Bits of shale ground under Zoro's knees when he hit the floor. He gritted his teeth angrily at the mocking laughter of his captors. He heard the squeak of rusty hinges and the clank of a metal door being shut. "Hope you enjoy the accommodations as much as your friend," one of the slavers sneered. More laughter echoed against stone, fading with their boot-steps.
Zoro bent forward at the waist and shook his head from side-to-side and forward-and-back until the burlap sack came off. A sliver of sunlight shone through the barred casement near the ceiling. A rusted crosshatch metal door imprisoned him in a damp, moldy cell with cracked and flaking shale walls. And sitting in the corner, slumped forward against his chains, was Sanji.
"There you are, you shitty cook. I've been looking all over this island for you." Zoro levered himself to his feet, his wrists trapped behind him by lead irons. Dirt and slaver-blood streaked his white shirt and green haramaki. His neck itched fiercely where a poison dart had struck him. Beneath the bandana tied around his bicep, his arm also itched from the sedation needle.
The sedative made his steps a little shaky and the edges of his vision blur, but hadn't knocked him out. The slavers had hidden in the jungle and had used a blowgun to bring him down. Zoro was annoyed by the cowardly way they'd captured him. He was more annoyed with Sanji for putting him into a position to be captured.
Sanji hadn't been seen since he'd gone off to forage for supplies, after the Going Merry had set anchor near the head of a river delta on a lush, tropical isle. Concern wasn't raised until Luffy found the slave ship with children packed in the hold. It wasn't the only large slave ship, according to one of the surviving slavers, and Luffy and the rest of the Straw Hat crew had taken the children and sailed off in pursuit.
"What about Sanji?" Usopp said, as he struck the makeshift gangplank.
Zoro glanced at Luffy, standing at the ship's prow. Anger and the need for action set Luffy's usually cheerful face
into grim lines. Nami, Robin, and
Chopper had their hands full with the children and getting the caravel ready to
sail. "I'll find him. You guys go. We'll catch up."
Zoro leapt over the rail of the ship and ran into the jungle, where he'd last seen Sanji. He hadn't been too worried leaving the others, knowing that their combined powers made them formidable. It hadn't stopped him from wanting to find Sanji quickly.
Well, he'd succeeded in finding Sanji, though not in the most glamorous way. "Oi, asshole. I'm talking to you," Zoro said, kicking Sanji's foot. As soon as they'd busted out of their cell and cracked a few slavers' heads, they could hurry after their nakama.
But Sanji didn't move, and he didn't respond to Zoro's words or repeated kicking. "Sanji?" Zoro said, crouching to get a better look at him. "Shit."
Sanji's slack features were waxy pale and pinched. A starburst of dried blood covered the curlicue of his eyebrow. A fading pink spot on his neck showed he must've been hit by the blow-dart, too. His wrists hung in manacles chained overhead to the wall. One neatly rolled blue shirtsleeve was pushed higher than the other and Zoro would bet he'd also been dosed with the sedative. Considering Sanji's legs weren't chained, he'd either been put in the cell recently or had been sedated. With Sanji's constitution on par with Zoro's, the sedative shouldn't have worked. Zoro eyed the head wound. He wondered how hard Sanji had been clobbered.
Blowing out a frustrated puff of air, Zoro straightened and examined their cell. It wouldn't be difficult to escape with a Mutoryuu-style strike (once his hands were free) or a kick from Sanji. Pressing his face to the crosshatch metal door, Zoro peered up and down the short corridor outside the cell. The pattern of sunlight playing against the rocky floor indicated more cells on either side of them. Steps led up from the jail and to the slavers' stronghold.
Zoro strained against the lead pinioning his wrists. With his arms turned outward behind his back, he didn't have any leverage and couldn't use his feet to pull the shackle off. He made a mental note to train more, until he could break any bonds.
Sanji didn't stir, at all. The sun shifted through the casement bars and the shadows lengthened into night. The slavers hadn't returned. Zoro's stomach rumbled, as he sat leaning against the wall across from Sanji. He worried the inside of his cheek, trying to think of a way for them to escape. The cell door hadn't yielded to his backwards pulling and his wrists and arms ached from working at freeing himself from his bonds.
"Wake up already, dickhead," Zoro said, to no response. He frowned in consternation. "Nami's shirtless. So is Robin. And I'm feeling them both up."
Not a twitch. The steady rise and fall of Sanji's chest was the only indication that he wasn't dead.
Zoro thumped his head against the wall and ignored the unease tickling the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, deciding he'd had enough of today. Things would look better in the morning.
Morning found Zoro still imprisoned, Sanji still not conscious, and a thunderstorm pounding the earth outside. Heavy rain poured over the edge of the casement window. The slope of the ground made the water pool instead of draining from the cell. Zoro awoke sitting in an inch-deep puddle. He cursed and grumbled, and moved to the drier side of the cell. At the rate the water was coming inside, it wouldn't remain dry for long.
Zoro looked at Sanji, hanging helpless in his chains. Water lapped around his legs, the ground slanting the most towards the corner in which he was sitting. He watched the water deepen, thunder rumbling at his conscience, until a wall-shaking crack-boom prompted him into action. "Aw, hell," Zoro said, climbing awkwardly to his feet. "It's not like he'd bother moving me."
Another rumble of thunder that sounded like a laugh rolled through the cell. "Stupid, annoying cook," Zoro muttered. "Getting yourself caught and forcing me to rescue you." He bent close to study the iron cuffs around Sanji's wrists. There was no visible chafing or blood indicating a struggle, which worried Zoro more than he'd like. It meant Sanji had been unconscious before they'd locked him in the cell, and Zoro had no way of knowing how long ago he'd been brought in. They'd been on the island for three days before they'd found the slave ship and it had taken another two days to bring the rescued children back to the Merry. Sanji had gone missing on the first day.
"What a pain in the ass you are." Zoro pretended he hadn't heard the note of worry in his own voice and shifted his study to the chains' anchor set in the wall. The slate crumbled from moisture and age around the iron ring. He should be able to pull it out, or break the rusty chains, even with his hands locked behind his back.
Turning around, Zoro was careful not to step on Sanji as he felt for the chains behind him and over Sanji's head. He followed their rounded length as high as he could stretch his arms with his wrists clapped. Bracing a booted foot on the wall, he took a fortifying breath and then yanked forward with all of his might.
The anchor came out easily with a shower of broken slate. Zoro pitched forward with the sudden release and landed face-first in the puddle on the ground. Sanji's unsupported body fell forward, too, dragged with Zoro's grip on the chains. His head bounced against the back of Zoro's thigh.
Spluttering and splashing, Zoro flopped fish-like until he could get his knees under him. He shook the water from his face and aimed a glare at Sanji. "This is all your fault."
Sanji lay like a broken marionette and Zoro faltered. Worry and unease tugged at him. Climbing to his feet, Zoro gripped the chains and carefully dragged Sanji across the cell. He settled them in a dry patch, awkwardly arranging Sanji's limbs into a more-or-less comfortable position. Then, Zoro went back to work on freeing them.
Thirst caused him to stop banging his bound wrists against the door. He succeeded in breaking a piece of metal crosshatch, only to slice his skin on the sharp edge. No damage seemed to have been done on the lead shackle.
The rain continued pouring outside and flooding the cell. Water splashed underfoot no matter where he walked. Detritus and flotsam floated on the dark surface of the pool or crunched beneath his boots. He eyed the water speculatively, then knelt, bowed forward, and drank. The water was tepid, but refreshing. He'd drunk worse and lived.
Wiping his mouth and chin against his shoulder, Zoro studied Sanji with a discerning eye. The signs of dehydration were faint, but there, present in his pinched skin and chapped corners of his mouth. A person could only go so long without water. Cupping his hands as best he could, Zoro tried to get water into Sanji's mouth. "Oi, cook, drink before you dry up and turn to dust," he said. But Sanji didn't listen, and the few drops of water that sluiced off Zoro's hands ended up everywhere but in Sanji's mouth.
This isn't working, Zoro thought, splashing water up onto Sanji's face by paddling his hands behind him. He looked between the water and Sanji's mouth. Maybe if he rolled Sanji… but no, that would only serve to drown him, and though sometimes Zoro had a mind to do just that while they were sailing in the middle of the ocean, he hadn't come to rescue Sanji's handsome corpse.
"Damn." The reminder about Sanji's good looks had given Zoro an idea. "Shit. Fuck. Hell." Acting before he convinced himself not to, Zoro bent, sucked water into his mouth, then turned on his knees and sealed his lips over Sanji's. He let the water trickle from his mouth into Sanji's, slow enough in hopes Sanji wouldn't choke. He was breaking one of his strictly self-imposed rules by doing this, so Sanji had better drink.
Zoro had many rules when it came to Sanji. The rules actually applied to all the males aboard the Merry, and several other ships he'd traveled on in the past, but Sanji tempted him in a way that made the rules triply important. No kissing was high on the list, that being the least sexual of numbers two through ten. Sanji-specific rules, such as "no watching him knot his tie" and "leave the galley when he's handling cucumbers, pickles, thick carrots, etc.", had grown in number the longer they sailed together.
