Persistent Resistance Part 3
Title: Persistent Resistance
Author: Sinisterbug
Rating: NC-17 for Part 5
Pairing: ZoSan, mentioned Lucci/Robin, Saga/Shuraiya
Warnings: Modern AU, OOC
It was now August - a month and a half since the incident with Teach at the Merry. Sanji had decided after visiting Zoro’s apartment that he now wanted to move out of squalor, so with Robin’s help, he found a nice flat in Manhattan, just a ten minute cab ride from The Baratie. If he was lucky, he’d never have to go back to The Bronx again. It wasn’t in a historical district like Zoro’s, it wasn’t as [i]awesome[/i] as Zoro’s, but it was a hell of a lot better than the rat hole he’d been living in.
It was pricey, but not more than he could afford. Sanji was frugal in a choosey way, and it meant that he had plenty of money in the bank to play around when he wanted, as long as he didn’t go out and buy something stupid everyday, which he didn’t really have time for. Most of the clubs and bars he went to he got free drinks at, so he never spent ridiculous amounts on alcohol. And he could afford to feed himself ridiculously high quality food at The Baratie under their budget. Quality control and all that. Part of the job and such.
And, as it happened, he’d just gotten a raise. He almost wanted to turn it down - for what he was doing, he seriously was getting paid too much. But he knew the old man would find [i]some[/i] way to take it as an insult, so he kept his mouth shut.
Robin had offered to go shopping with him that Sunday to decorate the place (the furniture had already been purchased online and delivered), and he was happy to accept the help.
They went to Saks Fifth Avenue for his server ware and kitchen accessories, and it was then that he learned very quickly that it was simply best to either agree or disagree with a suggestion, hand Robin the credit card, then find himself far away from the counter when she made their purchases.
Zoro could have told him this, of course.
Then they hit Bloomingdale’s, Macy’s, and then last the Bouley Market for groceries for dinner. Thankfully, Robin owned a car with sufficient storage space, but they’d had to arrange to have some things delivered.
They were both a bit tired from all the shopping when they arrived at his place, so he poured a couple of glasses of wine before he started dinner in earnest.
“I think it’s going to look amazing.” Robin accepted the glass and smiled.
“Thanks to you. I have no design sense, whatsoever.”
“Oh, you know what looks good, you just don’t know where to get it. It’ll be nice when your sound system arrives. That was an amazing deal.”
Sanji laughed, his stomach quivering a little at the memory. He’d spent more money today than he ever had before, and though technically the sound system had been a good deal, it was still painfully expensive.
“Yeah, it’ll be nice to be able to relax with that on Dead Days. And now I don’t have to cringe whenever someone comes over. It’s not as nice as Zoro’s, but I daresay it will suffice.”
Robin smiled again and sipped on her wine.
“So how are things with you and my always-smiling bartender?” He got up and decided to start hauling the kitchen bags into the kitchen.
“Very good.”
Sanji bit his lip as he started taking dishes out of the boxes. “He still mad at me?”
Robin swirled the wine in her glass. “I think it isn’t as simple as him being angry at you. He considers you to be one of his closer friends. He simply wasn’t happy with the situation.”
She joined him in the kitchen and started opening the cooking ware boxes. Even though he was a chef, his own cooking ware collection was pathetic. Mostly he fed himself at The Baratie and ordered take out when he was home because he didn’t have the energy to cook. All the more reason to spend and unknown (at least, unknown to [i]him[/i], and he hoped Robin never told him) amount of money on a very high quality set.
“I tried to explain to him.”
“I know.”
“What do you think?”
“I think Zoro is my best friend in the world, and I’ve been with him every step of this situation. Of course I am sympathetic to his pain. But I know how you feel.” She smiled sadly. “I kept asking Zoro before I accepted Lucci’s feelings if he thought I should have feelings for him just because everyone else believed his feelings for me were sincere. I thought that was unfair. In the end though, I realized I was just making excuses. No matter if it might have hurt Vivi, my feelings for Lucci were there and it wasn’t making anyone happy to deny them. I thought I could never be with a man like Lucci based on principles, but I was lying to myself.”
Sanji grabbed the silverware box and filled the sink with soapy water to wash the silverware in.
“Is he okay?” he leaned against the sink
“Zoro?” Robin asked.
Sanji nodded. “I mean, we see each other all the time now. It’s like nothing ever happened. But I only see that side.”
Robin looked at the counter. “He… he’s glad that you didn’t push him away. But in some ways it’s almost more painful for him, having to be around you all the time while knowing that he can’t be with you. And he has so much respect for you, he doesn’t want to push. But by no means have his feelings changed.”
Sanji sighed and rinsed the silverware. “I went a few weeks without thinking about it, then Saga bitched me out the other day for being an insensitive asshole. He said I’m stringing him along.”
Robin frowned. “I think Saga is very sensitive to Zoro’s situation, because he’s been in similar situations himself. And he is very close to Zoro. I don’t think you’re doing anything inappropriate. The fact that you care enough to ask about him means that you’re a decent person. I suppose... we all wish there was something that you saw in Zoro, some inkling to give him a chance. But you can’t deny your inherent nature, and we know that. It’s just frustrating to watch.”
Sanji placed the silverware on a towel to dry and sighed, his brow creasing. “It isn’t as though if I were gay, that I’d turn him down. He’s a good guy - good looking, successful, probably someone I would be interested in if I were into guys… We get along, even when we’re beating the crap out of each other sparring. I don’t get what it is about me that he’s so into. This is New York. Probably the city with the highest per capita of gay men in the world.”
Robin laughed. “I felt the same way. Lucci could have gotten any woman he wanted… But he insisted on me.”
Sanji rubbed the back of his neck. Everything had been fine until Saga suddenly jumped all over him. He’d been feeling seriously guilty since then, and he didn’t know why. Saga almost made it sound like it was reasonable to at least go on a date with the guy. That it was the least Sanji could do. But if anything, the chef felt like that [i]would[/i] constitute stringing Zoro along.
“Don’t let what Saga said bother you. I do sincerely wish things had turned out differently. Zoro really is the most amazing man I know,” she smiled and winked. “Don’t tell Lucci.”
Sanji smiled and nodded.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to beat yourself up about it.”
Once the plates and silverware had been cleaned, Sanji started warming up the brand new cookware. He was going to make Coq au vin tonight, so he refilled Robin’s wine glass, set out a platter of cheese for her, and started cutting the lardons into thin strips. They chatted about other things as he boiled the strips and sautéed them. He diced carrots, onions, and celery, and minced garlic to cook briefly with the chicken, then he added the wine and stock, seasoning with salt, pepper, thyme and bay leaf. He threw a loaf of French bread in the oven.
When the vegetables were done, he strained them out and returned the sauce to the chicken, adding pearl onions for the final fifteen minutes. He whipped up a quick roux to thicken the sauce and set out two bowls and a platter for the bread.
He divvied out the portions and set them on his lovely new table. Then, looking at Robin, he wiggled his eyebrows and pulled out a candle, setting it on the table and lighting it.
“Romantic, no?”
Robin laughed and nodded. “Yes, very smooth, very smooth.”
He sat down. “You’re sure Lucci doesn’t mind me borrowing you for so long?”
“He has to bounce tonight at Skypeia, and he had plans to spend the day with Kaku.”
Sanji nodded.
“Don’t worry. He’ll cool down eventually. He knows you’re a good man.”
Sanji sighed and tested the chicken. Brilliant, as usual. “That’s something I never understood; if he knew that Zoro was interested in me, why was he so worried about you and Zoro?”
Robin might have rolled her eyes just then, but not quite. The sentiment was the same, however.
“He was… stupid. And Zoro has dated women before, so I assume he was insecure about that. Eventually he just had to trust that we didn’t have feelings for each other.”
“He’s dated women?”
“It was a long time ago, really. He could go either way, it just depends on the person. The real point is, though, that Zoro just doesn’t fall for people easily at all. It takes a rare and special person to get him to come out of his shell. If he had it his way, he’d work and train, work and train. This is the most social I have ever known him to be.”
They continued to eat quietly for the most part, Sanji heavy in his contemplation. Robin loved the meal and decided that he should cook for her more often. She was a decent cook, but Lucci couldn’t go near a kitchen - which explained why Sanji never saw him in the back at The Baratie.
After their third glass of wine, Robin decided to call a cab instead of driving. She’d be by his apartment sometime later to pick up her car. While they waited by the door, Sanji finally hmphed and said, “Should I?”
