#whatever it is called. you know what i'm talking about. the Cup Noodle Cinematic Universe

[sanjisock]

blue

ao3. aoharu/hungry days-verse. warning for referenced child abuse

Zoro doesn’t see it, until he does.

Sometimes it’s just as simple as that. Like flipping on a light switch — one moment you didn’t see it, and then you do, all happening in the blink of an eye.

One moment everything seems normal — Sanji meeting him at the back of the gym building, passing Zoro his bento before the Kendo club starts like usual — and then Zoro sees it, the way Sanji stands with a weird slouch on his shoulder, his back leaning to the side, like he’s favoring his left. Zoro always thought the slouching was just an act, a way for the stupid Love Cook to look “cool” and impress the girls in their school, but a different thought crosses his mind for a second.

A different, terrible thought.

“Wait,” Zoro blurts out as Sanji is about to turn and make his way out of the school grounds. “Did you get into a fight?”

Sanji scowls. “Yeah. With you , two days ago.”

Well. They did get into a fight over some mundane shit Zoro can’t even remember anymore, but they both know their fights are more playful than anything. Neither of them intended to hurt . Sanji is still wearing their standard uniform, the long sleeves of their school blazer covering his arms, but Zoro would swear Sanji is —

“You know what I meant, Shit Cook.”

“Actually, I don’t ,” Sanji dismisses, clearly refusing to meet Zoro’s eyes, and the gesture makes something in Zoro’s chest feel heavy and uneasy. “So if you don’t have anymore bullshit to spout, my shift at the Baratie is starting in an hour —“

“I said wait ,” Zoro grabs Sanji by the arm, and Sanji winces. There’s a flash of pain in his eyes, and Zoro’s stomach churns at the sight.

“Let me go,” Sanji says, trying to tug his arm away from Zoro’s grasp, but it’s weak, weaker than Zoro would expect from the Cook.

“Your arm,” Zoro says, slowly putting two and two together. “I know you got hurt — I know you . You’ve barely moved your right here this whole day. What I don’t get is how, because you wouldn’t — you don’t fight with your hands —“

“I said let me go ,” Sanji hisses, clearly desperate, “Marimo —“

“And I didn’t have club yesterday,” Zoro ignores him, his heart pounding in his ears, this can’t be how he thinks it is, it can’t be — “We walked home together, and we didn’t walk past anyone, didn’t get into a fight with anyone. I saw you got into your front door —“

“ Zoro —“

“Then who could’ve done this to you —“

“I SAID LET ME FUCKING GO,” Sanji yells, snapping Zoro out of his train of thoughts.

That finally gets Zoro to release his grip, and Sanji quickly pulls his hand away, shrinking into himself like a wounded animal. Everything about it is so unlike the Sanji Zoro knows — foul-mouthed, confident Sanji, who could stare Zoro down without a hint of fear in his eyes.

The person standing in front of him is an entirely different person — Sanji is breathing erratically, his other hand absentmindedly rubbing his injured arm, and his voice shakes as he says, “I didn’t get into a fight, okay? This isn’t one of your Kendo matches.” He grits his teeth. “This isn’t something I can just fight .”

Like a flip of a light switch. In that moment, Zoro understands.

The Vinsmokes .

Zoro could feel his heart sink into anger, so visceral that he suddenly can’t see straight. He looks down to see his hands trembling with inarticulate rage, a thousand questions running through his mind — how could he have not seen this before? The way Sanji rarely, if ever, talked about his family; the way Sanji works in the Baratie even on the weekends, like he would rather be anywhere than back at his house. How did Zoro not notice that something was wrong?

How could he let this go on for so long?

Zoro fucking walked him home almost everyday. Like leading a lamb to slaughter.

All those trainings and after-school practices, all that talk about becoming the strongest, and yet he cannot protect those important to him still. He thinks of Kuina — remembers the feeling of hopelessness that gripped him like a vice the day she died — and feels like he has not taken a single step forward ever since. Nothing more than a mere child throwing a temper tantrum.

Zoro looks away in shame. “Have you told anyone?” He asks. Even if it wasn’t me, please, let there be someone who has reached out, who has helped —

Sanji shakes his head. “They’re the richest family in the whole city — hell , probably the whole prefecture,” Sanji points out, and Zoro doesn’t miss the word they , in third person; Sanji has never considered himself to be part of the Vinsmokes, how did Zoro not notice this before, how could he be so blind — “even if I had spoken up, they would’ve easily swept it under the rug. Can’t risk having the black sheep of the family ruin their reputation.”

