Angel Down

by Aikat3rin3

Sanji's past was as haunted with demons as Zoro's own, demons that had finally caught up to him after years of living in the shadows. His very existence meant the hunt would never stop, but that hadn't stopped Zoro from falling for him and it wouldn't push him away now. Sanji was what was called a "negligible senescent porphyric humanoid." "Vampire" looked weird on medical records.

9. In Which Sanji is an Asshole

I don't own anything but my ideas.

In Which Sanji is an Asshole and Zoro Takes On a Challenge

Zoro slammed open the door to one of the hospital's spare rooms that Sanji had been given, uninterested in the visitor's state of sleep or not. Judging from the way the blond was sitting up in bed and currently glaring at Zoro with a look dark enough to put a black spot on the sun, he'd been awake before Zoro had barged in. Not that Zoro cared.

Sanji's hand was hovering in front of his face, and it made Zoro wonder if he'd been playing with his injured eye, unable to leave it alone, but that was pretty low on the priority list at the moment. What was bothering him was the fact that—regardless of how injured Law said he was—there was essentially a possible mole from the marines or another territory or god knows where living in their most safely guarded location in the entire city—left almost entirely on his own. Zoro wasn't even sure there was a guard stationed in the hallway outside.

Zoro slapped the tray of food down on the bedside table and Sanji's one angry, unblinking eye flicked over to the steaming soup and slices of bread before turning back to Zoro. They remained there, motionless, for close to two minutes, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Zoro grunted finally, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "You want to tell me how you really ended up in the back of that truck?"

Somehow, though it didn't seem possible, Sanji's gaze grew darker, pupils dilating much moreso than Killer's ever did when he was anrgy, and Zoro tensed as Sanji's pale lip pulled back slightly to reveal his fangs glinting off of the blanched light overhead. Immediately Zoro's mind jumped to his weapons. He only had Wado on him; the other two were still locked away in his case from the last fight, but it was a small room so his strength might give him the advantage. Zoro felt a grin starting to pull at his face, remembering the terrifying power he'd felt just holding Sanji down against the examining table earlier. He could only imagine the strength Sanji's spine held, his hips, and if he had the upper body force too—

"Scullery maids shouldn't ask questions," Sanji jeered, cutting through Zoro's train of thought. "Especially moldy-headed fuckers that use up half of their brain cells just trying to form the question."

Zoro's teeth clenched and the smirk he hadn't noticed forming vanished. The guy had a hell of a tongue.

"I'm not sure you'd retain the answer even if I told you," Sanji continued with a vapid tone, not even bothering to make eye contact with him anymore.

Every word out of the asshole's mouth made Zoro's muscles clench tighter and tighter, coiled like springs and ready to burst open at the slightest shift in pressure. He forced himself to reel his temper in; Law had messed him up before for fighting with a patient—even if it was Franky—and he wasn't keen to go through that again.

"Meaning you weren't kidnapped," Zoro spat, fighting to keep his voice as even as possible.

Sanji looked about ready to snap himself, but somehow he forced the anger down and instead reached over to the bedside table where a box of cigarettes and a lighter were laying next to the tray of food. He pulled one from the package and slid it between his lips, and then fumbled with the lighter for a moment before he managed to get the flame going. Zoro blinked in confusion before he remembered the blond's broken thumb, but Sanji had the tip of the cigarette lit even with his non-dominant hand and drew in a deep breath, and then tipped his head back to let the smoke out of his lungs and into the room. Zoro eyed the smoke detector off in the corner of the ceiling, but he was sure that had been taken into account when Sanji had been given the pack. When Sanji finally spoke, his voice was cool and collected.

"Every single one of my fractures have started to heal, which is why no one has put me in any casts. The doc thinks most will have put themselves back into place enough by tomorrow that I won't need splints while they heal the rest of the way. The ligaments are whatever; I've fucked those up before. The ribs hurt like a bitch but they're healing. Everything is fucking peachy, except that I fucked up my thumb and my wrist, which scared the fucking shit out of me even though they're healing so I'm stressed as hell—" Zoro blinked again, trying to figure out why his thumb and wrist outweighed every other injury he'd racked up—"and I still can't see out of my left eye."

Sanji turned to glare at Zoro again with the one good lightning-blue iris. "The fucking shrimp doctor has been down here every. Single. Fucking. Hour. To see if there's any improvement, and there hasn't been a single. Fucking. Bit. Don't you fucking dare insinuate that I'd willingly give up my fucking eye just to… what? Waste your hospital materials? Get the fuck out of here, marimo. This situation is shitty enough without you fucking taking up the oxygen I need to heal. That and I'm still hungry as fuck so you standing there like a walking IV bag is making me want to attack you and that will fuck up my injuries more so now I'm really pissed off—"

"I don't care about your stupid thumb, or wrist, or even your eye."

