Archive of Our Own

“I might not make it out alive, you know.”

Sanji looked over at him briefly, squinting his eyes before rolling them to the back of his head and focusing again on the stove in front of him. He was cooking seafood risotto, and the pan looked weightless as he sautéed its contents with the flick of his wrist. Zoro watched the mussels fly in and out of the pan, thinking that if he got the timing just right, he could snatch one away before Sanji could slap him with the spoon.

“You’re being dramatic,” Sanji told him, breaking his concentration. 

Zoro scoffed. “You and I have been dating for 4 years, and I’ve received 23 death threats from him. That’s almost 6 death threats per year.”

“Oh, look at me. I’m Zoro and I’m good at numbers,” Sanji said mockingly while shrugging his shoulders up and down. 

Zoro took the opening to steal a piece of octopus out of the air. It was already down his throat by the time Sanji tried to swat him away. 

“I’m just sayin’,” he continued after moving a few steps away from Sanji. “I’ll go to your old man’s for Christmas, whatever. But I’m sleepin’ with one eye open. Dude’s got it out for me.”

Sanji sighed and lowered the heat to let the food simmer. Turning around, he leaned against the stove and ran a hand through his hair. The stovetop light always had a way of making the strands look marigold in color. 

“It’s just a few days at the restaurant. Zeff and I will probably be holed up in the kitchen most of the time anyway because of the holiday rush. Just…” he looked at Zoro straight on. Shadowed by his bangs slightly, Zoro saw his blue eyes darken with his plea. “Try to get along with him, yeah? For me?”

Zoro closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around Sanji’s shoulders and resting his head against blond hair. He felt Sanji’s fingers brush against his back in return.

“Don’t be stupid,” he told him, lips near his ear. “I never back down from a challenge.”

That’s what he told Sanji that evening, but from the second it left his mouth, he couldn’t get rid of the prickling nerves that skittered up the back of his neck every time he thought about their upcoming stay at the Baratie. 

Back in October, they made plans to stay with Zeff in the apartment above his restaurant for the Christmas holiday season. Sanji convinced the geezer to let them stay to help with the inevitable increase in customers, but the unspoken truth between them was that he wanted to spend Christmas with the guy who raised him. Zeff begrudgingly agreed, trying to hide his excitement with indifference – an act that Sanji had gotten used to in the years after he showed up on Zeff’s doorstep looking for a place to work and stay. 

So, the plans were made, the dates were decided, and the timing nailed down. Everything came together quite nicely, and the forecast was even calling for a white Christmas. 

But when Zoro woke up the next morning – bright and early to get a workout in before their drive to Baratie – the dread in his gut almost prevented him from getting out of bed altogether. While getting in his morning bench press, his body turned to auto-pilot, and his mind replayed the first time he’d ever met Zeff. 

He and Sanji had already been dating a full year, and neither of them had met each other’s families. It didn’t strike either of them as odd because Sanji hadn’t talked to his biological family in over a decade, and Zoro didn’t have time to track down every person he’d ever called a foster parent. Their friends were their family, and that was more than enough for them. 

Zoro knew of Zeff in the early stages of their relationship. Sanji was still working for him at that time, after all, so Zoro first knew him as his friend’s boss before realizing their relationship was much more intricate. It took him a while to recognize the care behind Sanji’s insults toward the old geezer.

So after about a year and a half of dating, when he and Sanji started realizing this relationship thing wasn’t a total fluke, they decided it was time for Zeff and Zoro to formally meet. 

Sanji insisted on it being a public place, away from fire, and where Zeff couldn’t keep any of his knives on his person. And Zoro had laughed at his anxious jittering, making big statements that he could handle anything – especially a geriatric Colonel Sanders – and Sanji was fretting over nothing. 

Ironically enough, the first time Zoro met Zeff was also during the Christmas season. The plan was to go to a local botanical garden that was decorated for the winter in Christmas lights. They would meet up at the garden, grab some hot chocolate, and walk the trails admiring the lights. Sanji was quite proud of the idea. 

They arrived at the garden first, so they waited at the entrance for Zeff to arrive. Zoro thought Sanji might fall apart piece by piece from how nervous he was. It was unclear whether his teeth were chattering from the cold or from his own doomsday-centered brain. 

“What if he kills you?” He spoke through the clatter. “I’ve never had a dead boyfriend before. I don’t even know how to cook for one person anymore. I’m gonna have way too many leftovers. I’ll be a widow. I’ll probably only eat sad soup for the rest of my life wondering what could’ve been.”

Zoro elbowed him lightly in the side. “Oi! The most horrific thing about my death to you is meal planning?!”

Sanji slowly turned his head toward him, eyes wider than the sockets allowed and lips turning blue. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, taking the hat off his own head to roughly shove it over Sanji’s. The idiot couldn’t handle the cold like he claimed. “Everything is fine. The walk isn’t even that long. We’ll be here an hour at most, and then it’ll be time to go. It’s hardly enough time to get to know someone, let alone kill them. I’ll be fine.” 

Sanji seemed to relax a little at that before going stiff when he saw Zeff walking up to them. 

It was the first time Zoro had seen the man behind the stories Sanji told and the phone calls he had on late nights. In a weird way, he looked exactly as he sounded. He was average height but stocky and grounded in place – like he would be difficult to push over. His face was set in a permanent scowl, accented by bushy blond eyebrows and a handlebar mustache braided down to his collarbone. The deep-set wrinkles in his face showed years of hard work behind a hot grill and commanding a busy kitchen. If Zoro had to choose one thing to be surprised by, it was the fluffy mittens he wore over his hands. They looked like genuine Russian Sable. 

Zeff marched toward them with power in his steps, his prosthetic leg giving his stride a certain tick, tack rhythm. He didn’t smile. There was no indication he was happy to see them or even that he was at least relieved to have some time away from the kitchen. Zoro decided to hang back and wait for Sanji’s cue before saying anything. 

“It would’ve killed you to be on time, huh?” Sanji huffed.

“I see you still haven’t learned patience, eggplant,” Zeff retorted with a sniff. “But by some miracle, you finally learned to wear a damn hat.”

Sanji’s cheeks – already pink from the cold – turned a deep red. “I can handle the cold,” he grumbled into his scarf. 

Zoro waited for Zeff to turn his attention to him. Not to toot his own horn, but he had a pretty solid handshake, and he was ready to use it. Zeff looked like a man who would appreciate a good, strong hand shake. The mittens might prove a hindrance, but he could work around it. 

Zeff hocked a loogie into the sidewalk. “Alright, let’s see what powdered nonsense they’re calling hot chocolate.” Briskly, he walked past them. 

