A/N: So, on the 29th I go to get my right wrist done like my left one. Wish me luck, minna! And enjoy~!

Monday started somewhere around three o'clock for the Marimo. He couldn't quite remember when he'd crashed out, but a shift of his shoulder told him he hadn't bothered with unfolding the futon—he'd just slept on it like a couch after Baby left. And that was an odd reaction to have when the thought crossed his mind. He lifted the lid of his good eye, and consequently the eyebrow above it, to peer at the tent of his pants. He'd apparently foregone stripping down too, and the zipper of his jeans was making a nuisance of itself against his morning wood.

The next place he looked was the clock hung on the wall above his head for the time, and that was followed by a piercing catalogue of his entire apartment, from door to sword rack to table—with leftovers still sitting in the middle of it—to kitchenette to combination bookshelf-clothing storage that augmented his wardrobe upstairs. Everything in order the swordsman finally moved, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his muscles after being in virtually the same position all night—well, all morning long.

It was only then that the bouncer let thoughts of the night before wander back into his mind. How Baby held him, the taste of her lips on his, the sound of her laugh in his ear, the feel of her muscles under his hands. He found his breath picking up, especially as he licked his lips and found traces of her lip gloss in the cracks of them. It wasn't often he wanted to indulge in self-pleasure, mostly he started on his morning katas to remove the problem through meditation, but this afternoon… with the memory of Baby keen in his head, he found himself reaching down his front before he'd even made the conscious decision.

A palm over his zipper brought a soft groan. He played like that for a while, tracing the length and width of his bound erection through the denim, eyes closed so he could better hear Baby's voice. Sweet and soothing, all the way through what had been several difficult topics of conversation. He worked the button open and slipped his fingers through the open fly, teasing himself to the memory of Baby's smile.

Ohhh, he wanted to always see that smile~!

Finally touching skin, his pants and boxers shoved down to his knees, he freely let himself think about what those lips would feel like around his dick. It didn't do much, but the idea that she'd want to did. His hips hitched into the stroking of his hand, precum almost enough for lubrication. Unbidden, after he licked his palm to make things smoother, the image of the first time he met her sprang across his inner eye. Her leg, all power and grace, at full extension, and the pleasure pooled in his groin, burning hot and high like the cherry of her cigarette.

It climbed in his veins, faster than normal, his attention kept on her, and small grunts escaped through his nose.

That power! That strength!

Wait?

Why was she blond!?

Too high to stop, Zoro let the images in his mind go where they willed, tripping through a series of animated snapshots of Sanji mid-kick, packing the same punch as Baby, spinning, hard and furious. He was beautiful with purpose, and the two Savate fighters blended together in a delicious merge of sweet laughter and blinding rage that shot straight through the bouncer's system like an electric shock.

He curled into his hand, crying out and panting hard as he spilled onto the cushion of the futon. Waves of pleasure blanked out his mind in time with his racing pulse, and he found himself whimpering a little as it began to fade.

Breathing through his mouth, Zoro used his dirty boxers to wipe up the mess. He made a mental note to clean the couch before anybody—Baby, his mind supplied smugly—came over again. Then he crossed to the small sink Franky put in for him. There wasn't enough space for a full shower down there, but he could at least wash off a bit before grabbing his things and invading Brook's bathroom for a real bath. And besides, before that he had katas to go through. The Middle Daughter would not be put off much longer by his trivial human needs.

The leftover fruit and bread proved to be a filling snack before he headed to the Sunny. They had just under fourteen days before Luffy met Arlong in the semi-final. Zoro anticipated the closer they got to it, the more polarized the crowds would get, and the more rowdy they would be with each other. And that was without thinking about the history Luffy's crew had with his opponent. He didn't even want to think about the kinds of things that had to be going through Nami's head. And… oh God Nami…

The Hell was she going to say about yesterday?!

He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and entered anyway. She wouldn't fire him, no matter what the damage had been, but she could make the next several weeks Hell for him. So much for trying to find time to see Baby more often.

