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Sanji comes out as bi to his friends days before they go to an annual Pride event and he’s feeling brave enough to brandish his flag colors for the first time.
He knows Zoro’s gay and usually shows up to these things, typically in his usual simple attire with only a small gay pride pin on his shirt to signify any sort of celebration. The man likely doesn’t see the need to go all out he supposes.
But Sanji’s a little nervous… Zoro’s the only one who didn’t say a thing in the group chat while everyone expressed their excitement and happiness over his self-acceptance.
He was expecting a bit of teasing from the brute, but silence is somehow worse.
It’s days later now, the day of the event. He’s getting ready, all decked out in pink, purple, and blue — the colors beautifully dusting his eyelids — when he looks at himself fully in the mirror, and the anxiety sets in.
He knows it should be a safe space but the reality of more people, people he doesn’t trust, knowing the truth is terrifying.
Now he’s thinking he should hold it off, dress up like he usually does and wait for next year when he’s more ready...
He quickly changes the cute shirt he was planning to wear, a soft pink button up covered in bi pride hearts, to a simple baby blue top. He sighs.
He steps into his bathroom to wash off the makeup. The anxiety turns to sadness at the thought he’ll be cleaning off something he’d been so proud of just minutes before.
He pumps a bit of makeup remover into his hand when an abrupt pounding sounds at his door, causing him to spill the remover across the sink and countertop.
Pissed, he quickly rinses his hand, and rushes to his apartment door, swinging it open.
“Who the hell-!” He comes to a full stop when he sees Zoro standing there, shocked at what he’s seeing.
Zoro shoves past him to make his way into the apartment, a large gay pride flag fluttering behind him like a cape.
He stops in the middle of the room and turns to look at Sanji, crossing his arms.
Sanji’s anger abates as he takes Zoro in.
The musclehead’s dressed head to toe in gaudy gay pride wear; a bright colored tee that’s a little too small, a pair of equally as bright shorts, high tops with the pride colors roughly painted on, the large pride flag adorning his back, a flashy bandana that covers his moss.
He even has a bit of glitter dusting his cheeks. His eyelashes look like they’ve been done too.
Sanji just stands there in shock, “What’re you-“
“Where’s the dumb shirt you’re gonna wear?”
Sanji scoffs, “Wha- I wasn’t-!“
“I know you, cook. Go put the damn shirt on and let’s go,” Zoro grunts at him, avoiding direct eye contact.
Suddenly, it dawns on him why Zoro’s dressed this way. Sanji can’t help but smile.
“Were you worried about me, marimo?” He says teasingly.
Zoro’s arms tighten across his chest, still avoiding Sanji’s eye. He swears he sees Zoro’s cheeks flush.
“Of course not… Now hurry up and change before I leave your ass,” He might be pouting.
Sanji hums, walking past the blushing man to his bedroom, making sure to run a hand through the long cape along the way.
“Cute cape,” Sanji teases.
Zoro doesn’t say a word, his ruddy cheeks deepening.
Sanji chuckles to himself. He goes to the bedroom, the door still slightly open as he quickly switches out his top.
He steps back out, feeling a bit lighter now, the anxiety long gone.
Zoro’s leaning against the wall, eye closed, the tips of ears now dusted in pink.
He opens his eye when Sanji approaches. Before Sanji can say anything, Zoro reaches into his shorts pocket and holds his hand out in offering.
A small heart pin with the bi pride colors sits in the center of his large palm.
“Here,” Zoro grunts.
Sanji’s wide-eyed, blushing as he accepts the gift and immediately pins it to his shirt.
He smooths the ruffled fabric over his heart back into place.
He looks at Zoro with a warm grateful smile, “Thank you.”
Zoro stares at him, clearly fighting a smile.
He stands up from the wall and grabs Sanji’s wrist, immediately turning and tugging him towards the door.
He’s opening it when -Sanji shouts.
“H-hey, hold on! I needa put my shoes on, idiot!”
Zoro clicks his tongue, letting him go as he stands outside the door facing away from him.
“Hurry up then.”
Sanji bends to pull on his shoes, grumbling to himself about stupid impatient meatheads. He looks up to glare at Zoro, expecting a comeback to his grumbling.
Instead he’s met with a small smile, only a peek of it in sight from his angle on the floor.
Sanji’s heart thumps as warmth blooms in his chest.
Cute bastard.