Sanji flinched as Zoro said this, and Zoro noticed said injured hand twitch out of the corner of his eye.

"What I care about is the fact that, despite all of this, and how "shitty" this situation is, you won't tell us anything about you that we don't already know. So we can't get anyone down here to get you the hell of here, we can't figure out why you were "kidnapped," or shipped off for breaking laws or codes, or whatever the fuck you did to end up on the way to a slave house, and we can't be sure that you aren't here to do some serious damage to us."

Sanji eyed him darkly before turning away, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips. He turned deliberately back, dropping his hand to his waist before he blew the smoke in Zoro's direction, making Zoro wrinkle his nose and huff uncomfortably to get the air out of his throat.

"Trust me, national treasure, if I'd wanted to bring down your shitty organization, you'd all have been ashes six feet underground long ago."

Zoro growled, slamming a foot into the side of the bed where it jumped and clacked sharply against the wall. Sanji's return snarl was instantaneous, and mangled body or not, he was lunging for Zoro's throat almost faster than Zoro could keep track of, but Zoro had lived with Killer for years and could anticipate a lot of instinctual moves from NSPH's. Sanji, on the other hand, couldn't have anticipated Zoro's reflexes.

Zoro's hand snapped around Sanji's throat and slammed him back into the bed. The blond's legs flew up from the force of the blow and Sanji roared furiously and whipped his knee around, shin driving into Zoro's diaphragm like a freight train and knocking him off of his feet. Zoro gagged, grip loosening on Sanji's throat just enough to let the blond suck in a labored breath before his other foot snapped up. Zoro's arm whipped to block its path, not about to take another one of those hits head on, and his entire body vibrated as the force of Sanji's kick traveled up his arm. A wild grin split his face the exact same time Sanji gained the same feral expression and they leapt apart, staring each other down from across the room.

Zoro coughed again, lungs wailing in disapproval of the movement, though the pain from the blow was starting to lessen. "You don't seem so broken to me."

Sanji's smile was malicious as his eyes found certain targets on Zoro's body. Bruises on his neck where Zoro's fingers had connected were forming and vanishing simultaneously so that there was no mark left on the pale skin almost as instantaneously as there had been a deep purple bruise. "Try me, shit head. You need brain as well as brawn to stand half a chance of beating—"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY PATIENT?!"

Zoro whipped around to find Chopper standing agape in the door, staring death at Zoro and debating with himself about whether or not to be angry at a patient and a stranger before his morals kicked in and he turned his glare on Sanji. Zoro cringed. Sanji was unimpressed.

"Chop—"

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! WE SEND YOU DOWN HERE WITH FOOD AND STRICT ORDERS TO LEAVE HIM ALONE—LOOK! HIS KNEE IS ALREADY SWELLING MORE FROM THE TORN LIGAMENTS! GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I PUT YOU IN THE SAME STATE!"

Zoro grimaced but straightened up, taking his hand away from Wado where he had begun to slide her out of the sheath. He stepped around Chopper, about to say something else but the little doctor was already running over to the side of Sanji's bed.

"Does rest not mean anything to you?! You almost died six times in the last day alone, and god knows what your body had to put up with when you were imprisoned! If you don't let yourself recover, your eye might not be the only thing that doesn't show improvement! You're strung out, your body can only handle healing so much—and that's without extra stress!"

Sanji stared blankly at Chopper's irate expression before settling himself back on the bed, reaching down to pick up the still smoking cigarette off of the floor where it had been knocked from his hand. "…Were you coming down here to check on it?"

"I—! Huh?"

"My eye."

"Oh… yeah, I was. We need to keep watching the rate everything else recovers compared to it. Law is comparing your fluids and tissues to some samples he took from Killer but we need to take some more from you. The samples we got when you were unconscious aren't enough."

Sanji's shoulders tensed up violently, and Chopper was about to scream at him for not watching his injured shoulder when Sanji cut in darkly.

"Leave."

Chopper stuttered, surprised at the sudden switch. "I—what?"

"Leave," Sanji snarled, teeth clicking from being clenched so tightly.

Oh shit. "We're not—" Zoro started, realizing what had made Sanji snap, but Sanji's tongue was quicker.

"Leave! You fucking psychopathic sadist!"

Zoro could hear Chopper flinch from the name even without looking at him. No one ever talked to Chopper like that; he took it so personally.

"I didn't make it out of one gulag just to get taken in by another Mengele! I'm leaving and I swear to fucking god if you try anything I will take you all down with me—!" Sanji got to his knees and drifted forward slowly, bared fangs and good eye trained on Chopper's trembling form. Chopper yelped and stumbled behind Zoro's leg.

