Beast of Shadows

》Fifteen《

"Why the hell do I have so much shit to carry?" Zoro grumbled, brows pinched into a scowl. Sanji glanced behind himself at the Swordsman as they trudged up the apartment stairs, two bags of his own clenched in his pale grip.

"You're...more physically equipped to handle it." Zoro caught Sanji's pause, eye narrowing. His unnervingly sharp teeth grit together, Zoro's fingers tightening on his load of groceries.

"I'm a demon. That's the only fucking reason, dartboard." Sanji rolled his eyes with a huff, shifting the bag so he could grab the keys to his apartment door.

"Yeah, like I said. You're the perfect pack mule." Zoro made a strangled sound that could only be described as rage, Sanji slipping into his living area as soon as the lock clicked. The Marimo stomping in after him, making a straight beeline for the kitchen to deposit his numerous bags onto the floor with more care than the blond thought him capable of.

"Fuck you." And there's goes any hope of Sanji thanking the asshole. He scowled at the Marimo, who dug out his booze and retreated to the couch. Surprisingly, Zoro plopped down on the floor in front of it, resting his elbow onto the coffee table. He unscrewed the lid and set it aside, taking a large swig with a small sigh of content.

Sanji glanced at Zoro every few minutes as he put the groceries away. The Marimo looked comfortable, but the blond couldn't fathom why Zoro wouldn't just sit on the sofa. It might've had something to do with his previous contract holders, but Sanji didn't want to think about what kind of abuse the swordsman might have been subjected to.

"Oi, did you know that when your thinking about something horrible you have this ugly expression on your face? Plus, I can feel those negative emotions radiating off you in waves." Sanji jolted at the sudden sound of Zoro's voice. The blond bared his teeth half-heartedly, not as offended as he should be.

"Who're you calling ugly? Obviously you haven't looked in a mirror recently." Sanji hissed, thrusting the milk into the fridge with more force than strictly necessary. Zoro scoffed, but didn't retaliate with another comment. The Marimo stared at Sanji as the blond finished up his task, the chef trying to ignore the disturbingly familiar feeling of being watched.

"I'm probably gonna be back late, so don't wait up for me." Sanji's gaze flickered over to the Marimo, observing how the demon paused.

"You're going alone?" Was his reply, the blonde's brow furrowing.

"Well yeah, you weren't invited." Zoro's mouth twitched into a sneer and Sanji back tracked, he wasn't trying to start a fight.

"I've known them since I was a teen, I'll be fine." The chef schooled his voice into something less aggressive, it seemed to do the trick because the tension in the Marimo's shoulders seeped out. Sanji filed it away for later analysis as he collected the supplies to make Braxton his fucking casserole.

"Call for me if anything happens. If not, I'll be here." If Zoro was to ever ask, Sanji would vehemently deny the warm mushy feeling that warmed his chest at Zoro's words. Coming home to find you weren't alone was a nice thought, even if it was to a mannerless mosshead.

As the casserole baked in the oven, Sanji buried those emotions with an icy resolve. He can't like Zoro, not even a little. Knowing the Marimo, he'd take it the wrong way and their fragile friendship would shatter.

The swordsman silently watched Sanji flutter about the kitchen, covering his cooling casserole with tinfoil before rushing around to grab his coat and wallet. The blond gracefully pulled on the jacket and buttoned it up while simultaneously stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. The chef had changed into a more casual outfit consisting of dark jeans and a burgandy dress shirt.