The tide rose and fell gently against the sides of the ship. The silence on the deck was almost peaceful, were it not for the nagging sense of tension that accompanied it. Sanji, with his usual unlit cigar dangling from his lips, leaned on the railing, staring out at the horizon with an expression that few in the crew would recognize as melancholy.
It had been a difficult time for him. Returning to the ship with his crewmates after their separation had stirred up feelings he didn't fully understand. The constant fighting and training had made him stronger, yes, but it had also changed him in ways he hadn't anticipated.
“You’re quieter than usual,” a voice said behind him.
The blond didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Zoro. That same idiot, with his dry comments and constant coldness. However, this time there was something else in his tone; it wasn't a provocation like the usual ones, but something more... attentive, as if he were observing more than he seemed to.
"None of your damn business," Sanji muttered, but his voice lacked its usual harshness. In fact, it almost sounded soft, which made him curse silently.
Zoro crossed his arms, his katana resting on his hip, watching him from the corner of his eye. "I'm not used to seeing you like this, Cook" he said with a hint of curiosity. "Have you grown weaker while training on that crazy island?"
Sanji let out a sarcastic laugh, looking down at the ground. “You have no idea what I went through, Mosshead. We don’t all come back the same person.” The words carried a weight that the cook couldn’t hide. It was true: he had changed. He felt more… exposed, vulnerable. There was something in his chest that he couldn’t shake, and every time his eyes met Zoro’s, that weight seemed to increase.
The moss raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "You're acting weird, Curly. If you have something to say, say it."
"I wouldn't expect you to understand." The blond stepped away from the railing, turning his back to the swordsman. There were so many things he wanted to say to him, but none that could come out of his mouth without making everything feel even more confusing.
However, just as Sanji was about to leave, Zoro stopped him. "Hey," his tone was low, almost uncomfortable. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. I'm not as much of an idiot as you think."
The cook stopped, shocked by those words. For years, they had fought, insulted, and taunted each other relentlessly. What was this? What was going on with the mosshead? What once would have been an impending argument now felt like something different, something Sanji didn't know how to handle.
Sanji looked back at him, his heart racing for no apparent reason. "And what would you do if I told you that things weren't the same? What would you do if I told you that..." He paused, unable to finish his sentence.
Zoro didn't answer immediately, but his eyes held a strange understanding. "Then we'd handle it. Like we always do, Cook." His tone was still firm, but there was something else beneath that coldness that Sanji hadn't expected.
The silence between them stretched on, broken only by the whisper of the waves and the occasional creak of the ship's wood. The cook still stood with his back to the swordsman, but he didn't know now whether he should go or stay. The swordsman's words, though few, had stirred something within him.
“Always so simple, isn’t it?” Sanji finally said, a small, bitter smile on his lips. “For you, everything is black or white. You fight or you retreat, you move forward, or you stay behind.” The blond looked up at the sky, inhaling deeply, trying to control the emotions swirling in his chest. “But for me… it’s not that easy.”
Zoro said nothing at first, but the pressure of his presence behind the cook was palpable. He took a step closer, his heavy boots clicking softly on the wood of the deck.
"You don't have to make it so complicated, Cook," The moss murmured, his tone cool but curious. "If something's bothering you, say it. If you feel something, face it. It's what you do in a fight, isn't it?"
Sanji turned slowly, coming face to face with Zoro. The moonlight reflected in the swordsman's eyes, making them seem more intense than usual. It was frustrating how calm he seemed, as if everything Sanji was feeling was nothing more than a minor discomfort to him.
"You don't understand anything," Sanji replied, his voice almost whispering. But there was no hatred in his words, not even frustration. Just weariness. "It's not a fight. It's not something I can just... beat or out."
Zoro stared at him silently, his expression as stoic as ever, but his eyes held a spark of something else, something Sanji hadn't seen before.
Suddenly, without quite knowing why, Sanji took a step towards him. The distance between them narrowed until he could almost feel the heat of Zoro’s body. The swordsman did not back away, which surprised him. In fact, he seemed to be waiting for something, with a calmness that only served to increase the whirlwind of emotions in the cook's chest.
