(A/n): I want to apologize for the extended break but I'll keep it short and just say I've been struggling with some pretty awful personal things (/laughs at understatement hahahaha) and I'm sorry you've all waited so many months for this. I'm working really hard to overcome this (/ugly laughter) so I can get back to writing more frequently.
Without further ado, here's an extra loo~ong chapter full of nakamaship~
* 21 22 23 *
After dinner has been eaten and Luffy's licked every plate clean of leftovers, Sanji twists Zoro into helping with the dishes.
Luffy may be busy under the table, sucking savory strongnuff (or whatever) juice off his fingers, but he's not blind or deaf. Zoro grumbles his usual complaints, "You're not my boss, love-cook! Clean 'em yourself," but he doesn't fight when Sanji yanks him up from the bench by the elbow.
And though his swordsman jerks his arm free as soon as he's on his feet, he pulls towards himself and up, awkward but deliberate. Sanji snaps, "Watch it, shitty swordsman!" but he only stumbles a little on his bad leg on his way back to the sink.
"Look alive!" A dishtowel slaps Zoro across the face.
Luffy chokes on a laugh as his swordsman growls, "Cook - !" Zoro pulls his foot back a little, like he might give Sanji a boot in the ass, but his cook is eyeing him, waiting for it, and Zoro lowers the foot and trudges over to the sink instead, muttering, "Thought you wanted me to wash dishes, Prince Dumbass."
"Tch! You can do the drying. As if I'd let you bang my dishes around... You'd just break my good plates, you moss-headed ape!"
"Shut it, curly, or it'll be your face I break."
They stand shoulder to shoulder, only looking up from their tasks to grumble low-voiced threats and hissed insults at each other. Despite the back-and-forth verbal abuse, their postures are loose as they work side by side, Zoro's shoulders even slouched forward a little and Sanji's left hip leaning into the edge of the counter, injured right knee gently bent.
They fall into a rhythm, and the jibes taper off into the sloshing of water and the clinking of plates and glasses. Each time Sanji passes a dish to Zoro, their shoulders brush, a fleeting but firm contact, but they don't speak other than the occasional "Here," or "You missed a spot," with an added "Shit-cook," for good measure.
Luffy leans over Nami's lap and smothers his giggles against her thighs, earning a huffy sigh from his navigator and an iron-handed grip across the back of his neck.
"Luffy! You better not get sauce on my shorts."
"Hands're clean!" he laughs into her lap, even sticking his hands out from under the tablecloth to prove his innocence.
She hums in assent and though she doesn't release his neck, her grasp loosens until it's more of a cozy embrace than a strangulation. Luffy brings his hands back under the table and lies still, determined to pretend - what was that word Robin said the other day - quietude?
"Shishishi," he burbles against one creamy thigh. Nami's fingers squeeze a warning. "Sorry~ sorry," he mumbles with a grin.
He peeks out from under the tablecloth. Sanji and Zoro are growling at each other again, hands busy with dishes even as they shove at each other with shoulders, and elbows, too. Luffy reaches into his sweatshirt and draws out the picture dial, pressing his mouth against Nami's thigh in an attempt to hold in the mirth tickling his throat.
"Luffy, what are you doing?"
"N-Nothin', nothin'!" Her thigh muffles his words and the accompanying sniggers.
He aims the dial at his bickering men.
"It doesn't feel like nothing." Her hand tightens again, but he only grins, his lips and teeth scraping across her smooth skin, and under the cover of her outraged squeal, he clicks the button, just as Zoro parries an elbow jab by Sanji with a forearm and shoves his cook off balance.
"Get off!" Nami rams the toe of her shoe into his side. He topples backwards onto his ass, still laughing, but then Sanji's voice peaks from across the room.
"You shitty fuckin' bastard - would you watch it!"
Everyone in the room turns to blink wide eyes as a string of more inventive expletives bounces off the walls of Merry's little kitchen. Even Usopp looks up from his workshop, looking dazed as he flips his binocular lens up.
