A/N: I know that I've been neglecting my fanfictions so I hope this makes up for it. At least just a little…

1Sickness

Zoro was sick. But this was no ordinary sickness. It wasn't caused by your everyday germs or some dangerous virus. But the illness that Zoro was suffering from was as life threatening and dangerous as any incurable viruses that threaten the human population. Zoro's illness was eating away him little by little and in the end there would be no way to stop it.

"Zoro?" a course voice whispered to the swordsman, snapping him back to reality.

"Huh?" he answered dumbly. It took him a second to remember where he was. Them it all came rushing back to him; his throbbing head, his painful body, the frail body that lay before him and the whisper he almost couldn't recognize anymore. Sanji was sick and he was looking after the fellow.

Sanji had been sick for a couple of days and Zoro had spent a good amount of that time watching over the sick bastard. At least that way both of them could suffer together. Sanji suffering from a fever while Zoro suffered from an invisible unconceivable disease that he didn't even realize.

"Well if you insist on staying here and keeping me company you should at least have the courtesy not to daydream aimlessly," Sanji answered roughly. The cook took this opportunity to take out a cigarette he had been hiding behind his pillow and placed it between his lips.

Automatically Zoro's hand flew out and protectively grabbed the cigarette. "You shouldn't be smoking. You're sick and it'll give you a bad cough," Zoro said firmly, squashing the cigarette until it could no longer be smoked.

Usually if this were to happen one of two things would most likely happen. Either Sanji would throw a huge fit and start swearing about how Zoro was a bastard or he would somehow trick Zoro into giving the cigarette back. But on this rare occasion Sanji did neither of the two. He was too sick and tired to play games or argue. "Yeah I guess you're right," he simply sighed.

It was perpetually aggravating seeing the usually difficult cook suddenly become submissive. Not that he would like to admit it but Zoro secretly adored the cook's austerity and the ways he wouldn't let anyone mess with him. But now seeing the spark he had so admired flickering he couldn't help but feel worried. Worried?

"Zoro, why are you doing this anyway?" Sanji asked unenthusiastically," I mean I know you have better things to do than to watch over me. What I mean is, shouldn't you be practicing to being the world's swordsman or something?"

He had asked himself this question as well. Why had he suddenly felt uneasy when he found out that Sanji was suffering from a fever? Why was it whenever the blond bastard was near that he felt as if his head felt light and dizzy? Why was it his heart seemed to dance the tango whenever the idiot grinned? Why was it that with one look from those eyes and Zoro felt like he was melting inside? Why was it whenever he was just with Sanji that nothing seemed to matter? What disease had Sanji infected him with?

A moment after Zoro answered the question in the most honest way possible. "I don't know."

Sanji snorted at the reply but didn't push the matter anymore, instead the two sat in silence. Zoro lost deep in the questions and the mystery of Sanji's strange hold on him and Sanji basking in his boredom.

"It's because to care about me, you idiot," Sanji said blankly, breaking the silence.

Zoro was struck by an arrow. Could that be why? Could it be that the illness that he was suffering from was because he cared? He actually cared about Sanji and all the strange symptoms were because he actually held the cook dear to him. "I care about you." Zoro repeated the words slowly to himself. It would explain everything.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice?" Sanji let out a soft chuckle, amused by the swordsman's reaction.

Shock was imprinted on every inch of Zoro's face as he finally came to terms with himself.

The great and mighty Roronoa Zoro was entranced by a skinny blond chain smoking cook. It was unimaginable. It was absurd. It was crazy. It was dead on.

"Well it's not like it's unrequited." Sanji replied softly.

Zoro turned to the cook and noticed just the slightest shade of pink in the other man's cheek. So that meant that Sanji felt the same. Sanji reciprocated his feeling and to that idea he could feel a new rush of blood to his head. It was as if he had just a dose of ecstasy and he was floating on a cloud. The dizziness, the melting, the worry all seemed to intensify tenfold. He was getting sicker and sicker; more and more infected by the strange disease.

"Zoro," Sanji's voice rang out softly.

"Huh?" Zoro said turning only for his mouth to be meet by a pair of lips. "Why did you do that?" Zoro asked exasperatedly.

Sanji only answered with a smile.

This made Zoro even more flustered. "Idiot."

Sanji was suffering from a fever and Zoro was suffering from Sanji, an illness that would hinder his entire life. Yet even if there was a cure to his illness he wouldn't care because secretly in his heart he wanted to be consumed this sickness forever.