Mass x Acceleration - Chapter Nine
Title: Mass x Acceleration
Chapters: Prologue + 9 Chapters
Rating: R
Pairings: Eventually
Summary: Sanji's first day of work doesn't go as well as expected.
Mass x Acceleration
Despite having gotten a job there and having met with the owner, Sanji hadn’t actually been to the café he was now supposed to be working at. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even gone into town - his only trip out of Mac’s house had been the one his hallucination brought him on and he didn’t remember most of that (or most of the trip back, thanks to his lack of sleep at the time).
The Cider Mug, he’d been told, was a popular local hangout that served as a café during the day and a bar with music and dancing at night. He was pretty sure it was the same place that Braeburn and his band played at when they weren’t taking a break, so he thought that maybe the blacksmith would be a good person to show him the way.
“You’ll like the Cider Mug - it’s lively,” said Braeburn. The two were making the trek from Mac’s house to the town, Sanji keeping his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. “One of the guys in my band works there as a cook, too - I’ll make sure he keeps an eye on you so your first day goes smoothly.”
Sanji frowned. “I’m not a little kid - I’m almost twenty-one, Braeburn.”
“Hey, I worry about you, especially with what happened a few weeks ago.”
“I know my way around a kitchen - I’ll be all right,” he insisted.
Braeburn shrugged. “Yeah, well, still. Shanks is concerned, too - he wants to know you and Nami are being well taken care of while you’re here,” he said. “I don’t anticipate a problem with Haralson or the other cooks, but if a customer gives you a hard time don’t be afraid to speak up, all right?”
Sanji shrugged. “All right. But I am a pirate, you know.”
“A pirate who still needs to recover a bit - Gala just barely okayed you and Nami getting jobs at all,” said Braeburn. He stopped and turned to face Sanji directly. “And I wouldn’t advise spreading around that you’re a pirate if I were you - that might bring you unnecessary trouble you aren’t ready to handle yet.”
“I wasn’t planning on starting with that but why? This is emperor territory.”
“And you aren’t one of Shanks’ men,” said Braeburn. “Therein lies the proverbial rub.”
Sanji had to concede the point - these people specifically liked Shanks and his crew, they’d never encountered Luffy before (although based on what they had been told, the people here heard PLENTY about his rubbery captain from Shanks). And if it did cause trouble, Braeburn was right - the past month had been good for them, but there was still a long way to go.
The Cider Mug was olive green with a pair of wrought iron tables and eight wrought iron chairs out front. The sign hanging above the door was lacquered wood, depicting a frothy stein and stylized calligraphy advertising the name of the establishment. To the right of a door there was a menu posted and a chalk board behind a glass panel advertising the daily specials. To the left was a poster advertising a band called Core with a large, yellow banner covering the group’s picture reading “HIATUS”.
“That’s your band, I take it?” Sanji asked, pointing at the poster. He could see Braeburn’s face just above the banner and half of what appeared to be the guitarist’s face, but the visages of the female lead singer and the drummer were completely obscured by the hiatus notification. “How long are you guys on break?”
“We want to hold auditions for a new singer in April and start up again by mid May - we don’t want to pick out our new singer while we’re still pissed off, so we’re taking some time to cool our heads,” said Braeburn. He twitched his nose. “We’ve had it up to here with her. She’s not getting back in if she begs on her hands and knees, and Haralson’s banned her from performing until after we’ve got the new band established - he’s sick of her shit, too, but she’s enough of a draw that he can’t boot her completely.”
Sanji took one last look at the poster before following Braeburn inside.
The inside of the café was bigger than it looked. None of the tables and chairs matched, but it all sort of worked together in a kind of chaotic harmony. Paintings of landscapes he guessed were from around the island were hung on the walls in brightly colored frames. To one side was an open bar area directly in front of a completely open kitchen. Opposite the bar and kitchen sat a small, empty stage with a phonograph in one corner.
The blacksmith’s eye caught something - a tall, skinny man in a green shirt in the kitchen. His grey hair was tied back in a ponytail and he had a series of piercings along his left ear. “Hey, Jimmy!” The pierced young man looked up, waved cheerily, and rushed over to give Braeburn a hug and a pat on the back.
“Beebs! You never come in to see me anymore!” said Jimmy.
