Keeping Track

Keeping Track


Yawning widely enough to crack his jaw, Zoro stretched himself along the bench in the crow’s nest. It was sometime past two in the morning, and it was nearing the end of his stint on watch. Blinking back tired tears, he blearily looked out the window and scanned the sea for company.

None, as usual. He raised his arms up past his head, popping the joints and stretching them out. Lying flat on the bench, one leg propped up at the knee, he folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

Despite the hour and his obvious fatigue, he couldn’t drop off to sleep. He lay there, counting the planks in the roof, tapping one foot against the floor in a fit of restlessness, wishing time would move faster. Not that he had anywhere in particular to go, besides a warm hammock and warmer cook that is.

Zoro smiled slightly to himself, thinking on this new turn of events in his life. He’d never really been one for relationships, considering they were always on the move, and his taste didn’t include the women common in the local brothels of the seaside towns they restocked at. And everyone knew that starting a relationship with someone you were going to be in constant contact with, on a ship in the middle of the ocean, was not exactly the best idea in the world. Precisely why Zoro didn’t start this… thing… with Sanji. His feelings aside, it should have been a bad idea, something best ignored, and move on with life. For some reason, it was the exact opposite, and Zoro hadn’t seen it coming.

One afternoon, after they were back on the open sea, and after everything that happened at Enies Lobby, the cook had, in his own, abrasive way, asked Zoro to stay after as they finished dinner. The swordsman merely grunted, assuming he’d be doing the dishes or some other inane chore to help clean up. As soon as the last of his nakama were out the galley door, Sanji had snagged his collar and pulled him close, kissing him and carding one of those nimble hands through his hair. Slightly stunned, but not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, Zoro kissed back after a moment or two. Sanji pushed against him until he was backed against the wall, and finally pulled out of the kiss, one hand resting on the back of the swordsman’s neck and the other tangled in the front of his shirt.

Zoro looked at him dumbly for a few seconds, enough to gain back the power of speech. His gaze flickered to Sanji’s lips, and back up to look him in the eye.

“Um…” he said intelligently. “… Sanji? What was that?”

Flustered, Sanji refused to hold his gaze, eyes flitting around, to the floor, the wall, the table, Zoro’s shirt, the floor again, and only meeting Zoro’s eyes briefly then darting away.

Zoro inclined his head slightly, and Sanji huffed. “Well… I just… goddammit!” He pulled back a little further and looked Zoro in the eye. “Back there, what we did… I just can’t… Look, fighting for Robin-chan, taking on those damn CP9 and coming out on top, it just… We almost died, and it made me realize…”

The grip on Zoro’s shirt tightened so much that the knuckles went white. Clear blue met green and held. “It made me realize that… now more than ever, we are in serious danger of getting killed. I mean, I know that we have a strong crew, and we can definitely take whatever shit the Grand Line throws at us, but… Just, sometimes I feel a little…” Sanji heaves a heavy sigh, and continues in a softer voice, almost whispering, “… helpless. Like there’s nothing I can do about it, and eventually I’m gonna lose my nakama.” He glared at himself, hating his words but needing to get them out; needing Zoro to understand.

“I don’t want any regrets.” Sanji finished, fingers twitching restlessly on the nape of Zoro’s neck. “I don’t want to die wishing that I’d taken what I wanted.” He looked up at Zoro’s face, his emotions written clearly across his own. Want, need, fear, hope. The implications hit the swordsman so hard he reeled.

Zoro immediately closed the distance between them again, kissing Sanji like he was starving for it, twisting his fingers in the cook’s hair. The blonde reciprocated with equal force, pressing into the other man and wrapping one strong thigh around Zoro’s leg, anchoring them together. Zoro couldn’t believe that he was actually getting what he wanted, what he’d wanted almost since Alabasta, and that Sanji wanted it too; wanted him.

It had almost seemed too good to be true. But as the weeks passed, and the weeks morphed into months, this thing between the two of them only got stronger. Sure, they still fought, and argued on a regular basis. They also picked fights and had each other’s backs in battle. Nothing changed, but everything did. Zoro’s things were intermingled with Sanji’s, and they no longer kept up the pretense of keeping different bunks. Their nakama took it all in stride, with only a few off-color jokes from Franky, suggestive hints and jibes from Usopp, and a huge, ear-to-ear grin from Luffy, along with a confused query of “You weren’t doing that already?” which resulted with a kick to the skull and several bruises from an invisible sword swing. It turns out that you can bruise rubber; you just need proper motivation.

