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The Merry is empty. It's a strange experience— Usopp expects that any minute now Luffy will dart out of the kitchen, giggling as Sanji swears at him, that Robin will come into the infirmary for one of Chopper's books. But they don't. The Merry is empty.
For all his experience in the matter (growing up wild on the outskirts of Syrup Village with three clumsy kids in tow meant a lot of injuries), Usopp's never been very good at bandaging his own wounds. It was the only thing he'd aquiesce going to the village doctor for— the image of his mother laying pale and sickly in bed and the doctor saying there's nothing I can do echoed in his mind often enough without him triggering it on purpose. For as brave as the Usopp Pirates were, they were still just kids. Their little hands weren't made for pulling bandages over split skin (nevermind that Usopp had already been doing that at their age. Banchina had been sick for a long time).
Usopp looks at his hands. They're calloused from his grip on his slingshot, but soft otherwise— not like Zoro, whose hands are all callouses, or Sanji's hands, soft and covered with scars he never talks about. Sanji treats his hands like treasure; he has a routine for taking care of his hands. A cook's hands are his greatest asset, Usopp can practically hear him say. It makes him wonder what could have caused those scars. Kitchen accidents, maybe?
Whatever. Zoro and Sanji aren't his crewmates anymore. The only time Usopp will see them from now on is in the newspaper when their bounties get increased, or if they get caught and hung for their crimes...
Usopp shudders. No, that won't happen. His old crew is freakishly strong, much more so without having to drag his dead weight around. The thought hurts.
Fuck, everything hurts. The Franky Family hadn't gone easy on him. Neither had Luffy. He hadn't wanted him to. It would feel too much like pity.
The floorboards making up Merry's deck creak. Someone swears, under their breath like they're trying to be quiet. It's no use. Usopp is attuned to Merry like none of the rest of the crew. He readies his slingshot.
"Who's there?" Usopp tries to be intimidating, but he can't hide the tremor in his voice.
The click of a lighter illuminates the doorway. Sanji takes a drag off his cigarette. Chopper would be mad about the cook smoking in his infirmary, Usopp thinks. But it's not Chopper's infirmary anymore, is it?
"What do you want?" Usopp aims a Gunpowder Star at Sanji's forehead. It's no use, really, he saw Sanji take a bolt of lightning from Enel like it was nothing. But it'll give him enough time to think of something else.
Sanji raises his hands. "I come in peace."
Usopp regards the cook with suspicion. "I said, what do you want?"
"Just forgot something," Sanji says easily. Sanji lies like it's nothing— Usopp would know. He's not a storyteller, not like Usopp, but he lies all the time. Pretended to be Mr. Prince without blinking.
Sanji glances down to his partially-wrapped chest. "You want some help?"
"I don't need your help. We're not crewmates anymore," Usopp reminds him. Actually, he's not sure who he's reminding. Usopp's instincts tell him to give in, to let the cook bamdage his injuries and kiss them better—
He cuts off that train of thought before it can go any further. What the hell is he thinking?
"I know that. But we're still friends, aren't we?" Sanji asks. His visible eye locks onto Usopp's.
"I don't need your pity." Sanji closes his eyes, sighing like he knew the answer before Usopp said it.
"Fine. You must be hungry." Sanji turns and heads for the kitchen.
"I said I don't need your pity!" Usopp shouts after him, but follows. Just to make sure the cook doesn't try anything funny. Yeah. That's it.
Sanji hums, pulling ingredients from shelves and drawers. "Maybe not. But I can't let someone go hungry." The unspoken question is clear: Will you let me take care of you?
Usopp's always been weak-willed. His stomach rumbles, and he nods. Sanji smiles around his cigarette.
The cook lights the stove, and for a moment, the day's events never happened. They're still on the open sea, waiting eagerly to see Water Seven and find a shipwright to fix Merry. Robim's recovered from her time as a human popsicle and hasn't disappeared into the canals of the city yet. Then Usopp sits at one of the stools in the kitchen and his ribs ache and he's back in the present again. The horrible, horrible present, where Luffy was ready to throw Merry and Usopp away like it was nothing and Usopp lost two-thirds of the money from Skypeia and he was too weak to get it back and—
A hot tear drips onto his palm. Oh, he's crying. That's new.
Sanji looks up and in a blur he's there, soft hands cupping his fave and wiping tears away. Usopp wants so badly to lean into the touch, to let Sanji hold him, but it feels too much like pity. He jerks away. "I'm fine," he says. It's an obvious lie.
Sanji just raises a curled eyebrow. He wonders, distantly, if the cook was born with them. He's seen him when he's just woken up or taken a shower, so they're not drawn on... maybe tattoos?
"Have it your way," Sanji grumbles, and the warm hands are gone. There's something like hurt in his visible eye. He's gotta be hallucinating that, right? Yeah, that's it. Usopp is delirious from pain and exhaustion and he's hallucinating his ex-crewmate being hurt because Usopp won't let him cup his face in those ever-so-soft hands—
Okay, this is getting weird. Sanji's hands are nice, yeah, but not that nice. "Uh, I mean." Usopp clears his throat. "Of course I'm fine! You shpuld expect no less from the great Captain—"
He looks up. Sanji's giving him a look, one so immeasurably fond that it stops the sniper dead in his tracks. He can feel heat crawling up his cheeks. "What?"
Sanji smiles, and it makes Usopp's heart skip a beat. "Nothing," he mutters, voice soft. "Just laughing at your stupid stories."
Oh, that hurts. Usopp doesn't want to think about why that makes his chest ache. Sanji returns to cooking, and Usopp finishes the bandages across his chest.
The food is exquisite, as it always is. Usopp takes the time to savor it— this will be the last time he eats Sanji's cooking. It's grilled Sea King meat, seasoned with some of the spices they picked up on Skypeia. Tangy and sweet and just a little bit spicy. Just how Usopp likes it. Sanji sits on the stool next to him and finishes his cigarette. Usopp wants to berate him for putting it out on the kitchen table, but he reminds himself they're not crewmates anymore. There's nothing stopping Sanji from kicking his skull in right here.
Usopp shifts in his seat, wincing when the movement reminds him how severe his injuries are. The bandage on his chest starts to come undone.
Sanji reaches out, but stops himself before actually touching Usopp. "Can I...?"
His heartbeat is suddenly deafening. Can Sanji hear it? Usopp agonizes over this for a moment before suddenly, haltingly, nodding. He's being weak, he knows that.
Sanji's hands are careful as they unwrap Usopp's bandage, touch ghosting his skin. Each touch causes him to shiver. The cook must notice, because he pauses. "Am I hurting you?"
Usopp's voice dies in his throat. He doesn't trust himself to speak, instead shaking his head.
The silence that follows should be awkward. Probably is awkward for Sanji. But Usopp is too distracted, thinking about the cook's skilled hands and how he suddenly, desperately wants to know how they would feel pressed against his hips, scratching for purchase on soft skin—
Oh. Oh fuck.
This is more than echaustion, isn't it? He's fucking gone for Sanji, hopelessly devoted like the people in his mom's old romance novels.
He's brought out of his spiral by Sanji tucking the end of his bandage into the rest of it. Then the cook's hands pull away and he stands.
"Thank you," Usopp manages.
Sanji gives him a mock salute. "Don't mention it. Just helping out a friend."
The head of blonde hair is out of his vision before Usopp realizes Sanji never took anything with him.