Author's Note: Chapter 12 for real this time. Thank you for reading :)

It's early morning by the time Zoro finishes his shift, the sun just starting to tangle with the skyline in streaks of pink and gold. He nods at his replacement, a rumpled-looking Chopper freshly awake and oddly vulnerable, rubbing sleep out of his eyes with curled up hooves.

He watches as Chopper settles on a cushion by the window with a slow hum, no signature hat in sight. Observes, and lets a dumb fondness bloom in his chest for this boy, this bold, brave, boy who holds his own against men.

It's easy to forget; between the genius and the responsibility, the life-threatening rush of battle and the weight of a childhood dream on tiny shoulders, the significance of Chopper's age can escape Zoro – but he's so young, was forced to grow up so quick.

Zoro feels a weird pang in his chest, a lurch, a sudden sense of loss.

Resolves to look out for Chopper more, keep him happy and safe and pampered, preserve his innocence while it lasts. Zoro himself feels like he's aged a hundred years in the past couple months; doesn't want Chopper to ever lose his naivety, as impossible as that is with the life he's chosen.

He smiles as Chopper wiggles, settling more comfortably, and pets down a wayward tuft of fur on Chopper's forehead that refuses to settle, squeezes a cheek on his way out.

"Sanji's in the kitchen, Zoro! He promised to add honey to my oatmeal," a muffled giggle, "as if that'd make me happy at all!"

Chopper's gentle call floats with a twinkle, child-like and feather-light on the wind as Zoro's climbing down to the deck, and he's picturing the accompanying delighted squirm, but is distracted by the implication. Does he really demand Sanji's attention so often that even Chopper has noticed?

He never really means to seek Sanji out; knows it's probably not healthy, knows that distance is probably best, probably necessary, for him to heal. Knows he should be forcing the physical distance, to teach himself the emotional one. Knows he needs to start now, needs to just rip the Sanji-bandaid off and not be tempted to put it back on.

But.

But, this is so new. Zoro was never one for bandages, yet he seems to have become ridiculously attached to this one. And he never took himself for a masochist, but, well. Sanji inspires the best and the worst and the crazy and the ugly in him, it seems.

Between one day and the next, Sanji slipped into his daily routine and made himself a home there. Zoro's dawn a month ago was reserved for meditation, maybe another polishing of his katana, a rare quiet moment for him to reflect in peace by himself.

At some point that long-standing routine had been replaced by mornings in the galley with Sanji, drinking (spiked) coffee and memorising the lilt of Sanji's voice, the planes of his face, the easy, intoxicating smile Zoro tries so hard to coax out.

ZoroandSanji, his brain whispers traitorously. SanjiandZoro. He hates that he loves it, loves the idea of intimacy, longs for it like he longs for all good, bright things. Fame. The flash of steel. Sanji. It's all the same.

He makes it to the galley as the sky starts to lighten, the artificial light escaping from the kitchen window guiding him like a beacon. (Guiding him home, his heart tells him smugly, but he mulishly quashes it down. Betrayal is so disappointing.)

He pushes open the door and peeks in, greeted by the sight of Sanji sitting at the table, journal open and nursing a cup of hot cocoa.

He pauses for a second at the door, allows himself just the one moment of peace to watch this captivating, whirlwind of a man in his natural environment.

"Isn't it too early for cocoa?" He asks in liue of a proper greeting, closing the door softly behind him, ignoring the urge to lock it; as if that would somehow allow him more time, a false sense of closeness, just ZoroandSanji enjoying each other's company. As if they could exist in a bubble impossibly untouched by the world outside as it continues to spin callously (always callously) on.

He refuses to acknowledge that he's skirting the elephant in the room, hoping to avoid any conversation about the night before, hoping to avoid the pain, the burn, the heartbreak, dodging it with a skill he hates to admit results from practice.

He doesn't really understand what happened, what Sanji was looking for, curling up with Zoro so late when his defences were down, spilling words that hurt like blades to the gut.

Doesn't he know that when it comes to Sanji, Zoro is already weak?

