Chapter Text
The sound of his alarm had Sanji groaning. It took a few seconds for the fog to lift enough from his brain to turn to his nightstand. Making a noise of indignance, he smashed rather than pressed the ‘off’ button, sitting up slowly. His bangs that typically covered the right side of his face were ruffled across his forehead, some strands pointing straight out. As graceful and organized as he tended to present himself during the day, he always woke up with a crazy bedhead. The world liked to present him with a challenge every morning, he supposed. His eyes still closed, Sanji ran a hand through the waves, trying to untangle some of the knots further down towards his ends. He hadn’t initially meant for it to get this long, although it did suit him just fine. Between being busy with his work and hobbies, he didn’t usually find enough time to dedicate to going to get it cut. This wasn’t exactly unwelcome as it did save him some money. Not that men’s haircuts typically cost much in comparison, but he wouldn’t dare let some old man at a barber shop butcher one of the main parts of his appearance, so it usually ended up being expensive regardless.
Once Sanji finally gained enough consciousness to open his eyes he yawned, stretching his limbs gently. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and glanced at the clock. ‘8:34 a.m.’ Sanji had been an early riser once in his younger years (not to say he wasn’t still young, mind you) but as he entered into his mid-20s he found himself preferring the late nights. It was a bit of a stray from the typical progression into adulthood, but he didn’t mind. The sleep schedule he had was more in line with his current job anyways.
Speaking of which, he had to start getting ready. He was up earlier than usual because he was guesting at another shop and wanted to be prepared. The shop didn’t open until noon since it was a Monday, but he wanted to do his morning yoga before he got ready. In addition, the actual Getting Ready process would take a bit, as he always wanted to look his best when confronted with a new set of faces. He didn’t necessarily feel the need to impress, ultimately his artistic ability would be what would impress, but looking good did give him that extra boost of confidence that would bleed into his art.
Sanji watched more than felt as his legs dragged him to the adjoining bathroom. The splash of cold water on his face helped to wake him up, but not as much as his morning coffee eventually would. After finishing his facial routine he tried to fix his hair, taking care to finesse the bangs in front of his eye the way he typically styled it. He didn’t bother too much with the rest of his hair, opting to throw it up in a messy ponytail instead. He padded his way back into his bedroom, rustling through his dresser to find some old clothes to throw on. The early October weather was still warm during the day, but the chill in the mornings had Sanji deciding against his initial thought of shorts. He decided on a much-too-baggy grey t-shirt with lettering on the front and grey sweatpants. Oversized wasn’t the most conducive for yoga but he would manage. He slipped on a pair of white trainers and headed into the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee and gazed out his apartment window as he waited for it to brew. Normally he would just pick up something from the coffee shop down the street but, in his attempt to save his money, he had started having his morning caffeine at home. It felt strangely depressing sometimes, a far cry from the matcha oat milk latte he usually favored, but it would have to do. He poured the coffee into a reusable cup, added all his additions to it, and then headed out with his yoga mat in tow.
-
When Sanji arrived at the yoga studio he made sure to say hello to all the familiar faces, thankful for the (albeit bitter) caffeine that was now beginning to take hold of his system. A few of the attendees commented on not usually seeing him this early, including the instructor herself, Vivi. She was actually the owner of the studio, but often taught the earlier morning classes herself. He knew her fairly well, both from frequent attendance to the studio and because more recently that she had become involved with one of his closest friends, Nami. The first few classes he’d attended with her had been a bit awkward after they’d started dating, but the woman was easy to talk to so that definitely helped.
“I just couldn’t stand to not see you, darling Vivi!” He swooned as she chuckled lightly.
“I’m glad you could make it. Ever since I stopped teaching later than the ten o’clock class I haven’t been able to see you much.” She smiled, glancing at the clock to make sure they weren’t running overtime.
“I’m terribly sorry, Vivi! I haven’t been much of an early bird these days.” He lamented, sipping his coffee for emphasis. “How’s Nami? I haven’t talked to her much besides a few texts here and there. I’ve been swamped at work.”
“She’s great! Working hard as always. Something I’m sure you’re familiar with!” Vivi gave another gentle smile. “I’ve seen your work the shop has been posting! You’re incredibly talented, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.” Sanji turned bashful at the compliments.
