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It's not usual that Sanji is the one carrying Luffy on his back after a battle. As history has them, that job, or privilege, depending on who you ask, has always befallen Zoro, and on the off chance that he’s too busy still holding enemies at bay, in which case, Sanji is right there with him, Usopp comes close behind to take their captain to safety. And yet.
His suit is slowly getting soaked from the blood pouring out of the body that Sanji never quite noticed is so small. Luffy has always been small, his rubber powers preventing him from growing muscle mass proportional to how much he fights and trains, and this hasn’t been something any of them, save for Chopper maybe, has paid too much attention to, but now it’s painfully obvious as Sanji holds him close. Still, he can’t let himself get distracted by this fact, however hard it is not to let the fear of fragility consume him, as he runs to their ship, the marines close on their heels. Zoro's voice carries over the wind as he commands them to go faster, to protect Luffy who had given his all to protect them.
Sanji adjusts his grip on Luffy and swears to make him the biggest feast Luffy has ever witnessed if he’d just open his eyes. Please, Luffy, he begs silently, please open your eyes .
There's a cough and a pained groan and Luffy doesn't open his eyes, but this is more than they've heard from him in what feels like days so Sanji chokes back his urge to scream. His first instinct is to lecture and rage, his anger easily misdirected, but instead he thanks a god he's never quite known how to believe in for this sign that maybe everything will be alright.
It had been a trap. Of course it had been a trap. And none of them saw it coming; not until the building was falling, breaking apart and raining rubble down on them from their own doing. From their pride and certainty that they’ve survived so much before, what could these marines even hope to accomplish.
They had arrived at the island expecting a quiet time. They had trusted the inhabitants when they said this place was known for its ports, which had undoubtedly been beautiful, and somewhere for sailors, pirates and marines alike to stop and restock with how vast and fruitful their forests are. No one in the crew thought to question when the barman gave them a map for the best spots and the biggest markets. Not until they were in and deep into a perfect ambush and the only place they could possibly run to was inside the looming tower ahead.
What is a tower to a crew that brought down an island? It should’ve been nothing. Child’s play, right? But what they didn’t know was that the entire tower was filled from top to bottom with rolls of seastone cells.
Luffy had said he’d get them out. He said he had an idea. One well aimed punch easily destroyed one of the outer walls, but they didn’t account for how precarious the structure had been with some many heavy cells holding dozens if not thousands of criminals over the years who’d tried their best to escape through pain and torture if the dark stains splashed against the walls and forming a crust over the metal were anything to go by.
It had been Sanji’s task to grab Luffy. It had been his job to protect Luffy from his one weakness by the fact that Sanji had been the one standing closest to him, but when the upper cells came down, whole and heavy and dangerous because those were sea stone cells, none of them could move as Luffy pushed them, pushed Sanji, out of the way and took the full hit onto himself, buried beneath the debris before any of them could so much as scream his name.
The arm hanging loosely over Sanji’s shoulder is covered in a bluish purple and all kinds of wrong. It’s all Sanji can do not to let himself despair because it wasn’t them who got Luffy from under the wreckage, too busy fighting wave after wave of marines who were trying their best to put distance between crew and captain.
Before they could reach Luffy, whose small hand was the only thing they could see reaching out from under the stones and dark bars, a marine, the captain or vice-admiral or piece of useless shit for how much of a damn Sanji gave about him and his stupid title, took a hold of Luffy. Sanji watched, unable to do anything but keep fighting for his own life, as the man towered over Luffy, pulling Sanji’s whole world up from one arm, not caring about the bruises that asshole was worsening. The man didn’t even give Luffy a chance to stir before closing the shackles around Luffy’s wrists and running with his prize over one shoulder; a shout for his men to die for him and their cause.
Zoro’s responding scream would’ve rattled the stars had it been nighttime. It certainly got Sanji moving, a gruesome sort of despair kicking at his gut with each meter put between him and his captain. He had looked at Zoro, found the swordsman already looking back, a clear order fused with the blood lust in his eye: bring him back .
Sanji would give his life if that’s what it took to do so.
With a swift motion of her arms, Robin held back the men Sanji had been fighting long enough for him to have space to use his sky walk; his ability giving him the best shot at getting to Luffy the fastest. It had always hurt, to use his sky walk, but Sanji didn’t even feel it at the time in his desperation. The usual burn, as if his legs are being torn apart with every kick that gets him higher, faster, was nothing but a distant ache as he pushed himself past his limits, past his fears and regret.