"Damn you, Mosshead," The cook whispered, with a slight, bitter laugh. "You don't make things easy for me."
And then, before he could stop himself or think about the consequences, Sanji leaned in and kissed him.
The first touch was soft, almost timid, as if the cook were testing the waters. His hand, trembling, rested on Zoro’s chest, feeling the steady, firm beat beneath the skin. Zoro didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the kiss linger for a moment before returning it, his large, rough hand resting on the back of Sanji’s neck, holding him in place.
There was something about Zoro's response that completely disarmed him. Saji had always expected rejection, a taunt, or even a blow, but what he found was the opposite: an impenetrable calm, an unexpected warmth that made him feel exposed and, at the same time, surprisingly safe.
When they parted, Sanji still had his forehead resting on Zoro’s shoulder, trying to regain his composure. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, not daring to look up.
"Because I'm not as much of an idiot as you think," Zoro replied, his voice low and soft, very different from his usual curt tone. "Sometimes words just get in the way."
The cook laughed, a soft laugh that felt more like relief than anything else. He lifted his head, meeting the mosshead’s eyes, which were staring at him with that intensity that had always driven him crazy, but now felt different. More... open.
"So... this doesn't bother you?" Sanji asked, almost in disbelief at what was happening.
Zoro raised an eyebrow, as if the question seemed absurd. "If it bothered me, you'd have noticed by now." His hand slid from the back of the cook's neck to his cheek, his rough fingers brushing against his skin in a way Sanji would never have expected from him.
There was something about that simple caress, the ease with which Zoro touched him, that broke down Sanji’s last defenses. Without thinking, he leaned in once more, but this time the kiss was deeper, more confident. His hands ran over Mosshead’s torso, exploring the firmness of his body, but also seeking comfort in his proximity.
They both knew it was new, uncharted territory, but neither seemed to want to back down. Sanji, for the first time, allowed himself to be vulnerable, knowing he was in the hands of someone who, though distant and cold, would never reject him or let him down.
"I never thought it would be you," Sanji murmured under his breath, his lips barely brushing Zoro's.
"Me neither," was the swordsman's simple reply.
The night wind blew softly, rocking the ship's sails as the world continued to spin around him, oblivious to what was happening in that corner of the deck. For Sanji, all that mattered at that moment was the feel of Zoro's hands on his skin, the firmness of his grip, and the silent promise in his eyes.
The nights on the ship had always been quiet for the cook, a time when he could get away from the noise of the crew, concentrate on the kitchen or simply enjoy a cigar under the stars. But tonight was different. The weight of the emotions that had invaded him after the kiss did not let him think clearly. The mosshead, as always, had stayed next to him, with his typical relaxed posture, watching the sky as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
"Is it that easy for you?" The blond murmured, breaking the silence, not daring to look at him directly.
Zoro turned his head slightly, a gesture almost imperceptible. “What is?” he replied, his voice low and calm, as if he didn’t understand the question. “You’re not making it complicated. You’re feeling it.”
That answer was enough to disarm any remaining resistance Sanji had. It had always been difficult for him to manage his feelings, but with Zoro, that internal struggle seemed even more complicated. The swordsman had shown no hesitation or fear, and that confused and reassured him at the same time.
"You wouldn't believe what I went through on that damn island," Sanji confessed, looking down at his hands, which were still shaking slightly. "I thought about a lot of things… a lot of people, but I never thought that… you…" The words escaped him before he could formulate them clearly.
The mosshead, unfazed, stared at him with the same intensity that had gripped him before. "I don't need to imagine. You came back stronger, but also different. Something changed in you, and I don't think it was just the training”.
Sanji fell silent, amazed at how observant the mosshead could be when he put his mind to it. He knew he was right. It wasn't just the training. There was something else, something that had been awakened in him during his time away from the crew, something that had led to this inevitable confrontation with his own feelings.
And now, in front of the swordsman, everything he had repressed felt about to overflow.
