"I'm sorry," Chopper said, scissors working as he cut portions of Sanji's shirt away. "This…might hurt a bit."

Sanji hummed around the edges of his cigarette and motioned with his hand-the only part of him that didn't ache-for the little reindeer to continue. He sat cross-legged on the floor, one elbow propped on a stool. From shoulder blade to hip on the left side, his back felt like someone had used a kitchen peeler on him. Judging by Chopper's worried muttering, it probably looked like that too.

"I'll be with you in a moment, Zoro," Chopper promised. "Just try not to move too much, okay?"

Across from Sanji and looking annoyingly serene even though he was sitting in a small puddle of his own blood, the swordsman waited his turn for the Straw Hat's doctor. He was bare-chested, and scores of marks covered the hard muscles, but the worst of it was along his ribs towards the back. Behind him, Usopp had been tasked with holding a wad of gauze against that torn flesh. The sniper's face went through a range of comical expressions as he saw, tried to avoid looking at, and saw again the gaping wound.

Sanji grinned. "Oh no. Please help the mosshead first. He looks like he's about to faint."

Chopper's head popped up from his inspection of Sanji's back with a small squeak. "Oh no, Zoro! I'm coming!"

Zoro shifted angrily, startling the sniper. The wad of gauze fell away, and Usopp got a full view of the gore. He promptly passed out.

"Someone call a doctor!" Chopper screamed.

Disembodied hands suddenly appeared and patted Usopp's cheeks gently. Another pair retrieved the red-stained gauze and pressed it back against Zoro's side.

"Doctor, do you need some help with your patients?" Robin's calm voice echoed around the make-shift infirmary they'd set up in the storage hold of the Merry.

While Chopper spoke with Robin and checked on Usopp, the swordsman shot Sanji a withering look. Sanji grinned at him and shrugged…then regretted it instantly as his back flared with red-hot agony. He clamped his teeth down to hold in a yell and ended up biting his cigarette in half. The bisected end fell to the floor and winked out. It was Zoro's turn to grin.

"Hey, Robin," Zoro called. "Can you grab some tissues for Mr. Prince? He could really use 'em."

"Ignore the idiot, Robin-schwan~! The only thing I need is your fair company!"

"Then why are tears running down your face, shitty cook? Sure you don't need a tissue?"

Sanji spit out the dead filter and glared. His eyes were watering a little at this point but only because he was grinding his teeth so hard. He stood, fully intending to cave the other man's head in when Luffy barged into the room.

"Gooooot it!"

The captain cheerfully brandished a large, green bottle with a curling red label. Sanji stared at it hard. "Why do you have my cooking sherry?" he asked.

"Chopper told me to grab something for you guys to drink since we're out of pain stuff. Nami couldn't find any booze, so I got this!"

Sanji eyed the bottle without enthusiasm. Technically, you could get drunk off cooking sherry, but it was something only busboys and gutter drunks ever tried. It was fortified with brandy—nice to drink—and salt—not so nice to drink—so the flavor wasn't entirely palatable. To him anyway. Zoro grabbed it from Luffy's hand and took a swig. The swordsman shrugged. "It'll do."

"Great! Have fun, guys!"

Luffy bounded away, dragging Usopp with him by the neck. Sanji watched their bruised but otherwise unhurt captain go with no small amount of jealousy. The advantages of being rubber, he supposed. He sat his own aching body back on the ground and tried to find a semi-comfortable position.

Someone cleared their throat, and he looked up to see that Zoro was holding the bottle out to him. Sanji hesitated, then took it with a conciliatory nod but didn't take a sip. Was he desperate enough to drink cooking sherry?

Chopper had moved over to Zoro with his medical tools and was busily drying them after carefully taking them out of the sterilization pan. His soft murmur as he talked to himself buzzed in the background.

"Drink it," Zoro said.

Chopper looked up. "He's right. Your back is full of splinters and metal that I'm going to have to dig out. It's not going to be…great. I'm really sorry I used all the painkillers and—"

"It was more important for the ladies to have it," Sanji assured him. "It's fine. We're running low on everything, and it's not like we haven't done this before. We're just lucky to have such a great doctor now."

The little reindeer's nose turned from blue to bright pink. "Sh-Shut up, you bastard! Compliments like that don't make me happy. Not at all!"

Sanji smiled and fished another cigarette out of his pack. He was about to light it, but Zoro's eyes were still boring into him.

"Drink it," Zoro repeated. "Then hand it back, shitty cook." He grunted as Chopper peeled the gauze off his side.

With a sigh, Sanji lifted the bottle to his lips, then stopped. He looked at the swordsman, an idea forming in his head. "Tell you what," he said. "Why don't we make it a drinking game? The time'll go faster."

