A Little Dash of Seasoning (op)
A Little Dash of Seasoning
I RAN UP THE DOOR, CLOSED THE STAIRS
For 31_days • 5th July
Series: One Piece
Characters: Sanji, Zoro, Nami (hints of Sanji/Nami and Zoro/Sanji)
Rating: PG-13
All characters belong to Oda Eichiro.
And Nami was...Nami was...
Sanji sighed in defeat. It didn't matter what he did. Nami loved and devoted herself to one thing only; the world. He'd suspected a God-complex about her when he first saw her extensive collection of maps, and witnessed how deftly she dealt with the ever-changing directions of the world's oceans. He'd never met anyone so sensitive to weather that the slightest drop of humidity was enough to inform her of a "squall, three hundred nautical miles due West if we take this course."
He really, seriously liked her. Even more so than the gleaming metallium utensils Zeff considered sacred in his cookery, or, for that matter, the variety of catch in All Blue. (Well, maybe about the same intensity as All Blue, but that was legendary in itself.) But that didn't mean that the things she said never dented him a little, never--like sour cream after someone' soiled spoon was used to stir it a bit--left a light, unpleasant taste in his mouth.
But he was a cook, and good cooks were, as a rule, good eaters; good eaters were people with a powerful palate, and who knew how to acquire taste. He had grown to acquire a taste for Nami's tartness. He classified it as rather 'citrusy' (and aptly too) in his head, with 'moderate-to-strong tangy zest' and 'to be taken with emulsifier or other heady substance.'
Only order in a cook's mind, with labels on everything and everything in its right place.
That meant that for every extra-sarcastic comment Nami fired his way (to be fair about it, he seemed to be skillful in picking the wrong times to bother her), he fired an extra-strong kick to the general direction of one of his more oblivious crewmates.
Only Zoro classified as 'heady enough.' It worked well most of the time. He'd fire a random remark about the swordsman's prowess or crude demeanor, and would end up on the long side of the ship, narrowly avoiding a cut to the eyebrow; Zoro was no talker. That was fine with Sanji; he didn't like what came out of Zoro's mouth most of the time either.
It always tasted salty. Like brine, like sweat, like salt, the kind that was great for marinade. The kind that went well when rubbed into wounds. He had had quite a number, and the worst weren't the ones Chopper could treat and remedy. Zoro himself was nothing but lean meat, what Frankie called "a man's meal".
What in god's name does he chew? Sanji often thought after a bout, unable to identify the kind of quid Zoro liked to masticate on, that made the inside of his mouth taste like the sea. It lingered even after a good smoke.
He had to remind himself that salt only added flavour, but it was never the main dish and thus should be taken sparingly.
It was Luffy, who was probably the best eater of them all (despite his reputation to be a trash compactor, incapable of differentiating between the subtleties of flavour) who very innocently drove home the observation.
"Hey Sanji," he said loudly over lunch one day. "Orange fritters taste funny. Y'probably mixed up the salt and sugar tins again."
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NOTES:
I actually took more inspiration on the origins of the prompt, namely "kiss" and the whole idea of reversing actions after it is delivered.
Crossposted to one_piece
I RAN UP THE DOOR, CLOSED THE STAIRS
For 31_days • 5th July
Series: One Piece
Characters: Sanji, Zoro, Nami (hints of Sanji/Nami and Zoro/Sanji)
Rating: PG-13
All characters belong to Oda Eichiro.
And Nami was...Nami was...
Sanji sighed in defeat. It didn't matter what he did. Nami loved and devoted herself to one thing only; the world. He'd suspected a God-complex about her when he first saw her extensive collection of maps, and witnessed how deftly she dealt with the ever-changing directions of the world's oceans. He'd never met anyone so sensitive to weather that the slightest drop of humidity was enough to inform her of a "squall, three hundred nautical miles due West if we take this course."
He really, seriously liked her. Even more so than the gleaming metallium utensils Zeff considered sacred in his cookery, or, for that matter, the variety of catch in All Blue. (Well, maybe about the same intensity as All Blue, but that was legendary in itself.) But that didn't mean that the things she said never dented him a little, never--like sour cream after someone' soiled spoon was used to stir it a bit--left a light, unpleasant taste in his mouth.
But he was a cook, and good cooks were, as a rule, good eaters; good eaters were people with a powerful palate, and who knew how to acquire taste. He had grown to acquire a taste for Nami's tartness. He classified it as rather 'citrusy' (and aptly too) in his head, with 'moderate-to-strong tangy zest' and 'to be taken with emulsifier or other heady substance.'
Only order in a cook's mind, with labels on everything and everything in its right place.
That meant that for every extra-sarcastic comment Nami fired his way (to be fair about it, he seemed to be skillful in picking the wrong times to bother her), he fired an extra-strong kick to the general direction of one of his more oblivious crewmates.
Only Zoro classified as 'heady enough.' It worked well most of the time. He'd fire a random remark about the swordsman's prowess or crude demeanor, and would end up on the long side of the ship, narrowly avoiding a cut to the eyebrow; Zoro was no talker. That was fine with Sanji; he didn't like what came out of Zoro's mouth most of the time either.
It always tasted salty. Like brine, like sweat, like salt, the kind that was great for marinade. The kind that went well when rubbed into wounds. He had had quite a number, and the worst weren't the ones Chopper could treat and remedy. Zoro himself was nothing but lean meat, what Frankie called "a man's meal".
What in god's name does he chew? Sanji often thought after a bout, unable to identify the kind of quid Zoro liked to masticate on, that made the inside of his mouth taste like the sea. It lingered even after a good smoke.
He had to remind himself that salt only added flavour, but it was never the main dish and thus should be taken sparingly.
It was Luffy, who was probably the best eater of them all (despite his reputation to be a trash compactor, incapable of differentiating between the subtleties of flavour) who very innocently drove home the observation.
"Hey Sanji," he said loudly over lunch one day. "Orange fritters taste funny. Y'probably mixed up the salt and sugar tins again."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NOTES:
I actually took more inspiration on the origins of the prompt, namely "kiss" and the whole idea of reversing actions after it is delivered.
Crossposted to one_piece