Swordsmen According to Sanji.
by Cairnsy
Sanji had always been of the opinion that all swordsmen were desperately trying to compensate for something. Real men, at least according to Sanji, didn't need elaborate, overdramatic weapons such as swords to win a battle, not when they could instead use their fists or feet. It wasn't even as though the swordsmen that Sanji had ever had the displeasure of knowing weren't technically strong enough to fight without the symbolic-of-inner-issues weapon in the first place. Most swordsman were by nature very strong, they had to be considering that, instead of carrying the weight of their problems on their shoulders - allowing the weight to be spread far more evenly, the idiots tried to carry it around in a pretty grip they'd perfected and named after themselves.
Yes, all swordsmen were most definitely compensating for something. The fact that Zoro had three swords meant that obviously he had three times as much to compensate for.
"So, each sword represents an insecurity of some sort?" Usopp looked somewhat concerned as his gaze fell to where Zoro was doing his daily press-ups on the deck. "Is that … safe?"
Sanji took a long slow drag from his cigarette, his own gaze drifting to the swordsman as well. "It's Zoro," came his simple reply. "Is anything associated with him ever safe?" He studied Zoro for another moment before speaking up again. "Insecurity number one. He was told that he was ugly as a child."
Zoro growled quietly under his breath, but did not break from his rhythm.
"Really?" Usopp didn't appear all that convinced. "What makes you think that?"
"Simple. Just look at him." Sanji titled his head towards the swordsman. "He spends more time in a day stripped half naked and bloody posing than doing any actual work. His physique pretty much screams 'look at me' and you really have no choice but to, because it's always there. Subtlety, thy name is not Zoro's body."
"And we're talking about my insecurities here, shitty cook?" Zoro's grumbled words were completely ignored.
"And that's the result of being told he was ugly as a child?" Usopp slowly said, coming around to Sanji's way of thinking.
"Of course." Another puff of his cigarette. "Not that Zoro is exactly an attractive adult, either. But now he's trying to physically compensate for his past demons by exercising the belief that brawn is in any way attractive, while mentally …"
"Using the sword as a substitute."
Sanji smirked. "Very good. Now, sword number two represents the fact that Zoro obviously is a very bad kisser."
"Yes, obviously. I've always thought the same thing." Usopp nodded his head vigorously. "Uh, why was that again, however? I've forgotten."
"Kissing is a fine art, Usopp. Few people master it, and those who don't often have repressed anger towards those who have, an anger that they have to release through some other outlet. And Zoro? Zoro isn't simply just a bad kisser; he's one of the worst in existence."
"I'm right here, you damn cook!" It was practically roared, but all it earned Zoro was a look of scathing disinterest. "I'm going to kill y-"
"You still have three hundred more press-ups to do before you can even think about moving, Zoro." The mock sweetness served only to piss Zoro off more, and all Usopp could do was stare at them both in terror.
"But I've never seen Zoro kiss anyone, how did you come to the conclusion that his second sword is compensation for not being a good kisser," Usopp broke off as Zoro growled dangerously, "Uh, allegedly not being a good kisser?"
Sanji just smirked.
Usopp paled.
"I WAS DRUNK! IT WAS ALL NAMI'S FAULT!"
"Sword number three, then?" Sanji asked pleasantly. Usopp nodded desperately in relief.
"Two hundred and seventy. Two hundred and sixty nine." Zoro's counts took on a more aggressive edge.
"What sword three represents is rather cliché and obvious, I'm afraid. Trust Zoro to lack any real sense of creatively. I suppose that would make him interesting, and we can't have that, can we?" Sanji frowned slightly when his comment drew no response from Zoro. It wasn't much fun when Zoro didn't rise to the bait. "What sword three compensates for is the fact that Zoro is useless in bed."
For the slightest of seconds Zoro stilled completely, before resuming his press-ups at twice the pace. "Two hundred and thirty six, two hundred and thirty five, two hundred and thirty four…"
Usopp looked somewhat mortified. "You … uh … don't know that from personal experience as well, do you?"
Sanji was so shocked that he dropped his cigarette and found that he could only glare at the other man in complete and utter horror. "What! You've got to be kidding me! Not a chance." Usopp seemed relieved, although Sanji was more concerned with lighting another cigarette, hoping that the nicotine would drive away the mental image that Usopp's words had supplied. "Anyway, anyway, most swordsmen are compensating in some way for either a lack of sex, bad sex or penis envy – it's blindingly obvious just from their choice of weapon."