Sanji was long and lean, hard and handsome, and could overpower Zoro with the wrap of his legs and a twist of his hips (which led to the rules: "no goading Sanji about his leg hair" and "keep out of hip-distance at all times"). He was exactly what Zoro liked in a man and Zoro had a very difficult time keeping his hands to himself. His only saving graces were that Sanji annoyed the fuck out of him and that Sanji was so stupidly enamored with women that he'd never turn to Zoro for companionship.
Zoro continued helping Sanji to drink, mouth-to-mouth, making sure Sanji was swallowing. Once he felt that Sanji'd had enough, Zoro scrubbed his tingling lips against his shoulder and went back to banging his bound wrists against the door. They couldn't escape soon enough.
The heavy rain didn't let up, continuing overnight and into the morning. The pool of water deepened. Bugs and worms washed in with the dirt through the casement. A rat doing the backstroke chattered a laugh as he squeezed through a crosshatch opening in the cell door and escaped up the stairs. Zoro gave it a baleful look before closing his eyes again. Legs stretched in front of him, Zoro leaned against the wall beside the door, with Sanji's head on his lap. He'd dragged Sanji into the position, using his teeth on Sanji's shirt collar, when the rainwater had reached a level above Sanji's ears.
A small hole had been banged out of the door, though it did little to solve their predicament. The slavers still hadn't returned and Zoro hadn't seen or heard them passing outside. He wondered if they'd been left alone, if the slavers had gone to join the others in a raid. If so, they wouldn't last long; Luffy and the others would see to it. Of course, that meant Zoro and Sanji were stuck in the cell until they escaped on their own or the Straw Hat crew came back for them, whichever happened first.
Zoro dozed for a bit longer, until the rumbling of his stomach woke him. He stared grouchily at the rain pouring outside the window. It was going to be a hassle to get Sanji propped against the wall, so he wouldn't drown while Zoro continued hammering at the door. Zoro looked down at Sanji with a scowl. "Pain in the ass, you are."
Sanji shivered. Zoro's scowl morphed into a frown. Goosebumps were visible on Sanji's bare forearms. His cheeks were pink, though the rest of his face was sickly pale. Not good, Zoro thought, looking around the cell, as if it would provide help for him. He had to get Sanji out of the water before he caught a fever.
"Crap." There was nothing – no ledges or dry spots. With Sanji unconscious, Zoro couldn't stand him up without him falling right back down, unless Zoro kept a hold on him.
Zoro gnawed at his lower lip as he glanced at the broken metal pieces on the door and then at Sanji again. Getting out of the cell was crucial, but he didn't know how long it would take. Staving off a fever would enable him to continue working unrushed. And the storm couldn't last forever.
Making up his mind, Zoro slipped his leg from beneath Sanji and winced when Sanji's head cracked on the ground. "Oops." Luckily, Sanji's nose and mouth remained above water.
Rising to his feet, Zoro nudged Sanji's legs apart and stepped between them. Crouching with his back to Sanji, he grabbed hold of Sanji's belt, then straightened and jerked hard. Sanji's upper body flopped onto Zoro's back as he bent forward. Water sluiced from Sanji's clothes. Zoro told himself that he didn't find their position arousing and trudged over to the wall. He turned around and backed Sanji against it. Slowly, he straightened, using the pressure of his own body to keep Sanji upright.
Zoro was surprised when Sanji lashed out suddenly with all the strength of a kitten. "Hey! Hey! It's me, you stupid cook," he said.
Sanji stopped flailing. "Zoro?" he croaked.
"Yeah."
"Ngh," Sanji grunted, and became a dead weight in Zoro's hands.
"Sanji?" Zoro craned his neck, trying to glance behind him. "Oi, dumbass."
Sanji didn't respond.
Releasing Sanji, Zoro turned around, only to shove Sanji bodily back against the wall before he collapsed to the ground. Sanji's head bounced against the slate and he grunted again. Glazed eyes opened, and Sanji muttered, "About time," before throwing his arms around Zoro's neck and kissing him.
In actuality, it was more like falling onto Zoro's mouth, the weight of his head held up by his lips against Zoro's. Then, he sort of slid off, his head dropping to Zoro's collarbone, and the arms around Zoro's neck went limp. The chain clunked a second time against Zoro's breastbone.
Zoro stared, shocked, at the dented spot in the wall. The kiss had to be a mistake. Sanji had to think that Zoro was Robin. Or Nami in heels. Or some other woman who happened to have the green hair of his homeland. Zoro had seen the glaze over Sanji's eyes. The kiss had nothing to do with him.
Pissed about being kissed with no regard by someone he desired, Zoro wedged a thigh between Sanji's legs and jerked his shoulder. The back of Sanji's head hit the wall again. "Wake up, dickhead."
Sanji blinked open his eyelids, his eyes rolling like a drunk's before they focused blearily on Zoro. Zoro cursed when he saw that a fever had already taken hold. "Zoro?"
"Yeah. We've established that already." Zoro narrowed his gaze when Sanji's eyelids began closing again. "Stay awake! Or I'm gonna forget about saving your ass and let you drown."
"Drown?" Sanji moaned and pressed a hand to his blood-smeared forehead. "Shit, my head hurts. Where's Chopper?"
"Not here. Do you think you can stand on your own?"
"Stand on my own?" Sanji was beginning to sound like a parrot. He blinked several times again, dazed and confused. He caught sight of the chain dangling from the manacle around his wrist. "I… what?"
Damn, Sanji was awake, but obviously not all together. And Zoro had a feeling Sanji wouldn't be awake for long. "Listen, I need you to break my bonds. Can you do that?"
"Break…" Sanji's arm fell limply to his side and his head dipped forward.
"Sanji- Sanji!" Zoro bumped
his shoulder hard against Sanji again and Sanji's head jerked up. "Come on, Sanji. I need you to break my bonds and then you
can sleep all you'd like."
"But I have to make lunch, stupid."
Zoro winced internally. This was not good. "One kick, Sanji. Just one kick." Inspiration hit. "Unless you're too much of a wimp."
Sanji puffed up. "Say that again after I've kicked your head in."
"Tch. You couldn't even break the lead on my wrists, let alone my head."
Familiar fire lit Sanji's eyes under the glaze of fever. "Hold out your hands."
Zoro stepped back slowly, making certain Sanji didn't collapse. He turned around and held his bound arms away from his body. He heard Sanji huff and braced himself.
Zoro sensed the displacement of air as Sanji executed a drop kick. The impact of Sanji's foot against the lead between Zoro's wrists reverberated up his arms. The lead gave, and so did Sanji, crashing into Zoro. Zoro caught him before he hit the ground. "Knew you could do it," Zoro said, tracing over Sanji's slack features. Sweat beaded along Sanji's upper lip and hairline.
The last of the cracked lead fell away from Zoro's wrists as he hoisted Sanji over his shoulder. Facing the door, Zoro closed his eyes and centered himself. He moved sharply and an invisible sword sliced through the crosshatched metal as if it were made of rice paper. He ducked through the opening in the door and, cautiously, climbed the steps leading up from the jail.
Outside the empty guardroom, rain pounded the hard-packed earth. From the doorway, Zoro searched for slavers. Barracks and storehouses crowded the muddy courtyard. Long, low buildings of slate squared the perimeter. His katanas and an eternal log pose to the children's island were in one of the buildings. He couldn't leave without either.
He wished it wasn't raining, as he darted out from the guardroom towards one the barracks. He and Sanji were soaked within seconds. Standing beside a window cut in the stone, he peered carefully inside. Five slavers sprawled in chairs around a coarse-cut table, playing cards and drinking. Double rows of hammocks and sea chests filled a majority of the room. Lanterns hung from the center crossbeam. Zoro didn't see his effects.
He crept on to the next building, a storehouse full of standard supplies of foodstuffs and barrels of alcohol that he wished he could tap. He searched it quickly, but thoroughly, before moving on.
Shifting Sanji to his other shoulder, he wiped the rainwater from his face and jogged across the courtyard. His feet squelched in the mud. The storerooms had been bust and the two other barracks were empty. He had the four buildings surrounding the yard to go. Unless the slavers who'd captured him had sailed off with his—
"Hey! You, there!" One of the slavers had come out of the barracks and spotted Zoro. Zoro cursed his luck and took off running. He dashed into one of the long, low buildings and skidded to a halt.
A dozen bearded brutes with swords drawn blocked the corridor.
Zoro grinned ferally, tightened his grip on Sanji, and met them head on.
He caught the nearest blade on its downswing, twisted his wrist, and wrenched the sword out of the slaver's hand. Flipping it, he closed his hand around the hilt and sliced cleanly through its previous wielder. Steel clanged against steel as he blocked, parried, and disarmed the other men. He kept his body angled, protecting Sanji from being hit.