“I’ve had some other stuff going on - you keeping Darryl out of trouble?”
Jimmy snorted. “No.”
Braeburn snorted. “Figures. Anyways, this is Sanji - I’m assuming Haralson told you about him?”
Jimmy stared at Sanji for a moment before his eyes lit up and he smacked his forehead. “Oh yeah! Haralson said we’d be getting a new guy today. What’s up, man?” He held out his hand for a handshake - Sanji took the hand and was immediately pulled into a hug. “You have no idea how happy me and Paula are that Haralson brought another good pair of hands on board - we’ve been swamped like crazy.”
Sanji was still recovering from being hugged by Jimmy. “Oh, um, thanks.”
“So you’re new to the island, right? We don’t get a lot of those - what’s your story?”
Before he could answer, Braeburn shot Jimmy a look. “Not a pretty one, so don’t ask,” he said. Braeburn crossed his arms and put a hand defensively on Sanji’s shoulder. “Most of the people who come here don’t have a good story behind it - not since Shanks took over. You should know that by now, Jimmy.”
Sanji still wasn’t crazy about Braeburn’s mother hen attitude, but didn’t mind in this instance.
“Sorry, Beebs,” said Jimmy. He shook his head at Sanji. “I’m sorry - if you’ve got some wounds you’re still licking, feel free to smack me if I’m picking at the scabs, okay?” He smiled at Braeburn and put his hand over his heart. “I got it from here - I promise I will be nicer to the newbie and show him around and not ask anymore prying questions unless I have to. Okay?”
“All right - I’ll kick your ass if he’s traumatized next time I see him,” said Braeburn. He looked at Sanji in worry, crossing his arms. He’s really worried about me - does he really like me that much? “You want me to swing by at the end of your shift to bring you back to Mac’s? I don’t mind - I’ve got stuff to do but-”
Jimmy whistled. “You’re crashing at the mayor’s house? Nice.”
Braeburn ignored Jimmy. “Do you?”
Sanji shook his head. “No, Mac and Nami-san are coming by after they close up at town hall,” he said. “I’ll walk home with them. But thanks for offering, Braeburn.” Braeburn smiled and gave Sanji a gentle hug, wishing him a good first day and enforcing his warning on Jimmy. Jimmy saluted as Braeburn left.
“Sorry about Beebs, he can be a worrywart and overprotective,” said Jimmy.
Sanji shook his head. With everything that had happened he understood why Braeburn acted the way he did, although apparently this was normal for the blacksmith anyways. Had he been in the blacksmith’s shoes he wasn’t so sure he would have behaved much differently. “Is there a place I can put my coat?” he asked.
“Sure - we’ve got a break room in the back,” said Jimmy. He gestured for Sanji to follow him. The back room was a typical break room - there was a coffee pot and several ceramic mugs, a table and some chairs, a coat rack with two coats on its, and some lockers. “Haralson’s in his office crunching some numbers from last night. Paula will be in after we open up for the day and leave after close.”
Sanji took off his jacket and hung it on the rack - he didn’t have any other possessions to put into a locker, so he didn’t ask. He turned to Jimmy to ask what next and saw him holding up a t-shirt. Sanji swallowed. “All of the cooks and wait staff get to wear one of these - it’s got the name of the café embroidered nice and pretty by Miss Elstar and her ladies.”
This wasn’t an option as far as Sanji was concerned. The sweater he wore wasn’t too bulky and he’d be able to cook just fine in it, but more importantly it hid the number on the back of his neck. He stared at Jimmy and shook his head no. “Uh, is there maybe a turtleneck or sweatshirt version of that running around?”
Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “You okay, dude?”
Sanji debated what to do. If he argued too much, he might lose his job, and he wasn’t going to screw it up, at least not on his first day. If he didn’t say anything, though, Jimmy was going to find out anyways - the t-shirt’s collar wouldn’t cover it, not even a little, and unlike Nami he hadn’t taken to wearing a wig.
Really, Sanji didn’t have a choice. He had to tell Jimmy something, and so he chose his words carefully. “There’s a scar on the back of my neck I’m a little sensitive about,” he said. “I just . . . don’t like it being uncovered.” There. That was good enough. He didn’t need to know where the scar came from, and Braeburn had already warned the other cook about prying questions.
