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twirlyeyebrows · 3 years

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How Could I Have Known?

(A Zosan Fic)

Link to Chapter 6!

Link to Entire Work on ao3!

Ch. 7 - Because It’s You

Zoro’s first response to the man was not an answer to the question he asked, but instead a question of his own. “The fuck are you doing here?” He spat with slurred words. Sanji sighed. “Well, I was going to take the night watch but Robin offered instead, so now I'm here. Nothing interesting.” He paused and looked Zoro up and down, his eyes naturally landing on the bottle of wine he was currently putting back in the cabinet. “But I'm sure you have a good reason to be here at this hour.” He said rhetorically. Anyone who walked by the kitchen would be able to smell the harsh stench of booze from outside. Zoro shot him a look and closed the cabinet door. Sanji watched as the swordsman hobbled over to the table and sat down in the same place he always did. He looked terrible. Not only was he very obviously drunk but he looked like he'd been in the middle of a huge crisis. He guessed that wouldn't have been too out of the ordinary for how Zoro had been acting lately.

“So are you just not gonna answer my question then, moss head?” Sanji said as he tilted his head towards the drunk. He still hasn't moved from the doorway, he didn't know where to go. “It's not important.” Zoro huffed.

Sanji expected that. At this point, it would've been a miracle if Zoro were to talk about anything that was going on. The silence that followed was painful. Zoro was too intoxicated to realize that his reply barely even counted as a response, and Sanji was trying to hold back from pressing for details. “Alright, well. I guess I'll leave you to it then.” The cook said, beginning to turn around.

He wasn't happy to be cutting the conversation so short. He wanted to talk about what had happened earlier today, he wanted to try to do what he could to help Zoro. He'd be lying if he said he didn't also want confirmation that the swordsman’s outburst wasn't directly his fault. Or if it was, that he'd be able to make up for it. All in all, it was getting harder to watch one of his teammates suffer so much alone. Zoro wasn't going to be any help in that process though, so what else could he have done but just leave? There would be a time when they'd eventually hash stuff out and be back to their annoying bickering selves so he might as well just let Zoro have his night alone with the alcohol. As soon as he started to back out of the door he had essentially just entered, he heard the other man speak.

“Wait-” Zoro started, not thinking about the words about to come out of his mouth. “You should stay.” Sanji couldn't believe his ears. Did that bastard really just invite him to stay through his drunk episode? Did he even have any recollection of what happened earlier? Was he simply just not mad anymore? Sanji didn't know how to respond. This was all so confusing. Zoro was so confusing. He quickly weighed his options in his head. If he stayed he might be able to actually get something out of Zoro, which would be good for the both of them he thought. On the other hand, this was a very slippery slope. Zoro was well past tipsy and Sanji knew that anything could come out of his mouth at any moment. He might end up hearing something he shouldn't, or something he didn't want to know. He decided to take his chances. Zoro may have been angry at him earlier but the air seemed to be clear enough at this point, at least for now. And Sanji wasn't a person who could just deny someone when they needed help. He inhaled through his cigarette, promptly exhaling and releasing a small cloud of smoke into the air. “You want me to stay here with you? Did I hear that right?” There was no harm in reiterating, or giving Zoro a chance to change his mind. He made sure to enunciate his words almost too much.

The swordsman’s mind was so fogged with emotion and intoxication that he only realized what he had blurted out when Sanji repeated it back to him. He cussed himself out in his mind; how could he be so careless? He hoped the red on his checks from being drunk was enough to hide the light pink of embarrassment he could feel spreading across his face. He wanted to try to plead his case. He wanted to start making fun of Sanji right then and there and tell him he'd be happy if he left. Obviously, that would be a lie. Even with his senses going wild, he could still admire the man in front of him. If anything, the booze made his feelings way harder to deal with. Zoro hadn't ever experienced this before; being drunk and feeling the need to be romantic. He was always a lone wolf, especially when it came to drinking. But now things had changed and he had to try to accept that. If he attempted to argue right now he had a 100% chance of losing, and about a 200% chance of accidentally saying something stupid. His brain snapped out of thought as he put together the fact that he had just been blankly staring at the chef since he last spoke. He took a mental note to work on his drunk reaction time so he didn't look like an idiot again.

The emotions he felt earlier drinking alone had subsided and were replaced by new feelings. Instead of being hyper, upset, and jittery, Zoro now felt hazy, a little sleepy, and mostly calm. “Mostly” calm because this situation had “BAD IDEA” written all over it, but it's too late to take back his words now. At least he was woozy enough to be able to play off anything he said as a side effect of the drinking.

“I mean, only if like...if like you wanted to.” He paused to burp, Sanji looked disgusted.“What if I pass out or get sick or die from alcohol poisoning...wh-who would help me?” He thought he would at least try to make himself sound less desperate. He didn't think it worked the way he intended.

Sanji rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. “Of course, you're only worried about yourself,” He inhaled through his nose and made a noise of contentment as he let out his breath. “Typical swordsman.” He said. He swiveled his whole body around and sauntered over to the table, sitting down across from the garden head. “Sure. I'll stay. I don't have anything better to do.” He mumbled. Sanji looked blankly at the man and waited for him to say or do anything. He couldn't think of a time Zoro had ever been like this while he was drunk. He was so...spacey.. it was extremely unlike him. He wondered what was going on in that brain of his.

“Fuck, shit, Goddammit, Fuck, Fuck!” Were the only words that were present in Zoro's mind as the cook sat down with him. He couldn't do anything but watch as Sanji looked at him with questioning eyes. Zoro mentally slapped himself and told him not to think about Sanji’s eyes, or his perfect sunny hair, ...or his peachy cheeks…. or his long thick eyelashes…. Zoro had to shake his head to get himself out of this unending loop. Who would've known that love was this hard to contain? He was sure he looked insane from the man across the table’s perspective. He didn't know if the wine he drank was a blessing or a curse. Okay, it was almost definitely a curse, but at least it made his idiocy easier to excuse.

He wanted to have a normal conversation but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He was scared to open his mouth. The last thing he needed was to say something on a whim and regret it. He was doing everything in his power not to act like a moron, which included keeping his mouth shut at all times.

Sanji continued to sit there confused as to why Zoro had barely said anything to him this whole time but he knew it must've been something related to everything that was going on. On the inside, Sanji was being eaten alive by the feeling of stress. He wanted things to go back to normal, he wanted to clear the slate with the man before him. He didn't know if he'd be able to keep being idle and act like everything would work itself out. Maybe it was a stupidly bold decision but he decided to say something about the events of earlier today. He knew that he had the highest chance of Zoro explaining the most while he was intoxicated, so he might as well get this over with now.

“So, uhh, about earlier..” Sanji started, not wanting to finish his thoughts out loud. He started fidgeting with his hands, fearful to continue, when Zoro stopped him. He looked eager to stay off the topic. “I know, I know. I’m stupid and awful and…” Zoro felt the alcohol continue to fight back. “and I’m sorry.” Sanji was almost stunned by what he just heard. He couldn't remember the last time Zoro had apologized that genuinely. It was nice.

“Look, I'm not upset with you,” Sanji lied. Of course, he was upset. What right did Zoro have to lash out on Nami (and him) like that for no reason? If he hadn't been working through some deep shit, he'd have been thrown in the ocean by now. Sanji didn't want to admit it but it had hurt his feelings as well. Of course, his priority was Nami and her feelings, but when Zoro made a jab about his cooking, he felt a part of him waver. It sucked but he'd gone through way more in his life so adding one more thing to suck up wasn't some impossible challenge. Plus, he wanted nothing more than to just be over this whole “Zoro acting weird” thing, and if avoiding escalating the situation was what it took then by all means he was going to do just that. “I just wanted to know what I did so I could apologize. I'm not gonna beat you or anything.”

After hearing that, Zoro immediately stood up from the table and went back over to the cooking area. He opened two cabinets before settling on the one he was looking for. He grabbed a bottle of expensive vodka they had picked up a few weeks ago from a prestigious island. “Hey what are you doing with that? That's for special occasions.” Sanji protested. Zoro didn't turn around to look at him, nor did he respond. He brought the bottle back to the table, sat down, and took a heavy swig right out of the bottle. Sanji looked like he was using all his strength not to tell off the swordsman right then and there. Zoro didn't know why he hadn't. After swallowing the liquid in one sip he exhaled deeply. He could feel the burn once again, but he needed this to even possibly get through this conversation Sanji had started.