Zoro raises his eyebrows at Sanji. Their cook grips the countertop and bends double, holding his injured right leg up off the ground and not even trying for vocabulary anymore, just spitting, "Shit, fuck, you shitty fuckin' piece of shit," at the stony-faced swordsman.
"Sanji," Chopper pipes up as the obscenities wind down to intermittent insults and groans, "please sit down, you really shouldn't be standing at all."
"Cram it," Sanji growls.
"Oi," Zoro says, quiet but hard, a warning that makes Luffy freeze, but Sanji bristles.
"Don't you - " He lifts his injured leg higher, like he might take a swing at his swordsman, but he either thinks better of it or the knee throbs an agonizing reminder, because he drops it again so fast he almost topples forward.
Zoro puts a hand out, just a touch under a shoulder to slow his fall, but Sanji slaps the hand away and straightens up on his own.
He's puffing for breath, though, and his face flushes across the cheeks, from embarrassment or anger or pain - possibly all three, Luffy thinks, with the way Sanji glares at Zoro.
"Sit down before you fall down," Zoro says. He turns back to the sink like the matter's settled, taking a deliberate step to the left so there is no more space for Sanji to stand at the sink.
"I don't take orders from you," Sanji snaps back.
"Oh? Did you need me to carry you to your seat, Your shitty Highness?"
"That does it." Sanji yanks the knot of his necktie loose, his flush darkening as it spreads to his neck. His grip on the edge of the counter tightens, and Luffy opens his mouth as the countertop creaks in protest. Should he laugh at their bickering or intervene?
"Sanji," Chopper starts, but the cook cuts him off with a barked, "No!"
Into the echo of Sanji's shout, Chopper makes a small noise, somewhere between a smothered squeak and a hiccup. Luffy frowns, stuffs the picture dial away, and squeezes up between Nami and Robin, flipping the tablecloth out of the way so he can see his little reindeer properly.
Chopper turns halfway at Luffy's touch. Their hats bump each other. The little doctor's mouth is all screwed up and trembly like he's trying really hard not to cry, and the shimmery wetness in his wide dark eyes is the last straw.
But Nami beats him to it. "Sanji-kun," she says, in that tone, low and slow and careful with that boiling undercurrent of fury - even though it isn't directed at him, Luffy cringes, goosebumps rippling all up and down his arms.
"Yes, Nami-san?" It's a testament to Sanji's anger that his glare doesn't budge from Zoro, who ignores him completely in favor of the remaining dishes.
Nami braces her heels against the floorboards and twists around on the bench, like she might actually get up and beat some sense into Sanji. Swallowing a tremor of hesitation, Luffy flings an arm around her hips to keep her seated, and his other arm around Chopper, hugging them to either side of his face.
Nami huffs, "Luffy," and tries to wriggle free, but he only tightens his hold, grinning as he smushes a denim-clothed bun into his cheek. "Ah! Luffy, you - dammit! Sanji-kun," she says, her voice rising with a wavery edge of exasperation, "Come and sit down!"
The cook turns his head and blinks at the struggling navigator like her words and tone haven't quite sunken in yet. The ruddiness retreats to a faint pink tinge as it dawns on him that his Lady needs him.
Then his eyes shift down, to Luffy and, finally, to Chopper, and his cook grits his teeth.
"Aw, shit, Chopper…" Sanji hunches his shoulders and lifts his hands, not all the way, a kind of nervous gesture that doesn't quite make it to placating defense, like his pride is still too ruffled to allow concession. But then he sighs and looks away as he holds out a hand and says, "C'mon then, Dr. Chopper, I'm at your mercy."
Luffy feels the little tremble that runs down his doctor's spine. He gives him a squeeze, rubbing his cheek into his fuzzy side, and releases him with a pat on the back.
Chopper wiggles on the bench a moment longer but finally breaks out in a grin and stutters, "C-Calling me doctor won't make me happy~ you jerk~!"