However, the scene he discovered once his eyes adjusted to the light level was something out of a teeny-bopper's made-for-television movie. Chopper, Usopp, and Brook—of all people—were leaning on the closed door of the manager's office, each with a different sized glass upside down against the wood as though that would help them hear what was going on. He felt his eyebrow arch again, and he glanced at Franky, who was coiling cables on the stage.

"Don't ask, bro. They were like that when I got here too."

Robin's throaty chuckle came before Zoro could answer, "I believe it has to do with Sanji and your… colorful episode yesterday."

"Ugh… don't tell me the sea witch is going to coddle the cook after all of his fawning all over her." The bouncer could already feel the pulse of a headache behind the scar above his bad eye. "That's the last thing the bastard needs."

"Hmm. And what do you think he needs, Zoro-kun?" The Asian woman's expression was neutral, but behind her Franky shook his head.

In response, the green-head frowned, "Nothing. Nevermind."

Just then the door to the office opened, toppling the three would-be eavesdroppers on their chests one on top of the other with Brook on the bottom. The cook, in all his—mouthwatering, what?—glory almost stepped out, then looked down, the visible eyebrow twitching, and a certain wary tightness around his mouth. He scowled harder, but dismissed it in favor of looking back to Nami.

"I swear you won't regret it, Ms. Nami, I will work twice as hard to deserve your unending generosi—"

"Save it." The manager's voice was tired. "Just fix this."

Fully expecting another cascade of flowering compliments, Zoro was floored when all Sanji said was, "Oui, Ms. Nami."

His dark green eyes, both of them today thank God, followed the blond's progress across the dining room. He took in the energy of his spine, and the set to his shoulders; the shift of his hips, and the weariness in his steps; the way his hands were tucked into his pockets in nonchalance, and the shift of his eyes as though he expected trouble out of every shadow. Baby's words from the night before played over in his head again, maybe the cook didn't know he was nakama. What had the world done to him to make him so solitary? And what kind of First Mate was Zoro that he needed someone else to point that out for him?

Well… time to start fresh! Baby said to apologize. So, damnit, even if Sanji kicked him hard enough to send him over the bar—again—he had to try. He gave a nod that he didn't even notice and made for the kitchen, intent on apologizing and starting over!

His steps slowed as he actually reached the kitchen though. He didn't want to intrude, and he didn't want to push his way in like he had yesterday. So it was slowly that he approached the counter and leaned in over it.

"Oi, cook, got a sec?"

"That depends, shithead, what do you want?" The blond's tone was almost lazy, and there was a different inflection in the insult than normal.

He crossed the kitchen, carrying a bowl of washed greens from the sink, and reached for the knife that wasn't there. The hesitation over the spot was only noticeable because of how intently the bouncer had been watching his mannerisms lately. It actually seemed a little longer than it had been before, almost as though he was paying homage to it where he had ignored the space before. But he moved on to spin the santoku from two spots up in his palm to settle it and began chopping through the leaves with the same effeciency he always had.

"I wanna say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being an asshole yesterday an' getting up in your face. And I'm sorry for actually goading you into a fight when we first met. It wasn't fair of me, and no better than harassment. I'm really, really sorry for being a bastard."

The knife stilled, though Sanji didn't turn to look at him. After a moment of consideration, he spoke in even, controlled measures. "Didn't think you were capable of actually saying something to me without being an asshole. So, thanks for that, I guess. This is probably the part where I apologize for breaking your head too." The knife started back up again, harder and faster than before, "But I'm not ready to do that. Suffice you got off easy for it, and I'll gladly wipe the floor with you again if I need to make the lesson stick. So... why?"

Zoro blinked, head tilting to the side. "Why... what?"

"Why apologize? Why bother? What does it matter?" Sanji clenched his jaw, why did the words not want to come out right when he was himself!

"Because I'm an ass and you're nakama and it matters when you're an ass to your crewmates," the Marimo replied, voice level and serious and calm. "And you are. Nakama that is. Ask any of the other crew, you're part of the family. You deserve an apology."

A subtle tremor travelled down his spine, the bouncer's words echoing the sentiments he'd voiced the night before, and settled in a pit in his stomach that spewed venom into his mind flavored in doubt. He didn't mean for it to come out through his lips, but he couldn't control it.

"If this is some ploy to get me to tell you what I wouldn't answer yesterday..."

