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“You don’t behave like a pirate, Sanji-kun.”
They’re alone in the Sunny’s kitchen, Nami at the table with an old map laid out in front of her, tracing over the faded details. She had taken a break for just a moment to soak in the peace and quiet. The kitchen is bathed in warm golden light, the swinging door propped open just enough for the early setting sun to trickle inside. Someone is snoring out on the deck. It’s peaceful. She had sat up straight and stretched the stillness out of her arms, looking around slowly.
Sanji is at the counter behind the kitchen bar, his back to her as he frosts the cake he’s working on. She had asked for silence when she moseyed in and sat down and Sanji is weak to her every want. The cake he’s making is vanilla with an orange buttercream frosting, something subtle enough to be liked by everyone and a flavour he believes Nami will enjoy immensely. He busies himself with the decorating, accenting the top with a few orange slices he’s macerated with clear sugar. The oranges had been kindly supplied from the fruit of Nami’s grove trees, so in his mind, they made this together. He had stepped back to appreciate his work when Nami’s gentle voice surprised him.
“I should hope not, my dear.”
He takes her words as the compliment they are. A pirate, when he thinks about the idea of one, is a disgusting creature. Unclean and uncouth. Selfish and eager to conquer anything that is not their own, greedy and smelly and slobbish. It causes him pain to remember Arlong – his disregard for the human lives he saw as beneath him, his careless invasion of Nami’s precious village that had altered the course of her life forever. He thinks of pillaged ships and towns, pirates jumping ship to steal from others, valuables snatched from innocents and mothers taken away from their children.
Sanji adjusts the angle of an orange slice until he’s happy with it. He’s glad not to resemble something so gaudy, so tasteless. He doesn’t represent any of those things.
Nami hums, her head resting on her palm as she looks at him. Sanji is a love-struck fool. She knows this well and takes advantage of it, knows how to use this trait of his to make him succumb to her wants and every need. She could rinse his wallet and he would thank her, happy to be in her debt. It’s stupid and boneless. He’s unlike any other pirate she’s met.
“You are one, though.”
Sanji smiles at her warmly. “As are you.” She is greedy and ruthless in the best way, crafted from a harsh upbringing, but those things are aimed only at those who merit it. When it comes to the people who are good, who deserve her good-graces, Nami is sweet and caring, a perfect angel. His heart swoons just thinking about it.
“That time back in Alabasta, what was it you called yourself?” She snickers to remember it. He might be an idiot and a nuisance with women, but he had really come through for them back then. She can’t stand him fondly and loves his reliability. “Mr Prince?”
Sanji flushes, warmed that she remembers such details about him. He would gladly be that fairy-tale version of a royal figure, one that swoops in to the rescue and earns the favour of any maiden who needs saving. Unfortunately, this image of a prince does not exist in real life, at least not in Sanji’s mind.
“You’re more befitting of a prince, don’t you think?”
Sanji considers. He bites his lip lest he disagree with her. A prince is not swayed by their emotions, is strong enough to bend and warp metal with his bare hands, apathetic to the needs and wants of other people. He means it only in the way of fantasy when he refers to himself by that title. He thinks of Zoro mocking him with it to wind him up: when he had first said it back in Alabasta and then again against the Groggy monsters before they reached Water 7. He had sneered it as an insult. Sanji thinks this is closer to the true meaning than the one he himself has conjured up.
To be a prince means he cannot show weakness, or kindness, or a love for others. Not through lack of want. They were unable to. They lacked the ability.
He spins the cake on the counter, checking it’s presentable from every angle. He remembers cold stares and amusement at his own pain. He thinks of his mother. He was a failure and a disgrace to his bloodline, and that was what she loved about him.
Sanji thinks, to be a prince is to be as cruel and unforgiving as the cliché of a pirate. He doesn’t fit in to either formula.
“Sanji-kun?” Nami cocks her head at his silence. He has taken too long to answer her and he scowls where she can’t see him, cursing himself.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“Not at all, dearest.” He turns and smiles at her again, hoping to ease any worries he may have unintentionally bestowed on her shoulders. Nami nods and takes him for his word. She really is so sweet, to care about him like that. His heart does somersaults at her concern and he fights the urge to dance around her chair and praise her greatness.
Sanji takes a knife and cuts a nice slice out of his finished dessert, garnishing the plate with a few extra segments of juicy fruit for her to enjoy. He hopes that, as much as he hopes she enjoys it, eating it will remove any further doubts about the direction of their talk together, as lovely as it has been to be alone with her.
He turns back and takes in the sight of her here, the healthy glow in her skin.
“Would you like yours now, Nami-san?”
“Yes please.”
Sanji sets her plate down with a flourish and watches as she tries a forkful, a touch of frosting sticking to her bottom lip as she hmms appreciatively. Her praise and satisfaction make it worth it. Sanji turns to cut out Robin’s portion, then a slice for the rest of the crew. He knows that as soon as Luffy gets a look in it will spell the end of their moment of peace.
Sanji would happily become anything that Nami asked of him, but he would choose to be a pirate ten times over before he ever was a prince again.