He hops down and puts his little hoof into Sanji's offered hand. Sanji's mouth turns up at the corner, but there's a small furrow on his brow as Chopper leads his to the other side of the table and Luffy thinks he hears a softly mumbled, "Sorry, man."
Chopper instructs Sanji to lie down along the empty bench, with his injured leg propped up. Then he says, "I'll need to see your knee, Sanji."
Sanji pauses halfway down to the bench, unlit cigarette falling from his mouth. "What, you want me to take my pants off in front of the Ladies?"
"I could carry you down to the men's room," Chopper says, voice going squeaky with concern.
"That won't be necessary, Chopper," Nami says, turning all the way around on the other bench so she's watching Zoro in the kitchen with her back to Sanji. "Don't worry, Sanji-kun, we promise not to peek."
Sanji straightens up and coos, "Aw, Nami-san, so modest~! But you lovely ladies can look any time~!"
Robin buries her nose in her book without comment, but Luffy catches the small smile she hides before he ducks back under the table.
"Maybe another time, Sanji-kun," Nami says.
"I am a~lways at your service, My Ladies!"
Luffy snickers. Sanji hears it and narrows his eyes at him but at least it's his usual scowl now. "What's that shit-eating grin for," he mutters as he pulls his shoes off and fumbles with his belt. "Don't make me kick your teeth in, ya damn monkey."
His usually agile fingers struggle with his fly and he glances around at the room more than once like there might be strangers hiding in the shadows - Luffy looks too, his cook is so paranoid - but Chopper already has his pack open, a tin of ointment, some bandages, and a few bottles of medications set out in easy reach.
Their little reindeer is waiting, and though he doesn't say anything to rush his patient, Sanji sighs and shucks off his pants in one go. He stretches out on the bench, unsettling the skirt of the tablecloth as he uses both hands to lift his leg up with a gingerliness that betrays how stiff the injured knee has become.
Luffy claps his hands over his mouth in an attempt to hold in his laughter - Sanji's heart boxers are just - oh no, he's noticed his snorting…! But instead of lashing out at Luffy, Sanji reaches a hand down to pick up his fallen cigarette.
Chopper pulls himself up on the bench and tugs the knee brace down. The extent of his knee's condition becomes painfully clear as the elastic bandaging unwinds and falls away. Luffy gasps a little, because the knee is swollen twice its usual size, the skin red and puffy. Chopper lifts a hoof to his mouth, his forehead wrinkling with worry, but whatever shock he feels, he doesn't voice, maybe for Sanji's sake.
Their little doctor does sigh though. "I was afraid this would happen," he says, frowning at Sanji as the cook lights his cigarette with trembling hands. "I told you, didn't I? You've been on your feet all day."
"I'm the fuckin' cook, Chopper," he says around his cigarette, but his voice lacks the fire of earlier. He puffs a little smoke and, Luffy notices, doesn't look down at his knee.
"I - I know. Maybe Usopp can put together some crutches for you… o-or a stool to sit on," Chopper adds when he catches Sanji's glare through the swirling smoke. "For now, your knee needs a massage to get the blood circulating better, and you need to keep it elevated - no moving from this spot, you understand?"
"Aye, aye, Dr. Chopper."
Chopper squirms. "Sh-shut up~! Some ice and another coating of the salve should take care of the worst of the inflammation, at least. Although…" He jumps down from the bench and transforms to Heavy Point. His hands hover over Sanji's knee for a moment before he straightens up and pouts. "My hands are too big to massage you properly, and my hooves are too sharp…"
"Nami-swa~n has such wonderful hands - "
"Only in your dreams, Sanji-kun," Nami says, not even turning around to dismiss the unspoken plea.
Sanji sighs. "Perhaps Robin-ch - "
"No, thank you, Cook-san."
"A-Ah. Rejection…?" Sanji presses a hand to his heart, puffing smoke through his gritted teeth like it truly pains him.
Luffy snorts and grasps the bench's planks. "I'll do it!"
"No!" Sanji and Chopper shout at the same time, Chopper even going so far as to shield Sanji's knee from Luffy's view with his considerable bulk.
