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You blink awake as the door to your quarters clicks closed. A lingering whiff of summery cologne hangs in the air, and you know it was Sanji.
You sit up, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Another smell reaches your nose right as you register what he must have been in here for. A small cart is set up next to your bed, with a tray carrying a few plates full of rich breakfast food. Everything is heart-shaped, like the waffles and even the little pat of butter on top. There's a little bouquet as well, bursting with bright flowers and hand-tied with ribbon.
A roll of silverware sits next to your plate, atop a napkin folded into a heart. You notice a little note tucked under the silverware. A smile tugs at your lips as you pick it up, unfolding the pink stationery.
His handwriting is beautiful as ever, swirling cursive with a flourish in the signature. He dots every "I" with a heart.
My beloved,
Please enjoy breakfast in bed. I made all your favorites. Be sure to take your time to relax, I'll see you soon.
Yours always,
Sanji
-P.S.: wear something red or pink, please!
You knew he'd pull out all the stops for Valentine's Day, but you weren't prepared for this extent so early in the day.
You catch another whiff of his scent and you realize he must have sprayed the paper. Your cheeks heat up—he knows how obsessed you are with his signature cologne and aftershave.
Sanji really thinks of everything. Your chest fills with warmth as you set the tray over your lap and eat, enjoying the hot food and the feeling of being pampered. Sanji shows his love for you in the most direct way possible, taking every chance he gets to treat you like royalty. You feel like you can never live up to his example, but somehow he loves you this much anyways.
You eat quickly, excited to see your boyfriend. After you finish, you freshen up and pick out your outfit for the day, one with a red and pink color scheme just like Sanji asked. You also tuck a flower behind your ear, one from the bouquet he left for you.
You arrange your dirty dishes on the cart and push it out with you as you walk onto the deck. You spot Nami, Robin and Franky having some lemonade together while Brook plays a lively tune on his violin and Zoro naps in a hammock near the mast. You can't see them, but you hear Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper playing hide-and-seek.
You bring the cart to the kitchen, where the door is propped open. Sanji is already prepping lunch, and he's so absorbed in his work that he doesn't notice you until you push the cart to the sink and start to stack the dirty dishes there to be washed.
Sanji turns around when he hears you, immediately grinning ear to ear. "Hello, darling!"
You echo the greeting as he washes his hands. As soon as he's done, you step near him and put your hands on his hips, pulling him closer. His eyes widen marginally. "Thank you for breakfast," you murmur into the rapidly diminishing space between you. He's wearing an apron that says "kiss the cook," so you ought to take him up on it.
Sanji blushes. "You're welcome, I'm—" he stops speaking and swallows hard when you grab him by his heart-printed tie—you now understand why he wanted you to wear red or pink—and pull him in to kiss him deeply. He makes a small sound of surprise that quickly becomes muffled against your lips.
His hands are on your waist within a second, resting there so politely it makes your chest ache.
When you break apart, he's so flustered that he looks away, blinking rapidly. "T-thank you," he stammers.
It's not like the two of you haven't kissed before, but now that you think of it, he's usually the one who initiates. Sanji is very gentle and romantic with you, preferring chaste kisses and tender embraces. You can't tell if he's shy, nervous about moving too fast, or just plain inexperienced.
You don't know how he could be inexperienced looking like that and acting the way he does. He's, to put it simply, gorgeous. Golden curls frame his face and fall over one eye, fringed with long lashes of the same color. He has a strong, hooked nose and full lips. He's stunning, and he's yours.
"No need to thank me." You smile at him reassuringly. "I love you."
He looks back at you, hands tightening restlessly on your waist. "I love you too," he responds, so quickly it's like he's been punched in the chest.
You laugh a little, placing a peck on his freshly-shaved cheek. "I'll leave you, then…as much as I hate to."
He nods. "I do have to finish lunch, then dinner…Robin and Franky requested a private dinner today, so I have to do that along with what I planned for us. I'm sorry it turned out this way, but I promise we can be together after dinner."
Under normal circumstances, Sanji would have prepared meals ahead of time in order to give himself the day off to spend with you. Recently, however, this stretch of the Sunny's route came across very few islands. Sanji made his ingredients last as long as he could, carefully portioning everything so no one went hungry. This had the side effect of using up most of what he had, leaving him with effectively no fresh food to prep.
