One Piece 1. Bleeding

Bleeding….

That fucking Marimo was going to be bleeding for a long time for this shit.

Bleeding out of every possible orifice of his body for this shit.

Very badly bleeding….

Why was it that no one ever asked for Zoro's ideas, that no one ever wanted any of Zoro's ideas, that no one ever fucking thought that Zoro's ideas would be of any redeeming merit what-so-ever… Except for this bullshit that he'd suggested over the galley table not five hours ago.

This bullshit that culminated in Sanji doing some very embarrassing shopping, Sanji nicking his left ankle something horrible in the shower, Sanji spending two unpleasing hours in front of a mirror with Nami and Robin and last but not certainly not least walking into a crowded ballroom full of ritzy high-class city officials clinging to Zoro's arm….

In a black dress with a fucking slit up the side nearly all the way up to his damn fucking thighs.

Yes, Zoro would be on the ground bleeding to death as soon as this bullshit was over with.

"Hey.. Shit-cook, try to look a little more er-happy." Said mentally death-sentenced Neanderthal whispered smugly in his ear.

Sanji forced a wry smile, looking everywhere but at the idiot at his side. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll work on trying to be more pleased that you decided to whore me out to get us into this place." The chef shot back, equally hushed, but proving the venom in his words by trodding sharply on Zoro's foot with his heeled shoes.

Zoro winced slightly, even with the dress shoes he'd had to wear the fact that the shitty-cook was wearing damn stilettos certainly ensured that it was going to hurt regardless. Still, Zoro couldn't help but think that Sanji looked pretty damn good.

He'd shaved his legs earlier, with much chagrin, and the girls had done him up with make-up and even found blond hair extensions in town earlier today. And that dress he was wearing… Another thing picked out with the help of the girls. It was simple, but the way the black satin clung to the chef's body, and then that cut up the side like that showed of just how long and shapely Sanji's legs really were. Sanji normally walked with a slight swish of his almost girlish hips, but now, in that dress, that same walk was now nothing short of a strutting saunter that was making it difficult for Zoro to walk in a way that had nothing to do with the heel that almost broke one of his toes a few moments earlier.

As the pair entered the grand ballroom and walked down the wide staircase to the main floor, Zoro could tell that their entrance had elicited a bit of attention. For a moment he was afraid that these gawkers had seen through their disguise, but his alarm was short lived after he realized that the few men around the large room who's watched them enter were not staring at Sanji in a way that they would stare at a man they expected to be masquerading as a woman.

Zoro, no longer worried about being found-out, seemed to have an entirely new reason to be on-edge. His brow furrowed slightly, and he almost subconsciously pulled the blond cook closer to him. Forgoing the formal interlocking of arms to wrapping an arm full around the cook's skinny little waist.

"Watch where you're touching idiot Marimo." Sanji snapped, still under his breath and largely unheard over the music and the chatter of the crowd. Apparently Sanji didn't take well to this sudden invasion of his privacy. "Let go of me."

Sanji pulled away from Zoro, shrugging his silvery wrap back into it's proper place so that it hid his obviously lack of breasts. "We should split up, the sooner we find this Count… whomever the sooner we can leave and I can get out of this damned thing."

Without waiting for a reply from his idiot partner-in-crime, Sanji made off for the opposite side of the ball room, skirting around the edges of the dancing crowd in the center, carefully trying to catch snippets of any interesting conversations that might give him the information he was after…. He wanted to get out of here, and soon, damn it.

And who the hell did Zoro think he was back there, grabbing his waist like that. Any more of that business and Sanji was beginning to think that Zoro had some alternative motive for wanting to dress him up for this stupid thing.

