It was ten to twelve o' clock. Sanji was in the middle of prepping meal, when he nervously traced his prickling lips.

"Shit."

Yesterday evening he smoked his last cigarette. The moody weather on the Grand Line calmed a few days ago, though they came off their course, when giant waves played a one-sided game with the Sunny. Nami noticed the approaching wildness of the sea but even knowing didn't prevent them from getting more or less gently taken by rough hands of saltwater hundrets of kilometres away.

The crew didn't mind in case they had enough food in stock to make it through at least two months further. Exept for Sanji. His amount of smokes hadn't preplanned this extra tour.

Sanji exhaled. Inhaled. Then let out a silent sigh. Rushing, he washed fish and vegetables, then sliced some onions, chopped a bunch of carrots, slashed red tomatos until red liquid splashed all over the countertop, he ripped the squirming fresh salad apart, he snatched everything with both hands and threw it forcefully into a bowl.

Groaning, groaning in rage and a little out of breath, Sanji rested his hands amidst the salad massacre on the platform, his arms streched out and stiff as the rest of his body. His mind was demanding for smokes, his body demanded for nicotine and his lips desired their tobacco bearded companions. Unconsciously, the blonde traced his lips again.

Minutes later, the green haired swordsman sneak peeked at the kitchen door, where the source of queer sounding curses seemed to be.

Slowly, a short swatch of hair pushed trough the door slit. All what Zoro saw was a cook at his daily work. The muttering had stopped. Nothing gave evidence of the sounds Zoro sweared to have heard coming from this place. Words and phrases he's so familiar with, due to his everyday bickering.

Aware that the situation is safe, he finally entered the room, hand sliding of the until now tight grasped sword hilts.

"Oi."

The chopping sound didn't broke up, neither did he received an answer.

Second try: "Cook."

Nothing in return.

Nonetheless, if the swordsman would've paid more attention, he could have heard the cutting noises changing from a high frequented rhythm to a slowly slackening pace. And each cut grew more vigorous.

The solely observation he made, was the tension filled air.

Fine by him. Talking is redundant anyway. He'd never been a man of great words but actions, so if blondie's moody and doesn't want to talk, that's no problem.

The green was already heading the door, as a heady odour catched and hold him back. He sensed the smell of roasted meat commingled by lavender, pepper and dozens of spices he couldn't name nor associate with a herb.

It was overwhelming. Never did he smelled a comparable composition; It wasn't so well-matched like his usual creations, their characters result in a harmonic unity, but this time, the spices stuck out, each claiming its presence and individuality while respecting others and work out as a great team.

Normally, he cooks impressionistic - in fine, even brushstrokes; today in a wild 'n' rebellous (but smart) expressionistic way, vibrant colours, side by side.

Curious and longing for the first bite, he came up to Sanjis left to have a preview overlook on the dishes.

Wow, a battlefield wouldn't have been messier. However, this scent-

Zoro's head jerked to the right, when he noticed that the other wasn't moving a muscle since he got next to the blonde.

His eyes were narrow, his lips sucked into his mouth, forming a straight line, plus his breath coming out of his nostrils in bursts.

Sanji felt like the content of the huge cooking pot in front of him: boiling and so close to break out as a high-energetic particle.

More sceptical than worried, Zorro questioned: "What's gotten into you to let your face looking even more dumb as usual?"

Sanji counted down in his head and parallel tried imagining pictures of beautiful women, Nami Vivi and Robin came last.

He hoped to distract his cigarette-wanting self, which worked just merely, because using his fangirl-like women cheering arousal, would be as effective as trying to cease a fire with more - pink coloured - fire.

Nevertheless, at least it obtained to gain control over his body again. His frenzied nervous system had run amok in presence of the swordsmans radiation. Now he fell into routine cooking habits and ignored his spectator deliberately.

Zoro couldn't help but stare at the currently loosened lips. They had swollen a little and got chaps from being licked over and over again at night.

Sanji never imagined that this short time of abstinence would let him suffer that much. Hyperactivity, a buzzing stomach and at the same time an urge to toss the whole thing for finding himself in a corner to curl up, cocoon himself and wait. Wait and endure.

But he knew: if he would lay down 'n' did nothing, he'd explode. To much motion passed his veins, stirring him up to the very cell.

