Sanji's Head Over Feet
“You've already won me over in spite of me.”
The
tall blonde stared at the swordsman, he was trying to be inconspicuous
but that wasn’t working very well. Just standing there; in plain sight
with a cigarette hanging from his lips, his head cocked and an odd
expression on his face. However, ever the dense one – Zoro hadn’t
noticed or so he thought. Sanji didn’t know when it had started, the
fascination with watching the swordsman, but it had come on fast;
faster than he could have imagined. It wasn’t like the fascination he
got from watching or taking care of the girls, it was a frustrating
fascination. He didn’t understand why he wanted to watch the green
haired man, he just did – because no matter what Zoro was doing, to
Sanji it was like an art…
“And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet.”
Then
one day, while he was in the galley; he’d gotten it. It struck him like
lightning. He stopped chopping the carrots, and pushed the tip of the
knife into the cutting board, leaning on it. He couldn’t breathe for a
moment, and then he let out a sickening laugh. It was light in tone and
slightly deranged, like he had slowly lost his mind and just not
realized it.
“Oi, Shitty-Cook,” The voice, he had been there;
heard the deranged laughter; great. Just what he needed, the object of
his fascinations to be lurking about whilst he had his epiphany, he
didn’t even want to turn around or acknowledge the man.
He
knew he’d have too though, Zoro was ever the stubborn one, and he if
ignored him; he was likely to get a sword to the neck. He turned,
slowly; his eyes falling on the moss head.
“What Marimo?” He
demanded, keeping his voice its normal tone when speaking to the other
man. Zoro raised an eyebrow; and Sanji cursed himself, what had he done
wrong?! What crucial body language had given him away? Zoro watched
him, and took a swig of the rum that was sitting opened next to him.
Obviously the moss head was trying to make him break out into a sweat
and tell him all his darkest secrets…
Wait, when had he begun to
think like that? Like it was all some kind of conspiracy, a conspiracy
to find out his true feelings for the swordsman! Inwardly Sanji berated
himself; and forced the calm into his body, lighting up a cigarette. It
was very much needed and when he inhaled the toxin, he could feel his
muscles relaxing.
Zoro was still watching him, that eyebrow
still raised; then he spoke again – shocking Sanji with a simple.
“Never mind.” He stood from his spot, and strode out of the galley, and
Sanji watched him go. He turned back to the cutting board; and took a
piece of the carrot and popped it into his mouth. Something he might
not do all the time, but on occasion, just a nibble. It settled his
nerves.
“Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are.”
It
was late, and Sanji was still up. He was preparing for breakfast the
next morning. Best get it out of the way, so that it would be ready to
go after his watch shift. It had been two days since the incident in
the galley with Zoro, and his abrupt realization, that his odd
fascination for the green haired swordsman was actually, love. Things
had gone on like normal since then, though as normal as was allowed.
He’d gotten into one actual fight with the swordsman since then and
sadly got his ass handed to him. The whole time his mind reeled, the
feeling – like he was actually feeling for the first time what the
man’s skin felt like, what a thrill and shock the swordsman breath or
fingertips on him was like, and it set his skin on fire. He was half
considering starting another half ass fight, just to get those feelings
all over again.
He wouldn’t risk it though, he knew the Marimo
was suspecting foul play, he hadn’t fought back the way Zoro liked. He
hadn’t kicked as hard, or flipped as high. He was sure; the moss-head
was going mad about it; trying to figure out what was going on, while
he sat in the Crow’s Nest and watched for any signs of something
horrible on the horizon. He had to admit, however – while they fought;
he watched the swordsman’s body, the way it moved; trembled, flexed.
Sanji was sweating, his body hot just from the thought. There had been
sweat, grinding and grunting; it was almost like sex, without the
sexual release. The blonde huffed, and snubbed out his cigarette.
“I couldn't help it…”
More
sleepless nights, the blonde was tiring of waking in a cold sweat, with
stained pants and the imaginary feel Zoro’s lips on his trembling,
wanton skin. He got up, another painfully pleasurable dream and
staggered out onto the deck. Taking a deep breath, he tried to soak up
as much of the cool air on his superheated skin as he could. His
flushed cheeks, and flushed body slowly began to cool – but then hair
on the back of his neck pricked up. He wasn’t alone. He hadn’t noticed
before too busy trying to calm his raging body, but he wasn’t he could
tell now. His eyes shifted around the deck. Who was on guard duty
tonight? Usopp? That wasn’t it though, there was something even more
familiar about this; again it hit him like a ton of bricks. He turned
slightly, and looked over his shoulder; and there he was, leaning
against the wall. Green hair sparkling in the moonlight, shirtless; and
perfectly ripped; the absolute picture of male perfection!
“Shitty-Cook,”
was Zoro’s polite greeting. Sanji let his mouth fall open, but not too
far; and that raised a grin on the other man’s face.
“Marimo
Head,” Came his response after he got his wits about him. Zoro grinned,
obviously Sanji (even this late at night) could be coaxed to play, and
play he would.
There was a swirl, no more insults after the
first few; which were forgotten mere moments later. They were as quiet
as possible, as swords clinked; and leg’s kicked. It was almost like
playing a game of Twister except nobody wins; and the object is to shut
the other person up without alerting Usopp or waking the others. Okay,
it wasn’t at all like a game of Twister.
Sanji looked up; again
– he hadn’t tried so hard; and just look where it got him, pinned under
all that Braun. Hands held by the wrists over his head, hips pinned by
the others and legs, though carefully wrapped, still wrapped around the
swordsman’s hips. Again, sex came to mind and it made his cock twitch.
He worried that the swordsman might feel, and thus tried to think of
something to make the ever rising piece of flesh disappear.
Too
late, something crossed Zoro’s face; and Sanji opened his mouth. He was
going to try to explain. That didn’t work because the moment he did
open his mouth, Zoro’s rough mouth was pushed down on his. The kiss,
their first kiss; it was needy and passionate and conveyed all the
pain, passion, regret and anger they shared for each other. It was
hate, and love all wrapped into one neat package and shoved down each
others throats. It could have been described in one word, but that word
wasn’t coming to Sanji at the moment. All that came to Sanji now was a
series of mewls and moan’s that barely got out of his mouth, before
somehow; like magic were devoured by the green haired man.
Perfection. That would have been the word he might have used, had his brain not been set to Fuck.
“It's all your fault.”
