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Sanji’s inability to fall asleep often forced him into the empty kitchen at the dead of night, during voyages much like this one, with nothing to look forward to but the endless stretch of sea and the rise and setting of the burning sun. It became a familiar image, as Sanji found himself watching the first star appear among the sea of dark blue above him time and time again.
Tonight, the blonde took to wiping counters and polishing the floors of Sunny's kitchen to keep himself busy, all while humming a tune. It was an unnamed tune he picked up from Zeff during his childhood.
The man’s gruff voice often made the song seem more like the soundtrack to near impending doom rather than a calming sound, so Sanji liked to replicate it while making it sound more like a serenade to a beautiful woman he met out at sea.
Sanji remembers the one time he had confronted Zeff about the singing, he must’ve been 11 or 12 at the time, exclaiming that it was annoying and the old man needed to stop humming that stupid song. Zeff told him off, stern and serious as always, “Mind your own business, brat. My crew used to sing this shanty.” He said. It was all that Sanji needed to know.
Reading between the lines, the blonde realized it must’ve meant a lot to the old man, even if he seldom admits anything has special meaning to him at all. Immediately, he felt a pang of guilt, biting his tongue until a very faint taste of metal coated his mouth to prevent himself from saying something else stupid. He knew all too well that Zeff’s old crew passed away in the storm-turned massive shipwreck- that the two of them remain the only survivors of, but being the massive brat that he was, Sanji never considered other people’s feelings before his own.
From that day forward, he decided to avoid mentioning it again and just listened whenever the old man would hum under his breath. As a result he had come to find solace and comfort in this sea shanty that the old chef was too old to recall the name to. The weight it carried meant more than arbitrary titles, after all.
However, it didn’t truly begin meaning something special to him until his 16th birthday. Sanji’s visceral hatred of this holiday never yielded much fun within the premises of the Baratie, but the other chefs did their best to send him their wishes. Still, the young boy continued to despise it. That is, until he turned 16.
According to his vague memories of this March night, it was chilly, as the tides were only beginning to catch up with the change in season. Sanji was a light sleeper for most of his life, meaning that the combined chill of the night air and the noises currently bleeding out from the kitchen awoke him almost instantly.
His body worked under the assumption that someone had broken into the Baratie and was now desperately rummaging through the storage, or perhaps the pantry. His heart stammered pathetically, while his legs shivered from the cold. Running on adrenaline more so than anything, Sanji forced his body out of bed and made his way to the kitchen as quietly as humanly possible.
Zeff, being a man with a wooden stump for a leg, was scarily good at walking around without being noticed. Sanji had inadvertently learned how to properly sneak around as a result of watching him 24/7, which definitely came in handy at times like this. Sanji reared himself up for a fight as he snuck up to the cracked door, from which poured familiar fluorescent light, but then he heard a tune that made him stop in his tracks.
Zeff seemed to be the one occupying the kitchen. The old man didn’t make a habit of being up during the night, much less cooking. Or rather, it seemed he was baking. Sanji peered his head through the tiny crack the man left, spotting his father mixing ingredients in a large bowl, with many scattered utensils covering the countertops. A cake tray stood to his left, while the oven beeped to signify being ready for use. Sanji wanted to scratch his head in confusion, but didn’t want to risk making noise and alerting the man.
The sea shanty stopped, as did Zeff, who placed the bowl down for a moment and wiped his large hands on the messy towel slung across his shoulder. “One second you’re picking up some shitty kid by his scruff, and the next he’s growing facial hair. Damnit.” The exclamation seemed to freeze the man in place, hands still wrapped in the towel. He took a deep breath, throwing the rag on the counter and running a hand down his face in frustration. He then resumed mixing, the humming returning and filling in for the heavy silence in the air, though this time it was much too slow.
Deciding that this was something that he oughta not listen in on, the young boy made his way back to his personal barracks as quietly as he could. He plopped back into bed feeling almost weightless physically. His heart, on the other hand, felt much heavier. Sanji knew a lot of time had passed since Zeff rescued him, an entire 8 years, but he never thought Zeff paid it much mind. Not to mention he seemed to be baking a cake, presumably for Sanji.
Thoughts flooded his mind, most of them negative, but he did his best to shoo them away. It took longer than necessary, but eventually Sanji drifted back to sleep, the steady rocking of the sea-top restaurant calming his nerves.
In all this time, the sea became his home.
The next morning he was woken up by a loud thudding on the door. On the other side was Patty, smiling widely in a way that would be highly suspicious if Sanji hadn’t known what was coming. Still, knowing and seeing are two entirely different matters, Sanji realized as he came out into the open area of the restaurant and laid eyes on the beautiful cake that was dedicated to him. It stood tall, with 3 round layers and a ton of masterfully piped flowers that adorned each one. Atop the blue cake were two candles, a 1 and a 6. His first birthday cake.
The young chef struggled to hold in tears, one or two of them spilling out of his eyes unceremoniously, which got the other chefs laughing and slapping his shoulder in an attempt to cheer him up, or maybe make fun of him. His natural instincts kicked in, resulting in Sanji swinging his right leg around and almost nailing Patty in the head before Zeff’s voice boomed, making everyone freeze in place.
“Son, you better cut that shit out or I’ll shove your foot up your own ass. I’m not above hitting a kid on his birthday.”
Before the blonde could process what was just said to him, maybe even try to muster up a snarky response, the men crowding around him erupted into bouts of laughter, all of them pointing out the word ‘son’ slipping out of the old man’s mouth.
Even though the statement was followed by a threat, Sanji couldn’t quite force himself to care, as it was the first time anyone had ever called him son, properly that is.
He had never heard the title said in such a tone, in such a context, especially after being presented with a- no doubt- delicious cake that his old man forced himself to lose sleep over. He had never felt less like a burden on the people around him than he did in that moment. Something in him felt as if it was about to snap.
“The little squirts your son now, is he?” Carne exclaimed. Laughter followed.
“Has been.” Zeff said, cutting the conversation. “Now let the brat enjoy his birthday cake. This is your only chance, eggplant, I’m sure as hell not doing this for you again.”
The title was treated like a slip of tongue, a momentary lapse of judgment, but Zeff didn’t deny it. Rather he reinforced this idea that Sanji was his son. It made him want to burst into tears, to fall into a pathetic heap on the floor and cry out to him in gratitude. As if regressing to childhood, he yearned to hold onto someone and hear those words again. But he didn’t.
Sanji was grown now, and Zeff notoriously hated children, so he knew that wouldn’t fly. The young chef would come to realize that this instance would be the only time Zeff would ever call him by such a title, but it meant the world to him nonetheless.
He remembers picking up a slice, biting into it, savoring the taste of fresh fruit and the smooth delicious frosting that melted on his tongue. He remembers the way the chefs all cheered as he blew out his candles, wishing to find the All Blue just as he had on every birthday before this one. But clearest of all, he remembers the sea shanty that Zeff hummed as he washed the remaining dishes, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
In present time, Sanji replicated that humming to the best of his ability whenever he found that he couldn’t sleep. Whether it was due to weather conditions, the loud snoring of his crew members, or maybe one too many thoughts bouncing around in his skull, the blonde found that humming while smoking calmed his nerves.