A bullet brushed past his face, leaving a trail of blood and fire on his cheek and he nearly lost his composure then, looking down so fast and cursing himself for his lack of focus, that something inside of him threatened to snap if not for the glint of steel and a flash of green becoming stained red as the marine who had dared shoot at Sanji was left standing with half his head gone.
Part of Sanji begged him to turn back, to join the fight and make sure these bastards didn’t land a single scratch on Nami and Robin, but that part got easily muted by the cold dread making his steps heavier the further that good for nothing marine got from them with Luffy. There was a small building far into the distance, nearly hidden behind a line of trees, but Sanji saw it; he saw the moment the door closed behind Luffy like storm clouds insisting on hiding the sun.
Sanji made quick work of kicking down the door, ready to be met with guns and swords and damnation itself if that was what it took to get his captain back, but only found darkness so dense it blinded him to everything but that pull on his stomach that said ‘wrong’. He stepped forward slowly, testing the ground and finding his balance in a stretch of the world that seemed content to rot and digest whoever came in contact with it.
With his feet he found a hatch and a rope; with his hands he touched a stair made of old and rusted iron. Down he went and when it seemed like it’d go down forever, he came to a stop in front of the immensity that was the nothingness that made the foundation of the world. There was no light and no sound and Sanji wished, whatever this place was, it had taken his sense of smell too, for he gagged and fell sick at the pungent smell of blood and decay; of flesh stretched beyond capacity, slowly dripping from one’s bones as it decomposed around a violently extinguished life.
Only then did Sanji understand why Robin had been so uncertain about docking despite their need for provisions. He came to understand just as clearly why hundreds of marines were ready to give their life away only for their leader to reach that one unassuming door. If he were smart, he’d turn around and leave. If he had any sanity left in him, he’d cower and bend. But Sanji was brought up a weapon made for killing and molded into a heart made for protecting.
Bring him back.
He would. Whatever it cost.
Sanji might not share the same magnetism that connects captain and first mate together, driving Zoro towards Luffy as if the latter is reaching out his hand like a guiding north star no matter how far apart they are, but he does gravitate in the same system as the entire crew, with Luffy at its very center. Sanji would find him and he’d do it before any of his family would have to come any closer to this place.
For as much as the moss-head angers him, Sanji could at least trust that Zoro believed he would do his part and find Luffy.
It only took a few steps for Sanji to realize the place spread for what was probably kilometers as an underground maze. The marines probably had a way to navigate these dark corridors without getting lost or falling into a trap, but want as Sanji might, he couldn’t simply kick down the walls, lest it all fall down on their heads.
Not left with much of a choice, and knowing that, the longer it took him to choose a path, the farther Luffy was taken away, Sanji did what he does best: he ran face first into whatever danger awaited. He did try, at first, to feel for the walls with his hands, but something viscous and thick wrapped itself around his wrist like tentacles. From then on Sanji remained where he assumed was the middle; still close, but at a safe distance from the walls.
Time seemed to pass differently down there, twisted and distorted into something loose and unreachable. Sanji could have been walking for hours or years and he wouldn’t know the difference. For a split second, he felt grateful that it was him down there and none of his friends, least of all Brook. He couldn’t imagine Brook, kind and cheerful Brook, surviving his personal nightmare a second time. Brook, who hangs to his sanity by a thread so thin he’s constantly balancing over the edges of it, walking on a tightrope so high, he can barely see the safety net carefully tucked behind the chest cavity of every person who holds him dear.
Sanji couldn’t help the guilt filled relief that washed over him when a cry of pain and rage reached him before despair did. That was the sign he needed; a point in which to focus his haki and find a path straight to Luffy. It was his own fault, really, for not training enough, for thinking his haki was already good enough. Sanji would have to change that once they got home. He would make sure to work himself to the bone so Luffy could never be taken anywhere that Sanji couldn’t reach.
Aching for a cigarette, but not quite daring to light any fire down there, Sanji turned his full attention to the echoes of that cry to guide him. He could shout a reply. Scream at the top of his lungs until he was sure Luffy heard him and knew he was coming, but what else could be hiding down there? What would he be waking up in his recklessness and desperation?
Sanji's observation haki had come to him like a faint silver rope, showing a clear path through the darkness and across dead ends. Another shout cutting through the dead air had Sanji’s jaw aching as he gritted his teeth and forced his own rage in and under. The time would come. Certainly he would be face to face with that shitty bastard soon enough.
Something in the near distance cracked, the echo of it reverberating against the walls. Whatever these stones had seen before, whatever had they been fed and coated with, Sanji would drench them in blood. He’d have the souls trapped in the cracks of this place drunk in screams and the sweet taste of a life being snuffed out. He’d have them toasting on gore and sucking on the bones of whoever dared hurt Luffy.
