Plurk paste

Fuck, he hurt. Pregnancy was literally the worst, and he felt disgusting, and no amount of questionable sex with reassuring words and amazing worship from Zoro really made him feel like less of a freak. But they'd made a commitment, they were going to see this to the end.

Currently though, he felt like he was going to see *his* end if he didn't eat something. Stupid appetite, he was going to get absolutely fat at this rate, and the more he gained the more work he'd have to do to get himself back to what he wanted to look like. But he wasn't going to deny himself, the brat deserved as good of meals as anyone else in the crew. And that meant he had work to do, to feel himself and the already treasured youngest member of their impossible group.

So his feet, bare and swollen to the point of making shoes nearly impossible, padded slowly towards the galley, where he really felt safe and at home. And once there, he made quick work of preparing something for himself, something easy on the stomach, nutritious and wholesome, something that would help the growling agony that bubbled up and demanding appeasement at any cost.

This kid had one hell of an appetite already.

While he worked, he wasn't surprised that Zoro had come in. This was nothing new, even before finding themselves in a unsettlingly committed and healthy relationship, Zoro would often just be near Sanji. They kept gravitating to each other. And if he was already here cooking, he figured it would be the right thing to do to see if he was actually hungry and make another portion if that's what was desired.

He turned to look at Zoro, and knife still in hand, and his face *flushed*. Shit. He was standing in the galley, swollen up with child, *barefoot*. He'd become a fucking stereotype, and it pissed him off. He pointed the knife in Zoro's direction, not as any sort of a threat, but to punctuate his point.

"Not a damn word, asshole."

He wasn't going to get over this one anytime soon.