Title: Equal Trade
Pairing: Zoro/Sanji (Someday I'm going to step out of my comfort zone and try to write a Smoker/Ace)
Summary: Zoro is forced to make a trade. Sanji is not happy.

Author's Note:

1.) This works on the assumption that all of Zoro's swords are precious to him, not just Wadou.

2.) This takes place sometime after Water 7, but the timeline is purposely vague.

3.) I have a fetish with captive!Straw-Hats, it seems. CAN EVERYBODY FORGIVE ME? D:

Beta'd by the great sapphirestar_ (Thank you!) It seems past tenses are harder than I thought. We couldn't tell if the ones in the fic were 100% correct, so please keep that in mind while reading.

The banging and rattling in the kitchen as the cook of the Mugiwara Pirates made dinner was exceptionally loud that night. Knowing what kind of mood their nakama was in, everyone quietly took refuge as far away from the kitchen as possible. Even Luffy, who could at best be called stupidly brave, didn't dare venture into the kitchen before Sanji announced dinner was finished. The person that was the cause of the cook's rage was the only one that seemed indifferent to it, snoring as he was at the bow of the ship. A particularly loud bang shot through the air, and everybody winced.

Inside the kitchen, the fearsome cook seethed. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips - his sixth one - as he went about preparing dinner. He slammed the meat down on the counter, jerked the drawer open, snatched up the necessary cooking utensils, then slammed it shut. During all of this, the cook muttered under his breath, just barely audible in the seconds between bangs and slams.

"Dumbass fucking marimo...just one more second, that was all he had to have waited, and I would have been free. I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP, ASSWIPE!" Sanji shouted to no one, though the words were really aimed at the sleeping swordsman, who was most decidedly not around - or awake - to hear. He waved the knife wildly in the air for the moment, then went back to his preparations and muttering.

SLAM. The knife cut through a section of the meat. SLAM. The blond cut another portion off, his hands steady and actions sure despite his mind being elsewhere. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. Sanji began to imagine it was Zoro's body he was hacking up, but it didn't help the anger that made his heart pound, or the pain and guilt in his stomach to lessen. Those stupid thoughts he'd been having lately – before the incident – weren't helping, because now the idea of them really happening was so small it was almost nonexistent. And that made the pain worse, and Sanji hated pain, he wasn't a masochist like other people, so he got angry.

Moments later the meat was all cut up, so he dumped it into the pot and turned to get started on the potatoes. The blond reached out with one hand and was about to pick up the paring knife to peel the potatoes when he caught sight of his pale, slender hand. Was it...? He moved it closer to his face and finally noticed the nearly unnoticeable tremors afflicting it. He dropped his hand and slumped back against the counter, sliding down until his ass hit the floor. He drew his legs up and put his hands into his lap until they were situated between his stomach and legs.

"My fault," he whispered. "My fault he had to g-give her..." He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead hard against his knees.

All of his nakama were aware of Sanji's weakness toward women. Besides the incident with Kalifa, it had never really been a problem. Someone else always fought them, leaving him free to kick the ass of any enemy that was a man. But Sanji had been eager to fight, too eager. He'd gone looking for more bad guys to kick, and instead found her. She'd been beautiful, and he had instantly gotten weak in the knees with hearts in his eyes. He hadn't realized she was an enemy at first; he'd assumed she was a captive, like so many others they had freed before engaging in battle. She'd been well dressed, obviously rich and had never worked a day in her life. The lovely woman had been exactly the type the assholes downstairs kidnapped.

But she wasn't. She'd been the brain behind all the brawn.

His brain had shut off in the presence of such beauty, so it hadn't been difficult for her to trap him. He'd been unwilling to hurt her to get free, so he'd waited. He'd prayed that Usopp or Chopper - hell, even Luffy - would be the one to find him. He hadn't wanted to appear so weak in front of Nami-san and Robin-chan, or Zoro. The former because he wished only to appear strong and manly, the latter because he'd have had to hear about it for fucking weeks while the other man would've been smirking in a superior manner.

But luck had not been with him - not that it ever was - and it had been Zoro that came charging up the stairs, blood boiling for a fight. Zoro'd taken one look at the situation and sighed, his expression clearly saying, 'Not again'. Sanji had glared.

"Stupid cook," Zoro had grumbled, raising his swords. Sanji had cried out - he remembered crying out, but not what he said, he only knew it was a plea of some sort to not hurt the lady. Things had gotten a little blurry then, in his worry about what would happen.

