I don't own anything but my ideas.

One Year Later

Sanji groaned, shoving his hand harshly into his hair and twirling the cigarette between his lips as he snarled to himself about all the bullshit he had to put up with.

Honestly, housing forms? Why the hell did they need him to read all of these? There were more than two hundred here, and in the time that he took to read all of them over, chances are that a good chunk of these people will have died, because winter will have already set.

Sanji groaned and chucked the first packet back into the monstrous pile. First thing tomorrow: get the idiot land-issuers in here to read the damn packets themselves and look for any oddities themselves. Then he'd sign the ones that looked valid. That meant that he'd have to set a predetermined limit to the amount of land they could sell every year though…

Whatever. He'd take care of it later.

Sanji shoved the pile off of his desk, smirking inwardly at the thump as they hit the floor as he imagined his idiot land-issuers having to sort through them again, and grabbed the next document off of the stack, just for his gaze to turn hostile again.

The divorce papers.

…He was doing the unthinkable. He was doing what hadn't been done in centuries.

He was divorcing his queen.

Well, actually, she was divorcing him, but their motivations were very similar.

After Nami had come to terms with catching him and Zoro together, she had approached Sanji and asked if she could have… someone special of her own. And because he had already betrayed her even before they were married, he'd readily agreed.

He hadn't exactly expected her to find that special someone in Luffy though.

Apparently it had taken a few months of convincing on Nami's part to get him to believe her that he wouldn't be cheating on one of his best friend's and king's wife, and even then Sanji had had to sit through three excruciating conversations in which he explained exactly why he wasn't particularly jealous that Nami loved someone else before Luffy had agreed to return Nami's advances.

When Sanji agreed to the divorce, he had only asked one thing of Nami. That the reason for the divorce stayed that he wanted her to be happy with Luffy, even if he couldn't give her what she wanted. And bless small favors, she had promised not to say anything about Zoro.

For a price.

Sanji sighed and ran a hand through his hair, picking up the next document in the pile, the money transfer paperwork, and laying it next to the divorce papers. At least it wasn't an unreasonable price. He hadn't mentioned it to Zoro though, because he knew his general would flip and his chivalry wasn't nearly as good as Sanji's. Actually, it was non-existent. The man was an ape. Thank god he was gay, or Sanji would have kicked his ass for treating his technical wife like he did most women.

Sanji signed both in all of the respective places, double-checking the amount of the transfer to make sure she hadn't tried to up the price while he wasn't looking before he placed them in the "done" pile, when the door creaked open.

Sanji looked up, a huge smile lighting up his face the second he saw Nami standing in the doorway. She smiled back and closed the door behind her, shooting an odd glance at the mounds of paper spread out all over the floor. Sanji shook his head and moved to her side, just stepping over them as he walked.

"I just signed them," Sanji said, taking her hand to kiss it. She nodded, and then pulled her hand away, crossing her arms tightly under her breasts. Sanji couldn't keep his eyes from wandering downwards. She had such nice ones…

"Sanji… are you sure you're ok with this? You'll have to deal with the council, and you're father…"

"I already talked to my father," Sanji grimaced, rubbing the bump that was still prominent on his head. "And I don't give a shi—excuse me, my lady—what the council thinks."

Nami nodded, smiling slightly. "I wish I had your courage, Sanji. I could've stood up to Zoro, then. I might've had a chance."

Sanji's smile dropped slightly. Never. She would have never stood a chance. "…I'm sorry that I couldn't love you like you wanted."

She looked up to offer him a gentle smile, reach out to push him playfully. "Oh, come on, you knew I was just doing it for the money."

Sanji chuckled, and accepted her hug when she held out her arms, pulling her into his chest and placing his chin on her head.

She smells so different from him. Delicate. He wasn't exactly sure whether he liked it or not.

Nami pulled back and shuffled her foot, looking intently at the ground. "Last chance offer if you still want that child."

Sanji shook his head. "Thank you, Nami, but I'll work something out. Give your children to Luffy."

Nami nodded, giving him one last blinding smile before she turned and left.

The second the door had slammed, Sanji groaned loudly and flopped back against his desk.

