Archive of Our Own

Sanji loves his job.

It had been a long road getting there, but after years of intense work he finally hit the peak of his culinary career.

When he used to work with Zeff down at the Baratie he really did thrive as a chef. It was where his love for cooking first bloomed, where he spent his teenage years honing his craft day in and day out to be the best chef he possibly could be. Learning the very foundation that would carry him through the rest of his life.

But the Baratie had limits. Limits that even a seasonal menu change couldn’t break through.

A seaside restaurant could only ever go so far in expanding his skills, his palette and his understanding of food science in general. He stayed in denial of that fact for far too long when he looked back on it all. There were some parts of him thought he could’ve stayed there forever and even some parts of him that wanted to, but with Zeff’s blessing and whole lot of convincing, Sanji set off to discover the wider culinary world.

Over the years there were other restaurants, an intense flurry of catering work and even a semi-successful blog, but his latest venture is one he never would have expected.

Somehow, through sheer luck he had fallen into becoming an inspector. But it’s not the kind of inspector one might think when first hearing the term. No, Sanji’s no officer of the law. He is instead a part of the Michelin guides anonymous inspectors.

It’s really a dream come true, through this he can experience an endless variety of foods and cultures, the techniques and creativity of countless other chefs, always and continuously ever expanding his own palette and ever expanding his love for cooking through the love and effort of others.

The whole thing is a lot more serious than it appears on the surface as well, only the best of the very best restaurants even get selected for such an opportunity and they all covet it. Michelin Stars bring big business, it can make or break certain restaurants and because they all desire such a prestige, Michelin keep strict rules, if Sanji’s ever sussed out during his reviewing then he has to relocate immediately. It’s all very serious business.

By this point Sanji’s gotten used to the whole song and dance of it all by now and hasn’t even had a single close call thus far.

So here he is, another city, another restaurant and another review to be made. And this one, this one he’s especially excited for.

-

Sanji pauses at the side-walk, savouring the last dregs of his cigarette as he appraises the looming building before him. Rain Dinners. The newest attraction to the multi-conglomerate enterprise of the Baroque Works corporation.

He has to crane his neck quite a bit to take in the enormity of it. The resort itself has been around for a while, a hotel mostly, with all the amenities you could ask for, but the high-end restaurant is the newest feature of the place. He can see the restaurant up top where the floor looks to be newly built, with this restaurant meant to serve as the new crowing jewel of the whole resort. It certainly worked well enough to find itself worthy enough to catch the eye of Michelin. But Sanji will truly be the judge of that.

As he turns his eyes downward to the entrance it’s certainly got a theme. Two giant golden crocodiles stand menacingly at the entrance, Sanji grimace at the very sight of it, gaudy and unnecessary, but he supposes it makes sense, an outspoken calling card of its namesake, the owner, Crocodile himself.

He’s a figure Sanji had mostly heard about in passing, but he’d done a little research prior to his visit. A multi-millionaire in a variety of businesses, an important figure of many business dealings with a squeaky clean record, even playing host to the last policeman’s ball in the last few months.

It’s a little strange that his record of cosying up to the local police and beginning his run for local politics all began at the same time as opening a high-end restaurant. But stranger people have opened restaurants, so who is Sanji to judge that aspect of it all. It’s more than likely in his name only, what business would a man like that have in any of the day-to-day goings on of a restaurant.

Sanji exhales the last breath of smoke he’s going to enjoy for a long while and crushes the end of the cigarette underfoot before stalking his way through the equally ornate and golden doors of the place.

The interior is much the same as the exterior, the entire place being an assault on the senses, it’s all just as gaudy inside as it is out, golden crocodiles and pyramid motifs everywhere with crushed velvet or blood red carpets and drapes abound. Sadly his inspection doesn’t cover tacky taste in decor, only in the taste of the food.

He’s got three days planned for this place, staying in the hotel all the while, all expenses paid. It comes complete with a fully comped three meals per day too. His job really does have its perks and despite the gaudiness of the décor he’s certain he’s going to have enjoyable long weekend ahead of him.

He sidles up to the check-in, hoping it’ll be a fairly painless process to check into his hotel room. A lovely woman with large curly blue hair and deep green eyes hosts the desk, there’s a little name-tag for her: Miss Doublefinger. She greets him like she has better things to do, but he doesn’t hold it against her, she probably does.

That’s how he likes it though, no special treatment, no indication that he’s here for any reason that to be another guest spending a few days there. They cycle through the process of it all.

“And that’s all inclusive with the restaurant?” Sanji clarifies, that’s all that really matters here.

“Yep, three meals a day covered completely with your stay. Is that everything sir?” She responds, mostly paying attention to her absurdly sharp nails.

“No that’s everything, thank you.”

She slides the key-card across the counter and points down behind her, where the hotel rooms sprawl out in the back half of the building. It’s not too far of a walk and Sanji can breathe a sigh of relief when he enters his own room, luckily spared from the décor of the rest of the space, plain and unassuming mostly, which works out fine for him. He just needs somewhere to leave his belongings, and a nice space to write up his reviews in between meals.

Bag left behind he rushes back down the main foyer and finally it’s time.

He’s more than eager, it’s the first time someone’s professionally reviewed this place and he can’t wait to find out everything. To discern the unique flavour profile, find out the specialities and discover what makes this place stand out from all the others.

He’s seated at a table nicely tucked away in a booth, which is by far his preference. Though his role is of utmost secrecy, he does have one bad habit, one he should’ve kicked as soon as he got this role, and it’s not his smoking. After every dish, he records his immediate thoughts directly on a small recording device.

It’s how he keeps his thoughts so accurate,, otherwise he loses the full on demand experience of the food, it’s not so suspicious to mumble a few thoughts into the device over the course of his entire meal, but it certainly helps to be out of the way of most everyone else whilst he does so.

Scanning over the dinner menu with peaked interest, Sanji looks out for the stand-outs, Alabastian cuisine is the specialty here. He orders a mint tea to start with and then for his first foray into the culinary world of this restaurant he starts with the traditional lamb shank, the cucumber salad and finally a specialty rice dish called Tahchin.

As he waits the service remains excellent, he keeps an eye out on how others are being served too, drinks never unfilled and meals coming out in record time, everyone appears incredibly pleased with the place and he can’t disagree, as his meal is served to him in record time.

It has all the hallmarks of a place deserving of a Michelin Star, the only thing left is to finally try the food.

With each different bite he records his immediate thoughts directly into the recorder. Recorder out of sight and his voice low and hushed, he’s not looking to make any kind of scene, but he needs these immediate thoughts.

“Seared to perfection.”

“Excellent dressing.”

“...Something’s missing.”

He tries to parse it out mentally. The meal is fine, the ingredient quality is definitely apparent, the mint in his tea in fresh, steeped no longer than necessary and served at perfect temperature. Then the lamb, the quality of the cut is apparent, no taste of being flash frozen and most certainly marinated and grilled for a perfect flavour profile. This part is perfect and Sanji truly has no note for it.

No, the real problem comes from each and every bite of the Tahchin, fluffy rice, perfectly cooked exterior, everything is there, texture, flavour, presentation. Everything, except one little thing, and with each bite Sanji can’t quite figure out what it is that’s missing, it’s not exactly his specialty of the culinary arts, but he’s tried enough of them to know it’s not quite right. And there’s some core component missing in the rice, fluffy, well-cooked and more than acceptable, but Alabastian rice is often sweeter, earthier, it’s a shame, because everything else was so well done.

The final bite leaves him secure in his assessment.

“Lack of saffron.” He mutters his final piece into the recorder with no hiding his disappointing tone of voice.

Usually a little creative magic with food is something Sanji admires, there’s no innovation in sticking to a recipe perfectly, it’s far more enjoyable to bring something new that’s completely your own into the food.

This however is fairly clear-cut to Sanji, the chef didn’t omit the saffron to bring something new to the dish, it was a simple Tahchin, just like they make it in Alabasta, but without saffron.

You see, Saffron has a unique quality in that it is very expensive, more so than any other spice going,

It’s a shame really, knowing it only solidifies his feelings about not giving them a Michelin Star. Saffron was the missing spice a rare and expensive one yes, but there’s truly no substitute for it and Sanji can taste it, he can see the cut corners from a mile away. It’s a shame, they might have made the cut otherwise. But this isn’t the kind of game for second place. Sanji’s eye rove over the rest of the dining area, with the fancy embroidered dining table cloth, freshly cut flowers at each table and silverware that’s most certainly real silver. No expensive was spared anywhere else, within the food and the outside of it.

It’s a shame but there’s nothing he can do about it for the time being. Perhaps they’ll see his review and change their ways and Sanji can return for a follow-up visit in the future.

It dawns on him that he has two more days of this and although he won’t grumble at the free room and board, he knows he’ll certainly be bored of this place by his next meal.

He tucks his recorder back into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and leaves a few bills on his table as he rises to leave.

The moon is low in the sky and it’s a little too early to head to bed, Sanji considers heading back tot his room to get a head-start on his review but the night is young and he won’t say no to a drink at least as he locks his eyes onto the bar hidden a little out of the way.

Nothing wrong with letting loose a little, a big perk of the job, all the freedom it allows him to enjoy once he’s done with his meal.

-

Somehow the bar has at least managed to dodge the gold paintbrush the rest of the hotel has to endure. A slightly more tasteful aesthetic of deep reds and blacks, a little more sophisticated but still presented in such a way that demands the patrons know they’re in an upscale space.

It’s quiet and that suits him just fine, he’s happy to nurse his drink and look out the tall windows, looking out into the inky black, small stars dot the night sky but the rest of it filled with the light of the city, he hadn’t cared much to explore it when he first arrived but now he knows this place is a cheap little facade he kind of thinks better of spending too much of his time here.

Sanji can hardly keep his focus on the wine he ordered, still lost in thought over his meal as he stares at the city. Usually he doesn’t dwell like this, but it’s just eating away at him as to why they would omit such a core ingredient. Maybe when he gets the chance to write something out he can do a little research, or maybe they were just having a bad day, that is the point of the multiple day stay, to account for such things, to try an assortment of dishes and get the full picture.

An Albastian restaurant that fails on the rice is almost unheard of and yet…

He looks down at his glass and sighs whilst he swirls the contents, maybe the restaurant is just an extension of Crocodile’s empire, only wanting the notoriety of a restaurant under hi belt for the bragging rights. It wouldn’t be the first time a big name has got their own restaurant as a vanity project, but he should at least put it out of mind for tonight, try to enjoy himself.

It’s when he’s caught up in all those swirling thoughts that he’s violently jolted out of them by the sound of a voice behind him.

“You’re not very subtle you know.”

Sanji snaps his head around behind him so fast he swears he can hear it crack, only to be greeted by the most smug looking smirk on the individual behind him.

He’s tall, just about Sanji’s height, donning his own suit though far more casual than Sanji’s own all complete with a pair of glasses slipping right down the bridge of his nose. But the most offensive thing of all from this very rude stranger is his bright mint green hair. His steel grey eyes cut through Sanji like a knife, like he can see through Sanji’s whole charade.

The stranger’s words cause Sanji heart to catch in his throat and he swallows it down the panic. If this guy works here then Sanji is absolutely screwed. He’s usually so careful and had never been noticed before, how did this guy notice, Sanji didn’t even see him in the restaurant!

He figures his best bet is just to play it cool. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” the stranger gesture vaguely at Sanji with the same hand holding his own drink. “Whole thing.”

Sanji’s still panicking but thinks he can brush this stranger off if he plays it right. “I don’t know what you mean.” He turns away from the stranger again, breaking from that probing eye contact of his. He takes a large drink of his wine to steady his nerves and goes right back to fixing his gaze back out the window, hoping the other man gets the hint.

Instead though he leans over from behind, closer to Sanji’s ear and keeps talking.

“You know, that recording device in your front pocket.” Sanji’s hand instinctively snaps to the pocket. “The little glances when the kitchen door swings open and the way you’ve just been looking all around this place. Pretty suspicious if you ask me.”

Sanji snaps his head back around, only the find the same smirk still on this man’s face. Oh and Sanji has just met the guy but really wants to wipe that smirk off his face.

“So what?” Sanji challenges him. Maybe he can play this one out and divert well enough, if the guy works here maybe he can come up with some kind of story to cover himself.

