Impulse on Insight

Sometimes Zoro needed to break away for a little bit.

The urge was kind of like a weird pull in his chest. A pull he could mostly ignore—but sometimes there wasn't much reason to.

Besides, it was never much of a problem to find a little solitude on the Thousand Sunny. And it was even easier when they were at port somewhere. Like today.

The island was small and humid—uninhabited, as far as they could tell. And that pull had been pretty strong for him lately. So Zoro took the opportunity to get away, walking alone along the sandy beach.

It was only a few minutes before he found himself in some kind of cove. It sort of dipped inward, and it was laced with thick, tropical plants and large rocks. Well, most of the island was like that, but the foliage was a little thicker around here. When Zoro turned around, he noticed he couldn't see the ship anymore.

Good. That was about what his goal had been. This was far enough. And it seemed like as good a place as any to spend some time.

It'd been awhile since he had trained in the sand. It was dark and quiet and the only thing he could hear was the sound of crashing waves and the occasional hum of insects. Not only was the ship out of sight, but he couldn't hear any noises from it, either—and he knew there was probably a lot of it. They were all having a great time back there. Hell, he'd been enjoying himself as well.

Until that feeling started creeping over him.

It was nothing against anyone. Being with the crew was actually alright. Hell, he liked it. There was a reason Zoro stayed.

He'd just always been that way. That feeling would sneak up on him. The urge to be alone. And when it reached a certain point, he'd have to disappear. Sometimes for a little while. Sometimes forever. He'd seldom stayed around any certain people for any great lengths. Not since he'd been a kid.

But meeting Luffy had sort of changed that for Zoro. Because Luffy made him... well. Luffy'd always made him want to stay. That was all that mattered. He didn't like to think about it much further.

And it wasn't that bad, staying with the crew. Maybe life had never been better.

Zoro still had that itch to get away once in a while, though. The only difference was that now, he always came back.

It was just him and his swords underneath the night sky for awhile. The only light came from the moon, and its reflection on the water. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Hadn't really been concerned with it, since he didn't expect anyone to look for him anytime soon.

Zoro didn't even hear any footsteps in the sand.

But even though he heard nothing, he felt it. Someone's presence, coming from behind him. A person who made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

There was only one person who put him on edge like that.

"What the hell are you doing out here, marimo?" he asked, in that fucking voice of his, and Zoro could almost feel his blood pressure rise.

Zoro removed the katana stuck beneath his teeth before he turned to glare at him.

"I should be asking you that, shit-cook."

Zoro sheathed his swords and Sanji puffed on his cigarette, and they just stared each other for a moment.

"I was just going for a walk," Sanji finally replied, jamming his hands in his pockets as his eyes lifted upward toward the sky. "It's a nice night."

A serious answer. Not exactly what Zoro would've expected coming from his stupid mouth.

"You training?" Sanji asked. Only his silhouette and the burning end of his cigarette was visible against the shimmering ocean behind him.

What the hell do you think. It was pretty fucking obvious. But instead of saying the words that bubbled to the top of his mind, Zoro just nodded. Because apparently this was one of those rare moments when they were acting civil to each other.

Sanji raised his hand and Zoro realized he was holding a bottle. Not quite sure of what, but definitely alcohol. Probably all that mattered.

"Want a drink?" Sanji asked.

After a beat, Zoro nodded again. "Yeah."

"I wasn't really planning on sharing, so I don't have cups or anything."

"S'fine," Zoro shrugged. Not like they hadn't occasionally all occasionally shared a bottle before. Sometimes it was damn necessary.

There weren't a lot of places to sit, so they settled down on the sand, leaning against one of the big rocks along the edge of the cove. They sat about as far from each other as they possibly could without making it a pain to pass the bottle back and forth. It was closer than they'd usually be.

Sanji uncorked the bottle and took a long swig before he passed it over. Zoro accepted it immediately.

As soon as the alcohol hit his tongue, he knew from the oaky burn that it was some kind of whiskey. He took a long swallow.

"So you didn't get enough earlier, huh?" Sanji asked.

"What, booze?" Zoro knitted his brow as he passed the bottle back over.

"Tch, I know you can't get enough booze. I was talking your training—or whatever the hell it is you were doing," Sanji said, waving his hand and cigarette in the direction of the sand spread out in front of them.

