#1 crimson chin in this world is enough ty

[xannerz]

i dont ship them but i still think him havin a crush on her is funny tbh

[kbstories]

Etymology

et·y·mol·o·gy (n.)

The study of a word's origin.

For Sanji, coming home is easier said than done.

(Or: Let’s talk about the Vinsmoke fiasco, shall we?)

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nakamaship, Childhood Trauma, Miscommunication (!!!), Found Family, PTSD, Angst With A Happy Ending

Read Chapter 1 here. Content warning for panic attack(s) and unintentional self-harm. Special thanks to @ppitte for helping me wrangle the chaos that is Zoro and Sanji interacting!!

***

Wide, endless blue. The sun-warmed touch of wood under his palm. A breeze carrying the scent of tangerines and ocean salt.

Those are the things Sanji had dreamed of in hell. Not the two years he likes to refer as such – the Drag Queens , too, have aspirations like everyone else – but the one he didn’t think possible, crossing into reality via a bridge not burned thoroughly enough. A hell made of stone walls high enough to swallow the sea and the sky and the stars.

If, Sanji had thought, gaze fixed on the lonely moon above, if I make it out of here alive, I will let them know.

That every time he closes his eyes and dares to imagine a future, they are with him. That happiness is a smile under a straw hat, and love a home-cooked meal, and freedom a black flag in the wind, flying, flying.

Sanji lets out a long breath and watches smoke dissipate into nothingness. Turns out there is no such thing as second chances, not for someone like him.

*

He feels him coming long before soft, measured steps reach his ears.

“Cook.”

The Sunny stands still for the night; the anchor was dropped not too long ago, the lion’s claw resting peacefully on a shallow reef. Arms crossed on the railing, Sanji’s chin rests on the back of his hands and he watches as its colorful inhabitants swim up close to the ship and nip at polished Adam wood, their bioluminescence making the waves glint like silver.

“Fuck off. I’m not in the mood.”

A wasted effort, Sanji knows: The heavy presence behind him doesn’t shift, doesn’t go anywhere, persisting as it always has. The skin on Sanji’s back crawls with the need to turn around and make him.

“Mosshead”, Sanji says, a hiss and a warning in one.

“Hm?”

Unbothered, like Sanji didn’t speak at all.

The evening is mild, infused with residual heat from a sunny day just past. Sanji grinds his teeth hard enough the other will be able to hear it, a mere handful of paces away. “I mean it. Leave.”

Zoro scoffs, “Nah.” His boots creak as he takes another step, closer, and–

A streak of blurred motion and embers spark against the sleek black of Haki. Sanji gives him a grin that’s a joyless show of teeth and not much else; illuminated by fierce red, Zoro’s lips flatten into a tense line.

“I said”, Sanji growls, lets himself fall on his hands and twists, gains speed. “Fuck. Off.”

The hit connects, the force of a volcanic eruption meeting immovable steel and Sanji is close enough to see the fire’s glow reflect in the fathomless depth of Zoro’s eye, growing darker still–

Sanji makes to draw back but can’t, realizes in the split-second between shifting his weight on his palms and a sudden ache around his leg that it’s not a scabbard but Zoro’s hand that met the blow, fingers clawed, gripping, not letting go.

“I’m not fighting you.”

Of course. Because why would anything in Sanji’s fucked up life start making sense now?

The breath in Sanji’s lungs leaves his mouth a pissed off tch and he lets the flames flare, watches with righteous anger in his chest how Zoro inhales sharply and hesitates – to release him or be burned, and Sanji’s leg tugs free a moment later.

“Bastard. Going soft on me, are you?”

There’s no hesitation in his movements as Sanji turns on the tips of his fingers and strikes, again and again, snarling against the stoicism on Zoro’s face as the man’s hands don’t reach for his swords once. “That’s not it”, Zoro tells him like he’s stating the obvious, and it’s the simple kind of statement that pierces Sanji’s defenses and aims straight at his core.

The next kick draws blood, a neat scrape-and-burn across the scar on Zoro’s cheek, and Sanji’s gasp is louder than the low grunt that comes from Zoro.

