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Sanji knows the exact moment he falls in love with Zoro.
Okay, maybe not the exact moment it happens. But definitely the exact moment he realises.
The lead up to the tragic event goes like this.
Sanji mentions that his favourite knife has a chip in the cutting edge. He’s lamenting the fact that it’s too deep to remove with his whetstone.
Afterwards, he completely forgets about it, consigning the poor knife to the back of the drawer.
Then a week later, he opens his knife drawer and there it is, in its usual place, in near flawless condition. He picks it up and inspects it. The blade is marginally narrower now, but the edge is flawless and the balance hasn’t been compromised.
He has a suspicion so he asks Zoro about it.
“I thought I’d try it with my kit,” he said, offhand, scratching idly at the bandages from his latest dance with death. “Seems to have worked.”
He means his sword sharpening kit, Sanji knows. His precious sword sharpening kit that is almost as precious to him as his precious swords.
And he used it to fix Sanji’s favourite knife.
It’s such a small, thoughtful gesture based on a random, throwaway comment that hadn’t even been aimed at the swordsman.
But Zoro had overheard, made an effort to remember it and then decided to do something about it.
Because it was important to Sanji.
Sanji has a moment of such startling clarity, it feels like a punch to the solar plexus.
I love him.
“Aw fuck,” he whispers.
Zoro doesn’t seem to notice.
The shock isn’t so much being in love with a man. Sanji likes to think he is a little more enlightened than that.
The shock is that it’s Roronoa Zoro.
Universe, he despairs. What did I ever do to you?
—
Sanji handles his almost certainly ill-fated love by not handling it. It’s his tried and tested approach to all the things he’d rather not face and he’s sticking with it.
Instead, he focuses entirely on the crew’s latest venture. Which is probably just as well because it’s a doozy.
They’ve stumbled upon a devil fruit user operating a slavery ring on a nearby island. The nature of the man’s vile operation has the whole crew spoiling for a fight.
To Luffy’s delight, Law’s chagrin and Sanji’s borderline indifference, the Strawhats and the Heart Pirates are temporarily allied again to take him down.
Sanji doesn’t actually dislike the Heart Pirates but he does find Law vaguely unsettling. The rest of them seem like decent people.
He also secretly wants to hug Bepo but who doesn’t.
Their intel tells them that the devil fruit user, Mugen, boasts near impenetrable skin. He cannot be cut or kicked or punched.
But there is one thing that can compromise his shield. Extremely high temperatures.
So naturally, Sanji is the obvious choice to take point on taking him down. They divide into three teams.
Team one is Luffy, Jinbei, Robin and Law. They head to Mugen’s expansive underground prison to free the enslaved people using Law’s devil fruit powers.
Team two is Zoro, Ussop, Chopper and Franky. They stay with the ships and set up a field hospital for the freed captives with help from the Polar Tang’s medical team.
Zoro is still recovering from an injury so he stays behind to protect both the ships from any stragglers once Mugen is dead.
Team three is Sanji, Nami and Brooke. Sanji to take down Mugen, Nami to back him up with lightning attacks and Brooke to keep the rest of Mugen’s gang at bay.
Mugen is the only devil fruit user and the major threat, so once he’s out of the picture, the whole operation should fall apart pretty quickly.
Once they get word that Mugen is at his hideout up the coast from where the Sunny and Polar Tang are docked, the teams set out.
Sanji feels happy with the plan and confident he can take Mugen down but he still fidgets nervously with his cigarette as the teams make ready to leave, loitering near Zoro with a sense of unfinished business.
“Don’t get killed,” the swordsman tells him as they leave.
“You’d get over it,” Sanji throws back. He doesn’t stick around to see Zoro’s reaction. He’s not even sure why he said it.
Maybe a part of him hoped Zoro would fervently deny it and suddenly declare his love in front of everyone and they could go off into the sunset and live happily ever after.
Gods, he feels like a teenager with a crush.
Unfortunately, things only go downhill from there.
Mugen is not at his hideout. After they make short work of subduing his gang, they manage to get some information out of one of his thugs.
Nami’s climatact is a remarkably effective interrogation tool, Sanji discovers.
“He left ages ago,” the man they question gasps, smoke wisping out of his mouth. “He found out about two pirate ships moored at the old docks. He’s going to destroy them.”
“The Sunny,” Nami gasps, her expression horrified.
And Zoro, Sanji thinks. Still injured yet eternally spitting for a fight.
They got it wrong. And Sanji knows, he just knows, what’s about to happen if he doesn’t make it back. He takes off instantly, trusting Brooke to watch out for Nami as he plows forward.
He sprints as fast as he can, he pours every bit of strength into it. He claws into his own desperation for a boost in speed.
His feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. He’s skywalking horizontally, just above the ground.
He digs even deeper. His muscles burn down to the bone. His eyes water in the rush of air.
Faster, his brain chants. Faster. Faster. Faster.
There’s not a reality he can handle where he doesn’t make it.
A tableau on the shore near the two pirate ships approaches rapidly in his line of sight. Mugen is a really big guy, with a really big axe. He’s slashing downward, Zoro trying sluggishly to intercept.
Too slow, Sanji thinks.
He registers this scene for only a nano second before he shoulder charges their enemy. He doesn’t have time to switch the impact to his legs.
The impact is foul. The noise is indescribable.
Sanji feels his shoulder wrench free from its socket, the bone in his arm cracking. The ribs on that side break inwards, lacerating his lung. Bye bye, collarbone.
Sanji lets his momentum bear Mugen down to the ground before flipping free.
He skids to a halt, scoring the earth. Instantly he charges forward again, his leg igniting. For the first time in a long time, he feels the fire.
He whips his Diable Ifrit into Mugen’s neck, aiming for maximum damage. His body protests wildly but he pushes through.
He lands lightly and flips up again for another strike. And again. And again. And again. Fast as lightning.
No time to stop and breathe. No time to let Mugen recover.
Dimly, he registers that his shoe has burned away. The leg of his slacks is starting to catch alight. The fire is creeping higher up his leg than usual.
His breathing is ragged. Blood is dribbling from his mouth as his shoulder and chest wrench unforgivingly with pain.
But he can feel himself starting to heal so he pushes even harder.
The agony is exquisite but every strike means he wins. Mugen loses. Everyone is safe.
Mugen is still trying to slash at him but Sanji is whipping back and forth. Overwhelming him. Every impact of his flaming leg sounds an echoing impact. The absolute destruction of flesh and bone.
Some part of his brain registers that this isn’t normally how this goes. There’s another level of speed happening here. But it doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that he does not stop.
Eventually, Mugen falls. Crushed into a heap. Unconscious or dead, Sanji doesn’t know or care.
Now…now, he can stop.
Sanji staggers. His body vibrates with the aftermath. Pain wracks him as his bones shift and grind to heal. He can barely breathe. He’s still coughing up blood but it’s getting less.
His hated genetics are saving his life. Saving Zoro’s life.
Sanji turns to where the swordsman is and feels the world slowly end around him.