Sanji huffs, eyes him silently, carefully, for a moment. Zoro holds his breath, but Sanji, compassionate, generous Sanji, has mercy. "Well technically it's late, if you haven't slept." He must detect Zoro's emerging concern, because he crinkles his eyes and curls his lips up, making an effort to lighten the mood. Always making an effort. "Don't judge me, Zoro."

Zoro takes the olive branch for what it is, an opportunity to pretend, an opportunity to avoid what he's too scared to confront.

Coward. When did he become such a coward? The relief that floods him is almost enough to drown out the shame.

Zoro plays along.

"Yeah, about that," Zoro melts his tone into something vaguely apologetic, teasingly antagonistic, as he pulls out a chair facing Sanji and drops down. "Too late. Sorry. Consider yourself judged."

Sanji feigns outrage, and sticks his tongue out to blow a very mature raspberry. "You can't judge me; your hair is green!"

Zoro lets his remaining tension bleed out, and is overwhelmingly grateful that Sanji doesn't pursue their last conversation. Allows him the out, lets him breathe, permits a change in the heavy-hitting tone of their relationship as of late.

He's being selfish, he knows. Difficult. The air is full of the things they don't say; Zoro knows Sanji seems to have an agenda of his own. Sanji knows Zoro is bothered by something he's refusing to share. And Zoro's big, dumb, overwhelmingly tragic secret is that he's in love with Sanji.

It's all a mess, and Zoro is emotionally exhausted, so he's selfish.

But Sanji – Sanji is kind. He's always been so, devastatingly kind. And so again he makes the sacrifice. Again he lets Zoro step back, and he doesn't follow.

So they pretend. Pretend that everything isn't tangled, isn't complicated. That they're not both keeping secrets. That the trust they've worked so hard to rebuild isn't wobbling precariously under the strain.

A truce, of sorts. You let me be me, and I let you do you. You don't push, I don't pry. Deal?

Zoro realises he's left the silence a little long. So he sniffs, also very maturely. Picks up the light, easy interaction, and ignores the heavy elephant sitting on his chest. "Your point?" (Deal.)

Sanji scrunches his face up, continues to play right along. "My point is that you're a giant, ugly, dumb genetic mutation!"

The contrast between words said and unsaid is giving Zoro whiplash. He feels like his brain is already struggling, spinning furiously to keep up. Wants to just crumble into Sanji arms, melt under his fingers, bury his face into the crook of Sanji's neck.

(Zoro vaguely ponders if Sanji could have a career in acting. Whether in that universe, Sanji would let Zoro kiss him. Is jealous of a Zoro that doesn't exist.)

But he's had enough of this self-pity. If Sanji can interact in parallels, switch from bleeding his heart out into Zoro's hands and playfully mocking him like simpler times, Zoro can, too.

He shoves away the unwanted thoughts, and lives in the moment. Compartmentalises. Sanji is here, and Zoro has his attention. For now, it has to be enough.

So he breathes in, and breathes out. Lets it go.

"Yes," Zoro concedes calmly, sits up straighter, and deals the killer blow, "and this giant, ugly, dumb genetic mutation is judging you."

Sanji's jaw drops, appalled. Then his lips close into a stubborn pout. Zoro's heart flutters. "Fine, then! No coffee for you."

He slides the coffee pot Zoro honestly hadn't even noticed across the table, now gripping a mug of cocoa in one hand and a whole pot of coffee in the other, looking ridiculous and very much like a total hoarder.

Zoro groans, dropping his head onto the table. "No, I take it all back. Don't do this to me."

Sanji hmphs, all proper-like. "Too late! No take-backs!"

Zoro frowns (sulks), and takes a swipe at the cocoa instead, smug when he manages to snatch it from Sanji. Drops of cocoa spill over the side of the mug from the jostle, so Zoro brings the mug to his lips and licks a broad stripe along the rim to clean up the mess.

