One Piece One Shots! Request are open!

On Deck and Denial

(I'm starting with the most popular ship because I wanna write alr and not wait 6 weeks for requests, guess who's first😼!! 💚💛)

The sea stretched endlessly before the Thousand Sunny, a shimmering blue canvas beneath a sun-drenched sky. The waves slapped playfully against the ship's hull, but on deck, tensions brewed.

Sanji flicked his cigarette, staring off toward the horizon, his mind half-focused on what meal he'd be preparing for dinner. The rest of his thoughts, however, lingered on a certain green-haired swordsman who, at that moment, was busy polishing his swords.

Zoro's sharp gaze was fixed on Wado Ichimonji, the pure white blade gleaming in his hand. His concentration was admirable, the way he handled the sword with reverence and care—but that wasn't what had caught Sanji's attention. No, it was the quiet, deliberate intensity that Zoro always carried around. The way he trained, the way he fought... the way he irritated Sanji to no end.

He scowled, exhaling a puff of smoke. Why is he always in my space? Sanji thought. It was just... Zoro.

From the corner of his eye, Zoro noticed Sanji glancing his way, but the swordsman chose to ignore it. He had no interest in getting into one of their infamous fights right now. After all, there was no reason to rile up the crew with their pointless bickering. They were rivals, sure—always at each other's throats about something—but it never meant anything more than that.

At least, that's what Zoro had always told himself.

But lately, things had felt... different. Every time they fought, every time they argued, it felt like something had shifted beneath the surface. The rivalry felt sharper, more charged, and sometimes it left him uneasy.

It was like a dance they were locked into, and Zoro wasn't sure he understood the steps anymore.

"Oi, moss-head," Sanji's voice cut through Zoro's thoughts. "How about doing something useful for once and help me with the supplies?"

Zoro looked up from his sword, his gaze lazy but sharp. "And let you boss me around? Yeah, right."

Sanji clicked his tongue, turning his back on Zoro, the annoyance evident in his posture. "Lazy bastard," he muttered under his breath.

Zoro watched him walk away, muscles tense. It should've been easy to brush off Sanji's jabs like he always did, but something in his chest stirred. He didn't know what it was—anger? Annoyance? Frustration?

No, it was something deeper. Something unsettling.

Several days passed, and the crew found themselves in the heart of a storm. The skies darkened, and the wind howled fiercely, pushing the ship with all its might. The rain came down in torrents, and the waves rose higher with every passing second.

Sanji, ever the diligent chef, had already secured the kitchen and was running to help with the sails. Zoro, of course, was up on deck, holding onto the rigging with one hand, the other resting instinctively on his swords.

As they worked side by side, their usual tension was momentarily forgotten. The crew's safety was paramount, and nothing else mattered during a storm this fierce. But even as the rain lashed against their skin and the wind roared in their ears, both men were acutely aware of the other's presence.

The ship lurched violently, causing Sanji to lose his footing for a moment. Before he could steady himself, Zoro's hand shot out, grabbing his arm and yanking him upright. Their eyes met briefly—Sanji's blue gaze sharp and irritated, Zoro's dark and unreadable.

"I didn't ask for your help," Sanji grumbled, jerking his arm away.

Zoro snorted. "Could've fooled me, twirly-brow. You looked ready to go overboard."