Sanji had been delivering food to the infirmary for about five hours straight now and while one might think he would be annoyed at the constant calls at his name followed typically by 'food' or 'meat' he actually couldn't keep the goofy grin from his face.
Luffy had won, was awake after days of recovery, and wanted food.
He was happy to stretch his culinary muscles and bring his favorite rubber idiot dish after dish if it meant he could see him grin happily like that with each delivery, proving he was alive, and looking better and better with each bite.
He was his cook after all, a job he took very seriously.
Luffy knew that from when they'd first met.
The only member of the crew whose job description literally had him serving the captain exactly what the strong fool needed daily. Food certainly, but also truth, planning, patience, attention, and yes, even kicks to the head when he didn't understand the bigger picture (like the fact the pantry wasn't endless for example).
Luffy understood this more by instinct.
His way of being a cook meant he would never leave someone hungry or unsatisfied.
Luffy knew that too.
Sanji grinned as he took the empty platter by his bedside and replaced it with a full one before turning to head back to the kitchen. A hand caught his pant leg and pulled him back.
"Hmm?" He turned back around to face his captain.
There was a private look, new tray of overflowing food ignored.
"Sanji, I'm hungry." He whispered in a tone that almost made the cook blush.
A kiss only, while he's still recovering.
As Sanji rises, Luffy pulls him back to his mouth again.
He couldn't help but smirk at that. Shitty captain always did want seconds.