Chapter Text

Chapter 1 – Date

[April]

Sanji crushes the butt of his cigarette under his heel, then picks it up and throws it in a nearby trash can. He enters the restaurant and quickly checks in the entrance mirror that his tie is in place. He's wearing one of his favorite suits, the one that makes him look elegant without being too noticeable: deep burgundy, with a black shirt and a tie in the same shade as the suit. He smiles at his reflection, absentmindedly tucks his blond locks back onto his eyes, and then signals himself  to a waitress.

"Good evening, Miss. I have a reservation for two under the name of Black. Has my date arrived yet?"

The waitress looks down at the reservation book before looking up at him. She's quite pretty, the kind of gentle beauty that requires no makeup or artifice. She's wearing a white apron tied over a little black dress and flat-heeled ankle boots. Her hair is tied back in a tight bun, with a few strands elegantly escaping. Her gaze lingers a little too long on Sanji's fingers, delicately adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, tucking the black fabric back into place under his burgundy jacket. She finally answers in a soft voice, tucking a strand of hair absently behind her ear, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"No, sir, but your table is ready if you'd like me to accompany you."

"With pleasure, thank you, Miss," Sanji replies.

Blushing deeper, the young woman leads him to a table for two toward the back of the room, set against a wall, separated from a twin table by a slightly translucent paper screen.

"I thought I asked for a table away from anyone..."

"I'm sorry, sir, we've had a lot of reservations tonight. We've done our best. Would you like me to offer you an aperitif, on behalf of the house?”

"No, that won't be necessary, thank you," Sanji replies in a slightly colder tone.

She slips away discreetly, and he sits on the side of the table that allows him to keep an eye on the entrance. His fingers absently tap the tablecloth as he surveys the surroundings.

The interior of the small Italian restaurant exudes an immediate warmth. The walls, a soft ochre, are adorned with old Italian film posters and wine bottles lined up on weathered wooden shelves. The dim light from the wrought-iron pendant lights blends with the one from the candles on the tables, casting golden reflections on the glasses. The air is thick with the scent of stewed tomatoes, fresh basil, and pizza dough browning in the oven. Sanji chose this place because he knows the food is authentic, the produce is fresh, and the chef, a former intern colleague, knows his stuff. He's been here before, and he knows the atmosphere is perfect for a first date.

The table is set simply but elegantly: a white tablecloth, a small vase containing a single red rose, and a lantern with an electric candle whose flame flickers gently.

He checks his phone: 7:54 PM.

A quiet sigh escapes him. He opens his messages to check the date and location of the meeting one last time, when he hears the waitress's voice approaching again.

"Here's your table, madam."

Sanji looks up from his phone and immediately stands up to greet the young woman, pocketing it quickly. She's tall, blonde, and her tight red dress reveals no flaws. The fabric catches the candlelight with every movement. She's perched on high-heels that elongate her already long legs, carrying a small matching leather handbag on her arm. Her eyes are lined with black eyeliner, and her lipstick is the same shade of red as her dress. She's beautiful, but in a different way than the waitress. It's a more polished, cooler beauty.

"Miss Khalifa?" he asks confidently, taking her hand and placing a light kiss on it.

"Sanji, I presume."

He smiles at her and gestures for her to sit down before taking his seat.

The waitress returns almost immediately with two menus and the wine list. Khalifa grabs it without hesitation, her red nail polish shining in the dim light. She scans the wines, quickly and methodically, before placing the list on the table with a quick gesture.

Sanji, on the other hand, flicks through the menu without really reading it. He already knows what he'll have, but he occasionally glances at his dining companion, observing the way she crosses her legs, or the almost military precision of her gestures. She studies the menu for another minute, then sets it aside.

A few minutes later, the waitress approaches again, notebook and pen in hand, standing behind Khalifa.

"Have you chosen what you'd like to order?"

Before Sanji has time to open his mouth, Khalifa speaks:

"We'll have two glasses of red wine. And for me, a chef's salad. No onions, no dressing."

Her voice is firm, sharp, and leaves no room for discussion.

Sanji suppresses a slight smile. A temperament like that must set the sheets on fire, he thinks.

He's not a fan of red wine, but she seems to have decided for him, and he sees no point in upsetting her. After all, it's only their first date.

"And for you, sir?" asks the waitress.

"A Margherita pizza, with extra burrata, please."

"Anything else?"

"No, you can leave us," Khalifa says.

"Thank you, Miss," adds Sanji with a polite smile.

While the waitress takes their order, another couple sits down at the next table, behind the screen. Khalifa lets her gaze drift over the newcomer for a few seconds, taking in the two with a quick glance, then returns to Sanji. She rests her elbows on the table, interlocks her fingers under her chin, and fixes him with a calculating expression.

"So, Sanji, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a chef at a seaside restaurant. You may have heard of the All Blue."

"No, never. How come you didn't offer me dinner there tonight?"

“I prefer to separate my work from my personal life.”

“Mhh… I see.”

Sanji, intrigued, tilts slightly to the side to look at her.

“And you?” he asks, posing the question with cautious curiosity.

