The crew of the Thousand Sunny ran back and forth across the grass deck, following Nami's instructions

The crew of the Thousand Sunny ran back and forth across the grass deck, following Nami's instructions. Usopp and Chopper struggled to re-tie the rope that secured the mainsail to the deck. Nami had ordered the sails down when the wind picked up. The crew hurried at once to obey, but the storm had come upon them more quickly than they had thought possible. Several months on the Grand Line, and it continued to stun them. One moment the sea had been as placid as the Calm Belt; and then this maelstrom was thrust upon them.

Thousand Sunny was a much larger ship than the Going Merry, and reigning in all the sails was more difficult. There were more ropes than nakama, and while Luffy was able to stretch and catch several, the situation gradually worsened. To portside, a rope snapped. The line flailed in the wind. It twisted up towards where Nami stood. The navigator leapt to one side, struggling to continue giving orders to the rest of the crew, but unable to stand up as the line continued thrashing.

Sanji and Robin managed to secure the starboard half of the mainsail. Her Cien Fleur had reached up the mast to snatch at the cloth and tuck in into place. On deck Sanji finished his task, squinting through the rain to double check. He peered around, doing his best to analyze the situation. His vision was obscured by the haze, but through it he was able to hear Nami's cries to the crew. Sanji scrambled across the deck to find her.

"Nami-swan!" Sanji cried. She was crouched on the platform, still screeching orders. Her fist pounded against the Adam wood. Sanji watched her turn around to Franky.

"Hold it straight, goddammit!" Franky nodded silently. Sanji was sure that he didn't appreciate her directions. He knew how to handle his ship. But here and now, Nami was in charge. "Sanji. Tell Robin to help Usopp and Chopper. Then get Luffy off of the front sail."

The intensity in her gaze told him that now was no time to swoon and pamper her, but that she was the boss. Sanji tore through the rain, which was now more like sleet. He saw Robin, already helping the shooter and doctor. Unlike some crewmembers, she knew exactly what to do next. Especially the captain and first mate. The first was trying to help, but instead his stretched body across the front sail hampered his nakama. The first mate-.

Sanji glanced around. That green-haired idiot was nowhere to be found. He took another look around the deck. Nowhere. Nothing to indicate that Zoro was interested in the least at helping the others. For a moment, Sanji was tempted to find the bastard and beat the shit out of him, but Nami-swan had kindly asked him to grab Luffy and tie up the sails.

"Oi, Luffy," Sanji yelled. He used his hand to shield his eyes from the pelting rain as he peered into the black sky, hoping for a glimpse of the captain. He heard a carefree laugh from above, and Sanji knew that Luffy was still clasping onto the sail. "Luffy! Nami says you have to get down. Stop being an idiot and get down here."

"Alright, Sanji." The elastic snapping sound Luffy's body made when returning to their proper position cut through the air. Sanji hustled over to the fastenings and began to pull in the sail. He expected Luffy to drop down next to him in a second, goofing off as usual. He didn't. Sanji looked around after tying off the rope. He knew the sail was down, but his captain was not.

Something fluttered in the wind before dropping suddenly to the deck. A straw hat with one red strip. Sanji's heart began to beat faster than it had in a long while. It had been several minutes since he'd heard Luffy's voice, and since then the wind had picked up considerably. Was it possible? Had Luffy fallen?

Perhaps it was his imagination, but to his left he heard a gurgle and cry for help. Caution to wind, Sanji kicked off his boots and leapt.

The water seemed solid on impact, and it was cold like metal. The rolling waves did nothing to soften the crash, and only disoriented Sanji. His head spun as he tried to break to the surface. When he did, his gaze shot across the surface for some sign of where Luffy had disappeared. There were none. Sanji took a deep breath, and dove. He searched the unending black for anything.

His chest ached, and Sanji had to resurface. Minutes had passed, perhaps ten. And still no idea where Luffy was. The longer Sanji waited there at the surface, the further Luffy fell down. Sanji dove again. Kicking with the same power he would in battle. His legs propelled him down. His unconscious brain told him the storm had calmed, because now he could see a little. But the thought hardly registered. He merely kicked.

