Work Text:
Compared to the previous few days, the journey out of Big Mom’s territory was pretty quiet.
Sanji expected the crew to be furious with him and, as a result, he anticipated anger in their every move and whisper. Every time Nami started to say something, he had to restrain himself from cringing as he waited for her to yell at him. When Chopper turned his big eyes to him, he imagined they would burst into tears before accusations started flowing. Even from Brook he awaited sarcasm, cold wit, the kind that could dig as deep as any threat.
He expected them to be angry because they had every right to be, but instead he was met with a peaceful, lazy happiness. Nami called it the calm before the storm, which could be seen as some kind of bluff were it not for the fact that she was referring to what was ahead of them at Wano and nothing against Sanji himself.
It was bizarre, except for all the ways in which it wasn’t, really, because these were the Straw Hat pirates. Fighting for their friends’ lives ran so much deeper in their blood than a thirst for gold or fame ever did.
Still. It would be fair if they were upset. Even as the hours bled into days and the threat of Big Mom faded into the golden sunlight, Sanji couldn't shake the feeling that he deserved punishment for what he’d done.
Luffy noticed something was off within hours of waking up from his food-coma-recovery period. If Sanji was honest, this was hardly a surprise.
His captain might have been aloof to the little things, like the head of the Vinsmoke family screaming bloody murder at him or a Yonko promising revenge, but he never missed the important stuff when it came to his nakama. He knew what they all liked to eat, for example. Knew their biggest dreams and their darkest fears. What made them laugh (his antics, very often) and what pushed them onwards (their faith in him, even more often).
Luffy was observant, although most people wouldn’t know it, largely because Luffy couldn’t be bothered to observe them.
His crew, however, he always watched with a wide grin and sharp eyes. It wasn’t long before Sanji found the back of his neck heating up from the attention.
He wanted to say something about it, but he didn’t know what. It frustrated him to even feel like this, so helpless and trapped by his own thoughts.
He was never like this before. Then again, he hadn’t thought about the Vinsmoke family in months before. Even then, they were always a distant presence in his mind, a nightmare he couldn’t forget, the kind that cycled through his dreams after a long week or a painful day.
He had thought them gone, the monsters of his past, but now every time he tried to rest, they took up every inch of space in his mind. In the moments he was awake and alert, he was worried his friends would finally snap and turn against him, and so he would move from worry to worry, fear to fear, unable to quiet any storm.
Even cooking didn’t help, which was almost the last straw in driving Sanji fucking insane.
Cooking was always his solace, even when he was locked up in the Vinsmoke dungeon. It was his way of doing something good, of helping others. It was how he first learned to be useful before he learned how to fight.
For a long time in his life, cooking was everything. It was his purpose, desire, drive, and blood.
And now, instead of being able to enjoy it, his hands shook whenever he picked up a knife, and it took moments to think of a recipe instead of having every step flow smoother than breathing.
Sanji hated being like this. He hated it more than he hated his family and all those Germa assholes combined. Hated it more than he hated the marines and the Yonko. Hated it almost as much as he hated himself, in the silence of the night, when no one was around to notice how he was losing himself.
He didn’t know what to do about it. He was aware that he needed to keep going, of course. He couldn’t disappoint his friends again. He needed to keep fighting, keep cooking, even if it cost him everything he had.
He was worried, though, that he might not be enough. That he might fall and die and have that be an even bigger disappointment to them all.
His anxiety nearly consumed him those first few days, but then Luffy woke up and saw through whatever shitty barriers Sanji was trying to hold up as if they were never there at all. It wasn’t long before he was seeking out Sanji after dinner, while the rest of his crew got ready for sleep.
“Something is wrong,” is the first thing he says because Monkey D. Luffy is many things, but subtle isn’t one.
They’re in the aquarium, which has been Sanji’s favourite room in the ship (excluding the kitchen, naturally) since the moment he stepped foot in it. The lights are turned down low so that the hue from the water casts a deep blue shadow across the room. It is peaceful, which Sanji hoped would help with his anxiety, but it’s somehow making it louder than before.
The sight of Luffy in the doorway, stoic and so full of pure conviction, even when covered in bandages and wearing his pyjamas, is a welcome respite.
“What?” Sanji asks, because Luffy came in while he was imagining the thousands of ways in which Judge would kill Sanji and his nakama if their paths ever crossed again, and it takes him a moment to listen to what Luffy is saying.
“Something is wrong,” Luffy repeats. He takes a step into the room, letting the door close behind him. “With you,” he adds as he comes closer.