“Ahem!” Sanji called out to him, making Zeff turn around. The indifference in his eyes made Zoro want to pinch himself – make sure he was still real and standing in front of the guy. 

“So, this is Zoro. You know, my boyfriend. The guy I met through Luffy all that time ago. This is him,” Sanji stumbled through.

“I’m him,” Zoro suddenly said, not helping the awkwardness. This is why he preferred handshakes over words. 

Zeff paused for a moment, his eyes staring into Zoro’s core. For a moment, he thought the old man might have frozen in place, but then his mustache twitched as a sign of life. 

“Yup,” he said brusquely. “Could make a good stew.” And then, with the tick-tack of his stride, he turned around once more to make his way toward the hot chocolate stand. 

Zoro turned to Sanji, confused. “Stew?”

“I always thought you were more of a roast,” Sanji muttered, more to himself. 

“What are you talking about?”

“C’mon,” Sanji sighed, tugging the arm of Zoro’s jacket. “If we’re not careful, he’s gonna spit at the nice hot chocolate lady.”

Zoro wouldn’t say the walk was pleasant, but it wasn’t a total trainwreck either. Zeff and Sanji threw snotty remarks at each other, the both of them pausing every so often to admire the lights on a tree. For the most part, Zoro stayed quiet, silently admiring how the lights glittered off the lingering snow from the night prior. If this was what it was like to meet Zeff, he thought he was doing a pretty damn good job at it. 

After a little over an hour of walking around, they made it to the end of the trail. A few frigid-looking benches were scattered about, but they were all empty. No one wanted to prolong their time in the cold any longer than they had to.

No one except Zeff, that is.

With a grunt, he lowered himself onto a bench. His hot breath puffed out above him when he sighed. “Eggplant, why don’t you go and get some more of that hot chocolate?”

“Huh?” Sanji answered, squinting his eyes at Zeff to try to parse some sense from him. “You said it tasted like dog water.”

“Oh, so you do listen to me sometimes.”

“Whatever,” Sanji relented. He gestured toward Zoro with his hand. “C’mon, marimo. Let’s just do what he asks.”

“Nu-uh,” came Zeff’s protest. Sanji looked at him again with confusion knitting his eyebrows together, and Zeff waved him off. “Napa-head stays with me. We’re gonna have a little chat.” To emphasize his point, Zeff patted the spot next to him on the bench.

Zoro, realizing Zeff was referring to him, looked at the bench and then to Sanji. “Napa like… a cabbage?” he thought out loud. 

Sanji’s eyes darted between him and Zeff, unsure what to do. Zoro could tell from the stiffness in his back that he hadn’t prepared for this moment, and he genuinely might throw up in the next 3 seconds.

“It’s fine,” Zoro said then, shrugging his shoulders to look nonchalant. He took a few steps toward the bench, sitting down next to the geezer like it was something they did all the time. His right butt cheek was ever so slightly hanging off the edge to ensure their arms didn’t touch each other in their puffy jackets. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

Sanji didn’t seem too convinced of that, but he backed away slowly. He looked almost in pain as he turned around, and his pace quickened toward the hot chocolate stand for the second time that night. 

For a few seconds, Zoro and Zeff watched Sanji leave without saying anything. Zoro was starting to wonder if they weren’t actually going to chat at all, but suddenly Zeff spoke, and his words felt hot against his cold ears. 

“I don’t know what you think your intentions are with Sanji, but listen to me closely when I say this.”

Zoro turned his head to look at Zeff, but the older man was staring straight ahead, unblinking. His lips were chapped and cracked from the cold, and he licked them slowly before turning his head to lock eyes with Zoro. His irises were almost black in the darkness – an ill-omen that made Zoro’s hair stand on end. 

“If you hurt him in any way, I will find your most tender parts, cut you up into bite-sized pieces, and eat you like a fucking stew.”

On the way to the Baratie, Zoro realized he forgot his toothbrush. He was so preoccupied trying to think through how to get on Zeff’s good side, that he’d completely forgotten about it while packing. He stared out the car window, wondering how long he could get away without brushing his teeth before Sanji would start to notice. 

In the background of his brooding, Zoro’s ears caught a fleeting weather announcement over the radio. The forecast was predicting heavy snowfall in the evening with the worst of it accumulating in the area they were headed. He felt his body sink further into his seat with the weight of his dread. 

“Good thing we left earlier today than planned,” Sanji commented. Of course he was keeping an eye on the weather like an asshole, and of course that meant leaving a few hours earlier, which meant more time in Zeff’s territory than he would’ve liked. Plus, if the snow was as bad as they were saying it was going to be over the next few days, there was a chance they’d have to prolong their stay.

That is, if Zeff didn’t end his life first. 

“You said our room will have a lock on it?” He double checked. 

Sanji let out a sharp sigh, glancing briefly at Zoro before returning his eyes to the road. “Zeff’s threats are just that – threats. He’s just being protective of me.”

Zoro unzipped his jacket. The car was beginning to feel stuffy all of a sudden. “They feel like more than threats. I always feel like I’m one wrong move from walking off the plank.”

“Well, just don’t do anything to make him want to murder you.”

“Me breathing is enough to make him want to murder me.”

“Well, I can understand that feeling.”

“Ha. Ha,” Zoro said slowly, sarcastically. He considered punching Sanji so hard that it would make him crash the car, but even if that would delay their trip, the cons of potentially causing life-threatening injuries to their bodies and bank accounts probably wasn’t worth it. 

So instead he spent the rest of the car ride fiddling with the radio and counting the roadkill on the way. He noted 4 dead deer. Not the sign he was looking for. 

The snow started falling just as they parked their car into the staff parking lot. It collected on the shoulders of Zoro’s jacket as he trudged to the trunk of the car to grab their bags. They each brought a duffel bag of clothes and a larger suitcase filled with presents for Zeff and the kitchen staff – or at least the ones Sanji liked. He lobbed one duffel bag on each shoulder and pulled the suitcase behind him.

They had arrived toward the end of dinner prep, which meant Zeff was busy and Sanji would jump in to help. As far as he was concerned, Zoro had the whole evening to himself. One long nap tonight, and that’s time he wouldn’t have to spend stepping on eggshells around Zeff. 

He and Sanji walked in through the back entrance, and he could immediately hear the bustling noise of the kitchen in full prep. Methodically, they shrugged their coats off and hung them on the hooks that lined the walls on each side. Their coats stood out among the rows of aprons meant for those on shift that day. On instinct, Sanji reached for one and tied it around his waist with practiced ease. It didn’t matter he was supposed to be on vacation from his own head chef position. Zoro could practically feel him vibrating with excitement to be behind the line again at his old stomping grounds. 

“Been awhile since I’ve worn an apron instead of a chef’s jacket,” he thought out loud. His hands ran over the front, smoothing it out with care. 

