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Sanji prides himself on being able to anticipate Nami’s needs, often times before the fiery navigator herself knows what is wrong or what she needs done. His steadfast offer of treatment of Nami’s needs is nothing new, as he cared for her since the very first day he became a Straw Hat Pirate and has never stopped. In the years since the Straw Hat crew formed, Sanji has gotten even better at predicting Nami’s every need, particularly as they dated and then married. As Nami’s husband, Sanji ensures every need his wife has is appropriately sated, no matter the subject of the request or the time of day the request comes. But, even the famous Black Leg Sanji can know when he’s defeated and needs to call in some reinforcements. Now just so happens to be one of those times.
With shaking hands, sweaty palms, and ragged breaths as he paces the entire length of the Thousand Sunny’s kitchen at 3:00 AM, Sanji finally decides to admit defeat. He grabs the transponder snail firmly in his grasp, dialing the all-too familiar transponder number while praying the intended recipient picks up. As the transponder snail rings, Sanji nervously lights a cigarette, a habit he has been trying to rid himself of since marrying Nami where he can live as long of a life with his angel as possible.
“You better have a damn good reason for calling at 3:00 AM, you little brat!” comes the angry-sounding voice on the other end of the transponder snail, and Sanji can just envision the facial expression being made back in the East Blue.
“Hello to you, too, geezer!” Sanji sasses, never able to quite resist the temptation to tease Red Foot Zeff about his age. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. Look, it’s Nami! I’m really concerned about her—” Sanji begins to explain, only for Zeff to cut him off.
“Nami? Oh, Sanji, what is it? Is Nami okay?” Zeff interrupts, fear for his adopted son’s bride clearly evident in his voice.
“Th—That’s what I’m calling you about,” Sanji continues, exhaling a plume of smoke before taking another drag of his cigarette.
“I thought you were laying off that nasty smoking habit of yours now that you’re a married man,” Zeff speaks, and Sanji swears under his breath.
“Now is not the time to admonish me, Zeff!” Sanji growls, falling easily back into the banter he had with his father during all his years at the Baratie. “I’m really worried about Nami, and I don’t know what else to do,” the blonde chef sniffs, nearly on the verge of tears as he thinks about what he can do to help his wife.
“Oh, my little eggplant,” Zeff whispers, wishing for all the world that he could wrap the now-grown man into a squeezing hug like he would do when Sanji was super young. “Tell me about it and we’ll figure out a solution,” the head chef at the Baratie promises.
They haven’t even talked about the issue in question and Sanji already feels as if a huge weight is being lifted off his shoulders.
Sanji takes a steadying breath before he stamps out his cigarette. He deeply inhales, counts to five, and then exhales slowly out of his mouth to ground himself.
“It’s her morning sickness,” Sanji blurts out before continuing to explain the situation to his adopted father. “Except whoever named it clearly never experienced it themselves because Nami’s sickness bothers her pretty much all day. And it sucks because I can’t do a thing about it,” the blonde cook continues, slamming his fist onto the kitchen counter. “She’s my wife and I wanna be able to help her, to protect her from anything. I--- I’m so worried I’m gonna screw up, Zeff,” he sniffles, tears threatening to brim in his eyes.
“Sanji, listen to me,” Zeff forcefully says, using the no-nonsense tone of voice he used when Sanji got into trouble as a child. “You’ve been doing everything in your power to help Nami, right?” the head chef of the Baratie questions, although he feels like he already knows the obvious answer.
“Yeah, I am,” Sanji sobs, laying his head on his forearms as he sits on a barstool. “But she can’t eat or drink anything without throwing up. I just want her to get all the nutrients she and our baby need, and I’ve varied the food I cook for her every day without success,” he continues, his shoulders and hands shaking. “I… I can’t lose them, Zeff. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to Nami or if the worst should happen and she loses our…” Sanji cries out, a torrent of tears streaming down his face.
