Title: Don't Leave Yourself In The Dark
Author: AoiTsukikage
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/2 or 3
Word Count: 3567
Summary: Law might be a doctor, but he's not accustomed to playing nursemaid. However, in this case, he can't even say that he minds all that much.
Notes:This is for Kiza Kurosaki who wanted some Law/Sanji hurt/comfort with Law taking care of Sanji.

Chapter One

"Is your leg bothering you?"

"Nah, it still twinges a little 'cause of that guy back on Punk Hazard, but Chopper took a look at it," the cook is predictably dismissive although Law thinks that, in the long run, taking on Vergo and ending up with just a few bone fractures is remarkably admirable. He's favoring his leg a little too much, though, and Law's first instinct is that he's hiding just how badly he's still hurting.

"I'd be willing to give a second opinion if you…"

"I said I'm fine, so fuck off," Sanji snaps, and Law taps his chin thoughtfully because, well, he know the cook is volatile, but this type of explosive behavior is definitely an indication that he's hiding something. Still, these people might be allies but Law doesn't technically owe them anything, and if he's going to be so stubborn as to refuse a professional opinion, that's not his problem.

He's going to keep an eye on the cook, though, because letting one of Strawhat's crew do damage to themselves when he can prevent it won't bode well for their partnership. He can tell that Sanji is trying to hide his limp now, shuffling his feet around the kitchen, and when he picks up some knives to start preparing dinner there's a tremor in his hands that a less observant person would easily overlook.

He sets down the knives after chopping a couple of carrots, fingers curling against the counter and grimacing although he tries to bend his head forward, hair slightly covering his face.

Law's got an idea of what's wrong, at least, because he knows damn well by now that the cook's injuries were never properly treated, and if it's this bad with him it's probably something that would have laid a normal person out long ago.

"Shit," Sanji groans, pushing himself upright and only succeeding in slumping farther against the counter, and Law uses his ability to whisk the knives away before the idiot ends up stabbing himself on top of everything else.

"Mr. Blackleg, I really advise that you let me take a look at your leg. I fear that the bone has become infected, and if that's the case, I need to act quickly to ensure no permanent damage occurs," he's dealt with stubborn patients before, but Sanji seems to be an exception to his normal rule.

"I told you, I'm fine," Sanji turns to glare at him, arms nearly vibrating with the strain of holding himself upright. "What? You don't think our doctor's good enough?"

"I'm more than certain that Mr. Tony is capable," Law's trying to curb his annoyance because, if his guess is correct, Sanji's going to have a lot more difficulty than just shaky arms in a few moments. "But he is also nearly a decade younger than me and I believe my experience might be an asset in this case."

Sanji's reply is to blink at him like he can't rationalize the words coming out of Law's mouth, and he slumps down against the counter, leg held out at an odd angle and his whole body starting to shake.

"Shit. Um. I think…." is as far as he gets before his eyes roll backwards, body sagging against the cupboards, and Law sighs because he could have told him something like this would happen.

More than likely the idiot's let his leg get so bad that the infection's starting to affect the rest of his body, and a quick press of fingers to the blond's forehead reveals that his temperature's extremely high. He's still breathing evenly, which is a good thing, but Law needs to cut into his leg and see if the infection's compromised the bone in any way, and then get him some proper medication to start healing properly.

He might be akin to a miracle worker with his power, but there's nothing he can do to make bones mend faster aside from making sure they have the best environment to do so in. Sanji shivers a little again in his unconscious state and turns, instinctively seeking warmth despite his fever and exhaustion, and his fingers are surprisingly tight in the material of Law's shirt when he grips at him, head coming to rest beneath Law's chin and a sigh slipping from his lips.

"You're turning into quite the liability, Mr. Blackleg," Law murmurs, unsure what to do because objectively speaking, yes, the blond cook is gorgeous, but he's also completely enamored with women and Law himself is, for the most part, rather indifferent to all aspects of love and sex. Physical contact makes him uncomfortable and he knows that he's liable to make a fool of himself in social situations so avoiding them, making people think he's intimidating so they avoid him instead, has become an asset.

He can't recall the last time somebody's been this close to him, the blond practically nuzzling him, and Law needs to concentrate on thinking of Sanji as his patient because, that's all he is.

Law slides one arm under Sanji's legs, careful of his injured one, and lifts him up easily. Sanji's head is resting against his shoulder, hot puffs of air hitting his neck, and Law sighs and heads out of the galley, glad that he doesn't run into anybody on the way to the women's quarters.

