetic charm.
Sanji couldn't believe he actually liked it here. This place was "so Zoro". And right now, everything that reminded him of Zoro felt right.
His partner led the way to a wooden table in the corner by the window, surrounded by green plants with a sea view.
A faded red tablecloth covered it, and a big shell-shaped candle flickered in the center. It was kinda corny but Sanji didn't comment.
He sat, and Zoro shed his jacket, revealing his strong shoulders.
Sanji's eyes slid toward them for a second, trying not to make it obvious.

"What's this place?" Sanji asked.

"You gotta forgive me, Mr. Prince," Zoro started with a grin. "There's only one French spot in town, but a teacher's salary doesn't stretch that far. Here, they've got good beer and decent pasta."

He waved over the waitress, who grabbed menus right away.

"You know, Roronoa, I might surprise you, but I'm not a huge fan of French food. Contrary to your wrong assumptions, I don't love everything French. Seafood's my favorite, if you're that curious," Sanji replied, leaning back comfortably.

"Oh," Zoro said, a bit caught off guard. "Me too. Didn't see that coming."

"I meant, how did you find this place?" Sanji clarified.

"I sailed in once for a nap in the harbor. Grabbed a beer, then another, and now I come back sometimes. Sadly, I'm driving tonight, so gotta stay responsible," Zoro rolled his eyes "But go ahead, grab a beer if you want. I usually get wasted here when I can crash on the boat."

He nodded out the window toward the dock.
Sanji opened the menu. It was basic, nothing fancy.
He peeked over it at Zoro, who leaned on his hand, scanning his own.
Sanji still couldn't believe he was here.
That Zoro sat across from him.
Their eyes met suddenly, and Sanji dropped his gaze quick, pretending he was still reading.
After some thought, he picked shrimp pasta and Zoro bet on meat skewers.
He skipped alcohol, though it might've loosened things up.
Zoro stood to grab drinks from the bar—he'd forgotten—and Sanji looked around.
A huge wooden bar dominated the center, kitchen noises came from the back.
Seemed like just the waitress and them.
Then he spotted the guy in the corner.
Black tailcoat and top hat—like he'd stepped out of another story.
Skinny as a skeleton, long curly afro hiding his eyes.
He sat playing violin, tapping a bony foot in high-heeled shoes.
When he saw Zoro, he waved, and they chatted briefly.

"Definitely not his first time here," Sanji thought.

"My buddy Brook. If he bugs you, say so," Zoro said, nodding toward Sanji as he returned.

Sanji shook his head, but regretted not pushing it—awkward silence fell.
Sanji stared out the window: the sun was setting, painting the sky orange and pink, reflecting on the waves.
He lost himself in it, wondering what to talk about.

"Why'd you text me?" Zoro asked suddenly.

Sanji looked up, startled.

"Why'd you ask me out?" he fired in return.

"Since when do you answer a question with a question?" Zoro raised a brow.

Sanji sighed, fiddling with his fork.

"I figured, why not try? Surprised?"

"A little. I thought you hated me," Zoro admitted.

"I never hated you. At worst, I couldn't stand you. Despised you. Wanted to kick your ass till you begged for mercy. That hasn't changed," Sanji said with a sly smile. "But that's not hate."

He swallowed, a bit nervous.

"You ask people out on dates often?"

"Nah. Not sure I've ever done it," Zoro said, and Sanji suddenly felt special "I assumed you were seeing Russo or that math teacher Lira," Zoro added, resting his head on his hand.

"And what convinced you otherwise?" Sanji asked, arching a brow.

"I saw you bouncing around them, tail wagging like a puppy. They just toss you a ball. Plus, I got other confirmation later."

He opened his mouth to retort, then paused with an intrigued, questioning stare.

"No guy who kisses another guy like that is straight."

Sanji blushed, looking away. The memory of their first kiss made his heart race.

"I'm not gay..." he started.

"Wow, then what are we doing here, Vinsmoke?" Zoro interrupt.

"Let me finish, idiot. I mean, I'm not gay—I'm bi. Mostly into women, but I've dated a guy before, if that matters," he muttered, blowing bubbles in his water glass.

"Doesn't. But good to know," Zoro laugh, eyeing his cute flustered reaction.

"And you?", Sanji looked up from his glass.

"Womens were never my thing," Zoro explained. "Grew up training with guys, always hung with the boys. Stuck that way."

"You must break hearts of all those poor girls checking you out," Sanji teased with a smile.

"Like I said, women don't interest me. I don't care what they think, and it's not something I parade.—it's not their business," Zoro replied.

The talk paused when the waitress brought appetizers—warm, crusty bread with olive oil and herbs.
Sanji grabbed some to keep his hands busy.
They shifted to lighter stuff quick.

"Tell me something—I wondered about this once," Sanji started, elbows on the table. "With all your sports success, why teach PE? The whole school's buzzing when you win another medal; the principal brags like the trophies are his. Wouldn't kendo pay better?"

Zoro sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"If it were that easy. Wins are great, but money's tight. Prize cash doesn't cover it at all—gear costs a fortune, training too, and bills don't pay themselves. Teaching kids is fine; I like it. Times when a kid catches the spark? This is where the fun begins. But..." He hesitated.
"I'd love to give kendo my all."

"It's your dream?" Sanji asked.

Zoro looked at him, a bit surprised, like he wasn't used to such direct questions. Who even asks that? But seeing Sanji's genuine, almost childlike curiosity, he nodded.

"Yeah. Win all the nationals first, then worlds, beat my master Mihawk's record, then open my own kendo dojo. That's the goal."

"If even a stubborn donkey like you fails, then nobody can." Sanji laughed.

"I'll take that as first compliment from you ever," Zoro grinned.

"Honestly, I always pictured you in boxing. But swordsman fits too."

"Swordsman?" Zoro raised a brow.

"Swordsman," Sanji repeated, flashing his teeth.

Zoro went quiet for a sec, staring at his smile like it knocked him again.

"Yours?" he asked. "You always wanna teach French?"

"Nah, it's just a job. My family's from France, so I grew up speaking it. Didn't have to try hard for this job. My real passion is cooking. I'd love to have a little spot serving my own dishes. I grew up watching restaurant work at sea. That feeling when someone loves what you made... nothing beats it."

Zoro tilted his head, watching him curiously.

"Heard all the chatter in the halls about your baking."

"'Cause I'm good. Damn good. Your pants would drop if you tried my salmon," Sanji said, puffing out his chest.

"I don't fall for the hype from a little Cook. Pants off? Dream on—it takes more than a few cookies."

"Cook? Please," Sanji scoffed.

"So, Cook," Zoro went on, "what's your dream restaurant look like? Not like this, right?"

"Not that different. Small spot, classier, hidden in a quiet corner by the sea. I'd deal direct with fishermen for the freshest stuff. Change the menu weekly, experiment."

"And what'd you call your perfect place?"

A shy smile tugged at Sanji's lips.

"All Blue."

"All Blue? Sounds decent," Zoro said, and Sanji lit up seeing he liked it.

"From a book they read me as a kid. About the legendary All Blue sea, where all the world's fish live. Always thought it fit a place where you can try everything."

"Book, huh? Never thought of that," Zoro echoed. "Bet you can hardly swallow this everyday slush," he teased, fork pointing at the plates the waitress had just dropped off.

Sanji shook his head, smiling.

"You weren't lying—the pasta's solid. Though..." He paused, tasting. "I'd add more garlic, cut the oil. And serve the shrimp different."

Zoro shook his head.

"Food's food; no need to dissect it," he said, pulling meat off the skewers with his teeth, cheeks puffing as he chewed.

Sanji chuckled under his breath.
Had Zoro always been this cute? How could this huge muscled guy look like a little hamster with those stuffed cheeks?
He had this insane urge to pinch them.

"You haven't tried my food, so you don't get it. Food's poetry—learn to appreciate it. Though I don't expect you'll ever appreciate my shrimp pasta," Sanji replied.

"Plain shrimp pasta might not convince me you're right."

"I'm sure of my skills—and your weak taste buds."

The talk started flowing, mostly teasing.
Sanji shared he worked out, mostly running, but used to do taekwondo—Zoro liked that and suggested training together but Sanji quick added he might not keep up.
Zoro didn't get the hype over Sanji's passion for romance books and and Sanji was surprised that Zoro mostly sleeps right after coming home from work.
Sanji asked about the motorcycle, Zoro said it was just a solid way to get around where sailing ended.

"Adventure is my middle name," Zoro admitted. "Sometimes I just head out. Sometimes I get lost getting back—that's part of it."

"Me too," Sanji said, thrilled at another shared thing.

"You? Nah. You seem like a couch potato," Zoro teased with a grin.

"I like to relax in peace. But adventure, adrenaline... I live for that rush." His eyes lit up. "That's why I started sailing. Sea's unpredictable. I'm planing a trip to Italy to watch how they craft authentic ravioli."

"Rode there once. Week of straight riding, crashing at motels," Zoro said.

"Maybe... show me some spots sometime," Sanji said dreamily, then rushed: "I mean, you could list cool places." He flushed, thinking it was too soon.

Zoro just nodded, not pushing, which relieved Sanji.
Plates empty and Sanji eyed Zoro with a soft smile.
Fun had been great, but that ghostly bar clock whispered the night was wrapping up.

"Gotta head out. Tomorrow is Wednesday, day of early private lessons. The daily grind doesn't pause," he said. Zoro pulled out his wallet to pay.

"You complain about no cash for gear, and now think I'll let you cover it?"

"I didn't complain, besides, I invited you and I'm a guy.", Zoro laid his palms on his chest.

"And what am I?" Sanji huffed, pointing at himself. "We split it."

"Why so stubborn?"

"'Cause you're deaf. I said split," he grumbled.

Zoro sighed. Finally agreed.

"Oh, and will you at least graciously allow me to drop you off at home Cook?" Zoro said, standing and slipping on his jacket.

Sanji nodded when excitement mixing with nerves.
They stepped out and cool night air hit their faces.
Zoro hopped on the motocycle, handed Sanji the helmet.
He climbed on, wrapping tight around Zoro's waist.
Again, he felt those firm abs under his fingers.
Engine roared, they sped off—he couldn't hold back a smile.
Now he wasn't scared. The ride felt amazing.
He caught Zoro's scent again and for a moment wished he'd take the long way to savor every extra second.

At Sanji's building, Zoro parked and got off.

"Starting to get used to this," Sanji said, pulling off the helmet.

It was dark; streetlights barely lit the way.

"Never thought it'd be this enjoyable," Sanii said honestly.

"Never thought? So you assumed fun with me was impossible??"

"Did you think we'd click at all?" Sanji smiled back.

"Do we?" Zoro stepped closer, leaning in.

"French guys like sharp-tongued men," Sanji teased.

"You keep surprising me," Zoro said, smiling.

"You just don't know me yet," Sanji replied, closing the gap.

Before Sanji could move, Zoro raised his chin gently.
Zoro leaned closer and brushed his lips softly against his.
It was gentle, but Sanji's whole body trembled with thrill.
He put his hands on Zoro's chest, fingers clutching his t-shirt, eyes closing.
His heart hammered; the world froze. He only heard his heartbeat and the distant sea waves.
The kiss he'd always dreamed of. Straight out of a rom-com. The perfect date ender.
In that moment, Zoro totally conquered him, fulfilling one of his biggest fantasies—a flawless kiss.
When they pulled back, Sanji loosened his grip on Zoro's chest, smiling.

"I don't invite guys in after the first date, Roronoa. You'll have to wait for the next one," he joked, voice giving away how much it got to him.

"So there'll be a next?" Zoro grinned, stepping back to the bike.

Sanji watched him, that cocky smirk making him decide—he couldn't let him win this once. Couldn't let him go. This time, he wanted control.
Zoro was about to put on the helmet when Sanji stepped up.

"Wait!," he said.

Zoro looked surprised, but before he could speak, Sanji grabbed his shirt and pulled him close.
Aggressively, he slipped his tongue inside, revealing his naughty side.
Zoro hadn't seen it coming. His eyes were wide open and he simply froze in place.
It mirrored their first kiss in school, a moment of unrestrained passion.
Sanji felt he wanted to lose himself completely in that feeling, to show him how much she desires him.
When Sanji pulled away, his breathing came heavy, lips still burning from the taste of him.

"I win," he whispered with a sly smile, then turned and headed inside, leaving Zoro stunned.

Zoro watched him go, gripping the helmet tight.
For the first time, Roronoa Zoro admitted to himself that Sanji Vinsmoke was probably the only guy in the World who could totally dominate him. And it turned him on like hell.
Sanji burst into his apartment, slammed the door, and flopped onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow.
He let out a muffled scream, as if the emotions through every part of him.
His heart was beating like crazy, unable to calm down.
It was so good. So perfect. Everything.
The motorcycle ride, his looks, this little bar, the talks, and those dream kiss at the end.
Sanji felt like the heroine in a romance novel.
If this is a dream, please don't wake him up.
He grabbed his phone, try to text Zoro thanks for the night.

"Be a man, Sanji. Text something. Invite him out? Too soon? We just parted ten minutes ago... won't seem desperate?", such things occupied his mind

He wanted to flirt like he did with women, but everything sounded lame.
Not Zoro's style.
Before he come up with something, his phone lit up—a message from Zoro.