“Pretty suspicious if you ask me.”

“I’m not asking.” Sanji bites back. “Do you work here?”

The man pointedly dodges Sanji’s own question. “I would even go so far as to say you’re up to something.”

“Go on then, what do you think I’m here for then?” Sanji says trying to test the waters of this guy’s knowledge.

The stranger lays it all out on the table right away, speaking sharp and quick. “I think you’re an undercover cop, and not a very good one if I managed to catch you out so easily.”

Sanji breathes a sigh of relief internally, doing his best to school his face into giving anything away to the stranger. More than happy to keep up with the story this guy has concocted for him if it keeps him far from the trail of what Sanji actually does.

“Maybe I am and maybe if you keep harassing me I’ll put you in cuffs and drag you down to the station.” Sanji takes a drink as a casual dismissal.

The mossy stranger looks down at him over the rim of his glasses. “Promise?”

Sanji almost spit-takes his drink certain that his face has flooded red, hoping the moody lighting of the bar will be his saving grace in letting this stranger know he got to him, only managing to mumble a half-hearted response of; “You wish.”

The stranger still presses on despite Sanji making a very obvious attempt to ignore him by completely turning away again. He moves from behind him to leaning on the same counter right next to him, no longer keeping his gaze on Sanji, but now looking out at the same sights as Sanji himself.

“I’m just suggesting you back off.” He says casually.

Sanji raises a curled brow at him.

His tone shifts slightly, forgoing the taunting and speaking clearly and plainly. “This isn’t the place for amateurs and I don’t want you interfering in my business.”

“And what business is that then?” Sanji asks.

The man smirks at him, that aggravating persona back in full force once again and he grips the drink in hand, swirls it for just a second and downs the last of the contents, he then slams the Martini glass on the bar and pulls a random assortment of bills out onto the counter. “Don’t worry about it.” Is the last thing he says before stalking off, easily disappearing from Sanji’s view in mere moments, leaving only the annoying memory behind.

Sanji’s only left behind with panic, relief and annoyance all it once, but mostly that last one. How dare that guy come up to Sanji, making all kinds of accusations and then leaving like that!

Sanji’s relief is not easily felt, sure he wasn’t caught out in his very secretive role, but the stranger left his mark, his very annoying and egregious mark.

Much the same as the stranger Sanji downs the last of his glass, slamming it on the bar and paying his own tab before marching off, heading down to his room much the same way as he arrived via the elevator.

What he’d hoped would be a restful evening in a nice expensive hotel room ended up being a restless sleep plagued only with the thoughts of the bespectacled stranger with the mossy hair.

When Sanji wakes the next day it’s a little later than his usual time. Though it’s to be expected with the night he had, hardly able to sleep until the late hour of the eve. His mind constantly plagued by that mysterious stranger.

Sanji groans as he rolls over, he doesn’t even know why that man made such an impression on him. Surely he was just pulling some macho bullshit trying to intimidate Sanji for some reason. Or perhaps even just a man who had too much to drink making a very, very bad pass at Sanji. Regardless, whatever his intentions might have been, it doesn’t matter, he should push that man out of his mind for good and focus on the job at hand.

The clock on his phone shows; 11:19am. It’s a little late for the breakfast serving but if he gets ready quickly enough he should be able to make it for the first servings of lunch, it’s a little disappointing, but he’ll try to catch the breakfast serving the next day.

He finally manages to roll himself out of bed and ready himself for the day, taking a quick walk back to the lobby where he waits for the elevator to head back up to the restaurant with just a few minutes to spare before the 12 o’clock lunch serving.

His mind is half-occupied by his phone and half considering the menu he’s about to try, when a flash of green moves out of the very corner of his eye.

Sanji snaps his head up trying to look for the source, only to see that flash of green once again slip behind an unmarked door in the back, behind the currently unattended hotel desk.

There’s really no reason to pay it anymore mind than he already has, the man might actually work here and if he doesn’t that’s hardly Sanji’s business anyway, besides, Sanji’s got far more pressing matters to attend to.

And yet…

Somehow without even thinking Sanji finds himself on the other side of the same door.

Pressing his back to it he peaks behind himself out the small window to the lobby, fortunately, no-one noticed him but he’s really pushing his luck. If he’s smart he would go right back out there and just continue with his normal plans.

Instead he strides his way down the long and dim hallway, there’s no moss in sight as he goes and luckily no-one else either. He doesn’t really have a plan in mind for when he does meet the mossy man again, but Sanji’s great at improvising, he at least wants to give him a good telling off, either for harassing him or sneaking around.

The irony of it all is a little lost on Sanji.

Passing by door after door without sight or sound of him Sanji starts to think he’s made a big mistake, got himself caught up in some nonsense for seemingly no pay-off, when doing something as reckless as this could actually get him caught.

Then, looming in the distance, he hears the patter of footsteps from around the corner ahead and now he’s just worried about the consequences of actually being caught.

Before he can even think of a plan to escape all of a sudden two strong arms grasp around him from behind and he’s yanked into the closet behind him, one arm grasps firmly around his waist and the other holds his face, a large hand covering over his mouth. The door slams shut in front of him and when he chances a glance over his shoulder he sees that mint green that he’s sure will haunt his nightmares forever.

Sanji tries to shout out despite the hand over his mouth and struggle his way out of the grip, but the man shushes him. “Be quiet.” He insists. Sanji thinks about struggling and protesting some more but those footsteps have become very loud, passing by the door they’re stood behind. There’s a crack in the entrance and when Sanji looks out he see a man. Tall with dark skin and his hair in a buzz-cut and an intensely serious look on his face.

He passes by without notice, the two of them standing still until the footsteps disappear out of earshot and then finally when all is quiet is Sanji let go. When Sanji turns around to face his foe he’s not the man he remembers the night before, all charming smiles and irritating inferences. No, now he’s mad. But Sanji’s not about to let himself be intimidated by the guy.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The mossy man seethes.

“Me?! I could ask you the same thing!” Sanji fires right back.

The other man pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, pushing his glasses off his face to his forehead ever so slightly. “Didn’t you hear me yesterday? I told you to back off. It’s dangerous here.” He stresses that last part with a hiss.

How can Sanji believe that. “If it’s so dangerous what are you doing here?”

Zoro narrows his eyes at him. “None of your business Curlybrow.”

“My name is not Curlybrow, it is Sanji!” Sanji raises his voice at him so much so Zoro shushes him, taking a moment to peak a look through the crack in the door, sighing a breath of relief and responding to Sanji with more calm than before.

“Fine, fine, whatever just Keep. It. Down.” He stresses.

He checks outside the door again. “Looks like we’re good.” He turns back to Sanji. “You.” He points at Sanji rudely. “Stick with me until I can get us out of here.”

Sanji scoffs. “Fine but don’t get it twisted. I’m here to keep an eye on you.” Sanji points back.

The man cracks the door open fully, checking each direction of the hall and beckons Sanji with a gesture. Sanji follows after him, his heart still racing over the situation, he’s never really done anything this reckless before and it’s only by the virtue of this man being so infuriating that he even did so, though upon reflection Sanji never really had a plan for his confrontation with this man, completed clouded with rage over their last interaction the previous night he just followed him on a whim.

His own career looms in his mind as they walk and he thinks if he just follows this guy and they manage to get out of here without getting caught then that’s enough. A small petty part of him though still wants to give this guy the telling off he deserves. He pauses for a moment, he still doesn’t know his name, he really would like that for his final telling off of the guy.

“Hey Moss.” The man peers over his shoulder at Sanji’s call. “What’s your name, you know it’s common courtesy to exchange names and I gave you mine.”

“What do you need it for Curly?” The man replies suspiciously, notably forgoing Sanji’s name completely.

“I told you, it’s common courtesy.” He stresses.

He thinks about it for a moment as if he might consider lying. “Zoro.” But a name like that sounds a little too unique to be a lie.

Somehow, during his following of this Zoro guy the two of them end up nowhere near the lobby, in fact when peering behind the door at the end of the hall, it seems as if they’ve gone the complete opposite direction, instead being lead straight to a large area built from concrete and sheet metal, with a large loading bay door to the outside, which is thankfully closed when they peer inside and thankfully still, completely devoid of any personnel that might’ve caught them out.

“I thought you said you were escorting me out.” Sanji seethes wondering if Zoro had tricked him into this delivery loading dock space.

“I was trying!” Zoro seethes back, he scans his eyes across the room, widening when locking onto some of the crates stacked at the side. “Come on, just get in here.” Zoro grabs Sanji by the arm and drags him inside, slamming the door behind them.

“Hey!” Sanji protests. “Stop grabbing me.” He wonders for a moment if he might have to kick this guy’s add, but once inside the other man ignores him, flipping a flashlight on and jumping over the safety fence to the stored items below.

Sanji instead takes the small set of stairs, walking between the aisles.

It’s just a basic storage room. Newly built from the looks of things and from the contents it makes sense, there’s crates upon crates and some sacks too all filled with dried goods, spices and other bagged staples. This is just where they store all the food with a long-shelf life they can purchase in bulk for their new restaurant.

It’s fun to walk along the aisles and get this insider information he usually can’t get in his line of work. Heck he can’t even ask the chefs or waiters any additional questions lest he draws too much attention to himself. He’ll definitely take note of some of these things in his next meal, even as Zoro sounds more and more frustrated as he opens up a bunch of random crates, checking their contents and moving onto the next. Sanji’s really just an unwilling witness to the let’s be honest, crimes Zoro’s currently committing crimes on the other side of the room. He decides it’s best to ignore him. It’s really not his problem.

As he’s distracted, Sanji accidentally trips over a crate that’s been pushed into one of metal grate shelves poorly. He looks over at the offending crate in ire, feeling foolish, hoping Zoro didn’t see but that all falls from his mind when he sees the label on the side of this particular crate.

‘Saffron’

That’s… odd. More than odd, that truly doesn’t make sense. How could there be crate of saffron here when he’s certain there was none in the food, in fact when he cranes his head a little more behind it, there’s way more crates of it stacked behind, a truly absurd amount for such an expensive spice.

For a moment he wonders if his assessment of the food might’ve been wrong for a moment, but quickly dismisses that thought right away. There’s no way, the Tahchin was missing saffron, he knows that, he could detect each and every flavour of that dish, the eggs, the rice, even each and every seasoning in the vegetables and meat. The only thing missing was saffron, but they have it, they have more saffron than they could use in months of service.

“Strange…” He says out-loud by accident.

“What, what is it?” Zoro says from the other side of the room, stopping whatever destruction he’s working on immediately.

“Oh, nothing really.” Sanji brushes it off. “It’s just… This crate, it shouldn’t be here.”

At Sanji’s words, Zoro wastes no time, he plants his hand on the crate he was attempting to pry open, vaulting himself over to where Sanji is in one swift motion. Sanji watches on as he wedges the crowbar into the crate. His arm muscles flexing under his shirt as he does and he pries the crate open with minimal effort.

When forced open the crate ends up being completely empty. Only a few brown paper wrapping litter the bottom of the crate.

“It’s empty.” Sanji think out-loud.

“Thanks for the commentary.” Zoro snarks.He’s frustrated that much is obvious.

“What were you expecting then?” Sanji asks curiously.

“Not saffron I’ll tell you that.” Zoro says. “And not nothing either, obviously.”

Sanji doesn’t know if it’s better that the crate was empty or full of saffron for his own curiosity’s sake regarding how his last meal went down. But what he does know, is that Zoro was expecting something completely different from Sanji and whatever the hell that might be Sanji’s done being involved in it all, he’s not about to become some kind of an accomplice to this Mossy-haired stranger.

Sanji picks himself up off the ground and dusts himself off. “Well, whatever it is you’re looking for, I’m not about to get involved in your thievery. I would say it’s nice to meet you, but well.”

Zoro’s expression narrows intensely. “I’m not stealing a thing.”

He’s been annoying with Sanji, angry at him and maybe even flirty once, but this is the first time Sanji’s found him to be truly sincere, his words only becoming more solidified when he shimmies the wooden lid of the crate exactly as it was, exactly as he has done with all the others.

“Look, I’m just here to get information. Crocodile is up to something and needs to be taken down.” He speaks with conviction, enough to have Sanji believing him at least.