"No! No, no I promise, that's not, no." Zoro held up both hands in a gesture of denial. "No, that's not why. I won't ask again… or at least not like that. And I won't—well I'll try not to be an asshole again. Can't actually promise that," he said a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Heh. The day you aren't an asshole I'll blunt my knives." Sanji snorted. "I think you might spontaneously combust if you were actually nice for a change."

The bouncer laughed with him, eased for a moment, and gave into ribbing him back, lightly, "What can I say, it's my natural setting! And makes it easier to intimidate other assholes to toss 'em out of the bar."

"Yeah, yeah, your favorite part." The cook spoke without thinking, moving on to spreading the greens over several plates.

"Yep. Best job in th'world," Zoro replied as he moved away from the bar to see what Usopp and Franky needed hauled. He'd apologized… now to back off. Pushing for more than Sanji was willing to give was stupid and reckless.

It was several hours before the cook emerged from the kitchen again after dinner. Since the meal was more sedate without the captain around to harass everyone for food, it was usually a quiet affair, and today's was no different in spite of the announcement that Team Rubberman would be taking a break before the semi-final. It meant more work before the bar opened though, cleaning up things that weren't put away quite as inconspicuously as they should have been. All of the cables needed to be re-wrapped and stored, the big rental TV needed to be secured where a rambunctious twenty-two-year-old wouldn't damage it, the tables all needed a good scrubbing and several were missing screws, and that was on top of Franky needing to re-build the dishmachine so they could have a fully functional kitchen come opening time. Thus, the green-haired bouncer was pulled in a million directions, all innocuous by themselves, but the tilt to the manager's lips whenever she had a new job for him sent the message loud and clear: 'you fucked up, and you're paying for it.'

He bared his teeth from time to time, but went where he was called and hauled, screwed in, lifted, positioned, held, and overall did as he was bid to by their tech genius and resident inventor, doing his best to get the place ship shape by opening.

And all the time the forehead furrow got deeper as his temples throbbed.

The ingenuity of the Sunny's crew had the place set to go with an hour to spare, and what did the would-be musicians in their group think was the best use of that extra time? An impromptu jam session with full amplifiers under the guise of testing the sound system to make sure it was wired up correctly. It meant Chopper on the drums, Brook playing with effects on his keys, Usopp jamming out with his bass, and Franky rounding it out with a screaming guitar solo.

Not in any way conducive to avoiding headaches.

Nami was hidden away in her office with Robin, and predictably when Sanji did show his face again, it was to make a beeline for the tiny sound-proofed sanctuary. Zoro didn't even pay attention to it, too focused on trying to sleep away the pain before the doors opened to the screaming mob that was sure to be clamoring for information about when Luffy was arriving—not until Thursday, but still. So, it caught him unawares when a foot nudged his knee.

"Oi, Marimo."

His eye peeked open, blearily taking in the cook's anticipatory attitude.

"If Franky busted the strings on his guitar again I am not getting him a new set," he grumbled, thinking back to his own unused acoustic.

He probably should bring that back in one of these first days. Didn't the bitchy blond still owe him strings? Or something. But not today, today hurt.

"Right... I'll be sure to it write on my shoe so he'll get the message when I kick his metal head in. Here."

The cook held out a tray. On it was a highball glass filled with an almost mint green something blended. It smelled roughly citrus, but also unidentifiable, and as soon as Zoro had taken it, Sanji cleared his throat and made to walk off.

Zoro had already taken a sip or two- Sanji was like magic about making sure nobody got dehydrated, but he was barely three sips in when he realized—

"My headache! It's gone!"

"Yeah. Well. You needed it."

Dark green eyes narrowed slightly, another puzzle appearing alongside the others. How had the cook known? Not even Chopper knew about his chronic headaches. If the little doctor-to-be did, he'd hover over him. Actually, even Law didn't know just how frequent they were so… how did…?

The blond was fiddling with his lighter—a slender gold thing with an embossed design on it. He waited a second more before actually tucking the tray behind the bar, and heading outside for a pre-shift smoke, the pack already in his hand where Zoro could read the label—Death.