The grey haired man wasn’t bothered - he shook his head and smiled. “Oh, we can fix that,” said Jimmy. He opened up one of the lockers, which looked like it held spare employee t-shirts. On the top shelf was a bunch of red, white, and black paisley fabric. “These are leftover from last year’s harvest festival - we wore them to look more like farmers. It was kind of cheesy but whatever, they’ve got a new use now. You can tie this around your neck - will that work?”
Sanji nodded. “I think so.”
The other cook grinned and nodded, wrapping an arm around Sanji’s shoulders. “See? Just speak up if you need anything special and we’ll make it happen for you - you know, within reason,” said Jimmy. “Now go get changed -we’ve got some prep work to do!”
Since the Cider Mug largely dealt in lunchtime meals, a lot of the prep work for the day was cutting up meats, tomatoes, and cheeses for sandwiches. Once Sanji was done preparing the soups for the day (a beef barley and a corn chowder) and left them to simmer, he joined Jimmy in slicing tomatoes to be put into a metal bin.
“So what’s everyone here like?” Sanji asked.
Jimmy shrugged. “Well you already met Cliff,” he said. Sanji nodded. Cliff Haralson was a rotund man with a thick brown mustache and a round, rosy nose. He was much more jovial than Zeff, but still carried himself in a way than demanded respect. Other than their one meeting, through, Sanji really hadn’t gotten much of a chance to know his new employer yet.
“Cliff’s a decent guy, well liked by the other islanders and everything, but he’s got a nasty temper - try not to piss him off,” Jimmy advised. “It’s not like he’s on a hair trigger or anything, but I wouldn’t play games with his fuse anyways. Just don’t dick around or anything and you’ll be fine - you know, normal best behavior stuff. He’s quite the teddy bear when he’s not angry.”
Sanji held back a grimace. “Best behavior” was not his forte.
“Then there’s Paula Red. Her favorite subject is her grandchildren and if you get her started on that subject good luck getting her off the subject or away from her once she’s started. If you ever want to be bored to tears for three hours, though, ask her how they’re doing,” said Jimmy. He laughed. “Talented cook. Likes to put the wait staff on edge just to see ‘em jump. She’s sort of our unofficial sous chef, and she runs a very tight kitchen.”
“I was sous chef at the last restaurant I worked at - I know where she’s coming from there.”
“Good,” said Jimmy. “Now, normally we have two other guys - Macoun and Stayman - but they’re both out for another week. They got hurt during cleanup after a snowstorm we had back in January and Gala’s doesn’t want them on their feet yet. You’ve met Gala, right? Island’s only doctor?”
Sanji nodded, but felt a hint of discomfort. Only doctor? That sounds familiar. He shook off the feeling - Apple Island wasn’t exactly a one-horse island, but it also wasn’t another Alubarna or Water 7. Maybe one doctor was all they really needed for their size, or maybe he was training an apprentice or two that weren’t doctors yet or something.
Still, an island with only one doctor . . .
“And then there’s the sexy one. Me.”
Jimmy’s posturing broke Sanji’s trance and he couldn’t help smirking. “Little full of yourself?”
Jimmy snickered. “Hey, I am the drummer in Beebs’ band - I’m the guy that girls sleep with to get backstage.”
“Really?” Sanji asked skeptically.
Jimmy sulked. “Well. No. Not really, I mean, small island and all . . . you kinda know a lot of people . . . it would be messy. But on a bigger island, I would totally be that guy.” He pointed at the stage area. “Obviously you’ve met Braeburn, our bass player, and that leaves my roommate and our guitar player, Darryl. You may have heard we booted our lead vocalist, Deltana, to the curb not too long ago for being an all around awful human being.”
“Yeah. Braeburn seems sore about the subject.”
“Core was his baby - it’s a nice way to get a little extra cash doing something that’s a lot of fun and Deltana sucked all the fun right out of it,” said Jimmy, making a slurping noise at the end of his sentence to make a point. “Deltana doesn’t seem to understand that this is a small island that doesn’t get a lot of outside contact - there are no bright lights and flashy stages, this is small time on a small scale and we aren’t going to get much bigger than we already are. But she acts like a fucking prima donna and we were tired of her horse shit.”
“How so?” asked Sanji.
