Summary: When Sanji is hit head on with a stroke of bad luck, he is convinced the world has it out to get him, and Sanji has the perfect recipe for revenge. The dish turns out to be a more bitter bite than Sanji can chew, and now he has to invent a recipe for forgiveness. Zoro/Sanji, Nakamaship.

Disclaimer: The One Piece world and characters are not my own and belong to their respective creators. I'm not gaining anything but entertainment from this fiction.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy. Feedback is greatly appreciated. This chapter has been severely edited from it's originally posted version.

Warnings: Bad Language! Those foul-mouthed pirates... (hmph)..

A Cook's Recipe For:

Prologue: Because This Is the Dance of A Flour Sack.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

the rhythm of this cruel beat is saving me

and i'm white and wilting and beat upon

cover me and hide my face in the dance

in this waltz of life

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It could be worse.

It could be worse.

Oh, it could be worse.

Definitely.

Somehow.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Combine the following ingredients:

1 temperamental flame

1 burnt pancake

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It could be worse!

This mantra was one that Sanji, cook of the Strawhat Pirates, had been muttering endlessly since the day began. Trust him, he had his reasons.

Sanji wasn't a believer in Bad Luck. He wasn't a believer in Good Luck, necessarily, but when it came to blessings, Sanji believed that he'd picked more than his fair share of long straws. Even though some things didn't go exactly according to plan, on normal days Sanji could find some good stowed away in little crevices that you just had to reach for. The bad, often times, had little sprits of good weaved throughout it that made unlucky events seem borderline bearable. Sort of like the nice buzz after downing a bottle of shitty rum.

But, there were always those days.

Those days: the ones where no matter how hard you try, something will go wrong just for the sheer hell of it. On those days, the bright side was hidden so far in the dark that Sanji just couldn't seem to seek out its' flame. And the cook normally prided himself for always having a light on hand.

The misfortune was unexplainable. And it just so happened that today, in some twisted act of fate, Sanji had finally picked a short straw. Walked under a ladder. Stepped on a crack. Whatever kind of superstition that the blonde had broken, he wasn't sure. Maybe he'd spilled some salt when he didn't notice. But something sure as hell had shifted. Sanji was sure that Fate had a middle finger, and it was currently thrust in his face, super glued straight up.

Yes, today was becoming one of those days.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Was the bullshit phrase that had been said to him countless times as a child. But Sanji didn't have any literal lemons, and so he used Nami's tangerines instead.

But his juice turned out bitter. And they were low on sugar. Sanji made a puckered face as he finished taste-testing the sour liquid. It stung his gums and burned his throat on the way down. The food was even against him now. Somehow things had begun to seem a bit unreasonable. He'd set the pitcher on the table momentarily until he could think of a way to salvage it.

Things could be worse.

Sanji couldn't pinpoint exactly how they could be worse, because it wasn't just anything in particular that put him in a foul mood today. It was just that every little thing seemed to want to piss the blonde chef off, and frankly, Sanji was just not in the mood to be pissed off today. Except, he was, and the universe saw it fit to keep finding ways to make sure he stayed that way.

For example, Sanji woke up from too little sleep, and promptly fell face-first out of his hammock.

And that was just the beginning…

He'd nicked himself shaving in the bathroom this morning. Burned the first round of breakfast to a crisp. Barely got any rest because his other crew mates wouldn't quit talking in their sleep. Stubbed his toes on a stray cannon ball out on deck. Started thinking "it could be worse" just before walking into his kitchen at the crack of dawn only to find his traps had been sprung and cookie crumbs were all that was leftover from a heaping plate of desserts he'd made just last night…

Even that was only a tiny aspect of his horrible existence now.

These events were bothersome, sure, but these everyday occurrences weren't the cause of Sanji's annoyance. No, it was more like every little thing was just piling up too fast.

And the blonde's patience was seriously waning.

Patience soon became completely intangible the moment a certain shitty straw-hatted captain had flown through the galley door with a wail of, "SANJI! FOOD!"

