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chibi_trillian...suckery is having to watch the Super Bowl in grainy black and white because your bunny ears don't pick up your local ABC affliate too well.
After much panicking, screaming, literal crying, running about like chickens with heads cut off, stage-mom-girlfriend-deflection, folding, discovery that I can put my finger entirely through the sole of my shoes, running outside in said shoes to go direct traffic in the rain, and a can of cream of mushroom soup (sorry Usopp), I finally got to see a Piano Squall concert from the audience instead of from backstage. He played "Memories" from One Piece, and life was good.
Found this while sorting through my mess of One Piece fanfic. Wrote it for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mettathron forever and a day ago, so naturally it's Zoro/Sanji.
Title: Pajamas
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13 for implied ghey sexx0rs.
Summary: Sanji fails at life. Zoro forgives him anyway.
“What the hell are these?” Zoro held up the loose, lightweight pair of green pants and looked at them dubiously.
“They’re pajamas, moron. Don’t play with me.” Sanji gritted his teeth around his cigarette. Shit, you’d think buying a birthday present for someone whose principal non-Sanji interests were killing things, getting stronger, and sleeping would be easier than this.
Zoro’s face held a look so utterly blank and clueless that he must’ve stolen it from Luffy.
“Pa. Ja. Mas. Clothes that you sleep in. Was the undersea marimo culture that you originally came from not sufficiently advanced for the concept of pajamas?” Sanji growled.
Zoro pointed at his current outfit. “These are the clothes that I sleep in. I don’t need a separate set just for that.”
Shitshitshitshitshit. So much for romance and thoughtfulness. Sanji knew he should have gotten Zoro a new whetstone. He hissed his breath through his teeth and turned around to try and get his temper under control. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to kick Zoro more than twice today, and he’d already used one of them at breakfast. He needed to save the other for something really, really, really kickworthy…
Oh, fuckitall. Sanji spun around, raising one foot…
And Zoro grabbed him and kissed him. Sanji became vaguely aware that the raised leg was twitching, but Zoro was doing one of the select things that he did formidably well. The asshole swordsman had had him at their first kiss, though Sanji would never admit it to him.
Zoro finally stopped when Sanji started going limp from lack of oxygen. Sanji gulped for air as Zoro’s hands started roaming.
“Besides, I don’t need clothes when I sleep with you.”
Shit. Marimo-head had a point. The present was a failure, but the birthday looked very salvageable from the way Zoro was playing with his belt.
Next year, Sanji was just giving Zoro breakfast and himself in bed.
After much panicking, screaming, literal crying, running about like chickens with heads cut off, stage-mom-girlfriend-deflection, folding, discovery that I can put my finger entirely through the sole of my shoes, running outside in said shoes to go direct traffic in the rain, and a can of cream of mushroom soup (sorry Usopp), I finally got to see a Piano Squall concert from the audience instead of from backstage. He played "Memories" from One Piece, and life was good.
Found this while sorting through my mess of One Piece fanfic. Wrote it for
mettathron forever and a day ago, so naturally it's Zoro/Sanji.Title: Pajamas
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13 for implied ghey sexx0rs.
Summary: Sanji fails at life. Zoro forgives him anyway.
“What the hell are these?” Zoro held up the loose, lightweight pair of green pants and looked at them dubiously.
“They’re pajamas, moron. Don’t play with me.” Sanji gritted his teeth around his cigarette. Shit, you’d think buying a birthday present for someone whose principal non-Sanji interests were killing things, getting stronger, and sleeping would be easier than this.
Zoro’s face held a look so utterly blank and clueless that he must’ve stolen it from Luffy.
“Pa. Ja. Mas. Clothes that you sleep in. Was the undersea marimo culture that you originally came from not sufficiently advanced for the concept of pajamas?” Sanji growled.
Zoro pointed at his current outfit. “These are the clothes that I sleep in. I don’t need a separate set just for that.”
Shitshitshitshitshit. So much for romance and thoughtfulness. Sanji knew he should have gotten Zoro a new whetstone. He hissed his breath through his teeth and turned around to try and get his temper under control. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to kick Zoro more than twice today, and he’d already used one of them at breakfast. He needed to save the other for something really, really, really kickworthy…
Oh, fuckitall. Sanji spun around, raising one foot…
And Zoro grabbed him and kissed him. Sanji became vaguely aware that the raised leg was twitching, but Zoro was doing one of the select things that he did formidably well. The asshole swordsman had had him at their first kiss, though Sanji would never admit it to him.
Zoro finally stopped when Sanji started going limp from lack of oxygen. Sanji gulped for air as Zoro’s hands started roaming.
“Besides, I don’t need clothes when I sleep with you.”
Shit. Marimo-head had a point. The present was a failure, but the birthday looked very salvageable from the way Zoro was playing with his belt.
Next year, Sanji was just giving Zoro breakfast and himself in bed.
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Date: 2006-02-06 12:42 am (UTC)