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You awake with a start, rolling over slightly towards the source of the sound that roused you.
It was Chopper! He was shaking your arm, calling your name to help wake you up. Once you open your eyes he waits for you to get your composure.
"Doctor! What's wrong?" You say, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you sit up.
Chopper's ears are pinned back and his eyes are wide. "Nothing life-threatening…" he specifies, a policy he quickly adopted after scaring his crewmates one too many times with his blunt delivery of medical news, "…but it's Sanji. I can't get him to cooperate with me, so I thought maybe you could get through to him."
Your brows furrow. "What happened?"
"He's very sick, and he's refusing to listen to my treatment plans."
"I'll talk to him. Lead the way, Doctor." You smile slightly, getting to your feet with a big stretch of your shoulders.
"Thank you!" Chopper says, visibly relieved. He leads you out onto the deck. By the sun—or more accurately put, lack thereof—you deduce that you're up much before you normally would be, probably only shortly after Sanji would be up to start prepping breakfast.
Chopper heads to the kitchen. When he pushes open the door, you see Sanji standing in front of the stove. You don't miss how he flinches and looks away from the light that the door lets in.
"Chopper," he says, his voice hoarse and weak, "I appreciate your concern, but I can last long enough to make breakfast."
"If you try to make breakfast you'll just wear yourself out and slow down your recovery," you chime in.
"Exactly!" Chopper says, vindicated.
Sanji turns around fully when he hears your voice. He hadn't noticed you enter. "Mon ange?" He says. "Don't take his side…"
"I'm not taking sides. What Chopper says you should do is perfectly reasonable and you know it," you say.
"I can't take the day off," Sanji protests. "You guys have to eat."
"Like we said, if you don't rest up and save your strength, it'll add extra time to your recovery," Chopper says. "We'd go hungry longer that way."
Sanji actually pauses this time. He purses his lips, brows coming together on top of his previous grimace. But the moment is fleeting—he turns back and starts to chop veggies. Each time his knife hits the cutting board punctuates another second he's overworking himself, another second of rest he's missing out on.
"Sanji," you say more softly, "Remember when you taught me a few of your recipes? I remember how to do it, I should be able to make enough food for today."
"I could never make you do that. I'm conscious, so I'll be making breakfast." He sets another pepper on his cutting board. "I'll rest afterwards."
Chopper looks up at you and you shrug, chewing your lip. This kind of behavior is something you've come to expect from Sanji, and you often have trouble breaking him out of it.
"Please," you begin, and Sanji flinches at your voice. You don't know if you startled him, but he hisses in pain and steps away from the cutting board, quickly stumbling to the sink and running his left thumb under the water. You see the water start to run pink, and you realize he's cut himself.
Chopper makes the same realization along with you. "Can I take a look at that?" he asks.
Sanji sighs heavily, shoulders drooping and weight shifting to lean on the countertop. "…Fine," he grits out.
"All your supplies are in your office, right?" you say to Chopper, and the reindeer boy nods. You turn to the cook. "Let's go, my dear. It'll be quick, I promise."
Sanji opens his mouth to say something but you step close and cup his cheek in your hand. His skin is hot and clammy to the touch. "Please, just for a minute," You say softly. "for me?"
With that, Sanji is at your mercy. He lets out a breath and holds your gaze for a long moment. Both of you are acutely aware that you're using your charms against him, but that doesn't stop it from working. "Anything for you," he says, almost a whisper. You can still see tension in his posture, but he does go along with you and Chopper.
When you finally have your beloved cook sit down on the exam table, his eyes slip closed. You watch him closely—He's drifting in and out of consciousness where he sits. That must be how he cut himself. Chopper grabs some supplies and starts to clean the wound on Sanji's hand. He flinches awake when the doctor applies the disinfectant.
"Sorry," Chopper says with a sheepish glance. "You won't need stitches, though."