"One hundred and ten, One hundred and nine, One hundred and eight." Zoro didn't appear to even be breathing anymore; his face generally didn't turn that particular shade of red during his daily press-ups.
"I mean, think about it, Usopp." Sanji narrowed his eyes at the other man, who was slowly starting to back away as Zoro's press-up count rapidly continued to decline. "What do swordsmen do with their swords? They thrust them deep into other people, drawing them out with precision before often re-entering again. Zoro – like most swordsmen – is never happier than when he's just sliced through someone, you could almost say that he sees it as rather … orgasmic."
"Eh. Heheh." Usopp had lost the ability to speak, and his gaze never left Zoro's form.
"Fifty one, fifty." Each number was practically a growl.
"And, it's not even as though Zoro is ever happy with just thrusting his sword into one person – in fact, the more people he can run through the better." Sanji continued on, his smirk only growing wider even as Zoro became a more realistic threat. "Swordsmen: the original sluts." He said the last word with a flourish, stabbing his cigarette high into the air to mark his point.
"Uh, Sanji?"
"Twelve, eleven."
"You do agree, right?" Sanji's smirk turned particularly evil, but Usopp didn't have a chance to answer as Zoro lunged right at that moment at Sanji. The move was incredibly predictable, and Sanji calmly brought his foot up to smash against Zoro's head, but the bastard actually ducked and Sanji found himself suddenly – and unexpectedly – pinned against the cabin wall that up until then he'd been leaning rather casually against.
Usopp chose that moment to dive quickly through a nearby window.
They'd played this game before, one where aggression and wit were blended into their own special violent form of dance. Sanji expected fists or even a swift kick to his shins, knowing that if he just waited for the perfect moment …
… it was right then that, instead of attempting to knock him senseless, Zoro kissed him. Hard and possessive and demanding, for a moment nothing existed beyond Zoro and his pure, undiluted heat that ran the risk of driving Sanji completely and certifiably insane.
And, fuck.
"Number one." Low and commanding, Zoro's tone was particularly deadly. "I happen to be a very good kisser when I'm not the butt of one of Nami's twisted schemes." And Sanji had a brilliant, sly response to that just on the tip of his tongue. If it wasn't for the fact that he was rather desperately trying to remember how to simply breathe, he was sure that his clever retort would have deflated the other man's overly large ego. "Number two. I'm sure even you wouldn't argue that I'm excellent with my swords. Imagine then that same skill in the bedroom."
Sanji really didn't want the images that statement brought, but his memory provided them anyway. Zoro, agile and fluid, his swords become less weapons and more a natural extension of his body. Zoro, all power and strength, just a hint of sweat shimmering on bronze skin. Zoro, defining grace and elegance in his own insane way, contradicting everything that Sanji had ever known those two words to mean.
God.
"Bastard," he hissed quietly in response. Which, as far as witty comebacks went, was perhaps not up to his usual standards. But, damn it. He could still practically taste Zoro on his lips, and the other man was pressed almost flat against him, murmuring about just how talented he was with all of his swords. Given the circumstances, 'bastard' was really quite ground breaking.
"And lastly." If at all possible, Zoro became even more serious. "And remember this, Sanji, as I will only say it once. I was a very, very attractive child." Then, Zoro was no longer pressed against him, was instead bloody walking away, practically strutting as he went. Sanji could only stare after him as he left, and it was not until Zoro had rounded the far corner of the ship that he sagged slightly against the wall, a slightly shaking hand reaching for another cigarette – his third in as many minutes.
There had damn well better be a port around here somewhere, if this kept up Sanji was going to run out in only a couple of days. Not that, Sanji was rather begrudgingly willing to admit, he would exactly mind if Zoro decided to kiss him senseless again. Zoro had been right, he was a somewhat better than average kisser, which lead Sanji to believe that Zoro might have been telling the truth about his other two points as well. All that meant, however, was that Zoro was obviously trying to compensate for other things, the first of which appeared to be a weakness for attractive blonds.
Finding out the reasons for the other two swords, Sanji thought with an almost devious grin, was certainly going to be a whole lot of fun.