Sanji's gaze tracks the path of his tongue across the porcelain, and Zoro's heart skips a beat. He feels a pleased flush crawling across his cheekbones, warmth settle behind his sternum. His heart begins rabbitting in his chest. He catches himself before he can do it again, because what is he doing? He's setting himself up, here. He can't do this. He shouldn't.

So instead he takes a gulp of cocoa, and Sanji lets him, so he lets himself indulge in the clear, bright eye scrutinising him, belied by a certain intensity he can't read, or maybe refuses to look into.

On the surface everything is perfectly serene. Not even a ripple. Below that is a whole other story; there are whirlpools and riptides. Drowning hazard; swim at own risk.

But he's hesitant to disturb the clear covering, doesn't want to dip his toe into the water. Selfish. Scared.

"You got plans today?" He lowers the mug, and allows Sanji to take it back when he reaches forward, their fingers overlapping for a brief second Zoro wishes would yawn into a decade.

Sanji hums, eyes thoughtful as he takes his own sip. "Breakfast, inventory, lunch. Restock the pantry when we dock. Dinner." A brief pause before he lowers the mug and glances up, an unreadable quirk to his lips. Determination blazes from the set of his jaw; his gaze is so fierce it could level cities. "No dates with any women."

(Sanji is kind, yes. But Sanji is also brave. He's always been so brave – braver than Zoro. Zoro can see that now. His heart aches, so proud of this man even as his own fear rises, so proud of his courage and his resolve, and wishes he could tell him. Wishes he could love him, and it wouldn't hurt.)

Zoro breathes out a nervous laugh, internal alarm bells jangling as panic swells. "Oh?" Must they talk about this?

Sanji's eyes hold Zoro's own for a few long seconds, before losing their defiance and dropping away when Zoro doesn't add anything else. He relaxes his jaw, sighs, shrugs with a melancholic smile and sad eyes. Looks much older than his twenty-one years.

"I suppose you can have your coffee," he grouches. "Since I'm just nice like that."

Zoro thinks you have no idea. Nods gratefully as the coffee pot slides back over, and Sanji offers a generous smile back. Always so observant, clearly knew to stop pushing, knew Zoro isn't ready to talk.

"Thanks," he pours himself a cup, keeps pouring until the mug almost overflows, "for the coffee." Means for everything. Finally gathers the courage to look up. "But also for donating your winnings to my debt." Gently kicks Sanji's leg under the table. His way of saying sorry I'm so difficult. "You didn't have to do that."

Sanji shakes his hair out a little, settles his chin onto his palm. "I know I didn't have to, Zoro." Takes another drink of cocoa. "It's nothing. Don't worry your dumb green head about it." He curls his foot around Zoro's, presses their ankles together. A wordless I'm here for you.

Zoro smiles, presses back. Thank you.

(Yeah, Sanji is brave. Selfless. Kind. Zoro wonders what the world did to deserve him.)

xxx

This new island is a summer one, with not so much a dock but a beach. They drop anchor when the water becomes too shallow for the Sunny to travel through, and leap over her railing into the water, swimming to shore.

The water is clear, and warm, and blue, glistening in the sunlight. Like Sanji's eyes, but not as pretty.

Zoro splashes to shore, laughing as he's sprayed by Brook as he shakes out his afro, sets Chopper down onto the sand from where he was tangled joyfully around his neck.

The island is truly beautiful, beach leading up to sunset markets, odd trinkets for sale down broad, sun-lit laneways lined with baskets of flowers that hang from balconies. Children rush by with kites, multi-coloured windmills spinning in their hands as they run with the signature clack of sandals against stone-paved walkways.

It's like a carnival, except the festive atmosphere appears to be permanent; just another day in a small town full of good people.

Zoro finds it hard to dredge up any negative feelings while surrounded by so many dogs and children, with the sound of laughter carried by the ocean breeze. Finds his heart to be lighter by the second, buoyed by the peace that seems to inhabit this island.

