Chapter Text
Sanji awoke blearily, slowly adjusting to his surroundings. He smelled the familiar smell of… family…of steel, lush woods, metal, sweat…it was comforting. The only comforting thing, at the moment, unfortunately, as he adjusted his eyes to see the gray stone walls around them, the metal bars….the shackles….
He could feel the growing panic in him again.
The body in front of him was currently turned away and sitting tall so all Sanji could see was his muscular back, free of scars or marks. The body…the man…stirred and whipped around to meet his gaze.
“Cook?”
“Marimo?” His voice croaked.
“Thank gods you’re finally awake.” Zoro sounded…vulnerable? It wasn’t a tone Sanji had ever heard from the man.
“Why does it smell like shit?”
A strained chuckle. “I made two of the Marines shit themselves when they sedated you…didn’t like them touching you” He said simply.
Sanji became increasingly aware of their surroundings, and saw that something had been ripped from the wall, saw the blood around Zoro’s wrists and arms, and quickly connected the dots.
“Did you rip your shackles and chains off the fucking wall?”
“Yeah…” The swordsman looked almost guilty.
“What happened, Moss?”
Zoro grunted, as though he didn’t really want to have to rehash any details, but he would for Sanji. “They caught us - you probably remember that bit - and the moment they put you in shackles, you started freaking out…understandably…” Zoro paused, jaw tight, as though trying to find the right words to continue. Sanji knew what he was alluding to, even if the two hadn’t had a chance to openly talk about the Vinsmokes or Whole Cake Island; though, he knew that Luffy had filled in the other Straw Hats on just enough.
So Sanji nodded, encouraging Zoro to continue. “Well, then, they had put us in opposite ends of the room, clearly.” He gestured to the opposite wall, now torn apart. “But when they tried to sedate you, to…um…stop you from clawing your skin off…that’s when I freaked out…just a bit.” He looked away from Sanji. The blond offered a small smile, knowing that Zoro often didn’t think before jumping into the fray. He took one of Zoro’s bloodied hands, examining the wounds on his wrists. Zoro looked down at his hand too, before meeting Sanji’s eyes once again. “And when they tried to touch you again, I kind of…” He cleared his throat. “I used the remainder of my haki and…two of them ended up shitting themselves in fear.”
“Then you put the smelliest yukata on me? Placed me in a corner like a dog defending its meal?” Sanji kept his tone as gentle as he could. Zoro narrowed his eye, apparently not appreciating the comparison to a guard dog.
“I was just -”
“Relax, Marimo.” The blond grabbed the other hand to examine the wounds. “Even if you are an idiot plant, I understand.”
“You were trembling...and unconscious for so long.” He said, absentmindedly tugging on the yukata - currently wrapped around the blond - before letting it go. “And I didn’t want them to fucking touch you.” He nearly growled that bit.
Sanji chuckled at the growling. “Only helping my point, here, Mossball.”
“Tch. Whatever.” Zoro turned away again, fully, taking his stoic and intimidating position. He was clearly attempting to block any Marines from even seeing Sanji.
“I don’t need your protection, you know.” Sanji could practically hear the eye rolling in Zoro’s skull, as the man’s back tensed. “Got something to say there, Marimo?”
The swordsman whipped around, clearly having something more to say.
“Yeah, suppose I do. Suppose I want to tell you to shut the fuck up. Because it always comes down to this shit. You never tell people what you want or need because you’re terrified of being seen as lesser. And listen, I get it, Luffy told me some of it, and your dad…your brothers…they sound like…” Sanji could see Zoro restraining himself, heavily filtering the next words. “... real pieces of... work. And sure, I tease you about being ‘number four’, and being weak or perverted or crazy or whatever, but that’s only to get a rise out of you. Because I kind of like when we fight…like a lot. But it’s not what I really think of you, fucking dick.” He took a breath, as he was running out of air. “I think you’re one of the strongest people I know. And you make me stronger. And maybe I want to protect you because it’s the same fucking thing you would have done for me.” Then, perhaps because he realized the gravity of what he had just said, he added: “Idiot.”
“If you weren’t practically shouting at me, I’d say that was one of the nicest things you’ve ever said.” Sanji said, blue eyes wide with astonishment. He had never heard Zoro speak like this, emphatic and impassioned.
“Sorry for shouting.” He grumbled, he had turned away and Sanji almost didn’t catch the words.
Sanji didn't know why, probably due to the disoriented hazy from the sedative - he momentarily remembered that he had been hit in the head, as well, during the earlier fight - he felt himself reach for the man’s naked back, and pressed a palm to it. The action surprised the both of them - the blond felt their bodies react in tandem - Zoro’s back tensed and then relaxed immediately when recognizing Sanji’s non-threatening touch.
