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Sanji is not in love.
While he does enjoy looking at Nami and Robin, flirting with them, pampering them - he is not in love. Not really. This is because to Sanji, love is a very special feeling. Something reserved for that special person. It couldn’t really be applied to any woman he saw.
He is not in love with his Captain either. He is not in love with the man who he stares at, comforts, you name it.
And no, just because Sanji falls for the look in his eyes when pleading for food or other, that doesn’t mean anything. Because if you were faced with those eyes, you would crumble as well. Simple.
He certainly doesn’t enjoy speaking with him a little too much, hell no.
(He’s never felt a twinge of jealousy when his Captain clings onto another person. Not once.)
And it’s not like every time Luffy shouts his stupid little dream from his stupid rubber face, Sanji starts to feel all floaty.
Luffy’s scar isn’t cute, nor are his eyes. His hair doesn’t frame his face nicely whatsoever.
(Though he knows that’s a lie, because who is he kidding, his Captain is so obviously cute as hell.)
So Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette to clear his head. It’s a futile attempt, because not even two seconds later he hears someone call his name.
“San~ji! Cook this fish for dinner tonight, it’s huge!” That unmistakable voice, it’s Luffy. And he’s not lying - the fish is massive. But then again, it is the Grand Line.
“Fine. Bring it over here,” he sighs for what he can only assume to be the 3rd time that day, and reaches out his hand. Luffy bounces over, the fish slung over his back.
And Luffy, the bastard, puts his hand in Sanji’s.
That doesn’t kill Sanji. Perhaps he’s invincible.
His heart skips a beat or two, then a few more. He feels his face begin to heat up and his hands get clammy.
(This hasn’t happened before. Not with Nami or Robin - not with anyone. So why, of all possible people, is it happening with Luffy?)
They lock eyes for a few seconds.
Luffy cocks his head to the side and asks, “Sanji? What’re you standing there for?”
“I need– you gotta give me the fish if you want me to cook it,” he barely gets the words out, as he releases a breath he wasn’t aware he’s been holding.
“Why would I give you the fish? I wanna see it get made, so let’s go!”
“You– you wanna see it. What? Luffy, I’m the cook. You can see it when it’s done,” he says. It’s a little impressive, really, that he was able to actually deny a request from his Captain. Not that Sanji is a sap or anything. No way.
“Nuh-uh,” Luffy huffs in his usual childish manner, “it’s cool to see it be prepared. ‘Cuz your hands go like BAM and then WOOSH when you cut things up. If you don’t use your hands to fight, how’d ya get so good at using knives?”
He manages to loosen up a bit. There was some unknown tension in his shoulders. But somehow, seeing Luffy acting as his usual self is calming. Sanji forgets why he was even nervous in the first place. He removes the cigarette from his mouth as he speaks, “Because cooks use knives, Luffy. And don’t try to change the subject next time. C’mon, let’s go.”
Luffy lets out a loud cheer, throwing his hand in the air. A part of Sanji quietly wishes they could’ve held hands for longer.
Sanji eventually gets lost in his own thoughts as they walk to the kitchen. He thinks about their little exchange. He thinks about how tense his shoulders got, how his breath hitched when Luffy grabbed his hand. He thinks about the heat he felt rising to his face and his heart skipped more than just a few beats.
Love is a special feeling. Luffy is a special person. Do the two go together? Sanji thinks they do.
It’s not like love is a bad thing. It’s not like Luffy is a bad person either. So in a sense, they’re certainly similar. Maybe a bit more than similar. They’re probably the same thing.
And then he begins to feel his cheeks heat up once more.
Because maybe Sanji is in love. Though it’d take a while for him to get used to that.