It honestly feels like forever since I've submitted something to my rather scarce account here, so I decided this needed to go up. Both to add to the ZoSan community here (which I have fluxuating opinions of) and because I thought it would be enjoyed.

This fic is actually an on-going roleplay between myself and a wonderful friend of mine NekoHellAngel (you can find her on y-gallery along with a bunch of artwork we've both done for this story). She wrote for Zoro and I wrote for Sanji. So obviously, take this fic for what it is – two people wrote this back and forth and our writing styles are indeed different. If you can't handle the sudden shift in style every few paragraphs then this probably isn't the fic for you.

Also, I feel the need to state that the characters might be slightly OOC. This is an AU fic, so there were some modifications that went into the characters, although we tried to keep the general spirit of Zoro and Sanji true throughout. I'm sure I'll be rabbling on more in front of chapters and after chapters, so I'll shut up for now and just let you read.

Quantum Collisions

Chapter I – Something Starts

The Silver Horse Hotel; it was supposedly in the top tier of hotels throughout the world, labeled no doubt by some stuck-up over-paid posh journalist and an equally pampered panel of retired, overweight chefs and gourmets. Only the best of the best stayed here, to enjoy the finest that the country and the city had to offer to them. And it was all offered on a bowed knee with grace and a smile, to any one willing to pay the astronomical room prices.

Sanji had to remind himself of that last bit at the current time. As he presented a garnished plate of fois gras before the piggish looking man, who seemed to leer at him even as the blond offered a stupidly subservient smile and a slight bow. He could feel the man's beady little hog eyes on him still as he presented the man's wine selection for that night, attempting to describe the subtle notes of flavor and aroma of the wine without gagging. The man had come into the restaurant demanding to be seated and, Sanji was quite sure, simple ordered the most expensive plates on the menu in order to look as rich and "cultured" as possible with actually possessing any of the latter. Uncorking the bottle and leaving it to chill in the ice-bath besides the man's table, the tall-lanky blond excused himself and left –finally- the pig-man's table.

Though the main dining area of the Silver Horse was well large enough to accommodate gross numbers of people, it was a variable maze of bodies and tables to navigate if you were a waiter. But, Sanji never seemed to have a problem maneuver between all of the obstacles of elbows, lofty dishes and sizzling entrées, he'd even perfected it to the point that he knew exactly how to walk to make himself look every bit as dignified and poised as he knew he was.

As much as he detested it, he had to admit he looked damn good in the standard-issue maitre-d' uniforms that all of the servers wore. White dress-shirt, with a tight-fitting black scoop-vest and tie that did well to put his slim and slightly curvy figure on display and the rather tight-fitted straight black dress pants did nothing to hide his long, graceful legs. Why couldn't he have had a table full of giggling debutants, like last night? That had been all too much fun.

The tall blond let out a slight sigh as he retrieved the next fatty, fried and all together artery-clogging goodness destined for the unworthy stomach of the beady-eyed hog man.

The dining area was filled with those that looked well off and seemed comfortable in such luxury. However a single man wondered a little into the dining area, looking a little lost and out of place. So much so that he caught the attention of some guests and customers and staff working there. Zoro grunted to himself, feeling even more self conscious. Everyone was dressed in pricey suits or outfits and there he was in his dark jeans, simple t shirt and worn leather jacket. Zoro was considering just leaving and going up to his room and eating later. He'd probably feel more comfortable getting a hotdog off a stand or something anyway…

Sanji had finished with the piggish man's order, luckily so he had some time to kill at his other populated by three middle-aged women he recognized (who always tipped the hansom blond well), but was flagged down by the head Maitre-D' that night. Gesturing subtly towards their newest arrival – the underdressed man with, Sanji did a double take, green hair? Maybe it was because he was so far away to see properly.

Sanji nodded simply, his silken blond hair falling even more over his one eye. Making that winding trek through the maze of tables and eaters once again, to greet this spectacle of a man. It wasn't as if he could turn him away, the Silver Horse didn't allow just anyone in off the streets. If the man was here, he obviously had some reason to be here, and even if Sanji didn't like it, he put on that stupid smile and went into "perfect waiter mode".