Still, it didn’t seem to be enough to lull him into a sleepy state, there was still so much energy coursing through the blonde’s body that he resorted to lighting up another cigarette- his third of the evening- and walking around the Sunny until his eyelids could no longer do their part in keeping him awake.
Saying a final goodbye to the spotless countertops and the shining floors that showed his warped reflection, Sanji stepped out onto the deck.
It was Robin’s turn for night watch, which meant she was definitely up in the Crow’s nest watching the sea. He was lucky it was her turn tonight, as Sanji would much rather not deal with nosy crew mates such as Usopp, Luffy or Chopper. He knew they meant well, but Sanji yearned for some much needed solitude.
Unfortunately for him, the stroll was cut short by the realization that someone was in the Aquarium. Aside from Robin, no one else should be awake. The blonde didn’t notice anyone missing when he was sneaking out of the men’s quarters, so he was curious who it was that was stricken with insomnia much like himself.
Quietly, the chef walked to the door, hand nestled in his pockets and the cigarette burning bright and itching the back of his throat comfortingly with each inhale. As he approached, the blonde was surprised to see that it was Ace who had stationed himself in the Aquarium. The man was nestled on one of the couches with a book, though his facial expression read pure confusion. Sanji knocked gently on the wooden door, not giving Ace a moment to greet him.
“Didn’t take you for much of a reader.” he stated, fitting through the crack in the door so as to not make it creak louder than necessary.
Ace exhaled through his nose in amusement, shifting slightly on the couch in silent offering, “I’m not really, your archeologist recommended it to me. She said it might help me fall asleep.”
Sanji accepted his offering by sitting a couple feet to the left of him on the long couch. The explanation made him laugh a bit, “So, what’s it about?” he wondered, vaguely recognizing the cover from the small sliver of the design he could see from this angle.
“Well I’m not really sure, most of these words are new to me, but it’s something about the history of the North Blue.” Ace explained, scratching his neck awkwardly. The blonde remembered Luffy mentioning the two of them grew up in the mountains, so it was no surprise the man couldn’t understand the bigger words in the text.
“You don’t say-” He began, a lone curly brow rising in surprise. “As it happens, I’m from the North Blue, can I see that?” Without a word, Ace handed the thick book over to him, his black eyes scanning Sanji’s form.
“Really? Luffy’s mentioned that you guys all met in the East Blue. You not from there, then?”
“Oh no, I’ve lived there most of my life, but I was born in the North. It’s a long story, I’m sure you wouldn’t like it.” Sanji responded calmly. He was never quite sure why his nerves never spiked around Ace, despite him being a man, most of which he hated with a passion. Brutes like Zoro, or overly confident douchebags that frequented the Baratie. Even the guys whose names he never cared to catch on their journeys, they always pissed him off.
It had been two years since Sanji met Luffy’s brother, and a couple months since he officially joined them for the time being. In that time, the blonde found little to no reason to raise his voice at the man, outside of typical antics such as eating too much or sleeping in strange places. This was such a strange and new dynamic to the chef, as he was so used to being a Prince of his own design to the ladies, and a fighter towards men, who he believed should be kept as far away from his darlings as possible.
Neither of those personas quite fit his dynamic with Ace, who was as much-if not more- of a gentleman than he was. He treated the ladies with respect and equality, and the same went for the men. He held them all in high regards and revered their individual strengths. Due to this, Sanji could never quite make himself be rude to the other, as he began viewing him as an equal. He supposes that may be the reason he feels so okay with sharing information with Ace.
The blonde chef turned the book in his hands, looking at the cover and recognized it as a simple book of fables and tales, alongside how they came about in the North Blue. Simple stories that he recalled reading then retelling to his mother to prolong his visits.
In a strange sort-of way, looking through the pages filled him with nostalgia, even though there is nothing about his childhood that could even begin to be described as nostalgic. Perhaps it was this overwhelming sense that he isn’t entirely separated from that life, not that he ever could fully escape.
His mother would always remain there, staring at him in the mirror through his own blue eyes. Maybe that is what made Sanji feel such a way, these tales were a large part of his childhood, the only thing aside from cooking that ever kept him busy. Sanji had no choice other than to read day-in and day-out.
The chef decided to chalk the nostalgia up to an extension of mourning, rather than actually missing anything about those years.
“This is nothing special. Just some stories here and there that originated from the North Blue. None of these are really historic facts, but more like fables-” he explained, waving his hand around as he spoke. Ace, now in a more alert position, was facing him more directly and nodding along as he explained further.
“Every kid my age knew these stories, they were famous in a way. Like this one-” he pointed to a picture, which Ace stretched his neck to look at even though it was upside down. “This is the tale of a kingdom that did actually exist at one point, but it was destroyed by war and the revolt of its people, instead of the creatures they made up in this.”
At the constant and undivided attention he was being given, the blonde chef couldn’t help but blush lightly. “O-or this one: this king was revered back in the day, I heard a lot of stories of his achievements, but as it turns out they weren’t real at all. Just a stuck-up retelling from a self obsessed king that achieved nothing.”
Ace hummed, acting as if he were deep in thought. He gently grabbed the book back from Sanji, who let it slip out of his grip. Ace turned a couple pages, licking his thumb before flicking through them. He turned it around for Sanji to see before posing a question.
“So are the stories about Germa real or fake? This story made them out to be these-like, super heroes.” Ace wondered, making Sanji’s heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. In a moment, his smile faded and anger took over, which he tried to keep from boiling over the surface. Ace was none the wiser to this, it seemed, as he continued pointing at a ridiculous image of what was intended to be him and his brothers in their Germa gear.
“Oh they’re real alright. Real pieces of shit, most of the things written about them in books don’t even compare to what they’re actually like.” the blonde said through gritted teeth. Ace, seemingly too tired to pick on the clear anger in Sanji’s expression, tilted his head in question.
“It’s not something I really like to…talk about.” He said, feeling almost embarrassed at getting so angry, and letting his sentence taper out into a pathetic whisper.
Ace stretches his hand out, letting it hang in the air. “You really don’t gotta, if you don’t wanna.” his slight accent coming out in the reassuring statement.
Sanji thinks this over in silence for a couple moments, weighing his options, as well as each outcome. The chef knew Ace had a similarly unsavory history with his own birth father, as well as a beautifully strong mother who he- no doubt- admired. Sanji was never one for sharing how he felt, especially not with men who could possibly begin looking down at him as a result.
Suddenly he remembered something Zeff had told him once, an off-handed comment. “Brats like you think they’re so tough, they always act like strength shown is weakness hidden. Nothing of the sort. You must show weakness, must face it head on, to overcome it.” He always waved it off as old person nonsense, as he couldn’t make sense of how showing weakness could ever improve his life.
Perhaps, he thought, this could be the first step to coming to terms with his own unfortunate existence.
At this point in time, there was no one Sanji trusted with this secret more than Ace, who presumably would never consider laughing at him. As much as he loved and admired the rest of his crew, the history of the Vinsmoke family haunted him in a way so utterly unfamiliar to the others.