What the hell am I going to do about an heir?


Sanji sat neck-deep in the goddamn paperwork again, this time with his hands buried in the peace documents for the war that hadn't happened. Around him (well, around the paperwork that was around him) was Zoro, standing there like a statue, and some idiot younger guard who was so scared that Sanji wouldn't have been surprised if his ridiculous posture was because he had glued a board to his back in order to not bend over at all. Sanji couldn't remember whether or not it was the same kid who had been outside their tent… was he the same age…? Whatever.

After two hours of not one of them moving, Sanji rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, shaking out his wrist.

"Thank god that war didn't happen."

Sanji blinked, looking past where the guard was still floundering mentally—trying to make a decision on if he was the one supposed to answer or not—over to Zoro, where he was standing very alertly against the—wait a second.

Sanji growled, picking up the miniscule sounds of snoring traveling over from the opposite side of the room, and hucked his shoe at the tanned forehead as hard as he could, making the poor guard nearly jump out of his skin as Zoro yelped and slammed back into the wall behind him.

"What the hell, cook?"

Sanji almost didn't have time to hide his smirk at the guard's expression before he wiped off the grin and turned back to Zoro.

"Pay attention, marimo! It's a damn good thing that no one attacked or drugged me or anything, you would have slept through the whole thing!"

Zoro growled, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and his forehead with the other. "I would not! Don't put me on the same level as idiots!"

"I don't have to put you there. I can't help that you're already there."

"How's your paperwork going? Your wrist give out yet? Must be good for your cooking."

Sanji let out a feral sound, the quill almost snapping in his vice grip. "It's fine! And it's not like I have a damn choice! I would never risk my hands like that! Idiot! Marimo!"

Zoro paused for a moment before, "You could have someone else sign for you, and then we could go spar."

The next sound Sanji made was more like a choke, and before his face could flush, he ducked back behind the enormous stack of papers smothering his poor desk.

"Marimo… stupid… fucking idiot… baldy… national treasure…" he grumbled under his breath, scribbling away furiously. Zoro might have a point though, not that he would ever admit that the idiot had given him the idea. His wrist was sore, and it was his dominant hand… was he doing damage?

The silence except for the scratching of pen on paper was drowning the room again, and Sanji sighed, deciding that now was as good a time as ever.

"I… signed the divorce papers earlier."

Both sets of eyes snapped to him before the guard seemed to realize that it could be rude and turned away. Zoro was no such gentleman.

"…You tell her yet?"

Sanji nodded, shoving away another stack of papers into the done pile and leaning back in his chair, rolling his shoulders. "And the shitty old man doesn't care, so now all that's left to do is find some fairy to give me a baby and—"

Paper flew and the inkwell smashed onto the ground, most of everything on Sanji's desk exploding off of his desk in a flurry of white and ink. Sanji gasped, scrambling back as something shot towards his face, and then out of nowhere hands were holding his jawbone still, a pair of strong and too-well-known lips crushing his and hindering his ability to breathe. Sanji's eyes drifted closed, about to relax entirely into the kiss, before he suddenly realized—

"GET OFF! IDIOT MARIMO!" Sanji screeched, flinging Zoro back and standing fast enough to send his chair flying too. He floundered for a second before he jammed his finger towards the door, screaming for the guard to get out. The young man nodded frantically, having seen just how far his king could kick people, and flung the door open, pulling it closed so fast that he closed part of his shirt in it and ripped off a sizable chunk.

Maybe it's a respect thing between kings and generals… the guard thought to himself as his heart rate went down, like bowing to him or something, except, more… personal respect. They've already done it twice…

Sanji whirled to Zoro, his chest heaving, his face redder than a freaking sunrise, and nailed Zoro across the head with his foot so hard Zoro hit the wall on the other side of the room.


They were still for a while as Sanji's breathing dropped back to normal levels, and then Sanji reached up to run his hands over his face. Damn marimo was going to give him grey hair.

Sanji sucked in a huge breath, his voice much more reserved now that the topic of conversation had broken through his rage again.

