It was dark in the room when he woke, all the lamps were dimmed and the curtains were pulled in front of the window to keep the light from coming in. Only a slimmer of light shone from the small crack underneath the bedroom door. He turned his head to see the time on his alarm clock. It was dinner time.
Groaning, his buried his face further into the pillows. He wasn't feeling well. To be honest, he was sick. Sanji never got sick, ever. But he did. On his right side, the bed was empty. The body of his lover was missing. Since he got sick two days ago the marimo had been taking care of him even when he said he should just go to work. He was just being stubborn was all.
Sanji sniffed, he wasn't breathing right. He couldn't breath through his nose and it was getting on his nerves. He opened his mouth, panting and trying to breath. Where the hell was Zoro? Since the light was one he was probably training in the living room, or off doing other algae things. Sanji sighed, settling back on the mattress, he would wait for him to come back and ask him to bring him his medicine.
After lying there for some minutes he realized he wasn't coming back. Sighing, he got out of bed, setting his feet on the carpet floor and sitting on the mattress. Through his thick pajama his back and shoulders still felt cold so he got the thick covers, wrapping his around himself before standing. The covers touched the back of his ankles and grabbed as much he could, getting it around his shoulder before slowly stumbling to the door. Momentarily blinded by the light from the hallway lamp he realized there were sounded coming from the kitchen.
He groaned, feeling angry that the marimo was invading his kitchen. His kitchen. No one went in there, he never even allowed the ladies in there, much less the manner-less ape with odd colored hair. Stepping into the kitchen with a mind full of insults to throw at the marimo, he paused in the doorway, completely God smacked at the sight.
There was Zoro, standing in front of the stove, stirring something in one of his precious pots with a large spoon, frowning down at a recipe book. Sanji stood there in the doorway watching him, seeing Zoro grab the spoon and bring it to his lips to taste it before shrugging and going back to stirring.
Sanji smiled despite himself.
To the side of the stove he saw the cut board out, carrots and little bits of potato on it, a knife that wasn't meant to be used for vegetables out, having been used. He was glad that Zoro had the sense to pick up after himself, having told him to put things away when he was done with it.
He walked over, not making a sound as he went over and stood next to Zoro. The other man didn't even look at him, just continued to look down at the book, though it didn't seem like he had any reason to. Finally, his deep baritone voice cut the silence.
"You should be in bed."
Sanji paid him no mind, not really having to answer to anyone and because really his throat hurt too much to answer back with a silly retort. He wrinkled his nose as he sniffed and looking down at the pot filled with shreds of chicken and noodles. It didn't look repulsive. Not bad actually.
Zoro eyed him, "I followed the instructions; shouldn't be that bad."
Sanji coughed, covering his mouth with one hand as he pointed with the other. "There's cans in the pantry."
"You hate the cans."
Sanji made a face but didn't answer; just scrunched his shoulders, effectively looking smaller as he gripped the cover around him tighter. "Smells like crap," he managed to say with a raspy voice that made him sound like a witch.
"You can't smell," Zoro pointed out, giving him a look like he knew Sanji inside and out.
Frowning at Zoro, he huffed, curling some more inside the covers. Zoro smirked at him before going back to staring down at the soup. He looked kind of cute with his blond hair tossled around his face, a flush on his face and the covers around him. He knew Sanji hated the way he looked so he decided it would be better not to say anything.
"It'll be ready in a few," he jerked his head to the table in the corner, "take a seat."
The blond sniffed again but made no move to the chair. Zoro shook his head. He was so stubborn. He never listened to a word Zoro said even if they both knew it was good for him. He just did everything in his power to go against Zoro's word even if it did make him look like a jackass.
Knowing it was no use, he sighed, saying, "You should go back to bed."
Sanji coughed once and stood by Zoro's side, watching him stir the chicken and the noodles, the vegetables coming to the surface as he swirled it around.
Turning his head to look at Zoro, he smirked a little. Zoro was doing everything in his power to not look at Sanji, knowing the expression on Sanji's face too well. The man was just too adorable sometimes, even if he did have a face that made him look like serial killer at times. Craning his neck, he placed a soft gentle kiss on Zoro's bare shoulder.
"Thank you."
His lips were hot, almost burning, as was his breath when he had breathed out his thank you. Zoro looked at him, moving the hair from his face and staring into his blue eyes. "You did the same when I was sick. Just returning the favor."
Standing in the kitchen with the covers around him, having Zoro gently run his fingers through his hair, and have a pot of soup on the stove, he felt safe. It was a ridiculous feeling with even more ridiculous logic, but it was nice to have Zoro looking after him. Sanji moved in closer until he was pressed against Zoro, the covers between them and nestled his head on his shoulder. He felt arms go around him hold him tightly, moist lips pressing on his hot sweaty forehead.
They swayed side to side like they were practicing a slow dance for a while, and Sanji closed his eyes, feeling like he could fall asleep standing there like that. He didn't put it past Zoro to fall asleep standing up so he figured it was ok to join him. That was until Zoro picked him up, bundling him in his arms, the covers almost burying him as Zoro walked back to the bedroom.
Sanji didn't have it in him to protest to be put down; he was too tired for that. Instead, he rested his head on the beloved moron's shoulder and let himself be laid out on their bed. Zoro fixed the covers comfortable around him, even taking the time to fluff his pillow. He would have chuckled at the way Zoro was acting if not for the fact that he was too sick to tease.
He saw Zoro leave the room and closed his eyes. He was woken up by Zoro; nudging him awake while holding a bowl of soup. Groaning, he sat up in bed and accepted the bowl, setting in on his lap as he ate with Zoro sitting on edge of the bed next to him.
It wasn't the greatest thing Sanji had ever tasted, but it definitely wasn't the worst. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the simple gesture.