Of Rifles and Repercussions p1

Chapter 1
Stolen kisses, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip...

A hand tugging almost frantically at his belt...

Biting down on the shoulder of a certain blonde to keep from waking the crew with his cries as he came...

Zoro awoke with a gasp, sweat trickling down his face and noticeably aroused. Fuck. He drew a hand across his brow and attempted to calm his panting breath. The dreams were occurring more frequently now and with accelerating intensity. He tried to focus on swimming in the icy river of Drum Island and other very cold pursuits.

It was driving him fucking *crazy*.

It took a while, but he finally got the heat in his blood cooled enough to be able to operate rationally. With a slight groan, he stood to stretch the rest of the tension from his body and glance around the barely lightened ocean from his perch in the crow's nest. Thank whatever gods there may be that he was on watch; he couldn’t imagine waking in that state in the bunkroom or somewhere more conspicuous.

What brought those dreams on, he had no idea. Something about that skinny cook had captured his mind's eye, and he found himself noticing things, thinking things, that he had no business doing. Like how Sanji's blonde hair looked so achingly touchable when it glowed in the warm sunlight. How wiry muscles slid fluidly under his skin as he fought. How his tight ass almost *begged* Zoro to reach out and caress it...

-Thunk- -Thunk- -Thunk- Zoro bounced his head repeatedly off of the mast. Having his thoughts travel in that direction was *not* going to help him... He paused and turned his head as something white flashed across his peripheral vision. Just over the horizon to the west rose a large white sail, the obnoxious blue seagull of the Marine emblem impossible to miss. It was the perfect distraction.

He grabbed the edge of the crow's nest and boosted himself out to descend the rigging. A good fight was one way to get his mind off of... other things. He strode across the deck to yell a warning down to the crews' quarters before positioning himself before the rail to observe the oncoming ship. Zoro grinned as settled and awaited the coming battle with anticipation.

* * *

Sanji was up and dressed in seconds, throwing a few mild kicks to his still dozing nakama before ascending the ladder to the main deck. The rest of the sluggards probably wouldn't rouse until cannon fire cut through their sleep-clouded thoughts.

He watched Zoro stare at the coming ship with a gleeful smirk, thumbing the blade of Wadou slightly from its scabbard with a distinctive -shnick-. Few things seemed to rouse the idiot like the prospect of a bloody battle.

"Oi, shitty-swordsman," Sanji grinned, "looks like I won't have time to kick your ass this morning."

"Che, like that would ever happen, asshole," Zoro sneered, only to become the recipient of a perfectly aimed kick to the back of his head.

"Dammit, ero-cook..."

"Oi, guys, what's going on?" A rumpled-looking Luffy emerged from the trapdoor to the men's quarters, hair on end and rubbing his eyes. Usopp and Chopper followed in similar state.

A match flared, releasing the distinctive smell of sulfur into the early morning air as Sanji lit his first cigarette and sent up a fragrant tendril of smoke. "Looks like breakfast is going to be late, Captain."

"...late?" Luffy whimpered. Slamming his hat over his raven mop, he leapt up onto the rail to scream at the oncoming Marine ship. "BASTARDS!!!"

Zoro couldn't help but chuckle at his captain's outburst; it would be a cold day in Hell before Luffy failed to think with his stomach. Zoro glanced back towards the billowing white sail and drew his swords.

"Bring it on."

* * *

A group of Marines ran howling towards one end of the ship only to be thrown back by the blow of a well-placed foot.

Sanji was having a blast. Sure, kicking the shit out of those pitiful Marines was a piece of cake. But it was so exhilarating to be fighting a fresh enemy, breaking the monotony of weeks spent at sea. He wouldn't admit it to that sword-fixated asshole, but it made their daily confrontations all the more enjoyable.

"Fuck off," he growled, sweeping out a powerful leg to take down another group of Marines attempting to rush him. Why the stupid seaweed-head was beginning to plague his thoughts he couldn’t quite figure out, and it was annoying.

So focused was he on thrashing Marines and not thinking about the swordsman that he didn't notice the rifle taking aim at him from the other ship.

* * *

That fucking bastard was aiming a goddamn gun at Sanji.

Zoro felt his chest constrict suddenly, his breath catching in his throat. Steel sang as he sliced a path through several warm bodies almost absentmindedly as he tried to close the distance between them, to get the stupid cook out of the *fucking* way, but he just couldn't seem to move fast enough.