With a final turn, Sanji came to a stop, wincing when his eyes were suddenly reintroduced to bright light. Another hatch shone like heaven’s gates above them and on the ground, sprawled into an unnatural position, blood dripping from his temple and seemingly unconscious, was his captain. Sanji’s only regret was that he couldn’t take his time with the men dragging Luffy through the mud.
Outside, the sounds of battle still raged on, but Sanji could still make out a couple figures in uniform running towards him; in between them: Nami, Chopper and Zoro. There was no key for the shackles that Sanji could find in the bodies he left behind, and everything in him told him that moving Luffy would only cause more damage, but that was far beyond his field and all he could see was his captain’s blood soaking his hands and the ground where he lay. — his captain, friend, family, savior .
“Sanji!” Nami shouted over the sound of the explosions following her. “I got the keys.”
Having seen him, Chopper had quickly morphed into his walk point; Nami on his back and Zoro staying behind to keep the marines at bay.
“They even left the keys behind.” Nami said, jumping from Chopper’s back when they got close enough and handing him a ring of keys. “They just took him without the keys.”
Sanji knew what she was thinking. There's only one way they’d be able to take off the shackles without the right key. Sanji, still kneeling beside Luffy, made it for the shackles, ready to throw it across the ocean to get it as far away from Luffy as possible, but before he could, Chopper, who’d been standing next to them in silence, let out a shriek of absolute horror.
“ Wait !”
Startled, Sanji dropped the keys, his hands shaking as he turned his head so fast he nearly got himself a whiplash. Chopper had a look in his eyes of raw terror, his pupils dilated, chest coming up and down in heavy, panicked breaths.
“Chopper?” Nami asked, voice thin with fear.
“We— We can’t. He. We can’t.”
“We can’t what ?” Zoro asked, coming from behind them, a trail of bodies in his wake.
Chopper, who had been staring at Luffy’s still unconscious form without moving, nearly jumped at the sudden appearance. “We can’t take off the shackles.”
“Why not?” Nami demanded, her own voice shaking and eyes looking anywhere but at Luffy.
“He’s… They. His bones. They broke his bones.”
Sanji looked up at Zoro and watched as realization that only comes this quick when in relation to Luffy, covered his eye in a lens of rage and impotence. It didn’t take long for Sanji himself to figure out what Chopper meant.
“Fuck.” He muttered, hands blindly reaching for a cigarette. “ Fuck .”
“What is it?” Nami asked again, patience flicking in and out of her tone like lightning. “Okay, his bones are broken, but we take off the shackles and he’s back to being rubber, right? Chopper?”
“That’s the problem.” Chopper whimpered. “Luffy’s never broken his bones before. He never got this hurt without his rubber powers.”
“You mean…”
“If we just take off the shackles and let his body return to its normal state, what’s broken now might heal wrong and cause irreversible damage.”
“You’re saying we need to keep him like this.”
Chopper nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I might be wrong, but I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this. I've never seen him break anything before.”
“So we don’t risk it,” Zoro said, decisive. There was no questioning him, not with so much riding on the off chance that Chopper might be right.
“There are more marines coming.” Nami warned them, still not looking at Luffy.
“I’ll deal with them. Shit cook will take Luffy back to Sunny and Chopper, you keep close to him.”
Sanji’s head, which felt like it was about to be split in two by all the events of the day, snapped up to Zoro once again. No short amount of surprise that he’d give room for someone else to carry Luffy in such a state. But the look in Zoro's eye was one Sanji knew well; it carried the same thirst for blood and retribution that had Sanji sprinting after that first shout deep into the maze darkness.
Careful not to jostle Luffy too much, Nami helped settle him onto Sanji's back, passing his arms over Sanji’s head so they were hanging on his shoulders. The shackles glare at Sanji from their place over his chest.
That brings them to now.
“‘anji?” Luffy groans.
Relief so strong it takes his breath away washes over Sanji at the small whimper near his ear.
“Hey, Luffy,” Sanji whispers back, not understanding why, but not daring to raise his voice. “Hang in there. We’re almost back to the Sunny.”
If not for the circumstances at hand, Sanji would’ve said Luffy seems to melt against his back; something about the way he lets go and trusts Sanji to carry him and keep him safe. No matter how often it happens, that unconditional trust still makes something warm pull at Sanji’s stomach and prick at the corners of his eyes.
And considering everything that happened with his family– No. He would not think of them as family; even as something left in the past. His family is a group of ragtag cooks in a calm sea; his family is the boy he holds on for dear life. His family is everyone else waiting for him to come back home with their personal sun.