Sanji’s feet hit the ground with dull, unbalanced thuds and he stares, wide-eyed, at the stray drops of crimson that pool and run down tan skin, near-black in the oncoming moonlight. The instinctive question – Are you alright? – remains unsaid, acidic where it sticks to Sanji’s tongue and his chest feels tight, tight.

“You done?”

There’s an air of indifference to Zoro’s voice but Sanji knows Zoro, can see the demon coiled within the man, straining to bite back. Zoro rolls his neck, hands flexing against the bruises smudging his skin as his Haki fades.

Sanji is lost, mouth slack and breath panting like it’s an army he just fought and not his friend. For a moment, he’s back on a field of endless green under cotton candy clouds, painting it red in uneven splatters as he kicks, and kicks, and kicks without resistance–

“Why?”, he rasps, voice trembling, utterly outside of his control. Sanji blinks and clenches his jaw, struggles to retain some of the anger in there somewhere. “Stop fucking around and fight back.”

“No.”

Zoro crosses his arms, wide open now, and his gaze is analytical as it tracks the way Sanji tenses and stays exactly where he is. That singular eye narrows, a bloodhound that caught a scent.

“I left you guys. I had a choice and I left.”

“You had your reasons”, Zoro says, calmly. He takes a step forward and Sanji takes one back, heart rattling wildly against the cage of his chest.

“I– I went after him, Zoro. I attacked my captain. I didn’t hold anything back.”

That makes Zoro’s lips twitch into a frown, displeased but not surprised and– Luffy talked, Sanji thinks and something inside him breaks just that little bit more.

“I know.” Yet Zoro’s swords stay sheathed. Another step closer. “Luffy’s wounds… There’s only one style I know that causes those and it’s yours.”

The railing presses against the small of Sanji’s back and he’s trapped, has no space to move and nowhere else to look but at Zoro and the cut that continues to bleed, dripping lazily onto Zoro’s shirt–

And Sanji can’t get enough air in his lungs, fingers tingling with numbness and spots dancing in front of his eyes and he’s aware, numbly, that he might pass out.

“Sanji.”

There are hands on his shoulders then, Zoro’s palms a solid-warm weight, squeezing, keeping him on his feet. “Hey”, he murmurs, low enough that Sanji knows it’s meant for him, just for him. “I need you to listen to me.”

Thoughts swirl and collide in Sanji’s head and nothing makes sense. He nods even though Zoro isn’t exactly asking – a jerky, helpless motion – and something in Zoro’s eye softens.

“Breathe, okay? Nothing’s going on. Nothing’s changed.”

He shakes Sanji, obviously trying to make a point. Even now it’s ridiculously gentle, coming from Zoro, and Sanji tries for him, he really does.

“At least not for us? You got your hackles all the way up these days, and it’s making everyone nervous as hell. Like–”

A quiet struggle with words ends in a huff, quick and gruff.

“I think Luffy is about a day away from melting down if you don’t start calling him a shitty rubber captain again – that sorta thing. And I don’t know what exactly happened on that island between you and him but he insists it’s done and over with. So, is it?”

Sanji is pinned by that gaze again, sharp and searching and trying to understand. He breathes and finds he can, chest heaving with it–

“I don’t know”, Sanji tells Zoro and it’s the truth, the words brittle like old bones. Sanji’s wrists burn and he scratches at them. “I thought I’d left all that Vinsmoke shit behind me but it keeps coming back. I don’t know if they’ll ever let me be.”

Zoro sighs, deeply. A breath Sanji feels against his skin and it occurs to him they’ve never been this close, not without being at each other’s throats at the same time.

“You fool. That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Listen to me, shithead”, Sanji snaps; he scratches, scratches. “It’s no joke. They know things about me, about all of us, and I wouldn’t have left if– This shit’s serious. Got it?”

“More serious than what, the Emperors? The fucking World Government? Fine. Let them come. I don’t care who those Vin-whatever people think they are, and you know Captain doesn’t either– Stop that.”

Faster than Sanji can anticipate, Zoro grabs his hand, snatches it away from his wrist and– Oh, it’s bleeding, Sanji realizes with a slow blink. His hand is bleeding.

“What are you, stupid or something?”