"I don't want to play a stupid drinking game. Just gimme the bottle if you're going to be an idiot."

Sanji cupped his chin in his hand and dangled the bottle. "Oh? Not confident if it isn't a sword fight? Let's see. I'll take a drink for..." He considered the other man. Zoro was such a stick in the mud. And there was no way that hole in his side wasn't bothering him. How to wipe that stoic, smug look off his face…

Then it came to him. He grinned, and the other man's dark eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'll drink…in exchange for a truth," he said.

Zoro wasn't biting. "And why should I want that?"

Sanji brought the bottle to his mouth, lips just brushing the top. He tilted his head to one side, eyes intent on Zoro's face. "You don't want this?" The bottle glistened under the lantern light. "You get a drink and a truth from me in exchange." His mouth quirked up in unspoken challenge.

The swordsman snorted, then winced as Chopper began to clean his injury, oblivious to their conversation. "Just… Fine. Just drink already and hand it over."

Sanji took a long sip, trying hard to keep the disgust off his face at the taste. Cooking sherry! He wiped his mouth and passed the bottle to Zoro. The other man took a swig before Sanji could even ask his question. He cleared his throat. "Okay! A truth from you..." He smiled as the other man drank deeply. "Are you a virgin?"

Zoro choked on the sherry.

Chopper tsked as Zoro coughed and sputtered, upsetting his work. Sanji lit his cigarette and waited patiently.

"What the hel—" He coughed again. Chopper patted him on the back.

"A truth for a drink," Sanji said. "Well?" He snatched the bottle from the swordsman's hand while he was bent over trying to clear sherry from his nose and windpipe.

The tanned torso eventually stopped twitching, and the doctor resumed his work. Zoro scowled at him. "This is stupid. I'm not playing this dumb game of yours."

Sanji showed his teeth. "Giving in already? Are you sure? Looks like Chopper's ready to start stitching."

He got a growl for that. "Fine! No. I'm not. My turn! Are you?" the swordsman shot back.

"Sooooo predictable from someone with muscles for brains. Can't even think of an original question."

"Answer it."

"Sure, but you wasted it. The answer is no, I'm not."

Zoro rolled his eyes. "Liar."

"Ha! I could easily say the same of you! I'd bet my best knives that the only thing you've ever slept with is your swords!"

They glared at each other, each shifting in preparation for a fight.

"Zoro, Sanji…" Chopper interjected suddenly, voice dangerously low. "If you two don't stop moving, I'm going to have to put you both to sleep."

They stopped moving.

Settling back down with a wince, Sanji took a chug and passed it back to Zoro. This time, Zoro didn't drink immediately. He studied Sanji's face with uncomfortable intensity. After a moment he casually said, "Are you afraid of bugs?"

Sanji opened his mouth. Closed it. Zoro continued to stare.

"I… I'm not afraid of them. I just don't like them."

"That so?" Zoro said, taking a swig. "So it doesn't bother you that there's a silverfish on your shoulder right now?"

He was lying. He was definitely lying.

Sanji slowly brought a hand to his shoulder. It took every ounce of self-control he had to casually brush his fingers over the shirt's fabric, gently swatting away Zoro's imaginary bug.

"They're gross. That's all."

On his left shoulder, his hand touched something that skittered away.

He squeaked and Zoro roared with laughter—something he immediately stopped when Chopper growled behind him.

Red-faced, Sanji thrust the bottle at him. "Drink. My turn."

Zoro was all smiles as he took it, even when Chopper poured antiseptic on the completed stitches.

"All right," Sanji said, eyeing his opponent. The alcohol was beginning to put a warm glow in his stomach now, whatever the taste, and he found himself similarly warming to the subject. "When you were away those two years, you were with Mihawk and that woman, Perona, right?"

"Yeah, that it? That your question?"

"No. My question is, did you and Perona ever…?"

Zoro's face looked like Sanji felt every time he took a drink of the sherry—somewhere between confusion and revulsion.

"Not a chance! She's like— Why the heck are you so interested in my sex life anyway, cook?"

Sanji shrugged, smirking around the lip of the bottle. He took a long drink this time. "Maybe I just like to see you blush."

Zoro's face turned a darker shade of pink, and Sanji was sure it wasn't just the 17% alcohol. He laughed.

"Done!" Chopper chirped. "Your turn, Sanji!"

Sanji took another quick swig before passing it back. He hated this part.

The little doctor boiled water and sterilized his tools again while the bottle and increasingly inane questions were traded back and forth.

Why was Zoro's hair green? Dunno.

Why was Sanji's eyebrow like a dartboard? No idea.

What did Zoro think of the Monte Blanc dessert he'd made the other day? Not to his taste. But (grudgingly) okay.