A small smile tugged on the corners of Zoro’s mouth. “Not true.”

Sanji frowned at him, then looked up at the ceiling in thought. “I guess I did wear one last year when I helped out at that soup kitchen.” 

Zoro’s smile deepened, and he took a slow step closer to Sanji, closing in around him. “Earlier than that.”

“Tch.” Sanji exclaimed, visibly growing more annoyed. He straightened his back – on alert for whatever games Zoro was playing. “What are you talking about?”

Zoro was close enough now he could feel Sanji’s body heat and see that his eyelashes were damp from the snow. Their faces were only inches apart, and of course Sanji wasn’t backing away. To add fuel to the fire, he absentmindedly lifted his hand toward Sanji’s face and started twisting a few strands of his hair between his fingers. 

“My birthday,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

Zoro had a wonderful view of Sanji’s face quickly reddening as the realization filled his eyes. “Th-that… was different…” he started stammering before gritting his teeth in anger.

“An apron is an apron. Even with nothing else underneath, I suppose” Zoro teased, still in his face but maybe still even closer than before. If he kept this up, Sanji would either kick him or kiss him – a win-win kind of deal. 

But before he could find out the conclusion, a sharp gust of wind right past his ear made him freeze in place. The sensation was quickly followed by a loud twang behind him, and Sanji’s red cheeks became pale at the sight. Turning his head around, Zoro saw a freshly sharpened chef’s knife lodged deep into the wall behind him. Had he been standing just an inch farther to his left, he would’ve been impaled. 

Slowly, he and Sanji turned their attention to the other side of the room, where the entrance to the kitchen was. 

Casting a wide, menacing shadow, Zeff’s form took up the majority of the doorway. His frown was deeper than Zoro had remembered, and he couldn’t see the whites of his eyes. 

“Slipped,” was all the explanation he provided before sauntering back to the stovetops and butcherboards. 

Staring up at the ceiling of Sanji’s childhood bedroom, Zoro felt like curdled eggnog. He hadn’t expected Zeff to greet him with open arms, but he also hadn’t expected the visit to start off that horribly. And even more chilling, that was the first time Zeff actually seemed to act upon any of his threats. 

He continued to mull around his thoughts, repeating the interaction over and over again until he fell into a fitful nap on Sanji’s bed. His dreams were plagued with various visions of Zeff skewering, flaying, and mincing him alive, so he didn’t wake up in any better mood. Instead, he awoke with a sheen of sweat making the collar of his shirt damp, and there was a crick in his neck. It was 9:30pm, so the kitchen was likely shutting down and cleaning up while the front staff were eagerly waiting for the last straggling customers to leave. 

Zoro slunk over to the window to see how many cars were left. He could feel the cold air leak through the thin glass as he leaned in to get a good view. His breath collected a little on the glass where his mouth was. 

To his surprise, there was only one car left. The light snowfall from earlier had blossomed into a full-fledged storm, and the entire parking lot was covered in a thick blanket of white. It was coming down in fat, puffy flakes that seemed to swallow everything in their path, and Zoro could hardly make out the tire tracks from where the previous cars had driven. The only car left was a small sedan – not equipped for the thick snow around it – and Patty and Carne were still dressed in their uniforms, trying to help push the car and its spinning wheels over a drift. 

Without thinking much about it, Zoro grabbed a shirt and quickly propelled himself down the stairs to help them out. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, it took him a couple of minutes and a few wrong turns to remember where the front door was, but eventually he found his way outside. The wind hit him first, making him catch his breath and feel his nose go numb almost instantly. He had to squint his eyes against the gusts, and the wisping snow around him made it so he could hardly see his own hands in front of him. 

Just as he got his bearings, he realized Patty and Carne were rushing toward him – eager to get back inside. Zoro stepped backwards instead of forwards, changing his objective to holding the door open for the frozen men instead of heading out into the fray to help with the stranded car. 

“Brr!” Patty exclaimed, through the frozen mustache and beard around his lips. The snow-covered hair seemed to age him a few decades and the tattoos on his arms looked uncharacteristically blue. “I almost thought we’d never get that car outta here.”

Carne removed the chef’s hat on his head, dumping a clump of snow onto the welcome mat of the restaurant. “Wasn’t worried one bit. Not when the Baratie’s got the strongest crew in the East Blue.” He and Patty eyed each other for a moment before colliding into a heroic chest bump. 

Zoro smiled at their antics. They were going to love the matching boxing gloves that he and Sanji bought them for Christmas. 

“Ah, so they were able to get out?” Zoro chimed in once Patty and Carne had settled down.

The two men whipped their heads in his direction, apparently not having realized he’d been the one to let them inside. Their faces morphed slowly from surprise to mischievous glee before rushing toward Zoro. 

“It’s our brother-in-law!” Patty howled, squeezing Zoro into his chest.

“That damn pistachio-head is back!” Carne joined in, digging his knuckles into Zoro’s head as if he were a child.

“You and Sanji are not brothers, and he and I are not married,” Zoro mumbled into Patty’s shirt but otherwise let them have at him. When he’d first met Patty and Carne, they’d tried to follow Zeff’s lead with cold stares and noses in the air. They seemed to be at an impasse – not sure whether to be loyal to their boss or to their close friend who’d practically been raised as family. But in the end, they settled on the fact that Zoro was a strong dude who knew how to roughhouse right alongside them, so they couldn’t help but start treating him like an equal, and eventually, like a friend. 

“How was service?” Zoro asked once he’d regained his personal space. 

“I cooked a filet mignon to a perfect 130.00 degrees. I cried,” Carne reported stoically. 

“The new guy that prepped my frosting today used salt instead of sugar,” Patty added through gritted teeth. “I started to hold his head under the dishwater, but then Sanji kicked me in the ribs.”

Zoro let out a snort. “Blondie sees all in the kitchen. Better luck next time, Pat.”

For that short moment, Zoro was content to be at the Baratie. He’d forgotten all about the incident just a few hours earlier, and the snow outside even put him in a bit of a Christmas spirit. 

It wasn’t until he heard the sound of grating voices arguing back and forth that the melancholy rushed over him again. Although quieter than the yelling, he could still hear the tick, tack of Zeff’s leg bounding towards him. It seemed to echo through his ear canals like a time bomb. 

Zeff and Sanji burst through the kitchen doors, joining him, Patty, and Carne at the front of house. Zeff was looking indignant, as usual, and Sanji was close beside him, shouting into his ear like a gnat. 

“Your old, brittle bones will snap easily on ice once you ultimately slip and fall, you senior citizen!” Sanji spat. He reached his arms out like he was going to grab Zeff’s collar, but retracted, thinking better of it. 