Sanji doesn’t have it in him to lie. Not now, not about this, not to this captain.
“Yes,” he says, simple as that, as if the admission isn’t more painful than a dagger to his lungs. He’s supposed to be one of the strong ones, yet where he is, struggling to breathe from all the pressure inside his chest, invisible and painful and so annoying.
“What is it?” Luffy asks.
And that, that’s the million belly question, isn’t it? Because if it was something so simple that it could be named, then Sanji would have fixed it by now, but he can’t even put into proper words what’s plaguing at him. He can’t just say, “there’s a black hole in my chest and I can’t fucking breathe from it except there’s nothing there” and sound anything less than deranged.
With the outside light gone, it’s hard to track Luffy moving through the shadows. His every step is so light that Sanji can’t trace him until he’s standing in front of the aquarium’s light and taking a seat next to him.
“I…” He’s what? A fuckup? A failure? A risk to the crew? Probably all that and more. “I’m sorry.”
Luffy frowns at him like he’s struggling to understand the words coming out of Sanji’s mouth.
“What for?” He asks.
“For everything. For abandoning Nami and the others. For hitting you. For wanting to leave the crew and putting you at the mercy of my awful family. I’m sorry for everything,” Sanji says, his voice rising with every word until he’s yelling in Luffy’s face.
Luffy, in turn, is glaring at him with so much force that Sanji struggles to hold himself in place. Without even noticing it, Luffy has begun to exert pressure in the room. Sanji feels like the walls are closing in around them even though, logically, he knows nothing is moving.
“Don’t be an idiot. You don’t have to apologise for that.”
Sanji is shaking his head before Luffy has even finished speaking. “Of course I do. Luffy, what I did was inexcusable and you can’t just–“
“I can’t just what?” Luffy asks, his voice rising even though on the outside he looks more collected than ever, a dead serious glint in his eyes.
“You can’t just act like everything is all right!”
“But everything is all right! You came back, Brook got a copy of the poneglyphs and we’re all headed to Wano to meet up with everyone else and kick Kaidou’s ass.”
“Someone died because of me, Luffy. What’s so hard to understand about that? Pedro died to rescue my useless existence and that’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
“Pedro made his own choices. We all did, that first moment we sailed into the ocean.”
“None of you could have known what was going to happen, though. I should have warned you.”
“You did what you thought was right. That’s what matters,” Luffy says, crossing his arms.
Sanji scoffs even though he’s pretty sure Luffy is two seconds away from hitting him, which makes the primal part of him preen, hungry for pain and justice, whatever form it might take.
“Whatever it is you think you’re doing, feeling like this, beating yourself up over his death — Pedro wouldn’t want it. He wouldn’t want you to be in pain.”
Sanji tries to look away from the fury in Luffy’s eyes, feeling he’s gonna fucking suffocate if he has to deal with Luffy’s bull-headed conviction for even a second longer, but Luffy won’t let him. He grabs Sanji’s jaw with one hand and one of his wrists with the other.
It is then that Luffy notices the cuffs.
In the blink of an eye, the walls stop closing in around them and all of Luffy’s anger evaporates.
“You’re still wearing these. I thought… Didn’t your sister say they were fake?” He asks, his voice dropping to a whisper, almost as if he’s afraid yelling will set off the bombs.
“They are. They would have exploded by now if they were real,” Sanji explains, sighing at the end.
What he doesn't explain is that in some sick, twisted way, he enjoyed wearing the cuffs. They were a reminder of what could happen if he kept being weak. They were a weight, a deadly promise, a form of punishment he was inflicting upon himself in lieu of anyone else doing it.
They’re fucking stupid, is what they are, and Sanji hates them, but he can’t bring himself to tear them apart.
Luffy, however, doesn’t have such qualms. He lets go of Sanji’s jaw and takes both wrists in his hands. Sanji doesn’t say anything, stunned into silence as his Captain does something he’s rarely done before.
Luffy, against all odds and predictions, is careful, meticulously so.
He moves slowly, his touch so light Sanji would hardly notice it was there if he wasn’t looking. He thins out his fingers until they’re slim enough to slip past the inside of the cuffs. Afterwards, he extends them wide enough that they cover all of Sanji’s wrists, so that not an inch of metal rests on his skin.
He is protecting Sanji, using his own hands as a shield.
“Luffy…” Sanji whispers, although what he wishes to say he does not know.
