Chapter Text
The silence in Sanji’s apartment is deafening.
Zoro lets it draw out as Sanji’s story trails off to an end. As he awkwardly reaches for the bottle of water on the coffee table and hisses under his breath halfway through grabbing it. As Zoro, unable to help himself, grabs it for him and passes it to him, grunting at Sanji’s quiet mutter of thanks.
He sits there on the lumpy sofa and he lets the silence drag on.
Sanji is all anxious movement. He crinkles the plastic bottle in his hands and taps his fingers against it. He doesn’t seem to know what to say now that it’s all out there. He just fidgets and taps and waits for Zoro’s next move.
Finally, Zoro says, “Show me your ribs.”
From the corner of his eye, Sanji balks. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Lift your shirt.”
Sanji opens his mouth to protest, but Zoro lifts his head and stares at him. Whatever expression he wears makes Sanji close his mouth. Reluctantly, he grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it up, giving Zoro a full view of the red and purple bruises blooming across his skin. He drops it down when Zoro says nothing else. The silence stretches.
“Did he kick you?” Zoro finally finds himself asking.
Sanji’s fingers spasm. Quietly, with practiced casualness, he says, “Yeah. After he knocked me down.”
“Just that one guy? Pearl?”
Sanji twitches his fingers again. “He might’ve taken offense when I kicked him first.”
Zoro nods and swallows.
All this feels… big. Like something from tv. He didn’t ever think about organized crime in his city before this. It doesn’t feel real. The idea there’s guys out there acting like predatory loan sharks and holding restaurant owners over a barrel for cash. Guys who’d beat the shit out of a college kid delivering pizzas to make extra money to pay them off.
Oh.
Oh, he realizes.
Zoro is pissed.
He lets that sink in a moment. The incandescent burn of his own rage growing up from a low boil to an inferno.
He pulls his phone out.
“What are you doing?!”
He looks back up. Sanji’s face is pale. The parts of it not covered in bruises, at least. Zoro looks away.
“Chopper’s great aunt runs a clinic,” he says. He pulls up his contacts and scrolls through looking for whatever he saved Kureha under. Ah, Doctorine. His thumb hovers over the call button. “Kind of like one of those quick ER places. She’s got all this equipment, does free vaccines for the community and shit, some kind of government grant. Bet she can take a look at those ribs.”
“They’re fine,” Sanji insists.
“You can barely move. You get an x-ray?”
Sanji’s lip twists bitterly. “I look like I got health insurance?”
Zoro’s own mouth twitches downward. “I’m calling her. Law might be on staff today.”
“I don’t need charity.”
“It’s not fucking charity.”
Sanji sits up straighter. He looks ready to fight, for all he looks like he got rolled across the parking lot. He’s got that stubborn jut to his jaw.
“I don’t need help,” Sanji says.
“You hear yourself?” Zoro sets his phone down on the coffee table in anticipation of a drawn-out fight. He gestures at him widely. “I come check on you, and I get here and you’ve gotten your ass kicked by mobsters. That sound like someone who doesn’t need a little fucking help?”
“I’ve taken care of myself this long – I don’t need your fucking help,” Sanji spits.
“Too fucking bad, then. You got my help when you got me as a boyfriend.”
Sanji makes a wounded sound. He pulls himself to his feet and tries to look big. His busted lip peels back in a snarl.
“Yeah? Then fucking scram.”
Zoro raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
Sanji swallows heavily and looks like he’s going to throw up for a moment before he schools his expression back into a sneer. He points at the door.
“I mean we’re done. We’re through. I’m not your fucking problem anymore.”
Zoro can’t stop the incredulous scoff that escapes his mouth. “Yeah? Just like that?”
“Yeah. It was a nice little dream while it lasted, but it’s over. We’re over. Get out of my house.”
Zoro stares at him for a long moment before he starts laughing.
Sanji’s expression falters.
“Yeah, you know what, Curly?” Zoro snorts and grabs his phone. “Fuck that. I’m calling Kureha.”
“I just told you to get the fuck out!”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a heartless bastard, you’re cutting me loose, what the fuck ever. Shut up, I’m on the phone,” he says dismissively.
“I said –“
”Drum Urgent Care, how can I help you?”
Zoro makes a mean face at Sanji and turns his attention back to his phone, “Hey, Dalton. It’s Zoro. You got room for a walk-in today? I got a dumbass here who might have some busted ribs.”
The man on the phone sighs gustily. ”Luffy fall down another flight of stairs?”
Zoro snorts. “Nah, different dumbass this time. So, you got room?”
”Yeah, just come by. You know you kids are always welcome to drop in.”
“Thanks, Dalton. Be there in a few.”
Zoro hangs up and starts swiping to another number.
“That’s enough!”