The rest of what Zoro mutters under his breath is lost to Sanji; before he can even think to pull away, Zoro is tugging at the bandana tied around his bicep. Fingers calloused and rough, he folds the fabric over the criss-crossing, bloody lines and ignores Sanji’s hiss of pain, grasp tightening further.

Making Sanji feel his frustration and weirdly, it’s that that makes the ground under Sanji’s legs feel solid again.

“Get out of your head already”, Zoro is saying, eye focused on the knot he’s tying against Sanji’s palm. Sanji… lets him. “Did you apologize to him or not?”

Or not. Indignation burns in Sanji’s gut at that and he knocks Zoro’s hands away, ignoring how soothing the bandana feels against the rawness of his skin.

“What the–! Of course I did. D’you think I’d even take a fucking step on Sunny if I hadn’t?!”

And Sanji sees the tension bleed right out of Zoro and in that moment he hates him a little. The swordsman rests one arm on Wado’s grip and scratches his stupidly green hair with the other, mildly annoyed now.

“Well, then. Snap out of it.”

Like it’s the one and only conclusion there is. Like an apology could ever make up any of the things Sanji did, what he put Luffy through, that he made Nami cry and scream for him to stop–

“It’s not that easy”, Sanji hisses, getting back in his face and Zoro meets him in the middle this time, growling:

“Good. It shouldn’t be. Suck it up and stop making everyone miserable.”

“Then stop keeping secrets from me!”

The shout is loud, shattering any pretense of privacy on a ship that’s been suspiciously quiet this entire time – especially by their standards – and Sanji doesn’t care. He’s done being blamed for something that can’t be entirely his fault, not when everyone was there when he got kicked out of his own damn galley. Not when he felt them all put their heads together the moment he was out of sight, like he wouldn’t notice, like Observation Haki isn’t a thing that exists.

And as much as he’s thought about it (and he has, for hours and hours and hours), Sanji doesn’t know why. Yes, he left and he hurt Luffy and he deserves it but why this? Why now?

Sanji is a Strawhat Pirate, he’s used to all things whimsical and idiotic and those have always made sense to him, before.

This just… It doesn’t, isn’t even anywhere near it. A location marked X beyond the borders of a map, where mythical creatures reside among nebulous lines – there’s simply no way for Sanji to get there, not without Luffy to guide him and Nami to make sure they stay on course and all the other things he’s taken for granted before all this happened.

“Or– Let me do my job, at least. Please.”

So this is Sanji, giving in. This is Sanji, standing chest to chest with Zoro and witnessing, up close and personal, how a look of sheer bewilderment blooms on his face. All it does is twist him further up inside until he feels like he’s going to throw up or maybe cry.

Sanji is far beyond tears, now.

“Let me cook”, he begs instead, with a desperation he won’t hide anymore because if there’s one thing Sanji needs Zoro to understand it’s this. “I know I’m a fuck-up but I’m a good chef. Let me have that.”

“Sanji–”

A hand is raised and Sanji doesn’t flinch as much as he holds his breath, the instinct to brace himself as inescapable as the blood that runs through his veins. Zoro stops and stares at him. Looking genuinely shaken as he inhales and opts to cross his arms in front of his chest.

“Look, just– Help me understand, ‘cause you lost me somewhere. Where is all of this coming from?”

Sanji just groans, “You’re lost? You were there”, runs a hand through his hair and forces himself to go back to square one, again.

“Earlier. Luffy, Nami, Robin, you. You were talking about something. Then you all looked at me. Then Luffy said–”

“Okay, stop. That, right there. That’s what this is about?!”

“I… Yes.”

It takes a few second for Zoro to stop gaping at Sanji and then he laughs, and Sanji’s gut drops in the same moment that blood rushes to his face. He thinks: Oh, I’m going to kill him.

“What. The hell. Mosshead.”

Zoro waves his hands, palm-up, gesturing for Sanji to wait and for some fucking reason he actually does, cheeks burning and knees weak with shame as he watches Zoro trying his damnedest not to crack up again.

“Sorry. No, I mean it, I really shouldn’t– But fuck, you should’ve just said so. Cook, it’s your birthday.”

What?

“What?”, Sanji voices the thought out loud, tone flat; Zoro tempers his grin to a close-lipped smile and says:

“Your birthday. It passed two days ago and we didn’t, uh. Well, we didn’t know ‘cause you never told us, actually. Robin figured it out somehow. March 2nd, right?”