"Hey, Cook. Don't think I'll let you win that easy. Friday rematch?"

Sanji laughed, feeling a gentle warmth spread through him.
Zoro had said exactly what he'd wanted to but couldn't word.

"You'll have to admit defeat. Haven't shown you all my moves yet. Friday works. But this time, I invite you.", he replied, matching the vibe.

Sanji took a deep breath and rolled onto his back.
Roronoa Zoro made him completely lose himself

Chapter Text

Zoro's memory sent Sanji's heart racing, pounding against his ribs like a caged bird desperate for flight.
Sanji felt like the hero of a romantic story who had just stepped off the screen of an old film.
It was strange that no doves were flying above his head, and flower carpets do not form under his feet as he walks.
Although he still didn't know how this relationship worked, there was this spark between them, which he couldn't deny.
He obsessively replayed the previous night's memories, down to the smallest detail, yet only two days stood between him and their upcoming rendezvous.
To Sanji's surprise, they had started texting more.
It all began with a simple message from Zoro attached to a photo, sent the day after their meeting:

"Hey, Cook. This is that beer from the bar I mentioned yesterday. You can buy it at the store next to yours house."

It was such a banal message but from that moment, Sanji gained confidence.

"If he can write so casually, why not me?" he thought.

That same evening, while at the market, Sanji spotted a stall with green, fluffy balls—marimo balls. He couldn't resist and snapped a photo, sending it to Zoro with the caption:

"Swordsman marimo!"

Zoro immediately replied that he didn't see any similarity and that Sanji probably needed to buy some glasses.
Sanji, sensing his irritation, began to tease him by calling him “marimo” in his messages and waiting for his reaction.
But Zoro didn't hold back—he sent a photo of ducks he'd encountered on his way back from training, with the note:

"They have the same curly eyebrows as you, Curly."

"Curly? Seriously?", Sanji rolled his eyes. "Is that your comeback, marimo?"

These messages were ordinary, simple, like as if they were between friends, but they gave Sanji confirmation that Zoro sometimes thought about him.
He moved through the school hallway as if floating on a soft cloud—skipping up stairs with a light, dance-like step, humming the melody played by the violinist from the bar they'd visited.
He taught French lessons with his usual passion, gesturing energetically and tossing out melodic "très bien!" to his students.
He didn't even consider it a coincidence that today, of all days, he was telling his class about François l'Olonnais, the 17th-century French pirate whose name was pronounced almost identically to Zoro's.

"Fate is toying with me?", he thought, watching the class listens focused to his stories about pirates, which weren't even the main topic of the lesson.

Sanji glanced at his phone between lessons, checking for new messages, each notification quickening his pulse.
He was already planning their next date for Friday—this time, it was his turn to organize it, and it had to be perfect.
There was no other way. He has to make Zoro's jaw drop.
He also felt flushes on his cheeks every time he thought about perhaps leading Zoro back to his place after tommorows date and taking things a step further.
He shook his head, though, chasing the thought away.
He wanted it so much.
Zoro was incredibly attractive, and he hadn't done this in a long time.
On one hand, he wanted to slowly figure out where they stood, whether they were in a relationship at all, but on the other hand, he really wanted to have sex with Zoro.
This would be only their second date, but the image of Zoro naked in his bed, dominating him and fucking him so hard that he loses his mind completely occupied his mind. He hoped that Zoro was more of a top than a bottom. But he was very attracted to him in both versions.
Sanji, why do you have to be so perverted!
After that passionate kiss under his apartment building, he couldn't think of anything else—only about what kind of lover Zoro might be.
These fantasies burned him from the inside, mixing excitement with a hint of fear.
No. It's too soon. Don't think about it. Don't let him think you're so easy. There is no way something like this will happen tomorrow.
In the quiet of that evening, he settled into his room, penning romantic notions in a journal while the scent of baking cookies filled the air.
He glanced at the baking sheet he was about to slide in and realized he'd started baking for Zoro too.
Since when do he make cookies for guys?
The thought that Zoro might try his cookies lingered in his mind and made him feel strangely pleased.
Without overthinking it, he continued, mixing ingredients with surgical precision.

"Everything has to be perfect," he repeated to himself

On Friday morning, Sanji was in a good mood. His baked goods, legendary in the teachers' lounge, made a few teachers immediately approach him.
He smiled at everyone, pulling out chairs at the large table and paying compliments.
But when Miss Lira, the math teacher, reached for the green container, Sanji swiftly moved it out of her reach.

"Oh, these are for me. This batch didn't turn out perfect," he said with a charming smile. It was hard for him to come up with a better excuse.

"I don't believe you—how could anything of yours not turn out?", she replied with smile.

"Oh, more than you think. The only thing I've succeeded at in life is having you sit here with me right now," he said, taking her hand in his.

Zoro entered the teachers' lounge with his grade book, as was his habit during the longer break.
Seeing Sanji smiling at the teacher, he rolled his eyes.

"What, Vinsmoke, wagging your tail again?" he tossed out, not even glancing their way.

"For now, the only one barking around here is you, Roronoa," Sanji shot back, releasing Lira's hand with a light sigh.

"I'd rather bark loudly than drool. Wipe the floor—someone might slip," Zoro countered, finally lifting his gaze.

Sanji narrowed his eyes, feeling the sparks between them start to dance.

"I'll risk it being you."

"You'll be waiting forever."

"Green Ogre"

"Woof, woof," Zoro mocked him, and Sanji narrowed his eyes even more. He came here to bait me?

"You're ruining the ladies' meal," Sanji muttered, arranging more cookies on plates with irritation.

"I'm providing entertainment," Zoro said, flipping through his grade book.

"You have a very high opinion of yourself."

"I'm just a sharp-tongued man," he grinned at him and left the room, allowing himself to be led away by Sanji, who clenched his hands tighter on his pants, completely thrown off guard by the last sentence.

He was doing it again: teasing him, then shamelessly flirting.
And the worst part was that Sanji could only pretend he didn't like it.
None of the teachers sitting nearby knew that yesterday they'd kissed passionately under his apartment building, and that thought made his heart pound even harder.
He glanced at the green container on his bag.
He couldn't hand him a special portion just for him in front of everyone.
The break still had a bit of time left, so he grabbed his bag, apologized to the ladies by saying they should enjoy the meal in peace, and headed toward the gym.
He knew it was a bit silly, but the thought of Zoro trying his biscuits made butterflies flutter in his stomach.
When Sanji entered the gym, the students were already warming up with balls.
He was caught off guard—the lesson had evidently begun earlier, not leaving Zoro solo as he'd expected.
The students, spotting him, shot him curious glances.

"Damn, too late to back out," he thought, feeling a twinge of embarrassment tighten his stomach.

Zoro stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the students.

"How many times do I have to tell you: bent knees, not straight! Put some thought into it, McCourtney!", Zoro voice echoing off the walls.

His tracksuit, as usual, looked perfect on him, hugging his muscled arms, and Sanji couldn't help stealing a glance.
He had the impression that when they argued, his mind focused so intensely on winning the verbal spar that it shut out everything else.
And especially for the strong physical attraction he felt towards Zoro.
He approached shyly, clutching his briefcase, which held the small green container.

"Can we talk for a minute?" he asked quietly, trying to sound casual, though his voice trembled slightly.

"Can't you text?" Zoro replied softly, not looking at him, just scanning the room. "You trying to get yourself killed, Johnson? Who kicks a ball like that!" he yelled at a student.

"I'd really prefer we talk outside," Sanji said again, a little annoyed.

Zoro glanced at him from the corner of his eye and, seeing his determined expression, sighed heavily.

"Sure. I'll just tell them what to do," he said, starting toward the class. He hadn't taken a step when a kid shout rang out:

"Watch out!"

From the middle of the room, a ball came flying, kicked with tremendous force, straight at them.
Sanji, without thinking, instinctively kicked it mid-air with a precise, sending it upward to lose momentum.
He froze in a split, balanced on one leg, with a dancer's grace. He blew his bangs out of his forehead. Slowly, he lowered his leg, then adjusted his tie with a nonchalant smile.

"You need to be careful, Stevens. Someone could get hurt," he said calmly, playing it cool, as though the spectacular flip in the air was no big deal.

Silence fell. The students froze, and after a moment, applause erupted, which Sanji quickly waved off with his hands.

" Back to the lesson," he said firmly, and the students grabbed their balls, murmuring among themselves.

"That was amazing!" they whispered excitedly.

"Do you think Mr. Vinsmoke would agree to be the player for the soccer team at this year's festival?"

"Quiet, or Mr. Roronoa will make you do push-ups," Sanji shook his head, his gaze drifting to Zoro.

Zoro didn't pay attention to the kids.
He stood rooted to the spot nearby, mouth slightly agape, and something in his eyes made Sanji's face heat up.
He didn't understand why he was staring like that.
"What was that!?" Zoro thought, unable to tear his eyes away.
Sanji had deflected the speeding ball with such ease in a spectacular spinning kick, only to land in a split as if it were nothing.
A whirlwind of thoughts raced through his head—he imagined what those legs could do to him: wrap around him, pull him closer, dominate him. How badly he wanted to touch them now, pin Sanji against the wall and...

"Roronoa?" Sanji asked, snapping him out of his daze.

Zoro shook his head, returning to reality.
He quickly wiped a drop of drool from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.

"Rogers, Adams, pick teams. Be right back," Zoro tossed out and followed Sanji.

As soon as they stepped into the narrow hallway leading to the locker room, Sanji glanced around to make sure they were alone.
Before Zoro could say a word, he pulled the green container from his bag, averting his gaze slightly to hide the embarrassment flushing his cheeks.

"I didn't think you'd start class so early. I baked these for you too," he muttered softly.
Before Zoro could respond, he added quickly: "Biscuits. They're not sweet—I know you don't like sweets, so don't complain until you've tried them. Open them at home."

"Biscuits, huh?" Zoro said, surprised, and opened the container, looking inside.

"I told you to open them at home! Why don't you ever listen?"

"I do listen. Right now, you're saying: 'Blah, blah, blah, I think about you sometimes blah, blah, blah,'" Zoro smiled and stepped closer, until Sanji felt the warmth of his body.

"Don't make things up. It's just biscuits. I was making them for the ladies anyway, so I made an extra batch. Nothing special," he muttered, feeling himself heat up.

"You've never made them for me before.". Zoro was so close now that Sanji felt his breath on his lips.

"I just had some extra flour and..." he swallowed loudly, "Not in the hallway—someone might see," Sanji whispered, though his voice trembled with excitement, and his body instinctively leaned toward that warmth.

"I'm not doing anything," Zoro murmured.

"You're clearly doing something."

"Just checking if I want to kiss you again."

Sanji felt his heart hammering in his chest, drumming like a beat.

"Because the first kiss was so good?" he challenged, lifting his chin.

"Because every one is just as good," Zoro replied softly, leaning in closer.

Sanji half-closed his eyes, expecting to taste his lips, but felt nothing. Instead, he heard:

"You're right, Curly. Someone might see us in the hallway.", Zoro whispered above his lips

Sanji opened his eyes, seeing him grin as he headed back to the gym, waving the container of biscuits leaving Sanji in the hallway, red as a tomato, breath quickened.

"I really hate this guy," Sanji muttered, clutching his shirt and squeezing it lightly, trying to calm his pounding heart.

"I really, really can't stand him", he told himself, feeling the mix of irritation and desire heat him up.

All flushed and annoyed—even at himself for letting himself get played like a kid—he returned to his duties.
That evening, he lay on the couch, listening to music drifting melodically through the house, filling the room with warm saxophone notes.
Thinks he can outsmart me and play clever? Ha! You'll see, Roronoa.
He began scribbling in the notebook every second of tomorrow's date, perfect in his opinion: a drink at his favorite bar with a sea view, then a walk on the beach, barefoot in the sand, hand in hand; and at the end...
He doesn't know what will happen yet, but he's definitely expecting at least a kiss.

"This will be a better date than the last one. It has to be. Victory will be mine", he said to himself when sending a message with the details of the meeting to Zoro.

Sanji smiled to himself, feeling excitement mix with a touch of nervousness, creating an electrifying blend.
He collapsed onto the bed, thinking that Zoro probably wouldn't text about were the biscuits was good, and he certainly wouldn't ask.
But deep down, he wanted to believe he'd eaten them all, puffing out his cheeks like a hamster.

Chapter Text

Friday evening drew Sanji into a mad whirl of preparations for the date.
He had everything planned down to the smallest details.
Everything was supposed to be perfect.
And it will be! – he repeated to himself in his mind.
His heart beat to the rhythm of excitement, and his thoughts revolved around Zoro: his smile, green hair, muscular torso that he had recently had the chance to explore a bit with his fingers - that turned him on.
He had two hours left.
Just get dressed – a white shirt like snow, black pants that accentuated his long legs.
Everything was ready.
He threw himself onto the bed, closing his eyes to imagine every moment that was about to come.
But the fatigue of the day and grading essays until deep in the night took over unnoticed, and Sanji suddenly closed his eyes, falling asleep.
The vibrating phone woke him.
He rubbed his eyes, blinking disoriented, and looked at the screen.
Five missed calls from Zoro.
The watch showed he was an hour late.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" – he cursed, jumping out of bed.

His heart leaped to his throat, and panic exploded in his head: the date ruined before it even started.
He quickly pulled on the white shirt and black pants, his fingers trembling as he dialed Zoro's number.
He picked up after the first ring.

