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Luffy doesn’t know or care about flirting or whatever. The only thing he cares about is that when Sanji’s done, he comes home and cooks some delicious meat. Otherwise, Luffy doesn’t mind. He knows how easy it is to love Sanji, in his mind it’s only natural that other people would too.
After all, that’s how Luffy realised Sanji was meant to be his cook in the first place!
When he leaned over the railing of the Baratie, already intrigued by the feisty waiter with eyes so deep Luffy thought he might drown in them. It wasn’t often a person gave Luffy pause, made Luffy work to see what was underneath. More often than not he just trusted whatever his gut said, and it said that Sanji was a good person.
But then he watched as Sanji shared food with a starving man, call his bluff, and break him down with a smile, and it just… clicked. A good person? Sure, that’s what Sanji was. But, if Luffy had to describe Sanji in just one word, he’d choose “hero”.
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That being said, the rules of the game are simple. They’ve expanded over the years to include more scenarios, but the basics remain simple. If Sanji gets flirted with and he doesn’t notice, you drink.
If a man flirts with Sanji, and he doesn’t notice, take 1 shot.
At a couple points, it was higher. Mostly in the early days before they really had an idea of just how common of a target Sanji was for fruity men, but then Chopper’s concerns about alcohol poisoning started sounding less like paranoia and more like a prediction, and ever since it has been the baseline that all other scenarios build up from. For example:
If a woman flirts with Sanji, and he doesn’t notice, take 2 shots.
The added shot is for the novelty, if nothing else. He’s a charming guy, their cook, but he shoots himself in the foot as often as he gets bemused smiles for his Love Hurricane routine.
It’s under the same reasoning that the next rule has the same penalty. That being:
If Sanji flirts with someone and they flirt back, you also take 2 shots.
Because one would argue that falling for the Love Hurricane routine is a showing of one’s character and really, someone who likes the twirling, swirling, poetry-drooling display is probably someone who is meant for the cook. Can you tell that the one who argued this was Zoro? You can? Good for you!
The final rule’s closest equivalent is probably sudden death.
If Sanji hooks up with someone, take 5 shots.
Even years into playing the game, whenever this happens, it feels like Hell must’ve frozen over.
Some of them might spend a portion of the day staring at a wall, slowly processing the fact that Sanji’s attempts had worked.
Whilst others felt a more… sword-inclined reaction, because god forbid the day someone takes advantage of Sanji. He’s a doormat when he wants to be, but he’s the doormat with a dozen guard dogs behind him and they aren’t afraid to do what he can’t.
Usopp and Nami take the credit for the creation of the game, both claiming a vague memory of starting it after Alabasta to distract from their missing Vivi. At this point, however, they struggle to remember a time they were the Straw Hats Pirates whilst not playing the game.
Robin was the first of the rest of the crew to join, but everyone followed suit in time, sans Sanji, naturally. Ironically, he, more often than not, pours the shots for the game.
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It’s anyone’s call as to whether the game starting after Alabasta is a blessing or a curse, and Nami was right on the fence of that decision. Any breeze as light as her changing mood could push her one way or the other depending on the day and depending on how much their resident cook pushed her buttons.
She remembered so plainly how Sanji had looked at Ace, with this starry look that was normally reserved for her and Vivi.
She’d caught a glimpse through the galley window that evening Ace had joined them, had seen the way Sanji was sat down for once and just chatting and laughing with their captain’s brother like it was the most natural way in the world. This, Nami had realised, was how Sanji acted when he was in love. And if she had been a little less gay, she wonders if she would’ve felt jealous by the way Sanji acts with Ace, making the way he fawned over her seems all the more shallow. In the moment, though, her heart was charitable, and she actually wondered how many times in his life, Sanji had felt that spark of instant connection.
And over the following days, the pair just got closer and closer until Nami swore she was catching them holding hands just out of the corner of her eye. Always pulled away by the time she looked, but always together if they thought they were alone long enough.
And by the time they were leaving and beginning what would become one of the Straw Hats’ most dedicated traditions, they had yet to realise that this instance with Ace meant they had to take 5 shots.
Each.
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During the two years they were apart, Robin often wondered about her friends, and wondered what they were missing the most. It soothed her own heart to spend a little time pretending she was in their heads, hearing their thoughts again, learning about the way they interpreted the world.
And by the time they were back together again, Robin had, begrudgingly, started to get used to the feeling of missing her family.
She welcomed the reversal of that sensation.
Snickered behind her hand when Nami mused about how many shots she thought they had missed between now and when they had last seen Sanji. When he finally showed up though, having filled out his suit, with a little more facial hair and a lot more confidence, Robin had this feeling that whatever the game had looked like before they separated, it was now something different.
She knew she was right, but the universe confirmed it for her anyway, only a few days later when they were escaping Punk Hazard with a passenger on board. Law was a prickly one, but Robin rather thought he fit right in. He blurted out his dislike for bread like it was the shame to end all shame, and had the nerve to complain about their dear friend’s food. But whilst Sanji argued back, he always corrected the menu next time until Law had nothing left to complain about.
There was a connection there, for sure. Robin saw and smiled at the way Law’s gaze followed Sanji when he walked across the deck, at how he was more willing to respond when it was Sanji asking a question, about how day by day over their months shared together, there was a courage building here.
Franky thought Law was planning to ask Sanji to be his cook, which Luffy promptly shut down and spent the next half hour pouting over. But in the end it wasn’t a proposition, but an inquiry, when Law’s tone shifted into something a little more Northern and cursive, and Robin watched as Sanji paused and looked over and responded in kind.
