Out of annoyance, or whatever form of affront that took over him just now, Sanji was striding out of the kitchen door not long after he'd pushed it to step into the room.

It was infuriatingly slow to occur to him that that idiot, back there, had actually little trouble dismissing him and walking out on him, too, as if he hadn't done anything but bug the cranky bastard all this time.

"That fucker," he muttered to the drink on his tray. He'd been so obtusely earnest to help the moron -- and fuck hell if he knew for a fact why -- that he never did realize he'd been too unequivocally...nice. Even if the idiot did seem a little burdened by those humongous sacks under his eyes and look like he might crack his skull hitting the floor any second, Sanji could just not find it in himself to let this pass, especially as he hadn't the least bit of hostility, for once, in approaching the stupid marimo-head in the first place. How did it follow that the dick could treat a naturally considerate person like shit and expect them to believe they owed it to him to suck it up? Hah, of all the things Sanji wouldn't tolerate; after all, his martyrdom was reserved exclusively for Nami-san.

Detaching the cigarette from between his gnashing teeth, Sanji now crushed it out on the ledge of the railing and stalked off to follow the idiot by the edge of the deck.

+

"Fourteen, unh, fifteen, unh, sixteen..."

Lifting weights notwithstanding his diminished strength posed the littlest difficulty for Zoro; it was keeping his eyes from slumping shut that gave him a backbreaking time. Each little blink he took brought his sight one step closer to the state of poked eyes, while his head felt like it'd gotten itself stuck in a bog of spinning and loopy motions. Of course, masochism was hardly an alien concept to him, but, still.

For one acutely dim moment, Zoro actually had his doubts that he could keep this up without going apeshit, or harming himself very viciously.

And for another, dimmer moment, he did actually flirt with desperation, coming a hair's breadth from hitting the sack anyway and to hell if it meant seeing that stupid love cook

nude

and beautiful

and with him

in his dreams again.

Fuck it, no way. Not while he was still on this ship.

Just then, Zoro snapped his head to the side, and the sound of heavy, pursuing footsteps confirmed that he had indeed sensed someone coming up the deck. Not to be bothered, at any rate, he simply faced the sea again and resumed counting his lifts. "Seventeen, unh, eighteen, unh nine-- ow fuck."

It came too swift, preempting any knee-jerk defense, and only seconds later did Zoro realize it was a kick to the head that'd sent him flat on his face to the floor and the weights slipping and rolling off his strained fingers.

Fuck if he could remember a blow that left him more bruised in the ego...and enraged the utter shit out of him.

Right as he spun to pick himself up and confront his attacker, his legs all but caved in, sending him stumbling back down to the floor. But then, never saying die, Zoro didn't stop at that initial attempt and managed to flub his second to eleventh attempts as well, until, with a determined heave, he just finally sat himself upright against the railing, legs more than trembling as he stretched them out. Then, before him, above him, was a bright yet hazy vision

of a familiar yellow-haired dick in a black suit,

the very thing he thought he'd already evaded

and wanted absolutely none of right that very instant.

So Zoro pried his scowling eyes away to the floor.

To add to his vexation, a heel planted itself solid on his chest, the pressure of which only sharpened each time he tried to extract the foot off him. Nothing he tried seemed to work, and everything he did seemed puny in comparison. Damn be to hell if this was what it's like to be...not strong?

"Pathetic doesn't even cut it." The shitty cook withdrew his foot momentarily, then bent his endless legs to crouch before Zoro, now giving the sun full direct access to beat down on Zoro's face.

Before he could bother with a hissed retort, the soft tinkle of glass by his foot caught Zoro's momentary attention. The tall glass of lemonade on the tray sparkled in the sun, stabbing him like fifty swords all at once in the goddamn eye. "Get that shit away from me," he snapped at the cook.

"Fucker," the idiot sniffed, "this shit here's to work wonders for your weak ass."

"Who the fuck's ass is weak," Zoro seethed. He tried to haul himself up once more, but could only lift his right knee and stagger back against the railing, cussing at his every wavering move. In his defense, though, he muttered, "I just haven't been sleeping, dammit."

"Like that can be any more obvious." The cook gave an unmistakable snort of distaste. "If I didn't know better I'd say you're passing up sleep on purpose."

"Ch'. ...So what if I am."

"...Gee. And I thought you couldn't get any more thick-witted."

"What dumbfuck gives a fuck what you think."

"What dumbfuck resorts to self-destruction this far into the --"

"Self-destruction?" Zoro had to snicker at that. "You know, sometimes you really can be funny, cook."

"Hit a nerve, did I? Now just drink the goddamn lemonade."

Zoro heard the soft tinkle of glass by his foot again. For all intents and purposes, the lemonade did look enticing on such a parched day, however Zoro couldn't help but leer at the offer. The dick had to have slipped something in that shit, or he wouldn't so much as shove it right in Zoro's face. "You're trying to drug me or something, aren't you."

"Of course not, moron."