He looks down to finish tying off his shoe. He’s fighting off his ever growing blush and steps out into the hallway, feeling braver now standing next to the thoughtful man beside him.
He locks the door and, feeling bold, slips his fingers through Zoro’s and tugs him down the hallway.
“Let’s go before they think you got us lost again.”
“Oi!”
✨🌈 The End 🌈✨
———
This literally started with “I have some thoughts about…” and then this got a little out of hand lol
I hope this was enjoyable, and perhaps a little relatable, I loved writing this little drabble 💖
Happy Pride everyone!
✨❤️🧡💛💚💙💜✨
P.S. Zoro 100% went to Nami asking for clothing advice ‘cause “he just wanted to try something different” and she clocked him immediately lol she and Usopp had fun with it~
Also, Zoro did in fact bring that pin just in case Sanji didn’t feel comfortable in his full get up 💖
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Love ur little creature Marino here*, vry yes, vry in character
A delightful sequel to this flavour of Zosan is Zoro just following Sanji to his restaurant/wherever once the crew disbands and is still never saying anything to Sanji and never actually asks to stay with him, he just goes yup, this is where ol’ Zoro is supposed to be, this moss found his rock. All while Sanji is like ??? r u living here? do u not have a job?…do u need a job??? do u want like a bed or something? or r u lost n trapped here? zoro????
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It makes Zoro's jaw clench, discomfort settling in his belly. He's used to the awareness without the hyper-vigilance, and the readiness without the anxiety.
That's the most foreign part: the anxiety.
Zoro isn't an anxious person. But the ants under his skin is unsettling, the tension in his muscles different than what he's used to. There's a buzz in his forehead where a headache's setting up shop, making a home right smack against his skull.
His eyes shift towards the cook every chance he gets. This, too, is annoying. Sure, he's gotten used to sneaking glances towards Sanji after traveling with him for so long, even now that he technically doesn't have to. But this side is all new, all foreign.
He watches for any odd twitch, any movement that is so unlike the cook that Zoro'll have no choice but to confront him about. He looks for a dent, a bent limb that's angled all wrong. He searches for a look on the cook's familiar face, one that shouldn't be there.
He isn't quite sure what kind of look he's looking for.
Zoro isn't sure what he's looking for at all.
But Sanji's call comes back to him like a nightmare when they set sail from Wano. His injuries are healed, his skirmish with death itself put behind him. And in the empty space there's only the echo of Sanji's voice.
The serious tone. The plea just under it, so hidden only Zoro could have picked up on it. The request... A request and a demand both in one. A morbid compliment only you can do this laced into the words like pretty bows.
He isn't sure what makes him more anxious, what makes him more hyper-aware:
Something being so intricately wrong with Sanji that he'd put this weight on Zoro's shoulders. Or that something really is wrong with Sanji and Zoro isn't sure what or how he's supposed to deal with this.
It's on the fifth night out at sea where Zoro bullies his way into the galley far, far earlier than he usually is.
Truthfully, he hasn't slept. Partially due to the violent way the waves are rocking the Sunny, mostly because he's thinking about Sanji again.
Truth be told, he thinks about Sanji often but it's never been laced with sickening dread. His thoughts about the cook are usually the kindest, softest parts of Zoro because he'd willingly be kind and soft for him if he'd asked him to.
But that's neither here nor there.
His thoughts on Sanji have kept him awake. He's pulled apart all his words from when they'd been healing in the Kozuki palace about it not being important anymore. Has reassembled the meaning and intent, has continuously tried to find anything hidden behind them.
Zoro hasn't forgotten: Sanji's an expert at hiding things.
In the galley, Sanji lounges around, lazily making his way through breakfast. It's really early and not even the earliest riser is set to wake up yet.
Sanji's in his usual getup: button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, tails tucked into his trousers, annoyingly attractive chain hooked through his belt loops, shoes shiny and clean. His hair is still damp and it curls at the ends, yellow like sunshine, bright like something cliche.
He looks up from the dough he's rolling, twitching his head to the side to get his forelocks out of his face. The strands fall back to cover one eye, one ridiculously curly eyebrow.
"Oh," he comments, blinking. Like Zoro's messed something up in the routine. He turns to look at the clock Franky's set up for him: the numbers neon blue, animated fishes of different colors swimming just behind the screen. Furrowed curly brows, strain under his eyes, Sanji turns back to him. "You're up really early, mosshead."