It was potent in the most subtle of ways. They didn’t spend time together, just drifted closer when meetings were called, Sanji prodded at Law in a way the rest of the crew couldn’t, each interaction carrying an undercurrent of shared understanding. It was intrinsic in the way Luffy and Usopp would talk about childhood games from the East, the way Sanji sometimes looked distant when they did, having grown up in the East, but having spent his childhood elsewhere.
It made Robin smile, and it made her curious to see what kind of comfort a long-term partner would bring Sanji. Whoever it was, they needed to pull their weight to earn someone like him, though.
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“54.”
The world stopped spinning. They all swore it did. They all turned to Zoro, each person incredulously thinking that they could not, in any circumstance, have heard that number right.
“What.” Nami challenged, ever the bold one.
“54.” Zoro repeated. “An entire, fucking, marine squadron.”
“Maybe we should take water shots this time.” Someone suggested.
Smart. Very smart.
It wouldn’t do to have the crew of the future pirate king be down or dead from alcohol poisoning.
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Lying was Usopp’s strong suit. Sometimes he called it storytelling, sometimes he called it by uglier names, but it was a skill honed by a much younger boy who had been hurt.
It was easy to break. But Usopp knew how to bend instead. But seeing Sanji amidst the Wano civilians, charming everyone with his soba and bright smile, making a little girl’s day with a bowl of broth and noodles, made it feel like a piece of the world had slid back into place.
Usopp felt his heart stop beating and speed up in the same breath, as the gut-wrenching moment of realisation that Sanji was home again settled over him like a weighted blanket. Sanji was back, and he was flirting with customers, and they were flirting back, but Usopp didn’t want to count for a game, he wanted Sanji.
It would be one of his biggest lies to say that his mask hadn’t shattered in the seconds it took to close the distance between himself and his friend, burying into the shelter of Sanji’s arms, overcome by the fact he was able to be here again. Sanji sounded surprised, but he hugged Usopp back.
Robin soon joined them, and Usopp caught the archaeologist’s eye with a tearful smile. His own relief was reflected in her blues, and for a moment Wano was home, because Sanji was here.
Franky’s bear hug was exactly the deflection he needed to compose himself, to slip the mask back into place and embody Usohachi once more. They had a job to do, but now, they were whole, and Usopp felt as though he could take Kaido down, himself.
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“I must admit,” Jinbe hummed, breaking the relative silence at the outskirts of the party, “I was worried joining your crew would be too drastic a change.”
Sanji blinked over his mug of sake at the fishman, quietly nodding and urging him to continue.
“Luffy is a wonderful young man, but I knew very little about the rest of you when I agreed to join your crew,” he eventually elaborated. “But I’m not worried anymore. Yours is a good crew.”
“They are.” Because how could Sanji do anything but agree?
“You all are,” Jinbe insisted with a pointed look. Sanji felt his ears grow warm. “And I am proud that I played a part in preserving it.”
Sanji just breathed for a while, waiting long enough to respond, that he was now ready for a refill. He didn’t entirely know how to interact with Jinbe. He was still frustrated on Nami’s behalf, but she had forgiven him, and far be it for Sanji to overrule her decision. Even if he was intrinsically a less forgiving person than she.
“I don’t think… that there’s anything we can do to repay you,” he began, “For looking after Luffy when we couldn’t.”
“Hmm… I’m proud of that as well, but I really meant that I helped bring you back home.”
Here, Sanji ducked his head. He didn’t regret the outcome, but he certainly did the means. It never should have played out like that. Sanji knew fate had it out for him sometimes, but that he put the others in so much danger was something he wouldn’t forget for a long time.
“I cannot speak for the others, but from what I can observe, they love you very much.”
“... yeah…” Sanji sighed, rotating his mug just to do something. “I love them too.”
“They would’ve missed you a great deal. I’m glad that was avoided.”
He already wasn’t looking at Jinbe, but he felt all the more like a scolded child, though the fishman’s words were gentle. He hunkered into his shoulders a little more, his brain turning small talk into accusations.
“It shouldn’t have happened that way…” he murmured, trying for an excuse or a justification. “Cooks are a dime a dozen, they weren’t supposed to miss me. I was made to be replaceable.”
“Sanji… is now really the time to be internalizing that man’s words? Surely you know how much they care.”
“I do… now, I do,” Sanji sighed, dropping his head down to his knees. “It’s terrifying. It was so much easier before. I loved them enough to die for them, and they liked me enough to let me. But now…” he broke off with a laugh. “You know one of the first things Robin said after joining the crew was that Luffy had a responsibility for making her live when she wanted to die? I thought… I thought I understood what she meant at the time. Luffy dragged me from the Baratie, practically kicking and screaming, but… God, I was stupid. I didn’t understand. I understand what she meant now.”
“Being loved by Lu-...” No, that wasn’t right. “By all of you. It fucking sucks.”
Jinbe just listened, kept the silence once Sanji was done with a spiel that he was already wishing he could take back. Honestly, what was in the sake to make him say all of that?
“I won’t assume to know all that has happened to you,” the helmsman sighed softly, “but, this is coming from someone a couple decades older than you; it won’t always. Your crew is warm enough, and they already love you so much that if you need time to get used to being able to see that love, then I’m positive they have enough love to wait until you’re ready to accept it.”
His throat was parched and he didn’t want to continue the conversation anymore. He didn’t want to hear what else he would say if he was given the chance. So he stood, to make for another tankard and Jinbe didn’t appear in any rush to stop him.
He stayed for a moment longer to say one last thing, because the crew might love Sanji, but Sanji loved the crew. And Jinbe…
“Our crew,” he corrected. “You’re ours now. That is, if you’re here for good, shitty fishman.”