"Good evening Monsieur, might I show you to your table?" He asked, his voice as silky and mannerly as his job had always required. But good god, even this close, the man did actually have green hair.

As soon as the waiter came and greeted him, Zoro knew he made a bad decision to eat here. Yep, should have just gone out and found some other place to eat. One MUCH less fancy. But he was getting the chance to stay here and eat here for free so… He figured he might as well take advantage of it. Zoro shrugged and gave a small nod.

"Yeah," was his reply, his voice deep and strong, despite how awkward he obviously was right now. Zoro eyed his waiter a little and one thing came to mind and would not go away. The guy had damn long legs!

"Right this way, sil-vous-plait."

He spoke in slight French, he was known for interspersing the occasional word or phrase as he was fluent in the language. He'd studied cooking in France during his youth, fat load of good that was doing him working as a waiter though. The blond started off towards the table, walking slower so as not to loose his patron. Although he didn't move as quickly across the restaurant floor, Sanji didn't loose any of the smooth sauntering motion, that rolling motion of his hips and the way his long legs carried him flawlessly across the richly tiled floor. Maybe he threw an extra little effort into making those ever-so-slightly feminine hips move the way they did – it was a bit hard to miss how that man had been staring at his legs before.

Eventually Sanji stopped in front of a small table in front of one of the large, curtained windows. "Here is your table Monsieur."

Zoro followed the blonde through the maze that was made up of tables and people, nearly tripping over some rich lady's handbag who'd hadn't done a good job of placing it under her chair. It probably wouldn't have tripped if he'd been paying more attention to where he was stepping and less attention to the waiter's hips and legs. But he couldn't help it and only stopped admiring them when realizing he'd be taken to his table already. Zoro made a face at the use of "monsieur" once again.

"Uh, thanks," he started. Before sitting down, he turned to the waiter. "Could you… drop the French talk?" he didn't give a reason to him. Zoro didn't want to have to admit to a stranger that it was making him uncomfortable and even more out of place here.

Sanji was a little shocked, although he knew in retrospect by the man's clothing and that absolutely unruly hair, he really shouldn't have been. Now the blond was curious; who was this man? With his awkward disposition and his slightly crude appearance, who was he that he was able to afford a room and meal in such a place as this? Now Sanji was intrigued, just who was this stranger?

"Of course Sir, I apologize if my service was not to your liking." The blond stated, as he presented a menu to his odd, green-haired guest.

This was all still a bit too formal for Zoro's liking, but at least the waiter wasn't using French anymore. He sat down and took the menu with a simple thank you. He looked over it briefly and once again pulled a face, one showing his annoyance and slight embarrassment. He didn't understand what half the stuff on the menu was! Zoro stared at it for a little and then glanced up at the waiter. He considered asking him to explain what this stuff was but really didn't want to look that much of an idiot in front of this blonde.

"So… what would you recommend?" he asked.

Sanji smiled slightly, although for once it wasn't the fake, subservient smile that his job required but a truly amused expression. What a strange man, Sanji had almost expected something like this – although he still wasn't sure if he liked this man. Perhaps he was bitter at the difference in their status in the restaurant, even though the blond was obviously the more cultured of the two.

"Sir, I would recommend, today, the Duck L'Orange. It is one of the chef's specialties."

Also one of the only things that over-paid arrogant snob could make. Sanji added mentally, unable to keep his smile from faltering slightly at the thought.

He'd noticed the falter, but said nor did anything to indicate that he had. Wasn't his place to ask after all, he'd only just met the guy. Zoro just nodded and handed back the menu since there was no need for it anymore. "Ok, I'll have that then," he ordered. For a second or two Zoro let his guard down and once again found his eyes drifting downwards to study those long legs. As stated, it was only for a few seconds though. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, turning his head to look away and at the floor.

"Of course Sir." Sanji said, not noticing how Zoro's gaze had drifted once again, too lost in his own grievances to notice the change in the larger man's focus. Having to recommend something made by that corporate sell-out fry cook who called himself a chef tended to do that to him.

As good as Sanji was at his job, as well-liked as he was among the clientele, he hated this place -being so close to his ambitions and dreams without being able to actually fulfill them day in and day out, would be taxing on the mental capacity of anyone. And Sanji really was no different.