More armed slavers poured into the building from behind him, as the last of the twelve fell. Zoro sprinted up the corridor, Sanji's head bouncing against his back. Another slaver stepped suddenly into his path from a side-door and he rebounded against the huge man's belly. Cracked, crooked teeth filled the slaver's mouth, exposed when he leered at Sanji's ass.
Zoro's eyes narrowed and he sliced up between the slaver's legs. The slaver howled.
Spinning around, Zoro charged back down the hall, scattering those chasing him. His arm wove back and forth, striking swords and severing limbs. Blood stained the packed dirt underfoot from the fallen slavers. Zoro used their heads as steppingstones on the path to the outside.
Rain slicked the ground and he slipped and skated through the mud, sword-arm wind-milling as he tried to keep upright. He slid right into the next building, bowling through a quartet of slavers. He came to a stop when he crashed into the wall. Shaking the bits of shale from his hair, Zoro leapt suddenly sideways, through an open doorway. A knife whizzed past an instant after he'd moved, embedding itself deeply in the wall where his head had been.
Charts, measuring equipment, and, to Zoro's joy, an eternal log pose were spread on a table in the room. The name on the log pose matched that of the one Nami had stolen off the slavers' ship. Zoro shoved it down the front of his haramaki, whirled around, and lifted his sword to block the attack that came from behind. He heard Sanji smack against the edge of the table and cursed.
Driving the slaver back, Zoro hacked his way out of the room and down the corridor. He wound up outside again, the rain pelting his face and shoulders. He had no idea where he was in relation to where he'd been. Darting forward, he careened against the doorframe and tripped over a sprawl of bodies in the corridor of the next building. Muddy bootprints walked a path on their heads.
The roar of angry slavers sent him running up the corridor to fight in a clear space. He turned on his pursuers suddenly, swinging his sword in a full, high arc. The sword tip got stuck in the ceiling.
"Shit." Zoro yanked on the sword and the ceiling came crumbling down, burying everyone, including himself, under the rubble.
Zoro shoved the slate off, freed his sword, and pulled Sanji out from beneath the broken slate. Sanji was unconscious still, which was good. Zoro didn't want to hear him bitching about Zoro's rescuing skills.
Slinging Sanji over his shoulder again, Zoro used the advantage of the ceiling collapse and sprinted out of the building. He slip-ran across the courtyard, splashing in the mud puddles. Lightning flashed overhead. Bypassing a short, squat building, he entered the one behind it. The corridor was empty. In the first room, he found his katanas, lying on top of what looked to be an important person's desk.
Zoro didn't care whose desk it was, or about the books and papers spread on its surface. He chucked the borrowed sword aside, fastened his katana sheaths where they belonged, and drew Wadou. Ducking out the door, Zoro heard the pounding of footsteps and the irate shouts from slavers outside. He ran in the opposite direction, found a room with a large enough window to climb through, and vanished into the cover of the jungle.
Zoro found shelter from the rain in a rotted tree, its trunk split at the base. It was a tight fit, with Sanji and his long legs snug between Zoro's thighs. Seated sideways, Sanji's face was tucked into the curve of Zoro's shoulder. Every exhalation warmed Zoro's neck and played havoc with his senses. If it weren't for the hot, clammy press of Sanji's forehead against his skin, Zoro would have left Sanji alone, in order to save his sanity.
Zoro's arm tightened around Sanji's shoulder when he shivered. The weather was hot and muggy, but the rain had soaked them to the bone and Sanji definitely had a fever. Zoro hoped Sanji didn't get much worse; he wasn't Chopper and knew only one trick to try if the fever spiked.
"Idiot cook," Zoro murmured, resting his head on the hilts of his katanas, propped behind him inside the rotted tree. He rubbed his right hand up and down Sanji's arm, trying to erase his goosebumps. "You're not supposed to get sick."
Sanji didn't listen to Zoro, as usual. He worsened as the day progressed. Sweat drenched him like the rain. He alternately thrashed and whimpered in Zoro's hold. His shivers came and went, despite his skin becoming hotter and hotter to the touch.
The rain let up finally as twilight settled in. The jungle came alive with sounds that had been drowned out by the storm. Birds twittered from the branches. Bugs hummed with activity. A squirrel-like animal peered into the rotted tree before scampering into the brush.
Zoro had heard the slavers once over the course of the day, but they'd passed without incident. He emerged from the makeshift shelter of the tree, hooked his katanas in his haramaki and Sanji over his shoulder, and headed right, the direction that would lead him back to the river, since he'd gone left after hopping over the Merry's rail. The sooner they left the island, the sooner Chopper could fix Sanji. There had been several smaller ships moored alongside the slave ship that they'd found the children in, and Zoro planned to commandeer one. Luffy wouldn't have left them, otherwise, if there hadn't been means to follow.
Water droplets glistened on deep green fronds and the tall wild grasses lashed lightly against Zoro's legs. He squinted at the sky peeking through the canopy. A wash of gray clouds blocked the rising moon. Once night fully hit, it would be too dark for Zoro to be crashing through the jungle, lugging a sick man.
He proceeded as long as he could, until he tripped over a root hidden by the
night and almost face-planted. He
caught himself and Sanji before they both went down and decided that it was as
good of a place as any to make camp. He
ignored the hungry roar of his stomach – "Pain in the ass, helpless
cook." – and settled against a rough tree trunk. With Sanji nestled protectively between his thighs, Zoro dropped
off to sleep.
When he woke, he found they were three steps from a rocky beach. The sea spread beyond it, deep blue and glittering under the morning sun. The denseness of the jungle muffled the sound of the surf breaking against the shore. It wasn't the river he'd been looking for, but right then, he didn't care, because Sanji was burning up.
"Enough of this sick crap," Zoro told him, jostling him more roughly than he probably should have. "Only wusses let a fever best them." Zoro hated how vulnerable Sanji looked. The damned cook normally fluctuated between slick and lovelorn, but even when he was injured, he hadn't appeared so helpless.
Sanji's head lolled, exposing the fever-flushed arch of his neck. Zoro brushed the sweat-soaked hair off Sanji's face and pressed the back of his hand against Sanji's forehead. Concern balled in his gut, and he lifted Sanji into his arms and carried him down to the beach.
"Shit, Sanji, what happened to you?" Partially concealed by a rocky outcropping, Zoro had removed Sanji's clothing. Bruising discolored Sanji's chest, thighs, and upper arms, an ugly mass of blue-green fading to yellow. Zoro didn't think it was from a beating, because there were no bruises on his face, other than the starburst pattern of blood on his brow, and it was odd to punch someone on the thighs. Trampling would've left boot or hoof-prints.
Zoro wouldn't know the answer until Sanji was coherent and that wouldn't happen unless his fever came down. After stripping his own clothes off and laying his katanas on top of the pile, he cradled Sanji in his arms and walked into the water. The sea felt cool, swirling around Zoro's legs as he stepped past the waves. Sanji stirred weakly when Zoro dipped partially beneath the surface, but he didn't regain consciousness. Half-watching for slavers, Zoro kept him in the water until his teeth chattered, hoping the coolness would bring his fever down.
Sex remained furthest from his mind when he touched Sanji, drying him with a shirt. He redressed Sanji like a ragdoll in his rain-damp clothes, hoping the bruises didn't hurt from the manhandling. Zoro quickly re-donned his own clothes, tied his bandana around his bicep, and lifted Sanji over his shoulder once more. He would've preferred carrying Sanji on his back, using his katana as a lift, but he wanted to keep one hand free in case they ran across trouble.
Facing the sea, Zoro chose to go right again, because he'd still gone left after leaving the Merry, that hadn't changed. He stuck to the shore, his boots crunching on the rocks. The sun beat hotly on his head and dried out his clothing. The air grew muggy as the day wore on. He doubted being in the heat was good for Sanji, but if they didn't find the river, they couldn't get to a doctor. He knew that the river connected to the sea, so keeping along the shore was Zoro's best bet in finding it. He couldn't afford to get lost like usual.
His plan worked. He found the river and the spot where the Merry had been moored. A short distance upstream, the water was cool and drinkable, fresh water flowing from wherever rivers came from to drain into the salty sea. Cupping water with his hand, he helped Sanji drink, silently cursing the tingling of his lips.
"Okay," Zoro spoke out loud, shading his eyes from the bright sunlight, as he looked upstream. "I follow this until we find the ships and then you'll be up and ticking me off in no time." He dipped his bandana in the river and bathed Sanji's sweaty face. "Just a little bit longer, dipshit."
Lifting Sanji again, Zoro continued on. Wisps of white clouds traced faint lines on the vivid blue sky. He first saw the mainmast of the slaver ship that had held the children, rising above the treetops as he followed the bend in the river. Several smaller sailing vessels were moored near the ship. His eyes locked immediately onto a ketch. With two masts, the ketch was built for the open seas. It was sturdier than a sloop and Zoro knew he could handle it alone.
Slavers patrolled the shore. Zoro counted more than twenty, a high number for guarding empty ships, and figured they'd gathered specifically to intercept him. Zoro grinned wolfishly. It wouldn't do to keep them waiting.