The cook crawled his fingers up the swordsman’s back up to his neck, slowly leaning forward and feeling a shiver-like sensation ripple up Zoro’s back. “You’re right. It is the same thing I would have done. I don’t know if I could have made two cadets shit themselves, but I would have tried.” Sanji nearly said into Zoro’s upper back, He knew his breath was puffing heat and warmth on the man’s tan neck from how his body leaned into meet the source of warmth. “But I don’t like when you hurt yourself. You know that.” He gently gripped the man’s shoulder, inviting him to turn around, which Zoro did without hesitation.
“Yeah.” Zoro wouldn’t look at him directly, preferring sight on the dirt floor. “Just instincts.” Sanji hummed in response.
“Thank you. For what you said.” Sanji said, after a brief moment of silence. “And…I like when we fight, too. The banter, the sparring…with you…um…it’s nice.” Zoro half-smiled at that, nodding.
“Are you ok?” Zoro asked, finally meeting his gaze.
“I’m ok, Marimo. Just a little woozy, almost like I’m drunk. I can’t really feel my legs fully yet, so I’m unsure if they’ll cooperate, but I’m ok. Really” Sanji said reassuringly, brushing his thumb over knuckles caked in dried blood. He wondered, when had he grabbed Zoro’s hand again?
Sanji had to admit to himself that he didn’t much mind the swordsman’s protectiveness: having the man’s warmth and scent wrapped around him, having him constantly within mere centimeters of Sanji at all times. He liked touching Zoro, liked these hands, liked how they might feel on him… Huh . Normally this is where Sanji knew he would be freaking out. Desire? For the dumb Marimo? There was just calmness, certainty without the usual onslaught of anxieties, fears, and doubts. He briefly thanked the potent sedative for this specific benefit.
He didn’t realize he was laughing until Zoro grabbed his chin - mmm , like that - and was looking worriedly into his eyes, checking pupil dilation or signs of a concussion. He pushed Zoro’s face away playfully, still hearing himself laugh, as he leaned back against the wall. Taking in a big gulp of air, he settled in with a sigh.
“You good?” Zoro’s expression was of amusement and slight annoyance.
“I already said I’m ok, Marimo. Will you stop worrying?” Sanji huffed lightly. Zoro grumbled a response, which elicited a playful spark from the blond. “I couldn’t hear you, you sentient cactus, what was that?”
Zoro smirked. “I said -”
A rickety creaking interrupted their banter as the iron doors from above were being unlocked. Immediately, Zoro’s whole body stood at the ready, alert and each muscle pulsating, prepared for action. Sanji stood shakily due to the fucking shit sedative, leaning mostly on the wall for support as he tried to reclaim his balance (without success). His legs were clearly betraying him by not fucking working the way they were supposed to.
“The fuck am I delivering - I’m a capt - you - shit bags - cowards -” A gruff voice complained loudly to two other indistinct voices above. The iron doors slammed shut, the creaking of a lock and there was a scuffling of shoes down the stairs. The man’s voice continued to grumble unintelligently.
The shadows of the jail hid the man’s features, the footsteps pausing at the foot of the stairs. They could feel his piercing gaze on them. Watching. Observing.
“Heard no one else can get close to you fuckers. And now you’ve got me serving your stupid fucking bread and water. Stupid fucks.”
“Get any closer and I’ll tear your fucking arms off.” Zoro snarled, voice low.
“Yeah, yeah. Down, doggie.” The gruff voice chortled wickedly. “You should know that you’ve got us calling some reinforcements. And, oh man, when they found out it was you two, they were practically drooling.” He sneered. Zoro growled. “Ooo, good boy, being so protective. I’m betting that’s taking a toll on you, yeah? You getting tired?”
Sanji hadn’t noticed, not at first, Zoro was shaking. The man continued taunting the swordsman, his voice haughty, “Thought so. You’ve been up and at it for about twenty-eight hours with us, after a pretty intense fight, too. Impressive. And you took out nine of my men here, with that little haki trick of yours.”
“Nine?” Sanji whispered.
“Yeah, but only two of them shit themselves.” Zoro whispered quickly, a slight smirk.
“You’ve got to sleep at some point, but we’re taking bets you won’t go to sleep until your body shuts down, since you know what we’ll do to blondie here.” The man laughed viciously. Sanji couldn’t really comprehend what was being said, but he understood the vile tone and could practically hear Zoro growling again.