"Aw but - "
"No, Luffy, you'll just cause more damage!"
"No I won't," Luffy mumbles through pouted lips, squinting at Chopper, but his doctor doesn't budge.
Luffy pats his hat onto his head and wriggles his arms up through his sleeves until they're ensconced inside his sweatshirt, where he crosses them firmly and glowers at the two men.
"Usopp could do it," Chopper says, turning his head to look over his shoulder at their busily working sharpshooter.
"Hey, Long-nose," Sanji calls, "Dr. Chopper needs your help."
Usopp glances up from the mess of metal and dial guts before him. "Hmm? Chopper-kun needs The Great Usopp's aid? And what venture is this?" Luffy snorts - his sniper must know (the room isn't big enough to allow privacy) because he makes a big show of using the back of a grease-smeared hand to push up his goggles.
Chopper narrows his eyes at Usopp's dirty hands. "Never mind," he sighs. He looks back down at his own enormous hands and seems to be reconsidering the possibility.
"Oi. Move over."
Chopper glances up, blinking in surprise when he finds Zoro standing over his hunched form, drying his hands with the dishtowel. "Zoro?"
"Well?"
"Oh, hell no," Sanji starts, but he sputters over the rest of his objection when the damp towel smacks him in the face.
"Not much choice, is there, curly-cook," Zoro says, his voice calm despite the disgruntled words. His lips tilt up in a smirk like he enjoys Sanji's choked-out profanities as he straddles the bench and lifts the cook's injured leg to rest over his left thigh.
"There're dishes to be washed, you shit-head!"
"Eh? Finished 'em already."
"You better not have chipped any - "
"Zoro?" Chopper pipes in from bench-level, having returned to Brain Point, "are you sure? You have to be gentle." He narrows his eyes at the swordsman, like he doesn't believe he has the gentleness in him.
Zoro snorts at the little reindeer's implication. His eyes slide to the side, meet Luffy's under the fringe of the tablecloth; Luffy holds his gaze, squeezing his arms closer inside his sweatshirt as shivers of anticipation chase down his spine. His swordsman flashes a little teeth. "Are you worried?" He tilts his head to the side, directing the grin at their doctor, his earrings rolling with the motion and glinting in the overhead lighting. "A master swordsman has the power to cut only what he wishes."
Chopper lifts his hooves to his mouth and oohs, his dark eyes wide with glittering awe. "Zoro~ you're so co~ol…!"
"Tch! Just pretty words," Sanji grumbles around his cigarette.
"Maybe to an amateur," Zoro fires back with a pointed look at the supine cook. To the starry-eyed reindeer, he says, "Pass me one of those pillows, will ya?"
"Ah! Of course." He's Doctor Chopper again, selecting the fullest of the pillows on the pallets and placing it with care under Sanji's calve and knee to help stabilize the joint. "Now, Zoro, you'll need to use the salve in that tin there. That one, yes, it'll help with the inflammation."
Luffy hears the lid pop free and scrunches his nose as the bitter smell wafts down to him.
Sanji sighs a long plume of smoke before holding the teetering end of the cigarette away from his face. He reaches for the tabletop; Luffy can hear his hand patting around, probably for an ashtray. He mutters a curse when he doesn't find one, but there's a fluttering of petals, followed by a scrape, of ceramic on cloth-covered wood, as one slides his way.
"Aaah, Robin-chan, tha~nk you~!" Sanji taps the ash off his cigarette and transfers the ashtray to the floor by his side. Zoro waits, each hand curled around a hefty palmful of ointment. His face is blank.
Sanji sighs again, harsher this time like he's saying Get the fuck on with it then, and lies back on the bench, cigarette hand dangling by the ashtray.
"Chopper?" Zoro looks to their doctor for instruction.
"Okay. I want you to start with the knee. Not directly on the kneecap, but down each side, just with your fingertips for now. Gentle pressure, okay?" He doesn't narrow his eyes at their swordsman this time.