Firming his hold on Sanji, Zoro drew a katana and charged. "Ittoryuu— "
Being out in the open, the slavers had seen him coming and had their swords drawn long before Zoro met them. It didn't save them. Zoro twisted and spun, his blade flashing in the sunlight. He blocked and parried fluidly, dancing surefooted over the rocks on the shore. He kept aware of Sanji's position, making sure he didn't get hit. Blood spattered and flowed from fatal wounds. Death cries rattled in the air.
The last slaver fell with a flick of Zoro's wrist. Zoro was disappointed it was over so quickly. He wasn't even breathing heavily. Sheathing the katana, he stepped over the body at his feet and made his way to the ketch. The gangplank bounced as he boarded.
The ketch was on the small side, but well kept. Zoro took note of the scrubbed decks and unfrayed ropes and rigging. Below deck, he laid Sanji on a wide, padded bench seat attached to the wall in a small cabin. A galley stove, pump sink, and icebox took up the space across from the bench. A lantern sat on a navigation desk with chart drawers beneath it, built into the corner. Behind a closed door was the hold, packed with supplies, with a few hammocks stretched between the mainmast and the hull, dangling over casks and crates.
Zoro checked through the supplies for clean water and unspoiled food. Satisfied with the stock, he left Sanji in the cabin and drew the anchor. He kicked the gangplank away, cut the mooring ropes, and released the square-rigged mainsail. The canvas unfurled and caught the river wind. Dashing to the tiller, he piloted the ketch downstream.
When he reached the open sea, he dropped the mizzen sail and the ketch picked up speed. He aimed the bow in the direction the arrow pointed on the eternal log pose, a compass even he could follow without getting lost. Gulls dived beneath the waves alongside the ship, coming up with fish in their beaks. No ships followed them. Zoro set the tiller and watched the horizon in anticipation. It wouldn't be long before they caught up with their nakama and Sanji would be well again.
"They are no longer here."
"What?" Zoro said in disbelief. He'd sailed into the Chin Island harbor with the midday light, looking eagerly for the Merry. He hadn't seen it, only the shells of broken ships and sailing vessels littering the water and the shore. Past the rocky beach, fire scorched and canon-damaged buildings stood as a testimony to the slaver raids. He'd been met by a contingent of elderly and infirm armed men when he'd docked the ketch. Suspicion that he was a slaver had been quickly quashed once he'd said his name and whom he was looking for.
"They gave chase to more slavers who were going to attack Four Head Island," Jarro, the mayor of the island, told him. Women with children peering from behind their skirts had emerged from hiding to gather around the dock. There were no young men present. Zoro would bet they'd fallen victim to the slavers.
Zoro rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension cording his muscles. "How far away is the island?"
"Four days' clear sailing." Jarro motioned to one of the women, who came forward with a log pose in her hand. "We will lend you an eternal log pose to reach the other island and your crew."
Four days was too long. "Thanks, but I can't go yet. I need a doctor." Zoro jerked his thumb towards the ketch. "My nakama on board has a fever."
Jarro showed immediate concern. "Dr. Cleft should be in his office. I'll show you the way."
The town on Chin Island was primarily a collection of ramshackle buildings that had more patches than original walls. Zoro's face darkened with every step he carried Sanji down the dirt street. Townspeople hurried between buildings with their heads down and a fearful air. The slavers attacks had been made with violent repetition. Zoro was thankful that Luffy had ended the slavers' tyranny and reconstruction plans were being made already, according to the scruffy, old Dr. Cleft.
"We'll fix up the school first, to keep the children occupied and out from
underfoot," With a divot in his chin and wisps of white hair on his
age-spotted head, Dr. Cleft continued poking and prodding at Sanji. Zoro leaned against the board-patched wall
in the doctor's office, watching him with a hawk's eye. He'd gotten rid of the manacles on Sanji's
wrists before bringing him ashore.
"Then, hopefully, we'll fix up this old office so I'll have a
better place to work once the construction accidents start pouring in." The doctor's laugh was rusty.
"How is he?" Zoro asked, feeling short-tempered. He was not only anxious about Sanji, but seeing the slavers' destruction of the town had angered him and he had no outlet for it.
"Hmm, fever's pretty bad and it looks like he took a fall somewhere along the line." Dr. Cleft drew the bed sheet over Sanji and replaced the cold compress on his forehead. "Nothing seems to be broken, though, or ruptured internally. The bruising will fade when it fades.
"Now, for the fever," Dr. Cleft continued, opening a cabinet filled with chipped or half-broken glass bottles and jars. "I'll give him some medicine that'll help him fight off any virus. Otherwise, the only thing to do is to get and keep his temperature down. He needs to stay cool, but not cold. If he starts shivering, his temperature will shoot right back up again."
Zoro mentally kicked himself. He'd thought he'd done right by putting Sanji in the water. Instead, he'd probably made the fever worse. "But he'll be okay, right?"
"Time will tell," Dr. Cleft replied. He measured green powder into a glass and added water to it. "You'd said you wanted to pursue your shipmates as soon as possible?"
"Yeah."
"I'll show you what you have to do, so he can travel."
Zoro was surprised. "Is that a good idea? I'm no doctor."
"It's up to you," Dr. Cleft said. "I don't know how long it'll be before his fever breaks."
Gnawing the side of his thumb, Zoro stared dolefully at Sanji. Stupid cook. Zoro wanted Sanji to get better, but he itched to get back to the ship. Chopper knew them all the best, medically speaking, and would probably have Sanji up and annoying everyone in no time.
"Show me," Zoro decided. How hard could it be? He knew how to follow directions, no matter what that she-devil Nami said. Besides, it would give him something to hold over Sanji's head once the dumbass was well again.
He was right: it wasn't difficult at all. Even Luffy could've done it, until he was distracted by a piece of naval lint. Zoro had to feed Sanji broth and water with some powdered medicine mixed in. He was also to keep Sanji cool using a damp cloth.
"You'll know when the fever breaks," Dr. Cleft assured Zoro, as Zoro lifted Sanji into his arms, bed sheet and all. Dr. Cleft set Sanji's folded clothing and shoes in the vee of Sanji's lap, with the vial of powdered medicine tucked into one of the shoes. "He may be tired and weak for a bit afterwards, but time will fix that, too."
"And if it gets worse, the only thing to do is keep doing what I've been
doing," Zoro confirmed.
Dr. Cleft nodded. "There's no cure for a fever. It must pass on its own."
"Thanks," Zoro said. Sanji's head was a warm weight against his shoulder. "I'm sorry I can't pay you—"
"What your friends did for us is more than payment enough," Dr. Cleft said, waving him off.
Zoro gave him a nod of thanks, again. He returned to the ketch and settled Sanji on the bench seat in the cabin. He refreshed the washrag the doctor had given him, brushed Sanji's hair back from his face, and laid it on his heated brow. On the dock, Jarro was waiting for him, leaning heavily on a crooked cane.
"Here is the log pose," Jarro said, handing Zoro the Grand Line compass. "Four Head Island" was etched on its side. " Our only Den Den Mushi was damaged beyond repair, but I've sent a messenger gull to your crew, telling them that you are following."
It was help Zoro hadn't thought of and he felt some tension leave him. Luffy knew he would catch up, as promised, but at least the Straw Hats would have an answer for the delay.
He cast off from the dock, waving back to the children who'd gotten over their shyness and fear to call out goodbyes. The mainmast's sail billowed as it caught the breeze. Zoro squinted at the orange blaze of the setting sun on the horizon. He trimmed the mizzen sail, setting course for Four Head Island.
The stars came out as the sun went down and the temperature dropped. The inky darkness shrouded the ketch on the open water. Zoro held the log pose close to his face, but had difficulty making out the arrow. Locking the tiller, he headed below deck to fetch a lantern.
It was even darker in the cabin, in spite of the window above the bench seat, and Zoro cracked his shin against the navigation desk. "Damn it," he grumbled, feeling around for the lantern. He found it, but ran into another problem – locating matches. "Aw, hell."
Keeping hold on the lantern by the handle, he began searching blindly for the
matches. He rifled unsuccessfully in
the chart drawers. He felt along the
wall to the galley side of the cabin.
The metal lantern clanged noisily against the icebox. Dishes clattered as he went through the
cabinet overhead. He kicked one of
Sanji's shoes and stopped mid-frustrated curse. Sanji smoked, which meant he had matches.
Zoro smacked his forehead in stupidity. The lantern in his hand banged him in the face. Crouching, he groped along the floor (where he'd thrown Sanji's clothes after securing the medicine) until he located Sanji's trousers. A crumpled pack of cigarettes and matches were in the front pocket. He tossed the cigarettes aside and lit a match. The orange-yellow flame burned brighter as he touched it to the lantern's wick.
The light cast deep shadows across Sanji's shivering form under the sheet. "No, don't shiver. Shivering is bad," Zoro said, hurrying over to him. He took the lukewarm washrag from Sanji's forehead and threw it over his shoulder, into the sink. Tucking the sheet more firmly around Sanji, he rushed into the hold in search of a blanket.