Zoro isn’t on his feet, berating him for interfering. He’s lying motionless on the ground.
Sanji runs, falls. His body is sick of him. He gets to his feet, staggers again but stays upright. He makes it to Zoro’s side.
Collapsing to his knees, he rolls the swordsman.
“No, fuck you,” he grinds out. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
There’s a lot of blood. Way too much blood.
Most of it is coming from Zoro’s thigh. The gash there is grotesque. Deep and wide. Sanji can see the bone.
But he can also see where most of the blood is coming from. Without another thought he pinches the end of the severed artery that’s pumping out the swordsman’s life before it can retract.
It’s slippery and his hold is tenuous but it stops the blood flow, at least for the moment. He doesn’t dare move, devoting every bit of his concentration to keeping his grip. His body is slowly sagging, his head moves closer to his shaking hand, all covered in red.
Sanji pants raggedly and stares into the open flesh of Zoro’s eviscerated leg as exhaustion creeps in, crowding the edges of his vision with black.
Someone, he thinks. Please.
His whole body tremors. “Please,” he whispers.
“Saaaanjiii!”
It’s Chopper. Chopper’s here. He’ll fix this. Sanji nearly chokes on a sob.
He raises his head and spots them. His nakama. Chopper with Ussop just behind him.
The doctor is in heavy point, charging towards them with his medical bag.
“Chopper,” Sanji croaks as the reindeer crouches down beside Zoro.
Chopper assesses the situation quickly. There are no tears. No wailing. This is Chopper at his finest.
“Hold still, Sanji,” the doctor says calmly. “And don’t let go.”
Chopper is rummaging in his bag. Ussop has his hands on Sanji’s shoulders now, stopping him from faceplanting into Zoro’s open wound.
My hand is in his leg, Sanji thinks hysterically. This is not how I pictured being inside him.
Woah. Concentrate, Sanji. You’re helping perform field surgery, stop thinking about fucking your crewmate.
“Hold still,” someone says.
Chopper’s hands are suddenly there with a surgical clamp. He cinches the artery deftly and starts to pack the wound with clean gauze.
“You can let go now,” he says. “I think he’ll be okay but he needs surgery immediately.”
“I’ll carry him to the Sunny.”
Wait, I didn’t say that, Sanji thinks. He sees a flash of blue hair and ginormous arms are gently lifting Zoro out of his line of sight.
Oh, Franky’s here. When did Franky get here?
“Don’t worry about it,” Ussop says, which must mean he said that last bit out loud.
Oh shit, did he say any of the other bits out loud?
Sanji breathes out a weird laugh, sputtering blood out his mouth. Oops.
“Sanji,” Chopper hesitates a moment.
“Concentrate on Zoro,” Sanji tells him. “I’m healing already.”
Chopper has seen Sanji’s healing factor first hand so he takes him at his word. Sanji feels a wash of relief as the doctor follows Franky to the Sunny. He knows Zoro is in safe hands.
Something in Sanji’s chest shifts and pops, and suddenly he can breathe a bit better. He gets his feet under him and staggers upright.
Ussop helps him to his feet and doesn’t let go.
“I’m okay, Ussop,” Sanji says, trying to pull out of his grip. He says this with no irony, covered in blood as his bones grind audibly.
The sniper makes an impatient noise. “Just sit a minute,” he says. “You look like crap.”
Sanji lets Ussop lead him to a newly uprooted tree - probably Zoro’s doing - to slump down. He paws absently at his chin to smear away some of the blood.
Ussop crouches down on the ground in front of him and Sanji has an opportunity to get a good look at the sniper.
Oh, that wasn’t an impatient noise he made. Ussop is a lot paler than normal and he’s looking at Sanji with raw concern.
Sanji feels suitably chastened. “Sorry, Ussop.”
“What for?”
“I dunno,” Sanji says. “Being an ass.”
Now Ussop does look a little impatient.
“Are you okay?” Sanji asks.
“I’m okay,” Ussop says. “Maybe I’m in shock a bit. You know? Like people often are when they’ve had a shock.”
Sanji looks mystified. “You mean me?”
“You are an ass,” Ussop huffs.
“I know,” Sanji says, apologetically.
Ussop is quiet for a moment. “I’m sure Zoro will be okay,” he says eventually.
Sanji stares at the ground between his two feet - one still shoed and one bare. His naked foot is bright pink with newly healed skin.
“Of course he will,” he says. His voice sounds weird. Maybe Ussop won’t notice.
The sniper stands suddenly. “I need to check on something quick. Just promise me you’ll sit here for a few minutes,” Ussop pleads. “There’s nothing to be done for the time being anyway.”
Sanji nods amenably as the sniper disappears.
The cook smiles as he pats himself down, hunting for a smoke. Ussop is so sweet.
His hands tremor only briefly as he lights a cigarette. The filter soon has a ring of red around it, as if Sanji were wearing bright red lipstick.
He ignores his lungs as they protest to the invasion of smoke so soon after being partially collapsed.
The nicotine sings him a lullaby and he drifts.
Then there’s a sudden pop and Ussop literally reappears in front of him. Standing next to him is Law.
Sanji makes a face. Ussop is not sweet. He is a traitor.
The cook tells him so.
“Gimme a break man,” the sniper grumbles as he sits next to him on the tree.
If Law’s back, that means Luffy’s team must also be back but Sanji can’t find the strength to look around for them. He hopes they're all safe. He really hopes Nami and Brooke are safe too.
“Blackleg, where are you injured?” Law asks with an amazing amount of patience. Which is to say, some.
“I’m not,” Sanji says. “I healed already.”
Law gives him a scrutinising look. “The Germa thing?”
Sanji doesn’t have the energy for his usual denial. “Yeah,” he settles for.
“Room,” Law says, immediately followed by, “Scan.”
“Geez, warn a guy,” Sanji squirms, feeling exposed. He stops smoking for a moment, his mind preoccupied by thoughts of Law being able to see the smoke in his lungs.
“Where were you injured?” the doctor asks.
Sanji sighs. “This shoulder and my ribs,” he says, indicating vaguely with his cigarette. “And I burned my foot a bit.”
Law raises an eyebrow at this.
“I think my fire was a little hotter than normal,” Sanji supplies.
Law doesn’t say anything, he just continues looking inside Sanji’s body. Gross.
“Interesting,” Law says after a while, dropping his hand and the technique. “How bad was the burn?”
“I’m honestly not sure,” Sanji says because he isn’t. “No exposed bone.”
“Your measure of what you consider a bad burn is disturbing,” Law informed him which Sanji thinks is a fucking cheek coming from Trafalgar fucking Law. “Could you feel it?”
Sanji thinks as he puffs on his cig. “Not really.”
“Probably third degree then,” Law says, more to himself than to anyone else.
“Isn’t that the worst one?” Ussop tremors from next to Sanji.
“No,” Law tells him. “But it’s still pretty bad. Were your ribs broken?”
Smashed more like. “Yeah,” Sanji says.