“Well, she showed up to shows and practices - if she even bothered to show at practices - trashed out of her mind. If something during a performance went wrong - mind you, never anything SHE did wrong and she probably screwed up more than the rest of us - she would flip out mid-show. Darryl, Beebs and I have tried to explain to her that strings and skins bust all the time, even during a performance and all you can do is smile, shrug, and continue on, but nope, she will stop mid song and shriek at us.” Jimmy clenched his fists. “She is awful, terrible, and we’ve wasted enough time on her. What about you? What makes you tick, Sanji?”
Sanji wasn’t sure what to say. The Baratie felt like ancient history, he didn’t think talking about the Straw Hats was a good idea, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk about what happened while that man had him prisoner. “I’m coming off a rough patch,” he said slowly. “Really rough. You said it yourself - people don’t just come to this island for fun.”
Jimmy gave him a shoulder pat. “It’s okay. You don’t need to talk about that. But like, hobbies? Favorite color? Favorite curse word? Least favorite . . . brand of . . . whiskey?”
Sanji laughed. “Well, I don’t really have much for hobbies outside of cooking, although when I was healthier I was a very skilled martial artist - I’ll pick it up again once I’ve put some more weight back on and Gala gives me the okay. My favorite color is blue, I say ‘shit’ like it’s going out of style, and I’ve never been a big fan of whiskey - wine is my weakness, but I’m on doctor’s orders to not drink for a while so it doesn’t matter.”
“Ooo, you respond to random questions,” said Jimmy. He eye Sanji carefully. “Favorite animal.”
“Ah . . . not sure.”
“Tattoos?”
Sanji winced at the thought of what was on his neck. “Um, no.”
“Preferred female body part?”
Easy one. “I prefer the whole picture.”
“Ooo, I like that answer. I usually says ‘boobs’ but I might use that one sometime. May I?”
Sanji shrugged. “Be my guest.”
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the newest crouton in our little salad!” Sanji was a little stunned to be suddenly grabbed from behind and he nearly screamed, but the warm laughter and sudden release made him realize it wasn’t anything to be afraid of. He smiled nervously at Haralson, whose smile was like a rhinestone studded belt buckle in the sun. “How do you like it so far, huh? Jimmy going easy on you?”
“Cliff, didn’t we have a meeting last month about inappropriate use of food metaphors?” Jimmy seemed annoyed by the “ salad” quip and, the more Sanji thought about it, he wondered what the implications of being called a “crouton” was (actually, he still wasn’t sure why Zeff called him “baby eggplant” all the time, either). The other chef walked over to a glass jar filled with money. “Five hundred berries.”
Haralson frowned. “I don’t-“
“You heard me.”
Sanji turned to Jimmy in confusion, surprised to see such a serious look on his face as the owner begrudgingly dropped a crumpled note in the jar. He remembered a brief phase that Zeff had tried a swear jar at the Baratie (everyone was broke or in debt after three hours, which nearly led to a mutiny) but was this a . . . bad food pun jar? “Do I even want to ask?”
“It was getting to be a problem,” Jimmy said dryly. Cliff pouted. “You agreed to this.”
“. . . yeah, I guess I did,” said Haralson. He turned his attention back to Sanji. “And? How’re you adapting to our menu? I know you’re used to finer cuisine so . . .” Jimmy raised an eyebrow at his boss, who laughed. “He’s been, well, a bit classically trained.” He patted Sanji on the shoulder. “If this island had a fancier restaurant, I’d feel bad taking him in.”
“I’m just happy to be able to work in a kitchen again,” Sanji said. Food was food, and he was happy to be working with it again. He felt comfortable when surrounded by pots and pans and stove tops and ovens, and it didn’t really matter much to him what he was making (although he did pull out all the stops for Nami-san and any other girl on Luffy’s ship).
Besides, ham sandwiches were better than That Man’s ship any day.
“Just how fancy was this food?” asked Jimmy.
Sanji started to feel self conscious. “Five star?”
Jimmy stared at him, dumbfounded. “How does a five star sous chef end up . . . no, no, right.”
Haralson sighed. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“No, it’s fine,” said Sanji, forcing a smile. The memories were starting to hurt. “I, um, don’t think anyone’s started on the onions yet. I’ll start on those.” He could sense Jimmy and Haralson exchanging an uncomfortable look as he started to look for some onions, the perfect cover to shed some tears out in the open.