Oh. He'd meant fighting, maybe.

A couple hours before they'd reached this island, there had been a dumb scuffle with some pirate crew they'd never heard of before. They had tried to board the Sunny, probably to steal from them or something. Whatever it was, they didn't get far. It was dumb on their parts. A couple of the pirates had kept their hands full for a little while, but they'd wound up being pretty much harmless.

"Yeah, I guess that wouldn't be enough for you," Sanji decided before Zoro had a chance to say anything, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Zoro closed his eye as he murmured, "They were weak."

He was feeling surprisingly good. The liquor made his stomach feel a little warm and the gentle crashing of the waves was soothing. It was still muggy out, but the temperature was starting to fall a little, too.

And most importantly, that uncomfortable twinge in his chest had finally subsided. Good thing, too. Otherwise Sanji's presence would've damn near infuriated him.

But instead, Zoro was actually kind of comfortable. Truly relaxed, for the first time in awhile.

Maybe it was just the cool night air, and the smell of the salt from the sea, and the scent of the nicotine—

What the fuck.

Zoro's eye snapped open.

"They were weak—" Zoro blurted, his voice growing louder as went on, "—but at least they were more of challenge than fighting you."

Shit. Why'd he let his voice get that loud? And the retort had been too fucking late, and maybe even kind of dumb. It was just, the train of thought he'd been having, and feeling goddamn cozy along side that idiot cook—it made him feel like he had to say something. Some kind of comeback.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, shitty swordsman?"

"You heard me, curly-brow."

Sanji had replied instantly, like a knee-jerk reaction, but there had been no bite in his words—and not in Zoro's either. Zoro clenched his jaw.

It'd happened so gradually, he hadn't noticed until it was far too late. But now, he and Sanji had a different kind of relationship. Zoro couldn't exactly pinpoint was it was—but, shit, in the past, they never could have done this. They probably hadn't really hated each other. They just couldn't put up with each other for very long. So they mutually avoided each other, most of the time. Like it was some kind of unspoken agreement.

Sanji would've never offered Zoro some of his whiskey. And Zoro wouldn't have accepted, either. And Zoro sure as hell would've never felt comfortable sitting there with Sanji, inhaling the smell of those disgusting cigarettes.

"Huh, looks like there's a ship," Sanji said quietly, nodding toward the horizon line.

"We should head back," Zoro replied immediately, already rising to his feet. A ship could mean more trouble—they needed to get back to the ship.

Yet Sanji looked annoyingly unconcerned.

"Don't worry about it," he grunted, waving a hand at Zoro, gesturing for him to sit back down. Zoro froze for a moment, his gaze shifting back and forth between Sanji and the ship.

"It's close." And it was large, too. Maybe bigger than the Sunny.

"Yeah, but it's not heading this way, dumbass," Sanji said, flicking his cigarette butt into the sand, reaching toward his pocket for another.

"What the hell do you know about where it's headed, shit cook."

Sanji shrugged, handing Zoro the bottle, and Zoro finally relaxed again, bringing it to his lips.

"Even if it is heading this way—which I fucking promise it's not—it's just a cruise liner." Sanji brought his lighter up to his face.

"Huh?" Zoro paused mid-sip, squinting toward the ship. "How can you tell?"

"Just trust me."

"Like hell I will. There's no way you can see that from here."

"It's the shape of it... The windows, and the way it sails," Sanji replied, his voice growing a little more subdued. "I'm pretty familiar with their ins and outs."

Zoro raised his eyebrows. "Since when?"

A loud exhale, followed by a stream of smoke. "I used to work on one."

"Hah? Didn't you grow up at, uh... that restaurant."

"The Baratie," Sanji answered, a slight edge to his voice. Annoyed Zoro had forgotten the name of the place, maybe. "And yeah, I grew up there, pretty much—but before I got there, I worked on a cruise liner."

"As a shitty cook?"

Sanji smiled thinly and looked down at the toes of his shoes, cigarette dangling between his fingers, like he'd forgotten he was supposed to be smoking it or something. Zoro had only meant to glance at him, but he found his gaze lingering for several seconds.