“A lil’ powder from the sky is nothin’ to bitch about, eggplant,” Zeff responded gruffly.

“It’s ice from the sky!”

“It’s just some frilly water.” 

Zoro, Patty, and Carne moved out of their way, allowing them access to the front door. The pair didn’t seem to notice any of them were there as they continued bickering. Sanji grabbed the door handle, but was roughly pushed away by Zeff. 

The head chef flung the door open, once again allowing a rush of cold air to penetrate the space. Everyone flinched a little at the sensation, but of course stubborn Zeff hadn’t moved an inch. Zoro had to refrain from covering his ears – the roar of the wind blowing past the door was almost unbearable. 

Sanji, seemingly at his wit’s end, gathered all his anger and concentrated it into stepping in front of Zeff and closing the door shut again. He stood nose to mustache, staring the old man in the eyes with a deep irritation he saved specifically for those he loved. 

“You are not going out there alone to shovel the snow. It makes no goddamn sense. Patty, Carne, and I will do it in the morning when the storm is over.”

Zeff narrowed his eyes, his lip twitching in a snarl. “Let me lay it out for ya nice and clear, eggplant,” he started. His voice was low, but his words held everyone to their places all the same. Zoro felt like a deer in headlights just waiting for the car to kill them all. 

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, one of the busiest days of the year for the Baratie. If the parking lot isn’t cleared of snow, then no one will be able to come. But if the crew is outside all morning shoveling the snow, then the food’s not ready, and we’ve ruined many a good people’s day. I need you and Patty and Carne bustin’ ass from dawn until dusk tomorrow. I will shovel the snow by myself, and that’s final.”

Zoro could see Sanji about to surrender, and he didn’t blame him. Zeff would rather cut his other leg off before he listened to someone else’s orders, especially if that person was worried about his wellbeing. And while Zoro didn’t doubt that Zeff could shovel all the snow by himself, he could understand why letting an old man outside in the freezing cold alone for hours wasn’t the brightest idea too. 

“I’ll help.”

At first, no one moved, and Zoro thought maybe he hadn’t even spoken at all. But then slowly, as if everyone was in a stop motion film, their eyes all turned to him. He felt his face grow very hot under the attention. 

He quickly glanced at Sanji, who was also shocked, but the tension in his shoulders had eased a bit. So that made Zoro feel at least a little better. 

“Do you even know what a shovel is?” Zeff finally broke the silence with his battering ram voice. 

Zoro rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets in annoyance. Before he could stop himself, he retorted, “gotta use somethin’ to bury you with one day.”

“That’s my line, broccoli boy,” Zeff responded in turn. 

Zoro didn’t have anything else to say, too busy chasing his rambling thoughts. Was that banter just now? Did I just have a conversation with Zeff? Did I detect mild levels of respect in his tone just now?

“Yes!” Sanji exclaimed so loudly, it made everyone jump. “Yes, Zoro will help! And that way Patty, Carne, and I can do all the prep, and you can live another day to plague this world with your shitty attitude and disposition. Hallelujah.” Despite the spiteful words and his tone, Sanji looked very relieved at the suggestion and was trying his best to seal the deal before Zeff could find some excuse out of it. 

“Let’s get the kitchen nice and clean tonight, then head straight to bed. We’ll all be up bright and early to prep the food and the parking lot, and everything will go according to plan,” he concluded, starting to shoo everyone back to the kitchen. 

Zeff seemed a little miffed to have everything moving so quickly, but he could at least agree with Sanji that the kitchen needed some final touchups before the next day, so he resigned himself to joining the others. 

Sanji passed Zoro a glance with a silent “thank you” forming on his lips. 

When everyone finally retreated to bed for the night, Sanji looked almost giddy. He was humming while he washed his face and swaying from side to side while he brushed his teeth. Zoro, on the other hand, felt like he’d just signed his own execution papers. He laid spread-out on the bed, imagining it swallowing him whole and spiriting him away from his fate. 

Suddenly, Sanji’s face was staring down at him with a cheeky smile. Zoro scoffed at him. “You look like an idiot who still believes in Santa.”

Sanji dropped his smile and rolled his eyes, shoving Zoro aside to lay next to him on the bed. They were both staring at the ceiling now with their shoulders touching. Every so often, Zoro would feel the brush of Sanji’s fingers against his own. 

“Don’t see why you’re so upset,” Sanji told him, quickly pinching his arm. “You’re the one who offered to help.”

Zoro grabbed Sanji’s hand and squeezed before he could get away with any more pinching. “Shoveling snow is a good workout. I didn’t think about having to deal with your old man the whole time.”

Sanji tried to wiggle his hand free of Zoro’s grasp, but it was half-heartedly. “Well, I think it’d be really great for you two to have some time alone. Maybe you’ll even bond a little.”

“Wishful thinking.”

“Some miracles are worth wishing for.”

Zoro turned his head to look at Sanji, considering whether or not to headbutt him and send him flying off the edge of the bed. But when he turned, he was met with blue eyes that were looking at him with warmth and respect. He could feel the slow caress of Sanji’s thumb on his hand, a little sign to show he wasn’t alone. 

Sanji wasn’t pulling his leg, he really did want Zoro and Zeff to get along. And because he loved them, he trusted that they would – for him. 

“You’re one lucky bastard,” Zoro said out loud, signaling his surrender to Sanji’s wishes.

Sanji leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Zoro’s when he answered, “I know.”

Zoro and Sanji got out of bed right as the first signs of sun started showing over the horizon. The light shone through their window much more pronounced than usual due to the iridescent reflection of the snow that covered the ground outside. Zoro’s bare feet touched the cold floor, sending shivers through his body and waking him up. Sanji kissed him on the cheek, which made him warmer. 

Sanji dressed himself in his typical black slacks and light blue button up, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. He pulled an extra apron from a dresser and tied it on, despite the fact they weren’t even near the kitchen yet. It took him several tries to brush the bed head out of his hair, especially when Zoro was always coming up behind him to ruffle it up again and make him start all over with a huff. 

In between pestering his boyfriend, Zoro shrugged on his usual t-shirt and pants, wishing he had a pair a little more waterproof for the snow. He’d have to do with what he had, though, so he layered on one of Sanji’s hoodies and zipped his thick, winter jacket over top. Fishing it out of his pile of clothes, Zoro found his socks, hat, gloves, and he even succumbed to wearing a scarf. By the time he was finished, he was starting to sweat underneath it all. 

“No more muscles,” Sanji teased with a pout. With his finger, he poked at a puffy section of Zoro’s jacket. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I could still kill you in this condition,” Zoro responded. 

“The Stay Puff Marshmallow Man – I’m so scared.”