“Well, shouldn’t you just go to the proper authorities then? If he’s really up to something.” Sanji offers a little meekly.

“What, you?” Zoro asks snarkily.

Sanji frowns for just a moment, forgetting the little cover story he’d gone along with all this time. “That isn’t really my department.” He brushes off. “What about you then?”

“What about me?”

“If you’re not a cop, what are you then, like a rogue journalist or something?” Sanji really does want to know, throwing out his most educated guess out.

“Or something.” Zoro shrugs. That’s not really an answer, though his somewhat smart get-up and the glasses on the bridge of his nose do lend himself to being a bespectacled reporter type, minus the insane muscles he can see straining beneath his shirt, Sanji forces himself to avert his gaze and just assume the guy takes his personal work-outs very seriously.

But Sanji gets the whole anonymity reporting thing himself so he drops it, definitely some sort of journalist who’s taking his job very seriously then.

Zoro tsks in frustration as he scans over the remaining crates. “I don’t think there’s going to be anything different in the rest of these and there’s no time to check anyway, someone’s bound to come this way soon enough.” He checks his watch. “And I need to get you out of here.”

“Me?” Sanji asks incredulously.

“Yeah you, you are gonna get me caught! And I can’t have you weighing me down any longer than you already have.” Zoro pokes him harshly on the shoulder as he speaks.

“You! Would not have even found this crate if it wasn’t for me!” Sanji kicks out at the crate in frustration, a rare showing of restraint on Sanji’s behalf when really he should’ve aimed for Zoro’s shin instead.

Zoro rolls his eyes. “Lucky guess.”

Sanji wants to argue with him more, tell him exactly how he knew, but Zoro grabs his arm and starts pulling him away and Sanji finally notices why, the loading dock door whirs to life, slowly opening upwards with a great creaking sound as it does, as the light from outside trickles in so do some voices.

Safely on the other side of the door with only muffled voice behind them Sanji is thankful for that at least, he really doesn’t want to get caught either, his absolutely righteous fury towards Zoro has started to wear off now and he’s recognising how bad it would be for him to be caught by any of the staff.

He could really do without Zoro always man-handling him though.

Together they quickly and without any other issues make their way down the long stretch of hallway. Luckily no-one else is roaming the halls and even luckier than that when they emerge from the staff entrance into the foyer there’s no-one else around there either. Zoro takes a peek through the crack of the door first and steps out discretely with Sanji close behind.

Sanji can now finally breathe a sigh of relief over his own admittedly stupid and impulsive decision now he’s finally in the clear. When he looks over at the other man, who’s already looking around seemingly for another one of his getaways Sanji stands tall, clearing his throat to command attention and then brushing at is own clothes dismissively. “Well I’d say it’s been a pleasure but it hasn’t.”

Zoro’s eyes narrow at him as he scoffs. “Likewise.”

Then he’s gone. Sanji didn’t quite get to give him the telling off he wanted, but he was able to see the other man, Zoro, a little rattled at least. Surely now at least he can put their whole interaction the previous night behind him, it’s not like him to get so caught up in something like this and he really hadn’t expected what they found, or well, the lack of what they found.

He shakes his head. It’s not his business, Crocodile might be a shady guy, who knows, as far as Sanji knows that Zoro guy could be equally as shady, although he finds that a harder pill to swallow. It doesn’t matter anyway, it really does not matter, he’s not actually a cop, and he’s lucky enough to have not been caught so far.

He checks his watch, still within the hours of the lunch serving. He’ll chalk this whole thing up to a radical whim of his, deciding it’s best if he just continues with his actual job.

And so he does.

Everything is back to normal, as it should be. He’s sat at a nice table, in his nice suit, the conversation around him at the nearby tables are at a pleasant volume and the service is impeccable. This is where he belongs, not sneaking around back rooms in hotels with a strange mossy man. He frowns at the very thought.

His meal is placed before him, and it’s as impeccable as the first, everything is just right. Except…

There’s still no saffron.

Usually it wouldn’t bother him so. But it makes the food taste all the more bitter in his mouth knowing there’s a deep underlying reason as to why. No supply chain issues, nor unexpected costs, he knows saffron is coming into this place but still the food doesn’t reflect that.

He tries to remind himself it’s really not his business, but it’s like his eyes have been opened to it all.

His waiter, an odd man with a strange haircut shaped like a number, comes back around. “Is everything to your liking sir?”

“Ah yes, it’s fine.” Sanji replies diplomatically. The review won’t be fine if this continues to occur, but this guy doesn’t need to know that. The waiter bows his head but before he can leave Sanji has to ask about one thing. Pointing at a specific item on the drinks menu. “Is this tea available? The saffron-infused rose?”

The man straightens up stiffly. “No, sorry sir, that’s not available at the current time.”

“Right…” Sanji trails off. “Then that’s fine, I don’t need anything else, thank you.” Sanji waves him off politely and the waiter gives one last nod and stalks off, leaving Sanji behind with only his thoughts.

As he takes a final disappointing bite of his meal he has no thoughts to give to his recording device. Only the same feelings as his last meal.

He’s only really brought of his musings by a hushed argument over on the other side of the restaurant. There’s a large, blond man in a delivery get-up embroided with the label ‘Baroque Works’ and he’s having an animatedly intense discussion with the waiter that just served him and the hotel clerk from the night prior as he tries to bring a crate directly to the kitchen.

“How did you let him get up here you idiot!” The waiter whispers harshly to the clerk.

When Sanji studies the crate the large delivery man is carrying, he sees a half-obscured label on the side: ‘Sa-’

There’s no way.

The curly blue-haired clerk along with the odd looking waiter usher the large man out of the public space in a quick, distressed manner. Without even thinking Sanji shoots up, throwing a handful of cash down at his table where he quickly, but trying not to look out of place, makes his way through the restaurant with haste. Then when he turns the corner at the last minute he sees the doors of the elevator close behind the three staff members.

He decides not to wait for the elevator, opting instead to take the stairs, a series of them that he flies down, taking two steps at a time.

He’s being crazy, he knows he is, but something inside of him is dying to know.

When he makes it to the bottom of the last of the stairs he keeps himself tucked around the corner, watching as the three of them and that other man he saw back when Zoro grabbed him all bringing in not just one crate, but several all exactly alike.

This time the labels are plain as day: ‘Saffron’

Printed on the sides of at least a dozen containers.

He hides back around the corner of the staircase and slumps his back against the wall, all of the information swirls in his mind like crazy. Not even hours ago he didn’t care, he didn’t have any stake in this whole thing, all he had was a disappointing meal from Rain Dinners that he wasn’t even sure was worth a review at all. Now all he could see was this conspiracy building up around him.

Sanji tries to rationalise it. He’s sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for a restaurant to have so many deliveries of saffron as well as multiple boxes of empty saffron containers and then to also have no saffron in the food.

He can’t really think of one, but surely there has to be.

He shakes his head, what’s he going to do about it all anyway, even if he did find out more it’s not like he’s actually a cop like Zoro inferred, it’s not his place. Though, it’s probably not Zoro’s place either, but that’s besides the point, even if Sanji wanted to help the guy out with this information, first of all he’s a dick, second of all who knows where that guy went anyway.

Sanji exhales deeply. It’s not his business, it’s not his business.

When he looks around himself all he can see is the same gaudy décor that’s plagued him since the moment he arrived and the whole thing makes him feel intensely claustrophobic.

He needs some air.

-

Sanji walks absent-mindedly through the outdoor area of the hotel resort, finally feeling a little more clear-headed with some fresh air in his lungs and some less fresh cigarette smoke in there too. His feet kind of take him on a meandering walk through the place, no rhyme or reason to his steps.

Despite trying to push it all out of his mind, he ends up right at the delivery park of the resort. The outside area to the storage room he was in mere hours ago. From a distance there’s nothing he can really gauge from where he stand and he’s not even sure why he’s here. It’s more than curiosity at this point he has to admit. It’s driving him insane why such a place is being used as a front for something or other.

Sure, he should only be focused on the food really, but he can’t help his own innate curiosity over the whole situation. How often does a simple food review lead to such a big conspiracy.

He leans the side of his shoulder against the wall, studying the horizon and flicks his cigarette down to the floor and crushes it underfoot. There’s nothing to be found here, it’s probably best to put it all out of his mind for good this time and get back to his job. He’s so far out of his depth it’s not even funny.

But then for the second time that day two strong arms grasp around him from behind, once again with one arm around his waist and another hand covering his mouth. This time being dragged into the nearby alleyway. He doesn’t even need to peak over his shoulder this time to know who his assailant is.

But that doesn’t make him any more compliant this time around, the second he feels the grip loosen, he forcefully shrugs the other man’s arms off him, pivoting around his heel and backing up against the wall. He glares back up at the steel grey eyes through those lenses once again.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Zoro smirks.

“Why did you grab me like that?!” Sanji screeches. “Again!” He adds for good measure.

“You looked way too out of place,” Zoro says. “You were gonna blow my cover. Couldn’t risk that.”

Sanji scoffs, “then what are you doing here anyway?”

“I’m looking for more crates. Crates get delivered here. You do the maths.”

Sanji stares at him. “So your plan was to stand around until you figured out which one of the hundreds of trucks was the one you wanted?”

“Yep.” Zoro says it like he’s proud of it.

Sanji lights a fresh cigarette, already smiling down at him. “Yeah, well. Maybe I know something you don’t.”

Zoro’s grin fades. “You’re serious?”

Before Sanji can answer, Zoro’s radio crackles to life.

“Zoro! Zoro! Who are you talking to?”

“Shush Luffy, you’re meant to be radio silent,” Zoro mutters into the radio.

“Ooops.”

Zoro puts his face into his palm. “Look don’t say anything stupid, Luffy, there’s some guy here.”

“A guy, what guy?” Luffy asks intrigued.

“Just some guy.” Zoro grits out.

“The guy who caught you?”

“He did not catch me!” Zoro snaps. “He got lucky!”

Sanji can’t help the smile pulling at the corner of his lips just knowing Zoro’s brought him up to his presumed team.

“Zoro, Zoro! Let me talk to him!” Luffy screeches.

“Fine, fine, in a minute Luffy.” Zoro asks Luffy, putting the radio down, he turns back to Sanji, now more serious, “Okay, I believe you. Tell me everything.”

Sanji nods and begins to explain, detailing the man he spotted delivering the crates and how that all went down. He describes the uniform as best as he can. “-and there was a some text on his shirt, some kind of company name, Baro- something.” He frowns. “I can’t remember the rest.”

Zoro looks right past him and for a moment Sanji thinks he’d just rattled that all off for nothing. Until Zoro points across the lot. “Like that?”

Sanji turns, right there on the side of one of the trucks is the same company as the one he spotted on the uniform. Baroque Works.

“Yes,” Sanji says excitedly. “Yes, that’s exactly it.”

Zoro picks up his radio. “Did you get that Luffy?”

“Yeah! You need me to come down there and back you up?”

Zoro smiles at the offer. “Not yet, still need more info.”

“Booooo!” Luffy jeers down the line. “It’s boring here.” He whines.

Just then another man’s voice calls out. “Boring? That cuts me deeply Luffy.” He pauses for a moment. “Who are you talking to?”

“Zoro.” Luffy replies.

“Hey man, I need you to check something for me,” Zoro demands.

“Oh hey Usopp, happy to hear from you, Usopp. Could you please do me this favour Usopp?” The man on the phone, Usopp, more than likely says, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

“Oh and Zoro got caught again.” Luffy mentions casually.

The other guy, Usopp, yanks the radio away from Luffy if the crackling on the other end is anything to go by. He talks right past Sanji and straight to Zoro. “What the hell Zoro, you’re meant to be good at this! Got me saying my name out-loud and everything.”

“How’s that my fault?!” Zoro exhales deeply, pinching at his brow as he talks. “Look, just don’t tell Nami.”

“Don’t tell me what?” A feminine voice call out, presumably, Nami.

“That guy Zoro was telling us about earlier found Zoro again.” Luffy drops Zoro in it, again.

“Again?!” Nami screeches.

“Quit making a big deal out of it!” Zoro growls. “He’s harmless.”

Nami barrels on anyway. “How’d you even get caught, when you didn’t even find anything anyway.”

