Misplaced (Chapter III)
Series: One Piece
Characters: Sanji, Foxy, Chiki Cheetah, mention of Porche
Disclaimer: Oda owns One Piece.
Title: Misplaced
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Friendship, drama
Summary: Sanji winds up in Foxy's crew after another uneventful game of Davy Back Fight. The cook is forced to confront the issue of socializing poorly with his new crew mates, in addition to the general feeling of being left out.
Early Morning: Foxy shows Sanji to his room, where the cook takes to contemplating. After a good night's rest, he wakes to a somewhat disturbing sight.
When Sanji pranced into the men's dorm, he immediately stopped and stared.
"Hey. Should the captain be spending his time cooped up here when everyone else is out celebrating?"
Foxy turned with an awkward smile. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, his back to his newest crew mate with his head tilted to get a good look at him. There was that permanent glint in his eye that unsettled Sanji. "I could ask you the same thing, Cook. The celebration is to welcome you, why have you left early?"
"They were being noisy. Besides," he paused and lit a cigarette, "if anyone should be welcoming me, it's you."
"I was getting your room set up. It wouldn't do to have my crew mates sleep on the floor now, would it?" As earnest as it sounded, the cook was positive strings were attached to the act of kindness. Or Foxy was actually being genuine, which he wasn't very used to at this point and time considering all the rotten tricks the captain had pulled back during the Davy Back Fight.
Sanji stared ahead. "Then which is my room?"
"That one to my left - you'll be rooming with Chiki Cheetah."
He knew there had been strings attached. Sharing a room with a cheetah who could not resist strong odors was bound to be disastrous. But who was he to complain when Foxy had went out of his way to prepare space for another occupant? Eying the assigned door, he nodded in agreement. His captain, on the other hand, shook his head.
"We are crew mates now, loosen up. You'll be used to the accommodations in no time," Foxy encouraged. "And I am, of course...?" he trailed off to let Sanji finish, but that proved to be a bad move on his part.
"I know who you are, Shitty Oyabin."
The stocky man fell to the ground, his hands and knees supporting his hefty weight. The air of depression was surrounding him, the lighting across the hallway seemingly useless. "I-I'm shit?" he choked.
Exhaling the smoke he breathed, Sanji paid no heed to the man's fit. "Yeah, you are." Then, turning to his left, he left Foxy to himself as he entered what would be his room. And instantly loathed it.
"... You're kidding me," he grumbled, taking in the visual appeal of the room which was, in his humble opinion, excruciatingly low. He'd let it slide for the time being; his roommate was a beast... man - which leaves me wondering, what exactly is he? - after all.
The walls were bear and there was little furniture - a cot was the only notable item occupying most of the space. Normally, it would have given the visitor the impression that the resident was simply modest had the dump of a mess on the ground not been there. It was not unorganized, per se, as the main problem was that - while various items were properly stacked in their respective piles - it looked as if the owner had shoved everything in one corner and had forgotten to straighten them out. Breathing heavily, the cook stood for but a moment before the need to clean took over, and he was suddenly moving without realizing it.
It had taken Sanji approximately an hour to straighten things out, from clothes to leftovers (which he had taken the liberty of tossing into a hidden waste bin). The room was aesthetically clean but the odor that lingered was still strong and kicking. The smell was not bad; however, he certainly did not want to radiate such a fragrance. Too much of it would leave him gagging, if anything, and he preferred the scent of cigarettes over whatever this was.
Resting a hand against his temple, he massaged away the headache that followed. It occurred to him that perhaps Foxy had been lying about setting up the room, which had subsequently led to Sanji doing the honor of cleaning it up. The man was sly, that much he knew, and the captain was aware of his advantages. It would have been strange for the leading authority to have spent his time preparing for just another mate, anyway.
Nevertheless, he was glad that he had brought an air refresher of sorts. Tea was a much more satisfying alternative to the odd stench.
"Back at the Going Merry, Nami-san and Robin-chan would be getting their snacks around this time," he mused. But I'm not part of the crew anymore - for now.
He was getting the condescending urge to kick someone or thing, but the thought of Porche calmed him down to a certain degree. Sanji adored the way she would pout when losing or how she otherwise burst into laughter triumphantly. The woman was shameless and flamboyant, two traits he could easily relate to. Unfortunately, no matter how he looked at it, she could not fill the holes Nami and Robin had created when he left. Porche was another woman; she was not meant to replace the imagery of his favorite people.