"I'll be there right away and explain everything", Sanji blurted out, his voice full of desperation.
"Give me a moment! I... I don't know how this happened! Really, this isn't my style, I swear...", he added

"Where are you? I'll come pick you up", Zoro's voice sounded in his ear, low and calm and Sanji couldn't tell if anger was hidden in it. Did Zoro hate him already?

"I'm on my way! I'll be there soon, stay where you are! Really, I'll be there any second!" Sanji threw out, grabbing his keys and running out of the apartment.

He took the stairs two at a time, and curses swirled in his head: "Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I screw up something like this?"
After twenty minutes of rushing, he arrived at the beach. He looked around in panic, but couldn't see Zoro anywhere.
The sand was wet, the waves murmured lazily, and in the distance, the city lights flickered.
"Did he already leave?" – he thought, his heart tightening.
He called, his fingers slick with nerves.

"Where are you?", Sanji panted, as Zoro picked up.

"Right where we agreed to meet"

"Me too. Left descent by the East Beach sign", Sanji replied.

"Seriously, Vinsmoke? East Beach? You said West", Zoro said, as if it were obvious.

"What? I didn't say that!"

"I didn't make it up", Zoro muttered.

"You mixed up the beaches, I knew you'd get lost, but..."

"Check your text then!"

Sanji froze, pulling the phone away from his ear. Zoro hung up. He looked at the phone and cursed under his breath.
He had written West Beach, but in the rush, he read it wrong.
And he even yelled at him.

"I'm an idiot. A total idiot.", Sanji muttered under his breath.

He sent a quick text: "I'll be there soon, just don't go anywhere."

He felt frustration mixing with guilt.
On the way, he stopped at a coffee stand – two large, black, hot ones. Hoping it would be some form of compensation.
When he finally arrived at West Beach, carrying the cups like a shield, he saw Zoro standing on the sand, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.
He couldn't see his face, but his imagination supplied the worst: furrowed brows, pursed lips.

"He's probably pissed.", Sanji thinks and quickened his pace
His feet tangled in the sand – he tripped over his own feet, trying to catch his balance.
It had never happened to him before, but nervousness took control of his body.
The coffee spilled onto the white shirt, scalding his skin through the fabric.
He hissed in pain, looking at the brown stains spreading across his chest.
He grabbed his head, holding the damp shirt, as if that could undo the disaster.

"Everything okay?", Zoro asked, coming closer, but before he could touch him, Sanji shouted:

"It's a disaster!", he wailed, his voice trembling with despair.
"The worst date in the world! Shirt ruined, I yelled at you for no reason, the restaurant's already closed, you waited two hours in the cold, and I don't even have better excuse than that I'm an idiot.!"

At that moment, he felt a drop of rain on his skin.
He looked up – the sky, as if on purpose, exploded into heavy rain.

"Of course, this is some fucking joke!", he shouted.

"Hey, Cook, listen...", Zoro started, but Sanji didn't let him finish.

"What else?! Sure, finish me off!", he kicked the sand, splashing wet grains.
The rain poured harder, soaking them to the skin.

"Cook, listen...", Zoro tried again.

"If you don't want to see me again, I won't hold it against you. I wouldn't want to after something like this! Just if you're going to spread gossip about me at school, at least don't say that..."

"Can you shut up for a moment?!", Zoro grabbed his hands, firmly but not painfully.
They stood in the middle of the beach, they were soaked, and Sanji kept yelling, ignoring the downpour.
People passing by stared at them like they were crazy.

"I'm not some little girl to worry about something like this. And stop yelling, people are staring! Come with me."

Sanji looked at their hands locked in an embrace – the first time Zoro had held his hand, but the circumstances were so tragic that he didn't have time to enjoy it.
The warmth of Zoro's hand penetrated through the cold rain, spreading through his body like an antidote to panic.
Zoro started pulling him along, toward the street.

"I live nearby", he muttered, not letting go of his hand.

The rain poured like from a bucket, but Sanji, walking beside him, felt a strange calm.
He kept glancing at their intertwined fingers, even though his wet hair stuck to his face so much that he could barely see a few centimeters in front of him.
He noticed Zoro's motorcycle parked in the driveway of a small block in the industrial district – gray walls, red brick, windows reflecting the neon lights of an old factory.
They went up to the first floor, and Sanji sneezed, feeling the chill on his skin.
He was soaked to the bone, the shirt clinging to his body like a second skin.
Zoro pulled out his keys and opened the door.
A hallway barely fit shoes and a simple coat rack attached to the dirty wall.
To the side, a door to the bathroom.
After a few steps, a spacious room opened up, the light dimmed by thick curtains.
To the left, a kitchen with an island – clean, but certainly not because of the owner's tendency to tidy up, but because they were not used often.
On the counter were only three mugs and empty alcohol bottles.
To the right, chaos: a fold-out sofa, worn out, next to a wardrobe and a sideboard with a TV, surrounded by trophies and kendo diplomas – thrown carelessly, as if the owner wasn't entirely proud of them.
Sports stuff tossed around, three kendo swords leaning against a sports bag, dirty clothes in clumps, more empty bottles.

"I wasn't expecting guests", Zoro muttered, picking up a few clothes from the floor.

Sanji didn't have time to blink before Zoro, without wasting time, took off his wet jacket and shirt, throwing them into the laundry pile.
Sanji froze, seeing his bare, powerful back from behind – broad, muscled, with scars like a map of battles.
For the first time, he saw him so exposed in full glory: massive torso, boobs bigger than half the teachers at school, even bigger than Russo's.
And Sanji had an incredible weakness for boobs as big as them.
He felt the blood pulsing in his veins.
He imagined lying on that chest, feeling its warmth, Zoro's heartbeat under his ear.
He wanted to touch them, squeeze them, and...

"Don't just stand there, Curly", Zoro said, running his fingers through his wet hair. "Go to the bathroom, take a shower and change, or you'll get sick."

Sanji nodded, still dazed and headed to the bathroom.
A very small bathroom, he had to admit: shower, cabinet with sink, washing machine - that's practically everything that was here.
He took off his wet clothes and saw his burning cheeks in the mirror.
He laid his underwear on the towel warmer and stepped under the shower.
He turned on the water and hissed loudly - cold as ice.

"Everything okay?", Zoro asked from the hallway.

"Y-yeah, it's just the water", Sanji replied shyly.

"It takes a moment to heat up, it should be warm soon", Zoro added.

Sanji sighed, applying Zoro's shampoo to his hair.
He smelled like Zoro and didn't think it would affect him like that.
He grabbed his crotch, trying to calm the throbbing erection.

"Not now, don't think about it, too much at once...", he muttered to himself, taking a few breaths.

After a moment, he came out, taking a towel from the rack and drying off.
He didn't know what to put on – definitely not the wet shirt.
He noticed a dark green kimono on the hook, probably used as a robe.
He put it on with his slightly dried underwear – it was too big, the sleeves hung loose, but at least the length was right.
He shook his head, still embarrassed by the whole situation.
He came out, feeling silly.
Zoro, drying his hair with a towel, froze at the sight of Sanji in his kimono.
His gaze slid over the slender figure – the hair on his chest contrasting with the light skin, long legs sticking out from under the fabric, and the too-long sleeves adding charm.
Nothing now did he desire more than to touch him. He looked so attractive.

"Sorry, I didn't know what to take". Sanji said quietly, brushing his bangs aside/

"No problem", Zoro replied nonchalantly, though his eyes burned with desire.

He pointed to the sofa and went to the fridge.

"You'll have to forgive me, but I only have beer", he said, pulling out bottles.

"Maybe that's even better", Sanji replied, taking the bottle and turning it in his fingers.

"Maybe that'll make me forget this disaster", he muttered, taking a swig from the neck.

"Meeting me is such a disaster?", Zoro asked, sitting next to him.

"You know that's not what I mean. It was supposed to be perfect, better than last time, and I screwed up. You waited two hours, and I have nothing to offer you. Rather, you had to pull me together", he ran his hand through his hair, grabbing his head, and tucked his legs under him. Zoro looked away, seeing the kimono slip off his shoulders, revealing pale skin. He swallowed, pushing the thoughts away.

"For me, it's pretty good, considering you're at my place for half an hour already and haven't run away yet", he laughed, getting up and hanging the towel on a chair.

"You can't dramatize like that, Mr. Prince", Zoro continued, sitting back down and opening a beer.
"In the end, it's like it was supposed to be. We were supposed to meet, and we met. Even if two hours later", he nodded.

"Well, but it wasn't supposed to be like this. I planned everything. At that hour, we were supposed to..."

"Don't think about what we were supposed to do, but what we're doing now. We're drinking beer and talking. I like it", he said, taking a sip.
Sanji sighed and drank too.

"Maybe you're right."

"Oh, that's new. Vinsmoke admitting I'm right. I'm starting to like this date", Zoro laughed.

"Don't get used to it. I have a moment of weakness.", Sanji rolled his eyes

"As always, Vinsmoke", he snickered softly

"Sanji", he corrected him reflexively, getting embarrassed under his surprised gaze.
"Vinsmoke" and "Roronoa" sound awfully formal. I thought we could use first names when we're not at school", he said, squeezing the bottle.
"I wanted to suggest it today on the walk, but since we're here, then..."

Zoro nodded, smiling slightly.

"We can use first names...Curly", he threw out, teasing, and Sanji shook his head, setting the bottle on the table.

"Your apartment is exactly how I imagined it", Sanji said, looking around.

"And how's that?"

"Simple"

"Because that's how an apartment should be. It's for sleeping", he said, finishing the bottle and opening a new beer.
Sanji sneezed again, and Zoro bent down and handed him a green, blanket-like object.

"Haramaki. It's very warm. I wear it after training", he replied, tossing it to him.

"You don't have to, thanks, but..."

"Put it on" – he said.

Sanji took the belt and turned slightly, slipping the kimono off.
Zoro stared hypnotized at his back until he realized it wasn't appropriate.
Sanji put on the haramaki, the fabric clinging to his skin making him feel warm.
They sat in silence, sipping beer, the rain drumming on the windows.
Sanji looked at his hands wrapped in the kimono sleeves.
He didn't know what to say.

"Thanks" he said suddenly.

"For what?"

"For not being mad and not freaking out."

"Panic is your domain, not mine."

"I'm probably trying way too hard to keep it fun", he replied, grabbing his head.

"And you don't like it so far?"

"Yeah... I like it. I just hoped... to make it memorable on my own terms, and I guess I put too much pressure on myself. I've done that since I was a kid. Old Zeff used to tell me if I get stubborn, I'd find that whole made-up All Blue from the book – he laughed under his breath.

Zoro smiled and suddenly lifted Sanji's bangs with one finger and tucked it behind his ear, revealing both eyes.

"You know, when you first talked about All Blue, I didn't think you were referring to a children's book", Zoro started, looking into his eyes.
"I thought you were selfishly referring to your eyes", he said.
"They're blue like the ocean."

Sanji was stunned. His cheeks flushed, his heart pounding like a hammer.
Zoro—that gorilla-like swordsman without a shred of romanticism—had just said the most romantic thing Sanji had ever heard in his entire life, and he stared at him like a fool, completely unaware of it.

He grabbed him by the shoulders, his eyes blazing with excitement and desire.

"If you don't kiss me now, I swear I'll kick your ass", he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

Zoro didn't need to be told twice.
He slid his hand into Sanji's blond hair and pulled him to himself.
The kiss deepened immediately, tongues battling for dominance.
They gave themselves over more and more, as if trying to outdo the partner for themselves.
He tasted the alcohol and realized that it definitely helped him feel a little more confident.
The blood boiled in Sanji's veins, just like in the first kiss.
"I want him more, deeper, harder.", he repeated to himself in his head
Zoro wrapped his arm around his waist, wanting to lay him on the bed, but Sanji squeezed his shoulders tighter and straddled him, looking into his eyes.

"I told you I won't let you win that easily", he whispered, lifting the corner of his mouth.
Zoro, surprised, wrapped his arm around his waist.
"Do you like what you see, swordsman?", he provoked, gently sliding the kimono off Zoro's shoulders, revealing his chest.

"You have no idea how much", he said quietly, kissing the chest in front of him.
Sanji threw his arms around his neck and leaned in again, plunging into his mouth.
They kissed passionately; Zoro's rough hands stroked his hips through the kimono, every touch making Sanji tremble with pleasure.
Without breaking the kiss, Sanji pushed him lightly onto the bed so that Zoro lay on it and Sanji leaned over him, dominating.
Zoro slid his hand under Sanji's boxers, stroking his buttock.
Sanji suddenly opened his eyes wide, pulling away.
"Too fast. It's going too fast. I can't have sex today. Not after this disaster. I don't want to remember our first time as a consequence of my failure.", he thought
He felt all his confidence drain away.

– I... it's not that I don't want to...", he began to stutter when he saw his surprised expression. "But... today..."
Zoro noticed the embarrassment and raised his hand.

"Relax, Curly. I just want to touch you. No pressure", he said gently, pulling him closer.
He gently kissed his neck; Sanji shuddered, feeling the lips on his skin.
Zoro rolled him onto the bed, towering over him with a mischievous smile.
He started kissing his cheek, neck, shoulders; gently stroking his thigh.
Sanji couldn't deny how pleasant it was.
He gave himself over to the kisses, the tension ebbing away.
But in the back of his mind, he kept thinking: "The longer it goes, the weaker you'll be."