"I worked in the kitchens, but I was just a brat, so I didn't get to do much."

Zoro grunted in reply, but he didn't really know what to say. He forced his gaze to stay fixed on the ocean ahead of them, and for a little while, there was nothing but the sounds of crashing waves and the exhalation of smoke.

Zoro picked up the bottle again, taking a smaller sip this time, letting the liquor hit his tongue before he swallowed down the mouthful. It was good stuff, actually. Better than what Sanji would've usually shared with him. There was a hint of sweetness mixed in the oakiness—sweetness, with a little bit of smoke.

"I grew up next to the sea," Sanji said suddenly, and Zoro was actually a little surprised. Because Sanji wasn't the kind of person to try to make idle conversation like this. At least, he never had with him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sanji nodded, his eyes staring forward at some unknown point somewhere on the water. "A little island that was a lot like this. Except, you know, people were there. A pretty good-sized port was there, actually."

"Huh." Zoro tightened his grip around the bottle, just a bit.

"It was a shitty place, too. No, that's an understatement. It was a fucking hellhole. Dirty, worn down. And the people were even worse. Men treated other men like shit, and the women even worse, and my mother-"

Sanji stopped speaking for a moment. He took a long drag off his cigarette and Zoro instinctively passed him back the bottle.

Zoro could hear Sanji's gulps as he took several long sips. A lengthy pause followed, and Zoro wouldn't have been surprised if he just stopped speaking entirely.

"She was the one who wanted me to work on the cruise liner," Sanji finally said.

The words were chosen cautiously. More controlled that how he'd been speaking before. Sanji had obviously almost said something he hadn't meant to. A detail about that past of his he never talked about.

It was good that he stopped it there. Better if Zoro didn't hear it.

It wasn't like Zoro wanted to know or anything.

This was the most Sanji had ever spoken to just him. Without it deteriorating into a fight, anyway. It made him feel kind of strange.

The fact that it made him feel anything at all was unsettling.

Zoro's gaze wandered to the ship in the distance again. He still couldn't tell if it was a cruise liner or not, but it was definitely getting further away.

"Looks like you were right," Zoro muttered aloud.

"I'm right a hell of a lot more than you are, shitty swordsman."

Zoro narrowed his eyes and turned toward Sanji, his mouth already open to make some kind of retort, but as soon as he looked at him, he forgot whatever it was he'd meant to say.

Instead of that dumb sneer Sanji liked to make at him, he was smiling. A genuine smile, not even a smirk. Or that stupid-looking polite face he used from time to time. For maybe a half a second, Zoro thought that Sanji didn't look like the arrogant piece of shit he normally was.

And for maybe half a second, Zoro wanted to smile, too.

Fuck.

Sanji started to hand him the bottle, and he snatched it as quickly as he could. For just a second, their fingers accidentally brushed together. Just barely touched. But it made Zoro feel like he'd been shocked or something.

What the hell.

But Zoro didn't show it—didn't flinch, didn't make a face, didn't do a damn thing that could make that shitty cook think his equilibrium was a little off right now. And Sanji turned away, the smile fading from his lips as he took another drag on his cigarette.

"Did you grow up by the sea?" Sanji asked.

"Uh. I've always been near it, I think." Zoro couldn't even remember all the places he'd lived.

"I've seen the sea practically every day of my life," Sanji went on. "Maybe it's why I'm always drawn to it."

Zoro scrunched his brow a little as the words sunk in. He'd been living on a ship for awhile now, and he'd been around the sea a lot when he was younger, but he'd never felt any particular fondness for it. Hadn't ever even thought about it before. Even if Zoro had made some good memories there, it didn't matter much to him if he'd been by the sea or in the mountains or at the bottom of a goddamn lake.

Sanji flicked another cigarette butt in front of them. Zoro watched it land a fair distance away and roll a couple of times before it got stuck between ripples in the sand.

Zoro sipped at the whiskey, letting it slosh around his tongue, taking in the hints of oak and fruit. Weird, he couldn't taste the smokiness anymore.

He took another sip, and as he let his lips linger on the rim of the bottle, he could taste it again. Almost like it wasn't in the whiskey itself. It was like—maybe it had come from Sanji's lips.

For some reason, the thought made his heart pound a little harder.