Finally, something caught his eye. It was Luffy's red vest. The future pirate king's face was blank as he fluttered downward. Sanji kicked a few more times- his heart and lungs dying inside at the lack of oxygen. His fingers latched onto something, and Sanji changed his direction. The journey up was a battle against his body. He wouldn't let the lack of oxygen and blood flow inhibit him. Sanji coughed, and a bit of water flowed down his throat. His mouth quickly shut.

When his head broke through and he was able to breathe, Sanji noticed that the storm was gone. The sea had returned to how it was before. The lactic acid had built up in his muscles, and they screamed as he hauled Luffy's head above water. The Thousand Sunny loomed overhead with its passengers leering over each side. Sanji tried to cry out to them, but the seawater had burned his throat. Instead he waved his arms about. Chopper saw him, and after that Sanji paid no attention to what happened aboard. Rather he tilted Luffy's head back, closed his fingers over the captain's nostrils, and blew into his mouth.

Sanji continued until he was safely on deck. He hadn't noticed Robin's hundred hands lift him out of the water, nor the water drip off him as he lifted out of the ocean. Reviving Luffy was more important. When he felt the Thousand Sunny's grass deck, he looked around. Chopper's medical bag was next to him. Worry covered everyone's face. Usopp's lip trembled, Franky had his guitar out- surely ready to sing whatever tune would result from this incident, Robin cradled Nami, and Zoro's face actually showed an emotion other than confusion or blood thirst for once.

Chopper immediately took over. His ministrations were much more direct than simple mouth-to-mouth. Sanji assumed that Chopper would fix things, and he allowed his brain to shut off as he slipped away. Stupid hammers, always falling of the damn ships.


Before he opened his eyes, he smelled the sterile scent of rubbing alcohol. It was almost overpowering in the infirmary. Sanji couldn't quite figure out why. He opened his eyes and looked around. The room was that blinding white that all hospital or infirmaries had to be. It seemed that Franky hadn't been very creative with this room, but Chopper loved it, and that was what really mattered.

He twisted his head to the side. He expected to see Luffy somewhere else, but his was the only bed filled. The sheets were rumpled on one, but nothing to suggest that somebody had been here long. It shouldn't surprise him, really. Luffy's stamina and recovery time dwarfed his and Zoro's.

"That fucker," Sanji whispered. If Zoro had been on deck, he probably wouldn't be lying here in bed. It was his job to watch Luffy. He'd been with him the longest, and if anyone could predict him, it would be Zoro. That marimo needed his head bashed in.

"Which fucker? There are several on the ship." It was the last voice Sanji had wanted to hear. He looked at the foot of the bed. The thickheaded slacker of a first mate stood, his arms crossed over his chest. Bastard.

"There's only one I'm referring to," Sanji muttered. He's dumb, green, and a shitty swordsman as well. Sanji didn't say that, though. It wouldn't have gotten him anywhere. If he were to yell at Zoro it would be about not helping out when the ship was in the middle of a goddamn killer storm. Sanji forced himself to sit up. "What time is it? And where were you earlier during the storm?"

"It's about two in the afternoon," Zoro said. He didn't appear inclined to answer the second question. He moved to the right of the bed and plopped into a chair. He set his booted feet on the bed near Sanji's arm and reclined. When he put his arms behind his head, Sanji could see the sweat stains under the armpit. Sanji nearly gagged. How someone could wear the same shirt day in and day out was a mystery to the cook. He turned away and fished in his pocket for his lighter. He pulled it out, then realized his cigarettes were in his jacket, which wasn't anywhere near him.

"Grab my cigs from my jacket, marimo-bastard." Zoro stood up and grabbed the pack without complaining. He tossed onto the bed.

"You're welcome."

"Fuck off," Sanji growled. Inside the cigarette carton, the tobacco had spilled out after the paper had shrunken due to the seawater. All ruined. Damn, that had been his last pack. He'd get more when they landed, he supposed. Nami had said it would be within two days, and Sanji supposed he'd spent the night here and that meant they'd arrive in port later today or tomorrow morning. He could last without a smoke til then. "When do we land?"

Zoro's expression showed that he was shocked that Sanji hadn't argued with him more. The blonde didn't feel like arguing when his addiction took precedence.

"We got turned around the way we came from. Nami says we have almost a week."