Bracing himself with a deep sigh, the chef made brief eye contact with Ace before beginning. “No, it’s alright. Let me be frank, Germa are real, and they’re unfortunately my blood relatives, though I hesitate to ever refer to them as such.” He hesitantly raised his eyes to access Ace’s expression only to be met with…nothing. At least nothing distinct. He didn’t display pity, or even a morbid curiosity. He provided Sanji with a blank slate expression, a couple blinks and a look that simply said ‘go on, if you wish’ and he did.
“They’re famous outside of the North Blue too, but not for the reasons they should be. Judge, the head of the kingdom and my…biological father-” Sanji gritted his teeth again, “-Is the worst kind of person. Someone everyone should despise. I, for one, fucking hate him.”
Regret flooded his senses instantly. He really shouldn’t have done this.
“I’m sorry to ask, you don’t have to answer, but is that why you- like- escaped, I assume, and ended up in the East Blue?” Ace wondered.
Sanji bit his lip until a dull ache overtook his senses.
He put out the cigarette he’d been smoking into the ashtray situated on the small table in the middle of the room. It had turned into a stub by that point, filling his mouth with nothing but ash.
“I don’t mind if you ask. Weirdly enough, I kind of trust you.”
Ace laughed lightly, scooching forward just a tad, slightly invading Sanji’s space. The space between their bent knees was only a couple inches. “That so? Any particular reason why?”
“Not really-” he chuckled “-Just a hunch that you’re not the kind of man to laugh at someone for their unsavory relationship with their family.” Sanji said, alluding to the information the media revealed during the War at Marineford. Ace grimaced slightly,
“As for your question, It sure is the reason why I escaped. That asshole, I would never dare actually call him my father, didn’t want me around anyway. I was 8 and a little brat that didn’t think about anybody but myself. I got lucky landing in Zeff’s care, even if that old bastard is crazy.” Sanji finally responded, not letting Ace respond to his previous statement.
“I know all ‘bout bein’ a little selfish brat. So how’d you end up with Zeff then?” Ace laughed.
“We were in a shipwreck together. There was a large storm that swept the seas, the crazy old man dove after me when I started drowning. And then, this crazy fuck, he gave me all of his food when we ended up stranded on an island for an unbelievable number of days. Don’t tell him I said this, but I miss that old fuck sometimes.”
“No shit?” Ace said, baffled at the story. The chef no longer felt the knot in his throat tightening, rather he felt his body language become looser and the words flowed as if he were telling a tale of the good ‘ole days.
“You know, I met Whitebeard when I challenged him to a fight. I had to be 18, 19, at tha’ time. Lost pathetically, ya wouldn’t believe it, the old man handed me my own ass on a dinner plate. After that I tried killing him at least 100 times, never succeeded.” He told Sanji, leaning comfortably on his side now.
Sanji, surprised by this, was leaning forward with interest. He lit up another cigarette to give his mouth something to do. “So how’d you end up as his son, then?”
“Oooh you know, pops got tired of’ me tryin’ to kill him, called me into his room and told me I could join the family. I thought he was insane! Inviting a kid trying to kill you to be your son? But then-” Ace suddenly got quiet, the color of his eyes reminding Sanji of the dark depths of the sea.
In the brief moment of pause and contemplation, the blonde came to the realization that both of them had shed their personas and shown slivers of their true selves to each other. As Ace squeezed his fists in one second intervals, Sanji watched the shifting blue hues dance across his sharp face, his breath catching in his throat for a minute when Ace made eye contact with him through lidded eyes, most of his small pupil covered by his thick black lashes.
“But then he told me that it didn’t matter I was Roger’s son. And I don’t know, it made me think. And I hate thinkin’.” He joked before continuing.
“You know somethin’? Whitebeard never even wanted to be king of the pirates, he was picking up runts and takin’ them in as his own family. So I get what ya mean, I miss that old man everyday.” Ace said sadly, obviously missing his days spent on the ship, partying and spending time with people he viewed as brothers.
The blonde chef, by garbled word of mouth, found out that Ace came close to death because he refused to let Whitebeard be talked about in a way that shamed him, that diminished what he meant to his crew, and Sanji certainly couldn’t blame him. If it were Zeff that someone was disrespecting, he would’ve risked it all to prove them wrong too.
“I’m sure if I said I was sorry, that wouldn’t really cut it, huh?” Sanji said quietly, as if afraid to shatter the atmosphere between them.
“Not really, but it’s okay ya know, life moves forward. I just gotta learn to live in a way that honors him.” Ace smiled bittersweetly.
Before Sanji could say anything else, an aggressive yawn broke the tension in the air. Ace laughed at him, but followed suit in yawning, starting a chain reaction.
“Seems like we really oughta go to bed.” The man suggested, picking himself up from the couch, the movement making the leather squeak. Sanji too got up, following him to the door.
“Probably a good plan. I’ll come back to the quarters in a bit.” He announced, turning the opposite direction that Ace was heading and waving to him as to say goodnight. The man waved back and they went their separate ways, Sanji heading to the front of the ship for one last smoke.
The chef stood watching the sea waves crash into one another gently, inhaling the tobacco and thinking about what Zeff said regarding opening up. Maybe the old man was onto something, opening up wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He would even argue it felt almost…nice.
The admission had Sanji inhaling particularly hard, the harsh smoke tickling his throat.
The exhaustion was catching up to him quick, so the blonde shook his cigarette ash into the sea, placing the remaining half into his pocket as to not litter and quietly returned to the men’s quarters, where Ace was already snoring away into the night, laid out in a position that could not possibly be comfortable.
—---------
A couple days after their arrival at an island Sanji struggled to remember the name of, they ran out of food. A team effort between Luffy and Ace resulted in the fridge lock getting picked and their food storage being cleared out. Nami was the one to find them squatting on the floor of the kitchen, lights off and food products scattered everywhere. He vaguely recalls her yelling about expecting this from Luffy, but never from Ace.
She acted scandalized when Luffy had told him Ace got him into dining and dashing when they were children, and opted to angrily assigning Sanji with the task of going grocery shopping again and also finding a better lock for the fridge. She let out an enraged huff as she handed him the large sum of beri, but Sanji thought she was beautiful like this too.
And he told her as much. “You’re beautiful even when you’re angry, Nami my dear!!” He exclaimed, everyone ignoring him, as per usual.
“Isn’t Zoro usually the pack mule, what happened to him?” Usopp wondered, cautiously watching the scene unfold from multiple feet away.
Nami sighed again, crossing her arms. “Zoro needed some new workout equipment and fresh clothes, so I sent him and Chopper to town already. As punishment Ace will have to be the pack mule for the day.” She shot them both a glare, as if Sanji had anything to do with what happened.
“I’ll make sure to be of good use.” Ace said, sounding only slightly guilty about his actions.
As they approached the town, walking through the dilapidated outskirts to reach the main shopping square, Sanji spotted the lines of product carts- which changed every day- just up ahead. “You shouldn’t make Nami angry like that, you know. A beautiful lady like her shouldn’t have to shout so much.” He told Ace, who chuckled from beside him.