Zoro blinked a little. He could have sworn he'd seen that lighter design before... and the cigarettes… that wasn't a popular brand in this city. It was on the river, though, so it wasn't that unusual to see it around. Still... one more little thing to be filed away in his growing list of puzzle pieces as he leaned against the wall to continue sipping on his drink with a blissful smile of relief.

Over the next several days something odd happened with the punchy blond. Once Zoro could write off as a response to the apology, but when the end of the night came with another of those headache cures, then Tuesday came with three—one pre-shift, one mid-shift, and one after closing—and then Wednesday came with four…? The bouncer just didn't get it.

Granted, he'd needed it each time the mysterious drink appeared nearby, especially Wednesday as the tension for the Rubberman's triumphant return grew, but it didn't make much sense. Part of Zoro wanted to believe that it was the cook accepting that he was nakama and therefore wanted to make for having been reclusive before. But that didn't make much sense either, as Koala and the others around town still hadn't seen him out and about and he continued to disappear immediately after their shift was over. More often than not over the course of those three days Zoro found himself ranting to Baby about how frustrating it was watching the cook dance on the line of acceptance.

She was quick to remind him of what they'd talked about in his apartment; how Sanji obviously had trust issues, and if he really was being abused the way Zoro thought he was, then it probably went against his abuser's rules to be sociable. They didn't stay on that topic long because they both knew how frustrated it made the bouncer to talk about. So, they strayed to other things, namely the way a certain green-haired man was beginning to find himself thinking about a certain kick-ass woman most of the time now. He didn't tell her he'd jacked off twice more to thoughts of her, or that when he had, she kept getting mixed up in his head with the very same damnable cook who was the source of all of his other frustrations.

The first bit he was sure was out of line for how long they'd known each other, and the second… well, everything about the cook was irritating in a way that reminded him of the burn in his limbs after he broke one of his personal records. Jelly-jointed and aching, hard to handle and yet somehow comforting. He couldn't put his finger on it. There was something instinctive in how he felt about the cook. The same way he knew the pain of working through the burn meant he would be stronger for it, he knew that enduring—and answering—the cook's challenge meant whatever it was that was being forged between them would be stronger for it.

And like that it contented him.

Though he wouldn't admit, even to Baby, that it had taken intense rounds of katas with all three of his remaining swords for the emotion to solidify itself in his mind, and when Thursday began, with a screaming mob outside the Sunny, Zoro found himself in an odd state of limbo where the cook was concerned. Wanting to get closer in a way he could only compare to the magnetism of Baby, and yet, tempered like folded steel, willing to let the cook set the terms of how that happened. It made the pre-shift rush, with all of the compounded chaos of Luffy's return, pass without a headache for once.

As such he was actually able to enjoy the drink Sanji brought to him while he overlooked the band his captain had brought home with him.

Nami scowled at Luffy, "Where did you even pick up these guys?"

"While we were in Sabaody on Monday."

He had his 'trust me' face on, but it did little to soothe the manager's nerves. Her sharp brown eyes cut to the stage again, uncertainty plain in the crease between her brows. In short… they looked like they would be more at home on a farm than the Thousand Sunny. The shorter of the two, blond and sleepy blue eyes, wore cut off jeans, a flannel shirt over a tee, and sandals similar to Luffy's. The taller, though only by a few inches, actually sported a pompadour. Nami really had to wonder if the guy hadn't gotten the message about how out of style that was… The rest of his clothes were at least a little better, dark grey waistcoat over white dress shirt and fitted slacks. But the pocket watch and cowboy boots sort of ruined the effect. She had to give them that they didn't look dirty or mussed, even if they were a little worn.

Of course, she also wasn't sure how they, and their four back-up guys, were going to perform without anything but a drumset.

She shook her head again, feeling like she'd been doing that since they showed up, and made her way to the bar. "Sanji hun, gimme something for my headache, please?"

"Of course, Ms. Nami~!" came the cook's response, nearly sung from beyond the open door to the kitchen.

They had a fair crowd, not enough to warrant him being out at the bar the entire time, which meant that by the end of the night, the ones who stuck around for the whole show would be treated to whatever it was he was playing with to keep himself busy. No one ever knew what exactly he had planned, but it was guaranteed to be delicious!