His captain ignores him, still moving at a snail’s pace to make sure there are no gaps. It’s only when he lets out a happy sigh — seeming pleased with the knowledge that if the cuffs were to explode, Sanji’s wrists wouldn’t be harmed — that Luffy breaks the metal apart.
Despite knowing what’s going to happen, Sanji still holds his breath in anticipation, so that the only sound that can be heard in the darkness of the aquarium is the thin metal snapping.
“There,” Luffy whispers. He discards the metal fragments on the floor without a second thought, but he doesn’t let go of Sanji’s wrists, instead pressing his thumb against Sanji’s pulse points and rubbing against the skin there almost as if to reassure himself it’s okay.
“Thank you,” Sanji says after a few seconds struggling to find his voice.
The smile Luffy throws at him, bright and careless and so genuine, is enough to make him wanna crawl away and hide again. Only he can’t, because Luffy still hasn’t let go of him and with each passing moment, he’s closer and closer until it looks like he’s about to straddle Sanji’s chest.
“We can’t choose the family we’re born into. Ace didn’t choose to be born the Pirate King’s son. Sabo didn’t choose to be born a royal to some sucky parents. You didn’t choose to be born to your family, so you shouldn’t have to apologise for the things they do.”
“Still… I shouldn’t have let it happen. I should have—“
“Will you stop with all the should haves. None of that matters. What matters is that you’re our nakama. You chose us. And the only reason why you left in the first place is because you wanted to keep everyone safe, which is fine because you’re Sanji and that’s what you do. You shouldn’t have to apologise for being yourself. I don’t care how many times I have to say this until it gets through your thick head.”
He finishes that thought by hitting Sanji in the head with the back of his hand, which is still wrapped around one of Sanji’s wrists.
Sanji knows a simple thank you isn’t — could never — be enough for what Luffy has done for him. All that faith and strength of his, endless and shared with no hesitation.
He knows he’s gonna spend the rest of his life fighting for Luffy because there’s nothing else more important, more crucial, than being by Luffy’s side.
Nevertheless, the words still slip out of his mouth before he can hold them back.
“Thank you, Captain.”
Luffy nods at him, looking content for the first time since he walked into the room, and then he goes ahead and swings a leg across Sanji’s body so that he is straddling his chest. Sanji is too tired to question the sudden change in position, though he does feel the surface of his skin heat up at each point of contact. It starts at his wrists, which have grown quite warm and soft underneath Luffy’s attention, and flows through his chest down to his pelvis.
“You should know, though, that I won’t ever let you do that again. You’re part of my crew, Sanji, and I won’t let anyone else have you; not the Germa, not Big Mom, no one.” He presses himself closer with each word, millimetre by millimetre, until there’s almost no space between.
“Luffy…” Sanji starts to say, never finishing the sentence as words escape him, his mind empty for the first time in days.
Behind them, the aquarium lights reflect across the floor bubbles and waves of blue. Luffy’s face is cast in shadow, but Sanji can still see him, as clear as day. There’s a scar beneath his left eye, the soft curve of his eyelashes, the look of absolute certainty.
Luffy is not making a suggestion or asking a question. He’s stating a fact.
He drops Sanji’s left wrist for a second before his other hand picks it up, cradling them gently against his skin. His free hand he wraps around the back of Sanji’s neck, his fingers slipping into the thin blonde hair.
“You’re mine,” he says, and though his voice is low and quiet, there is not a trace of doubt in his words.
And when Luffy leans down to kiss him, it doesn’t come as a surprise, despite the fact that they’ve never kissed before.
Luffy is gentle with him at first. It’s almost like he’s afraid of breaking Sanji, of all stupid things.
Sanji wants to tell him that he’s not some soft porcelain doll that could break with something as soft as a kiss, but Luffy doesn’t give him a chance. With each passing second, their kiss picks up intensity until they’re panting into each other’s mouths and Sanji can’t for the life of him remember what he wanted to say.
“All right?” Luffy asks once they finally part. His cheeks seemed to have gained some colour, which is good. Sanji shouldn’t be the only one dishevelled.
Sanji doesn’t know what he’s specifically referring to — if it’s the kiss, the possessiveness or the anxiety plaguing every one of Sanji’s thoughts — but right now none of those things are bothering him, so he says, “Yeah, all good.”
In return, Luffy flashes him a smile so bright it could warm the ocean, as if just like that everything is fine again.
Maybe it is, Sanji thinks. If Luffy believes it, then why can’t he?
And when Luffy kisses him again, Sanji doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back.