Zoro leans forward and lays his fingertips along both sides of the swollen knee. He hasn't even applied any pressure yet and Sanji sucks in sharp breath, which he hides behind a drag from his cigarette, holding his hand over his face even as he coughs and exhales the hurried lungful of smoke.
Luffy hears that hitch, though, and he thinks Zoro does too, because he catches the second glance his swordsman flicks at Sanji's obscured face.
"Cook. This is gonna hurt."
Sanji's raised hand shakes a little, visible only because the cigarette's trailing smoke wavers with those barest tremors, but his voice is calm when the cook scoffs, "Tch! Don't hold back on my account."
In reply, Zoro presses with his fingers, squeezing downward and smearing the salve at the same time, in four straight lines on either side, with only just enough pressure to indent the swollen flesh. Still, Sanji stiffens and chokes down a half-formed groan, and Luffy can see his teeth grinding behind the cover of his hand.
"That's good, Zoro," Chopper says, "Now go back up and do it again, over and over just like that." He's got one of his little pill bottles open, and he shakes out two small red pills. "Sanji, swallow these. They'll help with the inflammation, too."
Sanji grumbles but doesn't refuse.
Zoro follows Chopper's instruction, placing the pads of his fingers back near the crest of the knee and pressing downward, repeating the compressions, press and smooth and back again, so many times Luffy loses count, until Sanji's knee is glistening with the ointment and red from all the rubbing, although Luffy thinks it isn't the same tight glowing redness as before.
"Ooh, that looks better already," Luffy says, leaning forward until his shoulders rest against the edge of the bench and he can smell the soft scent of Sanji's cologne beneath the tingly burn of the salve, and is that an undercurrent of sweat? Sanji glances at him, smirking a little, though he doesn't look down at his knee and his eyes are half-lidded and glossy. Still, his cook lifts his free hand off its resting place on his stomach and pats Luffy's straw hat down over his eyes. "Hey..!"
"It does," Chopper agrees, his gaze not leaving Sanji's knee. "Zoro, why don't you add the heel of your palm to each pass? I want you to press a little deeper, okay? But be gentle around the kneecap still."
"Sure," Zoro says without looking up from his work. On the next compression, he follows the press of his fingers with his heels, digging in and pushing down and across the sides of the knee.
Sanji's back almost leaves the bench as he stiffens again, biting his lip to hold in a cry that Luffy hears anyway, a scratchy growl that doesn't leave his throat. But as Zoro repeats the motion, first fingers, then firm heels, Sanji squeezes his eyes shut and exhales a shaky sigh.
"Ya gonna live, Your curly Highness?" Zoro jeers, pressing his heels into his knee again. Luffy thinks it's almost like how Sanji works the stiffness out of his pizza dough, kneading and smoothing again and again. Except this is flesh, not dough, and it's Sanji's flesh and it hurts.
Zoro's face hasn't changed, but Luffy sees a tightness around his eyes and slightly frowning mouth that he doesn't think are all from concentration.
"Aw, dry up, ya bastard marimo," Sanji counters with a (slightly breathless) sneer, "It doesn't even fuckin' tickle much."
Zoro chuckles, and kneads harder, making Sanji groan aloud. His cigarette has about burned itself out from neglect.
Luffy worries his own lip, biting down with every grunt and expletive Sanji gasps. Chopper seems satisfied with Zoro's work, though, so he doesn't even contemplate interfering. Instead, he wriggles an arm up through the neck of his sweatshirt, doffs his straw hat and pats it over Sanji's flushed, strained face.
"Ah! Luffy…?" Sanji peeks out from under the hat, his ragged breath whiffling the brim a little.
Luffy grins. Sanji huffs a short laugh and tilts his head to the side, not enough to rest it on Luffy's shoulder, but enough for the hat's rough brim to tap it.
Sanji seems to relax under the shade of the straw hat, even remembering to puff some life back into his dying cigarette and tensing only when Zoro hits a particularly sore spot - maybe it's just that his knee is feeling better than it was, but Luffy still utters a pleased, "Shishishi~" before scooting back under the table.