His thoughts were interrupted when someone on deck started hitting the floor harder, causing the tapping sounds to carry over to the dorm underneath. Clearly, his crew mates were enjoying themselves from the outrageous amount of yelling and partying, even though their object of celebration was not with them. Shaking his head, the cook put out his cigarette on a makeshift ashtray before retiring to the cot. Exhausted, he found sleep with ease.
- - - - - - - - - -
Sanji stirred, his side brushing against a soft presence as his fingers instinctively reached up to tangle into it. Letting out a content sigh, he edged closer to the fur, gripping tighter.
Wait. Fur?
An eye shot open and he nearly gagged upon seeing Cheetah's face - he was too close for comfort. His hands were still touching the creature's coat due to shock. For a moment he continued to stare, until he choked on nothing in particular and leaped off the cot. He'd forgotten that another would be joining him overnight, that being his roommate. His heart had honestly skipped a healthy beat or two from the discovery.
Fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, he chewed on his lower lip. He did mind waking to an occasion like this every morning, and he hoped that would not prove to be the case. Cheetah had a strong grip, there was a slight possibility that the cook would be throttled to his death one night, and Sanji was not planning on dying such a miserable death anytime soon.
He calmed his nerves by lighting a cigarette, breathing in the nicotine that soothed his ill temper. Starting the morning with a kick to Cheetah's side did not seem like a bright move, no matter how tempting it was. To hit a crew mate came off as a conditioned reflex to Sanji; he was constantly kicking Luffy and Usopp around for their foolishness. In this ship, practically everyone had a semblance of their ridiculous behavior - and he certainly was not going to waste precious time beating around fools that never learned.
So he decided to leave the creature alone for time being and departed to the kitchen.
- - - - - - - - - -
Even here, Sanji appeared to be the early bird. He'd often gotten up before anyone else when he used to cook for the ship of six to make sure that each dish was made with utmost detail and flavor. It wasn't different here, for the kitchen was deserted with no trace of activity for the past few hours, as signified by the bottles of liquor that laid near the edge of the counters.
Fixing his tie, he stared. "It can't get any messier than this."
Gathering the empty bottles to dispose of and the remaining alcohol to store away, he diligently wiped the tables. When the party leftovers were dealt with, he picked up the used utensils and dropped them into the sink. Turning the handle to start the water, he reached for a relatively clean rag and added in the necessary detergent for sanitation. He scrubbed down the cooking equipment, a feeling of déjà vu washing over every fiber of his being as his body worked efficiently. A smile grew on his features with each pan and pot that glistened in the dim light.
And for the first time since his arrival, Sanji felt at home.
When he'd finished tending to the equipment, it was still bright out. Relinquishing his grip on the rag and holding onto the final pan, he grinned.
"Looks like I'm in charge of breakfast."
After all, 500 customers were no challenge for a first-class cook.
- - - - - - - - - -
Sanji did not move in the slightest when the door clicked, indicating another presence. From the silence that followed, he assumed it was either a cook or a pirate that was fascinated with cooking. When the newcomer made no signs of having moved, he glanced over his shoulders to see Mayonnaise.
"We don't have cheese," he said, turning back to his meal-in-progress.
The novice cook cocked his head. "Yer cookin'?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"But the head doesn' cook." Judging from his tone, he was genuinely confused which thoroughly put Sanji in a worse mood than he had been earlier in the morning.
He gritted. "Well, I am."
"Okay," Mayonnaise shrugged.
Flipping the sausages on the pan, Sanji chewed into his cigarette. Hopefully the novice would leave him alone until the meals were finished; he had had enough distraction from the incessant snoring and sleep talks that had seeped through the kitchen floor. In contrast to the halcyon room, the slightest sounds pierced through the silence and echoed softly. It had been sending him on the edge for some time, and Mayonnaise was not helping. Looking back on it, he never was, and Sanji could only think that the cook was permanently associated with trouble. If he brings in any more expired ingredients, he's getting it.
There was another click and Mayonnaise was gone. Sanji's shoulders sagged after the tension lifted despite the increasingly lonely atmosphere. But as he continued to cook and pursue his passion, the kitchen was more welcome than anything.