Zoro ransacked the supplies packed in the hold. He went through stacked crates of fruits and vegetables, bags of flour, salt, and grain, and casks of water and alcohol. He found spare rope, metal and wood for patching, tools, and soap. He got his foot stuck in a piss-pot and broke a jar of nails that rained onto the floor when he kicked off the pot. But there was nothing that looked like or could be used as a blanket. The night weather outside was more pleasant than cold for sailors in good health, eliminating the need for blankets on board.
"Damn it." Zoro should've checked before they'd left Chin Island. Sanji was entrusted to his care and he'd already screwed up. Leaving the hold, he searched the main cabin for anything that would help and came up sparse. He redressed Sanji in his trousers and shirt. Propped up, Sanji pressed his face against Zoro's neck with small noise of discomfort, as Zoro put Sanji's goosebump-covered arms through his sleeves. "I know. I know. I'm trying."
Zoro pulled off his own shirt and tugged it over Sanji's head. Dirt and bloodstains marred the dingy white material. Sanji swam in it, with their difference in bulk, but hopefully it would add a layer of warmth. Zoro tucked him beneath the sheet again, but he still continued shivering.
"You really don't like me, do you?" Zoro said, with resignation. He knew of one guaranteed way to warm someone up. It wasn't like he could build a fire in the cabin without the ship going up in flames. Grabbing the lantern, he went above deck to secure the sails and lower the anchor. He didn't want to get too off course while he wasn't at the helm.
Returning below, Zoro set the lantern next to the matches and log pose on the navigation desk, lay his katanas on the floor beside the bench, and stripped out of his haramaki and boots. Sanji was still shivering and Zoro set his jaw to withstand the forthcoming torture. Dousing the light, he climbed beneath the sheet and shifted Sanji until he lay on his side, facing the back of the bench seat. Zoro curled over and around him, hating how they fit perfectly together, wishing he were anywhere else. But he knew from past lovers that his body was like a furnace, and Sanji had to stop shivering.
Resolutely, Zoro closed his eyes and pretended he didn't like the snuggling.
Sunlight striking Zoro in the eyes woke him and he nuzzled his face in greasy, musty smelling hair in attempts to hide from it. A beat later, he jerked back in surprise and tumbled off the bench seat. He struggled against the sheet cocooning him, flopping on the floor until he got his arms free. Sitting up, he stared at the back of a blonde head and the flushed curve of a neck until his brain woke up, too. Sanji. Shivering. Snuggling. Shit.
Zoro dragged his hand over his hair, untangled his legs, and climbed to his
feet. He spread the sheet over Sanji
and pressed his palm against Sanji's forehead.
Warm, but not burning, and he wasn't shivering any longer. Zoro trapped his erection with the waistband
of his trousers and went to cool the washrag in the sink.
Zoro left Sanji with the damp rag draped on the side of his neck and stepped into the morning sun. The salt of the ocean was heavy in the breeze. A large fish with sharp teeth jumped and caught a gull flying too close to the waves. Zoro leaned his katanas against the outside of the cabin, rinsed his face from the barrel of rainwater, and pissed over the side of the ketch. He tried not to stroke his hard prick and failed. Bracing one hand on the rail, he jerked off while hunched over, embarrassed by his lack of control. It was all Sanji's fault, with his neediness and comfortable fit in Zoro's arms and managing to look so fucking desirable even when sick—
"Nnngg," Zoro grunted and came, spattering the deck with white streaks. He rested his forehead on the side of his bicep and caught his breath. Eventually, he straightened and eyed his limp prick. "This is gonna be a daily thing, isn't it?" he sighed, tucked himself away, and wiped his damp hand on his trouser leg.
Zoro drew up the anchor, unfurled the sails, and adjusted the course using the log pose. With the loss of time spent not sailing at night, it would take longer to reach Four Head Island, and it would feel even longer than that. Damned cook.
Zoro shook his head like he could shake thoughts of Sanji from his brain and locked the tiller. He picked up a katana, unsheathed the blade, and began his training routine. He didn't have his weights, but he'd make do.
The repetition was soothing and he was in a better frame of mind when he finished for the morning. Sweat dotted his chest and under his arms, and he made use of the rain barrel again before heading below. The cabin was becoming warmer as the temperature rose outside. Zoro dug out a pot, filled it with water from the pump sink, and set it on the stove. Vegetable soup was the only thing he knew how to make despite the inordinate amount of time he'd spent watching Sanji in the galley. But since broth was all Sanji needed, they'd both lucked out.
Sanji stirred and was sweating profusely by the time Zoro finished feeding him. Zoro took off Sanji's dual layers of shirts, cooled off the washrag, and wiped him down. He bit harder on the inside of his cheek at the soft sound of pleasure Sanji made, as he slid the rag over Sanji's flushed torso. His better frame of mind was lost under an onslaught of lust and his hands trembled with restraint.
"Good." Zoro almost jumped at Sanji's mumble. Fair lashes fanned as Sanji opened his eyes, but he didn't really focus on Zoro. The haze of fever was evident still. "Feels… don't stop…"
"You're more evil than Nami," Zoro declared, leaning closer as he smoothed the rag under Sanji's chin.
A heart bubble floated from Sanji's besotted smile and popped in front of
Zoro's nose. "Mmm,
Nami-swan."
Zoro snarled, more at himself than at the love-struck idiot. He folded the rag and dropped it on Sanji's forehead, threw the sheet back over him, and stomped out onto the deck. Then, he stomped back into the cabin, grabbed his food, and stomped back outside. He wasn't pouting – real men didn't pout – but he was put out and pissed about Sanji acting like Sanji. It wasn't as if he expected anything else. He was letting this taking care of Sanji thing cloud his common sense.
Several thousand sit-ups and push-ups cleared his head and gave him direction. He was stuck in an unavoidable situation that put him in close, constant contact with a man he desired. He decided to treat it as a test of willpower. Sanji may tempt him with his helplessness and tap into Zoro's need to protect, but Zoro wouldn't allow it to go to his heart – Rule Number One saw to that. Besides, once Sanji's fever broke, he'd be back to his annoying self and things would return to normal.
Decision made, Zoro fell into a routine with Sanji. He'd spend most of the day on deck, maintaining their course and keeping up with his training. He'd check on Sanji regularly, making sure he stayed cool, alternating giving him broth and medicine, and cleaning up after him. Sanji would mumble and fuss and lean into Zoro's touch, but Zoro behaved towards him like he would any of his nakama. He also only jerked off twice a day.
At night, when the temperature dropped sharply, Zoro would raise the sails, lower the anchor, and crawl under the sheet beside Sanji. Cuddled with Sanji for warmth, Zoro slept deeply and more comfortably than he did in his own hammock on board the Merry. He blamed it on not napping during the day.
The four days' sail turned into seven with no island in sight. Zoro trimmed the sails as he watched the needle on the log pose. He manned the helm on a steady course until his rumbling stomach told him it was lunch.
Zoro warmed leftover vegetable soup from breakfast and ladled the broth into a dish. He really needed to learn how to cook something else. He'd have Sanji teach him, if it wouldn't end in bloodshed.
The katana sheaths clinked as he sat on the edge of the bench seat. Sanji looked much better, his face not as flushed as that morning. He felt cooler, too. Zoro tossed the washrag in the direction of the sink, slid a hand behind Sanji's bare shoulders, and sat him up. Sloshing a little broth, Zoro settled Sanji in the curve of his arm, leaning sideways against his chest. "Hey, sickboy, time to eat."
"Hn." Sanji drank from the dish when Zoro tilted it against his lips. His nose wrinkled and he drew his head back. "It tastes like crap."
The corners of Zoro's mouth twitched. "Then get up and make it yourself."
Sanji looked exhausted, but his eyes were clear when he opened them to stare bewilderedly at Zoro. "Why the hell are you feeding me?" He became aware of their position and jerked away from Zoro. "What the fuck? Don't touch me, marimo-head. Why are you grinning like an idiot?"
Zoro laughed. Someone's fever obviously had broken. He shoved the dish of broth into Sanji's hands and stood. Sanji swayed a little from the lack of support, but didn't keel over. "Finish all of that. Doctor's orders."
Sanji glanced around as Zoro ladled soup into a bowl for himself. "Where is Chopper? This doesn't look like the Merry."
"Don't you remember, stupid cook? You got yourself captured by slavers. I had to rescue you."
"Of course, I remember!" Sanji frowned and then touched the side of his neck. The bruises on his body and lump on his forehead had faded completely two days ago. "Something stung me, and then there was a deep hole in the ground…," he trailed off and rubbed his right temple, grimacing in pain. "Chopper?"
"Not here." Zoro disguised his concern over Sanji's health by stuffing food in his mouth. "Jus'mwe."
"Wonderful," Sanji said flatly. He looked out the window, where the open sea stretched beyond the panes, and slumped heavily. "You got us separated from the crew."
