Yeah, I know it's not Memories, but I don't want to hear any complaints, otherwise I'll take my sweet-ass time posting chapter 16. This is a birthday present to kalaaira on LJ. x) A lot of people asked me to continue this story, including her, so here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Note: This chapter has been edited. Took out the part with Sanji's missing eye. Now that we know, I didn't want to make it an AU story. :)

Chapter 2

Sanji let his head fall to the crook of his elbow. His body sat slumped and exhausted over the table in the galley. He kicked his shoes off and rolled his ankles slowly. The day had been a long one and the cook was weary all the way to his freshly broken bones.

A band of marauders had attacked the Sunny just as its crew had been finishing lunch. The fight had gone on until after the sun had set, the asshole bandits not giving up until Franky and Usopp had sunk their ship completely with a barrage of cannon balls. Now, they had twelve prisoners below deck that Sanji had felt obligated to feed on top of preparing dinner for his own people.

"Sanji-kun," Usopp had said tentatively over his shoulder as he stirred the soup, "You don't have to do that, you know. They're prisoners. They tried to kill us."

Sanji had just shaken his head and added a few more handfuls of cabbage to the pot. "They're starving, Usopp. They're so skinny I can see their ribs through their clothes, and they went for our supplies almost before they attacked us."

He heard Nami sigh behind him at the table. "I don't understand. They broke three of your ribs and cut up your leg. How can you serve them after that?"

He had hated her for a split second. Taking a deep breath, Sanji growled into the soup. "If Luffy or Zoro or whoever wants to go down there and kill them all, fine. But no one goes hungry on this ship! No one! I don't care how many bones they broke!" Then he hated himself for raising his voice to a lady and had turned around and apologized profusely.

In the end, Sanji had taken the soup to the prisoners with Chopper's help. The dirty, destitute men had devoured Sanji's food in seconds, tears running from their eyes. Sanji had just leaned against the wall, smoking and feeling a pleasant warmth growing in his gut.

The leader of the prisoners had been so grateful to Sanji, that he had handed him a map in thanks for the delicious meal. Glancing over the parchment Sanji thanked him and had gone to find Nami. He had handed her the map and walked away, sucking on his cigarette and smiling smugly as the woman started screeching and calling for Franky to alter their course.

The map had been a treasure map.

Now, it was past two in the morning and Sanji had just finished cleaning up after their late dinner. The crew was in bed, save Zoro, who was on watch.

Sanji let a hand slip to his side. The pain from his cracked ribs was minor, nothing compared to when he had broken his back, but the aching was an annoyance. Breathing was also kind of a bother. If he could just hold his breath for a couple of hours, that would be perfect.

The sound of the galley door opening startled Sanji and he sat up straight, wincing as his ribs were tweaked. Who the hell was up at this time of the night?

A green head peered around the door and dark eyes met Sanji's. The cook relaxed and leaned back carefully in his seat waving to his visitor.

Zoro frowned as he stepped into the kitchen. "You are still in here," he said softly. "I've been waiting for you to come out. Why are you still in here?"

Sanji shrugged. "I had to scrub the pots after dinner. The sauce from lunch was all crusty 'cause I forgot about it. Wasn't the first thing on my mind when we were attacked."

"No I suppose not," Zoro smiled softly and pulled out a chair. "Why didn't you come get me?"

"You were getting patched up," Sanji said as he nodded to the bandages on the swordsman's arm, "And then you were on watch. Speaking of, why aren't you out there now?"

Zoro's turn to shrug. "A ship isn't going to appear and attack us in five minutes. I wanted to see how you were."

Sanji frowned. "How I was?"

Zoro nodded. "You snapped at Nami today; you never do that. I thought something was wrong."

Sanji groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I know. Shit… that was so awful. I can't believe I did that."

"Don't beat yourself up over it. She was being a bitch."

"Don't talk about Nami-san like that, asshole," Sanji hissed.