Zoro slid one leg forward to brace himself, ready to take the force of Sanji's hit if this didn't work. At least Chopper wouldn't get hit; he was still only seventeen, his body couldn't handle that type of force.

"Killer is my brother!" he yelled at the same time Sanji's muscles locked up to lunge.

The blond ground to a halt, eye popping open in shock as he stared at Zoro. Zoro could see the blond's mind whirring as he tried to figure out the relation between the two. Zoro pinched his lips together, still uncomfortable with the idea of relaying Killer's story so openly to someone that didn't have their best interests in mind, but the situation needed it. He needed to say something to diffuse Sanji; the man was like a land mine.

"The doctor who treated you, his name is Law," Zoro started off slowly, keeping his voice as even as possible and Chopper in the corner of his vision just in case the young doctor accidentally made any sudden moves. "The hulking asshole with red hair that isn't Shanks is Kid. They're my adoptive parents. When I was nine they broke Killer out of a research facility and hid him with us. We've spent years protecting him, hiding who he is, keeping him from doing anything that could wave a red flag on what he is to anyone that could hurt him and taking care of people that have found out. Yes, Law runs tests. They're not brutal experiments, he does stupid shit like make sure that Killer can metabolize alcohol for when he starts drinking and cold medicine so he can take it. He tests his blood to find out if it's started to deteriorate so Killer can eat before he gets too hungry and attacks someone. The only way Law would have samples of Killer's whatever for tests is because Killer's ok with it."

Sanji was silent, staring blankly at Zoro but still standing and ready to lunge.

"Killer is one of the few people I would kill for in this world. Don't you dare insinuate that we're abusing him like a lab rat."

Zoro stayed motionless for another moment while Sanji thought, and when the blond did nothing Zoro made a disgusted sound and straightened back up, turning for the door and ushering Chopper out with him. "Whatever. Just eat so you don't go berserk again and hurt yourself more. Law is getting his hands on more blood; you'll have to make due with that, they went through too much for your surgery. Someone will bring it down later."

The door slammed behind them, leaving Sanji still crouching on the bed, staring vacantly off into the distance, processing Zoro's words carefully in his mind.

Outside the door, Chopper brought his hands nervously to cover his mouth, looking back and forth from the door to Zoro's back marching up the stairs before he trotted after the larger man.

Zoro looked down at Chopper's trembling bottom lip and the tears forming in the corners of his eyes and winced inwardly. "…Are you ok?"

Chopper nodded with a jerky movement and swiped under his eyes.

"…He's just scared," Zoro added quietly.

Another nod. "I-I know… it's just sad. …Do you think he'll be ok? …He's so angry… he was abused for so much longer than Killer was… it looks like he has some mental scarring—maybe even PTSD."

"…Well, I guess that's why Law doesn't really mind that he's not saying where he's from. We don't have to kick him out that way."

"…Law wants to help him?"

"…Something like that."

-oOo-

Law's diagnosis was two months. Sanji would have to put up with them for eight weeks before he could leave. Due to the amount of injuries his body had to deal with, the healing process had been significantly slowed down, which only meant that Sanji was even more infuriated that his body wasn't cooperating with him. If the important things were healing first then he could leave much sooner. Law had put Zoro on fetch duty, pissing him off to no end, but in return he'd also designated him and Luffy as Sanji's physical therapy sparring partners. Law wasn't sure if, based on how slowly Sanji was healing anyways, his body would get lazy and not heal the injuries in the correct way if he was lying in a bed all day, and Zoro would be lying if he said that he wasn't excited about the possibility of sparring with this guy.

"Hey marimo, who the fuck made this food? It tastes like a herd of buffalo shat all over the ingredients and some idiot failed to notice and still made something out of it."

He was still a complete and total asshole though.

"I'm sorry that we haven't gotten the finest to prepare your meal, your highness," he replied dryly, now used to Sanji's insults and not quite as quick to get annoyed. "But whose fault is it again that you're laid up like a maiden in bed after her wedding night?"

Sanji growled, face scrunching up in a funny pinch that always made Zoro smirk. Sanji could be fun sometimes too, but those times were few and far between.

"Get me up to the fucking kitchen," the blond ordered suddenly, flinging the covers back off of him and revealing the myriad of bandages littered across his body. "I'll show these idiots how to fucking cook. I'm injured for god's sake! I need at least somewhat decent nourishment!"

