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“Sanji please? You promised!” Nami's voice cuts sharply through the phone.
Sanji sighs softly into the receiver, his head crooked so that the phone is positioned awkwardly between his shoulder and his head. His hands are currently busy as he carries bags of leftover food out to his car.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s my first night off in 2 weeks and I just finished my shift…”
“All the more reason to come out with me!”
Sanji winces slightly at the change in sound level over the phone. He manages to open one of the back doors of his car and gently places the bags he is carrying on the seat. He shifts the phone to the other ear.
“Fine,” he says, not at all reluctantly.
“YES! Ok. Pick me up at my house at 9:30!”
The call ends abruptly through Sanji is not at all unsurprised. He’s never quite been able to resist Nami and her plans, although whether that’s because of her loud, unstoppable personality or his personal failings with the opposite sex he’s still not sure.
He rolls the driver’s window down halfway, enjoying the cool afternoon air and his first smoke after work. His feet ache and he’s tired. He’s not exactly looking forward to spending the night out with Nami, although she did promise to have him back home before midnight. She had complained about his ‘senior citizen like tendencies’ but really, when he works 60+ hours a week, there’s only so much of his time available for friends
He starts his short drive home already formulating exactly how much time he can get to himself before picking up Nami, and just what outfit he’s going to wear.
At 9:31 precisely, Sanji pulls up into the apartment complex where Nami lives.
He walks up the short pathway that leads back to her building. He knocks loudly, admiring the spiral shaped wind chime hanging just to the left of the front door. The thing clangs discordantly with the slight night -time breeze.
Nami opens the door, and before Sanji can react she has already stepped outside and is in the process of locking up.
“You’re late you know.”
“Sorry my love. I somehow managed to pop a button on my shirt and had to sew it back on.”
Sanji can feel his best friend eyeing him up, and steps back slightly as she takes in the fitted and cuffed blacked jeans and his patterned chambray shirt.
“Hmm, you’ll do. I cannot believe you’re wearing white shoes.”
“Hey, It’s Labor Day next weekend. Last chance!” Sanji says defensively.
There’s a sort of an awkward pause where Nami eyes Sanji skeptically before they both burst out into giggles.
“I’ve missed you! It’s been ages since we’ve gone out together!” Nami squeals in delight, as she suddenly throws her arms around Sanji.
“I just saw you two days ago,” Sanji says as he slowly extricates himself from Nami’s grip.
“For like an hour. Doesn’t count.”
“So where are we headed?” They walk back to Sanji’s car side by side, and Sanji dutifully opens the passenger door for the lovely redhead.
“This cute little café in Montrose that has the best coffee and-”
“Nami it’s 10 o’ clock at night. Coffee? Really?” Sanji interrupts.
“Don’t interrupt. Coffee and drinks, as I was about to finish saying.”
“Ah. Much better.” Sanji carefully backs out of the driveway and heads towards the coffee shops according to Nami’s directions. She knows the neighborhood they’re in much better than he does, so he just sticks to following he direct orders. They spend the rest of the car ride catching up with each other, because really it has been far too long since they really hung out together, interspersed with the occasional sing-along whenever a song they love begins playing on the radio.
They arrive at the café to find it much busier than Sanji could have expected.
“For a coffee shop this is a lot busier that I expected it to be,” Sanji has to speak loudly for his voice to be heard over the din.
“It’s always like this!” Nami replies.
It’s less of a bar and more of several self-service refrigerators pushed towards the back. One holds bottles of domestics and craft beers in various containers, one holds white wine and Riesling, and the one with “S’il vous plait, vous servir” written in curly script (and what Sanji assumes is Greek lettering below it) holds juice and cider.
He and Nami each look through the selection while debating the merits of Lagers, Ambers, and Stouts before they make their choices.
Beer can in hand, he and Nami line up behind the other patrons, although ‘line’ perhaps gives too much credit to the sprawling mass of customers in front of the register.
“Here, Sanji, pay for mine and I’ll go find us a seat!” Nami pushes her beer choice into Sanji’s hand, along with a $5 bill, and dashes off towards the front of the café before Sanji can say anything. Still, he doesn’t mind and occupies his time admiring the strange Greco-roman type décor and the multitudes of cookies stacked high on the counter.