His heavy boots thudded across the pavement, the light wind blowing his collarbone-length hair into his face. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He said lightheartedly, as he spit a loose hair out of his mouth.
His eyes landed on a beautiful lady manning one of the stands, and his legs instinctively carried him ahead at a faster pace to reach her. She stood tall, almost taller than him, with smooth light hair and tanned skin, freckles and moles littered her face and the visible portions of her arms. It was a bit of a hot day, as it was presumably the middle of summer on this island, so she was mostly covered up by a silken dress. Sanji felt his eyes turning to hearts.
“Good morning, mademoiselle.” He greeted, to which the young lady smiled politely. He began looking over the fresh produce. Ace was barely behind, but making no real effort to speed up, so the chef went ahead and picked out whichever fruits and vegetables looked freshest.
“We have an assortment of products that are grown only on this side of the sea, they’re in season right now if you’d like to have a look.” She said, pulling out a black crate from under the table.
“Those look delicious. What do you think, chef?” Ace asked as he finally stopped by the blonde’s side, taking his shopping basket into his own arms, effectively freeing Sanji’s hands.
The fruit was glistening in the afternoon sun, giving Sanji all kinds of ideas for assorted desserts, cocktails, and fruit pies. He immediately picked up a couple, scooping them into a bag and offered the young lady the beri. She thanked them profusely, smiling wide and unrestricted, grateful to them for supporting her family business, and waved them off as they made their way down to the next stall. Her happiness made Sanji swoon, his heart doing flips.
From beside him, Ace walked nonchalantly, the-already heavy- grocery basket supported by one arm. He didn’t seem to be breaking a sweat quite yet, which impressed Sanji, who had to watch Zoro struggle to keep the basket from slipping most days. At the feeling of Sanji’s eyes boring into the side of his head, Ace turned, raised his eyebrows slightly and smiled at him. He then seemed to spot a great place to buy fresh meat and began walking ahead. The chef struggled to keep up for a bit, as his mind was trying to figure out why he suddenly felt so jittery.
Shaking it off, the blonde ran up and started evaluating the meats. The jitteriness remained, but it faded into the background as Sanji found himself busy for the next couple hours.
—-----
They returned from their shopping with a couple months worth of food, if they were lucky-and if Ace and Luffy behaved- and a new lock, only to find Nami yelling at Zoro. She was shouting something along the lines of him smelling horribly and how the clothes he bought wouldn’t do, but unfortunately the log pose was ready, so he had no time to return to town. Sanji shook his head disapprovingly, walking into the kitchen to organize their shopping before the urge to nail Zoro in the head took over.
—----
An unforeseen battle with the Marines struck them in the middle of their journey from a large winter island to their next destination. Sanji was already beginning to burst at the seams, as he was forced to listen to half of the crew complain about the cold making their scars ache.
As much as he understood the pain, as even a glimpse of the endless winter landscape had his poor spine aching and screaming for help- two years after he had hurt it, it was still bothering him- regardless, listening to everyone’s whining wasn’t doing him any favors. He had resorted to hiding out in the kitchen and busying himself with the task of cooking a much needed warm dinner. Just when the chef was beginning to think peace was beyond the horizon, a Marine fleet approached from the distance.
Sanji groaned inwardly.
Luffy, being who he is, simply laughed and began gearing up for a full-out battle. How he never seemed to run out of energy, Sanji still couldn’t fathom. On his right were Franky and Usopp preparing cannons, while on his left Ace and Zoro were cracking every bone imaginable in preparation. Unsurprisingly, those troublemaking brothers were the first to attack, followed by Zoro only a second later. Sanji could never let himself be second to the mosshead so he too leaped through the air with determination, letting the smoke from his cigarette trail behind.
He couldn’t care less about the ridiculous speeches any of the Marines were giving, and it seemed no one else cared either. Their words made of unfulfilled promises to ‘end Strawhat’s reign of terror here and now’ faded into the background as the scene devolved into shouting and the echoes of gunshots.
It came as no surprise that no matter how many Marines attacked, they struck them down in seconds. The Strawhats were no longer the weaklings that they used to be when they were first forcibly separated at Sabaody, yet their time apart had the Navy undermining their strength and foolishly leaping into battles they could never hope to win.
Sanji felt pride swell in his heart as Luffy cheered after every group of men he took down. Time can change everything, but also nothing at all. Luffy may be stronger than ever, but he is also the same goofy kid that basically forced him to join the crew.
“Sanji!!!” Ace yells out to him from a distance, breaking him out of his trance. He finishes stomping a marine’s head into the ground, idly inhaling the last bit of his cigarette before discarding it carelessly and turning to the man. “Give me a boost, will ya?!!” He asks before breaking out into a full-speed sprint in Sanji’s direction.
Immediately understanding the vague plan of action, Sanji reared his burning leg up, preparing for it to be used as a launchpad for whatever trick Ace was about to pull off. In seconds, the man was leaping up onto his leg, and then flying into the air like a fiery cannon aimed directly at the flag situated atop the ship’s mast. The marines that remained standing aboard the ship all turned in his direction, shooting bullets that didn’t so much as graze him.
In the two years that Ace spent training following the events of the War, he had gotten much, Much, stronger. Sanji had to admit he was greatly impressed with the increase in power that Ace had developed, alongside learning multiple types of haki.
Said man was now leaning against the flag that flapped through the wind, lighting up his fist and effectively setting the entire thing ablaze. The flames traveled far, and quick, engulfing the entire mast in mere seconds. Luffy laughed at the display, which vaguely reminded Sanji of him commanding Usopp to shoot down the Navy flag back on Enies lobby. He wasn’t sure what about this random day- no different than most of the days they spend out at sea- made him feel so nostalgic about the past.
The chef lit up another cigarette, hating the feeling of emptiness in his mouth, and made his way back to the Sunny to avoid dealing with the aftermath of Ace’s attack head on. Using his legs to propel himself through the air, Sanji didn’t look back at the scene unfolding behind him, but could definitely feel the heat and hear the screaming of helpless Marines.
Don’t play with fire if you can’t handle the flame, some may say.
With the crew back on the ship and Sanji’s exhaustion rearing its ugly head, he returned to the kitchen to finish what he started. His food was now unfortunately cold and entirely unusable so he groaned in frustration before setting out to restart the entire meal.
When dinner was finally ready, the chef called everyone into the kitchen. Luffy burst through the door first, as always, followed by Usopp, Ace, Chopper, the girls, Brook, Franky, and lastly Zoro who stumbled in with clear anger and annoyance. No surprise there.
Sanji handed the dishes he poured the most love into to the ladies, who accepted with grace and appreciation, and then distributed the food out to the pack of wild animals occupying their dinner table.
As always, it was a hectic event, as every meal seems to be. Luffy and the others never fail to make something simple as eating food into a trial of patience and a party altogether. With half of them off to bed, and Luffy doing whatever he does after eating a good meal, Sanji was left all alone in the kitchen with Ace.