Chopper murmurs, "That's probably enough of that. Now if you can massage the thigh too, rub the muscles deep, that will get the blood supply flowing better and flush away some of this accumulated fluid in the joint."
Zoro's only reply is a thoughtful hum. The tin thumps against the table as he scoops up another handful of the smelly salve. He smears it across Sanji's lower thigh.
"Hey, that's cold!"
"Ya want some stinky cheese with your whine?"
"Don't make me kick you...!"
"I'd like to see you try."
"Guys," Chopper starts, but Zoro grins at the little doctor and digs his fingers into Sanji's thigh, interrupting Sanji mid-profanity.
"Ow! Fuckin' hell, Zoro, are you trying to amputate my leg - "
"Suck it up, prince-chan."
"Chan - ? You - !"
Sanji chokes on the rest of his sentence as Zoro kneads closer to his knee, and Luffy laughs because his cook's face is red as an overripe tomato. Any redder and he might pop - the mental image makes Luffy sputter and snort even harder.
Sanji glares under the table at him. Luffy scoots further under, eyes tearing with mirth, until his shoulders bump the other bench and Nami's back.
Chopper puts a hoof on Sanji's shoulder and squeaks, "Sanji, please calm down! Your blood pressure…!"
"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," Sanji grumbles, tilting the straw hat lower over his face. The brim rustles with a noisy sigh. He brings his cigarette up for another drag.
Zoro falls silent as he concentrates again, the smug curve of his smile diminishing back into a grim line. He's using his whole hands now as he works the thick muscles of Sanji's thigh, thumbs rolling the muscles back and forth while his fingers knead the sides, always following with a long deep press of his heels.
Luffy slouches against Nami, resting his head in the soft curve of her lower back. She's so comfortable he could doze off right there, but at this position, the tablecloth is blocking his view of his men.
So he slumps down to the floorboards and wiggles around inside his sweatshirt until he finds the picture dial and brings it up to the neck opening.
This angle is perfect. He can see right up under the edge of the tablecloth, and while Zoro's shoulders and face are still out of view, Luffy would know those heavy-knuckled hands anywhere, not to mention that scar, the bottom edge just visible on his bare abdomen above the trademark haramaki.
But the hands. Luffy grins, tapping his chin with the dial. Sanji seems to have relaxed again, or he could even have fallen asleep - Luffy can't see his face under the shade of his hat, but his cook's breathing has calmed, his free hand lies limp, slightly curled, on his chest, and his cigarette dangles over the ashtray, barely smoldering.
The room is hushed save the occasional rustle of a page being turned, and the dull background clinks and jingles of Usopp tinkering at his workshop. Even Chopper has settled on the floor by his patients, his herb collection unfolded before him as he grinds something (sharp and bitter, maybe for more ointment) in his little stone mortar.
Sanji's not quite asleep, Luffy learns, although his voice is thick and drowsy when he says, "Zoro. You done this before?"
Zoro hums in wordless assent. There's a pause, in which the swordsman adjusts his angle and digs both thumbs and heels into the muscles on the inside of Sanji's thigh. It must be a tight spot because Luffy sees his thigh's outer muscles jump as Sanji tenses again.
Then Zoro says, "Am I just that good?" and Luffy can't see his face but he hears the grin in his smug question.
"Ch," Sanji scoffs from under the hat, a smile softening his tone as he adds, "Not a fuckin' chance, marimo."
Luffy looks at them through the picture dial, angling it horizontally (well, mostly) so the image inside fills with Sanji's supine form: his tilted head, face shielded by the straw hat, his long torso and his bare hairy leg, glistening with salve, red from frost burns and so much rubbing. And then Zoro's lower half, feet braced on the floor as his patient hands pinch and roll, moving the muscles back and forth and up and down, until Sanji doesn't react to the manipulation, except when Zoro kneads right up to the knee.