But he remembered her voice as she'd demanded Zoro's swords: cultured and soft. Her eyes had been gleaming with greed as she'd taken in the three swords. Zoro's three precious, well-loved swords in exchange for his life. The same swords that had never left the man's sight, that had been carefully and lovingly cleaned daily. Sanji had never thought for one second the swords would be handed over. He and the marimo didn't get along. They fought and argued, insulted and belittled. To Zoro, Sanji's life wasn't worth his three swords.

But apparently, being nakama meant something to the green-haired swordsman.

"Two," the idiot had countered, his grip tight. "I keep Wadou, but I give you the other two. I'll even let you go without a fight," Zoro had added.

The woman had considered Zoro's words. "I clearly have the advantage," she'd pointed out. "Why should I give in to your demand?"

Zoro'd grinned, and covered in blood and bits of chunky things that Sanji didn't want to know what they'd been, he'd appeared quite insane. And bloodthirsty, Sanji's mind had put in.

"Because you don't know how to use a sword," Zoro had replied, eyeing her expensive clothes. "And I don't need a sword to kill you." Sanji's eyes had been automatically drawn to the muscled arms the other man sported, and he'd known instantly that Zoro could have snapped the beautiful woman's neck without a moment's pause. She seemed to have realize this too, since her grip on the cook had relaxed.

"Deal," she'd said promptly. She'd gestured for Zoro to set the swords down and slide them to her. Sanji'd felt light-headed, surprise and despair making it difficult to concentrate. Zoro is making the trade? It had been the sound of someone running up the stairs that had drawn Sanji back to what had been going on. The familiar slap-slap of sandals hitting wood, he knew the sound, he'd known who was coming.

"Zoro, wait!" Sanji had screamed. You would have killed her, but Luffy can knock her out, don't do it, don't -

But the swords had been sliding across the floor, the blades gleaming in the light. The woman had shoved Sanji aside roughly and snatched up the swords, turning and running out through two double-doors that lead to the balcony. There had been shuffling noises outside, like something being moved, and then all had been quiet. Sanji hadn't been able to bring himself to look at Zoro, and luckily there had been no time for the marimo to open his stupid mouth. Luffy had bounded into the room then, soon followed by their other nakama.

Sanji had let the swordsman tell the others what happened, instead getting to his feet and stumbling out of the room. The farther he'd gotten from that place, the angrier and guiltier he'd become. By the time he'd reached their moored ship, the sun had been touching the horizon and he'd been in a rage.

Someone knocked on the kitchen door then, startling Sanji and momentarily distracting him from his shame. "Who is it?" He asked, his voice tight and rough.

"U-Usopp. The others were wondering when dinner wou-"

"Go the fuck away." Sanji said, clearly and steadily. Usopp squeaked out an "Okay!" and was gone, leaving Sanji alone again. The cook climbed to his feet, weariness setting in. He went about getting the potatoes ready, the process of cooking for once no refuge from his thoughts and feelings.

My fault, Sanji thought as he put the potatoes into the pot. All my fault, he thought when he added the carrots, and was about to repeat the process when the door opened with such force it banged into the wall. The blond flinched, knowing very well the only man on the ship to slam his door like that.

"Oi, love-cook. What the hell is goin' on? The others are acting like little rabbits. All scared 'n stuff." Zoro unsuccessfully stifled a yawn behind one hand and sauntered over to the alcohol rack.

Sanji opened his mouth to snap out, "Don't drink my booze, idiot!" but closed his mouth before he could begin to speak the words. Zoro eyed him suspiciously from in front of the alcohol, no doubt waiting for the angry words to be spoken. When the cook said nothing, the swordsman took a big bottle of alcohol from the rack and moved toward the door. Sanji kept his back turned, keeping a better eye on the roast than strictly necessary.

When Zoro reached the door and there was no flying kick, no shouting of insults and demands, he stopped. Carefully setting the bottle on the table, he approached Sanji with determination and more than a little amount of annoyance. Unable to see the swordsman coming, the cook was ill prepared when Zoro slammed into him, pushing him away from in front of the stove and up against the wall.

The green-haired man swiftly pressed himself against the cook, trapping the slighter man in between his body and the wall. Zoro's hot breath filled the air between their faces, but even with being in such close proximity, Sanji refused to look into his crewmate's eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Zoro snarled, hating how docile and weak the cook was being. Sanji turned his head farther away from Zoro's face and didn't reply. Severely pissed off now, Zoro pressed the blond harder into the wall with his body and used one hand to turn the blond's face to meet his eyes. Being as close as he was, Zoro could see through Sanji's blond hair into the eye it usually hid. It threw the swordsman off-balance for a moment, unused to seeing the other eye as he was. But he quickly gathered his wits and snarled, "Stop being such a fucking woman, shithead. It doesn't suit you."