“Need any help?” He asks, just as he usually does despite Sanji never taking him up on the offer. He always declines, declaring that he doesn’t need any help, but today he accepts. Ace is evidently surprised by this, but he steps to Sanji’s side and takes on the task of drying the dishes Sanji was washing.
They remained silent the entire time, both of them tired out from a long day of travel and battling with Marines that didn’t know when to give up. Out of the corner of his eye, the chef spotted Ace smiling to himself, thoroughly wiping every bead of water on each plate he’s handed. His wide, muscular shoulders make the space in front of the sink feel smaller than usual, but he doesn’t mind too much.
His brain jumps to thinking too much about nothing at all and eventually leads him down to thinking about Ace. Specifically about the way he can just stand there beside him and smile. The way he can party, and laugh, and eat as if nothing in the world bothers him. He is weightless and free, or at least he acts as such, despite experiencing such tremendous loss just a couple years ago.
Ace’s crew, his family, are gone and he remains strong and fights and laughs and sleeps as if it was all so long ago that it no longer bothers him. Of course that couldn’t be true, no man out there is capable of moving on that quickly, and Sanji knows all too well what pretending to be okay looks like.
Still, it intrigues him. Maybe even bothers him. Ace, for as long as Sanji’s known him, has been the embodiment of freedom. Of living without regrets and fighting for a future that he desires. He’s both feared and respected. He’s strong, but he’s kind. Ace is a pirate with a purpose, a name that has been carved into the minds of citizens everywhere since before the world knew he was the Pirate King’s son.
But first and foremost, he’s human. Ace is just as fragile as anyone else, you just have to find the right buttons to push. Not that Sanji is trying to find them, he just itches to know where Fire-fist ends and Portgas D. Ace begins. Perhaps there is no difference and the lines are so blurred not even the man himself can tell who he was from who he’s become.
Still, Sanji has to admit that everything he’s seen, all the battles they’ve been through together and the discussions they’ve had in the dead of night, have made him truly and genuinely respect Ace.
Respect. Admire. Maybe even something else that is entirely too jumbled for him to decipher, something he can’t quite face about himself yet. But as it stands, the idea that Sanji respects a man, one that trumps him in size, strength, and fighting abilities is ludicrous. Yet he doesn’t feel too upset about it.
They finish dishes, without saying one word to each other the whole time, and the chef feels as though he’s learned something new. Or just come to terms with something he knew all along.
“Goodnight” The man waves to him. “Goodnight.” Sanji returns, mostly saying it to the slowly closing door that Ace just exited from.
Ace really is a good guy. And Sanji really, really respects him.
Even if he is just as stupidly reckless as that little brother of his.
—----
Sanji was wondering if he’d ever be granted the escape of sleep on this hellish ship. Just once. He was so close to just dropping to his knees and praying if it meant not being woken up by loud snoring for just one night. He never went through with it of course, he’s met God and is sure as hell not giving up his pride for a guy like that again.
Still, it didn’t feel like that much to ask for. The blonde opened his eyes with angry hesitation, staring at the barely visible planks above his bed. To his side, Luffy, Zoro, and Franky were all snoring like machines, while everyone else slept like it was no big deal. He was so glad Nami and Robin got their own quarters because the thought of them having to deal with this every night made him shiver.
Deciding that going back to sleep wasn’t worth the effort, the chef crawled out of bed and made his way out to the deck. Due to how much noise it would make if he attempted to look for his jacket, Sanji ditched the idea of finding his lighter and just left in his pajamas.
They didn’t help much in keeping him warm. The sea was relentless in its nightly chill, but he gritted his teeth and dealt with it the best he could, wrapping both arms around himself.
Stricken with an idea, the blonde swerved the opposite direction of the deck and walked towards the storage room where he kept some of his clothes and extra things from various islands that didn’t fit into the locker in the men’s quarters.
Quietly sneaking in and turning on the light, Sanji spotted his bags and boxes instantly, as they were all bunched up in the far left corner and marked with as many warnings to stay away as possible. Hoping to find something to keep him warm for the night, and maybe even an old lighter that had one or two more uses, Sanji began digging.
Light shirts, silken jackets that he realized were stupid, tight jeans, more tight jeans, a really itchy sweater that he never wants to wear again. And no lighter. Sighing in defeat, the chef moved onto box number two. He wasn’t sure what this one contained, but he would soon realize it was stuff the queens from Momoiro Island packed for him.
Dresses they claimed “made his eyes pop”, shoes that made his long legs look even longer, lipsticks, various colors of eyeshadow and nail polish, even hair extensions packed away in a sealed bag.
Sanji felt a shiver travel down his spine, entirely unrelated to the cold temperatures. He’s been trying so hard to keep the memories locked away so he doesn’t have to come to terms with what he thought and felt at the time. Nami would probably call this something along the lines of “desperate denial” but he couldn’t make himself care. The less he thought about it the better for his mental state.
Unfortunately his mind didn’t really like doing him favors, so as soon as Sanji closed that box he began spiraling. Sanji never mentioned his experiences to anyone on the crew, as much as they asked, he always denied them. The chef felt ashamed for enjoying the experience, using familiar anger to cover it up and cope with unwanted emotions.
If he were being honest with himself, Sanji would say he still remembered the freedom of running down the beach, hot sand under his feet and the silky dress flowing behind him. Similar to the way a pirate flag flew in the wind, the clothes he wore signified a level of freedom he had never experienced before.
Make-up, as ridiculous as it looked on him, separated Sanji from the man he’d known for 19 long years. The man he hated for every one of those years. He knew it felt good to be someone else- or rather, an extension of himself he had yet to face- but shame was like second nature to him.
Self hatred was as easy as breathing, as familiar as cooking. He knew it well, and it knew him. He wouldn’t be Vinsmoke Sanji if he didn’t feel the need to strip his skin and take on the face of someone else if it meant not having to face himself every morning.
There was something inexplicably devastating about knowing exactly what’s wrong with him- being able to stare into a mirror and see not only the person he’s carefully crafted but the atoms that have unfortunately come together to form his being- and being unable to do a damn thing about it.
Sanji knows his faults aren’t purely physical, it could never be that simple. His mangled form does not stand a chance against the filth that lies below the surface.
Worst part of it all is that Sanji’s tried everything. He’s garnered strengths in areas Judge disapproved of, he’s become a chef, he’s dressed himself up every day and created a persona that is so far from the way he feels inside that it might as well be an entirely different person.
He’s done it all, and yet Judge remains.
At the end of each day, he strips down to bare flesh and scrubs himself clean until he’s red and burning. He wears suits that smell of his hard work, the harsh scent of tobacco covering all that is unsavory, He fights with moves that Zeff inspired. He kisses Nami and Robin’s knuckles gently and pampers them with treats that his mother never got to taste.
But he’s still Sanji.
Insecure, weak-willed, cowardly Sanji that hides from himself more than he hides from others.
His time with the queens proved that he ultimately knows nothing. Not of himself, and certainly not of the meaning of freedom. For so long he thought the simple act of escaping Germa was going to be enough to make him free, but the world proves to him time and time again that no matter what he does, no matter how hard he stares into a mirror and attempts to disassemble himself, it will always be Him who stares back.