Sanji runs faster, Chopper close at his heels. He hadn’t noticed before, but that underground maze had somehow taken him to the other side of the island, where there aren’t any buildings or population living, and none of them have a denden mushi to ask Franky to bring Sunny around. There is no choice but to run; to cross the battlefield he and the others left behind to take Luffy back.
Faster still is Zoro, opening a clear path of blood and meat and bone for them to run through without being stopped or attacked. Around them are the fallen ruins of what was once a marine base, now reduced to nothing but unidentifiable rubble. Sanji recognizes the handy work of his friends’ anger and concern. In every rock, every pebble and grain of dirt and mud, are the screams of ‘how dare you’ and ‘did you think you could get away with this’ and ‘ he belongs to us ’.
As they all belong to Luffy.
When the shore comes into view, Sanji is met with the sight of waves drowning anyone who dares step close to Sunny. Jinbe’s fury shakes the ocean behind him. He hasn’t been with them for very long, but the way he looks at Luffy and holds himself beside their captain speaks of belonging, of reverence; it is the way his shoulders are set and his feet steady as his body, more than his words, tells them he’s there to be a living shield if that’s what it takes to be worthy of his place by Luffy. I’ve done it before , the scars on his shoulder let them know, I’ll do it again .
They have yet to talk about Jinbe and Luffy's first meeting. They have yet to satiate a curiosity so deep it keeps them awake at night and writhing in heavy guilt when they catch Luffy staring at the distance, one hand clawing at his chest.
Sometimes, when Sanji sees them together, he wonders if the moss-head has done what none of them seem able to. If he has talked to Luffy about a past that longs to be forgotten. In those days that Sanji convinces himself that Zoro must have, that he wouldn’t leave Luffy to deal with that burden alone like all of them are doing, something deep inside of Sanji starts to boil, threatening to erupt and leave nothing but ashes behind.
If Zoro has talked to Luffy, why not bring it up with the rest of the crew? If Zoro, of all people, hasn’t, what chances do the rest of them have of bringing it up without throwing salt into still open wounds?
With Luffy’s weight, heavy and yet so light on his back, Sanji’s mind plays a thousand different versions in which he was there, in which he carried Luffy to safety. Scenarios in which he could protect Luffy’s heart like Luffy protected Sanji’s own.
The blood makes his hold slippery. Luffy whimpers against his shoulder when Sanji adjusts his grip, but he’s slowly sinking into unconsciousness again. Nami comes up, running beside Sanji; she looks over at Luffy, bottom lip white from how hard she’s biting it.
The others who had been fighting are quickly making their way behind them, all ready to leave this god forsaken place now that they have Luffy back. Zoro shouts ahead for Franky to prepare for a Coup De Burst, but it’s unnecessary as Franky is already positioned to get them out as soon as everyone’s on board.
Chopper doesn’t wait for safe waters. He urges Sanji into the infirmary, Robin quick behind, always the one first in line to help Chopper with whatever he needs. They look at Sanji expectantly, but he can only stare back.
“There is no way to get him on the bed without jostling him,” Chopper sighs, his eyes quickly filling with tears. “We gotta be careful not to make it worse. Our best option is for Sanji to lower him slowly as Robin uses her powers to keep him steady.”
Robin nods, crossing her arms in her signature pose, waiting for him. Sanji tries his best, but his heart sinks deeper and deeper into abandoned space with each pained sound coming from Luffy. Sanji has to bite his tongue against his own need to scream and thrash around, destroying everything in sight until he’s bloody and spent and his heart is too busy trying to simply keep him alive to allow him to feel anything.
Once Luffy is on the bed, and Chopper has pulled himself together enough to fall into his role, Robin, ever so gently, leads Sanji out of the room. Chopper doesn’t spare them a glance, his focus already entirely on Luffy.
With each step that takes Sanji further away from Luffy, something inside of him cracks and breaks and he knows, as sure as he knows the edges of his knives, that nothing, save from Luffy’s smile, could shape him back into being.
ººº
Sanji is sitting on the kitchen floor with his back to the stove, holding his legs into his chest. He has his face down, hidden from the world in the corners of himself; Luffy’s weight still a suffocating pressure on his back. That’s how Nami finds him.
The hairs on the back of his neck stand at her presence which fills the room with static so sharp Sanji could pinpoint exactly where she’s standing without having to look. Nami's heels click on the wooden floor as she comes closer, and everything about her demands attention as a queen would her subjects, but Sanji can’t bring himself to look.
“Chopper said he’s done.” She says quietly, her arm brushing against his as she sits down beside him. “He set all the bones back and now everyone’s debating if it’s safe to take off the seastone or if we should wait a bit more for it all to settle in place.”
