As a rule, Sanji never denied a person food. It was a code he stood by and upholded without fail, not doing so would be like depriving someone of air, it would be just as bad as putting a bullet through their head. Or beating them to death. He'd fill the stomach of a withered being without one complaint or hesitation, he'd bring them salvation with sympathy (and deep down, empathy too) in his one eye that was not covered by his blond hair.

Despite all of this, he couldn't help but feel indescribably irritated at being woken up at three in the morning by his glutton of a captain, who nearly pushed the cook right off of his hammock in an attempt to shake him awake. Sanji was usually the earliest riser among the Straw Hats, behind him being Brooke and Robin, so waking up an hour early than usual shouldn't have been that much a nuisance. But it had been, because he was groggy and the night was cold and he chewed on his cigarette fiercely while shuffling down the hallway toward the deck, Luffy's sandaled feet slapping the Adamwood behind him.

So there he stood, in the bright shower of kitchen lights, scrubbing the pan he used to cook Luffy a considerable amount of sausage and pancakes at the sink. The black haired boy was seated at the table and chewing away happily, swinging his feet to and fro.

Sanji watched him out of the corner of his eye and noted how sloppy Luffy's table manners were. He clanked his silverware against his plate, doused everything but the meat in a heap of syrup and shoveled the food into his mouth at a rapid, slightly neauseating speed. He slurped at his orange juice noisily and spilled it in small puddles across the clean tablecloth. Sanji's eye twitched at the sight as he tried to refocus his attention on what few dishes now remained in the soapy water.

A few minutes went by in silence, with nothing but Luffy's eating and Sanji's dish washing to break it, and truth be told, the cook could feel himself nodding off a bit as he stood there, and he repeatedly shook his head and blinked hard to get himself together. For some reason, Sanji felt as though he were forgetting something. It was on the tip of his tongue, and it would slip away just when he was on the verge of finally getting it, and his periodic dozing made it hard for him to remember. The blonde grit his teeth in annoyance.

Shit, I'm tired, he thought, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. Ah well, it can't be too important if I can't remember it...

Perhaps it was the sudden jolt in his memory that made his blood run cold, or maybe it was Luffy's sharp hiss of pain that knocked Sanji out of his sleep addled stupor. Whatever the case was, it made realization slam right into his stomach, literally leaving him breathless as he turned around to see Luffy with his hand clenched tight against his chest, fingers digging beneath the clothes he wore to the bandages wrapped thick around the upper part of his body.

"Damn!" Sanji hurried over and simply gazed at his captain, who was hunched over just a bit with his mouth drawn in a frown. He felt more than a little useless, he felt pathetic just standing there. "Stupid, what's wrong?!"

He didn't mean to yell at Luffy like that, the boy was obviously in pain, but Sanji just wasn't experienced in this particular field, the art of soothing words and comforting gestures, when not directed towards a lady, was lost on his part. He was almost sure that mindless Marimo could do a better job.

He had failed to remember that Luffy was still recovering from a rather intense run in with an enemy pirate ship earlier that day. And who could blame him really? It was hard to imagine that the rubber boy had suffered some major injuries when he went about smiling like an idiot all the damn time! Always so relaxed and carefree, like the very ocean they sailed upon, appearance fiery and bright like morning sunbeams.

Typical, Sanji thinks, trying to mentally swipe the frown from his face and force his features into its usual coolness. Shithead is always getting himself hurt. Sanji nearly throws a fit, because he was tired and now Luffy hurt himself just trying to eat and he felt like a complet doormat for not being better at helping and oh God, how he just wanted to help, dammit!

He tries his best to calm down and regain control of the situation along with his breathing.

"Are you okay?" His voice is low and dark inside his throat. That instinctive need to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes and throw himself at his captain in a worried, protective hug wars within his weary brain.

Luffy withdraws his hand away from his chest, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Sanji could see how hard he was trying to work away the sharp ache from his stitches and contort his face into something less pained, but it isn't really working. It bothered him a lot.

Slowly, Sanji walks even closer and kneeling just a bit, wraps an arm around both of his captains shoulders and presses his forehead against his, taking in one long breath as he did so. He exhaled out all his inward panic and steeled his jumbled nerves.

"Are you okay?" He asks again, and Luffy nods, the gesture being difficult to do what with his forehead touching Sanji's, but he manages and speaks with his words straining for oxygen.

"Yeah, it's just..my chest..hurts."

"I know," he pulls his arm forward, at the crook of the elbow until he could almost embrace the bandaged boy in front of him. "Just try and breathe, alright? Relax. It hurts now but it'll pass."

"I know."

There is no hesitance when he says this.

It takes Sanji a minute to realize that yes, Luffy does know, and he watches as his captain looks about the room, taps the heel of his sandal against the floor in a patient rhythm, counts the minutes on the clock hanging above the kitchen door. He doesn't seem the least bit worried now that he could talk to someone, but he never thinks about such things, only what lies after. It was the knowledge that pain didn't last forever and that someone was always there to soothe a roaring wound into a whispered scratch that kept him going, and he smiles, big and secret at the fact that it's Sanji who calms the nervous patter of his heart and cools the scars on his skin.

After a few moments with their foreheads pressed, Sanji slowly takes his away, making some black strands of Luffy's hair fly up and the rubber boy laughs before pushing them back down.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it doesn't even hurt anymore! Thanks, Sanji!"

Sanji straightens himself, looks away from the smiling boy who is making him feel rather lightheaded with relief and shrugs. He was still reeling from how awkward he felt just then, since this was the first time he had actually consoled his captain in the physical sense instead of kicking him in the head for doing something dumb.

"Just put your dishes in the sink, shithead. I'll wash them later. Let's head back."

Luffy takes his plate, the cup and the silverware in his arms, nearly tilting the chair over as he crosses the kitchen and dumps them in the basin in the sink before trailing after Sanji who was now waiting by the door.

The lights are flicked off.

They return to the boys room in comfortable silence.

"Night Sanji." His voice is filled with gratitude, leaking with appreciation and tenderness that fills the cook's ears up in the dark.

"Mmhm."

Sanji tries not to acknowledge the feeling of significant happiness that warms him from inside as he finally falls asleep.