Shaking his head to interrupt his train of thought, Sanji desperately yearned to get out of this room. Grabbing a random jacket, he stumbled out of the storage room and onto the deck. He finally began feeling lucky when the left pocket contained a crumpled box of cigarettes, but it didn’t last long as there was no lighter in sight.
Sighing deeply, the chef accepted his fate and walked out to the front of the ship.
There, he spotted the last person he wanted to see right now. Ace, who still made his whole body feel jittery with no explanation. His back was turned to Sanji, its wide expanse painted a beautiful blue from the moonlit sky. The light wind blew his long hair to the side, exposing his shoulder muscles, a little red and covered in freckles from being out in the sun all day. A tad lower were the remains of his old tattoo, which was now replaced with mostly darkened scar tissue.
Still, a portion of it remained and Ace never indicated wanting to have it redone or covered up.
He wore it proudly, even though his position as second division commander under Whitebeard was long in the past now. Perhaps it was a memoir to what once was, and a promise of what is waiting for him in the future.
Sanji saw Ace sigh more than he heard it, as the man’s shoulders rose and fell in a smooth motion, before he finally turned his head in the direction of the approaching footsteps.
“Did I wake you?” Sanji asked, worried that Ace woke up when he was sneaking out of the barracks.
Ace scooched to the side, allowing Sanji to stand next to him by the ledge. The heat that radiated off his body was insanely comforting, and the exact thing Sanji needed right now. He basked in the warmth as Ace scanned his face a bit, smiling at the company. “Oh no, you didn’t. I sleep right next to Luffy, you know.” He explained, chuckling to himself. The noise created by the ocean drowned out most of their conversation, meaning Sanji had to lean in closer to catch what he said.
“Did you come out here to smoke?” He wondered. Sanji sighed and pulled a loose cigarette out from the depths of his pocket.
“I wanted to, but I couldn’t grab my lighter.”
“Oh, let me.” The man said, igniting it and making the chef’s heart stop for a moment. How Sanji would have forgotten Ace was made of fire when he was just appreciating his bodily warmth, he isn’t sure. Still, multiple of his problems had been solved thanks to him.
The blonde quietly thanked him and inhaled.
It felt so relieving to finally get a taste of tobacco on his tongue again. It was intoxicating, the perfect get-away from his problems.
It made him think of something Iva and the queens hounded him about before. “You don’t know how nice it feels to have a man pamper you, sweety. It’s good to let go once in a while. Embrace your inner maiden.” Much like every bit of advice Zeff ever gave him, Sanji promptly ignored that gaggle of clowns too. How could they possibly know what would be good for him?
Still, it made Sanji think. Ace had returned to silently appreciating the horizon, while the blonde took to scanning his body from his peripheral. A couple of scars stuck out to him. Two crescent shaped ones lining the underside of Ace’s pecs.
He knew what they represented, and didn’t change Sanji’s opinion on Ace in the slightest, but it did make him realize just how open the man next to him was about his identity. He wondered how someone could just walk around knowing everyone’s eyes were on them, not only for your notoriety but something as vulnerable as your identity.
Sanji felt compelled to ask. “Hey Ace, could I…ask you something a little personal?” He raised his voice to make sure he wouldn’t have to repeat himself. The black haired man turned to him, nodding simply and giving Sanji the stage to say whatever he wished.
“You- like men, right?” He asked, much quieter this time. “How did you know?”
He seemed to be baffled by this question. Perhaps Sanji was the last person he expected to be wondering about something like that.
“I do.” He said simply, as if it was trivial information. The sky is blue, Zoro is obnoxious and green, and Ace likes men. “I had a hunch about it when I was a kid. I was rebellious and annoying, you know. I didn’t realize for a long time because I didn’t want to be like other girls, who were proper and nice and liked boys.” He laughed warmly. Sanji leaned towards him a bit to catch it.
“But when I was a bit older I realized- y’know- I was a guy, and then everything just kind of made sense. Mine and Luffy’s other brother, Sabo, he used to mention girls off-handedly sometimes. Wasn’t crazy ‘bout ‘em, but named names once in a while. I just didn’t get it.”
The two of them having another brother was entirely new information to Sanji, but he decided not to ask. That was a conversation for another time.
“I’ve never- I don’t know. I’ve never felt like that. I’ve always liked girls and that was it. But-” He cut himself off, pursing his lips and tightening their grip on his cigarette, which burned the back of his throat comfortingly.
“But now you’re questioning if you like men too?” Ace supplied for him. Sanji couldn’t find the words to respond so he took to nodding.
Ace exhaled through his nose, the corners of his lips tugging up the tiniest amount. “You’re allowed to do that. Like both. We’re pirates, the freest people in the world. Don’t let things like this control your view of yourself. When I first sailed off, I couldn’t imagine parading around shirtless, but the feeling of being yourself with no restrictions is immeasurable.” He said, tone gentle and understanding.
It almost seemed as if he was seeing a younger version of himself in Sanji’s self-doubt, and despite Sanji’s experience being much different than Ace’s he still found his words reassuring. It felt strange knowing Ace lacked confidence at some point, as the man he knows now walks and talks like he’s entirely assured of himself.
In the time the other man was talking, Sanji wound up leaning against the ledge just like he was, touching their upper arms together. The point of contact tingled strangely, but the blonde attributed that to the heat concentrating in one spot, rather than the same feeling Ace had been giving him for months. He shook the last of the cigarette out into the ocean, placing the stub neatly on the ledge.
In a strange moment of curiosity, Sanji blurted out another personal question, one that had the man next to him jumping a bit.
“Have you ever kissed a man?” He asked, the sentence tapering off into a whisper by the end, as the embarrassment slowly caught up to him.
Using his right hand, Ace smoothed his messy bangs out, only for them to bounce right back and cover most of his face. He blew a couple strands out of his peripheral and used a couple fingers to fiddle with one of the red pearls of his necklace. If Sanji had to guess, he seemed nervous.
“I have.” He said, finally. A light blush painted his face. “My old right hand man- his name was Deuce- we were each other’s first kiss.”
“And do you- are you still?” Sanji began a question with no real ending.
“Oh! No, No. Life drove us separate ways, I went to join Whitebeard and he left to go on his own adventures. It’s been a while since I last saw him.”
‘Sorry’ is what Sanji wanted to say, but he knew from previous experiences that it wouldn’t mean anything. Ace doesn’t spend time dwelling on what was, if he can. It seems like he’s moved on, but the blonde couldn’t help but wonder what that was like. Kissing him. Would his lips be warm like the rest of him? Would they leave a trace of heat behind on his cold face?
Mentally slapping himself, Sanji attempted to cut that train of thought off before it got too dangerous. He’s never wondered what it would be like to kiss another man before, but the accumulation of all the strange emotions he’s felt towards Ace in the last couple months have amounted to this realization.
He liked the guy. Maybe even from the very beginning.
Everyone liked to point out his unnecessary politeness, his offers to make Ace special meals and snacks, taking his side in arguments, having his back during fights, always sitting next to him during parties if the ladies were busy. But he always thought it was nothing more than respect that pushed him to act that way. Respect and the fact that Ace was tolerable to him, someone who didn’t grate his every nerve every time he spoke.
