Title: Beware the Kraken (or Real Men Don't Talk, They Do Stuff and Stuff)
Universe: One Piece
Theme/Topic: Stupid guy love
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: lightly ZoroxSanji (appearances by Nami and Robin because they are smart and Luffy because he is not)
Warnings/Spoilers: None I can imagine. Probably crack.
Word Count: 1,555
Summary: In which Zoro apologizes like a Man and Sanji's response is appropriately Man Dumb.
Dedication: thehoyden's thank you fic for donating to my cause! I am sorry it took so long! I was dancing between two ideas in-between script work and tried the other one first (AND FAILED). Let me know if you want something…else. LOL
A/N: IDEK. I feel like I haven't seen either of these goons in FOREVER.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.

Sanji chops the vegetables carefully as he works, making neat, perfectly even 1/16th inch slivers of cabbage and carrot to fry with the rice he is cooking for dinner today. His pace is slowed somewhat by the myriad injuries he sustained in the last big fight, soreness and broken bones and still-tender scrapes making it difficult (but luckily not impossible) to work with the efficiency he is used to.

Normally he would find this kind of setback annoying, would probably complain to himself about his own carelessness, but he finds that as they continue to explore the New World the injuries he sustains in battle aren't things that he can blame merely on carelessness or distraction anymore. These new injuries are both testaments and warnings somehow; proof that he is still alive and reminders that one day he may not be unless he continues to become stronger as the world grows stronger around him.

Particularly, the broken pinky and ring finger on his left hand attest to all of those things, and while it is irritating to have to work around the wrappings Chopper has fitted onto his hand, Sanji can't help but feel relieved that the breaks were clean and that both will heal in due time. Luckily, luckily, his broken hand is only a testament and a warning this time, and not something more permanent and crushing.

These injuries simply tell him he has to get stronger, so that in the next big fight, when the only means of survival is Zoro's swords cutting through the heavy building supports around them, Sanji will be able to protect Nami-swan and Robin-chwan and his precious hands, all in one fell swoop.

He's taken to smoking less and doing extra pushups to start. Chopper is thrilled about the smoking less, but wants the pushups to wait. Sanji probably won't wait.

Because he knows he needs to get stronger now, because while it's embarrassing when you can't protect the things you've promised to and the things you love, it's even worse when your friends are busy worrying about you getting hurt in the line of fire when they should very well be concentrating on their own damned battles and doing whatever it takes to win them.

He finishes cutting the cabbage three minutes later than it would normally take him if all systems were completely functional. His broken fingers itch and ache inside of their bindings in the same way his irritation with himself itches fiercely beneath his skin, a constant tic in the back of his consciousness.

Absently, he remembers the lightning flash of Zoro's swords in the air, the rumbling of the building coming down around them, and the fact that he hadn't been fast enough to get himself out of the way after getting the girls out of the way.

Buildings fall surprisingly fast when they decide to.

Sanji tells himself he'll have to work on moving faster.

Less smoking and pushups to start. Maybe daily weight training afterward. The New World is a vast and terrifying place.

The oil in the pan is hot by the time he finishes mincing the garlic; he cracks an egg into the oil and lets it sit until it's cooked mostly through, before stirring it up into pieces and throwing the vegetables in with a hot sizzle and fragrant, crackling bursts of steam.

Behind him, he hears the door creak open.

He spares a glance over his shoulder as he stirs the wok but doesn't see anyone. He grabs the bowl of rice he'd set aside earlier with his good hand and balances it in the crook of his elbow as he waits for the cabbage to become tender.

Once it is, Sanji dumps the rice into the pan with the vegetables, adding salt and pepper and soy sauce until everything smells just right, until the egg and carrot and cabbage are tossed evenly with everything else.

Behind him, he hears the door quietly close again.

Sometimes the way the ship shifts and tilts on the water makes doors open and shut by themselves. Or sometimes Luffy is trying to sneak cookies before dinner.

Either way, Sanji focuses on the task at hand.

It isn't until a whole five minutes later, when he is plating the steaming rice and taking it to the table to join the dishes of spicy-salt shrimp and black bean pork ribs already there that he finally notices the body of a giant swordfish bleeding all over the galley floor, dead from the clean, X-shaped gash in its belly.