“It was-wasn’t you, cook.” Zoro could feel the alcohol coursing through his system, despite this, he took yet another sip. “It wasn't you. It wasn't Nami. It wasn't anything. I was- being dumb and...I don't know..” He couldn't even try to pass as mildly sober anymore. “I just don't know. But I do know that it wasn't- wasn’t you.” Zoro inhaled, trying to ignore the heat in his chest. “And I.. I really a-am sorry. I know I fucked up bad. Your cooking is great...by the way…” His head started to spin.

Sanji relaxed a little bit. He was grateful to know that it hadn't been him, or Nami by all means. He felt like he could forgive Zoro, although it might take a little time. He apologized, yes, but what he said was still hurtful and couldn't just be swept away that easily. For now though, he had no choice but to keep it to himself. At least he said he made great food, that definitely helped his case.

Zoro confirming that it was just himself being weird was still bittersweet to Sanji. He was relieved that it hadn't been anything he'd done, but he was worried for Zoro’s sake. Whatever it was that was making him act this way was starting to take a dangerous toll on him. Zoro was always grouchy and sometimes rude, but he'd never lash out at someone for no reason like that. This whole situation was changing him and Sanji felt responsible for not being able to help. He knew it wasn't directly his problem but he felt like he had to do something for the crew’s future. Who knows what would happen if Zoro continued to be in this state forever? Sanji didn't want to find out. He couldn't let that become a reality. He knew he had to keep the ball rolling, and the best way to do that was to get off this topic.

Sanji tapped his fingers on the table, not knowing what to say and desperately trying to think of something. He kept eye contact with his hands because... honestly? He was scared to look up at Zoro. Every beat of silence made his heart beat with anticipation, and not the good kind. He felt like he was walking on pins and needles. He heard the swish of liquid in glass and quickly deduced that Zoro is once again taking another drink of the (highly expensive) alcohol. He looked up at him, about to tell him to save some for a better time when the words were taken straight from his mouth. His eyes were met with Zoro staring right back at him with a look of contentment. Could it be contentment? Was Zoro ever content around him? Every single one of their fights would say otherwise.

“That buzz finally giving you a good feeling, moss brain?” Sanji chuckled, trying not to sound so caught off guard. “Yeah. It's a good one. You have good taste.” Zoro replied, every word being drawn out. “I know. That's kind of my job.” Sanji said while taking a breath through his cigarette. He blew the smoke cloud up towards the ceiling. “Yeah, well. You're good at- at your job, cook.” Zoro sounded like a broken record. Sanji debated telling him to put the alcohol down but he hadn't seen Zoro look this pleasant in days. Maybe this is what he needed, even if it was possibly harming his health in the end. The chef didn't know how to reply so he just laughed and nodded. “You know what, what else you're stupidly good at?” Zoro laughed, Sanji raised an eyebrow, not having any clue where this was going. “What?” Sanji asked. “Pissing me off like nobody else.” Zoro said cockily, pressing his hand against the table and leaning forward. Sanji smiled slyly. “Yeah, right back at you.”

As Zoro leaned forward closer to the cook he could smell the tobacco on his breath. He had to use every ounce of common sense he had not to lean fully in and kiss him. Even just this playful back and forth felt like he was overstepping a boundary. He took another drink, he needed it.

Sanji’s eyes widened. “Well we all know what you're stupidly good at.” He said, tipping his head down to gesture at Zoro taking yet another sip. Zoro belly laughed. Sanji felt embarrassed for letting out a mental sigh of relief. He shouldn't care so much about Zoro, but he was so relieved to see him acting like himself again. Well, not really like himself, but an even cheerier version of himself.

“That's- that is so hypocritical, cook. You smoke like… a pack a day.” Zoro retorted, still laughing. Sanji could tell that the man was out of it by now. He was off in his own loopy world, but he was happy. “Y’know.. with both our- our awful habits we'd kind of be perfect for each other.” Zoro said, swinging the bottle around next to him.

Sanji felt his heart stop. There's no way he heard that right. There is no way on earth that those words just came out of that man’s mouth.

Sanji nervously chuckled. He didn't want to act off guard in case Zoro hadn't meant what Sanji thought he did. He responded as normally as he could. “Nah it would be terrible. We'd only perpetuate each other’s habits.” God, what was he saying? More importantly, what was Zoro saying?

Zoro took yet another swig of the vodka, it was getting to be too much in Sanji’s eyes. “Isn't that the point?” The intoxicated man said, shifting his eyes toward the cook. “Is it?” Sanji asked back quickly in a panic. Zoro chuckled and set down the bottle. He had a craving look in his eye. Sanji was starting to look how he felt; nervous. Zoro was apparently able to pick up on this despite his situation. “Relax, cook. I'm not gonna, gonna like make a move on you or anything. ‘Nless you want me to.” Zoro winked.

Sanji sat across from the man in absolute awe. Was this actually happening? There was no way he meant anything he was saying right now. It must be because he's drunk and possibly also sexually ambiguous, which would be news to Sanji. Still, even if he was, why of all people would he be hitting on him? Didn't Zoro hate him? He guessed it was because he was the only person in the vicinity and he was drowning in alcohol.

“You look like you just. Uh.. like saw a ghost. Did I say something wrong?” Zoro asked, seeming very genuine but still foxy. Sanji realized that his thoughts were now translating onto his face. He must've really looked terrified if Zoro could decipher it in his current state. He tried to catch his composure but this all felt so abnormal, so wrong. Why would Zoro be saying these things? Was he going to stop? He seemed like he was enjoying it like he's wanted to flirt like this for so long. Could you even count this as flirting? Sanji wanted nothing more than to know if these were Zoro’s genuine feelings or just an idiotic side effect of the drinks. Either way, there was an intense conversation to be had later.

“I mean, not really? I don't know, you're just acting weird.” Sanji hesitantly replied. Zoro’s face turned slightly more somber. “Oh.” That was all he could say. Sanji couldn't help but feel bad for killing Zoro’s good mood. “Okay well, it's fine I guess, it's just...confusing.” Sanji tried to plead his case. He hoped it didn't translate negatively. “Confusing?” Zoro asked with a dramatically questioning look plastered on his face. Just by looking at his eyes, he could tell that they were glazed over with about 10 layers of a drunken haze. He couldn't believe this was a real event that was happening. “Yeah. Well. Y’know, I- you-” He stopped to take a deep breath, it's as if his throat wouldn't let him voice the words he tried to. “You've never acted like this before, at least around me. It almost feels like.. you're… flirting?” Sanji was finally able to spit out. He wanted to close his eyes and brace himself for the worst but instead, he kept looking at the swordsman, desperate to pinpoint his initial reaction before he had time to cover it up. There ended up being no secondary reaction. Zoro’s initial reaction was staring at the cook, wide-eyed. He looked so out of it yet so focused. Like he had paragraphs he wanted to say but his mind was blank. Everything about his body language was stiff. His entire character changed.

“Hey cook, can I tell you something?” Zoro said after a painful few seconds of silence. Sanji’s palms started to sweat. He had no idea what was coming next. He didn't know if he wanted to know. Half of him wanted to say no and live in ignorant bliss for the rest of his life. The other half of him was dying with curiosity, even if this was just the build-up to some dumb joke or insult. He'd never know if he didn't agree. Plus, what if it was something important? What if it was something about why Zoro’s been acting the way he has? What if there was some way he'd be able to actually help him for the first time? He'd feel awful if that were the case and he ended up declining the swordsman's request. He took another puff from his cigarette, pretending to be calm when that's the last thing he was. “Go for it.” Sanji replied. Zoro looked like he was going to be sick, Sanji felt like he was too. “D-Don’t freak out or. or anything okay? ‘Cuz you have the… the tendency to do that.” Every word out of Zoro’s mouth was getting less and less comprehensible. Sanji scoffed and looked to the side. Eye contact with Zoro right now felt like he was looking into a pit of never-ending fire. He was definitely going to get burned. Sanji couldn't bring himself to say anything, even though he wanted to. He made a gesture to the man to continue with his thoughts. He had made it clear that he wouldn't freak out, just not through words.

It was impossible to ignore Zoro’s mannerisms right now. His hands were shaking and his face was beet red. He looked like he was about to take a final for a class he'd never attended. There was some inner battle he was fighting with himself, and Sanji assumed he was about to get insight on what that was.