Sanji reaches for the phone, but his bruised ribs slow him down. Zoro stands and dances out of the way easily, still looking at his phone and not at Sanji. He taps another number and dodges Sanji’s next grab for the phone.
“Hey, Franky, I got a patient for you,” Zoro says into the phone, “Kinda urgent, need one of your guys to bring a tow truck to Baratie.”
Sanji makes another dive for him, which Zoro dodges. He steps around the couch and away, listening to Franky yammer in his ear.
“Yeah, no, Lorraine got fucked up,” Zoro says. He shoots Sanji a look and answers honestly, “Some guy had beef with Sanji and smashed her up.”
There’s a beat of silence as Sanji stares at Zoro with abject horror, and Franky goes quiet processing that statement. Zoro pulls the phone away from his ear and waits.
”Some shithead did what?! Where the fuck is this punk?! Me and my guys are gonna feed him his nuts!”
Zoro shoots Sanji a smug look that falls off his face when he sees the way Sanji’s face is falling. He quickly turns back to wrap up his conversation.
“Yeah, we’ll take care of it, okay? Can you call Luffy and get the crew rallied? I gotta get Sanji to Kureha’s. No, Franky, he’s okay. Yeah. I’ve got him. Just take care of Lorraine, alright? See you at Luffy’s.”
Zoro hangs up.
Sanji says nothing for a long moment.
“I wish you didn’t do that,” he finally whispers.
“Sorry,” Zoro says, actually feeling a bit remorseful. Unfortunately, his patience snapped before he could enable Sanji’s self-destruction again. He steps forward. “Hey, you can hate me later, okay? Break up with me for real or whatever you want to do. But for now, you’ve gotta just… let me help you a little. Okay? At least come to the clinic and let Franky take Lorraine back to the shop, and we’ll figure it out from there.”
Sanji nods and sniffs and rubs at his good eye. Zoro thinks about reaching to hold him, but he drops his arms before he can. He doesn’t want to hurt him.
More than that, he’s not sure his affection would be welcome.
“Grab what you need,” he finds himself saying, “I’ll let your old man know what’s up. Then we’re going to the clinic. Okay?”
Sanji sniffs again and nods.
It’s probably a bad sign that he’s going quiet and his face is going blank. Zoro can’t worry about that right now. Not while there’s the immediate concern of his health and safety. He can make sure he’s not having a breakdown later.
For now, he takes the steps down three at a time to burst through the side door of the restaurant. It’s uncharacteristically grim in there. He sees more than a few of the cooks sporting their own bruises – whatever happened that got Sanji in such bad shape must’ve been bigger than he thought. Patty jerks his thumb over to the walk-in. Zoro strides through and finds Zeff at one of the prep stations.
“I’m taking him to a clinic. Friend of our’s great aunt runs it. Get those busted ribs checked out.”
Zeff grunts and doesn’t look up from dicing vegetables.
“There’ll be another guy by soon. Tall guy with blue hair, usually wearing tiny shorts. He’s gonna take Sanji’s car to his shop. After that… we might just stay at Luffy’s place.”
Zeff nods and finally looks up. He looks tired, but he smiles.
“Just take care of the little eggplant. Tell him to call me when you get to Luffy’s.”
Zoro nods. He hovers for a moment, a thousand questions swirling in his mind for this man who apparently used to run a biker gang, and who went to prison, and who took a kid off the street and protected him from his abusive family and raised him as his own. He’s got about a million questions, really.
Zeff shakes his head. “Go see to the kid, son.”
Zoro swallows and nods. Without another word, he leaves. Right on time, too. Sanji’s coming down the steps slowly with a backpack in hand.
“Got what you need?”
Sanji nods wordlessly and holds the backpack up. Zoro takes it from his hands and heads for the car. He tries not to look at the chunks of auto glass on the asphalt or over at Lorraine. He just throws Sanji’s backpack in the back seat and pops the door open for him. Sanji slowly joins him – still walking stiffly like his ribs are hurting him – and sinks carefully down into the passenger seat. Zoro shuts the door and gets into the driver’s seat.
He takes a second to find Drum Urgent Care in his GPS. The silence is deafening. He puts his hand on the shifter and then pauses. After a hesitant second, he reaches out and takes Sanji’s nearest hand in his.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He’s not sure what for, really. All of it? He hopes Sanji understands. “It’s going to be okay.”
He lifts Sanji’s hand and gently kisses his bruised knuckles. Then he lowers his hand reluctantly and makes to let go to grab the shifter.
He’s stopped by a gentle squeeze.
He jerks his head up to meet Sanji’s eye, but Sanji isn’t looking at him. He’s looking down and away like he’s embarrassed. But he squeezes Zoro’s hand again before he lets go so he can drive.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Zoro repeats.
“Okay,” Sanji whispers.
And that’s good enough for now.