Oh my god, an update. I have been fighting this chapter since the beginning of July.

I would like to give a huge THANK YOU to Eyerispez over on Tumblr for the wonderful new cover image! It's so perfect. I LOVE IT.

This fic is rated M.

I do not own One Piece.

October

A month later, Zoro still couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen. The spiral haunted every waking and sleeping moment. He found himself looking for it everywhere, as if the equation would appear in other unexpected places. Zoro knew, of course, of the standard manifestations. He had a small collection of snail shells and even a fossilized nautilus on the shelf in his office. But no matter how hard he looked, nothing compared to the perfect spiral at the end of his student's eyebrow.

Oddly enough, the boy had no idea how special he was and seemed dead set on avoiding the fact. Sanji continued to arrive to class early—so Perona had told him—but he seemed to be an expert at hiding himself. With every passing day, Zoro became more and more motivated to see it in person. He had yet to oversleep on the days he taught Sanji's class and even began showing up early in hopes of catching him. But, try as he might, Zoro could never find his miraculous student in the sea of faces. At least, never when it was convenient. Instead, he would discover Sanji's whereabouts mid-lecture, always seated in a different part of the hall.

Zoro couldn't help the smile that spread across his face every time he found him. Every time, he would tell himself that this would be the day that he talked to Sanji again, that he convinced him of how special he was, even as Sanji sat rigidly in his plastic chair, returning Zoro's intense stare with a glare. But then at the end of every class, Sanji would disappear in the throng of students, there one moment and gone the next. Zoro could quite understand why the blond was avoiding him. Perona had once helpfully told Zoro that he was awkward and way too intense for most people. Was that it? But that was stupid. Surely Sanji knew how special he was. He had to have heard the sincerity in Zoro's voice and seen the hope in his eyes that afternoon back in September. And if he didn't, then he would just have to convince him. There was no other way.

Zoro inhaled deeply, drawing one last breath of the crisp fall air into his lungs before stepping into the Long Ring Long Health Center. He was secretly a little proud. He had made it from his apartment to the campus gym in record time.

Grand Line University was constantly under construction. The campus changed so quickly that Zoro often go lost on his way to anything. But there were a select few destinations that he would always take the time to find, carefully memorizing his route there and never deviating from it until some new construction fencing barred his way. His office in the Mihawk Building was one of those special destinations, as was the Culinary Arts School's Navarone Café, which gave him a faculty discount and had the best food on campus. Other than those, the only other building on campus that he could find consistently and fairly quickly was the Long Ring Long Health Center.

It was a massive building that sat on the edge of campus near the dorms and one of the dining halls. The sprawling complex housed two gyms filled with work out equipment, an indoor track, several basketball courts, an indoor soccer court, roomy locker rooms complete with showers and a sauna, and an expansive Olympic style pool. The building was maze-like in its complexity with winding hallways, several stairways, and at least three large ramps that led to the variety of amenities on the three floors. In all the years and the hundreds of visits he'd made, Zoro had only managed to learn how to get from the front entrance to the locker room to the upstairs weight room and adjoining track. If he ventured anywhere beyond that, he always managed to get turned around and would wander the halls until one of the gym employees spotted him and led him back to a familiar area.

"Good morning, Professor!" chirped the attendant by the door as Zoro swiped hi faculty card through the turnstile.

"G'morning, Coby," Zoro mumbled in response, shouldering his gym bag a little higher so he could pass unhindered through the metal bars.

Coby remained cheerful as ever as Zoro walked by. Even if he never let on, Zoro had to admit that the kid was alright. Coby had been in his class the year before. He didn't have a mind for math, but he had an incredible work ethic. The Physical Education major had managed to scrape up a hard-earned B in Zoro's class, that in addition to the rigorous training required for his Marine ROTC courses. Zoro had watched as the awkward and scrawny freshman had grown into a well-built soldier. By the end of the year, Perona had informed him that many of the girls in his class spent more time staring at Coby than paying attention to the lecture, especially on Thursdays when he traded his usual t-shirt, shorts, and sandals for his Marine dress uniform along with every other ROTC student on campus.

"We finally got in that new weight set you've been asking about," Coby continued, smiling brightly. "It's set up at the station by the window."

Zoro perked up at that. He did some of his best thinking while training and as a result had built his muscles beyond what the gym's former weight sets could handle. Perhaps with a real physical challenge, he could clear his head and find a solution to his newest problem.

He returned Coby's smile with a lopsided smirk of his own and waved his thanks as he headed for the locker rooms. Luckily, the locker rooms were mostly deserted at the early hours that he trained, with most students and staff choosing to sleep in. Zoro was able to pick his favorite locker in the corner and managed to make it to the upstairs weight room without meeting anyone else. He found the new weight set right where Coby had said it would be, at the station by the window overlooking the pool.

A few bleary-eyed students trickled into the gym as Zoro loaded on the heaviest weights in the set and began his reps. Just as always, the strenuous exercise helped to clear his mind of the chaos that had clogged it before. Trivial problems fell away, replaced by regulated breathing and the zen-like calm that came from his carefully patterned workout. He had just counted the one hundred forty-second rep of his eighth set of bench presses when a familiar presence shadowed him.

"Good morning, Professor," grinned Ace, leaning his arms across the bar of Zoro's weights as his finished his set. "Long time, no see."

Zoro grunted in response, his muscles only bulging slightly as he benched the extra weight provided by his former student. He could feel sweat slicking his palms as he counted his last few reps and placed the bar in its brackets.

"You're here awfully early, Portgas," he said, sitting up and wiping his face on the green towel he'd brought along. He turned to face Ace, who was still leaning on the weights. "Shouldn't you still be sleeping right now?" Or clearing out an all-you-can-eat breakfast bar?

Ace smiled amiably at him, completely unfazed by Zoro's less-than-friendly greeting.

"One of my students is an early riser," Ace replied. He shrugged. "I think he likes the company walking here."

"One of your students…" Zoro muttered, glancing around the mostly vacant weight room. He had forgotten that Ace was an RA at the same dorm as Perona.

"Yeah, he swims mostly," said Ace offhandedly, making his way over to the weight station beside Zoro's. He glanced through the window and perked up. "Ohhhh, look, there he is!"—He pounded hard on the glass and waved both hands over his head.—"HEY, SANJI!"

Zoro sat up straighter on his bench and looked down in time to see his student, the object of his obsession, walking across the tiled pool deck. Sanji absently waved up at the overlook, not even sparing a glance at them, as he made his way over to the lifeguard on duty—a friendly sophomore name Caimi.