Sanji nods absently, eyelids fluttering now. You and Chopper share a look and you lightly push on Sanji's shoulders until he's laying down on the table. You pause for a moment, holding your breath, but Sanji's breathing changes and you realize he's fallen asleep.
Chopper quickly finishes bandaging his patient's hand and looks at you. "I'll do what I can while he's sleeping."
"Thank you, doctor," you murmur. Now you're worried about Sanji. You know he went to bed early yesterday, but you didn't press the issue. You start to think that if you had, maybe he wouldn't be in this situation.
Chopper checks Sanji's vitals as best he can while his patient is asleep. When he's done, he leans against the side of the bed and crosses his arms. "He has a lot of congestion in his lungs. I wouldn't be surprised if it's the flu, especially given his other symptoms."
"The flu?" you echo, brows shooting up.
"That's my best guess. I can confirm it if he wakes up and agrees to a test."
You nod and lean down over Sanji, feeling guilty as you gently tap his cheek. "sweetheart, can you wake up for a minute?"
He blinks awake and fumbles to sit up. It doesn't work until you help him out and let him lean against your shoulder. "Sorry I fell asleep…"
"It's okay," you say softly. "Chopper thinks you have the flu."
Sanji groans. "That's what I was afraid of. I probably already got you sick, my love," he says to you. He turns to Chopper. "Doctor…can you give me something so I can make it until dinner? I really don't want to make someone else cook."
"Franky is already making breakfast," you say. This is, of course, untrue, but you know he will once you ask him to, which will be your second order of business after putting your lover to bed. "How about you rest for a while?"
"I can prep lunch," Sanji says weakly.
"I have it all under control," you say. "Don't worry. I promise no one will go hungry." You try to smile reassuringly. You're well aware of how seriously Sanji takes his job, so you're trying to treat it with just as much importance. You'll organize today's meals and work ahead to make leftovers and snacks for tomorrow.
Sanji searches your face, a long moment of tense silence passing between the two of you. You can practically read his thoughts through his expression—his sense of duty warring with his worn-out body.
"I know it's a lot to ask, but will you trust me with this?" You say.
Sanji still doesn't say anything, holding your gaze for another long moment before turning his attention to Chopper. "When will I be better? What's the strongest medicine you can give me?"
"It's hard to say," the reindeer boy says apologetically. "sometimes your symptoms can linger for weeks after you're no longer contagious. And as for medicine, my priority will be to keep your fever down. If your temperature gets much higher, your organs will start failing."
A strange look comes over Sanji's face. He's clearly thinking about something else, something far away. "Fine. It's…fine."
"What is?" you press, worried all your hard work was for naught. If he talked himself in another circle, it could be another hour before you get some sense into him.
"I'll rest." Sanji looks at you. "and I'll trust you."
A gauzy warmth climbs up your chest. You smile at him and lightly press a kiss onto his cheek. "I won't let you down, I promise."
Chopper accompanies the two of you back to Sanji's quarters, where you help him change into sleeping clothes and tuck him into bed. Chopper gives him some medicine for his fever and sets up a little schedule for each dose. After the doctor explains his treatment plan, he bids the two of you farewell and leaves to make some more medicine.
Once the door closes, you perch on the edge of Sanji's bed and lay your hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch eagerly, craving the cool feeling of your skin. "I'll be back to check on you soon. Do you need anything before I go?" you say.
"I'm fine." he pauses, smiling softly.
"Get some sleep, then," you murmur, leaving him with a kiss on the forehead as you lay him down. "I love you."
He's out like a light before he can say it back.
You return to Sanji's quarters as quickly as possible after settling the workload among your crewmates and yourself. A crew of amateur cooks taking over the job of a professional is easier said than done. You know the food won't taste quite the same, but at least it will be nourishing.
Franky made pancakes for breakfast—you found yourself impressed by his ability to keep up with Luffy's appetite. The duties pertaining to the remaining meals of the day have been distributed among the other members of the crew.
Your crewmates insisted on keeping your workload light so you could spend lots of time with Sanji and help him recover quickly. You're going to wash dishes after each meal and work on making a few snacks for tomorrow once dinner is done.