“Oh dearest Vivi, you’re too kind to me!” He feigned being shot in the heart, Vivi smiling at his antics.
“It was great to catch up, although it was brief. You, Nami, and I have to meet up soon,” Vivi offered.
“Of course, I would love nothing more,” Sanji agreed. “A place nearby just opened and they make the most wonderful seafood. I’ll have to bring you ladies there,” He declared.
“I’m sure it’s only half as good as the seafood you make! But yes, I would love to, and I’m sure Nami would as well,” Vivi complimented. Sanji knew a blush was spreading across his face at her sincerity.
“You flatter me too much, lovely Vivi!” Sanji tried to contain his voice but the happiness was practically dripping from his words. “Now, I don’t want to keep you, just wanted to make sure to say hi.” He concluded, flashing her a smile that was too bright for nine in the morning. Vivi gave him a small wave and he made his way back to where he’d laid his mat down. Vivi nodded to him before clapping her hands together.
“Good morning everyone!”
-
Sanji left the studio, entering his car feeling sore but fulfilled. He was no novice when it came to mobility and flexibility, but his inconsistency with the practice lately had his joints a little more creaky and stiff than in his teens. However, he wouldn’t have been caught dead in a yoga studio back then, masculinity too fragile to even consider doing something like that in a public setting. Nowadays he found himself unbothered. It’d been a long journey full of ups and downs to truly come into himself, but the self-efficacy he’d demonstrated was worth it to become a man truly confident in himself and his abilities. Sanji could faintly picture himself at 19, bangs still hanging in front of his face (albeit mirrored to how he wore them now). Whereas now he did such a hairstyle because it’s what he felt best in, as a teen he’d done it to act as a shield. It was done to hide his insecurities away from potentially prying eyes. In those tumultuous years, he also wouldn’t have been caught dead in public wearing loungewear.
As Sanji gradually came to a stop at a traffic light he stole a glance down at his attire. The thought of emerging into the public sphere in sweats and a t-shirt would have 19-year-old Sanji reeling. He’d always left the house looking perfectly groomed from head to toe. Hair carefully combed, dress shirt buttoned all the way up to the top button, pants pressed with no harsh wrinkles. If Sanji was honest with himself, it had been completely exhausting. Performing a meticulous routine every time he had to step outside or be in the company of others. His friends had briefly suspected it as OCD-related behavior, but now Sanji knew better. It had been some sort of deeper dissatisfaction with himself, a suppressive tactic, really. He needed to dress that way, have a routine for himself so as not to give in to underlying desires.
Sanji pulled his car into the parking lot of his complex and slowly stepped out, deciding that was enough reflective introspection for the day. He leaned over the driver’s seat, grabbing the yoga mat that was sitting on the passenger’s seat before locking the car and heading into the building. He trudged up the stairs and made his way to his apartment, unlocking it and then dumping his keys into a bowl on the end table beside the door. He put his reusable cup in the sink and glanced at the clock. ‘10:21.’ He wanted to get to the new studio early, he was a guest there after all. To be anything but punctual would be disrespectful. This left him with about an hour to get ready, the studio being a bit farther than his normal drive to work. As Sanji made his way to his bathroom he checked his phone. A few texts from his home shop wishing him good luck, and a few from Nami.
‘Vivi said she saw you today. You didn’t say anything stupid did you?’
‘Also where did you say you were guesting today?’
‘I know you told me already but I forget-- sorry’
Sanji let a huff out of his nose, amused by his friend.
‘Don’t apologize! I love when you show any interest <3<3’
‘It’s a place called Devil Child Tattooing.’
He sent the text quickly before he jumped in the shower. He took the extra time to make sure his hair was clean and detangled. After deeming he would be presentable, he exited the shower Sanji opted for a leave-in conditioner to tame any frizz, taking care to adjust his bangs the way he liked them. After finishing his skin and hair care routine he waltzed back to his room, picking up his phone as he adjusted the towel that hung loosely from his hips.
‘No way!’
‘I know the piercer there, he did my nostrils. You should say hi!’
‘Well, you should tell him I said hi anyways. Not sure you’d get along.’