There was a violent retort from the cook saying, "It's not done yet, Luffy!" And the blonde had barely managed to miss getting splattered into a wall by the rambunctious boy.

Looking back on it now, Sanji wouldn't have minded it being a normal wall-splattering event.

Because instead, like a sequence in a bad horror film, he'd first been catapulted into the dinner table, cracked it right down the middle, bounced off, and was then splattered into the wall where his knife rack hung.

The cook didn't even see it coming. Even though, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should have been expecting it.

"Out. Now. Or no meat for a week." Sanji finally hissed, breathing hard as he lay there with a plethora of sharp objects scattered around his head. Luffy had scrambled away so fast that Sanji barely heard the "Oops" that the Captain sputtered. Of course, Sanji didn't hear the "Sorry" and he was pretty sure there wasn't one anyways.

It could be worse. It could be much worse. The cook reminded himself.

This, all this, combined with the fact that Sanji had smoked his way down to his last pack of cigarettes, left him on edge.

Sanji sighed as he heard a very loud explosion outside that rocked the ship. Tell tale cries of "Dammit! Why did you do that!" could be heard from a very disgruntled sniper. Sanji's heart would have soared at the sounds of someone else's day going just as shitty as his was, except the booming explosion seemed to finally unleash the migraine that he knew was coming, forming painfully between his eyebrows. Head pounding, Sanji stared up at the ceiling from his position on the kitchen floor, and sighed again.

Maybe "on edge" was too delicate of a statement.

But it could be worse, right?

Maybe.

As it was now, Sanji needed some serious stress relief. So, to take off a little pent up anger at having the Universe trying in all-powerful ways to make his life a living hell, he'd decided right then that he should share some of his sour misfortune and spread his misery to some of his oblivious crew mates.

But as fate would have it, when the gears for revenge started turning in Sanji's mind, he caught sight of something else. Something wet, orange, and sticky covering the kitchen floor. The pitcher of freshly squeezed tangerine juice, made special from Nami-swan's personal grove, was currently on its side, on the ground, hydrating the woodwork.

"When life gives you lemons, my ass. What happens when the lemonade spills?" Sanji roared to no one.

Skull bashing target number one: Luffy.

He was going to kill that shitty rubber retard.

How could this day possibly get any worse?

Frustrated tears gathered in the corners of Sanji's eyes as he hastily stood up. He turned then, and in his fury accidentally elbowed the handle of the sizzling skillet resting on the stove.

Scalding oil flew all over the cook's clean white dress shirt; ruining it, but not before splashing across his left hand, scorching his thumb and palm. Sanji literally had tears making mocking trails down his cheeks by the time he'd managed to stop the very "manly" shriek that unbiddenly left him.

He tore over to the sink, forced freezing cold water across his stinging burn and grabbed a dishtowel to wrap his hand in. When a random butcher knife that the towel was resting on narrowly missed stabbing into Sanji's kneecap, before landing with its' blade tip point-down in the kitchen floor, the rattled young chef decided it was definitely time to take a break.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

2 loud curses

1 dozen (cracked) eggs

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"And that's why you can't touch it like that!" Were the first words the cook heard when he stepped out through the galley door. Sanji closed his eyes. Let out a long simmering breath, willing himself to calm down.

He really didn't want to know what Usopp was talking about, even though the cook found himself seeking out the voice anyways and his gaze fell on the long-nosed Marksman chatting emphatically to their Shipwright up on the grass deck. Franky was answering back a mile a minute and frantically nodding.

Sanji wanted to ignore them. There was no way he wanted to get caught up into any annoying fables that the sniper would surely be telling. And Franky, well, the half-mechanical man had just joined the crew a few weeks ago, and although Sanji wasn't quite used to all of the cyborg's unique annoying antics, he already knew he was another loud crew mate.

Both men seemed all-too-dramatic. Especially right now, while Sanji's nerves were all high-strung.