Zoro lunged to grab Sanji, but he evaded his grasp and ran out the room. They both pummeled down the stairs, laughing and chasing each other and making way too much noise for the time of day. Sanji tried to trip Zoro as they made their way to the lobby, and Zoro nearly succeeded in elbowing Sanji in the gut. 

Their tussle was cut short when Zoro realized a shovel was hurling fast toward his head. Luckily, he caught it just before it made contact with his body. Scowling, he looked around to find who threw it.

“Oh,” Zeff remarked – half disappointed, half shocked. “You caught it.”

Zoro glanced over at Sanji, who shrugged sympathetically. 

Without another word, Zeff trudged toward the front door, signaling that he was ready to start the snow-removal and get on with his day. With a grunt, Zoro started following him, but stopped when he felt Sanji grab his arm. 

“Good luck out there, mosshead,” he told him in a low voice. His eyes were full of sincerity, and the grip on Zoro’s arm was firm. “Try to get along with him?” he raised his voice at the end like a question, making it sound less like a command and more of a suggestion. Zoro could try his best, but Sanji knew there were no guarantees with his old man. 

Zoro sighed, and tried to relax his face into a reassuring smirk. “I never back down from a challenge,” he repeated his answer from a few days prior. He gave Sanji a chaste kiss on the forehead before adjusting his hat and scarf and walking outside. 

The cold didn’t hit him as hard as it had last night. Now that he was sufficiently prepared, the wind didn’t gnaw through his bones, but his nose was still a little numb. But he figured that, as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, he’d be plenty warm. And considering the amount of snow covering the parking lot, he and Zeff were surely going to be out for a few hours. 

Since most of the snow had been sitting out all night, he knew parts would be packed and icy. It was going to take some serious shoulder strength to chip away bit by bit with the shovel. While he surveyed the work, Zoro stretched his shoulders and neck to prepare himself. 

“Well, let’s get to work, ballerina!” 

Zeff’s biting command immediately put him in a sour mood. Clenching his jaw, he bit back a nasty remark and instead slogged through the snow to where Zeff was already a few shovel-loads in. Zoro knew Zeff had been quite the rugged man in his youth, and he was still stocky and strong in his old age, but he was still impressed by how much he was able to shovel away by himself with his fluffy Russian Sable mittens. 

“Should I start here with you, or should I start at the opposite end?” Zoro asked, unsure of which location would make Zeff less grumpy.

Zeff paused to look at Zoro with distaste. “So now I gotta order you around like one of my line cooks?”

Zoro was about to turn on his heel and make his way to the farthest end of the parking lot as possible, but then he remembered this was for Sanji. The challenge was to get Zeff to like him – or at least tolerate him enough to not want him dead – and he wasn’t going to be able to do that if they were hundreds of feet apart from each other. So without responding, Zoro started on a section of the lot close to Zeff. 

Shoveling snow was no joke. The stuff was heavy when packed together, and the act of shoveling demanded a lot from your whole body. However, it was so repetitious that you became used to it quickly, and the pain was mostly felt after you stopped rather than during the act itself. In order to not be completely bored out of his mind, Zoro thought of what he could say to get Zeff to like him. 

“Has the snow ever been this bad for Christmas?” he started. The weather was always a good conversation starter, right? That was the thing people always did?

“Don’t try to small talk me, boy.”

Zoro’s shovel hit the pavement hard. He should’ve known conventional methods never would’ve worked on the guy. 

“Okay, well, then how’d you lose your leg?”

Zeff snapped his neck to look over at Zoro, the snow in his shovel slipping off and back onto the ground. “The hell?”

“You said no small talk!”

Zeff lifted the shovel high, and Zoro wasn’t sure if he was going to smack Zoro with it or bludgeon his own head. After some breaths, Zeff resumed shoveling without another word. In fact, Zoro thought he was actually trying to shovel a little faster. 

Seeing Zeff uncomfortable was actually starting to feel good. The old man didn’t want to be out alone with Zoro just as much as he didn’t want to be alone with him. They weren’t so different after all.

Zoro stuttered in his movements with that realization. In order to get along with someone, usually you bonded over something mutual. For the longest time, he thought he and Zeff were worlds apart, but maybe there was a thing or two they both liked. 

“I heard Sanji had to give Patty a beat down in the kitchen last night,” Zoro offered as his next conversation bait. 

He heard Zeff grunt a few feet away – or was that a laugh? 

“That eggplant is always startin’ somethin’ in the kitchen,” Zeff responded without much elaboration. 

Too bad for him, Zoro was prepared for that. He lugged another heavy pile of snow over his shoulder – a whole 10 parking spots cleared. They were making good progress. “One time, back at his restaurant, he got so mad at a line cook that he kicked a pistachio nut so precisely it cracked right on the guy’s forehead.”

This time the sound out of Zeff’s throat was totally a laugh. “I taught him that.”

His response was so quiet that Zoro almost missed it, but thankfully he was on high alert – listening and waiting so that he could make his next move. As he chipped away at a particularly stubborn block of ice, he yelled over his shoulder, “oh yeah? When?”

Zeff took a mittened hand off his shovel to scratch at his mustache in thought. “Hm, when he was… maybe 13, I suppose. That year he had that horrible voice crack.”

Zoro had finally chipped away at the ice and was making quick progress on another few spots. He chuckled thinking about Sanji getting angry and yelling with a high-pitched voice he couldn’t control, then getting even angrier at his unfortunate circumstances. “I can imagine him being quite the handful during puberty.”

“You have no idea,” Zeff groaned. Zoro watched him shake his head with a soft smile, clearly reminiscing on fond memories. 

Zoro smiled too. “I mean, he’s also quite the handful now…” he continued, a small laugh escaping his smile at the end.

“Then leave.” 

Zoro paused, his face dropping. “Huh?” There was a possibility he’d heard the guy wrong. Or maybe, he’d misunderstood him – which is something people told him he did sometimes. Suddenly, he felt the fatigue start to itch his left shoulder. 

Zeff thrusted his shovel forcefully into a mound of snow. “If you have a problem with Sanji, make yourself useful and get lost,” he snarled. The nostalgic, even somewhat playful tone from earlier was completely gone. He was back to the cold Zeff that Zoro was accustomed to. 

Zoro scowled, feeling like he had just taken one step forward and two steps back. He wasn’t trying to insult Sanji, not in any real way. And hadn’t Zeff sounded like he was agreeing with him?

“I don’t have a problem with him.”

Zeff stepped on the edge of the shovel to sink it deeper into the snow. He was acting like he hadn’t heard Zoro’s response at all and was engrossed in the hard labor in front of him. His face was set in its frown, and his eyes were focused down at the ground. Zoro was getting the feeling he’d been shut out. 