Robin raised a delicate eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
Sanji leaned against the door, letting his head fall back against it with a thud. “It’s just that Saga and even you almost make it sound like I’m being unreasonable for not even going on a date with him.”
“Sanji, that isn’t what I meant. It isn’t, really. I mean, it isn’t unreasonable, but if you don’t feel comfortable, if you [i]know[/i] without a doubt that nothing would come of it, or even worse, Zoro would end up worse than he is, then you shouldn’t even think about it.”
Sanji scrunched his eyes closed. “What if I’m not sure? I used to be []very[/i] sure, and I can’t tell if it’s guilt or pity or… something.”
Robin sighed. The cab pulled up and honked.
“I don’t know what to say Sanji. But whatever you decide, please proceed carefully. When it gets to be too much, Zoro has been known to just shut down and shut everyone out. And I don’t want that to happen. Just be honest with yourself.”
Sanji opened the door for her and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you Robin.”
“Thank you for the wonderful meal. I’ll call you tomorrow about the car.”
***
Friday was a bad day. He’d had two supplies orders fucked up by his suppliers, and he’d spent a good 45 minutes apiece screaming bloody murder at them over the phone to get here with the shit he was missing or there would be hell to pay. This put him way behind schedule, and he was just grateful everyone had shown up to work on time that day. But there had been a group of 12 people who came in all wanting to order off the menu, and Zeff had called ahead to tell Sanji that he’d better do it if he valued his job.
He managed to slice his hand real good, so that put him out for a good ten minutes while he waited for it to stop bleeding long enough for Ace to butterfly bandage it.
Lucci was still being shitty to him, he’d gotten into a shouting match with Carne that had almost turned violent, and to top it off, two of the waiters had quit by the end of the night.
Then he realized that he’d completely forgotten that Zoro and Franky were supposed to come over to his new place to help wire his sound system and set up the entertainment center.
But, if he looked at it from the bright side, Zoro was there at closing time to give him a ride home, so he didn’t have to call a cab.
He fell asleep on the ride home.
“You sure you wanna do this tonight, boss? It’s totally supa to do it tomorrow if you want,” Franky reached forward from the back seat and squeezed his shoulder.
“No,” he croaked out. “I want it done by tomorrow so I can sit in front of the TV without ever moving so I can watch the first three seasons of No Reservations. I’m tempted to get a bed pan.”
They laughed and headed up to Sanji’s apartment, Sanji limping behind pathetically.
“Did you hurt yourself tonight or something?” Zoro asked.
“No, my feet just ache like a mother fucker after work. I didn’t bring aspirin with me today either.”
Sanji let them in and promptly fell face forward onto his couch. He flopped his arm at the pile of boxes and said, “Have at it. Booze and food in the fridge, help yourselves.”
And Sanji was out.
He woke up to his arm being shaken.
The lights were still on in his apartment and Zoro was still there. He blinked, looking blearily over at his entertainment center. “Man, what time is it?”
“3 am I think. We got everything set up, Franky got a ride from a friend about an hour ago. He has a thing in the morning. But it’s all set up.”
Sanji rubbed his eyes and sat up, his feet automatically starting to throb again. Somewhere along the line his shoes had disappeared, and a blanket had been thrown over him.
“Thanks. I’m sorry I passed out like that. Was it too hard?”
“No.” Zoro sat on the edge of the coffee table. “Franky knew what he was doing. I just provided the extra hands. I just wanted to wake you up so you’d go to your bed before I left.”
Sanji nodded, his head still fuzzy from sleep. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I have my class at nine, then nothing.”
“Come over then,” Sanji yawned and stood up, cringing as his feet screamed at him. “I’m making dinner. Around six.”
“Alright. Get some sleep.”
***
When Sanji woke up around noon the next day, it took him until around two thirty or so to remember that he’d invited Zoro over. He panicked and started cleaning - not that the house was a mess [i]yet[/i], but there were still packing boxes, he hadn’t put the new bedding on his new bed, he needed to sweep the place and wipe the kitchen down, and finally put all his new cookware on the hanging rack.
It was enough to keep him busy until three or so, when he realized that he didn’t really have anything interesting to cook. He had a few bare ingredients, but he’d have to go to the store. He still needed to do laundry too, so he threw a load in, jumped in the shower (not a smart idea, he quickly realized), put on possibly his last clean outfit, stuffed the clothes in the dryer and called a cab.
It wasn’t until he had filled two carts full of groceries that he realized that this was [i]not[/i] how he had intended to spend his Dead Day. Instead, he was running around like crazy trying to put together a - wait… a date? Was this what he was doing? Did Zoro think that this was what he was doing?
What [i]was[/i] he doing?
He was in the check out line when he got a text from Zoro.
‘Who all is coming. Should I bring something.’
Sanji rubbed his face and cursed inwardly. He hadn’t invited anyone else, but Zoro was expecting other people. If he showed up and no one else was there, he’d think it was weird. But he didn’t know if anyone could make it last minute…
He decided to wing it and go nonchalant.
‘Just u n me n anthony bourdain. no one else could make it.’
He didn’t get another text back until he was loading the millionth grocery bag into the irritated cab driver’s trunk.
‘Cool. Will bring booze.’
When he got home he switched out the laundry and started throwing shit in his fridge. Steak and frites would more than suffice, so he threw together the seasonings for the fries and meat and got to business. At 5:40 he swapped out the laundry again - his last load, thank fucking god - and changed into something that didn’t look like he’d just put on his last clean outfit.
His heart was hammering in his chest as he looked at himself in the mirror. He had no idea what the hell he was doing. Zoro didn’t know that this was a date. It wasn’t a date. Sanji had not asked Zoro to come over as a date. He was just thanking him for setting up his equipment. He lit a cigarette and went out to the living room, putting on possibly the only thing that could calm him at this point - Anthony Bourdain.
Maybe he shouldn’t have changed. Maybe if he were wearing sweats or something, Zoro definitely wouldn’t think Sanji was trying. Well, he was only wearing jeans and a fitted black shirt. He sighed heavily and took one of his bare feet in his hands, kneading it. He would be calm. He would be calm. He was just spending time with the guy.
His phone started ringing. It was Lucci.
“Hello,” Sanji said, wondering what Lucci wanted.
“You’re having dinner with Zoro.”
Sanji waited for him to continue, but apparently that was all Lucci wanted to say.
“Yes? How’d you know?”
“He came over to pick up his Sam Adams Utopia bottle.”
“Oh.” Utopia was easily $100 right there, and it was rumored they limited production to 8,000 a year, so it was likely to have cost much more than that. “Okay.”
Again, Lucci didn’t say anything else. “Did… did you need to tell me something?”
“Watch your back- ow! No! I-”
Sanji heard some scuffling and it sounded like the phone dropped.
“Hello? Lucci? What’s-”
“Ah? Sanji? This is Robin. Don’t listen to Lucci. You two enjoy yourselves. Have a good night.”
The other end of the line went dead and Sanji could only look at his phone incredulously. Had Lucci just [i]threatened[/i] him?
Before he could speculate any further, there was a knock at his door and his blood pressure went right back up. Sucking on his cigarette in hopes that he’d suddenly inhale some magic cure-all for his current situation, he opened the door.
“Fuck it smells good in here,” Zoro said stepping in. “What are you cooking?”
“Streak and frites. Do you seriously have a bottle of Utopia?”
Zoro grinned and held the box that contained the brass bottle up. “The 2007 vintage. How’d you know?”
“Just got a call from Lucci.” Sanji shut the door behind him and padded into the kitchen. Zoro followed.
“What'd he want?”
“Ah… he needed to come in late some time next week.”
Sanji pulled the steaks out to see if they were done.
“The place looks good. Looks like Robin did it.”
“Shyeah. And boy did she. I took your advice after the first purchase and stayed the fuck away from the check out.”
Zoro grinned and nodded.
“So why did you bring that? I bet that shit's hard to come by and fucking expensive. Any other Sam Adams would’ve been fine.”
Zoro shrugged. “Yeah, but you’re a cook and I figured since you’ve been to France, I should up the ante. And you know, new place and all that.”
Sanji shrugged too. “Alright. I’ve been wanting to try it. If you wanna waste really expensive booze on me, I won’t fight you on it. But save it for after. There’s cold beer in the fridge.”
They ate out in the living room with feet propped up on the coffee table. Zoro had never watched Anthony Bourdain before, and quickly became a fan. He was also quick to point out similarities between the two chefs.
They stuffed themselves full of frites until Sanji had none left over.