"We—er, I still have to work out something about an heir… but we'll figure something out." He said the last part in a rush of air, letting his hands drop back to his side. When Zoro said nothing, Sanji looked over at him curiously to find him grinning ear to ear and Sanji scowled, marching back to his desk to sort—again—the paperwork that Zoro had scattered.


Sanji sucked in a deep breath through his nose, relaxing back against the snoring, green-haired man on the bed behind him. Sanji looked over his shoulder and smirked at Zoro's mouth hanging open unabashedly before turning back to the knife in his hand.

Filet knife. Ivory handle. Black pearl rivets. Full tang. Straight edge. Taper ground. Gorgeous knife, but it was in need of a good sharpening.

Sanji looked over to where the rest of the set was laid out on the bedside table. A set that had been forged specifically for his hands, knives with tips that never broke or bent, a twenty-four piece set with assorted ivory, mother of pearl and abalone handles, and jeweled rivets to set the blades.

While traveling in the Grand Line, battling with Daz Bones in the deserts Alabasta, Zoro had bribed a famous knife forger to travel back with him to make Sanji the precious set before Zoro sent him home. Sanji ran his fingers over the tang of the handle once more before picking up his polishing cloth and continuing his work.

It had been five months since Sanji had officially divorced Nami, three months since the official announcement of Robin and Franky's engagement, two months since Chopper had graduated as an actual doctor, one month since Nami had been seen with Luffy and the rumors started, and two weeks since Brook's moving into the castle as an official musician.

Sanji shifted again against Zoro's torso, turning the knife over in his hands. It had also been five months since Sanji seriously started looking into other forms of heirs, three months since he'd given up on trying to find an orphaned infant from some other royal family, two months since he'd started looking into relatives that had been orphaned—anyone young now, not just babies—one month since he'd found that he in fact had no relatives more than five years younger than him, and two weeks since he'd full out attacked one of his advisors for saying that he should just give up and marry a different girl even if Nami hadn't been right for him. The reason Brook had been ordered to move into the castle was to try and relieve some of Sanji's stress through music, or dancing, or some other shit.

Sanji groaned softly and slapped the knife back down with the other ones, not trusting himself to treat it with enough respect with the mood he was in now. God, he could do with a massage. He looked back over his shoulder to Zoro again, but vetoed that idea pretty quickly. Zoro's hands—brilliantly skilled from years of being a swordsman—were like euphoria against his back and shoulders, but he didn't much feel like dealing with Zoro bitching about being woken up.

That plan didn't last too long, however, when the door suddenly smashed open. Sanji sprang to his feet (the instantaneous thought about where he was in proximity to Zoro foremost on his mind), scrambling away from Zoro with an uncouth yelp that was actually more akin to a shriek—not that he would ever admit that. Zoro's eyes shot open at the scream and he lunged for his swords, yanking two of them out of their sheathes as he stuck his leg out in front of Sanji, clotheslined him, knocking all form of air harshly out of his lungs, and all but kicked him back as he stood simultaneously to crouch protectively in front of him, sending the blond crashing back into the bedside table. The knives wobbled dangerously from Sanji's head connecting with the wood, and Sanji relaxed and let his head visibly flop back when none of the twenty-four fell off of the table and onto him.

It was at that moment that both young men recognized the tall hat and the braided mustache standing in the doorway, and heat flooded into Sanji's face from the way Zoro had thrown himself in front of him.

"Fucking marimo!" Sanji shoved Zoro to the side, rubbing his head as he righted himself. "Watch where you're fucking throwing me!"

"Then don't scream like a girl next time!" Zoro snarled, slamming his swords back into their sheathes. "I thought we were being attacked or something," he grumbled.


"General, I wonder if you'd get the hell out of here so I can talk to my Little Eggplant?" Zeff cut in, crossing his arms, not about to stand through another one of their arguments.

Zoro closed his mouth after a moment, muttering to himself as he collected his things. He bowed first to Zeff and then to Sanji, and then pulled the door shut behind him.

Sanji stuffed his hands tightly into his pockets, not sure where to even begin speaking. Zeff had to have found out by now, but it still embarrassed the hell out of Sanji to be caught like that. King or not, weren't there rules against barging into a prince's room without knocking?

