Chapter Text
The sound of music from inside the club is already emanating out into the street by the time Sanji arrives, indicating that he’s gotten here later than he was supposed to. Still, given that he’d had to have been practically strong armed into coming at all, he figures that all parties involved should count this as a win.
Tipping the cab driver a little extra in the hopes that this might make him forget any potential sense of recognition, he takes a deep breath and climbs out of the car. Once there, he shifts nervously from foot to foot, eyeing the otherwise unremarkable front of the nightclub like it’s something that might bite him.
Bon Clay’s Cabaret is well known throughout the city, as much for its music as it is for the very specific clientele it tends to cater to. If word gets out that he was spotted here - which it very well may - it’s likely to go down like a lead balloon if He Who Shall Not Be Disobeyed finds out about it.
On the other hand, what else has he got to lose? Taking a cigarette out of his pocket, Sanji flicks open his favorite lighter and takes a heavy drag to try and steady his nerves. He then leans back and eyes the long line of people who’re standing outside the club, hoping to get in.
He continues smoking until the stick is practically down to the filter, and only then does he drop it to the ground and stub it out beneath his heel. After this, he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and marches towards the much shorter line for VIP quests.
“Sanji Black.” He says when the line moves forward enough to find him eye to eye with the bouncer. “I should be on your list there.”
The bouncer barely spares him a second glance, far more interested in the tablet in his hands. As Sanji watches, the man scrolls through a slew of names with the tip of one manicured finger until he pulls the whole thing to a stop.
“Found him.” He says, nodding at another man who steps back to unhook the rope that’s barring the entrance to the club. Then they both gesture Sanji forward with a wave of their hands. “Enjoy your evening, Sir.”
“That’s the hope.” Sanji mutters as he brushes past. He thinks he hears a few murmurs startup behind him from the direction of the larger line, and hopes like hell that it’s just because people are jealous he’s getting in before them, and not because he’s been caught using a (sort of) fake last name.
Once he’s inside the building, the first thing he does is go to check his coat. While it had been a cool enough evening to require the wearing of one, like hell does he need it in here, not thanks to the press of bodies already moving inside.
He smiles at the woman who takes it from him, always one to be polite to the ladies, and easily accepts the tag she hands him so that he can find it again. Slipping said tag into the back pocket of his jeans - a delicate operation given how tight they are - he next asks her where he can find the VIP lounge, thanking her a second time when she tells him.
The man minding the door had pressed an ink stamp onto the back of his hand when he’d first entered the club, and he offers it up for show when he reaches the lounge. This bouncer, a large, muscular woman this time, eyes it carefully for a moment, but then shifts to wave him on through.
Pausing at the foot of the stairs that will take him up into the lounge, Sanji has a brief debate with himself before heading up. “I’m here to meet a friend.” He says, turning back to the woman. “I guess I could just text him, but I’m wondering if you might have seen him. His name’s Luffy. He’s about yay high with - ”
“Strawhat’s already here.” The woman says before he can finish his sentence, one of her hands trailing upwards to pat one of the two pink buns she has her hair styled in. “He went up maybe ten minutes ago, and I haven’t heard anything break yet. That’s probably a record for him.”
“Uh, right.” Sanji says weakly. He’d figured Luffy must spend a decent amount of time at this place when he’d mentioned being a friend of the owner, but Luffy’s also friends with pretty much everyone he’s ever met so he honestly hadn’t been sure how much to read into it. “I’ll, uh, just go find him then.”
“Sure.” The woman replies, a thin smile twisting her lips.
Turning away from her, Sanji hustles up the stairs and into the lounge. It’s slightly quieter up here, which is nice, and a quick glance around shows him a row of cushy looking booths, several of which are still unoccupied, and a private bar at the far end of the space.
Since he doesn’t immediately spot Luffy, the bar is where he decides to head. He knows they’re supposed to be meeting a number of people tonight, but they’re all Luffy’s friends, meaning he won’t recognize them. A seat at the bar should give him a decent vantage point of his surroundings, and he can always text Luffy from there if need be.
He doesn’t recognize half the drink names that adorn the board off to one side, and therefore is going to assume that they’re unique to the establishment. He considers picking one at random, but in the end settles for a simple rum and coke for now. Maybe Luffy or one of his friends can give him some recommendations once they get here.