The total is a little higher than he expected (especially for just two cans of beer.. but hey, atmosphere), but he doesn’t complain and still cheerily tips the harried barista.
He heads towards the direction Nami ran off towards and quickly catches the shock of her red hair above the crowd. She’s standing nearly in front of the door to the Café, watching as another woman packs her bag and leaves a table.
They both put their drinks down on the table and take a seat next to each other facing the center of the café. They pour their chosen drinks into provided mason jars (how chic, Sanji thinks), and take the first sips of their beer in silence.
They pick up the conversation they’d started in the car. They talk about Nami’s search for a new job, about Sanji being overworked and underpaid as a line cook, about books they just recently read, and Nami’s upcoming birthday party
After they’ve both finished about a quarter of their beers, a man comes to their table asking them to push their chairs and table backwards so as to clear a space in the middle of the café.
“Why? What’s happening?” Sanji asks curiously, as he stands to make the aforementioned request.
“It’s Wednesday,” the man cryptically replies before he walks away.
Sanji frowns in confusion at Nami, who looks equally puzzled.
“What does that have to do with anything?” She asks, before taking another sip of her drink.
“Guess we’ll find out.” Sanji shrugs. “So tell me about this new investment because I still don’t think I understand.”
“It’s-“
Nami doesn’t get the chance to explain as she is quickly interrupted by a loud blast of music over the café’s speakers. The music sounds Middle Eastern in origin, with a warbling tune and a heavy drumbeat.
From the back of the café Sanji catches a bright glimpse of blue and green, then suddenly two people run out towards the cleared space in the café and begin dancing in time with the music.
Sanji quickly looks over at Nami, who is mirroring the same shocked expression Sanji knows must be on his own face, before he turns his attention back towards the dancers.
He doesn’t know what he should look at – the dancer’s sparkling outfits, their quickly moving feet, or their gyrating hips.
There are two dancers. One, the woman, has hair dyed the most shockingly blue color Sanji has ever seen. Her hair is softly curled, and Sanji is mesmerized by the way her hair shakes and moves with her body. Her outfit is bedazzled in brilliant blues and greens, with the jewels drawing special attention to her midriff and her waist. Underneath the voluminous and multilayered green skirt she is wearing, Sanji can see flashes of light from what can only be golden anklets that bounce as she quickly moves her feet.
Sanji is in awe at the speed with which she shimmies and the control she exerts as her stomach rolls and her shoulders shimmy.
The other dancer is a man who exudes raw power with every move. He’s dressed slightly more conservatively, though his shirt is cropped short above his belly button. The shirt is mesh and embroidered with blue and green sequins to match his partner. The designs catch the light as his chest moves in every direction, his rib cage contorting mesmerizingly as it is supported by chiseled abs. Around his waist, bouncing with every drop of his hips is a belt of dangling coins that rattle and reflect the light. His silky pants and dark boots play a sharp contrast to his partner’s bright skirt, but also somehow manage to further accentuate his movements. His eyes are almost covered by a black bandana, and Sanji continuously finds his eyes drawn to the dancer’s sharp face.
Sanji is in awe. He continues to watch the dancers as they shimmy and shake in front of their table. He can feel the table shake slightly from their stomping, and a few times Nami has to scoot her chair back to avoid being hit by swirling fabric.
The dancers continue their mind-bending dancing, every percussive moment of the song emphasized by rib cages lifting or hips vibrating to the quick drum beats. The song builds to a crescendo as the two dancers begin to spin in concentric circles around the other, then ending back to back with one arm raised.
Sanji claps vigorously, stunned at the display.
“Did you know this was going to happen?” He asks, still cheering as the dancers exit toward the back.
“No!” Nami too, has not stopped cheering. “Another friend suggested we go tonight but I definitely did not expect this!”
“They’re amazing! I mean, I’ve never seen belly dancing before, but I can’t imagine it gets much better than this!”
“Did you see the way their stomachs moved? All that rolling, and hip moving,” Nami waves her hands in an excitable attempt to demonstrate, “I really don’t think I could do that.”