Nami and Robin were, as expected, not remotely surprised. Well, expected by Zoro, anyway. Sanji was devastated that ‘his beautiful blossoms’ had known about his sexuality long before he’d figured it out for himself. Nami just rolled her eyes at the spectacle, and Robin graced him with one of her carefree smiles, the ones that had been more and more visible since pulling out of Water 7.

Pulled out of his reverie by the sound of the trapdoor opening, he sat up to greet Robin, coming to replace him for her watch. He nodded at her, stifling another yawn as he padded across the crow’s nest. She smiled genially at him, grasping a hot cup of coffee in one hand and a book in another, vanishing blossoms all that was left from the extra arm used to let herself in.

“Quiet night, Zoro-san?” She inquired, inclining her head in return.

“Mmmm.” He nodded again, too tired to actually formulate a response, and trudged to the exit, preparing to climb down the ladder. “’Night” He called up, before the door shut completely.

Once down on the grass deck of the Sunny, he rubbed at his eyes with the palm of one hand, and made his way towards the sleeping bunk. It was a calm, peaceful night, and all Zoro wanted to do was sleep in his hammock, curled up with his cook. Smiling at that thought, he found the door to the bunkroom and gently pushed it open (Luffy had the tendency to fall out of his hammock, and waking him in the middle of the night spelled death for whatever food was left in the fridge. Not that Zoro particularly cared, but dating a chef had it’s downsides; Sanji would fillet him if he found out Zoro was the one who woke up their captain.)

Pulling off his shirt and toeing out of his boots, the swordsman wandered over to their hammock, and was about to slide in when he noticed the distinct lack of cook. A quick look around showed he wasn’t in the room anymore, and Zoro heaved a slightly put-upon sigh. Dropping his shirt in the empty bed, he turned back around and walked out.

He puttered down the hallway, poking his head into the rooms as he passed, looking for a wisp of blonde or the garishly red night shirt Sanji slept in. Not finding either, he made his way down to the hold.

When he reached the anchor deck, now with multiple cannons and ammo aplenty, he heard a slight sound and paused, cocking his head to the side and slowing his breathing. After a second or two, he heard it again, something like a quiet scratching noise, like pen on paper. Puzzled, because he was no where near the map room, he edged closer to the gun deck door.

Peering inside, he almost managed to smother a fond smile, but gave up after a moment. After all, it wasn’t like the other man could see him.

Sitting with his back to barrels of gunpowder was Sanji, knees drawn up in front of him, balancing what looked like a small journal on top of them. He was jotting down in it, pausing every now and then to stop and think, rubbing his jaw and smearing black ink as he did so. Oblivious, he continued, the scratching of the pen audible in the silence, the only sound besides the rustling papers. A single lantern was set by his side, the candle flickering every now and then, casting a mute glow on the whole scene.

Leaning back against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest, Zoro watched with a smile. Sanji dipped the pen into a small inkwell to his right, and wrote a few more sentences. He stopped, bouncing the tip of the feather against his lips for a few seconds, frowning down at the page.

Now that his vision had adjusted somewhat, Zoro could see that it was a small leather-bound notebook, and had seen a lot of wear and tear over the years. Zoro hazarded a guess that the cook had carried it with him probably since he left the Baratie, but wasn’t sure what he was writing about. Curiosity overcoming his senses, he cleared his throat, smirking at the reaction.

Sanji started, his sudden jerk rattling the kegs behind him, and the pen twitching in his hand. Luckily, he wasn’t in the middle of writing anything, so Zoro managed to avoid that rant. Sanji’s startled blue eyes locked on Zoro’s and his deer-in-the-headlights look quickly vanished, replaced by annoyance at the interruption, and slight… embarrassment? Intrigued, Zoro filed that reaction away for future reference and walked over to sit beside him.

“What are you still doing up, Zoro?” the blonde asked, pulling his eyes back down to the notebook, and attempting to hide it from sight. He snapped it shut and swiveled to look at his lover.

