pieces of you, pieces of me

 Smoke raised in stacks from the burning fires, scratching at Sanji's lungs like sharp nails. He coughed, waving his hand around to scatter floating particles. Their crew had once again gotten themselves into a fight with the marines, which at this point was a regular occurrence. There was fire everywhere, screaming drifting through the air, and the vague sound of Luffy laughing as he tore through troops upon troops of marines without so much as a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead.

Sanji quickly glanced around the dark battlefield. No sight of any of his crewmates. They were probably closer to Luffy, on the other side of the smoke-wall. He had ended up so far away by happen-stance, as he had seen a rogue marine sneaking to the sidelines and calling for backup. He had, of course, taken care of it, but now he was trapped by this pesky fire.

At the edge of his vision, he spotted a blur, but it didn't look like a marine. He tilted his body to look at what (or who) was creeping carefully by him. His brow narrowed as he saw green, bobbing from behind a cloud of smoke. The shadow moved into his vision, and the pieces clicked as he saw Zoro's confused face glancing back and forth in front of him. Sanji hissed to himself. The marimo was not who he wanted to see right now, in the height of battle of all times.

Lately, he'd been more conscious of his burly crewmate than usual. When they fought, he couldn't help but flush as he noticed how close their faces were, or how he practically felt sparks on his skin when Zoro got so close that their foreheads gently touched. Sometimes, when Sanji couldn't sleep, he would glance at Zoro as he dozed, his face soft and his lips slightly parted as he muttered something through the fog of his dream. If he was feeling particularly bold, Sanji would reach his hand out and touch Zoro's cheek, letting his fingertips linger on his skin before sharply pulling his hand back and cursing at himself. He told himself, 'No, stop, there's no way he would ever feel the same.'

But a few days ago, when Sanji had been doing dishes after a long party, Zoro had stumbled up to him, clearly drunk, and asked to help him.

"What's with you, Marimo?" Sanji spat. "You'll probably break all the plates, you clumsy idi-" Before Sanji could finish his sentence, Zoro had dropped his head on Sanji's shoulder, turning his head and burrowing his nose into Sanji's neck. Sanji's face had immediately flushed, his heart thumping with each breath Zoro took.

"Cook," he breathed. "Let me help." Sanji nodded, then realizing Zoro couldn't see him, sputtered an 'ok'. Zoro stayed for a moment longer, then stumbled up, squared his shoulders, and started washing dishes. Sanji remained frozen in place, his heart pumping so fast he couldn't count the beats.

Ever since, Sanji had been avoiding Zoro, taking care not to be in the same room long enough for Zoro to remember to bring anything up. He repeated, like a mantra, 'It was a joke, he was drunk, it was a joke, he was drunk...' But now, trapped on a battlefield with no one but the marimo, he was forced to talk to him.

Sanji slowly strolled towards Zoro, the swordsman finally catching sight of him.

"Oh, hey cook," he muttered, still looking around. "D'you know where Luffy is?" Sanji sighed, massaging his temple.

"Zoro, Luffy is back the way you came." he grumbled. "Speaking of which, how did you even get past all this smoke and fire?" Zoro thought for a moment and shrugged.

"God, you're such an idiot." Sanji spat. "Now, help me find a way through all this shit."

They both started searching for a way to get back to Luffy and the others, with no luck. They walked aimlessly around the rocky outcrop, in silence. Eventually, Sanji flopped down on a flat rock, and pulled out a cigarette. Zoro glanced at him, before sitting on the ground beside him.