Only a few days ago did you finally come across an island. You remember how Sanji hurried to the market and replenished all his stock.
"Don't be sorry," you say firmly, holding his gaze. "I'll be happy with whatever you do for me, okay? Don't overwork yourself."
He smiles. "I'll try not to." He looks down at his shoes for a moment, hands fidgeting with his apron. "You're…welcome to stay in the kitchen if you want, I just have to work. But we can still talk."
You glance at the clock hanging above the dinner table. Just about twenty minutes before your scheduled time for chores. "Yeah, I can stay for a little while."
He smiles brightly and you feel a twinge. He's too adorable for his own good. You move and take a seat at the bar while he washes his hands again and goes back to his cooking.
"What are you making?" You ask, curious. There are lots of smells in the kitchen right now, so you can't pinpoint anything exactly.
"For lunch, I'm baking some fillets from that fish Usopp caught yesterday. We'll have fried rice and a salad as the side."
You nod, recalling Usopp's great triumph over a fish bigger than he was. The sniper had spent a while with Franky, and they worked on a new fishing rod design that helped enhance the reel's ability to pull beyond that of the user.
Clearly, it was a great success. You remember visiting Sanji yesterday and finding that he was elbow-deep in the fish, cutting and portioning every bit of the meat and ensuring nothing would go to waste. He had his work cut out for him lately.
"What about dinner?" You ask. You had taken a mental roll call for all the pots on the stove and ingredients on the counter, and found that there were a few unexplained by what was for lunch.
Sanji grins and moves to face you, placing a drink in front of you that you somehow didn't see him make. "That's a secret, of course. Dessert too, so don't ask about that either."
You roll your eyes fondly but thank him for the drink. It's a mocktail of some kind, with colorful fruit juices and a heart-shaped garnish. The taste is heavenly, of course—sweet yet refreshing, and not too heavy on your stomach after such a rich breakfast.
Sanji cuts something up. You can't quite see what it is, since his back is to you, but it does mean you get a great view of, well, his back. He's not wearing his suit jacket at the moment, in fact it's on the coat hook next to the fridge, and the sleeves of his undershirt are rolled up to his elbows.
With every skilled move of his arms, you watch the fine fabric of his dress shirt shift and fold. He's mesmerizing, moving with such precision his every action seems rehearsed.
You watch his shirt fall over his shoulders, tucked neatly into his flared pants. You think about how your hands feel so at home there, resting in the nip of his waist while you kiss him, or even just when talking. You always touch him when you can—watching him melt is your favorite pastime.
"Did you sleep well last night, angel?" Sanji asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he breaks the companionable silence.
"I did, what about you?" You say. You're wise to his game—he asks this question to anyone he talks to and takes note of the people who say they slept badly, adjusting their portion to make up for any energy they may need.
He cares so much, loves so deeply. You hope he knows he is just as loved.
"I was fine." His cryptic answer, accompanied by a casual shrug, tells you he was probably up all night. Sometimes it's insomnia, sometimes it's nightmares. You wish he would talk to you about it more often and get it off his chest.
You glance at the clock again. "It's time for my chores, Sanji, I'm sorry to leave you like this," you say sheepishly.
He looks back at you again. "I'll see you later, then!"
You walk up to him and he kisses the crown of your head eagerly, keeping his hands well out of the way since they're covered in onion juice.
You can hardly keep a smile off your face as you leave, and when you look back, you see neither can he.
You lean back in your seat, sipping your fifth glass of lemonade. It's not even particularly hot outside and you're not particularly thirsty, but it gives you an excuse to go see Sanji for a refill, so you down it eagerly.
You pick up your hand of cards, staring at it as if it would change. You have a full house—a pair and three of a kind—but this is a wild cards game of five-card draw. Anyone could have just about anything, and no one has folded after receiving their new cards.
"Four," Robin says serenely, her face completely unreadable as she tosses four "chips" into the center of the table, plus the initial bet of one.
In recreational games with no money on the line, you and your crewmates use seashells as stand-ins for chips. However, Nami owns actual poker chips and is always more than happy to get them out if any of you are interested in gambling real money.
You know from firsthand experience that gambling with Nami is a losing battle.
The navigator grins toothily, eagerly tossing four shells into the betting pool. You aren't completely certain who's cheating here, whether it be Nami or Robin, but someone definitely is. Nami is always confident—it's her version of a poker face—so you have no idea if she's bluffing.
