A/N: Chapter 2! And also, Happy New Year! Let's get this decade started right~

This one's Sanji-centric, set at the Baratie, and it took... a long time for me to get this one right. Maybe that's why it's on the longer and ramblier side. Anywho- Enjoy!

Holding Strange, Scarred Hands

Compared to the battle that had been raging across the sea (waged among the ruins of the half-sinking ship, and skirting over the edges of the Baratie's splintered deck) the world is dreadfully quiet. It should mean peace, it should mean the fight is over, but Sanji can't appreciate it over the pounding of his heart. Zeff's words seem to stretch and echo in Sanji's head.

Bubbles rise from the water just off the bow of the Baratie, but nothing else breaks the surface.

The meaning of 'those who eat the devils fruit are cursed to be powerless in the ocean' clicks into place and he lurches to his feet running for the edge of the deck, only half-stopping to kick off his shoes before diving in.

That's what all the 'hammer' names were about, that's why Don Krieg was so sure of his victory when he brought it onto the sinking ship, of course, he can't swim! His mind buzzes with the connections, and in the back, where he tries to ignore it, is the blistering whisper that he should have jumped in to help sooner. No one would have the energy to swim, cursed fruit or not, after a fight like the one their former chore boy had had. The water grows cold as he pulls himself deeper- darker and bleaker too. The silence is even more pressing than it was on the surface, water stealing all the sound from the world and leaving him to listen to the hollow pound of his heart. The wreckage from Don Krieg's ship is all around but there's no sign of a red shirt or a steel net. Come on, where are you?

It's when he's really beginning to run out of breath that he finds their wayward savior. The water is tinged red and the steel net has tangled in the rigging of the sunken galleon but the rubber man is too drowned to care.

He might as well be dead.

Sanji really hopes he's not dead.

Their fallen hero looks pale and empty, the beams of light that have reached this far down flickering across his skin like curious fish that aren't quite interested enough to touch something they've found. He's curled in the net and kept from sinking to the true depths only by the still settling wreckage of Don Krieg's ship, but Sanji is sure that above the surface he'll come back to life. He's sure. Anyone that can fight a battle like that and win is someone that doesn't die easily. Someone that doesn't give up.

Don't die, idiot, he prays inwardly, it'll be my fault.

The net is tangled around the boy's arms and legs but somehow Sanji gets it worked out. His lungs are imploding and the person he's untangling has been underwater for at least a minute more than he has which is... Discouraging. Finally, the last limb slides free and Sanji swims for both of their lives.

They breach the surface and Sanji breathes. Chore boy doesn't. Sanji's heart skips a beat at the reality of the term 'deadweight' because that's what the chore boy is, a limp body hanging off of Sanji's shoulder. Rather than wasting time trying to shake the man awake he hauls them both through the water and onto the Baratie's deck, pushing chore boy up before clambering onto the secure ground himself. He stares but the other is still and too quiet; everything is too still and too quiet.

"Hey, come on, wake up," He shakes the man's shoulders. "Didn't you say there was no way you'd die here?"

No response.

Frantic, Sanji tips him on his side and shakes him some more, distantly remembering that CPR is what you're supposed to do but also thinking that you weren't supposed to be alive at all after the kind of hits this guy had taken.

"Say something! Come on."

And then a twitch, or maybe a shiver- something shifts and Sanji freezes, tightening his grip just as chore boy seizes up and curls into himself, coughing and wheezing and dribbling seawater onto the deck.

He breathes a sigh of relief as the sputtering dies away and is replaced with first a desperate wheezing and then, after several labored breaths, a deep but gentle snore. His fingers are clenched tight around the other man's shoulder and he can feel where the breath rattles through him and shifts his whole body in a gentle rhythm that fills the quiet and chases away Sanji's own too loud heartbeat.

He sits back with a gasp and runs his hand through his hair, trying to find his own breath.

Once Gin leaves, Sanji brings the ex-chore boy to his room and hesitates for half a second before setting him on his own bed and leaving in search of bandages and disinfectant. When he comes back there are bloodstains on the blue and white sheets from the man's hands, various puncture wounds, and the myriad of scrapes that are welling up but not dripping.