Sanji turned toward him and smirked, like he knew what Zoro'd been thinking or something. Asshole. He probably hadn't known, but he was still an asshole.

And the asshole held the gaze too—didn't turn away, even after it'd been way too long. Zoro frowned. But for some goddamn reason, he didn't turn away, either.

His eyes were so damn blue, even in the darkness. Bluer than the goddamn sea that Sanji couldn't shut up about tonight.

Sanji reached out his hand and Zoro wordlessly passed the bottle back to him. Their fingers brushed again, as Sanji tightened his fingers around the bottle. Zoro started to pull his hand back, but on an impulse, he stopped, and he grabbed Sanji by the wrist.

Not that hard. Just sort of loosely gripped it.

Dammit. What was wrong with him.

He'd just gotten so wrapped up for a second—in Sanji acting like a normal fucking human being, instead of a fucking caricature. A caricature that changed, depending on who he was talking to, what sex they were, how attractive they were. Just an exaggeration of stupid, phony traits. Traits that made him not even know who Sanji really was, underneath everything. Traits that annoyed him to no damn end.

He tightened his grip around Sanji's wrist as he thought about it. About how irritated he was right now.

Zoro had maybe actually felt a little bit close to him for three fucking seconds, and it made him want to be even closer.

Stupid of him. As stupid as Sanji himself.

Zoro let go of Sanji's wrist, nearly threw it down. He glared downward as he bit down on the corner of his cheek.

Being close to people—he'd never been good at it. Even when he wanted to be, he never really knew a good way to attain it. Especially not with words. Because he'd always been shitty with those.

It was why Zoro always let his actions speak for him instead.

He exhaled slowly before shifting his body until he was on his knees, facing Sanji. Nearly hovering over him, actually. Sanji raised his eyebrow, his mouth opening slightly, like he was about to ask a question. But Zoro didn't let him.

He grabbed Sanji by the shoulders and pulled him forward as he leaned in and kissed him, impatiently parting his lips.

Sanji hummed in surprise, his palms pushing back against Zoro's stomach. Zoro tightened the muscles in his abdomen, bracing himself for the violent shove that was definitely going to follow. Zoro opened his mouth wider, dipped in a little lower, trying to take in whatever he could from this stupid impulse until Sanji reacted.

But suddenly, all the tension fell out of Sanji's hands. Instead of forcing Zoro backward, Sanji wrapped his arms around Zoro's ribcage, pulling him closer, until their chests were pressed right against each other.

When Sanji hummed again, it was a much different kind of sound. Zoro shuddered against him.

Shit.

Pressing Sanji back against the rock, Zoro desperately grabbed at the back of his head, entwining fingers in his hair with one hand while his other hand grabbed onto Sanji's jaw, forcing him in place, kissing him harder and harder. And when Zoro was done with that, he pulled Sanji upward and toward him, not letting him pull his lips away for even a second. He lost track of what he was doing for a little while, all of his concentration on their connected mouths and the heat growing somewhere along the back of his torso.

Zoro wrenched Sanji's body away from the rock and pulled his head back, openly panting as he shoved Sanji into the sand. Then Zoro crawled on top of him, putting his knees on either side of Sanji's narrow waist, and Sanji grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanking him downward.

Yes. Shit. Okay.

He set his elbows on either side of Sanji's head, ignoring the rough sand and little bits of broken shells digging into his skin as he met his mouth again.

Sanji arched his back underneath him, grinding his body against Zoro's, and it made his mind go completely fucking blank. He was oblivious to everything around him and to the time slipping away as he absorbed himself in Sanji.

Damn, Zoro hated Sanji sometimes. Hated the way he could throw him totally off track. The way he always managed to catch his attention. The way he managed to surprise him, again and again.

Zoro let his fingers thread through Sanji's hair, more tightly than he had before. He yanked at the tendrils and nipped at Sanji's lower lip. Showed Sanji just how much he hated him.

It was just a little while ago when Zoro hadn't wanted to be around anyone at all. But now, it was like he couldn't quite get close enough to someone. Well, to this one particular person.

Although it almost felt the other way around now. Sanji lifted his shoulders off the ground and pulled Zoro's head down a little lower, letting his lips find the side of Zoro's neck.