Robin is dealing, but she always deals since she has experience in a real casino. Right now she idly shuffles the remainder of the deck, sectioning it into several smaller parts and sprouting extra hands to perform elaborate tricks.
It's an intimidation tactic, one that's clearly working on Chopper. The reindeer boy's poker face needs a bit of work—you can tell he's terrified of what Robin's hand must be. He folds after another moment of consideration.
Franky folds as well, patting Chopper on the head as he leans back to sip on his bottle of cola.
Lastly, Usopp is visibly hyping himself up. He takes a big breath and throws four shells—plus an extra. "I see your four, and I raise you one," he says firmly. The bet is now six shells.
This is becoming intense. You doubt your hand is better than any of theirs, so you quickly fold and watch to see what happens.
Robin smiles. She again raises the bet.
Usopp's mouth falls open. He quickly regains his composure, chewing on his lip as he considers his hand. His eyes rapidly flit between his cards and Robin, as if he's wishing he could suddenly develop X-ray vision and see what she has.
Usopp stays in and raises.
Nami rolls her eyes. She stayed in last time, but as much as she may love betting wars, she's also a cheapskate. She folds this time and lets Robin and Usopp continue their battle of wits.
Robin pauses for a long, tense moment, making direct eye contact with Usopp. She tosses only one shell this time—she's staying, no raise.
Everyone at the table stops holding their breath. Usopp quickly reveals his cards. An all-natural straight flush!
Robin sets her cards on the table next. You stand up out of your seat to see better, but your eyes didn't deceive you. She has a pair, nothing more. Not even any wild cards to make it three of a kind. "Well done, long-nose!" She says with a smile.
Usopp jumps out of his seat, whooping and cheering. Chopper and Franky give him high-fives. "I can't believe it!" The sniper exclaims, and Robin laughs.
You feel someone's presence behind you, and you turn to see Sanji. He's standing with a hand in his pocket and a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Did none of you hear me?" He laughs, "dinner is ready."
Almost as soon as the phrase leaves the cook's mouth, you see Luffy seemingly appear out of thin air and vault the railing into the dining room. The rest of your crewmates head to dinner in a more reasonable fashion, leaving their cards on the table for Robin to collect. Franky stays behind with her, and Sanji walks up to them.
"I set everything up in your workshop like you asked," he says to Franky.
the cyborg grins. "Thanks, bro! We owe you one."
"You're very welcome," Sanji says with a slight bow. "Have a good night, both of you."
Robin puts her hand in the crook of Franky's arm and they leave to eat separately in the workshop. Sanji takes a drag of his cigarette, puffing the smoke out of his nose as he turns to face you.
"Darling, I've missed you today," he murmurs, softly smiling as he replaces the cigarette in his mouth.
"I missed you too," you say too quickly. Your cheeks heat up as his eyes sparkle, but for some reason you keep talking. "I was thinking about you all day."
"You don't know how much that means to me." He offers you his hand. "Are you ready for dinner, mon ange?"
You grab his hand immediately and he pulls you close. "I've been ready since this morning." Your breaths mingle in the space between you and you pluck the cigarette from his lips to kiss him again.
He lets you, as he's weak to your every suggestion, but he pulls away after a fleeting moment. "We have time later, my dear…dinner is getting cold." Your hand is still folded in his, so he presses his lips to your knuckles. Meanwhile, his free hand takes his cigarette back.
You let out a flustered chuckle and he leads you to the rear deck. Near the back railing, a table for two is set up. Two place settings await, plates covered to keep the food warm. There's a bucket of ice for drinks, and a floral arrangement in the center of the table. There are little candles placed about to give the area some light as the sun sets. Sanji hurries in front of you and pulls your chair out for you, ensuring you're seated comfortably before he uncovers both plates.
In front of you is a perfect portion of expensive filet mignon—you don't even know where he got this. There's a small bowl of soup, and a salad as well. Your eyebrows shoot up. "Sanji…"
He smiles sweetly and crosses to a transponder snail you didn't notice before, snuffing his cigarette in an ashtray set up next to it. "I had Brook make a recording of some of his music. It's the closest I could get to taking you to a nice restaurant," Sanji explains. He turns on the music and takes his seat across from you as the sounds of Brook's violin fill the air.