Zoro continued shoveling, but his nerves were starting to affect him. Now he could feel the gap between his sleeves and his gloves where cold air sliced away at his wrists every time he lifted the shovel. He grew more and more irritated every time his hat slipped higher and his ears were exposed.

The cold silence around them wasn’t helping any either. In fact, it felt loud and abrasive. It was that eerie kind of silence only freshly fallen snow could bring, and now that he and Zeff weren’t talking, the only release was the sharp scraping of their shovels against pavement. The longer they didn’t talk to each other, the more and more the sounds around him felt like they were mocking him. 

After about 10 minutes, Zoro hit a breaking point. Either they confronted each other now, or Zeff would drive him insane. 

“I don’t have a problem with Sanji, but you sure seem to have a problem with me.”

That was what he’d originally wanted to say after Zeff’s last retort, but he held back to keep things civil. But now he was learning that Zeff wasn’t much of a civil man, so he’d have to get through to him with brute force. 

Zeff laughed a “heh heh,” his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What makes ya think that?”

Zoro plunged his shovel into a snowbank and turned around to face him. “Ever since the first day I met you, you’ve been threatening to kill me. You’ve never once tried to get to know me. You don’t come over to our apartment. I’ve never once even heard the word ‘hello’ come from your mouth. And from what I can tell, you think I’m some stain on Sanji’s life!”

His breath was coming out in short clouds, his chest rising and falling beneath his many layers. 4 years of built-up frustration was showing its ugly head all at once. He knew he should’ve been more disciplined with his emotions, but for some reason, Zeff so easily got under his skin. 

Zeff continued shoveling, but Zoro could tell he was distracted. After a moment of grinding his teeth, he mumbled something right as his shovel scraped the hard ground. Zoro couldn’t hear him.

“What did you say?”

Finally Zeff turned his head, staring into him like he had that time years ago under the Christmas lights. 

“I’ve been Sanji’s guardian for a long, long time. I’ve seen what others have put him through. I’ll be damned if he’s hurt again by someone he trusts,” Zeff growled, clearly as worked up as Zoro was. 

Zoro took a breath, hoping he could get Zeff to realize they were on the same team. “I know. I’m glad he has you to protect him, but I’m also going to–”

“You?” Zeff interrupted. He was belly-laughing now, and not in a joyful way. Zoro felt his fingers go numb under his gloves and his throat dry up in the cold air. 

“From what I’ve observed, you’re a lazy, selfish child who only acts on personal instinct. You don’t think before you speak, and you hardly think of others before you make decisions. You have a violent past and very little friends. You’re nothing but trouble.”

After spitting out his final words, Zeff resumed his shoveling with vigor. The handle of the shovel bent dangerously with the weight of his thrusts, and the head clanged loudly against the ground. Zeff’s jaw was set hard as stone. 

Zoro felt small. He didn’t think Zeff’s assessment of him was fair, but nothing he’d said was anything he hadn’t heard before. The social workers, his teachers – every adult in his life had judged his character just as Zeff had described. And he had learned very early on that once someone sees you a certain way, it’s near impossible to convince them otherwise. 

The entire front half of the parking lot was free of snow, and the steadily rising snow was helping to melt thicker pieces of ice along the sides. All that was left was the driveway and then the back parking spots. Zoro watched Zeff continue to work for a moment, and then he grabbed his shovel, turned around, and walked as far away from him as possible – shoveling the snow away from the driveway. 

When they were finished, he was hungry, tired, and demoralized. He wanted to rid himself of his clothes – the undergarments damp with sweat and his outwear damp from the snow – and soak in a hot bath before wallowing in bed. Everyone else would be busy in the restaurant all day. No one would notice that he was gone. 

He entered through the back door, hung his jacket up, and found his way to the bedroom.

Zeff was relieved to have the parking lot shoveled in a much shorter time than he’d predicted. It was only 10am, and the forecast wasn’t predicting any more snow until the following week, so he could focus his attention solely on his kitchen for the remainder of the day. 

He placed his tall chef’s hat on his head and buttoned his jacket up to the neck. Leaning over, he felt his back pop in a few places – a little sore from working outside. It was times like this he had to admit he was starting to feel his age. 

None of his staff noticed him at first when he returned. Despite it only being prep, there were still lots of bodies rushing around, tending to simmering broths and delicately running dough through pasta makers. He could smell fresh herbs chopped and portioned for later, the cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom coming out strong due to the Christmas-themed menu for the night. It was usually his favorite menu to create, and a tender warmth spread through his rounded belly. 

But of course, this was still a tight-ship he had to run. 

“Carne, when’s the last time you rotated the brisket?”

“Watch it, this soup is about to curdle!”

“Why haven’t the shrimp been de-veined yet?”

He barked out the orders to announce that his job outside was done and his job inside had just begun. Everyone had been working smoothly on their own, but now that he was there, they were a powerful machine. 

Sanji was meticulously cutting strawberries to look like roses. It was one of the first decorative tricks Zeff taught him, and the one task he trusted him with the most. When he’d heard Sanji was coming over for Christmas Eve dinner, he knew he just had to include them in the menu. 

Zeff walked over to his station, grabbed a small paring knife and started working on coring some pears right beside him. 

“Hm,” Sanji raised an eyebrow in Zeff’s direction but kept his focus on the fruit in his hands. “Looks like you didn’t slip and crack your head open out there.”

Zeff snorted. “Like I said – takes more than a little bit of fancy water to take me out.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sanji smile. “So, the parking lot is all cleared and ready for customers?”

“Yup. Coulda done it quicker if I was by myself.”

Sanji rolled his eyes and sighed, but still, the smile on his face didn’t budge. “Where’s Zoro?”

The knife almost slipped in Zeff’s hands. “How the hell should I know? Probably snuck away to drink the last of my good booze.” He jabbed the knife into the pear, hollowing it out. 

“Hm,” Sanji said again, this time more sullenly. He stared at the finished strawberry in his hand longer than usual before putting it down and starting on the next one. The sudden change in spirit bothered Zeff. 

“What’s got your milk curdled?” he asked, trying to come off like he cared – but not too much. 

Sanji scrunched his face in disgust at the analogy. “Ew, nothing.” Then his face relaxed and he explained, “I guess I was hoping for a Christmas miracle that you two would get along for once, but…” his voice trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. 

Zeff glanced over at him and scoffed before picking up the next pear. He couldn’t understand why it mattered so much for him to get along with Zoro. His only business was keeping Sanji safe and alive and making sure his restaurant and his crew stayed afloat. Everything else was either unnecessary or a threat. And to him, Zoro was more of a threat than anything. 

He and Sanji had a good relationship, he thought. Of course, he was no model parent – in fact, far from one – but whatever he was worked for him and Sanji. They didn’t need someone else barging in and disturbing the safety net he’d painstakingly constructed over the years. 