The restaurant opened, and Sanji realized very quickly how out of practice he was at handling a busy kitchen and how sorely understaffed the Cider Mug really was - whoever Macoun and Stayman were, their absence was felt. Although there were a handful of waiters and waitresses (Sanji caught none of their names and he wasn’t sure they’d even noticed there was a new cook behind the counter) to bring orders to hungry customers, it was still non-stop.
Although That Man did occasionally have them do some kind of physical activity to check their heart rates, Sanji was sorely out of shape from the year he’d spent there. It also dawned on him that, despite his captain’s appetite, the demands of being the cook for a small pirate crew weren’t as strenuous as those placed on a cook in a busy restaurant, even if most of what he was preparing was sandwiches.
He wasn’t sure he was going to last the first day.
Sanji had barely noticed the entrance of the middle aged woman working with him and Jimmy behind the counter. This was the last of the cooks, Paula Red. She had cedar brown hair tied in a bun and a determined look in her eyes as she processed orders, heating hot sandwiches and dealing out the pieces of cold sandwiches like a blackjack dealer. She made him feel insufficient.
“Hey, Greenhorn, we’re nearly out of provolone, go start slicing!”
Jimmy nudged his head towards the prep station. “I think she’s talking to you.”
Sanji slid back to the chopping block, trying to concentrate on slicing. The restaurant was loud and rowdy, maybe even louder than either of his galleys as Luffy’s cook, maybe as loud as a day on the Baratie when pirates decided to attack. Paula and Jimmy were calling for more ingrediants (“Tomatoes are almost gone!” “I’ve got five roast beef sandwiches to make and not even enough for on, Greenhorn!”).
We’re barely keeping up - how did they do this all alone?
“Honey ham - no, not that!”
“Lettuce!”
“CLIFF! WE NEED MORE HANDS BACK HERE!”
The ingredients were starting to blur together. Sanji felt like he was in a nightmare. This was a kitchen and he was working with food, yet he may as well have been trying to construct one of Usopp’s inventions from scratch, blindfolded and blitzed on the stuff that made the swordsman tipsy. Why was he struggling to keep up with making stupid sandwiches!?
I’ve cooked some of the finest meals the East Blue has ever seen, so why am I-
“Greenhorn!”
Sanji felt a hand on his wrist and for a moment, time froze.
The blade of the knife was mere hairs away from slicing his thumb clean off.
Shaking, Sanji watched helplessly as Paula took the knife away from him, a disappointed look on her face. “You need to get the fuck away from sharp, pointy objects and go make sandwiches before you hurt yourself and you’re useless to me. I will do the prep.”
In that moment, Sanji’s terror nearly matched his fear of That Man finding them. “I-“
“NOW!”
The rush went down in about an hour, and Sanji couldn’t haven’t been happier. He’d been trembling since the incident with the knife, both because he had nearly destroyed one of his most prized possessions, and also because, for some reason, Paula had terrified him. This matronly, middle-aged woman had actually scared him.
And how could this woman possibly scare him? He’d outsmarted one of the seven warlords of the sea, and that man had nearly killed his captain twice. He’d brought down a man who thought he was God, and this was after that same man had electrocuted him. He’d almost single-handedly brought down the Puffing Tom, facing a small army of Marines and government agents with only Franky and Usopp (*sigh* -SOGEKING-) for assistance.
Yet this woman made him feel like he was a child again.
Sanji felt even less oriented than before.
When there were only two sandwiches to be made and a healthy amount of ingredients sliced, Paula put her hand on his shoulder and started to lead him to the break room. “Jimmy, give me a yell if you need anything - Greenhorn and I need to have a little chat.” Sanji watched as Jimmy gulped nervously.
Once in the break room, Paula sat Sanji down and took a seat across from him. He closed his eyes, fully expecting to be yelled at, possibly fired (if Paula was second to Haralson she might have the power to do that or, at the very least, talk their boss into it), and humiliated. He felt tense and stiff and sick to his stomach.
What did That Man do to me?
Sanji was surprised to feel a hand on his forehead. “No fever, so I don’t think you’re sick - at least, not that kind of sick - sweating like a pig, though.” He opened his eyes and saw Paula’s eyes had softened considerably. She grasped his hand - the one that had nearly lost a thumb - and clucked her tongue. “Haralson mentioned that the mayor said you and your little friend were in a bad place for a while. Having trouble coping?”