“Okay. Uh.. Jesus Christ.” Zoro couldn't even put one thought together. He really was struggling. It was painful to watch. “Would you wanna write it out or something?” Sanji suggested, trying to ease Zoro’s debilitating stress. “No! No, it's. It's something I have to say.” He said with urgency.

Sanji’s eyes got wide as Zoro’s had minutes prior. This was a completely new side of Zoro and it felt like he wasn't supposed to see it. He was nothing like his normal laid back and dismissive self. Watching Zoro get so hung up on trying to say one thing was intense. Sanji didn't think he'd ever see Zoro fidget out of stress but apparently, there was a first for everything. What could he possibly be trying to say that would put him through this much turmoil?

“I'm going to- to regret this so much.” Zoro mumbled. He put one of his hands in his grassy hair. He sighed. He looked at the wall, knowing if he looked at Sanji it would end so much worse. Every time he tried to get the words out they'd catch on his tongue. His throat was burning as it did nowadays whenever he talked to Sanji. He wanted to tell him so badly. He wanted to get it off his chest and deal with the consequences as fast as possible. The question was, could he? The desire to continue his normal arguments and stupid nicknames with the cook was stronger than the will he had to admit his feelings. He didn't want anything to change. He guessed they already had. His intoxication didn't help while trying to make this decision. He had already outright flirted with the cook which would've easily put his sober self over the edge. He couldn't control his emotions at all, but the tiny ounce of sobriety he had hidden somewhere in his body was yelling at him to keep his mouth shut.

“Actually, y’know… it's- it's stupid anyways and I don't think you actually care.” Zoro stumbled, sounding downright terrible. Sanji intently took in Zoro's expression for a second. He looked terrified. This was a look Sanji only ever saw on his face when the man or one of their other crewmates was near death. What the fuck was he going to say? He looked heartbroken.

Sanji drew a long breath from his cigarette. “Look, I don't know what's going on and I'm not going to pretend like I do, but you really seem distressed right now.” Sanji said in a calm tone. “No shit, curly.” Zoro retorted with a scoff. Sanji rolled his eyes. “I'm just saying that whatever you want to say probably isn't as bad as you think it is.” Sanji shrugged. He was trying his absolute best to give off a “too cool” demeanor, hoping it'll rub off on Zoro. “You don't. You don't know that.” Zoro replied. What could Sanji possibly say right now to get through to the moss brain? He seemed hopeless. “Exactly. I don't know, but if you tell me maybe I can help, if you'd let me.” Sanji nearly whispered.

Zoro felt his heart skip more than a beat. Sanji’s words rang in his ears. “If you’d let me.” Zoro would do anything for Sanji, he didn't think his body would give him a choice. Maybe he should just get it over with. Maybe he should tell him.

Would he be able to?

“I th-think...uh…” Zoro's sobriety was completely thrown out the window. “Should I find Chopper? I don't.. feel well.” He said, sounding weirdly ashamed. “Of course you don't feel well you bastard. You're piss drunk.” Sanji replied with an obvious tone. “But if I recall, you mentioned wanting me here specifically in case you got sick so..why get Chopper?”

Zoro’s mind was clouded by so many thoughts and emotions he couldn't form a response. He never thought he'd ever get this close to talking about his real feelings, especially not with the man they all revolve around.

Sanji was beginning to lose it but he couldn't let that show. He needed to know what Zoro was going to say. He wouldn't leave until he found out. It was something that needed to be said, even if the other man didn't want to talk about it. The fact that it was proving to be this complicated to put into words while Zoro’s this drunk was very telling. The walls Zoro had put up to guard whatever information this was were incredibly strong. Sanji knew he had to remain calm and coarse Zoro through this as best as he could.

“Hey, moss head, look at me.” Sanji said in a hushed tone. He felt like he was speaking to a child. The fact that he was saying these tranquil words to Zoro of all people was absolutely beyond him. Zoro took one glance at the cook and immediately looked away. Sanji sighed softly and dropped his head a tiny bit. What could he do to make this easier? Suddenly he felt another hand against his own.

Sanji’s initial reaction was to pull away and punch the man in the face. He didn't do this, of course. Instead, he flinched, pulled his hand back a tiny bit out of shock, but resumed its position after a split second of consideration. Sanji remembers the times he'd been worked up like this, and he always remembers that having someone there next to you is the best way to attempt to get through it. Sanji was the only other person in this room so of course if Zoro physically needed someone, he was going to show that through him. Still, it felt very weird to feel Zoro’s skin against his own. He tried not to think about it.

Then Sanji felt Zoro weakly try to put his hand in his. In another wave of shock, Sanji almost pulled back once more and activated a fight response. He just needed to keep telling himself that the swordsman was drunk and didn't mean any of this whatsoever. He needed someone at this moment. There was no one else in the room with them. 1+1=2. It meant nothing more than that and Sanji was going to try his best to help, even if it meant… holding hands with Zoro… even just the thought of that left a confusing taste on Sanji’s tongue.

Zoro was internally freaking out while also being completely numb at the same time. The immense amounts of alcohol he'd consumed had fully taken over by now. The low tingle he felt every time he moved and the burning heat in his chest and throat made that very evident. At the same time, somewhere in his mind, something was telling him to stop what he was doing. Unfortunately for him, as much as that voice tried to scream, the drunken want of physical affection was louder.

Zoro had no desire to make Sanji uncomfortable. Zoro didn't even have the desire to do this thing he was doing in the first place. Well, he did, but only in the deepest corners of his mind. If he were sober right now, he'd have told Sanji to leave him alone and they both would've gone about their days. But the current predicament was a lot different than that.

He had heard the cook tell him to look into his eyes. And he did... for half a second. He couldn't dare to look at him. He had decided that days ago. Sanji didn't understand what was going on but Zoro knew all too well. If he were to make eye contact in a vulnerable moment such as this, he didn't know what he might do. Whatever it would end up being, it wouldn't be good.

He heard the cook’s voice again. That lovely and calm voice. Zoro had never heard Sanji speak with such a delicate tone. He never wanted it to stop. He wanted to live in this bliss forever. He wanted to hear Sanji sing him songs in this tone, he wanted him to wake him up every morning sounding like this, he wanted to get one of the leftover dials from the sky island and keep those syllables forever. Zoro at this moment didn't care how cheesy he was being or how deep he had gotten himself into this hole. He just wanted to keep Sanji talking.

But the dreamlike fog wore off as Zoro realized the actual words Sanji had said.

“Is this..helping? I mean, uh, should I like… I don't know, sorry.” Sanji fumbled. He was never a huge hand holder or super physical guy. Despite his unwavering comments towards women, physical affection had always been sort of a gray area for him. His main goal, however, was helping Zoro through what he was going through right now, so he was able to set aside the discomfort he was trying to hide. Hearing his voice say what he just had though, he figured he wasn't doing a very good job at concealing it. He continued to let Zoro’s hand rest loosely in his, trying to tell himself not to let his own hand get clammy in the process.

Zoro realized how he was making Sanji feel and instantly felt a wave of guilt wash over him. His chest tightened and he knew he should let go of the cook’s hand, but God he didn't want to. He knew it was the right thing to do though. It would be beyond rude of him to not pick up on Sanji’s alarmed mannerisms. Zoro slowly untangled his fingers from the other man’s. He immediately missed the feeling of having a hand entangled with his own, as strained as it had been.

“Fuck. I'm.. I'm sorry, I didn't-” The swordsman's words were taken out of his mouth as he felt Sanji grab his hand back. His eyes shot up in shock and his face was saturated red in a heartbeat. Sanji ever so softly laced his fingers in between Zoro’s and held down with gentleness.

“I know this is… unconventional. Especially for.. us and with all things considered. But I've been where you are. I know how you feel. You need someone and I'm here so.. don't apologize.” Sanji tried to say every word with care. It was terrifying and weird and still made no sense in his mind but if this was the only way he'd be able to get through to Zoro, so be it. He'd rather awkwardly hold hands with him and then wipe his mind of it later than have Zoro continue to be in this slump for the rest of his life.

Zoro’s shocked expression dissipated as he processed Sanji’s words. He couldn't form any correct thoughts it seemed. He was touched by the affection Sanji had shown and was caught off guard by the fact that they were once again interlocking fingers. Something about what he had said rubbed Zoro the wrong way though. The way he inserted himself into his shoes like he knew what this was like. Like Sanji knew what it was like to accidentally fall in love with someone off-limits for an infinite number of reasons. Zoro didn't know everything about Sanji’s past by any stretch of the imagination, but he was pretty confident that the cook hadn't gone through this specific situation. He could feel the heat prick at his ears as he looked away from Sanji finally.