“My watch just ended.” Zoro smirked, tilting his head to the side. “What’s your excuse?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Sanji’s grip tightened on the journal and he moved to stand. “Nothing, really. I was just heading to bed.” Zoro followed him to his feet, reaching out and tugging the blonde closer, ignoring his complaints.

“Mm-hmm, sure.” Zoro replied. “What’s this then?” He made a grab for the book, and snagged it out of Sanji’s grasp, quickly stretching his arms so it was out of reach. Sanji immediately lunged to snatch it back, complaining audibly about inconsiderate jerks taking things that didn’t belong to them, and a short wresting match ensued. Zoro obviously had the upper hand in upper body strength, and was able to keep his prize.

Sulking, the blonde sat back down in a huff, as Zoro flipped the notebook open to the first page. He had originally suspected that it was an account of Sanji’s everyday thoughts, maybe his dreams and hopes; the kinds of things that people tended to put in their journals. Zoro didn’t know what surprised him more – the fact that it wasn’t, or the fact that Sanji hadn’t wanted anyone to know about this.

“Sanji…” he whispered, turning page after page, all inked in the cook’s fine hand. It was an account of their adventures, starting with what had happened in Arlong Park, and going through everything they had experienced. It detailed traveling to Loguetown, and meeting up with Apis and the Lost Island of the Sennenryuu. Sanji had recorded entering the Grand Line, and meeting Laboon, and ultimately Princess Vivi. Visiting Little Garden, and meeting Dorry and Broggy. Going to Drum Island, and Chopper joining their crew. The entire trip through Alabasta, where Vivi stayed behind, and the mysterious Miss All-Sunday appeared. Traveling to Skypiea, fighting off Enel, and returning to the Blue Sea. Their run-in with the Marines in G8; the Davy Back Fight; and finally Water 7 and Enies Lobby. It was almost like a story, but had a personal feel to it, and was told from Sanji’s point of view.

Zoro looked up from the journal to see his lover looking resigned and withdrawn, as though preparing himself for ridicule and scorn. Scoffing slightly, he closed the notebook and cuffed Sanji upside the head with it, flopping down to sit beside him.

“Ba~ka,” He drawled, enjoying Sanji’s baffled expression. He handed the leather-bound book back to him, propping himself up on his elbows. Sanji sat quietly, and after a few moments Zoro sat up and sidled up next to him, nudging him with his shoulder.

“What, did you think it was something to be ashamed of?” he asked, slightly frustrated when Sanji just shrugged. “I think it’s great.” At the skeptical look that earned him, he held up a hand placatingly. “Seriously. I do.”

Still eyeing him like he’d suddenly gone insane, the other man returned his gaze to the book, flipping through the pages idly, the slight breeze causing the candlelight to flicker some more. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Zoro shuffled around so that his head was cushioned on Sanji’s lap, and stretched his legs out across the floor, closing his eyes. The cook only spared him a glance, and picked up one hand to card through his green hair. Relaxing into the caress, Zoro’s breathing evened out, but before he dropped to sleep there was something he wanted to know.

“Why did you start?” he asked into the silence, causing Sanji’s hand to still. Cricking open one eye, Zoro looked up at his lover. “What made you want to write it all down?”

Sanji remained silent for a few moments, and then his hand began moving again. It was still at least a minute before he spoke.

“I wanted…” the blonde started quietly, his hand slowing it’s motion. “I guess I just wanted to. I don’t wanna forget, you know? I know that someday, I will, and though I’ll always have my memories, eventually those will be gone too.”

Sanji tapered off into silence once again. He stared off in thought for a moment or two, then, “I don’t want to regret anything.”

--“I don’t want any regrets.”--

The flashback was gone as fast as it came, and Zoro found himself nodding against his lover’s thigh. That, they could always agree on, and it was something that was usually unspoken between them all.

Nodding slightly, Sanji picked up his pen again and reopened the journal. Before long, the small room echoed with the noises of a pen scratching on parchment, the light flickering patterns along the walls. Satisfied, Zoro cuddled closer to the other man, who absently laid his hand across Zoro’s chest, and continued writing. Smiling into the dark, the swordsman drifted off to sleep, thoughts of their adventures sounding through his head, and to the sound of Sanji making sure they stayed there.