“I had a lead,” Zoro states firmly.

“You had an empty crate,” she pushes back.

“That’s what’s so suspicious about it!”

Usopp cuts in with another sarcastic remark. “Okay well we’ve got him now Zoro! Great job! Crocodile, mover of empty crates, I can see the headlines now!”

“Yeah well now I’ve got a better lead,” Zoro gloats.

“Yeah and where’d you get that from?”

Zoro groans, admitting sheepishly. “I got it from... The guy.”

“The guy who caught you twice?” Nami asks. “Maybe we should be talking to him instead.”

“Fine, talk to him, but first Usopp, go search for a company called Baroque Works.” After he’s made his demand, Zoro pouts and holds the radio out to Sanji.

Sanji hesitates for a moment before taking it. “Uh, hello?”

“And you are?” Nami asks.

Sanji straightens up at her tone, and gives her a better first impression. “Apologies, my name is Sanji, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You wouldn’t be sending us on a wild goose chase now would you?” She asks suspiciously.

“Absolutely not, I wouldn’t dare waste your time, dear.” Sanji says with conviction and he can feel Zoro rolling his eyes at him.

The radio crackles as it’s moved about, muffled voices sounding out, then a voice comes through clearly. “Hi Sanji! I’m Luffy!” Luffy says and this guy’s just a ray of sunshine compared to the dour man fixated on the horizon with his binoculars, pout on his face plain as day.

“Nice to meet you.” Sanji says, amused enough by the company Zoro keeps despite his macho persona.

“Zoro doesn’t usually let people help him, you must be special.”

Sanji laughs. “I don’t think he’s wanted my help at all.”

When Usopp’s voice carries through in the background, rattling something off Sanji can’t quite hear, Zoro snatches the radio back. “It’s in the industrial estate on the other side of town.”

Sanji’s honestly in awe over how organised this whole operation is. He still can’t quite get a read on what exactly Zoro’s doing, but the addition of a whole team feeding him information at least lets Sanji put to rest his original theory of Zoro being some kind of thief.

“Are you sure you won’t need back-up?” Nami asks.

“Nah, Luffy and Usopp can keep working on their side of things, we’ll meet up tomorrow like we planned. I’ll head out to the address now.”

Zoro goes to hang up, but before he can Nami screams down the end of the phone. “Wait, wait, wait!” Nami calls out, Sanji brings the receiver closer to himself. “Listen, Sanji was it?”

“Yes, yes hello.” Sanji replies, clutching the radio close.

“Sanji dear, could you do me the biggest favour and just stick with Zoro, he’s a bit of a lost cause when it comes to finding things. Didn’t expect him to have to leave the resort, but you!” She emphasises sickly sweet. “You seem like a real gentleman, you’ll help him get there, right?”

Sanji almost melts right there on the spot. How could he refuse such a darling lady. Even if he’ll be stuck with this awful man because of it.

“For you Nami dear, I’ll do anything.”

“Great! Zoro, Luffy and Usopp will head to you soon, but you’re on your own for tonight, keep us updated.” Then the radio clicks off in finality.

Sanji crosses his arms over his chest and can’t help the smug smile on his face. “Lost cause huh?”

Zoro mumbles while petulantly pocketing his stuff. “Don’t listen to her, she’s crazy. Alright you can go back now.” Zoro makes a shooing motion.

“No, no, Nami insisted I go with you, so go with you I shall.” He relishes the chance to mock Zoro, but deep down he’s a little curious to figure out more of this whole mystery.

“Fine, come with, I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.” Zoro smirks. “Besides, you might accidentally find more clues.”

-

They travel across the whole city, even with the subway, a series of buses and a cab it’s dark by the time they arrive in the industrial estate and darker still by the time they find the right warehouse. It looks abandoned from the outside, no lights on nor a line-up of delivery trucks anywhere to be seen. Sanji worries he got the whole thing wrong, sending the both of them on a wild goose chase.

But the very sight of an abandoned lot has Zoro even more eager.

“Come on.” Zoro beckons and Sanji follows, pushing out of his mind that they’re trespassing and committing a fairly significant crime.

They approach the back entrance, where not even the light from the street lamps reach them and Sanji watches on in awe as Zoro expertly picks the lock at the entrance.

“What about alarms?” Sanji whispers.

Zoro shakes his head. “There’s no way, Crocodile won’t want to alert anyone to this place.” Sanji nods back, trusting Zoro’s word.

Sanji grits his teeth at the sound of the creaking door opening, certain they’ll be caught at any moment, but Zoro presses on, flicking on his flashlight, aiming the light low to the ground. Wordlessly he gestures for Sanji to follow and so he does.

It’s an assault on the sense the moment they walk in, cinnamon layered with pepper and chili and who knows what else, it all mixes together until it’s an overbearing aroma of flavours that catches in his throat, making it hard to breathe.

Looking around in the low light of the warehouse he can see a variety of crates and sacks undoubtedly filled with the very spices assaulting his sense. They all fill the space in tall stacked racks that reach all the way to the ceiling.

“Saffron, right?” Zoro asks, Sanji nods at him firmly and the two of them silently creep through the aisles, studying over every label.

They pass by a multitude of crates until finally, tucked away in a far corner they find it. A dozen, maybe more crates stacked on top of one another all labelled saffron.

Much like back at the hotel Zoro picks a crate and forces it open with a loose piece of wood. This one comes up less easily, the nails holding it together shut, but with enough exertion Zoro forces the lid clean off.

This time though, this one’s not empty.

Sanji’s eyes widen when he sees the contents of crate, fully stacked in brown wrapping brick-by-brick filled with white powder he’s certain is no seasoning.

“Wha- I-” Sanji can barely string together a sentence seeing it.

“Dogs can’t sniff it out in a place like this and no-one’s questioning seasoning being delivered to a brand new restaurant.” Zoro explains quickly.

He’s right, absolutely. Sanji had his own assumptions prior, but seeing truly is believing. God it all makes so much sense and it’s really such a clever way of moving the product too, the only slight slip-up in all of it is sacrificing the flavour of the food in their restaurant. It kind of boils Sanji’s blood that they’d let such a great potential restaurant fall short for their drug ring.

“And you said saffron’s pricey right?”

“Yeah,” Sanji swallows. “Uh, yeah really pricey.”

“Well, not as much as cocaine.” Zoro says, chucking a brick of it at Sanji, who just about catches it in a fumble.

“What the fuck Mosshead!” Sanji whispers harshly as he slams the brick back into its place, making a loud smack that echoes a little too loudly in the silence of the building.

“Hey, who’s in here?” A voice calls out, and Sanji covers his mouth in fear. Zoro moves in front of Sanji in their tucked-in spot and turns his flashlight off.

When Sanji peers over Zoro’s shoulder he can see that man, the large blond one who delivered these same crates back at the hotel along with a female companion of his, a stout, middle aged woman, with large, curly red hair. The man shines his flash-light around the building in wild circles and she’s berating him for not being able to find anyone.

Sanji holds his breath when the light shines where he’s hiding, he can see the shadows forming on the walls and can only hope his own silhouette isn’t part of that.

He can hear their footsteps fade away from them, but there’s no relief to be had for them yet. Zoro immediately grabs his hand, pulling him with. “Come on,” he whispers.

Under the cover of darkness the two of them race side-by-side, slipping through the aisles until they’re able to approach the exit, that same side door from before creaks intensely, the sound alerting their two pursuers.

“Miss Merry Christmas, I found them, I found them!” Mr. 4 says dopily, shining his light in their direction.

“Get them Mr. 4, don’t let them escape!” The woman shrills.

They make a break for it. Bursting out of the door onto the empty warehouse parking lot, they both sprint as fast as they can, Sanji doesn’t look back, he follows Zoro’s line exactly, racing across the asphalt, hopping over fences and ducking into the alleyways.

His footsteps pound as loudly as the heartbeat in his ears, despite himself Sanji’s smiling through his breathes as they travel over a multitude of streets.

Turning over his shoulder Sanji can see the Baroque Works truck hunting them down. “Oh fuck, they’re gonna catch up!” Sanji cries out.

Zoro peers over his shoulder. “Let’s cut through here.” He suggests pointing out a nearby alleyway.

They travel down the alley, hopping over a final fence, Zoro holds his hand for Sanji on his landing and Sanji takes it. They take one more corner only for it to be a dead end.

Zoro makes a quick decision for them with his hand still being held by Zoro’s. He pulls them both through the only door there is. “In here,” he says. Sanji can only pray it’s not locked.

Luckily it isn’t. They stumble into the building, but what greets them on the other side is an assault of lights that strobe on and off in an assortment of colours across the spectrum and the kind of music so loud it thrums through your entire body.

The door slams firmly shut behind them and they’re in the thick of it. Right in the middle of some kind of underground rave in the middle of an abandoned warehouse and now they’ve found themselves amongst the crowd of a tightly packed dance floor.

Immediately Sanji loses all sense of where he is, amongst all the chaos and crowd bumping and pushing around him, but when Sanji reaches his hand out blindly Zoro grasps it back.

The side door opens again, the two figures from the factory having followed them all this way and Zoro pulls Sanji in close, much closer than their previous hand-holding. Zoro puts his arm around Sanji’s waist and Sanji follows suit, his arm laid out across the expanse of Zoro’s back. He’s all gathered up in Zoro’s arms and all Sanji can do it hold him back just as much.

Foreheads nearly touching, they look just like everyone else around them, another pair lost in the rhythm of the music. The crowd carries them across the floor, never letting each other go as they move and glide past all the other people in the crowd. When someone bumps harshly into Sanji, Zoro’s grip on his waist tightens.

Zoro hooks his head over Sanji’s shoulder and leans in closer. “They’re leaving.” And Sanji can finally let go of the breath he’s been holding for god knows how long, but he doesn’t let go of Zoro just yet.

“What now?” Sanji speaks into Zoro’s ear, his breath ghosting over those dangling golden earrings.

“We should get out of here,” Zoro suggests, his hands moving from the tight grip around him to a light holding of Sanji’s hips. “They’ll be back.” Sanji can only nod, any words completely caught in the lump in his throat.

They make their way to the outskirts of the crowd, sneaking out the back entrance and soon find themselves back out on the streets, there’s a few people and the odd car around, but luckily no sight or sound of their pursuers. Still they keep walking, making sure they’re a good distance from the warehouse district completely.

After a little while, Sanji asks, “where are we going?”

“I got a place nearby.” Zoro says. Sanji raises his eyebrow at Zoro in skepticism. “What?” Zoro says. “What?!” He says more agitated. “I really do!”

Sanji’ll be the judge of that. “Give me your address.”

Zoro begrudgingly rattles it off out-loud as Sanji types it into the map and well Zoro wasn’t wrong, it isn’t far, certainly closer than the hotel, but they were travelling in the wrong direction most of the time.

It’s another charitable donation to Nami as far as Sanji’s concerned, to get Zoro safely home.

The building is tall and the hallways are damp and gross, the elevators are out so they climb staircase after staircase, then back down a few since Zoro eventually reveals his place is on the 9th floor, once they’re on the 14th floor.

“This place is bleak.” Sanji says when walking into the place, it’s drab and boring, the smallest most basic apartment going, the true definition of a bachelor pad.

“Yeah well, it’s temporary, only an idiot stays at the place they’re investigating.” He smirks at Sanji whilst he says it.

The door shuts behind them and that sense of safety hit him all at once. Sanji’s legs go weak, boneless and he barely makes it to the nearby couch he collapses on. He leans forward with his head in his hands and groans. All the adrenaline has worn off and the whole thing comes flooding back, far more dangerous and illegal than he ever could’ve expected when he first walked through the doors of Rain Dinners.

“Drink?” Zoro asks somewhere above him.

Sanji nods without looking up.

A drink or two later, even with it just being cheap booze the tightness in his chest subsides and Sanji starts to feel more like himself again. Whereas Zoro’s sat across from him drinking his own glass of whiskey, and he’s been looking far too relaxed for the evening they just had.

“Close call.” Zoro breaks the silence, his tone amused.

Sanji hums in response. “This happen to you often?”

Zoro smirks. “Nah, I usually don’t have someone holding me back.”

Sanji can only frown.

“So what now?” Sanji asks. Surely Zoro has everything he needs. Crates of cocaine are a story all on its own.