“Y-you don't know what this is like.” Zoro said with disdain. His words were slurred and his tone was a low growl. Sanji had to force himself not to immediately start up a fight with the swordsman. “I know I don't know, but I can get a good idea, moss head. I'm just trying to be here for you.” Sanji said, his words hinting at aggression. “I know. Thanks.” Zoro said, ridding his voice of all emotion. Sanji’s face twisted sourly. “Thanks? That's all you're going to say?” His voice raised a little bit. “Do you see what I'm trying to do? What I've been trying to do?” Sanji was beginning to show that he was getting fed up. “All I want is for you to be back to your normal asshole self. I don't know what you want from me.” Sanji protested.

Zoro felt disgusting. Physically and mentally. The alcohol was not helping his case, if anything it only made him sicker. Balance that with the realization he'd been a burden to Sanji this whole time and behold the worst feeling of Zoro’s life. He wanted nothing more than to run away and never let the cook see his face ever again. Maybe this was the line their relationship (whatever that was) wouldn't cross. Zoro looked up at Sanji. He was horrified.

“I don't know either.” Zoro replied. “I ha-have no clue what you could possibly do to help.” Sanji scoffed at this statement. “Jesus… Okay, so what have I been doing this entire time then?” Sanji spat. Zoro could see that familiar fire start to sizzle in his infinitely blue eyes. He really was upset. Zoro hated where this was going.

“I don't know.” Zoro didn't know how he was supposed to respond to the cook’s inquiries. He didn't know what he could say that would prevent escalating his anger while also not blatantly lying. He'd done enough lying. Enough pretending everything was alright or at least trying to. He wanted to let Sanji help but how would that be possible if Sanji didn't know what was going on?

“You know, I'm trying really hard not to fucking lose it right now. Why are you being like this? I just want to help.” Sanji asked, taking a deep and tired breath. Zoro remained silent. It was the best option for him at that moment. He had no answer to give Sanji.

He could feel Sanji’s piercing gaze beating down on him. He didn't want to look at the man. He didn't want to see the disappointment he had caused. Zoro felt a squeeze in his hand.

“I'm trying not to get upset, I really am, but you're not making it easy for me.” Sanji let out a desperate laugh. Zoro kept a deadpan face and continued to avoid eye contact. “I just…” Sanji collected himself. “I just want to know what it is you were going to tell me.” He confessed. “Then maybe I can start to do some good.”

Maybe, just maybe if Zoro was honest with Sanji he'd get a break. This had all been far too much. Today, the last few days, this moment he was currently living. It had all been too much. Everything was constantly buzzing in his head, what was right vs wrong, what was romantic vs platonic, what consequences all of this would produce, everything. All of it was non-stop crashing in his mind and he was over it. He could feel vibrations in his feet. The walls looked like they were spinning. His heart rate was through the roof and he had just caught a glimpse of Sanji. He looked like he'd gone through hell. Zoro realized he probably had. He'd been doing everything he could to help for days and Zoro’s barely gave him a thank you. Zoro felt beyond sick. He'd hurt Sanji multiple times during this endeavor and had tried to walk away. He couldn't get away from it anymore. He couldn't keep hiding from the things he'd tried to bury. Clearly, they weren't going anywhere. Maybe if he was honest there would be some silver lining. Maybe if he was honest he could stop the banging in his head. Maybe if he was honest he could take away the pain he had caused Sanji. Maybe he'd end up making it worse.

There was only one way to find out.

“You-You're sure you wanna know, cook?” Zoro said, barely comprehensible. He sounded fragile and small. It was unlike any way he'd ever sounded before. He was genuinely scared.

Sanji felt his fingers accidentally loosen on Zoro’s grip as he couldn't help but jump back a bit in awe. Was he finally getting somewhere? Was Zoro finally going to try to open up? Sanji felt like he could run a marathon with all the adrenaline that hit him at that moment. “Yes, Jesus, of course I do.” The words fell out of his mouth, praying to any god in existence that Zoro wouldn't go back in his shell.

Zoro was shaking ever so slightly. This was the most out of his comfort zone thing he'd ever done. He usually enjoyed pushing himself to build up stamina in all aspects of his life but this was a very different scenario. He tried to sound out what he was going to say in his mind. Everything became a mixture of random words and he couldn't stick to one train of thought. He opened his mouth only to promptly shut it again. He'd never been so timid about anything, he didn't like it. He didn't like feeling like prey. If an enemy were to attack right now, he'd be useless in the battle, and that drove him insane. He needed to just get it over with. He needed all of this bullshit to be over. If Sanji ended up hating him he could at least put that energy into training. He tried to convince himself he was sober. He wanted to be as composed as possible if he was going to ruin his own life.

“Okay...uh. Fuck. Sorry.” Zoro was off to a terrible start. Why were confessions so hard? He let go of Sanji’s hand. He thought that if he told Sanji he loved him while they were holding hands it might be too much for both of them. He leaned back. He finally got the courage to look at the other man. For once, he let himself get lost in his eyes. The mix of blues and lavenders seemed to swirl together as the cook looked back in anticipation. His eyes looked just like the sea, maybe prettier. Zoro felt a pang in his heart. Some of the nervousness washed away as a deep blush dusted his cheeks. Maybe he'd actually be able to get this off his chest. Taking in Sanji’s features as focused as he did made him lose all sense of reality. Nothing mattered to him but the man in front of him. He needed Sanji to know that.

Zoro tried not to think about the consequences this may have as he took a deep breath in. When he looked at Sanji he could tell he was on the edge of his seat. Zoro was surprised that he hadn't been shaken to the brink of death by Sanji and his intrusiveness. He supposed he had been mentally, though. He watched as Sanji tried to conceal his eagerness with a calm facade. Zoro saw through it of course, but he appreciated the sentiment. He couldn't blame him anyway. If Zoro were in Sanji’s shoes, he would've lost all patience a long time ago.

Zoro snapped out of his thoughts as he realized what he had committed to do. He tried to coach himself in his mind but that damn fancy vodka had made it nearly impossible. He was going to have to wing it and hope for the best. He couldn't believe he was actually about to do this.

It wasn't called liquid courage for nothing.

“L-Like I said, don't freak out… okay?” Zoro practically pleaded. “I won't, moss head. I'm telling you, I just want to help.” Sanji replied, looking more hopeful than he had all day. Zoro begged the universe not to let his confession be the cause of that hope being crushed. “Okay…” Zoro continued, extremely tentatively. He thought he'd start with a secret that would hopefully be easy to swallow, and then get into the real reason he was in so much agony. That's about as far ahead as Zoro had planned.

“So.. y’know how you're obsessed w-with women?” Zoro stammered. He hated saying that. It sucked having to remind himself that there was no way in hell the cook would ever like him back. Not like it had ever been a possibility, but Zoro was bitter about it nonetheless. Sanji raised an eyebrow. “Yes…?” He questioned as he resisted rolling his eyes. Zoro exhaled. “Well, I guess.. uh.. I guess you could say that I’m not.” Zoro spat out as fast as he could. Sanji looked taken aback but not necessarily in a bad way. When Zoro read his face he didn't see any sort of disgust or judgment, which was a good sign. He did look slightly more nervous than before though. Zoro prayed even harder that he hadn't caught on yet.

“Are you coming out to me, idiot?” Sanji replied, sounding as chill as ever. Zoro was in awe. Did he really not care at all? More pressingly, was it that obvious? “Well when you put it like that..” Zoro didn't know what he wanted to say or how to. Luckily, Sanji was there to answer a question he hadn't even asked. “I don't see why that's something you should be worried about. You think anyone on the crew is going to care?” Sanji said, almost looking like he was trying to hold back laughter. “Is it th-that easy to tell?” Zoro said, looking at the floor and crossing his arms. To Sanji, he looked like an angry little kid, and he couldn't lie to himself and say it wasn't a little amusing. He shrugged in response. “Not necessarily. I mean, we all kind of knew something was up. You've never once shown interest in… well, anyone. It's not that hard to put the pieces together.” He paused, examining Zoro’s stressed facial expression. “But if you're asking if we've all conspired behind your back and decided you're gay, no, we haven't.” He said, taking a draw from his cigarette.