Along with his wrapped eye, Law had decided that Sanji needed some braces and bandages, and then used Chopper's adorable pouting face to wheedle Sanji into them. Most of his upper body injuries had put themselves back in place, so his shoulder, thumb, and ribs had been left untouched, and there was only a small brace on his wrist. His lower body was a different story. His right ankle only had another brace on it to keep the torn ligaments from stretching more, but his left leg had been seriously messed up. Sanji winced every time he turned slightly, leading Zoro to guess that his dislocated hip was still painful—back in the socket or not—and Chopper had insisted on a splint even though Law said it wasn't necessary. Chopper had been thinking about Sanji's quick temper. Law hadn't cared if he hurt himself more. Sanji's shin, even more out of place after his and Zoro's little spat, had a cast from knee to ankle to hold the fracture in place, which also kept his ankle sprain still. And the broken toes didn't help with his already impaired equilibrium.

"Hey!" Zoro lunged forward, grabbing Sanij's unhurt arm to hold him steady as the idiot flailed for the crutches that were next to the bed but just out of his reach to keep him from jostling around too much. So much for that. Sanji was gritting his teeth through the pain of moving. Law had been right about the adrenaline and the blood though; once Sanji's system acclimated, it was like a tidal wave of pain had slammed into the blond and completely wiped him out.

"I'm not eating this shit! And I've been making cuisine with blood for way too long to go back to drinking it out of a bag like some animal, so either help me up or get the fuck out of my way!"

"The crutches are going to hurt your shoulder—"

"The hell with them! I'm trying to use them to stand up so I can get to you!" And with that he grabbed ahold of the shirt on Zoro's shoulder and yanked, pulling himself into as much of an upright position as he could while still favoring both the leg with the cast and the sprained ankle he was forced to stand on. Zoro choked slightly as his collar was yanked against his neck, grumbling as he assumed the position of the crutch with Sanji's arm slung over his shoulder but not about to upset Chopper again by dumping the idiot on the ground. "Now get me to the kitchen. I'm not going to be a fucking invalid; if I have my hands I might as well be doing something useful."

Zoro grumbled, mutterings of "asshole" and "useless cripple" drifting up, making Sanji grit his teeth, but Zoro took the first step, waiting for Sanji to follow, and Sanji finally took one gangly step after him. The blond sucked in a sharp hiss, doubling over and dropping all of his weight on Zoro's shoulders—other hand snapping up to wrap around Zoro's neck and halt his fall—a red hot bolt of pain shooting up through his ankle and toes tingling blindingly. "Fuck."

"…Your ankle?"

"No, my fucking pride."

Zoro rolled his eyes and grabbed Sanji's arms—being careful of the injured wrist—and untangled himself from their grip while Sanji balanced helplessly on one leg and glared. Zoro was beginning to think the blond couldn't make any other facial expressions except surprised and angry. Muscle paralysis or something. Maybe Law could give him a pill for it.

"Tell me if I hurt your hip," he muttered, dipping down to wrap one arm around Sanji's thighs and hoist him up slowly so that Sanji was half sitting in the crook of his arm, half leaning against his pectoral, clinging to his head and shoulders like a small monkey. Zoro grinned to himself at the pinched expression he imagined Sanji was making and started towards the door. Sanji was right about the food though, it couldn't have been giving him very many nutrients; he was still too light, even with the casts.

"You give me a concussion, I kill you."

"Shut up," Zoro grunted, ducking down to get Sanji under the doorframe safely.

-oOo-

"…I guess it counts as physical therapy… as long as he doesn't stress his shoulder or wrist."

Chopper was standing with Zoro outside the kitchen, watching Sanji's hands moving like a blur across the stove, ingredients disappearing from where he'd prepped them and the wok sizzling loudly. Zoro had found him a stool when he'd been unable to stand on his injured legs for too long, and then two other stools for when he hadn't been able to reach enough of the counter space for all of his ingredients and placed them on either side of him, one with knives and cutting boards, one with ingredients. Prepped ingredients went out of the way on one side of the stove to conserve space, and spices on the other side. All in all it was a pretty decent system, considering Sanji seemed to be used to having the run of the whole kitchen. Zoro had seen how territorial Shanks' chef could get if people got in the way of his cooking, and the way Sanji had browbeaten him out of the room told him more and more about Sanji.

Namely, that he was an asshole.

But also that he seemed a competent chef with the wherewithal to take control of situations he needed to be on top of in. God knows he'd been trying for three days now with Zoro. He'd lost the battle with Chopper, the kid was too cute, and Law didn't take no for an answer, but Zoro was still fair game.

"…It smells really good," Chopper murmured from Zoro's side and the older man nodded. It did smell really good. Really good.

"Hey marimo, any word on that blood?"

Zoro grimaced at the name but didn't comment on it. "It's coming."

He crossed his arms, moving to stand next to Sanji and watch the way the blond's fingers danced over the wok, utensils flashing by every now and then to alter the food in what looked like the most infinitesimal ways.

"Don't get in my way," Sanji muttered after a moment of Zoro standing there quietly and Zoro just grunted in return.