"Man, I have never seen anyone get as distracted by a girl as that kid," said Ace, laughing to himself as he returned to his weights.

Zoro watched Sanji with rapt attention, his heart beating in his throat. The blond remained oblivious to his professor, his eyes practically heart-shaped as he flirted with Caimi. Zoro briefly wondered if Sanji actually intended to exercise or if he would spend his entire time wooing the lifeguard. Not that that would bother Zoro. Sanji's current angle afforded him a stunning view of that perfect eyebrow. Zoro remained frozen in place, transfixed by his student and the spiral until Sanji ended his conversation with Caimi (because she had to rotate positions with the next lifeguard) and dove neatly into the water. Feeling a pair of eyes on him, Zoro turned to find Ace looking at him with a small grin on his face.

Zoro glowered at him. "What?"

"You know that he's a student, right?" asked Ace. "And not just a student, but a freshman? He's still practically jailbait. Not to mention the fact that Sanji is almost definitely mostly straight."

"And?"

"I know that kind of look, Professor," pressed Ace, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Zoro scowled at Ace for a moment until what his was insinuating finally sank in.

"WHAT? I would never—He's my—His—The spiral—It's just—" Zoro stumbled over his words, incapable of stringing together a coherent thought in response to Ace's outrageous suggestion. "I would never!"

Ace's grin widened. "Uh huh, sure. Hey, if you ever want to join me for drinks at Level 5.5, you'd be more than welcome."

Zoro glared daggers at Ace, not at all appreciating the less than subtle invitation to the solitary and rather infamous gay bar just outside of Grand Line's campus. He didn't so much have a problem with the orientation of the patrons or the rather flamboyant owner—that was their business and had no bearing on more important attributes. Zoro's aversion had to do with how crowded the place would be. Level 5.5 was located on a corner of Impel Down Plaza; so named for the old jail house that towered over it. On any given night of the week, there was something going on down there, but the worst was Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights when the entire plaza and its surrounding bars and restaurants would be packed with drunken and misbehaving students. He had never been able to figure out why the locals had nicknamed the area the Calm Belt. Perhaps they had a strong sense of irony. Either way, just thinking about the chaos and disorder caused by the intoxicated club-goers was maddening and Zoro shuddered at the thought.

"I'll pass."

"Are you sure?" teased Ace, drawing out the end of his question in time with his last squat.

Zoro gave him a look that was toxic enough to kill, though Ace remained cheerful as ever.

"Well, the offer stands," said Ace, shrugging his bare freckled shoulders as he deposited his weights in the rack.

Zoro didn't bother with responding, choosing instead to begin the next segment of his work out: pushups. Normally, he did them behind the weight station, facing into the room. This time, however, he chose to overlook the pool. It was because he wanted a change in scenery and to avoid seeing the grin on Ace's face; definitely not because he wanted an unobstructed view of the student that had been avoiding him for the last four weeks.

He watched Sanji's progress as he counted each pushup. Zoro had to admit, the kid was a good swimmer. Every time he dipped down towards the floor, the pool would momentarily disappear behind the edge of the window. When he popped up again, Sanji would be halfway down the lane, moving at a much faster pace than the other early morning lap swimmers as he gracefully cut through the water.

Zoro simultaneously counted Sanji's laps as he tallied his pushups, unconsciously syncing his movements with the blond's. Eventually, Sanji's lap count caught up to his pushups or he had lost count of one of them and meshed the two or whatever, and Zoro realized that he had no idea of how much time had passed. He did notice that his arms burned a little from doing the same movement for too long and that Ace had disappeared from the weight station beside him. When he glanced up at one of the many clocks scattered around the gym, he found that nearly two hours had passed. Zoro frowned to himself, pulling his legs up so he could sit cross-legged. He rarely got distracted while exercising and never enough to lose count and track of time. He stared irritably down at Sanji—who was currently hoisting himself out of the pool—and tried his best to center himself for his post-workout meditation.

No use.

Now that Sanji was on the pool deck, Zoro could see the spiral again. It pulled at his vision, drawing him in even when he tried to close his eyes. Meditation was impossible with the jumble of numbers and equations running through his mind. Even with the relative distance between them, Zoro ran calculations based on visual estimations. The curve of Sanji's back as he stretched to grab his feet matched the spiral of his eyebrow, as did the bend of his fingers around his toes. Sanji was phenomenally flexible, his body and limbs bending and stretching in angles and ratios that repeated themselves and became all too consistent within Zoro's mind. It was only when his student got up and grabbed his towel, waving goodbye to Caimi before heading for the locker room, that Zoro realized he had been blatantly staring again.

He shook his head, frustrated with himself, and half-heartedly tried to meditate again before giving up a few minutes later. There would be no concentrating for him, not with Sanji and his spiral so close. Zoro had his dream within reach, he just knew it. It was strangely attached to his student, who at this very moment was in the locker rooms, completely oblivious to how important he was. If he could only convince Sanji of his miracle, of what a discovery he had made in him. Zoro was certain that if he could learn how such a thing had happened, that he would unlock the greatest mathematical mystery since Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Hell, he might even surpass Mihawk, who was currently considered the top mathematical mind in the world.

Just thinking about it sent a thrill of excitement running through Zoro's body. He was so close to it all, to achieving everything he had ever dreamed of, and the key lay in one of his students. A student who was in this same building. Zoro sat up a little straighter. At this very moment, Sanji could be in the locker room downstairs. This was his chance. This might be the day that he convinced Sanji of his miracle.

Zoro scrambled to his feet, forgetting his towel by the weight station in his haste to catch his student before he left. Luckily, the locker room that Zoro used and the one attached to the pool were one and the same, and Zoro managed to reach it in record time without getting turned around even once.

He arrived to find the locker room completely empty, the disappointment at missing his chance hitting him like a ton of bricks. Sanji must have already left. Zoro trudged dejectedly to his locker, only all too aware of the dark cloud hanging over his head. Today was going to be a bad day.

As he neared his locker, however, Zoro noticed something out of place. The locker right beside his stood wide open, revealing a worn blue backpack and a pair of goggles inside. But what really caught his attention was the pile of sopping wet swim trunks on the concrete ledge directly in front of his own locker. Chlorinated water oozed from the blue plaid material, collecting on the bench, running into his locker, and dripping onto the floor. Zoro wrinkled his nose. His clothes were probably wet and he was going to have to stand in someone else's puddle while he changed clothes. This was definitely going to be a bad day.

