[ not happening. zoro isn't moving. for a long moment they simply glower at each other, a standstill of hateful, complicated feelings sucking all the air from the damply heated room. sanji imagines kicking zoro in the face, maybe overturning the claw-footed tub or even cracking it in two and watching the water cascade over the gleaming floors. that wouldn't do either of them any favors, and he doesn't want to be so disrespectful to the servants of the house. sure, there doesn't seem to be a cruelly domineering master like judge vinsmoke residing over the manor, but sanji remembers what it was like to be stuck in a place like this. hell, he remembers all the staff at the baratie turning tail and fleeing over all the fights that erupted each day, so sanji is no stranger to scrubbing toilets and mopping floors. his scowl stays firmly in place, but he sets his basket of soaps and shampoo down at the edge of the tub, a sign that he intends to seemingly peacefully coexist in their shared space. ]
I need to get ready for dinner. I don't show up to nice events smelling like piss like you do.
[ he swings his legs over and dips his feet in the tub, then sinks them past the bubbles, planting them down so he can sit comfortably. his eyes steal another glance at zoro's broad chest, the tracery of scars across his skin. sanji's eye pangs with a sudden phantom ache, a memory of when it wasn't there at all and there was just zoro's gentle touch across a throbbing wound. he swallows, cupping a handful of water in his palm and splashing it over zoro's head. ]
You haven't washed your hair. You're going to dinner like that? Hold your breath.
[ aggressively and before he can protest, he pushes zoro's shoulder down and dunks his entire head beneath the sudsy water, then drags him back up, but positions him between his legs, uncapping his sweet-smelling shampoo and immediately beginning to lather up his hair, his firm, long fingers massaging his scalp from his temples all the way to the nape of his neck. he can't help but feel like he's giving a cat a very thorough petting session. ]
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I need to get ready for dinner. I don't show up to nice events smelling like piss like you do.
[ he swings his legs over and dips his feet in the tub, then sinks them past the bubbles, planting them down so he can sit comfortably. his eyes steal another glance at zoro's broad chest, the tracery of scars across his skin. sanji's eye pangs with a sudden phantom ache, a memory of when it wasn't there at all and there was just zoro's gentle touch across a throbbing wound. he swallows, cupping a handful of water in his palm and splashing it over zoro's head. ]
You haven't washed your hair. You're going to dinner like that? Hold your breath.
[ aggressively and before he can protest, he pushes zoro's shoulder down and dunks his entire head beneath the sudsy water, then drags him back up, but positions him between his legs, uncapping his sweet-smelling shampoo and immediately beginning to lather up his hair, his firm, long fingers massaging his scalp from his temples all the way to the nape of his neck. he can't help but feel like he's giving a cat a very thorough petting session. ]