“And your shoulder? Dislocated?”
And smashed. “Yeah,” Sanji says.
“Could you breathe?” Law wants to know.
“Uh, sort of,” Sanji’s starting to get a little tired of all the questions. “What does it matter? It’s all healed now.”
Law gives him an unimpressed look. “Firstly, not all healed,” he says. “Not completely. But what’s more interesting is that these injuries aren’t leaving any evidence. No scar tissue or bone remodelling.”
Sanji isn’t sure what he’s getting at. “I don’t really scar,” he mumbles through his cigarette.
He’s tried pretty hard not to think about why he’s been stabbed and impaled and operated on multiple times throughout his life but his skin remains disturbingly flawless.
“That’s interesting,” Law says.
“Why do you sound like you're saying it’s a bad thing?” Ussop asks suddenly. “What’s wrong with accelerated healing?”
“This isn’t accelerated healing,” Law says. “There would be evidence of healing if it was.”
“What is it then?” Sanji knows he isn’t going to like the answer.
“I’m guessing regeneration.”
“But that sounds even better,” Ussop says.
“I invite you to consider how much energy it takes to regrow bone or skin,” Law says. “The immense strain that would put on a person’s body.”
“We strain our bodies all the time,” Sanji points out. “It comes with the territory.”
“Not like this. If you regenerate from serious injuries too often your heart could fail,” Law tells him. “Or you could have a catastrophic aneurysm.”
Typical, Sanji thinks as Ussop makes a weird noise next to him.
“I suggest you don’t rely on it,” Law adds. “Rely on your doctor and only regenerate if it’s life threatening.”
Sanji clears his throat. “I don’t-I can’t really control it,” he admits.
“Then learn,” Law says flatly. “Or any battle could be your last.”
Sanji’s sure he didn’t mean for that to sound like a threat.
“For now, get some rest,” Law says. He half turns but then looks back. “And stop smoking.”
Sanji can feel Ussop’s eyes on him as the doctor leaves.
“Did you have to sic the surgeon of death on me?” the cook says glumly.
“Sanji,” Ussop says. The sniper sounds kind of serious so Sanji decides he should try to be serious too.
After all, Sanji cares about Ussop and doesn’t want to worry him.
“I get it,” he says. “I hear what he’s saying. I’ll figure it out.”
The sniper nods, mollified.
“But maybe don’t tell anyone,” Sanji adds quickly.
“Aren’t you done keeping secrets?” Ussop says.
Sometimes, Sanji thinks Ussop is the bravest man in the world. The sniper weathers Sanji’s baleful glare with minimal whimpering.
“Just…” Sanji sighs. “I’ll tell them. Just give me some time.”
“Okay,” Ussop agrees.
They sit in relative silence for a bit as Sanji spits old blood onto the ground. Eventually, Ussop speaks up.
“Do you think you could regrow a limb?”
—
The crew is safe, Sanij says to himself.
Two sacks of flour. Three of rice. We need more barley.
Everyone is home and everyone is alive.
Apple stocks are low. He needs more cumin seeds. Maybe he should get some ground cumin as a backup?
The threat is gone. No one is coming after them.
Potatoes look good. He’ll pick up some soft fruits at the next island.
“Why aren’t you in bed?”
Sanji jolts at the table, hunched over his notebook.
He glares up at Zoro who is not where he is supposed to be.
After major blood loss and surgery, most people would take some time to sleep and recover. Zoro is not most people which is why he is hovering in the galley doorway on unsteady limbs. But at least he’s towing the IV pole, instead of ripping the tube from his arm which feels like growth.
Sanji tries to leap to his feet but quickly realises this isn’t physically possible. Instead, he heaves himself upright.
“You’re insane,” he says. “Like actually brain damaged.”
“Like you don’t also take the first opportunity to get out of there,” Zoro grumbles. He allows Sanji to help him to a chair. The exhaustion they’re both feeling makes the process slow and ungainly.
“Okay, so we're both hypocrites,” Sanji mutters. His voice comes out weirdly breathless.
If Zoro notices, he doesn’t say anything. He huffs a sigh of pain and annoyance as he tries to get comfortable on his chair.
Sanji moves back towards his seat across the table.
“I guess booze is out of the question,” Zoro says.
Sanji looks at him. His vision momentarily goes red with the memory of staring into Zoro’s mangled flesh.
Fuck it, he thinks. He brings out two glasses and a bottle.
“Well, now I know something's wrong,” Zoro says as the cook pours.
“Why would something be wrong?” Sanji says. He downs his glass and pours another. He lights up and sucks in smoke like the cigarette owes him money.
Zoro sips his drink calmly.
“Aren’t you tired?”
Sanji takes another eye-watering drag. “Physically, I think I am.”
“Physically?”
“My brain doesn’t agree,” Sanji tells him.
Zoro just nods.
“You know, I didn’t pass out immediately,” he says after a moment.
Sanji takes a break from abusing substances to look at him.
“Huh?”
“Out there,” Zoro nods his chin vaguely out into the world. “When I was about to lose and then a fucking meteor hit the earth.”
Sanji swallows. He feels pinned, like he’s guilty of something.
“I’ve never seen you like that,” Zoro says.
“I’m…” Sanji tips forward slightly, drawn in by something. “I’m not sure what that was.”
“It was insane,” Zoro says.
“It felt pretty insane.”
Zoro watches him evenly. “Are you okay?”
“Like physically…?” Sanji wonders, feeling unmoored.
Zoro actually looks amused at this.
“I asked Chopper when I woke up and he said you were fine,” he says.
“I am fine,” Sanji says.
“Like physically…?” Zoro echoes.
Sanji huffs out a breath, feeling bullied. He starts to stand, fighting against his uncooperative limbs. “I’m taking you back to the infirmary because Chopper is currently my favourite crewmember and I refuse to upset him.”
“I wouldn’t get over it, you know,” Zoro says.
Sanji freezes, halfway up. “What?”
“You said I would get over it if you died,” the swordsman goes on. “But you’re wrong.”
Sanji knew what he meant the minute he said it. Having it laid out bare is making all his skin feel raw. Or maybe it's his soul.
Sanji slumps back down.
Zoro looks at him, unabashed.
“Yeah?” Sanji breathes.
This isn't actually a shock. Sanji thinks maybe it should be but it simply isn’t. Sanji tore his body apart to save Zoro. It’s not such a surprise that Zoro might do the same for him.
They’ve always been two opposing forces that push and pull against each other with love and hate and everything in between. Conflicting and complementary.
Sanji and Zoro have orbited each other since day one.
“When I had my hand in your leg-” Sanji starts.
“Dude, gross.”
“-I had a similar thought.”
Zoro doesn’t say anything but he captures Sanji’s gaze and nods slowly. Like he understands entirely.
In that encapsulated moment, Sanji realises Zoro might be the one person on the planet who understands him best.
Time for some honesty, Sanji guesses.
“I have a problem,” he says out loud.
Zoro looks at him warily, eyes darting downward.