Yet they all ended up being right. This wasn’t just respect, it was attraction. And now that he had realized this, Sanji wasn’t sure what to do next. Just because Ace was into men and currently available didn’t mean he had any interest in him.
“I’ve never kissed anyone.” The admission slipped out before he could get a hold of himself.
Ace turned his body towards him, clear surprise painting his features once more. Eyebrows raised, pupils jumping around Sanji’s face. He smiled wide and coy, leaning down just a bit to make up for their height difference. “Is this your way of asking me to be your first kiss, chef?” He asked, laughing and flicking Sanji's nose lightly. It was obvious he meant it as a joke, at least partially.
When Sanji didn’t deny the accusation, looking away and picking at his nails aggressively, Ace’s shoulders squared up a bit, turning his expression into something a little more serious. “Is it actually?”
“Didn’t mean for it to be, but it can, if you want.” He responded, unsure of himself. He really was acting like a maiden, wasn’t he. This was so humiliating he felt like waking up Zoro and challenging him to a fight just to get his rage and shame out in some way.
“I’d be happy to, if you’ll have me.” Ace said, much to Sanji’s surprise. His head whipped up, making clear eye contact with Ace, who didn’t seem to be joking at all this time around.
“You don’t seem weirded out by that.”
“Why would I be? I find you interesting, Sanji, maybe I’ve been twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to ask.” He blinked his eyes comically, pouting slightly before laughing.
“Make fun of me again and everyone will be fishing you out of the sea in the morning.” Sanji warned.
Ace just laughed in response. “You’re a funny guy. Alright let’s do this. No more stalling.”
“I wasn’t stal-” Sanji attempted to argue, but suddenly there were two hot hands slithering up the back of his cold neck, tilting his face up. He couldn’t seem to choke out a word from that moment forward. Not when Ace stepped just a bit closer, slotting one of his feet between Sanji’s. Not when he looked at him for confirmation, and certainly not when Ace had finally leaned down and gently pressed his lips to Sanji’s.
If you asked teen Sanji what he believed his first kiss would be like, he would’ve described the most fairytale-like scenario. Fireworks, a sunset, a beautiful woman that blushed whenever Sanji looked her way. He never would’ve guessed that it would be at age 21, with his captain’s older brother in the dead of night.
Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Unsurprisingly, Ace’s lips were warm. A bit chapped, but gentle and assured. He tilted his head to accommodate, doing what he presumed was the right thing based on books he’s read. Unsure of what to do with his hands, Sanji ended up placing them on the underside of Ace’s biceps.
As the man kissed him, the blonde found himself feeling the muscles underneath his fingers, moving them up and down until he finally found confidence and let them move to his exposed chest. At the new feeling, Ace shivered a bit, pulling Sanji closer.
Just as it was getting difficult to breathe, Ace pulled away, barely looking Sanji in the eye. A deep blush covered the tops of his cheeks, highlighted by the moon. “You taste like tobacco.” He said, letting his hands fall from Sanji’s shoulders.
“Do you hate it?” Sanji asked, a bit breathless.
“I could get used to it.” He said, leaning in again and pressing two gentle kisses to his face. One in the corner of his mouth, and one on his lips. As he pulled away again, Ace’s expression suddenly changed.
“Oh shit.” He whispered, his eyelids fluttering closed before Sanji felt the weight of Ace’s large body slump forward.
He had fallen asleep, if the slight snoring was anything to go by. The blonde couldn’t decide if his timing was awful or incredible, because even though he had a sleep attack just as the two of them were getting somewhere, Sanji was also thankful Ace was missing out on the trail of blood trickling from his nose as a result of his brain catching up to what had just happened.
He’d kissed a man. Not just any man either. He kissed Ace and now didn’t know what to do with himself. Sanji sank down onto the floor, carrying Ace’s unconscious body with him and setting him down into a sitting position propped up against the ledge.
Sanji used the back of his hand to wipe the still-trickling blood from his nose and sighed in a mix of relief and frustration.
He hated to admit it, but he felt a lot lighter. Obviously a simple kiss wasn’t going to undo the hole he dug himself into earlier, but it served a good enough distraction from his problems and gave Sanji something to think about. His teenage self would feel so enraged and disgusted if he could see how giddy his current self looked right now.
Sanji used his hand to push back the hair covering half of his face, leaning on it and looking at Ace’s slumped form. He wasn’t sure where they were supposed to go from here, but as long as Ace didn’t decide this would never happen again, he would be happy.
Only a couple minutes of quiet compilation later, the man beside him awoke in a panic. His head shot up and he scrambled to touch his surroundings. When Ace realized he was sitting down on the deck, Sanji waved at him from the man’s peripheral.
“Oh god, Sanji, ‘m sorry.”
In a surge of confidence, the blonde leaned in and pecked Ace on the lips. “Apology accepted.” He said, which made the tension leak out of the other man’s shoulders.
“I kinda thought you’d be a lot angrier with me.”
“Oh I’m pissed, I spent the last couple minutes thinking of ways to cook you into our next dinner.” Sanji joked.
“I guess this is the end of the line for me, and here I thought it was just getting good.” Ace chuckled.
“You did?” Sanji wondered, shocked that Ace didn’t see what they just did as something regretful. By this point the moon was no longer high up in the sky, now inching down towards the horizon, meaning that morning was just around the corner and neither of them had gotten much sleep.
Ace raised one thick eyebrow, looking between Sanji and a random object to his side. “Did you think I just wanted this to be a one-time thing? Because Sanji, I really like you. I hope you know that.”
“Don’t get all serious on me, now.-” The chef said, idly biting at the inside of his cheek. “-I did think you wouldn’t want to do this again, if I’m being honest. But glad we’re on the same page now at least.”
“Does- does that mean you feel the same way?”
Sanji knew the question was coming, but still felt utterly unprepared in terms of an answer. He knew that the answer was yes, but the idea of saying it out loud and hammering the final nail into the coffin of coming to terms with his sexuality was terrifying. He had never genuinely professed his love to anyone, much less someone who wasn’t anything like a dainty maiden he could create a perfect mental image of and play the part of a prince for.
“I-Yeah.” He whispered, sending the admission to be carried off by the night wind. If he sat here and lied he wouldn’t be abiding by the first principle of being a pirate- being free. If Sanji continued to shut himself from the reality that stared him right in the face, the reality in which Ace sat staring at him, waiting for a confident answer, then he didn’t deserve to stand side by side with the future pirate king.
“I do, yes. I don’t want this to be confined to just tonight. Let me stay by your side.” He said, pathetically. This whole night, Sanji didn’t feel like himself for even a moment.
Ace smiled wide, his toothy grin pushing his pink cheeks up enough to hurt. He leaned forward, mirroring the light peck Sanji had left on him earlier. “Invitation accepted.”
“Watch it, I’m still deciding if you’re going to be fish food or celebratory dinner.”
Ace laughed again, and Sanji felt his ribcage cave in and his heart soar.