"Sanji!" He yelled, plowing through what seemed like an endless tide of sword fodder. He could see the cook start, and he turned towards Zoro with his ridiculous eyebrow distorted in an almost puzzled look. Shit, not far enough.

Without thought he flung himself at the cook a split-second before the gun's report thundered through his ears, followed by an explosion of pain as the bullet tore through the muscle and bone of his back. A cry was wrenched from his throat as he staggered and collapsed against his goal. He tried to pull himself off, but his limbs had turned to lead and Zoro struggled for air that wouldn't seem to come, vision clouding and the noises of battle fading from his ears.

He barely registered his name being wrung from Sanji's lips and the strong arms lowering him to the ground before the darkness took him. His last thought considered the irony of finally being in the cook's arms and not being able to enjoy it.
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Chapter 2

All fighting seemed to cease for a moment as the combatants' eyes flew to the falling swordsman like iron to a magnet.

Sanji staggered under Zoro's weight, finally managing to grasp him under his arms and lower him to the deck. All thoughts and sounds of the ceasing struggle seemed trivial as he stared at the green-haired swordsman, trying and failing to comprehend what had compelled him to throw himself in the path of that deadly bullet. The remaining Marines found themselves facing a crew of enraged Strawhats who quickly returned the favor; the crunch of cracking bones, the spraying of bodily fluids, and the screams of the dying echoing briefly across the deck before finally fading away.

Ignoring the ongoing carnage, Sanji rested a hand on Zoro's shoulder and shook it lightly. "Oi, shitty-swordsman, look at me." It was just another wound; he'd been hurt worse than this. Nothing. "Come on, bastard, you're starting to scare me here." He'd surrender even that little bit of pride to have the swordsman turn and smirk at him, growl, do *something*.

It was then he noticed the strange gasping sounds emerging from the swordsman's throat; the hissing, bloody froth that seemed to bubble from Zoro's wound with each breath. He inhaled another strangled gulp of air before brief, hacking coughs tore through his injured body, spraying blood across Sanji's knees and the deck in a grisly caramine splatter. "Shit!" The cook's wild gaze frantically searched the deck for the tiny doctor. "Chopper! Dammit, somebody!" He ripped off his jacket and covered the disturbing mess of Zoro's back, hoping to stem the tide of blood.

The scrabble of tiny hooves alerted him that his cries had not gone unnoticed. Chopper dropped his little medical bag beside the two of them and quickly assessed the situation, kind eyes sweeping Sanji's face before he lifted the black jacket and began to work. "I'm gonna need you to move, Sanji."

"No! Dammit, it should have been me, I need to-" Suddenly a pair of strong arms were there, lifting and pulling him from Zoro's side. He fought, oh how he fought; it was his fault that the Marimo was lying in a steadily growing pool of blood on the deck, turning blue...

"Sanji." The unnaturally serious tone of his captain gave him pause as he was turned to face the younger man. He looked into the pair of concerned black eyes. "There's nothing you can do."

"But-"

"*Sanji*." Luffy shook him slightly. "You're not going to help Zoro by getting in Chopper's way."

The cook let out his breath in one great shuddering sigh and slumped to the deck, Luffy releasing him. Drawing up his knees, he hid his face in his hands; his captain watching him quietly for a moment before settling down beside him.

It was several minutes before Luffy spoke again. "You aren't the only one who cares about him, you know."

Sanji was silent.

Luffy kept his eyes on the slowly rising sun as he continued. "He'll be OK, just you wait. There's no way a stupid little bullet is gonna keep our Zoro down long." He glanced over at the cook, whose face was still hidden by his long, pale fingers, and smiled widely. "Don't worry."

* * *

Three days passed in a blur, and while Chopper had managed to repair Zoro's collapsed lung as best he could, it was clear that the swordsman's troubles were far from over. His periods of consciousness had faded into delirium as an intense fever set into his already weakened body. Concerned, Chopper ordered the crew to take shifts watching over him.

Currently Nami had 'Zoro Watch,' and seated herself at a small table pulled up next to the makeshift sickroom. Usopp had hung a curtain to make a separate space in the men's quarters for Zoro to rest; he lay on the futon, propped slightly to ease his breathing and the stress on his wounded back. Nami tried to offer his beset body some comfort as he writhed in fever-induced dreams, periodically wiping his face and neck with a damp cloth. It was all she could do.

* * *

He was back on deck, fighting to get to Sanji before that bastard fired the gun. But he couldn't seem to get his feet to move, couldn't seem to close the distance.