Sanji pretends he didn’t see it.
“You know my accelerated healing?”
“Your weird ass body? Yeah,” Zoro says.
“Turns out it’s actually regeneration,” Sanji soldiers on.
“What’s the difference?”
“Regeneration could kill me if I do it too much,” Sanji says.
Having established that Zoro is against this, the swordsman's reaction is surprisingly unperturbed.
“So don’t do it,” he says.
“I don’t actually get a say in that,” Sanji tells him.
Zoro ruminates on this. “So don’t get injured.”
What a Zoro answer, Sanji thinks.
“When have we ever had a battle where we didn’t get injured?”
Zoro frowns deeply. “So…you’re just not going to fight?” he sounds almost offended by the idea. “That’s ridiculous.”
“No, dumbass,” Sanji says. “I need to learn how to control it.”
Zoro nods. “Okay,” he says. “So what’s the problem?”
“I need your help,” Sanji says.
Zoro narrows his eyes. “How could I possibly help with that?”
“You know…” Sanji slices the edge of one hand against the palm of the other demonstrably.
Zoro’s lip curls. “Fuck no!”
“Come on!” Sanji says, wired on sleep deprivation. “How else can I learn to control it?”
“I’m not going to intentionally cut you!”
“Why not? I’ll just heal,” Sanji says.
“You just told me that could kill you,” Zoro sounds affronted.
“That only applies for really bad injuries,” Sanji points out. “I just need small injuries to train with.”
“So stab yourself with a knife!”
Sanji makes a dismissive gesture. “I tried that ages ago,” he says. “My exoskeleton protects me.”
Zoro stares at him.
“But I know your swords can probably cut me,” he goes on. “Enma for sure.”
“Jesus, cook,” Zoro whispers.
Sanji suddenly realises he’s crossed some sort of line.
“Uh,” he says intelligently.
“You need to sleep,” Zoro tells him. His expression looks flat and unamused.
He stands unsteadily, gripping his IV pole. Sanji heaves himself up again and clambers ungracefully around the table to help him.
But before Sanji can grab the swordsman’s arm, Zoro grips the front of the cook’s shirt with both hands and pushes him backwards.
“Huh?” Sanji says. The backs of his knees hit the galley couch and suddenly he’s horizontal without fully registering the bit in between.
Sanji thinks a man so fresh off anaesthesia should not be able to manhandle him like this.
“Go to sleep,” Zoro says, keeping a hand pressed flat to the cook’s chest.
“You go to sleep,” Sanji mutters.
He wants to fight against Zoro’s hold but now that he’s lying down, all movement seems beyond his grasp.
He opens his mouth to complain but then he focuses on Zoro and his brain registers the expression he sees there. His face goes slack.
He wishes he was more cognizant so he could figure out what he’s seeing in Zoro’s eyes. There’s a raw, open emotion there and Sanji can’t get his sluggish brain to figure out what it is.
He blinks dozily, watching Zoro’s face go out of focus, until his eyes drift close and he sinks into nothingness.
—
Sanji dreams about Germa that night because of course he does.
He dreams of being exposed but also trapped. Of being in the dark but also under a blinding light.
He hears mocking laughter and taunts from the past, following him through endless passageways. Damp stone dungeons, looming castle hallways, cold surgical suites.
He tries to claw his way out, ripping the flesh from his fingers. And then the fingers from his hands and then suddenly his hands are gone.
He watches as new hands bubble up from the stumps. Shiny and pink like newly healed skin.
He wants to scream.
But then there’s a warm hand on his forehead and a voice he knows well is murmuring something soothing.
And he drifts into a sleep of nothingness on a tide of familiarity.
—
Sanji finally tells the crew about his weird ass body over breakfast a few days later.
“Sanji, you’re forbidden from fighting,” Nami says immediately.
This actually shortcircuits his brain because he wants to say hell no but he also wants to do anything his sweet, perfect Nami tells him to do.
Fortunately, the captain override saves him.
“No way!” Luffy protests. “Sanji can fight if he wants.”
Sanji’s field of view is suddenly filled with a small fuzzy body and Chopper fixes him with a killer combo of cute and angry.
“You’re supposed to tell me these things, Sanji,” he says crossly.
“Don’t stand on the table,” the cook says, trying to find the moral high ground without a map.
“How long have you known about this?” the doctor goes on.
“Couple of days.”
“A week,” Ussop and Zoro say at the same time.
Betrayers, Sanji thinks. Mutineers. They should walk the plank.
“Hey, Franky. Can we build a plank?"
This successfully derails the “is Sanji about to drop dead” conversation and triggers a loud and energetic discussion between Franky, Ussop and Luffy about how a plank could also be used as a diving board. Or a fishing spot. Or any number of fun things.
Sanji tunes them out and focuses on the dishes.
Later that morning, Chopper insists on a check up and out of guilt, Sanji obliges.
“If that’s what Traffy said, you should take it seriously,” the little doctor says when Sanji fills him in. “He’s a really good doctor.”
Sanji averts his gaze from the sparkles of admiration in Chopper’s eyes.
“I am taking it seriously,” the cook tells him. “I’m going to learn how to control it.”
“How?”
“Meditation,” Sanji lies. “Zoro’s going to help me,” he adds. The second bit’s true at least.
This seems to satisfy Chopper but not Sanji’s guilt. He thinks he’ll make the little doctor his favourite dessert tonight. No particular reason.
—
“You said you’d help me!”
“I never agreed to that!”
Sanji hesitates.
It’s true he doesn’t entirely remember how the late night conversation in the galley went but he woke up on the couch the next morning so sure that Zoro had agreed to help him.
But now he’s looking outright offended by the idea.
“What’s the problem? We fight all the time,” Sanji points out. “You’ve definitely cut me before.”
“Not on purpose!”
“Fine, then let me borrow a sword.”
Zoro turns his hips to move his swords further away from the cook. “Hell, no. You’ll cut your arm off or something.”
Sanji narrows his eyes at the swordsman. “You have to sleep sometime, marimo,” he mutters.
Zoro turns back, his face thunderous. “Don’t fuck with my swords.”
Sanji had been mostly joking but now he sees an avenue to get what he wants.
“Then help me,” he insists.
Zoro looks unmoved.
“Okay, just once,” Sanji says. “Just one time, just to see something. Then I’ll leave you alone.”
Zoro’s face twists unhappily. “Fine,” he says eventually, probably just to stop Sanji from developing sticky fingers while he naps.
Zoro puts a finger in the cook's face. “But you’re bringing booze,” he adds before heading to the crow’s nest.
Fair enough, Sanji thinks.
He swings by the galley to grab a bottle of rum. After a moment of thought, he grabs a second bottle and a couple of dishtowels.
Zoro raises an eyebrow at the second bottle when he arrives up top but says nothing.
“Call it motivation,” Sanji says by way of explanation.
Zoro grumbles something that Sanji doesn’t catch. “Where?” he says louder when Sanji looks at him. The swordsman makes a broad gesture to the cook’s body.