Luffy thinks he hears Sanji suppress a yawn under the hat before the cook mutters, "Not bad, though."
Zoro's barked laugh hides the click of the shutter when Luffy presses the button.
"I'd like to see you do better, curly-cook."
"Hah! I'd love to demonstrate on Nami-san~ or perhaps Robin-chan is still a little stiff…?"
Luffy hears Robin's quiet chuckle through the table. "I'm quite alright but I'll certainly keep the offer in mind, Cook-san."
"Nice try, Sanji-kun," Nami says.
"You wound me, Nami-san," Sanji moans in too-well feigned anguish while clutching his chest. "I aim only to please my Ladies…!"
"Quit wigglin' so damn much, ya idiot," Zoro growls, putting a heavy hand on Sanji's thigh to hold his leg still.
"You - aren't you done yet?" Sanji tips the straw hat up a little so he can glare at Zoro.
"You want a proper massage or not? Quit squirmin' so much or I'll break your other knee."
"My knee isn't bro - "
"Actually," Chopper cuts in, "that looks much better, Zoro. I think that'll be enough for tonight, as long as Sanji stays off his feet." He narrows his eyes at Sanji. "Why don't you lie down here on this bed and prop your leg up." Chopper pushes one of the pallets up against the bench.
"Aye, aye, Dr. Chopper," Sanji says with a mock salute before flopping off the bench, to land on the mattress with a floof of surrender from the feather pillows he smushes under his shoulders. The prized straw hat flutters off to the side, rustling against the floorboards.
"Oh, you~ shut up~!" Chopper looks up at Zoro and squishes his own cheeks with his hooves as he giggles - Luffy can't let the opportunity pass…! He snaps another photo before he pulls the dial back into his sweatshirt and rolls closer to their side of the table, worming his way over the bench to fall onto the pallet by Sanji.
"Zoro," Chopper says, "can you pass me that compression bandage and the knee brace?"
"Aw, Chop - "
"Don't you start," Chopper interrupts Sanji before he has a chance to finish his protest. "You just put that leg up already and stay where you are. Or I'll tie you down myself."
Sanji's jaw juts a little as he pouts at the little reindeer, but he lifts his stiff right leg up to rest on the bench. "Fine, fine. Though I wouldn't mind if the Ladies - "
"Don't even say it," Nami deadpans from the other side of the table.
Sanji breathes an uneasy laugh and doesn't say it.
"I'll help you tie him down," Zoro says with a toothy grin as he passes the desired objects to Chopper.
Sanji squints up at Zoro, scrunching his nose like he's caught a whiff of something rank. "You still here, you shitty excuse of a swordsman?"
Luffy laughs, because Zoro cants his head to the left, making his earrings jingle, his grin jerking up a little higher on one side as he says, "Aw but doesn't the wittle prince-chan want me to kiss his boo-boo aw better?"
Sanji bares his teeth and rises up on his elbows like he might make a run for it. Luffy wriggles his arms back up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, just in case. "Don't you fuckin' dare - "
"Heh! Only in your dreams, Sanji-kun," Zoro says with taunting similarity to Nami's earlier rejection.
Sanji shudders. "My nightmares, maybe."
"Isn't that sweet. You gonna wet the bed tonight?"
Sanji pushes himself further up. Luffy snorts back his guffaws - his cook might burst into flames if he flushes any brighter. "C'mere, you fuckin' asshole, and say that again - !"
"Like to see ya make me," Zoro sneers, and he's clearly egging Sanji on. Maybe he wants an excuse to tie the fuming cook up, but Chopper shoves Sanji back down and says, "No, Sanji! M-Maybe Nami or Robin w-will kiss your knee…?" He stares pleadingly across the room but Robin studies her book like she hasn't heard a word, and Nami doesn't even turn around to look at them before she crosses her arms and utters a little hmph!
"My life is over," Sanji moans, throwing an arm over his face. "Burn me at sea so my ashes might some day find All Blue."
Luffy can't hold it in anymore. One explosive Pff! and he dissolves into cackling howls of laughter.