« Chapter II x Chapter IV »
Characters: Sanji, Foxy, Chiki Cheetah, mention of Porche
Disclaimer: Oda owns One Piece.
Title: Misplaced
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Friendship, drama
Summary: Sanji winds up in Foxy's crew after another uneventful game of Davy Back Fight. The cook is forced to confront the issue of socializing poorly with his new crew mates, in addition to the general feeling of being left out.
Early Morning: Foxy shows Sanji to his room, where the cook takes to contemplating. After a good night's rest, he wakes to a somewhat disturbing sight.
When Sanji pranced into the men's dorm, he immediately stopped and stared.
"Hey. Should the captain be spending his time cooped up here when everyone else is out celebrating?"
Foxy turned with an awkward smile. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, his back to his newest crew mate with his head tilted to get a good look at him. There was that permanent glint in his eye that unsettled Sanji. "I could ask you the same thing, Cook. The celebration is to welcome you, why have you left early?"
"They were being noisy. Besides," he paused and lit a cigarette, "if anyone should be welcoming me, it's you."
"I was getting your room set up. It wouldn't do to have my crew mates sleep on the floor now, would it?" As earnest as it sounded, the cook was positive strings were attached to the act of kindness. Or Foxy was actually being genuine, which he wasn't very used to at this point and time considering all the rotten tricks the captain had pulled back during the Davy Back Fight.
Sanji stared ahead. "Then which is my room?"
"That one to my left - you'll be rooming with Chiki Cheetah."
He knew there had been strings attached. Sharing a room with a cheetah who could not resist strong odors was bound to be disastrous. But who was he to complain when Foxy had went out of his way to prepare space for another occupant? Eying the assigned door, he nodded in agreement. His captain, on the other hand, shook his head.
"We are crew mates now, loosen up. You'll be used to the accommodations in no time," Foxy encouraged. "And I am, of course...?" he trailed off to let Sanji finish, but that proved to be a bad move on his part.
"I know who you are, Shitty Oyabin."
The stocky man fell to the ground, his hands and knees supporting his hefty weight. The air of depression was surrounding him, the lighting across the hallway seemingly useless. "I-I'm shit?" he choked.
Exhaling the smoke he breathed, Sanji paid no heed to the man's fit. "Yeah, you are." Then, turning to his left, he left Foxy to himself as he entered what would be his room. And instantly loathed it.
"... You're kidding me," he grumbled, taking in the visual appeal of the room which was, in his humble opinion, excruciatingly low. He'd let it slide for the time being; his roommate was a beast... man - which leaves me wondering, what exactly is he? - after all.
The walls were bear and there was little furniture - a cot was the only notable item occupying most of the space. Normally, it would have given the visitor the impression that the resident was simply modest had the dump of a mess on the ground not been there. It was not unorganized, per se, as the main problem was that - while various items were properly stacked in their respective piles - it looked as if the owner had shoved everything in one corner and had forgotten to straighten them out. Breathing heavily, the cook stood for but a moment before the need to clean took over, and he was suddenly moving without realizing it.
It had taken Sanji approximately an hour to straighten things out, from clothes to leftovers (which he had taken the liberty of tossing into a hidden waste bin). The room was aesthetically clean but the odor that lingered was still strong and kicking. The smell was not bad; however, he certainly did not want to radiate such a fragrance. Too much of it would leave him gagging, if anything, and he preferred the scent of cigarettes over whatever this was.
Resting a hand against his temple, he massaged away the headache that followed. It occurred to him that perhaps Foxy had been lying about setting up the room, which had subsequently led to Sanji doing the honor of cleaning it up. The man was sly, that much he knew, and the captain was aware of his advantages. It would have been strange for the leading authority to have spent his time preparing for just another mate, anyway.
Nevertheless, he was glad that he had brought an air refresher of sorts. Tea was a much more satisfying alternative to the odd stench.
"Back at the Going Merry, Nami-san and Robin-chan would be getting their snacks around this time," he mused. But I'm not part of the crew anymore - for now.
He was getting the condescending urge to kick someone or thing, but the thought of Porche calmed him down to a certain degree. Sanji adored the way she would pout when losing or how she otherwise burst into laughter triumphantly. The woman was shameless and flamboyant, two traits he could easily relate to. Unfortunately, no matter how he looked at it, she could not fill the holes Nami and Robin had created when he left. Porche was another woman; she was not meant to replace the imagery of his favorite people.