He shyly glances up at you as he settles his napkin on his lap. "Is, ah…is everything good so far?"
"I forgot to try it, I was…" you trail off, shaking your head. For a moment there, you wondered if you were dreaming. "Sanji, this is perfect. I've never been treated like this before."
"It's the least I could do," he says earnestly, cheeks flushed pink. "I want you to know how much you mean to me."
You feel a twinge at his words, so you quickly take a bite of food to hide your expression. He watches you intently, expression kept carefully neutral but eyes alert to your every movement. The filet is easily one of the best things you've ever tasted, which is always the case with Sanji's food, but this is different somehow. Maybe there really is a unique flavor of food made with love.
Your mind goes blank for a moment, but you quickly swallow. "This is amazing," you say, and he visibly relaxes.
"I'm glad," he says, finally starting to settle in and eat his portion. You see shadows under his eyes and tension in his shoulders, but the flush on his cheeks shows you he's exactly where he wants to be. He keeps looking at you, like you're the center of the universe, or you hung the stars.
The setting sun paints his face in all shades of yellow and orange, setting his hair aflame as if it's molten gold. He is the most beautiful person you've ever seen. You're surrounded by physical proof of how much he loves you.
You want to say something, but you doubt there are words in any language that can encompass what you're feeling. You pause, enjoying the delicious food, fresh air, calming music, and the presence of your lover.
He seems to be doing the same, and a good portion of dinner passed in a sort of reverent silence, both of you enjoying the music. You want to make sure Sanji is relaxing after his long day, and he does seem just about as content as you've seen him in a while.
You start to get restless as you near the end of your meal. You asked Sanji about what went into the food, and he's eagerly explaining his process of obtaining the ingredients and all the techniques he used. You love listening to him talk about things he's passionate about. You aren't bored by any stretch of the imagination, but you find yourself wishing there wasn't a table between the two of you.
"Are you finished, my love?" Sanji asks softly, glancing between you and your empty plates.
You nod, and he gathers all the dirty dishes. Before he leaves to put them away, he plants a light kiss on your head.
You listen to his footsteps fade into the distance, and you can't help but sigh wistfully. Your eyes slip closed for a moment, thinking about your perfect day, and your perfect boyfriend. You couldn't have asked for more, couldn't have even dreamed of this. Loving you is second-nature to Sanji, it seems to come as easily as breathing.
When he returns, you've stood up and you're swaying to the music. You offer him your hand. "Will you dance with me?"
Sanji smiles brightly. "Always."
You step close to him, draping your arms around his neck as he takes hold of your hips. You sway in tandem, feeling the music and relishing in the warmth of his body.
"You're beautiful," Sanji murmurs. "I'm so lucky to have you…I hope you know that. I feel like no matter what happens, no matter how awful things may be…if I have you, it won't be so bad after all."
You feel your chest ache again. It hurts so much. You want to hold onto him forever, never let him go. Tears prick your eyes and you look up at him.
His eyes widen. "Darling, I didn't mean to—"
You sniff back the tears, laughing a little. "If you don't want me to cry you shouldn't say things like that."
He opens his mouth to respond, but you're too fast. You kiss him, and even though you've done it hundreds of times, it's never enough. You can never be close enough, never be together long enough. He sighs into your mouth, pulling you tight against his body by your waist.
His lips are soft—they always are, always soft and warm. He tastes like cigarettes and his own cooking.
You eventually run out of breath, so you reluctantly pull away. Sanji gulps air. His cheeks are flushed, eyes half-lidded.
You smile softly at the look of utter adoration on his face. You cup his cheek with one hand and he leans into the touch like a cat. He looks at you so pleadingly you can't help but kiss him again.
He's clearly trying to hold himself together, but you feel his grip on you tighten just before his tongue swipes over your lips. You open your mouth and pull yourself closer to him, your hands snaking under his jacket to grab his waist through his dress shirt. You feel his breath hitch, reciprocating your touches but with none of the forcefulness. The two of you are still swaying to the music, but now it's more like leaning your weight into each other.
He gasps as he breaks the kiss, leaning back and away as his hand flies to his nose and he fumbles for the handkerchief in his breast pocket. "Nosebleed," he laments, glancing at you again before he tilts his head to hopefully stop the blood from getting everywhere.
You let go of him so he can take care of it, feeling a little guilty, yet you still have butterflies in your stomach.