Sanji was continuing his slow path around the edges of the dance floor, spotting someone that looked rather like their query up ahead he hastened slightly, only to be stopped by a slight cough he heard behind him. Turning around Sanji was met with a face full of someone he neither knew nor had any interesting in knowing. The man was probably in his early thirties, dressed in a fine jacket with what looked like a rather expensive gold-threaded crest emblazoned upon it. He said something Sanji had been slightly too surprised to catch, but followed up whatever words he'd offered by taking one of Sanji hands pressing his lips against the pale knuckles.

Sanji couldn't help the cringe that shot through his body or the angry blush that settled onto his cheeks. He had to find a way to get away from this man before –

"Might I ask of the lady a dance?"

Shit. Sanji turned abruptly, his hand now free, looking for his exit only to find two more men flanking him on his opposite side.

"Now now, Bennington, you mustn't go stealing all of this young lady's attention to yourself."

Sanji's face reddened still, a slight nervousness taking over him as the small crowd of men around him turned to five, then to ten.

Stupid Marines and their stupid parties….

"Excuse me… Gentlemen." Sanji's single visible blue eye darted up, to see Zoro's rather intimidating form approaching the small gathering. Sanji was shocked… He didn't even know the word 'gentlemen' was in the brain-dead swordsman's vocabulary. "I think since she came with me, the only one she'll be dancing with will be me."

Sanji frowned slightly, not exactly the best choice of words considering the usual ball-room etiquette, but at this moment in time, Sanji didn't much care. Zoro took him by the hand and lead him away from the small mob that had begun to coalesce around him.

Zoro smirked down at him. "I thought you only flirted with girls."

Sanji glared up at him. "Shut it, Marimo. Lets just get out the fuck out of here."

"Can't." Zoro said plainly. "You never found the count, our job isn't finished. And besides, I think all those Marine officials expect us to dance after that show I made."

Sanji's expression of pure hatred didn't change, but he allowed Zoro to place one hand on his hip and to take his opposite hand in his.

When Sanji looked up at him again, the slight shock apparent on his face obviously caused by the swordsman's surprisingly… not horrendous dancing skills. Zoro just made a "meh" noise and dismissed the forming question.

It was just another thing Sanji didn't need to know. Just like the fact Sanji didn't need to know that Zoro had already found the Count, already over heard where he'd stashed the map that Nami wanted so badly.

But Sanji didn't need to know that, besides, when else was Zoro going to get the chance to touch Sanji like this without the kuso love-cook leaving him very badly bleeding afterwards.

Very badly bleeding….


	2. Safe

Second Drabble, from ToraYashaChan's prompt list. This one is called 'safe'. I don't know, I must really enjoy taking these prompts in non-conventional directions. If this is confusing now, I wouldn't blame you for thinking that, all the same I like this one and I'll probably return to this situation/story-line later.

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**Safe**

_You idiot…_

_You fucking idiot cook…_

Zoro's steps were heavy, echoing in the high, empty corridors, the only constant sound in the swordsman's world.

He'd tried to steady his breathing, but for all his training and meditation he'd been unable to slow himself. Likewise with his heart, beating erratically against the thin body cradled in his arms.

_You fucking idiot cook…_

_Why would you ever think you had to do something like that alone?_

Zoro steps carried him closer and closer to the large doors at the end of the long hallways, although all his body really wanted to do was stop and pull the frail, battered form in his arms closer to him, to hold him tighter. He knew he had to get back to the ship.

As he walked, small pools of dark crimson gathered in shallow puddles behind him. If he knew they were there, it seemed he didn't care. Who would have been able to tell who they belonged to anyway?

_Were nakama aren't we?_

_There had to be a better way, than for you to…than for you to do… that._

They were all bleeding. The swordsman, the blond cook he carried, and the bodies that littered the long, empty hallways. What did it matter who's blood was trailing them as Zoro walked steadily back to the ship.

All that mattered was the life of the man in his arms, the safety of the man who had attempted, successfully, to keep them all safe, but at what cost?

_You idiot…_

_You fucking idiot cook…_

At least for now, in his arms, Sanji was safe.


End file.

One Piece, Romance