Zoro hearing those words leave the cook’s mouth was like a dream. Maybe a nightmare. Whatever it was, it didn't feel real. There was so much information to take in now and his drunken mind couldn't process it. Apparently, everyone on the crew knew that he wasn't straight- wonderful. That's exactly what he needed. He huffed as he continued to go over what Sanji had said in his mind. He unfolded his arms when he realized Sanji had said he never showed interest in anyone. That was a good sign. He hadn't yet deduced the real secret Zoro needed to say. That was the next thing that hit him. The actual secret. He'd gotten so caught up in Sanji’s tranquil response that he'd forgotten about what he really needed to tell the man. This was going to be a lot harder. He tried to think of how to even begin to word this as Sanji burst his thought bubble.

“Is that all? All of this just because you don't like women? I mean I'm not trying to invalidate your feelings, I'm just saying-” Sanji was about to reassure the swordsman more when he began to speak over him. “No, it's not-” Zoro sighed. This was it. This was him committing. “It's not just that.” Sanji’s face turned from calm to concerned in a split second. Something about his expression showed that he might've seen this coming. He put his elbows on the table and put his cheeks in the palms of his hands. “Do go on.” Sanji said nonchalantly. Zoro heard this response and wished that what he was about to say was as carefree as Sanji was anticipating.

Zoro knew he had to rip it off like a bandaid. All he had to do was pretend it was one of Chopper’s bandages. He never fought as well when he was all wrapped up like a mummy. This was basically the same thing, right?

“I think there's somebody that I like. A lot.” Zoro spoke as fast as he could while still being able to annunciate. He kept his gaze strictly on the table. He didn't want to see Sanji’s face. He watched as Sanji’s hands fell away from his face and smacked down on the tabletop. He winced at the loud bang that came from it. “Well that's great!” Sanji’s hands moved into the air. “I guess chia pets can find love after all. So who is he?” He said with that same gleam of anticipation from earlier. Zoro didn't respond. Sanji noticed. “Come on you bastard, if anyone knows about love, it's me. I won't make fun of you I swear.” He tried to reason with Zoro.

Zoro looked down at the bottle of vodka still in front of him. He hadn't taken a sip in a while. This might be a good time. It could also be possibly the worst time. He glanced up at Sanji who had taken notice of his unending stare at the bottle. Sanji still had the same “For the love of god just spit it out” face but with a hint of “If you take one more sip of that I'm going to kick you all the way across the Grand Line”. Zoro looked back down and pushed the glass bottle to the end of the table.

“Fucking Christ, okay well,” Zoro began. He rubbed his eyes with two fingers and kept them there. “It's uh.. someone on the ship.” He ripped off like a bandage, just like he said he would. Sanji’s face practically lit up. Obviously, he was all for some Straw Hat drama. Little did he know. He put his hands on the edge of the table and leaned back. “Well shit! That's news!” He said in a cheery tone. “Now you have to tell me.” He shot Zoro with a smug look. Zoro didn't see it, but he felt it.

“Haven't I said enough?” Zoro said with a tone drenched in anguish. He folded his arms again and looked towards the kitchen sink.

“You've said a lot, I'll give you that. I know that took a lot out of you, shitty swordsman.” Sanji said with a lighthearted twang. Zoro picked up on the genuine proudness weaved in the sarcastic words and he blushed ever so slightly. He snapped out of it as Sanji pointed a finger at him and continued. “But you’re downright cruel if you'd really leave me hanging after dropping that on me.”

Zoro groaned and tilted his head back. His head hurt, he was still nauseous, his heart was racing and he was starting to sweat. Everything about this entire day had been a whirlwind. He just wanted to sleep. He smiled as he thought about getting in bed next to the cook. He'd put his arm around him and the smaller man would lay his head on his chest. Zoro had daydreamed about this scenario so many times it almost felt real. He continued to imagine being under a huge blanket as he was ripped from his ideal world. And by the same man he was thinking about, no less. Sanji was snapping his fingers in Zoro’s face, trying to get his attention. It definitely worked.

“Hey, asshole! Wake up! I know you're still drunk but you owe me a name!” Sanji said as he pulled his arm back in. Zoro tried not to get flustered. It was clear that Sanji was no longer upset. It felt like the tension had been sucked out of the air. He wasn't mad, he wasn't grossed out, he didn't even seem shocked. He was messing around with Zoro just as he used to and things finally felt normal again for once. Zoro felt good. Sanji’s reactions had been so tame compared to what he had imagined. He'd barely reacted at all, and the reactions that he did give all seemed… nice. Zoro felt the familiar butterfly sensation he always got around Sanji. He felt like he could breathe for the first time in so long. He took a deep inhale in and exhaled just as hard. He had jitters, but the good kind of jitters. He felt like he could tell Sanji anything. He felt like he could do anything.

“Guess.” Zoro said, a tiny smile creeping on his face. Sanji tilted his head forward. “Guess?” He asked back. “If you wanna know so bad-” Zoro paused to swallow his spit, the alcohol had dried out his mouth so much. “-guess.” He stated. “Don't make me do that.” Sanji said, almost embarrassed.

What if he guessed wrong and made a fool out of himself? He was the expert of love after all. He had no clues as to who it could be, Zoro acted the same around nearly everyone. Everyone except…. well it didn't matter because there's no way that could ever happen. Sanji thought back to just a little while ago when Zoro had acted “friendly” towards him. “I'm not gonna make a move on you or anything. ‘Nless you want me to.” Zoro’s voice echoed softly in the back of his mind. He drove the thoughts away. There was no possible way that was the case, it was stupid of him to even consider.

Now that he settled that within his mind, he had to take a shot in the dark and try to figure out who this idiot admired. He started with the obvious answer.

“Okay fine, I'll play your game.” Sanji said smugly. Zoro felt his stomach flip as Sanji said those words while making direct eye contact. “Is it Luffy?” Sanji guessed eagerly. Zoro chuckled. “No, it's not Luffy. I don't think I could handle that much chaos.” He said honestly. Sanji nodded in agreement, he had a great point. Sanji pondered again. “Umm… Usopp?” Sanji asked, skeptically. “Nah, I definitely- definitely don't see him like that.” Zoro countered. Sanji expected that but it still left him confused.

Sanji’s mouth got dry. No one else on the ship was a viable fit for Zoro. Sanji’s palms started to sweat. There was no way, right? No way that what he was thinking could actually be right?

Sanji laughed nervously. “I'm outta guesses, honestly. Just tell me.” He said quickly. “You can't think of anyone else?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow. The way Zoro phrased the question stressed Sanji out, he didn't like how drawn out and suggestive it was. “Nope, no one.” He replied. “You only guessed twice, there's-- not many other people on the ship, maybe give it one more shot.” As confident as Zoro felt after Sanji had only replied with good responses to everything he said, he still didn't want to admit to the man that he was fond of him like that. The chef’s change in expression hadn't helped either, after he had guessed Usopp he seemed to have turned a little paler. Zoro could feel the nervousness creeping back but he tried to shove it down.

Sanji wasn't stupid. Of all people, he'd be the one to recognize hints when they're dropped. Still, he had an incredibly difficult time believing what Zoro was implying. He didn't know if he'd be flattered or terrified if his suspicion turned out to be true.

He supposed he didn't have a choice. If he wanted an answer, he was going to have to get it out of Zoro. He'd been backed into a wall and left with no choice, clearly, Zoro wasn't going to crack. He resumed his calm outlook, telling himself he was getting worked up over nothing.

Sanji let out a laugh before he said anything. He inhaled through the cigarette still between his teeth and exhaled that all too familiar smoke. “Well at this point I'm completely in the dark. I'd bet my life on the fact that it's not anyone I didn't guess.” He said, not knowing how to blatantly ask the type of question he was dying to. Zoro turned his head to the side, staring at the kitchen floor. “Well I guess you'd have to take your own life then.” Zoro retorted, quieter than his normal voice. Sanji opened his mouth to say something but closed it when he realized Zoro had opened his mouth again too.

“I wouldn't let you do that though, cook. You know why?”

Sanji felt his heart drop into his stomach. He wiped his hands on his pants and tried to pinch himself back to reality. There was no possible way that this was happening. He attempted to steady his breath, but it didn't work. He had to focus on not letting the cigarette drop out of his mouth.

“Why?” Sanji was able to choke out. He knew what was about to come out of Zoro’s mouth but he couldn't admit it. He couldn't say it was real until he heard it.

“Like a bandage.” Zoro said in his head. He reminded himself to thank that special vodka later for giving him the courage to do something as insane as this. He looked the man in front of him dead in the eyes.