"I have to go take care of something tomorrow. I have the Saturday class in the afternoon", he said quietly, returning to his senses. "The students need to prepare for the test..."
Zoro paused kissing his chest and raised an eyebrow

"Can you not talk about students when I'm kissing you?", he muttered, returning to teasing his nipples.

"I don't have clothes here, you have training, and...!", he protested, even though a light moan escaped his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows. – "We can't..."

"It wasn't you who wanted me to kiss you?", Zoro interrupted, leaning over him. "What's your deal?"

"I do!", Sanji replied, blushing. " Just... I want to go all the way with you, but... not today. I can't today."

Zoro sighed, sitting up and sitting next to him. The whole mood collapsed.

"I know, Curly. I got it the first time", he sighed.

"I... I'm not ready today and... not after I screwed up..."

"I know, I know. Relax Curly", he waved his hand.
"You have to understand me. You have no idea how hard it is for me to hold back when you're lying on my bed in my kimono. That sight doesn't help me leave you alone."

Sanji blushed, looking down.

"Don't be so dramatic..." Sanji said quietly, not believing that he could like his body so much.

"What?"

"Don't be so dramatic..., I'm not that..."

"Dramatic?!", Zoro grabbed his hand, irritated, and placed it on his crotch. Sanji froze, feeling the hard, throbbing erection.

"It's... huge?! What's that?!", he shouted in his head, turning red all over.

"It's been like this for a week. Every time I think about you. You think I'm dramatic? You're sexy. I want to kiss you. I want to have sex with you. Where does "dramatic" come from?"

Sanji swallowed, looking at him surprised. Zoro gently moved his hand away and sighed.

"But I don't want you to hate me. I won't force you into anything", he smiled warmly.
"Come on, I'll give you some shirt and drive you. Maybe it will stop raining soon.", Zoro said, trying to get up.

Sanji shook his head, grabbing his hand and laying it next to him on the bed. They lay on their sides facing each other.

"What's your deal Cook? You change your mind like a lady. First you say you have to go, and now you lay me on the bed? What do you really want?", Zoro said loudly, surprised.

"Shut up!", Sanji replied, frustrated.
"Of course I want you too! I can't just leave you like that. Or myself. Don't think you're the only one thinking about these things."

He bit his lip and gently unwrapped kimono.
Slipping off his underwear, he felt his heart pounding.
Zoro looked – his eyes widened at the sight of the trimmed pubic hair contrasting above Sanji's cock, hard and twitching with arousal.

"Don't stare like that...", Sanji lifting his gaze and feeling a mix of shame and desire.

"Don't be surprised. I told you, I can't just leave you or myself like that", he said and slid his hand under Zoro's pants, pulling them down.
Zoro let him, trembling all over. He had fantasized about that touch, but reality was better. Sanji's fingers barely touched him, and all he could think about was not coming too fast.
Sanji, red-faced, grabbed both cocks in his hand, joining them.
He pressed his forehead to Zoro's, rubbing against him.
Slowly up and down, stroking the heads of their cocks, which had already released precum. He slowly squeezed and loosened his grip.
He looked up – Zoro's face flushed, eyes half-closed, breath heavy.
Sanji slowly sped up the movements, barely able to grip them both in one hand.
He felt how hard and warm Zoro was.

"Fuck", Zoro whispered. "You know if you keep doing that, I won't last long."

"Don't hold back", Sanji replied, his voice trembling. "It's not like I'm not close myself", he leaned slightly to his ear.

“Imagine me taking you in my mouth, swallowing you whole”, he whispered, and Zoro lifted his head, staring at him surprised.

"You'll kill me someday Cook ", he whispered and plunged into his mouth.

He teased his palate with his tongue, not letting him catch his breath.
He wrapped his hand around Sanji's hand with the cocks, speeding up his movements. He didn't know what was affecting him more right now. Zoro's dirty kisses or his big cock throbbing under his fingers.
Sanji trembled, feeling the warm hand and approaching orgasm.

"I'm about to...", Sanji moaned into his mouth, to which Zoro nodded, not stopping, kissing him passionately.

Finally, they came one after the other, moaning into each other's mouths – the cum spilled onto the bed, hot and sticky.
They moved away they heads from each other, and a trail of saliva connected them.
They looked at each other and kissed gently, prolonging the pleasure.
Zoro suddenly tasted metal like fluid in his mouth. Blood from Sanji's nose. Sanji immediately grabbed his nose embarrassed.

"I... sorry... it happens sometimes when I'm too excited", Sanji muttered, wiping himself with a tissue that Zoro handed him.

"Don't worry about it, curly. It's actually kinda hot" – Zoro said, smiling.
Sanji was confused because people usually panic when this happens. They don't consider it “hot.”
He looked at the mess they made.

"Sleep with me" – Zoro said suddenly, looking at him.

"W-what? I told you..."

"No, not like that. With me – here in bed. I'll drive you in the morning, I swear" he said with determinedly.

Sanji looked at him surprised, but seeing how the weather outside was only getting worse, he nodded.

"Alright. It's very late anyway."

Zoro tidied them up.
Sanji wrapped himself in the kimono again and slipped under the blanket on the sofa.
Zoro lay next to him, set the alarm.
They lay on their backs.
It was incredible that just a moment ago they had been jerking each other off, and now Sanji felt incredible nervousness.
As if spending the night together under one blanket was the turning point.
Zoro suddenly grabbed Sanji's hand under the blanket and squeezed it tightly, turning toward him.
Sanji smiled slightly and, moving closer, kissed him tenderly, smiling.

"Go to sleep, we'll talk in the morning.", Zoro said quietly.

"Goodnight, Zoro", Sanji whispered, smiling. Zoro froze at the sound of his name. He didn't think hearing it from Sanji's mouth would affect him like that.

"Goodnight", he whispered.

Sanji turned over, and Zoro covered him with the blanket.
Their first night together – exhausted from emotions, orgasm, and alcohol buzzing in his blood, he fell asleep quickly.

In the morning, he woke up snuggled into Zoro's chest – warm, soft, beating with heart.
He snuggled into it, squeezing lightly his big boobs.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide, realizing what he was doing.
He quickly sat up straight and grabbed his nose to avoid a nosebleed.
Sanji pulled the blanket tighter to cover himself but exposed Zoro's crotch.
He squeaked in surprise, falling onto the pillow.
Zoro woke up from the unexpected sound and hit his head on the headboard.

"Fuck... what are you doing, Cook?", he muttered, rubbing the spot.

"N-nothing – he replied, taking a deep breath. "You have to give me something to wear", he said, covering himself with the blanket.

Zoro walked naked to the wardrobe and Sanji closed his eyes.

"Put something on!"

"What's the difference, you've already seen me naked."

"No! I didn't look. I mean, I looked a little, but that doesn't mean you have to parade around like that right away!", he covered his eyes.

"What's your deal, huh?"

"I don't want to see you naked now", he said. He didn't pursue the topic, but he wanted to see Zoro naked during their first time, not half-measures like mutual masturbation. His romantic soul was causing problems here.

"I don't get you, Cook. One moment you're a beast in bed, you can't stand..."

"I can't stand your dirty ass, get yourself together!"

"Alright, alright. Jeez...", he said, throwing on clothes.
He handed him a t-shirt and Sanji's pants – the only things that had dried.
Sanji dressed quickly, getting up. The shirt was too big, but in the pants, he looked decent. Zoro smiled at the sight.
He drove him to his door as promised.
Sanji wanted to go straight to the door so no one would notice, but after two steps, he turned back, approached, and kissed him gently,

– Thanks. For everything – he said and quickly walked away.

Zoro chuckled under his breath.
"Not good, I'm starting to like him more and more" – he thought, starting the motorcycle back home.

Chapter Text

On Monday school hallway pulsed with life, as it always did at this hour—students' laughter with the hurried footsteps of teachers, and the sound of irritating, broken bell, which the janitor was desperately trying to fix, slapping it on the side like its is some stubborn mule.
Sanji leaned against the wall, fulfilling his patrol duty, and winced every time the bell let out another false, metallic screech.
He sighed deeply, massaging his temples with his fingers, as if that could straighten out all the thoughts that had been with him since the weekend.
He'd spent the entire weekend ruminating on every aspect of his life again. Tt was his curse
That strange feeling of uncertainty lurking at the back of his mind wouldn't let him function normally.
Once more, he'd shifted from the stage of "I know which way I'm going in life" to "I have more and more questions, and no answers."
On the one hand, he still cringed at the memory of Friday's tragic date, which was his fault... well, it was a disaster, let's be honest.
But on the other hand?
It had been the most exhilarating night of his life.
That mutual masturbation had been so hot, so raw and real, and then that shared night, where he could cuddle up to him, feeling the warmth of his body under the blanket.
It wouldn't leave his head.
It had been ages since he'd been so aroused.
Ages since he'd wanted to go to bed with someone so badly.
However, what really bothered him was that he was experiencing this closeness so intensely, while Zoro, after all that, was acting quite... normal.
They still exchanged friendly texts, and Sanji, not wanting Zoro to think he was pushing him away, replied with enthusiasm.
Because he genuinely enjoyed them.
He liked writing them and he liked that light flutter in his stomach with every notification.
But they were still firmly in the friend zone, like coworkers.
Not like two people who had kissed passionately while coming together in the dim light of the bedroom.

"Why does it have to be so complicated?", Sanji thought.

Was this how it was supposed to work now? Were they just coworkers who occasionally slept together? He didn't want that.
But what did he really expect? Stability? A romance with Zoro? Could their relationship even be called a romance yet?
When you transition from friends to couple? Does he even want to be in a relationship?

From around the corner emerged none other than the source of all his worries—Zoro.
His green hair was tousled, as if he had just gotten out of bed.
He yawned deeply and walked over lazily.
He was holding a folded shirt in his hand.
"My shirt!?", Sanji thinks and froze in place, his heart leaping to his throat.

"Hey," Zoro mumbled in a low, throaty voice.
He handed him the shirt as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"I washed your shirt. You probably want it back."

Sanji stared at him with wide eyes, glancing down the hallway full of students.
Without a word, he grabbed Zoro by the arm and pulled him into the nearest empty classroom.
It was his French clasroom—empty, with rows of arranged desks, a blackboard dusted with chalk residue, and maps of France on the walls.
The door slammed shut behind them with a dull thud, cutting off the noise of the hallway like a curtain.

"Have you lost your mind!? What the hell are you doing?!" he hissed, leaning his back against the door.
"If someone sees us... We're at school, for God's sake!"

Zoro shrugged, leaning casually against the teacher's desk.
His attitude was the same as always—relaxed, as if he didn't care about the consequences.

"I didn't think about it," he admitted indifferently, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, I figured you didn't. You don't think too much in general.", Sanji muttered to himself, clenching his teeth.

"It's just a shirt."

"Just a shirt?!" Sanji raised his voice but quickly muffled it, glancing at the door.
"It implies you got it from somewhere! Think, you idiot!"

"I could have gotten it in a million ways; it doesn't have to mean that that we slept together..."

Sanji took two steps toward him and clamped his hand over Zoro's mouth.

"Shh, idiot! Don't say things like that out loud! Besides, we didn't sleep together. I mean, we did, but... you know what I mean," he whispered through gritted teeth.

His hand trembled slightly from the warmth of Zoro's skin.
Zoro smiled under his hand, then wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer.
Their bodies pressed together—the hard muscles under Zoro's shirt touched Sanji's chest.
Sanji swallowed, pulling back slightly—though he didn't want to at all.
Those strong hands of Zoro worked on him like a drug, melting his resistance layer by layer.
He couldn't give up now.

"Stop it", he said, shaking his head, his voice weaker than intended.

"No one's watching us anyway."

"It's not even about that anymore. This is all moving too fast," he murmured, avoiding those dark eyes of Zoro's, which always seemed to see too much.
"Considering this night together... We should set some boundaries. And definitely not do stuff like this at school. I need to know... you know..."

"You need to decide what you want," Zoro said, a hint of challenge in his voice.
"First you say it's too fast, and then you put me on the bed and put your hand down my pants and..."

"Shut up!" Sanji growled, but his voice trembled, betraying his weakness.
Anger mixed with desire, his heart pounding like a war drum.

"That was... that was in the heat of the moment. Do you always have to complicate everything? You act like I'm the problem. I'm trying to figure this out!
I want to know what the rules are here. You can't just brush it off every time. We need to talk normally. I want to know...", Sanji said determinedly.

"Do there have to be rules everywhere? Get that stick out of your butt", Zoro leaning in closer.

"I... I want to talk and..." Sanji wanted so badly to touch him in that one moment, to feel that muscles under his fingers, and... he couldn't hold back.

Without thinking, he grabbed Zoro by the shirt and crushed their lips together in a kiss—passionate, desperate, as if he wanted to swallow him whole.
He wanted all of him, right here and now.
Zoro returned the kiss with equal force, his hands immediately sliding to Sanji's hips, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants, slipping lower to his ass.
He squeezed hard, pulling him closer until their bodies pressed mercilessly together.

"Fuck...his hands... I'm going to lose my mind. I want more.", Sanji thought, sighing into Zoro's mouth, feeling himself harden from the touch.