Just as he picked up the soaking swim gear—just who the hell wore two pairs of trunks at once, anyway?—Zoro heard one of the showers in the adjoining room turn on. He held the offending clothes with a vice-like grip as he headed for the showers. He might have resigned himself to having wet feet for the rest of the morning, but at least he could give the asshole a piece of his mind. Zoro continued to glare fiercely at the swim trunks in his hand as he rounded the corner into the tiled group shower. He could hear humming coming from beneath the spigot in the corner, but didn't look up until the first half of his reprimand had left his mouth.

"Oi, asshole! Don't go leaving your wet shit in from of other people's lockers. My stuff is soaked. And just what kind of moron wears two pairs of trunks..at…"…oh.

A painfully familiar back faced him, the muscles rigid as their owner's arms and shoulders tensed, his hands tangled in soapy blond hair.

Zoro wanted to kick himself. How had he not recognized the blue shorts in his hands? He had only been staring at their owner for the last two hours. Of course, linear patterns had never held his interest, but that was no excuse.

His heart leapt into his throat, beating at double its healthy rate, as Sanji slowly turned to face him. The look on his student's face was one of shock and embarrassment, the white suds in his hair standing in sharp contrast to the angry red blush that colored his cheeks and ears. Sanji's hand immediately flew from his hair to awkwardly cover his groin, even though he was wearing a faded black speedo. Later, Zoro would wonder why the blond had felt the need to wear three layers to swim laps, but there in that moment he was completely occupied by another sight.

Two. There were two of them.

The hair that Sanji normally wore over his left eye was swept back, piled on top of his head and plastered in place by his shampoo, revealing the other side of his face and a second curly eyebrow. Zoro's breath hitched in his lungs. Not only was Sanji's other eyebrow curly, but its spiral was completely identical to its mate. He had thought that there might be another, but he had expected a mirror image; a spiral that was flipped and reversed, but this…this was so much more than he could have ever hoped for.

"Two." Zoro's mouth felt like it was full of cotton. "There…There are two of them."

"Of course there are two of them, you shitty creepy stalker professor!" snapped Sanji, one of his hands moving to more effectively cover himself below the waist so the other could clamp over his forehead, hiding his eyebrows from view. "They're my eyebrows! There are supposed to be two of them!"

Zoro felt his frustration flare as Sanji once again hid his miraculous eyebrows. Why did he have to do that? Did he know how important they were? How special he was?

"And what the hell are you doing here, anyway?" Sanji continued. "Did you follow me? Don't make me get campus police involved!"

"I didn't follow you," Zoro retorted, finding it oddly easier to fall back into his normal demeanor with the spirals hidden. "This gym is for students and staff."

"Then why the shitty fuck do you have my stuff?!" yelled Sanji, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.

"Because you left it in front of my stuff!" Zoro barked back, squeezing the shorts until water dripped from them to splash at his feet.

"Well, it's not my fault that you chose the locker right beside mine!"

"I was here first, you stupid entitled kid!"

"That locker was assigned to me, you stalker!"

"Asshole!"

"Bastard!"

"Moron!"

"Creeper!"

"Puny!"

Sanji visibly recoiled at the insult to his physique, briefly relinquishing his hold over his eyebrows before remembering himself and hiding them again.

"Shitty mosshead!"

Zoro glared darkly at his student. Part of him was impressed. Not many could deal with him when he was angry, let alone stand up to him and hold their ground. Sanji was doing both with ease, despite having one hand over his family jewels and the other over his eyebrows. Zoro would have commended him on it, if he weren't so angry.

"Hey, what's going on in here?" asked Ace, coming up to stand behind Zoro's shoulder. "I heard shouting. I everything okay? Sanji? Professor?"

"It's nothing," said Sanji, never breaking eye contact with Zoro. "The professor was just leaving."

Zoro scowled. So that's how this was going to go. Fine. Two could play this game, and Zoro had no intention of losing. He would convince Sanji of his miracle, one way or another.

"Yeah," Zoro grunted in return. He glanced at Sanji's forehead in hopes of seeping the spirals one last time before turning and shoving Sanji's swim trunks against Ace's bare chest with a wet splat. "Here."

He could feel both pairs of eyes on him as he stomped out of the shower and toward his locker. Hurriedly unlocking it, he bundled up his dampened clothes and shoved them into his gym bag. He would change in his office. Let Perona complain about the smell. He didn't care.

As he neared the door, he could still feel Sanji's tension lingering with the stunned silence in the steamy air. Zoro paused before leaving, unable to resist throwing one last taunt at his stubborn student. Zoro smirked.

"I'll see you in class…curlybrow."

"If it's such a problem, then why don't you report him?" asked Nami, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

"It's nothing I can't handle," Sanji replied, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his friend's irritation.

He was trying his best to seem unfazed by Professor Roronoa's attention, but knew he was failing miserably. Even just talking about the man caused him to grouchily grind down on the nearly spent cigarette in his mouth. He had already smoke two before this one, and he and his friends had only been standing in line at their favorite dining hall for a little over five minutes.

Sanji huffed out a smoky breath. "He's just annoying, is all."

"It's worse than that," grumbled Usopp, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as some of the smoke wafted his way. "You've been smoking twice as much as you did at the beginning of the year. The whole room stinks!" He whined miserably. "I think I might be forming an allergy."

"And you've been sort of irritable ever since that thing at the gym," said Vivi quietly, her tone apologetic.

The disbelieving glare that Sanji had given Usopp softened as he turned toward Vivi. Had he really been that hard to be around? He didn't want his friends—especially two ladies as sweet and caring as Nami and Vivi—to suffer due to his own problems. They had all thought the whole thing was hilarious when it had first begun. It had seemed too ridiculous to be true. But now, Sanji was starting to wear thin. And if his friends' concern was anything to go by, it showed more than he would have liked.

"Look, I can handle it," Sanji tried to reassure them as the line began to move. He took one last drag of his abused cigarette and ground it into the sidewalk. "Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?"

Sanji's question was met by three skeptical looks. They had been over this several times already. Usopp and Vivi were nearly convinced that the professor's behavior would escalate to fully blown stalking and that Sanji was going to end up in a ditch somewhere, while Nami seemed undecided as to whether he was being overly dramatic or too casual about the whole situation. Either way, they had beaten the topic to death, so this time when Sanji brushed it off, his friends were more than happy to move on.

