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Zoro was proud of himself; of himself and everything he had managed to achieve up to that moment.
Meeting Luffy that day and embarking on a fucking crazy adventure with him had been a leap of faith he didn't regret, and he would never do it for the rest of his life. He had shown himself capable of putting aside his pride (and even his life) if it helped pave the way better for that boy who had saved him from certain death and had fueled the urge of his ambition.
That clumsy boy, somewhat silly, but lively and smiling, capable of launching himself into the most dangerous adventure just to have a freakin good time.
At his side, he had seen the most incredible things and met people as strange as they were wonderful; had been able to improve as a person and as a swordsman, he had savoured the taste of bitter defeat, and the delicious victory, and had felt in his flesh the scars of the sacrifices in pursuit of being able to keep that broad smile on his captain's lips.
And he didn't regret it, not in the least; on the contrary, Zoro was proud of each and every one of his decisions, even the most frivolous or complicated ones, because they had brought him to where he was right now.
But if he had to choose one among them as the most complicated (but satisfying), that one even had a proper name: Vinsmoke 'Kuroashi' Sanji.
Everyone knew that the two of them didn't get along, or, at least, that's the general thought that flowed among the crew members and among all those poor devils who dared to interrupt or get in the middle of their discussions and fights.
But in reality, what Zoro felt when he was with Sanji was far from what the others believed. Although it was true that the blonde's attitude was an unnerving challenge for his patience, the reasons why he was the one who, for the most part, ended up provoking the cook had nothing to do with discord, hatred or simple annoyance.
And it's that, since he met Sanji in that floating restaurant, he hadn't been able to detach his sight —and his “night imagination”— from him: the way he chewed on the filter of his cigarette every time he was thoughtful or worried, how he twisted the knives between his fingers to prepare himself before cutting with that pinpoint precision (so close to his own), how he swayed as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the way those oceanic eyes analyzed any new opponent who wanted to face him, without even the slightest flutter of that fan of golden eyelashes,...
Yes, from the first second Sanji officially stepped foot on the Going Merry after the battle in Arlong Park—where, of course, he had spared no energy to show off himself—Zoro knew (or, less, he sensed) that the blonde had him at his feet.
But what really doomed the poor swordsman was their first fight. He remembered it well: Little Garden, and his stupid dare to see who could catch the biggest prey; Zoro could swear, without a doubt, that seeing the curly-cook standing there, over his head, one foot propped on the railing, his gaze ablaze with intense blue fire, and his lips twisting into a grimace of pure annoyance... this made the adrenaline become a powerful whirlwind in his chest that, without any hurry, spilled down to his lower abdomen.
The fights that followed that challenge only made clear to him something he already knew: something in the way the cook would light up with anger (sometimes almost literally), causing his body to tense and flex to fight with him, turned him on quite a bit.
When he had it completely clear, he began to test the terrain. He wanted to get closer to Sanji, to get to know him fully and almost like no one in the crew did —possibly removing the captain himself—; It was like his new target, so he took advantage of every party (which was not a few), every visit to the island stores where they stopped to restock, where the cook dragged him to be his pack mule, and every fight that they faced back to back. And, if he had to be honest, he discovered a completely different Sanji, full of details that only intensified the attraction he felt for him: for example, he found small, soft freckles covering his cheeks that were becoming more noticeable thanks to the almost continuous , exposure to the sun that began to mark his skin; and, also, he detected a faint grayish hue around the pupil expanding and merging with that usual crystalline blue.
So small imperfections that only perfected what was already perfect —forgive the redundancy— that was Sanji.
Nami used to laugh at him from time to time, calling him silly and obvious, but he didn't want to pay attention to her... until the cook himself called his attention to it, one night when they were sharing a few jars of sake, cunningly away of the tumult that their friends made.
"Hey, you shitty marimo." As he used to happen to him, after a jug and a half of alcohol, the blonde was already a little too drunk, with a persistent blush covering his cheeks, ears and neck, with his temple resting on the arm of the green-haired swordsman.
"What do you want, Curly?", he answered with some sourness as he brought his own drink to his lips, glancing sideways as the blond looked up at him with a goofy grin.
"Do you imagine me naked when you look at me?", that made him almost spit out the sake, making him cough while the blonde laughed so exaggeratedly, drawing, for a second, the attention of the girls and Usopp.
"What the hell cook!", Zoro complained, watching as Sanji clutched his stomach and wiped away an imaginary tear.
"It's the only thing that would explain the fact that you're staring at me so much lately", explained the blonde, patting his drinking partner's arm. Zoro clucked his tongue, looking away to prevent Sanji from laughing at the furious blush that was filling his cheeks at that moment. "...Besides, you didn't deny me about imagining myself naked~" Sanji added with a giggle, causing a vein to pop on his forehead. “How much he wants to piss me off…”, he thought, facing him.
"And what if it were true? Are you going to throw any of those "we're both men" bullshit excuses at me or something?"
Sanji seemed to think about it, stroking his chin with almost comical slowness.
"I probably would", he admitted with a shrug, "But, come on, today you behaved well when we went shopping and we're celebrating because we've almost reached Fishman Island... The idiot deserves a prize, don't you think?"
That confession made the blood in Zoro's veins begin to boil with intensity, while his eyes widened.
"Cook... What are you insinuating?", he murmured, too surprised to react when the blond clung to his neck, sticking their chests together, with an idiotic and drunken smile, before bringing his lips close to his ear, causing his golden earrings to tinkle and goosebumps to appear on his skin. his arms and neck.
"What do you think~?" He whispered to him in a low, half-hoarse voice. Zoro took a moment to make sure no one was watching them, before turning his attention to the man in his arms.
"Are you sure, absolutely sure?" Sanji nodded firmly, while his eyes sparkled like a shower of stars.
“I'm half drunk, but I know I want this. Besides, for one night nothing will happen", he said, caressing the neck of his rival, causing a shudder that made his smile widen. "Come on, marimo, let's have a good time, just the two of us."
That was the only thing missing from the swordsman's reluctance to go fuck itself. Zoro nodded several times, finished his drink in one of two gulps and picked up the blond, taking him to the cellar, leaving him on the ground behind some barrels.
"No regrets?", Sanji pouted slightly at that question, crossing his arms as he frowned.
"No regrets, but bear the consequences if you leave me unsatisfied."
That made Zoro smile, who wasted no time trying to get Sanji to redefine his concept of "satisfaction" that night.
Zoro was proud of himself, his achievements and his victories. He prided himself on having come back stronger after two years of training, and, of course, on getting Sanji to drop the "one-night stand" thing despite their time apart (although from time to time , he "reminded" him that out loud, as if he wanted to convince himself that what they had was not a relationship).
But, without a doubt, what he was most proud of was those scratch marks on his back, which he did not hesitate to show in the fights they faced and that made Sanji blush violently when one of Sanji's friends he was aware of them.
Being with Sanji had been one of the goals in his long way to be the best and, without a doubt, his favorite.