He lifted one leg, wrapping it around Zoro's hip, and Zoro held him up a little, lifting him as if he weighed nothing, like a feather.
Their bodies clung together in the empty classroom, where the echo of their breaths bounced off the walls.
Zoro pulled away for a moment to catch his breath, trailing wet, hot kisses down Sanji's neck—from his ear downward, nipping gently at the skin.

"Is this your idea of hiding?" he teased. "If so, I could get used to it."

"Shut up," Sanji gasped, threading his fingers through Zoro's green hair, pulling him closer. "And don't stop..."

They kissed again, this time slower, deeper.
Tongues entwined in a lazy dance, hands roamed over bodies, exploring every inch, and the tension only built.
Suddenly, the bell rang—sharp, insistent, calling to class.
They broke apart, panting heavily, they eyes gleaming with desire.
They stared at each other in silence.
Zoro smiled, propping his chin up with two fingers as if admiring his trophy. Sanji gently pushed his hand away and smoothed his hair.

"Come at the long break too," Sanji said suddenly, his voice trembling as he straightened his tie with his fingers.

"As you wish, Mr. Prince," Zoro replied with a grin, leaving the room.

Sanji collapsed into the chair, pressing his forehead to the desk.

"What am I doing? I can't resist him. This will destroy me. I can't live like this. Why does he attract me so much? One look from him and I want more and more? This will kill me. It's worse than drugs.", such thoughts were on his mind.

His class entered a moment later, while he was retying his tie, pretending nothing had happened. Yeah, right—just pretending.

In midweek, Career Week was announced—the annual school event meant to encourage students to think about which direction to take in life.
Representatives from local companies, lectures on professions with interesting guests, talent scouting among students—it was all supposed to be inspiring, but to Sanji, it sounded like just another unnecessary chore.
Plus sports competitions: basketball, volleyball and many more.
Even Zoro had been persuaded into a kendo demonstration, which sparked a wave of excitement among the students, especially those who saw him as an idol—a tough, unbreakable swordsman.
As his class's homeroom teacher, Sanji announced all the sign-ups and details that evening at the parents' meeting.
He sat at the desk, surrounded by chairs full of parents, the air cut through by constant new questions—about schedules, benefits, how it would affect grades.
After the meeting, he received huge thanks for talking to Mr. Roronoa—especially from Evans's mother, who didn't hide her joy, squeezing his hand.

"How did you do it?" she asked, her eyes shining. "We tried so many times, and he...well...but now my Eric finally likes PE. Of course, Mr. Roronoa is still strict but now my little boy doesn't stress out before every lesson anymore. Thank you Mr. Vinsmoke!"

"Ah... it just took a talk," he replied with a forced smile.

"Yeah, a talk. And then fooling around with the PE teacher in empty classrooms. That must be what works. Maybe you should try it, Mrs. Evans?", he mocked himself in his thoughts, feeling heat on his neck.

After the meetings, Sanji left the room exhausted and pissed off—it was very late, the hallways are empty, only the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the walls.
He was done with Career Week, and it hadn't even started.
He searched his bag, trying to light a cigarette he'd slipped between his lips, just to breathe for a moment from the pressure—from parents, students, and other teachers expectations.
Some of his belongings spilled out into the parking lot—keys, pens, some notes—and he cursed under his breath, kneeling down and quickly gathering them up.

"You're fine?" Zoro mumbled, emerging from the shadows.

Sanji looked up, still on his knees.

"As you can see," he grumbled sarcastically, digging in his pocket for a lighter. "This damn Career Week hasn't even started, and I'm already over it. Everyone expects something from me. French Week? Career counseling? Joining the sports events? Greeting guests? As if I don't have enough on my plate."

He finally stood, finding the lighter.
He tried to light the cigarette, but the flame went out every time.

"Fuck!" he swore loudly, frustration boiling in his voice like hot oil.

Zoro listened with mild amusement, but seeing the real irritation in Sanji's eyes, he stepped closer.
He grabbed him by the cheeks—gently, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"Nervous Cook," he murmured, taking the lighter from his hand.

He lit the cigarette with one precise flick, then leaned in closer, blowing lightly on the ember.
He smiled flirtatiously, his thumb brushing Sanji's lip.
Sanji froze, inhaling the smoke deeply like a spell.
Hypnotized, he stared at his smile.

"Thanks," Sanji mumbled, looking away.

Zoro released his cheeks and said casually:

"Want a ride?"

"No... I want to walk," Sanji said, exhaling the smoke slowly from his lips, as if it could cool his thoughts, disperse the heat in his chest. "I'll cool off and... you know..."

"Someone might see us. I know, I know," Zoro muttered.

He smiled at him once more and got on his motorcycle, roaring off into the night, the engine's rumble echoing in the empty parking lot, leaving Sanji behind. Sanji sighed and clutched his head.

"Why can’t I handle him like I used to? It would be so simple. But when I look into his eyes, I freeze. I stop thinking about talking and just want to hold him.", he whispered to himself.

That evening, Sanji lay on the couch with his phone in hand.
Today was that one moment in the month when Zeff called him—the old sea dog who'd raised him like a son.
Zeff's voice in the receiver was gruff, as always.
Their talks usually stayed short—mostly checking if they were both still alive.
But today, Zeff brought up a topic that felt like a thorn in Sanji's heart.

"I didn't let you leave the Baratie, so you could rot in that hole," Zeff growled. "Wasn't it you who wanted to see the world and open your own restaurant? Why are you still standing still, Eggplant? You're wasting away."

Sanji sighed, massaging his temples, feeling the weight of those words like an anchor.
"If Career Week and Zoro don't finish me off, that old bastard will.", he thinks.
Always the same. Pressure, expectations... As if he still controlled him.

"I'm not standing still. I'm always moving forward, but I have responsibilities; I can't just drop everything and..." he started, but his voice broke. Responsibilities? It sounded like an excuse, like a chain he'd forged himself.

"Responsibilities? What responsibilities? Grading papers? Eggplant, you suppose be a chef, not a babysitter. When are you coming back to the kitchen? That's what interests me," Zeff interrupted, and Sanji felt like he was harpooning him—sharp, unrelenting. "This school job was supposed to be temporary. You were going to open a restaurant, not teach brats fancy French words. What about those plans? That's your responsibility"

"Back off. School gives stability. I can't open a restaurant on the sidewalk. I haven't stopped cooking. And the restaurant... soon. As if you cared," Sanji replied.

"Stability? Bah!" Zeff snorted, and Sanji could almost see him shaking his head, his mustache twitching with irritation, eyes gleaming like a storm. "You're a chef, not a teacher. Get to work, because as usual, you're lost in the clouds. Life doesn't wait."

They argued for a good ten minutes—a standard exchange full of barbs.
Finally, Zeff fell silent, then asked quietly, as if it cost him a lot:

"You've been more stressed lately than usual."

"You're imagining it," Sanji heart skipping, his hand clenching the phone.

"Something eating you?"

"No... just a lot... a lot of stuff I have to think about," he mumbled, avoiding the truth, staring at the ceiling.

"Sounds more like personal life," Zeff muttered. "You wouldn't fret this much about students. Someone biting your ass, huh?"

Sanji stiffened even more, thinking of Zoro. Is this the right moment to mention him, when I don't even know where we stand? Definitely not just friends, but...

"No," he lied quickly. "Nothing like that. Get off my back."

They hung up a moment later, and Sanji felt that if he couldn't even admit to himself what connected him to Zoro, how could he tell Zeff?
And even if he did admit something connected them, how could he define it now? They weren't... you know... a couple, right?
He flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
This was all supposed to be temporary.
And now, besides worries about unrealized travel plans and the still-unopened restaurant, he had whatever this was with Zoro on his mind. If he started dating Zoro, would he truly understand my dreams — and the fact that they’ll always come first in his life? Would he accept that? Does he even see himself with Zoro a few years from now? They don’t have to get married right away, but… it’s nice to know that the relationship you’re starting has some kind of future. He’d had relationships that were nothing more than adventures or casual dates. What he really wanted was to have his ideal by his side — something real, something steady. He wanted... to be loved.
He closed his eyes, trying to chase away the echo of Zeff's voice still nagging in his head.

"Damn it, the old man's right. I hate when he's right."

The lamp cast a dim glow, and the curtains stirred slightly in the breeze from the open window.
He started thinking about Zoro.
About his rough hands, which on Friday evening—ah, that Friday—had roamed his skin. He started thinking about how much he couldn’t resist him.
Sanji felt his body react just to the memory of that night.
He slid his hand over his stomach, under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his own skin.
His heart raced.
"Don't think about it," he whispered to himself in his mind, but his body didn't listen—it remembered.
His fingers trailed lower, to his belt.
He unbuttoned it slowly, hesitantly, as if giving himself one last chance to back out.
Since Friday, his body remembered every touch: their cocks pressed together, Zoro's breath on his neck, his reactions to every word.
And now, after makeout sessions in empty classrooms, he was even hungrier.
Now, alone in the dark, slipping his hand into his pants, he wrapped his fingers around his cock, already hard and throbbing under his touch, as if it had been waiting for this.
He imagined it wasn't his hand—that it was Zoro, those fingers that smelled of sweat and iron from the weights.
Slowly, he stroked upward, from base to tip, his thumb brushing the slick head where the first bead of precum gathered, slippery and warm.

"You like that, Curly?" he thought, mimicking Zoro's voice in his mind: that low, throaty tone that made his knees weak and the world spin.

His body responded instantly: his hips lifted slightly off the mattress.
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, sinking into the pleasure, into the illusion.
Now, on the bed, he quickened the pace.
His hand moved faster, sliding along the length.

"Z-Zoro," he moaned into the empty room.

His body tensed like a bow: the skin on his thighs stung from rubbing against his still-on pants, but it only added spice—the feeling of imperfection, as if he were really with Zoro in some rushed, forbidden encounter.
Where they'd have to hurry so no one caught them.
He thought about how Zoro had nipped his neck in that empty classroom this morning, how his hips had pressed against his.
How he'd actually come to him during the long break and, seeing they were alone, walked over, wrapped an arm around his waist, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow.
The wetness on his fingers grew more abundant, his breath louder, interrupted by moans he tried to stifle by biting his lip.
He imagined Zoro over him now: those green hair, eyes dark with lust, earrings glinting in the lamplight, hands on his hips digging in so hard they'd leave bruises.

"Take me, Zoro, fuck me please," he thought, and his hand moving in a rhythm, thumb circling the head.

With his other hand, he trailed over his chest, slipping it under his shirt.

He began to lightly pinch his nipples, thinking: "Bite me here, Zoro, I like it like that."

His body trembled, abs tightening, and he felt it coming—the wave of pleasure starting in his gut and spreading through him.
Cum spurted onto his hand, his stomach, hot and sticky, and he arched in a bow, panting heavily, as if he'd just run a marathon.

He clutched his head, threading his hand through his hair, pulling painfully to snap back to reality.
Only after a long moment did realization hit: What the hell am I doing? Why am I suddenly jerking off thinking about him? Why do I tell myself one minute that I need to figure out what we are first, only to dream the next about him fucking me in an empty classroom?
He was afraid that if this went further, he'd lose control—over himself, his job, his dreams of the restaurant. But at the same time... damn it, he wanted more.
He stood slowly, wiping himself with a tissue, and walked to the window.
Next week was Career Week.
Which meant more time with Zoro than usual—more stolen glances in the crowd, more accidental touches under the pretense of helping, more moments when boundaries blurred.

"How do you fight desire and keep your sanity?" he thought, pressing his forehead to the glass, feeling the cool pane against his flushed skin.
The answer was simple: you couldn't.
Career Week had to be the moment when he'd find out if he could actually say they were dating Zoro.

Chapter Text

Monday morning at school promised to be a dream adventure for the students.
Classes were shortened or canceled to focus on Career Week and kids mostly attended to lectures with interesting guests, carried out spectacular experiments and played sports.
They were truly fired up about it and the hallways filled with excited conversations and laughter, as if the entire school had transformed into a giant playground.
But for Sanji, it was pure nightmare - school turned into a circus.
Guests, lectures, and activities - he had to pretend it wasn't torture and that he wasn't exhausted, constantly smile at everyone.
He was incredibly tired and irritated.
On Friday, at the last teachers meeting, he even agreed to help with the sports competitions so the principal would finally leave him alone.
He realized he was so exhausted that he was nodding like an idiot to everything they dumped on him, only dreaming of the weekend with a bottle of wine and maybe a good movie.
And before he knew it, he was overseeing almost every aspect of the week's event.
Now he listened as one of the guests cheerfully chattered in his ear, and although it was highly rude, he couldn't help but feel irritated.

"This guy is already getting on my nerves. As if it wasn't enough that one person in this school does that..." he thought, and the thought cut off at Zoro.

He hadn't even had time to talk to him.
And honestly, he was a bit afraid to meet him, because with so many people around the school, someone might actually catch them.
He knew it would be hard for him to hold back, even from touching him.
And all he wanted was just to clear up a few things with him.
He showed his guest the room where the lecture was to take place, nodded, and headed in the opposite direction

"Mr. Vinsmoke! Over here!" Mrs. Russo suddenly called from around the corner, waving her hand energetically.