Nami shrugged and began talking to Vivi about their shared anthropology class while Usopp busied himself with texting his mysterious girlfriend, whom none of them had yet met. Sanji tried his best to listen to Nami's story—something about unusual rain patterns in the Middle East—but his mind continually wandered back to his green-haired professor.

He still didn't understand what the guy's problem was. So he had curly eyebrows, so what? Sanji was pretty sure that he wasn't the only person in the world that had them, even though he didn't know anyone else that did. And even if he was the only one, that didn't make him some curiosity. He was a perfectly normal, if not slightly above average, nineteen-year-old and his eyebrows were quite stylish, thankyouverymuch. There was absolutely no reason for Professor Roronoa to be going on as if he were some sort of miraculous discovery.

And that brought Sanji to the problem of the professor himself. Creepy stalker tendencies aside, the man was interesting and unusual. Sanji usually found it easy to read people, he had his whole life. But with every close encounter, Professor Roronoa surprised him. Yeah, he was batshit insane, but he had an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

It was obvious that the professor loved math. His passion for the subject showed in every single class, even though the level of most of his students was far below him. No matter where he sat in the room, Sanji found himself drawn into Professor Roronoa's lecture despite the fact that he couldn't understand half of what he was saying. Sanji would end up leaning forward in his seat, his notes nearly forgotten, as he watched his professor teach. He could quite understand his fascination. The only comparison that Sanji could think of was that watching Professor Roronoa talk about math was like watching Zeff cook. Professor Roronoa came alive in that lecture hall, sharing his craft with his students.

But then Professor Roronoa would find him and whatever spell had held Sanji entranced would be broken. It happened in every single class without fail. Sanji could have found a seat behind the tallest, widest student, and the professor would still spot him before the hours was up. He could always tell when he'd been found out. Professor Roronoa would make eye contact, pinning him in place with that singularly intense stare, and then a not-at-all subtle smirk would curl the left corner of his mouth. Every time, Sanji would tense up in his seat, nearly snapping the pencil in his hand as he glared down at his professor.

He could appreciate the man's passion, even admire it. Sanji just didn't want that passion to be about him…or his eyebrows. It was creepy and awkward. Sanji couldn't help but to curse his terrible luck. Why couldn't the professor have been a beautiful girl his age? Sanji would die a happy man if Nami or Vivi wanted to be with him half as badly as Professor Roronoa did. It just wasn't fair.

"Sanji?"

Speaking of lovely ladies.

"Yes, Nami, my dear?" asked Sanji, pushing any and all thoughts of Professor Roronoa to the back of his mind.

Nami smiled sweetly. "I seem to have forgotten my ID. Can you swipe me in?"

"It would be my pleasure, Nami, my swan!"

"Can you do it sometime today?" asked Nami, looking thoroughly unamused by Sanji's happy wriggling. "I'm hungry."

"Huh?" The hearts dissipated from Sanji's eyes long enough for him to realize that they were at the front of the line. Since when had he gotten so distracted thinking about a guy that he lost track of time. Seriously? He would have to see to that.

Nami, Vivi, and Usopp—along with the dining hall staff member by the door and the front half of the line—watched expectantly as Sanji dug his wallet out of his pocket and fished out his atrocious ID, swiping it twice through the reader. He would be down a meal for the week, but that was fine. He could always eat out one night or try one of the microwave recipes he'd been developing. Besides, anything for a lady.

"Thanks, Sanji," said Nami, giving him a brief hug that left him weak at the knees before hurrying off arm-in-arm with Vivi to find a table for four in the rapidly filling dining hall.

Sanji recovered from the hug as the girls disappeared from sight and quickly pocketed his ID before anyone could see it. He had not yet had a chance to get a new one, but not for a lack of trying. Every time he visited the office in the student center, it seemed to be closed. And the one time it hadn't been, the worker behind the desk had regretfully informed him that their printing system was down—though not before laughing over his current ID with every other person in the office. Shitty bastards.

Moving slightly to the side so as not to be trampled by more hungry students, Sanji leisurely scanned the dining hall, still undecided as to what he wanted to eat. Grand Line was a large university with some of the top sports teams in the country. As such, all of the dining courts were fully equipped to serve and pamper any student athlete and thoroughly fatten anyone that didn't spend several hours per day exercising. Sanji had even heard the odd rumor about the school pumping extra calories into the ingredients at the salad bar. He had his doubts about the validity of that particular rumor, but had chosen to exercise caution in the dining halls nonetheless.

After a small amount of deliberation, he finally settled on stir fry, which at least allowed him to choose his ingredients. Its preparation station was near the back of the dining hall and, quite luckily, the line was fairly short. Pizza was on the menu that evening, so most students, including Usopp, were waiting for their turn at the freshly prepared pies. Unfortunately for Sanji, all of the girls in the dining hall also seemed to want pizza, as he found himself standing behind a gaggle of what looked to be either computer science majors or electrical engineers, based on their pasty complexions and not-so-recently washed hair.

Sanji huffed irritably and shuffled back half a step so he was clear of the other students' very…unique odor. Hunching dejectedly over his try, Sanji scanned the full dining hall in search of fairer sights than the one directly in front of him.

It didn't take him too long to find a pretty girl. She was working at the soup and salad bar, laying pre-sliced tomatoes out on a tray. The girl looked bored with the menial task. Sanji immediately recognized the distant look in her eyes. To the casual observer, she was engrossed in her job, concentrating hard on the platter of vegetables, but Sanji knew that she was far away. It was during similar tasks at his old man's restaurant that Sanji had always revisited his favorite day dreams. Sometimes, he had imagined a beautiful woman falling for his charm and the two of them getting married and doing all of the things that his mom and Zeff had missed out on. But most of the time Sanji thought about his dream.

He wanted his own restaurant. Not a small but quality place in some mid-sized city like Zeff's, though. No way. What Sanji wanted was a restaurant in Paris. It would be top of the line, the kind of establishment that people would cross ocean to visit. He would serve the best cuisine anyone had ever tasted. Sanji wanted to introduce his future patrons to flavors they had never imagined possible. People had told him throughout his childhood that it was impossible. He had no way of knowing how his abilities stacked up against others, not to mention that the French probably wouldn't take kindly to some American coming in and stepping on their toes—even if he did speak French. But he didn't really care. Sanji knew it was possible and that was what mattered.