"Sanji!" He could see the cook start, turning Zoro again with that same puzzled look. But this time there was no one to block the bullet; Zoro heard the report and saw the cook's chest explode as blood and flesh splattered the deck. Saw Sanji's wide blue eyes lock on his as his body sank slowly to the ground.

Suddenly he was there, holding Sanji's limp form in his arms as the cook's breath shuddered from his body, eyes rolling up into his head and what little life remaining in him fluttering away. Everything around Zoro seemed to fade away as he held the lifeless man in his arms, one solitary tear slipping unbidden down his face. "C'mon, Sanji," he whispered, pressing light kisses over the bloodstained face. "Bastard, you can't leave me like this." The normally stoic swordsman began rocking with grief, clutching the blonde's empty shell to his chest, repeating his name, over and over. "Sanji..."

* * *

"Sa...nji."

Nami left her maps and settled in beside the swordsman as he began quivering in what appeared to be sorrow. Lips pursed in concern, she wrung the wet cloth over a bowl of cool water and began dabbing the sweat from his troubled face. The cook's name continued to fall from his lips, tears leaking from the corners of his clenched eyes.

"Shhh, Zoro, it's alright." Her heart ached for her nakama, for the brokenness in his voice as he struggled with the demons in his mind. Hearing Sanji's name coming from the swordsman was a surprise, but after watching him take a bullet for the love-cook and the said cook's resulting distress, Nami suspected that there was something going on between them. Whether they realized it yet or not. The navigator's lips quirked in a small smile. She'd have been teasing them relentlessly if Zoro wasn't in such sorry shape.

Several quiet taps on the wall of the room drew her attention from her patient, and she looked over to see Sanji watching them from the doorway with tired, bloodshot eyes. He didn't look as if he had slept much since the attack, and was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants rather than his usual immaculate suit. "Your watch is up, my beautiful Nami-san." His voice lacked much of its usual enthusiasm, which Nami took note of as well. At this rate, she'd bet a hell of a lot of beli that there were some sort of feelings between the two of them, even if the stubborn bastards refused to acknowledge it. Sanji crouched next to Nami and the futon, glancing over the prone figure occupying it. "Has there been any change?"

Nami stood quietly, setting the bowl on the table and gathering her map-making materials before speaking. "In his condition? No. His temperature is still very high. Chopper's managed to keep the infection to a minimum so far, but..." She shrugged. "It's just gonna take time."

Nami walked to the door to the women's quarters and paused, hand on the knob, before turning back to the cook. Watching his face, she added, "He's been calling for you nearly the entire time I've been watching, you know."

Sanji's eyes widened in his pale face as her words registered. A blush settled over his features before he quickly glanced away. "I see." He began picking at the blanket nervously before turning back to her, a shadow of a sneer attempting some semblance of normality. "Wonder why the shitty-swordsman would do that?"

Nami rolled her eyes. "Men are so dense," she muttered. She scowled at the cook. "I don't know all the details, idiot, but there is *something* going on between you two. And furthermore-" She cut off the blonde's protest with a wave of her hand. "I think you'd both do better to admit it and move on. There's nothing wrong with caring for someone like that." She opened the door to her quarters and stopped just inside the door. "For... for loving someone like that." The door slid closed with a quiet -ca-clunk-.

* * *

Sanji stared after at the closed door, mouth hanging open comically. Thoughts were churning within his mind, and all of a sudden the scattered puzzle pieces of thoughts, feelings, and desires he'd been dealing with recently seemed to assemble.

Love?
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Chapter 3

Nami's words still haunted him long after she had left, as he sat by the swordsman's side. I think you'd both do better to admit it and move on. There's nothing wrong with caring for someone like that. For... for loving someone like that.

Sanji ran his hands through his blonde hair and settled them behind his neck with a groan. So much had happened in the last few days, so much that confused the hell out of him and scared him all at the same time. Sure, he might have admitted to himself that there'd been a little lust that had existed for his crewmate before Zoro saved his life. He wouldn't have minded relieving a little sexual frustration with the swordsman; far from it. But perhaps Nami was right, maybe... maybe behind that lust was a growing love for the marimo-headed idiot that had been growing, just waiting for a chance to blossom. Eww. Too bad that last thought sounded like a poorly-written romance novel.

He peered down at Zoro, lying there so helplessly. Nothing of the strong front he usually put up around the rest of the nakama was visible; no threatening scowl, no curse-filled insults. He would have looked almost peaceful if it weren't for the subdued emotions playing across his face from fever-induced dreams.