"I did not! You were the one in need of rescuing, target-brow," Zoro said. "I had to leave the others to fight alone in order to go after your skinny ass. And if you weren't such a wimp, we'd have caught up to them by now."
"I am not a wimp." Sanji's
glare would've been more effective if his eyelids weren't drooping. "You probably got us lost and are
making up some shit story to cover your brainlessness."
"Your being sick is what's slowing us down." Zoro set his soup on the edge of the sink, went over to Sanji, and took his dish before he dropped it. He gave Sanji a light shove and Sanji fell back onto the bench seat.
"Asshole," Sanji cursed, struggling ineffectually against Zoro's hand pinning him down. "Get away from me."
"Shut up and go back to sleep," Zoro said.
"Don’t tell me what to do."
"Fine." Zoro shrugged and
carried the dish over to the stove. He
dumped the broth back in the soup pot and put the dish in the sink. Picking up his own bowl, he headed for the
door. "I'll be on deck. You do what you want down here."
The bright sun hung hot and high overhead, drying his and Sanji's washed shirts, spread on the foredeck. Zoro's earrings chimed in the wind as he checked the log pose. Seeing they were still on course, he leaned against the stern rail and ate his soup. Sanji never came out of the cabin. Zoro found him sound asleep, sitting upright on the bench seat, when he went back inside a short while later. He put his empty bowl in the sink and shifted Sanji, with only a snore of protest, until he was lying down. Zoro spread the sheet over him, brushed his hair away from his face, and sighed. "Glad you're better, dumbass," he said quietly.
Leaving Sanji to sleep, Zoro returned above deck and the routine of his day.
Zoro yawned and scratched under his haramaki as he descended below deck. He set the lantern on the navigation desk and doused the wick. In the dark of the cabin, he hopped on one foot and then the other, removing his boots. Fatigue draping over him, he felt his way over to the bench seat, stubbed his toe, and let out a muffled curse. Sitting on the edge of the seat, he flung his haramaki somewhere and laid his katanas within easy reach.
Another yawn cracked his jaw and brought tears to the corners of his eyes. He smacked his lips tiredly and slid under the sheet. Curling around a shivering Sanji, he slipped his hand between the two shirts Sanji had donned earlier for warmth, made a mental note to tease Sanji for giving in about wearing Zoro's shirt, too, and relaxed into sleep.
A sharp elbow to his gut woke him right up again. "Mmnph, what?"
"What do you mean 'what'? What the fuck are you doing?"
"Sleeping." Zoro tightened his hold when Sanji wiggled, because wiggling was bad for Zoro's libido. "Stop moving."
"Get off me!"
Zoro grunted when he got jabbed by Sanji's elbow again. Sanji was still very weak from being ill, but his bony elbow had a sharp point. "What is your problem? I'm tired and want to sleep."
"My problem?! My problem is that you're wrapped around me like kelp around sushi. Get off!"
"Can't." Zoro shifted so he could pin Sanji's arm and further immobilize him. "The doctor said shivering would make you sicker."
Sanji struggled futilely. "Then get me a blanket, dipshit."
"Can't. Don't have any."
"You—"
"Sanji, just shut up and go back to sleep," Zoro said, with a tired sigh. He wasn't in the mood to argue. "You're nakama, you're sick, you're cold, and I'm taking care of you the best I can. Deal with it."
Sanji had gone still midway through Zoro's short speech. He was quiet a moment, before muttering, "Fine. I'm sleeping under protest, though."
Zoro buried his face against the nape of Sanji's neck. "Sleep however you want, just do it."
Sanji remained tense for a long time. Sleep lapped at the edges of Zoro's consciousness, but he stayed awake, not trusting that Sanji wouldn't leave the makeshift bed and catch back the fever that had just broken. Zoro felt Sanji relax in increments until he finally nodded off. The sound of Sanji's steady breathing lulled Zoro after him, into dreams.
Morning brought the sun shining low through the window and Sanji sprawled over Zoro like a blanket. It would have been amusing, with all of Sanji's protesting the night before, if Zoro's usual erection wasn't pressed intimately against Sanji's thigh.
"Nh, huh?" Sanji mumbled blearily, as Zoro escaped quickly from under him.
"Nothing. Go back to sleep."
"Mmrf." Sanji folded his arms beneath his head and started snoring. Zoro's lips curved and he straightened the sheet over Sanji before heading out on deck.
Zoro stretched and scanned the horizon. He saw nothing but the endless blue of the sea in every direction. He used his bandana to tie the log pose to the tiller, so he wouldn't lose it, and leaned his katanas against the outer cabin wall. He dropped his haramaki on the deck beside them. Whether it was because of the strong possibility of being caught or the remembered feeling of Sanji using him as a body pillow, Zoro's routine jerking off was over fast and he came hard in his hand.
By the time Sanji emerged, Zoro had the sails unfurled and the ketch cruising
the waves at a steady clip. Zoro was
swinging a katana in a repetitive slice, keeping it at a perfect angle as he
counted off to himself. Sanji shielded
his eyes, a pack of cigarettes and the matches in his hand, as he looked out
over the water. He braced himself
heavily against the cabin's outer wall, unsteady on his bare feet. He was still wearing Zoro's shirt over his
own, the collar of the blue dress shirt beneath it poking up into his
chin. The loose white shirt billowed in
the breeze, one sleeve scrunched on Sanji's shoulder. Sanji's dress shirt extended beyond the short sleeves of Zoro's
and hung loose around his wrists, the cuffs unbuttoned. His hair was mussed from sleeping, fanning
up in the back. He appeared very
tired, and pale, but that didn't stop Zoro from being captivated by him.
Zoro's swings slowed and counts scattered in the wind. Something warm spread through his belly. Dipping his head, Sanji struck a match and lit the tip of a cigarette. Closing his eyes, he took a drag and lifted his face towards the sun.
Zoro's cheeks felt hot, his trousers tight, and he jerked his eyes away. Rule Number 249: don't let Sanji wear your shirt anymore. Ever. No matter what. Period.
"Oi, marimo-head, where are we heading?"
Cigarette smoke floated from between Sanji's lips as he spoke. Zoro started swinging his katana aggressively. "After Luffy and the others."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Sanji scowl. "I figured that much out myself, moron."
"Then why did you ask?"
"So I know how long I'll be stuck with your shitty self."
"I'm not too glad to be stuck with a wuss like you, either."
"I am not—" Sanji drew up straight, defensively, and immediately swayed with nothing bracing him. Zoro sheathed the katana and caught Sanji before his knees hit the deck.
Zoro pressed his palm against Sanji's forehead. It was damp with a light sheen of sweat, but not hot. He didn't want to take any chances, though, that the fever would return. "Come on, back to bed with you."
"I'm fine. Stop—Zoro!"
Zoro scooped Sanji up in his arms and carried him back into the cabin. Children hit harder than Sanji's blows of protest. Red-faced, with the cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth, Sanji glared murderously as Zoro deposited him on the wide bench seat. "Do that again and I'll cut your hands off."
"I'd like to see you try." Zoro fetched the washrag from the sink, cooling it down before bringing it over to Sanji. "Here. Don't let your fever come back."
Sanji snatched the rag from him. "Fuck off."
Zoro could see he was already wiped out, from the walk to the deck and the fighting. "Sleep, you stupid cook," he said, smoothing down the collar of the dress shirt. "I'll wake you up when we reach the island."
Sanji stared at him with a slightly befuddled look. Zoro took that as acquiescence and left him alone in the cabin.
Sanji was asleep, the washrag covering his eyes, when hunger brought Zoro back below deck. Sunlight streamed through the window, cutting in at a high angle, highlighting Sanji's profile. He had shed Zoro's shirt, which caused Zoro an odd pang when he saw it in a heap on the floor.
Zoro left it where it lay and went over to the icebox. It was more leftover vegetable soup for a meal. He put the pot on the stove, added a little water, and turned on the burner. Stirring it with the ladle, he wondered if Sanji could eat actual food now, or if he was supposed to stick to broth. He should've asked Dr. Cleft.
"What smells like shit?"
"My soup does not smell like shit."
"That's soup?"
Zoro glanced over his shoulder, as he fetched a glass. "Don't move," he ordered.
Sanji finished sitting up and shot him a glare. "Don't tell me what to do."
"I can and I will. You're gonna stay there and rest until Chopper says otherwise." Zoro filled the glass with water, dumped a measure of powdered medicine into it, and stirred.
"Make me," Sanji said, pushing to his feet.
Zoro crossed the cabin and poked him lightly in the chest. Sanji fell back onto the bench seat as if
Zoro had shoved him hard. Smirking,
Zoro held out the glass.
Sanji looked like he wanted to knock it out of Zoro's hand, but he finally took it and drank the contents down. Zoro had explained the medicine the evening prior, when he'd given it to Sanji for the first time since he'd regained semi-normal function.
Taking the empty glass, Zoro waited until Sanji sat back and folded his arms with a huff before putting the glass in the sink. "How long until we get there?" Sanji demanded to know.
