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Zoro felt.. hot.
Not in the attractive way, but more like in a dying way.
Every small movement burned, his nose was stuffed, his sight was blurry, and he was sweating. A lot.
At first he thought that maybe he was actually dying and that he was ascending to the heavens, (like the dramatic bitch he was) but it turns out it was a mild fever.
Now here's the thing, Zoro didn't get fevers. Sure, he lost blood, broke a few bones, maybe even collapsed, but he never got ill in his entire life. Which was why he was so confused on a Monday morning.
Zoro groaned as he sat up, immediately regretting the action. His head pounded and his heart was beating fast. He actually thought he might die. Sanji must've heard him wake up because he heard dishes clattering and a yellow haired man popped from the door frame.
"Mosshead? You awake?" Sanji called. Then he blinked at Zoro, sensing something was wrong.
"Hey." Zoro bit out, the pounding in his head still not letting up.
"Hey," Sanji responded, moving from the door to his partner. "You alright?"
Zoro groaned in response as he closed his eyes. "Nah, I feel like I'm dying. I'm hot, sweaty, and my nose is stuffed." He sighed, rubbing his left temple to somehow relieve the headache. As he opened his eyes again, Sanji was pressing his forehead onto Zoro's, humming.
"Yup, looks like you have a fever. Who knew stupid balls of moss could get ill?" Sanji smirked as Zoro felt a warm flush creep up his neck.
"You could've just used your hands.." Zoro mumbled, feeling his cheeks turn red.
Sanji nodded thoughtfully, "You know I only use my hands for cooking. Anyways, I'll get Tylenol and chicken soup for sick mossy here. I'll be back." With that, Sanji hurried off, leaving Zoro in a trance.