"Luffy, you ass, show some respect…!" Sanji groans, mustering just enough energy to glare at him from under his arm. Luffy claps his hands over his mouth in a (not very successful) attempt to silence his hooting, so he can hear Sanji's hoarsely-spoken 'final speech.' "Who do you think will cook your meals when I am gone? And, oh… oh, I'm going… I'm going… Luffy… Always remember… that you are not alone… and… please take care of… the… Ladies… for… me…"
With one final dying gasp, he goes all limp like a dead fish.
"S-Sanji…!" Luffy sputters around withheld snorts, "You can… count on me…! Rest… in peace…!"
"S-Sanji, no!" Chopper wails, in despair so well feigned that Luffy stops laughing. The little reindeer throws himself over Sanji's chest. "Someone…! Someone, quick! We must… we must… re… res… resuscitate him… before it's too late!" He's a hopeless ball of giggling fuzz by the time he's managed to finish his sentence and Luffy thinks there are tears on both their faces, they're laughing so hard, but he can't be sure - he can't see very well -
"I-I'll do it!" Luffy declares, diving on the sprawled cook. He's got his face cupped in his hands and his lips all puckered up (and slobbery, the better to kiss with, right?) before Sanji springs to life, pushing at his chest and face and screaming, "No! No, no, stop! Stop, stop! I'm alive, I'm alive!"
"Oh, alright," Luffy sighs, drawing back enough to make Sanji relax with relief. He glances up, catches Zoro's expectant eye for a brief, understanding second - then he grins and pounces again, before Sanji's even realized what he has planned.
He plants on Sanji's cheek the biggest, wettest kiss possible in that one second it takes for his cook to overcome his shock and ram a fist into his rubbery face.
Luffy collapses to the mattress, laughing and crying and holding his tingling cheek.
Sanji wipes a hand across his own cheek; it comes away sticky and dripping. "AAGGH, Luffy…! That's disgusting! You fuckin' animal!"
"Luffy," Chopper says, "resuscitation is supposed to be mouth-to-mouth."
"You little shit - "
"Ooh, you think I should try again?"
"Bastard - don't you dare - "
"Gotta make sure he's alive," Zoro adds.
"No! Luffy! Aggh, gerroff! You shitty monkey!"
After two more attempts, Luffy decides his cook's face is far too well guarded and sits back, nursing his aching cheeks. Sanji's panting pretty hard by now, though, so maybe -
"Don't," Sanji starts, lifting a hand in preparation to defend himself.
But the cook doesn't expect his change of target, and Luffy has lunged and clamped his arms around Sanji's injured leg by the time he registers his imminent peril.
Sanji grasps handfuls of his sweatshirt and yanks. He shouts, "Luffy, don't!" and even Chopper squeals, "Luffy, wait, not the - !" but it's too late.
Still, Luffy does take care as he presses a full noisy kiss to Sanji's knee. "Mmmmmwah! There, all better!" He loosens his hold on Sanji's thigh so Sanji can drag him off without causing his cook further harm.
"You ass," Sanji huffs, and while he's still glaring, his mouth turns up a little with the beginnings of a smile.
Luffy grins, his cheeks burning with pleasure and his lips tingling from the ointment.
Chopper squeezes by him, still tittering as he straightens Sanji's leg and starts winding the elastic bandage around the knee.
There is a creak and rasp of bare, calloused feet on tired wooden planks, and then a rustle of straw as his hat is pressed firmly to Luffy's head. The heavy hand that bestows it stays, as its owner sinks to his knees on the mattress by Luffy's side.
"Zoro," he says, beaming at his swordsman, "do you want me to kiss you, too?"
Zoro barks a laugh as he flops over to stretch out on his back. "Only in your dreams, Captain," he says, flashing that same taunting grin as before, even as his eyes droop with impending sleep.
Luffy pats his hat lower, already missing that steady welcome weight, but all the same, he snickers through a toothy smile, "Shishishi~!" content to let it slide - for now, at least…!