Back to the cute girl with the tomatoes. Her side was facing Sanji, giving him a perfect profile view, even if her figure was mostly hidden beneath her baggy uniform. It also meant that her back was facing the soup at the end of the bar and that she couldn't see the frat boy wannabe currently dumping an entire shaker of salt into the chicken and noodles.

Sanji's mouth dropped open as his mind registered what he was seeing. All of that soup, ruined. Well, not really, but according to the dining hall staff it would be. They would probably dump all of it. That thought alone made Sanji's stomach flip flop uncomfortably.

He couldn't let that happen.

Stir fry completely forgotten, Sanji abandoned his spot in line and hurried over to the salad bar. Coming to a stop in front of the giant pot of soup, he spared a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching before grabbing the spoon on his tray and dipping it in for a taste.

The salt overwhelmed his senses the moment the soup hit his tongue. Sanji wrinkled his nose at it and set the spoon aside to grab a dinner roll from a nearby basket. He chewed slowly, cleansing his palate of the salt as he glanced around once again. There still wasn't anyone watching. The frat boy that had tainted the soup was flirting with the girl behind the salad bar, and—much to Sanji's disappointment—she was acting genuinely interested. But, it did mean that he had a chance to fix the soup without being caught.

With one last look around, Sanji stepped behind the bar, going immediately to a service sink and washing his hands. Sanji felt completely at home in the industrial kitchen setting and easily located the necessary tools and ingredients to fix the soup. He periodically taste tested it as he worked, ensuring that he was going in the right direction and not adding too much of any one spice. In no time, he tasted it and was satisfied that the soup had been saved. Stepping back, he couldn't help the smile that split his face. He was an amazing cook. Anyone that thought differently just hadn't been introduced to his cooking yet.

He victoriously batted his hands together, his eyes still trained on the masterpiece that he had just made of the dining hall soup as he made his way back to the appropriate side of the serving line. Sanji didn't see the body blocking his path until he'd walked into it, the force sending him stumbling backwards.

"And just vhat do you think you're doing back there, Candy Boy?" asked an oddly musical voice.

Sanji blinked dumbly, stunned by the impact and the very brightly dressed, very tall person standing before him. As his gaze travelled upwards, he noted well manicured hands placed on sumptuous hips, a bit of a belly, and a neckline that plunged lower than was probably school appropriate. A rather expensive looking set of pearls briefly held his attention, before he finally focused on a face that was caked in what appeared to be professionally applied stage makeup. Recognition dawned almost immediately in Sanji's mind. He had never met Professor Ivankov, the head of the Culinary School, but he had heard of him. Better make a good impression.

"Uh, um…I—I was, um…" Perfect. Well done. Good job. You win all the awards.

Professor Ivankov eyed him skeptically from beneath a set of heavy false eyelashes, his painted lips quirked in one corner. "You are blushing, Candy Boy. Are you perhaps stunned by my beauty?"

Sanji could only continue to gape, his mind randomly flashing to snippets of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and images of himself dressed in a corset and heels in the role of a terrified Brad Majors. The idea felt hauntingly and uncomfortably familiar. Maybe that had happened in another life.

"Vere you playing with the soup?" continued the professor, crowding Sanji back into the kitchen. "Vhat did you do to it, little boy? Add laxatives? Or alcohol? You youngsters and your pranks. You have no respect for the sanctity of food."

"Excuse me?" growled Sanji, his awkwardness quickly banished by rage. "I was fixing it, you wannabe drag queen. It probably tastes better now than it did before that shitty frat boy poured salt in it!"

The professor seemed momentarily stunned by Sanji's outburst and then a slow smile curled at his lips. "Is that so, Candy Boy? Ve'll just have to see about that."

Without a word, Professor Ivankov snatched the spoon from Sanji's abandoned tray and dipped it into the simmering pot. Sanji found himself slightly impressed at the professor's poker face as he watched him smack his brightly colored lips together. Most people became weak at the knees when they tasted his cooking, their genuine surprise and joy impossible to hide. But Professor Ivankov gave no reaction, simply swirling the soup around his mouth and swallowing thoughtfully. There was awkward silence between them for a moment, broken only by the ambient noise of the other students in the dining hall and Sanji's heart pounding in his ears.

"This is…" said Professor Ivankov, putting the spoon back onto Sanji's tray. He quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and turned back to Sanji. "This is quite good. A little rudimentary, but certainly an improvement on the dining hall's recipe."

Sanji bit back the need to gripe about the subtle insult. His soup was better than rudimentary, even if the professor didn't want to admit it. But Sanji was used to compliments laced with critique. Zeff had raised him on it. Well, that and the odd swift kick to the butt.

"Um, thanks," said Sanji, trying his best to edge past the professor to the correct side of the serving line. No use.

"I like you, Candy Boy. Tell me, vhat school are you in?"

"Culinary Arts."

"I hoped you would say that!" exclaimed Professor Ivankov, clapping a manicured hand on Sanji's shoulder hard enough to make him wince. "I vant to see you in my office tomorrow. Come at vone o'clock. Ve vill discuss you coming to vork in the kitchen at Navarone."

Sanji's eyes widened slightly. Navarone Café was the Culinary School's restaurant on campus. It was run entirely by Professor Ivankov and the only students who could get jobs there were upperclassman in the Culinary Arts Program. For the professor to offer him a job there as a freshman was unheard of. Sanji gulped and nodded silently, afraid to open his mouth in case something else embarrassing and ineloquent should slip out.

Professor Ivankov grinned widely and gave Sanji's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "Very good. I vill see you then."

And then he turned and left. It was only when he had disappeared into the crowded dining hall that Sanji realized the professor had been wearing six inch stacked heels…and that his mouth was hanging open. Sanji shook his head clear of shock and confusion and hurried around the serving counter to snatch up his tray, a blush coloring his cheeks when he realized that the cute dining hall employee was watching with an odd look on her face. He grabbed a drink from the soda fountain and found his friends, slipping into the booth beside Usopp in a daze. None of them commented on the fact that he had forgotten to pick up anything to eat; they were too busy discussing Fall Break plans.

Sanji sipped at his drink in a daze. Either he was wildly inexperienced, or that was the strangest job interview he had ever had.

Fall Break found Grand Line University's campus blissfully quiet. It wasn't as barren as it would be during the Thanksgiving weekend or over winter break, but many students had gone home for the extended weekend, leaving only those who had too far to travel or had too much homework behind.