Irritation came over Zoro. Never had he experienced the cook in a status that strange. Is he daydreaming and just needs a strong hit to wake up? Yesterday he was still fine-

No sooner said than done! Zoro beat him in his side. The blonde stumbled, dropped his knife and stumbled a few steps due to the impact.

"BASTARD!"

Coughing.

"Green headed, filthy mouldy bastard! What's gone wrong with you scumbag!? You're loifing 'n my kitchen, spread your disgusting self everywhere, with your stinking breath an' reeking personality-

You're trampling and lisping and be to us all a pain in the ass! Go to hell and stop annoying me. Gawd, you're so-, so-, nerve-racking! Argh, get lost and have dinner with that Mihawk guy, you'll surely learn from him in case he hadn't sliced you yet, cuz you're such an annoying mossy fuckhead!"

Zoro gave a laugh.

"That's again so uncommon of you. Didn't pause a sec to let me insult back you egoistic dart brow! Did somebody called you princess, princess?"

"Somebody will breath trough a straw in a moment, if he won't keep his FUCKING mouth shut-!"

Sanji intuitively grabbed for a cigarette box, but found his fingers in an empty pocket.

"Shit", he cursed, as he moved back to the counter to pick the knife up for rinsing it off.

"... That's it what the whole fuss was for?!"

Zoro broke into heavy laughing.

Sanji, still weaponed with his kitchen blade, pointed at his shaking opponent: "So what?", narrowing his eyes to slits, "You that has not the faintest clue shall shut up!"

Still grinning about that trivial reason the cook went crazy about, he replied: "You go nuts, 'course you lack of weeds. What's to mistake here? These paper rolls are your master and when they're absent, you're gonna scream your soul out, as if it's of any use."

"Huuuh? Did you said anything?", placing down his sharp kitchen tool, "I can't hear your stupid blabbing, your 'idiotism's' too loud."

"And I just hear you blubbering."

Kick; Endlessly close to his cheek, Sanji hit the air beside Zoros face. But not enough. Both of them initiate a fist and leg fight, at times Zoro gripping Sanji at his collar, fixing him for a punch, but Sanji wriggled out and stepped back to have enough space for a kick aiming the haramaki area.

The first to quit this fight was Sanji which noticed the high pitched clattering of the dancing lid on top of the boiling stew.

He ran to the stove, pulled the pot away, reduced the heat.

Thick bubbles plopped at the seething surface, visible as the blonde removed the lid completely.

"Try some?"

"Sure. -... Tasty."

"Really? Since my mouth rebells and prickles, then the chaps in my lips, I didn't come to test much of it. The heat and salt burn as hell. Gosh..."

"Nothing, one can do to distract ya from that stupid addiction until we finally reach land?"

"At least I don't know of any method. Sweet stuff, at least, doesn't work. There's missing the bitterness and sensation about it. If ya suck it, it's giving little resistance to when its getting hotter an' burns down the tip even faster. But whom I gonna tell it, your mouth's not even capable of noticing a bit of what I talked about."

Zoro face grimaced. "I guess your brain's still filled with smoke and half burned as well. What junk your talkin' about?!"

Click. As Sanji saw the tip of Zoros tongue while shouting, there was a stirring the inside of his stomach. Wait what? Did he-? From where came the urge of- and...

His arms moved quickly, catching the swordsman, while clinging to the back of his shirt, pulling him closer.

Sanji was licking his bottom lip, drawing his head nearer to the other's. Tongue, lock on. Aim for mouth comrade; bittersweet sensation and salvation!

The prickling increased with each milleter, as an irritated Zoro tryed pushing the other back to get space between them. Sanji though, full loaded of uncontrolled inner energie, wouldn't loosen his grip. He additionally jumped, pushing the other down with all his body weight. Then they kissed roughly. Zoro struggling against their interection yet, but Sanji at the top position with a minor advantage pushed him down with lips and hips, with double power. Tongue sliding and dipping, while his spoiled greedy lips searched for their own pleasure.

"How about a try?", he resumed mouth kissing until Zoros opened his almost closed eyes a little more and gave an inquisitive look.

"You distracting me of my pain", Sanji proposed.

"Fuck you Marimo; But literally!"