Sanji exhaled heavily, realizing her arrival signaled another duty but he faced her with a big smile like always.
She stood by the hallway, and next to her... o my...a goddess!
A dark-haired beauty with porcelain-pale skin, long straight hair cascading over her shoulders.
Her big eyes gazed at Sanji from under long lashes, and her smile lit up his day like someone had just turned on all the lights in the world.
Dressed in a simple but elegant and fitted purple dress, she looked like someone who had just stepped off the red carpet—surrounded by an aura of mystery, as if she could read you like an open book.
And her body...oh..he could write poems about those stunning long legs and curvy shapes.
Sanji felt his heart skip, this was the kind of woman he'd dreamed of for years! The ideal.
He skipped along gracefully, spinning as though he were on a ballet stage instead of a school hallway covered with leftover gum.
He bowed slightly, taking Mrs. Russo's hands in his with a sparkle in his eye.

"Mrs. Russo, how wonderful to see you!" he said melodiously, lifting her hand to his lips in a light kiss.
"You bloom today like a little flower. And who is your beautiful companion? Could it be a goddess who has graced our modest hallways to bless us, the lowly mortals?"

Mrs. Russo chuckled softly, gently withdrawing her hand from his grasp.

"Mr. Vinsmoke, our French teacher. He always praises people in that way.," she said to the woman on her right, laughing. She nodded toward her companion.

"This is one of our next guests. Nico Robin. My cousin. She's a stewardess with a very tight schedule but she found some time and agreed to tell the kids a bit about her job.
Just imagine: flights over oceans, new countries, meetings with VIPs... Perfect for Career Week! The kids will be so happy!"

Sanji turned to Robin, leaning in with the grace of an aristocrat.
He took her hand—slender, with nails painted in pearl pink—and gently brushed his lips over the back of it, never breaking eye contact with her eyes.

"Vinsmoke Sanji at your service, Miss Robin, if I may address you so," he whispered, his voice was low and warm, to which she nodded.
"A name as beautiful as a morning bird. If you need an escort through these boring hallways, I'm ready to serve. My full attention is yours alone."

Robin laughed, a little surprised.
As if she simply appreciated his effort and graciously allowed him to hold her hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Vinsmoke," she replied calmly, with a slight exotic accent.

Sanji straightened with grace, offering her his arm, which she lightly took.

"Take good care of her," said Russo. "I still need to pick up a few guests from the station, so I'll leave her in your hands."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Russo," he assured her with a smile.
"I'll look after your cousin as if she were my own family. Or even closer, if she'll allow it."

Russo headed down the hallway, leaving them alone. Sanji smiled broadly at Robin, leading her further.

"I'll take you to the staff room. We have a little treat for guests there, which I personally handled.
Lemon cake, light as a cloud, and a tea composition I arranged myself will be perfect for you," he added with pride.

"Thank you, I wasn't expecting such a welcome," Robin replied, letting him lead her. Sanji felt a shiver under his skin, he adored women like this - mysterious beauty.

The staff room was a small haven for teachers and guests during this crazy week.
Even though there were a lot of people in it, the atmosphere provided a brief moment of relief.
On one side, a huge table with a snow-white tablecloth where flavorful masterpieces from Mr. Vinsmoke was arranged—croissants, mini fruit tarts, those little wonders with vanilla cream and big lemon cake he was most proud of.
On the other side, a few guests sat: a car mechanic in overalls sipping coffee, an accountant with a folder full of spreadsheets trying to make her job sound interesting, and a few others exchanging anecdotes over their plates.
Sanji led Robin to a chair by the window with a small side table, gesturing for her to take a sit.
He pulled up a chair opposite, to had a perfect view of her face.

"Please, have a seat," he said, then with a dancing step approached the tray, pouring tea into a delicate cup with a pink pattern. His favorite.

Steam rose , carrying the scent of berries that filled the air.
Then, with a knife in hand, he began slicing the cake, arranging it on a small plate with a lemon slice beside it, dusted with powdered sugar.

"For you, with my best wishes. Bon appétit, mademoiselle," he added with a slight bow., placing the plate before her.

Robin took a sip of tea, and her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

"Delicious. Really, Mr. Vinsmoke," she said.

Sanji sat opposite, resting his chin on his hand, and flirted shamelessly about her eyes that resembled lagoons, her smile that brightened his day, and her figure like a goddess.
He was enchanted by her beauty, he couldn't help but want her full attention and adoration.
Robin, being quiet, simply accepted the compliments, nodding gently as if she wasn't deeply moved but appreciated the sincerity.
He took her hand, wanting to feel her skin for a moment, but then he noticed it: the ring on her ring finger, simple silver with engraved initials.
His heart clenched—always the same. Ideals always out of reach.

"So..." he began cautiously, nodding toward the ring, trying to keep his voice light.
"Who is the lucky man who won the heart of such a lady? He must be quite remarkable to be worthy of someone like you."

Robin looked at the ring with tenderness, twisting it on her finger as if it were a talisman.

"Franky, my husband. He's a pilot, so we work together. Unfortunately, he couldn't be here with me today," she sighed.
"We both got pulled into these jobs because we love to travel, discover new countries and their cultures. And that way, we can always be together. He's su-per," she laughed under her breath, as if it were their private joke.
"Oh, that's not what you wanted to hear," she said, covering her mouth and setting down the cup.

"Please, continue. I love listening to your voice," Sanji assured her, leaning in closer.
"I even... please, tell me more about it. So you're a flight attendant and your husband is a pilot. The perfect match. So what is it like working with him? I'll be like a student at your lecture in an hour now, I'm promise."

"It's hard for me to talk about my job with passion when I've had less of it lately. Between us, I'd much rather be an archaeologist.
I've always been interested in it—ancient languages, forgotten by everyone yet still alive in our culture.
I'm finishing my studies in the subject, though it's not easy.
But my husband says I'll definitely make it so it worked. He swears that sometimes I get so fired up about it that I look like I have more hands than I actually do.", she laughed.

"So you won't work with your husband anymore?" Sanji asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Oh, not entirely," she replied with a smile.
"My husband is passionate about all sorts of things too. We share dreams from childhood, common goals.
Being a pilot isn't his only occupation. He's crazy about machines in general. He often builds them himself. Imagine: in the garage, he builds engine prototypes, then flies them over the lake.
He's like a mad inventor from a children's book. He says he'll go anywhere with me because he can build anywhere."

Sanji swallowed, suddenly feeling... jealousy? Not just because Franky had taken this goddess from him. But because their relationship sounded so good—full of passion, shared dreams, without the constant friction. No fighting. No unspoken words. Ready to sacrifice a lot for the happiness of another person.
Just like he always wanted to have. Has he started to give it up?

"Franky sounds like he loves you very much," Sanji said quietly.

"That's for sure. He shows it to me every day," Robin confirmed, her eyes softening at the memory.

"Really? A crazy inventor?" Sanji marveled, shaking his head.

Robin set down her cup, her smile becoming soft, full of warmth.

"It may sound that way, but he's gallant. Flowers, whispering arranged terrible poems at the least expected moments with big smile on his face.
He likes dancing very much and he often tries to do it with me.
He builds me new things around the house so I feel more comfortable.
Once, after an emergency landing in the middle of the night—instead of sleeping, when we were supposed to—he built me a hammock out of old scraps so I could comfortably rest.
That's when I knew I wanted to be with him until the end of the world.
For our anniversary, he took me to ancient Greek ruins, where he made me a picnic himself, only to release drones at the end that spelled 'Love' in the sky.", she laughed softly, with a playful glint.
"It's those things that make me love him. And he says those words to me a dozen times a day, in different languages he learns at night."

Sanji sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair, feeling Robin's words pierce him like a pin.
He wanted just that kind of love with his goddess.
Warm, romantic, where they could spoil each other.
He hadn't expected that in this one moment, he'd realize that being with Zoro would probably mean giving up all those romantic things... that he dreamed of so much.
Those flowers, poems, gestures that make you feel like the center of the universe.
And now the sexual tension is taking all of that away from him.
He'd had a relationship like that once before. Only sex, nothing more.
He didn't want it again. He want what Robin has.
Robin noticed his expression immediately, her gaze became concerned, like an mother.

"And how about you, Mr. Vinsmoke?" she asked softly, tilting her head, her eyes piercing right through Sanji.
"You look like you have something on your heart."

Sanji sighed, fiddling with the napkin, rolling it into a tube as if that could contain the chaos in his head.
He didn't know if he should tell this to someone he'd just met, but Robin's smile calmed him.
And she didn't work at the school anyway, so he doubted she'd tell anyone.
Maybe this was a chance to tell someone those thoughts before they ate him from the inside.

"I... I'm seeing someone. Sort of. I think. I'm not entirely convinced yet,", he admitted, looking out the window.

"You're not... convinced?" Robin repeated, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"I know how that sounds," he muttered, unfolding the napkin and folding it again.
"We’ve just been on two dates. We don't talk much and we haven't defined ourselves as... a couple. I still..."

"You have doubts?" she asked, as if reading his mind.
He nodded, feeling relief that someone had named it.

"I'm not sure if we fit together," he confessed quietly. "He's... different. Completely different from me in so many ways. I have the soul of a romantic and he of an athlete.
We actually have some common interests, but we still look at them from a different perspective. I don't know if he really likes me, it's hard to talk to him. He doesn't talk much.
Sometimes I think we need different things, and on the other hand..."

Robin smiled confidently, her eyes full of understanding.

"I get it. It must not be easy. In my case, shared dreams from the past, shared work, and our personalities just clicked," she smiled, touching her ring.

"You sound like the perfect couple."

"Oh, no, Mr. Vinsmoke, we..." she started to contradict him but glanced at the clock behind him, frowning slightly. "Shouldn't we be going? The lecture is about to start."

"You're right. Time flies in good company," Sanji admitted, standing reluctantly. "Please leave everything; I'll clean up right away. I'll take you to your class."

Walking beside her, Sanji thought:
"Do I just want only this passion i have right now, or something more—stability, laughter, shared plans?"

Robin has her ideal, and I... I have a rock that's crushing me.
Her words had lodged in his mind like a pin.

"What do I want? The perfect woman like her? A man like Zoro? I want someone who will support me and bring my favorite sweets. Is this too much? Should I worry about this relationship when it's already wearing me out so much?
Especially since from his side, I don't notice any interest in anything more than my body. Maybe it's time to tell him the truth—that it's not working. That it's desire, but not love. And I...I want to be loved"

He escorted Robin to the class and trudged through the hallways with his head down, passing bulletin boards with Career Week posters—colorful, chaotic, with slogans about "a future without borders" that now seemed ironic to him.
Suddenly, at the turn, he collided with Zoro—literally.
The tall, green-haired giant, in a school tracksuit and with a sword slung over his shoulder, grabbed his elbow to keep him from falling.
His hand was warm, rough from training, and for a moment Sanji felt that familiar thrill.

"Watch it," Zoro muttered, lifting him slightly as if he weighed no more than a feather.

"And who says that? You're the one who bumped into me.", Sanji said.

He shook his arm free from his hand. If it had been someone else, he would have caught him around the waist like a knight, not grabbed his elbow as if he were a puppet on strings.
He was blinded by the romantic story he'd just heard and the incredible exhaustion.

"You took 'watch your step' too literally," Zoro said, tossing the sword over his shoulder with that nonchalant smile of his.

"Do you have a kendo demonstration now?" Sanji asked.
He wanted to start a conversation. Maybe this would get him talking.

"Honestly, playing the headmaster's party clown doesn't appeal to me at all," Zoro muttered, shrugging. "But the kids wanted it. Couldn't say no to those little rascals."

"Yeah... I know something about that. I have to go pick up the next guest soon. I'm tired…" Sanji sighed, stepping out after him, but suddenly he saw a cute sight on the bench.

He stepped back slightly, grabbing Zoro's arm and pulling him behind a pillar.
A boy, blushing like a tomato, reached out to take the girl's hand.
She hesitated but allowed it, their fingers intertwining shyly, trembling like leaves in the wind.
Sanji felt a wave of warmth—ah, young love!

"Wait! Look over there," he whispered, nodding in that direction.
"We can't interrupt them now," he chuckled softly. "That's one of my students. I've heard her talks, she likes that kid too. Puppy love—delicate, innocent. They'll probably write love notes during class for sure."

"I'm gonna be late, and this is the shorter way," Zoro grumbled, trying to move.

"Roronoa, let the kids be kids. Go around," Sanji insisted, blocking his path.

"Romantic nonsense, Vinsmoke. They'll be talking soon anyway. " Zoro snorted.

"You have a heart of stone, Roronoa! How can you say that? It's in these little gestures that the magic lies," Sanj says, lowering his voice.

"You'll start drooling any second Love Cook.”, Zoro muttered.

"Can you please not mock me for once?!",Sanji unconsciously raised his voice, and the pair of students looked their way curiously.

"Oh," Sanji laughed, embarrassed that he'd interrupted them.
"We're going now," he waved to the students and hurried away with quick steps, leaving Zoro behind.
"Idiot", he said as he passed.