His latest Sanji problems appear much less insurmountable in the face of such a hopeful, lively town, and he can't find it in himself to worry, to dwell, when refreshed with just how much more life has to offer. When it comes down to it, isn't every issue just a small bump in the road? Nothing that Zoro should let take away from him the most important things. His dream. His nakama. His integrity.

There will always be a bright side, and Zoro resolves to find it, resolves to bask there. He feels gifted with a new determination, a new energy, a bloom of new hope.

Sanji seems to feel the same, sauntering up and bumping his shoulder into Zoro's. He's in a baby pink shirt, sleeves rolled to elbows and unbuttoned to his sternum, half-heartedly tucked into beige shorts for a change. It's a rare look on him, to be dressed so casually in such pastel colours, but Zoro thinks he still looks stunning; thinks he looks stunning in anything. Sanji would probably call it artfully tousled, or whatever. And he looks younger, closer to someone in his early twenties. Zoro squashes the urge to wrap his arms around Sanji's waist and press a kiss to his temple.

"Hey, pack mule. Help me restock?"

Zoro detects no undercurrent of half-buried truths, no coverups, no second meaning; just a man asking for his company because he enjoys it.

Zoro rolls his eyes in agreement, pokes at Sanji's stomach in retaliation, and starts walking in the wrong direction.

xxx

The town is beautiful, and it's good for them.

Sanji giggles as he picks up a lime green plushie of a dugong, his laughter weaving beautifully into the happy buzz of the market. "Look, it's your spirit animal!"

Zoro's jaw drops, and he snatches it away, appalled. He eyes the mismatched flippers jutting at strange angles, the round eyeballs stitched at slightly different heights. The tummy flub, the cushy jawline. "What! What are you implying!"

Sanji just laughs harder, eyes gleaming with hysterical tears.

Zoro grumbles, and picks up another plushie of a sea king, a hulking black thing with sharp teeth and mean eyes. He nods, satisfied. "This one's more like it."

Sanji reaches over, and tosses the sea king carelessly back onto the stand. Doesn't even watch where it lands, upside-down and half-hanging off the table. Plucks the dugong back from Zoro's hands, quietens down as he looks at it, fingers absentmindedly rubbing circles into its belly.

"I dunno. It really does remind me of you." He places it back carefully, tucks it in between a plushie of a mermaid and an angel, and pets it twice on the head. Zoro watches it bob goofily. "I actually really like it."

Zoro sulks indignantly. "Why? It's fat and almost tragically ugly."

Sanji hums thoughtfully. "I suppose, but that's not important." He pokes it in the snout, which dents backwards in a weird way. "It just… it looks sad," he admits, "and drunk. Kinda lonely." His eyes flicker up towards Zoro, and he grins, meaning no harm. But his eyes are sincere, freckled with cautious questions.

Zoro swallows.

Sanji's eyes melt, and he reaches out, pats Zoro on the shoulder earnestly. "I'm just messing, Zoro." He smiles again, softer, and brushes invisible lint off of Zoro's sleeve. Laughs quietly to himself. "I mean, you're probably not even lonely." Zoro bites his tongue before he does something stupid like correct him.

Sanji squeezes his arm, and steps back. Zoro's heart still swells at the genuine empathy, the genuine good that Sanji just embraces so effortlessly. Wants to reach out and fall into him, wants to be better. "Come on, you dork. We do actually have shopping to do."

He turns away, picks up some of their bags and starts to move to the next stall.

Zoro hesitates, curses to himself, and snatches up the dugong, throws money at the startled vendor and quickly shoves the stupid thing into a bag before Sanji can turn around at what's taking so long, to make sure he hasn't accidentally wandered off again.

They weave slowly around the lines of carts and stands, stopping occasionally to make necessary buys, stopping just as often to examine odds and ends they really don't need but want to admire anyway.

Sanji oohs and ahhs at delicate materials, at seashell necklaces and exotic spices. Zoro indulges him because he wants to, because he may not care for any of those things but Sanji's delight makes him happy. Touches the material when Sanji asks him to, stands still and doesn't complain when Sanji loops a tacky shell necklace over his head, does the obligatory sniff and sneeze when Sanji finds a new spice he likes.