It wasn’t until they’d finished eating and were nursing their food comas on the couch that Sanji realized the instant Zoro had stepped in the door, he’d stopped freaking out.
Which made him freak out. He got up and picked up their dishes, setting them to soak in dish water. He stood in the kitchen for a minute before Zoro said, “I brought the glasses for the Utopia if you want to use them.”
Sanji opened the box carefully and pulled out the glasses. He wiped them down and then poured them about a quarter full each.
It wasn’t a big deal. Just go chill out on the couch. Relax. It was fine four minutes ago, it was fine now, he told himself.
He brought the glasses in the living room and reclaimed his spot.
“You’re gonna dig this shit, I promise,” Zoro assured him. Sanji grinned. They raised their glasses and the chef took a sip.
[i]Whoa[/i]. This tasted [i]nothing[/i] like beer.
“Yeah?” Zoro grinned. “I know. Its more like cognac or sherry.”
“God that’s got a hot bite. It’s like… vanilla and… honey, maybe some maple, toffee. Wow.”
They slipped on it slowly, letting a light buzz set in from the three or four beers they’d each already had.
“Man, I think Shangri-la is steak, frites, Sam Adams and Anthony whats-his-name.”
“Bourdain. And I couldn’t agree more.”
***
A particularly loud laugh coming from the television made Sanji jerk out of his mostly dozing state. He looked over, and Zoro was completely out.
Sanji reached for the remote and took a minute trying to find the button to turn it all off. He stood up and held in a curse. He hadn’t remembered to take any aspirin today, and he’d been running around for most of Dead Day. He had to see about getting some better shoes or something.
He bent his knees and bit his lip, his hands clutching his thighs as he waited for the pain to diminish.
“You okay?” He looked over and Zoro had woken up.
Sanji gave up and plopped back on the couch. “Yeah, just my feet. S’why I usually don’t move on Dead Day. Feet can’t take it.”
Zoro sat up and stretched. “What time is it?”
Sanji flipped open his cell phone. “10:45.”
The green haired man grunted and patted his thigh. “Put your feet up here.”
“Uh… I’m good.”
“C’mon, it’s nothing weird. You get fifteen minutes of the best foot massage your sorry ass will ever have.”
If he had asked or said it in any differently, Sanji wouldn’t have complied, but he thought resisting anymore at this point would make it uncomfortable, so he scooched back and swung one foot up on the couch.
Zoro cracked his knuckles and rubbed his hands together, and Sanji rolled his eyes. The next fifteen minutes were a fiery hell.
On the one hand, he’d never had a foot massage at all (except self administered ones), so he couldn’t really gauge if better ones existed in the world - though he doubted it. He [i]wanted[/i] to melt right into the couch, but it felt too good, and it made him want to squirm in weird ways and make noises - and [i]that[/i] was the hellish part. Keeping quiet and not moving. As Zoro’s thumbs pressed into the soles of his feet, sliding expertly from the heel to the ball of his foot and out, then down the sides, then enveloping the circumference of his foot with both hands and squeezing firmly, sliding up then down and-
He tried not to think about how much it was like a hand job.
And then there were the times were Zoro’s hands hit a ticklish spot and he jerked, and Zoro would grin at him and chuckle. And that floppy thing in his stomach was now happening about every three seconds.
By the time Zoro was done, Sanji’s feet felt much better, but he was beginning to wonder if jumping out of his window from four stories up was a reasonable idea. He let out a breath of relief and Zoro patted the foot he’d been working on and released it.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he stood up. “And if it was, call it pay back for biting me.”
“I didn’t [i]bite[/i] you, you shoved your hand in my mouth.”
“Mmhm,” Zoro nodded. “Well, I know you’ve got work, so I’m gonna split.”
Sanji nodded. “Don’t forget your Utopia.”
Zoro put the box back together. “Thanks again for dinner.”
“No problem. You and Franky helped me out a lot with this thing.” He nodded at the entertainment center. “Suppose I oughta feed him sometime too.”
“Lucci’s at Skypeia tomorrow night, I think there are plans to meet up. You coming?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. See ya tomorrow.”
***
All in all, Sanji felt content with what happened on Sunday, and that was just another reason to freak out. Lucci didn’t work at The Baratie that day, so he had no way of gauging the situation from the bartender’s reaction. He was halfway expecting some hired hit goon to meet him in an alleyway with some blunt object, but nothing like that had happened yet.
He kept wondering if he should tell Ace about it, but he didn’t know how he was gonna start that conversation.
‘So, yeah, I might be thinking about wanting to date Zoro.’
It just made no fucking sense. When had he gone from no to maybe? When had he gone from no-maybe to maybe-maybe? Why was he even entertaining the notion?
It was now two thirty, and Sanji had just gotten up the balls to call Ace out back and spill the situation to him when the Baratie manager, Kalifa, came in.
“When you have a moment Sanji, I need to speak to you in your office.”
Kalifa was a somewhat severe woman - unearthly beauty, highly intelligent, cruel in a way that was perfect for running a business. She was the type that just barely tolerated anyone, so it was difficult for Sanji to shower her with affection and praise like other women. She just didn’t have the patience for it.
He barked at Gin to pick up where he’d left off on the soup he was working on and followed her back to his office.
She closed the door behind her when they got in and sat down across from his desk.
“What can I do for my lovely manager today?” Sanji smiled and sat down in the ratty chair that had molded so well to his form over the last eight months.
“How are you doing Sanji? Do you like it here at The Baratie?”
Shit. Shit shit shit. What had he done? What had happened? He couldn’t think of any major mistake he’d made in the last eight months. He’d never called in sick, always worked full days, his staff got along, they’d done better business since he became head chef-
“I can see that you’re about to hyperventilate, so I would like to assure you that you aren’t in any trouble.”
He laughed, if only at himself. “Uh, then, yes, I love it here. I think my staff and I are doing pretty well. I mean, I’ve only got about three trustworthy waiters, but at any place I’ve ever worked, I’ve been hard pressed to find one, so I think we’re ahead of the game.”
Kalifa nodded. “Zeff and I have been discussing it over the last several weeks, and he has a lot of good things to say about you. You’re the hardest working man he’s ever hired, you’re trustworthy, you’re a brilliant chef, you know how to run a kitchen blindfolded. The raise he gave you recently was… given with what I’m about to tell you now in mind. You see, we’re very impressed with your stamina - 17 hour days, six days a week for eight months, and you never so much as called in for a cold. You haven’t needed or asked for any time off. It’s truly amazing. However, it isn’t quite what Zeff has in mind for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I wasn’t necessarily given any reason other than Zeff doesn’t want you to burn out, and at this rate, we expect you probably will within the next few years. He’d like you to stick around for a very long time, so we are going to cut your work week down.”
Sanji’s stomach twisted.
“Zeff isn’t going to come back and work those other days, is he? He’s supposed to be retired-”
“No, we’ve been interviewing other chefs for the last month.”
Other chefs. They were going to hire someone else because he couldn’t fucking do his job. Or at least they [i]thought[/i] he couldn’t do his job.
“To be honest, Kalifa… I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m perfectly happy with the schedule I’ve got, and splitting a kitchen up between two chefs… I mean, Zeff probably understands. It’s likely that we’d have two very different ways of running things, and who would be in charge of the menus and specials-”
“I’m afraid it isn’t really something up for debate. However, we anticipated that you might have these concerns. Technically, our new hire will be your sous-chef-”
He didn’t want to argue with a lovely woman like Kalifa, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but interrupt, “Gin is my sous-chef-”
“And Gin, though a valued employee, has a history of not showing up sometimes. We can’t afford to have that fault in a head chef or a sous-chef here. You will maintain the title and authority of head chef, the menu will be completely up to you, as will be the specials. This new chef won’t even be allowed to make supply orders until you deem she’s fit-”
“She?” Oh God. Sanji scrubbed at his face. Not that he thought women were any less capable, but women capable of making it in a kitchen like the veritable puss bucket of bad manners, lewd language and even borderline sexual harassment that was The Baratie... they were a rare breed. He didn’t want his staff stressed because they had to behave one way on one day with one chef, and another way on another day with another chef. It was going to cause unnecessary tension in an already well oiled machine.
“You’ll have a few days where she’ll be shadowing you, then she’ll have a few days to run the kitchen while you shadow her. You call the shots. The new schedule starts next week. You’ll work Wednesday through Saturday, she’ll work Monday and Tuesday. You’ll maintain the same benefits, your raise should fill in the gaps of the reduced hours. You’ll be on call to come in should she need you at any time.”