Accepting his drink with a nod and a quiet thanks, he brings the straw to his lips and takes a small sip. It’s good, definitely high quality stuff, and he nods again as he moves to turn away, wanting to face outwards so that he can see if Luffy’s reappeared yet.
It’s as he’s turning that he realizes another person is bearing down on the bar, and doing so in a manner where they’re not watching where they’re going. Sanji doesn’t get enough time to react, and the next thing he knows he’s being slammed into by a solid wall of muscle that not only sends his drink flying but also shoves his back into the counter of the bar.
“Fuck.” A deep voice grunts somewhere in the vicinity of his ear. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, Blondie?”
“Me?” Sanji sputters, wringing his hands to try and get some of the booze off them, while at the same time realizing in dismay that his shirt has borne the brunt of the mess, meaning it’s likely a lost cause. “You hit me, not the other way around, asshole! What are you, blind?”
“Not quite.” Is the reply, and when Sanji looks over, he finds a muscular man of about his own height staring back at him who possesses three distinctly notable features - a shock of bright green hair, three gold earrings dangling from one ear, and a missing left eye.
Normally, Sanji would immediately be feeling contrite after accidentally putting his foot in his mouth this way. Tonight, however, he’s already primed to be on edge, and the way the man is smirking at him isn’t helping. Feeling his own lip curl in response, he shoves away from the bar he’s still pressed against and straightens to his full height.
“Get that look off your face before I wipe it away myself.” He snarls. “Also, I think you owe me both an apology and a new drink.”
To his complete mortification, the other man drags his gaze down the length of Sanji’s torso, which is now more exposed than he’d care to admit thanks to his soaking wet shirt. Then the man has the unmitigated gall to let out an appreciative whistle.
“I’ll get you the drink.” He agrees, his good eye going dark. “But like hell do I have anything to apologize for, and I figure you’d have a hard time finding anyone in here to disagree.”
“Why you - !” His back going rigid, Sanji glares at the big bastard for all he’s worth. “You crass, boorish, uncultured cretin!” He spits. “As if I’d ever even consider, for so much as a goddamned second, stooping so low as to dabble with the likes of you.”
“Whoa there, Curls.” The man says, his infuriating smirk never so much as slipping as he raises his hands in a placating gesture. “All you had to do was say no if you’re not interested. There’s no need to be rude.”
“Rude? You want rude?” Sanji snarls. “How about we take this outside and I show you rude by kicking your ass the way you deserve?”
Rather than flinch like Sanji’s expecting, the man’s grin gets even sharper, revealing a set of canines that are more pointed than average. “Hell, Curls. If that’s how you want to play it, why bother heading downstairs? I’m pretty sure I can take you right here.”
Behind them, Sanji hears an dismayed bleat that he suspects comes from the bartender, and there’s a voice yelling in the back of his head, one that sounds annoyingly like Zeff, telling him sternly that this is a terrible idea. He resolves to ignore it, however, and squares up into a fighting stance.
“Fucking bring it!” He snaps, only to recoil when the man moves with surprising speed for a person with all his bulk.
Several people shout in alarm when they collide, but Sanji pays them no mind. Twisting away when the man tries to pin him, he digs a knee into a rock solid solar plexus, grinning when his opponent lets out a ragged whoop as all the air is forced out of his lungs.
“Not so tough now, are you?” He taunts, moving to try and scramble out of reach.
He almost makes it, but then a large hand wraps around his ankle, dragging him down to the ground where the man is still doubled over with his eye watering. Not to be outdone, Sanji uses his newfound position to lash out and kick the man’s feet out from under him.
Again the man is surprisingly fast, but this time Sanji’s faster. Rolling sideways, he manages to evade a punch, and instead hooks his legs around the man’s shoulders, essentially pinning him with his thighs.
“If I squeeze hard enough, I can absolutely strangle you right here, right now.” Sanji hisses, contorting himself so he can stare at the other man in his increasingly red face. “So why don’t you give up, while you still can?”
Despite his precarious position, the man gives him another one of those sharp grins, as if he’s having the time of his life regardless of his circumstances. “It’s not over until I’m actually down for the count, Curls.” He rasps, one hand clawing futilely at Sanji’s legs.