Sanji was an asshole.

Zoro turned to the sound of footsteps, finding Nami in the doorway with Chopper, an IV bag full of red, sloshing liquid clutched tightly in her hands as she nervously nibbled on her lip. Zoro rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove. She'd refused to visit Sanji at all during the first two days, too guilt-ridden or something stupid to face him, even though it was technically her blunder that had saved his life. The whole vampire thing had come as a shock too and she'd been unable to come down for another day. Zoro was kind of surprised that she was coming at all today, and at "feeding time" no less. Zoro could hear her shuffling unsurely in the door for a minute before she finally crossed the threshold and the room to stand by Sanji's side.

Sanji slammed the spoon down in an empty spot on one of the stools, struggling to turn and face her. "Well it's about fucking time—"

Sanji froze, jolting so quickly to a stop with his breath caught in his throat that Zoro paused too, debating moving around to see Sanji's expression. Had he hurt himself—?

"Oh what have I done? Speaking to such a lustrous princess in such an atrocious manner!"

Sanji's hand snapped out, yanking a flower from the vase on the kitchen counter and presenting it to Nami, hearts practically popping out of his eyes. Nami blinked, taking a precautionary step backwards, holding the somewhat thin plastic of the IV bag closer to her for protection.

"My sweet Mellorine, allow me to prepare something for you as an apology," he dipped into a deep bow. Or, as well as he could while fighting the brace on his hip and wincing from the straining motions.

"DON'T MOVE LIKE THAT! YOU'LL STRAIN YOUR INJURIES AND STITCHES!" Chopper screamed from the other side of the kitchen, racing over to try and push Sanji back into a normal position.

Oh yeah, this guy couldn't be more of an asshole if he tried. Zoro huffed, turning and taking a seat heavily at the table.

"I… Uh…" Nami reached out slowly and took the flower from Sanji, passing him the bag of blood. "I don't really…"

"Of fear not, my precious goddess. I would not think to contaminate your food with this vile substance!" Sanji flung the bag onto the counter, making Chopper screech again when it landed heavily and bubbled against the counter like a water balloon about to split open.

"You need that for the food, you idiot!" Zoro snapped from the table.

Sanji whirled on him, heart-filled gaze snapping back to a death glare. "Shitty marimo! Obviously I'm not going to make your food with blood! Did you think I was going to serve you that?!"

"I—" Zoro stopped, trying to understand.

Sanji rolled his eyes, letting out a loud groan before turning back to the stove. "And now he thinks I was going to keep him from eating… Please go sit at the table, Mellorine~ Your food will be ready shortly!"

Nami smiled uneasily, following Zoro to sit at his side. Chopper eventually joined them, though he seemed uneasy to leave Sanji alone cooking with the new flourishes and dangerous movements he'd added.

"…He's a strange one, isn't he?" she asked, careful not to let her voice get above the crackling of the grease on the stove.

"We should have left him in the truck," Zoro grunted.

"Shitty marimo," Sanji snapped, appearing suddenly above his shoulder and twirling a plate down on the table in front of Nami with an elaborate bow. Zoro was about to protest about him standing when the blond slammed two plates down in front of him and Chopper and Zoro caught a whiff of the food.

"Is there anything else I can get you, my lovely?" Sanji held his arms out open to Nami, setting a glass of something fruity with a lemon and a flower sticking out of the top next to her plate. Where the hell had he pulled that from?

She gave him another strained smile, still not sure what to make of all this. "Would you join us, Sanji…? I… think you should be sitting and, you know, resting."

Sanji dipped into a swoon, hands clasped by his head. "Ah, my sweet Mellorine's care and compassion is more than one could ever ask for. I could never turn down such a request!" Sanji whirled to return to the stove where another plate was waiting, bag of blood rolled and clipped to keep from dripping next to it. Zoro took one look at Chopper's mental breakdown in the process of exploding in full force at Sanji's movements and grabbed Sanji's uninjured shoulder, forcing him back into a chair as he stood to walk to the counter.

"Useless moss-head!" Sanji snarled, cringing and fingering his hip tenderly. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Zoro set the plate of food tinged slightly redder down in front of Sanji before sitting back in his own chair. "Those stupid ballet moves are going to give Chopper a heart attack. Sit."

"Fuck you, I can take care of myself!"

Zoro's retort died on his tongue as the food hit his mouth. It was an explosion of flavors and textures, sweeping over his taste buds like an aphrodisiac and rendering his tongue useless for speaking. Zoro forgot for a second that he'd been talking at all, looking down at the plate in surprise.

"I'm so sorry for this brute's appalling manner, my sweet~ Ah! I didn't catch the young lady's name!"