Sanji has had time to think about this. “Lower leg,” he says. He doesn’t want to risk his arms and he recently became acutely aware of a really important artery in the thigh.
He pulls up his trouser leg then sits on the floor with his leg stretched out in front of him. He takes a moment to lay a dishtowel underneath to catch any blood.
Zoro watches him with an unhappy face.
“Ready,” Sanji tells him, leaning back.
Zoro gives him an even look then draws Wado.
“That one?” Sanji cringes slightly. He knows the significance of Zoro’s white sword.
“Trust me, you don’t want Enma anywhere near your leg.”
Zoro concentrates on Sanji's leg intently then raises Wado high and brings it down sharply.
It takes every scrap of Sanji’s self-control to stay still.
With polished control, Zoro stops the blade just as it touches the skin, no more than a kiss. For a moment, Sanji thinks it hasn’t worked and his freaky exoskeleton has got in the way.
But then the blood wells and Sanji sees a significant cut and feels the sting.
He leans forward, staring as blood runs over his calf in a thin line.
He tries to feel for the sensation of the regeneration kicking in. If he can recognise the feeling, hopefully he can learn to control it.
For a minute nothing happens and Sanji wonders if the injury isn’t bad enough for his modification to register it. But then the blood stops welling and slowly, mockingly almost, the cut starts to seal from each end, meeting in the middle.
Sanji feels nothing. It’s happening right in front of his eyes and he doesn’t feel a thing.
His shoulders slump. “Oh,” he says.
“What were you hoping for?” Zoro asks. He sits down, easing his injured leg out.
Sanji huffs in annoyance as he wipes his leg off. “I thought I might be able to sense it happening,” he says. “Then maybe I could control it.”
He presses both his hands over his face, pushing against his eyeballs until he sees stars.
“Ugh,” he bemoans.
Zoro doesn't say anything for a moment. He seems to be mulling something over.
“If you’ve always been like this then why is it suddenly a problem?” he wonders.
Sanji drops his hands and blinks a few times “I didn’t always have the regeneration thing,” he points out. “The raid suit did that.”
“Are you sure? Because you have zero scars,” Zoro says.
Sanji’s brain snags unhelpfully on the fact that Zoro has been looking at his body. He thinks he might be blushing.
“And you’ve been injured just as much as me,” the swordsman goes on.
Sanji makes a dubious face and pats his cheek discreetly with his fingertips. He doesn’t think anyone has been injured just as much as Zoro but he does take the swordsman’s point.
“Maybe Law’s wrong,” Zoro says. “What does he know about G-,” he cuts himself off. “I mean about your…you know, the science stuff.”
Sanji snorts. “He is a giant fanboy,” he says. “But yeah.”
They sit in thoughtful silence for a moment.
“I guess I need more information,” Sanji muses eventually. “About how this all works.”
“How much do you know about it?”
“Barely anything,” Sanji says. “I was eight when I left.”
“You didn’t learn anything when you were…back?”
Great, let’s talk about Whole Cake, the cook thinks glumly.
Except he did learn something, didn’t he? In that awful room with rows and rows of incubation tanks. Maybe that was something.
“I learned they have cloning technology,” Sanji says slowly, keeping his voice neutral against the tide of unpleasant memories. “Their soldiers are all genetically enhanced clones grown in tanks.”
“Grown?” Zoro looks grossed out.
“You’re not going to learn anything about these people that isn’t terrible,” Sanji informs him tiredly.
“Luffy said your sister wasn’t half bad,” Zoro says.
Sanji smiles. “That’s true.”
“Can’t we ask her?”
Sanji’s stomach churns. “She’s in Germa,” he says. “We’re not going near that place.”
Zoro nods easily.
“Then who else can we ask?”
—
“It would be possible to discreetly inquire about any scientists who have worked with Germa technology,” Jimbei informs the crew as they cluster around the galley table for a Save Sanji meeting. “I have underground contacts who could prove useful.”
The Sanji that apparently needs saving is chain smoking at the end of the table as his leg bounces wildly.
“This feels like a bad idea,” he says bluntly. “Aren’t we just asking for trouble?”
“As opposed to our usual reserved approach?” Ussop mutters.
“Sanji, your life could literally be on the line here,” Nami says. “It’s worth the risk.”
Sanji won’t argue with her, not really. “I mean, I could just never fight again,” he says. “I could do that. I’ll just be the cook. No fighting. I’m cool with that.”
Sanji has never had so many skeptical sets of eyes on him before.
“Yeah, okay, I see your point,” he mutters.
“Don’t worry,” Jinbei says. “I’m confident we can gather some intel without drawing too much attention. We can even avoid using your deadname to prevent a direct connection.”
“How do you plan on gathering the necessary intel without using that name?” Robin asks Jinbei.
“Sanji, is their cloning technology something Germa would sell or trade?” the fishman asks by way of answering.
Sanji thinks about it. Germa isn’t ethical so they wouldn’t object on that score but they do have a kind of misplaced pride which he knows would drive them to hoard their technology, on the surface at least.
But that said, they must fund their war machine somehow.
“I guess it’s possible,” he says. “But it would be on the blackmarket. They would never want it known.”
“I don’t get it,” Franky admits.
“I would be inquiring about any illicit trading of cloning technology as a front,” Jinbei says. “That could lead to intel that ties back to Germa. And hopefully to a scientist familiar with their work on genetic modifications.”
“And if we do find someone? Then what?” Nami asks.
“Torture them for information,” Zoro says.
“Is asking nicely not on the table?” Ussop wonders.
“If we pose as a dealer, we can ask some discreet questions,” Jinbei says. “But if they aren’t forthcoming, then using force may be our only avenue.”
Zoro grins at this.
“Are you okay with all this?” Jinbei asks and Sanji realises the fishman is talking to him.
He looks up from biting his thumbnail. “Hmm?”
The eyes on are on him again.
“Sure,” he says, taking a vicious drag on his cigarette. “What could go wrong?”
—
It’s only a week before Jinbei gets a lead from one of his contacts. He tells Sanji about it in private so he still has the option of backing out.
Sanji fights against spiralling.
“Who is this guy?”
“His name is Trapper,” Jinbei tells him. “He was a low level scientist who worked with Vegapunk and your…that is-”
“Judge,” Sanji snaps, then immediately feels bad. “Sorry, Jinbei.”
“It’s a heavy topic,” Jinbei says mildly and Sanji is reminded yet again that the fishman was there to help him in one of the worst moments of his life.
“Trapper has agreed to meet with us,” Jinbei goes on. “As far as he’s concerned, we are offering to sell cloning technology.”
Sanji already feels exhausted by the whole operation. “Has he been trading with Germa?”
“That part is unclear,” Jinbei admits. “But it's the best lead we’ve got so far.”
Part of Sanji wants to refuse it and say they should wait for better intel but he’s not sure he can take anymore nervous anticipation.
Before he has a chance to overthink it, he asks Jinbei to arrange a meeting.