* * *

The deck was bathed in blood, corpses strewn haphazardly like morbidly discarded dolls on a playroom floor. Zoro stood in the midst of the gruesome scene, splattered in body fluids and god-only-knew what else. The atmosphere was as quiet and lifeless as the dead surrounding him.

"Zoro."

That single, whispered word seemed to echo out of nowhere, and he whirled frantically to find its source.

Standing in a previously empty space was the blonde cook, looking immaculately out of place among the carnage but for the gory destruction that was the left side of his chest. A tinge of sadness touched those sky-blue eyes, accompanying the wry twist of his lips.

Zoro's mouth hung open, lips moving silently to the words that couldn't be sounded.

"Stupid shitty-swordsman." That ethereal voice floated to his ears from what seemed like miles away. Sanji thrust his hands in his pockets, striking a trademark pose before continuing. "Making this huge fucking mess, but not able to protect one damn person." Fingers crept up to the hole in his chest, and he glanced down at the long, thin hands that came away stained crimson. He chuckled softly before returning his gaze to Zoro's stricken green eyes. "Protect me."

With that, the ship, the dead, everything but the swordsman and the cook seemed to fade into white. Zoro still hadn't moved from the spot he'd first found himself in, frozen by shock and horror at everything around him.

Sanji's eyes were bright with unshed tears as he lifted a bloodstained hand towards Zoro in an almost pleading gesture. "Why?"

Then he was swallowed in a sudden surge of light that washed out the swordsman's vision. With a choked cry, Zoro struggled to reach out, to grab the other man, but he was no longer there. As the light began to fade into blackness Zoro dropped to his knees, thoughts of guilt and shame and something else bursting forth in an anguished scream before he was finally, blessedly was dropped back into the nothing that was unconsciousness.

* * *

Sanji hadn't even realized that he had drifted into a light doze on the edge of the futon until the high-pitched keening sound that was so totally *not* Zoro brought him suddenly back into awareness like a bucket of ice water.

He stared frozen for only a split second before bending close to speak in low, soothing tones. "Oi, shitty-swordsman, it's OK." The insult fell like an endearment from his lips as he grabbed the hand clutching frantically at the sheets and rubbed it between his own. "Shhh, it's OK." Sanji repeated the phrase over and over again like a mantra as the swordsman's whimpers slowly ceased and his panicked breathing began to slow.

Suddenly a pair of unfocused green eyes flew open and moved to his face. "Sa...nji," the hoarse baritone voice broke the silence.

"I'm here." The hand the cook held in his own suddenly gripped like a vice on his wrist.

"Sanji." A tongue shakily ran over fever-parched lips before he continued. "I... I'm sorry." Sanji's heart ached to see the swordsman so delirious, so contrary to his normal snarky self.

"Nothing to be sorry for, you stupid marimo." With his free hand he reached over to tentatively brush his fingers over sea-green hair soothingly. "If anybody, it's me that should be apologizing-"

Zoro's hand transferring its hold on Sanji's wrist to a death-grip on the front of his t-shirt stopped the cook's words. Zoro's eyes had widened in what almost seemed like fear, something alien and *wrong* on his features. "Please... don't leave... me... again." The fist on his shirtfront trembled as he spoke. "Please... Sanji..."

It was the raw need in his voice, a need for comfort and assurance, that brought Sanji to a decision he would never have considered under normal circumstances. Easing himself down on the futon next to the wounded man, he gingerly embraced Zoro's prone form, conscious of his injuries. "I'm here." He gently ran fingers along the edges of Zoro's short green hair before sliding them briefly along that strong jaw line. "I won't go anywhere."

Sanji could almost visibly watch the tension drain from the swordsman's upper body as the words pierced fever-clouded thoughts. Zoro drifted back into unconsciousness, eyelids slowly fluttering closed over deep emerald eyes. The blonde watched him sleep for a while. At least until the fatigue of the past few days finally pulled him into slumber as well.

* * *

The first thing that returned was his sense of smell. Cigarettes, spice, the salty tang of the ocean, and a quasi-familiar musk that melded into an oddly pleasant scent.

Then he noticed a warm arm over his waist, connected to an equally warm body curled up next to his own. This is nice.

He opened his eyes slowly, eyelids sticking together as if they had been glued shut. As the world slowly came into focus, he observed the sun-kissed blonde hair of the man next to him, laying haphazardly over a pale face relaxed in sleep.