Fuck. Zoro couldn't help it, he actually moaned a little at the feeling of teeth grazing his skin. The heat that'd been building up in him had turned into a kind of pressure that made little trembles travel up and down his spine when he rocked his body against Sanji's. And Zoro could feel every little twitch and quiver with Sanji pinned underneath him.

If an animal crying out from somewhere in the trees hadn't cried out at that particular moment, they never would've snapped out of it.

Shit, he was actually surprised that was all it took.

Zoro almost felt a little drunk as he pulled himself away from Sanji. Even though he sure as hell was not. Sitting down in the sand, Zoro scanned the direction where the sound came from, but he couldn't see shit. Well, whatever it was, it didn't really matter.

"We should head back now," Sanji said.

"Yeah."

Yeah. They probably should get back to the Sunny. That made sense.

Zoro shifted a little, still kneeling in the sand, but he didn't stand up. Didn't really want to—or maybe couldn't easily—stand up just yet.

Sanji had already risen to his feet and started to brush the sand off of himself.

"Dammit," he muttered as he smacked the fabric of his shirt. A lot of sand was falling out. Well, it made sense that it'd gotten everywhere. Zoro could even feel it down in his boots.

After a few seconds, Sanji started unbuttoning the front of his shirt.

"The hell are you doing, shit-cook?"

"What the hell's it look like, marimo," Sanji muttered, unfastening the last button and sliding the shirt off his shoulders.

Zoro rolled his eyes, finally feeling okay enough to stand up. He rose to his feet as Sanji started shaking the shirt out in front of him, slapping his hand against it like an old woman beating on a rug, before set it down on one of the nearby rocks.

"Shit, it's all over my back," Sanji muttered.

And it was true—even in the dim light, Zoro could see it, just sticking to him like glue.

Unthinkingly, Zoro took a step toward him, hand raised. "I got it."

"I don't need your help, shitty swordsman," Sanji replied, glancing over his shoulder. But he didn't actually move away, and when Zoro looked at his face, he noticed he was fucking smiling again. Asshole.

It took quite a few strokes of his hand, but finally, most of the sand was gone.

"Okay," Zoro replied, letting his fingers linger on Sanji's shoulder. His skin was a little damp.

"I bet you've got sand in your clothes, too."

"Probably."

Zoro slid his hand a little lower, tracing the lines along Sanji's back. Even though Sanji was slender, he had a surprisingly solid layer of muscles covering his body. He'd noticed it before. Just never really at this close proximity.

It made sense, though. From a distance, Sanji kind of looked he could be snapped right in half. But on closer inspection, Sanji was pretty solid. As much as Zoro didn't like to admit it, Sanji was strong.

Zoro placed both of his hands on Sanji's shoulders as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the space where Sanji's shoulders met his neck. Sanji's body stiffened a little, but he didn't try to pull away. So Zoro kissed a little harder, and then he let his teeth gently graze his skin.

"We were getting ready to head back, dumbass."

The words made Zoro's stomach twist. Just—fuck.

Zoro pressed into Sanji's back and grabbed him by the jaw, forcing his head to twist toward him as he mashed their mouths together.

"I don't fucking want to, asshole," Zoro breathed as he pulled away.

His face and chest burned when he realized what he'd said, but it didn't even matter. He'd come this far, so, what the hell. Besides, the white-hot tension mounting in his abdomen made the thought of not feeling Sanji against him seem almost painful.

Zoro wrenched Sanji by the shoulder, twisting him around until they were facing each other, and as his mouth found Sanji's lips, his hands found the other man's belt buckle. And the damn cook didn't waste any time.

In no time at all, they were lying together on the ground again, clothes off, and god damn, sand was everywhere. It was so itchy, uncomfortable as fuck, but it wasn't long before Sanji was consuming the full breadth of his concentration.

Usually when Zoro came, he held his voice back—it wasn't that much of a problem, really. Sure, there were a few seconds that he couldn't quite control his expression, but a couple loud pants and grunts, and it was over. It didn't matter if it was by himself, or with someone else—that was just how it worked.

But watching Sanji sort of made it a whole new ordeal. It was like his whole damn body got caught up in it. Sanji trembled and shuddered, cheeks and nose flushed enough that he could see it, even in nothing but the moonlight. And he moaned like it was nothing. Didn't give a fuck what he sounded like.