He smokes through half a pack while he works, cleaning out the deep wounds, wincing in sympathy as he bandages the man's knuckles, and peppering bandaids on anything still bleeding by the time he's done. It's not much, surprisingly. He'll still need proper medical care at some point in the near future but Sanji is no stranger to dressing wounds. This treatment will do for the time being. As though to prove this, most of the minor scrapes scab over before he can get a bandaid over them. Chore Boy's healing rate is enough to keep him alive until someone who can do better than Sanji can have a go at it.

Zeff has the rest of the restaurant up and running by nightfall, but Sanji doesn't leave his room. Instead, he keeps watch over the fool who would rather die than lose an impossible battle. Sanji's fingers itch to be useful, either in the kitchen or with more healing salves and strips of cotton fabric. Eventually he pulls himself downstairs to make up two dinner plates. Still, the anxiety persists; cooking isn't as calming as he expects and he determines to avoid doing it again. He can't shake the feeling that he shouldn't be anywhere else. That he shouldn't leave the kid alone.

Try as he might, he can't remember Chore Boy's actual name. Back when he'd first introduced himself, Sanji hadn't cared enough to remember, certain he would just be a temporary staff member. He'd announced it at some point in the fight; Sanji can remember the dramatics of the moment but not the actual information it contained. And while Sanji cares enough for a proper name now, Chore Boy is asleep and Sanji doesn't want to leave his self-appointed responsibility alone long enough to go ask Zeff.

He re-checks that thought in the quiet of the cooling night. He doesn't want to go. The sensation is at once slippery and overwhelming. At first it had felt like repaying a debt. The other had sacrificed his health and safety for the sake of Sanji's home and livelihood, not to mention Zeff's dream, so the least he could do was stand vigil. As the hours tick past, however, he has to admit. There's more at play. It's internal and undefinable and it tells him he doesn't want to leave the side of a man he's just met and for whom he doesn't even have a proper name. What is wrong with him?

He falls asleep leaning against the window frame and only wakes when there's a voice speaking. It takes him a moment to place it as Chore Boy's, another to remember his location, and then yet another to realize that the reason for all this confusion is still asleep.

"Don't go…" He mutters, face creasing in discomfort, and Sanji pushes himself to his feet, straightening his jacket and brushing off his pants. "I'm coming, so don't go…"

Chore Boy has kicked off the blankets and turned himself onto his stomach, pillow clutched tightly underneath one arm. Sanji lights a cigarette and gives the non-injured shoulder a rough shake.

"Hey, wake up," There's no response to that, or at least no more words, just a drawn out snore. "I have some food if you're hungry."

"Mngh?"

Sanji suppresses a surprised grin as the boy blinks himself awake, staring up at the ceiling with a disgruntled frown.

"Yeah, I made up a plate. Should I grab it?"

"Yeah, o-" he pushes himself up, pausing to yawn, "kay…" But his eyes slip closed and his face goes slack. Sanji reaches forward to grasp his shirt and the action only just keeps Chore Boy from dropping back to the bed in a way that would probably jar his injuries. As it is, his neck stretches into a disjointed-looking shape, leaving his head to sort of bobble for a moment. Sanji winces.

Another snore rumbles out before he can try to prompt any more conversation.

Sanji sighs and lowers him back down, pulling the chair out from the desk and plopping into it. The plate of food remains on the desk where he's had it ready. He'll let it sit for another hour before he eats it himself and tears himself away to whip up a fresh serving. He owes it to Chore Boy to be there with a little fresh food and an explanation of what happened. Besides, if he's even half as unconcerned with his injuries after a battle as he was during a battle then he's gonna need a little supervision.

And if his level of personal concern and investment are a bit uncalled for when Sanji doesn't even know this kid's name, well, he's not thinking of that.

The next morning brings them to a slow awakening, or, at least for Chore Boy, a slow realization that he is awake. Sanji keeps to his perch by the window and watches him orient himself. Chore Boy holds his hands up in front of him, spreads his fingers, and blinks at the bandages and smattering of bandaids running up and down his arms. Before Sanji can intervene, the bandaids are gone, peeled off without cringing or remorse. And then, before he can get mad, he sees that everything underneath them is already scabbed over. With some effort, Sanji shuts his mouth and watches as the kid pushes himself up in the bed, pats around as though looking for something, checks his head, and starts freaking out.

"It's over there," He points to the hat he'd also fished out of the ocean and Chore Boy relaxes instantly at his words, looking over his shoulder and finding the straw hat sitting on the shelf beside the bed. "Is that all you're worried about?"

