Sunburn

Warnings: Zoro/Sanji, but its not that bad… I don't think so anyway… O.o

Summary: If anything, Sanji learned to NEVER sleep in the sun again.

Chapter 1

> > > > >

"LAAAAAAAND HO!"

Sanji cracked open an eye and blinked around at his surroundings blearily. Whoa… why was the hammock so hard? And where was the dark spot in the ceiling that blotched the wood right above his face? Hell, where was the ceiling! Only the back of the sheep figurehead of the Going Merry stared back at him, finally reminding him of what happened. Of course. The hammock was hard because the hammock was nonexistent, unlike the top deck of the ship. The ceiling was missing because he was lying in the sun staring up at the infinitely blue sky as lazy clouds puffed their way past him. Sanji was by no means used to napping in mid-day and had a faint worry that it would disrupt his sleep pattern dangerously, leading to many sleepless nights and tired days. But the sunshine warm on his face and the cool ocean breeze that tickled playfully at his hair disagreed and decided that for him, a nap on deck was good.

As he sat up, Sanji immediately decided that he would let neither the sun nor the wind ever choose anything for him again. His back ached from the unwonted hardness of the wooden deck and there was a small pain in his neck that stung rather noticeably whenever he made any sudden movements with his head. Oh, that'd better not hinder any of his daily activities. And… wait… had he slept in the sun through the hottest part of the day without sunscreen!

Fully awake, Sanji leapt up and raced to the nearest mirror, groaning at his unnaturally red face and neck. He reached to examine the extent of the sunburn but could only faintly brush the edges of it before reeling back as his injured skin cried out. Sanji nearly winced, nearly, at his poor, roasted state. How would he woo Nami now that his face looked like a horribly mistreated tomato? She could never like someone so stupid that he took a nap right after lunch, near noontime, in the scalding sun without any protection, knowing that his skin would give and sizzle like bacon. Even that idiot Marimo would at least find shade before conking out like he had been hit with a frying pan. Dammit.

Sanji had been concentrating so much on the sunburn that the figure standing directly behind him went unnoticed until it spoke, forcing out a reflexive jolt and kick at the intruder's midsection. Zoro anticipated the attack and blocked it, but was still thrown back into the wall.

"Like I said, damn cook, we've anchored at an uninhabited island and Luffy wanted… me… Holy shit, what the hell happened to your face?!"

The seaweed head had no brain for compassion or thought and it certainly was too slow to keep up with his mouth. Sanji snarled at the mention of the horrid sunburn and kicked Zoro across the face. The unexpected attack left the swordsman off guard and defenseless and he took the hit, flying out the door at the same time. Furious, the cook stomped out of the room and made a beeline for the kitchen, running over Tony Tony Chopper along the way.

Said collision caused both crewmates to topple onto the deck and it was only Sanji's quick reactions that saved his sunburned self from having to react any more with outside solids. He just barely caught himself on the way down, but Chopper was by no means lucky and fell heels over antlers onto the deck.

"Ah, Sorry, Chopper." Sanji apologized as the little reindeer regained his footing. Chopper looked up and blinked.

"Sanji… that's awful."

It took a minute, but Sanji did eventually realize that the doctor was talking about the sunburn, not the accident. He put a hand up to his face –careful not to let it touch- almost embarrassed, but Chopper knew exactly what to do. He led Sanji to his little study place and immediately whipped up a cream that would help the sunburn heal quicker, or at least stop the pain.

It was neon purple.

If he was any stupider he would have refused the cream and lived with the sunburn. But it throbbed and stung and demanded immediate attention with sharp whipcracks of pain across his face. It would make him better, Sanji reasoned, and smeared the purple cream all over his face and neck. It cooled his skin and did indeed feel better, well, at least until he looked in the mirror.

A glance at the clock told him it was time to prepare dinner, and he could mope about the sunburn later. Stealing around the ship, he faintly wondered where the others were, then the answer hit him. Of course. The island they were currently exploring could be the only place. An island usually meant a supply restocking, which was a good thing, but also included a beach picnic dinner, which was a bad thing, that meant having to show his bright purple face all over the place, which was an even worse thing.

