Title: Aftermaths - Sanji
Word Count: 300 (minor miracle there)
Pairing: Sanji and Zeff in a non-pairing way
AN: Like the previous two drabbles, this one is situated two weeks after Sanji's 'defining event'.
They'd evaded the draconian nurses and night watchmen; Operation Eggplant (so codenamed just to annoy the brat) was a go.
"You're heavy, geezer."
"You're weak, shrimp."
They'd bickered their entire way through hostile territory; no reason to stop now.
Using the kid as a crutch, Zeff kicked open the last door; treasure gleamed beyond-
"Are you two out of bed again?!"
Their doctor! Blast! So close!
Zeff considered fighting. But his stump ached, and the shrimp couldn't fight; something Zeff planned to remedy when his custom-built peg-leg was ready.
"I told you to rest! You both nearly died on that rock!"
Zeff snorted. "That may be so, Doc, but eating that rat-poison you call hospital food is what will finish us off."
"That diet is designed to gradually restore your bodies without harming you-"
"I know the principle. I've starved before," Zeff said quietly. "But it doesn't have to taste bad. You must really not want to give your patients a reason to live."
"Can be improved. I'll show you how." Zeff gestured authoritatively at the hospital kitchen's gleaming appliances.
"...Fine, but the child needs to rest-"
'The child' went from half-starved waif to spitting ball of fury in .3 seconds. "I'm helping the shit-geezer!"
Zeff wondered if the befuddled doctor knew that Sanji hoarded morsels of hospital food and savagely gnawed his knuckles and sheets at night. Probably not. Zeff knew about the gnawing, and he knew what they both needed.
"The busboy's damn useless, agreed-"
"-but I need his legs. I'll teach him to cook while I'm at it."
By dawn, those bitten, emaciated hands had been kept busy, and the nutritionally-correct food was delicious. If it was a sign of things to come, Zeff decided he could live with that.