What is this?! Second drabble in, like, as many weeks? I feel prolific, seriously.
Summary: Sanji sees something that...well...just...something that...that...er.
Poles and trolls
Sanji didn't even know it was a strip club until he walked in. Seriously. There wasn't even a sign outside, for Chrissake, and how were you supposed to know if there wasn't the slightest hint, not even a silhouette? They should put up signs.
No amount of signs, though, could have prepared Sanji for what he saw inside. Wearing nothing but a pair of tight red boxers, green hair on red face, who should be dangling upside-down on a pole but one Roronoa Zoro?
Sanji watched, jaw resting comfortably on the floor, as he spun around slowly, legs stretching out. Damn. And here Sanji had been thinking he was the only one aboard who could do that. There were clothes littered around the stage—Zoro's clothes—and Sanji's mind was a little on overload.
Sanji had seen only Zoro's profile when he came in but, as the swordsman turned, his face came into view. He had a forced grin fixed on his face, his eyes darting frantically from side to side. A guy hooted at him and tried to cop a feel—nothing but men in here, Sanji distantly noted—and reluctantly, as if obeying a signal, Zoro winked at the man. It was less of a wink and more of a wonk, a facial contortion worthy of Duval.
It snapped Sanji back to life. His chest started hurting before he started laughing, but then he started laughing and—shit. He fell to the floor in a hapless pile, his guffaws carrying across the club. People around started noticing him, but Sanji had his (teary) eyes fixed on the show in front of him. This was priceless.
His laughter had the effect of a magnet: even through the chatter and music, Zoro heard it. His eyes, still narrowed in that desperate smile, caught Sanji's.
If Sanji hadn't cracked up already, the moment when Zoro fell off the pole and onto his head might have been a good one to do so.
Zoro didn't get up immediately. That gave Sanji enough time to sober up and decide that he was done for the night, and that he would let Zoro embarrass himself in peace. He walked away from the weirdness of the whole thing, still in shock.
He chuckled to himself from time to time, but the manic amusement was now mostly gone. He was starting to ask himself: what the heck? And it wasn't an easy question to answer. As he was lost in thought he heard panting breaths behind him, and suddenly Zoro had caught up with him. Sanji should have wondered how the hell he managed to get changed and actually find him before he even reached the ship. But it was a weird night, so he didn't.
Zoro looked like he wanted to say something, but it must have been hard to find the words, Sanji guessed. No way was he going to let Zoro off the hook, though.
"So I suppose there's a reasonable explanation as to why you were stripping and pole-dancing in a bar in the island we just arrived at?"
"I, er, lost a bet against Nami?"
Damn. That was easier than he had expected. More boring, too.
"How the hell did you even agree to bet on that?" He was trying very hard to be as mocking and derisive as possible, but it is hard to be mocking, derisive and puzzled at the same time.
"I didn't" Zoro started, glumly.
"We bet chores at first, watches and stuff. Then suddenly I somehow had deck-cleaning duty for, like, half a year. So then I started betting money—loaned by her, of course—which might not have been the best idea, but cleaning the deck sucks and I'm never going to repay her anyway. So one thing led to another, she won my fucking clothes, and by the time I was really desperate, she said—I bet she had it all planned out from the beginning, crazy witch—shesaidifIdidthisshewouldcanceleverythingels e" he finished in a mumble.
"And you did it!" Sanji cackled in delight, "You actually went out there and—" he exploded again, making Zoro growl. But shit. Sanji was never going to let him forget it.
They reached the Sunny and Zoro made straight for bed. Sanji was sure the only reason Zoro had stuck with him all the way back was because he didn't want to get lost at night in this island of pickpockets and drunkards. He had known Nami-swan had a cunning side to her, but…this was a work of art. Absolute perfection.
He followed Zoro to their hammock because he wasn't done teasing. He lay down next to Zoro in comfortable darkness and started, thoughtfully:
"I never knew you were so flexible, though." There was silence on Zoro's end. Sanji supposed he must be feeling embarrassed to death.
Poor boy. He wriggled and shifted until he had one hand on Zoro's bare stomach and the other behind his neck, his weight pressed half on top of Zoro and the hammock hemming them in from both sides.
"Not that I'm complaining about that, though," he brushed his lips against Zoro's ear, "it might make for a very interesting night…"
Zoro didn't take much convincing. He assumed—correctly—that Sanji would play especially nice to get him out of his sulk. Afterward they lay in the same position, very still, very silent—at least until Sanji's breathing calmed and he said:
"I don't suppose, though, that there's a reasonable explanation for as to how you learned all those moves in the first place?"