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Sanji had never seen anyone like her before, hair green down to the root as if it grew that way and a scar across her chest that she wore almost proudly. A laugh as loud as her voice, filling the diner with its gruff melody, and a crass way of talking that sent a red blush to the tips of Sanji’s ears.
She never came in alone, either. A slender Black woman was always at her side. Her halo of curls held back from her face by some or the other colourful band of material, and large earrings that, if you looked close, you would realise were handmade.
One with rough hands, the other just slightly calloused. But hands that seemed to never part, but for long enough to eat their meals before they were holding onto each other again.
In a one-diner one-store one-school town, that was a rare sight.
Sanji leaned on the counter and flipped through a notebook, pretending to read her notes when she was really peeking at them out of the corner of her eye. Another waitress had gotten to them first, Sanji in the middle of another heated spat with Zeff. The same everyday; her classes at the community college she was only taking because he was forcing her to, why she wasn't applying herself more, why she wouldn't leave for the culinary school in the city that Zeff knew she wanted to go to.
Pointless. So pointless.
But Sanji was her father's daughter after-all, and she could give as good as she got. And as stubborn as he was, once Sanji dug her heels in, she may have been a tree with roots set in concrete.
She ran her fingers through her short blonde hair and sighed.
The fights had been steadily getting worse in the past two years, since she had graduated from high school. Zeff couldn't understand why Sanji wanted to stick around, and Sanji couldn't understand why Zeff wanted her gone so badly. Or why he refused to see her point of view.
She owed a lot to the old man. She loved him and she wanted to run the diner with him. She could lie to herself well enough that she didn't need more than this, and give it enough years and she knew that one day she would believe it.
She glanced around the small diner. Empty, besides those two beautiful women and Law and Wyper in the corner, enjoying a peaceful lunch between the community classes they taught, as they did most days of the week.
Great, she could take a smoke break.
Middle of winter. Cold. Sanji hated the cold. She pulled her coat tighter around herself and leaned against the diner's front wall. Her cigarette warmed her from the inside, and, more than that, calmed her with each inhale. I need to quit, she thought, absently, watching the smoke curl and dance in front of her face. She was starting to get a cough. A cough which wracked through her just as the front door jingled open.
"Oh! Are you okay?" Deep brown eyes filled with worry. The woman half-stepped back into the diner, and said in a hurry, "I'll get you some water!"
Sanji waved her off. "N-no need. It's just--" She waved at nothing. Searched for the nearest excuse. "The cold."
The woman nodded, looking as if she didn't believe her for a second. The Black woman from inside. Sanji had heard her voice before, but like this, not in the constraints of the waiter-waitee relationship, it was warm; genuine. Probably the most genuine thing in this whole damn town, Sanji thought, averting her gaze and taking another pull of her cigarette.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sanji noticed the woman peek into the diner. She wrapped her arms around herself, and only then stepped closer. And closer. Until they stood side-by-side.
The woman was slightly taller than her, Sanji noticed. She had to tilt her head the slightest bit to look up at her, and that was strange, as Sanji tended to tower over most women. At that, Sanji glanced towards the woman's feet, and smiled, just at the corner of her mouth, at the high platforms that adorned them; denim and decorated with sunflowers. So pretty.
"Those things will kill you," she finally said.
Sanji chuckled. "I'm trying to quit. Kinda. Well, I plan to. Eventually," she said, feeling a heat burn her face bright red as she spoke.
The other woman laughed, gently. "Sounds like someone I know," She mused. Then she stuck her hand out. "Usopp," she introduced herself.
"Sanji," Sanji replied, taking the hand in her own and shaking it. The slimness of her hand belied the subtle strength Sanji could feel in her grip. It was obvious at a glance at Usopp's girlfriend that she worked out, a lot, but she must work out too. On the topic of her, Sanji raised an eyebrow an asked, "Where's your other half?"
"Bathroom." She smiled, with a roll of her eyes. "It's nice to meet you, Sanji."
And the way she said Sanji's name... Rolling it around in her mouth, letting it sit on her tongue, and allowing it to slip from her lips easy as honey. She added weight to it. Smiled at the end of the sentence, that crinkled up the corners of her deep, dark eyes; so deep, so dark, that Sanji could feel herself getting lost in them.