Zoro put up his hands in surrender before leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

Sanji watched the swordsman as the larger man shifted in the seat until he was comfortable. The past few weeks had been interesting. After the events at Thriller Bark, since Sanji had decided to smooth the waters between them using the strange fruit he had discovered, Zoro and he had been getting along swimmingly. Sanji had discovered that Zoro was surprisingly intelligent, not even close to a slob, and showered or bathed regularly. He had no problem helping Sanji with simple tasks if the cook asked him nicely, and Sanji's training sessions had picked up and his moves had improved since he had started sparring with Zoro regularly.

Sanji hadn't realized how much he had missed having the company of a male friend his age. Robin and Nami were wonderful to talk to now and then, but the conversations always evolved into talk about the ph values of paper, or relapsed into discussions about skin-softening lotion. Brook was good for a laugh, but his eccentricities got on Sanji's nerves after a while. Franky was hilarious and Sanji loved to discuss past conquests of respected men's daughters, but the cyborg's view of women differed greatly from the gentleman cook's, and it sometimes pissed him off. Sanji respected women above all else, and Franky was… well… a little better than a pimp in Sanji's eyes. Chopper, Usopp and Luffy… well, it really goes without saying.

But Zoro was different. Zoro liked to stop and take in a sunset once in a while. He liked to listen to Brook's music and hold Chopper in his lap until the little reindeer fell asleep. Zoro enjoyed a good fight, but always seemed to balance his training with hours of intense meditation. The guy actually thought a lot, and not about stupid shit either. When Sanji and the swordsman had first started to talk regularly, Zoro had opened up and displayed a love of life and respect for things around him that Sanji found intriguing. Zoro was anything but stupid and a world away from lazy.

The cook felt a little ashamed at not seeing the swordsman for what he was earlier. He had been too busy worrying that Zoro might be a rival for the girl's affections. But as Sanji had studied the other man, he had found that either Zoro just wasn't interested in the specific girls on the ship, gods knew why, or he was just too preoccupied with achieving his goal and girls in general were an annoying distraction.

Sanji could understand that, even respect that- leave the pleasures of the flesh until your ultimate goal has been reached- it was very admirable. But Sanji could never do that. Girls were just too soft and smelled so good. They made such cute noises when you touched them in the right places…

"Oi, cook," Zoro said chuckling, "Where the hell are you?"

Sanji's eyes refocused and he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Sorry," he muttered, "I was just thinking about stuff."

"Like what?"

Sanji leaned back again carefully, trying to keep the grimace off his face. "What you'd look like if I dyed you hair black."

Zoro laughed softly, obviously expecting something completely different.

"Why is your hair green anyway?" Sanji asked. "I've never seen or heard of anyone else with green hair. Where the hell are you from?"

Zoro shrugged. "I don't remember… Why do you hide your left eye?"

That caught Sanji off guard and the smirk slipped from his face. Zoro and he had been talking as of late, yes, but they had steered clear of personal subjects.

"What?" The cook's voice cracked slightly.

Zoro looked at him carefully. "You don't have to answer; I was just thinking out loud."

Sanji pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit the tip, slowly pulling the smoke into his lungs. Zoro waited patiently while the cook chewed his lower lip and stared at the table. Finally, Sanji sighed and brought a hand up to his face. He slipped a finger underneath his bangs and moved the hair from his face.

Zoro frowned. "It's exactly the same."

Sanji chuckled and nodded. "It is."

Zoro looked confused. "But, you hide it. Why do you hide it?"

Sanji grinned around his cigarette. "It's my turn."

"This is a game?" Zoro smirked.

"Isn't everything?" Sanji blew out a stream of smoke. "Why three swords?"

Zoro looked away and laced his fingers behind his head. "Easy, three swords is better than two. If I could hold four, I'd use four. Why are you so obsessed with feeding everyone?"

"I'm a chef. It's what I do."