And then Sanji's eyes fell on his Captain, who was standing about a foot away from both of them, supposedly absorbing the lecture he was receiving. But Sanji could see Luffy's vacant gaze from a mile away. Usopp and Franky were obviously wasting their time opening their big mouths to even explain anything to him in the first place.

And forget explaining, all Sanji wanted to do was to punch the idiot in the head for what had happened in the kitchen moments ago.

Images of the stolen cookies, wasted juice, and broken table flashed through his mind.

He wanted to pound Luffy into the ground for entirely ruining his breakfast preparations.

"Luffy! You're dead!"

The threat left Sanji's lips just as his legs started moving.

Luffy yelped at the sight of the enraged chef.

Sanji raced for the stairs, flew up them, made a sharp turn around the corner, using the railing as a hinge, and before he even knew what was happening, had his feet swept out from under him. He skidded across the deck a few feet, not knowing what had tripped him up in the first place. Sanji cursed as he quickly found himself losing their impromptu game of tag.

"Grahh, Luffy get back here!" Sanji scowled, pushing his chin out of the wooden deck.

"Sanji-kun, is something wrong?"

The cook's ears perked at the sweet melodious voice that addressed him and his eyes darted immediately towards his left where he could see two of the most gorgeous ladies sun-tanning. Sanji was actually thankful he wasn't standing anymore when his limbs turned to jelly. With hearts in his eyes, he waved up at the females, allowing his captain a chance to get further away. "Nami-my sweet, divine angel, nothing is wrong with the world as long as you're in it."

Well, nothing should be wrong with the world as long as Nami-swan was in it… except Luffy was still existing in it. Sanji twisted back towards the rubber man, hoping to remove at least a little stain in his otherwise perfect world. But all he saw was the outline of where Luffy once would have been. Damn idiot had gotten away. Sanji cussed loudly.

Instead of trying to chase the rubber boy all over the freaking deck, which would probably end up with one of them in the ocean anyways, Sanji tried his best to just let it go. He huffed exhaustedly and strode closer to the railing, panting, and glanced out at the dreary sea. He was still pissed off.

The breeze on deck was salty and warm, and stifling, the kind of weather that Sanji particularly hated. He liked the breeze cool and the air fresh, like after a good rain shower. 'Balmy, humid, shitty air…' he snuffed. Maybe he should just go back to bed...

He kept nursing his burned hand by rubbing the cold towel against it. Maybe he should get Chopper to take a look at it, but of course, the small doctor was nowhere to be seen. Sanji was just about to go hunt the little guy down when a green eye-sore struck through Sanji's peripheral vision.

Sanji turned, a slow gentleman's curve, and his lips quirked.

It was perfect. Sanji had never gotten to let loose his stress on his Captain, and there in the center of the deck was the answer to Sanji's shitty problems. A green headed swordsman was locked in Sanji's range of vision. A quick fight with Roronoa Zoro. Now that would make him feel better. The lazy bastard didn't know what Sanji had cookin' for him. After all, the swordsman had been one of the main reasons for Sanji's sleepless night, all the sleep-talk, which was odd, but the cook could think of no one better to dish out his anger to now. The thought sent a surge of tingling adrenaline through his gut.

Luffy and the mayhem he'd caused all but forgotten, Sanji tapped the toes of his shoe against the wooden deck, prepping himself for battle. The cook had found a more willing target to endure his wrath. A smirk dusted across his thin lips, and then his feet were hastily carrying him to the misshapen lump littering the deck. Zoro picked a shitty place for a nap today.

When life knocked you down, get right back up and kick the shit out of it. Right?

It's not like it was rare for Sanji to kick Zoro, while he was snoozing in the middle of the deck, for no apparent reason. The two fought and bickered all the time. It'd become a weird sort of ritual in their never ending need to get stronger.