Romantic nonsense? Of course. Zoro didn't have an ounce of romance in him. What did he expect?
The day passed in a whirlwind of preparations for the evening sports festival—a part of Career Week where students would "test" sports under teachers' supervision and play friendly matches among themselves.
A different sport each day. Today on the menu: football.
One of the next duties Sanji had unfortunately agreed to was coordinating the competitions.
And that unfortunately required dealing with Zoro and truthfully, he just wasn't in the mood for it today.
Sanji and Zoro, as "coordinators," argued about everything; their voices echoed across the field.
Even the other PE teacher, Mr. Stevens, stopped separating them after a while.
And the arguments grew more absurd—the placement of tents: Sanji wanted them on the left side of the field because the tree shade would protect from the sun, Zoro on the right, closer to the entrance.<
Whether to pass out sandwiches to the youngsters out on the field—Sanji insisted they needed energy, Zoro was against it because "this isn't a picnic, it's sports."
Whether water should be in jugs or handed out in cups—Sanji opted for cups to avoid mess, Zoro for jugs because it was faster.

"This is supposed to be a festival, they're supposed to have fun, not have everything forbidden!" Sanji shouted, gesturing energetically, his blond hair tousled by the wind.

"They're here to play football, not have a picnic!" Zoro growled, crossing his arms.
"If you begin stuffing them with food midway through the race, half will collapse from stomach cramps."

"Stomach cramps? Right now, I'm getting it just by listening into your gibberish ramblings."

"Why do I even want to build a relationship with him?" Sanji thought, arranging plates on the tables, his fingers trembling with frustration.
"I've always wanted a woman, delicate, girly and smelling of flowers. And Zoro? He's the complete opposite of what I've always dreamed of. And right now, he's getting on my nerves terribly.", he thinks.

Suddenly, a group of students ran up with begging eyes.

"Mr. Vinsmoke! Help us!" squealed the leader, a tall blonde girl with pigtails, tugging at his sleeve, surrounded by boys from the team.
"Mr. Stevens ran out of breath after sprinting across two fields. He's collapsed in the nurse's office, breathing heavily like an old choo-choo..."

"Oh dear," Sanji worried, placing a hand on his heart.
"Well, if he's there, that's good. So what's all the fuss?"

"He can't play in the match with us! You have to replace him!" they chorused.

Sanji shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. He's tired enough already and he they ask him to run after the ball?

"My little sweet babies, I don't have workout clothes, and it's just a friendly match. You'll manage without me."

"Pleeease!" they squealed, jumping around him.
"Mr. Roronoa's team will crush us. We can't play without a teacher!”

Zoro, standing off to the side with a water bottle in hand, raised an eyebrow with that smirk of his that always acted on Sanji like a red flag to a bull.

"I think even with Vinsmoke, it'd be hard for you to win," he chuckled under his breath, sipping his water.

Sanji clenched his teeth, blood rushing to his temples, his stomach twisting with a mix of anger and that stupid excitement that always betrayed him.

"Give me a blindfold and I'll still score on you.", he said to him.

"It'll be hard for you to watch me win with a blindfold," Zoro replied, lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Fine, I'm playing. But only to humiliate you in front of everyone," Sanji declared, and the students squealed with joy, clapping and chanting his name.

Mr. Stevens lent him his sports gear. He tied the shorts' very tightly and threw on a slightly too-large shirt.
He sighed but couldn't let his confidence fly away.
On the field before the match, Sanji stretched with a dancer's grace—legs up, torso arched, muscles taut under the shirt fabric. He sat in the splits, arching backward like a gymnast.
Zoro sat on the bench, sipping water, his gaze sliding over him.
Oh, how sinful his thoughts were at that moment.

"Watch out or your pants might split, Vinsmoke," Zoro said flirtatiously and his eyes gleaming in the sun. "Not everyone has had the pleasure of seeing your underwear."

Sanji straightened, tilting his head back wearing a provocative smirk.

"You'll need to put in way more effort to get into my pants," he shot back, but there was a note of challenge in his voice.

"So far, I'm doing pretty well," Zoro smiled, stretching out on the bench, and Sanji took three deep breaths, turning away.

Calm down. Remember how much he's pissed you off today.
You can’t forget about it after just one flirt.
Sanji looked at his team.
He had a few players who, at first glance, looked like they could play—tall boy named Adams who ran like the wind, a few athletic girls, and some kids who made up lack of skill with big enthusiasm for a game.
He had to quickly develop a plan—a tactic that would use his agility, not his strength: dribbling, passing, quick counterattacks.
Unfortunately, Zoro might have a slight advantage in strength, though he wouldn't quite admit it to himself.
The football match started when the janitor's whistle and all at once, the stands rang with a cheer—mostly students and teachers, but also parents, guests, and talent hunters—shook the field.
The wind carried the smell of sweat and popcorn handed out to students as treats.
Sanji had never been a big fan of team sports, but at that moment, football was just a tool in his hands to rub Zoro's nose in it.
First minute: Zoro's striker, a small rascal named McCourtney, slipped past Sanji's defenders and fired off a shot—the ball ricocheted off the post, and the crowd howled.
Sanji decided not to worry too much about the students, even if they can score goals.
His job was to shadow Zoro like a ghost, not letting him make a move.
However, it turned out to be very difficult because he didn't want to hurt the kids running around him, this restricted his movements.
Sanji smiled a little and took the ball—dribbling with grace, his legs working like machines, dodging defenders with one feint, then another.
The ball stuck to his boot like an extension of his body.
He passed Zoro, who in shock didn't even notice Sanji had slipped by until their shoulders brushed.
It was too late, and Sanji sent a pass to Adams, who charged toward the goal.
But Adams's shot was too weak, Zoro's goalkeeper caught the ball with a triumphant smirk.
For the first ten minutes, the game was chaotic: kids tripping over their own feet, laughter mixing with shouts, and the referee—the janitor with a whistle in his mouth—stopping every few seconds for fouls.
Mostly Sanji on Zoro and vice versa.
Both yelled, "I didn't even touch him, where are your eyes?!" and the students looked terrified that their strongest players would soon be benched with red cards

"Too slow, Vinsmoke!" Zoro shouted, stealing the ball and charging toward the goal.

"Too slow?" Sanji yelled back, panting slightly as he caught up.

Suddenly he saw a terrified boy in front of him and, trying to dodge, slid under Zoro's legs, falling and feeling pain in his knee.

"Foul!" a boy from his team called. "That was a foul, ref!"

"You okay?" Zoro asked, looking down at him.

Sanji, wanting to avoid contact, stood up quickly. His pride was already badly damaged.

"Just play," Sanji muttered, brushing dirt from his knees.

In the middle of the first half, the first goal fell—for Zoro's team.
One of the kids exploited a gap in defense and took Zoro's pass that sliced across the field.
Ball in the net, 1-0.
Zoro clapped, slapping the boy on the shoulder.
Sanji clenched his teeth, feeling his blood boil, and motivated his team:
"It's not over yet. Second half is ahead. Adams, left sidem, girls, block the middle!", he said when the break was announced.
Zoro grinned at him triumphantly, and Sanji, without thinking, stepped on his foot "accidentally."

"Tsk!," Zoro muttered.

"Oops, you were standing there, I didn't notice," Sanji replied with feigned innocence.

"Arrogant clown," Sanji muttered under his breath, heading to the tent where supplies were kept—bottles, tape, fruit for energy.
Zoro followed him in.

"So, you think you'll score two goals on me?" Zoro laughed, leaning against the supply table, blocking the way.

Sanji suddenly swung, wanting to kick him to back off.
But he didn't put much force into it, so Zoro caught his leg mid-air, pulled it down, and pinned it to the table beside him.
He leaned in with a cheeky smile, their faces so close, and Sanji felt his heart race as sweat trickled down his temples.

"I'll always be on top of you," Zoro whispered, his eyes burning with desire. He slid his knee between Sanji's legs, still holding his ankle.

Sanji felt himself heating up—from that gaze, from the strength in the grip, from the smell of sweat and grass.
His heart pounded like a drum, and his mind swirled:
"Damn, why does he turn me on so much? How is it that a moment ago I wanted to kick him, and now my heart is pounding so hard? It's just lust. It was the same last time."

He pushed him away and lowered his leg, straightening with dignity, though his cheeks burned.

"Dream on, Roronoa. Don't think this is the end," he muttered, though his voice trembled slightly.

Zoro was slightly surprised that this time Sanji didn't want even a bit of closeness. He honestly thought he was going to kiss him… But he explained it to himself with Sanji's determination.

The second half was pure fury from Sanji.
His team pressed—passes quick as lightning, feints that stunned Zoro's defenders.
He was moments from a goal, and Zoro knew it, trying to block him.
But Zoro's strong body couldn't match Sanji's agility at that moment.
It reached a stage where virtually every opponent switched to marking Sanji, alarmed at the speed with which he was slipping past Zoro.
The last minutes of the match and the last chances. Sanji couldn't let it end like this.
Left foot, right foot, lifting the ball over Zoro's head—and kicked it hard as if everything depended on that shot.
It worked! Tie.
His team jumped around him like crazy. The problem was, it wasn't a winning goal. Just a tie.
Zoro clapped ironically and muttered: "Lucky"

In the evening, after all this—showers, packing tents, washing dishes, and preparations for tomorrow's equally intense day—Sanji was gathering his things to go home.
He was scrolling through the schedule on his phone when Zoro, carrying sports gear, spotted him and stopped.

"That Adams from your team has potential. Might even become a footballer," he said, starting the conversation, setting his bag on the ground.

"What? Oh yeah, it's possible..." Sanji said, not looking up, still browsing tomorrow's schedule. "One more guest..."

"You got lucky having him on your team. Without him, you definitely wouldn't have scored that goal.," Zoro added.

"Yeah, yeah... wait, what?!"
He raised his gaze, eyes squinting in his direction.
"I scored the goal, beating you on the pitch like a child. Adams had nothing to do with it. He passed me the ball, sure, but the rest was my work!"

"I could've stopped you easily. I just had kids around and didn't want to hurt them," Zoro replied, shrugging.

"Are you crazy!? Were you even in the match? Why do you have to be so... so..." Sanji cut off, clenching his fists.

He said nothing. Grabbed his folder and started walking out, frustration building like a wave.
Bewildered, Zoro grabbed his bag and followed him to the parking lot.

"Hey, Vinsmoke! Cat got your tongue?"

"I just don't want to talk to you," Sanji snapped, quickening his pace.

"Why?" He followed him, heading to the park next to the school.

"Because you piss me off, because you're..."

"Huh?" Zoro pressed, catching up.

"You're you, and that's the problem!" Sanji shouted in his face, stopping.

The atmosphere between them grew heavy when the night wind rustling the leaves.

"And what's suddenly wrong with me?" Zoro asked.

"Everything! You’re uncouth, you keep mocking me, and you act like you’re better than me — though that couldn’t be further from the truth!
You are a huge gorilla who doesn't care about anything, treats everything as if it were nothing.
As if every aspect of his life were a joke. When I just want to talk to you, we end up kissing like a pair of horny teenagers. You don't give me a moment to breathe!"

"And now that's suddenly a problem? You start it yourself," Zoro asked, tilting his head.
As if he were unaware of everything, catching only every second word Sanji spoke.

"What are we!?”, he shouted suddenly, frustrated.

Zoro looked at him surprised, silent.

"We're not friends, anyone looking at us today would deny that.
We're not a couple either. Coworkers with benefits? I... want to know where I stand, and you seem not to think about it at all and it pisses me off!", Sanji continued.

"Because I'm good with how it is," Zoro replied after a moment.

"And have you ever thought if I'm good with it, you mosshead?" Sanji yelled, gesturing wildly.

"Am I supposed to guess everything?

"Sometimes I wish you'd pick up on a hint! Or maybe if you listened to me for a moment, you’d understand what I need.”

"I thought you were having fun. What's suddenly gotten into you!?"

"Fun? I don’t want fun. I… thought this wasn’t just a “fun”, but it seems I was wrong.
I… I want someone to take care of me .I want my romantic love, the one you’re laughing at!”, Sanji shouted, his voice trembling with emotion.
"I want someone who appreciates me for who I am!"

"So why do you expect... flowers and poems? That's not my style you know that but…"

"God, you are so stupid! I know that! We’re different — very different, practically in every aspect.
The thing I’m unsure of is if you actually like me, or if it’s only about sex for you. Do you like me?”
Sanji felt tears pressing at his eyes but suppressed them with anger.

Zoro didn't say anything. He was speechless.
There was a dead silence between them and this only enraged Sanji.

“If you can't answer that, we have nothing to talk about. Go to hell, Roronoa and don’t talk to me ever again, I don't want to see you.”, he said and turning on his heel and walking away.

Zoro stood for a moment, watching him go, then kicked a stone that rolled into the darkness, and headed back his way, pissed off.
They parted into the night, each in their own direction.
Sanji walked until he reached the sea—the waves roared angrily, crashing against the rocks.
He went into the water up to his waist fully clothed, the wind whipping his face, and frustration exploded in his chest.
He screamed into the void, his voice lost in the roar of the water, echoing off the waves.
He screamed for so long that he ran out of breath.
Water was icy, piercing to the bone. But he didn't care, he started kicking it.
Tears finally flowed, hot, mixing with the sea salt on his cheeks.
He collapsed on the sand, head in hands, listening to the waves.
That's how it should be right?
If he pisses him off so much and they don't fit, then why... why does his heart bleed?
Why does it hurt so much?
Why does he want to run to him and apologize? He don't really mean it like that.
After all, he... didn't really want to end it.
He was pissed. Tired. Annoyed that Zoro didn't want to answer him right away.
Is it too late to go back?