Sanji lowered his eyes.
“Trauma takes a while to heal from,” said Paula. She produced a cold bottled drink and passed it to him. “Everyone on this island knows that. And that includes those who’ve come to live here since who weren’t born here. Shanks is a good man but we know where he stands in the eyes of the law and the rest of the world, so we know it’s special when newcomers arrive on our shores. No one comes to this island with a happy story to tell.”
Sanji looked away. “No. It’s not.”
“Didn’t think so.” Paula continued to stare him down. “I tasted your soup and listened to Haralson’s rave reviews of your cooking. Haralson doesn’t talk like that and your soup was better than anything the slobs in this joint are used to - I don’t know if you were paying attention but we ran out of your soup ninety minutes after we opened. You have a gift, and I’d hate to see it go to waste over a careless accident.”
It was all making Sanji very nauseous. His hands were his livelihood, his passion, a large part of who he was and tied to one of the only parts of himself he didn’t lose during his captivity. Losing one of his hands would break him beyond repair, especially if it was by his own doing over something as stupid as not paying attention when slicing luncheon meats.
“I’m sorry.”
“Breathe. Don’t worry about apologizing to me - it’s not my thumb you nearly cut off. But we need to get your head in a better place. Hopefully Macoun and Stayman will be off the mend soon so that when we get busy like that it’s easier to manage - trust me, it will get that busy, but you’d be surprised what another cook or two can do to alleviate that pressure.”
Sanji hated being treated with this kind of pity. He was stronger than that, even with his body the way it was after a year of what That Man had done to him and Nami. He clenched his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the table. He felt Paula’s hand on his and he looked at her in surprise - she seemed to be almost grinning. “Well if you’re that pissed off you’re being treated like a hatchling then you’ll just need to gussy up sooner rather than later.”
“I guess so.”
A couple of hours after the talk with Paula Red, Mac and Nami showed up, signaling the end of Sanji’s first shift. He gave polite farewells to Jimmy (who gave him a bear hug and promised him things would get better) and Haralson (who told him he did a great job on his first day and he’d do well at the Cider Mug) before leaving with the mayor and his crewmate.
Paula gave him a knowing look.
“How did your first day go?” Nami asked.
Sanji shuddered. “It was a rough day.”
Nami frowned. “Well, I’ve got something back at Mac’s house that’ll make you feel better.” She gave him a hug and a smile and for a small moment, Sanji forgot about being babied and nearly cutting off his thumb and the stress of that first understaffed day at work. After all, Nami was smiling, and those were still a rarity.
“Close your eyes,” Nami said.
Sanji laughed, his hands out in front of him as they slowly headed toward’s Mac’s guest room. “You’re leading me to the guest room with your hands over them - even if they were open I couldn’t see anything, Nami-san,” he said. “Besides, what’s with all the secrecy anyways? I thought we were closer than that.”
“We are, but did you honestly forget what today was?” asked Nami.
“. . . Tuesday?”
“Month and day, Sanji-kun . . . although you’re not wrong.”
Sanji stopped in his tracks. “I didn’t.”
Nami patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, we’ve been through a lot lately.”
“I forgot my own birthday,” he said. He whined. “You didn’t-“
“Shush, and you’re almost at one of the beds so sit down,” Nami countered. Sanji sighed, found the edge of a bed, and took a seat. There was the sound of a tray table opening, and something being set on it. He felt Nami sit next to him and heard the striking of a match. He grinned. He could also smell frosting, cake, and after she lit them, melting candles. “Okay, you can open them now.”
Sanji opened his eyes and saw a small cake sloppily decorated with blue icing and fish-shaped candies. The candles looked like a two and a one, and Nami was smiling from ear to ear. “Happy Birthday, Sanji-kun.” She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, and Sanji couldn’t hold back a little grin at the gesture.
Friendly little kisses on the cheek or the forehead were becoming commonplace for them, but paired with the small birthday cake he couldn’t help but feel more than he usually felt these days. “Thank you, Nami-san,” he said. As he divided the cake into thirds (Mac had other business to attend to that evening but Sanji wanted to save their host a piece), Sanji kept an eye on Nami and wondered if his libido was really all that dead after all.