It was mesmerizing—and kind of a huge fucking turn on, too. And as he watched Sanji reach his peak, all of the sudden he realized it was seizing him too, and he dug his fingernails into Sanji's back and held him close as he moaned, practically shouted, right in his goddamn ear.

Shit. It wasn't like him, but honestly he didn't have a whole lot of time to think about it, because after he came it sort of felt like his brain just shut off for a little while. Zoro barely managed to roll off of Sanji, and they laid back in the sand, their arms pressed against each other, gradually catching their breath.

"I need to smoke,"Sanji murmured, sitting upright, breaking the lengthy silence.

"What a surprise."

Sanji took a few stiff steps toward the rock where he'd set down his jacket. Once he'd lit his cigarette, he turned around and regarded Zoro, taking several long, pensive puffs. He sure as hell didn't give any fucks about being totally naked, standing over him.

"I have sand goddamn everywhere."

"Yeah."

"Let's go in the water."

Zoro furrowed his brow as he glanced over at him. His brain still chugging a little. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, why not?" Sanji replied, pulling himself upright. "We're not exactly dry, anyway."

"Because it's a stupid idea," Zoro muttered.

And it was. But, stupid or not, Zoro got up and followed him anyway.

"Shit, it's colder than I thought it'd be," Sanji hissed, the second he'd dipped his foot in the water.

"What'd you expect?"

"For it to be warm like the goddamn weather."

"This was your dumb idea to begin with," Zoro shrugged, walking past him. The cool water was actually a little welcome against his overheated skin.

He kept going until he was about deep enough for the waves to lap up against his chest. Sanji stepped up right beside him. Closer than he would've expected. If he just shifted a little, their arms would touch. Sure, they'd just been about as close together physically as two people could get, but this was a little different. A little surprising.

Zoro wondered what the hell he'd been thinking, even touching Sanji in the first place. Why not once, but twice, he'd just grabbed onto him. Why he'd felt so driven to do that sort of thing with him, of all people, at that moment.

His gaze drifted to Sanji. He was just staring at the horizon, where the line of the water met the sky, a sort of distant look in his eyes.

And Zoro realized he knew the reason. It was the same reason he was thinking more about the way Sanji was staring at the sea, instead of the fact that they'd just fucked each other.

It was all the shit Sanji had revealed earlier. The things about himself. About his past—the past that Sanji had never talked about.

"Why'd you tell me all that shit earlier, anyway?"

"Hm?" He flicked his cigarette, the ashes falling onto the water's surface, instantly disappearing. "All what?"

"You know, all that stuff about—" Zoro hesitated a moment, chewing on his lower lip. "About the sea."

A pause followed.

He blew out a long stream of smoke, smiling a little bit, before he turned away from Zoro.

"Who knows."

He flicked his cigarette butt into the water. It floated a little bit on the waves, and Zoro couldn't help but follow it with his eye, until it finally disappeared. Either sank into the water, or just got too far away for him to keep track of it.

Who knows. What a dick-ish answer. Just like him. But Zoro wasn't the least bit surprised. He sort of knew there was no point in asking to begin with.

He knew a little more about Sanji now, either way. About where he came from. What he liked.

The way he writhed underneath him every time Zoro twisted his pelvis just right.

For the second time that night, Zoro found himself following a weird impulse to connect with Sanji. He stepped up to him, leaning in, as Sanji eyed him warily.

"What the hell are you up to now, dumbass marimo," Sanji said, a little jeeringly. But he tilted his head to the side just slightly, instead of backing away, and it was all that Zoro really needed.

He leaned in and kissed him, hands tracing the line of his jaw until his fingertips met somewhere behind the back of Sanji's head. Something about the way Sanji's tongue moved inside of his mouth actually made him feel a little drunk. Made his tips and tongue feel a little bit numb, made him almost want to smile.

"We should head back already."

Zoro nodded, and side by side, they slowly waded back toward the beach. And before they tried to slide sandy clothes back on their wet, naked bodies, Zoro walked over to the whiskey bottle they'd shared earlier.

With one giant swig, he finished the rest of it.