Sanji raised a questioning brow at Nami’s odd string of texts. It wasn’t surprising that Nami knew someone there, with how many tattoos littered her arms he was sure she had visited multiple shops around, but her last text had him confused.
‘What makes you say that?’
A speech bubble showed that Nami was already responding. He stared at the screen for a few seconds before another text popped up.
‘Idk. Just seems like someone who would ruffle your feathers.’
Sanji chewed his lip as he reread the message. Great, that didn’t seem to bode well for him. Hopefully the other artists weren’t in the same boat as the piercer apparently was. He typed back a hasty ‘ Oh ’ and then set his phone back on his dresser. After a few minutes of rummaging through his drawers, he found an outfit he was confident in. He set the folded clothes on his bed and went back to the adjoining bathroom to blow dry his hair. As the blow dryer whirred next to his ear he thought about what Nami had said. Surely the guy couldn’t be downright unpleasant to him when it was his first day there, right? Especially if he wasn’t a permanent artist there, there would be no reason to hold animosity. Sanji rolled his eyes, switching hands to blow dry the other side of his head. Maybe he was overthinking this, a habit he’d had since he was young. Even if he had made leaps and bounds in his years of self-discovery, he was still an overthinker at heart. No matter, Nami had asked him to say hi to him on her behalf and he would never shy away from an obligation to the beautiful Nami.
After a long couple of minutes, his hair was finally dry enough for his liking. The blonde strands curled loosely around his face and down his shoulders. He unplugged the dryer and left it on the counter to cool down, turning to make his way to his room. He put on his pre-picked outfit and admired himself in the mirror. He’d decided on a black short-sleeved button-up with enough buttons left undone to expose his chest, black pinstripe pants, and black Chelsea boots. Sanji flattened out the wrinkles in his shirt before adorning some of his usual jewelry. After doing another once-over in the mirror he put the blow dryer back under the sink and tried to shake the usual nervous jitters. Guesting at another studio wasn’t a new experience by any means, but he still found himself a bit wound up during the moments leading up to it. With one more glance to the clock, ‘11:23,’ he gathered his things to leave. Sanji went through his mental checklist: keys, cigarettes, and his gear he’d grabbed from his home studio.
The case he kept his tools in was a bit clunky, bumping against his leg as he clumsily walked down the stairs. He gently set it down on the floor of the passenger’s seat, closing the car door and reaching for his cigarettes. Despite having made efforts to become healthier both physically and mentally, this was still one of the few unhealthy habits he could not kick. His hands moved of their own accord, lighting up the end of the cigarette as he held it between his lips. Sanji stood outside of his car for a minute, basking in the calmness the breeze brought. He wasn’t exactly in a rush but he did have to get going, so he climbed into the driver's seat and began to make his way to the shop.
-
As he pulled into a parking space, he looked at the grey walls of the shop. The obligatory neon ‘OPEN’ sign with red lettering hung from it, another on the opposite side with the title of the shop ‘DEVIL CHILD TATTOOING.’ Sanji chuckled to himself, the font a typical gothic style, the black letters encased in a red outline. He knew that this shop only being only an hour or so from his home studio didn’t give him endless possibilities of new customers, but it felt nice to take a step out of his comfort zone yet not be too in over his head. It would be nice to guest somewhere completely different one day, but that often required a lot of effort. Crossing state lines often required documentation, not to mention booking hotels and potentially flights. It was nice to tattoo somewhere new while still being able to go home to his own bed.
Sanji grabbed the key from the car’s ignition and shoved the door open with his foot. After grabbing his case from the passenger’s seat he made his way to the door of the shop. He was consciously aware of how he was walking, making sure it presented him with both grace and confidence. He never could be sure what the energy would be like when walking into these shops. When he’d spoken with the owner she had seemed nice enough, but that didn’t guarantee a pleasant atmosphere within its walls. The owner could be well and good, but sometimes the other artists (particularly the male artists) made the whole experience more of a chore than anything. Gruff inappropriate comments and full-of-themselves attitudes. The door chime rang as Sanji pushed the front door open, heads turning to him immediately. He felt a fleeting moment of embarrassment as eyes gave him a questioning look. He turned his head as a black-haired woman approached him, hands clasped together.
