The Going Merry rocked gently with the tide, lantern light swaying across the deck as evening settled over the sea. Below deck, the kitchen was chaos.

Pots clanged, steam filled the small room, and the smell of sizzling meat and spices hung thick in the air. Sanji moved like a whirlwind between the stove and the counter, cigarette dangling from his lips while he stirred one pan and flipped something in another.

“Oi! It’s not done yet!” he snapped toward the stairs. “Tell that idiot captain if he touches anything I’ll—”

“Relax,” you said, stepping into the kitchen with a small smile. “I’m just here to help.”

Sanji glanced over his shoulder. His tie was loose, sleeves rolled up, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“You helping?” he scoffed lightly. “Princess, this kitchen is—”

Luffy’s voice echoed from above.

“SANJIIII! IS THE FOOD DONE YET?!”

Sanji’s eye twitched.

You grabbed a knife from the counter. “I can chop the vegetables at least—”

“Don’t—”

Too late. You had already started slicing.

Sanji spun around, stress finally snapping the thin thread holding his patience together.

“I said don’t touch that!”

His voice was sharp enough to cut.

“Just—just shut up and get out of my kitchen!”

The room went quiet.

Your hand paused mid-cut.

Sanji froze a second later, the words hanging in the air heavier than the steam.

But before either of you said anything else, a shadow shifted in the doorway.

Zoro had been leaning against the frame the entire time, arms crossed, watching.

His expression didn’t change.

But the way his jaw tightened said enough.

You sighed softly, setting the knife down.

“Fine. Sorry,” you muttered, brushing past Zoro as you left the kitchen.

Zoro didn’t move.

He stayed there for another moment… silently watching Sanji return to the stove.

Sanji didn’t look back, but he could feel it.

That stare.

—

Later that night the ship had gone quiet.

The crew had eaten, Luffy had finally stopped complaining, and most of them had drifted off to sleep under the stars.

Sanji stood alone at the rail, lighting another cigarette as the ocean stretched endlessly around them.

Footsteps approached behind him.

Slow.

Heavy.

He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Lost again, mosshead?” Sanji muttered.

Zoro stopped a few feet away.

“The next time you lose your cool with her,” Zoro said calmly, “I suggest you find a different approach.”

Sanji finally glanced over his shoulder.

Zoro’s tone was even.

But his eyes?

God, his eyes were deadly.

Sanji raised an eyebrow, taking a slow drag from his cigarette.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Why’s that?”

Zoro pushed off the railing and stepped closer.

“Because if you don’t,” he replied evenly, “it’s gonna put me and you in a position where things will definitely go south.”

There was no raised voice.

No threat.

But the weight behind those words was impossible to miss.

Sanji studied him for a moment, smoke curling into the night air between them.

Then he huffed a quiet laugh.

“Relax, marimo.”

He flicked ash into the ocean.

“I was stressed. The idiot captain eats enough for ten men.”

Zoro didn’t respond.

He just kept staring.

Sanji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…Didn’t mean it.”

Zoro held his gaze for another long second.

Then finally turned to walk away.

But as he passed, his voice came low and quiet.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Sanji watched him disappear down the deck.

Another drag from his cigarette.

“…Tch.”

But despite the usual irritation, there was a small hint of respect in his eyes.