—-----
A couple months after their first kiss, the crew got into another huge fight with the Marines. A ton of Navy ships surrounded the Thousand Sunny from all angles. Zoro and Luffy destroyed half of them in only a couple moves, Nami struck their leader with a large bolt of lightning, and Ace burned down the ships attempting to come close to the ship. In the end, they won- not that anyone thought they wouldn’t- and Luffy demanded a feast to celebrate even though this was nothing short of easy work for them at this point.
Still, Sanji complied, as he could never deny his dear crew a delicious meal. Luffy, of course, requested a ton of meat, as did Ace. Nami and Robin just wanted something cool to aid them in this incessant heat. The others made simple requests that aligned with their favorite dishes, making Sanji’s work simple since he knew these recipes by heart.
He knew his crew far better than they thought, so he worked on autopilot. Sanji made onigiri first, as it was a food that could be eaten cold. He lined them up on a tray with a bottle of the brute’s favorite sake on the side. He knew Zoro would just huff at him as if that sufficed as a thank you and Sanji would be tempted to dig the pointed end of his heels into the mosshead’s skull.
In the kitchen, he hummed Zeff’s old tune to himself as he crisped the meats to their liking, while also mixing and blending fruits and ice to make the ladies some refreshing drinks. He lined up a couple glasses on the counter to his right, covering the rim with salt and attaching a tangerine to Nami’s glass, and a lime to Robin’s.
His heels clicked against the tile floors as he paced back and forth, picking up utensils and grabbing necessary spices.
The sound of the kitchen door creaking and heavy boots thudding across the floor caught his attention. The chef turned his head and spotted Ace walking up to him, hands in his pockets.
“Need any help?” He asked, as he always does, and sat himself up on the counter behind Sanji.
The blonde chef huffed in mild annoyance, as much as he liked Ace, the guy was a disaster in the kitchen and should be kept away from open fires at all costs. “Not from you, I don’t. And get off the damn counter, we eat food there.”
Not moving an inch, Ace used his arms to lean back comfortably, crossing his right leg over the left. “No can do, chef, this seat has the best view.” He joked.
“Har har, you’re so funny. If you’re not going to listen you can get out of my kitchen. Or I'll throw you out.”
Ace huffed out a laugh, finally jumping down from the counter and deciding to stand behind Sanji instead.
Already irritated by the situation, Sanji attempted to use his heel to stomp on Ace’s foot. He missed by a second, as the man’s reaction speed matched his own quite well. “I got it, I got it. I’ll leave you be-” He said, placing a kiss to the nook between Sanji’s neck and collarbone, where his shirt was popped open and stretched out a tad. “-Thank you for your hard work.” He said before stalking out of the kitchen and back to the rowdy party atop the open deck.
Sanji reached up and lightly scratched the area Ace had just kissed, making a mental note that the guy desperately needed to get some chapstick next time they docked at an island. He would have to write that down later.
With half of the dishes prepared and ready to be brought out to the deck, Sanji stood and idly pulled at his bottom lip in thought, attempting to figure out if he had forgotten anything. When he pulled his hand away, the chef spotted the maroon lipstick he forgot he was wearing staining the tips of his fingers.
Sanji was still unused to wearing more feminine clothing or make-up, but he was making slow progress towards normalizing this behavior. A month or two ago, Ace and him fell into conversation about what it was that urged Sanji to talk to him about liking men and such before, and the blonde chef opened up about Momoiro Island, Iva, and the queens.
If the information surprised the man, he didn’t show it much, only slightly taken aback by the weight of shame that Sanji was carrying all this time.
Ace had confided in him about the early days of realizing he was a man, the way it made him feel, and how embracing it was the best decision he had ever made.
“No one is going to judge you, seriously. Luffy couldn’t care less how you dress as long as you make him food, Zoro is Zoro, and the ladies would probably love to take you out shopping.” He told him.
Though Sanji knew all of those statements to be true, he knew that his biggest opponent, the person he was hiding from all this time, was not Luffy, or Zoro, but ultimately it was him.
The chef had told Ace as such, and once more their conversation devolved into emotions and stories that ultimately made Sanji feel like he could do it.
Slowly but surely, he would add new things, or change parts of his look and wager how he felt. First it was heels, as he could easily make the argument that they made for better weapons than his other shoes. Then it was makeup- light at first but increasing in intensity by the week- then it was his outfits.
On days he knew there would be nothing going on, he threw on dresses from the box he was still nervous to look into, and parade around as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Additionally, he slept in silken garments that truly did make him feel like a ‘maiden’ as embarrassing of an admission as that was.
The rest of the crew seemed to accept his new looks quick. After a barrage of questions that he denied them the answers to, the men got bored of asking and the knowledge that their chef wore lipstick or fought with heels on, and even sometimes slept in nightgowns, became a simple fact. Nami and Robin, on the other hand, didn’t ask too many questions, but seemed happy to finally have someone to share their fashion knowledge with. Just as Ace had predicted.
As more time passed, Sanji went shopping with the girls regularly and accumulated a new wardrobe alongside his old one consisting mainly of suits and pants.
It was nerve-wracking, but Sanji knew he couldn’t truly carry Luffy towards the One Piece if he couldn’t even allow himself something as simple as self-expression. He wondered, sometimes, if he would’ve been able to mention it to anyone if it weren’t for Ace. Would he have eventually caved and spilled his secret, or kept it to himself and carried the truth in the pocket of his suit jacket? He supposes it’s pointless to wonder about the what-ifs of a situation that will never come about.
Finally finishing the last of their meals, Sanji plated everything and balanced it on his outstretched arms, attempting to fit through the kitchen door and deliver them to the crew.
When he emerged from the kitchen, he spotted Luffy chasing Usopp and Chopper across the deck. Nami, Robin and Brook lounging on pool chairs, Robin reading a book as always. Zoro and Ace seemed to be enthralled in a conversation, both of them seated on the grass, Sanji couldn’t possibly imagine what the two of them had to talk about.
“Your meals are ready!” He announced, stalking over to the ladies and handing them their cold drinks.
“Thank you, Sanji, this is delicious!” Nami said, making the man blush.
“I have to agree, this is the perfect drink for a day like this.” Robin added. He bowed before them both, before making his way to Ace and the mosshead, dropping off the onigiri and the plate of meat he’d prepared special for Ace’s high protein diet. Just as he thought, Zoro couldn’t be bothered to do more than huff in ‘appreciation’, while Ace thanked him with a dashing smile.
The rest of the food was dropped off on a table they set up outside, everyone who hadn’t received a plate crowding around and grabbing anything they could get their hands on. Luffy and Usopp whooped in excitement as they ran off and dug into their meals.
Sanji smiled, ignoring the forming headache in his temples, and took in the feeling of the unrestricted happiness he felt in this moment. The spot on his neck burned particularly hot, and he made eye contact with Ace who was stuffing his face very un-gentleman-like.
His mother would be so proud if she could see how much joy he brings with his meals. He only wishes she were here to taste them. In her honor, and in Zeff’s too, Sanji would feed his crew, adhering to their ridiculous begging for parties and barbecues, a million times over. And he would live and fight for freedom. His own, and his crew’s, no matter what it took.