Zoro was on the door, Franky next to the stage, for a two-point security to both ensure swift disposal of troublemakers and to protect people out just to have a good time. Brook had the sound booth, Chopper was bussing tables, Usopp on lights, and circling among the guests Robin and Sabo were silent but ever present. The manager noted that Ace was in his favorite corner, doodling on his Cintiq balanced on his knees, clearly more comfortable with it now than he had been before the tour. Nami figured that whatever Law had told him while they were gone had soothed his nerves.

All in all, except for the band, the redhead was quite pleased with how the night was going so far.

Sanji came around the corner with her drink just as Usopp cut the lights and the shorter guy stepped up to the microphone.

"Yoi! Hey there! I'm Marco. This here's my partner, Thatch, and we're Phoenix Free."

The taller, Thatch, smiled warmly at the crowd, "Thanks for havin' us, y'all. We've got Jozu on drums, and Haruta, Vista, and Doma givin' us a hand on vocals."

Just hearing them talk was enough to get everyone's attention. From where she sat at the bar, Nami watched the whole dive sit up and look at the stage. The soft drawling accent they both carried betrayed their origins; nobody north of Sabaody spoke like that. From the thickness of Thatch's, Nami had been around Robin enough to be willing to bet he'd come from the mouth of South Blue. And Nami never placed a bet she wouldn't win.

Marco counted them in with a nod of his head, but Thatch sang the first line with a three-part harmonic chord supporting him.

"Love is a burnin' thing."

In perfect time, Marco supplied the second, deep and soulful, "And it makes a fiery ring."

"And bound by wild desire. I fell into a ring of fire." After the almost baritone pitch of his first line, when Thatch sang again, it raised quite a few eyebrows because of the clarity with which he jumped octaves.

They all trailed off for a moment, holding the tension of that first four-line stanza, and with only a glance from Marco, the drummer rounded the tom-toms to pick up a steady rhythm that had most people tapping their toes. It was a pleasant surprise when the five guys singing sounded like they had guitars using only their voices.

"I fell into a burnin' ring of fire. I went down, down, down and the flames went higher," Thatch took lead, but the audience could hear Marco's rich sound supporting the three higher guys, "and it burns, burns, burns. The ring of fire; the ring of fire."

Then they switched, giving a glance between them that seemed to suggest they were singing about each other as Marco took lead.

"The taste of love is sweet when hearts like ours meet. And I fell for you like a child, oh, but the fire went wild."

The next chorus, Nami didn't even hear! Her whole body was still stuck on that final note of the first verse. She swore the stool beneath her vibrated when Marco dropped his voice into his chest. She clutched her drink and took a moment to glance around, unconsciously licking her lips. Ace had stopped drawing, Robin was frozen between the tables, most of the guests had utterly locked their attention on the stage, and Sanji…?

The cook was stock still behind the bar, a shot glass in his hand, blinking rapidly.

So much for doubts about whether this band was worth the risk! Who cared if they were country styled!? They even had Zoro's attention! Not that the green-haired bouncer wasn't always paying attention, or that he didn't care about music, but because of his focus on the guests, he usually didn't have time to actually give an ear to the acts playing on their stage. But this…? Nami could see it had rocked literally everyone in the bar except Luffy, and she was pretty sure that was only because the bouncy bar owner knew what to expect.

Pulled by strings that were beyond his control, Zoro made his way over to the bar. He didn't know why, but he rarely questioned such things. If his instincts told him to do something, he did it. So, by the time Thatch took over the lead for the next verse, he was standing next to the bar completely, somehow just beside where the touchy blond was attempting to fill drink orders. He wasn't even aware of their proximity until someone jostled him from behind and all that filled his line of sight was deep, crystal clear, oceanic blue.

"Yeah, love is a burnin' thing, and it makes a fiery ring. Bound by wild desire, I fell into a ring of fire."