The nearly vacant campus meant that Zoro could throw all of his concentration into his work without having to worry about being interrupted by students or staff. Even Perona had left, gone to a mathematics conference on the east coast. Zoro had his office—and most of the Mihawk math building—to himself. He had locked himself away in his office following his last class on Wednesday with only several chalkboards, his favorite math texts, and a Sunny Go! bag full of meat and alcohol (courtesy of Luffy) to keep him company. He had worked tirelessly through the night and well into the following morning, only stopping when he could no longer keep his eyes open. After a short nap on the worn leather sofa by his office door, Zoro had gotten up, found a mistake, erased two and a half chalkboards worth of work, and started anew. This cycle repeated itself through the afternoon, evening, and night. By Friday morning, Zoro was down to his last chalkboard and still hadn't found a solution to the mystery of his student's eyebrow.

Zoro skipped lunch and his standard afternoon nap as he poured over his work, scoured his reference texts, and moved from chalkboard to paper. As the sun began to set on his second day of labor, Zoro found himself thoroughly frustrated and completely out of provisions, even sake. But there was never enough sake.

He pinched at the bridge of his nose and blinked blearily at one of his chalkboards, the spiraling Fibonacci diagram beginning to blend into the green surface. He was tired and hungry and thirsty and it seemed that no amount of staring and erasing and rewriting would help him to solve this problem. Zoro sighed. He needed some air. His office had grown stale, filled with dusty worn-out thoughts. Maybe he could go to the gym. Zoro had avoided it since his run-in with Sanji. Not because he was afraid, but because he needed time to plan. His accidental meetings with his student always left him dumbfounded and speechless, in no state to convince the standoffish teen of his miracle. But Zoro doubted that Sanji would be on campus during the long weekend. Or, if he was, he wouldn't spend it at the gym. And exercise would almost certainly help Zoro to unstick the cogs in his mind.

With his mind made up, Zoro made for the door, having to carefully pick his way around stacks of books and papers. He grabbed his favorite—and nearly threadbare—green hoodie from the back of the couch, pulling it on as he elbowed open his door. Zoro patted down his pockets as he made his way down the hall. He had actually remembered to lock his office and quickly located his keys and his wallet in the deep pocket in his sweater. The professor didn't feel the need to carry anything else. He was already wearing sweatpants and without Perona to nag at him about the smell, he wouldn't have to worry about changing clothes after his workout. His faculty ID would get him into any building and his keys gained him access to his office. And money wouldn't be an issue since there was nothing open at this hour other than the crowded bars outside of campus.

The cool late-October air hit him like an invigorating slap to the face the moment he exited the Mihawk building, prompting him to pull his hood up. The professor walked with his head down, lost in thought. Zoro had the route to Long Ring Long memorized by this point. He could even find it on the darkened campus. He didn't need to pay too close attention to where he was going. Or he normally wouldn't, except that the university had decided to start yet another construction project.

Zoro glared up at the tall chain link fence that blocked his path. He considered climbing it, but university security had lined the top with razor wire—probably to keep drunken students out and away from the heavy machinery within. Perona had lectured him many times about what to do when his route had unexpectedly changed. He was supposed to follow the fence around until he was in a familiar area again and then continue on his original path. It was a simple enough concept. Zoro didn't know why she had to be such a pain about it.

He let his fingertips run along the cold chain link as he followed the fence line in the dimly lit campus. The smooth metal felt oddly soothing against his skin and Zoro briefly wondered if he had had some sort of connection to it in a past life before dismissing the thought in favor of counting the patterns created by the raised ridges of the fence. So few people understood how deeply math permeated the world, both in nature and civilization. It was all at once maddening and calming for Zoro. The numbers centered him, yet their complexities wore away at his sanity. He was the best in the world at what he did…or, he was close. Only the great European mathematician Dracule Mihawk bested him, but that wouldn't last for long. And then Zoro would fulfill that promise made all those years ago. He would prove once and for all that he was the smartest, the most analytical. He was a true master of the numbers.

Zoro only needed to unlock the mystery behind Sanji's eyebrow and he would have it all.

Suddenly, the smooth metal of the chain link gave way to rough, weather worn brick, making Zoro stop in his tracks. The construction fencing had ended, but it hadn't led him around to pick up his route to the gym. Instead, he stood staring into a darkened alleyway that dead ended into another brick wall thanks to the university building too many structures too closely together. Zoro frowned and turned away, only to realize that absolutely nothing looked familiar. Damned confusing campus.

He momentarily considered following the fence back to where he had started, but given how horribly it had worked this time, Zoro imagined that he would only end up that much more lost. He would have to tell Perona that her instructions had failed him. Again.

Zoro stood and thought for a moment. There had to be some other way to figure out which direction to go. The wind had been blowing against him when he'd left his building, so if he faced into it as he walked, he would be travelling parallel to his original path and would eventually end up at the gym. Yes, that made sense.

He turned in a slow circle as he tried to decide where the wind was coming from. It blew in from outside of the alleyway and buffeted against the brick walls, hitting him from all directions. He would have to get out into the open in order to get a good feel for it. After several more minutes of walking, Zoro found himself no closer to deciphering his whereabouts, let alone to his destination. He had somehow managed to walk into a narrow corridor, trapped in a veritable labyrinth of backstreets and alleyways. As he scowled up at the tall crumbling face of another seemingly nameless brick building, Zoro finally felt a strong gust of wind hit his right cheek.

Zoro all but ran through the open-ended alley, finding a large square with a fountain on the other side. The professor immediately recognized where he was. This was another one of his memorized locations on campus, though he couldn't quite understand how he had made it here, since the last hour of his walk had been nothing like the route he normally took to get to it.

The fountain was a large heart and cupid adorned monstrosity. Robin had once explained to him that it was sculpted in the Rococo style, whatever that meant. On the other side of it was the Culinary Arts building with its Navarone Café and beside him was the building where Robin taught most of her classes. Zoro's stomach growled irritably as he stared up at the fountain in frustration. He was really hungry and thirsty, but the building was completely dark and the campus was empty of anyone that might help him. He peered into the rapidly darkening campus, still intent upon finding his way to the gym…as if he would see it appear from behind one of the buildings. Just past the fountain and off in the distance, Zoro spotted a small flickering light. It looked like firelight—which was weird—but light meant people and people meant directions.

Zoro walked resolutely toward it, his pace quickening in anticipation as he neared it. Soon, the buildings became more sparse and then disappeared, replaced by trees and withering flower beds. This part of campus was even more unfamiliar to him and Zoro was just beginning to consider turning back when he heard voices and laughter.