A blush burned Sanji's skin.
She had to look away.
The diner door swung open, and Sanji pulled her hand back to her side as if they had just been caught in the middle of something untoward.
How could something as simple as a handshake and a greeting feel so intimate?
Usopp's hand lingered between them, for the longest, heaviest second, before she dropped it to her side; before she turned into her partner's side, as the other woman threw her arm across Usopp's shoulders and burped into her fist.
Gross. Sanji thought. Hot.
"Here she is," Usopp said, with a soft smile. She looked at Sanji when she introduced her with a simple, "Zoro."
Zoro nodded, with a wolfish grinned. All teeth. A look in her eyes that was something like hunger, as her gaze dragged up and down the length of Sanji's body. "I see you've already met my better half. You the cook, right?"
Sanji half-shrugged. "Sometimes. Mostly a waitress."
"Huh." Zoro scratched at the tip of her chin. "Thought you were the cook."
Don't know how, Sanji thought, she'd been out front each time the pair had visited the diner.
Taking a long pull of her cigarette, Sanji shook her head. She rolled her eyes away, and said, "Nah. That's my old man. I'm only the cook when he's not around." And he was rarely not around. Took him only two weeks after he lost his leg, too; anything to keep Sanji away from the precious, shitty kitchen of his precious, shitty diner. What a joke.
"Well, he's not around our place, come cook for us some time," Zoro said, plain and simple, her words making Sanji's head lift with a sharp snap. But it must have meant nothing to Zoro because she was looking down at her watch. "Shit," she was already saying, "Chopper."
Chopper?
Usopp placed a gentle hand on Zoro's upperarm. "I thought Nami's fetching him today," she murmured, her brow furrowing. Then realisation seemed to dawn, as her eyes widened, and she said, "Oh!" and threw a, "Well, we'll be off! See you tomorrow, Sanji!" over her shoulder as she and Zoro hurried off to a nearby car, arm-in-arm.
Sanji watched them leave, longingly, part of her wishing that she could go with them. She shook the thought away; took a pull of her cigarette for no other reason than to give herself something else to focus on. Something real and solid between her lips. That thick tobacco burning her lungs to think about and not the pounding of her heart in her chest. But then, as they slipped into the waiting car, Zoro and Usopp turned and waved goodbye, wide smiles on their faces, and Sanji could not stop the blush from burning her face even if she tried.
"Saturday," Usopp was saying, leaning forward on her elbows and training the full warmth of her gaze on Sanji, stunning Sanji into silence, the empty tray held awkwardly to her chest. She had just been invited over for dinner. Dinner at their place. This Saturday. And all she could do was stare, her heart a bird fighting at the bars of its cage.
Zoro flipped the page of her menu. "Maybe she doesn't like dinner," she said, around a shrug, as she cast a glance out of the corner of her eye at her girlfriend.
"No! I do!" Sanji yelled, suddenly, before they could take back their invitation. She flushed. She wanted to run into the kitchen, to the back of the walk-in freezer, where she could curl into a tight ball until she froze to death.
Usopp and Zoro just looked at her.
Sanji dropped her arms from her chest. She cleared her throat, and, hoping her voice was clear and level (that her voice was not betraying her), said, "I'd love to have dinner with you."
They grinned.
"Great." Zoro slapped the menu on the table. "We're not the best cooks in the world, but this one makes a mean quiche. With goat's cheese."
"This one?" Usopp shoved her girlfriend playfully. But a smile played at the corners of her exaggerated scowl. Zoro caught her arms to pull her close and wind their arms together; their arms a tangle, a love-knot. Sanji swallowed. Looked away. Wondered if now that she had accepted, she should leave; remembered that she couldn't, not until she took their order. She wondered a lot of things, like if they were playing a joke on her and at any moment would laugh in the face of her vulnerability. In the face of her naive belief. Usopp looked at her again, in that moment, a soft smile on her lips as she dropped her head to Zoro's shoulder. "She's right, though. My quiche is known far and wide," she said, spreading one of her arms with a flourish.
She was so beautiful.
Under the diner's harsh lights, beside its peeling grey paint and grease-fat thick air, it was hard for anyone to be beautiful. Sanji tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She knew that she did not look anywhere as beautiful; even anywhere as nice. Sallow. Washed-out. Hollow cheeks and bones as far as the eye could see, that usually she liked but suddenly she was self-conscious of. And, not for the first time since they had specifically asked for her, she wondered: What do you see in me?
