Chapter Text
Zoro doesn't really use dating apps. He's never truly been interested in the whole meeting-randos-online thing. But sometimes, on especially tough days, a guy needed an ego boost. Assurance that he isn’t an entirely undesirable piece of garbage.
Recently, Zoro's been good about not going on the app, but his semi-regular hook-up broke things off just over three months ago, and he's felt like shit since. They weren't dating or anything, not even close, but can you blame a guy for craving a bit of intimacy now and then? One night, alone on his couch after a two-month dry spell with no end in sight, he caves and opens the app that's been hidden on the last page of a random folder on his phone.
He's met with a busy inbox, full of several months old messages, mostly appreciating his body in a shot of himself at the gym. He's got to agree with the messages, his chest looks really good at that angle.
After a quick review of his profile, he unpauses his account. His profile's always been pretty simple: Zoro, 21, man, gay, Japanese, 180 cm, short-term/open to long-term relationship. Along with a few photos and tidbits about his interests, Zoro doesn't think there is much more he needs.
Swapping tabs and taking a swig of his beer, he clicks through his suggestions. Aside from male and a beating heart, Zoro doesn't have much of a type, which always leaves him with a relatively mixed bag of candidates. Not that he minds too much.
He's sent a ‘like’ a few times, and an ‘X’ a few more times, when a profile comes up that makes him pause.
Sanji, it says in large Times New Roman letters, accompanied by a nice photo of him, somehow making the suit he's wearing look less stuffy than it should.
What the fuck is this, Zoro thinks as his thumb hovers over the ‘X’ button. He must’ve miss-clicked the preferences options. Bet it’ll be fixed the second he sees a guy recommended.
But damn, sometimes Zoro could be a nosey bitch. He opens the profile.
In the four years they've known each other, and three rooming together, Sanji has never made his unwavering love for women a secret. He flutters around them, waiting hand and foot, ever the gentleman and utter pushover to anyone of the fairer sex.
As much as Sanji's antics could get on his nerves, his actions never seem to be very fruitful. Sure, Sanji talks big game, but for as much of a Casanova he projects himself to be, he's never brought a girl home. The last girlfriend he had, he kept far, far away from any of their friends. So, sue Zoro for being curious about just how Sanji presents himself online.
His profile is pretty standard too: Sanji, 22, man, French, 185 cm, open to long-term relationship. There are a few photos of him that Zoro just knows are very meticulously chosen. Each one shows a different part of his life; cooking, him and their cat Miso (a shot that Zoro took himself), and a candid of him out to lunch, chatting with Nami. Of course Sanji would be the type of guy to curate his profile perfectly.
Zoro takes some pride in being one of the few people in the world to see his roommate absolutely shitfaced on the bathroom floor, losing his composure, or a sleep-deprived zombie after an all-nighter.
Zoro knows their relationship has always been just a little bit weird. They get along, but argue at the drop of a hat. They met in one of their first year electives that neither of them was really interested in. Zoro knew that French would be a useful language to learn if he ever wanted to get into government, and Sanji was just a lazy cheater who could use lower-intermediate French as a bird course.
Initially they'd just shared the regular awkward small talk that happens between kids with vastly different majors, but then they'd been paired up for their midterm project. For as much as they argued, Sanji wasn't the worst person to be partnered up with. He spoke French semi-fluently and helped Zoro out with his own pronunciation.
They seemed to get along enough for Sanji to continue helping him out here and there for the rest of the semester, usually holing themselves up in Sanji’s dorm on campus after their class. They bonded over being slightly older than the rest of their cohort, having taken a gap year, or CEGEP in Sanji’s case. Zoro ragged on him for being a business student (gross!), Sanji razzed Zoro for paying double the tuition he needed to if he was just going to be an architect. Which of course led Zoro to keep him in a chokehold until he admitted that no, architectural engineers and architects are in fact not the same thing.