He's still not sure about the navigator, because her temper seems to be a thing to fear, but their archaeologist is a woman Law feels a kinship with and she's currently sunning on the top deck, although she sits up in concern when he walks by.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing to overly distress yourself about, Miss Nico," he promises. "I fear your cook has not properly looked after his injuries and is suffering from an infection in his leg, but I can easily remedy that as long as I have place he can rest for a while. I'm sorry to ask, but…"

"Of course you can use the bed," Robin smiles. "I'm sure Nami will be disgruntled but I can calm her down, and Sanji's health is the most important thing," she stands up and leads him to the room. "Do you need anything else?"

"Not at the moment, but if you could ensure we're not disturbed for a while that would be appreciated," he admits, and she smiles and nods.

"Of course," she turns around, a hand popping out of the railing to wave at him, and he enters the room, setting Sanji down on the bed and preparing himself.

"I apologize that I can't ask your consent, but you're going to thank me for this later," he mutters, sitting down and creating a Room before starting to work.


He wakes up with a start, his neck sore from falling asleep in a chair, but one look at the bed shows him what's disturbed him and he stands up immediately.

"Do not undo my work, Mr. Blackleg, or I will remove your leg and let it heal separately from your body," he hisses and Sanji stops trying to stand up, instead slumping back against the pillows.

"I told you I was fine," Sanji grumbles, reaching into his pocket and Law smirks at him.

"You won't find them there," he holds up the pack of cigarettes, getting a glower and a growl from the other man. "And yes, you were indeed fine, if you consider 'fine' to be having an infection in your leg that, if I had left it any longer, the bacteria there would have started to eat away at your bones."

Sanji grimaces, then, and Law leans back in his chair and tucks the cigarettes back into his pocket. "So you fixed me up?"

"I did what I could to get rid of the infection itself, but your leg needs proper time to heal and I can't mend bone fractures. It's likely your body is still weak from attempting to fight the infection as well, which probably explains the fever and the flu-like symptoms, but those should clear up quickly. However, you're confined to bed-rest until then, and if you try to disobey me I'll make good on my promise of cutting your leg off," he keeps a smug grin on his face and Sanji looks more surly than ever. "What? Surely you want to get better…"

"I hate looking fucking weak, okay!" Sanji snaps, looking surprised he'd admitted that a moment later and looking away from Law. "I…fuck, you cut that bastard and the whole damn island in half and I couldn't even kick him without breaking my leg. And everybody else is fine and I just…" he sighs. "I guess I've always felt kind of expendable. I'm just a cook, and I might be a good one, but it's not like we're hard to find."

"From what I've seen, Mr. Blackleg, you're an integral part of this crew and whether or not you've been injured enough to warrant bed-rest will not change their opinions of you," he leans forward and touches Sanji's knee gently, not sure what prompts the action other than that he has a feeling the cook likes showing vulnerability about as much as he does, so for him to willingly offer such insight makes Law feel rather privileged. "But, if it does concern you that much, I'll volunteer my services to assist you until such time as you can move around on your own. Will that suffice?"

"It's still fucking embarrassing if you have to help me to the bathroom, but yeah, whatever, not like I have a choice," Sanji pouts and Law shifts backward, fingers stroking down the sheathe of his sword. "So how long am I gonna be laid up?"

"Well, considering that you seem rather more resilient than most, and that I can help you along a little, it should only be a few days. You'll have to take it easy for a couple of weeks, I think, but it all depends on how good you are," he replies and Sanji heaves a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine. Guess I can't help it," he frowns and then suddenly looks up to meet Law's eyes. "But, ah, thank you. If it was as bad as you said, and my leg was ruined, I…fuck, I really would be useless," he looks almost afraid and Law leans ahead again instinctively, touching his fingertips to the back of Sanji's hand and getting a surprised look from the blond. "Um…"

"You're not useless," Law says in a low voice, unsure why he's so intent on pushing the point. "And I'm sure you're still feeling the effects of the fever so maybe it would be best for you to sleep for a while. If you give me permission to use your kitchen, I'll try to make you some soup or something for when you wake up," he offers and Sanji raises a curled eyebrow and laughs.

"You can cook?"

"I can manage simple things, yes," Law bristles a little but Sanji shrugs.

"Yeah, I trust you enough. Don't fuck up my kitchen," Sanji warns, trying his best to sound intimidating, but Law regards him impassively and he falls asleep soon enough.