His thoughts were interrupted when someone on deck started hitting the floor harder, causing the tapping sounds to carry over to the dorm underneath. Clearly, his crew mates were enjoying themselves from the outrageous amount of yelling and partying, even though their object of celebration was not with them. Shaking his head, the cook put out his cigarette on a makeshift ashtray before retiring to the cot. Exhausted, he found sleep with ease.
- - - - - - - - - -
Sanji stirred, his side brushing against a soft presence as his fingers instinctively reached up to tangle into it. Letting out a content sigh, he edged closer to the fur, gripping tighter.
Wait. Fur?
An eye shot open and he nearly gagged upon seeing Cheetah's face - he was too close for comfort. His hands were still touching the creature's coat due to shock. For a moment he continued to stare, until he choked on nothing in particular and leaped off the cot. He'd forgotten that another would be joining him overnight, that being his roommate. His heart had honestly skipped a healthy beat or two from the discovery.
Fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, he chewed on his lower lip. He did mind waking to an occasion like this every morning, and he hoped that would not prove to be the case. Cheetah had a strong grip, there was a slight possibility that the cook would be throttled to his death one night, and Sanji was not planning on dying such a miserable death anytime soon.
He calmed his nerves by lighting a cigarette, breathing in the nicotine that soothed his ill temper. Starting the morning with a kick to Cheetah's side did not seem like a bright move, no matter how tempting it was. To hit a crew mate came off as a conditioned reflex to Sanji; he was constantly kicking Luffy and Usopp around for their foolishness. In this ship, practically everyone had a semblance of their ridiculous behavior - and he certainly was not going to waste precious time beating around fools that never learned.
So he decided to leave the creature alone for time being and departed to the kitchen.
- - - - - - - - - -
Even here, Sanji appeared to be the early bird. He'd often gotten up before anyone else when he used to cook for the ship of six to make sure that each dish was made with utmost detail and flavor. It wasn't different here, for the kitchen was deserted with no trace of activity for the past few hours, as signified by the bottles of liquor that laid near the edge of the counters.
Fixing his tie, he stared. "It can't get any messier than this."
Gathering the empty bottles to dispose of and the remaining alcohol to store away, he diligently wiped the tables. When the party leftovers were dealt with, he picked up the used utensils and dropped them into the sink. Turning the handle to start the water, he reached for a relatively clean rag and added in the necessary detergent for sanitation. He scrubbed down the cooking equipment, a feeling of déjà vu washing over every fiber of his being as his body worked efficiently. A smile grew on his features with each pan and pot that glistened in the dim light.
And for the first time since his arrival, Sanji felt at home.
When he'd finished tending to the equipment, it was still bright out. Relinquishing his grip on the rag and holding onto the final pan, he grinned.
"Looks like I'm in charge of breakfast."
After all, 500 customers were no challenge for a first-class cook.
- - - - - - - - - -
Sanji did not move in the slightest when the door clicked, indicating another presence. From the silence that followed, he assumed it was either a cook or a pirate that was fascinated with cooking. When the newcomer made no signs of having moved, he glanced over his shoulders to see Mayonnaise.
"We don't have cheese," he said, turning back to his meal-in-progress.
The novice cook cocked his head. "Yer cookin'?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"But the head doesn' cook." Judging from his tone, he was genuinely confused which thoroughly put Sanji in a worse mood than he had been earlier in the morning.
He gritted. "Well, I am."
"Okay," Mayonnaise shrugged.
Flipping the sausages on the pan, Sanji chewed into his cigarette. Hopefully the novice would leave him alone until the meals were finished; he had had enough distraction from the incessant snoring and sleep talks that had seeped through the kitchen floor. In contrast to the halcyon room, the slightest sounds pierced through the silence and echoed softly. It had been sending him on the edge for some time, and Mayonnaise was not helping. Looking back on it, he never was, and Sanji could only think that the cook was permanently associated with trouble. If he brings in any more expired ingredients, he's getting it.
There was another click and Mayonnaise was gone. Sanji's shoulders sagged after the tension lifted despite the increasingly lonely atmosphere. But as he continued to cook and pursue his passion, the kitchen was more welcome than anything.
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