You open and close Sanji's door as quietly as possible in case he's still asleep. When you creep up to his bedside you see that he's still out, and you set aside the tray of snacks you brought. Sanji looks almost peaceful, sleeping soundly despite his sickness. his face is pale, his lips colorless and dry while his forehead shines with sweat.
He's usually a light sleeper. If he slept through his door opening, he probably won't wake up for a while. You cautiously sit down on the bed again, fingers threading into his golden hair and working out tangles.
He wakes up after a few minutes, blinking up at you blearily. "Darling?"
"Mhm," you hum, continuing to smooth his hair. His hair is curly, so you usually don't touch it. Now, however, he has severe bed head and it's messed up to begin with, so you take advantage of your chance to play with his hair. "How are you feeling?" You ask softly.
"Bad," Sanji says with a wry little smile. He leans into your touch again. "How did breakfast go?"
"Everyone got plenty to eat. Nami and Usopp are working on lunch right now, and I just got done washing the dishes from earlier."
Sanji nods, another sweet smile curling his lip. It's a sight you're glad to see. "I knew I could trust you."
"I'm glad you did," you say. "Do you need anything?"
"You," he mumbles, pushing his head into your hand like a cat, "always."
You roll your eyes fondly, adjusting so you can lay down on his bed with him. You stay on top of the blankets, knowing you'll be instantly overheated if you get under with him while he has such a high fever. The two of you are facing each other, and he snuggles his face into your chest.
"Better?" you tease, running your hand up and down his back.
"mmhmm." You can feel Sanji smiling, his arms snaking around your waist to hold you tightly. You're starting to notice the toll that his sickness is taking—he doesn't have as much strength as ususal when he squeezes you, and you notice his hands shaking a bit.
"Do you feel weak, dear?" you ask softly.
"mm. I can barely walk."
"How do you know that?" you say a bit sharply, "did you try to walk?"
"Yeah," he admits, "it's like my legs stopped working as soon as you left earlier."
"You were exhausted. You probably still are," you murmur.
"'m fine," he says a little bit petulantly, pushing his face into your sternum. He gets like this whenever he's hurt or sick, sticking to you like glue in a way that's deeply endearing until you have to go take care of your chores. You're used to his antics, so you worked ahead—you aren't needed until dinner time.
"Right, totally fine," you laugh. He moves again and you pull back to look at him. "Restless?"
He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't lay still either.
You roll your eyes. "Fine." You sit up and Sanji's eyes go wide, what little color is left in his face draining entirely. "I'm not leaving," you assure him, and push him so he lays on his back. You lay on top of him like a weighted blanket, essentially immobilizing him if he doesn't want to disturb you. You tuck your face in his neck.
Sanji puts his hands on the small of your back, turning his head so his cheek rests against yours. "All part of my plan," he says with a smile you feel more than you can see.
"Ugh, your beard," you complain lightly when his stubble scratches you. Both of you laugh and he readjusts.
Now that both of you are comfortable, Sanji falls asleep quickly. You feel his breathing change within a few minutes, slow, deep inhales and exhales just as rhythmic as the waves against the Sunny's hull. His body is feverishly warm, heat radiating from him even through the blankets between you.
You're glad he's resting, even if it takes sickness to get him to take care of himself. Sanji values his work above his health, it seems even to his detriment. As much as you love him, you wish he would learn moderation. Your love, your Sanji, always pushing himself to the very brink. Luckily, you will always be here to protect him whenever he should fall.
You feel a surge of affection. You want to squeeze Sanji until he pops, but you doubt that would be of any help to his recovery. It's embarassing what he can do to you just by existing, just by being there. Sometimes you love him so much it hurts, and you can tell he feels the same about you. The way he looks at you borders on worship, as if you are a wonder of the world, as if you are a miracle that blesses everything you touch.