—
They meet with Trapper. It goes…poorly.
Sanji knows it’s because they underestimated him. He’s not a devil fruit user, not even a fighter. Just an average looking scientist.
Sanji’s experience with mad scientists thus far has been Vegapunk, Caesar and his own sperm donor, so it comes as a surprise that Trapper looks fairly normal.
No giant head or crazy hair or annoying laugh. Not even a stereotypical lab coat.
“He just looks like some random guy,” Zoro mutters to Luffy at one point.
All that to say, they definitely don’t expect him to be a threat. They’re only looking for information after all.
So when Trapper manages to separate them, part of Sanji thinks it’s kind of his own fault.
The scientist was not nearly as interested in discussing cloning technology once he saw Sanji. It’s only later that he realises Trapper was fixating specifically on his telltale eyebrows.
The comically huge metal door that comes down between Sanji and the rest of the crew doesn’t so much as dent under the immediate barrage of attacks from the other side which means it must be reinforced with something. Probably seastone.
No matter, he thinks. Some random guy is no match for Blackleg Sanji.
“Big mistake,” he says as he advances on Trapper.
He only manages one step forward before he smells it. That sweet, sweet smell of knockout gas.
It’s really not fair, he thinks as he folds up like a lawn chair, that he’s basically invulnerable but he can still get taken out by something as mundane as gas.
—
Sanji wakes up on a cold steel table in a lab and sighs. It’s been a while since he’s had this nightmare. At least he’s not naked this time.
Then he sees Trapper next to him scribbling on a clipboard and feels his whole body go cold. His breath hitches.
Not a dream. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
Sanji takes a deep breath, trying to force himself to stay calm before he starts hyperventilating. He needs to keep a level head. The crew will find him.
He tries to look around but realises he can’t move his head. He can’t move any of his limbs either it turns out.
Not great for his blood pressure.
“Why can’t I move?” he blurts.
“Oh, you’re awake!” Trapper says looking down at him. “Excellent.”
Sanji feels something like fear crawl over his skin at the man’s tone.
“I gave you a mild paralytic,” Trapper goes on. “I need you awake.”
It doesn’t feel very mild to Sanji. He can barely lift a thumb.
“What for?” Sanji dreads the answer.
“Don’t worry,” Trapper says. “I’m not planning on killing you, I just want information.”
“I can tell you how to make the perfect omelette,” Sanji says.
Trapper ignores him and continues scribbling away on his clipboard. “I’m going to do a series of tests to collect data,” the scientist says. “I’m afraid some of them might be a bit unpleasant.”
If he was aiming for apologetic, he falls well short.
“I suppose a cigarette is out of the question?” Sanji says absently as he strains his eyes trying to take in as much of the room as possible.
Where the hell is he? Is he still in the same building? Will the others be able to find him?
“You smoke? That’s useful data,” Trapper says, writing something down. “I should get a tissue sample from your lungs.”
Great, Sanji thinks. Reduced to a lab rat.
“Good luck with that,” he says. “I have this annoying exoskeleton.”
“An exoskeleton!” Trapper exclaims, looking delighted. “Fascinating. I always wondered what heights Judge would achieve with his genetic enhancements.”
Sanji is starting to feel sick.
Trapper picks up a scalpel and with zero warning stabs it into Sanji’s shoulder. Or at least tries to. The tip snaps off and the skin is left unmarked.
“Jesus,” Sanji sucks in a breath. “I fucking told you.”
Trapper is staring in at the broken scalpel in fascination with an alarming glint in his eye.
The next hour is a parade of sharp objects as Trapper tests the limits of Sanji’s skin. It almost gets boring after a while. There is a brief moment of excitement when Trapper brings out a circular saw.
“What am I? Deli meat?” Sanji quips hysterically.
But even that grinds and snaps against the cook’s skin.
Sanji really needs a cigarette.
“Are you done?” he wonders as the room spins gently around him.
Trapper appears to give it some thought and then snaps his fingers. He leaves the room briefly and then returns with a wooden box.
It’s the kind of box Ussop would call ominous.
From it, Trapper removes a seemingly ordinary looking dagger. That is until Sanji spots the blade. His heart sinks.
“What is that?” he can’t help but ask.
“This blade is a special seastone alloy,” Trapper tells him. “I bought it for quite a hefty sum.”
He moves closer to the surgical table and Sanji feels his breathing start to speed up.
“Wait.”
“I’ve yet to find a substance it cannot cut,” Trapper tells him.
Without ceremony, the scientist drags the knife across Sanji’s forearm. The result is instantaneous pain as blood pours from a deep cut.
Sanji gasps at the shock of it. “Fuck!”
“Yes!” Trapper crows. “I knew it would work.”
He starts scribbling madly on his clipboard again while Sanji fights not to vomit and choke to death.
Now that Trapper’s found a way to get through his skin, Sanji doesn’t even want to think about what comes next.
Fortunately, the scientist’s jubilation at his progress is short-lived. The sounds of destruction reach their ears from nearby and Sanji feels it almost simultaneously.
Zoro is here.
Probably the others too, but Zoro’s haki is an overwhelming tsunami that Sanji would happily drown in right now.
Sanji can see Trapper’s eyes nervously track the encroaching sounds of violence and oh please god let me live along the wall as Zoro draws near.
Sanji wishes he could move just so he could lift his head and watch Zoro cut Trapper into tiny pieces. That would definitely make him feel better.
The doors burst off their hinges a second later. Sanji can’t see it but he knows the swordsman is there.
“Marimo,” Sanji warbles, his body flooding with relief.
Then Trapper turns and plunges the seastone knife he’s holding into Sanji’s chest and he loses all sense along with his breath.
“Ha!” Trapper says triumphantly, like he’s won.
Distantly, Sanji hears a roar of rage, a wash of intense haki and the sounds of violent retribution as he gapes at the ceiling.
Then Zoro is by his side, looking at the knife in horror.
“I can’t move,” Sanji wheezes.
“It’s okay,” Zoro tells him, hands hovering. “You’ll heal like you always do.”
“You have to pull it out.”
“What!?” Zoro sounds horrified.
“I can’t…heal like this,” Sanji chokes out.
Zoro grits his teeth but doesn’t hesitate long. He grips the handle and pulls it out as cleanly as possible.
Out is definitely worse than in, Sanji decides, as his body jerks reflexively despite the effects of the paralytic.
Zoro flings the knife away and lifts Sanji’s head and shoulders gently, cradling him against his chest.
Sanji’s body immediately starts going into shock. Cold washes over him but warmth floods his chest. He’s pretty sure it’s not from relief.
Any second, he’ll regenerate and everything will be okay. He’ll finally tell Zoro he loves him and then everything will be okay.
Sanji smiles despite the pain. “You came for me,” he whispers.
“Don’t talk,” Zoro says shortly. “Just concentrate on healing.”
Sanji frowns. Something isn’t right. His whole body is trembling.
“I don’t think it’s…working,” he murmurs. Something warm is spilling over his lips.