Ultimately, he chose not to respond to Sanji, hoping he’d drop the topic and they could continue their Christmas Eve tradition. 

“It’s not easy for him either, you know?” Sanji noted after a moment’s pause. 

Zeff sighed in frustration, cracking his neck from side to side. “The hell you blabbin’ on about?”

Sanji lowered the strawberry in his hand and looked over at Zeff. He could tell the little eggplant was starting to get worked up. “Zoro and relationships – especially parental ones. It’s not easy for him.”

Zeff’s hands started to feel clammy. Something didn’t feel right.

Sanji continued, still turned toward Zeff but with his eyes looking around nervously. “He’s never had a father figure in his life. He never knew his real father, and he never stuck around one place long enough to call someone dad. I thought… well… you took me in, so…” The words seemed to close up his throat. Eventually, he gave up trying to finish.

Zeff felt his chest tighten almost painfully. This was the closest Sanji had ever gotten to referring to Zeff as his father directly to his face. Usually it was an unspoken agreement between them that neither of them had the guts to say out loud. 

“Never mind,” Sanji backtracked suddenly, gathering the finished strawberries. “Maybe things are meant to be the way they are.” And with that, he picked up his tray and moved over to where the walk-in refrigerators were.

Zeff was starting to feel like chewed gum that had long lost its flavor. Slowly, he started to continue his business of coring pears, but they were just movements with no real feeling. The personal reckoning that comes when you think you’re doing something right, only to realize you’re wrong, was something he’d become very familiar with while raising Sanji. It was one of the most difficult parts of being a parent, and even in his and Sanji’s grown ages, the lesson never went away.

He adjusted the hat on his head and continued with dinner prep. 

It was 10pm, and Zoro had been scrolling on his phone for the past 2 hours in bed. After he had returned to the room earlier in the day, he had grabbed one of the snacks Sanji always kept in one of his bags and ate it in the bath. The hot water was just what his muscles needed, but the peace and quiet of the bathroom was not good for his head. He couldn’t shake what Zeff had said to him, and it was causing his thoughts to spiral out of control.

After 30 minutes, he couldn’t take it anymore. Getting out and drying himself off, he meditated in the corner of the room for a while before eventually falling asleep. He floated in and out of sleep and the strange dreams that came with it. He considered sneaking downstairs to see how things were going, but he opted for push-ups and wall-sits instead.

The plan for the evening was that all of the Baratie staff would finish Christmas Eve service and clean up, then they would all have a late family dinner together. The dinner usually lasted until midnight, so everyone would celebrate Christmas together and exchange gifts. It was a very long, tiring day for everyone, and they’d spend most of Christmas day sleeping in and enjoying their day off.

Zoro knew this, and yet the thought of going downstairs to join everyone in the festivities made him feel uneasy. He wasn’t much in the mood to be holly and jolly right now, and he didn’t want his disposition to affect the others who were trying to have a good time. 

Just as he was about to flip to another app, Sanji lightly knocked on the door before coming in. 

“Hey, mosshead,” he said affectionately. There were a couple stains on his apron, and his hair was a bit messier than usual, but otherwise he looked cheerful. Service must’ve finished without much of a hitch. He walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge next to Zoro and stretching his arms above his head. 

Zoro was happy to see him, but the feeling quickly turned sour. He didn’t know how to tell him about what happened with Zeff outside, and he didn’t want him to be disappointed that he’d failed to get Zeff to like him. 

“I was wondering if I’d see you at all in the kitchen after you were done shoveling the snow,” Sanji continued when Zoro didn’t respond. “You must’ve been hungry after all that work. I would’ve made you a snack.”

Zoro shook his head. “I’m fine. I went straight here to take a bath. Ate some of the snacks from your bag.”

“Hmm,” Sanji hummed in acknowledgement before slouching against Zoro and putting his head on his shoulder to rest. “A bath sounds really nice right now.”

Zoro could smell nutmeg in his hair. He wrapped an arm around him to pull him closer – realizing there were also hints of garlic and sage sticking to his clothes. It all smelled like Sanji to him. It all smelled like home. 

Zoro sighed and leaned his own head against Sanji’s. “Your old man is never gonna like me,” he managed to say after a few failed attempts. His throat still closed around the words I’m sorry.

“Pft,” Sanji scoffed. “I’m not even convinced he likes me half the time. He’s not an easy man to read.”

“No need to read,” Zoro insisted. “He told me loud and clear. He wants me dead and buried.”

“He’s just being overly protective…”

“Am I so bad?”

He didn’t mean for those words to come out so suddenly, and he winced at how his voice cracked from emotion. But it was the question that kept swirling around and around in his head for the past few hours, and he needed to say it out loud to someone he trusted before it ate him away. 

He felt Sanji go stiff beside him. Slowly, he lifted his head off of Zoro’s shoulder to look at him, but Zoro was looking at the ground. He took a quick breath before adding, “Maybe Zeff’s got a point. Maybe you could do… better with someone else.”

When Sanji still didn’t respond, Zoro gingerly looked at him and discovered that his face was a mixture of confusion and absolute horror. 

“Do I have to kill you?” Sanji said, completely bewildered.

“Hah?! Why do you and Zeff want me dead so bad?!”

“I don’t want you dead!” Sanji nearly yelled in his face with anger. “But you saying I could do better with someone else makes me so mad that I want to kill you! What the hell happened out there between you two?!”

“Nothing,” Zoro responded stubbornly. 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll kill you.”

They both reached for each other, smacking their heads together and baring their teeth. Zoro was about to put Sanji into a headlock when there was a sudden knock on the door. They both froze, but not before Sanji could get a good kick to Zoro’s shins, making him grit his teeth in pain. 

“It’s me,” a gruff, scratchy voice noted through the wood. 

Sanji and Zoro froze midway through their tussle. Zoro felt his heart drop, not yet ready to face Zeff again. 

Thankfully, Sanji swooped in to save him. “I’ll be down to help get family dinner ready in just a few minutes; go back to the kitchen!” he yelled through the door. Turning to Zoro, he gave him a thumbs up, signaling he was on his side and their conversation wasn’t over yet. 

“I didn’t come here for you,” Zeff responded.

Sanji lowered his thumb and frowned. His eyes looked back and forth, trying to think up an excuse for Zoro to not have to open the door. Before he could come up with one, however, Zoro patted him on the shoulder – letting him know it was okay, and he could handle it. He didn’t have a whole lot of confidence that this was true, but he was a man who faced his biggest trials head-on rather than turn his back to them. 

