#im alive...........

Zoro has so far — much to everyone’s surprise — been pretty well-behaved throughout the wedding preparations. He went to all the suit fittings (dark green shirt and single-breasted white jacket, with fuller sleeves and high-cut trousers, allowing plenty of room for movement), tried all the cakes during the tasting sessions (three tiers with rum, and Luffy’s getting his own cake), and even had a lot to say on the guest list (Pudding is not invited, and certain male guests are on thin ice, apparently; Zoro will not be held responsible for what he’ll do if they look at Sanji funny). For the most part, he is an obedient moss, following Sanji’s instructions with minimal complaints.

Sanji thought this was a sign — Zoro, perhaps, had finally gotten a little sentimental at the prospect of tying the knot after five years of relationship.

Until today, that is. A supposedly peaceful lunch, one week before the big day, and Zoro suddenly asked, can we just skip the wedding vows?

“Because that’s the most important part of the wedding, Mossy,” Sanji explains, trying his best to be patient. “Everything we’re doing — the fancy decorations and the cake and the dancing — everything is in service of the vows. You can even say they’re all… accessories to the vows.” 

Zoro frowns, like he’s unable to comprehend this very simple concept.

“Can’t we just exchange the rings and shit?” He suggests after a moment. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

How the fuck did Sanji fall in love with this brute again?

Sanji puts down his fork. He leans forward on the table, pressing a finger to Zoro’s chest for emphasis. “You, of all people, should understand the power of words. The same way you vow to be the greatest, I want to do that for us. To vow to be with one another.”

“But I have vowed to be with you,” Zoro says indignantly, grabbing Sanji’s outstretched hand with his own. “When I said I wanted to be with you, five years ago — I meant it, Cook. That was it for me.”

Oh, right, this is how Sanji fell in love with Zoro.

Zoro is a brute, his affections clumsy and his words sandpaper rough, but they are always honest and true, and Sanji wouldn’t want it any other way.

So Sanji does what he’s always done best when it comes to Zoro: meeting him halfway. He tries tackle this from another angle, rubbing the side of Zoro’s hand with his thumb as a peace offering. “Why do you hate the wedding vow so much?”

Zoro looks away at that and shrugs. “‘s just. You know, the lines you gave me?”

It took Sanji a moment to realize what Zoro was talking about. “Oh, the standard wedding vow I gave you, right? To have and to hold, the whole deal?”

Zoro nods. “Well, it’s stupid , that’s what it is.”

Sanji huffs. “Too long for your mossy brain to memorize?”

“‘Till death do us part is a stupid line, Cook,” Zoro says, looking straight into Sanji’s eyes now. “Why would death part us? You are mine in death and every life after this.”

Sanji’s cheeky reply died in his lips.

Oh .

Sanji can feel his own face heating up involuntarily from the words. “You just —” he sputters, gesturing vaguely at his stupid fiancée with his free hand. “You can’t just say shit like that!”

“What?” Zoro continues, “I told you I came back from hell to get you —”

“Oh my god,” Sanji’s given up on flailing and starts covering his face instead. “Shut up.”

He tries pulling away the hand Zoro’s holding, but the swordsman is faster — before Sanji could react, Zoro has stood up with a smirk on his face, because he knows the power he has over Sanji, that asshole. He goes to stand at Sanji’s side and pulls him into an embrace, pressing kisses on Sanji’s temple, his nose, his cheek, before finding his lips.

They stay like that for a moment, content with soft, fleeting kisses on the lips, before Sanji pulls away and points out, “by the way, you know you can make your own vows, right?”

Zoro blinks. “What?”