Sanji sighed, dissapiating the weighty silence like the condensation leaving his mouth, "Fine whatever," He shuffled about, unwrapping the scarf around him - "But I can't have you getting sick and spreading your mossy germs to the ladies."
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"I can't have you making precious Nami-san sick all because you don't want to take care of yourself." Zoro noted how Sanji's voice dropped by a few notes. His, what was meant to be a harsh delivery, melted from the warmth and concern laced in his voice.
It made Zoro feel reckless for what he was about to do.
Without thinking, he grabbed onto Sanji's hands, noticing how cold they were. He cupped them in his hands, managing to engulf them with quite some ease and pulled them towards him, "You're cold."
Sanji watched him intently, never once withdrawing his hands. Zoro exhaled, his breath emitting heat in the compressed space he created with their hands, "I think you need the scarf more than I do."
"Idiot... the scarf won't warm my hands." The profanity fell weak on his lips.
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From this close Zoro could appreciate how long the cook's lashes were. He shamelessly stared at him, unguarded - he could indulge in this.
Sanji finally met his eyes, hands still on the scarf wrapped around Zoro. They had no reason to but Sanji still kept his hands there. Like an excuse.
Without thinking, he grabbed onto Sanji's hands, noticing how cold they were. He cupped them in his hands, managing to engulf them with quite some ease and pulled them towards him, "You're cold."
"Idiot... the scarf won't warm my hands." The profanity fell weak on his lips.