“Because it's you, Sanji.”

#zosan #one piece #one piece fic #one piece zosan #zoro x sanji #vinsmoke sanji #fanfic #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #sanji #sanji x zoro #sanzo #slow burn #confession #twirlyeyebrows

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Chasing Providence {Dimitrescu/OC} Pt 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairings: TBA, at minimum platonic House Dimitrescu/OC, with some wlw side characters (also original, but not the focus of the story) Rating: T for mild violence and possibly triggering content Warnings: A character briefly threatens suicide as a means of prolonging a conversation (i.e. saying "if you don't listen, I'll ___") Additionally, this contains spoilers for Resident Evil 8. Summary: Months after being infected with a mysterious virus, investigative journalist Avaskian Caldwell is left with no choice: Xe has to get help, one way or another, from whatever remains of the Umbrella Corporation could be trusted. Or, perhaps, from the very person who started it all... Along the way xe'll have to get along with vampires, fight off would be hunters, befriend a hoard of cultists, all while performing the duties of an everyday servant. There's nothing xe won't try as xe's forced to chase providence. Notes: While this chapter features a somewhat talkative Ava, xe's normally selectively mute, and will be for the entire rest of the story.

1: Blood Runs Thick

“This can’t be it. No fucking way, bruv, are you sure you got the address right?” The journalist asked, eyes narrowed as xe stared out into the distant hills. One hand held a phone, currently without any signal, while the other kept a tentative grip on the van’s door handle. To their side was the driver, a middle-aged man with relatively little patience. When he replied, it was in a language the journalist didn’t speak, but could clearly understand as a swirl of profanity. “Alright, alright, I get it. Not like I could afford to pay you to take me back, anyway… I’ll just, uh, be going then. Try to have a nice day, eh, you old chap?” With that said xe opened the door, hopping out rather eagerly. After tucking xer phone into xer pocket, xe quickly gathered xer bags from the trunk, half expecting the man to drive off before xe had a chance.

Surprisingly, he stayed all the way until the journalist gave two hard pats to the van’s side. Then he practically slammed the gas pedal, speeding off in a whirling cloud of dust and kicked up rocks, promptly sending xer into a coughing fit. Curse these feeble lungs, xe thought, scowling. Absent-mindedly xe put a hand to xer throat, silently checking if xer, ahem, ‘wounds’ were still covered. Once satisfied, xe turned to the long, winding path into the village. Was this truly where the ever-elusive “Miranda” could be found? What in the blazes of hell was a scientist like herself doing here, in a mostly empty stretch of Romania? The thought sent a rush of anxiety to the journalist’s chest, as xe wondered if this “Miranda” would even consider helping xer. Xe hoped that, at the least, xer unique case would get her attention.

In the end, it took xer twice as long as expected to reach the village proper. There were no signs along the path, nor signs of life, other than countless dead birds, hung like falling leaves from every tree. Once, a display this gnarly would have made bile rise up in xer throat. But these days? After everything xe had researched? This was no hell, not when compared to the bombed ruin that was Raccoon City. Yet xe still cut xer hand when hopping the barbed wire fence, as if once again a rookie, too desperate for the truth to see the proper world. Fresh blood dropped onto the snow, but xe allowed xerself no wince nor complaint, instead focused on the figures moving in the distance. Strangers. Nay, sources. Someone would know something about the mysterious Miranda, even if they didn’t realize it.

So the journalist made haste, approaching as casually as xe could, considering the heavy traveler’s bag on xer shoulders, and the sturdy cane xe walked with. It was the latter that caught people’s attention first, as it click click clicked against the stone path. Before long there were several pairs of eyes on the journalist, some of them bearing thinly veiled hostility, others filled with nervousness.

“Who are you?” A man growls, stepping in front of a woman (his daughter, based on similar features, age difference) as he does. One of his fingers jabs into xer chest, daring them to take another move, carrying an unspoken threat within it. For a few seconds xe simply smiles at the man. Somewhat amused, xe hoped that xer natural charm would win the day, despite a quick glance telling them that most of these strangers were armed.

“I’m a journalist-” xe started to say, until the others moved their hands towards their holsters- “or at least I was, once. But I come asking for assistance, kindness from my fellow humans,” xe said, gesturing widely with xer arms. This made the others present pause, though the journalist wasn’t immediately sure that xe hadn’t just misspoken. Romanian was not xer first language. Or xer second, come to think of it. Oddly enough, however, it had clicked rather quickly in xer brain, as if xe had always been meant to speak it. “You may call me Avaskian Caldwell. Or just Ava, or just Kian, or just Vas, depending on your mood. Ah, but that hardly matters. I am here… to find a woman. Someone I have heard much about, a, how do you say… ‘marvel’ of science? They tell me she is called ‘Miranda’. Have I come to the-” xe do not get to finish that sentence. Before xe can understand what’s happening, someone has grabbed xer by the throat, attempting to life xer into the air.

For once in xer life, xe’s glad for the ‘extra insulation’.

“Fuck you, outsider, you don’t deserve to taint her name with your foul tongue!” The man shouts, squeezing xer throat, urged on by the jeering crowd. A smarter person would have been rather concerned at that point. But the journalist- Ava, as xe said- was not known for xer cleverness. That did not, however, stop xer from exhibiting cleverness. Taking advantage of xer ridiculous arm joints (which may or may not be doubled, possibly merely weird as fuck), xe reached into xer bag, ignoring the crowd’s scared reaction, retrieving an evidence bag. Inside of it: several broken vials, each marked with a symbol of terror. This is not a place of honor the symbol screamed. To the villagers, it meant something else, something older. To Ava? It meant the prophet of death, it meant Umbrella.

“I come bearing the sign of your village. I come bearing the scars of your Goddess,” Ava proclaims, raising the bag into the air. As soon as xe does, xe is released, the man scrambling backwards. Others turn away, some leaving, a handful gathering to pray. ‘Twas an odd display, but one that Ava preferred over a public execution. Only one person dares to approach: A woman, likely mid thirties, with dark eyes and darker hair. There’s a clear caution in her movements, as if it was taking all of her courage to not flee. “Do you perhaps know how I may reach Miranda? I am in dire need of her knowledge.” At this, the woman flinches, though her gaze lingers on Ava’s throat. It’s then that the journalist realizes xer collar was undone, exposing xer strange, ever-bleeding wound. The stranger does not speak until xe has covered the deformity.

“One does not simply reach Mother Miranda. But there are ways to get her attention, to ask for a, hmm, blessing,” she explains. With a sigh of relief, Ava starts to celebrate, eager to find a cure for what ailed xer. But the woman wasn’t done speaking, and her next words cut a thick line through xer hope. “It may take a few weeks, maybe less, but we can ensure your prayers are heard. Mother Miranda always rewards the faithful. Even those who start out as outsiders. In the end, all are welcome here, if they keep the faith in our Mother.”

“No, no, that won’t do!” Ava snaps, far harsher than intended. The woman flinches again, and xe starts to pace back and forth, trying to release xer pent up energy. “There has to be another way. Faster, more direct. I don’t-... I might not have time to wait. Please, please, anything you can do to help, even if it’s just pointing me in the right direction…” A gulp, eyes shining with unshed tears, a quiver of the lower lip. Falsehoods alike, directed for an honest purpose. Miranda was xer only hope for information- and, perhaps, for salvation. But the latter had never been Ava’s true priority.

“There might be one way, but it is dangerous. You’d be more likely to die on the path than reach your goal, if I am honest. Yet… if there is anyone in all the village who can grant you the audience you seek, it would be one of the four lords. If you are certain-” the woman could only watch as Ava nodded furiously, silently begging- “so be it. Follow me, but do not say I did not warn you. I do not want your spirit coming to haunt me for my act of pity.”

—————————

“An unexpected guest? How… delightful. Do tell me why you even bothered to drag this miscreant before me, Cynthia?” Lady Alcina Dimitrescu asked, with a scowl, staring down at the fragile human in question. Of all the things she had expected to find, once her head servant called her, this was not one of them. An intruder would have been more likely. Perhaps even more fun, if Alcina felt like letting her daughters join in the resulting feast. But this ‘thing’ was hardly worth her time. They were short, although admittedly somewhat plump, with a scent that implied illness. For once, she could not pinpoint the exact disease by smell alone. Not that she cared, really. ‘Twas simply… interesting.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. You may call me Avaskian Caldwell, and I come with an… offer. With mutual benefits, I assure you, Lady Dimitrescu,” the journalist answered, giving a deep bow. Despite xer manners, Alcina seemed unimpressed, even irritated by the display. Still, she gestured with her right hand, encouraging xer to get on with it. “I am in need of a meeting, specifically one with the much beloved, dearly respected Mother Miranda. In exchange, I offer two things: The sweat of my brow, and the blood in my veins.” Much to xer displeasure, Alcina replied with loud laughter before fixing xer with a hard stare.