He paused mid slice. No. Don’t fuck this up. You CANNOT fuck this up.
“Sanji-kun?”
“Nothing.” It was a simple yellow cake, but the gesture was more than enough for him. “Did you decorate this yourself?”
“Yeah, I did. It’s not very good, is it?” she said.
Sanji shook his head. “I like it. I see what you were trying to do, and the fish candy is a good way to compensate if you don’t know how to make shapes with frosting or marzipan. Besides, I like these, they’re delicious.” To prove his point he smiled, opened his mouth, and tossed one in. Nami smiled back as Sanji passed her a slice of her own.
The two sat in silence as they ate, absently looking around Mac’s guest room and exchanging awkward smiles every so often. Although Mac was starting to refer to it as “their” room, that never felt quite right to them. No matter how gracious he was or how much he insisted they make themselves comfortable, it just never felt like home.
Nami stared out the window at the town, an idea starting to form. “You know, Mac told me that there are some rooms for rent and apartments on the island - a couple of dedicated buildings, yes, but mostly small homes above shops that the owners sometimes rent out to young couples and small families . . .”
“You want to get an apartment, Nami-san?” asked Sanji.
“If we split the rent we might be able to get something decent,” said Nami.
Sanji’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Together?”
Nami looked at him in surprise. “Well, yeah.”
Sanji wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it would get them out of Mac’s hair (although he’d probably continue mother henning them for a while anyways) and give them a foothold to assert some independence and privacy as they tried to figure things out and heal. They still weren’t over the inability to sleep alone and they had no desire to leave the other anyways.
On the other, getting an apartment with someone, even someone he was as close to as Nami, seemed a bit daunting. He’d never had to really worry about something like that before - the Baratie and the Going Merry and the Thousand Sunny had all just kind of been there. Apartments didn’t ask you to join their pirate crew - they had to be found, paid for, and neighbors wouldn’t be the same as the other chefs of the Baratie or Luffy’s crew.
“Sanji-kun?” Nami asked.
Sanji looked around the room one last time. Even if they had jobs and started paying rent, Shanks did suggest they try to blend in a little, and living with the mayor seemed very awkward. He turned back to Nami - she seemed perfectly relaxed with the idea, and he wondered why. “Nami-san, there’s a lot going into finding a place, money alone is-“
Nami rolled her eyes and laughed. “Sanji-kun, I don’t mean right now or anything - we’d need a few weeks to save up for the rent, and we’d need to have, you know, stuff to put in it - we can sell off things that we won’t be able to take on the Thousand Sunny, like furniture or whatever, when the time comes that Luffy’s here and we’re ready to start sailing again . . .” She put her hands on his. “Are you with me?”
Sanji nodded. “All right. Let’s do this.”
Author’s Notes
That chapter basically hung out the window of an SUV and screamed “I DO WHAT I WANT” the entire time.
Tiny retcon: Instead of last chapter taking place three weeks after they washed up on Apple Island, it’ll be changed to “about a month/four weeks”. That’ll be changed on LJ, FF.Net, and AO3 after this chapter is posted.
Writing process. Yup.
Been a busy couple of months. Convention, my mom got re-married, had a cough since August (no, seriously, I’m not kidding, it sucks, fuck this cough), temp job that I thought would go permanent but then there was a massive layoff, I started reading American comic books, voted in the election (and I live in a swing state !), got my ears pierced, very exciting things.
Most of the islanders only take one part of their name from an apple cultivar, usually their family name, there are some varieties that are perfectly acceptable full names. Jimmy’s last name is “Grieve”, and “James Grieve” is a type of apple cultivar. So most of the time first names don’t have meaning.
With about four important exceptions.
Mac’s full name is McIntosh Smith, so in his came his first name is a type of apple (and my personal favorite to eat). His last name also has some meaning but it’s more important to his mother and I’ll let you guys piece that one together.
Ria’s first name comes from her namesake in my Ronin Warriors fanfiction as she’s something of an “AU reboot” of the character. There may be roles for the other major OCs from that series later on.
Wendy and Sundae’s first names are also important, but I’m not going to say what because where Ria and Mac are both examples of an homage, the twins’ names are plot relevant ~_^ Have fun with that (and don’t worry, that won’t be a “near end-game” reveal like the Going Merry, it’ll come out somewhere around the halfway point).
-Dixxy