A little later, the soup's made and cooling so Law can re-heat it whenever Sanji wakes up, the kitchen is clean, and he's back to check on the blond.

He walks in while Sanji's obviously in the midst of some sort of fever-dream. He's thrashing and making tiny, pain-filled whines, hair soaked with sweat and teeth bared into a rictus, and Law sets his hands on the other man's shoulders and tries to get him to stop moving. The way he's tossing about he could easily re-injure his leg and that's the last thing they need right now.

"Mr. Blackleg. Sanji!" he hisses, and Sanji's eyes snap open, glassy and unfocused, before he whimpers and throws his arms around Law's neck, dragging him onto the bed with surprising force. Law's already off-balance from leaning over and it's all he can do to avoid landing on the cook directly. The bed's more than big enough for two but Sanji's clinging to him like a frightened child, his grip deathly strong, and Law doesn't have the heart to disturb him now that he's at least sleeping peacefully. A tiny worry line is still visible between his eyebrows but his breathing is even and he's fallen still, so Law shifts himself under the covers and lets Sanji snuggle up in his sleep.

"Mm, Nami-san; Robin-chan, thank you for sharing your bed with me!" Sanji mumbles, tiny hearts appearing only to pop around his head, and Law sighs and thinks that he should have known Sanji had no recognition of who had broken him out of his nightmare.

He doesn't mean to fall asleep, but using his power for prolonged periods of time drains him and the bed is warm and soft, Sanji's hair tickling under his chin and his breath making little puffs of heat against his neck. It's…far closer than he'd ever dare to get with his bed-partner conscious, but then, since he's had patients try to attack him before somebody attempting to cuddle is immensely preferable…

He falls asleep before he can even finish that thought.


He wakes up to somebody stroking his hair, and it's a rare enough sensation that he doesn't even register what's happening at first, eye half-closed and enjoying the rather calming sensation.

"Hey," Sanji's voice is raspy and Law feels a pang of shame, because some caretaker he is, falling asleep. "I'm, um…there's a reason for this…"

"Indeed. You were having a nightmare and when I attempted to calm you down, your response was to cling to me like a limpet. I didn't want to disturb you for fear of you hurting your leg in a half-asleep state, and I was merely going to wait for you to fall fully back asleep before I left, but…."

" 's okay," Sanji promises, still touching his hair. "You're probably exhausted," his fingers never falter, though, and Law blinks sleepily at him.

"What exactly are you doing?"

"Wanted to see if your hair's as fluffy as it looks," Sanji tugs at a tuft of his hair gently and Law surmises that it must be the fever talking. "It is, by the way."

"My hair is fluffy," Law repeats slowly and the blond shrugs. "Well, I suppose there are worse things," he feels himself sliding back into sleep and tries to keep his eyes open.

"D'you wanna sleep more?" Sanji asks softly and Law wonders, in that moment, who exactly is the patient here.

"For a bit. Then perhaps you can try to eat something," he suggests. "I did make soup."

"I'm kinda curious about your cooking," Sanji laughs softly. "But my stomach kind of hurts right now…"

Law doesn't hear the rest of his sentence because he's already half-asleep, and he'd feel bad except the bed is really quite comfortable and he needs this more than he'd realized.

Being in a place where you had to constantly be on guard for months on end means he's fairly sleep-deprived, all things considered, and his body has apparently decided now is the best time to catch up on some of that rest.

He feels Sanji's fingers combing through his hair again and thinks that he's too tired to tell him off, so he'll let it go.

This time.


The next time he wakes up it's because the bed is shifting too much to be normal, and a quick glance shows Sanji attempting and failing to get himself upright.

"Mr. Blackleg, what did I tell you about…"

Sanji shakes his head, a hand clapped over his mouth and his skin with a rather noticeable greenish tinge, and Law barely has time to swap out a glass on the table for the garbage can before the blond is bent double over it. "Fuck," he manages to gasp between heaves, body shaking and his breath coming too quick, and Law sets a hand on his back and rubs gently.

"Breathe. It's okay, it'll stop soon, don't fight it," he urges. Being kind to his patients is rather foreign to him, all things considered, since he's far more about setting them on the road to recovery and then leaving, but there's something off-putting about seeing Sanji like this, eyes wide like a spooked horse and body trembling as if he'd fall apart from a mere touch.