This close, Sanji can see a number of nicks and scars on both the man’s hands, similar to the ones his own are decorated with from cooking, but not. Intrigued in spite of himself, he opens his mouth to say something, he’s not sure what, when a shadow looms over them and a familiar laugh rings out.
“Shishishi! Sanji, you made it! And hey, you found Zoro too. That’s great!”
Sanji and his opponent share a look, and then both turn to look upwards.
“Luffy?” They say in perfect unison. “When did you get here?”
*****
Somehow, security does not miraculously end up getting called. Sanji thinks he sees someone wearing a badge out of the corner of his eye at one point, but the person locks eyes with Luffy once everyone is back on their feet and disappears as quickly as they’d arrived. Sanji’s going to chalk that up to the strange aura that is Monkey D. Luffy and leave it at that.
And speaking of Luffy, the man in question is now animatedly talking to Sanji’s brand new nemesis, his bright eyes flashing as he asks for the details of their fight.
“You two are so weird.” Luffy laughs once the whole sordid tale has come out, and he thumps his friend - Zoro, apparently. Sanji recognizes the name from most of the stories Luffy’s told him about his ‘crew’ - heavily on the back. “But I knew you’d get along well.”
“Sorry?” Sanji blinks. “This is your idea of people getting along well ?” He demands, his voice coming out more than a little strangled as he points an accusing finger in Zoro’s direction. “That asshole spilled an entire drink on me, and, rather than apologize like any civilized man would, he attacked me in the middle of the bar.”
“Hey, the fight was your idea!” Zoro retorts, rubbing one hand over his neck. Inwardly, Sanji hopes it’s because he’s got the mother of all kinks in it thanks to their tussle. “I just suggested a location, and you didn’t disagree.”
“I suggested that we at least take it outside.” Sanji protests, but all that happens is Luffy starts laughing again. “ Also , I’m still soaked thanks to you!”
“We’re in a fuckin’ nightclub.” Zoro replies, dropping his hand with a shrug. “Just take it off. No one’ll notice.”
“You disgust me.” Sanji says flatly.
“Wow, I’m super shocked.”
“Okay, you guys!” Luffy pipes up. “I still want Sanji to meet everyone else, so you need to stop hogging each other and come back to the table. Or, I guess Zoro needs to come back, and Sanji needs to come for the first time.”
“I don’t know, Luffy.” Sanji says, holding his shirt away from his skin as best as he can and grimacing. “I don’t really want to sit around being wet and smelling like rum all night.” He says, wrinkling his nose. “Maybe I should just head home.”
“No way,” Luffy pouts. “It took me ages to convince you to come out at all. You can’t leave when you just got here. Hey, Zoro, how many shirts do you have on?”
“Uh, what?”
Luffy gives the green haired man an exasperated look, and starts tugging at the sleeve of the button down he’s wearing. “Do you have anything on underneath this?” He asks.
“Yeah? S’just a tank, though.”
“That’s fine.” Luffy says brightly. “You can give Sanji one of them to change into, and that way he won’t have to go home early. I bet Nami’ll say it’s the least you can do since you’re the one who spilled his drink in the first place.”
“For the record, that was absolutely an accident.” Zoro mutters, but as Sanji watches, he nevertheless starts undoing the buttons of his over shirt. “Fine, though. Which one do you want, Curls? The tank or the button down? You’re scrawny enough, the tank’s probably your better bet.”
“I am not wearing your clothes ,” Sanji says, appalled. “We met less than an hour ago, and you accosted me.”
In answer, Zoro slides out of his button down, revealing a spectacular pair of arms in the process, and then proceeds to strip off the tank top he has on under it as well. “Here.” He says, holding out both articles of clothing. “Pick one.”
Sanji means to respond with a properly scathing comeback, but what actually ends up coming out is something along the lines of “Hngh”. In his defence, there are now miles of tan skin on display mere inches away from him, coursing over sculpted muscle that not even the ghastly scar stretching from the man’s left shoulder to his right hip can manage to mar.
“Oi, Curls!” The sound of that insulting nickname jolts Sanji out of his stupor, causing him to blink. “Pick one.” Zoro repeats, shaking both shirts a little as their eyes meet. “I don’t care which, but I’m not gonna stand around shirtless for the rest of the night.”
“Oh, so you care when you’re the one in that predicament,” Sanji says weakly. Then he huffs in the face of Zoro and Luffy’s expectant stares. “Fine, give me the tank top. I’ll drown in a regular shirt designed for you.”