Without a second thought, Sanji took another step towards Zoro. This time, he wasn’t as timid or unsure as before. He raised a hand and slowly slid it over the swordsman’s muscular arm, feeling every fiber of his body respond to the contact. It was a simple gesture but charged with an intensity neither of them had openly expressed until now.
"Damn, Mosshead, I don't know how you make this so easy," Sanji whispered, feeling the physical closeness ignite something deeper within him. "To me, it's chaos… and you're just there, like always."
Zoro watched him silently, not moving, allowing Sanji's hands to explore slowly. There was something almost fascinating about the swordsman's stillness, the way he allowed Sanji to come closer, as if he had been waiting for him all along.
Sanji, for his part, let his fingers trail up Mosshead's neck, until they finally reached the line of his jaw. It was a gentle, almost exploratory caress, as if he wanted to make sure that what was happening wasn't just a dream. Zoro didn't move away even an inch, and that gave the cook the confidence to continue.
He leaned in once more, more decisively this time, and kissed him again. But this time he wasn't shy. The kiss was deeper, more urgent, as if all the emotions he'd been holding back were finally finding their way out.
The mosshead responded just as firmly, his lips warm and sure, catching Sanji in a dizzying sensation that left him breathless.
The cook's hands traveled down Zoro's chest, sliding across the fabric of his shirt until they reached his skin. He felt every muscle, every scar, and he couldn't help but think of how many times they had been so close in battle, but never like this. There was a familiarity to their bodies, but also a newness that electrified him.
"Are you always this quiet?" Sanji whispered against Zoro's lips, almost to break the tension, though he knew it couldn't last much longer.
"I'd rather do than talk," The mosshead replied, with that typical nonchalance that only made him more irresistible to the cook. But even he was beginning to show small signs of vulnerability. His hands, which had been steady, now moved more gently, running down Sanji's back, tracing a slow, deliberate path that made him shiver.
The air around them seemed heavier, warmer, as if the world around them had stopped completely. Sanji wasn’t used to feeling this way, so caught up in the moment, so vulnerable. But he couldn’t deny it. He didn’t want to back down.
With a gentle push, Zoro guided him to the railing, his hands firm on the cook's waist, keeping the closeness between them and giving him no room to escape. The blond looked up at him, panting slightly, his eyes heavy with desire, but also with something deeper, something that even he hadn't recognized before.
"I don't understand how we got here," The cook confessed in a whisper, his forehead resting against Zoro's shoulder.
"You don't need to understand," he said softly. "Just move on."
Those words were all it took. Sanji looked up and, without a second thought, let himself go. His lips sought out Zoro’s once more, but this time it was different. There was no urgency or insecurity. It was a kiss that spoke of acceptance, of an unspoken understanding between the two of them. Their bodies moved in unexpected synchronicity, as if they had finally found the rhythm they had always been searching for.
The wind was still blowing, but it felt warmer now, more welcoming, as if the ship itself was protecting them from the outside world. Sanji let himself be carried away by Zoro´s caresses, his hands exploring every corner of his body with a precision only he could muster. It was a kind of intimacy he had never experienced before, one that went beyond words or actions.
Finally, when they were both out of breath, they separated by just a few inches, staring into each other's eyes. The blond, still leaning on the railing, let out a soft, incredulous laugh, his hands gripping the other's shirt.
"This isn't going to make things any easier between us," he said, with a smile that showed more relief than concern.
"They've never been easy," Zoro replied, a half-smile barely lifting one corner of his lips. "But that doesn't mean they aren't worth it."
The next few days on the ship were filled with an odd but comfortable silence between Sanji and Zoro. The crew continued with their usual routine, oblivious to the subtle change that had occurred between them. The cook, for his part, went about his business in the galley, though sometimes his gaze would stray toward the swordsman who, as usual, was training or resting on deck. There was something new in their dynamic, a silent current that united them, though both seemed intent on not putting words to it.
One night, when the ship was sailing through calmer waters and the sea breeze was gentle, Zoro decided to sit in the far corner of the deck, sharpening his katanas in the moonlight. It was his usual ritual, but this time his thoughts were not focused solely on his swords.