Damn.

But a cook must do his duties, and as dutiful as Sanji was, he quietly stole from the room with a quick "Thank you," to Chopper and inconspicuously as possible sauntered into the kitchen. He grabbed a knife and began taking his frustration out on the night's vegetables. At least, he thought, the cream helped him concentrate on the food rather than the burn and allow him to prepare a good dinner, nothing less than his best for his precious girls.

Vegetables: Chopped within minutes.

Meat: Already sizzling on the frying pan, waiting for the vegetables.

Rice: Cooked to perfection and waiting to be spooned onto a plate.

Stew: A few more stirs, some added spices, and it would be a delectable blend.

Everything else was in place. The time he was dreading: when dinner was ready, was here. Though Sanji had hoped to prolong the time when he would have to actually bring down the food, dinner was waiting to be served and if he did nothing now it would go to waste. So he drug his feet from the kitchen with plates balanced on his hands, arms and head to the beach. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could serve it and leave without ever being seen and just eat his food on the ship.

And, maybe, if he was unlucky, Usopp would emerge from the forest with firewood in hand, take one look at his neon purple face, and yell to the world that Sanji was mutating, which sent the rest of the crew spilling forth from the forest like water from a tightly sealed dam.

The result was immanent. Zoro looked kind of shocked, but quickly regained his composure and adjusted the freshly killed something slung over his shoulder. Naturally, Luffy thought it was the coolest thing ever that his skin turned purple and then launched himself at Sanji for a better look, or maybe for the food. Either way, Sanji kicked him back and the childish captain kept his distance after that, though his mouth drooled noticeably. Robin remained passive, cooling assessing the situation and decided first to ask Sanji or Chopper for an explanation before reacting. And Nami, his dear Nami-swan, gave a little yelp of surprised and looked horrified. What was wrong with their cook!

Sanji decided to ignore it as much as he could and, facing the ground, slammed the plates of food onto a prepared rock before stomping back to the ship where his ration waited, almost sure that the blush added to the sunburn glowed through any amount of cream Chopper could prescribe.

> > > > >

Damn it all, it fucking hurt. Sanji tossed and turned in his hammock, trying to ignore the horrible stinging on his face and neck but failed horribly as every twist agitated another bright red place. The cream had worn off after a couple of hours, and by that time Sanji's watch was over and, according to schedule, he would go to sleep, which was where Chopper was long ago. The schedule was fine with him: he wanted the sleep. But at two in the morning the sunburn had other ideas and taunted him with fleeting sleep until finally he got up and stole from the room.

All in all, he was surprised nobody woke up as he quietly walked out the door. Usually Zoro would pick up those sounds, because, damn it all, he was such a light sleeper at night. Who knew the swordsman, always out like a light during the daytime, would wake at a whispering wind or, in this case, the soft pattering of feet across the wood and the creak of the door as Sanji eased it open.

He slid through the darkness like a shadow on the wall, leaving nothing in his trace but a displacement of cold, Grand Line weather air. He slipped through the door that led to Chopper's office and was set on search and smear for the cream. The search ended in failure, however, as he saw the remains of the afternoon's prescription in the bottom of a silver mixing bowl, waiting to be washed out.

Sighing, Sanji instead walked onto deck and lit a cigarette in compensation, but even it was no match for the stinging whip of his previous mistake lashing across his skin. In agitation he threw the finished cigarette overboard and watched as it fizzled into the black sea. Dawn was a long time coming, and it was obvious he would get no sleep tonight: he desperately needed something to soothe the burn. Perhaps –

Usopp screamed.

In all his brooding, Sanji never noticed the slowly moving dark shape on the corner of his vision. So by the time the marksman realized that the pirates were there they were already clambering up to the deck and onto the ship.

He grinned.

Good. There was some venting he needed to do.