By the time finals came around, they partnered up again and Sanji pretty much carried Zoro through that presentation with the highest grade Zoro received his entire first two years — to be fair, getting a 95% in engineering is more difficult than French, at least that's what he tells himself.
Zoro had already forgotten about Sanji by the start of the next semester. Although they had similar core courses, so did almost half of the other first years. It wouldn’t be all that weird if they never crossed paths again, so Zoro had no expectations to see him… but then he walked into microeconomics and Sanji was sitting next to the only empty seat left. Then again in macroeconomics.
And when Sanji let it slip that he was struggling a bit with the math portion, Zoro decided to do him a solid — as pay back for the first semester, of course. Not because Zoro thought the slight accent that slipped out when Sanji was frustrated was cute or anything.
But then Luffy had crashed one of their study sessions and pretty much adopted Sanji into the little friend group that Zoro found himself in after orientation week. It seemed like their weird dynamic was picked up quickly by the group. Nami always complained about their less-than-appropriate nicknames, and it took Usopp less than a minute to disappear when their conversations started to take a turn down Argument Avenue.
They had no plans of ever living together, but when Sanji’s dorm prices rose at the beginning of second year and Zoro got tired of travelling over an hour by bus to campus, they found themselves splitting an apartment.
And here they are, two years later, living mostly peacefully together. They have a good chore system, their own bedrooms, a cat they adore (who’s Zoro’s by the way, no matter what Sanji says) and a comfy couch. Zoro can’t ask for much more.
He glances down at his phone again and sighs, his heart feeling a bit heavier. Having more than just a strange friendship with Sanji is mostly a pipe dream, anyway. There’s no point in getting his hopes up.
He closes the app and moves to feed Miso, who has been meowing from the kitchen for what feels like hours.
———
Zoro would have forgotten about it entirely. Friends showing up on dating apps isn’t the craziest thing in the world. Even Nami had showed up on his feed once in first year before either of them decided that they definitely, one hundred percent, without a doubt, did not like the opposite sex.
So, with Sanji having made a mistake in his preference settings, living in the same area (it’s not like the app knew they lived together), and being the same age, it wasn’t impossible for him to show up.
But over the course of the next two weeks, Zoro comes across Sanji’s profile three more times. The beginning of the term is always busy, maybe he hasn’t had a chance to check the app yet, Zoro tells himself.
He really should just press the big red X button, but he never finds it in himself to do it. He always lets the app auto refresh after inactivity.
It’s a Monday night when Zoro thinks about it again. He couldn’t give less of a shit about cooking, but Sanji somehow got him hooked on Top Chef the first year they lived together, and now spends every Monday night bingeing multiple cooking shows together. Watching Sanji freak out about a lady trying to boil cold water because it would ‘boil faster’ on a random episode of Hell’s Kitchen had been far too entertaining for Zoro to take any issue with the new tradition.
They’re on the couch eating dinner to an episode as Sanji talks shit about one of the contestant’s knife work when Zoro speaks before thinking. “Hey, Curly, have you used any dating apps before?”
Sanji pauses mid-bite and takes a second before responding. “Not daily, or anything, but yeah. Often enough, I guess. Why?”
Zoro shoves a piece of salmon in his mouth to buy him time to think. ‘Often enough’. What the hell does that mean? Once a week? Once a month? That doesn’t help him… and now he has to find something to blame his curiosity on.
“Nothing really, uh, Nami was just complaining about how shitty some people on those apps can be. Kinda popped into my head just now.”
Sanji’s eyebrows shoot up, nearly choking on his food. “Nami?! Did she and Vivi break up?”
Oh. Right. How could Zoro forget about Nami’s girlfriend of three years, who she’d said multiple times she was sure she’d marry. That’s a lie he could never get away with.
Zoro waves his hand quickly, as if waving the thought away. “No, more like I was complaining about it and accidentally got Nami onto a rant. You know how she is.”
Sanji lets out a sigh of relief, putting his empty plate on the coffee table in front of them. “I think the world would end if those two ever split up. They’re perfect for each other,” Zoro hums in agreement. “But I feel your pain, Marimo. I was talking to someone yesterday who was particularly nasty.”