Soon the music starts back up again, but this time only the woman comes to the center of the room. She’s wearing a heavier, more patterned skirt over her original green one, and she’s carrying 5 circular baskets in her arms. She sets the baskets to the side, and kneels gracefully on the floor.
She begins to wave her arms in the air, bending her wrists and elbows in time with the music, though always holding at perfect 90 degree angles. After a few moments of her mesmerizing fluid hand movements, she picks up the five circular blocks she had carried out before
Sanji doesn’t know how she does it, but he watches enchanted as she swings the blocks through the air, creating different patterns, and making it look as though she weren’t even holding on to them at all. Using a free hand, though Sanji cannot tell how that hand became free, she stands elegantly and balances a spinning block on her head as she herself begins to spin.
She continues to wave the pattered basket-like objects through the air as she spins, quickly gaining speed and momentum. Her skirt begins to flutter through the air, raising high to catch up with her speed. Her blue hair fans out to match.
She grabs her baskets and softly tosses them into the air away from her, sparing only a short glance to make sure they landed safely where she had aimed. She grasps the sides of her skirt and waves it up and down throughout the air, continuously spinning.
As the skirt fans, the dancer begins to lift, passing it over her body until her hands support it above her head. She begins to slow her whirling, though now Sanji can tell she’s focused on spinning her hands to maintain the speed of the heavy skirt.
As soon as she stops spinning, the skirt suddenly flashes bright with hidden string lights woven throughout it. Sanji watches, not caring that his mouth is open, as the dancer gracefully tosses the lighted skirt through the air.
Experienced in working in restaurants, Sanji knows that spinning a huge object like that is no small feat; similar to how he once learned to toss and spin pizza dough. The dancer betrays none of her effort though, keeping a dazzling smile plastered on her face.
“Oh my god Sanji, she just might be the most amazing and beautiful and fantastic girl on the planet. I’m in love.” Next to him, Nami is nearly beside herself with joy as she follows the dancer’s movements with wonder and admiration. Sanji doesn’t disagree in the slightest.
The dance ends with the dancer spinning her skirt over their various tables, only to neatly drop it back over her head as the music stops. Sanji has to stop himself from grabbing a fistful of dollar bills and showering the dancer with money. Other tables show less restraint.
“Dibs!” Nami’s hand hits the table at the same time she utters the words, and Sanji turns to face her with jealousy on his face.
“Not fair, you can’t call dibs on her! I didn’t know we were doing dibs!”
“Nope! So sad, too slow. She’s mine and I’m putting in my stake and going for gold.” Nami giggles furiously.
“10 bucks says you don’t get her number.” Sanji replies with a soft scowl and more of a bite to his words than he’d originally meant. It’s not that he really agrees with the whole premise of calling ‘dibs,’ because after all, that woman is a real person. He’s just more upset that Nami beat him.
But Nami doesn’t get a chance to reply as the music starts back on again.
The song this time is much slower than the previous two. To Sanji’s amazement, the male dancer walks out carrying a curved sword. Sanji’s willing to bet it's called a scimitar but he doesn’t vocalize this because he’s immediately spellbound by the dancer’s routine.
He walks in slowly, every step full of cat-like grace, every rhythmic roll of his hips and chest finely controlled. He stands in the middle of the room, and Sanji’s breath catches as the light glitters reflecting off of the belt around the dancer’s waist. The man makes figure 8 with his hips as he moved the sword through the air in astounding patterns. The rhythmic movements of the dancer’s torso and hips was making Sanji’s brain want to go down dark and dirty avenues, but he was just too amazed at the feat of beauty and power in front of him to pay those thoughts much attention. Sanji catches a glipse of gold, then zeroes in on three gold pendant earrings in the dancer's left ear. The earrings shake and vibrate with the dancer's movements.
The dancer takes a wide stance, his feet more than twice shoulder length apart. He moves the sword through the air precisely, almost as if beautifully slicing down invisible opponents in front of him. A shift of the hips, and the dancer’s weight is balanced over one foot until he rolls the hilt of the sword around his wrist then twists and jumps until he is suddenly facing the opposite direction.
A few titters and nervous cheers from customers in the café ring out at the feat.