Zoro shrugged, taking two bowls out of the cabinet. "Later today, maybe. Or tomorrow. I was told it's four days between islands, but that's if we'd sailed nonstop."
"Why the hell didn't you?"
"Because your skinny ass was cold every night," Zoro said with a
pointed look.
Pink bloomed on Sanji's pale cheeks and he averted his eyes, but still, he growled, "Tell anyone and you're dead."
"Like I'd want anyone to know," Zoro scoffed. He dished soup into the bowls and gave the
one that was mostly broth to Sanji.
Sanji made a face after eating some of the soup. "You call this food?"
"It's edible, ain't it?"
"Barely." Sanji had another sip from the broth and grimaced. "And that's giving it too much praise."
Leaning against the navigation desk, Zoro ate a bite. It tasted fine to him. "Not all of us are snooty chefs with snobby palates."
Sanji's curled eyebrow arched. "Since when did you know what a palate was?"
"Since I've had to listen to you bitch about my common one as long as I've known you."
Sanji continued arguing with him as they ate, which was relievingly normal. Zoro rubbed in the fact that, for all his complaining, Sanji finished his bowlful. Drowsiness thickened Sanji's voice while Zoro washed the dishes, and by the time Zoro returned with the empty and rinsed piss-pot, Sanji was asleep again.
Four Head Island appeared off the port side as the sun was just touching the horizon. Four atolls spiked the long island, waves crashing against the base of the reddish rock. The wreckage of crashed ships dotted the black sandy beaches and floated in the surf. Zoro counted five masts spearing through the surface of the sea, marking the graves of sailors sunk with their ships. Weathered docks, with a few small sailing vessels tied up, bobbed with the rolling water. Feeble men armed with farming tools and crude weapons gathered as Zoro brought the ketch into a berth.
Zoro jumped nimbly onto the dock and tied off the ketch. Like on Chin Island, the locals were welcoming once they saw who he was.
"Roronoa Zoro, we've been expecting you," the spokesperson, a lanky, grizzled old man who went by the name of Massie said, clasping Zoro's hand. "We cannot thank the Straw Hat pirates enough for what you have done for us."
Zoro felt awkward, since he hadn't been present for the fight. "It was nothing."
"Nothing!" Massie said. "We've been under the thumbs of those slavers for seven years! No, your nakama freed us from our wretched existence and gave us hope again. How can we repay you?"
"Uh, if you just point out where the Merry is moored…"
"They were chased off three days ago by the Marines." Massie scowled fiercely. "Those bastards finally show up after
the fighting's been done to try and arrest the real heroes."
"You mean, they're not here?" Zoro couldn't believe it. He'd missed the others by three days. If he'd sailed through the night from Chin Island, he and Sanji would've been back in time. "Great. Just great."
"We will be happy to provide you with any supplies you need, so that you may leave to catch up with them," Massie said.
Zoro rubbed his forehead and resigned himself to having to spend more time with
just Sanji. "You got a doctor on
this rock?"
"Yes, of course." Massie's broad forehead wrinkled in concern. "May I ask what ails you?"
"An annoying pest." Zoro dropped his hand and turned towards the ketch. "I'll be right back."
Sanji had buttoned his shirt cuffs and smoothed his hair when Zoro returned to the cabin. "Where's Luffy?" he said. He was sitting on the edge of the bench seat, looking anxious to leave. Zoro was surprised he hadn't come out on deck already, but then he saw that Sanji's shoes were still where Zoro had kicked them out of the way. That he hadn't fetched them screamed that he still wasn't feeling well, at all.
"They left already."
"What?!"
"Marines," Zoro said, answering the question he knew would be coming. He picked up his shirt from the floor and pulled it on.
Sanji slumped and took a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. "How long ago?"
"Few days. We'll catch up." Zoro waited until Sanji had lit his cigarette before crouching in front of the bench seat, with his back to Sanji. "Climb on. And don't light my hair on fire."
"I can walk, asshole."
Zoro shot Sanji a barbed look over his shoulder. "Do you want me to carry you like a girl again?"
"Your hair would look better on fire," Sanji grumbled, and climbed reluctantly on Zoro's back.
Zoro hooked his arms under Sanji's knees and stood. Sanji strangled him with his sudden grip around Zoro's neck. "Urgh. You're choking me."
"Good," Sanji said, but then loosened his hold. "Where are we going?"
"To see the doctor."
The main village on Four Head Island had withstood the damage caused by the slavers, mostly because the men had given themselves up to protect their town. Native yellow grasses waved with the breeze, bordering the village and spreading over the low hills. Shops and homes were built with dark wood scoured by the volcanic sand carried on the wind. The scents of fresh breads and cooking meats wafted from open doorways. Women in faded clothing carried baskets from shop to shop, nodding to the few hobbling old men who patrolled the street.
Dr. Brow had a nicer office than Dr. Cleft and a nurse that turned Sanji's eyes into hearts and made him simper. As much as it disgusted Zoro, it was a good sign for Sanji's overall health.
"How is he?" Zoro asked, while Sanji availed himself of the doctor's bath. Sanji had kicked him out during the exam and he'd paced around the tiny waiting room until Dr. Brow had finally finished.
"Weak, and he'll sleep a lot for a while, but he's on the mend," Dr. Brow said. "As long as he doesn't get chilled, there's no need to worry any longer."
"Who's worried?" Zoro said by rote, and headed for the door. "I'm going to see to our provisions. I'll be back for him in a bit."
Stepping out onto the street, Zoro was promptly bowled to the ground by a group of rambunctious children. Scuffed and dirty, and on the thin side, they stared at him with terrified eyes and cringed. He hated it.
"I'm hit!" he said dramatically, pressed his hands over his heart, and pretended to go into death twitches. He'd seen Usopp do this before and the reaction it created. He had to do something to get those looks off their faces and there was no one left for him to beat up.
Zoro twitched one last time and went still, his tongue lolling from the corner of his mouth. A small finger poked him. "Hey, Mr. Swordsman? Are you alive?"
"Nope. Dead."
"Dead people don't talk."
He opened an eye. He counted seven kids, under the age of ten, crouched in a circle around him. Beyond their heads, he could see some of the townspeople watching. He dismissed them as unimportant. "Ghosts do."
More pokes. "You're not a ghost. You can't touch ghosts."
"Who says?"
One of the boys puffed up knowledgably.
"Ghosts are incer- inco- incraporeel."
A girl with braids and bruised knees cupped her hand over Zoro's ear and whispered, "That means you can see through them."
"Ah." Zoro opened both eyes and scratched his chin. The kids tensed but didn't run. "Maybe I'm a tree?"
"You're not a tree," another of the girls said. "That's just silly."
"Oh yeah?" Slowly, Zoro sat up and pointed at his head. "I'm green like a tree."
Four of the seven leaned closer, staring at Zoro's hair. The girl who'd whispered in his ear reached out to touch it. "It feels like grass."
Zoro was glad Sanji wasn't near to hear that, or he'd never live it down. The girl's bravery and words prompted the others to touch his head. "Can you grow flowers?" the youngest boy asked with a hopeful expression.
He'd never, ever live it down. "No flowers," Zoro said, "but I do give shoulder-rides."
"Me first!" the youngest said immediately, scrabbling onto Zoro like a monkey. Zoro chuckled and lifted the kid onto his shoulders properly. Standing, he pretended to sway and stagger under a heavy weight. Squeals and the child's laughter filled the air, clearing the fear that had lingered.
"I want a turn!" "And me!" "I'm next!"
Zoro gave them each turns and pretended to lose the eldest boy, holding him upside down by the ankles, dangling behind Zoro's shoulders. Spinning back and forth, he asked, "Where'd he go? Where'd he go?" More squeals and laughter graced his ears. Zoro grinned at the continued cries of "My turn!" He held out his arms to the sides and spun in a slow circle with kids dangling from him. Smiles were turned in his direction by the townspeople, as they continued on with their business after deciding Zoro meant no harm.
Pleased with himself, Zoro chased the kids off with various little tasks, like finding him some apples and bath soap. He was greeted warmly at the shops he stopped in at, to gather the real supplies. No one charged him, though he was prepared to trade menial labor for the items. He got cigarettes and matches for Sanji (having experienced the horror of Sanji running out of smokes on the open sea) along with additional wicks, oil, alcohol, and fresh water casks. Massie gave him a set log pose when he ran into the old man and there were a number of volunteers to lead him back to the doctor's office when he got lost.
"About time you showed up," Sanji said, swinging his legs over the side of the infirmary bed. Considering Sanji had been asleep when Zoro had arrived, Zoro doubted the wait had been hard.
"In a hurry to go back to sleep?"
"The sooner we leave, the sooner we catch up to the others and I can pretend you no longer exist again." Sanji climbed onto Zoro's back and Zoro straightened from his crouch. "Nami-swan and Robin-chwan must be miserable and wasting away without me."