Yesterday. Yesterday. Aha.
“Did you finally change your gender preference settings, then?” He says it lightheartedly, but the way Sanji freezes makes him regret opening his mouth.
“W-what?” Sanji’s hands are grabbing and releasing the blanket at his lap, anxiously.
Zoro should just change the topic. They can just forget he said anything. “You showed up in my suggestions a few times, so you must have had your settings opened to guys. I assumed–” He’s cut off by a shaky hand over his mouth.
“Don’t tell anyone what you saw.” Why? Zoro asks into his palm. He knows that’s not the right question to ask — he feels it in his gut after he says it. It’s not like he’d planned on bringing it up to anybody anyway.
Sanji’s breathing is uneven, right hand still kneading into the blanket. “B-because it’s gross. I can’t have anybody know!”
“Gross?” Zoro bites back, slapping Sanji’s hand away. He shakes his head frantically. “No, not gross, I-I don’t mean that. I’m sorry, that wasn’t— I just—” Sanji shoots up from the couch and paces for a second. “Zoro, please, you have to promise me you won’t tell anybody.”
It’s at this moment that it occurs to Zoro that maybe none of this was an accident after all.
Sanji has always been a prideful guy. He cares about his appearance, hygiene, and what others think of him. He does phenomenally in school, holds a part-time job and is a hard worker – seemingly perfect at everything. He cares about how people see him. What they think. What they say.
Zoro sees how Sanji’s mannerisms change depending on their company. Polite and formal toward professors, light and airy toward the women in his classes, loud and emotive toward friends. It’s like he holds an arsenal full of personalities to fit each and every person’s needs.
With as much confidence and nonchalance that Sanji likes to present, It didn’t take long for Zoro to find out that he was just a really anxious kid. Sure, Sanji can hold a conversation with anyone he meets on the street and make them laugh in under three minutes, or blush under two, but Zoro got a front row seat to just how severely he beat himself up after any minor slip up.
They never talked about that time that Sanji went home for reading week at the end of second year. When, two days in, he called Zoro at four in the morning saying he needed to be picked up from the airport. Zoro hopped in his shitty Subaru, no questions asked, and kept Sanji on the phone the entire time.
When Zoro finally did ask what happened and Sanji’s answer was a simple just said something stupid, he left well enough alone. The way that he only ever left his room to piss told him everything he needed to know.
Sanji is the perfect ladies man. He treats them like queens, cooks, opens doors and gives kisses on cheeks and comes up with compliments like it’s as easy as breathing. Zoro has also seen Sanji knock the daylights out of a dude at a bar that wouldn’t leave a stranger alone in queue.
Thinking about it now, maybe some of it is preformative, maybe some of it is what he thinks people expect from him. His heart squeezes at the thought that Sanji might think this is just another way to fail other people’s expectations.
Either way, Zoro obviously hit a nerve just now. Accidentally forced Sanji to talk about something he evidently isn't ready to. He responds dumbly with the only words he can find, “of course not.”
He hears Sanji suck in a breath. “Ok. I-I’m not feeling great, so I think I’ll just go to bed early.” He’s down the hall and closing the door to his room before Zoro can even begin to apologize.
Zoro collects the dishes and washes them without fanfare, remembering to set out some food for the cat before returning to the couch. He sinks into the couch along with his heart, stomach, and dignity. They’ll save this episode for another day, Zoro thinks guiltily as he turns off the TV. It’s no fun to watch without Sanji commentating over it, anyway.
I’m not feeling great rings between his ears. Even when the subject of Sanji’s panic is clear as day, he still tried to save face.
As Miso makes herself home on his stomach, Zoro decides he should call it an early night too.
Fuck.
———
Zoro wakes up the next morning with a crick in his neck and Miso’s paw digging into his bladder. He groans, gently pushing the cat off his lap and making his way into the bathroom.
He didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning all night. Didn't deserve to, he thinks bitterly, reaching for the hand soap. Zoro knows what it’s like to be outed. To talk about things way before you’re prepared to. He shouldn’t have pushed when he saw Sanji panic, he chastises himself as he rinses and dries his hands.
Maybe he’ll make Sanji breakfast to make it up to him. Neither of them have morning classes, and Zoro’s not the worst cook in the world.
He exits the bathroom only to bump directly into Sanji. So much for that.
“Sorry,” they say at the same time, before silence falls over them. Sanji pulls at the hem of his shorts a few times. “Can we talk for a sec?” He asks. “Yeah” Zoro breathes out, leading them to the couch.
Miso hops and sits between them, earning herself a hearty pat from the both of them. Sanji’s hand lingers a little longer on Miso’s head. “I’m sorry for saying it was gross, Marimo. It’s not, and I didn’t mean it. I was just wanted to say something to get you off my back, but it was dumb, and you didn’t deserve that.”
Zoro shakes his head with a shrug. “Meh, I pushed you farther than I should have. I shouldn't have pushed you at all.” They’re quiet for another moment. “Curly, why’d you freak out like that? I genuinely thought it was user-error.”
Sanji whips his attention from Miso to Zoro. “What do you mean?”
“I thought you just clicked the wrong button on the app and I wanted to give you shit for being illiterate. That’s why I asked.”
Zoro watches curiously as blood flushes to Sanji’s cheeks. “So I outed myself for no reason…” he murmurs mostly to himself. Zoro lets out a soft laugh, “Not really, I mean, you haven’t confirmed anything. And I’m still not clear on what exactly happened, so if you want to… I don’t know… go back into the closet and never talk about it again, then I won’t say anything.”
Sanji gives him a grateful smile. “It’d be kinda stupid to backtrack now, wouldn’t it?”
“Nothing a good bonk on the head and a bout of amnesia can’t fix.”
Zoro expects the conversation to end there. They’ve never been the type to have deep talks with each other; not without an expensive bottle to share between them.
“The app’s kinda the only way I can… explore this shit without having a near panic attack.” Sanji admits, suddenly interested in a loose thread of their blanket. “I know there’s nothing wrong with it — being gay — I mean, most of our friends are somewhere under the queer umbrella. But my upbringing was pretty traditional, and it’s really hard to get out of that mindset when it comes to myself.
It’s been kinda like exposure therapy, y’know. I can talk to people and flirt without any expectations. Enough information that it feels personal, but enough anonymity that I know I can bail at any time and still be safe.”
Zoro decides to push the envelope gently. “Why does it matter so much? People knowing you’re… bi-curious, I mean.”
Sanji scoffs bitterly, but with the way he digs his nails into his palm, Zoro knows the resentment is directed inward. “Aside from the whole my upbringing was wildly homophobic thing? I didn’t want it to be a thing. People put so much emphasis on stuff like this, but I just want to exist without having another thing to define me,” before Zoro can even begin to unpack that, Sanji's scratching at his head, barrelling on, “and it’s just so fucking embarrassing. I’m too old to be lost like this.”
Zoro squints. “You’re only 22, Curly. Barely past a teenager.”
Sanji rolls his eyes before looking into Zoro’s. “I know, but when all your peers have it all figured out and are getting to third base by the age of 16, and you’ve never so much as gotten out of the fucking dressing room— I don’t know, it just sucks.” That catches Zoro by surprise. Sanji’s lack of experience with men was unquestionable, but for such a big flirt to have never done anything with a woman? It catches him off guard.
“You skirt chase like it’s a competitive sport. And what about Pudding?” He says it a bit harsher than he should, but Sanji doesn’t seem to mind, though he does cringe at his ex’s name.
“Pudding was… complicated. She was gorgeous but the relationship wasn’t exactly consensual by either party… plus the other stuff isn’t real, not really. Don’t get me wrong, I love women — they’re beautiful beings who deserve to be cherished, always — but as much as I love them, I don’t have any expectations when I flirt with them.” Sanji plays with the lobe of his ear, tugging and squishing as he speaks, thumb tracing the shell of it.