Sanji makes a hm noise of acknowledgement, but there’s something bigger stuck in his throat, stealing his voice away.
They stay like that for a while. Sanji feels much like a child, scared out of his mind, his insides turning in on themselves in something that resembles a hunger so deep he fears it’ll devour him whole.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Nami says, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Sanji tries to pretend he believes her.
ººº
For the next two days Luffy runs a fever so high, it keeps the entire ship on edge. Chopper has been just this side of hysterical, quick to snap at anyone who asks about keeping Luffy in the sea stone cuffs, only to break down crying as he apologizes for not knowing what to do and how clearly he isn't a good enough doctor.
Usopp has been doing his best to cheer Chopper up, but their little reindeer seems beyond distressed, too far into his work to listen to reason. The only one who seems to get to him so far has been Zoro, always ready to remind Chopper that him losing it won’t help Luffy.
Sanji takes permanent residency in his kitchen. He hasn’t left it for much of anything, save for quick trips to the bathroom. He doesn’t speak to the others. He even refuses to reply when someone addresses him during meals. Sanji has gone so far as to walk away if they try to insert him into conversations. Especially if it’s about what to do.
He has yet to look any of them in the eyes.
Nami becomes a steady presence in the kitchen with Sanji. She comes and goes with snacks as he can’t help but stress cook and bake, bringing them to the crew and Luffy; their captain with a never ending stomach who has been needing help even to feed himself as his arms are covered in hard casts and the fever makes him slip in and out of consciousness all day long.
“It could be his body not knowing how to repair itself after so long depending on the devil fruit’s powers,” Chopper tells them, eyes downcast as he stares deep into his porridge without really seeing it, “but taking off the cuffs and having his body snap back into its rubbery form could produce a shock like effect, maybe even repositioning his still broken bones.”
“But if you keep the cuffs, it will keep draining his energy, which not only prevents his body from healing, but will also worsen his condition. Isn’t that right?” Robin asks softly.
Chopper’s tears are answer enough.
ººº
It’s late morning and Nami’s voice is wobbly with tears and thick with fear when she tells Sanji that Chopper has decided to take the cuffs off.
“It is the lesser of two evils,” she says, hugging her arms around herself, “if his fever continues to go up and down like this, it might leave him with severe sequelae later on.”
“And if he takes off the cuffs and the bones dislodge?” Sanji asks, voice hollow.
“Zoro came up with a solution for that actually.”
“What is it?” But Sanji thinks he knows.
“We get the cuffs back on and re-break his bones until it’s placed right.”
ººº
It’s the middle of the night and everyone has been fast asleep for a good while now when Sanji sneaks into the infirmary for the first time since he brought Luffy in on his back. Outside, Brook is playing a soft melody, never really able to handle the silence in the rare chances he ends up with the midnight shift. There is a reason why they try to keep him as close to the sunrise as possible.
Sanji's careful with his steps, knowing, without really needing to look, who’ll be asleep inside, glued to the chair beside Luffy. Zoro’s eye doesn’t open when Sanji comes in, neither do Luffy’s. Chopper, who’s been falling in and out of sleep by the sound of a feather hitting the deck, only snuggles deeper into Zoro’s arms.
Sanji eyes them for a moment, thinking how funny it is that some things are as certain as the fact that the sun will always rise.
The sun is bright. The ocean is vast. Zoro will be by Luffy’s side.
There was a time when Sanji envied them. A time when he felt like an outsider to their duo, having to constantly prove his worth. That was before he nearly threw it all away and Luffy threatened to throw his dream away for Sanji. He no longer doubts his position in the crew or in Luffy’s heart.
Looking at Luffy now, no cuffs, but with enough bandages to keep him immobilized, Sanji swallows the knot in his throat and thinks the course of a single life isn’t nearly enough to walk by this boy’s side and make up for everything that he is and has done for Sanji.
He sits by the edge of the bed, does his best not to touch Luffy, and prays for forgiveness he’s not sure he deserves. Prays a lifetime is just the beginning of their time together.
ººº
He’s sitting by the counter with Nami going over their monthly budget, because when Nami is too stressed she tends to fall back into things she can hold a semblance of control over, like money.
Everyone has just finished yet another quiet breakfast, half of them eating only in consideration of Sanji than true hunger, and he’s expecting a morning filled with tension and expectation when Usopp shouts outside: “He’s awake!”
Both Nami and Sanji are up on their feet in an instant. Sanji hesitates, for just a second, but long enough that Nami grabs him by the arm and pulls him along, her grip on him strong like a vice. He goes with her without much of a fight, drawing strength from her proximity, her certainty in his innocence from that single point of contact between them. He doesn’t quite know how he’ll look the others in the eye.