“Now I know what he’s moving I have to catch him in the act,” Zoro says. “There’s no way this place is in his name. But now I know what’s getting delivered and how, I have to go back to where it’s going.”

Sanji exhales. “Back at the hotel.”

“Back at the hotel.” Zoro echos him.

Sanji hesitates. “Is that… Is it even safe back there?”

Zoro scoffs. “Of course, they haven’t seen sight nor sound of me the whole time.”

“What about back at the warehouse?”

“Punk kids,” Zoro shrugs. “That’s what they’ll assume.”

The casual way Zoro speaks about it, it does more to calm Sanji down that alcohol has done. Alleviating any worries Sanji has about returning to the hotel himself, if Zoro’s confident enough about it then why shouldn’t Sanji be too. No-one’s seen him either.

They spend the next few hours talking back and forth, Sanji gets a better picture of Zoro’s team and Sanji shares in his time spent with Zeff. He keeps anything to do with his current occupation to himself and Zoro’s not too dissimilar, dodging out a few questions Sanji’s had for him.

But it’s nice, Zoro is begrudgingly, funny and charming and not at all like the huge asshole from their first impression. Well perhaps a little, but it’s an easier pill to swallow when Sanji makes him laugh.

It’s only when Zoro’s talking about a time where he got into a fight at a bar, making sure to brag about how he won, that Sanji spots an opportunity to ask something he’s wanted to know since the very start.

“You were a real asshole to me, back at the bar,” Sanji says. “When we first met.”

Zoro shrugs. “Yeah well, you looked suspicious.”

“Suspicious?”

“Yeah. Mumbling away into that little recorder of yours didn’t help.”

Sanji huffs, he’s never had such an obnoxious problem come along when using his recorder in the past. Most diners tend to keep to themselves.

“Might wanna lay off on that if you wanna do more undercover work.” Zoro suggests surprisingly sincere.

Sanji rolls his eyes. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He doesn’t think his future holds any more overly observant assholes. “Besides, if it wasn’t for that, for you pushing my buttons then, I wouldn’t have even noticed you sneaking around. You put yourself on my radar.”

“So?” Zoro says averting his eyes.

“So why?” Sanji presses. “Why did you try to put yourself on my radar?”

Zoro bristles, lips forming into a pout. “It’s not like I wanted you to hunt me down. And I definitely didn’t want you to catch me sneaking around. It’s just once I saw you in the bar after seeing you trying to be all secretive in the restaurant, I just figured I could get myself a fun reaction.” His sheepish admittance falls away to that smug look again. “And it did.” He downs the last of his drink, slamming it on the table and throws his hands up in a surrendering motion. “Besides, it all worked out, I have to admit I wouldn’t have found the right crate in time if you didn’t tell me which one.”

“Is that a compliment Mosshead?” Sanji asks.

“Barely.”

Sanji tilts his head. “But you didn’t seek me out initially because you knew I’d have such knowledge.”

“No.”

“So then why did you?” Sanji asks.

Zoro opens his mouth to answer then shut it, instead opting to check his watch. “Alright let’s cut you off you’re asking too many questions now.”

“Scared?” Sanji smirks.

Zoro meets his gaze without flinching. “You wish.” Then, more casually. “You can crash here for the night, save you walking half the city at this hour.”

Sanji checks his own watch, it is late. Really late in fact, he doesn’t even know if any buses run at this hour, specifically any that end up near his hotel.

“You can take the bed, I’ll crash on the couch tonight.” Zoro thumbs over his shoulder to the only other room in the place.

Sanji stands up with a long stretch, it’s like all the stress of the day has finally caught up to him and Zoro’s suggestion of going to sleep kicks in his innate exhaustion. Usually when offered such a choice Sanji pushes back a little for his hosts sake, but Zoro’s an asshole and Sanji like that he feels no such desire to put on airs around him, and takes him up on that offer.

Sanji peers behind him at the doorway and bids Zoro a good night.

And after the day he’s had, Sanji’s barely able to shrug his jacket off and once his head meets the pillow he’s out like a light.

An egregious beam of light directly across his eyes is what awakens Sanji, the next morning. The second irritating sensation he feels is the awful back pain from the spring digging into his back. He can’t ignore them both any longer, though he wishes he could sleep more.

His eyes flutter open with some great difficulty, the ceiling above has seen better days, with paint chipping away on the sides complete with some oddly shaped water stains.

That’s right, he stayed at Zoro’s place last night. Instead of in his fancy hotel room with all expenses paid. He should feel like an idiot, but he knows that had he stayed back in the hotel he never would’ve known about the drugs and probably would’ve kept himself up all night wondering why, torturing himself over it. A night in this cheap bed is worth the answers he got.

There’s a smell of coffee in the air and that’s what finally drags Sanji out of bed. He stands still at the doorway where he finds Zoro already up, greeting him cheers motion with his mug. “Coffee?” Zoro offers and Sanji nods.

They sit together at the breakfast bar, neither of them with anything much to say, Zoro pours Sanji a cup of coffee and he holds the mug in both hands, letting it warm his whole body through his palms.

He takes just one sip and immediately recoils in disgust. “This coffee is terrible. Did you burn it?”

“I just put on the coffee maker.” Zoro replies, shrugging.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know... like half an hour, maybe more?”

Sanji peers over at the pot. “God, no wonder then. You’ve burnt the grounds by leaving it on the heat for too long.”

Zoro raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Oh, so you’re a cook now?”

“Coffee’s usually more of a barista’s kind of expertise,” Sanji says dryly. “But anyone could tell you this coffee tastes like shit.”

“Sorry it’s not up to your standards sir.” Zoro’s says, every word dripping in sarcasm. “Don’t worry once we’re back at the hotel, I’ll treat you to one of those fancy coffee’s with all the fixings.”

Sanji smiles at him softly, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“We shouldn’t waste time though.” Zoro chugs the last of his coffee. “There’s things to do.”

Sanji finishes his coffee, grimacing at the aftertaste but refusing to waste a drop, but he’s not rushing to thank Zoro for the opportunity.

-

It’s bare bones but Sanji gets a brief moment to clean up, the shower freezing cold and Zoro even offers Sanji some spare clothes, to which he begrudgingly agrees. It’s just a plain shirt with slacks, but it looks smart enough once he puts his own suit jacket over top and saves him having to wear the same clothes he traipsed across the city in yesterday.

He makes sure his phone and wallet are easily accessible in his side pockets and his recorder safely tucked away in the smaller breast pocket.

When he taps on the recorder he thinks on the review he’ll be making, something like: ‘Food was done well enough, but missing saffron. Likely due to all the cocaine.’

Sanji purses his lips. Probably best to omit the drug trafficking aspect entirely.

Still in all fairness, he has to at least see their breakfast menu, which, when he checks his watch, he can see will be available for the next few hours. Even though he already knows exactly what will be wrong with it, what exactly is missing and why, he still needs to do his due diligence and sample their whole selection.

Pettily, he thinks he might not be able to make much difference in the actual crimes Crocodile is committing, but at the very least he can stop him getting his first Michelin star. But he has to do it right.

Wordlessly they leave together, they have the same destination after-all and Sanji’s starting to think Zoro likes being guided around like this. They take a cab most of the way and speak very little, it’s starting to set in that their little adventure together is coming to an end and there will be reason to stick together. Sanji wills himself not to think of it.

They stand on the steps of the main hotel entrance, letting the crowd walk around them.

“You’re welcome for leading you back here, Nami was right you are hopeless.”

Zoro rolls his eyes. “I would’ve found it eventually.”

“I’ve spent less than 24 hours with you I’ve not seen you go the right way once.” Zoro doesn’t deny it, he only pouts, cutely Sanji might add.

It’s time for them to part now, really. Sure there was a mystery about the food that he’s now figured out and he was happy to help with Nami’s request, plus he might have come to enjoy Zoro’s company over time too, but there’s nothing left keeping them together. Any sort of petty revenge he might’ve wanted to get on the guy has since passed too, it’s not so important once you’ve traversed the city together, and uncovered a criminal conspiracy. Cussing a guy out for flustering him seems a little childish now.

Now Sanji can go back to his job. And Zoro can go back to… Well, probably committing more crimes but at least Sanji can say he’s probably justified in doing so after what he’s seen.

Still he takes a chance.

“Do you-”

“I was thinkin-”

They both speak at the same time.

“You first.” Zoro insists.

Sani’s curious about what Zoro wanted but, nonetheless continues on. “I haven’t seen you eat since I met you. Do you want to join me for the breakfast serving?” Sanji offers. “It’s all inclusive for me and you’re gonna need your strength to scour this place some more.”

He really doesn’t like the idea of Zoro not eating at all and he can admit he doesn’t want things to end just yet.

Zoro’s face looks soft, almost sweet. “Missing me already?”

An angry blush forms over Sanji’s cheeks. “Fine, stick to stalking around on an empty stomach.” He turns to walk off and Zoro grabs his shoulders.

“I’ll come with you.” Zoro smiles at him.

-

Enjoying a meal with someone was a rare pleasure Sanji had almost forgotten. He’d eaten alone so many time it would be sad if it wasn’t his literal job to do so. He peers over his menu and watches Zoro, he looks a little uncomfortable in his seat, frowning down at the menu. It makes Sanji wonder if he ever goes to places like this, outside of sneaking around them, that is.

He’ll order something for him, something nice, or well something he knows won’t disappoint at least. Zoro deserves that much at least, he’s really looked out for Sanji in the time they’ve spent together, the least he can do is this small gesture.

Someone approaches their table, giving a usual spiel. “And how can I help you two gentlemen today?”

Sanji turns to face their presumed waiter, only to freeze when he finds someone else entirely. The man before him has slick-backed hair, all decked out in a fancy fur coat, with his signature curved golden hook on his hand and even in the strictly no-smoking restaurant he has a cigar clamped between his teeth. But if anyone can break that rule it’s Crocodile himself. Larger than the papers ever made him out to be and Sanji feels so small compared to him, smaller still when he catches the intense look of pure horror on Zoro’s face.

“Hello Roronoa.” He addresses Zoro directly. “It’s been a long time.”

Zoro doesn’t dignify him with a response, but doesn’t break eye contact with him either, staring down the other man intensely.

Crocodile chuckles. “Now tell me, how did someone like you find yourself in my fine restaurant today? This isn’t your usual scene.”

His tone is casual, to anyone else it might seem like old friends catching up, but Sanji can sense the tension a mile away.

“I-I invited him.” Sanji says surprising himself for speaking up, but hoping he can at least cover for Zoro.

“And who might you be?” Crocodile asks.

Zoro cuts in before Sanji can answer. “He’s just a guest. Told him I was hungry and he offered to pay for me.”

Crocodile grins, all wide and false. “Taking pity on a stray like Roronoa. How kind of you.” His eyes never leaving Sanji’s face.

Zoro directs the focus back to himself. “What do you want Crocodile?”

Crocodile sighs theatrically. “Last night I come to hear about a warehouse being looted on the other side of town. Terrible, terrible business.” He clicks his tongue. “People just don’t respect the private property of others these days.”

Sanji’s stomach tightens even further.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” Crocodile directs his gaze back to Sanji.

“He doesn’t know anything.” Zoro says quickly.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Crocodile replies dismissively. “You know Roronoa,” Crocodile continues, his voice low and dangerous, “I heard on this funny radio station that your little Strawhat friend will be rolling into town today.”

Zoro stiffens.

“I do hope he enjoys his time in the city.” Crocodile’s grin becomes impossibly wide.

Zoro stands abruptly, the scrapping of his chair on the floor loud enough to echo in the space, a few of the other patrons turn to face them, but Crocodile’s voice cuts through smoothly.

“Now, now, we wouldn’t want any of these nice people to get hurt now would we?” Crocodile eyes them menacingly. “So let’s not make a scene.”

Even in Crocodile’s own establishment, with his own clientele Sanji absolutely believes he’d consider them to be collateral if it came to it.

“Nice to meet you.” Crocodile nods at Sanji and turns back to Zoro one last time. “And always a pleasure to catch up, Roronoa.” Then he turns on his heel, walking away from them.

Zoro gives Sanji a single look, sharp and he knows there’s zero room to argue. They leave their table behind and Sanji follows Zoro out of the dining area.