He sighs. “It’s just easier to be over the top, goofy, and chivalrous, and then be rejected by a girl as that exaggeration of myself — I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if they rejected me.” He tears his eyes from Zoro’s, suddenly interested in picking at his socks. “Plus, I’m under no illusion that I'm the greatest looking guy in the world; definitely not the easiest person to deal with.”
Zoro snatches the hand, willing Sanji to look at him. “I’m only gonna say this once, so you better listen, ok?”
Sanji brushes his hair out of his face slightly and nods. “Ok.” The response makes Zoro’s face heat up, but he bulldozes on before he can make himself back down.
“You’re absolutely not the easiest person to deal with — I would know. You hide my Kendo gear weekly, purposefully mismatch my socks in the laundry, and tap dance on my last fuckin’ nerve like the rent is due. You piss me off every single day, but that's part of the fun. And you’ve got a ton of less-annoying qualities that I’m sure someone would like. You can cook, you’re charming, everyone loves a French accent, and sometimes you're even funny for a second or two.” He has to dodge a swat to the face, the movement making Miso jump from the couch, but Zoro continues on.
“And — I can’t believe I have to tell you this — you are a good-looking guy. I mean, you’re tall and lithe, and that whole kick-y thing gave you thunder thighs—” “Savate? Or do you mean capoeira?” “—Don’t care… look, you’re no Giroud, but you’ve got a nice sharp nose, but soft cheeks to balance it out, you somehow make that stupid haircut work—” Zoro dodges another swat with a laugh.
“I can’t believe you remember Giroud!”
“I sat and watched all of the Euro matches with you in June, and with the way you got all—” The realization hits Zoro like a truck. “Oi, Curly, you totally had a crush on Giroud, didn’t you?”
He can’t help but burst out laughing as Sanji’s face goes crimson. “Can you blame me?! He’s practically a model!” Zoro’s heart feels light as a feather as he watches Sanji laugh along with him.
“That time he lifted his teammate was so gay.” That sets him off giggling again, “So gay.”
Sanji looks good like this, Zoro notes. There’s always been a playfulness to their banter, but it's not often that he can get Sanji into a giggle fit, especially not so soon after he’s been down in the dumps.
It almost pisses him off how good Sanji looks in the morning light. He’d admitted more to Sanji just now about his looks than ever, but it barely scratched the surface of Zoro’s affection for him. Sometimes his stomach hurts when he thinks about it for too long.
Zoro will have to hunt down whoever convinced Sanji he was ugly. With the way that every laugh is near a wheeze, head thrown back into the couch cushion, Zoro’s never seen anything like it.
When they settle down, the odd hiccuped giggle here and there, Zoro realizes he could get used to this.
“Hey, Cook,” He prompts gently, only getting a hum in response. “If you wanna figure this out on your own, that’s fine. You don’t owe me any part of this, especially after I basically beat it out of you… but you don’t have to be totally alone for all of it.” Zoro tries really hard to not avert his gaze — strong emotional moments have never been his strong suit. They make his heart race and his head light. “If you ever want to, like, come out of the closet for 20 minutes to yap about sexy soccer players, I’m here.”
Despite the way his face crumples, Zoro sees the appreciative smile. Through wavering lips and tears welling at his waterline, Sanji only offers a broken murmur. “Thank you.”
Zoro smiles softly. “No, thank you. I finally have someone to talk about boys with. Robin’s taste is limited to Franky, so I’ve been all alone. You’d be doing me a favour.”
Before Sanji can respond, Miso starts wailing at her bowl. “Oh, my baby’s hungry, aren’t you?” Sanji sing-songs, giving Zoro a squeeze to the shoulder before waltzing into the kitchen after the cat.
He hears drawers open and close. “I guess I’ll feed the marimo while I’m at it, huh, ?”