“…What.”

“Yeah. That’s the big secret, you idiot.”

The insult is undeniably fond and Zoro sounds so relieved, like that one revelation will solve all of the world’s mysteries at once and it… kind of does? Or it will, once Sanji’s mind stops spinning because it’s his birthday.

That’s what they were whispering about. His birthday. The birthday of his brothers. The day Sanji has hated all of his life and hasn’t celebrated, not even once, since he left the Vinsmoke name behind.

Sanji swallows. His fingers itch for a smoke but Zoro’s bandana is still wrapped around his wrist and the guy hates the smell of his cigarettes.

“And Luffy…?”

Zoro just gives him a look, brow raised, eye glinting. “What do you think? Birthdays are important to him, you know that. Oh, which reminds me: It’s supposed to be a surprise. Don’t ruin it for them.”

It’s then that Sanji lets the railing take some of his weight because– “There’s a surprise.”

Amusement turns to frowned concern on Zoro’s face. “Why is all of this news to you? Robin’s was just last month. Franky’s is coming up. There’s always a surprise.”

“Shut up”, Sanji tells him but it’s weak and he knows it. “It just never applied to me before.” Another thing occurs to him, then:

“Wait. Did Luffy put you up to this?”

By this point, Zoro is looking at him with the same pitying disdain Trafalgar Law tends to wield against all of them and it’s rich, coming from someone who opens a book maybe once a decade.

“He told me to keep you busy, not give you a therapy session but same difference, I guess.”

Sanji huffs, “As if I’d ever take advice from a meat-headed idiot of all people”, and reaches for his pocket because Zoro deserves some cigarette smell after all.

Zoro eyes the newly-lit cig in his hand for a moment before joining him against the railing, close enough to brush shoulders. Sanji blows the smoke away from him and pretends not to notice.

“So. How long are we giving them, then?”

“Mh. Ten minutes?”

“Fine”, Sanji sighs. “What are they even making?”

“Do you even know what a surprise is?”

“Ha ha.” A bout of silence. Sanji smokes. “Luffy better not burn down my kitchen. Again.”

Zoro hums, giving the cook a side-long glance.

“He did promise to be careful, y’know.”

Sanji can’t help it: He smiles, just a little.

“Yeah, I know.”

*

Light spills from underneath the door onto deck and with it, the muffled sound of laughter and multiple voices talking all over each other. Sanji reaches for the handle and doesn’t let himself hesitate, not anymore.

It swings open on well-oiled hinges and reveals the galley in all its glory: Sanji lets his gaze roam from the bowls stacked precariously in the sink to the colorful sprinkles tossed all across the floor all the way to the group of people freezing in the middle of what could be reasonably described as a food fight.

Or, as Sanji knows, his crewmates’ valiant attempt to bake something without him.

The smell of sugar and raw cake batter is almost overpowering in this kitchen made small by way too many cooks. In the center of it all is the rubber idiot that is his captain, half of his face almost artistically covered in different kinds of frosting. The chef in Sanji can’t help but calculate just how many resources must’ve gone into keeping those sticky fingers he knows so well away from the multi-layered cake that manages to tower over them all (minus perhaps Franky).

“Sanji!”

It’s Luffy who calls out to him, all joyful and not at all bothered by the fact none of it is done as he yells, “Surprise!”, and the rest of the crew cheers with him. Even Nami, and Sanji catches her eyes across the room and her beautiful smile stays exactly where it is.

And it’s not quite forgiveness but an offer nonetheless: One Sanji would be a fool not to accept.

There is that look of hope on Luffy’s face again, the one that’s a question as much as it’s trying to be an answer as well. Behind Sanji, Zoro sighs a fond little breath now that his mission is accomplished and he steps past him to join their crew, glancing over his shoulder as if to ask, you coming?

Sanji takes it all in and his heart melts, dripping between his ribs to gather warmly in his stomach. “You assholes had me worried”, he tells them without any sort of bite, and Luffy smiles.

“But Sanji. Birthday meals are made by friends. It's the rules!”

It turns out to be the best damn cake Sanji has ever had.