"A whole fucking week?" Sanji gasped. His fingers began to shake at the thought of withdrawal. The most he'd gone since he began was three days. At the end of those three days, he was doing almost anything to distract himself. A fucking week without any nicotine or distractions. Sanji might borrow Franky's cannon and shoot himself into the ocean. Maybe he could convince Chopper he was in pain and get some morphine.

"Yeah, I know. No chance to get any fresh booze," Zoro mumbled. Sanji thought about mentioning that what Zoro drank wasn't fresh at all. The swordsman could go and drink toilet water for all he cared.

A week.


Sanji was feeling the effects of withdrawal by the end of the first day. His fingers shook with tension as he cooked. He'd tried to decorate a cake for Nami-swan and Robin-chwan, but he hadn't been able to cut the strawberries evenly. He served it anyway, and if either noticed it wasn't mentioned. But the fact that he couldn't cut it nearly tore him apart. To save himself aggravation, he only made simple foods. Dishes that required little cutting or specific placement.

Nobody mentioned Sanji's increased frustration, his hunched shoulders, or the cut on his lip where Sanji had bitten in an effort to forget about smoking. Sanji did almost anything to distract himself. He began taking freezing showers, running laps around the ship, and he even asked Chopper if he had any painkillers. The doctor freaked out and demanded a full examination before prescribing any drugs. Sanji told him that his knee hurt, but upon inspection, Chopper told him that he couldn't have any.

Finally, Nami announced that the Thousand Sunny was making great speed, and should arrive late the next day. By now, Sanji had been going four and a half days without a smoke, and the thought of it so near made the wait almost more unbearable. Sanji went to bed tense. He hadn't slept in two days, and he was positive he wouldn't tonight. His body ached for something to distract him, and his mind screamed that it was only a matter of hours now. Both together were unbearable, and lying alone listening to them whine was the worst thing, it seemed.


Sanji crept out of the men's quarters; his bare feet much quieter than his notorious black shoes. He neared the bow, feet softly padding against the grass. He pulled his lighter out of his pocket and played with it as he leaned back against the Adam wood. Sanji hadn't bothered to change into nightclothes; he knew he'd be getting up again anyway and walking around until dawn as he had the past five nights.

He turned and headed back in the direction he came; maybe he'd take a cold shower. Or he could jump off into the ocean and let the current have its way with him. Maybe hell would have some smokes. Sanji stopped his mind right there. He couldn't believe he'd just had that thought. He was going to find All-Blue, and whatever he needed to do to get there-

"Umph," he mumbled as he fell unexpectedly. He hit the deck hard and remained sprawled there as his thoughts raced to discover why he now laid sprawled facedown. A large snore alerted him. That bastard, asleep on his watch. Sanji turned on his back and kicked out hard. He wasn't sure what he hit, but Zoro woke up immediately.

"What the hell?"

"You fell asleep on watch, and I nearly died tripping over you," Sanji kicked again. This time, he knew what he kicked because he felt Zoro's jaw crack. It was only his toes that caught him, though. Had it been his whole foot, Zoro's face would be a lot more crooked. The swordsman must have dodged at the last minute.

"Watch where you're going then." The clomp of Zoro's boots told him that he had stood up. In the middle of the night, the Grand Line sky was as deep and bottomless as its ocean, and Sanji could see nothing. The stomping had stopped, meaning that Zoro wasn't moving anywhere. Sanji had no idea where he was, but he had no intention of letting him go anywhere. This, this baiting and fighting they always had, was the perfect distraction.

"I wouldn't have to watch if your hair didn't blend in with the Thousand Sunny's grass," he snapped.

"That just means you aren't good at observing things. Even Luffy doesn't fall on his face, shit-cook." The gruff voice came from the left. Sanji kicked in that direction and was awarded an 'hmph' as Zoro tumbled to the ground. Sanji kicked again, only to have his foot grabbed. If the two men were standing, the cook would have been able to bring his other foot around to smack the other in head. But as it was, Sanji's movements were inhibited and his other leg would not turn like he wanted it to. Instead, Zoro's was able to snag his legs and hold them fast together. "Why are you here anyway, eyebrow-freak?"

"I was making sure you weren't about to crash the ship. Knowing you, you'd get us lost and we'd have to wait five more days for cigarettes," Sanji growled. The thought made his muscles tense, and prevented him from wriggling away as Zoro's grip on his legs tightened. He squirmed as the other man pinned his legs together. He could feel the man's head nearing his stomach, Zoro's whole body holding Sanji tightly. His legs were his weapons, and if they were immobilized, Sanji had very little left to assist him. His hands were more suited to cooking than punching.