"Mostly, yeah." He stretches an arm over to the hat and pulls it back onto his head, a fond smile lighting up his face as he adjusts the brim. "Oh," He turns back to Sanji with a solemn nod. "but I want to know about my crew."

Sanji watches him look around the room a little more before stretching his arms over his head. It could be considered a very typical morning warm-up except his arms bend in strange ways and twist around each other when he braces his wrists against each other. "Sorry, I don't know anything about them."

"Alright." He swings his legs over the side and stands up. Judging by the look on his face he isn't expecting the difficulty of the task. The only thing that saves Chore Boy from a tumble is his graceless grasping the bed frame for support when he teeters.

"What are you doing?" Sanji asks and the boy glances up at him.

"Leaving. You should come with me!"

"No, I-!" Sanji sputters and then musters the coherence to respond. "I'm not going anywhere, not with you at least, and you're not fit to be traveling either so-!"

"Sure I am!" He frowns at him, obstinate. "Nami left and Zoro's hurt and Usopp is probably having a really tough time! I gotta catch up and help out!" They stare at each other for a moment, each steadfast in their own statements.

"And how do you think you're going to catch up?" Sanji challenges. "You don't have a boat."

"Can't I use one of yours?"

"No!" He grits his teeth at the suggestion, the Baratie can't spare a boat (or a cook, for that matter, Sanji can't go. Why is he even thinking about it?). "Not like you'll be much use as you are anyway. How far do you think you could get on your own?"

"Not very far," He answers and Sanji makes a quick reassessment of how incapable Chore Boy really is. He already had low expectations but...

"Can you navigate?"

"No."

"Cook?"

"No."

"Do you even know where you're going?"

"Nope!"

He continues to be surprised.

"How do you expect to get anywhere? I bet you can't even walk!"

"Can too!" He pushes away from the bed and turns in a circle with his arms spread, sticking his tongue out so Sanji can see that he's quite capable. "And I've gotta try." His expression sobers and he drops his arms, clenching his fist. "They're waiting for me."

"Then they know they're going to have to wait a little longer, you're in no shape to do anything for anyone else." They're a small crew, Sanji knows the type. But they can't possibly expect their captain to come running after them after a battle like he'd just had. They'll probably come back to get him in a few days, actually. "Stop worrying about other people for a second and focus on yourself."

"But this is for me! I gotta help them because they're my crew. I can't lose my crew." Sanji pauses. There's a severity there that gleams the same way it had in battle the day before; it's a resolution stronger and more casual than something a normal person would say. This kid is something else- just what, though, Sanji doesn't know yet.

Sanji pulls out a stream of smoke and leans back against the wall.

"What's your name, anyway, kid."

"Monkey D. Luffy!"

(Finally. At least he knows his name. It's such a small step on the path to proper familiarity taken so late in the game that it almost invalidates itself.)

"You think they can't manage without their captain for a while?"

He blinks at Sanji for a moment before his face splits into a smile.

"I think they'd do fine without me, I can't hold them back, ya know?" Luffy glances around the room and notices the mirror on the dresser. He sends one more flash of his grin to Sanji before ambling over to the mirror and peering into it, probing the bandaids peppered along his cheeks and neck. "It's me that really needs them. I'm pretty hopeless on my own! Or at least that's what Nami says."

Sanji stands by the window while Luffy picks off a few more bandaids and starts unwinding the stained bandages on his hands. Something is turning in his stomach as he watches the discolored skin emerge slowly from beneath bloodied bandages. Luffy's hands aren't the mess that they were yesterday, but they aren't healed either. Sanji wants to smack his probing fingers away and wrap them back up with an extra layer of disinfectant cream. But that would be strange. He's a stranger. So instead he watches as scabs pop open when the bandages pull away and Luffy sticks his knuckles in his mouth to stem the bleeding. Then he makes a face at the taste. Sanji… has an idea.

"Have you ever heard of the All Blue?" It feels like a blurt, coming from everywhere and nowhere in Sanji's own mind. But Luffy doesn't seem to mind or even notice that.

"Nope!" The boy looks up and meets Sanji's eyes in the mirror. "Can you eat it?"

Sanji cracks a smile and leans back against the wall, unable to restrain his joy at the thought of that distant sea.

"Kinda."

"What does it taste like?"