He had stumbled upon what appeared to be a small park on the outskirts of Grand Line's campus. A wide field stretched before him, the grass catching the light of the rising moon. Off to his side was a modest playground with a handful of picnic tables surrounding the mulch-filled pit. A group of four students had lit a fire in one of the rudimentary barbecues and laid out a spread of food on the accompanying picnic table. They looked and sounded to be celebrating something. Aside from the half-empty dishes, wrappers, and trash, there was a collection of used beer bottles piled beside the table. Three of them, two girls and a boy, were laughing loudly at the antics of another boy, who was gesturing wildly as he told some story. None of them noticed Zoro until he stepped into the warm circle of light.

The first to see Zoro was a girl with blue hair. Her eyebrows rose and her laughter stopped as her mouth fell slightly open, prompting the other girl to look up as well. Then the boy who had been talking stopped mid-sentence, a look of exaggerated shock crossing his longnosed face when he saw the professor. The only one that hadn't yet turned to see him was the boy with painfully familiar blond hair. Zoro's stomach fell down to somewhere near his shoes.

"Nami? Vivi? What is it?" asked the blond, his speech a little slurred. "Is someone there? Is it a lovely lady? Is she—oh…"

The slightly drunken blush that already colored Sanji's cheeks darkened significantly when he saw his professor. His hand immediately flew to his forehead, hiding his spiral from view before Zoro could see it.

"What d'you want, shitty professor?" growled Sanji.

Zoro gaped at him for a moment, before higher brain functions kicked in and he was able to speak again. "I was looking for the gym."

"Seriously?" said the red-haired girl with a derisive snort. "That's on the other end of campus."

"Oh." Zoro furrowed his brow. Well, that didn't make sense. All four students were watching him skeptically. "What?"

"Why're you still here?" asked Sanji. "We were having a good time. You should leave."

"Don't be rude, Sanji!" said the blue-haired girl, earning an even brighter blush and a mumbled apology. "Are you hungry, Mister…?"

"Oh, uh, Roronoa," offered Zoro. He saw the faces of both girls fall. Apparently they had heard his name before. "And I'm not—"

Zoro's stomach growled.

Sanji groaned and ran the hand that had been over his eyebrows down his face. When he spoke, he sounded suddenly exhausted and slightly dejected. "Sit, Professor. Eat something. There's plenty here."

All present stared at the blond with shock. He deadpanned at them.

"What? I can't let him go hungry." Sanji sighed. "Just don't sit with Nami and Vivi, and don't sit next to me."

"B-But, Sanjiiiiiii," whined the longnosed boy, quickly glancing between his friend and Zoro. "That…that means…"

"Just do it, Usopp," ordered Sanji.

The other boy, Usopp, seemed to deflate a little and looked up at Zoro balefully, as if pleading for him to just turn and leave, before sighing and scooting over so he was seated closer to Sanji. Zoro could only continue to stare in disbelieving shock. Was he being invited to eat with them? And by the student had had been pursuing so vigorously, no less?

"Take much longer and I'll change my mind," said Sanji with a dark glare.

Zoro swallowed thickly—why did his mouth always manage to get so dry around Sanji?—and sat down beside Usopp, who was trembling and beginning to turn red in the face. Meanwhile, the two girls were watching him with open curiosity and Sanji was resolutely ignoring him as he piled food onto a paper plate. The blue-haired girl looked nervous and a little concerned. Her redheaded friend, however, was smiling at him, her eyes sparkling in a way that made Zoro fidget uncomfortably. She was like Robin. She could see everything right away.

"In case you hadn't guessed, I'm Nami," she said, a clever smile curling at her lips. "And this is Vivi. You've probably seen Usopp before. He's in your class with Sanji. Would you like a beer?"

"Uh, sure." Zoro hazarded a glance at the nervous longnose as Nami handed him a chilled beer bottle. He only vaguely recognized Usopp's face, and then only because he always sat beside Sanji. He didn't bother to check the label before twisting off the cap. Booze was booze. He was just happy for the free drink. "So, what are you celebrating?"

"Sanji got a job!" Vivi explained with a bright smile.

"Oh." Zoro didn't quite know what to say. He hadn't really thought about his student's need to work. He honestly hadn't considered much about the boy beyond his miraculous eyebrow and how stubborn he was. Before he could say anything else, Sanji reached past Usopp to drop a fully laden plate in front of him with a gruff order to eat.

Zoro stared at the plate in awe. The poor wax coated paper could barely contain the food that had been piled upon it. There were a couple of barbecued chicken legs, a small steak medallion wrapped in bacon, fire roasted corn, and grilled asparagus. All of it smelled amazing. And when he began to eat, Zoro discovered that it tasted even better. He cleared his plate within minutes—a habit formed from eating out with Luffy—only to find it quickly refilled.

"Which restaurant is this from?" he asked between bites. He would have to take Luffy. Hopefully the place wasn't too expensive. Maybe they even had an all-you-can-eat bar.

A cocksure grin spread across Sanji's face and he leaned heavily on the table to look past Usopp. The blond's eyes were drooping a little dopily and his blush had spread to his ears. His elbow nudged at a couple of empty bottles and fell to the ground in a succession of dull thuds.

"M'glad you like it," said Sanji. "You better. Cuz I made it."

"That's the job he got," chimed in Vivi. "He's a cook! And a really good one."

"Aaaaawwwwwwwwww, thanks, Vivi. You're—You're too kind," cooed Sanji, slumping slightly over the table.

Zoro turned back to the blond. Sanji had really incredible talent. Zoro's eye flicked to the spiral, which was clearly visible. Maybe it was a part of his miracle. The spiral gave Sanji power, as it did all things in the universe. The professor wondered what other hidden talents his student possessed.

"I HAVEN'T BEEN DRINKING UNDERAGE! NOT ONE DROP!" cried Usopp, going suddenly rigid between them.

The rest of them all turned to the longnose with looks of mixed surprise and incredulity on their faces.

"It's a little late for that now," said Nami with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Do you honestly think Professor Roronoa cares if he's drinking with us? Besides, he barely looks old enough to drink, himself."

"I'm twenty-five."

The words slipped out before Zoro had a chance to stop them. He wasn't normally comfortable enough with strangers, especially students, to tell them anything personal. The beer wasn't that strong, so why?

"Really?" asked Vivi, looking genuinely curious. "That's really young for a professor. How long have you been teaching here?"