Suddenly the beat of the song picks up a little, and the dancer moves back to the center of the room. He throws out both hands to his sides, then brings the dull side of the blade to rest on the top of his head, leaving it there balanced.
The image of the dancer with a sword balanced on his head, shoulders and hips moving to the beat of the music causes Sanji’s jaw to drop. It gets worse when the dancer begins to lean back, further and further, sinking down to his knees until his chest is completely parallel to the floor and almost touching it.
Sanji had never considered knife play before in the bedroom, but swords might just be on his list now.
The man continues to move his body to the music, the sword never once wobbling on top of his head. He sits upright, and begins to spin on his knees. He turns around and around, until he is spinning standing upright, the sword still balancing and spinning with him.
The dance ends as the man suddenly lifts the sword from his head, tosses it high in the air (along with scattered gasps from the crowd), only to catch it with his left hand, and drop one hand to the floor, with one leg bent and one leg straight, the sword held high behind him.
Sanji claps just a little bit too loudly at the end of the male dancer’s routine, and when Nami glances over at him, he repeats her earlier gesture.
“Dibs.”
Nami doesn’t have time to reply, as apparently the belly dancers have one more routine to perform.
Sanji watches, mesmerized by the fast hip vibrations of both dancers, in awe of the opposing ways they twist and shake shoulders and waists. At one point Sanji finds himself clapping along with the crowd, cheering on the dancers as they spin wildly out on the floor.
But Sanji does gasp loudly at what must be the dancer’s final move. It’s a lift – almost Dirty Dancing style – where the girl runs at the guy for him to lift her, but no he tosses her, then catches her to sit on his shoulder when the music ends.
The crowd goes wild, and so do Sanji and Nami. They stand, cheering and clapping as the dancers take their bows and head towards the back.
“Oh my god. I’ve never been more in love than I am at this very point in time,” Nami squeals, dramatically fanning herself with both hands for emphasis.
“Holy fuck, that was insane. They’re insane.”
Sanji sits and gulps down the last few swallows of his beer.
“Alright. It’s now or never.” He stands and slowly picks his way through the mess of tables that are haphazardly pushed close together.
He walks towards the back, where he thinks the bathrooms are. He spots one of the dancers, though not the one he’d had his eye on. She’s fanning herself in the back room, and holding her hair up with one hand to cool down the back of her neck. He watches as her chest rises up and down quickly as she obviously attempts to catch her breath.
“Oh gods, Zoro that worked better than I thought it would. When you told me you wanted to do the lift I almost thought you must be drunk or something. I was so scared you’d drop me!"
“Ha, yeah that would have been terrible. Great job on supporting your leading lady there, muscle head.” Sanji can’t help but interrupt, snark is his second nature.
“Oi, who the fuck are you?” The male dancer, Zoro apparently, leans around to stare straight at Sanji.
“Sorry, casual observer. Thought I’d pay my compliments to this astoundingly beautiful dancer.” He gestures towards the blue haired dancer, who is now in the process of piling her hair into an pony tail on top of her head.
“Yeah well, complement’s been paid. You can go now.” His voice is gruff, and now that he’s not performing, it seems as if a frown has permanently etched itself onto his face.
“That’s really rude, I’m just trying to be nice."
“Well it ain’t working. Go play your nice guy act somewhere else.” Zoro spits the words out at Sanji, his tone threatening.
“I’m just… gonna not be here.” The other dancer leaves suddenly but Sanji barely notices.
“You fucker, you wouldn’t recognize nice if it bit you in the… hold the fuck up, your hair is green?” Sanji belatedly notices that the bandana the man was wearing earlier is missing, revealing shockingly bright green hair.
Sanji can’t help but laugh out loud having to clutch his sides in an attempt to stop his laughter but to no avail.
“You…!” Sanji doesn’t find out exactly what insult was going to flow next out of Zoro’s mouth because he finds himself pushed suddenly through a door he wasn’t quite aware was behind him. The door leads outside of the café, and Sanji finds himself roughly pushed up against a brick wall.
He fucked up. This is definitely not going in the original direction he’d planned. Damn expectations of him being all suave and shit. Why does he always insist on running his mouth? Nami’s right. He’s full of shit and his mouth will get him in trouble one day.