Steeling himself, he grabbed the door handle and slowly opened the door of the bedroom. Sure enough, Head Chef Zeff was standing in the doorway in full uniform with his usual crease in his brow and frown on his lips. The only thing completely out of character was the shovel he was holding stiffly in his right hand. 

Zoro couldn’t even say anything. All he could do was stare at the shovel in confusion. 

“C’mon,” Zeff said, not explaining a single thing. “There’s some snow you missed.”

Zoro couldn’t believe the audacity of the guy. So, he wasn’t good enough to date Sanji, but he was good enough to keep around to do the yard work? His already tired shoulders sagged at the thought of more shoveling. 

“I’ll do it,” Sanji piped in from behind, moving to step in front of Zoro.

Zeff held out a hand. In a resigned gesture, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, I…” For a moment, he hesitated. “I’d like Zoro’s help. If he’s willing.”

Zoro always hated the food-themed nicknames, but Zeff saying his actual name might’ve been just a little worse. It put his whole body on edge, but he could recognize the sincerity in Zeff’s tone. Unlike usual, he wasn’t speaking like his tongue was laced with razors. 

Zoro gave Sanji a reassuring glance before turning to Zeff. “Fine,” he said, not fully letting down his guard. If Zeff wanted to act out some charade in front of Sanji that everything was cordial, he could play along. He started down the hallway with Zeff, turning over his shoulder to tell Sanji, “I’ll be back by dinner.”

Zoro was able to grab his coat on the way out the door, but he’d left his hat and gloves in the bedroom. He hoped there wasn’t a lot of snow because there was no way he’d last long without those items. But interestingly enough, Zeff hadn’t grabbed his jacket, and his ridiculous mittens were nowhere to be seen. Zoro took that as a promising sign that maybe the job wasn’t too big, and maybe Zeff appreciated Zoro’s snow-shoveling skills… That was probably way too much wishful thinking. 

They exited out the back without sharing a word. The nighttime wind whipped around them, making Zoro suck air through his teeth. His hands were shoved as deeply into his pockets as they could go, and he shrugged his shoulders as close to his ears as possible. It was still absolutely miserable as he tried to follow closely behind Zeff.

When he looked at the direction they were walking, he realized they were approaching a small wooded area that surrounded the restaurant. The pine trees were puffy and fat from the lingering snow, and the bare branches of the other trees looked gloomy under the moonlight. Zoro’s boots sank into a few inches of snow as they trudged off the pavement and into the grass. 

Zoro glanced at Zeff’s back again, then at the shovel, and then finally at the woods. He tripped a little in his steps when he put the pieces together. 

He’s going to finally kill me and bury me in the woods.

“Nope!” he shouted over the wind, stopping right in his tracks.

Zeff paused, looking over his shoulder. When he noticed Zoro wasn’t following him anymore, he gestured with his hand to come along. 

“I’m not going near the woods! You’ll have to kill me out in the open!”

Zeff threw his hands up and started moving back toward Zoro. When he reached him, he stood one hand in his pants pocket and the other firmly gripping the shovel. 

“I’m not going to kill you, idiot.”

Zoro squinted his eyes at him in suspicion, fully not believing him. “Then why the hell are we going to the woods, and why the hell do you have a shovel?”

Zeff looked at the shovel and then back at Zoro. “So we could have a shovel talk. In private.”

“A shovel–” Zoro stopped short, blinking at the geezer to make sure he wasn’t still in one of his fitful dreams. “You don’t need an actual shovel for a shovel talk. What is wrong with you?”

“Listen,” Zeff cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. The tip of his nose was turning red from the cold. Whatever conversation he wanted to have, Zoro hoped he’d make it quick. 

“You were right earlier,” he started slowly. “I’ve never tried to get to know you. I’ve never given you a chance to explain.” His jaw was tense when he paused, and when he looked Zoro in the eyes, he actually looked human. Zoro shifted in his boots, not sure where to look or how to take the information that Zeff was sharing. 

“I’ve lived a long life, and I’ve been to a lot of places. I’ve met really good people, and I’ve also crossed paths with some of the lowest scum on earth. I’ve gained a lot of wisdom, sometimes by painful means, but that does not make me an expert in… these kinds of matters…”

Zeff’s voice trailed off, but he quickly continued what he wanted to say. There was a determined glare in his eyes. 

“I took it as my responsibility to protect Sanji no matter what once I took him into the restaurant. But he’s grown up and able to make decisions about who he lets into his life on his own, and I overstepped a boundary. I realize that now.”

Zoro was stunned Zeff had said all of that out loud. Suddenly, the wind didn’t feel so cold. He hardly recognized they were standing in freezing temperatures at all. This had to have been a dream. 

“We have the same goal,” he tried to reason with the man once again. “We want to keep Sanji safe, and we want him to be happy. I’m not your enemy.”

“I recognize that now,” Zeff conceded, a small shiver in his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. You’re just a kid. You’re doing what you can with what you got.”

Zoro raised his eyebrows at that, suddenly touched. It was like some sort of screen was finally lifting between them, and they could clearly see their similarities where their differences once seemed too great. Zoro still felt a little small standing in front of Zeff, but no longer was it in a way that made him feel like the old chef was towering over him. Instead, he wanted the guy to take him under his wing. 

“I appreciate you saying that…” Zoro started, getting that out of the way before he forgot. “I do my best to do right by Sanji, and I’m going to continue to do so for as long as he lets me.” He smirked at the old man, trying to ease some of the tension. “And if I mess up and he gets hurt, I’d be more than happy if you killed me.”

Zeff let out a laugh that billowed into a small cloud around him. For just a moment, he wasn’t so rigid. For just a moment, he could see them becoming family. The idea was new and scary to him, but it made him feel a little less alone. 

Zeff’s sharp laughter ended in a cough. But before Zoro could suggest they head inside, the old chef asked a question. 

“Do you love my son?”

Zoro froze. The answer to that was pretty obvious, at least between him and Sanji. However, neither of them had really said it out loud. They were both men driven by action and subtleties. Neither one of them had actually said the word to each other yet, and Zoro squirmed in his boots hearing Zeff blurt it out so casually. 

With reddened cheeks and his eyes looking off to the side, Zoro sheepishly nodded his head. 

“Good,” Zeff noted, and he seemed to have ended the conversation. Still with shovel in hand, he started to head back to the restaurant, roughly patting Zoro on the back and making him cough involuntarily. They walked back to the sound of their shoes crinkling the snow beneath their steps, but the silence wasn’t heavy anymore. Instead, it was light with promise and new beginnings. 

“Oh, there is something I actually wanted to ask you!” Zoro spoke up, remembering the second thing that had been plaguing his mind since they’d first arrived at the restaurant. 

“What’s that, my boy?”

“Can you show me how to throw knives?”