Sanji stares at the carcass for a bit.

Eventually, he sighs in annoyance and picks it up.

The next day, after his appointment with Chopper to change the wrappings on his hands, Sanji is peacefully breading the remaining swordfish into fillets and flash frying them for lunch when he nearly trips over the twitching pile of enormous rock lobsters that have been delivered right in front of the refrigerator door. The creatures are dazed but mostly alive, despite various small cracks littering their shells from where they had clearly done epic battle recently.

Sanji toes at them a little bit with his shoe, and after some colorful muttering, supposes that he should start boiling water.

"Okay this is just weird now!" he shouts to no one in particular three days later, and wonders whether it is actually morally wrong to pluck and cook—and then feed to his crewmates— the giant dead eagle-thing that has been left unceremoniously in his hammock tonight, its throat neatly slit and its body drained of blood. On the one hand, it would be a waste to just throw it away. On the other, it's like playing right into his hands.

"Oooh, chicken!" Luffy warbles happily the next afternoon when he sees the lunch spread, and Sanji supposes that is that.

Sanji draws the line with the weird, constant stream of dead or dying bodies he keeps finding when he steps out of the shower one evening and nearly slips on the mangled remains of what must have once been a decent-sized kraken on the bathroom floor.

"These aren't even edible, asshole!" he screams into the night, finding himself in the midst of one of his worst nightmares as he stands, red-faced, naked, and surrounded by a wide array of ominously oozing creature tentacles.

When he kicks at the kraken bits in frustration he only ends up getting a face full of tentacle slime for his troubles.

"I'm going to kill that idiot marimo," Sanji vows later that night, when he is serving Nami-swan and Robin-chwan their evening drinks only to find the rest of the kraken bits scattered in brilliant display in front of the galley door.

Nami-swan makes an elegantly amused face upon seeing them, while Robin-chwan laughs delicately into her hand and thanks Sanji for her drink.

"I apologize for the disgusting sights and sounds that moron has subjected you lovely flowers to tonight," Sanji tells them gallantly, and presents them each with a small plate of exquisitely decorated cookies. "Apparently Zoro is making fun of me." He moves to start cleaning up the kraken bits.

In the meantime, the girls both look at him. "Making fun of you?" Nami asks, sounding near incredulous. "By bringing you all this," pause, "interesting stuff?"

Sanji nods. "He is a tasteless ignoramus and I will kick him in the head doubly hard for harming your delicate sensibilities, Nami-chwan!"

From beside Nami, Robin just looks calmly quizzical. "I'm sorry, I seem to have gotten lost in the conversation. How is he making fun of you, Cook-san?" she inquires politely.

Sanji makes a face. "Don't worry about it, Robin-chwan, his brainless caveman ways aren't something you should pollute your mind with!"

Her smile never changes. "I'm actually very curious, if you don't mind."

Sanji blinks. Then frowns. "Well. After last week's incident with the building he clearly thinks that I am weak and can't handle myself anymore. He's making fun of me by showing off and killing all this stuff for us to eat because he thinks I wouldn't be able to do it myself." Pause. "Though I could. I just had…other menu plans, is all." He sniffs.

The two girls share a look.

"Oh my god I have a headache," Nami sighs. She buries her nose in her magazine.

"I'll get you something soothing to help, Nami-swan!" Sanji promises.

Robin simply chuckles a little more and sips at her drink. "Well. That makes perfect sense now. Thank you, Cook-san."

Sanji flutters. "My pleasure, Robin-chwan!"

He goes to get Nami something for her headache.

The next morning, Sanji makes good on his promise and kicks several pieces of leftover dead kraken at the back of Zoro's big, stupid head.

When the first one hits the swordsman with a wet, slimy sounding thwack, Zoro blinks, grunts, and pulls it out of his hair.

"Ha," Sanji declares, with a glare. Then he spins around and walks off with his head held high.

Leaving Zoro on deck to contemplate the slightly smelly kraken bits in his hand, under Robin's amused gaze and Nami's disbelieving one.

Zoro's expression is cautiously optimistic as he dangles the lonely tentacle at the girls. "So does this mean we're okay now?" His brow furrows thoughtfully.

Robin bursts out laughing.

END