“S’what I figured.” Zoro says, tossing it at him. “Besides, the blue will suit you better.”
“Whatever,” Sanji mutters, hoping that the lighting of the nightclub is such that it’ll hide the flush he can feel creeping across his cheeks. “Where are the washrooms in this place?”
Luffy and Zoro promptly point in completely opposite directions from each other, causing Sanji to groan. “You two are like this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Ah, who cares?” Luffy says, waving a hand dismissively. “Just do what Zoro did and change right here.”
“It’s the principle of the thing.” Sanji starts to say, but both men simply give him incredulous looks. “ Fine .” He groans again, glancing around furtively to make sure no one’s paying him too much attention before he strips off his soaked shirt and swaps it for the tank top in record time.
“Not bad.” Zoro says, having the nerve to follow his words up with another low whistle. “You almost fill it out and everything.”
“Please go die.” Sanji says brightly, matching Zoro’s resulting toothy grin with one of his own.
“Shishishi!” Luffy quickly puts an end to their deranged staring contest by slapping them both heavily on the back. “I knew you two were going to get along perfectly. You’re going to be such great friends!”
“Now, come on, Sanji!” He adds before either of them can comment on this latest insane statement. “I want to introduce you to everybody else. We’ve got a booth over this way.”
Well versed in the unstoppable force that is Luffy when he puts his mind to something, Sanji doesn’t try to resist when the younger man shifts to grab him by the elbow and starts dragging him through the increasingly large crowd that’s starting to fill the space. Instead, he lets himself be hauled along in Luffy’s wake, only briefly stopping to crane his neck around to ensure that Zoro’s following them.
He is, and with little trouble at that. The crowd parts around him as he moves, no doubt because no one wants to get bowled over by a beast his size, and Sanji can’t help but notice that the other man is drawing more than one appreciative stare, probably because he hasn’t bothered to rebutton his shirt and is therefore moving with his bare chest exposed.
Rolling his eyes at the brutish display, Sanji turns his attention back to Luffy, determined to focus on something other than the idiot behind them.
When they inevitably come to a stop it’s in front of what has to be one of the largest booths in the room, which already contains a number of people - more specifically what looks like two couples and a fifth person crammed in between them.
“That’s Nami and Vivi!” Luffy says, excitedly pointing at a beautiful red haired woman who has an arm wrapped around an equally beautiful blue haired woman. The much younger man next to them is then introduced as Chopper, while the couple on the far end are listed as Kaya and Usopp.
Much like he had with Zoro, Sanji recognizes all of these names thanks to stories he’s heard from Luffy. He therefore nods at everyone in turn before shuffling into the booth next to Usopp, unsure of if he should be relieved or not when Luffy scrambles in after him.
Possibly to prevent any further mishaps, Zoro then goes to take a seat at the opposite end of the booth. He’s stopped, however, when Nami places a delicate looking hand on his chest that nevertheless sees the green haired man freeze in place.
“You,” the red head says accusingly, “were supposed to be getting us all drinks. I can’t help but notice that, not only have you come back sans beverages, but you also seem to have lost your shirt somewhere along the way.”
“Zoro, you didn’t tell me you were supposed to be getting stuff for people.” Luffy laughs, slapping a hand heavily on the table in front of him. “That’s so typical, though. You better tell Nami what made you forget, otherwise she’s going to tax you for it.”
“He spilled stuff all over Sanji and then they got in a fight.” The dark haired man adds, immediately making any potential contribution from Zoro moot. “Sanji had him in a chokehold when I got there, and then I made Zoro give him a shirt so he wouldn’t go home to change.”
A heavy silence descends over the table, but, much to Sanji’s chagrin, it’s more of an exasperated one than one containing any surprise whatsoever. Nami even goes so far as to roll her eyes before bringing her hands up to rub at her temples.
“You.” She starts again, and there’s a pause during which Sanji hears what sounds like someone being kicked under the table. “Are such an idiot. We’ve been waiting months for Luffy to bring Sanji around, and this is the kind of first impression you decide to make?”
“Hey, he’s the one who wanted to fight.” Zoro insists, slumping into a sulky looking pout when Nami glares at him. “I said sorry and everything when I first spilled his drink.”