There wasn’t a point in arguing anymore. Zeff’s decision was obviously final.
“Sanji, you’re not being punished, you’re being rewarded. Remember that. Her first day is tomorrow, so you should prepare the kitchen staff.”
Kalifa left Sanji in his office. He waited about five minutes to make sure she was gone before he kicked the desk over viciously and screamed, “FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK.”
In the kitchen, his foul mood was apparent and everyone was on their best behavior because of it. At the end of the night, Sanji took a deep breath and told everyone to meet him in the dining room.
He chewed on an unlit cigarette as everyone settled in. He stood by the bar and tried to think about the best way to put this. If he let on that he was displeased about it, there was a chance that his staff’s loyalty would manifest itself in the form of resistance or disrespect towards the new chef - and he wouldn’t tolerate that, especially not with a lady. Bad feelings in the kitchen reflected in the overall quality of the restaurant.
“Alright, listen up.” Everyone got quiet and looked at Sanji. He sighed.
“Kalifa and Zeff have decided that you fuck ups,” he turned a smile at Nami and Vivi, “with the exception of our two perfect, lovely hostesses,” he returned his scowl to the rest of the group, “are going to put me in an early grave. And since I’m such a damn good chef, and about the only one capable of running this place without running it into the ground… they’ve decided to hire another chef for Mondays and Tuesdays.”
Groans erupted from the group, and Sanji couldn’t blame them. But he couldn’t have that kind of attitude.
“Shut your fucking traps. Our new chef starts tomorrow, and you will show her twice the amount of respect you show me, or you're fucking fired.”
“Her?” Patty said, indignant. “Boss, you can’t be serious.”
“I can and I am. And if I hear of any of you making any off color remarks to her, or showing her anything but your best behavior, so help me God you will regret it. I’ll be hanging around to help the transition until Saturday. Does everyone understand me?”
There was a round of unenthusiastic "Yes, Sir"s.
Partying was the last thing he felt like doing, so he let Nami know he wasn’t going tonight (he almost changed his mind when she pouted), stopped by the liquor store on his way home and bought a handle of Morgan’s, and went home to drown himself in his new-found pathetic-ness.
***
The expensive tile on his new kitchen floor felt good against his face, even if it wouldn’t quite stay still. It was 1 am, and he had to sober up in the next few hours if he was going to face the new chef with any sense of dignity. He should probably consider sleeping, too.
A bath sounded nice.
The skin around his eyes was sore, and then he remembered it was because he’d been rubbing it fiercely with his palms to scrub away pathetic, five-year-old tears that he wouldn’t admit to himself he’d been crying.
But he wasn’t thinking about that anymore. He needed to concentrate on getting up off the kitchen floor so he could… do whatever it was he’d been thinking about doing.
His damn phone kept ringing, but it was all the way over on the kitchen table. Far too long a journey to make, he decided.
He laughed and rolled over on his back, struggling to sit up and using the handle of one the cabinets to hoist himself up.
BANG BANG BANG.
Where on earth was that coming from? He looked around stupidly, half expecting to see that something had fallen.
BANG BANG BANG.
“Sanji! Let me in! Or answer your damn phone!”
Oh! Someone was at his [i]door[/i].
“Upsy daisy,” he said as he grabbed the edge of the counter and pulled himself up. He almost tripped over the coffee table and bumped into a lamp, but managed not to break anything as he slumped against his front door.
He peeked through the hole to see who it was, but the jerk was standing just out of view. He hated it when people did that.
“Whooz’ere?”
“Sanji, let me in.”
“Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.”
BANG.
He jumped as he felt the door rattle.
“Don’t fucking break my door, asshole!” He grabbed at the chain and lock and managed to yank the door open.
Zoro stepped in, a heavy scowl on his face. “What the fuck, man, we’ve been calling you all God damn night… How much have you had to drink?”
Sanji wobbled back to his couch, and Zoro shut the door behind him. He spied the mostly empty handle of Morgan’s in the kitchen.
“Shit, Sanji, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is fucking wrong with me, what’s wrong with you? I told Nami I wasn’t going-”
“Yeah, and Ace said you’d probably be drinking yourself stupid right about now after the news at The Baratie. I thought you weren’t that stupid, but you wouldn’t answer your fucking phone. You’re gonna get alcohol poisoning, dip shit-”
“God, you sound just like Shuraiya. Get the fuck out, I don’t need this right now.”
Zoro snorted and took off his jacket. “I told you I wasn’t any good with kids.”
“I’m [i]not[/i] a kid, asshole-”
“Then stop fucking acting like one!” Zoro shouted. “I don’t get what you’re so upset about, but what good is it going to do to wreck your body over it?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Sanji muttered darkly, falling over on the couch.
Zoro ignored him and went to the kitchen to get some water. He rummaged through the cabinets for something like bread to soak up the alcohol. He settled for some fancy looking bread and brought it out to the living room.
Sanji glared at him.
“Is that my loaf of $22 Roquefort and Almond sourdough bread that you were about to give me for hangover prevention?”
Zoro looked at the bread, then at Sanji. “Maybe.”
Sanji rolled his eyes and turned on his stomach and buried his face in the crook of the couch.
“Alright, if you don’t drink the water and eat something, I’ll throw it in the trash.”
Even drunk, Sanji could tell he wasn’t kidding.
He sat up and snatched the water. “There’s regular bread in the fridge. Put the honey ham, spicy mustard and swiss cheese on it.”
Zoro snorted and went to the kitchen to prepare the sandwich. He kept the fancy bread with him.
Sanji’s head was still swimming when he finished the water and the sandwich. On top of the alcohol, he was almost uncomfortably full. Zoro sat on the edge of the coffee table and watched him silently until he was finished.
“So tell me why getting a new chef so you can have more time off is such a fucking big deal.”
“You don’t get it. I can do my damn job, and I can fucking do it perfect. But that bastard Zeff and Kalifa don’t think I’m worth two shits, so they gotta hire someone else because-” he stopped, his breath hitching. He buried his head in his hands. “Doesn’t matter. S’not like I can change their minds. It’s so fucking stupid. I never called in [i]once[/i]. Their profits have gone up since I started working there, I got three fucking stars in the fucking Michelin guide, we have the lowest turn over rate in probably the entire fucking city-”
“It’s two days a week Sanji. Don’t you think if they were doing this because you weren’t good enough, they would have just fired you? You get one day off a week and you’re so exhausted by then you can barely walk. Did they tell you that you weren’t doing good enough?”
“No.”
“Then stop doing this to yourself. Your staff respects you, your restaurant is one of the best in New York, and you deserve a break.”
Sanji dug his palms into his eye sockets to keep himself from crying again. He wished it were Ace sitting here. Ace had seen him at his lowest; it wasn’t anything new to him. But it was Zoro here taking care of his sorry ass and consoling him like he was a fucking child.
“I don’t even know what the fuck I’m gonna do with myself. A three day weekend… I’ll go fucking crazy. And the staff is gonna go crazy having to work for two different chefs, and this new one is a [i]woman[/i] and that’s just gonna start all kinds of shit.”
Zoro chuckled. “First time I think I’ve heard you unhappy about a woman being around.”
Sanji laughed wryly. “Yeah well… I’m sure she’s perfectly capable.”
“And I’m sure you’ll work it out to where everyone can function fine. Ace and Lucci have your back.”
“Whatever. Lucci fucking hates me right now.”
Zoro gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”
Sanji scrubbed at his face again and ran his fingers through his hair. “Nothing. It’s not a big deal.” He stood up and took his empty glass of water to the kitchen and filled it again. The floor still wasn’t [i]quite[/i] steady.
“You guys are close. What happened?”
Sanji shook his head. “He’s just… I don’t know. I’m really drunk right now, I can’t think straight.” He downed the second glass.
“You need to sleep. Gonna sober up in time to go to work?”
“Think so.”
“Come on,” Zoro gestured for him to follow him.
Sanji let himself be led to his bedroom. He was already in what could be considered pajamas, so Zoro stopped at the bedroom door.
“Got your alarm set?”
Sanji nodded.
“Gonna be okay?”
“Yes, mom.”
Zoro grinned and patted Sanji on the shoulder. “Call me if you need me.”
Sanji’s stomach squirmed, but it wasn’t from being full, or from the alcohol. He took Zoro’s hand that was still on his shoulder and stood there for a moment.
Zoro looked at him questioningly. “What?”
“I’m sorry.”
The other man had been about to ask what for, when Sanji stumbled forward clumsily and mashed his lips to Zoro’s.