He grabs the outside of one of Zoro’s arms with his left hand, and pushes against Zoro’s cheek with his right. He tightens his core and rotates so that the other man is now pushed up against the wall and one of his legs is pinned by one of Sanji’s.
“You son of a bitch, who the fuck do you think you are? Wait. How did you do that?” Zoro’s voice immediately goes quiet as he asks the questions.
“I’m Sanji. How did I do what?”
“You just.. pushed me off and against the wall. How did you do that? Show me!” Zoro roughly grabs Sanji again and moves them back to their original position.
“Oh. Uh, it’s pretty easy? You just place one hand like this,” Sanji demonstrates by putting one hand on the outside of Zoro’s arm like he had before, except this time more gently, “and then one hand on the opposite cheek.” The hand that it currently on Zoro’s cheek (Zoro’s finely shaved and very chiseled cheek), is definitely not in any position that may be called a caress.
“And then you just push?” Zoro asks, though his sentence ends in a grunt as Sanji finishes the move.
“Well, yeah. I mean, there’s other ways that you could get out of that.” Sanji voice raises as though asking a question. “You could use an opposing choke, or something like a krav maga pluck depending but I didn’t want to go all out. That’d be rude and mean.” Sanji shrugs, loosening up his hold on Zoro.
“This was you not being rude and mean?” Zoro raises an eyebrow towards Sanji.
“Yeah sorry. I’m a dick naturally. Idiots such as yourself just kind of seem to draw it out faster than usual.”
“Well at least you’re an honest asshole. That’s something.”
“Um. Thank you?” Sanji steps backwards, avoiding eye contact because this too is not the direction he’d intended their conversation going.
“You probably think you’re being cute, but you’re not. And Vivi doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
“Vivi?”
“The other girl. Blue hair? You were staring at her tits earlier?” Zoro’s eyebrow seems as though it might permanently be raised now.
“Don’t be such a vulgar asshat,” Sanji shivers at the very thought. He wasn’t staring.
“Anyway she doesn’t swing that way. Thanks for watching, I guess.” Zoro steps aside and makes to head back inside the café.
“Do you?” Sanji calls out, hopeful.
“Do I what?” Zoro turns halfway around, his cropped shirt riding higher to reveal sinful abs. Sanji’s mouth begins to water a little.
“Swing that way?”
Sanji can hear Zoro chuckle lightly, and then watches as the other man’s head falls slightly forward, hanging down and shaking slightly. He straightens up slowly, and Sanji watches has his shoulders rise in fall in an obvious sigh.
“I might.” He's fucking nonchalent. Sanji has to physically restrain himself from biting his lip is annoyance and attraction at the man in front of him.
“The sequins kinda gave it away.” Sanji quips. Shit, he didn’t actually mean to say that.
“Stop while you’re ahead.”
“Right, uh. Want to swap numbers?”
“Why don’t you give me yours and I’ll think about calling you tomorrow.”
Finally tonight is going in the direction Sanji originally planned.
He writes his number on the inside of Zoro’s wrist, and then coolly takes his leave before he manages to dig himself into a hole he can’t get out of.
He meets Nami back at his car after he can’t find her back in the café.
“Any luck?” He asks, as he opens the door for her.
“Some,” she replies with a wink.
She tells Sanji about her evening as he clambers into the driver’s seat and adjusts his rearview mirror.
“Saved her from two macho idiots having a pissing contest in the back. She offered to repay me back with her number, so now you owe me $10.”
“Well, shit. But you have me to thank for setting up that little situation, doesn’t that make up for some of that bet?” Sanji says, chuckling under his breath.
“No. Pay up.” She makes grabby fingers at Sanji, so he reaches for his wallet with one hand before tossing it in her lap.
“Fine. It just so happens that tall, dark, and handsome has my number so I’m willing to pay for an evening well spent.”
“Well played. It was an amazing night wasn’t it?”
"Definitely not what I expected.”
Sanji drops Nami back off at her apartment, and then drives back to his place. As he’s walking up the stairs to his apartment, his phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket to see a text message from an unknown number.
you’re still an asshole
Sanji smiles. No, this evening was better than he could have expected.