But Usopp looked beautiful. Zoro too. And they were inviting her to dinner. And if there was one thing that Sanji knew how to do was cook, and cook well, and she could at least serve them a good dinner -- if nothing else.
"I look forward to trying it," Sanji said around a soft smile, fidgeting with the tray between her fingers, "But don't go out of your way; I'll cook."
Zoro barked a laugh. Usopp slapped her lightly on the round of her defined shoulder.
"Sanji." Zoro leaned forward. She met Sanji's eyes; captured them in a gaze that refused to let her go. "We're inviting you. You're our guest."
Sanji huffed. "You don't go anywhere empty-handed," she huffed. That's what the old man taught her. "Besides, I like to cook for my friends."
"So we're friends then?" Usopp perked up. And the gaze she settled on Sanji was as intense as her girlfriend's.
Sanji's fingers tightened around the rim of the tray. Her eyes darted between the pair, and she got the sudden feeling that she had no idea what was really going on here; that there was something she was truly missing out on; an outsider in the conversation as much as she seemed to be the sole target of it.
Was this, too, part of the joke?
But, Sanji set her resolve. She nodded. "Yeah. We're friends." But, then, in a mumble, she added, "If you want to be."
"Of course we want to be friends!" Usopp clapped her hands together and said, at the same time Zoro leaned back, spreading her legs wide, and drawled, "Yeah, we're friends."
Her skin burned bright red. She imagined she was hot to the touch. She carded her fingers through her hair, tugging lightly at her scalp to ground herself -- to remind herself she was still here -- and hurried her way through taking Usopp and Zoro's order before scurrying to the kitchen and passing the table off to another waiter.
She took her smoke break early.
They didn't come in the next day. Or the day after that. As much as Sanji tried to hide that she was keeping an eye out for them, it did not go unnoticed by the others in the Baratie. Patty lobbed a dirty dishcloth at the back of her head, catching her while she was leaning against the front counter and casting surreptitious glances towards the door as she gave one spot of the cracked linoleum a good wipe-down. "Girlfriends not coming in today?" he bellowed. The glare that Sanji shot his way had not effect, only throwing him into a hearty guffaw.
"They're not--" Sanji threw the dishcloth back at him, getting him square in the middle of his laughing face. "My girlfriends."
"Sure, kid, whatever you say," Patty teased, wiggling his eyebrows, ducking back into the kitchen to dodge Sanji's kick.
"Lay off her," Zeff ordered, thumbs tucked into the waist of his apron. He ambled over to her and, voice for her ears only, said, "It's good that you're making new friends, Sanji." Then, resting his hands on his hips, raised his voice craned his neck towards the kitchen to yell, "These good-for-nothings can't be the only people you spend time with!"
Sanji rolled her eyes. She pushed herself away from the counter and, mimicking him without realising or meaning, allowing a bristled, "Lay off me," before disappearing into the kitchen to do the dishes -- or whatever other menial task she would be allowed to do.
"Sanji..." Zeff sighed.
"What?"
A long, drawn-out silence. Then, he said, "You're on fridge duty today. Clean it out. I want it spotless, or you're not going home tonight."
Of course. What was she expecting?
"On it, Captain," she said, thick with sarcasm, and throwing an exaggerated salute over her shoulder. Fridge. Old food, old meat. Fun.
But she threw herself into the task. It was something to do, at least, and, by the end of it, it was a relief to look around and see it all clean and neat. Blah, blah, blah. The same old excuses she always told herself in these situations. And, look on the bright side, she thought to herself as she pulled herself into her apartment, forcing herself to look on the bright side as she always forced herself to look on the bright side: she had more energy to throw herself into preparing for her dinner with Zoro and Usopp.
Not that anything could have stopped her from giving this her all.
It was a shy admittance, but she wanted to impress them.
Impressing them with her cooking was one thing, but with her looks... That was another thing entirely. She sighed at her reflection. She had stared at herself for too long and her features were starting to become distorted. Hair too limp. Eyes too far apart. Nose too big. Cheeks to hollow. Skin sallow because she smoked too much and ate too little. And her eyebrows, don't get her started on her eyebrows. She neatened the edges and wore her fringe low to hide them, but still they curled. Still they stood out.