"I love you, sweet boy." you mumble into his neck, eyes slipping closed. "I love you so much. I wish you would take care of yourself, but I'm happy to do it for you. Look what you've done to me…I love you. Idiot."
He stirs, and you feel his lashes brush against your skin as he opens his eyes. "mmmh? Did you say something, angel?"
"No," you lie, "I love you."
"I love you too," Sanji beams, and your chest hurts. "So much. Forever."
You don't say anything, squeezing him tightly to get this feeling out of your system.
"I really do appreciate you staying with me, my love," he says more softly. "Whenever someone gets sick, I…" he pauses, noticeably taking a breath to calm down. "…Not as much when it's me, but…it brings back bad memories."
"Oh, Sanji…" you murmur, propping up on your elbows to look at him. He turns and avoids your gaze, deliberately hiding behind his bangs. You gently push the hair aside, and you see his eyes shining.
"Sorry," he whispers, pursing his lips and closing his eyes tight. A tear slips down his cheek. "I'm sorry…I shouldn't have said anything."
"Don't be sorry, sweetheart," you say softly, thumbing the tear tracks away. "You don't have to be strong all the time, not with me."
His lips part briefly but he doesn't speak. You move to get off of him, leaving your hand on his waist so he won't worry you're leaving. Sanji watches you with watery blue eyes, and you lay down next to him again.
You quickly take him into your arms, tucking his face into your shoulder and rubbing gentle patterns up and down his back.
"Shh, just try to relax," you murmur. Sanji takes a deep breath without you having to tell him, so you kiss the crown of his head. "Good job. keep going, just like that. Deep breaths."
He goes a few more seconds before he breaks, a sob wracking his body. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. He squeezes you tightly but abruptly lets go, as if he can't decide if he should hold onto you.
"Please don't be sorry," you reiterate gently, "just breathe, sweetheart. I love you so much."
"How pathetic am I—a pirate worth millions of berries who can't handle it when someone catches a cold. It's like some kind of joke," he says bitterly.
"Not pathetic at all," you say in a matter-of-fact tone. You cup one side of his face, tilting his head so you can look him in the eyes. He's skittish with the eye contact at first, but eventually relents and holds your gaze. There's such love in his eyes, such adoration, that it almost makes you tear up as well. "Even if you are pathetic, it doesn't matter because I love you no matter what."
"No matter what?" He echoes, pressing his lips together again.
"Exactly," you smile softly. "And I'd love it if you could try to stop thinking so badly of yourself. Will you try? For me?"
"…Anything for you," he says breathlessly. It's his automatic response, as he'd never even dream of going against your wishes, even if it's something hard for him.
Overcome, you gently press your lips to his. Sanji leans into you with urgency bordering desperation, pushing his face into yours ungracefully.
After a moment that seems fleeting in hindsight he pulls away, eyes wide. "I forgot I was—I'm definitely contagious—" he stammers. He keeps going, rambling and apologizing profusely until you cut him off.
You gently grip his chin and have him meet your eyes, which are decidedly not upset with him. "I'm the one who kissed you. No need to worry, sweetheart."
He swallows hard, seeming to shrink back into himself a bit and hiding behind his bangs again. "I don't want you to get sick." his eyes go wide again. "I shouldn't have asked you to stay—I wasn't thinking—"
"I want to stay. I did all my work ahead of time so I could be with you," you say simply.
Sanji stares at you.
You smile softly. "I love you, remember?"
He still doesn't say anything, eyes shining as he regards you. After a long moment a tiny smile breaks his composure, and he buries his head in your shoulder. "My love…my angel. You're too good to me."
You squeeze him tightly, relishing in his embrace. Sanji also relaxes, sighing into your neck as he settles again.
You could get used to this, laying around all the time and cuddling together like cats. Holding Sanji like this is your favorite pastime.
"Je t'aime, mon ange…" he mumbles into your neck, voice weak from exhaustion.
"I love you too," you respond, a small smile touching your lips. You know he's asleep just a moment later, his body melting into your arms.