He falters as he walks past a bookstall with a display of leather-bound diaries propped up at the front. Skims his fingers over an expensive, high-quality bound journal, dark leather with gold trimming and soft powder-blue swirls watermarked into the pages. Waterproof, and resistant to ink smudges.

Unique, yet undoubtably elegant. Classy. It's practically made for Sanji.

He forks over more cash because he's soft and hasn't yet learnt how to budget, but mainly because he knows; this is something Sanji would love.

Tucks the journal next to the dugong, and pretends he was just lost when Sanji circles back a moment later to pick him back up.

xxx

(There are many beautiful women also shopping in this town, Zoro can't help but notice. Yet Sanji stays with Zoro.)

xxx

They dump their bags onto the beach, kick off their shoes, and dive back into the water.

Sanji comes back up gasping, flicking his head back. His hair follows in a graceful arc that catches the sun, twinkles as it flops back and pastes itself onto Sanji's skin a beat later.

Zoro's hair isn't long enough for that, so he settles for shaking his hair out, smirks at Sanji's indignant hey! as he's sprayed with droplets of water.

A vengeful wave of water is pushed his way a moment later, and Zoro coughs as he closes his mouth too late and swallows some saltwater by accident.

Sanji's cackle can be heard over his hacking, and Zoro decides okay. We'll play it your way.

He lunges at Sanji while he's off guard, too busy laughing at Zoro's misfortune; catches him under the arms and swings him around. Sanji's cackle turns into a shriek, but Zoro grins around the laugh escaping his mouth – he can solve that problem.

He dunks Sanji in the water, and Sanji comes up splashing, and gasping with laughter, shoving at his chest.

Zoro sticks his tongue out and dunks him again, doesn't mind that he gets dragged under too.

They tussle, bicker and yell and play, and Zoro feels like he's floating.

Happy happy happy.

xxx

Later, they lay on the beach drying out, exhausted but content.

Sanji's cloudgazing, sprawled in the sand with his head pillowed on Zoro's chest. Zoro lies with his legs tucked up, fingers absentmindedly combing through Sanji's hair, getting caught in the seasalt tangles.

He curls his toes into the sand, wriggles them. Contemplates if he should do it now.

The bag containing his gifts seems to have grown to twice its size in anticipation. Zoro wouldn't be surprised if it started glowing. He's surprised to find he's nervous, stomach twisting into knots.

Come on, Zoro. You wanted to be kind. Now it's time to be brave.

"-and don't you think that one looks like Usopp? It has the nose for it. Oh! And that one! That one's shaped exactly like-!"

"I bought something." Zoro worries at his lip. He's probably already ruined it, should have waited for Sanji to finish instead of interrupting. That was rude of him, shit. "Um. Somethings."

Sanji tilts his head back to train a wary eye on his face.

"Huh? Didn't I just lighten your debt, you big dummy?"

Zoro tugs lightly on his hair in retaliation for the insult, but ruins the bite by smoothing his fingers over it in apology a moment later. Brushes Sanji's bangs back slowly to reveal his forehead, watches the soft strands as they slip effortlessly through his fingers.

He takes a deep breath, watches the corresponding rise and fall of Sanji's head on his chest, finds comfort in the weight of it. Finally makes eye contact, because right now, Zoro chooses to be brave. Not only because he wants to deserve Sanji, but because Sanji deserves this, deserves to know how much somebody cares. He deserves this. "I actually bought them for you."

"Oh?" Sanji blinks, and Zoro watches the bright blue blue blue disappear and reappear, marvels at how this man can be real. Refrains from counting his eyelashes. Hopes Sanji can't hear his unsteady heartbeat, knows he probably can. Decides it doesn't matter. Just wants Sanji to know he's appreciated, with a force that builds in his chest and expands to his toes. Needs Sanji to know his worth, his value, and that Zoro sees it too.