"No," Zoro said as he sank slightly in his chair and put a boot up on the table. "Why do you insist on feeding everyone, including people that just fucked you up and tried to kill your crew?"

Sanji bristled. "They didn't fuck me up."

"Okay, fine. But why'd you snap at Nami when she disagreed with you about it today?"

Sanji sighed and rested his head on the back of the chair. The ceiling was suddenly very interesting.

"Nami-san doesn't know what it's like to go hungry, and I don't mean a couple days without meals, I mean really go hungry."

"You don't know that."

"I do," Sanji snapped, lifting his head to look at Zoro. "If you knew the feeling of being without food for longer than you can remember, the feeling of your body slowly eating away at itself and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it… Knowing that you're going to die and all you can do is wait for it… You would never wish that on anyone… no matter what they've done."

Zoro stared hard at him and Sanji suddenly felt heat creep up into his cheeks. He had never told anyone about his time on that tiny island in the middle of the ocean. No one but a shitty old man knew what had taken place in that long month and a half. The cook felt exposed and averted his eyes from the swordsman's intense gaze.

"It's my turn…" he said softly.

"Hit me," Zoro replied.

Sanji only thought a moment before he spoke. "Why are you here instead of in the crow's nest?"

"I told you," Zoro made a face, "I wanted to see how you were."

"You could have done that in a couple seconds," Sanji pressed. "Why are you still here?"

Zoro glared and made to stand up.

"You want me to leave then?"

"No!" Sanji sat forward but regretted it immediately when his side exploded with pain. "Ah… shit…" he whispered, both hands clutching his side.

Zoro stood then and moved to Sanji's side. He kneeled and moved the cook's hands, opening the blond's coat and pulling up his shirt. Sanji didn't fight it, checking each other's wounds had become another normalcy since the two of them had started to stand each other.

"Where exactly does it hurt?" Zoro asked as he prodded with his surprisingly gentle fingers.

"Ah," Sanji hissed as Zoro's fingers pressed against a tender spot. "There and lower."

Sanji saw Zoro frown out the corner of his eye.

"What did Chopper say when he saw this?"

Sanji would have shrugged, but his side was hurting too much. "He said there'd be a tiny bit of swelling and maybe some bruising. He wanted to wrap my chest but I said no. My ribs healed fine last time without the wrapping."

"Maybe some bruising?" Zoro asked, "Did you get hit again after he looked at it? Because you're bruised pretty fucking bad."

"What the hell?" Sanji stood and moved into the kitchen. He pulled up his shirt and looked at his reflection in the stainless steel fridge. "Holy shit! It didn't look like that before!"

Sanji frowned into the reflection, but he froze when he felt Zoro move up behind him and gently slide his fingers over Sanji's bruised skin. Shivers rocketed up the cook's spine and he felt his breath catch. The swordsman was still just looking at his injury, but the proximity of their bodies made Sanji's heart race.

Without thinking, Sanji turned and hooked a foot around Zoro's. He caught the swordsman off balance and whirled him around. Before Zoro could react, Sanji had him pressed up against the fridge, a hand twisted in his shirt.

"Woa, what the fuck!" Zoro growled, "What's your problem, shit-cook?"

Sanji was breathing hard. His hands were shaking. He glared at the swordsman and ground his teeth on the cigarette that had long ago gone out.

"That was weird, Zoro."

Zoro looked at him like he had just asked him to lay an egg. "What was weird? I'm worried that you might have something worse than broken ribs and you throw me around the kitchen! You're the one who's weird, asshole!"

Sanji blinked. "Worse than broken ribs? Like what?"

Zoro pulled Sanji's hand off his shirt and pointed to the cook's side. "Your worst pain isn't even close to your ribs, and your bruising is all lower. I think you might have internal bleeding. Maybe you got hurt worse than you thought."

Sanji scowled and took a step back. "So you're a doctor now?"