Sanji did the only thing he could think of in this situation. He never used his hands in battle, and his legs were unusable now, so Sanji leaned over to where he thought the other man was, and he bit down. Sanji's teeth went into the flesh, which at once gave way. The metallic, bitter taste of blood filled Sanji's mouth. Zoro's blood. For some reason that thought meant more than it would have if he were tasting Nami's or Robin's. Zoro's Blood. It was as if he had a power over Zoro.

The pressure surrounding his legs disappeared, and Sanji opened his mouth to release Zoro. Rather than kicking upward, though, as Zoro moved back, Sanji lay on the deck tasting. His tongue circled his lips, catching the last tidbits. He wanted to taste more.

Sanji felt a hand on his side and he started. It wasn't a harsh touch, but it surprised him. However, Zoro's next move, a caress against Sanji's cheek, was more startling. He jerked away from the hand. Why was Zoro doing this? Why wasn't Sanji screaming as the other man's thumb trailed across his lips? Why did Sanji open his mouth to bite that finger?

His lips curled around the thumb and sucked. Sanji didn't know where the action came from, but it was almost instinct. It just happened. The thought never occurred that he should stop; rather he reached up into the mass of green hair and pulled tightly. The thumb left his mouth, but was quickly replaced by Zoro's lips. Sanji felt fingers winding in his blonde locks in a similar fashion to how his were gripping marimo moss.

The men opened their mouths, inviting the kiss further. Sanji thought that this was wrong, and they should stop, but he couldn't. The kiss intensified, bringing with it a whole new set of accompaniments. Somehow Zoro's blunt fingers were gracefully unbuttoning his jacket and dress shirt. Sanji was still trying to figure out how the hell Zoro's shirt came off; whether the sash was part of it or not; and whether he should let Zoro know what he was doing before he broke away from the kiss to lift it over his head.

Sanji didn't remember breaking away from the kiss- his lips must have been on something the whole time- but Zoro's shirt was eventually off. Sanji could feel the hard edges of Zoro's scars against his own soft chest skin. It wasn't at all like he thought he'd ever wanted. It wasn't like breasts pressed against him as he was ridden. Something about Zoro's rough scarred skin had a different allure.

Breathe. Sanji had to remember to breathe as Zoro nipped down his chest. The sharp teeth knew exactly where to bite, never questioning their path. His dress pants were tightening, cinching off the circulation. He knew was building beneath them. Moaning, Sanji glanced up into nothingness, wondering exactly what the hell was going on and praying it would never end.

His hands found Zoro's ears and used them to pull the swordsman. Sanji kissed the rough lips and shoved the other man onto his back. The cook clambered onto him. Zoro tried to shove him off, but after a harsh bite from Sanji, Zoro relaxed. It wasn't natural for the swordsman's mix of salty sweat and sea air to taste so damn good, but he couldn't stop biting him. He thought he heard Zoro mutter something about 'no signs,' but it didn't matter what the marimo-bastard said. This blood that spilled out of the ruthless bites was so much better than a smoke.

"If you're biting that hard…" Zoro grabbed Sanji's hair and tugged. The blonde snapped away from where he'd been tugging at skin as he was flipped onto his back. His heart seemed to stop abruptly when Zoro's teeth clamped onto the skin near his collarbone. Then it started again, but faster than before as Zoro sucked at the newly created wound. Sanji panted above him. His blood rushed through his body, and it all seemed to come pouring into Zoro's mouth. That was the only place he could feel anything; that and his pants growing ever tighter.

Zoro must have sensed it too. His mouth moved away from Sanji's collarbone and down. Down was good, and down was bad. Down meant that Zoro's mouth and lips would be there. That thought made Sanji's head fuzzy. The rush of blood to his lower half was finally catching up with him. Sanji just couldn't think, it was just a blur.

The weight from Zoro's body vanished. Seconds later two clunks signaled the loss of Zoro's boots. A soft gust and whoosh told Sanji that Zoro had dropped his pants and was now completely naked. Inside his stomach, something was boiling and churning. The feeling sank lower when he felt Zoro's weight against him again. The other man was also hard, and were they someplace else, Sanji was sure they'd be comparing sizes to see who was better there, too.

