[ almost everything about this scenario could be attributed to a typical occurrence, since it's become more of a rarity for sanji and zoro to surpass twenty-hour hours without finding themselves in some kind of bickering match. it's the one thing that isn't nami on this ship that's managed to succeed in being a foolproof effort at getting sanji's undivided attention, the way he becomes so adamant in proving his own points, one might say it could be some kind of necessity in filling a void for all the arguments he's no longer having with zeff on the daily ever since he left the baratie.

except his relationship with zoro is hardly one that compares to the one he has with his adoptive father, not when this one contains a more unique fury circulated around the fact that sanji does indeed want to fuck zoro, and it's that undeniable fact he's so eagerly trying to ignore that makes him all the angrier when it comes to snapping back at the swordsman. ]

And this is why I'm the chef on this ship — not the waiter — because there isn't an ounce of respect for food in that puny moss-infested brain of—

[ for once, he doesn't immediately hear the words out of nami's mouth, one palm pressed flat to the counter from his side of the galley, his other hand held out in the air where he presses his fingers tightly against his thumb as if to articulate his point, his eyes directed on zoro standing on the opposite end. it's that attention that does have him catch the moment the dress catches onto the other man's head, a dress he so very clearly remembers being on nami's body (for how quickly he'd aimed to memorize the way he wrapped around ever curve) except now it very much isn't.

brain short circuiting from the unclear interruption, sanji turns his head just in time to watch the tantalizing strut of nami's ass disappear from view as she steps out in the hall, his mind trying to move quick to make connections to the unspoken message hanging in the air. ]

See ya, mosshead!

[ well, for sanji, the only message that matter is a gorgeous nami stripping down to her underwear in a move that feels very much like a clear sign for him (them??) to follow. which sanji isn't so stupid to not do, because if there's anyone he does want to sleep with more than the idiot he's leaving behind in the galley, it's that heartstopping, breathtaking woman with orange hair.

not waiting to see how long it takes zoro to move, he darts out the galley with hasty speed that he nearly crashes into the wall when he steps out were it not for the control he has in his own feet as he moves with quick paces to nami's room, trying to avoid running if only to not alert the other sleeping members of their crew. ]

Nami~ did I keep you waiting, darli—? [ that cheery greeting and wide smile once again find another interruption as fabric lands over his face, the hang of the material over his eyes instantly recognizable (don't ask why it's recognizable) as nami's panties. throat going dry, sanji swallows hard only carefully raising his hand to the bundle and curling his fingers tight around it to pull it down from his sight slowly, keeping it clutched in his fist, just as nami steps up to both he and, apparently, zoro who's also appeared.

her fingers curling into his shirt, his feet nearly give out, fighting the temptation to sink down onto his knees for her, as he looks over to his fellow rival. ]

I'll always behave like a good boy for you, Nami. Can't say the same for him.