“That is not exactly how I would put it.” Sanji says icily, shooting the other man a glare for good measure. “But enough of that.” He says, straightening in his seat and giving Nami a bright smile. “Mellorine, I’m absolutely flattered to hear that a lady such as yourself has been wanting to meet me. I can’t imagine what Luffy might have told you that had you so interested.”
“He says you’re a cook.” Zoro grunts, rudely interrupting Nami’s attempt at a reply. “More specifically, he says you’re the best cook in the whole world. Although, since we’ve all seen Luffy eat food off the ground, I’m not sure that’s saying much coming from him.”
“Hey, you’ve done that too!” Luffy cuts in, pointing a finger at him. “Remember the rice balls?”
“Ugh, do not tell that awful story again.” Nami says, making a face. “It’s disgusting.”
“Not to mention unsanitary.” Chopper notes, his own expression twisting into one of distaste.
“Right, that too.” Nami agrees. “Anyway, Zoro’s not wrong, Sanji. Luffy’s told us you’re a cook at a restaurant down by the waterfront, and he’s got nothing but good things to say about your stuff.”
“That’s because it’s incredible.” Luffy enthuses, his eyes glazing over as he seems to be remembering past meals. “Sanji’s the greatest cook I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m a chef ,” Sanji corrects. “Well. Sort of.” Honesty compels him to add. “It’s kind of complicated, and if it’s all the same to you guys, I don’t really feel like getting into it right now. Shall we maybe try and flag down a server to see if we can get those drinks we’re all missing?”
“Sure.” Nami agrees, and around the table heads start nodding at this plan. “Even better, how about we say the first round is on Zoro since he screwed up getting them once already.”
Sanji beams at her over the sound of Zoro’s offended protests. “Mellorine,” he sighs. “I think this may be the start of a beautiful friendship.”
*****
Against all odds, Sanji has a thoroughly enjoyable time out with Luffy and his friends, so much so that he finds himself surprisingly reluctant to return to his empty apartment once the night is through. Luffy’s crew (minus Zoro, of course) turn out to be just as fun as he’s described them, and Sanji misses the rambunctious camaraderie almost as soon as it’s gone.
Of course, Luffy insists that they’re going to drag him out with them again sometime, but Sanji brushes this off as yet another example of the younger man’s classic overenthusiasm. Most of these people have been a group for years, so he doubts they want to permanently throw a complete stranger into their midst.
Plus, going out the once was risky enough. If certain parties were to catch wind of where he’d been and who he’d been out with, he was bound to be in for the kind of backlash that contained lectures on propriety and the importance of maintaining a certain image. And that would only be if he got really lucky. Even after all these years and him putting as much separation in place as possible, reprimands still don’t always stop at just lectures.
Grim thoughts like that permeate Sanji’s consciousness over the next few days, ramping up even further when he’s due for his next shift at the Baratie . Zeff eyes him warily when he slinks in through the back entrance, clearly suspecting that something’s up, but all he does is toss an apron at him and tell him to get to his regular station.
Sanji loses himself in the act of cooking for a while, but unfortunately his temper is as primed as the rest of him to go off. About halfway through his shift he gets in a spat with Patty and Carne, one bad enough that Zeff decides to separate them rather than risk a repeat of the last time this had happened. Apparently he’s opposed to property damage, who knew?
“But why do I have to be the one who goes out front?” Sanji demands, scowling fiercely at where Patty and Carne are tittering in a nearby corner, no doubt enjoying the show. “I’m a better chef than the two of them combined!”
“Maybe.” Zeff grunts, causing Patty to glare and Carne to gasp in affront. “But you’re also the one who started the fight, so you get the heftier reprimand on the off chance you learn from your mistakes. Don’t worry, though.” He adds, shooting a glare of his own over his shoulder. “They won’t be getting off scot free either.”
The heavily implied threat makes the two older chefs go gratifyingly pale, but it’s not enough to fully soothe Sanji’s ire. “I’m not properly dressed for waiting tables.” He insists in a last ditch effort to be allowed to stay out back. “You’re going to get the restaurant weird reviews.”
“I think we’ll survive.” Zeff says dryly. “And you can switch your whites out for whatever you’ve got in your cubby before you go. Plus.” He pauses briefly, his mustache twitching the way it does when he’s got something serious to say. “That oddball with the straw hat is back again, and this time he’s brought friends. Go deal with them, would you?”
