Zoro is a cambion, which means he feeds on sexual energy. A small crew like the Strawhats, its not normally enough to keep a cambion satisfied, but Sanji happens to be an abnormally sexually driven cook so it usually works out okay for Zoro. At least, it works out alright until Sanji finds out that Zoro's been taking energy from him through his dreams. For Sanji, he's trying to wade through the confusing mess of emotions for a certain marimo after a surprise kiss on the battle feild. It's not easy to do on a normal basis. It certainly isn't any easier when the man he has deeper feelings for is a cambion. Then everyone learns how important it is to keep their local cambion fed, for if they don't, someone might get eaten. literally.

Zoro and Sanji are fighting. And that’s not really a surprise, exactly, because Zoro and Sanji are always fighting. But it’s different, this time. This time, it’s not physical, and Sanji isn’t up in Zoro’s face yelling and screaming and calling him names. There’s no swiping of polished katanas against the lithe swing of powerful legs. It’s not physical combat. This time, Sanji’s fighting with silent avoidance and quiet resignation. This time, their entire nakamaship may be on the line. And this time, Zoro doesn’t know how to fight back. OR There’s something wrong with Sanji, but Zoro doesn’t know what it is or why it’s happened – why they’ve suddenly stopped brawling and hating each other left, right and centre. All he knows is that he has to fix it, or this Sanji – the Sanji that’s sunken and tired and so, so sad - may never go away.

Everyone wants to marry Zoro. Hypothetically. Sanji can’t believe everyone would pick that useless patch of growing mold over him, and considers killing Zoro. Not hypothetically. He has a list on why Zoro would be the Worst Husband Ever, not that he spends a lot of time thinking of a (purely hypothetical!) situation where he is married to Zoro, fuck you very much. (a.k.a, the one where Usopp invented Fuck, Marry, Kill.)

Sanji doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, is the thing. Of all the times he has seen Zoro shirtless (in battle, mostly) he just… never noticed. The problem is, once he has noticed, Sanji can’t seem to stop noticing. And neither can anyone else. In which Zoro has a nipple piercing and Sanji has a Problem.

“I would almost say you look attractive like this if it wouldn’t be unfathomably disgusting and also a betrayal of everything I stand for as a human being,” Perona had told Zoro one night as she showed him a variety of tricks for untangling stubborn, sweaty hair. Zoro kinda wishes he would have listened to her, for just a single fucking moment. Maybe if he had, he would have been able to prepare himself for the level of weirdness that’s happening right now. (In which Zoro has long hair and certain people develop feelings about it.)

It’s like a high when the both of them resonate on that same frequency—two radios spitting static at each other ninety-percent of the time until they find overlap for one, just one, perfectly-played song. The music is brilliant and vibrant when it’s playing. It’s always over faster than Sanji ever wants it to be.

Three inches in front of Sanji's face, Zoro is wearing an expression that could wither stone. "What the fuck," the swordsman snarls, "do you think you’re doing." The remaining logical dregs of Sanji's brain recognize that he's just gotten himself into a pretty dicey situation. The rest of it apparently doesn't fucking care, though, because the absurd line of response he comes up with is to grin right in Zoro's supremely pissed-off face and say- "Well, what was your dumb ass doing?" In which the crew’s plastered, Zoro needs to blow off some steam, and Sanji gets taught a lesson or two.

Left with only three other crew mates, it’s a ready expectation that Sanji will start fawning all over Robin in his usual obnoxious way. However, that’s not what happens. Instead, looking wild around the eyes in a way only someone who knows him well would recognize, the cook doesn’t break stride until he’s firmly within Zoro’s orbit and can wrap both hands around his upper arm, clinging tight. “Hi, darling,” he chirps, his expression desperately conveying that Zoro needs to play along under pain of death. “Did you miss me?”

None of them called him the "ship's omega." It wasn't... really like that. A lot of ships had omega crewmates whose station was defined by their secondary sex, or at the least who joined up knowing what their job was among a shipful of pirates out to sea for weeks at a time. Zoro was not that. He wasn't a friend with benefits or a glorified servant or even one of the so-called Crewman Os who had their own jobs and stations but lay down and made their bodies available when a crewmate needed it. He was just... Zoro.