"No, idiot," Zoro replied, "But I know internal bleeding pretty well. Now, if you'll stop being a dill weed for a second and let me look…"

Sanji pursed his lips, but in the end he let Zoro lift his shirt and examine his side. He closed his eyes and pulled out another cigarette to chew on to distract himself.

After a few minutes of careful prodding by Zoro's fingers, Sanji let his eyes slip open. The smell of steel had alerted his senses and when the cook turned his head slightly, he could smell traces of mint from Zoro's hair. He found this slightly funny and chuckled softly.

"What's funny?" Zoro asked.

"Do you use mint shampoo?"

A not so careful poke made Sanji inhale sharply.

"If I did?" Zoro was smiling, Sanji could hear it in his voice.

"Oh, it's fine," Sanji teased. "I just didn't think someone like you would use such a girly-smelling shampoo."

Zoro laughed quietly and moved his hands lower to check around Sanji's hip. "This is coming from the guy who smells like vanilla."

"I smell like vanilla?"

"Just your hair," Zoro said. "The rest of you smells like fish."

"Ah," Sanji realized he had been staring at Zoro's neck through this entire conversation. He had been watching the flex and stretch of muscles as the swordsman moved and was now transfixed on the darker man's pulse. It was beating faster than Sanji would have expected. Was the swordsman's heartbeat always that fast?

Zoro straightened and Sanji turned away quickly, not wishing the other man to see him ogling his skin.

"You really should have Chopper look at this again," Zoro said quietly, "You might have injured your spleen or something."

Sanji made a face. "I'm alright for tonight. Chopper's had a rough day treating all of us and then the prisoners too. That was my fault, he didn't have to do that, but I asked him to. I'm not gonna bother him right now."

Zoro shook his head and backed away. "All right, but have him look at it tomorrow or I'll kick your ass."

Sanji smiled despite himself. "Like you could."

Zoro snorted. "Oh, I could."

"Then why haven't-" Sanji made to grab for his lighter, when a sharp pain doubled him over. He clutched at his side and fell to his knees.

"Oh… fuck that hurts…"

Zoro was instantly by his side. The swordsman put a hand underneath the cook's arm and steadied him.

"I told you, shit-cook."

Sanji shook his head. "No, it's fine. I twisted to get my lighter. It really is just my ribs. I'll go lay down and have Chopper look at it in the morning."

Zoro hesitated, but finally nodded and helped Sanji to his feet. He slipped the cook's arm around his neck and started towards the door.

"Oi, shitty bastard," Sanji growled, "You don't have to d-"

"Shut up, Sanji," Zoro tightened his hold. "I'm helping my friend get to his hammock 'cause he's hurt. Don't make me knock you out and carry you there."

Sanji sighed, but smiled in spite of himself. He let the swordsman help him to the cabin and give him a boost into his hammock. Turning half on his side, the cook tried to make himself comfortable. When a soft blanket was spread over his chest, Sanji's eyes snapped open.

Zoro didn't look at him, he just stepped back and scratched the back of his neck.

"I got it the last time we docked 'cause Usopp likes it so fucking cold in here all the time."

Sanji was frozen for a moment before he got his muscles to work properly again. He reached up to run his fingers over the dark blue fabric and smiled softly. The blanket smelled exactly like Zoro: minty, with an undertone of polished steel. The cook glanced back up at Zoro, who was almost shifting his feet with embarrassment.

"Thanks, Zoro," he whispered. "I really appreciate it."

Zoro still didn't look at him, but he nodded and turned to leave. When he reached the door, he stopped and said with his back to Sanji.

"Have Chopper look at your side in the morning."

Sanji's smile widened.

"I promise… 'Night, Zoro."

"'Night."

The door closed and Sanji burrowed his face in the soft blanket. The cook fell asleep with the smell of the swordsman surrounding him, and the memory of Zoro calling him his friend dancing around his heart.

TBC