What the hell did Sanji do for 10 whole minutes in the bathroom every morning? Not smell like certain muscleheads.

Sanji swished a large mouthful of the sherry around on his tongue. If he pretended it were a dry white wine, it was almost drinkable.

Zoro had reclined onto his side now, head pillowed on a beefy arm. The dark eyes were half-mast but flashed every time he was challenged with a question. Sanji answered in kind, hands animated, cigarette smoke a looping halo over both their heads as they tried to distract themselves from the consequences of their chosen lifestyle. They were strong. They'd won. Pain was practically part of the crew when you were a pirate. But while you grew used to it, it was never welcome, never a mate you wanted to sail with. If they agreed on nothing else, the swordsman and the cook were at were at least united in relegating it to the background when they could. Some times were harder than others, though.

Sanji broke off mid-sentence as a lance of white hot pain stole the words from his mouth. He blinked and the world shifted. He blinked again and Chopper's worried face was directly in front of his. He found himself half-slumped against the stool now.

"That was the deepest one, but I got it," the little doctor said. "It's just the pieces now. A-Are you okay?"

Sanji laughed, but it came out cracked and raspy. His throat felt raw and hoarse. Had he been yelling? He glanced over at Zoro, trying to gauge how badly he'd embarrassed himself, but the swordsman was studiously reading the label of the bottle as if bored.

Zoro looked up, eyes unreadable. "Drink," he said, holding out the sherry.

He took it gratefully, finding himself suddenly horribly sober in the wake of the pain. He felt cold and desperately wanted some part of himself to feel warm again even if it was just the burn of cheap alcohol.

"My turn."

Zoro was still looking at him with that blank expression he got sometimes. Sanji idly wondered if he should make mackerel tonight. Zoro liked mackerel. On rice. Did he have any dried seaweed left?

"Well?"

Sanji looked up from the stool where he'd been resting his head. "Hmmm?"

"I said, what's the weirdest thing you've ever cooked?"

"Oh, a cooking queshhtion! I love cooking queshhtions…"

"Hurry up before I fall asleep," Zoro yawned.

"Maybe…"

Small sounds tinkled in the metal pan by Chopper's knee. One after another, the plinks and clinks fell steadily as the doctor worked. Sanji held his breath and closed his eyes. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and he was about to lose another cigarette. Why hadn't he thought to bring something less costly to bite down on?

"Maybe penguins…" he managed through gritted teeth. "Thoshhe evil little bastards from that time up in the ice."

"I remember that," Zoro mused. "They made for some weird yakitori, but whatever you used for the sauce was nice."

A compliment? Sanji stole a glance at the other man. Zoro must be absolutely trashed.

As he thought this, the swordsman became two and then three. Three tired-looking, flushed Zoros were pointing at the bottle.

"Oh," Sanji said. He shook it. It was empty. He'd finished it with that last long drink. "Lashht queshhtion then. My turn."

"Do your worst," Zoro mumbled into his arm.

Sanji thought hard about what to ask. Or tried to. His brief moment of sobriety had passed, and even a sudden toe-curling burning sensation on his back failed to galvanize his brain. He gently banged his head against the stool until the pain passed.

"Antiseptic on! Done!" Chopper declared cheerfully. "You're all good, Sanji!"

"Thankshh, Chop… Wait, wha'did you shhay?"

"I said 'you're all good, Sanji'?"

Sanji lifted his head suddenly and pointed the bottle at Zoro. "Hey, mosshhhead. I have one for you. It's a good one. Don't fall ashhleep."

"Get it over with, then…"

"You gotta tell the truth!"

"Yeah, yeah…"

"The actshhual truth!"

Zoro looked up at him, eyes bleary but there was a glint of anticipation. The green brows beetled together. "Bring it, shitty cook."

Sanji cleared his throat theatrically. He sat up as straight as he could. The mass of bandages circling his torso made the movement difficult, but he got himself into as upright a position as he could before he asked his final question. "What…" he said with gravity, "…ish my name?"

The swordsman stared. And stared some more. A small drop of sweat traced a path from temple to chin.

Sanji giggled.

"It's…shi—"

"The truth! You gotta shhay it!"

"Argh…"

"Shhhay it."

"…"

Fatigue dragged at him as he waited patiently, and he slowly slouched against the stool, then laid his head on his arms. Zoro's head was propped up with one hand, but he was looking at the floor, probably searching for a way out of the question. Sanji chuckled softly.

After a minute more, the swordsman sighed and mumbled something that sounded like "idiot."

"Mmm? What'sh that?"

Zoro rested his head back down on his own arm. "I said 'you're an idiot, Sanji.'"

Sanji smiled, cat-like, and let his eyelids droop closed. "Heh heh. Got you," he said, and then fell into a pleasant, restful sleep.

The End