She dropped her head down heavy against her vanity, and finally said fuck it and drew on her lips with a shade of red that was too dark for her skin. Turning away from the mirror, she refused to look at herself for even a moment longer. If she did, she feared she would not leave her apartment at all.
Lipstick on a pig, and all that, she thought, as she smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt, a soft yellow linen, shaking her head at herself. Swallow down a mouthful of saliva before putting one foot in front of the other. Pack the food neatly and nicely. Fold into her car and drive to the address that Zoro had scribbled down on the back of an old receipt, her handwriting neat and fluid -- prettier than Sanji had expected. She parked in front of their house and tapped her fingers against the steering wheel; wondered if she should leave and forget about both of them.
Zeff was right, she hated to admit, she didn't have much friends. The guys at the Baratie weren't friends, though, they were family. So, scratch that, she didn't have any friends. She didn't really know how to have friends. She had never dated anyone either -- though she had what some might call crushes; what Sanji herself might call crushes if she were not so afraid of her own honesty -- and sometimes she wondered if she'd ever be able to date anyone at all with the kind of person she was, in a town like this. It would have been easier before, having a girlfriend before her transition, but that was already testing the boundaries of these small town limits and she couldn't push them any further, not for Zeff's sake. She moved to slot the key back in, to start the car up and go back home, when the front door opened and a familiar face popped out.
Usopp smiled at her. So beautiful. Her brow drew into a small furrow when she called, "It's freezing out there! Hurry in!"
So, arms full, Sanji obliged. She hurried in.
There home was both everything like and nothing like what Sanji had expected. Boxes everywhere, they seemed to still be unboxing. Usopp made a half-nod to this, with a wave of a hand and a, "Mind the mess," as she welcomed Sanji in and brought her through the house. It was a cozy house; small and smelling of fresh flowers, of the fresh flowers that adorned several surfaces in the living area. Besides the boxes, it was clean and tidy, if not particularly neat. The couple had only been here for a few weeks, but it already looked lived in; it already looked like it was theirs.
Sanji chuckled. "What mess?"
"That's what I've been saying," Zoro agreed, her voice reaching them before they turned into the kitchen and saw her leaning against the kitchen counter, already nursing a beer.
White shirt, sleeve rolled up to her elbows, top buttons opened to reveal her breasts that were undoubtedly mostly muscle.
Sanji stared. Her eyes popped out her head and she quickly had to avert her gaze. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? She could not quite comprehend what she was seeing -- or the feelings it was stirring inside her.
She whipped her head around to look at Usopp, who for a split second seemed to be wearing a smug smirk before it was wiped into her more neutral smile, or maybe that was Sanji's mind playing a trick on her eyes. "Where can I put these?" she asked, almost desperately.
"Oh!" Usopp exclaimed. She took some of the dishes from the top and placed them on the counter, in front of Zoro, saying, "Right here! Sorry, Sanji, I should have taken them from you when you walked in!"
"No, no! It's okay!" Sanji hurried to comfort her. Waving her now-empty arms frantically to emphasise her words.
They set the table and had dinner together. Though, of course, it was not just what Sanji had brought. Usopp and Zoro had cooked, too, leaving the table almost comically laden with more food than any three people could possibly eat. Usopp had prepared her famous quiche together with a chicken casserole, while Zoro had made the tiramisu -- though, drowned in chocolate liqueur as it was, Sanji found it nearly inedible, yet she still forced down every mouthful until her plate was clean.
She fell into their conversation, with ease. Quietly eating and drinking as they spoke over her, to her, drawing her in and leaning into her as the hours waned and the sky outside dipped into a deeper black.
Sanji buzzed from the attention.
As they cleared up -- Zoro and Usopp swatting Sanji away as she tried to help, though she laughed and flitted around them nonetheless -- Zoro and Usopp shared one of those looks. One of those looks that made Sanji look away. One of those looks that made Sanji feel as if she was outside peeking in. One of those looks that reminded Sanji that she was a guest in their home, and in their relationship.
Fitting the last of the leftovers into the fridge, Zoro cleared her throat. "Anyone up for a movie?"
"As long as we're watching Ichi the Killer," Usopp said, drying off her hands.