Zeff stood looking at the closed door for a moment before he shuffled his peg leg over to the bedside table and picking up one of the knives, turning it over and over in his hands before he muttered, "This one's dull."

"I'm not done with them!" Sanji snarled, yanking it out of his hands and smacking it back down in the case that he slammed shut. Damn geezer.

"…I'm still amazed that princess didn't ask for anything to go through with the divorce," Zeff started slowly, folding his hands behind his back.

Sanji clenched his fists. He knew damn well Zeff had found out aboutthe money too, damn geezer. And how dare he call her "that princess." Shitty old man.

"How's General Roronoa?"

Now this was the conversation he'd truly been dreading. "Fine."

"Good. …I was speaking with Brook, who was telling me that the music isn't really helping you calm down, and the General was very kind to offer that more cooking might help you, so I've canceled any lessons or paperwork that you have for the next week and I've invited some women over for dinner on Saturday."

Sanji blinked. This… was not what he'd been expecting. Not at all. "…Thanks?"

"Wouldn't you rather be cooking that doing paperwork—"

"Hell yes."

Zeff nodded smugly. "I've set up the kitchen for you, and I would offer to get someone to sharpen your knives, but none of these idiots can even polish a file correctly, so you're going to have to do it."

The tenseness Sanji's shoulders had buckled with eased instantly. No one but no one—except maybe Zoro—was touching his knives.

He nodded again in thanks to Zeff and bowed, like Zoro had done, turning for the door. Cooking. Sweet, loving goddess of the moon, sun, and stars, yes. He needed to cook.

But a voice stopped him the second his hand was resting on the door handle.

"Oh, Little Eggplant?"

Sanji twitched at the name, but he stopped, waiting.

Zeff took his time answering, shuffling around the room a little more before settling himself into a chair next to the bed. "I was speaking to Robin Nico the other day—"

Sanji froze.

"And she reminded me of something interesting that she thought would be particularly helpful."

"…And?" Sanji choked out.

"She reminded me that you are not my own son."

Well, his fear was gone anyways, replaced by a slow anger he could feel churning in his stomach. He had been reminded of that little detail his entire life, beaten and abused for it by other royal families until he had learned to really defend himself. He knew that he wasn't a prince by blood; he could never forget that he wasn't a prince by blood. "And?"

Zeff just smiled. "You're not my son."

"I know—"

"Sanji, you're not my own—"

"I know, shitty geezer! I know I'm adop—"

Sanji's eyes popped and his tongue practically fell out of his head as he registered the words that were coming out of his mouth.

He was adopted.

He had been adopted.

He wasn't a prince by blood.

"I think," Zeff started, cutting through Sanji's thoughts, "that I saw the General turn towards the west tower as he left, so probably the sparring rooms?"

Sanji didn't need another word from his adoptive father, and the door was left practically torn off of its hinges as he disappeared down the hallway. Zeff sighed and rubbed at his forehead. If his Little Eggplant would just come out already! The kingdom would be twitchy for a while, but there was no doubt Sanji was a great prince and king—adopted, divorced, and all. Any problems about him having a not legitimate heir would pass soon enough.

He didn't think Sanji would ever do that though.

Ah well, whatever made the kid happy.

Sanji threw open the door to the west tower, 3000 square feet of nothing but floor specifically for sparring except for a small corner where Zoro kept his ridiculous weights. Zoro's favorite room in the entire palace, even more so than the balcony where he took the majority of his naps.

Zoro had peeled away his shirt and left it somewhere to the side as he executed a few drills in the middle of the room, a couple maids milling about around him, cleaning and reorganizing the practice swords to their liking. The maids were admiring Zoro's shirtless body, but Sanji didn't care. Normally, he would only be slightly annoyed, but today, he couldn't have cared less. He wouldn't have even cared if Zoro were ogling after the maids today! …Well, ok, that wasn't true. He would fucking care. But he didn't care about the maids.

"My lovely ladies," Sanji said with a deep bow, glowing when the all answered with a chorus of, "Good evening, young lord!"