The cook clenched his jaw and finally spoke, his tone quiet. Guilt ate at the edge of his stomach. "You lost two of your swords because of me. Now you're just a regular swordsman, like all the other idiots out there -" Sanji's voice was cut off when Zoro grabbed hold of the front of his suit, pulled him away from the wall for a brief second and then slammed him back into it. Chin still being held tight, the eye contact between the two men never broke.

"I am not like all the rest of those people. This is only for a while, that's all. When we get to the next island, I'll buy two more swords. Nami already said she'd lend me as much money as it took."

Sanji shook his head. "It's not the same," he muttered. "Those swords...those swords meant a lot to you. You can't just go out and buy new ones."

Zoro grunted. "Yeah, they did. Wadou -" a flicker of emotion crossed his tanned face, then, but Sanji had no idea what type it was, "- is still with me though, and that's what matters."

The swordsman released Sanji's chin and his grip on the front of his suit. "So it's fine, cook. Nothin' to worry about, so stop throwing your prissy fit and make some fucking food."

Though his guilt and shame were by no means all gone, Sanji was feeling better. He felt well enough to ask casually, "Luffy hasn't started to eat Chopper, has he?"

A corner of Zoro's mouth curled up very slightly. Sanji only noticed because he'd been watching the swordsman closely. "Not yet, but it probably won't be long."

"If I hear screams, I'll know it's begun." Sanji grinned, wide and happily, at Zoro before moving to check on dinner. He felt lighter now, the burden of guilt not quite so heavy. Zoro hadn't moved since the blond smiled at him, but Sanji could feel his eyes on him. A sudden thought occurred to the cook, and he stared straight ahead as he considered whether to ask or not.

"Zoro..." Sanji said, licking his lips nervously. "Would you mind if I went with you when you pick out new swords?" He closed his eyes as he waited for the 'Fuck no' that was sure to come, but there was only silence. He opened his eyes and turned around, sure the other man had already left. But Zoro hadn't left; he was still standing where he was before, staring intently, his cheeks flushed. Sanji felt his own cheeks heat up, unused to being under such scrutiny. He couldn't understand why he felt so awkward all of a sudden, or why he was so embarrassed about Zoro looking at him.

"If you don't want me to, you can just say -"

"Come with me."

The words were spoken abruptly, and Sanji blinked. The tips of Zoro's ears were turning pink now, and the flustered swordsman stumbled on. "I mean, when I get my swords."

"Right. Yeah, okay," Sanji agreed, his words nearly overlapping the swordsman's. He shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze flitting from the table in front of him to the door, over Zoro's shoulder, and then back to the table. If he'd thought it was awkward before, it was nothing like now, a weird tension filling the air. It wasn't a new feeling, it'd happened between them once or twice before, but both men had dismissed it as leftover anger from their fights. Neither thought that now.

"Okay," Zoro echoed, and pretty much bolted for the door. Sanji was relieved he was finally leaving after everything that had happened - being pushed up against a wall, the other man pressing against him, shoving his face into Sanji's own and --

Was he breathing heavier? It seemed hotter in the kitchen. Maybe his thoughts were making him itch to fight.

Zoro was on the other side of the door now, closing it with one hand and looking out toward the sea. Sanji was prepared to let him go, really he was, but there was one last thing nagging him.

"Why?" he asked loudly. The door halted, still open a bit. He could just make out Zoro's profile through the opening, though the details were lost in the dark. Seconds ticked by, then a minute, but Sanji didn't repeat himself.

"Nobody else had anything she would be willing to take," Zoro said, not bothering to open the door any further. "She wanted an equal trade." Sanji thought that over. A straw-hat, a pair of goggles, a doctor's bag...there really wasn't anything.

"Do you think it was?" Sanji commented, absent-mindedly reaching for a cigarette. For some reason, he really wanted to know. He wanted to know how high in Zoro's regard Sanji was, and it was important to him.

"Yeah," Zoro said, his voice gruff as he spoke from the doorway. "It was equal." Then the door snapped shut and heavy footsteps hurried away.

Your life, for my most precious possessions.

Sanji lit the cigarette and inhaled the smoke. He smiled, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Alright then."

Owari

Right, so. I could have done better characterizing people. WHY IS ZORO SO HARD TO WRITE? MY FAVORITE CHARACTER, AND I FAIL AT HIM.

I don't think I emphasized how important Zoro's swords are to him in this. To give up two of your three most precious items for a person...that person must be pretty special. I know it'd take a lot to get me to part with mine.