Nami gave him another smile, less forced now that he was picking fights with Zoro. Something they could relate on. "Nami. It's very nice to meet you, Sanji, though I'm sorry we've had to in such bad circumstances."

"Oh, Nami-swan! I assure you, if I were any more capable of showering you with the love and care you deserve I would do so without a moment's hesitation! As it is, I'm afraid I shall have to apologize for my state and hope that the food is satisfactory without the presentation, though I am ashamed to call myself a chef with such pitiful delivery!"

"Sanji, this food is divine, and you're really hurt. Don't worry about it," Nami was grinning down happily at the plate in front of her, Chopper sucking his own down like it was his last meal beside her.

Sanji's eyes grew wide, and everyone paused at the expression, wondering what Nami had said wrong.

"…The lovely lady has praised my cooking with such wondrous words… IF I DIED RIGHT NOW I WOULD DIE HAPPY~!"

Zoro thought it best not to tell Sanji that Nami was the reason he was alive. They'd never hear the end of it.

"Hey, shit head. You don't like my cooking or something?"

Zoro gritted his teeth, leaning in to stare back at Sanji. "Just trying to get used to the fact that Nami's not the only princess in the room anymore."

"Well I assume any idea bigger than "lift this heavy piece of shit" would be a little hard for your puny brain to take in, but go slow, you'll get it."

Zoro's fist clenched, fork bending in his hand. "Dartboard brow."

"Moss-head."

"Idiot lovely."

"Shitty marimo."

"Shit cook."

"Shitty swordsman."

Nami turned quietly to Chopper, fork halfway to her mouth. "This is good, isn't it?"

Chopper slurped his affirmative, nodding enthusiastically around the food.

-oOo-

Zoro followed the wonderful smells he knew were coming from the kitchen where Sanji had been every single meal since he'd first come up from the apartment. Every morning Zoro went down to help Sanji up out of bed before training and every morning, no matter how early Zoro got there, the cook was ready and waiting to be brought up to the kitchen with some comment about Zoro looking especially stupid that morning. Zoro generally walked him into at least one wall on the way up for the remark.

Once Luffy had tasted Sanji's food, all hopes of the cook ever not cooking a meal were lost, although Shanks' chef was still a little annoyed that he'd lost full reign of his kitchen and cooked while moping to himself in the rare moments when Sanji wasn't working. Normally the kitchen was packed; everyone that knew of Sanji's secretive presence looked for some sort of snack or a plate during mealtime, but this time of the morning Shanks' territory was almost deserted. Occasionally someone would drift by on their way to some early work, but fights weren't until night and no one bothered getting up early to start preparation, which meant that Sanji and Zoro essentially had the whole place to themselves.

Zoro swiped across his sweating brow with the cloth in his hand before draping it across his shoulders, wiping his hands on the ends that hung down to his chest. He'd lost the shirt a little while ago and didn't honestly care (or remember) where it ended up, so he was just sticking with the pants for the moment.

He padded silently into the kitchen where Sanji had gotten rid of the stools just a day or two ago now that his ankle had healed enough to stand on. One week it had taken for the sprained joint to heal enough to stand on, which—if Sanji's annoyed grumblings when Law told him this said anything—was a lot slower than he was anticipating, and also meant that his fractures would take that much longer to heal.

Zoro was still waiting to be taken up on as a sparring partner and see the power behind those legs; Sanji spent the whole day balanced on one injured ankle and didn't even bat an eye. But he didn't really seem to mind anything, whether it was Chopper coming to check up on him or Luffy coming to steal food, as long as he got to cook. The fact that Nami could flounce in at any time and request anything and Sanji would drop whatever he was doing and make it for her pissed Zoro off to no end, most of the time because Sanji insisted on twirling for her during the process and more often than not was cringing a lot more by the time she left than he had been before she came in. She also seemed to pick the times when he was so tired he was about to ask Zoro for help back to his room, and she would ask even though she could see how tired he was, and he would forgo sleep to make anything for her without hesitation. Manipulative bitch.

But even through the elaborate flourishes and stupid twirling when he served Nami, or the way he swooned slightly at a compliment from her, or somehow managed to beat Luffy out of the room even with how injured he was, Zoro could see the passion in Sanji's one electric blue eye for his skill. Sanji may have been a fighter, but it was easy to see that he was a chef at heart, someone that was always looking to take care of others and make sure they were well to their full potential.

The fact that Sanji himself was at significantly less then full potential must have been eating him alive. Zoro had seen the cook smile with Nami, so he didn't have muscle paralysis at least, but that was about the only time he wasn't scowling to himself. Even cooking didn't seem to put him in a consistent enough good mood. And Zoro was going to find a way to make him smile without that stupid witch having to be around if it killed him. There was no reason for Sanji to be pissed off the whole remaining seven weeks here. And Zoro had been assigned to Sanji so he was going to make the shit cook happy, because like hell he was going to spend seven weeks as the personal bitch of a pissed-off rattlesnake.