“Pray tell, little thing, what makes you think I won’t simply take your blood now, hmm?” She muses, cackling again, ignoring the way her servant flinched at the sound. But Ava did not waiver, instead simply reaching into xer sleeve. Slowly xe pulled out something metallic, speaking firmly as xe did.

“For one, Mother Miranda would certainly dislike losing out on this opportunity,” xe started to say, unable to stop xerself from smirking. Then the knife fully exited xer sleeve, dancing in the light, before pressing against xer own throat. It was certainly a unique threat. Instantly Alcina rises to her feet, only pausing when she realizes that she wasn’t the one in danger. “Secondly, my blood is worth more if I am alive. You see, I have a wretched ‘condition’, which does a handful of lovely, lovely, life-threatening things to this poor vessel of mine. But someone as intelligent as yourself could find plenty of use for my so-called ‘illness’. If you give me a chance to explain, that is.” Though she does not sit back down, or even nod, it quickly becomes clear that Alcina did not intend to interrupt. Yet. “Grand, grand! I do appreciate it, my Lady. Now, let me just grab the research I brought with me…”

Never once lowering the knife from xer throat, Ava digs into xer bag, forced to briefly clip xer cane to xer belt. Then xe retrieves a closed manilla folder, carefully handing it to the giantess in front of xer. Wordlessly Alcina accepts the item, opening it to peruse its contents, only pausing to put on a pair of reading glasses. A minute of quiet passes before Ava continues xer explanation.

“I heal faster than anyone else on your staff, guaranteed. Hell, I cut my hand down in the village, on some damned wire, and the wound has already closed back up, good as new. That means, of course, that if someone were to let’s say… remove some of my blood, well, it wouldn’t take too long for me to get more, now would it? Obviously there has to be some biological counter, some form of payment for my ability. The rule of equivalent exchange, and all that, yes? As it stands… I eat an extra slice of bread a day. That’s it. Nothing bad enough to cancel out the boon of my blood. My… extensive reservoir of blood. Interesting, yes?” Ava says, still as charming as ever, despite the indescribable terror in xer chest. If there was one thing that xe had learned as a journalist, it was how to hide xer fear. Which was plenty useful, in the current situation, especially when Alcina flips a page to reveal the one downside to xer condition.

“Don’t tell me you came all this way to try and deceive me. Here I was, beginning to think something of you, and you hand me a sheet that says it clear as candlelight: Your blood is dirty. Infected. I won’t be drinking it anytime soon, nor would I even consider allowing it to be used for my family’s wine!” Alcina is essentially yelling at this point. But Ava only takes a step forward, smile present but trembling, and gestures for her to turn the page. With narrowed eyes she does, quickly reading through the notes. Once, then a pause, then once more. Finally she closes the folder, setting it down upon her desk. “Fascinating. You are indeed a… unique case. I cannot guarantee you a meeting with Mother Miranda, and even if I do, it will be because of your condition. She will use you, as is her divine right to do, likely without ever once considering attempting to cure you. But if you are determined to meet her, well,” Alcina leans in with her own grin, sending chills down Ava’s spine, “I will not stop you. Here’s hoping you manage to give me plenty of blood before you ‘expire’. Cynthia, show her to the servants’ quarters. I expect her to be working by tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Although Ava could not help but twitch at the Lady’s choice of pronouns, xe had expected this. Eventually xe would explain the indefinite nature of xer gender. Or perhaps xe was doomed to die a horrific, tragic death long before xe ever had the opportunity. Either way, xe could not help but feel a small sense of elation, pleased to have made some progress towards xer goal. Three steps forward and two steps back was still, cumulatively, a step forward. In time, xe would likely come to regret this series of choices. But who among us could say they held no regrets at all? And if, in the end, this storyteller came away with one hell of a story… wouldn’t that outweigh the regret? Even if Ava did not know it, xe would one day learn a valuable lesson from the strange family xe now worked for: Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. Oh, and what a lovely covenant it would be.

#avaskian caldwell #alcina dimitrescu #maiden cynthia #resident evil: village #resident evil oc #j has ocs #oh hoo hoo hoo #come and get your first real glimpse of ava #yes they talk in this one #you'll understand later

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mo-mo-and-porkchop · 5 years

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Umbrella academy fiction

Chapter 1

Canon and OC; Deigo x OC, Klaus x OC platonic

*as always I do not own any part of the canon characters or show. I am merely writing my own adaptation to the storyline. Nor do I own any gifs/gif credit.

**I do own all things related to the OCs and additional story elements. And apologies, I couldn't find any "young" gifs of them, but they are all meant to be young adults to show age in this fic.

Tagging: @imcrowley , @wicked-bitch-of-the-west

On a typical sunny day in 1989 a girl was born under extraordinary circumstances - her mother beginning the day not pregnant and ending it with a newborn girl. Reginald Hargreaves was unable to purchase their gift from God, but as fate would have she would still become linked to the obsessive billionaire through Klaus, his disappointing Number Four.

One fateful night in her bar thrust the two into each other's life and they soon became close friends, their tragic pasts a common denominator. Emily tried to aid her friend and his family in thwarting the apocalypse, but her life ultimately lost when the shit inevitably hit the fan.

This is not that story.

Our story takes place five years after the Hargreaves family jumped back in time after unsuccessfully saving the world; bringing with them all the knowledge gained from their first chance at life.

-----

"I'm telling you Diego. We can do this," Klaus said pleadingly to his brother. "She said if she had only gotten out a few years earlier, she would have had a better chance at life. We can give her that chance."

Diego stopped just outside his room. He eyed Klaus as he begged for him to agree.

"Please Diego. She is...was my friend," he corrected himself. This time travel thing was hard to get used to. "I owe it to her to at least try."

It was true that Emily had been as good a friend as someone could to Klaus back then. He'd beena raging drug addict who brought nothing but chaos. There weren't many people who could handle something like that. She'd been one of the few; even managing to get him into rehab a few times.

Not that it had mattered. Klaus had a standing bed there back then and the staff a running pool on how short his next break would last.

But it had been obvious she at least cared for him. And that was more than Diego could say for himself. Klaus was his brother and he had given two shits at the time if he lived or died.

"Fine," he finally agreed.

"Yes!" Klaus said quietly, but triumphantly.

With his second time around, he wanted to get it right. Make amends for his previous infractions.

Starting with this.

"But we do this my way. You got it," he said definitively, getting close enough to stop Klaus' little victory dance. He wanted to make sure his brother understood just how serious he was.

"Got it," Klaus said with a mock salute. "If I remember correctly, right around now would be the 'Halloween lockdowns' as Em liked to call it," Klaus said with a small smirk Diego's way.

His brother looked at him confused "Lockdowns? Where is she? A prison?"

Oh, that's right. He doesn't know.

It had taken Klaus awhile to pull what nuggets she had revealed of her past. He knew, without a doubt, Diego hadn't gotten shit out of her. The few times they'd met his brother was partial to being an asshole to anyone who even remotely took Klaus' side and she had been no different.

"She's at a religious boarding school," Klaus explained quickly. "A real scared straight kinda one. From what she told me though, the night before Halloween the nuns do one final sweep of the grounds, leaving the front door unlocked."

"Pfft. Morons," Diego huffed, the fact that he was speaking of godly women lost to him completely. "So it's a dash and grab. Easy."

"Yeeaa...about that," Klaus began tentatively. Diego had only just agreed to spring Emily from Hell.

"What?" Diego asked lowly. He knew he shouldn't have gotten his hope up so easily. Nothing was ever so cut and dry with Klaus.

"She's also, sort of, kinda in her own lockdown. We may need Five to help us too," he added reluctantly. "Which is fine," he quickly continued, keeping Diego from immediately changing his mind. "Ever since we got back Five has really been a team player. I'm sure if our little heist idea came from you he'd be on board. A hundred percent."

Diego couldn't take this shit with Klaus a second go 'round. He wanted to break Emily out of school? Fine. He needed Diego's help? Also, peachy fuckinf keen. But if he insisted on keeping secrets along the way then Diego would walk his happy ass on out the door and Klaus could go fuck himself.