As Zoro kissed him, his hands scooted down Sanji's slender frame to fiddle with the belt. Sanji had no idea how the green-haired managed to whip the belt off that fast, but as Zoro moved his mouth from Sanji's lips to his earlobe, Sanji's pants and boxers were shimmying down his strong legs and off. Now they both were naked, and Sanji could feel himself touching Zoro, and it was the most incredible feeling. Everything he'd ever been told, said that what they were doing was so wrong, but it felt so right when Zoro- now supporting himself on one elbow- moved his calloused hand to Sanji's member.

The rough skin shouldn't have been a good thing against the soft flesh, but Zoro's strong hand held him so gently that it didn't fit with the vicious tearing at his ear. The two extremes put Sanji someplace between pain and pleasure; how he felt when in the middle of battle. It made him nervous. The cook and the swordsman, nude on the middle of the Thousand Sunny's deck, was an image Sanji never would have had. Surreal.

Zoro's thumb gently stroked Sanji's head. The touch was so light. Sanji moaned for more. All he received was another soft brush. Again, the moaning accomplished naught. Zoro traced a finger from the base to the head, as though his finger were the sword and Zoro was practicing 'cutting nothing'. Sanji groaned. He wasn't nothing he was-

"Do something, goddamn marimo," he groaned. Even through the dark he could feel Zoro smirking. Then suddenly they were switching positions. Zoro dug his fingers into Sanji's hips and hauled him over. It took a moment for Sanji to figure out where exactly he was in relation to Zoro. Sanji sat atop Zoro's thighs, and the other was upright now. He wasn't exactly sure what was about to happen, and that made him slightly nervous.

Zoro pulled him close, kissed him. Then, he moved to Sanji's ear. Sanji thought he was going to bite, but instead he heard, "This might sting," just before pressing a finger into the soft flesh that was Sanji's anus. Sanji gasped. He had not been expecting that. He- well he didn't know exactly what he had been expecting but-

The finger began to move. Inside of him. Then there was another. And another. It was as if they were warming him up for something…

"No," Sanji managed to say. "This can't go there." Sanji squirmed. The fingers had found something, a spot where it didn't hurt.

"Che," Zoro whispered. His lips smacked against Sanji's suddenly. Zoro's hand's settled on Sanji's buttocks and lifted him up and onto Zoro's penis.

As he slid over Zoro, Sanji's eyes filled with tears. Whenever this was over, he was going kill the marimo. He should have right then, but then Zoro started moving his hips up and down, hitting the same place his fingers had touched a minute before. At the same time, his hand grasped Sanji, pulling and teasing him forward in a similar rhythm to his thrusts. Sanji felt his own hips rolling of their own accord.

He felt the pain, yes, but in there was the pleasure. With each thrust, a part of Sanji melted into Zoro. Each pull on his dick sent Sanji's hips forward and then down again onto Zoro, who would thrust up. Without either man realizing it, the pace began to pick up. Sanji gasped into Zoro's mouth. Neither had the attention span to kiss, it was just a continued closeness of their faces. Sanji remembered groaning as Zoro's hips pushed himself deeper, almost all the way. He hadn't know anything could be pushed inside that far.

Suddenly, everything became a blur. The heat in both of them rose to boiling point, steam forming and bursting through the pipe. Both of them were breathing heavily, and Sanji tried to form words and say something- what wasn't important- but his throat and mouth was dry like island sand. All that came out was a hoarse, animal-like noise. A mimic of his echoed from Zoro's throat as the two pirates climaxed together; Zoro's remaining inside Sanji and Sanji's spraying across the two men's bodies.

Sanji was more relaxed than he had been in weeks, months. He didn't know. It didn't matter. He stretched out on the grass, and felt Zoro lay next to him. Sanji reached out, searching for the other man's face. After some fumbling, he found Zoro's scraggly hair, gripped it, and pulled the bastard toward him. He came willingly, too sanguine to complain about anything. Sanji kissed him again, gently.

He was sore, exhausted, completely naked on the deck of Thousand Sunny with his least favourite person, but he didn't care. The metallic taste of blood still lingered on his tongue from biting Zoro. In the morning he'd be a mass of bruises and love-bites. But it didn't matter.

He wasn't thinking about cigarettes anymore.