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It's the gentle knocking of the waves against the hull of the Sunny that rouses Zoro out of sleep.
It takes a while for the swordsman to come to his senses. It's dark outside in contrast to the last time he remembers being awake, just a few minutes after dinner.
The moon is high and narrow in the sky and shines a pretty ivory halo.
Zoro first assumes he is alone on the deck. He hears no hushed voices or open conversations, only the sound of the waves and the wind in the sails.
Yawning the last of his sleepiness away, he gets up, and quickly dusts himself, making sure his precious swords are still in place. The smell of smoke lingers in the air, and he hears the faint but distinct sound of a lighter gently burning the tip of a cigarette.
Sanji is there, at the rear of the Sunny.
He has his back turned to him as he smokes at the railing. A gentle wind makes his hair flutter and drifts the wavy stream of smoke billowing from his cigarette away.
Zoro doesn't even realize, at first, when he crosses the deck to go meet their cook. Strangely, it seems Midnight calls for him to seek his company and subtly pulls him to his side; of course, one cannot deny a wish to Midnight, and maybe, just maybe, Zoro is happy to let her guide him tonight.
The cook lifts his head when he hears him approaching, looking surprised for a second. He watches him with curious eyes but doesn't say a word.
Zoro is grateful for that.
He takes his place next to the cook, rests his forearms on the railing, and looks to the broad open sea. He can feel the other man's gaze linger on him, but only for a few more seconds before the night claims his attention again.
The air is cool, and dawn maybe closer than dusk. Only bright eyes are observing the horizon, Morpheus left to welcome in his embrace only those who lie under the floors of the Sunny.
Sanji sleeps less these days, Zoro has noticed. His skin is slightly colder to the touch, but he still twirls lovingly around the girls and Yamato.
There are a few changes to the man, barely noticeable unless you really pay attention, but Zoro always does. He watches, and catalogs everything he sees in his Nakama, just to make sure they're alright.
Sanji is still himself. Zoro had come to that conclusion from the first minutes after he woke up in Wano. He still loves the sea and still fusses around in the kitchen. Still is full of emotions like he always was. Some details are just different, Zoro guesses. Changing and evolving. But it doesn't have to be a bad thing.
The sea is calm, and beautiful in the glowing light of the moon. From time to time, they can spot the silver of a fish leaping out of the water in the distance, or the flick of a tail over the surface. The cigarette between the cook's lips crackles every time he takes a drag.
Zoro can't tell when his attention strays from the scenery, can’t help but stare down at the cook’s hastily unbuttoned collar. A sliver of smooth skin, the hint of a defined pectoral under his shirt; he peeks at the base of his neck, right between his shoulder and his clavicle, and can't tear his eyes apart anymore.
Sanji glances at him from the corner of his eyes with a knowing grin on his lips. He’ll pretend he didn’t notice the swordsman’s gaze, despite the temptation to mention it to him sometimes (seeing a shameful blush bloom on his face was always a small pleasure to the chef, out of pettiness or some other feelings he didn’t feel much like looking into). He'll pretend he doesn't feel flattered, or that he doesn't relate in any way to the swordsman's struggle.
Zoro remains unaware of the other man's attention anyways.
his head is buzzing, his heart thrumming in his chest for a reason he ignores. His eyes rise to the other man's mouth once again and watch the moon shine on his lips when he absentmindedly licks them before taking another drag.
The cook looks to the sea with an emotion comparable to nostalgia. Zoro can't really explain it: it's neither close to sadness nor happiness, maybe closer to melancholy, or a question with no answer. But he still watches and tries to learn, to understand, and so maybe one day he will.
Suddenly the cook shifts, and Zoro thinks an instant too late to avert his attention before the other man lays his eyes on him.
Sanji watches him, curious, then brings his hand to his face, and oh so gently takes the cigarette from his lips, releasing a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. He gestures at Zoro with the cigarette, the unvoiced offer clear in his eyes, and the other man takes it almost mechanically, his body no longer responding to the input of his brain. He looks hesitantly to the cig, then to the cook still watching him with a soft smile of his (and oh, how strange to be on the receiving end of that smile).
So Zoro brings his hand to his mouth, inhales, and breaks into a coughing fit at the acrid burn in his throat. The spell is broken, and he feels all the blood in his body rush to his head and stain his cheeks red, but the cook just laughs and brushes his hand against his own when he pushes the thing back to him.
"Tastes like shit," Zoro coughs, eyes watering at the corners. The cook shrugs and laughs once again. Zoro's hand is burning from the touch, and he pretends to wave the smoke away from his face to conceal his embarrassment and the blush that creeps to the tip of his ears.
Sanji's eyes crinkle on the side when he exhales a shaky laugh. Zoro can't even look at him, gaze flitting to the side shamefully as he groans from the burning taste, but he still feels almost disappointed when he senses the other man regain awareness and hastily avert his attention, cheeks lightly dusted pink. They avoid each other for a moment, mindful of any brush of their arms or shoulders on the railing, not even daring to steal glances at the other.
And they both feel like children, like groaning and chuckling at their own foolishness; Sanji chain-smokes through another cigarette and Zoro nervously plays with the hilt of Wado, wondering if this momentary shared vulnerability is what keeps them from jibing at each other's expense.
Still, it's funny to see the cook so different in that predicament from his otherwise composed and dignified nature; it even makes Zoro forget his own previous embarrassment. Sanji glances furtively at him as he quietly chuckles to himself at the realization, and a cool breeze passes on the deck, making them both shiver. The swordsman's earring gently chimes together, and Sanji can't help but feel calm again at the soothing melody.
The waves are still gently knocking against the hull of the Sunny, and the moon hasn't stopped shining from her pedestal. And if any of them feels lucky for that peacefulness they can share on the deserted deck of the Sunny, well, it's only for Midnight to know.