"Fish." There is a distant hum in response to that and Sanji refocuses at the displeasure in it. Still watching through the mirror, he sees the pirate twisting his hands around- examining the damage they suffered in the fight. In the end, though, he presses them against the dresser and leans forward so he can better see a deeper cut that had left a shiny gouge in the skin just under his chin. This is the moment that Sanji knows he is right to be taking action.

"All kinds of fish," He continues as he pushes off the wall and lifts some of the leftover bandages off the bedside table. "That's why it's such an amazing place, there's no other place in all the world that has so many different kinds of fish!" He reaches out and pulls one of the man's hands in front of him. He starts rewrapping it, tightening his grip when the young captain gives a half-hearted tug in something like an attempt to pull away. If he really wanted him to let go Sanji knows he wouldn't have had any trouble.

"What are you doing?" He demands and Sanji shrugs.

"The reason that sea is important to me is that I'm a cook. So many ingredients would be right at my fingertips- it's unbelievable!" He can't stop his own smile as the bandages cover up the red inflammation and the purple bruising. The insistent tugging slows to a stop as Luffy focuses on what he's saying and Sanji weaves the bandage around each finger, up to the knuckle, before ripping it off and reaching for the other hand.

The pirate lets him take it without protest.

"Most people think it's a myth, but I know it's out there. I'm gonna find it one day, for the old geezer if nothing else."

"Let's go find it then!" Luffy cheers, pulling his hand away to pump his fists up and down before Sanji can stop him. Luffy steps away from the dresser, chattering about one thing or another, but Sanji isn't done and he refuses to be cut off before he can make his point. He snatches the unbandaged hand by the wrist and holds it in place. Then, looking Luffy right in the eye he continues.

"Being a cook also means that my hands are really important to me."

Luffy looks somewhere between confused and resigned as Sanji tightens the bandages that had come loose when he'd broken away and then continues with his task.

"In the kitchen, I need complete control over my hands. I won't ever let them get damaged in a fight!" He declares, "And you shouldn't either. You fight with these, they're important, right?"

"Right." The pirate nods. This seems to be familiar territory for him and the confusion has been replaced with resolve. "Without them I can't protect my nakama."

"Then what do you think you're doing?" He snaps the bandage tight around one finger to accentuate his point but is careful to loosen it right after. "You've got to let them heal properly before you use them again. Otherwise, they won't work right."

"Hhm…" He contemplates his bandaged hands for a moment. And then looks at Sanji and outright beams. "Thanks!"

Sanji leans back on his heels and turns back towards the balcony, taking a long drag now that he doesn't need to worry about getting his message across. He expects the kid to start talking again, or head for the door, but there is silence and stillness. Luffy waits, expectant. Like he already knows that Sanji is prone to thoughtful silences and isn't really done. Like he already knows that something important has been passed between them, even when Sanji has yet to start thinking of him by his actual name.

Finally-

"Why did you let me?"

"Huh?" Luffy tips his head to the side in endearing confusion. Sanji can't help a slight smile of fondness, is surprised by the strength of the emotion that rises up.

"Why did you let me rewrap your hands if you didn't think you needed the bandages."

"You were talking about your dream, and it sounds pretty cool." Luffy pumps his fists in front of him again and Sanji resists the desire to grab them- just to make him calm down a little. "If I stopped you I might not have gotten to hear all that, so I definitely wanted to listen!"

"And that was enough? You could just take them off now that I'm done again."

"You'd probably try and fix them so I won't bother." Luffy shrugs. "And I don't really mind, anyway. My crew is always trying to fix that kind of thing. Injuries that are already fine. I'm used to it!"

"I'm not-" Sanji starts but Luffy just keeps going.

"And even if you aren't on my crew yet, it's the same thing, really. You care about me, even though it's nothing to worry about." He pauses and looks down at his hands once more, inspecting the bandage work and holding them up in the light. Apparently he likes whatever he's seeing because he turns that blinding smile on Sanji again. "So thanks!"

Sanji had felt like a stranger in all the ways society identified that sort of thing. He barely knows the boy standing in front of his dresser, hadn't remembered his name, had just been trying to repay a debt. But there had been more than that at play, and perhaps they'd been close in all the ways that mattered before Sanji had realized it. Something tells him that Luffy had already known.

"Don't mention it."

A/N: Ack, a bit rough, but Sanji had a lot going on that I needed to Cover. So, there it all is! Hope you enjoyed, please leave a review I love them and like replying to them :) So if you wanna chat, haha, I'm just a few sentences away~