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"Tired already?"
The comment bites, just like it had earlier, but this time Zoro genuinely doesn't have the energy to bite it back. Mihawk's blade cut him deep, Luffy's enthusiasm re-opened his stitches, and about forty fish-men kicked whatever fight he had left right out of him.
Soft footfall, and then Sanji's voice again, closer, softer.
"Let me look at it."
"You're not a doctor."
"You work in a fast-faced kitchen long enough, you learn some things." Sanji's hands were gentle, pushing his legs apart, dropping to one knee between them before Zoro could slam his thighs shut again.
Sanji looked up at him, something unbearably gentle in his gaze. "Come on, big guy. Can't be the world's greatest swordsman if your tit falls off, can you?"
It was so out of pocket Zoro had nothing to counter it with, blinking dumbly at Sanji and making no move to intercept the careful fingers that peeled away the bandages on his chest, inch by slow inch.
Sanji's gaze was steady as he looked over the bloody, raw mess of his chest. It would scar, thick and ugly, but it was on the front, so Zoro didn't care.
Sanji, however, blew out a hard, hot exhale that fanned over his bare skin, pebbling it and making Zoro shiver just a little.
"Well. Good news is, miracles are real. Your stitches held."
"Bad news?" Zoro ticked a brow.
"You'll never get that stain out of that shirt," Sanji nodded to his discarded button-up, then pushed to his feet, leaving Zoro nose-level with his navel. "I'm gonna get some stuff to clean you up. Don't move."
"I can clean myself up."
Sanji paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. "What else are friends for, ay?"
He was gone, leaving Zoro in rumination, gone long enough he almost fell asleep sitting up until that even gait made him blink again, watching Sanji tuck himself back into the space between his thighs.
He had a bottle of white spirit, a bowl of water, two cloths and a large tub of aloe vera gel.
He didn't move to use them, though, kneeling there and just… Staring.
"Enjoying the view?"
"Just… Looking at the cost of dreams," Sanji answered after a long moment. "And I'll never repeat this, but. I'm impressed. You fought like that, with this…"
One hand came up slowly, fingertips featherlight as they skirted the mangled edge of the wound, following it from the curve of his shoulder all the way down to his flank.
"It was for Nami. And for Luffy."
"Like I said. What are friends for?" Sanji's smile was wide, soft, and he reached for the cloth, soaking it in water and wringing it. "This might hurt. I'll try to be gentle."
A barb about not needing fragile handling just wouldn't get past his teeth, and Zoro watched in quiet silence as Sanji dabbed and gently rubbed away at dried blood.
"Were you scared?" Sanji asked after a moment, and Zoro breathed out. "I'm not going to mock you," Sanji added quietly after a moment. "Truthfully, I've been scared shitless since I walked away from Zeff."
Zoro frowned slightly.
"Zeff is… All I've ever known, really. And he gave up so much for me. I know he drove me away. I know he wanted me to leave, to make my own path, but… What if I never see him again? What if he gets hurt because I'm not there? What if I fail and I have to crawl back and disappoint him?"
He dabbed gently at the edge of the stitches, careful not to snag the cloth. He was leaning in so closely every exhale skittered across the tender skin.
"I was scared."
It was the first time he'd ever admitted it. And the first time in a long time he'd ever been scared. Death didn't scare him, not really. Everyone died one day, some sooner than others, but…
"I was scared that I couldn't keep my promise. That if there's an afterlife, she—The person I made my promise to. I'd have to face them, and tell them I failed."
He did fail. Would've died if not for Mihawk's sense of honor and curiosity. The thought of facing her in death, her disappointment, her ire…
"A little fear sometimes is good," Sanji breathed out after a long stretch of quiet. "It keeps us human. Reminds us we're alive."
Zoro huffed a soft answering breath, watching as Sanji opened the bottle of spirit. Then Sanji's hand fell to his thigh, squeezing firmly.
"This is gonna hurt, Mosshead. You need something to bite on?"
Zoro shook his head. "Can't hurt worse than the sword that made the cut."
Sanji's laugh was soft. "You say that now."
He shuffled in closer, until Zoro's thighs were at his ribs, until the waves of his hair tickled at his collar and chin. The cloth was positioned to catch any run-off, and Sanji gave him one final glance.
"If you do bite, my safeword is sauté," he smirked, and then tipped the bottle.
An inferno of wretched, searing, blazing, lightening-like pain erupted over Zoro's chest and he was wrong. He was so fucking wrong. It could hurt worse, and as Sanji began to move the bottle along, pouring spirit over the rest of the wound, his resolve crumbled.
His hand shot out before he could stop it, fisting the shorter hair at the back of Sanji's head, gripping the locks like a lifeline as his head fell back, teeth grinding, spine arching with the dual drives to get the fuck away and stay exactly where he was.
