( zoro is committed to his anger for the rest of all time, like a private marriage between himself and his heart, til death do he part from his grudge against sanji. except, then he looks at sanji and he realizes it's already been forgiven, dropped like a load of dead weight upon seeing the look on his face, between one heartbeat and the next. it isn't new. zoro has felt this fear, he knows this panic, of having sanji in between his weathered palms and yet knowing he's somewhere far away, somewhere buried in a past zoro isn't entitled to know about. there's enough pieces to put together a vague image anyway — pain worse than whatever arlong has done to him, pain like something unimaginable, like broken bones and broken spirits. probably the reason why he's so cagey about money, why he doesn't have credit cards, why everything about sanji feels skin deep, a pretty mask he dons for everyone.

except, there's no real mask right now. he's right there, small and broken, wet eyes distant. zoro wants to bundle him up and carry him out like that night at the fight club, like a baby soothed by rocking. he wants to forget he ever saw arlong's stupid face and take sanji back to the apartment, where they can fuck the stink of this club out from each other. but — he doesn't. it would be hell for all three of them, and zoro isn't willing to risk the people he considers most important. thinking, his thumbs smooth up and down sanji's pointed hipbones, chin tilting up to attempt to meet sanji's eyes. when it doesn't work, he leans in, lapping the tip of his tongue against sanji's spilled tear, sucking the salt up as he arches forward, kissing the corner of his eye. )

Sanji.

( not chef or dumbass or waiter or asshole. not even liar, even if he is all those things — the fact that he's sanji is important most of all. carefully, a hand slides up the curve of his back, until he's pressed tight enough to sanji to grip his shoulder and pull him down, free hand covering sanji's on his cock, giving himself a firm squeeze around his palm. )

I need you. Don't leave now. ( he grinds his dick into his hand, mouth pressed to his ear, shutting his eyes so he can pretend like they're at home, like sanji's fingers are greasy from salty fries, like the real housewives of salt lake city is playing in the background while zoro comes all over his delicate fingers, blushing at sanji's mean, prideful laughter. ) Let's do this, so we can go home together. I haven't even put a stupid baby in you yet. We've got a lot left to do. ( tilting his head, he presses a kiss to the corner of sanji's mouth. his dick thickens out in sanji's hand, hard because he's pretty with tears clinging to his lashes, because the thought of getting sanji pregnant no matter how stupid it is, always gets him hard. the actual pregnancy? sure. his tits getting big and full? yeah. the babies and the life and the happiness that would come after? definitely. ) Don't leave me.