Behind him, the band was still singing, but Zoro's head was filled with the thought, 'no, not fire, deep, deep sea'. His mouth was dry, and his heart pounded in his chest, his hands gripping the bar. It took him a couple of seconds to realize Sanji was shaking his head, eyes wide, and looking just as spooked as Zoro felt. Something clicked into place just then. Something that if he prodded at it made sense. Something that made him reach his hand out to touch the volatile cook even as the other was pulling away. He didn't know when he moved around the end of the bar, but when the last chorus filtered out through the speakers, and Thatch gave the last note in a literally floor shaking bass tone, that same something had the bouncer stumble forward, trying to catch the cook…

Only to get the kitchen door slammed in his face!

Behind that door, Sanji panted, his breath completely gone. He was clutching a tray to his chest, leaning against the entrance with his feet planted to either side of the frame, praying it was enough to keep the marimo from following him.

Damnit! Why the fuck did it have to have been a love song?!

No no no no! He shook his head. This couldn't be happening! He was happy with Law! That Person hadn't bothered him in weeks! Not since before the tour!

But a voice in the back of his head popped up asking why, if he was so happy with Law, he still had to get soy and almond milk for his mochas? Why did trips to the bathroom after seeing the sexy doctor often end with him purging like he was still thirteen and trying to physically erase That Night from his system? Why did every time the sweet man touch him did Sanji turn it into something sexual just to get them to stop touching!?

And why did he keep seeing Zoro on the side as Baby?

He shuddered, knowing too well the answer to all of those questions, but not wanting to admit it, even within the privacy of his own mind.

So, the voice challenged him in another direction. It pointed out that every time he was anywhere near the mossheaded bouncer he couldn't keep from getting into his personal space. It wasn't always Zoro showing up where Sanji didn't want him. No, more often than not, Sanji was the one initiating contact between them! He threw the first kicks, pushed him, shoved him, poked him. They even came nose to nose a couple of times.

Why was that okay, and Law's touches were not?

And with a sinking feeling in his gut, Sanji knew it had nothing to do with one being part of a fight and the other being part of a date. Somehow over the three weeks he'd been working at the Sunny and gotten to know the Marimo, as both himself and as Baby, he'd gotten comfortable with Zoro in his space, touching him. When the fuck had that happened?!

Noise from beyond the kitchen caught his attention, and the cook picked himself up off of the ground. When he'd sunk to his rear he didn't know, and he didn't focus on it, shoving the entire issue aside when he realized the mosshead was not, in fact, on the other side of the door. He felt a bit like a kid caught with the cookie jar as he poked his nose out into the bar proper again.

Nami was behind the bar, filling a handful of beer mugs like a champ, the patrons all on their feet and screaming for encores. Apparently Phoenix Free was a huge hit, with their unique almost accapella, country style and those floor shaking deep voices the leads both had, and during his freak-out, Sanji had missed several songs.

"Oh, Ms. Nami, I am so sorry!" The cook nearly fell over himself to cross the distance between them.

She waved him off though, grinning like crazy, and slid the mugs down the bar to Sabo, who caught them one right after the other to hold above his head. He disappeared into the crowd, rocking out to the still playing band. It was something about champagne taste, or something? Sanji didn't quite pay attention to it, too focused on making up for being absent in the middle of his shift.

Nami caught his arm to pull him down so she didn't have to shout, much, "Zoro said you were having trouble, are you okay?"

"Ms. Nami is so sweet when she cares about her employees~!" He crowed in return, dancing away from both the manager and the topic without actually answering.

Ace quipped from his corner of the bar with a laugh, "He's noodling like an idiot, he's fine."

"I guess so. Keep an eye on him."

"Don't even have to tell me twice."

The freckled artist winked, and Nami moved off into the crowd to find Luffy. Again.

Sanji didn't see Zoro for the rest of his shift, but if he was truly honest, he couldn't see much of anyone except Sabo, Robin, and Nami through the ecstatic crowd of patrons. Somewhere in the middle of the night the house size doubled, through people's texting others to come see the band, Sanji assumed, and by three a.m. the extremely talented guys had sung themselves exhausted. They performed an encore of their first song twice, once when the house doubled, and then again at the end as their last number.

To the roar of cheering, Marco held up a hand for silence. It took a bit to get them to calm down, but when they had, he grinned at them, "Well, y'all have been right friendly, yoi! But we gotta close it up."