Everyone is crowded at the infirmary entrance; Franky’s bulk takes the majority of the space. Nami shoves him aside easily and steps in, bypassing a relieved Jinbe and a smiling Robin. Inside they find Chopper fussing over an annoyed looking Luffy, who is too busy glaring at the shackles around his wrist to listen to anything their little doctor is saying.
Brook is loudly crying in a corner, somehow having snuck in before the others could stop him. On the chair by the very side of the bed, where one would expect Chopper to sit, is Zoro. The storm that had been raging in his eye before, has now settled into a dull gray of badly masked worry.
Sanji wonders, dimly, if someone has dared try to get him off that spot.
“Why am I wearing this?” Luffy asks. “And what are all these bandages? What happened? Chopper? Zoro?”
“What do you remember?” Chopper asks.
“I…” Luffy’s nose is scrunched up in the way it usually gets when he’s thinking about something too hard, and, under any other circumstances, Sanji would’ve teased him for it. “I remember–” and then his head snaps up, his eyes moving desperately around until they settle on Sanji.
Luffy’s gaze holds Sanji frozen where he stands. Whatever he’s looking for, it seems to take forever; his eyes roaming the expense of Sanji’s body from head to toe. Sanji holds his breath, readying himself, but for what, he isn’t sure. Anger? Accusation? None of those are like Luffy, and yet, in Sanji’s mind, there is a world of wrongs and a limit he’s finally pushed too far.
But between one heartbeat and another, Luffy’s eyes clear, his smile stretches across his face unbidden and he lets out a sigh of relief so pure and raw, it nearly brings Sanji to his knees. “Sanji’s okay. Good.”
“You idiot.” Sanji says, the words ripped out of him by jagged claws that pull and bruises and leave him torn to pieces with lacerations so deep he bleeds dry on the infirmary floor. “You idiot . What were you thinking ?”
Luffy has the gall to tilt his head, looking for all the world confused, as if he truly has no idea what Sanji could possibly be talking about. It makes something ugly inside of Sanji snap and belatedly he realizes Nami is still holding him. Keeping him in place. If she fears he’ll attack or run away, he doesn’t know.
“I’m rubber.” Luffy says, simply.
“Not against seastone , you’re not.”
“Sanji.” Chopper warns, voice firm, snapping Sanji back to reality.
Sanji knows Luffy is in no condition for this. He shouldn’t be aggravating the situation, but all he can see is the rubble falling, Luffy disappearing under a wave of brick and concrete, and worse of all, dark metal.
Nami squeezes his arm gently. Less admonishing and more reassurance. I’m here , it tells him. I understand . And just like that, all the fight leaves Sanji. His shoulders sag and he lets himself stumble forward, feet staggering towards the edge of the bed. He doesn’t care if the others are watching; he doesn’t care for the goddamn marimo of all people staring at him as if he can see right through Sanji. He lowers himself on the bed, careful not to jostle Luffy, and drops his forehead to his captain’s lap.
Surprisingly enough, Luffy doesn’t move or whine. He stays perfectly still as Sanji tries to find his footing, and even after everyone has left to give them a semblance of privacy, Luffy keeps him in. His hands, despite the shackles, are a comfortable weight on Sanji’s back; his hold on Sanji’s jacket strong enough to crumple the fabric, as if he’s just as scared of Sanji disappearing as Sanji is of Luffy’s immovable form.
It’s not really comfortable, but he could stay like this forever. Or at least he would, if not for the loud grumble of Luffy’s stomach. Sanji laughs. It sounds wet to his own ears, but Luffy doesn’t call him out on it.
“Hang on just a little longer, captain,” he says, straightening up. “I promised you a feast after all.”
ººº
Chopper must have deemed it safe enough to release Luffy of the seastone cuffs, because the next time the kitchen door opens and someone comes barreling inside, it’s Luffy himself, still covered in bandages, dark circles under his eyes and a furious doctor clinging to his back, but smiling bright nonetheless.
“Sanji! There you are!” Luffy shouts over the sound of Chopper lecturing him. As if Sanji would be anywhere else, really.
“I told you I was preparing a feast.”
Luffy eyes the ingredients on the table, his gaze moving to the pots on the counter and the pans already on the stove. He seems transfixed by it all and Sanji has his usual speech at the tip of his tongue, when his mouth falls open in surprise as Luffy ignores all of it in place of rounding the counter and coming to stand behind Sanji.