He waits a moment for most of the bleeding to die down. "I'll go take care of this…plus, I have to get dessert anyways…wait for me?"
"Of course," you say immediately, watching as he leaves. You perch on one of Franky's newly-installed hammocks, kicking your feet idly while you wait. The rushing of the sea against the Sunny's hull calms you, and you close your eyes in contentment.
Your beloved cook returns shortly, a waiter's tray held aloft on skilled fingertips. He smiles when he sees you on the hammock. "I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly…I hope this will make up for it."
You start to get up, but he motions for you to stay put. He sets up a collapsible stand for the tray and picks up a plate. "Dessert is apple pie, extra sweet…but never as sweet as you are, angel."
You laugh and thank him, scooting a bit so he can sit with you. You look down at the perfect slice of pie. You can tell by its shape that the entire pie is shaped like a heart, but the crust and top are intricately scored and woven with still more hearts. You're almost hesitant to take a bite and ruin the beautiful crust, but it smells too good.
You dig into the pie and Sanji grins at your positive reaction. He shifts and lays back in the hammock, throwing his arm around your waist from the side.
"Tired?" you ask.
"Exhausted. But it's worth it." He looks up at you, cheeks pink and eyes shining. "I hope you had a good day, angel. I wish I could have done more for you, but I can't let the crew starve…even if it's for you."
"It was perfect," you say honestly, tracing the plane of his cheek with your knuckles. "You're perfect."
He laughs breathlessly, free hand fidgeting with his shirt collar. "To hear you say that, beloved…it's more than I could ever dream of."
You set aside your empty plate and lay down beside him, snuggling up close as he threads his arms around you. "I mean it," you whisper, "I love you."
He takes in a long, shaky breath, squeezing you tighter and tucking you under his chin. "I love you, too. I hope you know you're everything to me."
"I don't think I could ever forget with the way you treat me," you say with a smile. "I always see what you do for me."
"That's good," he murmurs. He sighs again and presses his lips to the top of your head. "we've been together for a while now, but sometimes I still wonder if I've been caught in a dream…it all seems too good to be true."
One of your hands plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. You adjust so you can see his face better. His bangs have been messed up—both his eyes are visible now, wide and sparkling.
Black-Leg Sanji. A man whose bounty was worth hundreds of millions of berries, who took down countless foes with just his legs. A fearsome pirate, the true successor to Red-Foot Zeff, leaving only fear and destruction for anyone who dared cross him.
That was the same Sanji who was melting in your arms, looking at you with nothing short of worship in his eyes, finding every way to pledge his undying love to you. He was completely at your mercy, completely subservient to your every whim.
"My love…?" He whispers, and you realize you've been staring.
Overcome, you press your lips to his, slowly and gently adjusting. He meets you where you are, pushing his face into yours. You spend a while just like this before you snake your fingers around his tie and pull him tightly against your body. He groans involuntarily and you deepen the kiss.
Despite how much you're touching him, his hands stay firmly on your waist. He's a gentleman to the very end, though you have a suspicion that this time he's fighting off a nosebleed.
You pull away to catch your breath and he rests his cheek against yours. "Je t'aime," he mumbles. "Je t'aime, je t'aime…" he keeps speaking in his mother tongue, gradually becoming less coherent. You know just enough words to understand that he's praising you.
You feel your heart flutter and you squeeze him, your hand slipping around his waist. "Je t'aime," you echo, slowly enunciating the syllables based on his pronunciation.
He covers his nose and closes his eyes tight. "Darling—" he chokes out. You let go of him, expecting him to need space, but you weren't expecting him to whine loudly when you back away. Clearly he wasn't expecting it either, as his eyes widen and his blush turns crimson.
You smile slightly, waiting until he eventually lets go of his nose. "Darling, I'm sorry…"
"It's okay, Sanji," you say with a soft smile, and he squeezes you gratefully. You're content with just cuddling for the rest of the evening, nestling against him perfectly and feeling all the tension melt out of your body.
The warmth of him, his scent, his embrace. You wouldn't trade it for the world. In the circle of his arms is the place you feel the most at home, and he seems to feel the same about you.
His breathing deepens and he gradually goes limp against you—you realize he's asleep. He deserves his rest, you think, and you settle in yourself.
You drift off, lulled to sleep by thoughts of your perfect date, your perfect day, and your perfect boyfriend.