"Think these nice bar folks'd like to go home, don'tcha think?" Thatch added, smirking.

Both sounded a tiny bit hoarse, but they laughed as the crowd protested their words. Trying to re-gain control of the noise level got them nowhere, so Nami snuck her way around the edge to hop up on stage. She grabbed a third mic from Usopp in the wings, and strut out to center stage, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Well, now," her voice boomed out over the crowd, "that was really something, eh guys?"

Another roar of approval answered her.

"Yeah! Yeah!" She nodded, clapping for them, then she spoke again, cutting through the din, "But they're right. We gotta close up. Hey hey hey! I don't want to! It's the law! I gotta let my boys sleep sometime!" She gave a merry laugh like she'd work them around the clock if she could. "Right, I know, but hey! If you guys want a recording of these guys singing, you all just give your names and email addresses to Robin or Sabo. We'll hook you up! Who's always got the best music in the Blues?!"

She held the mic out to the crowd, and in one voice, almost deafening, the response back rattled the bottles on the top shelf behind the bar, "THOUSAND SUNNY!"

"That's right! NOW! Go on, you lazy louts! Git goin'!" Nami laughed again, winking at the patrons.

Then Brook cut the sound, and Usopp brought the house lights back up, dimming the stage.

People milled about, mostly hoping to snag one of the wait staff to give them their information. Sanji pulled a blank order pad from under the bar and sent it down the folks sitting on the stools to give the other two a hand, and Ace snuck through the fringes collecting napkins with email addresses on them. Then slowly, but surely, people started to trickle out into the early morning. After about an hour, the Sunny was empty and Nami had a list of would be patrons thick enough to need both hands to hold them all.

"That is sure nice of you, yoi." Marco croaked, nursing a cup of tea.

Thatch nodded, sipping his own, while the drummer and the others packed up the few instruments they had brought with them. The three of them—Thatch, Marco, and Nami—were clustered at the edge of the stage, and the manager was drawing up a quick contract to split the sales of the CD recording from that night's performance. Chopper and Usopp were mixing it while they talked, their heads bent over the mixing board with heavy headphones on, isolating them from the rest of the bar.

Ace was surreptitiously hanging back, Luffy clinging to him, and Sabo was nearby wrapping silverware for tomorrow. Clearly the artist wanted to go talk to the musicians, but either didn't have the guts to actually get up and do it, or Luffy and Sabo weren't letting him.

If Sanji had to guess, he'd have wagered it was a bit of both. He couldn't blame Ace. The singers were damn sexy! And those voices! Even speaking, he could feel the resonance under his feet. And that was after an entire night of performing!

Then all at once, out of nowhere, Robin stalked across the dining room, tray under her arm and a storm on her face.

"Ms. Robi—" was all the further Sanji could get before the Asian woman slammed the tray on the bar and wheeled on her boyfriend, her sharp nail jabbing him in the chest.

"I won't have you jealous of my enjoyment of things, Francis!"

"Oi! Not the full name!" Franky scowled, "And I'm not jealous! I just made a comment about it!"

"You asked if I wanted them to sing into my snatch! That is NOT just a comment! And I'll call you what I think you deserve!"

"You looked like you wanted 'em to!" The blue haired man spread his hands, palms up in defense.

Robin nearly smacked him when she threw her arms open wide, "This is not the place to talk about such things! I enjoyed the music! You cannot blame me!"

"I DON'T!"

"Then don't sound like you do!"

"I…" The second he hesitated the entire bar winced, knowing he'd just hung himself.

"Uh huh. That's what I thought. You can't stand it, can you? I have eyes, Franky. I have ears! I can hear and see and enjoy what is around me! That doesn't mean I'm going to just run off with the first sex-on-legs that sings his way into my ear!" Robin huffed, arms crossed over her chest.

Sanji glanced at the stage, where the others were watching the altercation. Marco and Thatch exchanged a look, both blushing brightly, and Nami laughed lightly. Even Chopper and Usopp had their headphones off now. In fact, all other movement had stopped around the bar, even the other band members, in spite of not actually being involved.

