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[bronzetigress.livejournal.com]

Title: Viewpoint
Topic: pirate booty
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG14 (Zoro can't even think without swearing... Sheesh!)
Pairing: Zoro->Sanji; Zoro->various girls
Disclaimer: Characters and setting? Not mine. Probably just as well. Here, have them back...
Summary: Zoro contemplates various pirates' booty...

Excuse: Hey, it's on topic this time around!

Notes: A while ago, while we were between topics, I hauled out a fic I'd been scribbling on, and wrote out Treasure Hunting. Same fic, different take. A little more detail this time, or perhaps just a slightly different focus... ;)

~~~

Lightfooted as a cat, Sanji picked his way into the overgrown garden, soles touching nothing but earth as he went. Three paces in, he bent over and began filling his basket.

The view from 'shore' was entrancing. Nearly hip-deep in greenery, the most obvious part of Sanji was, well, his ass. Zoro didn't recall ever having paid much attention to Sanji's ass, per se, before. Now it was either that, or the way his hands ran over the tomato leaves before dipping inside as if snagging gem-toned eels from a barrel. Or the way his arm tensed when he pulled a carrot, the subtle heave and strain and lean of those hips, flex of leg muscle as he unconsciously threw more effort into the larger roots, yet still pulled each slowly and carefully.

When the fuck, Zoro wondered, did he start thinking about men's asses, anyway? It wasn't as if he'd ever thought much about anyone's ass. Why the hell did he have to start with Sanji's? Why not, say, Nami-- No, there were reasons for that. Vivi's hypnotic shirt had ruined his ability to focus on any part of her beneath the waistline. Seriously. And Robin, well. Just... No.

But he'd already noticed Sanji's hands. The man made it impossible not to. Always so quick and lithe and expressive and so obviously important to him that Zoro had to pay attention. Even now, he was fighting the urge to simply stare at how those fingers touched each plant, how they stroked over each pepper, how they rolled the small cherry tomatoes before gently setting them away, thumbed one-handed down the length of each zucchini to check for imperfections, and fuck... It was probably safer to stare at Sanji's ass.

Until the cook caught him at it, of course. Fuck.