Zoro stares down at him, all the colour drained from his face. He looks back over his shoulder and shouts for Chopper.
Chopper’s here? Sanji thinks fretfully. That’s no good, they’ll try to make him a lab rat.
Or a lab…reindeer.
“Why aren’t you healing?” Zoro says desperately, gripping Sanji tighter to his chest.
Sanji has dreamed of moments like this. Minus the dying part obviously.
He feels his body spasm as it fights against the rigors of death and Zoro screams Chopper’s name again.
Zoro’s hands are clutching at him, his cheek is smashed against Sanji’s forehead. “Heal, goddamnit!” he chokes out.
Strange. He sounds like he’s crying. Zoro almost never cries.
Sanji wants to reach up and grab Zoro’s arm or touch his face but the paralytic is still making his limbs deadweight.
I love you, he tries to say. His mouth forms the words but his throat is full of blood now and he can’t breathe anymore.
He chokes as his vision dims.
Please, he thinks desperately as darkness claims him. Just let me say it before I die.
—
Sanji wakes up in the infirmary on the Sunny which comes as a surprise. The waking up part specifically.
He opens his eyes to blurry vision and someone looming over him. His brain unhelpfully provides a full technicolour presentation of cold surgical tables, mad doctors and life as a perpetual lab rat.
But then he blinks and his vision clears. Chopper is next to his bed in heavy point, fiddling with his IV. He can feel the familiar constriction of bandages around his chest and forearm.
“You’re awake!” the reindeer says happily when he notices Sanji staring. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty relieved,” Sanji croaks, as his heart rate returns to a more normal speed. “Glad you made it in time.”
Chopper looks put on the spot as he helps Sanji drink some water. “Um, I didn’t actually,” he admits. “You regenerated.”
Sanji pauses mid sip. “But I still feel like crap.”
Chopper looks like he’s making a mental note of that.
“You did what Traffy said you should do,” Chopper tells him. “You regenerated just enough to stay alive without overly straining your body.”
“You should have told me you figured it out,” the doctor admonished lightly.
“But I didn’t,” Sanji says.
“Oh,” Chopper looks thoughtful for a moment as he puts an extra pillow behind Sanji’s head so he can sit up a bit.
“Well, your regeneration is probably a somatic response,” he goes on. “So maybe degrees of control is something your body needed to learn intuitively.”
“So I can control it now?” Sanji asks, adrift in a sea of medical jargon.
“I think so,” Chopper says. “Now that your body knows what it should feel like.”
Sanji feels weirdly proud of this. It feels like a triumph over his changing body. A reclamation of control.
Ha, he thinks. Suck it Germa.
The door to the infirmary opens and Nami pops her head in. She smiles when she sees Sanji is awake.
“You’re up. Everyone will be so relieved,” Nami tells him.
“Nami, my sweet!” he croons, clasping his hands together.
“Especially Zoro.”
Sanji freezes in the act of making heart eyes at her. He thinks back to his last waking moments and feels his face go bright red.
Chopper looks at his flushed cheeks. “Are you having a reaction to the medication?” he wonders.
“I think this is a different kind of reaction, Chopper,” Nami tells him.
Sanji puts his hands over his face and writhes in the bed. “Euthenise me, doc,” he croaks.
“Euthenasia’s for terminal patients,” Chopper tells him mercilessly.
Sanji often thinks Chopper undergoes a personality change when he switches to heavy point.
“I am dying,” he whines.
Chopper ignores his theatrics. “Please rest,” he says to him, in the tone of a doctor who knows he’ll be disobeyed. “I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”
Sanji nods as he walks out, leaving only him and Nami in the room. She watches him with a fond but knowing smile.
Well, he’s already embarrassed himself half to death. May as well ask.
“Where is he?”
Nami pats his leg. “He’ll come around.”
Which could mean more than one thing.
Seeing as Chopper expects him to do it anyway, Sanji sneaks out of the infirmary later that night on unsteady legs.
When his nakama had visited him throughout the day to see how he was doing and to regale him with tales of their daring rescue, Sanji had noted a distinct lack of green hair.
The cook is quite fluent in non-verbal swordsman so he knows this means Zoro is feeling some emotions he doesn’t know how to deal with and it’ll be up to Sanji to take the first step forward if he wants them to meet in the middle.
The cook stands on the deck, enjoying the warm night air for a moment, then lights a cigarette because there’s only so much fresh air a person needs.
His lungs protest violently but he ignores them. What do they know? They can’t even handle a bit of gas.
Sanji stares up at the crow’s nest as he coughs his way stubbornly through a much needed nicotine hit. The lights are on and he can feel Zoro’s presence up there. Which probably means the swordsman can feel his presence too.
Goddamn haki, he thinks. Oh well, no point in putting it off.
Skywalking seems risky in his condition, so he makes the climb to the hatch. He’s out of breath by the time he nears the top.
Gods, he already misses wanton regeneration.
His earlier theory is proven correct when Zoro appears at the hatch with a scowl and extends an arm down.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Trying not to fall to my death?” Sanji pants, accepting the help gratefully.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Zoro grumbles as he hauls him up.
“Depends who you ask,” Sanji tells him.
He woozes slightly as Zoro pulls him upright. The swordsman’s hands grip Sanji’s upper arms firmly, keeping him steady.
Zoro studies his face. “All good?”
Sanji’s not sure what comes over him. Maybe the events of the past weeks are catching up but suddenly all he can think about is Zoro bleeding out on the ground of that damn island.
He flings his arms around Zoro’s shoulders and clutches him tightly. The swordsman startles for only a moment before wrapping his arms around the cook’s back.
Sanji can feel himself shaking.
“Are you okay?” Zoro asks quietly.
“Sorry,” Sanji says. “It’s just…a lot.”
Zoro doesn’t say anything. Just holds him.
“I was scared,” Sanji whispers.
“I know,” Zoro murmurs. The swordsman sways him gently in a soothing motion.
“I thought you were going to die.”
“Me?” Zoro stops moving but doesn’t let go.
“Yeah,” Sanji goes on. “You had a massive hole in your leg.”
“What?”
“I could see your bone.”
“I thought you meant when you were stuck in that lab.”
“Nah, that guy was just a dweeb,” Sanji mumbles. “He didn’t laugh at any of my jokes.”
Zoro snorts. “Unforgivable.”
Sanji swallows. It’s now or never. And he just can’t bear never.
“There was one moment when I was a bit scared,” he admits.
“Oh?” Zoro murmurs, rubbing Sanji’s back slowly.
“When I thought I was going to die before I could say I love you.”
Zoro freezes but doesn’t say anything. Honestly, Sanji was expecting a slightly more dramatic reaction.
“I heard you,” Zoro says softly.
Sanji pulls back abruptly so he can look at Zoro’s face. “You heard me?”
Zoro simply nods.
He heard him. Even if Sanji had died, Zoro would have known he loved him.
Sanji feels like he might be losing his mind for a moment. “And…?” he says breathlessly.
“And I love you too,” Zoro says simply.