“Oh for fuck’s sakes.” Sanji groans, fully aware that he’s beat now. Zeff’s been on some bizarre quest to find him friends his own age ever since Luffy had started lurking around the Baratie , so he no doubt sees this assignment as a way to kill two birds with one stone.
“You need to quit meddling in my personal life, old man.” Sanji informs him while he tugs irritably at the strings of his apron, struggling to release its hold on him. “I mean it, it’s got to stop.”
Zeff says nothing, but his unspoken response nevertheless comes through loud and clear. He’s been meddling in Sanji’s personal life, however implicitly, for over a decade now, and he’s not about to stop anytime soon. If Sanji weren’t so stubborn, he’d probably be grateful.
Letting out one last aggrieved sigh, Sanji shoves his way into the staff area so that he can go get changed. Once that’s taken care of, he grabs a pad and paper to take orders with, wishing not for the first time that Zeff would finally enter the modern era and let them switch to electronic devices instead.
He hears Luffy before he sees him, and follows the sound of the younger man’s laughter to the table that he usually commandeers for himself. Unlike every other time Luffy’s visited, though, this time he’s not alone. Nami, Usopp, and Zoro are with him today, all three of whom look up as he approaches.
“Sanji!” Luffy calls, waving an arm excitedly when he spots him. “There you are!”
Nami and Usopp let out polite greetings of their own, while Zoro leans back in his seat with the faint edges of a smirk lingering around his mouth. “Hey, Curls.” He drawls, giving Sanji a once over that’s just as obnoxious as the one in the club had been. “Love the suit.”
Reminding himself of where he is, Sanji does his best not to bristle. “As well you should,” he says coolly, gripping the pad in his hand hard enough that he’s surprised it doesn’t crumple. “I look fantastic in it, Mossball.”
Zoro lets out a sharp bark of laughter, his good eye flashing, and gives him a little touché gesture that Sanji refuses to feel charmed by. Then he leans even further back in his seat, tilting his chair precariously until Nami grabs it with an irritated huff.
“We’re in public .” She hisses, glaring at the man for all she’s worth. “And not only that, we’re in a nice place that I don’t want you idiots getting us kicked out of. Especially since that’s bound to cause trouble for poor Sanji, given that he works here. So, either at least pretend like you were listening all those times your father tried to drill manners through your thick skull, or I’m upping your debt.”
“Ugh, fine .” Righting his chair with a grunt, Zoro gives Nami a dirty look and crosses his formidable arms over his chest, the fabric of the shirt he’s wearing straining around his biceps. “You take all the fun out of everything.”
Sanji smacks him on the back of the head with his pad. “Don’t speak to a lady that way.” He scolds, repeating the motion when Zoro twists to stare at him incredulously. “It’s rude.”
“I’ll show you rude.” Zoro starts, his voice dropping low with promise.
“No, you won’t.” Nami says, punching him in the shoulder while Luffy laughs and Usopp sighs the sigh of a man who’s all too used to everything that’s happening here. “What you’re going to do is behave yourself so that we can have a nice meal. Sanji, you work here, obviously, what do you recommend we try?”
“Everything!” Luffy enthuses. “Sanji’s food is the best!”
“I’m off the line today.” Sanji notes, mildly chuffed when Luffy sags in disappointment. “But I can definitely offer you recommendations.”
As promised, he rattles off a number of options, and carefully jots down each of the quartet’s selections. Aside from a firm insistence for no dessert on Zoro’s part, they seem like a pretty easy bunch to please, so Sanji bustles back to the kitchen with their orders in tow.
He goes back and forth over the course of the afternoon, and if he hovers a little more pointedly around Luffy’s table, well, that’s just because the quartet are putting away so much food. Usopp and Nami showcase appetites that are typical of most customers, but Luffy’s in his usual role of a garbage disposal with feet and Zoro’s not far behind.
The crew are effusive in their compliments, even Zoro, who takes a particular liking to a rice dish that Sanji himself had designed for the menu, and they all insist that he make sure that the chefs working out back know how they feel.
“Yeah, and tell your dad I said hi.” Luffy says, barely pausing in the act of stripping the meat off a bone he’s snagged from Usopp’s plate. “Or I guess I could go back there and tell him myself if you think that would be better.”