Sanji reared his foot back, dress-shoe shined to perfection as it glittered in the sunlight, and aimed for the swordsman's ribs. It was just a novice attack that didn't take much thought, or strength really, just one that would pack enough of a punch to get things heated. Sanji had done the same thing a million times before. Except, this time when Sanji made to kick Zoro, he had failed to notice that Zoro wasn't actually asleep, and the swordsman had shifted; in turn causing Sanji to trip over thin air and land sprawled out across the lazing Marimo. This got the swordsman's disgruntled attention, and he'd snapped at the cook.

"You have issues, eyebrow freak!" Zoro said, before he roughly shoved the blonde away.

Sanji caught himself with his hands, startled when Zoro shoved him. The swordsman's push was rough and careless, it didn't feel planned like usual. It felt like an instinctual action to shove him out of Zoro's personal space. His head snapped back to glare at his opponent. "You're in my way, sod-head," Sanji sneered before jumping to his feet, blood boiling and spirits rising. At least he'd gotten the swordsman's attention. He was just itching for a good fight.

But since Sanji was meant to be miserable today, Zoro simply turned over. Back facing the blonde he mumbled a, "Tryin' to sleep, now go away."

Sanji was left absolutely stunned. Zoro was out-right ignoring him! He was going to get a decent fight out of the sword-bastard if it was the last thing he did. He needed this, dammit! He drove a hard kick into Zoro's spine with a purpose.

Zoro snapped, and whirled back to face his crewmate, a dull ache in his back now, "What the hell was that for?"

"I told you, Grass-face. You're in my way!"

"Then walk the other way, Curly-brow!"

"You don't even know where 'the-other-way' is, Directionless Moron!"

"I'll kill you, Target-eyebrows!"

"Just try it, Mossy!"

"Pansy Cook!"

"Lazy Marimo!"

This was better. At least Sanji wasn't being beaten up by inanimate objects in his own kitchen. Even if Zoro could be closely related to an inanimate object by the amount of time he spent lounging around. Sanji could hold his own against the swordsman. He smirked. He could feel a little of the stress melting away. His anger slowly started disappearing, thanks to their verbal sparring war.

And then Zoro caught sight of Sanji's hand, twisted in a wet cloth. The swordsman quirked an eyebrow, "What'd you do to your hand, butter fingers? Are we turning to cannibalism now, because you'd taste terrible. You stupid skinny stick!"

Sanji's anger flared back up at the personal jibe. He grit his teeth and retaliated. "At least I don't have slices all up and down my body, really shitty swordsman, is your sense of direction so bad that you cut yourself up instead of the enemy?"

"I'll show you what I can cut up!"

"Oh, shut up, Marimo, I'm having a bad day."

"Oh-boo-frickin-hoo. You started it!" Zoro drew a sword, slowly, antagonizing the cook.

Sanji smirked. "I did?" He mock questioned. The anticipation of a good fight was already helping his anger ebb away. Zoro was glowering around the white sword that he'd set between his teeth. It looked like this fight would get physical after all. Good, Sanji thought, maybe the world can start being normal again. "If I started it, I'd better finish it, huh?"

"Bring it, Princess."

Sanji charged. Zoro stood his ground. Sanji kicked. Zoro blocked.

This created a scuffle that might have helped, in theory. But in reality it just made everyone else on the ship aggravated and Nami had finally been the one to shut them both up by threatening them with such a large debt that they'd both be six feet under before they saw another coin. Their fight was cut dreadfully short. And if the day wasn't already bad enough for Sanji, an angry Nami just made him feel even worse—

He noodle danced all the way back to his trashed galley to prepare something delectable for his sweet Nami-swan and Robin-chwan to celebrate how beautiful they both were, because "Nami was so gorgeous when she was scolding him and showing off her authority" and "Robin had shook her head just like an angel would have", and he felt inclined to apologize for his brutishness. But when he went to retrieve his special recipes for the girl's special drinks that he always kept close at hand, they were of course, nowhere to be seen today.

He walked back out on deck trying to determine where he could have put the damn things.

If Sanji wasn't the rational gentleman that he was, he would say that someone was purposefully setting him up, just to watch him squirm. Or Someone up there seriously had it out to get him. All that was missing were the lightning bolts.