> > > > >

There were, Sanji mused, too many inept pirate crews sailing the Grand Line. None of the intruders were by any chance a match for him, and he disposed of half the group before any other of his nakama reached deck. The other half ran away as Zoro the pirate-hunter-turned-pirate and the straw-hat-kid-with-the-powers-of-the-Devil-Fruit emerged. Apparently, the so-called "Dark Lemon Pirates" (who knows where they had gotten that name) had forgotten that they were dealing with multi-million beli bounty heads, far too much for even tenfold their number to handle.

Sanji's first kick landed at 2:26 AM and the last pirate sailed out of sight at 2:30 AM, making this one of the quicker battles fought. Throughout the entire fight Sanji was nearly invisible in the darkness, slipping here and there, landing blows out of nowhere. The crew was hopelessly confused, some even attacking each other, convinced that treason was afoot.

So it was no surprise that when Zoro and Luffy arrived on deck the pirates scrammed, tripping over each other in a frenzied panic and a stampeding retreat, leaving behind their blood and dead crewmates on the Going Merry.

"What the hell happened?" Zoro. "Usually we have to kill a dozen before they start attacking each other or running away."

Luffy shrugged and immediately turned back to the men's quarters, still hoping to catch a bit of sleep before sunrise, but not before a faint twinge in his stomach disrupted his thought. His objective immediately changed from "Bed" to "Food", eventuating to "Sanji." The cook was nowhere in sight, or immediate sight, anyway. There was no moon and the night was clouding already; Nami had predicted a small rainstorm tomorrow, nothing serious. So Sanji was hidden even to his own nakama, well, at least, until he spoke up.

"Me." He replied to Zoro's question, stepping from behind the swordsman. Surprised that someone had actually managed to sneak up behind him, and a little on edge from Usopp's screams, the voice right behind him sent a reflexive defensive reaction out of him. A blade was quickly drawn – no matter which one – and swung in the general direction of the voice. Caught off guard by the sudden blade – Zoro never used a sword against a crewmate, it was too dangerous – Sanji just barely missed being nicked by the tip of the sword. He thanked his reflexes and agility for that.

"Damn it, idiot Marimo, what are you trying to do, kill me?"

"What were you trying to do, shit cook? You don't go sneaking up behind me like that, damn it!"

"Sanji! I'm hungry!"

"It's not my fault you're deaf, algae head."

"I am not nearly deaf, stupid blonde. You don't make a sound because you're too damn light. You've lost weight, probably because you're too scared to eat your own cooking."

"Are you saying something's wrong with my cooking?"

"Sanji, can I have some meat?"

"Besides the fact it always tastes like tobacco and smoke because you were breathing on it?"

"Meat! Meatmeatmeatmeatmeat!"

"Nothing tastes like tobacco and smoke, shit-swordsman! You probably can't even tell the difference between my cooking and rotting food that came out of a trashcan!"

"MEAT!"

"Maybe there is no difference, idiot cook!"

That did it. Sanji leapt with a snarl at Zoro's head, aiming for a specific place that would put any human into a coma for a good two days. Zoro blocked it, but the force and momentum sent him flying to the side, skidding on deck. The swordsman barely rolled to the side a few seconds later as Sanji's foot came crashing down on deck. The kick wasn't as strong as it could have been; the deck had just the faintest dent in it, but it still could have given Zoro one hell of a headache.

He leapt up and, blocking most of the cook's kicks, tried striking back with just his fists. Sanji, who had not predicted the move, stumbled back, but not before a glancing blow struck his face.

He was sort of paralyzed for a second as his body tried to comprehend the small punch. Wait for it… wait for it… Now! The nearly-forgotten sunburn flared up in double the anger, triple the pain… and that was before the punch was felt. Slowly, his nerves reacted to the hit, sending a fiery message to his brain.

The message took less than a thousandth of a second to reach the brain, and even less time than that for the response to be sent.

Sanji's world exploded in a spellbinding flash of stars, silver light, and blackness.

Sanji screamed.

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AN: First chapter finished, folks. I live on feedback. And ramen.

Review? Please?

Random, but the word "meat" looks REALLY weird if you stare at it for a long time.