“I just want to be loved”, he said quietly.

Chapter Text

Sanji Vinsmoke lay in his small apartment, wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon, trying to shut out the world.
The room was a mess—blinds half-drawn, clothes spilling out of the closet, mugs of cold tea remnants on the nightstand, and piles of used tissues nearby.
He was still feeling the effects of Monday night.
Next day, it was clear that he was sick - enter waist-deep into icy water definitely hadn't been the smartest move and now he’s paying the price.
Fever burning him from the inside, a runny nose, a throat that stung like fire, and his overworked body heavy as if filled with metal weights.
Every cough made him suffer.
But that wasn't the worst of it— the pain in his heart hurt more than the one in his head, pulsing with memories of that night, the words he'd spoken and the words Zoro didn't say.
After Monday's fight, nothing was the same.
As if the world had lost its colors, everything was so unimportant and school festival felt now so distant and irrelevant.
He'd been lying in bed for two days, and the only thing he'd managed was calling the principal to report he wouldn't be at school for a few days due to illness, and someone needed to cover his duties.
The principal had taken it with great sadness—more worried about the festival and the missing coordinator than about Sanji himself—which only deepened his sense of loneliness.
His fever kept rising, waves of heat and chills taking turns, and he no longer had the strength to reach for the medicine in the nearby cabinet.

"Tea... at least make yourself some tea," he muttered weakly, but his hand slipped lifelessly onto the mattress.

His eyes were red and puffy.
He wasn't sure if it was from the illness or because he'd been crying more often lately.
He felt crushed by his own failure.
He hadn’t expected Zoro’s silence to hurt this much.
Maybe, deep down, he’d really wanted to hear that Zoro liked him.
Now he just felt like a fool.
You can't force someone to like you. But rejection hurts a lot.
Exhaustion and sickness clouded his mind — he couldn’t think about the argument anymore, all he could do was sleep.
His eyes closed, and his mind drifted into dreams—feverish ones, blending reality with sleep.
Before him appeared Zoro—not the mocking one from Monday, but another with a soft smile.
He loved it every time Zoro smiled, it always seemed like such a rare thing.

"Curly..." he heard his voice in his head.

Sanji reached out, touching the air that felt so real, so close.

"Zoro...please…" he whispered in his mind, his voice trembling, as the world spun.

"Zoro..." he whispered aloud and slightly opened his eyes.

He thought he could see his shadowy outline in the darkened room—sitting on the chair beside him, arms crossed over his chest.
How high must his fever be for the hallucinations to be so realistic?
He felt his head becoming heavy, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He only opened them again when he felt a cold compress on his forehead.
He blinked, the vision blurring for a moment, but by the bed, on the chair, sat him... Zoro Roronoa, in a loose black t-shirt.
His hair was messy and the dark circles under his eyes revealed a night without rest.
He sat there, half-asleep in the chair, holding a thermometer in his hand.
Another hallucination? Is the fever rising again?
Suddenly, he heard Zoro breathing deeply and realized that he was indeed sitting in front of him.
He shot up with a yell and ducked under the covers, as if trying to escape something invisible.

"Aaaah!!" he screamed, his voice hoarse from illness.

In a split second, Zoro sprang to his feet, nearly dropping the thermometer.
He caught it before it hit the ground.

"Are you crazy?! Why are you screaming?!" he shouted, putting the thermometer on the shelf.

From under the covers, Sanji’s messy blond hair and fevered cheeks were visible as he stared at him, trying to make sense of reality.

"Why are you here?!" he croaked out, his voice shaking.
"And how… how did you get into my apartment? That's breaking! I'll call the police! Where did you get the key... did you break the door down?!"

"Have you lost your mind!?" Zoro yelled. He took a deep breath and sat back in the chair.
"You used to laugh at me for being irresponsible because I don't prepare for emergencies.
And you have a key at the upstairs neighbor's just in case." he replied calmly.
"I knocked, told her we're coworkers, and she gave it to me. By the way,, maybe think twice about her having your keys — if I’d said I wanted to steal your TV, probably she’d have given them to me as well.
That old lady's too trusting."

"That wasn't my only question," he muttered, avoiding his gaze. "Why are you here?"

"You don't have to analyze everything."

"You're starting that again?" Sanji said starting to get irritated.

"What? I'm not starting anything, I just..." Zoro muttered.

Suddenly, he heard a beep from the kitchen.
He stood up, telling him to wait.
He moved into the kitchen and Sanji could hear plates clanging, water running, and the gas hissing.
Zoro returned moments later with a steaming bowl of soup.
He set it on the nightstand next to the bed, where a mug of tea with a lemon slice stood, steam lazily rising from it.
Sanji hesitated as he leaned over the soup.

"Eat. It's not poisoned," Zoro muttered, sitting back in the chair. "I bought it at the store near my place."

The smell of soup filled the room, and Sanji realized that lately, the only thing he had been eating was dry bread to calm his stomach.
He didn't have the strength to prepare anything.
The soup looked good.
Small pieces of vegetables, creamy texture.
He took the bowl with trembling hands, eating slowly, spoonful by spoonful.
Silence hung heavy, broken only by the clink of the spoon against the bowl and the ticking of the wall clock.
He ate each bite slowly, his throat sore. After a while, the soup was finished and Zoro nodded approvingly.

"It was...good," Sanji said quietly, setting the bowl aside.

His voice cracked, as if emotions were pressing in his throat. He sniffed.

"Are you going to stay silent like always?" Sanji suddenly asked.
"Why are you here? Really. I told you I don't want to see you, and you came...", Sanji spoke slowly, as if afraid of the answer.

"Because I thought you might need help," Zoro replied straightforwardly.
"School told me you were sick. No one could contact you. I called you. I thought you were probably lying here dead, too proud to ask for help."

Sanji lowered his gaze, the blanket slipping lower.
He picked up his phone from the desk—the battery was dead.
He hadn't even thought to turn it on.

"I had my phone off," he admitted quietly. "Did school send you?"

"No... I came on my own," Zoro said.

"I don't understand!" Sanji shouted, but a cough quickly stifled the yell.
"You're not answering my questions directly and it's pissing me off! I told you I don't want to see you, and you came! How am I supposed to understand that? I don't know what's in your head..."

"Is it so hard to understand that I like you?!" Zoro yelled right in his face.
Sanji stopped speaking.

"I'm not good with words okay? I'm actually terrible at it. I can't talk about emotions like you do," he grimaced.
"When you asked me then if i like you, it froze me. You were yelling everything in your head, and I couldn't.
But when you left, I knew I'd screwed up. Because I should told you that I like you.”, Zoro grabbed his head.
“Listen to me because I probably won't be able to repeat this again.
I like you. Even you piss me off incredibly, with your panicking, stubbornness, analyzing every aspect of your life, and flirting with every skirt you see. God, you're so annoying then.
But I can't help worrying about you and wanting you to be happy.
How can I say it simpler so you'll get it why i’m here? I like you. All of you. I like it all.
I appreciate how direct you are and how you keep smiling even when it’s hard. I like our rivalry, which push me to be better. I like our arguments, but I also like it when you're nice to me.
I'll try to make this work. I like you and I want to be with you, I want to know more about you. I've think I liked you much longer than that first kiss. It's not just sex, okay? I like you."

Sanji froze. The words hung in the air like smoke after a shot, and then tears started dripping—hot, unstoppable, streaming down his cheeks and soaking into the blanket.
Zoro reaching for a tissue from the cabinet and handing it to him gently.
Sanji wiped his face, but the words burst out on their own.

“Say something, or I'll actually go crazy”, embarrassed Zoro looked at him.

“I like you too," Sanji began to sob. “I thought you were playing with me.", he whispered, his voice breaking on every word.

"You think too much," Zoro replied quietly, but with warmth in his voice.
He stand up and reached out. He wiped his tears from his cheeks with his fingers.

"You'll get sick." Sanji whispered, his voice muffled, though deep down he didn't want him to leave.

"I don't give a fuck," Zoro muttered, not withdrawing his hand. "I think this is exactly what you need right now."

Sanji lifted his head, eyes red, but with trembling smile on his lips—the first in days.

"Since when did you become an expert on me?" he asked, trying to lighten the tension with a joke.

"I've always been one. You just didn't see it," Zoro chuckled softly, stroking his cheek.

"Liar." Sanji muttered, grabbing his hand and nuzzling into it lightly.

"I've never lied to you," Zoro smiled, stroking his cheek, thumb wiping away the last tear.

Sanji felt the fever recede—not completely, but enough for his heart to beat calmer.
Zoro let go of his cheek and Sanji smiled slightly at him.
He grabbed the pillow next to him and snuggled up to him.

"Curly..I'll really try to make it work, but…" Zoro took a deep breath.

“I know. You already did..”, Sanji interrupted him.
“And I didn't appreciate what you already do. You tried to take me on the first date to a place you thought I'd like.
You try to calm me in your twisted way to make me comfortable.
You listen when I talk to you. You text me often so I don't feel alone.
You show up when I need you.
You respect my boundaries and don't force anything. I projected my imagined standards onto you, ignoring what you’d already done.
You're here and brought me soup and that means a lot to me. Really. I'm glad you're here," he said clutching the pillow close, like confessing his fault took all the strength he had left.

"I'm pretty good at bringing soup.", Zoro smiled at him widely.

"And cover me with a blanket?" Sanji whispered into the pillow, and Zoro softened a bit.
Oh, how he adored this side of him. Why couldn't he have said he like him earlier? It's so obvious.
He grabbed the blanket from the side and covered him.

"That I can do pretty well too," he smiled.

"So... we're together, right? I need to hear that."

Zoro nodded, looking at him tenderly.

"Yeah. Until the next time you start yelling that you don't want to know me," he laughed, and Sanji smiled lightly.

Finally, he felt peace.
This was what he’d needed: a genuine, honest talk.
He even barely cared about feverish and sore throat from talking so much.
This wasn’t how he’d imagined his perfect confession.
He definitely looked perfect in his mind, not like he does now with his hair all messed up and his eyes all puffy.
But now, it felt just right.
Hugging the pillow, he watched Zoro move about the room and a wave of happiness washed over him.
Sanji returned to school on next Monday, still weakened but healthy again.
Zoro came to him every day after the festival, with warm soup, and told him what had happened: about the students who won the relay, about the principal complaining about his absence, about what went on at his training sessions.
They spent time together, joked around, eating but couldn’t stop arguing about small things.
But they knew they wanted to be together.
And that peace, healed Sanji—not the medicine, not the tea, but those evenings full of quiet talks and laughter.
That he could now openly say he was with Zoro, and while they might not look like the perfect couple at first glance, what they had right now was perfect for him.

Sanji had missed almost all of Career Week, but he didn't care much about it.
While tearing down the last posters—colorful remnants with slogans like "a future without borders"—he ran into Robin by the secretary's office.
She looked stunning as always, in a stewardess uniform accentuating her elegance.

"My sweet Robin!" he called. "Thank you again for the lecture—the kids are still talking about you nonstop. Those travel photos were apparently stunning! I regret that we couldn't spend more time together"

"Oh, thank you. But I heard you were sick? After the match?", she said

“What? Oh, yeah, probably after it”, Sanji said. Zoro approached them in his tracksuit, gym bag over his shoulder.

"Russo said the principal wants to see you.," he said to Sanji.
He glanced at Robin, nodding slightly in greeting, then looked back at Sanji and disappeared around the corner.

Sanji followed him with his eyes, smiling tenderly, and when he turned to Robin to say goodbye, he encountered her smile—mysterious and understanding.

"That's the partner you mentioned?" she asked quietly.

Sanji felt a blush, looked around to check if anyone was listening.
The hallway was empty, but his heart raced.

"Shh!" he whispered, though a smile slipped onto his lips anyway. "I... I mean... how did you know?"

Robin smiled mysteriously.

"He faced me like I were an opponent with arms tightly crossed. But when he looked at you, his expression changed: he smiled, and his eyes softened. I know that look. My husband always gives me that look."

"Really?" Sanji straightened up. His heart began to melt. Does Zoro really look at him like that?

"Speak of the devil!" she suddenly called out as a huge man with fists like two hammers and star-shaped tattoos on his arms entered the school.
His hair was turquoise, and he wore black glasses in a silly shape on his nose.
He was loud, untamed, talking in a torrent of words: "Super that I found you! That flight was like a rollercoaster. First down, then up, and weird that we weren't spinning around our own axis. Ready to go?"
He greeted Robin with a hug that could crush bones. She laughed and she introduced Sanji with grace.

"This is Sanji Vinsmoke, the teacher I told you about. And this is my husband."

Franky shook Sanji's hand with enthusiasm, and Sanji winced slightly, feeling like he might crush his bones.

Sanji understand how foolish he'd been.
He was completely different from the beautiful and calm Robin—loud, chaotic, full of energy—and Sanji realized how they seemed so different at first glance, but in the end they were a great match.
Perfect synergy. And he realized that he and Zoro weren't so different from them.

"I'd love to discuss tea blends sometime, Mr. Vinsmoke," Robin smiled, handing him her business card, wanting to keep in touch.

"Of course," Sanji promised, waving them goodbye as they walked arm in arm.

Sanji smiled, feeling like he'd found a new friends.
He slipped the card into his pocket and headed down the hallway.