Beta'd by bronzetigress ! Thanks so much!
Author: Sinisterbug
Rating: NC-17 for Part 5
Pairing: ZoSan, mentioned Lucci/Robin, Saga/Shuraiya
Warnings: Modern AU, OOC
It was now August - a month and a half since the incident with Teach at the Merry. Sanji had decided after visiting Zoro’s apartment that he now wanted to move out of squalor, so with Robin’s help, he found a nice flat in Manhattan, just a ten minute cab ride from The Baratie. If he was lucky, he’d never have to go back to The Bronx again. It wasn’t in a historical district like Zoro’s, it wasn’t as [i]awesome[/i] as Zoro’s, but it was a hell of a lot better than the rat hole he’d been living in.
It was pricey, but not more than he could afford. Sanji was frugal in a choosey way, and it meant that he had plenty of money in the bank to play around when he wanted, as long as he didn’t go out and buy something stupid everyday, which he didn’t really have time for. Most of the clubs and bars he went to he got free drinks at, so he never spent ridiculous amounts on alcohol. And he could afford to feed himself ridiculously high quality food at The Baratie under their budget. Quality control and all that. Part of the job and such.
And, as it happened, he’d just gotten a raise. He almost wanted to turn it down - for what he was doing, he seriously was getting paid too much. But he knew the old man would find [i]some[/i] way to take it as an insult, so he kept his mouth shut.
Robin had offered to go shopping with him that Sunday to decorate the place (the furniture had already been purchased online and delivered), and he was happy to accept the help.
They went to Saks Fifth Avenue for his server ware and kitchen accessories, and it was then that he learned very quickly that it was simply best to either agree or disagree with a suggestion, hand Robin the credit card, then find himself far away from the counter when she made their purchases.
Zoro could have told him this, of course.
Then they hit Bloomingdale’s, Macy’s, and then last the Bouley Market for groceries for dinner. Thankfully, Robin owned a car with sufficient storage space, but they’d had to arrange to have some things delivered.
They were both a bit tired from all the shopping when they arrived at his place, so he poured a couple of glasses of wine before he started dinner in earnest.
“I think it’s going to look amazing.” Robin accepted the glass and smiled.
“Thanks to you. I have no design sense, whatsoever.”
“Oh, you know what looks good, you just don’t know where to get it. It’ll be nice when your sound system arrives. That was an amazing deal.”
Sanji laughed, his stomach quivering a little at the memory. He’d spent more money today than he ever had before, and though technically the sound system had been a good deal, it was still painfully expensive.
“Yeah, it’ll be nice to be able to relax with that on Dead Days. And now I don’t have to cringe whenever someone comes over. It’s not as nice as Zoro’s, but I daresay it will suffice.”
Robin smiled again and sipped on her wine.
“So how are things with you and my always-smiling bartender?” He got up and decided to start hauling the kitchen bags into the kitchen.
“Very good.”
Sanji bit his lip as he started taking dishes out of the boxes. “He still mad at me?”
Robin swirled the wine in her glass. “I think it isn’t as simple as him being angry at you. He considers you to be one of his closer friends. He simply wasn’t happy with the situation.”
She joined him in the kitchen and started opening the cooking ware boxes. Even though he was a chef, his own cooking ware collection was pathetic. Mostly he fed himself at The Baratie and ordered take out when he was home because he didn’t have the energy to cook. All the more reason to spend and unknown (at least, unknown to [i]him[/i], and he hoped Robin never told him) amount of money on a very high quality set.
“I tried to explain to him.”
“I know.”
“What do you think?”
“I think Zoro is my best friend in the world, and I’ve been with him every step of this situation. Of course I am sympathetic to his pain. But I know how you feel.” She smiled sadly. “I kept asking Zoro before I accepted Lucci’s feelings if he thought I should have feelings for him just because everyone else believed his feelings for me were sincere. I thought that was unfair. In the end though, I realized I was just making excuses. No matter if it might have hurt Vivi, my feelings for Lucci were there and it wasn’t making anyone happy to deny them. I thought I could never be with a man like Lucci based on principles, but I was lying to myself.”
Sanji grabbed the silverware box and filled the sink with soapy water to wash the silverware in.
“Is he okay?” he leaned against the sink
“Zoro?” Robin asked.
Sanji nodded. “I mean, we see each other all the time now. It’s like nothing ever happened. But I only see that side.”
Robin looked at the counter. “He… he’s glad that you didn’t push him away. But in some ways it’s almost more painful for him, having to be around you all the time while knowing that he can’t be with you. And he has so much respect for you, he doesn’t want to push. But by no means have his feelings changed.”
Sanji sighed and rinsed the silverware. “I went a few weeks without thinking about it, then Saga bitched me out the other day for being an insensitive asshole. He said I’m stringing him along.”
Robin frowned. “I think Saga is very sensitive to Zoro’s situation, because he’s been in similar situations himself. And he is very close to Zoro. I don’t think you’re doing anything inappropriate. The fact that you care enough to ask about him means that you’re a decent person. I suppose... we all wish there was something that you saw in Zoro, some inkling to give him a chance. But you can’t deny your inherent nature, and we know that. It’s just frustrating to watch.”
Sanji placed the silverware on a towel to dry and sighed, his brow creasing. “It isn’t as though if I were gay, that I’d turn him down. He’s a good guy - good looking, successful, probably someone I would be interested in if I were into guys… We get along, even when we’re beating the crap out of each other sparring. I don’t get what it is about me that he’s so into. This is New York. Probably the city with the highest per capita of gay men in the world.”
Robin laughed. “I felt the same way. Lucci could have gotten any woman he wanted… But he insisted on me.”
Sanji rubbed the back of his neck. Everything had been fine until Saga suddenly jumped all over him. He’d been feeling seriously guilty since then, and he didn’t know why. Saga almost made it sound like it was reasonable to at least go on a date with the guy. That it was the least Sanji could do. But if anything, the chef felt like that [i]would[/i] constitute stringing Zoro along.
“Don’t let what Saga said bother you. I do sincerely wish things had turned out differently. Zoro really is the most amazing man I know,” she smiled and winked. “Don’t tell Lucci.”
Sanji smiled and nodded.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to beat yourself up about it.”
Once the plates and silverware had been cleaned, Sanji started warming up the brand new cookware. He was going to make Coq au vin tonight, so he refilled Robin’s wine glass, set out a platter of cheese for her, and started cutting the lardons into thin strips. They chatted about other things as he boiled the strips and sautéed them. He diced carrots, onions, and celery, and minced garlic to cook briefly with the chicken, then he added the wine and stock, seasoning with salt, pepper, thyme and bay leaf. He threw a loaf of French bread in the oven.
When the vegetables were done, he strained them out and returned the sauce to the chicken, adding pearl onions for the final fifteen minutes. He whipped up a quick roux to thicken the sauce and set out two bowls and a platter for the bread.
He divvied out the portions and set them on his lovely new table. Then, looking at Robin, he wiggled his eyebrows and pulled out a candle, setting it on the table and lighting it.
“Romantic, no?”
Robin laughed and nodded. “Yes, very smooth, very smooth.”
He sat down. “You’re sure Lucci doesn’t mind me borrowing you for so long?”
“He has to bounce tonight at Skypeia, and he had plans to spend the day with Kaku.”
Sanji nodded.
“Don’t worry. He’ll cool down eventually. He knows you’re a good man.”
Sanji sighed and tested the chicken. Brilliant, as usual. “That’s something I never understood; if he knew that Zoro was interested in me, why was he so worried about you and Zoro?”
Robin might have rolled her eyes just then, but not quite. The sentiment was the same, however.
“He was… stupid. And Zoro has dated women before, so I assume he was insecure about that. Eventually he just had to trust that we didn’t have feelings for each other.”
“He’s dated women?”
“It was a long time ago, really. He could go either way, it just depends on the person. The real point is, though, that Zoro just doesn’t fall for people easily at all. It takes a rare and special person to get him to come out of his shell. If he had it his way, he’d work and train, work and train. This is the most social I have ever known him to be.”
They continued to eat quietly for the most part, Sanji heavy in his contemplation. Robin loved the meal and decided that he should cook for her more often. She was a decent cook, but Lucci couldn’t go near a kitchen - which explained why Sanji never saw him in the back at The Baratie.
After their third glass of wine, Robin decided to call a cab instead of driving. She’d be by his apartment sometime later to pick up her car. While they waited by the door, Sanji finally hmphed and said, “Should I?”