Before Sanji can turn around to see what Luffy's about to do or what he might be looking for, a heavy weight flumps onto his back. It is so unexpected he nearly loses his balance, holding on the counter for support.
“ Luffy . What are you doing?”
Luffy laughs, the vibrations traveling down Sanji’s spine. “I wanna watch Sanji cook.”
“Get down.” Sanji tells him, trying to pry his arms away from his neck. “It’s dangerous, you idiot. And you’re still recovering”
Luffy only laughs more, wrapping his legs around Sanji’s waist so he’s being fully supported by Sanji. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not . Get down.”
If anything Luffy tightens his hold, resting his chin on Sanji’s shoulders and if Sanji weren’t so busy trying to get him off, their cheeks would be touching with the proximity. Chopper, the traitor, ran away in pursuit of Usopp the minute Luffy latched himself to Sanji, so there’s no one really to help him, unless he walks outside or shouts for Nami to come over.
But the thing is, he isn’t truly angry. Perhaps a bit worried, yes, but Luffy burns like wildfire that is always just enough to bring life into the ones he keeps close. Despite the weight, Sanji feels his body relax, all the tension from the previous days slipping off of him as if he’s immersed in a warm bath.
Sanji sighs. He might as well give in instead of continuing to fight a losing battle.
“If you so much as think of grabbing food while I’m wielding a knife, I’m kicking you out.”
Luffy hums, squeezing Sanji for dear life, and if somehow that makes Sanji breathe easier, no one really needs to know.
He prepares the entire feast like that. Some members of the crew come in, looking for Luffy, and backtrack upon seeing him glued to Sanji. He’s tried to ask them to take Luffy away, but his efforts are half-hearted at best and he can’t quite keep the smile off his face when Luffy says he’s spending time with Sanji so shoo – especially when directed at a certain marimo.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Sanji asks for the fifth or sixth time, placing the final touches on the dishes with one hand and holding Luffy’s hand away with the other.
“Chopper said I can’t take the bandages off.”
“And you ran before he said you also had to stay in bed and rest.”
Luffy’s laughter is answer enough. “I am resting! I’m just watching you.”
Sanji can’t argue with that. Other than some close calls with the oven and the constant food theft, Luffy has behaved himself well enough so far. He seems content in simply holding on to Sanji and keeping him company.
At first, they easily settled into a comfortable silence, but before Sanji even realized he was doing it, he started talking about his favorite receipts, his time at the Baratie and how his old geezer made him who he is today. Luffy hums and makes comments in all the right moments. His undivided attention, his care and regard to everything Sanji has to say, even if Sanji believes it might be boring, feels encompassed with tenderness.
At some point he does get off Sanji’s back, but he stays put in the kitchen, from time to time stopping Sanji’s rambling – because it really couldn’t be described as anything else – to make a comment on his technique; Luffy’s voice filled with awe at the skills he so rarely stops to see.
Once everything is done, Luffy enlists himself as a helper to carry everything outside onto the deck, but the first trip out has Franky pulling him aside to show a new invention that, in Sanji’s opinion, looks too deadly to be considered a toy. Robin is sitting beside him, looking impossibly soft in the late afternoon light; she has an open book in her hands, but her attention is directed entirely at Franky as he basks in the others’ amazement.
The party itself is, as usual, wild and loud. Bets are passed around and they keep a diligent account of which and how many times their devil fruit users fall into the sea, and if Sanji sees Nami trip Brook so he falls over the rails, well, he’s not about to tell on her.
Luffy bounces around them as usual, coming to a stop beside Brook who’s been sitting nexto to Zoro coming up with a dozen or so verses about drunk sailors and drunk swordsmen. Sanji would’ve gladly joined them and take in the opportunity to make fun of the marimo, but once everything’s in place and there’s plenty of food for seconds and thirds, he takes his place next to Nami and her little group.
She’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Robin trading stories about islands and pirates they fooled for information or gold. Behind them, Franky is using Robin’s hair to teach Usopp new hairstyle techniques as Usopp mirrors him on Nami’s hair. They are in the middle of an intricate braid that looks just this side of crooked on Usopp’s end. The two of them seem too engrossed in their work to be paying attention to what the girls are saying, but Sanji catches Franky’s eyes creasing at the corners whenever Robin laughs.
Sanji doesn’t really join the conversation. He’s content in just listening to them and watching his friends spending quality time with each other. Jinbe, despite having joined the latest, has already fit in perfectly with them all. He goes along with Luffy’s most idiotic whims, he drinks with Zoro and compliments Brook. He shares wisdom with the girls and his own stories about his travels. He even indulges Franky and Usopp when they go on and on about new inventions and weapons.