The cook, from what he's seen, is all bravado and confidence, and while Law's quite sure a lot of it is a front (and he knows all about that, since he's mastered the art) he knows that Sanji doesn't want to look weak in front of anybody and this is about as degrading a position as one can be in.

Law moves Sanji's fringe back carefully, making sure to keep it clear of the can, and he looks over Sanji's shoulder and wrinkles his nose. It's mostly bile, but thankfully there's no blood in it and it looks, if unpleasant, perfectly normal. "Done?"

"I dunno. I hope so," Sanji's voice is raspy and he gives another full-body shudder. "I've never been sick."

"That would explain it," Law's a little surprised but, well, there are stranger things in this world and it certainly gives an answer as to why Sanji looks so lost over something as, he'd thought, universally experienced as having the flu is. "It's nothing to be concerned about. I had suspected this might happen, since your body has been fighting the bacteria in your leg for so long it's weakened your immune system."

"Can't you just, um, cut it out like you did with the…" he waves a hand and Law shakes his head.

"No. That is, I'm sure it's possible, but it would be a wasted effort since this is perfectly normal and not at all dangerous although, I suspect, it's not a lot of fun," he stands up and grabs the can, Sanji's fingers falling to his lap and tremors still wracking his body. "I'll get you a clean bag," he says, heading to the bathroom to do just that before returning, and Sanji by now is half on his side, fingers curled around the blanket but seemingly unable to pull it over himself.

"I feel like a fucking baby."

"The flu can knock even the strongest man in the world on his ass," Law assures him, helping him with the covers and looking down in surprise when Sanji grabs his wrist. "Yes?"

"I'm…" Sanji sighs through his nose, averting his eyes. " 'm cold," he says, and Law thinks that, even after this, his pride is as stubborn as ever.

"Well, I suppose I could ask one of your crewmates to…"

"No. The guys'd make fun of me and I don't want my lovely angels to see me this way," he's too exhausted to even bother with theatrics when it comes to the mention of the women, it seems. And it's not as if Law's completely averse to it, despite it being against everything he's supposed to be. "Do I have to say it?" Sanji sounds completely spent, weak in a way that's probably frightening for somebody who's never experienced illness before.

Law doesn't answer but he toes off his boots and strips off his sweatshirt, laying it down on the chair and motioning for Sanji to move over, which he does with a groan. He checks to make sure Sanji's leg is still immobile, satisfied that he hasn't messed up Law's setting job. "Garbage can is beside the bed," he mumbles, turning onto his side and away from the blond. "If you need anything else, wake me up."

"Yeah," Sanji sounds a little put-off still and Law rolls his eyes and turns over, trying not to be surprised when Sanji weakly tugs at his undershirt. He shifts over, the cook laying his head on Law's shoulder and throwing an arm over his chest, and Law stares up at the ceiling and knows that it doesn't mean anything.

Sanji's probably willing to cling to anybody at the moment, and Law's not exactly big on cuddling especially now that he's not sleepy in the least. "You're nothing but trouble, I hope you realize that," he murmurs, Sanji snorting but he starts to pull away and Law presses down gently on his shoulder, keeping him in place.


Law doesn't say anything but he keeps his hand there, hoping it conveys his message, and Sanji sighs after a moment and settles down again.

"Um. Thank you. Again," he finally says, the words sounding strange coming from his mouth. "I know I can be a bastard to other guys, but…"

"Don't," Law brushes his words off. "I'm a doctor, and while this is unconventional, it's still only my job," he knows he's being colder than normal but he can't think of this in any rose-colored light. If Nami or Robin walked in Sanji would toss him aside like he means nothing and, really, he doesn't.

"I don't believe you," Sanji's words are slurred, his breathing evening out a moment or two later, and Law knows damn well now that he's not going to be getting any sleep tonight.

Because he doesn't know what Sanji means by that. And he's a little afraid to find out.


1. This isn't the story I was talking about before, but since I got this request and this probably won't be more than a few chapters I decided to write it first before I work on that longer one! Also I claim no knowledge of medical procedures and normally mending broken bones would take a lot longer, but well, it's One Piece, so I only claim the artistic license the series already displays when it comes to what should be life-threatening injuries!

2. I apologize for any OOC-ness but I've known guys that consider themselves to be really tough turn into five-year-olds when they have the flu, so for somebody like Sanji who canonically has never been sick, I would imagine he might not take it too well!

3. Feedback is always appreciated! Oh, and the title is from the song 'Satellites' by James Blunt.