Robin raised a delicate eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
Sanji leaned against the door, letting his head fall back against it with a thud. “It’s just that Saga and even you almost make it sound like I’m being unreasonable for not even going on a date with him.”
“Sanji, that isn’t what I meant. It isn’t, really. I mean, it isn’t unreasonable, but if you don’t feel comfortable, if you [i]know[/i] without a doubt that nothing would come of it, or even worse, Zoro would end up worse than he is, then you shouldn’t even think about it.”
Sanji scrunched his eyes closed. “What if I’m not sure? I used to be []very[/i] sure, and I can’t tell if it’s guilt or pity or… something.”
Robin sighed. The cab pulled up and honked.
“I don’t know what to say Sanji. But whatever you decide, please proceed carefully. When it gets to be too much, Zoro has been known to just shut down and shut everyone out. And I don’t want that to happen. Just be honest with yourself.”
Sanji opened the door for her and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you Robin.”
“Thank you for the wonderful meal. I’ll call you tomorrow about the car.”
***
Friday was a bad day. He’d had two supplies orders fucked up by his suppliers, and he’d spent a good 45 minutes apiece screaming bloody murder at them over the phone to get here with the shit he was missing or there would be hell to pay. This put him way behind schedule, and he was just grateful everyone had shown up to work on time that day. But there had been a group of 12 people who came in all wanting to order off the menu, and Zeff had called ahead to tell Sanji that he’d better do it if he valued his job.
He managed to slice his hand real good, so that put him out for a good ten minutes while he waited for it to stop bleeding long enough for Ace to butterfly bandage it.
Lucci was still being shitty to him, he’d gotten into a shouting match with Carne that had almost turned violent, and to top it off, two of the waiters had quit by the end of the night.
Then he realized that he’d completely forgotten that Zoro and Franky were supposed to come over to his new place to help wire his sound system and set up the entertainment center.
But, if he looked at it from the bright side, Zoro was there at closing time to give him a ride home, so he didn’t have to call a cab.
He fell asleep on the ride home.
“You sure you wanna do this tonight, boss? It’s totally supa to do it tomorrow if you want,” Franky reached forward from the back seat and squeezed his shoulder.
“No,” he croaked out. “I want it done by tomorrow so I can sit in front of the TV without ever moving so I can watch the first three seasons of No Reservations. I’m tempted to get a bed pan.”
They laughed and headed up to Sanji’s apartment, Sanji limping behind pathetically.
“Did you hurt yourself tonight or something?” Zoro asked.
“No, my feet just ache like a mother fucker after work. I didn’t bring aspirin with me today either.”
Sanji let them in and promptly fell face forward onto his couch. He flopped his arm at the pile of boxes and said, “Have at it. Booze and food in the fridge, help yourselves.”
And Sanji was out.
He woke up to his arm being shaken.
The lights were still on in his apartment and Zoro was still there. He blinked, looking blearily over at his entertainment center. “Man, what time is it?”
“3 am I think. We got everything set up, Franky got a ride from a friend about an hour ago. He has a thing in the morning. But it’s all set up.”
Sanji rubbed his eyes and sat up, his feet automatically starting to throb again. Somewhere along the line his shoes had disappeared, and a blanket had been thrown over him.
“Thanks. I’m sorry I passed out like that. Was it too hard?”
“No.” Zoro sat on the edge of the coffee table. “Franky knew what he was doing. I just provided the extra hands. I just wanted to wake you up so you’d go to your bed before I left.”
Sanji nodded, his head still fuzzy from sleep. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I have my class at nine, then nothing.”
“Come over then,” Sanji yawned and stood up, cringing as his feet screamed at him. “I’m making dinner. Around six.”
“Alright. Get some sleep.”
***
When Sanji woke up around noon the next day, it took him until around two thirty or so to remember that he’d invited Zoro over. He panicked and started cleaning - not that the house was a mess [i]yet[/i], but there were still packing boxes, he hadn’t put the new bedding on his new bed, he needed to sweep the place and wipe the kitchen down, and finally put all his new cookware on the hanging rack.
It was enough to keep him busy until three or so, when he realized that he didn’t really have anything interesting to cook. He had a few bare ingredients, but he’d have to go to the store. He still needed to do laundry too, so he threw a load in, jumped in the shower (not a smart idea, he quickly realized), put on possibly his last clean outfit, stuffed the clothes in the dryer and called a cab.
It wasn’t until he had filled two carts full of groceries that he realized that this was [i]not[/i] how he had intended to spend his Dead Day. Instead, he was running around like crazy trying to put together a - wait… a date? Was this what he was doing? Did Zoro think that this was what he was doing?
What [i]was[/i] he doing?
He was in the check out line when he got a text from Zoro.
‘Who all is coming. Should I bring something.’
Sanji rubbed his face and cursed inwardly. He hadn’t invited anyone else, but Zoro was expecting other people. If he showed up and no one else was there, he’d think it was weird. But he didn’t know if anyone could make it last minute…
He decided to wing it and go nonchalant.
‘Just u n me n anthony bourdain. no one else could make it.’
He didn’t get another text back until he was loading the millionth grocery bag into the irritated cab driver’s trunk.
‘Cool. Will bring booze.’
When he got home he switched out the laundry and started throwing shit in his fridge. Steak and frites would more than suffice, so he threw together the seasonings for the fries and meat and got to business. At 5:40 he swapped out the laundry again - his last load, thank fucking god - and changed into something that didn’t look like he’d just put on his last clean outfit.
His heart was hammering in his chest as he looked at himself in the mirror. He had no idea what the hell he was doing. Zoro didn’t know that this was a date. It wasn’t a date. Sanji had not asked Zoro to come over as a date. He was just thanking him for setting up his equipment. He lit a cigarette and went out to the living room, putting on possibly the only thing that could calm him at this point - Anthony Bourdain.
Maybe he shouldn’t have changed. Maybe if he were wearing sweats or something, Zoro definitely wouldn’t think Sanji was trying. Well, he was only wearing jeans and a fitted black shirt. He sighed heavily and took one of his bare feet in his hands, kneading it. He would be calm. He would be calm. He was just spending time with the guy.
His phone started ringing. It was Lucci.
“Hello,” Sanji said, wondering what Lucci wanted.
“You’re having dinner with Zoro.”
Sanji waited for him to continue, but apparently that was all Lucci wanted to say.
“Yes? How’d you know?”
“He came over to pick up his Sam Adams Utopia bottle.”
“Oh.” Utopia was easily $100 right there, and it was rumored they limited production to 8,000 a year, so it was likely to have cost much more than that. “Okay.”
Again, Lucci didn’t say anything else. “Did… did you need to tell me something?”
“Watch your back- ow! No! I-”
Sanji heard some scuffling and it sounded like the phone dropped.
“Hello? Lucci? What’s-”
“Ah? Sanji? This is Robin. Don’t listen to Lucci. You two enjoy yourselves. Have a good night.”
The other end of the line went dead and Sanji could only look at his phone incredulously. Had Lucci just [i]threatened[/i] him?
Before he could speculate any further, there was a knock at his door and his blood pressure went right back up. Sucking on his cigarette in hopes that he’d suddenly inhale some magic cure-all for his current situation, he opened the door.
“Fuck it smells good in here,” Zoro said stepping in. “What are you cooking?”
“Streak and frites. Do you seriously have a bottle of Utopia?”
Zoro grinned and held the box that contained the brass bottle up. “The 2007 vintage. How’d you know?”
“Just got a call from Lucci.” Sanji shut the door behind him and padded into the kitchen. Zoro followed.
“What'd he want?”
“Ah… he needed to come in late some time next week.”
Sanji pulled the steaks out to see if they were done.
“The place looks good. Looks like Robin did it.”
“Shyeah. And boy did she. I took your advice after the first purchase and stayed the fuck away from the check out.”
Zoro grinned and nodded.
“So why did you bring that? I bet that shit's hard to come by and fucking expensive. Any other Sam Adams would’ve been fine.”
Zoro shrugged. “Yeah, but you’re a cook and I figured since you’ve been to France, I should up the ante. And you know, new place and all that.”
Sanji shrugged too. “Alright. I’ve been wanting to try it. If you wanna waste really expensive booze on me, I won’t fight you on it. But save it for after. There’s cold beer in the fridge.”
They ate out in the living room with feet propped up on the coffee table. Zoro had never watched Anthony Bourdain before, and quickly became a fan. He was also quick to point out similarities between the two chefs.
They stuffed themselves full of frites until Sanji had none left over.
It wasn’t until they’d finished eating and were nursing their food comas on the couch that Sanji realized the instant Zoro had stepped in the door, he’d stopped freaking out.