“Absolutely not.” Sanji says sternly, while Nami reaches over to shake the younger man by the ear. Not for the first time, he doesn’t bother correcting Luffy on his parentage because he doesn’t want to answer whatever questions might crop up as a result. Therefore, he focuses on the more immediate problem. “You’ve been told in no uncertain terms to stay out of the kitchen, and I can’t promise that you won’t find a spatula shoved somewhere you don’t want it if you break the rules again.”
“Awww.” Sighing theatrically, Luffy moves to grab a spoonful of Zoro’s meal to comfort himself, and gets slapped for his troubles. “Mean!”
“You know I don’t share food.” The other man says, now waving his fork menacingly. “Shove off, or I swear I’ll stab you.”
“I’m sure there’s plenty more stuff still in the kitchen, Luffy.” Usopp adds, which, as far as distractions go is a pretty effective strategy. “You can always order something else.”
Luffy pauses, as if he’s actually bothering to consider this, and then turns to look at Sanji. “If I order something new, will you cook it?”
“Not today.” Sanji replies, almost as disappointed to give this answer as Luffy is to hear it. “But I’ll be back on the line for my next shift.”
Luffy brightens right away. “Well then we’ll just have to come back, won’t we?” He says, and based on the looks on his friends’ faces, Sanji suspects they’re currently resigning themselves to exactly that fate.
Trying not to let anything show on his own face, Sanji nods. “I guess you will.”
*****
And come back they do. Luffy’d already been in the process of making himself a regular at the Baratie before he’d dragged Sanji out the other night, and now he seems determined to do the same for everyone he’s ever met. Along with the original trio, plus the rest of the folks Sanji had met at the club, he drags various parties to the restaurant over the next few weeks - among them his two older brothers, a grumpy med student who would apparently like to be anywhere else, an elderly musician, and a married couple who teach at the local university.
That last pair are especially memorable thanks to her dark humor and his vibrant personality, but Usopp, Nami, and Zoro remain Luffy’s most regular companions. Some configuration of the three are usually with him when he comes, with his green haired right hand man being even more regular still. Sanji’s getting used to spotting them at their preferred table whenever he’s on shift, almost as if they’ve got a sixth sense for when he’s going to be working.
If Zeff’s annoyed by this new strain of rambunctious clientele he doesn’t show it, and instead almost seems to find them more amusing than anything else. He also encourages Sanji to spend time with them again outside of work, although he’s yet to agree to this out of concern for the consequences.
Zeff’s face darkens when Sanji mumbles something to that effect, but he wisely doesn’t protest. More aware than anyone of the risks Sanji’s already taking simply by showing up at his doorstep, the old chef knows when and when not to press.
Still, it does wear on Sanji, and he’s in a particularly maudlin mood one afternoon when he’s taking a break around the back of the restaurant, and an unexpected figure nearly stumbles over him as it blunders past. Barely sliding out of the way in time, he takes another drag from the cigarette he’s been enjoying, and glares at the interloper.
“What the hell are you doing out here, Mossball?” He demands, heaving an exasperated sigh. “The customer entrance is on the complete opposite end of the building.”
Looking suspicious, Zoro glances around their surroundings before turning to squint at Sanji. “Are you sure?” He asks, causing the blond to blink. “I could have sworn it was over here. Also, what are you doing? Don’t you know smoking’s bad for you? It’ll fuck up your lung capacity like nobody’s business.”
“Thanks for the lecture, Doc.” Sanji says, taking another pointed drag. “Nobody’s ever mentioned anything like that to me before.”
Rolling his good eye, Zoro adjusts the strap of the gym bag he has hooked around his shoulder and gives Sanji a scrutinizing look. “What’s up?” He asks, apropos of nothing. “You look even more like shit than usual.”
Sanji stares at him, the cigarette dangling from between two of his fingers. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re absolutely useless at showing any kind of sensitivity whatsoever?” He asks conversationally.
“Yeah,” Zoro replies with an easy shrug. “Like half the crew, for sure, and my sister tells me crap like that all the time.”
“And have you ever thought of maybe listening to her when she speaks?” Sanji wants to know. “Or do you just blindly ignore all her valuable insights?”
“She’s my sister.” Zoro says, one corner of his mouth curling upwards in a grin. “What do you think?”