All of Sanji's rationalism left him completely the moment Usopp's miss-shot Egg Pepper Star landed with an innocent "plop!" atop his head, leaving a stinky goo running down the side of his face.

"Oops, sorry Sanji!" Usopp crowed timidly, "My bad!"

Sanji didn't even deem that with a response. That was the final straw.

Pissed, livid, and wanting to brutally murder something, Sanji had kicked in the main mast and left the Starboard railing in shambles before marching below deck towards the storage rooms.

Zoro cocked an eyebrow at the man, calling him a "deranged cook" which caused Sanji to be seen dragging a protesting Zoro with him, and leaving behind a wailing Franky and very irate Usopp to fix the mess he'd left behind.

So now he was down in one of the stuffy storage rooms below the ship's deck looking for his misplaced recipe cards, that he swore "must be in here somewhere" and he'd dragged along a very disturbed swordsman just for shits and giggles to help him in his search.

Because, the cook thought, half-heartedly, it could be worse, couldn't it? And then the Marimo's soft snores reached his ears… while he was standing up… with his eyes open….

Fuming, Sanji kicked him into the wall, and it didn't even help any when Zoro let out one more satisfied snore, "Well, at least his eyes are closed now." Sanji muttered, and stepped around the broken wood and sleeping irritant to retrieve a ladder.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

8 slices of blackened toast

5 hours of interrupted sleep

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"Just grab it already!" Sanji growled, glancing up at his crewmate with exasperation.

"It's not up here." Zoro stood on his tip toes, staring into the empty cupboard. The black corners were laced with spider webs that he just didn't feel like dealing with. His back sort of hurt for some reason, and he twisted a little to try and crack it while still keep his balance on the ladder's thin steps. Felt like he'd been kicked into a wall or something.

Sanji stood below him, trying to keep the ladder steady as the swordsman twisted his body. "Quit messing around, Moss-head, and stand up straight. This thing's heavy with you on it." He looked up at Zoro with a crease in his brow. "I'm sure I put them up there, are you sure you're looking in the right spot?"

Zoro huffed, righting himself on the ladder. "Where the hell is the 'right spot', Cook? This cupboard's tiny and filled with nothing but air, dust, and spiders."

Sanji flinched from the mention of the dreaded monster-bugs, and from the swordsman's tone. "It's not up there. Go look for yourself if you want." Zoro snarled, climbing back down the ladder and jarring Sanji out of his trance when he barely missed stepping on the other man's toes.

"They have to be up there." Sanji growled again, throwing his head back and glaring at the shelves. He wasn't sure if he was more pissed that they were empty or housing a bunch of creepy spiders.

"If you're done wasting my time, I'm gonna get back to my nap." Sanji's icy glare turned immediately to Zoro and the swordsman faltered. "If that's alright with you." He grouched, a little quieter. The pure reckless anger in the cook's eyes was a little perplexing. If that crappy cook didn't calm down he was just going to end up doing something stupid.

Sanji glowered at him; the swordsman's stupid mossy head was offending him just as much as his misplaced recipe cards. "Well, it's not alright with me. You'll do what I tell you if you want to eat tonight."

"What?" Zoro roared, his eyes were narrowed at the cook, daring him to go through with that threat.

Sanji didn't move a muscle, fishing through his jacket pocket for a cigarette. He nearly tore the pocket off when his hand came back empty. He'd forgotten he stashed his smokes that were running too low back in his bunk, and wished he would have at least kept one for emergencies on him now. Sanji clenched his teeth together in a creaking anger, he saw the thoroughly irritated swordsman do an about-face in front of him.

Zoro's boots scratched across the wooden floor until he was toe to toe with the cocky blonde. "It's not up there, you stupid cook. What do you want me to do about it?"

Sanji rolled his eyes, watching Zoro's hand come to a loose grip around the hilt of the white katana at his hip. "What Zoro, are you gonna wave your swords and make it magically appear?" Sanji challenged, eyeing the swordsman's hand and just daring him to start a fight in the tiny storeroom.

