ZoSan: The Flower

Chapter 8 - Zoro

Zoro watched the blond carefully. He was clearly still shocked, still processing, but there was no anger or disgust on his face. "You're ...taking it better than I expected, honestly," Zoro said carefully after a minute. He hadn't gotten the death-kick he'd been expecting yet, or even a yelp of disgust. Nor had the blond jumped back into the mini-Merry and taken off.

In fact, he'd barely gotten any response yet, which was making this the longest few minutes of his life.

"I'm... not sure what to say, I guess." It was Sanji's turn to turn away now, but Zoro could have almost sworn that there was a little more pink to his cheeks than had been there a few minutes ago. Maybe it was just the moonlight. "Years, though? Really?"

Well, I've come this far. "Do you hate me for it?"

"No." The answer was immediate, and Zoro found himself breathing a sigh of relief. Which he regretted when the cook continued. "I just... dammit, I don't know if I can return your feelings. You just told me that I could save you, that I'm the only one who can now, but I... I don't know. I love women, always have."

The last sentence sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself, more than Zoro.

"I know," Zoro responded simply. That much, at least, was obvious. The fawning, the noodle dances, the waiting on them hand and foot, the overprotection. That's why I didn't bother saying anything. The unsaid sentence seemed to hang in the air between them.

"But I don't want you to die."

Zoro saw the other man's hands shake as he pulled out and lit a cigarette. Did he dare push further? This was new territory for him, actually having hope that the cook, his cook, might not hate him for the way he felt. Might even someday POSSIBLY return his feelings, assuming Zoro lived that long. But he'd never seen the cook look so uncertain, so miserable and burdened. He hated that that look was his fault, even as he knew the cook had to sort through it on his own. Knew that telling him that the symptoms seemed to be easing might still prove disastrous. It could send Sanji spiraling into a rejection that would hurt them both. "Sorry," he tried to backtrack, "I wasn't gonna put that on you. Look, don't worry about it, I'm probably just delirious. You should go ba-"

"Shut up, you shit swordsman, and let me process this," Sanji interrupted as he stowed his lighter back in his pocket. His voice was without malice though, and the insult seemed more habitual than intentional, so Zoro let it pass without comment.

Another couple moments of silence passed between them, and Zoro felt his heart sinking. Dammit, he had to take a chance on something though. He sat up slowly and reached for the hand that he'd shaken off in his last coughing fit, eyes glued to the blond. "I know it's a lot to ask but... Will you kiss me once, cook? It might... I dunno, buy me time, or something ... and maybe help you sort through all of this." It was a selfish request, and Zoro knew it. But he'd spent most of the last two weeks thinking he was dying because of his feelings towards this man. One small selfish request that honestly, truly might help both of them wasn't too terrible, was it?

Sanji froze again, cigarette nearly dropping away from those beautiful lips that occupied far too many of Zoro's thoughts. There was no mistaking the blush on the cook's face now, and Zoro was once again wondering if he was dreaming this whole encounter. Sanji blushing because of him? After not having violently rejected his love? This had to be too good to be true. No, not even a dream. The flower had killed him and maybe there was some sort of divine being that had somehow decided that Pirate Hunter Zoro, the demon of the east, deserved heaven....

And then it got better, because Sanji's mouth was on his, gentle and unmoving and smelling like those cigarettes. Just a slight pressure, a moment of stubble against his skin. Just enough to convince the swordsman that this was real, because the Sanji in his dreams didn't ever kiss him so softly, like he was scared to break him, or put his hand on his chest like that. In Zoro's dreams, the cook kissed him with the passion that said man showed in everything he did, from fighting to cooking. Which meant this gentle, uncertain thing had to be reality, had to be Sanji really caring about what happened to him enough to push out of his own comfort zone.

And damn if that didn't just make Zoro almost giddy inside. Hope could be one hell of a drug.

Another second and the pressure was gone, and Zoro opened eyes that he didn't realize he'd closed. A smile formed on his lips as he stared at the blushing mess of a blond he'd just gotten kissed by.

"Well," he said after a minute of the tense silence that had fallen between them. "If nothing else, now I can die happy."