"Easy, big guy. Just hold on. I'll be done soon."
If Sanji was annoyed he didn't show it, voice soft, the way he spoke to stray dogs and pretty women, gaze fixed on the ruddy flow of alcohol, head tilting into Zoro's hold rather than away.
It was… Easier. Embarrassingly, irritatingly, to breathe through the wildfire pain with Sanji's slow drawl to focus on.
"That's it."
He should knee him in his stupid, smug face, but Zoro couldn't make his body do anything except follow Sanji's words; hold on. Fingers twisted tight in choppy, gilded locks, Sanji's thumb rubbing slow, gentle circles under where he held the cloth.
A moment later, and Sanji's hand was squeezing his thigh again, the other coming up to circle his wrist, holding but not trying to pull. "Think you can sit for another minute for me, Mosshead? I promise I'll be gentle. I'll make you feel good, yeah?"
"I'm not your prom date," Zoro bit out, and Sanji's laughter was thick, rich. Zoro forced himself to let go, shaking hands dropping to the bedding, eyes opening to watch Sanji open the aloe gel.
He stuck to his promise, too. His touch was like silk as he smeared thick scoops of gel over the raggedy stitches and throbbing, red skin, and Zoro was helpless to stifle the moan that bubbled over his teeth. It was cold, an instant balm to the burning sensation, and his head fell back again, lashes dropping.
"Not my prom date, but still making you moan."
He could hear the fucking smirk in Sanji's voice, and he lifted a knee to knock it into Sanji's ribs, grumbling a low sound he hoped conveyed an appropriate threat. Unfortunately, it just made Sanji laugh again, the sound fading between them as he smeared gel in slow, focused lines.
Zoro was almost half asleep again by the time he was done, another thigh squeeze making him tip his head with a questioning sound.
"Alright, Princess. Nap time."
The thought of moving was… Deeply unpleasant. He was in a flow state, breaths carefully measured, fading pain a careful muted background.
Sanji's fingers were gentle as they brushed his jaw, and reluctantly, Zoro opened his eyes. He was smiling again, always fucking smiling. "Baby wants tucking in?"
"Bite me."
"Hair pulling, biting… Kinky little thing, aren't you?" Sanji asked cheerfully, before guiding Zoro's hand back to his hair, long fingers tangling with his until Zoro had another fistful of wavy locks. "Hold on tight. This might hurt a little again."
Before Zoro could ask, Sanji was pressing in, close, closer than they'd ever been, spine curved to keep away from his chest, arms sliding one under thigh and one around hips. Before Zoro could even begin to process that, Sanji was lifting.
Lifting and surging forward, but still somehow so careful about it, and Zoro barely had time to yank his handful, gasp cracking between his teeth, and then he was laying down, head pillowed, with Sanji kneeling over him, stupid insufferable smile and eyes like liquid in the dark.
For one long, eternal moment, it was just.
Like that.
Exchanging exhales, the longest strands of Sanji's hair tickling Zoro's brow, the feel of his fingers cupped around his thigh and the drowning pits of his eyes, and then Sanji's smile softened, something warm and unknown at it's edges.
"Is this your first time?"
Zoro's face tried to do so many things at once he wasn't sure what it actually wound up doing, but whatever it was made Sanji snicker a little.
"Having someone take care of you."
Was it? Zoro blinked dumbly. Did his childhood count? His sensei treating his wounds, the island physician binding his scars, even fellow students helping to brush dirt and leaves out of new bruises.
But… Like this?
Even since he'd left his home island, it had just been himself. Roronoa Zoro; Demon, Lone Wolf.
"Hey, hey." Sanji's voice was soft, his touch softer as he ran a daring, slow hand through Zoro's hair. "Don't think too hard. You'll hurt yourself again."
"I'm gonna kill you."
"If you can sit up on your own, I'll let you try."
Zoro blinked up at him, unsure if he even had the will to try. Now that the crest of pain was over, it was like his body had just… Disconnected from his pain. Everything was far away, except for Sanji, who was almost unbearably close.
And then not so close, pulling away with another gentle fuss of his hair, pulling at the sheets until he could tuck them firmly around Zoro's hips, leaving his wound and chest bare, tucking a pillow against him on each side to stop him rolling.
"Leave it breathe for tonight. I'll help you wrap it again in the morning."
But Sanji didn't leave, perching on the edge of the bed, hand drifting back to Zoro's thigh over the blankets like there was some kind of magnet there.
"You want a bed-time story, Mosshead?"
"Can I have one where I kick your ass right out that window?" Zoro mumbled, eyes already closed, the heavy shroud of sleep already pulling him in.
Sanji's laugh was as bright as it was quiet. "Ah, I dunno. I'd have to think for a real long time how you'd even manage that."
"I wouldn't."
"Alright, alright. Here we go. Once upon a time, there was a Pirate Hunting Princess—"