Sanji shook her head. She had never even heard of that movie before.
"No?" Zoro said.
"Well--" Usopp began to backtrack. "I guess it is getting kinda late, if you want to go home."
"No, no!" Sanji shook her head wildly and exclaimed. She didn't want to leave, not just yet. She rushed to explain herself: "I've just... never heard of that one before. The movie you mentioned, Usopp. Do you... like film?" She wanted to give herself the hardest, loudest facepalm. Stumbling over her words, she sounded like such a fool.
Zoro and Usopp split into wide, matching smiles.
And... was it Sanji's just seeing what she wanted to, or was that relief that settled into the lines of their faces?
"Don't mind her, Sanji. Usopp loves movies. She's going to be a director one day. A great one."
Zoro smiled so lovingly at Usopp that Sanji swallowed. That Sanji had to force herself not to look away. She always shied from shows of love; never knew how to deal with it; coveted it as much as she feared it and ran away from it.
"Better than Scorsese," Zoro added, lifting her beer bottle in a sort of cheers.
Usopp rolled her eyes. And said, around a laugh, "That's the only director she knows."
Zoro shrugged, unbothered.
Sanji got the idea that they had had this conversation several times before.
A question struck her, and she realised she had neither ever asked nor even considered. "How long have you been together?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm, what, twenty-one this year?" Usopp wondered, finger tapping against her cheek. So they were the same age. "So that's six years."
Zoro nodded her agreement.
"Usopp was fourteen, I was fifteen. I'd just moved to Syrup Village." Crossing her arms over chest, Zoro flexed her chest and biceps, in a way that drew both of the other women's apt attention, and continued, "Of course she thought I was so cool. The coolest girl in town. It was love at first sight for her, of course... Just like it was for me." Her voice softened at the end.
"It was a small town." Usopp teased. Saying without saying that it wasn't hard for Zoro to be the coolest anything in such a place.
"Six years," Sanji sighed, "and still so in love."
"Yup, still so in love," Zoro said, a smile dancing around the corners of her mouth.
They were all silent for a moment, each of them in their own thoughts. Then Usopp spoke up: "Come, come, it really is getting late and Ichi's, like, two hours long."
Sanji dared not look at the time, for fear it would make time faster. She just nodded and decided to agree with her.
Usopp had already set out snack bowls, so they each grabbed one and settled into the living room and huddled together on their singular small couch as the starting credits began to play. Sanji, sandwiched between the two of them. Squashed. The tips of Usopp's toes tickling Sanji's clothed thigh. Zoro's arm pressed against hers, so that Sanji felt the flex of her bicep each time she lifted her bottle to her mouth. The movie was all flashing colours on a screen; words without meaning; and with each passing second, the heat in Sanji's face began to rise.
She sat pin straight.
Held her palms firmly in her lap.
Refused to breathe.
Usopp looked at her and visibly started. "You okay, Sanji?"
Sanji nodded. What was wrong with her? Horror movies didn't scare her. She wasn't even paying enough attention to the movie playing to be scared, if they did. But, she felt on edge. She felt like she was waiting for something to happen, but she didn't know what. But she couldn't say that. So she just shook her head. "The blood," she squeaked out. Still, stopping the other woman from turning the movie off when she rushed to do so.
She tried to loosen up. To get them to stop looking at her out of the corners of their eyes and focus solely on the movie. There's no love in your violence, the blond man on screen was saying. A shiver ran up at her words at the words. It thrilled her. She couldn't say why.
Beside her, Zoro yawned. Stretched. Spread her legs, bumping against Sanji's thigh and pushing her into Usopp's side.
"Sorry," Sanji apologised, in a rush, at the same time as Usopp aimed a kick at Zoro's calf and asked Sanji, "Are you comfortable?"
They were so close. Zoro so warm on her left. Usopp right in front of her face, eye-to-eye.
Sanji swallowed. Loudly.
Her eyes flickered to Usopp's lips and away, back to Usopp's eyes, back to her lips. So full and shining from where she had ran her tongue over them some time ago. It felt like they were about to kiss. Sanji blinked at that. She had never kissed another woman before. She had never thought about kissing another woman before. The thought surprised her.
Usopp breathed audibly out her nose.