He gazes into Sanji's eyes and finds peace in them, knows that regardless of anything, here is a man who will be there to support him for life. Didn't realise how much he needed that, needed somebody who accepts him; sees all the sharp edges, all the broken corners, all the imperfections he pretends don't bother him but tries to hide anyway, and still decides to stay.

He sees the openness in Sanji's eyes, the trust, the spark of curiosity. Wonders what his own eyes are saying, are they reflecting Sanij's light? Wants to press his lips to Sanji's forehead and just breathe, wants to thank him. Settles for reaching for his bag instead, steadying Sanji's head so it doesn't get knocked around as Zoro sits up a little to grab it.

Sanji hums as Zoro lies back down, tilts his head to try for a peak, relents and settles when Zoro angles the opening away and doesn't let him snoop.

He hesitates. "Don't laugh, okay." Maybe this was dumb?

Sanji sniggers, then pats absentmindedly at Zoro's chest in consolation at the emerging pout. "Okay, okay. Sorry. S'just a reflex, I promise I won't."

Zoro supposes that'll do. Finds courage in Sanji's hand as it doesn't move away, as his fingers settle into fiddling with his shirt. In eyes twinkling in the light, behind blond bangs in disarray after Zoro's fingers. In himself, because he knows how to be brave, knows he can do this right.

He takes a breath and just goes for it, pulls out the dugong first, notices he's got it by the snout, disfiguring it rather sadly. But Sanji recognises it instantly regardless, his eyes widening and eyebrows flying up his forehead, head lifting off Zoro's chest in shock as he scrambles to sit up. "What! You actually bought it?!"

Zoro feels the flush crawling up his neck, dumb dumb dumb.

"I can return it-"

"No!"

Sanji's vehemence catches Zoro by surprise, and he jolts a little. Sanji doesn't notice, snatches the dugong out of Zoro's hands and smoothes over the fur as if in apology. "No," he adjusts, "I'm definitely keeping him."

Zoro watches dubiously as Sanji smiles down at the plushie, a fondness in his eyes that makes Zoro ache. "Are you sure?" He eyes the thing, wishes he could see what Sanji's seeing that has him so attached. "He truly is horrible to look at."

Sanji's gaze flutters up to meet Zoro's again, and he smiles, corners of his eyes softening. His eyes are so expressive. Sanji's definitely the type to develop crow's feet around his eyes with time, and Zoro suddenly knows with bone-deep certainty that he will be around to see them form. Evidence of a life well lived, proof that this man found happiness and fate was kind enough to let him keep it. It settles him, a comfort in his soul.

"I'm keeping him. And besides," Sanji chides, "he's not horrible to look at. Flawed, yes. But that's what gives him character." He smooths gentle fingers down the length of its body, cataloguing its bumps and seams curiously, thoughtfully. "I can admire that."

He smiles broader, the pensive look in his eyes fading, replaced with a soft sparkle as he meets Zoro's eyes again. "Thanks."

He lowers himself down on the sand again, folds into Zoro, head pillowing back onto Zoro's chest. Holds the plushie up against the sky, watches it glow an odd shade of green backed by the rays of fading sunlight.

Zoro settles back again too, lets his fingers find their way back into tangles of blond hair. Sanji tucks a private smile into the plushie as he cradles it against his chest.

"You're welcome, I guess." Zoro traces a small S into Sanji's scalp with a docile finger, watches ruffled strands flop with it, wonders if Sanji is also mapping the shape. Lengthens the end of the letter into a swirl curling in on itself, just because he can. "But that wasn't the real gift."

Sanji rolls over to face him, and Zoro's suddenly aware that he's so close. He can see Sanji's lashes fanning out against sun-kissed cheeks when he blinks, feel his breath flutter, count the light dusting of freckles across his nose. Refrains from actually counting, but only with a great deal of willpower. Watches said nose wrinkle rather adorably as Sanji scrunches his face up, pretending to be unaffected, but the pleased flush gives him away, two identical pink spots high on his cheeks. It matches his shirt, Zoro thinks absently. "You bought me two gifts?"