He grabbed hold of his brother, who flinched more from shock than fear, and drug him into his room, away from listening ears. He tossed his brother onto his bed as gently as he could. Klaus watched as he pulled his desk chair over, sitting on it backward and leaning against it.

"Before I ask Five anything you are gonna spill your guts and give me all the Intel you have on Emily. Otherwise, I'm out and you're on your own."

Klaus groaned with Diego's ultimatum. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll tell you everything. But you have to swear you'll get Five to help no matter what," he countered holding up his pinky.

"What are you, six?"

"Nothing is more binding than a pinky swear," Klaus said, wiggling his fingers enticingly.

"You never quit do you?"

"Nope," Klaus said with a satisfied grin.

"Jesus Christ." Diego sighed with a roll of his eyes, but nevertheless he linked pinkies with his brother.

"No matter what," Klaus reiterated.

"No matter what," Diego reluctantly agreed before immediately letting go of him.

"Good," Klaus said clapping his hands together and rubbing them conspiratorially. "Now. What do I know about Emily?" he asked himself, feigning an attempt to really dig deep into his thoughts. "Em, Em, Em."

"I'm losing my patience Klaus."

"Alright, fine," Klaus said with an exasperated sigh. Nothing much had changed with Diego this time around - he was still far too serious for his own good. "I know she was one of the few dad couldn't buy, obviously. I deduced that one myself," he admitted proudly.

Diego rolled his eyes and sighed. Even without drugs Klaus' mind still ran a million miles a minute. "Focus," he said keeping his brother on track.

"Right," he replied forcing himself back to their present storytelling session. "She was unbuyable. Her parents were religious and pure," he said mockingly, throwing up the the scouting sign of three fingers. "When Em didn't fit it to their perfect life, they shipped her off and forgot about her. To St. Christopher's School for the Misguided to be exact."

"You mean that old school convent on the outskirts of the city?"

"That's the one," Klaus said in agreement. "She's been there..." he checked his wrist as if a watch sat upon it. "Twelve years now," he added looking back to Diego.

"Twelve years?! What the Hell Klaus?? I thought she was just sent there."

"Yea. When she was six," Klaus said with a snort. "That was after all the exercisims failed," he added nonchalantly.

"Exorcisms!?" Diego was beginning to regret his decision to help. "Look. I don't know what kind of "school" you're taking me to, but how do we know Emily even wants to break out?" he asked in a half-hearted attempt to back out.

"Because she makes it out on her own after another three years anyway. But she always said if she'd got out just a few years earlier she'd have gone farther in life. Between you and me, I thought she turned out just fine the way she was," he added leaning in conspiratorially.

"I don't know about that. She was friends with you."

"Hey! Unfair!" Klaus said feigning offense. "Trust me," he continued, shrugging off the insult. "Once Five is on board, everything will be fine," he said reassuringly, but with little affect. "Then it really will be a dash and grab. Five will just do his little time warp thingie and..." He sucked air through his teeth and gestured for in-and-out. "We'll have Em out and free as a bird in no time," he added with a sigh and a smile.

Diego stared at him, only reacting when his wide grin faded. His mind had already been made up, but it was sti fun to see him sweat. He promptly grabbed him up and pulled toward the hallway - and all the way to Five's room.

------

"Klaus has something he wants to ask you," he said pushing past their brother when he answered the door.

"And what might that be?" he asked, confusion evident on his face as he shut the door behind them.

Once through the threshold doego released his grip on Klaus and took solace off in the corner, waiting to see how well he did with Five. Their brother would be a much tougher sell. He'd never even met Emily.

"Well," Klaus began with a nervous laugh, glancing back to Diego hoping to get some backup. His brother simply urged him on. Klaus sighed and his entire being deflated with his refusal.

"Klaus, what the hell is going on? I don't have time for another one of your ridiculous pranks," Five complained impatiently.

"I need your help rescuing a friend," he admitted freely, turning back to Five.

Five laughed freely at his request. "No," he said letting his facial expressions fall flat. "The last time I tried to help you I ended up having to warp out of police custody."

"But you did get out," Klaus cut in trying to avoid a retelling of their most recent mishap.

"And I had to be the one to explain it all to dad. Alone," he added with rising anger.

Klaus grimaced. "Yea. Sorry about that. I wish I could have been there, really, but something important came up. Real now-or-never type stuff."

"What? Like avoiding the inevitable end of the world? Because last I remember we've already fixed that problem and I can't think of anything more "now-or-never"," he threw back at him.

He knew Five was right. "I guess when you put it like that, I could have made it," he admitted almost sheepishly.

Five merely scowled at his admission.

"But this is different," he added quickly, pushing past Five when he went to kick them out of his room. Klaus shut the door and leaned on it for added security he would finish hearing him out.

"How so?"

Klaus' smile returned. His interest was piqued. "Because we...are gonna..."

Diego rolled his eyes. His sales pitch was quickly dying. "Because you're gonna have me," he stepping forward.

"Not that I don't doubt yoir abilities, but how does that any different? Other than your presence of course."

Their brother's smile widened. "Yes!" he exclaimed before Diego could answer, outstreching his arms toward him and crossing to be by his side. "Because Diego here is an extra set of eyes and ears," he added, cradling his shoulders and endearingly placing his hand on his chest.

Diego glared at Klaus. "Because I will make sure Klaus doesn't screw anything up this time," he answerd shaking himself free.

Five remained silent, considering Klaus 'mission'. He had become anxious lately to do more than just train and follow daddy's orders - even if it was what they all agreed to before their jump back. Not that he would ever admit that to Klaus, but he supposed it could be worth it of Diego was on board.

Klaus stated expectantly and his brother who eyed the two of them. "Say I help you. What is your grand plan to save...who exactly?"

Klaus smiled widely at Diego, ecstatic that things might actually go his way for once.

"Emily," Diego answered, ignoring Klaus.

"Emily?" Five asked surprised with a slight laugh. "You mean the bartender psychic?"

"Telepathic," Klaus corrected him. "But yes. Her. So will you help me? Please?"

Diego rolled his eyes at the duo. "Just say yes already. I can't take much more of this," he added exasperated, dropping down onto the chair at Five's desk.

"Alright fine," he finally agreed.

Klaus began to shower his brother with thabks. He sure hadn't been as appreciative of Diego's allegiance. He huffed to hide his offense. "Klaus!" He pointed at his wrist when he had his brother's attention.

"Oh right. So. Now that I have the best two brothers on board..."

"Klaus," Diego warned.

"Alright, alright. Stop getting your panties in a bunch."

Diego jumped up ready to strangle him.

"Hey! Calm down!" Five intervened. "Don't make me regret helping you," he scolded his brothers. "Now," he continued once the two had parted ways. "When and how are we supposed to save Emily? And from what?"

"I'm glad you asked," Klaus responded slyly before repeating the plan to Five

------

"There it is," Klaus whispered to his brothers, pointing out their entry point.

They crouched hidden among the bushes just outside the point of no return. A nun came out of the front door, followed by two others, and just as Klas said left the door open. Diego huffed quietly to himself and rolled his eyes. Klaus smiled widely.

"Okay," Five said shifting his jacket and bit and readying to jump. "Where is her room?" he asked staring at the building.

It was your typical, old-school convent turned boarding opp. The layout would be easy to figure out.

Klaus shut his eyes and mimicked going over a map with his fingers. "It should be, if memory serves me right, last one on the left, second floor," he said opening his eyes and looking toward the building too. "She always said one of the only good things she remembered about this place were the sunsets," he said quietly to himself with a sad sigh. "West side," he added.

And just like that Five was gone.

-----

He reappeared with a small pop in a girl's room. She was sound asleep, her back to where Five now stood. He crept to her bed and gently tried waking her.

"Emily," he whispered. "Emily wake up."

The girl began to stir, turning toward him. The sight of a boy by her bed had to be a dream. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, sitting up to wake up further. The realization that he was real hit her. Her eyes grew wide in terror and she screamed.

Five quickly covered her mouth. "Emily, please."

She quieted her screams realizing who he was and the fear in her eyes grew to confusion. She mumbled something into his hand.

"What?" he whispered, uncovering her mouth.

"I'm not Emily," she managed to stammer out quietly.

#the unbrella academy #umbrella academy #ua #klaus hargreaves #diego hargreaves #klaus x oc #diego x oc #fan fic #fan fiction #fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #indie #writing

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