“Blackleg-san! I’ve been expecting you.” The woman he recognized as the owner smiled at him. Sanji felt his chest flutter. She really was quite breathtaking, with long black hair falling over her shoulders and fox-like eyes a piercing blue as they watched his movements.
“Yes, you must be Robin. I must say you’re far more beautiful in person than I could’ve ever expected!” He could practically feel hearts occupying the space above his head. Another habit he hadn’t kicked over the years, was his adoration of women. He supposed that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“Oh, Blackleg-san, there’s no need for flattery, you’re already welcome to make yourself comfortable at the station over there.” She gave another smile that reached her eyes.
“I wasn’t intending for flattery, just found it a crime if I didn’t tell you the truth!” He swooned, suddenly aware of the eyes lingering on their interaction. He followed her to the station that had been cleared of any personal belongings or mementos. “This looks perfect.” He assured her, setting his gear on the table.
“I am glad you think so. We do get quite a few walk-ins, so I hope you’re prepared.” Robin winked at him and Sanji thought he would melt into a puddle on the floor. “I’ve provided you with a client chair for your station but let any of the other artists know if you need something that’s better suited for a different position.” She put a well-manicured hand on his shoulder. “But I’m sure you’re already well aware of all these things.” Sanji felt heat creep over his face at the attention.
“Of course, but I appreciate you letting me know!” He flashed her a smile and she returned the gesture. “Thank you again, Robin. It was lovely finally putting a face to the name.” Sanji restrained himself from calling her ‘ Robin-love’ or ‘ Darling Robin ,’ finding it a bit much for their first meeting in a room of strangers.
“You as well, Blackleg-san,” she drawled.
“Just Sanji is fine, Robin dear.” He internally kicked himself at the nickname but if Robin minded she didn’t let it show, simply giving him a nod.
“Sanji-san, then.” She let the name sit on her tongue and Sanji almost keened at how it sounded in her voice. She gave him one last once-over before walking back to the front. Once she ducked into a side room he figured he would get to work setting up. One of the other artists seemed to already have a client, the client looking in the mirror to admire a stencil. The artist was a broody-looking man: scruff on his chin, sideburns, and black hair that stuck up every which way. Sanji took notice of the man’s knuckle tattoos that read ‘ death ’ and rolled his eyes. Well, he could only assume that’s what they said, as right now he could only read ‘ eat ’ and part of an ‘ h ’ on his pinky. He couldn’t imagine someone getting the word ‘ eat ’ tat--
“Hiya! Are you the guest artist?” A nasally voice interrupted and, startled, sanji turned on his heels. He came face-to-face-- well more like face-to-forehead-- with another shorter man.
“Ah-- yeah.” Sanji answered, clearing his throat.
“Awesome, looks like you’re set up next to me!” As if to demonstrate his point, the boy fell into the stool at the desk next to Sanji’s, the chair rolling backward slightly.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sanji replied as the other man walked the stool back closer to Sanji. The blonde felt awkward all of a sudden.
“I’m Luffy! How long are you staying here?” He extended a hand and Sanji shook it.
“Sanji. And for about a, uh, a week.” Sanji cleared his throat a second time, hoping to dislodge this sudden shyness.
“Oh wow! Usually, guest artists just stay for a day or two. It’ll be nice having a desk buddy.” Sanji stared at the other man, unused to other artists (minus those at his home shop) being this overtly excited about his presence. Typically, he was met with a bit of hostility from some, after all, he was potentially taking clients that they would normally get. Sanji looked away from Luffy and instead kept his hands busy with setting up the rest of his station.
“Yeah, I’m glad you’re excited about it,” was what Sanji settled on. Luffy pursed his lips, and Sanji could practically feel his eyes staring at him. “Did you need something?” Sanji asked with all the politeness he could muster. He didn’t mean for it to sound rude, but the kid’s constant staring at him was making him nervous.
“Nothing! Just watching you.” Luffy’s bluntness caused Sanji’s hands to fumble with the ink he’d been holding.
“Oh,” Sanji said lamely. Luffy scootched closer to him and Sanji felt the hair on his arms stand up. He supposed he preferred this kind of treatment to being blatantly ignored. Nothing made the time go slower than when he had no client to work on and nobody to talk to.