"Six years."

There went those sneaky words again. Zoro's statement was met by simultaneous long, low whistles from his students.

"So, what are you, a genius or something?" asked Nami.

"Yes."

Sanji rolled his eyes and muttered, "More like crazy."

Nami shot Sanji a furtive glare and then suddenly Zoro found himself under a rapid-fire attack of questions. He answered each one freely, much to his surprise. As they continued to drink their rather sizeable supply of beer and eat Sanji's delicious food, Zoro told them about his work and his dream. He couldn't help the excitement that bubbled up inside him when Vivi asked him about the Fibonacci Sequence and why the spiral was so important. Nor did Zoro miss how intently Sanji watched him during his story.

All too soon, the beer ran dry and the food was diminished to crumbs. Usopp was laid across the table with his head cradled in his arms, snoring drunkenly into the aged wood. Nami had held her alcohol surprisingly well, given her small stature, but was leaning heavily against Vivi for support. Only Sanji really still seemed to be listening to what Zoro was saying, his expression not nearly as guarded as it was when he was sober.

"Maybe we should head back," suggested Vivi. She was the only one that hadn't been drinking, but she looked dead tired. "It's really late. And it's getting kind of cold."

"You're right," mumbled Nami, perking up only slightly. "Where're you going, Professor?"

Zoro scrubbed tiredly at his face with his hands. He needed to get back to work, but he wasn't entirely sure if he could find his way back to his office. "The Mihawk building."

"Do you need someone to go with you?" asked Vivi. "You were lost before, right?"

"I was not!" Zoro pointed a finger past the playground, in the direction where his back would be facing the wind. He was well aware that he had been lost, but admitting it in front of students was out of the question. "It's easy; I need to go that way."

"Admit it, you were lost, shitty marimo professor," smirked Sanji.

"I was not!"

"You were too!"

"Was not!"

"You moron, you're not even point—pointing in the right direction!" Sanji hiccupped. "I'm drunk, and I know the way better than…than you!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah!"

"Why don't you prove it?!" yelled Zoro.

"Maybe I will!"

"That's a great idea!" said Nami, perking up beside Vivi.

"What?" asked Zoro and Sanji in perfect unison, only to glare at each other.

Nami rolled her eyes. "Sanji, you should walk Professor Roronoa back to his office so he doesn't get lost."

"But Namiiiiiiiiiiii," Sanji pleaded. He moved to complain some more, but stopped when Nami gave him a no nonsense look. He sighed. "Fine. Come on, professor."

Zoro watched in shock as the blond stood, wobbling slightly, and began to walk to the edge of the park. He hesitated, caught between his eagerness to get to know his student better and his own stubborn pride. Sanji continued to walk, not seeming to care if his professor followed or not. Finally, Zoro's need to learn more about Sanji and his spiral got the better of him and he followed him into the night.

Sanji's head was throbbing, though it didn't really feel like a hangover, which was weird. He didn't drink often, but when he did, he always got drunk really quickly and woke up with the worst of hangovers known to mankind. No, this time his headache originated from a sore spot on the back of his head, radiating out to touch at his neck and sting at the back of his eyes.

Had he fallen?

Maybe. He couldn't remember. Whatever had happened, though, the rest of him was comfortable now. Sanji felt so warm and cozy. He could feel that he was only in his boxers, but there was a soft heavy blanket draped over him. It trapped the warmth against him, his own body heat amplified that that of another body beneath him.

Sanji smiled and snuggled more closely to the soft, warm flesh. Nami or Vivi must have invited him back to their room last night. He couldn't believe his wonderful luck. He'd gotten a job in the best kitchen one campus, gotten to cook for his friends, and now was awaking to discover that he had been taken home by one of his beautiful lady-friends. What more could he ask for.

His hand was draped over what he could only imagine was a breast. It was so soft and, surprisingly, much more firm than he had thought a breast would be. Sanji ran his palm over it, soaking in the warm, stopping when his fingers came in contact with a pert nipple. They were both topless, so maybe they had really enjoyed each other's company over night. Sanji elatedly began to wonder if maybe he would have a girlfriend after this. That would be awesome.

He began to rub at the little nub, curious as to what kind of response he would draw. There was nothing but a contented sigh and a slight shifting of the body beneath him. Sanji became vaguely aware that his spine was pressed against what felt like the back of a couch and that whoever he was with was a little bigger than he had thought Nami or Vivi would feel, but his mind was otherwise occupied with that lovely little nipple. He rubbed at it again, a little harder this time, and again received a sigh in return. Sanji grinned, his eyes still closed, and decided to up the ante. He ran his fingers over it and then pinched playfully.

There was a loud, deep snore and Sanji's eyes snapped open.

His vision was blurred for a moment, so all he saw was an expanse of tanned skin. As he slowly peeled his cheek from the warm flesh that had cradled it, his foggy mind began to put two and two together. This wasn't Nami. And it wasn't Vivi. Sanji swallowed thickly, panic rising from his stomach and making him nauseous.

It was Professor Roronoa. He was lying half-naked on top of Professor fucking Roronoa.

Sanji glanced around what he now realized was the man's office, though it was significantly messier than it had been the last time. There were papers and books strewn across the floor and so many chalkboards crowded the small room that it felt claustrophobic. Sanji looked back down at his professor. The man was still asleep, apparently not bothered in the least by his student's molesting.

Okay, so maybe nothing had happened. Maybe he was safe. Maybe he could escape.

Sanji slowly began to climb over Professor Roronoa, trying his best not to wake him. He hoped that he could get dressed and get away before the man awoke and forget that whatever had happened had happened. He could see his clothes in a pile under one of the chalkboards and subconsciously reached for them as he moved to climb off of the couch. The action caused him to over balance and he tumbled end over end onto the floor.

He somehow managed to twist himself so he landed onto his side, thunking his elbow on the linoleum tile floor. Sanji swore under his breath, worried that he'd woken the other man, only to hear the professor snore again. With a sigh of relief, Sanji began to get up, only to stop when pain suddenly shot up his back. Sanji began to shake. His entire backside was throbbing as painfully as his head.

Just what the hell had happened last night?!

And that's it! I hope you enjoyed it. My apologies for any mistakes. This isn't edited quite as closely as I usually like to. I have several hard days of work ahead of me, and I intended to use the high of completing this chapter to ride it out. I will likely come back and fix everything later.

Next up should be the Chivalry Makes Dead update.

Thanks for reading!