Chapter Text
Sanji nudged the galley door open with a foot, a cigarette between his lips, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The crew was still asleep after the chaos of the night before. He’d carried Chopper to bed himself. Right after nearly being crushed when Zoro almost rolled off the couch.
Speaking of Zoro...
Annoyingly, he was awake.
Sort of.
Propped unevenly on the couch, slumped halfway down a nest of pillows. His face pale, but a little less bone white than the night before. One leg hung off the side of the cushions, the blanket tangled around his legs, barely covering his waist like he'd fought it in his sleep and lost.
Sanji blinked. “You trying to escape in slow motion, or just failing at sitting?”
Zoro squinted over at him, bleary eyed. “You always this loud before sunrise?”
Sanji rolled his eyes and moved toward the stove. “It’s almost midday. Try to keep up.”
He set a pot of rice to steam, then headed to the pantry and pulled a few things from the shelves: a jar of pickled plums, a packet of nori, and a strip of roasted fish from the fridge. Simple. Enough to make onigiri without fuss.
He knew Zoro liked onigiri.
Not that that was the reason he was making it.
The rest of the crew would be up soon and hungry. Onigiri was quick, easy, and he could make something more elaborate later. It also happened to be easy to eat one handed, even while half slumped on a couch with busted ribs.
So really, just a coincidence it was Zoro’s favorite.
Obviously.
He could feel Zoro watching him.
After a moment, he glanced over.
Zoro was trying to push himself upright, but wasn’t getting far. His face was set in that usual scowl, but Sanji could see it, the tightness in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. It hurt. He was just too proud to say it.
Sanji sighed and crossed to the couch. “Need a hand?”
“No.”
He lifted Zoro anyway. Repositioned the pillows behind his back, straightened his leg, and tugged the blanket until it covered at least some of him. Zoro grunted, but didn’t argue.
Back at the counter, Sanji dipped his hands in salted water and began shaping the rice. One with plum, one with fish. He wrapped them in nori, set them on a plate, and glanced over again.
Zoro was watching still. Less guarded now. Tired. Quiet.
“So,” Sanji said, shaping another onigiri. “You gonna tell me what happened?”
Zoro rubbed a hand over his face. “I got blown up.”
Sanji snorted. “Insightful.”
Zoro sighed and leaned back slightly, wincing as the motion tugged at something stitched. He wrapped an arm around his injured ribs. “There was a weapon setup, some kind of catapult. They’d rigged a stack of barrel bombs to launch across the plaza.”
His voice was still rough and strained.
Sanji reached for the kettle and set it on the stove to boil.
“Aimed straight at Usopp and Chopper. They had no idea it was even there. So I cut it.”
“You what?”
“Cut it, before they could launch one. Thing still exploded, which set off all the others they'd rigged and I caught the edge of it.”
Sanji’s hands stilled on the cutting board. Caught the edge of it!? The damn explosion was huge. Zoro must have been thrown over 100ft into that wall.
Zoro shrugged, like he hadn’t nearly been vaporised. “They would've taken the hit. I just got there first.”
Sanji stared at him for a long beat, then turned back to the onigiri, squashing the rice together with a little too much enthusiasm.
“You’re a reckless bastard.”
Zoro made a noncommittal noise. “You’d have done the same.”
Sanji didn’t argue. Instead, he reached for a mug, filled it with hot water from the kettle, and dropped in some green tea leaves and a pinch of mint. No caffeine. No alcohol. Just something to soothe Zoro’s battered insides.
He placed the mug on the side table beside the couch.
Zoro stared at the rising steam like it had personally insulted him.
“...That better not be tea.”
"It's herbal. Healing. Good for people who got themselves exploded.”
Zoro exhaled slowly, a grimace tugging at his jaw as he shifted. His ribs protested loud enough to echo across the galley. “Sake’d do a better job.”
Sanji gave him a flat look. “Yeah? You can have sake once you’ve bought me a new jacket.”
Zoro blinked.
Sanji crossed his arms. “To replace the one I shredded trying to keep your blood inside you. My good jacket.”
Zoro huffed. “Your good jacket.”
“Yes.” Sanji tried to keep his cool.
Zoro rolled his eyes. “Stupid curlybrows.”
Sanji lit his cigarette, muttering, “Try saying that from a vertical position.”
Zoro took that as a challenge.
He tried to sit up. The pillows collapsed. His elbow slid sideways, and his legs instantly tangled in the blanket. He twisted, halfway off the couch with one leg in the air and a very audible groan leaking through clenched teeth.
Sanji didn’t even curse this time, just swept in, pulled Zoro back up with a sigh. He propped the pillows, adjusted the leg, straightened the blanket.
Again.
Zoro breathed through his nose, quiet and tight.
Sanji slid the tea closer. “You’re drinking this, not booze. And until that jacket gets replaced, you'll sit exactly there and sip it like a civilised human.”
Zoro reached for the mug, hand trembling slightly, and drank.
He didn't need to say thank you.