Sanji frowns, all his earlier feelings suddenly rushing back to him. “I don’t know.” He says, more honest than he normally would be with the other man. “I don’t exactly have a typical relationship with any of my siblings.”
Now it’s Zoro’s turn to blink, although it’s kind of hard to tell thanks to the missing eye. “Didn’t know you had siblings.” He says after a moment. “Are they all as annoying as you?”
Sanji’s frown turns into a full blown grimace. “Marimo,” he says tiredly. “I am easily the cream of the crop where my siblings are concerned. Probably where my whole family is concerned, in fact. Though, I’m sure they’d all vehemently disagree with that statement.” He mutters after the fact.
Zoro gives him a long look, like he’s searching for something that Sanji very much doesn’t want him to see. “Your dad thinks the world of you.” He says bluntly, completely out of the blue. “So I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
It takes a moment of gaping at him in surprise to figure out what the other man is getting at, and Sanji has to basically pick his jaw up off the floor before he’s able to respond. “Zeff’s not my father.” He says weakly, still too shocked to evade the topic like he normally would. “He’s my, I don’t know what the fuck you’d call it. Boss, I guess. Maybe mentor.”
The explosive snort Zoro lets out has enough force behind it that Sanji very nearly recoils. “Bullshit.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues trying to stare Sanji down. “He acts like he’s your dad. I’ve seen him.”
“Yeah, well, I really couldn’t comment on that.” Sanji replies morosely. “Seeing as my actual biological donor thinks I’m a complete waste of space, I don’t exactly know what constitutes typical paternal behavior.”
Zoro’s eyebrows make a valiant bid for his hairline, and he starts eyeing Sanji like he’s a cornered animal who’s about to snap. “Are you alright?” He asks carefully. “You seem a little … tense.”
“I’m always tense.” Sanji snorts. “I am, in fact, a high strung lunatic with a lightning fast temper to match. Normally I’d blame that on my profession and tell you that all chefs are like that, but I’m not actually a chef so that’s a lie too.”
“You’re not a chef?” Zoro repeats, visibly floundering now. “But … you work here. And I’ve had your food. We all have. It’s really good.”
“ Moss ,” Sanji groans, half strangled at this point. “On the off chance that it somehow hasn’t occurred to you yet, I’m kind of in the middle of a bit of a meltdown, and I would deeply appreciate it if you’d leave me to it in peace.”
“No.” Zoro replies, firmly enough that the word manages to get through Sanji’s growing panic and causes him to sit up straight. “You’re acting weird, and not in a good way. I want to know why.”
“Why do you want to know why?” Sanji asks, part of him honestly curious. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.” Zoro says. “And anything I don’t know is your fault because you keep turning Luffy down when he tries to get you to come hang out with us again. In fact, maybe I should go get him. He’s probably in the restaurant by now.”
“Don’t you dare!” Sanji yelps. It’s bad enough that Zoro of all people is seeing him melt down like this, he doesn’t need anymore witnesses. “I mean it. I’ll kick your ass again if you try.”
Zoro makes a scoffing sound. “You didn’t even kick my ass the first time around.” He insists. “I’d have gotten out of that hold you had me in on my own if Luffy hadn’t shown up.”
“Bullshit.”
“Maybe.” Zoro admits, allowing himself a tiny grin of acknowledgement. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to back off now, Curls. Either you talk to me, or you talk to everyone. Take your pick.”
Sanji stiffens, caught out by the ultimatum. “It’s none of your business.” He tries weakly. “It’s none of anybody ’s business.”
Zoro shrugs. “Too bad for you, I’m making it mine. Clock’s ticking, Cook. Which is it going to be, me or the crew?”
Realizing that he’s out of options, Sanji deflates. “Fine,” he says with a sigh. “I’ll talk. But not to everyone, and not here or even today. I’m working the rest of the evening, but I’m off tomorrow. What do you say we grab a coffee somewhere, and you can listen to my sob story where no one I know is bound to overhear?”
“Done.” Zoro agrees with surprising ease. “But if you don’t show, I’m coming back here during your next shift, and I’ll bring the entire crew with me. If you think Luffy’d be bad enough to deal with, just imagine what Chopper’s like when he gives you the sad puppy dog eyes.”
“I’d really rather not.” Sanji grunts, and goes back to his half forgotten cigarette.