Zoro rolled his eyes and headed out of the doctor's office. "Goodbye, Mr. Swordsman," "Bye, Mr. Swordman," "Goodbye," "Safe sailing, Mr. Swordsman," was wished upon Zoro with every townsperson he passed. He nodded politely and ignored the feel of Sanji's incredulous stare at the back of his head.
"Mr. Swordsman!" the children from before clamored on the docks, where he'd promised to meet them. A small crowd of well-wishers had gathered, too.
"You carry big people, too?" the girl who'd thought him being a tree was silly said with awe.
"Just the wimpy ones," Zoro said, earning a kick in the thigh by Sanji's heel. He barely felt it.
"Can I have another ride?" one of the boys asked.
"Me, too!" "I want one!"
Zoro shook his head. "Sorry. Sanji and I have to be leaving."
"Awwwww," "Don't go," "We want another ride," the kids protested with disappointment.
"Do you have the things I asked for?" Zoro interrupted. Six sets of grubby hands held out items, one of which was an empty bag. "Okay, put everything into the bag for me."
A tug on the back of his trouser leg made Zoro look down. The youngest boy with the dirt-smudged face held out a handful of yellow flowers to him. A smile tugged Zoro's lips. "For me?"
The child nodded. "'Cuz you can't grow none."
Zoro bent a little, shifting Sanji's weight so he could take the flowers. He thought it might be the purest gift he'd ever gotten. "Thank you."
Sanji was quiet as he took the filled bag from the other children, said goodbye, and sprinted up the mooring line onto the ketch. The other supplies had been delivered onto the deck and he deposited Sanji on one of the water casks. He put the bag down on another cask, setting the flowers carefully on top. He lifted his hand in a wave after he cast off and soon they were sailing briskly from Four Head Island.
"Do you mind explaining how you, of all people, managed to charm the socks off that town, instead of causing a fight like usual?" Sanji said, as Zoro got them on course. The sails billowed in the evening breeze, twilight shading the canvas reddish-gold.
"I don't always cause a fight." Zoro locked the tiller and tied the new log pose to the post with his bandana. "It's usually the other guy's fault if it happens."
Sanji snorted and picked up the flowers. "Right, because you hold your temper so well."
"Don't touch those." Zoro snatched the flowers from Sanji's hand. A few yellow petals floated onto the deck.
Sanji gave him an arch look. "Enjoy getting flowers from boys, do you?"
"Maybe I do," Zoro stated defensively, and stalked down into the cabin. He filled a glass with water, stuck the flowers inside, and set the glass on the navigation desk. He could always trust Sanji to ruin a perfectly good mood.
When he went back on deck, Sanji was smoking a cigarette, watching the final crest of the setting sun. Zoro worked around him, bringing the supplies below and packing them in the hold.
Sanji came below deck under his own power, leaning heavily against the walls and desk until he made it to the bench seat. He collapsed onto it and simply breathed for a few moments, while Zoro finished up. "I'll make dinner in a minute," he said on one of Zoro's passes through the cabin into the hold.
The light from the lantern made Sanji appear gaunt and exhausted. "Don’t worry about it. We have the rest of the vegetable soup to eat," Zoro said, concerned in spite of himself.
"Are you trying to get me sick again?"
"My soup is not bad!"
"I wouldn't even feed it to Luffy." Sanji leaned back and closed his eyes. A shiver wracked his body. "Throw me a blanket."
Zoro stopped mid-lift of a crate. "Shit."
An eyelid popped open and stared at Zoro through the doorway to the hold. "You forgot to get blankets?!"
"We'll turn around and go back, right now." Zoro tossed the crate on top of the tall stack he'd been making. The stack rocked unsteadily. "We're not that far out."
"You can't see the island anymore from the deck."
"So?"
"So, we'll end up in back East Blue before you even come close to finding Four Head Island again."
The crates tumbled over, crashing onto Zoro's head.
"Idiot swordsman." Sanji drew the sheet around his shoulders. The sun had gone down and, with it, the temperature. Sanji shivered again.
In direct violation of Rule 249, Zoro pulled off his street-dusty shirt and threw it at Sanji. It hit him in the face. "Put that on."
"I'm not going to wear your disgusting shirt," Sanji said, holding it away from him.
"You wore it last night." Zoro started restacking the crates strewn around his feet. Luckily, none of them had broken.
"I was sick."
"And Dr. Brow said you could get sick again if you catch a chill," Zoro said. "Put on the damned shirt."
Sanji scowled. "How do you know what the doctor said?"
"Since you kicked me out, I had to ask him."
"I kicked you out because it's none of your business!"
"Everything about you is my business," Zoro snapped, and regretted immediately not thinking before he spoke. His face flamed and he busied himself with the crates. "Shitty cook."
Sanji didn't say anything. Zoro also pretended that he hadn't said anything embarrassing, until clanking objects broke the awkward silence. He glanced through the open doorway and saw Sanji hanging on the icebox door, as he went through its contents. He was wearing the shirt.
Zoro put down the funny feeling in his stomach as hunger pains.
A weak kick to the head had ended the fight about the sleeping arrangements that seemed more for show than an actual fight. Zoro breathed in the sweet-smelling soap Sanji had used on his hair and questioned whether it had been his argument or Sanji's that they share the bench seat again. He had thought he'd been for it, concerned about Sanji getting sick again because he was cold, but Sanji's kick had been accompanied by a command to "lie down already, asshole," and Zoro wasn't so sure anymore.
On their sides facing each other, tangled with the bed sheet, Sanji snored against Zoro's bare chest, an arm and a leg thrown over Zoro proprietarily. Predawn lightened the cabin. A comfortable coolness lingered in the air, a nice sleeping temperature for anyone not recently ill. Zoro buried his nose in the crown of Sanji's hair and closed his eyes again. It was too early for thinking and he wanted to hold Sanji as long as possible…
Zoro woke again with a start, as Sanji climbed over him out of the makeshift bed. "Whehr ah 'ou 'oing?" he asked around a yawn.
"To take a piss. Is that all right with you, sire?"
Zoro grunted at Sanji's sarcasm and watched through half-lidded eyes as Sanji braced a hand on the wall and walked slowly up the four steps to the deck. Still weak, then. Zoro rubbed his face, trapped his morning hard-on with the waistband of his trousers, and got up. Splitting an apple, he left half for Sanji, to get rid of the mouth fuzz that morning brought. Sanji returned below deck, looking rumpled and endearing wearing Zoro's shirt over his own, and Zoro escaped outside to take care of his now-throbbing erection.
Breakfast was a fruit salad and a demand that he clean up afterwards. Sanji was snoring again by the time Zoro left with a bucketful of rinds. Dumping the rinds overboard, he rinsed the bucket, left it by the barrel of rainwater, and fell into his usual routine.
Legs above him, body perfectly in alignment, Zoro bent and straightened his forefinger, counting with each pushup on the tip of the mainmast. "Four hundred fifty-six, four hundred fifty-seven, four hundred fifty-eight…" Wind buffeted against him and the unfurled sails. Far below, he could see where his katanas leaned against the outer wall of the cabin, the haramaki discarded beside it.
Finally awake from his nap, Sanji wandered outside, dragging his hand over his mussed hair. Zoro tracked his unsteady progress across the open deck to the rail. Sanji cupped his hands as he lit a cigarette. Folding his arms atop of the rail, he stared out over the water, smoke curling upward and dissipating.
"Four hundred ninety-two, four hundred ninety-three, four hundred ninety-four…"
The blonde of Sanji's hair looked gold in the sunlight and stray strands lifted in the breeze. He flicked the finished cigarette butt overboard and crossed the deck again, staggering as he pulled Zoro's shirt off over his head. Stopping beside the rain barrel, he dropped the shirt by his bare feet and pulled down his trousers.
"Ack!" Zoro lost his balance and grabbed the tip of the mast as his body suddenly swung down, gravity building momentum. He caught the bulk of the mast between his legs. The breath whooshed from him and his eyes crossed. "Nngg."
He slid down the mainmast, his balls in his throat. Flopping back on the deck, he swatted at the stars dancing in front of his eyes and willed the pain to end. A shadow crossed into his vision. "Oi, shit-for-brains, I'm doing laundry. Give me your pants."
Zoro blinked and Sanji came into focus. He stood over Zoro in his black boxers with bright red lips on them and an unbuttoned blue dress shirt. The pain in Zoro's balls turned into a different kind of ache. He could see right up Sanji's boxers.
Zoro sat up quickly and smacked his forehead on the mainmast. "Ow. Damn it."
Sanji snickered. "Good job."
"Shut up."
"Pants, marimo-head."
Pushing to his feet, Zoro managed not to hobble on his way to his katanas. Sanji was going to take off those boxers. There was no way in hell Zoro was exposing exactly what he thought about that by removing his trousers. "I can do my own laundry."
"I'm not going to let you waste fresh water since I'm already doing it," Sanji said. "Stop being a sissy and give me your pants."
"Leave off, curlicue. I'm not going to and that's that." Zoro bent to grab his katanas and sensed the kick before it hit. He straightened, turned, and blocked in one smooth movement.