Sanji has no problem in finding him now, and he can’t help the fond smile on his face as he watches Jinbe patiently answer all of Chopper’s questions about the fishmen physiology.
Eventually, as it always tends to happen, everyone gravitates towards Luffy, who’s still sitting by Brook, stuck in place by Zoro’s head on his lap as the latter is already fast asleep. Brook changes the animated song he’d been playing for something more quiet, the night winding down naturally.
When everything is all said and done and everyone starts heading to their own beds, Sanji kicks Usopp awake as it is his turn to help with the dishes. Sanji doesn’t wait to see who leaves and who stays behind, he just wants to be done with cleaning so he can go to sleep himself, but soon after he and Usopp have all the plates back inside, Sanji is met with someone barreling onto his back.
“What the– Luffy?”
Luffy laughs, adjusting himself so has his legs around Sanji’s waist and his arms around his shoulders; his weight, much like early this morning, is entirely supported by Sanji.
“Usopp can go to sleep and I’ll help Sanji clean.”
Usopp’s eyes nearly bulge out of his face, a smile slowly appearing at his chance of escape, but Sanji is quick to intervene. “No way. If you do that, we won’t have any plates left by the time you’re done.”
Dejected, Usopp’s shoulders drop. “I forgot about that.”
Luffy, the absolute menace that he is, only laughs some more, somehow pulling Sanji in even more tightly. “Then I’ll watch.”
Resigned to his fate, Sanji merely shoots Usopp a warning look not to say anything and goes on with his own routine. He doesn’t like people messing with his utensils or changing the way he organizes his kitchen, so while Usopp, or whoever’s turn it is to help him at the time, washes the plates and cutlery, Sanji goes about drying everything and putting it away so he can focus on his pans and knives later.
Usopp, not surprisingly, finishes his part first. He takes one final quizzical look at Luffy’s direction before bidding them good night and leaving. Luffy’s response is a muffled ‘‘ood ‘ght’ , his head heavy on Sanji’s shoulder.
How Luffy’s still hanging onto him while nearly asleep, Sanji doesn’t know, but one thing he’s certain of: he can’t imagine sincerely asking Luffy to let go. At first it felt weird to move around the way he is right now, but he can’t deny how grounding it feels to have Luffy so close. Whenever Sanji falls into the motions on autopilot, his mind becoming free to wander and dig itself bottomless holes of whats ifs, Luffy drags him back with a light squeeze, a huff against Sanji’s neck or a quiet mumble that slips past his lips too softly for Sanji to catch.
It should be ridiculous. It is ridiculous the way they are right now. But Luffy has never been the type of person to adhere to sense.
Sanji eyes the bandages still covering Luffy’s arms, more for show than any use now with how much he’s already danced and played around. If Chopper didn’t spend the night screaming at Luffy to keep still, it probably means he really only needed to reset the bones, and Luffy’s devil fruit did the rest.
“What are you doing, Lu?” He asks, softly, not really expecting an answer.
“Sanji’s warm like Bo.” Comes Luffy’s reply, murmured against Sanji’s shoulder as he tries to get impossibly closer still.
Sanji comes to a stop in the middle of the kitchen; a dirty pan hanging loosely in his hand. “What?”
“I noticed when you carried me to the Sunny earlier,” Luffy continues, not really fully awake, “Sanji’s back feels just like Bo’s.”
“Bo?” Sanji asks, not yet daring to believe what his mind tells him this means. He barely even registers the fact that Luffy had been conscious enough to notice who was even carrying him.
“Yeah.” Luffy yawns. “Sabo.”
It’s like Sanji’s world shifts on its axis. Suddenly the weight on his back seems all that much heavier, as if he’s carrying not just Luffy, but an entire legacy left behind. The trust his brothers put in the crew, the trust Luffy put in the crew, in Sanji , reshaping his reality in a way he thinks now, should have happened a long time ago.
It’s Luffy’s life. His heart and dreams. It’s his captain’s freedom he carries in the palm of his hand.
“When we were kids,” Luffy continues, unaware of the turmoil going on in Sanji’s mind, “Sabo would carry me everywhere. Ace always said he was spoiling me, but when Sabo died– I mean, when we thought he died, Ace never complained when I jumped on his back.
“You feel like that.” Luffy tells him. “It’s like I’m all the way back.”
Home . Sanji’s mind provides. He means home .
“Thank you for not pushing me off, Sanji.” Luffy says, his voice dripping with sleep.
Sanji’s eyes burn and his voice is thick with tears when he says, “Luffy?”
“Hm?”
“You’re my family.”
Shishishi . “Of course.”