The Marine got closer to the bars, intentionally dropping the water and bread on the floor, which caused Sanji to feel a familiar spark of anger at the waste. The two Straw Hats could see the Marine now: a large, hulking man, with the familiar coat and military medals conveying that he was a Rear Admiral. His ginger hair and beard were somewhat wild, his light skin had a tinge of red to it, like he’d been out in the sun too long.
The Marine leaned on the bars, sneering. “Your baby girl's got at least eight more hours, ten if we’re lucky, on that sedative alone. And, well, there’s much more where that came from. Lucky for me, I like them nice and loose. Slide right in.”
Zoro lunged to the bars, catching the man’s throat in his grasp. “I’d love to hear what you have to say after I rip out your throat and force-feed it to you.”
“That so?” The man choked out, before raising a gloved hand. Sanji’s eyes widened, he knew that glove… that technology. Before he could scream out, the man’s hand came down on Zoro’s arm and pulsated a grueling burst of electricity through the swordsman’s body. Sanji's heart beat in his ears, he heard a scream… or was it two?… in the distance, one of them faintly sounded like his.
The swordsman tumbled back. It hadn’t been enough to knock him out, but he had fallen to one knee in order to catch himself. His whole body quaked and trembled from the immensity of the impact. He hadn’t felt something like that since Eneru, not as powerful as the god’s lightning bolts, but enough to do the trick, especially in his current state.
Sanji wondered when his own body had fallen to the ground; he realized he must have been reaching for Zoro and was drawn back from taught chains. He crawled forward as far as his chains would let him, only a few inches more, towards Zoro. His head felt cloudy, muddled, and he couldn’t fully think straight.
They both heard the Marine laughing cruelly before he climbed up the stairs. After two thumps of his fist upon the door, the gears creaked to unlock and open. With a slam and whirring lock, they were left alone in the low hues of the sunset peaking through the slit of a window. Soon it would be night, and Sanji begged his brain to remember enough details about the place before darkness swallowed them. They needed to escape. And soon.
Sanji heard Zoro crawling further from him, towards the bars of the cell, in order to retrieve the fallen, dirty bread, before crawling back towards Sanji’s corner of the space. The cook felt a spool of warmth tighten sweetly in his chest at the swordsman’s gesture, as he accepted the offered half of the small stone of bread.
“Can I see it? Before the sun goes down?” Sanji asked, taking a bite of bread. Zoro had been obviously keeping the wounded, electrocuted half of his body away from the blond. Zoro shook his head, lamely claiming that it “ didn’t hurt too bad ”. Sanji eyed him. “Please, Zoro. Before we lose what little light we have.”
“Shit.” Zoro huffed. Yeah , Sanji had used the real-name-card, along with a firm, no nonsense tone that Zoro knew well. The cook meant business. Damn though . Sanji really wished he didn’t feel so out of his body, his voice was shaky, his limbs moved sloppily as he adjusted to accommodate the swordsman.
Zoro turned his body so that Sanji could see the extent of the damage: singed flesh, burns covered a chunk of his right arm. From experience, the cook knew that Zoro’s nerve endings were on fire right now, unbelievable pain coursing through his body. It was almost maddening, making one want to laugh or cry (or both) due to the sheer absurdity of suffering and the amount of overwhelm on the nervous system. Zoro’s entire body was tense, slow tears involuntarily trickled from his eye, the body naturally producing the watery release due to the agony.
“Please don’t go near them again.” Sanji whispered, voice rough. He held the swordsman’s right hand firmly, as he examined the wound.
“They’ll have to kill me to get to you, Curly.” Zoro said, voice rough and raw. Sanji believed him, and he couldn’t help his heart swell a little at the swordsman’s words.
“Dumbass.” He said warmly.
“We have to get out of here.”
“Agreed. I can try to help, but I don’t have much control of my limbs, thanks to those fuckers.”
“I’m not going to lie. Without my swords…and after whatever the fuck that was…I’m not doing too hot.”
Sanji had suddenly remembered, Zoro had taken the night watch and, then, was talked into being a pack mule the morning they'd arrived on the island with the promise of a long afternoon’s nap and sake. That was before they were ambushed…plus twenty-eight hours in captivity…that would have meant…
“Marimo, how long have you been up?”
“Don’t know. Maybe something like sixty hours or something? Lost count -” A wave of pain must have risen and rippled through Zoro’s body at that moment, as his entire body tensed again followed by a low rumble that came from the chest of the swordsman. He hung his head, breathing heavily, in obvious pain.
“Marimo.” Sanji’s tone was almost scolding, though he squeezed Zoro’s hand firmly, reassuringly.
“I’ve gone without sleep for nine days before.” Zoro said, scowling, trying to pull his attention away from the physical anguish of his body.