They’re lucky the little hall outside the restaurant is empty, as Zoro retrieves his radio and manically tries to contact his team. He tries his radio several times, switching it on and off, changing the channel back and forth, but nothing comes though, only static buzzing coming from it.

Zoro groans in frustration, slamming his fist into the wall. “Fuck, fuck. They must be blocking any signals in here.” He looks around, then looks at Sanji. “Come on, we have to get out of here.” Zoro’s tone leaves no room for arguing. Sanji nods and starts to follow him him down the many sets of stairs.

Sanji chest heaves as he tries his best to keep up with Zoro who’s flying down the stairs three at a time, practically leaping down them. He’s panicked, that much is clear, only focused on getting out all the while still trying to make a connection with his radio.

Sanji gets down another staircase, only to see Zoro’s hair disappear around the corner down yet another set of stairs, he follows him still, the blood rushing in his ears loud enough for him to miss the ding of the elevator behind him.

A sudden grip clamps him from behind and this time when it happens he knows it’s not Zoro grabbing him. Sanji opens his mouth to shout but a soaked cloth covers his mouth before he can. He thrashes out, struggling as he tries to resist but the chemical is too much, sharp and stinging, overwhelming his senses. The fight drains from him and his limbs go heavy in the arms of his assailant, his eyes flutter as he’s dragged into the elevator, the last thing he sees before his eyes fall shut.

Sanji comes to slowly, his eyes fluttering uselessly, before he’s able to force them open. He feels a dull ache behind his eyes and his throat is raw. It takes a moment for the environment to come into focus, the light around him is low and the room unfamiliar.

He tries to move, but he can’t. His gaze snaps downwards, rope bites into his wrists and ankles, bound the chair he’s sat in. Completely unable to move.

He keeps struggling anyway, his chair scrapping on the floor echoes loudly in the room as he struggles, but the ropes hold him in place, not giving in the slightest.

Then a voice sounds out behind him.

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble you know.” The deep rumbling voice is familiar, but nonetheless still as unsettling.

Crocodile rounds on him to stand in front of Sanji, looming over him completely, and Sanji meets the man’s glare with his own. Crocodile exhales, deigning to blow cigar smoke directly in his face. Sanji coughs and turns away at the affront, but doesn’t drop his external biting anger towards the man. Internally though he’s never been more afraid and although Crocodiles cigar makes Sanji want for his own tobacco, he thinks even a thousand cigarettes wouldn’t help calm him down now.

He doesn’t know what to do. He wonders what Zoro would do if he were here...

Zoro. He whips his head around in every direction, trying to get even a single glimpse of that soft, stupid green hair.

“Your friend isn’t here. Managed to give us the slip.” Crocodile growls, badly masking how irritated that makes him. “Luckily Mr. 3 was able to catch you.”

The man Sanji recognises as the waiter that once served him with the oddly number shaped hair stands smug against the wall, arms folded with a smirk on his face. It’s all starting to connect now, every one of members of staff are all covering to hide up the crate deliveries. Directly under Crocodile’s thumb, working in all aspects of the hotel, it’s all a front and everyone’s in on it.

No wonder they were able to figure Sanji out, they had eyes all over the place. He was naive to think him and Zoro sneaking around like that wouldn’t have been seen at all. He just caught up in it, in the thrill and excitement of the adventure, and in Zoro too.

Sanji breathes a sigh of relief at that, Zoro was able to get away at least.

Maybe Zoro can contact the real authorities and figure something out, he’s been pretty resourceful so far.

Crocodile continues on. “It’s been months and months of work to get the restaurant up and running. He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You and that little partner of yours coming into my place of business and nosing around. I’ve had enough trouble with local law enforcement, I don’t need international spies around here too.” He says sharply, eyeing Sanji dangerously.

That has Sanji’s eyes widening. “Spies? What do you mean spies?” Sanji chokes out dumbfounded.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Crocodile surges forward, grabbing Sanji’s face between his hand, forcing him to look at Crocodile. “Just because I don’t know you doesn’t mean I don’t know who Roronoa and his little crew are.”

Sanji forcibly shrugs Crocodile’s grip off of him and snarls at him. What an utterly absurd notions.

And yet, the more he thinks on it the more it makes sense, especially with how skilled Zoro was in sneaking around and evading people, picking locks, noticing everything around him. And a whole team to boot, Sanji should’ve known journalism doesn’t get so well-funded. But not in a million years could he have guessed Zoro would be a true to life spy.

Sanji just sits there shell-shocked, letting everything fall into place in his mind. Crocodile’s speaking but Sanji’s only caught up in his own mind, about how dangerous the situation he’s let himself get into is.

The door opens and Sanji snaps his head up, it’s another man he recognises, the one stalking down the hallway of the staff area, he comes in with a radio in hand. He gives a courteous nod to Crocodile. “We’ve made contact sir.”

Crocodile takes the radio from him, putting it on speaker and placing it on the table in front of Sanji. Immediately a voice calls out. “Curly? Are you there? Crocodile where is he? What have you done with him?”

“I’m here.” Sanji calls out weakly, his voice strained.

“Fuck Curly I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you, I should’ve known, I got so caught up in getting to them… It was a trap, no-one was in danger, fuck, except you.”

It’s hard to feel relief at a time like this but he does a little knowing Zoro’s friends who Sanji’s become a little fond were okay all along. And now he has full proof Zoro’s okay too.

“Crocodile listen, you have to listen to me. He’s not with us, he never has been. He’s just a cop.”

“I’m not!” Sanji bursts out then a little quieter. “I’m not a cop.”

“Oh? Then what are you?” Crocodile inquires.

Sanji bites at his lower lip. There’s no sense hiding it any longer, this is much more than his job, this could be his life.

“I’m…” Sanji hesitates. “I’m a Michelin star reviewer.”

“A what?” Crocodile balks, and Sanji wishes he were in a position to truly enjoy the look of abject horror on Crocodile’s face currently as he genuinely did not expect Sanji’s response. “A food critic?”

Sanji bristles, it’s a little more distinguished than that, but it’s probably not the time to argue on the semantics.

“Like 5 star-reviews?” Zoro asks, equally as dumbfounded as Crocodile.

Despite the situation Sanji can’t help but be irked. “It only goes up to three.” He grits out.

Crocodile goes through a range of emotions, before ultimately settling on rage, but he doesn’t direct it at Sanji, instead turning to his companion of Mr. 3. He walks a little closer to the man, who’s now cowering in place, lip trembling and knees shaking. “Not only have you failed to capture the right person.” He grabs the man, shoving him up against the wall and shouts. “You may have cost my establishment the chance to get a highly coveted Michelin star!”

“Oh you’re definitely not getting one now!” Sanji blurts out without thinking.

Crocodile turns his ire back onto Sanji. “You would be wise to keep quiet for the time being.”

Sanji does the smart thing for once and keeps his mouth shut.

From the receiver once again Zoro pleads with Crocodile. “You heard him Crocodile. He’s just a civilian.”

Crocodile angles the sharp tip of his hook a little too close for comfort against Sanji’s throat, he tries to reel back but the ropes hold him firmly at Crocodile’s mercy. “Well what’s one less civilian.” He says out-loud.

“Don’t do it Crocodile.” Zoro shouts almost panicked. “Look it’s me you want okay? We’ll do an exchange.”

“An exchange?” Crocodile responds, curiosity peaked.

“You let him go and I will come to you willingly.”

Dread fills Sanji’s whole body. “No, Zoro don’t do that!” He exclaims without thinking.

“Sanji.” Zoro says seriously. “Let me handle this.”

That driving spite that’s underpinned their entire little short-lived relationship doesn’t come to the surface this time, Sanji recognising he’s well out of his depth and so he smartly lets Zoro lead from here.

Crocodile picks up the radio. “I don’t like tricks Roronoa.”

“No tricks.” Zoro states. “You let him go and I will come quietly, you have my word.”

“And what about the civilian?”

“He’ll keep quiet, won’t you?” Zoro directs to Sanji.

“I’ll keep quiet.” Sanji agrees solemnly.

“Good, good.” Crocodile says with a little cheer.

“Curly,” Zoro speaks directly to Sanji, “Just do what they say, don’t do anyt-” Crocodile switches the radio off, cutting Zoro off.

“Mr 1, bring our new guest down from the foyer to here. Discretely.” He adds at the end with clenched teeth. Mr. 1 nods once before he leaves. “And Mr. 3…”

“Y-yes sir?” Mr. 3 responds with trembling fear.

“You’ll be in charge of escorting our guest here. Take him to his room, watch him pack and then drive him out of the city.” Crocodile then turns to address Sanji directly. “I hope you enjoyed your stay here, but I’m afraid you need to take an early check-out.”

From there every motion feels like an out-of-body experience for Sanji.

Mr. 3 slowly releases Sanji from the bindings in the chair, absent-mindedly he rubs at the indents in his wrists as his ankles are unbound. He’s finally released but certainly in no less danger as Mr. 3 grabs him, pulling him out of the chair and towards the exit with a gun pointed at him the whole time. He’s taken through the depths of the basement of the building, but it’s all a blur in his overactive mind as he’s marched through the halls, eventually the two of them come to the elevator.

The elevator dings and when Sanji looks up he sees Mr. 1 with his grip deep in Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro has his head hung low until Sanji speaks.

“Zoro?” Is all Sanji can think to say.

Zoro doesn’t say anything, only shrugging off Mr. 1’s grip and surging forward, he reaches out, but pauses when the gun Mr. 1’s holding clicks behind him. Zoro opts to slowly takes Sanji’s hand, like he has to make sure it’s real. Sanji squeezes back, the first time he’s felt a modicum of relief since he woke up. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Zoro asks.

Sanji shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine, just… rattled.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I should’ve done better, I should’ve...” Zoro shakes his head. “Look, just follow their instructions, get yourself away from here.” Zoro demands.

“But what about you?” Sanji pleads.

Zoro smirks. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright.”

“Alright, enough of that.” Mr. 1 demands, he grabs Zoro again and pushes him forward, Zoro looses his grip on Sanji’s hand and stumbles due to the rough treatment, almost tripping but he catches his footing in time. He gives Sanji one last look over his shoulder, giving him a comforting smile and nod and then he’s marched around the corner, completely out of sight.

And there’s nothing Sanji can do, Mr. 3 shoves the gun against Sanji and so he complies, walking into the elevator Zoro just arrived in. He notices when they walk out, it’s the main elevator in the lobby, the one that connects to the restaurant several floors above, he didn’t know there was an option to go down, though that’s probably the point.

Mr. 3 keeps it discrete as they walk through the hotel, from the elevator to the lobby, he makes sure to keep the gun concealed but no less concentrated on Sanji, that much is sure. There’s a thought in the back of his mind about making a public spectacle of himself as he’s walked through the bustling foyer but he’s certain he can’t trust any of the staff around him and he knows he has to co-operate, or who knows what could happen to Zoro.

He’s taken to his room and supervised in his every movement as he packs up. Once again escorted all the way to the entrance. Ready and waiting for them on the curbside is an unassuming a black car with tinted windows.

Mr. 3 opens the door for Sanji, making sure to push the concealed gun against his back when he shows a slight moment of hesitation in entering the car. But his hesitation doesn’t last and Sanji enters the car willingly, with tinted windows and child-proof locks on Sanji knows when the door slams behind him there’s no escaping this position.

It’s only now with the car humming steadily beneath him, when all he can see is the street-lights shining through the windows as they cruise through the city that Sanji finally has a moment to think about everything that transpired.

From the very beginning he hadn’t known how deep this thing went, Zoro never said he was anything like this, but well neither did Sanji. He was just happy to go along with the little story Zoro concocted to protect his career. It seemed so important just a couple of days ago. Now Zoro’s being held hostage by a guy Sanji had come to learn very quickly is a very dangerous man.

And what could even be done about that, Sanji’s just a guy, a guy way in over his head apparently. A guy still currently being held hostage himself.

As the familiar sights of the city begin to fade away Sanji tries not to dwell on what Zoro might be going through.

Sanji’s jostled out of his thoughts by an abrupt stop of the car. Sanji straighten up on instinct when the barrier between the front and back seats slides down.

“Don’t try anything funny,” Mr. 3 leans his arm over the partition. “Just need to refuel.”