“I'm the secretary to the CEO of CP9. A somewhat boring job, she admits, but extremely well-paid.”

Sanji nods, mentally noting the contrast between Khalifa's icy calm and the frenetic pace of his own job. She never really smiles, but her eyes calculate every gesture, every reaction.

The waitress then arrives with their glasses of wine and places them in front of them before disappearing. The aroma of red wine rises, rich and fruity.

“I hope you like red wine,” Khalifa says, holding her glass out to him in a toast, a slight smile on her lips.

"Of course," Sanji replies, clinking his glass against hers, a charming smile on his lips.

A mocking snort rises from the other side of the screen. Sanji leans back slightly in his chair to observe the person sitting next to him and rolls his eyes. Immediately to his left is Zoro. The green-haired young man seems to have made an effort with his clothes tonight. He's wearing a light-colored shirt instead of his usual black t-shirts, and Sanji can smell the scent of his deodorant from here.

"Marimo..." he breathes. "What are you doing here?"

"Is there a problem, Sanji?" Khalifa asks, taking a sip of wine, impassive.

"No, my dear, there is no problem."

Sanji leans toward the table and savors a sip, the rich taste of the wine tickling his palate.

"This wine is delicious," he adds to her attention.

"You've got to be kidding me, Curly!" Zoro interjects, pushing his chair back to enter his field of vision. "You hate red wine!"

"No one asked for your opinion, cactus face," Sanji replies, unfazed.

Sanji glances at the person sitting across from Zoro: a young man with pink hair and large, rectangular glasses with thick lenses. Who smiles shyly and waves.

"Um... good evening, my name is Koby."

"Good evening," Sanji replies politely. "Go back to your date and let me enjoy mine," he hisses through his teeth, moving his chair closer to the table and disappearing behind the screen.

Khalifa is still watching him, one eyebrow slightly raised, one hand under her chin, assessing every gesture as if she were examining him.

"A friend of yours?" Khalifa asks, her gaze piercing.

"No, just an acquaintance," Sanji replies evenly.

He immerses himself in his conversation with the young woman. They exchange a few pleasantries, talk about their hobbies and travels, all while maintaining a measured pace.

The waitress arrives with their food, then approaches the next table to take their order. Sanji, despite himself, strains to listen.

"I'll have a beer, and a Regina," Zoro announces to the waitress. Sanji straightens slightly to intervene, not even noticing Khalifa's quiet sigh.

"Don't forget to remove the mushrooms from the seaweed head pizza," he says sharply to the waitress.

"I didn't ask you anything, Curly," Zoro defends himself with a shrug.

"You hate mushrooms, Marimo... What a great idea to order a Regina..."

Zoro rolls his eyes. Another sigh from Khalifa makes him turn his head towards her, and her expression makes him slightly uncomfortable. A little embarrassed, he finally returns to his dinner, leaving Sanji to savor his silent victory.

The rest of the evening unfolds delightfully. The conversation seems to be moving in the right direction. Sanji makes an effort not to impose himself too much, letting Khalifa talk about her hobbies and passions. He's been criticized too often for talking too much, so he simply listens to her, observing every movement, every intonation.

She's now describing her last trip abroad. Sanji nods, taking another sip of wine—Zoro was right, he really doesn't like this red wine; a white would have been more appropriate.

The waitress approaches again to take their dessert order.

"Is there anything you're interested in?" Sanji asks, looking at the menu. "Their tiramisu is delicious."

"Oh, no, I'll just have coffee, thanks."

"Do you mind if I have dessert?"

"No, treat yourself. I just hope their tiramisu isn't too heavy to digest," she replies, a slight, innuendo-filled smile playing on her lips.

Sanji hesitates for a moment, then decides he can skip dessert. When the waitress returns, they finally order two coffees.

Sanji savors this small, silent victory: even if he's not leading the dance, he's managed to slip into the rhythm set by Khalifa, while keeping an eye on every detail of the table and his date.

Khalifa excuses herself to go to the restroom. Sanji takes the opportunity to glance at his phone. No notifications, not even a message from the restaurant. He puts it in his pocket with a satisfied smile: service must be going smoothly at the All Blue. He takes a sip of water, then leans back in his chair, nervously fiddling with his napkin. He can't help but listen to the conversation from the table next to him.

“Oh, yes, I love reading, it's one of my favorite hobbies,” Koby explains. “I read novels, historical accounts, scientific articles… I like learning new things. And you? What do you do in your free time?”

“I work out,” Zoro replies, his voice neutral.

“Oh, uh… okay, what do you mean?”

“I go to the gym five times a week. Often in the evening, around 9 p.m., when no one else is around. It helps me concentrate. I sleep better after working up a sweat during a good workout.”

Sanji can't hold back a mocking laugh. He's caught the implication.

Zoro leans back slightly in his chair, his mop of green hair peeking out from behind the screen. Sanji shifts too so Koby can see him.

"Something funny, Curly? Hey, your date let you down?"

"She'll be back in five minutes," Sanji replies with a smirk. "But don't change the subject, I didn't know you were going to the gym to sleep better."