“That so? If memory serves, you spent, was it two days, in the infirmary? And hooked up to an IV for a week, do I have that right? Received a lengthy lecture from Chopper about the importance of sleep? That sound familiar?"
Zoro grunted in response, something like a “shuddup” was heard.
“You have to sleep. They won’t come down now, they just checked on us. Now’s your chance.”
“You’ll wake me if they come back?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, Marimo.”
Zoro scowled more pointedly, the furrow of his brows well defined, as the gazed conveyed skepticism.
“Fucking hell, I said 'yes', idiot shrub.” Sanji poked at the man’s ribs.
Zoro seemed somewhat satisfied, as he curled his uninjured side into Sanji to rest his head on the blond’s shoulder, his back leaning on the wall.
“You cold? Want your yukata back?” Sanji asked and received a head shake in response. After a moment, when he thought the swordsman had fallen asleep, the breaths soft and shallow, he allowed his thumb to trace down Zoro’s chin. “Sweet man.”
“‘M not sweet.” The swordsman sleepily grumbled before drifting off, leaving Sanji to his foggy, messy thoughts.
He couldn’t grasp one thought or idea for too long, and the harder he’d grasp the faster the thought would float away. He lightly chuckled thinking maybe the sedative was slowly wearing off, as the barrage of fears and questions lit up his brain.
That glove, it couldn’t be. How had the Marines gotten a hold of Germa tech? Judge was always so tight-lipped with that information, paranoid bastard. Or maybe the Marines had stolen it? Bought it?
What would happen to Zoro if the others didn’t find them in time, if they couldn’t warn them of the impending force of whatever Marines they’d send as reinforcements? Would they send an Admiral? Would it be Kizaru? He hated that guy. How much time did it take to deploy reinforcements? Sanji racked his brain to try and remember times they had dealt with Marine protocol bullshit.
What if they were taken away? Banished to a prison like Impel Down? Or sold into slavery? Wait … the Rear Admiral’s words, which at the time didn’t seem to reach Sanji’s ears in the same way his cruel tone had, finally clicked for the cook: “ nice and loose…slide right in ”. Had he…alluded to raping Sanji? The cook shivered, suddenly feeling exposed. He kicked himself for wishing that Zoro was still awake, his brain admonishing him for even having such a thought. Zoro needed rest.
Get it together, dumbass. Don’t be a burden. He thought wryly, as he stopped his hands from crawling to pull at his hair.
He tried to focus on the warmth of the swordsman’s body, the soft moonlight from the sliver of a window casting over the man’s sleeping face. Sanji’s thoughts flitted to how beautiful Zoro looked like this, relaxed. His body, his muscles, usually so strained and taught, now looked soft….he looked so small. This amount of tolerance, even appreciation, for the swordsman was few and far between as Sanji didn’t allow his thoughts to normally wander there.
Zoro was usually dangerous territory for the cook…thinking of any possibilities would just unlock a matter that he hadn’t been ready to face. And, once again, he awaited the overwhelm of panic that would surely show up now. But nothing came. He even felt calm about the whole thing. So, perhaps, not the sedative then . Conceivably, seeing his family, confronting his father, his brothers, and finding a renewed resolve in Wano…maybe it had all cracked open something in him. A new kind of freedom.
Sanji giggled softly. What a thought : Finding freedom in a jail cell . It was absolutely absurd.
The hours passed, the sun now rising, and still the swordsman slept, the toll on his body clearly immense and brutal. Sanji had tried to remember details of the fight with the Marines, but the images and memories were kept at mere glimpses. As more early morning light stretched into the room, crawling across the space, the dread in Sanji’s pit grew. He knew that the swordsman needed his sleep, as much sleep as possible; though, he also knew that the creepy fucker Marine was going to imminently return with his sharp, crude tongue and moldy bread, with promises of misplaced power and aggression.
For a moment, the cook thought he saw a shadow shift in the far corner of the hall outside the cells, but he had been seeing things like that all night. His vision had been coming in and out, periodically, and his haki felt fuzzy and incoherent, in his current state. It irked him that he couldn’t feel or sense things in the way he’d become familiar or comfortable with. When he felt the pinch of something in his chest, a latent clicking sound, something like a gun, he felt that pit in his stomach drop.
Fuck .
He automatically reached for Zoro, wanting to keep his promise to wake the man should danger draw near. When he met the one-eyed, steely gaze, he saw that Zoro had awoken just a hair too late, his tan fingers reaching for the tranquilizer, now embedded in Sanji’s chest, having been only mere centimeters away from grabbing it before impact.
“Sanji. No…” He heard Zoro’s voice crack, as the cook’s vision darkened and he was taken away by the drug.
Burden.
Disappointment.
Failure.