“I just got my tattoo license a few months ago.” Luffy blurts out, Sanji eyeing him from his peripherals. “I practiced under Torao!” Luffy smiles at him and it’s all teeth. Sanji turns to him and-- as if sensing what Sanji was about to ask, points to another artist. Sanji follows his finger and realizes it’s Knuckle Tats.
“Oh, that’s good.” Sanji is about to leave it at that but then remembers he should seem personable. “How are you enjoying it?” Sanji asks absentmindedly, fiddling with the rotary machine.
“It’s really fun! Torao was my first actual client when I went professional.” Luffy smiles at the thought and Sanji bites his lip to hide a grin. Even a big broody guy like that still having a soft spot for his apprentice almost causes a laugh to bubble from Sanji’s throat.
“That’s very touching.” Sanji ribbed, all sarcasm lost on the other boy.
“Yeah, I guess!” Although clearly confused, Luffy’s voice still has that happy-go-lucky quality to it. After finishing up his setup on the desk, Sanji notices Luffy had been uncharacteristically quiet and turns to see what’s got him preoccupied. The other boy is intently staring past Sanji, his intense stare turning into a goofy face as he crosses his eyes. Sanji looks over his shoulder to follow Luffy’s gaze and his eyes land on another man. The man grins, presumably at Luffy’s antics, and saunters over. Sanji is immediately drawn to the fucking mint green overgrown buzzcut the man is sporting. His skin is effortlessly tanned, monolid eyes a dark brown as he looks Sanji over. He brushes past the blonde to ruffle Luffy’s hair, Luffy heaving breathy laughs in response.
“Oh, Zoro! This is the guest artist.” Zoro, the man in question, looks over Sanij a little slower this time. Sanji does the same, admiring the features of his face a little closer. Sanji’s eyes linger on his jawline, all sharp angles. He doesn’t fail to notice the multiple facial piercings adorning his nose and bottom lip. Septum, nostril ring, bridge, and snake bites. His short hair also allows Sanji to see the three earrings dangling from his left ear. It all seems fairly on par for someone working in this kind of business. (Sanji definitely does not think about how well the piercings complement his face.) Stealing a quick glance further down gives Sanji an image of the man’s outfit. A baggy graphic t-shirt with-- oh god are those baggy jorts-- a pants chain not unsimilar to one he himself wears, and dirty sneakers.
Despite the baggy attire, Sanji can tell the man is absolutely chiseled like stone. Veins strain prominent on his forearms where they’re crossed across his chest. Sanji averts his eyes from the sliver of bicep that he can see under his sleeve. It puts Sanji’s own workout routine to shame, although he can tell just from looking at the other man that their goals in that realm are most likely very different.
Sanji flinches as Zoro leans down to his sitting height. The other man stares at him for a silent moment and Sanji’s hands twitch at his sides. He’s not used to this proximity with strangers and he fights the urge to shove the man away by his face. When Zoro’s baritone voice hits his ears it’s somehow not as deep as Sanji would’ve assumed.
“Haven’t seen one of these in a while,” Zoro stares at Sanji’s face and Sanji has the decency to blush. He opens his mouth to ask what the hell that means until Zoro is touching his forehead. His fingers brush Sanji’s eyebrow piercing and he wants to recoil but also doesn’t want the idiot to rip out the piercing. “Inner eyebrow piercing is pretty uncommon.” Zoro finally pulls away and Sanji feels like he can breathe again. Sanji hears Luffy laugh across from him and the boy puts a hand on Zoro’s back.
“Zoro’s our piercer if you couldn’t tell!” Luffy clasps his other hand on Sanji’s shoulder, making him jump from the previous interactions’ lingering nerves. Zoro grunts in response to Luffy’s introduction.
“You gonna tell me your name, eyebrow?” Zoro muses, Sanji’s jaw clenching at the newfound nickname.
“It’s Sanji.” He grits, Zoro smirking down at him.
“I like eyebrow better.” He goads and Sanji can see what Nami meant in their text conversation earlier that morning.
“How kind, I guess I should return the gesture,” Sanji spits back, narrowing his eyes as he thinks, “moss-head.” Zoro’s cocky smirk falters, narrowing his eyes to match Sanji’s. Luffy’s loud laugh interrupts the tension.
“You guys are funny! This week will be fun.”