And also because Zoro was dying to fight with those legs. He could never get Luffy into a decent fight—the idiot always got too distracted—but with Sanji's passion for everything he did… it would be one hell of a fight.

Sanji slowed for a second as Zoro found a place in one of the chairs by the table, soundless though the swordsman was, before he resumed his chopping. Something was bubbling methodically away on the stove beside him. Zoro sat patiently, panting to himself, not wanting to interrupt Sanji no matter how thirsty he was. Watching Sanji cook was almost as mesmerizing as watching Law or Chopper work with a new sample, watching Kid put together a new gun or engine, or even Kuina practicing with Wado, and he didn't want to be the one to break that connection between the person and their trade. But the cook paused what he'd been doing and turned to a small spot on the counter where a plate and a cup of something hot and steaming had been set aside. He slid it across the counter more into Zoro's line of view before returning to his work.

"Come get it yourself, I can't walk all the way over there and back before this burns."

Zoro blinked, wiping his hands once more on the towel on his shoulders before pulling himself out of the chair and crossing the room where a small plate of onigiri and a cup of tea were waiting.

Zoro took the two things, standing stupidly at the counter to stare at Sanji's back. The cook seemed indifferent or unwilling to turn around and pointedly continued with whatever he was making.

"…Did you make these for me?"

Sanji shrugged, huffing out a stream of smoke in Zoro's direction. "You're in here every damn morning, you might as well do something besides stare at me like a fucking guard dog that actually merits you being in a kitchen."

"…Thanks."

"…Yeah, sure. …Just go sit, I can hear you wheezing from here."

Zoro turned and did so, munching contentedly on the first onigiri before taking a sip of the tea. Perfect. Just like always. Zoro smiled to himself, still amazed that Sanji not only knew how to make rice balls, but that he could make them so well and he knew the traditional Japanese name. This made for a good morning.

Zoro sat silently eating the onigiri, gaze eventually drifting to Sanji's marred skin where most of the bandages had been taken off the cuts, burns, and other skin wounds to let them breathe. Every once and a while Sanji would twitch, skin bubbling up before stretching farther over the wound, Sanji rolling whichever limb the cut was on uncomfortably to shake it out. Even the skin lesions were healing much slower than they should have been. A lot slower actually, if the way Killer healed when he was hurt said anything. This way meant that Sanji was still open to infection; Killer's body had stopped at nothing to remove that threat, even with how much it had hurt him or how tired it had made him. There had been several times that Killer slept for days straight after being really injured because his body expended all of its energy on healing him. Sanji's body just… couldn't.

Still too strung out? Zoro placed his cup back on the table, picking up the last onigiri. Law had said something about the drugs messing up the way Sanji functioned, but Chopper was pretty vehement about the fact that Sanji was just really overtired. "Hey cook, how do the breaks feel?"

Sanji shrugged again, wincing as a cut on his upper arm bubbled up. "The dislocations are all back in place, they don't hurt so bad; Law only had to put my hip back in himself. The fractures are all back in place now too but they hurt like a motherfucker. I can't put any weight on my left leg with how bad it's fucked up. Useless body. If it weren't for the drugs I would have been fine to leave days ago."

"Still seven weeks to go?"

"It'd better fucking be that short. Any longer and I'll go insane from lack of doing anything. I needed to kick the shit out of something a week ago."

Zoro grinned, finally catching wind of some of the energy he knew was simmering under Sanji's surface. "I'm good to fight whenever you feel up for it; don't strain and all though, I'm not going anywhere."

Sanji's whirring hands ground to a halt, and the cook was still before he turned slowly to give Zoro a dark glare, but Zoro could see the amusement shining in his good eye before he turned back to what he was cooking.

"Watch it, marimo. You could barely deal with me fresh off the slave truck, I might kill you after I'm better."

"Take your time," Zoro said smugly, finishing off the tea as he sat back, admiring his handiwork and the way Sanji's shoulders had relaxed slightly. Point for Zoro.

Zoro's eyes found the door at the sound of footsteps, blinking in confusion when Killer appeared in the doorway. He was at the arena this early in the morning? How early did he have to leave Law and Kid's place to get here this early? Killer gave him a smirk before scuttling over to Sanji's side, looking up expectantly.

Sanji ignored him for a good long minute before barely sparing him a glance. "I thought you weren't coming."

Killer shrugged, as unabashed as ever. "Kid asked me to help out at the garage really early." He raised his shoulders innocently and rocking back and forth on his heels. "…I'm still hungry though."

