Work Text:
Sanji was sick.
It honestly was ridiculous. He hadn’t been sick in years. The last time he’d still been in school and there was something so degrading about being sick as an adult. It wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t work, but he’d spent all day with a face mask on and washed his hands frequently. Zeff eventually took pity on him and said he could leave without helping to close. Luckily he was off the next day.
Or it would’ve been lucky if he hadn’t woken up the next day feeling worse. He was fine until he was about halfway through making his breakfast. That's when the aches and fatigue returned with a vengeance. He managed to finish and eat, but he went back to bed without even cleaning up after himself. He barely remembered to shoot a quick text to Zoro cancelling their plans at the gym before he had fallen asleep.
~~~
Sanji was awoken by his phone ringing. He sluggishly picked it up and put it on speaker before flopping back in bed. He didn’t even bother properly greeting the person, just humming to let them know he was there.
“Damn, Curly, you must really be sick.”
Sanji rolled over to smile down at his phone sleepily, “Hey, Moss. Sorry for the last minute cancellation.”
“It’s fine,” came Zoro’s staticy voice, “You can make it up to me by dragging your sorry ass out of bed and letting me in.”
“Hm?”
“I’m at your door. Let me in.”
Sanji sat up, body aching in objection, “You’re what?”
“Open the door, cook.”
The next sound was that of a disconnected call. Sanji pulled himself out of bed, checking his reflection in a mirror as he made his way to the door. There was only so much he could do given he was sick, but he could at least straighten his hair a bit. Once he was as satisfied as he thought possible (which wasn’t much) he opened his front door to reveal Zoro laden with shopping bags.
The green haired man bullied his way inside, kissing Sanji’s clammy forehead, “You look just as shitty as you sound.”
Sanji huffed as he closed his door and followed Zoro into the kitchen, “Fuck you. I’m sick. What’s your excuse? What are you even doing here?”
“Figured I’d come and check on you,” he said as he unloaded the bags of what looked like soup ingredients and other things one might want while sick, “Besides, it’s probably my fault you're sick. It’s the least I can do.”
“How’s it your fault, Moss?” Sanji asked, taking a seat at his counter, feeling a little winded.
“I work with kids. They’re like walking petri dishes. I’m mostly immune at this point, but I probably passed something on to you.”
Sanji laughed at that, “Can’t argue with that logic. What’s your plan, then, oh petri dish expert?”
“Soup,” Zoro said, turning to Sanji seriously, “You can backseat cook, but I’m not letting you in this kitchen.”
Sanji threw his hands up in offense, “It’s my kitchen!”
“You’re sick!”
“I was fine at work yesterday! And I managed my own breakfast this morning, thank you very much!”
“I’m not arguing this with you. No kitchen.”
Sanji slumped in his seat, giving up.
Zoro was surprisingly not inept in the kitchen. His stock was made of bullion cubes and Sanji had to convince him to use a cutting board, but in the end the soup seemed edible. Two bowls were placed on the counter and Sanji quickly went about inspecting the mosshead’s work. The vegetables seemed to be picked at random and all the seasoning had been added at Sanji’s insistence. There were shredded chunks of rotisserie chicken floating around and it was honestly reminiscent of something Sanji himself would’ve made during his early days with Zeff before he’d learned anything.
It looked delicious.
As Sanji went for his first bite he felt Zoro’s eyes tracking his every move. It was endearing how nervous he seemed. It made sense, he supposed. Sanji was a professional chef after all. Although part of him knew that had nothing to do with why Zoro was bouncing his leg so furiously.
The soup was almost painfully bland.
Sanji nodded as he went for a second bite, “Not bad, Mossy.”
Zoro seemed to ragdoll as tension left him before he too began to eat.
~~~
Sanji reluctantly climbed into bed while Zoro cleaned up both breakfast and lunch. He honestly didn’t know what to do with all this affection. He couldn’t remember the last time someone cared for him this way. Probably when he’d still lived with Zeff. Pudding had tried early in their relationship, but he’d quickly shut that down. Sanji was a caretaker and caretakers didn’t need to be taken care of.
He tried to push those thoughts away and show some gratitude as Zoro entered his bedroom. He was carrying a water bottle and some painkillers and it felt so strange. Regardless, Sanji accepted both as Zoro sat at the edge of his bed. The care in his eyes as Sanji set the bottle aside was his last straw.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” he mumbled.
Zoro just shrugged, “I wanted to.”
He said it so simply, as if that was all there was to it. Like it wasn’t a big deal. As if it wasn’t a completely novel concept to Sanji. People cared a bit when they could afford to or they hid their care behind harsh words. Even care that sweet was only for family and close friends. Everyone else’s kindness has a motive. No one has ever treated him so genuinely.
“Go to bed, Cook,” Zoro ruffled Sanji’s hair before gently pushing him to his pillow, “Anything you want me to do before I leave?”
Sanji just shook his head as he pulled up his covers.
“Alright. Feel better soon, Curly,” Zoro whispered.
That was the last thing Sanji heard before sleep overtook him.