Everything was wonderful until his thoughts finally caught up with his senses. Zoro's eyes widened in shock as realization hit, that Sanji was laying next to him; no, Sanji was *cuddling* him. This was not Normal. This was not How They Acted.

"Son of a *bitch*!" He jerked away from the embrace, hissing in pain as he pushed wildly at the cook in a sudden burst of energy. "What the *fuck* are you doing?!"

Sanji's pleasant dreams suddenly fled as he felt himself being pummeled by a single fist that, though weakened, still fucking *hurt*. His eyes snapped open to find an awake, aware, and extremely angry swordsman. I guess his fever's broke, he thought, snarling at the other man as he scooted out of range of his fist. Some small part of Sanji's mind wanted to weep at the loss of intimacy.

How was he supposed to explain himself?
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Chapter 4

A week had passed since Zoro's fever had broken, twelve days since the fateful morning that threw the lives of two Strawhat pirates into disarray. After awakening with Sanji at his side and driving him off, the swordsman proceeded to proclaim his recovery with gusto, even though it took him nearly a full day before he had the strength to drag himself out onto the upper deck (much to Chopper's chagrin). It took the little doctor threatening to throw all of his weights and sake overboard until he grudgingly agreed to delay his training for another week. Normalcy returned to their tiny ship for the most part. Except that Zoro seemed to be avoiding Sanji like the plague, even going so far as to avoid even the verbal and physical sparring that the cook had grown to expect and almost enjoy.

Sanji's thoughts conflicted as he quietly prepared lunch. Part of him exalted that things were almost back to normal, but that quieter, softer side that he liked to pretend didn't exist -at least when it came to Zoro- was saddened. That part of him wanted to still be laying next to the swordsman, stretching that peaceful moment. Setting his knife down carefully, he grasped the edge of the counter and bowed over it, berating himself. "Fucking stupid. This whole thing is *fucking* stupid," he muttered.

The galley door slammed open, startling the cook out of his brief reverie. A pair of rubber arms stretched in to grab the sink, and with a loud *boing* were followed by a whining, red-shirted bundle of energy. "Sanj~i! I'm hungr~y!"

Running a hand through his hair in exasperation, he glared at his voracious captain. He just wanted some peace and quiet, dammit. How hard was that? "Fine," he snapped. Wrenching open a cabinet, he grabbed a bag of senbei* and threw them in Luffy's general direction. "Now out." The blonde turned back to his cooking, shoulders tense as he waited for the expected sound of the galley door closing behind the rubber man. And waited. And waited some more.

Sanji turned his head slowly to glance over his shoulder. Luffy's eyes were on him, open wide over his hanging jaw.

"What?"

The younger boy's almost comical expression twisted into one of concern. "Umm, Sanji... are you feeling O.K.?"

If looks could kill... "I'm fine," he ground between clenched teeth as he turned back to the counter in an attempt to discourage further conversation. Again he waited for the sound of the galley door, and again was disappointed. Scowling at the counter top, the blonde refused to acknowledge Luffy's continued presence.

With a crinkle of cellophane the bag of senbei landed carefully on the counter next to him. Now it was Sanji's turn to sport an amazed look as he twisted towards his abnormally sober captain, shock overcoming annoyance. Luffy *never* turned down food.

The rubber man turned and braced himself against the counter, facing Sanji. He started slowly. "I may not be as clever as Nami, but... I can tell that something's bothering you." Face breaking a smile, he continued. "You'd have kicked my ass out of here a while ago if you were O.K."

Sanji stared at him for a few moments before patting his jacket down for a fresh cigarette and his matches.
Leave it to Luffy to be inanly perceptive. Inhaling a lungful of smoky relaxation, he blew it out slowly before pivoting in his captain's direction. "It's really nothing important. Just... some personal shit."

"Hm." The rubber man pulled himself onto the counter and began banging his heels obnoxiously against the lower cabinet door. "The kind of stuff you gotta figure out yourself." He paused, and Sanji could almost see the wheels turning before Luffy continued. "Well, I don't know what's wrong, but I figure you can fix it, if you try."

"Yeah, I guess." Sanji let the ghost of a smile reach his lips. "Now get your ass off my counter, idiot." The cook supplemented his demand with a swift, but light, kick to the back of Luffy's head, knocking his skinny frame sprawling.

"Hahaha, that's better." Luffy stood, dusting himself off with a grin. "I want my nakama to be happy, 'cause otherwise it's no fun living together."