Sanji eyed him quietly for a moment while Killer rocked before cracking a small smile and turning back to what Zoro was pretty sure was soup on the stove. "Go get me some turmeric."

Killer nodded eagerly and bounded over to the counter, just tall enough now at thirteen to reach the top shelf of the spice cabinet and pulled out the bottle of powder, dropping it like a puppy at Sanji's side. Zoro watched as Killer fetched more ingredients at Sanji's direction, a light smirk taking on an excited edge when Sanji told him to get the blood out of the freezer. He pulled a pint out, bounding back over to Sanji and resembling a puppy more and more with every order. Killer was hitting the angsty-teenage years hard—he rarely wanted to be around Law and Kid for an entire day anymore and Zoro irked him more than anyone—and seeing him acting like this was kind of making Zoro stare.

"You can go sit now, I'll finish," Sanji said finally and Killer nodded again, finding a seat next to Zoro, toe tapping excitedly against the ground as he waited.

"How long have you been doing this?" Zoro asked casually, watching Sanji measure out a cup of the thick, red substance and add it to the frothy broth mixture.

"Every morning," Killer answered happily. "Normally it's when you're working out but today Dad wanted me to help with the engine he's been working on. He couldn't reach some tiny wires inside so he let me wire it, you know, after he threatened me that he'd wire my fingers together if I messed it up. But Sanji's food is so good; he makes it so we can eat gradually over the week instead of all at once, so it doesn't make me feel sick. Oh! And me and Franky have been working on my scythes—they're so cool! They've got these reinforced cuffs that go around my wrists so they won't get knocked out of my hand so easily and I can block hits and Dad made the blade longer so I have better reach and they rotate—!"

Zoro grinned, tipping back in his chair. This was the little brother he remembered. "So when are we going to fight?"

Killer smirked in return, leaning forward edgily on the table to get into Zoro's space. "The second they're done I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You kick his ass and I make anything you want for a month," Sanji interjected, setting a plate of food down in front of Killer before hobbling to his own chair with a bowl for himself. Zoro made a face up at him, too late to help but still annoyed that he would be the one to take Chopper's wrath if the little doctor saw that he was allowing Sanji to move around like he was. And Sanji knew too, the asshole.

Killer's grin widened before he grabbed a spoon and dove in, gulping down the contents as fast as he could. His fangs extended automatically and Zoro watched curiously as he took care to get the spoon in his mouth without hitting them. Law had never experimented with cooking blood; Killer had always just drank it once or twice a week depending on how much he went through, and drinking that much usually made him sick enough not to be able to move for a couple hours after eating. Sanji had spaced the blood out enough so that it didn't overwhelm his system, and the fact that it was blended into the food seemed to help his system figure out how to process it. It was kind of fascinating, and Zoro wondered why Chopper wasn't more interested. Unless he was and Zoro had missed that happening already.

Zoro looked over to Sanji, trying to figure out where Law got his hands on all of the blood. He knew that Shanks' men donated all the time—he certainly did—but was that enough? Killer was easy, but how much did Sanji need? His portion seemed much redder than Killer's.

Sanji shrugged, reading his mind. "It's not as much as it looks, it's just a dark color. I used to eat twice as much as Killer does and twice as often, but after the drugs they gave me… I'm still getting back to normal. I thought Killer needed more blood at first and was putting way too much in his food because I normally eat more. It was making him… twitchy. Law suggested that he might need less and has been taking…" he gestured vaguely, voice suddenly tighter, "blood samples for tests and stuff every couple of days. I don't know. It might be an age thing; he might grow into eating more."

"Bu' this way I never haf' to stop to eat and wai' until my body processes it because i's not a lot!" Killer's mouth was half full of food and Sanji made a face and cuffed him upside the head, muttering not to talk with his mouth full of food.

"So you're working on the scythes today?" Zoro asked and Killer nodded. "Well, I guess it's fine. They're close enough to swords."

Sanji rolled his eyes and brought his cigarette back to his mouth to take a drag, blowing the smoke smoothly out of the corner of his mouth. "Shitty swordsman."

"Shit cook."

Killer snorted, wiping his chin where some broth had dripped before he grabbed his bowl and tipped it back, draining the last of the soup while Sanji carefully worked on his own bowl. Killer raced up to the sink when he was done and quickly rinsed the bowl and scrubbed it with a cloth, leaving it with a crash with the other dishes as he dashed for the door, no doubt excited to start working.

"Thanks!" Killer called, already halfway down the hall. Sanji just chuckled to himself and made to stand. Zoro stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and went to finish the dishes, Sanji rolling his eyes again but settling back into the chair to finish his soup and cigarette. His eye had a far off look, like he was processing something deeply. Zoro decided not to bring it up, guessing that it had something to do with Killer, fine to let Sanji think on it himself.

-oOo-