Zoro grunts and slips onto a stool at the breakfast counter. His fingers twitch, tips tapping against the counter's surface.
"...Everything alright?" Sanji asks, tone strained like showing concern for Zoro is weird. Which it is. Even now, it is.
Zoro grunts again, wanting to avoid eye contact but also needing to check. Are his eyes still blue? Is his sclera still white? If he cries, will it be tears or tar or motor grease? Are his veins still visible under his skin, like blue lightning crackling up his forearms, showing he still bleeds, he still has red blood in him?
He clenches his jaw and locks eyes with Sanji.
The cook furrows his brow even further now, lips twitching before they set in a frown. His moustache is filling in more, Zoro notes. It's no longer just a few little wiry hair like when they met up in Sabaody. So he's growing hair still.
Still human.
"Mosshead?"
His cheeks are turning rosy.
Still human, Zoro repeats to himself.
"Oi, idiot, stop acting weird!" Sanji points a flour-coated finger at him. "If you're going to be in here act normally!"
Easily flustered.
Still human.
Zoro exhales long and hard as he lifts a hand up to his eye, rubbing the heel into it. It stings from lack of sleep. He'd had first watch and he should have been asleep from 3 until 7 in the morning. It's a quarter to 6 now and Zoro hasn't slept a single bit.
"M'fine," he finally mumbles, opening his eye just in time to catch Sanji flick some of the flour on the counter at him.
Still a tease.
Still human.
Zoro leans his chin onto his palm and stares at him. Sometimes, the line blurs: when he's vigilantly watching for any anomaly or when he's staring because the cook is a flame and Zoro is a moth.
Sanji settles down, returning to what he's doing, his shoulders showing how comfortable he is. In his element, in the company he's in. He hums something to himself and not for the first time Zoro thinks about commissioning Franky for a tone-dial, if only because he'll be more discreet about it than Usopp.
"I think some breakfast sandwiches will be good today," Sanji says, looking down at his work. Ah, he's making bread from scratch, then. "I can make you the one you enjoyed last time. With the spinach and egg whites? Oh, I can add some---"
Zoro tunes him out for a brief second. He'll eat anything Sanji puts in front of him.
Still passionate about food.
Still human.
"Zoro?"
Zoro blinks and looks at him again.
Sanji's staring at him expectantly, a ridiculous curly eyebrow raised. "Well?"
"Huh?"
"What do you say to that?"
Zoro didn't hear the last half of his ingredient rant. Usually, Zoro listens to him go on about combinations and what goes good with what, genuinely interested but also just feeling warmth and softness at seeing the cook be so passionate.
"Yeah," he croaks. He clears his throat. "Sounds good, cook."
Sanji looks both satisfied and quizzical to Zoro's strangeness. He opens and closes his mouth, thin lips curving around words he doesn't voice. He settles for quiet for now, putting the individual sized dough on two trays and moving to put them in one of the ovens.
The chain at his hip jingles with his movements, lightly bumping against his side with each of Sanji's steps. After putting the bread in the oven, he moves to pull various bowls from one of the cupboards and starts to fill them up with different ingredients. Shredded cheese, spinach leaves, diced tomatoes, sliced mushrooms, bacon bits, bacon slices, cubed bell peppers.
"I'm okay, you know," Sanji finally says, voice soft and low. It's so very unlike him. But he only shows this side of him during witching hours, in the dusk and the dawn, when it's just Zoro with him, when he can show he can be weary and vulnerable under his many, many facades. "I was being honest. I'm... being more honest now. I promise."
Zoro's jaw clenches again.
He'll never keep anything from Sanji, he's been straightforward from the jump: he's going to be watching. It'd pissed Sanji off at the start, aiming kicks at him to send him flying. But then Zoro told him he needed to do this. For the safety of the crew, sure. But because he's Sanji and... Zoro doesn't play, when it concerns his cook, after all.
"Yeah," Zoro mumbles, rubbing a hand down the length of his face. His skin feels heavy. It's an uncomfortable feeling.
Sanji walks around the counter and doesn't move until his front is pressed to Zoro's side. He smells like cigarettes and the faint grainy aroma of the flour he'd been working with.
He's warm.
Still human.
Sanji sighs, leaning forward, his lips ghosting against the skin of Zoro's temple. A hand comes up next, fingertips touching his earrings. "Still me."
"Yeah," Zoro mumbles again, fingers gripping the chain on Sanji's hip.
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