Sanji glances outside, they’re not at a gas station, just forest and open road as far as the eye can see.

His captor steps out with a gas canister, gun still in hand.

Sanji swallows, he has to try something.

“Can I stretch my legs?” Sanji asks.

Mr. 3 sighs like Sanji’s a big inconvenience. He raises the gun slightly as a warning and opens the door. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Sanji complies stepping out slowly with with his hands raised. They stand there for a beat. “Stay there.” Mr. 3 says.

Sanji watches him move over to the trunk, pulling out the gas canister, juggling both it and the gun.

“Hey,” Sanji says. “Got a cigarette?”

Mr. 3 waves his gun, pointing it at Sanji’s pocket. “Get one.”

Sanji gives him a flat look. “You took them.”

Mr. 3 frowns at Sanji most unimpressed. He mumbles something under his breathe as he fishes in his pocket. Mr. 3 pulls out Sanji’s cigarettes and tosses them and Sanji catches them with his hands still raised. He takes his time getting one out for himself, making sure not to alert the guy with any sudden movements, and places one between his lips.

Sanji sighs. “I need a light too.”

Now he takes Sanji’s lighter out of his pocket, flicking it on and takes a step closer, he leans forward and Sanji takes his opportunity. One moment, a little too close, his attention lowered is all Sanji needs.

Sanji lifts his leg, crashing his heel directly into Mr. 3’s face. His lighter clatters to the ground and so does Mr. 3.

The cigarette Sanji so desperately needed falls from his mouth as he just stands there, his own breathe loud in his ears.

He can’t believe he did that. Well he can, he had to do something! It certainly helps remembering this is the that guy kidnapped him and held him at gunpoint.

Sanji darts his head around feeling belatedly lucky that Mr. 3 didn’t stop them for gas at an actual gas station, all alone on the side of the road it gives Sanji ample opportunity to pull the idiot into the trunk of the car and slam the lid down on him harshly.

Sanji slides himself into the drivers seat of the car and rests his head on the steering wheel, whilst gripping it tightly.

Oh fuck he’s never done something like this before. He’s never hit someone like that before outside of the gym. And he’s definitely never shoved someone into a trunk before.

Those asshole took everything of his Sanji notices, patting himself down and checking all his pockets. But when he pats over his breast pocket he finds the recorder still there. Sanji gives a short bitter laugh, the thing’s useless to him now.

He did at least get his cigarettes back and Sanji lights up two cigarettes for himself as a treat.

He takes to the road not really paying attention to where he’s going as he panics and chains smokes the whole time. The radio affixed to the car’s dashboard crackles to life and Crocodile’s voice sounds out from the radio. Sanji scrambles to pick up the receiver as he continues to cruise.

“Did you deal with our problem Mr. 3?”

Sanji clears his throat and tries his best impression of the guy. “Uh, yes, he’s been dealt with.”

“Good, good, I trust no-one saw you?”

“Saw me?” Sanji asks stupidly.

“Saw you, deal with him.”

Then it comes to him crystal clear, he really wasn’t going to get away alive if he hadn’t done this.

“Nope, no, all dealt with.” Sanji rushes out.

Crocodile hums. “You might get back on my good side yet Mr. 3. Now get back here we need everyone here to make Roronoa talk.”

The radio crackle fades and Sanji solemnly puts the receiver down.

Zoro’s still there and they’re doing who knows what to him. And it’s all his fault.

But he has no clue what he can even do. He has nothing. He wonders if he should go to the real authorities, if they’d even believe him and then it hits him.

Nami. That’s it, he can ask Nami for help!

He grabs the radio again, shifting the dial just like he saw Zoro do to the channel number he luckily still remembers.

“Hello?” He calls out, hoping someone will pick up. “Hello?”

“Sanji? Sanji is that you? Are you okay?”

Oh thank god.

“Yeah I’m fine, I’m fine, what’s happening?”

“That idiot, Zoro! He told us everything and we told him to wait for back-up but he barrelled on without us. We’re all on route but it’s gonna be a few hours still.”

A few hours? “Nami... I don’t know if Zoro has that long.”

“Look you shouldn’t do anything, wherever you are, just stay safe. Zoro, he told us everything, that you’re a civilian, I don’t know how you escaped, but just stay safe. Zoro he’ll be…” She takes a deep breath. “He’ll be fine, he’s always fine.”

It’s hard to believe her with her tone of voice and Sanji doesn’t respond, he just grips the steering wheel tighter.

“We’ll contact you in a few hours. Just keep yourself safe.” She says in finality.

“Okay Nami I will.” Sanji reluctantly agrees. The radio crackles off and he puts down the receiver.

There’s nothing he hates more than lying to a lovely woman, but Sanji just had a crash course in being a spy in the last 24 hours, he’s gotta do something.

-

Sanji pulls up across the street from that accursed hotel once more and cuts the engine, watching it from a distance. To think he only initially hated the décor of the place, how things change.

Despite having all the time in the world to think of a plan on the way, Sanji hasn’t come up with one at all.

Storming in isn’t an option, that much he knows. It’s not like he can just go in there guns blazing and take the whole place down. It also doesn’t help that he left the gun with Mr. 3 and he’s not about to open the trunk now. He also doesn’t have any back-up to help him either.

He needs to think, if he gets caught again he’s going to make everything so much worse.

He keeps watching the hotel entrance, hoping for something, anything to present itself. All he gets is a rotating crowd of staff and patrons, coming in and out.

When he lights another cigarette for himself that’s when he spots it.

A man decked out in stained chef’s whites, with a cigarette clamped between his teeth, he follows a path down to the side of the hotel to smoke out of sight like he’s done it a thousand times.

Blessed be kitchen culture for being full of smokers. He forgives all the line cooks that ever borrowed a smoke off him over the years.

He crosses the street and rounds the corner of the hotel to the alleyway, giving a friendly wave to the few cooks all standing around there. One of the guys eyes him suspiciously but Sanji plays it cool. “Crocodile said he needed all hands on deck.” He thumbs over his shoulder.

That same man frowns. “Oh yeah? Never seen you before.”

Sanji shrugs, then turns on his heel, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks off casually. “Alright.” He looks over his shoulder and says. “I’ll just let him know that I couldn’t find everyone for the-” He stresses the next words. “-saffron emergency.”

The look of horror that befalls all of their faces should really have been framed. The cigarettes fall from their mouths and all of them race back into the hotel.

Sanji keeps his head low as he follows behind them, letting them occupy all the attention, where they rush to the woman at the front desk, their voices overlap, frantic but hushed, making a small commotion.

Sanji keeps himself out of sight,ducking behind a wall and watches on as Miss Doublefinger tries to parse what they’re all shouting at her. It’s not quite the big distraction he’s looking for but it got him back in the hotel at least.

When he looks up he realises he’s leaning up against the elevator. The very same one that leads down, to where Zoro likely still is.

He can’t risk taking it yet. Mr. 4 and Miss Merry Christmas are here too. Probably brought in for this very reason to keep an eye on the elevator door with a newly placed crooked ‘Out of service’ sign hanging on it they really don’t want to risk. The two of them might be looking over at the receptionist desk, but they remain where they are, firmly standing guard at the elevator door,

He’s running out of time, the chefs are starting to speak in a more collected manner and the other guests have stopped paying them any mind. The chefs will mention who brought up the saffron problem eventually and he’ll have no time at all. He has to do something.

Sanji’s gaze lifts and sitting directly across from him is the fire alarm.

He doesn’t hesitate.

The alarm shrieks and the sprinklers burst to life, cold water and deafening alarms dissolve the lobby into a chaos, people start running around whilst screaming. The staff jump right to attention and try to control the panic, including the two standing guard at the elevator.

Sanji doesn’t waste a second, moving to the elevator, jabbing frantically on the call button, until the doors finally slide open. He slips inside and leaves the chaos behind him as the doors close.

It takes a moment to find the secret basement button, but now he knows there is one it doesn’t take long at all. The alarm and screaming grow faint as he goes down and luckily there’s no-one there to greet him when he gets to the floor.

He wasn’t exactly in the best head-space when he was escorted out of this place so it takes him a few wrong turns to find the right place. He hears it before he sees anything. A painful sounding hit, then Zoro groaning in agony followed by a muffled quip.

He peers through the crack in the door. There it is, the only thing standing between him and Zoro is Crocodile’s little minion.

Sanji must have got off easy, because Zoro looks terrible. His lip is split and his glasses are bent and crooked on his nose, and even beneath that Sanji can see the swelling forming around his eyes.

Sanji bites down hard on his lip, he’s just been winging it so far, he might’ve been able to take out Mr. 3 but Mr. 1 is a whole different beast. And right now it looks like he’s made beating the shit out of Zoro his new personal hobby.

Zoro lifts his head up again, a blood-stained grin across his face. But when his eye flicks to the door and he meets Sanji’s eye through the crack of the door, his expression falters. Luckily Mr. 1 doesn’t notice, already opting for another hit on the guy.

Zoro coughs painfully, his breath hitching, but he force his head back up and their eyes lock again and Zoro doesn’t let the revelation betray his face this time.

Sanji scans over the room quickly. It’s mostly empty, just Zoro and Mr. 1 at the interrogation chair. But on the table though, sits the radio, the very same one from when Sanji was in Zoro’s position.

Mr. 1 shifts his weight to land another swing at Zoro and when he does Sanji sees a second radio affixed to his hip.

Sanji catches Zoro’s eye again, and flicks his gaze sharply to the radio. Zoro follows the movement of his eye and nods once slowly.

Zoro draws in a deep breath. “You know,” he drawls. “Crocodile wanted me, for Baroque works as his right hand man.” He looks over Mr. 1 and chuckles. “Shame he got such a downgrade instead.”

Mr. 1 bristles. He slams his hands down on the arms of the chair attention fully captured by Zoro’s goading.

Sanji takes his chance. He sneaks into the room as light-footed as he can, he doesn’t dare to look when he hears another fist connecting to Zoro’s face and he snatches the radio from the table, ducking back out before Mr. 1’s even finished with Zoro.

Sanji doesn’t waste anytime, safely round the corner he flicks the radio on.

The one at Mr. 1’s hip crackles to life and his fist pauses in mid-air.

Sanji deepens his voice, hoping it can pass for an impression of Crocodile. “Mr. 1,” he says evenly. “You’re needed in the lobby.”

Mr. 1 freezes, his hand hovers over the off switch, like he might not follow orders for once.

“Now!” Sanji snaps.

Mr. 1 mutters something under his breath and he steps back from Zoro. “I’ll be back for you.” He promises. Sanji stays pressed behind the corner, watching Mr. 1 walk away and the moment his footsteps fade completely, Sanji makes his move.

He’s at Zoro’s side in an instant, dropping to his knees to frantically untie the ropes. Zoro winces when he touches one of his legs and Sanji looks up, conveying a wordless apology.

“It’s fine, just hurry,” Zoro urges.

The last binding of his wrist comes undone and Zoro struggles to stand, but that doesn’t stop him pulling Sanji in for a desperate hug and Sanji can’t help but return it without thinking, just for a moment.

“We have to get out of here.” Sanji whispers to him and Zoro nods.

Luck doesn’t stay with them for long though, Mr. 1 stands between them and the exit, snarling. “I knew it was a trick.”

Zoro nudges Sanji back, without looking at him and Sanji complies. Allowing Zoro to handle this one himself, assuming he wants to get a little of his own back.

He squares up the other man, cracking his neck. “You’re gonna regret this.” Zoro goads.

Mr. 1 lunges forward first, all brute strength and confidence and he swings for Zoro but Zoro leans back just out of reach. Another swing comes and Zoro does the same thing. Mr. 1 makes attempt after attempt but his blows never land.

Zoro moves with practised eased, despite his limp and if there are any lingering doubts in Sanji’s mind about him being a spy they’ve vanished. It’s painfully obvious that the only reason Mr. 1 ever got to do so much damage to Zoro was the virtue of him being bound to the chair.

Frustration overtakes Mr. 1 and he drives his fist towards Zoro faster and sloppier with each attempted blow, and it’s only when he oversteps, pushing himself a little too close to Zoro that Zoro gets his opportunity.