That simple logic made perfect sense to the cook. Whenever a true fight broke out, the rest of the crew would be walking on eggshells and praying that the involved parties made up soon so things could go back to normal... Sanji ground the spent cigarette into an ashtray and reached over to prod the Luffy towards the door with his foot. "Now get out; lunch won't finish itself."

The rubber man cheered and scrambled for the door, leaving Sanji to his much-neglected lunch preparation. Just before the door swung closed, an arm stretched back to grab the bag of senbei and disappeared with them.

Some things never change, he noted with a roll of his eyes. Reaching for the abandoned knife, he attacked some vegetables with renewed vigor. He'd 'fix' his problem all right, if he could just figure out how...

* * *

Zoro stood at the stern, staring blankly out over the water. He rested his hands lightly on the rail, swords rattling slightly as his weight shifted. The swordsman wasn't a deep thinker. Give him his swords and a few opponents, and he’d gladly leave the thinking to someone else. But once in a while something lodged itself in his mind, and he was forced to deal with it if he wanted to return to his own relatively undisturbed thoughts. Ever since he awoke from his delirium in the blonde cook's arms, one thing had been bouncing through his brain like one of Usopp's pachinkos: he wasn't sure what he felt about Sanji anymore.

It didn't make any *goddamn* sense. The bastard annoyed him to no end. But he remembered how good it felt to be held, the physical closeness that was so... nice. Snippets of dreams he'd had while not in his right mind were also surfacing randomly, rememberences of gore and tears and the strange feeling in his chest when he thought Sanji was gone. The whole situation felt like a weakness, and he growled angrily at nothing in particular. He hated being weak.

"Oi, there you are, Zoro!" The swordsman was barely aware of the rubber arm stretched to grasp the rail beside him before he was violently thrust into it, the rest of Luffy slamming into his tender back. His eyes watered as his injury protested, and he fought to regain the breath knocked from him by the force of the blow. Luffy sat up laughing from where he sprawled on the deck; Zoro cuffed him.

"Watch what you're doing, bastard!" He really didn't need the idiot to open up his stitches. The little fur ball would make him wait even longer before letting him continue training.

"Sorry," Luffy mumbled. Then as if a switch had been thrown, he grinned widely. "I'm glad I found you. I thought you might've fallen overboard, since I hadn't seen you."

"You're the only one who falls overboard," Zoro mumbled, thinking of the countless times he'd fished his captain from the sea.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." The swordsman eased himself to the deck and leaned back gingerly, settling his trio of kantanas next to him. "Now go away and let me sleep."

"Aww, Zoro, can't you at least come and sleep where you usually do? Where everybody else is?"

"'s quieter here," he mumbled, closing his eyes. Now was the time for his well-rehearsed look-at-me-I'm-sleeping pose. Then maybe his captain would grow bored and leave him alone.

"But Zoro," Luffy continued to whine, "it's like your hiding or something-"

The swordsman's eyes snapped open and he glared at him. "I'm not hiding," he growled.

"What else would you call it?" The young captain squatted down next to him and peered into his face, puzzled.

Zoro didn't have an answer, rather he scowled at Luffy before shutting his eyes again.

"Awww, come on." He reached out and began poking Zoro repeatedly in the shoulder. "Why aren't you listening to me? Huh? C'mon, Zoro, can't you pay attention to me for a minute? Why's everybody ignoring me today? You're worse than Sanji..." Luffy paused in mid-poke, and Zoro cracked an eye in both annoyance at being compared to the cook and to see what had caught the rubber man’s attention.

Luffy had a look of intense concentration on his face, proof that he was thinking hard about something. Zoro almost expected to see smoke pouring out of his ears. Eventually something clicked, and the raven-haired pirate's mouth formed an 'O'. "Did you and Sanji have a bad fight? Is that why both of you are acting weird?"

"What?! I don't know what's wrong with that shitty-cook."

A dark eyebrow lifted in skepticism. "I don't know... you two are the only ones acting funny." Luffy brought his face within inches of the swordsman's and frowned. "Are you lying to me?"

"Get the hell outta my face," Zoro growled, pushing the rubber man away roughly. "Let me sleep."

Luffy rubbed the shoulder Zoro struck and pursed his lips in frustration before stalking off. "Fine."

"Luffy." His captain stopped. "It's nothing, OK? I just need some time to myself, to figure some stuff out." The raven head bobbed once in acknowledgment before an arm stretched out to send him barreling into the crow's nest. And Usopp, by the sudden burst of indignant wailing.

Zoro closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of insane captains and annoyingly attractive cooks. He'd work this mess out later.