"I do not mean to be rude, and I would like to thank you for your hard work, but I would ask that you all leave us alone for a little while. There are some things I must discuss with the general." He swept an arm across his waist, too occupied with ignoring Zoro's perplexed stare to notice the knowing glance the maids exchanged before gathering their things and leaving with quick curtsies.

Sanji bowed again to each on their way out and then, as soon as the last had left (with a wink? he blinked to himself, slightly confused (preferring to live in a world in which no one else knew about him and Zoro)) he pushed the huge double doors closed behind them and slid the bolt across the door.

"What are you doing?" Zoro asked, but he was ignored as Sanji dashed to the back entrance to the west wing and locked that as well. "Oi, cook, what are you doing?"

Zoro shook his head to himself as Sanji continued to be the aloof idiot that he was, yawning and scratching his green hair as he slung his weights over his shoulders, striding over to the weight rack in the corner and dodging Sanji as he dashed by to the door to the small bath behind the sparring room.

Stupid cook, what the hell is he doing?

Zoro had just placed the weights with the others with a loud clank that echoed around the walls of the sparring room when he was suddenly slammed forward from behind, something flattening his chest against the wall in front of him. Zoro grunted hard, his palms connecting with the stone without him having to think about catching himself, but before his reactions could send a quick jab over his shoulder to break bone as well, he recognized the signature smell of cigarette smoke, sesame oil and spices wafting over his shoulders.

Zoro leaned his forehead against the wall as Sanji pushed hard against his lower body with his powerful legs and hips, virtually crushing him against the wall in that amazing strength—gods, yes, he wanted this.

Zoro groaned hard, scrabbling against the cold stone that was quickly warming up under their rising body heat as Sanji started to run his hands up and down his sides, occasionally gripping Zoro's hips and twisting his pelvic bone hard against Zoro's ass. Zoro gasped, his mouth dropping open as Sanji leaned forward and started nibbling down his spine, stopping to suck harshly on the space right between his shoulders. Zoro shivered, his back arching as Sanji bit down on his back and pulled, groaning again as he felt Sanji grin against his skin.

"You like that?" Sanji whispered huskily, grinding against him again and crushing his cock against the wall. Zoro let out a yelp, his head dropping back as panting took over his normal breathing.

"Y-Yes…" Zoro whispered, so quiet that even wind wouldn't have been able to pick it up, but Sanji still smirked against him.

Sanji pulled back slightly before snapping forward again, slamming into Zoro and making him bark out a sharp cry.

"You like that?" Sanji hissed against his shoulder.

"Yes, yes," Zoro ground out. Please, dear gods, harder.

"I can't hear you, Zoro."

"Yes, yes I like it," Zoro gasped, almost crying as Sanji bit down on him again.

Sanji grinned, Zoro's skin between his teeth. His general, one of the toughest men in the world, begging. Who would have guessed that Zoro liked it rough—or, actually, that he liked to take it rough? Not Sanji, at least not from the beginning. Zoro never liked to be rough with Sanji, too afraid to hurt him, but the man was definitely to be a masochist. Sanji tongued Zoro's three dangling earrings as he thought this, reveling in the sounds Zoro was making.

It was just as well, the idea of taking something as strong as Zoro like this was hot—a fact he told Zoro regularly.

"I never would have picked you for a slut, Zoro. Who knew you were so needy?" he slid a hand around Zoro's front to grip him through his pants and Zoro cried out, scraping at the stone with his nails.

"Please, please, Sanji—"

"Please what, Zoro?"

"…Sanji, I-I need…"

Sanji slid his hand further up, stroking just under Zoro's naval and Zoro growled at the loss of touch, but Sanji flattened him against the wall again, preventing him from doing anything.

"Tell me nicely, Zoro, what do you need?"

Zoro swallowed, and Sanji watched a droplet of sweat slide down his neck before Zoro said,

"Fuck me, please fuck me, young lord."

Sanji felt his cock jump and he thrust hard, making Zoro groan under him.

"You're such a fucking slut, Zoro, fucking sexy."

"Fuck, Sanji, please—!"

