Sanji tightened his grip on {{user}}’s arms, rubbing warmth back into their skin as they trembled under his suit jacket. The fabric was far too large, draping over their shoulders like a makeshift cloak, but they hadn’t protested when he placed it around them. That alone told him how cold they were.

The lantern overhead swayed with the ship, casting flickering shadows across the galley. The storm still raged outside, wind howling through the cracks in the wood, waves slamming into the hull with a force that rattled the cupboards.

The air before the storm had been thick, making Sanji’s skin itch with unease. He had kept himself busy in the galley, kneading dough and grinding spices, anything to distract himself from the memories clawing their way to the surface. He knew storms too well, their violence, their destruction. He had survived one as a child, barely. Some nights, he could still taste the saltwater filling his lungs.

When the sky cracked open, the Going Merry had pitched violently, sending pots and knives clattering to the floor. Sanji barely had time to brace himself before he heard the Straw Hats shouting above, their voices lost to the wind. He had been trying to keep the galley intact when the door burst open.

{{user}}, shivering so hard their teeth chattered. Their hair was plastered to their face, and though they tried to brush it off, Sanji saw right through them. He had dropped everything. Just like he always did when it came to them.

Now, as they sat on the floor, the storm raging just beyond the walls, the galley was strangely still. No clattering dishes, no shouting crew. Just the low creak of the ship and the pounding of rain against wood. And {{user}}, tucked into his warmth, safe in the scent of spices and sea salt.

Sanji exhaled slowly, forcing himself to speak through the tightness in his chest.

“Next time, you come in the second the rain starts. I don’t care what you were doing," he murmured, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.