"What would you like to drink then? Shall I suggest a wine or are your tastes somewhere else today?" The blond mentally scoffed, he hadn't even bothered to ask if this man had a wine selection in mind, he noted although he hardly really cared. All these bitter thoughts were affecting him a bit more than he thought they did. Perhaps it was because of this man he was serving: Here was someone who obviously had no idea what he was doing, enjoying the finery of life at Sanji's expense – when in Sanji's mind, he deserved it much more.

Zoro narrowed his eyes a little and frowned. He'd picked up on that, now feeling as if the waiter was mocking him or something because of his lack of appearance and class compared to the other guests. He grunted a little, his mood slowly getting worse and worse. "Just get me a beer," he mumbled, not even looking at the blonde this time. He knew this hotel was a bad idea, what had his sensei been thinking?

"Certainly. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

With that Sanji turned and meandered towards the kitchens. Silently debating whether he should ask for an early night off. Something about that man made him realize just how much he hated this job and this place. Maybe it was because Sanji's suave and charming demeanor didn't affect him in any way.

With the waiter gone Zoro was left on the table to look around once more. Again he was over whelmed with just how grand and fancy the place was. He felt completely out of his league here and some of the looks he got encouraged that feeling. Though they quickly looked away once he glared back at them, he obviously looking more frightening then they did. He grunted to himself and sank in his seat then jerked a little when feeling his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He checked it. It was a text from Luffy. He glared at what it said.

"Hope you're having fun… like fuck I am" he mumbled, reading it out loud to himself.

Sanji had put in Zoro's order at the front of the kitchen, returning the sneer he'd received from the head-chef with a cocky smile. His relationship with most of the cooks was fine – healthy even. They enjoyed his company and he enjoyed theirs, they gave his orders priority and he'd help them by covering the occasional shift or fixing a slight culinary miss-hap. Although the head-chef was a different matter entirely, Sanji had little respect for the man as he was rarely ever in the actual kitchen working along side his employees, preferring the lime-light of magazine interviews and food network exposés. And he in turn, couldn't stand Sanji for a multitude of reasons, not the least of them being the fact that his staff had more respect for the flamboyant waiter than they did for him.

Before the potential verbal scuffle Sanji made his exit, not before he made sure to throw a cherry on the sundae by blowing the scowling man a kiss as he left.

With Zoro's preferred drink on a platter the waiter held aloft he began the way back to Zoro's table. Nearing the out of place, green-haired man Sanji suddenly stumbled along his chosen path, out of the corner of his vision seeing the sneering face of another waiter – one who was a well-known snitch and general lackey to Mr. pompous executive chef. Sanji's fine, curled brows narrowed as he attempted to balance himself after the other' dirty antics. He probably would have been fine too, been able to right himself without any problems at all, had it not been for the general close-quarters of the restaurant tables and the ornate, thin glasses that the restaurant used for its beverages.

Sanji managed to avoid falling, his natural sense of balance kicking in as he tired to save the teetering drink only to realize that it was already airborne and headed for... Shit. Zoro's lap.

Of course the second the drink fell onto his lap Zoro swiftly stood up, the sudden action making his chair fall back onto the floor with a thud that gained some unwanted attention. He sneered and instinctively snapped at the clumsy waiter. He was already in a foul mood. This just topped it and pushed him over the edge.

"What the fuck?!" was the first thing to escape his mouth. "Watch what the you're doing!" he glared at the damp mark on his jeans and then up at the waiter.

Fuck…

Sanji considered attempting to explain himself for a few moments as he endured the stares of those around him and the admonishments of the livid man before him. It took all of his self-control not to simply storm out of the restaurant then and now, granted that wasn't too far away from what he did.

"My deepest apologies, it was indeed all my fault. I'll have someone bring you out a new drink and some napkins."

And with that, he turned and left for the employee lounge. Damn he needed a cigarette.

Believe it or not, that was actually a short chapter. NHA and I never intended this to be posted, not really, so we didn't go out of our way to try to make it chapter-friendly. So there will probably a big difference in length from chapter to chapter since I'm breaking them up in the most sensible way possible – not the most consistent way possible.

As always, please drop a review. It'll speed up subsequent of the next chapters.