There’s something in Sanji’s voice that reminds Zoro too much of desperation that he can’t help reaching out again towards him; softer, this time, mindful of Sanji’s wound under the sleeves, a light touch against Sanji’s upper arm. Sanji can pull away if he wants to. He doesn’t.

Zoro takes a step closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sanji makes a face he usually does when Zoro says something particularly stupid. “Because you would think I’m weak , obviously,” he scoffs at that, bitter, and the sound rattles against Zoro’s ribcage unpleasantly. “I bet you’re thinking that now, right? Finally realizes that I’m just a weakling who can’t even stand up against my own brothers —”

Before he can stop himself, Zoro steps into Sanji’s personal space and wraps his arms around the Cook.

Sanji’s sentence dies in his lips.

“Cook,” he says, pressing his lips against the side of Sanji’s temple, willing the words to sink in, “ Sanji . Listen to me. You’re one of the strongest and bravest men I’ve ever known, and the fact that you’re still standing tall in front of me right now is proof of that.” He tightens his embrace, his hand instinctively burying itself in Sanji’s golden locks. “These wounds do not define you.”

He can hear Sanji’s breath hitch at that.”I know this isn’t my fight,” he continues, mostly because Sanji needs to hear this, but also because it’s true: “but you’ll always have me, in any way you want to have me. This is your fight, but I will always have your back.”

He can feel Sanji finally — let go. Sanji slumps against his body, the taut muscles of his shoulders visibly relaxing. They stay like that for a while, Sanji’s face nestled in the crook of Zoro’s shoulder, Zoro’s hand buried in Sanji’s hair, and Zoro can’t help thinking how it feels so right , being with Sanji like this. They’ve never been tactile with each other — open displays of affection like hugging are more of Luffy and Usopp’s department — but this is… not bad. Not entirely terrible. Zoro could even say he likes it.

Zoro pretends he doesn’t see Sanji wiping his eyes as they break apart, and it’s another moment before Sanji says, “I — I haven’t told anyone this, but I’m planning to move out.”

Oh. Finally, a piece of good news. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sanji nods. “I mean, we’re not adults yet, so I can’t do that immediately, but as soon as I turn eighteen…” he frowns, suddenly embarrassed. “I haven’t worked out the details yet, like where to live and all that. I’ll probably ask Zeff for a raise? I will have to pay for rent, and —”

“Live with me.”

“ — that is on top of daily needs, and,” Sanji pauses. Blinks. “Wait. What?”

It takes a few seconds for Zoro to realize the words that have come out of his mouth, and when the gravity of his request finally sinks in, he can feel his face heat up. “I mean — I was —” he clears his throat. Fuck it. Roronoa Zoro does not back down from a challenge, especially one he started himself. “It means what it means, Shit Cook. Live with me. That way you don’t have to worry about rent.”

He watches Sanji’s face turn deep red in record time, and he would burst out laughing if he wasn’t sure that his own face was equally as red. “Are you — what the hell —” Sanji sputters, “are you proposing , Marimo?”

Zoro suddenly feels like swallowing his kendo sword. “No, shut up!” Shit, how did it come out so wrong? “I was just thinking — there’s a spare room in my apartment, and Koshiro’s the one paying, I just — I thought you wouldn’t have to pay for rent, and we can make a home for you.” Holy fuck, that sounds even worse , and Sanji looks like he just washed his face with a tomato sauce now —  “We as in — I’m talking about everyone, shut up. Me, Luffy, Nami, Chopper, everyone. They can come over and do stuff.” He looks up and meets Sanji’s eyes. “We can make a home for you.”

Zoro thought Sanji would kick him in the head for spouting all these nonsense, but Sanji laughs instead, the kind that’s bubbling all the way from his chest. “You just — do you even hear yourself?” Sanji teases. “You should at least take me for a date first, Mosshead.”

“Shut up!” He yells, and absolutely does not pout.

Sanji smiles at that, a small and quiet thing, and it is his first smile of the day. It is as heart-stopping as it’s always been, Zoro thinks, and feels something bloom in his chest at the sight.

Zoro doesn’t know what this feeling means yet, but —

He huffs and turns to walk towards the gym building. He has a club to go to. “Whatever. We’ll figure it out,” he says, unsure if he’s talking to Sanji or himself. “Together.”

Sanji catches up to walk beside him. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Together.”

The smile stays on Sanji's face for a long time. Zoro counts it as a win.