Sanji watched him from a distance, as if waiting for a sign. He had been trying to figure out what was happening between them for days. The kiss, the caresses, everything had been so intense, but at the same time so... inconclusive. It wasn't as if he expected a declaration or a drastic change, but there was an uncertainty that kept him restless.
"Are you going to stay there all night, or are you going to come and say what's on your mind?" The swordsman spoke without looking up from his work, his hands moving precisely over the edge of his sword.
Sanji, somewhat surprised by the invitation, smiled slightly and approached. His heart was beating faster than usual, as it always did when he was near him. He sat down next to the swordsman, letting the silence stretch between them for a few minutes, watching the gleam of the steel reflect the moonlight.
"I suppose you can still read me like an open book," The blond muttered, lighting a cigarette and exhaling the smoke slowly. "I didn't think you were so observant, Mosshead."
"Only you," The moss replied, sheathing one of his katanas with a soft click. "You are impossible to ignore."
Those words, spoken so bluntly and without emotion, made Sanji feel a small lump in his throat. It had always been difficult for him to handle the emotions the swordsman provoked, but this time it was different. There was something about Zoro’s honesty that disarmed him.
"What happened between us... what happened that night," Sanji began, unsure of how to continue. "It wasn't just a moment of weakness, was it?"
Zoro set his other katana aside, turning slowly to face him. His eyes, always so serious and piercing, locked onto Sanji's with an intensity that made him feel exposed, but not frightened.
"Did that feel like a moment of weakness?" Zoro asked, direct as ever.
Sanji shook his head, swallowing. "No. What I felt was real… too real. I just wasn't sure if you did too…"
Zoro, always the man of few words, leaned slightly towards Sanji, letting his forehead rest against his. It was a simple gesture, but full of meaning. Sanji felt the warmth of his breath, the physical closeness that brought with it a security that only Zoro seemed to be able to offer.
"I never do things I'm not sure of," Zoro whispered, his lips barely brushing Sanji's as he spoke. "If I stay, it's because I want to stay." Sanji's heart skipped a beat at those words. He needed no more. No grand promises, no romantic declarations. Just that quiet, steady affirmation that was so mosshead-like, and that somehow filled him with peace.
With a deep sigh, Sanji closed his eyes and let the weight of the emotions he had been suppressing fall away. He moved closer, sealing the space between them with a kiss, but this time there was none of the urgency that there was before. It was a slow kiss, laden with all the words neither of them had been able to say.
Zoro's hands slid to Sanji's waist, drawing him even closer, while the cook gently let his fingers run over the swordsman's shoulders and neck. It was a calming feeling, a certainty they both shared at that moment. They knew they didn't need any more explanations; they didn't need to put a name to what they were experiencing.
The wind blew gently around them, but in that instant the world seemed to have stopped. The crew, the battles, each other's dreams... everything faded into the background as they found themselves in that moment of pure connection.
When they finally pulled away, Sanji let out a small laugh, his hands still resting on Zoro's shoulders. "You always do everything your own way, don't you?" he said, his tone full of affection.
"I don't see the need to do it any other way," he replied, a half-smile playing on his lips.
They sat there under the stars, without saying any more words. The peace they had been searching for seemed to have settled between them, a peace that did not need grand gestures or declarations. They had found something together, something that would accompany them through the most difficult times to come.
Finally, the cook broke the silence, with a mischievous smile that always characterized him. "You know, Mosshead, this doesn't change the fact that you will still be second on the list of assholes on this ship."
Zoro gave a slight laugh, a quirk only the blond could provoke. "And you'll still be the effeminate Cook who can't stop talking."
"You're lucky I like you," The cook said, with a look that said it all.
The swordsman just glanced at him, going back to sharpen his katana. "Yeah, I'm lucky”.
And so, under the moonlight, two souls so different, yet so similar, found a space of calm between the storms that awaited them. Even though they didn't say it out loud, they both knew that one way or another, they would be there for each other, always.
The sea would still be vast and dangerous, the adventures would never stop coming, but now, between them, there was a bond that not even the strongest currents could break.