Sanji relented, yanking his hand out from between Zoro and the wall and sticking his fingers in his mouth. He ran his tongue thoroughly over all of them before sliding his hand down Zoro's pants, pulling Zoro from the wall with his other hand.

Zoro practically screamed when Sanji immediately pushed two fingers into him, breathing hard and babbling something about Sanji going faster before he died.

Sanji shoved Zoro's pants down to his knees with his free hand, working a third finger into Zoro as he scrambled to get his own pants down. Sanji's breath lurched in his chest as Zoro turned slightly to look over his shoulder at him, his eyes molten, simmering with heat as he stared hard at Sanji. Sanji swallowed and yanked his hand back, positioning himself against Zoro as he moved one hand to Zoro's chest, forcing him over farther.

Sanji wrapped one arm around Zoro's chest to immobilize him, braced his elbow against the wall and pushed into Zoro in one motion. Zoro cried out, his voice echoing around the huge room as his head dropped forward onto Sanji's arm, one hand reaching around behind him to hold Sanji closer to him.

"Fuck yeah, you're so fucking tight," Sanji groaned, picking up his pace.

"Sanji—ah! Harder, Jesus, harder!"

Sanji leaned back on one heel for better footing, slamming into Zoro, holding him so tightly against his chest that Sanji was kind of afraid he was really hurting Zoro, but the only indications that came from Zoro were for him to go faster and harder, so he did.

Sanji moved his hand from Zoro's chest, dragging his nails down Zoro's front, laughing breathlessly at Zoro's gasp, to run his fingers over Zoro's cock. The younger man jumped, lifting one leg up and putting his foot on the weight rack. Sanji immediately slid forward and thrust up hard, gripping the wall when Zoro almost fell over onto him.

Sanji's thrusting moved in time to his hand's jerking, and then Zoro's spine was quaking against Sanji's chest, and Sanji leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall again. Sanji slowed, waiting until Zoro was whipping his head around to snarl at him for stopping, and then slammed forward the exact instant that he bit down hard on Zoro's shoulder.

Zoro let out a gasping moan, and then dropped back, scrabbling at the wall to not fall over as Sanji took on his weight, and Sanji grunted as Zoro tightened around him, his insides erupting in heat as he groaned into Zoro's shoulder.

Sanji let Zoro's foot touch back down against the floor, stumbling forward until Zoro's chest hit the wall and he let his head drop into the crook of Zoro's neck, the both of them just panting for a moment.

Sanji stirred slowly, letting out a content sound as he looped his arms around Zoro's middle, laying a kiss on the red teeth marks on his neck as he rubbed gently at Zoro's stomach.

"Congratulations on becoming a father," he murmured.

Zoro shot up, his eyes snapping over his shoulder to Sanji before he suddenly relaxed, and Sanji realized with a start that Zoro had thought he was accusing him of cheating and getting some girl pregnant. He had certainly fucked him hard enough for it to be angry sex. Sanji kissed his neck softly again—wordless reassurance that he had never suspected something like that.

Zoro snorted, pushing away from the wall as he fixed his pants, twinging somewhat as he bent over. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sanji gripped the green haired man tighter as he reached for his shirt, and Zoro sighed, relenting and just leaning back into Sanji as he reached up to hold Sanji's arms.

Sanji could practically hear his voice singing. "I was adopted."

"…I know."

"I was adopted, Zoro."

"…Yeah, I know, and?"

Sanji stayed still, knowing that if he gave Zoro a second, he would reach it in three, two, one—

Zoro's eyes snapped open and his lips fell open with a small pop. Sanji let his smile split his face, and he leaned up to kiss Zoro on the cheek, and then buried himself in Zoro's neck again.


"Sanji, I would love to help you, but—"

Sanji slapped a good sized sack of coins down on the table, and immediately her nimble fingers snapped out and yanked it back to her, sifting through its contents before she leaned back with a satisfied smile.