When Franky continued to sputter, trying to find something to defend himself with, Robin sniffed, turning on her heel to walk away again, clearly done with the conversation now that she'd made her point. But the big bouncer caught her arm. She spun, eyes hard, and glaring at his hand as though it was the filthiest thing she'd ever seen. If he'd looked at all like he was going to hurt her, Sanji would have been over the bar with a heel to his face, but for once, he sided with Franky.

"Look, babe," he let her go, running a hand through his hair, "I'm a pervert, you know that! My mind's in the gutter all the time. I don't think I ever NOT think about sex."

The quirk of her eyebrow said get on with it, so Franky gave a nervous laugh at himself.

"Uhh, I mean, I look. I can see 'em, but babe… Bobby… Robin, I don't think about anybody but you! You snuck yourself into my head that first time I saw you, and damnit if you didn't take up house there. I didn't say what I said to make you mad! Honest Abe I didn't!"

He risked taking her hand in both of his, kissing the back of it, and when she didn't immediately pull away, he stepped closer so he could run his thumb over her cheek.

"That song got me thinkin' is what I was tryin' to say."

She snorted at him, making him blush, and the rest of the bar snickered, knowing exactly what he'd been thinking, but he shook them off, ignoring the urge to give into the joke and pressing forward with something he'd obviously been trying to figure out how to say before.

"It got me thinkin' about you," more snickers, "about me," yet more, "about us." Still more had him snapping his head up at them, "Would you guys shuddap! Jesus! And I'm the pervert."

Then he turned back to Robin, taking both of her hands in his. He kissed both sets of knuckles.

"Robin, you consumed me. Encircled me in these amazing hands, and pulled me down, and all it's done is make me more and more crazy about you."

Her cheeks lit up as something dawned in her eyes, and silently, Sanji snuck off to the kitchen faster than he ever moved before. The last thing he wanted to do was miss the next line. The rest of the bar seemed to sense it too because Zoro stood up from where he was leaning against the door to the back lot, alert and attentive; Ace and Luffy stopped horsing around; Nami, Usopp, and Chopper leaned in unconsciously; Brook nudged Sabo and the blond grinned, unable to contain it.

And that's when Franky dropped to one knee, fishing in his jeans pocket for something.

"I've been carrying this around ever since Luffy took off for his tour, but I ain't found a time to give it to you, or how to bring it up." He looked up into her eyes, misty-eyed—the both of them, "Bobby, Robin-babe, would you marry me?"

The ring was silver, or platinum, with a deep amethyst marquise-cut silhouette. It had a tiny bit of pocket lint on it, which Franky pulled off frantically as soon as he noticed it. The bouncer was shaking, eyes searching Robin's expression, and the rest of the crew (plus band) leaned in waiting for her answer. Sanji even had his thumb on the cork of the bottle he'd snagged because what other answer could she have?!

Still, the dark-haired woman drew herself up, looking down at him, seeming to judge his sincerity. Her back was straight, her pose relaxed. She even felt a little distant from the cook's perspective, and it clearly had an effect on her boyfriend.

"I… I know it's not a diamond, but I thought you'd… seeing as you're more than… I can return it! If you don't like it! It's not hard, I can just…"

He trailed off when she put her finger over his lips.

Then she melted, a soft smile on her lips. "It's beautiful, Franky."

"So…?" He pressed, unable to relax until he heard it for sure.

"So, yes."

"Really?!"

"Yes, really."

She laughed as he surged to his feet, sweeping her up in his arms to kiss her soundly, spinning her around in circles while the whole of the Sunny cheered. Sanji popped the cork of the champagne, the bubbly alcohol spilling over his hand when he poured it into the waiting glasses he had lined up behind the bar; enough for everybody.

There was a small fumble with the ring before Franky was coordinated enough to get it on her finger, and of course, it fit perfectly.

The blue haired bouncer was openly crying with joy and relief, refusing to let her go, even when Usopp lifted his champagne glass and shouted a toast to the newly engaged couple. Robin took his face in her hands and claimed his mouth for a breath-taking kiss at the top of the toast, and nobody noticed the glance a certain other bouncer gave the cook over the rim of his glass.

A/N 2: Song: Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash as covered by Home Free ((on which the band is based... shamelessly lol))