Which made him freak out. He got up and picked up their dishes, setting them to soak in dish water. He stood in the kitchen for a minute before Zoro said, “I brought the glasses for the Utopia if you want to use them.”
Sanji opened the box carefully and pulled out the glasses. He wiped them down and then poured them about a quarter full each.
It wasn’t a big deal. Just go chill out on the couch. Relax. It was fine four minutes ago, it was fine now, he told himself.
He brought the glasses in the living room and reclaimed his spot.
“You’re gonna dig this shit, I promise,” Zoro assured him. Sanji grinned. They raised their glasses and the chef took a sip.
[i]Whoa[/i]. This tasted [i]nothing[/i] like beer.
“Yeah?” Zoro grinned. “I know. Its more like cognac or sherry.”
“God that’s got a hot bite. It’s like… vanilla and… honey, maybe some maple, toffee. Wow.”
They slipped on it slowly, letting a light buzz set in from the three or four beers they’d each already had.
“Man, I think Shangri-la is steak, frites, Sam Adams and Anthony whats-his-name.”
“Bourdain. And I couldn’t agree more.”
***
A particularly loud laugh coming from the television made Sanji jerk out of his mostly dozing state. He looked over, and Zoro was completely out.
Sanji reached for the remote and took a minute trying to find the button to turn it all off. He stood up and held in a curse. He hadn’t remembered to take any aspirin today, and he’d been running around for most of Dead Day. He had to see about getting some better shoes or something.
He bent his knees and bit his lip, his hands clutching his thighs as he waited for the pain to diminish.
“You okay?” He looked over and Zoro had woken up.
Sanji gave up and plopped back on the couch. “Yeah, just my feet. S’why I usually don’t move on Dead Day. Feet can’t take it.”
Zoro sat up and stretched. “What time is it?”
Sanji flipped open his cell phone. “10:45.”
The green haired man grunted and patted his thigh. “Put your feet up here.”
“Uh… I’m good.”
“C’mon, it’s nothing weird. You get fifteen minutes of the best foot massage your sorry ass will ever have.”
If he had asked or said it in any differently, Sanji wouldn’t have complied, but he thought resisting anymore at this point would make it uncomfortable, so he scooched back and swung one foot up on the couch.
Zoro cracked his knuckles and rubbed his hands together, and Sanji rolled his eyes. The next fifteen minutes were a fiery hell.
On the one hand, he’d never had a foot massage at all (except self administered ones), so he couldn’t really gauge if better ones existed in the world - though he doubted it. He [i]wanted[/i] to melt right into the couch, but it felt too good, and it made him want to squirm in weird ways and make noises - and [i]that[/i] was the hellish part. Keeping quiet and not moving. As Zoro’s thumbs pressed into the soles of his feet, sliding expertly from the heel to the ball of his foot and out, then down the sides, then enveloping the circumference of his foot with both hands and squeezing firmly, sliding up then down and-
He tried not to think about how much it was like a hand job.
And then there were the times were Zoro’s hands hit a ticklish spot and he jerked, and Zoro would grin at him and chuckle. And that floppy thing in his stomach was now happening about every three seconds.
By the time Zoro was done, Sanji’s feet felt much better, but he was beginning to wonder if jumping out of his window from four stories up was a reasonable idea. He let out a breath of relief and Zoro patted the foot he’d been working on and released it.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he stood up. “And if it was, call it pay back for biting me.”
“I didn’t [i]bite[/i] you, you shoved your hand in my mouth.”
“Mmhm,” Zoro nodded. “Well, I know you’ve got work, so I’m gonna split.”
Sanji nodded. “Don’t forget your Utopia.”
Zoro put the box back together. “Thanks again for dinner.”
“No problem. You and Franky helped me out a lot with this thing.” He nodded at the entertainment center. “Suppose I oughta feed him sometime too.”
“Lucci’s at Skypeia tomorrow night, I think there are plans to meet up. You coming?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. See ya tomorrow.”
***
All in all, Sanji felt content with what happened on Sunday, and that was just another reason to freak out. Lucci didn’t work at The Baratie that day, so he had no way of gauging the situation from the bartender’s reaction. He was halfway expecting some hired hit goon to meet him in an alleyway with some blunt object, but nothing like that had happened yet.
He kept wondering if he should tell Ace about it, but he didn’t know how he was gonna start that conversation.
‘So, yeah, I might be thinking about wanting to date Zoro.’
It just made no fucking sense. When had he gone from no to maybe? When had he gone from no-maybe to maybe-maybe? Why was he even entertaining the notion?
It was now two thirty, and Sanji had just gotten up the balls to call Ace out back and spill the situation to him when the Baratie manager, Kalifa, came in.
“When you have a moment Sanji, I need to speak to you in your office.”
Kalifa was a somewhat severe woman - unearthly beauty, highly intelligent, cruel in a way that was perfect for running a business. She was the type that just barely tolerated anyone, so it was difficult for Sanji to shower her with affection and praise like other women. She just didn’t have the patience for it.
He barked at Gin to pick up where he’d left off on the soup he was working on and followed her back to his office.
She closed the door behind her when they got in and sat down across from his desk.
“What can I do for my lovely manager today?” Sanji smiled and sat down in the ratty chair that had molded so well to his form over the last eight months.
“How are you doing Sanji? Do you like it here at The Baratie?”
Shit. Shit shit shit. What had he done? What had happened? He couldn’t think of any major mistake he’d made in the last eight months. He’d never called in sick, always worked full days, his staff got along, they’d done better business since he became head chef-
“I can see that you’re about to hyperventilate, so I would like to assure you that you aren’t in any trouble.”
He laughed, if only at himself. “Uh, then, yes, I love it here. I think my staff and I are doing pretty well. I mean, I’ve only got about three trustworthy waiters, but at any place I’ve ever worked, I’ve been hard pressed to find one, so I think we’re ahead of the game.”
Kalifa nodded. “Zeff and I have been discussing it over the last several weeks, and he has a lot of good things to say about you. You’re the hardest working man he’s ever hired, you’re trustworthy, you’re a brilliant chef, you know how to run a kitchen blindfolded. The raise he gave you recently was… given with what I’m about to tell you now in mind. You see, we’re very impressed with your stamina - 17 hour days, six days a week for eight months, and you never so much as called in for a cold. You haven’t needed or asked for any time off. It’s truly amazing. However, it isn’t quite what Zeff has in mind for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I wasn’t necessarily given any reason other than Zeff doesn’t want you to burn out, and at this rate, we expect you probably will within the next few years. He’d like you to stick around for a very long time, so we are going to cut your work week down.”
Sanji’s stomach twisted.
“Zeff isn’t going to come back and work those other days, is he? He’s supposed to be retired-”
“No, we’ve been interviewing other chefs for the last month.”
Other chefs. They were going to hire someone else because he couldn’t fucking do his job. Or at least they [i]thought[/i] he couldn’t do his job.
“To be honest, Kalifa… I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m perfectly happy with the schedule I’ve got, and splitting a kitchen up between two chefs… I mean, Zeff probably understands. It’s likely that we’d have two very different ways of running things, and who would be in charge of the menus and specials-”
“I’m afraid it isn’t really something up for debate. However, we anticipated that you might have these concerns. Technically, our new hire will be your sous-chef-”
He didn’t want to argue with a lovely woman like Kalifa, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but interrupt, “Gin is my sous-chef-”
“And Gin, though a valued employee, has a history of not showing up sometimes. We can’t afford to have that fault in a head chef or a sous-chef here. You will maintain the title and authority of head chef, the menu will be completely up to you, as will be the specials. This new chef won’t even be allowed to make supply orders until you deem she’s fit-”
“She?” Oh God. Sanji scrubbed at his face. Not that he thought women were any less capable, but women capable of making it in a kitchen like the veritable puss bucket of bad manners, lewd language and even borderline sexual harassment that was The Baratie... they were a rare breed. He didn’t want his staff stressed because they had to behave one way on one day with one chef, and another way on another day with another chef. It was going to cause unnecessary tension in an already well oiled machine.
“You’ll have a few days where she’ll be shadowing you, then she’ll have a few days to run the kitchen while you shadow her. You call the shots. The new schedule starts next week. You’ll work Wednesday through Saturday, she’ll work Monday and Tuesday. You’ll maintain the same benefits, your raise should fill in the gaps of the reduced hours. You’ll be on call to come in should she need you at any time.”
There wasn’t a point in arguing anymore. Zeff’s decision was obviously final.