Sanji stares at Zoro’s face and there it is again. That raw, open expression that he couldn't identify that night in the galley.
Oh, he thinks. It’s love.
He feels dizzy. He wants to kiss the swordsman but he can’t seem to move.
Zoro solves this by pressing his lips against Sanji’s. The kiss is soft and tender and slightly hesitant. Full of trembling hope.
Sanji leans into it, feeling his body sag with relief and exhaustion. He’s pretty sure he would be on the ground if Zoro wasn’t holding him. He can feel his eyes tearing up.
His body shakes with emotion despite his best efforts to keep it together.
Zoro breaks away from the kiss and rests his forehead against Sanji’s. Holding his body tight, he shushes him softly.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs.
Sanji takes a shuddering breath. “All along, you loved me too.” His voice is wobbly.
“Yes,” Zoro says, then kisses away the tear that slips down Sanji’s cheek.
It’s so goddamn soft that Sanji thinks he might swoon. Instead, he wraps his arms around Zoro again, clinging to both him and consciousness.
“Do you need Chopper?” Zoro murmurs, sounding slightly concerned.
Sanji shakes his head. “I only need you.”
Zoro holds him tight as everything else fades. As he drifts into sleep in the swordsman's arms, he knows he won’t dream tonight.
—
Sanji wakes up at dawn because his internal alarm clock doesn’t care about such things as stab wounds and heartfelt confessions of love.
His entire body is warm where it’s pressed against Zoro’s side. The swordsman has his arms wrapped around Sanji, holding him close.
He feels surprisingly well rested for a night on the floor.
The cook tilts his head up and gazes at Zoro’s sleeping face with something like awe.
He loves me too, he thinks.
Sanji runs his hand happily across Zoro's ample bosom, appreciating the curves and valleys.
Somehow both soft and firm, just like he imagined.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Zoro grumbles sleepily.
“Just checking something,” Sanji tells him.
“Saaanjiiii!” Chopper’s bellow comes from down below.
Sanji lurches upright then clutches at his chest.
“I think I’m about to be murdered by my doctor," he wheezes.
Sanji still feels a little too winded to skywalk so he makes the climb down again.
Zoro goes down first, staying close in case Sanji falls. The gesture makes the cook feel all warm and fuzzy.
Chopper is standing outside the galley door with his little arms crossed. “You almost died, Sanji!” he says. “Take it seriously.”
“Don’t worry doc, I took good care of him,” Zoro says which makes Sanji blush. He hopes it’s not always going to be like this. He feels like a teenager again.
“Don’t call me doc just to get your own way, you jerk,” Chopper says looking immensely pleased with himself. “Sanji, you get back in bed.”
“Can’t I make breakfast?”
Chopper’s stomach takes this opportunity to growl loudly. “Okay, fine. But I’m checking your vitals first.”
After Chopper declares him medically fit to make pancakes, Sanji whips up an impressive spread for a man in his condition. He feels like celebrating.
Once everyone is in the galley and digging in, Chopper shares the good news that Sanji has a handle on his regeneration.
“Yes!” Luffy punches both fists in the air enthusiastically and accidentally punches two holes in the ceiling. Franky tackles him to the ground.
“Are you immortal now?” Ussop asks with big eyes.
Sanji laughs out loud. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, then hesitates.
“I’m pretty sure I’m not,” he adds.
“If you are, you will be in good company, yo ho ho!” Brooke jokes, nudging Ussop jovially with the world’s pointiest elbow which makes the sniper clutch at his ribs and gurgle.
Sanji is momentarily lost in a vision of never growing old while all his friends and family slowly pass away.
He’s pretty sure the weird feeling in his chest is just residual stab wound.
After breakfast, Sanji sneaks outside for a smoke before Chopper can try and wrestle him back into the infirmary. It’s only once he’s lit a cigarette and taken that first blissful drag that he realises Zoro has followed him.
“You’re in a funny mood,” the swordsman says.
Zoro paying attention to his emotional state is another thing Sanji needs to get used to.
“Do you ever think about how Brooke will have to watch everyone he loves die while he has to keep on living probably forever?” he says casually as he smokes.
It’s kind of a heavy post-breakfast topic so he’s not surprised Zoro looks vaguely stunned.
“Is this about what Ussop said?”
“Guess it made me think about the future in a way I don’t normally,” Sanji says.
“What way?”
“Growing old,” Sanji says.
“With me?” Zoro smiles. “I like the sound of that.”
“Well, yes,” Sanji blushes again. Goddamit.
“But also just growing old at all,” he goes on. “For a lot of my life I just assumed I would die young.”
Zoro takes a moment to digest this. “It must be so intense inside your brain,” he says.
“You should know what you’re getting into,” Sanji tells him, squinting at Zoro through a haze of smoke as he takes a drag.
Zoro moves closer. “Oh, I already know,” he says. “Fell in love with you, neuroses and all.”
“Who taught you that big word?” Sanji wonders, closing the distance between them.
In one movement, Zoro plucks the cigarette from Sanji's mouth and kisses him.
This kiss is way more intense than their first.
Sanji parts his lips to welcome Zoro’s hungry tongue. He presses his body needily against the swordsman’s, momentarily heedless of his injuries, hands raking through his hair.
Zoro’s hands go under Sanji’s shirt and the cook can’t help the moan of pleasure he makes as calloused hands trace the shape of his waist.
As Zoro’s mouth moves down his neck, Sanji throws his head back, arousal simmering low in his belly.
“Saaanjiii!”
Chopper’s impatient yell is like a bucket of cold water.
Zoro breaks away with an aggrieved noise.
“I'm going to punt him into the ocean,” he says.
When Chopper comes trotting around the corner it’s to a view of Sanji and Zoro leaning casually against the bulwark, six feet apart.
“Sanji! You’re still in bad shape,” Chopper scolds. “Let me check your vitals again.”
“I feel pretty good,” Sanji says and it’s no word of a lie.
“Zoro, make him come,” Chopper says crossly.
“Sure,” Zoro says with a feral grin.
Sanji knows what’s on the swordsman’s mind because it’s very much also on his. He quickly acquiesces before he has an awkward boner to deal with.
“See you later,” Zoro says easily as he goes.
Back on the infirmary bed Sanji smiles to himself, enjoying the warm, gooey feeling in his chest as Chopper checks his heartbeat.
“Palpitations!? Oh no!” the little doctor cries. “What could be causing that?”
Sanji just shrugs and does a full inspection of the ceiling.
He eventually agrees to spend one more day in the infirmary to soothe the poor doctor’s nerves.
Sanji lies back on the bed, content. He’s been so worked up the last few weeks that it feels good to relax a bit.
He feels like things are starting to look up for a change. He seems to be regaining control of his body, he confessed his feelings to Zoro, shared a very enjoyable kiss with him and his favourite knife is in working condition again.
All his problems are melting away.
“You know, as your doctor, you need to tell me if you become sexually active.”
“Hnnn!”
“Aaaah! Your stitches!!”