Title: The Advantages of Pie

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji

Words: 990 + Omake + Omake 2 (because I have the mind of a sick freak)

A/N: For ends-of-time because she's evil and wanted a little pie with her ZoSan. I can't write prOn, so I give you the best I can.

Pie. As far as the eye could see. All flavours, shapes and colours. That was A LOT of pie.

Luffy appeared to be in pie orgasmic heaven. The rest of his nakama didn't seem to be much better – they were letting it all hang out. Eyes widened as he realised that it wasn't just figuratively, either.

One of the sugar-induced crew seemed to be missing. Not such an oddity in itself but… you know. There was pie. Pie was food. So where the hell was the shit-cook?

He wasn't worried. The bastard could look after himself. That, however, didn't stop him from stretching out his senses, looking for anything chef-related.

The smell was the first thing he found. Cigarettes and… something fruity? With biscuit? Ahh, pie. So the idiot did feel the need to indulge. The next thing was heat and an eyebrow quirked in response. He sent a thread of his chi in the direction of the cook, trying to determine what kind of heat it was and if it was dangerous. It felt… unfamiliar. But not.

The aho knew he was there. The feedback in his chi confirmed that. Then what…?

Zoro's eyes popped open. Shit. He flexed his hands and groaned. At some point in his cook-search, he'd grabbed himself – and he was HARD! Double shit.

He should ignore him… it. All of it. Fuck! He cast a quick glance at his nakama to see if any of them were watching. They were all too involved in the pastries to even spare him a look – for which he was grateful.

Another squeeze and his mind – or at least what was left of it – was made up. He knew where the asshole was, so there was no chance of getting lost looking for him.

Out the double door; turn left; 23 steps; turn right; 4 steps and an unobtrusive, gold door stood in front of him. He turned the knob and pushed, not really sure what to expect but still having – or a least hoping to have - a pretty good idea.

There was a bed in the middle of the room – who the hell puts a bed in the middle of a room? – and there was the shit-cook. Half naked and eating pie: crumbs falling across his skin, dropping to the sheets.

Zoro didn't pass out but it was a close thing.

He watched as a trail of red liquid ran down a pale chest, dripping over lean muscle, around a navel, to gather at a black waistband. This was followed immediately by a green trail… green?

Eyes flew to a singular blue, which gazed back at him, half-lidded and lust filled. A mouth covered in crumbs curved into a smirk and a tongue flicked out to catch a drop of green before it dropped off full lips.

Zoro took a step forward and stumbled, causing the smirk to turn into a full smile. Swords were unceremoniously shoved to the side and a haramaki dropped on top. White shirt was sent flying somewhere off to the side.

When Zoro's knee touched the mattress, the damn cook threw his head back and moaned. Low and long and… Oh, Holy Shit!

Zoro crawled up the prone body, arms bracketing hips as his head descended to – what looked to be – too tight pants. He licked at the puddle of sticky liquid, tasting strawberry and… was that lime? There was also an undercurrent of what, he could only assume, was the cook.

A hand buried itself in his hair as he carried out his ministrations on the coloured trails. He followed them up past a navel, where his tongue dipped in for a quick lick and continued up the chest.

He took a detour and gave a half-hearted suck and bite at pale brown nipples, causing the body under him to arch up. He mouthed his way up a slender neck, teeth scraping at a bobbing adams apple and up over a chin.

He'd never say it but he fucking loved the goatee. He closed his lips over the fuzz and tugged lightly. There was a hitching breath and a hand fluttered up to his hip, the touch almost non-existent.

His tongue swiped at the stray crumbs around parted lips and that was a definite taste of lime. Tart but just sweet enough not to be overpowering. He searched for the taste of nicotine on skin and came up empty. But there was strawberry. Oh hell. A rumbling growl escaped his throat to roll over the cook's skin, producing a full body shudder. A slow rub of lower bodies had the hand at his hip gripping tight. There would be a bruise later.

He touched his mouth to a lower lip and ran his tongue over blunt teeth. An opposing tongue darted out and licked its way inside and Zoro, being an opportunist, sucked it in without preamble.

Pulling, tugging, searching every corner; looking for the one taste he was being denied. He dragged his tongue over the roof of the others mouth and found it.

He hated the idea of smoking but on the cook? It was him and it was that taste he craved. He wanted to crawl into the cook and live there. The knowledge that he could be filling every part of him had Zoro pulling away, panting, and staring down into an eye that was no longer overflowing with lust. Was that…?

It couldn't be but Zoro would recognize that look anywhere. It was in his own reflection whenever he thought about his cook, body tense and heart strings pulled tight.

Arms wound around his shoulders, pulling him down. Lips caressed his cheek and ear before moving to his hair. Heart still pounding, he palmed the cook's ass and held on.

He never thought he would appreciate a dessert but when served with a cook... what could he do? It was pie and it was good.


"Oi, idiot marimo."

Zoro looked up from cleaning his swords, prepared for a fight if need be. He blinked when a plate was set in front of him. On the plate, there was pie.

"What the hell, shit-cook?"

He watched as cigarette smoke was exhaled. He frowned at the form produced. Did that look like Wado? He blinked and the vision disappeared. Maybe that earlier blow to the head had done more damage than he thought, even if Chopper had deemed him well enough.

"It's food, dumbass. You eat it."

Zoro was tempted to start an argument just on principle alone but the smell coming from the plate halted anything he may have said.

He took the fork that was held out to him and sliced off a portion. Green and red filling oozed out, creating an interesting spectre. Something – a memory, perhaps? – triggered in Zoro's mind but what it was, he couldn't pin down.

He could feel the cook watching him as he raised the fork to his waiting mouth, anticipation tensing the air. As he wrapped his lips around the pie, there was a burst of flavour on his tongue and then it hit all his senses with a rush. Familiarity.

He shot a look at the cook, who was leering at him with a very obvious gleam in his eye.


Zoro smirked. He really did love pie.


"You have a goatee fetish, Marimo. Admit it."

"Piss off, shitty cook."

"Zoro, you like goats?"


"Goatee Fetish."


"Hehe. You guys are funny."