Blonde bangs flop forward, and Zoro instinctively brushes them back. Sanji tucks another smile against his chest. Maintains eye contact, blinks slowly. "Okay," he accepts as his eyes open again, "what did you actually get me then?"

Zoro's heartbeat increases again, is possibly even faster this second time. Is afraid the gift is too revealing, too obvious, too sentimental, screams you are in the back of my mind all the time and I am in love with you.

The gift is so intricate and personalised, but then again that was the point, wasn't it? Sanji deserves good, kind things. Zoro is one of the few willing and able to provide said things. It doesn't have to mean anything other than I saw this and thought you might like it.

(Is there actually a difference between the two?)

Zoro tunes back in to find Sanji studying him curiously, a heavy, anticipatory gaze that rests on Zoro like a warm blanket, when he doesn't even know what Zoro's bought him yet.

He has faith in me, Zoro realises. How is he so sure I deserve it?

Yet Sanji's faith gives him courage; maybe even faith of his own. There is nothing to fear; this is Sanji. And regardless of anything else, Zoro knows Sanji, and this man is loyal. He would never do anything to jeopardise their friendship, never hurt Zoro like that; Zoro is safe here. It's a wave of adrenaline-spiked conviction that buzzes in Zoro's head, leaves his fingers trembling. So he reaches into the bag again before he loses the feeling, and hands over the journal.

Sanji's lips part on a silent gasp. He eyes it for a moment, before gently sliding it out of Zoro's hands with reverent fingers. Rolls slowly so he's on his back in the sand again, and traces the gold accents, the dips and etches.

Zoro watches carefully, wants to see Sanji's honest reaction, wants to memorise it and save it for a rainy day. The awe in his eyes tugs at Zoro's heart, fizzes in his stomach, but also devastates him just a little; he looks so shaken at Zoro's consideration. Zoro's scared Sanji's face will crumple; is scared his own will first.

It hurts, so he looks away.

The silence yawns on, which makes him nervous; and so he rambles. "It's fountain pen friendly, to prevent ink from bleeding. You like classy, right? Fountain pen is classy. Do you have one? I guess I can-"

Sanji's eyelashes flutter and he seems to come back to himself.

"Zoro, stop," he huffs out a laugh, reaches out to push lightly at Zoro's face to shut him up. "Stop worrying. It's beautiful, okay? I just didn't know what to say, for a second."

The relief rushing in makes Zoro lightheaded, has a grin instinctively pasting itself on his face. "I made you speechless?"

Sanji lowers the journal and presses it to his chest, moves the plushie slightly to make room. "You took me by surprise," he admits. Lolls his head to the side to finally meet Zoro's eyes again, digs an elbow backwards into his ribs, "I didn't realise you had good taste."

Zoro takes the teasing for the casual expression of gratitude that it is, rolls his eyes good-naturedly and doesn't comment when Sanji nudges closer. Just wraps an arm loosely around him to accommodate, forearm resting against Sanji's stomach, fingers curved around a narrow waist.

Sun-drunk and warmed by the ocean breeze, they quieten, and settle down in the sand. Zoro watches Sanji's hair ruffle for a while, feels its strands brushing against his cheek. Decides between some minute and the next to close his eyes. For all Sanji didn't play the journal up into a big deal, Zoro can feel him absently running long fingers down its spine.

He feels so calm. Sanji's presence is a warmth in his arms, a peace in his heart. He curls his toes further into the sand, curls his arm tighter around Sanji in reassurance that he's real. Sanji hums in response, nestles impossibly closer, as if he's trying to crawl under Zoro's skin, as if he's not already there.

Zoro maps the progression of the sunset through the changing colours behind his eyelids, oranges and pinks and purples. Maps the passage of time through each flutter of Sanji's breath.

Eventually, as the sun disappears beyond the skyline, Sanji falls asleep. But with all things Zoro and Sanji, where one goes the other follows, always follows. So buoyed by a good day in best company, with the sun on his face and sand in his hair, Zoro drifts too.