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being the crew's cook is not for the weak. having to constantly provide deliciously filling meals for ten people is a hard task for just one man. thankfully sanji is not just a man. he is the man.
sanji happens to be one of the best cooks over the world and that title comes with being able to cater to every staw hat's tastebuds. but it's not just about being the best out there, it's about doing what he loves and people loving what he does.
well, one person in particular.
he would never say that out loud, though. hell, he barely admits it to himself.
but he knows when it happens.
that moment when zoro takes a bite of his food and something shifts in his face. his eyes, always half-closed and unreadable, catch the light in a way that never fails to make sanji freeze. it's nothing obvious, just a quiet spark. a subtle softening of his cold gaze. a blink longer than usual, a faint pause before he chews, like the flavor pulled him somewhere in his mind he didn't expect.
most of the crew wouldn't notice such a tiny detail like that. but sanji does.
and every time he cooks something, he finds himself chasing that flicker in those dark eyes like a fool.
he pretends it's his culinary pride, just another way to stroke his ego. "of course a shitty marimo like him likes it, i'm the best fucking cook over the seas", thinks sanji every time, like repeating it like a mantra would make it any less embarrassing.
but it's more than that.
it's the way zoro eats like he's always starving, like he never learned to savour the food until now. it's about giving him a certain kind of comfort without exchanging a word. it's the control, not over zoro, but the moment. the chance to craft something with his hands, to offer it, and watch as this impossible, infuriating man softens (just a little) because of him.
it's never been about the praise with zoro, he barely says much beyond a deep grunt when he eats, anyway.
it's more about the trust. knowing that zoro trusts him with something as vulnerable as hunger and with something as human as joy.
and maybe... because whenever zoro enjoys his food, sanji feels like he matters in a way he doesn't have the guts to name.
he tells himself it's ridiculous. that it's just food.
but the truth is, he cooks like a man in love.
lately, he's been trying new recipes. ones that use ingredients zoro mentioned in passing. ones that remind him of wano. dishes that are hearty, simple, comforting - just like him.
and when zoro sits down, expression unreadable as always, and takes that first bite, sanji watches intensely from the corner of his eye.
everytime those dark eyes widen and pupils dilate like they would do during a fight or when he's surprised, it punches a hole into sanji's chest.
he looks at that spark of warmth in zoro's eyes and wonders if this is the feeling of worship people turn into songs.
he's not cooking for compliments, not even for thanks.
he's just cooking for zoro's eyes to shine again.
sanji sighs. maybe one day he'll be able to tell him.