"It's really easy, actually," Nami ran a hand through her short hair, leaning back farther to accommodate for the slight bump protruding from her middle. "You find a girl—I think you should go with a blonde, so there's a better chance that the baby will be blonde too. That'll help the kingdom accept that it isn't a "royal" baby by blood. Anyways, you find a girl that doesn't want kids, knock her up—make absolute sure Zoro's ok about that part—" she cut in again, "—and then she gives up her rights legally on paper and there's no problem. The paper says that the baby is yours and isn't and never was hers. I suppose that you could put Zoro down as the other parent, but that would mean that you had to come out."

Sanji nodded blissfully, only half listening.

He didn't care, he was getting a child! With Zoro!

He was going to scream!

"You know, it might be easier for the kingdom if you come out first…" Nami started slowly. "That way, it won't be like two slaps in the face for the kingdom and the elders. Instead of whop, baby that isn't legitimate, and then wham, our king is freaking gay and has an illegitimate heir, it would be wham, our king is freaking gay, and then, "Oh, well that makes sense," about the baby." She gave Sanji a look. "Homosexuality hasn't been illegal for a couple decades now, you know. And just because there haven't been any gay royalty yet… well, you have to start somewhere, right?"

Nami stood, gathering her shawl around her shoulders. "I think you should just come out. Go all Alexander and Hephaestion on them," she smirked and Sanji couldn't help but grin back.

"And also, Zoro could do the same."

Sanji blinked. He hadn't considered that. Though he wasn't sure how he felt about his marimo fucking some other woman…

Nami snorted, daintily of course. "Though I'm not sure how able he'll be to find a girl with green hair. Who knows, though? Maybe it won't matter, maybe green hair is dominant or something."

Sanji smirked. Ah, the marimo. Literally in both ways—brain and hair.

"Have you told your father yet?"

"Actually," Sanji flopped down in his chair, "Zeff was the one who gave me the idea. Reminded me that I was adopted."

Nami smiled and pulled the door to his office open. "I can do some searching for you if you want. For a small fee, of course. Just write down a list of qualities you want in her and I'll get you some interviews."

Sanji nodded, thanking her with a deep bow, and Nami smiled and pulled the door closed behind her.

Sanji sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair as he ran a hand through his hair, holding his bangs back for a second before letting them flop back in front of his unfocused left eye.

His fingers drifted tenderly over his left eyelid and he smiled slightly.

"Feh, I don't care how it looks. Stop freaking out, it doesn't make you look any less like a pretty boy."

"Why you—!"

"I like it," Zoro cut him off again, smirking coyly and tapping his chest lightly where Sanji knew the jagged, scarred skin lay hidden under his tunic. Zoro shifted his legs next and Sanji remembered that there were twin slices on his ankles too.

But scars were for military men—men who lived for battle. He liked to fight, but he didn't like war, and he sure as hell didn't like that this particular scar was on his face—open for the world to see.

Zoro pulled him from his thoughts, "Scars just show how strong you are—they show how much you have lived through to get here."

Sanji blinked, turning away from Zoro to muse over those words.

When he was eleven, before he'd been adopted by Zeff, his ship had been attacked by one from the king's royal navy. Unbeknownst to him, he had been raised by pirates his entire life. The ship had sank in mere hours, but not before bringing down the navy ship as well, and not before Sanji had taken a face full of embers—most of them straight into his eye.

Sanji had been stranded for three months on an island—one of only two survivors. It wasn't until Sanji and the man had been rescued that Sanji learned that the man who had pulled him from the water, who had given Sanji all of the food he had, who had eaten his own leg to survive, was actually the King of the Eastern, Western and Southern Regions of the East Blue Mountains.

He'd always considered his morals to never let anyone starve his proof of how he'd survived—he didn't know why he'd never looked at his blind eye as proof as well.

Sanji grimaced when Zoro pushed aside his hair to reveal said eye, but let Zoro lean in to kiss it.

"I like it," Zoro repeated firmly before leaning back to resume polishing his precious katana. Sanji had to dip his head to hide the slight tugging at the corners of his lips.

Sanji laid his hands in his lap, looking outside toward the gardens where he could see Zoro meditating under the cherry blossoms, just starting to bloom in the morning sun.

Zoro would be a good dad. As parents, he was pretty sure they'd do ok.