But Zoro wouldn't let the deadpan tone deceive him. Coercing the hell out of himself, he worked his way up to his feet, and managed to stand without swaying much this time. "I got more important things to do than sleep, if that bugs the shit out of you, tough luck, now just leave me the fuck alone," he grunted to the cook, turning his back to him without another glance.

"I'm not fucking done talking to you, dickhead."

"I said, you fucking --"

"You think I don't know why you don't wanna sleep, huh?"

The words drove like a hundred swords through Zoro's body, rendering him numb and motionless, the moment they registered meaning in his dazed, sluggish consciousness.

What the fuck...?!

Suddenly his heart went into berserk mode, as if determined to stab its way out of his ribcage. Jolted out of his drowsiness, he could practically feel the surge of blood through every vein and fiber of his still body and every bit of emotion and sensation within him alter and gather into one unruly gob of heat, of chagrin, of rage.

Zoro whirled, arms whisking out and hands trembling to seize the pointy lapels of the provoking love cook behind him. He twisted the lapels into his quaking fists, barking in that stunned face, glaring straight into those startling blue eyes that had fucking held him captive in his stupid dreams, "What do you fucking know about it, huh?!" shoving him back with every word, "So what if you know?!" shaking him, "What, you want me to do something about it?!" shoving and dragging and practically hauling him until the cook's back hit the rear wall of the cabin, Zoro's still-tightening fists pinning him solid against the wall, his last fuming words edging on severe menace and danger, "Tell me what the fuck you know!" Zoro fixed him with a stare, at the same time unable to look at him directly, breathing in the aggravatingly heady scent of tobacco and lemon.

The cook simply stared back, his face breaking into a momentary grimace. "You've gone totally off your rocker, asshole." With apparently little effort, then, he shoved Zoro off him with a jut of his elbow, and calmly straightened out his rumpled suit. "Of course I got no clue -- I was just pulling your fucking leg! D'you have any idea how ugly-ass red your face is right now?"

...It was at that point, just as the dizziness kicked in once again, that Zoro felt as if something parked its hundred-ton weight smack on top of his head.

Before either of them could see it coming, Zoro began to tilt forward, collapsing right into the yelping cook. Together they toppled down against the wall, Zoro a seemingly immovable heap of wearied flesh and bone on top of the leaner blond, who managed to sit himself up, at least.

Amidst the cook's ceaseless squirming and swearing and blustering, Zoro could really only resist so much, letting his eyes slide closed for the first time in five days, his breathing grown heavy against that long, lean shoulder.

This was

Sanji

all bones

Sanji

all heat

Sanji

against his body, this tight, this intimate,

Sanji

practically draining him of all frustration,

Sanji

making his dick hard this very moment, like it'd been in his fucking dreams, only a hell of a lot better, and real.

Squeezing his face against Sanji's hair, Zoro shut his eyes tight and heaved his body up against Sanji, bending his legs so that his right curled around Sanji's hip and his left hooked with Sanji's left thigh. He was only vaguely aware of a foot connecting about six times with his torso and fingers trying in vain to rip the three drop earrings off his earlobe, but his body just seemed to've abandoned the instinct to retaliate altogether. Instead, he wound his arms around Sanji's shoulders and pressed his aching crotch against him, clinching Sanji to himself, rubbing himself against Sanji's groin, his belly, his thigh, his chest, goddammit these goddamn clothes, rubbing, and grinding, settling in the end against Sanji's crotch, Sanji's dick, which was evidently just as hard as his own dick now, driving him to thrust and rub himself harder and stifle his noises within Sanji's hair.

+

His moans muffled by Zoro's shoulder, Sanji wrung what parts of Zoro's shirt he had in his fists as the swordsman not once let up his rocking against him. Before he could go and stop himself, in case he was so inclined to deny how good it all felt, he was rubbing himself back against Zoro with even zeal and fierceness, his teeth grazing Zoro's nape, until he felt himself cream right in his boxers.

"Shit," Sanji panted, after Zoro got done squishing him into the wall a minute later. "These were my best pair, you fucker."

Moments elapsed, and Sanji simply sat, waited for his breathing to settle back to near-normal, and strived to dismiss figuring out what the hell just fucking happened, oblivious to the fact that the annoying weight on top of him had yet to stir, until he tried to wriggle free at last.

"Oi."

Noting the complete lack of movement, Sanji needed no other indication.

Shortly, he snaked his arms under Zoro's and pushed him away by the shoulders. Zoro fell on his back with a dull thump, giving Sanji a plain and patent view of his sleeping,

and grinning,

ugly stupid-ass face.

"Finally, shithead."

Sanji drew a cigarette out of his suit pocket. Then, slipping the lit stick into his mouth, he picked up the tray of lemonade by the railing, before he turned to stride off the deck and return to his kitchen.

...

He would wait until the idiot awoke before deciding, whether or not, to kick his nuts for that wanton assault. For now, Sanji just seemed content to drag on his smoke,

passing the back of his hand

over his wet crotch,

...grinning.

END