#i wanna think about zoros relationship w his gender more but writing zoro is so scary like i justaoiujofidshBruh..

[wholecakes]

Zosan is something so special but even more special when it’s t4t. Zoro who has been sure of his identity ever since he was a little kid and sanji whose egg has been forcefully cracked with a sledgehammer in her early 20’s. Sanji who struggles deciding on how to present during fem days vs Zoro who has been wearing the same clothes for the last week.

Sanji who has been disconnected from her femininity nearly all of her life, shoving herself into awkwardly fitting suits since she was a little kid, her desire to be the perfect gentleman overshadowing her true identity.

Zoro who decided he’s a man and stuck with it ever since he was little. Zoro who knows himself better than anyone and is sure of it.

it’s such a harsh contrast. Sanji almost feels bested by the swordsman in this gender debacle. how has that grass brained idiot been so sure of himself for years while she needs to smoke 3 cigarettes at the mere thought of wearing a dress?

Sanji wishes deep down to ask him: “how did you know?” “when did you know?” “was it easy?” (She knows that one is rhetorical). And yet sanji cant ask him. At least not while she’s dicing an assortment of fruit for her lovely Nami and Robin and working on her 8th cigarette of the hour.

It’s not like Zoro’s the only other person on the ship who is similar to her. Robin’s been lovely, actually. Robin has always been incredibly knowing and insightful, as always. She’s been amazing, Sanji can’t appreciate her enough. She always knew the right words to pick. Sanji sleeping in the girls quarters allowed her to become closer to Robin through simple conversation and sweet smiles alone. Sanji can’t thank her enough for each chat they’d have over a cup of coffee. Robin had always been safe for Sanji to chat to. An observant woman who could read a person just like she did her books.

So just why did Sanji want to ask the moss-brained idiot about his experience with his identity? It’s not like he’s got some long story to tell, Zoro’s not the kind of guy to drone on and tell some deep story about his self-realization over a candlelit dinner. Zoro is Zoro, simple and straight to the point. A sharp edge that hardly falters. He’s simple-minded. A simple-minded moron. A simple-minded moron that picks fights with Sanji every chance he gets. A simple-minded moron that doesn’t have anything good to say. Sanji’s not delusional.

It’s only when in the kitchen with that same moron, Sanji realizes that she might be delusional.

It goes as any other night. Crew asleep, Sanji staying up a little later than usual to prep for tomorrow’s meals, careful hands massaging marinade into raw meat, and Zoro waltzes into the kitchen like he fucking owns it. Insomnia can make a man so cocky. Swords clanking against each other and the thump of his boots against the wood announcing his presence.

“Out. You’re not getting any booze, shitty moss.” Sanji says, simple and straightforward.

Zoro scoffs. He takes a seat at the dining table. Sanji can feel the swordsman’s eyes on her. “I didn’t come here just for booze, shit cook.”

“What else could you have come for? I don’t see you looking to handle tomorrow’s lunch.” Sanji replies, rinsing her hands clean and storing the marinated cuts in the fridge. The spices tickle her senses.

Zoro doesn’t reply. Great. Sanji would have to play a guessing game with an overgrown moss in the odd hours of the night. Unable to kick or scream at him because she can’t risk waking up her sweet Nami or Robin. She dries her hands and turns to look at him. Did he come here with the sole purpose to piss her off? She wouldn’t put that behind him. The air is oddly thick. She takes a drag of the cigarette she’s been working on before making her way to the counter and stubbing it out on the ashtray there.

“Whatever you want, spit it out or go.” Sanji tells him, not having time for any bullshit. “Or I’m going to sleep.”

Zoro’s permanent scowl turns into something confused. Tilting his head inquisitively, almost like a dog. Sanji takes the thought of Zoro being similar to a confused puppy and crushes it with the sole of her shoes. She can’t have that now. Stupid moss. Stupid puppy-dog moss. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I wanted to say,” Zoro begins. Seeming to actually think about his choice of words. It’s something Sanji’s never seen before. Shocked that his brain works for anything other than swords and alcohol. “Congrats. On. Your. Finding yourself.” Zoro finishes.

The eye contact made after that is, for lack of a better term, terrifying to Sanji.

"Thanks." Is all Sanji can manage before retreating to the women's quarters for the night before Zoro can say anything else.

It makes her feel warm.