Zoro snaps his first forward, a clean hit directly to Mr. 1’s face that send him stumbling back into the wall.

Zoro shakes his fist out and moves forward to land another hit, but Mr. 1 kicks out, landing a hit on Zoro’s ankle, the same one he winced at being lightly touched by Sanji. Zoro falls to ground with a cry.

Sanji panics, thinking Mr. 1 might’ve really caught him out this time, but before Mr. 1 can stomp on him Zoro rolls out of the way, bringing himself back to his feet in one swift motion.

Mr. 1 growls and barrels towards him, Zoro meets him head on, able to catch him mid-rush and to grapple with the man, using his own strength against him and Zoro slams him harshly to the ground.

There Mr. 1 stays laid out, collapsed to the floor completely dazed and Zoro stands over him heaving his breaths.

He’s pushed himself too hard, that much is apparent when Zoro plants his hands on the table, his breaths coming out as little wheezes. “You should see me,” he mutters, glancing back at Sanji, “when I’m not so fucked up.”

Sanji rolls his eyes at the brag. “Yeah, yeah, let’s make it a date,” he teases.

Zoro’s even more worse for wear than when Sanji first found him, but they can’t risk staying here any longer, so Sanji loops Zoro’s arm around him, taking the weight of Zoro on his shoulders and Zoro leans into it, his own arm around Sanji’s waist for support. They move together, Zoro limping as they walk down the halls.

As they struggle through the tunnels even from above them they can hear a commotion up above. Things must have escalated severely, he can hear an assortment of sirens, a series of screams and someone bellowing evacuation orders.

“What do you thinks happening up there?” Sanji asks, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’ll bet that’s Luffy and the rest of them” Zoro says fondly.

Hope blooms in Sanji’s heart. “Then let’s get to him and get out of here already.”

“Not so fast.” The unmistakable click of a gun’s safety sounds out behind them. Sanji freezes in place and Zoro does too. “Now turn around, no funny business.” Crocodile orders.

Without letting go of one another they pivot together, circling around slowly. When Zoro stumbles, Sanji’s hand brushes against his own breast pocket when he reaches over to steady the other man.

“You don’t have to do this Crocodile, just let us go. We’re done here.” Zoro says.

Crocodile slams his hook against the wall, unable to contain his fury. “You’re damn right I’m done here! You hear that?” He indicates to the sirens above. “The restaurant worked perfectly and for months – months!” He stresses. “It all ran perfectly, like clockwork. And now, now my whole operation has blown completely apart, by you two.” He gestures the gun towards them more menacingly, his finger resting on the trigger.

“Why, why did you use a restaurant?” Sanji says bravely.

Crocodile snarls at him, like he’s an idiot. “It was the perfect front, I could traffic an endless amount of drugs! When you smuggle it disguised as food, the food perishes and nothing is left behind. So the drugs get to come in and out, with no-one any the wiser. And no-one was.” He points the gun directly at Sanji. “Until you came along.” Sanji shuts his mouth.

Zoro moves slightly forward, pushing Sanji behind him a little. “You’ve already lost. The police are swarming the hotel as we speak, what difference does it make killing us now?” Zoro tries to reason.

“You’re in no position to be making threats Roronoa. If you’d just left it well enough alone you wouldn’t be here. I’ll get out of this, I always do. But I’m not going to give you the chance to ruin anything for me in the future.”

“They’ll know it was you.” Zoro says darkly.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take to make sure I deal with both of you permanently.” Crocodile seethes. “Now you,” He gestures to Sanji. “Empty your pockets, I don’t want any more surprises.”

Sanji reaches over slowly emptying his pockets as instructed. An almost empty pack of smokes, his lighter and one final item.

“What is that?” Crocodile snarls.

“Oh this? Nothing special.” Sanji presses the button again. Crocodile’s own voice echoing from it with some lines in particular standing out.

“I could traffic an endless amount of drugs!”

Sanji holds the recorder like it’s a weapon of his own and narrows his eyes at Crocodile. “You shoot and I press this button, then this gets sent straight to the staff at Michelin right now. I’ve worked with them a long time, I’m sure they’ll take it to the right people.” Sanji rushes the words out. His voice then calms. “But if you let us go, I’ll give it to you.”

Footsteps from another hall sound out, the huffing breath of much worse for wear Mr. 1 comes out as he speaks. “Sir, they’ve found the containers. We have to leave.”

The sirens have intensified and can be heard even underground and Crocodile looks more panicked then ever, completely torn.

“Sir, we have to go, now!” Mr. 1 snaps.

Crocodile grits his teeth, nearly biting the end off his cigar as his jaw tightens. “Well played.” He says begrudgingly as he lowers the gun and Sanji true to his word throws the device along the floor for Crocodile to pick up.

Mr. 1 then places his hand on Crocodile’s back, urging him away and Crocodile follows, desperately fleeing down the tunnels, as soon as Crocodile flees with Mr. 1, his fancy fur coat fluttering behind him as he rounds the corner.

Sanji finally releases the breath he’s been holding for near hours now, slumping his body weight against Zoro. The two of them holding one another close.

Zoro’s face is completely aghast, his mouth wide open. “Did you really plan that far ahead?”

Sanji huffs. “Nope, just a piece of shit old recorder.”

Zoro laughs. “Well played Curly.”

It’s chaos all around them, some elite police force is shouting orders further down the hall and the alarm still hasn’t let up. But despite that Sanji finally feels at peace.

It’s hours upon hours later where he’s spent most of the time being questioned by local law enforcement. He plays dumb mostly, telling them he had no idea why he of all people was taken hostage, how he must have just been unlucky, how he never even saw his assailants and how truly thankful he is for the brave police force for saving him.

He makes sue to omit Zoro too, just a guy he met whilst trying to escape the underground, he’d never seen him before.

It’s far too long to be grilled after the day he’s had, but he holds firm against their questioning, especially pertaining to Zoro, but eventually they’ve either grown tired of asking Sanji the same questions or they’ve simply ran out of manpower to waste on him considering there’s hundreds of unsatisfied guests getting rowdier by the minute as well as a great number of employees to round up and cart off that were involved in this little criminal enterprise.

He’s wrapped up in one of those aluminum blankets they’ve been giving away to the guests like candy and he’s been told not to wander off too far in case they have more questions for him, but Sanji doesn’t think that applies to the side-walk, where he can catch his breath and finally smoke for the first time in hours.

That first inhale of smoke, is the best thing he’s ever experienced. So he chases it up with two more cigarettes as he watches the hustle and bustle of the chaos get tampered down around him.

Footsteps thud behind him and someone settles down on the street next to him.

It’s Zoro, which isn’t a surprise, he looks like he’s been patched up a little, he’s got a few stitches and bandages. But Sanji wonders how he managed to escape the questioning. Though now he knows Zoro’s an actual spy of all things, he’s probably got a lot more pull than Sanji could even imagine.

“How are you?” Zoro asks awkwardly.

“Fine.” Sanji replies, exhaling as he does.

“Did they give you a hard time in there?” Zoro thumbs back at the hotel.

“Nah.”

“Did you say anything to the them?” Zoro asks, a little worried.

“Of course I did, I informed all my fellow officers about everything that went down.” Sanji says dryly, as Zoro’s face goes through the full cycle of panic to understanding to amusement.

Sanji quirks a smile and Zoro says. “Fuck you.”

“You’d think after everything we went through I’d just snitch on you like that?” Sanji asks in mock offence.

“No, no you’re right, I’m being a dick. Of course you wouldn’t.”

Sanji can’t help the smile on his face. “Careful now, I’ll start thinking you like me.”

Zoro smirks.

“Oh yeah, I left Mr. 3 in the trunk of that car.” Sanji say casually, pointing with his cigarette to the car on the opposite side of the street. “Just in case you wanna deal with him.”

Zoro laughs. “I think he can stay in there a little while longer.”

Sanji’s had no information for hours but there’s something he’s desperate to know. “What happened to Crocodile?”

Zoro thumbs over his shoulder to a distant screen displayed on a high-rise building, where an interview with Crocodile is being projected. “Doing PR, claiming he had no idea what was going on in one of his establishments.” The sound doesn’t carry over but he can see Crocodile looking carefully distraught as he speaks.

“So he gets away with it.” Sanji’s purses his lips.

“Not forever.” Zoro smiles.

Sanji studies Zoro’s face, he certainly looked better that morning, he hadn’t had the chance to get a good look at him since the rescue, too busy trying to stay alive after-all. But it looks like Mr. 1 really put Zoro through the wringer, he’s got a black eye, on both sides and a bruise of purple and yellow blooms across his cheek.

“Where’d your glasses go?”

Zoro goes to touch his face instinctively, the glasses once affixed to his face the whole journey now gone. “Ahh, courtesy of Mr. 1, he wasn’t a fan it seems.” There’s a big red indent on the bridge of his nose where the glasses once lay.

Sanji exhales a breath of smoke. “Shame, they made you look less stupid.”

They sit in silence for a moment until Zoro’s the one to break it.

“A Michelin star reviewer.” Zoro states out-loud, unable to hide his very amusement.

“Yes.” Sanji says tersely. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no problem.” Zoro holds his hands up in surrender. “It just makes so much sense now, all of your knowledge was food related. But why the secrecy?” Zoro asks.

“It has to be a secret, if I get caught I have to relocate for years, or even lose my position.”

“Wow, wonder what that’s like.” Zoro says, again unable to hold back his amused and sarcastic tone.

“Well, what about you? First I thought you were just an asshole, then a thief, then I don’t know, I eventually ended up assuming some kind of journalist, digging into Crocodile, trying to find some scandal to upend his political career. You basically confirmed as such.”

“Well, it seems like we managed that accomplish that last one.” Zoro snaps his fingers as he recalls something. “Hey when you asked, if I was a journalist or something I did say or something.”

“Well most people don’t assume international spy when someone says something like that!”

“Fair, fair. Well you’re familiar with a secret identity, so you get it.”

Sanji exhales. “Yeah I guess I do.”

“So, did you just tag along because the food wasn’t up to standard?”

Zoro’s mocking him and maybe yeah, there was a small part of him that wanted to know that way back at the beginning. But honestly it was Zoro that intrigued him the most. Throwing a crazy wrench into his life that had gotten a little mundane.

“I just did it for Nami.” Sanji responds casually.

Zoro bumps shoulders with him and Sanji bumps him back.

“Looks like you won’t be reviewing this place.” Zoro says, turning his face back to the hotel, Sanji turns as well, what with the still smouldering parts of the building, the sobbing employees being marched out in cuffs and the alarms still going wild.

“Looks like it.”

“What will you do now?” Zoro asks.

Honestly Sanji hasn’t even has a moment to think about it.

Michelin will probably want him to relocate, even if they never find out about him revealing his position, they’ll probably cite some bullshit about for his safety going through something traumatic and all that jazz.

Which is fine, it’s not like he’s married to this city, he just wanted to find good food made by good people. There has to be restaurants out there that aren’t fronts for criminal drug rings.

“Probably review food somewhere else. Somewhere with less drug rings hopefully.” He says dryly.

“I hear Rome has pretty good restaurants.” Zoro says off-handedly.

Playing into his coy little game Sanji responds. “Oh yeah? Where’d you hear that?”

“From Nami, she wants to send me, Luffy and Usopp there, Crocodile’s got other connections, we can still bring him down.” Zoro says that last part with determination. He continues on sheepishly. “And, well, we always eat terribly on these trips. I think we could really do with an expert opinion.”

“You wanna take me to Rome?” Sanji asks, he wants to hear it from Zoro.

Zoro doesn’t answer with words, he turns his head to Sanji and presses his lips over Sanji’s own. He can feel the split lip against his own, but he doesn’t care in the slightest and Sanji kisses him back just as earnestly and deeply.

Zoro draws back, cheeks blushing. “Does that answer your question?”

Zoro lays his hand over Sanji’s, a more gentle hold than the way Zoro had pulled him across the city, in and out of danger alike, it’s shy and sweet. It’s been all banter and insults between the two of them, but he likes this too it’s been the adventure of a lifetime and he’s not ready to see it go just yet. He thinks he could get used that cute smile and the mossy hair isn’t a deal-breaker either.

Sanji grasps Zoro’s hand back, a silent promise. “I think Michelin could use a reviewer like me in Rome.”