Zoro clears his throat, a little embarrassed.

"It's important to work out regularly, and everyone knows that a good workout helps you sleep better."

"Oh, yes," Koby confirms. "I read a very interesting article about it, actually."

"About what?" Khalifa chimes in, joining the conversation by sitting back down opposite Sanji.

"The link between endorphins released during a workout and the quality of sleep," Koby replies enthusiastically. "We don't realize how much our bodies need to be active during the day. We've become far too sedentary!"

"Oh, yes, I think I read that article," Khalifa replies with a calculated smile.

Zoro and Sanji exchange a confused look while their respective dates animatedly discuss the famous article...

The waitress then arrives and serves coffee to Sanji and Khalifa, then two tiramisus to Zoro and Koby. Sanji glances at the dessert in front of Zoro, but refrains from commenting. Zoro never eats dessert; he doesn't enjoy sweet things, and yet a small tiramisu sits in front of him.

Each couple returns to their conversation, leaving the others to enjoy the rest of their meals. Sanji and Khalifa stay long after finishing their coffees, continuing their discussion about their respective interests. Sanji listens distractedly as Khalifa talks about her Pilates classes, noting the precision of her movements and the fluidity of her speech. For several minutes now, the young woman has been gently brushing her toe against his leg in a gesture that's both measured and sensual, and Sanji is having a hard time staying focused on her words.

A deep, resonant laugh erupts from beside him, and he can't help but smile. Khalifa notices it immediately and withdraws her foot, a slightly disappointed pout touching her lips.

"What if we continue this date elsewhere?" she suggests in a languid voice.

"With pleasure," Sanji replies, in the same tone, a charming smile on his lips.

They stand up, and Sanji walks behind Zoro to walk around their table and head for the exit. He can't help but notice the untouched dessert in front of him. He takes a few steps toward the counter, huffs in frustration, apologizes to Khalifa, then returns to the two men.

"Marimo, I hope you're not going to waste this dessert," he says sternly. Zoro rolls his eyes and gently pushes the plate toward the center of the table.

"It's too sweet," he justifies.

"You haven't even tasted it!" Sanji scolds, grabbing the plate quickly. "Give it to me!"

He takes the spoon from Zoro’s hand and begins to eat the tiramisu, standing next to their table. The cream melts in his mouth exactly as he remembered. The dessert is delicious. He closes his eyes for a second to savor the moment, a slight smile of satisfaction on his lips. Zoro stifles a laugh behind him.

"You should have told me you didn't want dessert," Koby says suddenly.

"You were happy to have some. And Curly said their tiramisu was delicious..."

"Oh, I see," Koby replies, a little confused but amused.

An impatient throat clearing catches Sanji's attention. Khalifa has crossed her arms over her chest and is watching him, her gaze cold and impatient. He swallows the last two bites of tiramisu in one gulp, places the spoon and plate in front of Zoro, then straitened up.

"Have a good evening," he says hurriedly before joining Khalifa to settle the bill.

Seeing her rummage in her purse, Sanji raises a hand to her.

"No, it's on me," he says in an almost chivalrous tone.

Khalifa takes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her bag, looking questioningly at him. She had no intention of splitting the bill. Sanji, a little ashamed, turns to the bartender, credit card in hand.

"I'll wait for you outside," the young woman tells him, walking towards the exit.

"No problem, I won't be long," he replies, then turns to the waiter. "Add the tiramisu from the green-haired young man's table, please."

He pays the bill, including the dessert that Zoro hasn't touched, then leaves the restaurant himself, a cigarette already hanging from his lips. He joins Khalifa on the sidewalk and lights it with a firm gesture, blowing a cloud of smoke into the cool night air.

"Ah..." Sanji sighs, "it's really a shame to have fallen on the cactus head tonight... That idiot will never change! And not eating his dessert... I'm against any form of waste! If we had been in my restaurant, he would have heard from me!"

"I thought he was just an acquaintance?"

"Oh, yeah... Well, we're part of the same circle of friends, but we've never really gotten along. Anyway, we're not here to talk about him. Do you want to come have a last drink at my place? I don't live far..."

"No, thank you," Khalifa replies coldly. "I think I'll go home."

Sanji frowns, a little confused by this change in attitude. Everything seemed to be going well during the meal.

“Oh… uh, okay. Next time then,” he suggests with a smile.

“I don’t think so. I had a good evening, but I don’t think it’ll work out between us. Sorry.”

“Oh… I see.”

“Good night, Sanji.”

“Good night, Khalifa.”

She walks off into the night slowly, her heels clicking on the cobblestones. Sanji takes another drag of nicotine and slowly blows out the smoke, slightly disappointed. He turns toward the restaurant and sees Zoro and Koby at the bar, paying their bill. The bartender surely just told them that Sanji paid for Zoro’s dessert as he turns toward the door, looking for him, and Sanji takes that as his cue to leave.

He turns up the collar of his jacket and walks briskly away in the direction of his apartment, the night wind brushing his hair, a small smile playing on his lips.