Mixed Up (ZoSan)

Nine Million Rainy Days

"So, you're on a hockey team?" Sanji asked slowly, mindfully taking slow drinks of his beer. "I thought you punk types were against organized shit."

Zoro rolled his eyes and frowned as he finished his fourth beer, setting the empty bottle down amidst the others on the coffee table. Sanji was admittedly surprised at his ability to drink so much in such a short span of time, and was almost jealous at how Zoro didn't even seem to be drunk in the slightest. Sanji was on his second beer and already seemed to be getting tipsy, which led him to believe that the punk was probably an alcoholic.

"I'm against organized government, not organized sports teams, idiot."

"Aren't they the same sort of thing though? A leader bossing his subordinates around? 'You there, little government man, listen to what I, big government say', as opposed to 'I, big hockey man, tell you, little hockey man, where to hit the puck'?" Sanji couldn't help but take on a mocking tone as he spoke, and recoiled when Zoro stood up and brushed past him roughly, punching him hard on the knee as he went. Sanji kicked after him as he walked into the kitchen to get another drink and smirked at the way he stumbled and almost fell.

"Fucker, it's not like that at all," Zoro said dismissively as he regained his footing, to which Sanji snorted.

"So how's it different?"

"Christ." Sanji heard him mumble as he opened and shut the fridge roughly. Instead of coming back around to sit down with him on the sofa, Zoro stood staring angrily at him from around the tall kitchen counter. "It just is, shit-head. I wouldn't expected a stupid bastard like you to understand the difference between sports and authority."

"Right, because insulting the intelligence of the guy calling something problematic out totally doesn't make you look like a moron who can't back up his argument, or like the kind of people said moron resents by being anti-fascist." Sanji reclined back against the sofa and propped his feet up on the adjacent coffee table, being mindful not to kick the empty bottles or the bong over. He could practically hear Zoro wordlessly fuming as he came back into the living room, so that when Sanji looked up, grinning cheekily, he saw that the punk was standing and staring at him pointedly.

"You wanna tussle, fucky?" he eventually growled.

"In here? No," Sanji commented lazily, casting Zoro a confident look as he set his beer down on the table and stood up. "Outside? Sure."

Despite the angry look on Zoro's face, Sanji recognized a sense of approval written underneath his furrowed eyebrows. The green-haired punk chugged the rest of his drink and then set it aside as he walked to the door, opening it and then stepping out.

"Oi, at least let me put my shoes on!" Sanji shouted as he hurriedly began to pull them on. He could hear Zoro loudly making his way down the stairs, and grit his teeth at the man's ability to be a complete and total yob.

He ignored his tipsy feeling as he followed Zoro out the door and down the four flights of stairs. The air outside had changed drastically since he'd earlier been outside with Nami, and he couldn't help the shiver that overcame him as a wet wind blew by. When he finally made it down to the ground floor and strolled out of the breezeway, he noticed that big, dark rain clouds had begun to amass overhead.

Glancing around for Zoro, Sanji saw him standing near Franky, who'd returned with the new car battery. One look at the punk and Sanji could see that the fight had gone out of him, as he now stood directing his anger upwards.

"That bitch," Zoro mumbled darkly as Sanji came closer, casting an irritated look to the slowly darkening sky. "Could've warned me it was going to rain."