"How 'bout I wave my swords and make something magically disappear?" Sanji tapped his foot and crinkled his nose against Zoro's morning breath as the other man verbally lashed out at him.

"Shut up, idiot, we can't even frickin' fight anymore or else we'll upset Nami-san, so don't tempt me!" Sanji growled. His hand went to rest on his empty pocket.

Zoro stood, breathing heavily and glaring into Sanji's heated eyes. A red anger was still swimming in those normally calm blue depths. Zoro cocked an eyebrow. "What's your problem, Shit-Cook?"

"I don't have a problem, Shit-Swordsman." Sanji snapped back. He clenched his good hand tighter into a fist, and raised it.

Zoro looked at him incredulously. The cook didn't normally even think about fighting with his hands. He narrowed his eyes and took a short, intimidating step in Sanji's direction. "What are you gonna do with that, Sanji?" Zoro taunted, and he saw the cook crumbling with a frustration that didn't make sense to the green-haired man. The cook was quick to anger, but he usually didn't get this certain type of angry over the petty shit. Zoro steadied his hand that was resting on Wadou's white hilt, thumbing the part where the blade met its' sheath.

"Just," Sanji breathed, gritting his teeth and wishing desperately for a smoke. He felt like a fool in front of Zoro. "Just get out of here. Leave me the hell alone, asshole."

The swordsman ignored the desperation in the cook's voice, and watched him lower his fist back to his side. "Tch. Don't you have those recipes memorized or something?" Zoro asked in one last attempt at trying to be civil.

He watched Sanji's hands as they slipped into his pockets. The cook stayed moodily silent.

"Fine, whatever." Zoro moved forward, bumping his shoulder roughly against Sanji's as he passed him, "Maybe you should take a deep breath." He let his hand drop away from his sword, jaw set tight. He refused to be even the slightest bit concerned about Sanji's stubborn ass. "You can find whatever it is you're looking for your own damn self." He didn't know what had pissed the blonde off so badly, but like hell he was going to stand there and find out. He had other shit to deal with.

Zoro heard the cook hiss and frowned to himself as he turned towards the hatch to exit.

"Asshole Marimo," Sanji was muttering curses under his breath, trying to ignore the swordsman's presence completely as he started for the cupboards himself. His hands clenched around the ladder rigs so tightly that his fingers hurt. The burnt palm of his left hand screamed in agony, and Sanji was forced to ignore it. "Stupid bastard can starve. Lazy cactus-brained idiot." He heard Zoro's heavy footfalls walking across the small space to leave, still cursing the Marimo's very existence. "Worse than a damn house plant."

He climbed to the top of the tall shelves with ease, his trained sea legs helping him balance against the unsteady steps and the sway of the ship.

Sanji's ocean blue eyes reflected the emptiness of the cupboards as he stared into them and he nearly went ballistic. His recipes really weren't up here. Nothing up here but air, dust, and… It was at that moment that a spider decided to crawl out of a crevice, showing off its' black hairy body to the love-cook and making Sanji's own legs squirm. He jumped unconsciously. Sanji felt the ladder tilt, and yelped. He stamped his foot against the wooden rung of the foothold in frustration and felt the wood give away beneath his feet. "Shit!"

Zoro swiveled at the strangled cry from the cook, not being able to place the call under panic or grief. When he heard a crunch of wood, he froze.

The ladder tipped in slow motion from its' two story height, and Zoro found himself unable to move. He tried to assess the best way to get Sanji down in their cramped quarters that would prevent the blonde from cracking his skull against a wall, and also leaving the cook enough room to maneuver so he could try to save himself . He heard Sanji's startled yelp that sounded strange coming from that particular crewmate, and watched the cook's ankle bend against one of the steps when he tried to correct his balance. The angle looked too unnatural, and Zoro's heart did a funny little drop when Sanji let out another agonized cry.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Zoro heaved one of the large flour bags, that were stored there, off the ground and threw it in the cook's direction. It landed a few feet away beneath the ladder with a slap of bagged flour on wood, and then the rest of the ladder steps finally splintered and the cook came down with a heavy thud. Zoro's whimsical cushion had barely broken his fall.