“Sanji, you’re not being punished, you’re being rewarded. Remember that. Her first day is tomorrow, so you should prepare the kitchen staff.”
Kalifa left Sanji in his office. He waited about five minutes to make sure she was gone before he kicked the desk over viciously and screamed, “FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK.”
In the kitchen, his foul mood was apparent and everyone was on their best behavior because of it. At the end of the night, Sanji took a deep breath and told everyone to meet him in the dining room.
He chewed on an unlit cigarette as everyone settled in. He stood by the bar and tried to think about the best way to put this. If he let on that he was displeased about it, there was a chance that his staff’s loyalty would manifest itself in the form of resistance or disrespect towards the new chef - and he wouldn’t tolerate that, especially not with a lady. Bad feelings in the kitchen reflected in the overall quality of the restaurant.
“Alright, listen up.” Everyone got quiet and looked at Sanji. He sighed.
“Kalifa and Zeff have decided that you fuck ups,” he turned a smile at Nami and Vivi, “with the exception of our two perfect, lovely hostesses,” he returned his scowl to the rest of the group, “are going to put me in an early grave. And since I’m such a damn good chef, and about the only one capable of running this place without running it into the ground… they’ve decided to hire another chef for Mondays and Tuesdays.”
Groans erupted from the group, and Sanji couldn’t blame them. But he couldn’t have that kind of attitude.
“Shut your fucking traps. Our new chef starts tomorrow, and you will show her twice the amount of respect you show me, or you're fucking fired.”
“Her?” Patty said, indignant. “Boss, you can’t be serious.”
“I can and I am. And if I hear of any of you making any off color remarks to her, or showing her anything but your best behavior, so help me God you will regret it. I’ll be hanging around to help the transition until Saturday. Does everyone understand me?”
There was a round of unenthusiastic "Yes, Sir"s.
Partying was the last thing he felt like doing, so he let Nami know he wasn’t going tonight (he almost changed his mind when she pouted), stopped by the liquor store on his way home and bought a handle of Morgan’s, and went home to drown himself in his new-found pathetic-ness.
***
The expensive tile on his new kitchen floor felt good against his face, even if it wouldn’t quite stay still. It was 1 am, and he had to sober up in the next few hours if he was going to face the new chef with any sense of dignity. He should probably consider sleeping, too.
A bath sounded nice.
The skin around his eyes was sore, and then he remembered it was because he’d been rubbing it fiercely with his palms to scrub away pathetic, five-year-old tears that he wouldn’t admit to himself he’d been crying.
But he wasn’t thinking about that anymore. He needed to concentrate on getting up off the kitchen floor so he could… do whatever it was he’d been thinking about doing.
His damn phone kept ringing, but it was all the way over on the kitchen table. Far too long a journey to make, he decided.
He laughed and rolled over on his back, struggling to sit up and using the handle of one the cabinets to hoist himself up.
BANG BANG BANG.
Where on earth was that coming from? He looked around stupidly, half expecting to see that something had fallen.
BANG BANG BANG.
“Sanji! Let me in! Or answer your damn phone!”
Oh! Someone was at his [i]door[/i].
“Upsy daisy,” he said as he grabbed the edge of the counter and pulled himself up. He almost tripped over the coffee table and bumped into a lamp, but managed not to break anything as he slumped against his front door.
He peeked through the hole to see who it was, but the jerk was standing just out of view. He hated it when people did that.
“Whooz’ere?”
“Sanji, let me in.”
“Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.”
BANG.
He jumped as he felt the door rattle.
“Don’t fucking break my door, asshole!” He grabbed at the chain and lock and managed to yank the door open.
Zoro stepped in, a heavy scowl on his face. “What the fuck, man, we’ve been calling you all God damn night… How much have you had to drink?”
Sanji wobbled back to his couch, and Zoro shut the door behind him. He spied the mostly empty handle of Morgan’s in the kitchen.
“Shit, Sanji, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is fucking wrong with me, what’s wrong with you? I told Nami I wasn’t going-”
“Yeah, and Ace said you’d probably be drinking yourself stupid right about now after the news at The Baratie. I thought you weren’t that stupid, but you wouldn’t answer your fucking phone. You’re gonna get alcohol poisoning, dip shit-”
“God, you sound just like Shuraiya. Get the fuck out, I don’t need this right now.”
Zoro snorted and took off his jacket. “I told you I wasn’t any good with kids.”
“I’m [i]not[/i] a kid, asshole-”
“Then stop fucking acting like one!” Zoro shouted. “I don’t get what you’re so upset about, but what good is it going to do to wreck your body over it?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Sanji muttered darkly, falling over on the couch.
Zoro ignored him and went to the kitchen to get some water. He rummaged through the cabinets for something like bread to soak up the alcohol. He settled for some fancy looking bread and brought it out to the living room.
Sanji glared at him.
“Is that my loaf of $22 Roquefort and Almond sourdough bread that you were about to give me for hangover prevention?”
Zoro looked at the bread, then at Sanji. “Maybe.”
Sanji rolled his eyes and turned on his stomach and buried his face in the crook of the couch.
“Alright, if you don’t drink the water and eat something, I’ll throw it in the trash.”
Even drunk, Sanji could tell he wasn’t kidding.
He sat up and snatched the water. “There’s regular bread in the fridge. Put the honey ham, spicy mustard and swiss cheese on it.”
Zoro snorted and went to the kitchen to prepare the sandwich. He kept the fancy bread with him.
Sanji’s head was still swimming when he finished the water and the sandwich. On top of the alcohol, he was almost uncomfortably full. Zoro sat on the edge of the coffee table and watched him silently until he was finished.
“So tell me why getting a new chef so you can have more time off is such a fucking big deal.”
“You don’t get it. I can do my damn job, and I can fucking do it perfect. But that bastard Zeff and Kalifa don’t think I’m worth two shits, so they gotta hire someone else because-” he stopped, his breath hitching. He buried his head in his hands. “Doesn’t matter. S’not like I can change their minds. It’s so fucking stupid. I never called in [i]once[/i]. Their profits have gone up since I started working there, I got three fucking stars in the fucking Michelin guide, we have the lowest turn over rate in probably the entire fucking city-”
“It’s two days a week Sanji. Don’t you think if they were doing this because you weren’t good enough, they would have just fired you? You get one day off a week and you’re so exhausted by then you can barely walk. Did they tell you that you weren’t doing good enough?”
“No.”
“Then stop doing this to yourself. Your staff respects you, your restaurant is one of the best in New York, and you deserve a break.”
Sanji dug his palms into his eye sockets to keep himself from crying again. He wished it were Ace sitting here. Ace had seen him at his lowest; it wasn’t anything new to him. But it was Zoro here taking care of his sorry ass and consoling him like he was a fucking child.
“I don’t even know what the fuck I’m gonna do with myself. A three day weekend… I’ll go fucking crazy. And the staff is gonna go crazy having to work for two different chefs, and this new one is a [i]woman[/i] and that’s just gonna start all kinds of shit.”
Zoro chuckled. “First time I think I’ve heard you unhappy about a woman being around.”
Sanji laughed wryly. “Yeah well… I’m sure she’s perfectly capable.”
“And I’m sure you’ll work it out to where everyone can function fine. Ace and Lucci have your back.”
“Whatever. Lucci fucking hates me right now.”
Zoro gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”
Sanji scrubbed at his face again and ran his fingers through his hair. “Nothing. It’s not a big deal.” He stood up and took his empty glass of water to the kitchen and filled it again. The floor still wasn’t [i]quite[/i] steady.
“You guys are close. What happened?”
Sanji shook his head. “He’s just… I don’t know. I’m really drunk right now, I can’t think straight.” He downed the second glass.
“You need to sleep. Gonna sober up in time to go to work?”
“Think so.”
“Come on,” Zoro gestured for him to follow him.
Sanji let himself be led to his bedroom. He was already in what could be considered pajamas, so Zoro stopped at the bedroom door.
“Got your alarm set?”
Sanji nodded.
“Gonna be okay?”
“Yes, mom.”
Zoro grinned and patted Sanji on the shoulder. “Call me if you need me.”
Sanji’s stomach squirmed, but it wasn’t from being full, or from the alcohol. He took Zoro’s hand that was still on his shoulder and stood there for a moment.
Zoro looked at him questioningly. “What?”
“I’m sorry.”
The other man had been about to ask what for, when Sanji stumbled forward clumsily and mashed his lips to Zoro’s.
Beta'd by bronzetigress ! Thanks so much!