“Son, listen to me,” Zeff admonishes, the gruffness of his voice snapping Sanji back to reality. “Now, you know I don’t have much experience with this, but pregnancy can be hard on women, especially in those first four months. Nami knows you’re doing all that you can possibly do to help her. Her sickness should, in theory, resolve once she gets through those first crucial months. Growing a baby is hard work, after all,” he gently explains, wishing he could be there to wrap his worried son in a hug and help him with his troubles.
“Don’t I know it. She’s been so tired recently,” Sanji whispers.
A soft beat of silence passes before Zeff begins speaking again.
“As much as I know you want to cook her the most flavorful food in all the world’s oceans, start with bland foods like crackers and plain broth. Once her stomach can handle that without throwing up, then you can move on to more nutrient-rich foods. As long as she’s hydrated with water, keeping some food down, even if it’s just crackers and broth, then you’re doing good for her. Once she tolerates that for about a week, try to increase her iron food like eggs, meat, beans, nuts, and tofu. Iron’s critical for moms and babies, even after she gives birth. Are you taking notes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir?” Zeff inquires incredulously, shock apparent in his voice. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me that in the entire decade I’ve known you, you little brat,” the former Captain of the Cook Pirates scoffs.
“Almost losing you to the Vinsmokes changed me, old man. And you’re gonna be my baby’s grandfather, so we gotta play nicer than normal. Nami’ll kill me if we don’t,” Sanji nervously laughs, wiping the last tears from his eyes.
“I love you, you little eggplant, even when you do call me up at 3 AM.”
“I love you, too, you old geezer. Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime, Sanji. Give my regards to Nami and my grandchild.”
“I will.”
Once Sanji disconnects the transponder snail, he arms himself with a cup of water, a bowl of his homemade chicken broth, and a few packets of plain crackers. He pushes the door open to find Nami climbing back into bed, a slightly nauseous look on her face.
“Sanji?” Nami softly asks, curling the covers up over her legs, the spring air entering from the open door, chilling her legs.
“Yes, my angel?” Sanji inquires, crossing the room to wrap his darling wife in his arms. “Something the matter?”
“I woke up feeling sick and you weren’t here. I was worried I was keeping you up and that you had gone to the boys’ cabin to get away from all the noise,” the fiery navigator sheepishly admits to her husband, an embarrassed look on her face.
“Nami, love, I would never try to get away from you,” Sanji reassures, lifting Nami off the ground and setting her in his lap on the bed. “You’re giving me a baby, one of the biggest blessings in the world,” he tenderly whispers, protectively splaying one hand over Nami’s still-flat stomach as his other hand wraps around his wife’s waist. “You’ve never been more beautiful,” Sanji gushes, gently lifting the hem of Nami’s T-shirt before he begins to softly caress the skin on her soon to be growing belly.
“Have I ever told you how much I adore your gentleness towards me?” Nami whispers, slowly detangling herself from Sanji’s arms where she can rest her back against the headboard to have gravity on her side to prevent more nausea.
“Only the best for my tangerine,” Sanji smiles. “Zeff says hello to you and our little dumpling,” the chef continues, moving to lie beside Nami and resting an ear softly on Nami’s stomach.
“Zeff called our baby a dumpling?” Nami laughs, carding one of her hands through Sanji’s thick blonde hair.
“No, I must admit that I came up with that,” Sanji smiles shyly.
“It’s sweet, just like you. Is that for me?”
“Zeff’s recommendations for your nausea.”
“What are you doing on my stomach?”
“I’m going to be the first one to hear our baby move,” Sanji vows.
“That won’t be for several more weeks,” the navigator laughs, the movement shaking Sanji’s head.
“All the more reason for me to be the first. Love you, Nami,” Sanji murmurs, sleep creeping into his voice.
“I love you, too, Sanji. You’re going to be a wonderful father,” Nami whispers, but Sanji is already fast asleep.