"Sanji, you okay?" Zoro rasped frantically as he waited for the dust to clear and his ears to stop ringing from the loud crash. His throat had for some reason gone unbearably dry. Zoro felt an odd sensation of his hands trembling at his sides and clenched them into fists to calm them.

Sanji lay in a dazed heap on the ground, his foot throbbing menacingly. By this time, Sanji had simply quit trying to salvage any hope of good happening to him that day, and as a big black hairy spider crawled up his knee to greet him, or mock him in Sanji's case, the chef of the Strawhat crew simply gave up and passed out.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

1 annoying crew.

Mix it all together for a disgusting treat.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

A broken ankle.

They were all squished inside the infirmary now, and that had been Chopper's diagnosis.

Zoro couldn't figure out why his heartbeat felt so loud and unsteady in his ears when their furry little doctor asked them what had happened. "How did this happen?" Zoro repeated the question numbly, watching Chopper's hooves working skillfully to wrap a colorless bandage around the cook's foot.

He could see Luffy from the corner of his eye, waiting with an almost impatient grin to hear the explanation; his captain's curious innocence gave him the courage to go on. "The cook was on the ladder, being an idiot and…" Zoro paused. He saw Sanji's wince, although the blonde tried to hide it. The cook's mouth was turned down into a deep frown and the anger in his eyes was fading, Zoro didn't know where the sudden urge to lie for Sanji had come from. It must have been the utter humiliation in the damn cook's furrowing curly brow. He let out a breath, "And it fell. Must've hit a wave or something. I should've held it instead of walking away, I guess."

The look on the cook's face was priceless, so much so that Zoro had to lower his head to hide the amused smirk that he could feel was surfacing.

Chopper, of course, took this as a sign of utter guilt on Zoro's part and immediately began shrieking how "Noo, it wasn't your fault Zoro! Accidents happen! Don't blame yourself!"

Luffy brought a hand down on his hat then and firmly stretched a rubbery arm around his swordsman's waist.

"Haha, Zoro you didn't know it was gonna happen!" Luffy's skin was stretched to expose a blinding grin. "And I know you're gonna help Sanji out 'til he gets better!" Zoro nearly choked as his captain cheered those words.

"Oooh, can I touch your cast, Sanji?"

"Luffy, No! You can't touch it, it needs to heal!"

"Aww, but Chopper..."

Zoro struggled against his captain's random outbursts when a strange sound tickled his ears. It was coming from the cook, and instead of mirroring the open-mouth surprise that Zoro was... the idiot was outright laughing; A crazed laugh that left Zoro once more questioning the Love-cook's sanity.

Great. Zoro thought. He got to help a bi-polar invalid….

"Sanji, you need to take it easy on your leg for the next six weeks, okay? Doctor's orders."

…For the next… Six Weeks?

"Thanks, Doctor Chopper..." Sanji lied breathlessly. His eyes stuck on the swordsman's. The cook's gaze softened once, so quickly that Zoro might have even imagined it, before an accusing stare was glaring right back at him.

Sanji knew it wasn't entirely Zoro's fault, but it wasn't his own fault either, and so who better to blame? He formed a glare and sent it in the Moss-head's direction, wishing Zoro would just squirm slightly under the intensity instead of showing no outward reaction at all. If looks could kill, Sanji was sure his day would get about a hundred times better. But, they couldn't… Sanji figured that's how it would be anyways.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Combine the following ingredients:

1 temperamental flame

1 burnt pancake

2 loud curses

1 dozen (cracked) eggs

8 slices of blackened toast

2 hours of interrupted sleep

1 annoying crew

Mix it all together for a disgusting treat.

This was Sanji's recipe for Disaster.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

He didn't think there was a worse that the day could become.

T.B.C~

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