A/N: This story is dedicated to Saminagg as it was inspired from her fabulous artwork! This is for you Saminagg!

Note: I'm sorry Saminagg, but I think this fic is discontinued until further notice. I just don't know what to do with so many loose threads grasped in my clumsy hands. Readers: this chapter was meant to continue on, but since it won't, it's sort of just a floating-by-itself thing. It still is a fun, quirky thing though, so I hope you'll enjoy and just imagine your own happy ending!


Chapter 1

"That man—has balls of steel."

Sanji murmured it, his breath causing the window panes to fog over momentarily as the warm moisture met the cold resistance of the glass.

The man—or perhaps woman—whom Sanji has just so nicely and aptly described was not even visible at the moment. The blond man settled into one of the cozy armchairs next to the window of the cabin and placing his hot mug of cocoa near at hand, settled down to see if the man—or woman—in the junky little Ford pickup would be able to make it up the snowed in road which led up to some of the other winter cabins.

It didn't look like the person in the truck was going to be able to make it. The snowdrifts were simply too high going up and the truck was simply too junky. It wouldn't be long before the guy realized that it was hopeless and beat a retreat down the road and waited until the snow plow came around sometime in the next couple days.

But the truck kept right on at it—though it was advancing at a snail's pace—and Sanji gave a rueful smile and fistpumped the air. He was always fond of a tenacious bastard. The truck might even have made it, but just then the grey sky opened up with a sprinkle, then a drizzle, and finally a thick blanket of snow. Lady Luck just wasn't with the poor idiot.

The truck skewed dangerously to the left, its nose pointing to the grove of bare trees on the elbow. Sanji cursed and leapt of his seat, already shoving his arms into the holes of his parka and snatched a pair of thick gloves from off the clothes hook near the door. The guy was going to kill himself if he kept up that business of idiocy.

The cook wrenched open the cabin door, letting in a small blizzard of ice and wind, and ran toward the road, slipping only a few times and hitting the ground only once. He was already shouting and pin wheeling his arms like a lunatic.

"Hey! Hey you! Stop that! You want to fucking kill yourself!?"

The engine revved uselessly against the piles of snow and stalled. Sanji took the opportunity to reach the driver's side of the truck and slam his fists on the dark-tinted window.

"Hey you! Stop it! Give up! That road is blocked! It's suicide trying to go up in this weather!" He yelled, rapping harshly on the window.

The window creaked down and Sanji found himself staring face to face at the man in the truck. He was a normal looking dude, a little bleak around the eyes and possessed of a fine verdant shade of hair and a deeply tanned skin.


A vein in his forehead throbbed, "What do you mean 'what'?! You can't go up this road-can't you see it's fucking impossible numbfuck?!"

"That's none of your business," the man said, shifting his hand to the window crank again and making to roll it up, "Now move. I'm busy."

There was a brief moment in which Sanji debated keeping up resistance, but for some reason he shut up and withdrew, stepping back and shoving his gloved hands in his pocket. Maybe it was that strange, brooding light in the other's green eyes. The harsh angles of his face and the muscles which stood out in the neck which proclaimed that the man was fighting and would not give up until the battle was completely lost. And maybe not even then. And Sanji wasn't necessarily thinking of the struggle to drive up the snowed in road.

He stepped back to the side of the road and watched the man attempt to take the truck further. It wasn't happening and all the while the snow fell and fell and fell. The bleak light of the evening would disappear in a few more minutes, too. As ff there wasn't enough on the man's plate already.

The man must have finally seen the light minutes later. The truck stopped and the back lights flashed on as the driver attempted to reverse. But the way back was just as difficult as the way forward and the truck only managed to wade backwards a few feet into a snowbank.

Sanji sighed as the driver stopped again and just stayed put. Engine struggling.

He jogged over again and rapped on the window. This time the man didn't even look at him as he rolled down the window.

"Here, I'm going to plow out the snow in my driveway. Turn into it, okay? You're going to have to wait until the snow plows open up the way in a couple days," Sanji said quietly, not wanting to upset the man anymore than his face suggested he already was, "You can crash at my cabin until then. I have some space. Okay?"

The man muttered a curse under his breath and thumped his hand angrily on the wheel, "I should've been able to make this—this is just a little snow."

"That little snow can make you lose your life," Sanji retorted, "What do you say? I can't force you to do anything—but it's either come with me or continue on your suicidal mission to go uphill."

"Agh, whatever. You'd probably be yapping at me all the way there. Nothing better to do," and with that the man promptly rolled his window up again and revved the engine.

Sanji gaped slightly at the tinted window before storming off. The guy was a shit of the finest quality, holy shit. Maybe he should have just let the grade-A asshole alone. But that didn't stop him from racing over to one of the cabin's sheds and securing an old-fashioned hand snow plow and quickly shoveling out the snow which had accumulated in his driveway since he had cleaned it that very afternoon.

It was quick work even with the falling snow and once he had finished, it took only another five minutes to clean the snow from underneath the truck's wheels and beat a rough path from the road to his driveway.

It was quick work, but still Sanji found himself breathing hard by the time the driver pulled his truck slowly into his driveway and parked it behind his own 2009 Dodge Ram.

Then there was an odd, strange silence as the two contemplated the great question of what now.

The door of the Toyota swung open and the driver got out, wearing only a thin sweater and dark green sweatpants. Sanji walked over, with the shovel over his shoulder and stuck out his hand, "My name's Sanji Blue."

The man shook it, wincing only slightly when the little bits of ice and snow still stuck to Sanji's gloves hit his warm skin, "I'm Roronoa Zoro."

"Otherwise known as the dickwad who tried to kill himself by going up the Grand Line during a blizzard. Tell me—did you seriously think you were going to make it in that piece of shit?" Sanji gestured to the tiny pickup.

The man bristled, "Hey, look. I don't have a nice truck like yours okay? Some of us weren't born with rich daddies. I make with I got."

"Hey, go to hell man," Sanji snapped back, immediately wishing that he hadn't extended the hand of friendship, "I worked from the bottom of the toilet to where I am now. Don't assume that I floated my way here. Lose the stick up your ass, whydontya? "

At first Sanji thought the man was going to retort and that would probably have lead to more retorts and eventually to blows. But at the last minute the man sort of folded into himself and he let loose a rueful chuckle, "You're a little spitfire, aren't you? Of all the people…"

"Call me that again and say goodbye to your nutsack," Sanji said, but there was no bite to his words, "I'm no little anything." He turned around and trudged back to his cabin, "Now come on and get your ass inside before it freezes and that stick up your ass gets wedged in there forever. I make a mean cocoa."