She smiled and patted Sanji's cheek. A knowing shone in her eyes; something that Sanji could not understand; as if she knew more about Sanji than Sanji knew about herself. "Watch the movie, Sanji. This is the good part." Her voice warm.
"Oh, okay." Sanji nodded, and did what she was told.
But her eyes glazed over and scene after scene passed by without leaving an impression. Flowing by so that she did not even notice when the end credits began to roll and she was still staring, unblinkingly, at the screen.
She wanted to kiss Usopp.
She wanted Usopp to kiss her.
She wanted Usopp to want to kiss her.
She had never wanted that before, from another woman.
A finger twitched in her lap. No. She had never allowed herself to want that before, from another woman.
Fingers snapping in front of her face, someone laughingly calling her name, brought her back to the room. An embarrassed flush burned her cheeks red. It had been years since she had zoned out like that; running away into her own head, either into thoughts or into daydreams. Zeff used to pinch her cheek, hard, drawing her into an argument. A fight. Sanji -- gnashing teeth, tiny arms windmilling in all directions to land a hit, kicking feet, and all.
"There you are, sweetheart," Zoro said, slowly as Sanji blinked away her haze.
Zoro had leaned forward to get a better look at Sanji. Strong forearms balanced on equally as strong thighs. Soft smile creasing the corners of her mouth.
Sanji bolted upright. Sat back down.
"Uhm...." she started, darting her eyes between the two women bracketing her in, fully aware of the colour her skin had turned. Red, red, red. Always, since she was little and experiencing any strong emotion. Why had Zeff never called her Little Tomato instead. She swallowed. "Are we...?" She cut herself off. She didn't even know what she wanted to ask.
Sighing gently, Usopp patted her knee. Then she stood, saying, "It's getting late," with finality. A finality that was reflected in Zoro's firm nod, as she stood, too.
Oh. "Yeah. Y-yeah," Sanji stuttered, following suit, running her sweat-stained hands down the front of her thighs. She thought... She shook the thought away. She thought nothing. She wanted nothing. She wanted to go home.
With the help of the other two women, Sanji packed away her things. They chattered quietly amongst themselves, though Sanji had fallen into a contemplative silence she could not quite be coaxed out of. Not that she noticed they were trying to coax her out of it.
They walked Sanji to the door, and, considerate of her arms filled with bags, held it open for her.
Stepping out onto the porch, Sanji turned around. "Goodnight," she mumbled, unaware of her pout; unaware of how adorable both of the other women found it.
Zoro laughed -- a rough laugh that could best be described as booming. Sanji's eyes snapped up at the sound, and straightened her spine to attention with quickness. Her brow furrowed. An argument was at the tip of her tongue, and she was about to yell the first thing that came to her mind, when Zoro brushed Sanji's hair aside. "Hey, Curly," she said, her words softened with affection. "Did you want something to happen?"
Sanji nudged her hand away with a tilt of her head.
Resolutely silent.
"It's okay, Sanji," Usopp said, lifting her own hand to Sanji's face and rubbing the pads of her fingers against Sanji's cheek.
Giving in, Sanji sighed. "I don't know. Kinda." She lowered her eyes. Ashamed. "Sorry."
"Woah, woah, woah--!" Usopp started, at the same time as Zoro asked, "What's there to be sorry for?"
They leaned in to kiss Sanji on each of her cheeks.
The blush that rose on Sanji's face could not be compared to any other blush she had experienced in her life. It wasn't the kiss she had spent the night wanting, but it was good just to feel the touch of their lips against her skin; Usopp's soft, Zoro's rough. Zoro could use some lip balm, Sanji found herself absently thinking.
When they drew back, Sanji screwed her eyes shut and puckered up her lips, only for the two women to laugh softly.
Her eyes flew open.
Had she misunderstood.
"All in due time, Sanji," Usopp said, cradling Sanji's cheek once again.
Zoro crossed her arms across her front and leaned against the inside of the door. "There'll be more to come, Curls. All in due time, as my beautiful wife puts it."
Sanji wanted to insist, but she nodded instead. Then she grinned. "I'll see you Monday?" She asked, knowing the answer already.
"Of course." Usopp smiled.
Zoro nodded her assent.
They wished her a safe trip home, and, with a promise to text when she arrived, Sanji was off, humming to herself a sweet little tune.