Chapter Text
On the horizon, far beyond the unpredictable tides of the Grand Line, the sand piled up into towering dunes driven by the wind, mountains of pure gold. The dryness scraped painfully at Sanji’s throat, thirst clinging to him every second of the day. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the silhouettes of the Alabasta kingdom, yet he couldn’t set aside the knife in his hand as well, as it glided smoothly over the cutting board. The air felt hollow, empty and burnt out. Grains of sand tingled beneath his bare feet as they scratched over the wooden planks, busy and restless.
The Straw Hats would soon have to leave the Merry behind and drop anchor, aiming to reach inland as soon as possible. Sanji wondered if the desert really was as unbearable as he’d read in those countless books, in the little library on the cargo ship back then. He still remembered the yellowed pages vividly, worn thin and torn because no one had treated them with the respect they had deserved. The ones that had been on the verge of falling apart, he’d hidden all the way in the back so the crew wouldn't use them as coasters anymore.
»Look, Sanji! I’m Captain Usopp, the King of Pirates!« Usopp stuck his finger through the freshly made rice ball, let it dance over the table. »Look at me, I’m famous!«
Luffy wheezed like a kettle. His tiny snowman made of rice wobbled from left to right, dangerously, until it finally toppled over, flooding the table with white grains and the filling.
»You annoying assholes, stop playing with the food!« Sanji snapped, smacking them on the back of the neck with the flat of his hand. It stung and their skin flushed red, well deserved.
He sentenced them to do the dishes. They scrubbed the plates in filthy wastewater. He told them to strain their stupid, mushy brains and to stop getting on his damn nerves, or he’d drown Luffy in the river and tie Usopp upside down to the main mast until his eyes popped out of his skull. They shuffled off with hanging heads, mumbling a half-hearted apology.
»I’m really sorry about that. That’s not how I raised him.«
Sanji flinched. It had been quiet for an eternity, his temper slowly cooling, and he’d completely forgotten the guest at his table.
Ace sat with a casualness Sanji wouldn’t have expected from a member of Whitebeard’s crew. There was sincerity shining in his eyes, a rarity these days, and he watched him cook as if there were nowhere else on deck he’d rather be.
»Didn’t mean to hit him,« Sanji muttered, »but I hate it when he plays with food. He knows that very well.«
»Don’t worry, he can take it,« Ace said lightly. »Don’t let him walk all over you. Being his cook’s a pain in the ass, huh? Guess you regretted your decision to join his crew, once or twice.«
Sanji spread the sticky rice across the work surface with quick, precise movements, making sure the layer was even.
»I was born to cook. I’ll always enjoy it,« he said. »And Luffy’s the best customer. He’s not really picky, that'd be worse. He likes trying new things.«
Ace took his time answering, chuckling softly. »You like trying new things?«
»Always.« Sanji shrugged. »I’m a cook, after all.«
He turned the rice ball in his hands tenderly, proud that the grains no longer stuck to his skin. They’d turned out really well. Perfect rations for a desert journey. He spread the filling on the next layer once again, careful to cover the right spots. One monotonous motion, then another. Bad luck with the third and his sleeves slipped down to his wrists.
He cursed under his breath. No cook in the world worked with sleeves that could slide down like that, but they’d forced him into this outfit, and there’d been no time to change. Now he was stuck with a sleeve in his filling.
»Can I help?«
Sanji shook his head and tugged at the fabric with his teeth, trying to free his hands.
Ace suddenly appeared right beside him. He took Sanji’s forearm, firmly, and pushed the fabric up over his elbow, securing it with a practiced fold. He did the same on the other side, as a matter of course. Up close, he was a lot taller than Sanji had realized. He towered over him by a full head, the air around him jittery, as if he were wrapped in a layer of hot slate, slowly simmering in the sun. His fingertips were warm, almost too hot to bear for long. Sanji's mouth felt even drier than before, as if Ace burned the humidity out of the air around them. He couldn't help but take a closer look at Ace's right hand, the smooth and unblemished skin on his knuckles.
The Fire Fist.
The first time Sanji had witnessed his famous attack, his vision had been shattered by blinding white spots for minutes. This man’s body, the body of someone Sanji had classified as a threat at that time, had fully dissolved into roaring flames, scorching the street in a radius the size of an apartment block. That kind of power was nothing he wanted to mess with, which made it feel surreal to have Ace standing peacefully at his side, smiling like he couldn’t hurt a fly.
Sanji smiled back and thanked him politely, but behind his manners, he felt his pulse pounding in his hands. That unpredictable aura around Ace, and the feeling of existing next to someone who could cause horrific damage with a single outburst of rage, didn't mix well in his chest. The Merry was built from wooden planks, flammable glue and tar. One spark and she’d be gone, burned down to ashes, along with the crew.
»I’ve never seen anyone with such beautiful eyes,« Ace said, staring at his face. »They’re almost colorless. Like a cloudy sky.«
Sanji choked on air, desperately trying to keep calm, and mumbled, »Well, they’re quite boring.« He scoffed and turned away. »I think. Never thought about it.«
Heat crept up his neck. Who the hell said something like that to a stranger? That strange aura was one thing, but Ace also seemed to have no filter speaking. He was sincere and certain about what he said, and there was no reason to mistrust him. He couldn't have a reason to lie, yet there was no way that twisted spark of wrong attention wasn't placed there without a reason.
Sanji had never liked his eyes. They were lifeless and gray, nothing to stare at for longer than necessary. Besides, men weren’t supposed to care about other men’s eye colors. That was reserved for women, who earned these compliments by their mere existence.
Sanji focused on his breathing. Rolled the rice balls. Tried to forget about his eyes.
»Come on, baby,« Ace hummed. »Give me something to do. I’m bored.«
Baby. He really stuck with it and Sanji's heart jumped again.
Ace had shown up on the Merry earlier, right after saving them from sinking, wearing nothing but pants, a hat, shoes, and a confident grin on his face. He was a guest, he’d helped them, and he was Luffy’s older brother, so it was natural for Sanji to invite him to eat. He’d followed Sanji into the galley with lazy steps, eyes wandering around the rigging, and a proud smile had tugged on his lips.
»What’s your name, cook?«
»Sanji,« he’d murmured, rummaging in the fridge for the prepared filling.
»Seriously?« Ace had laughed. »Well, fine by me. Not all parents love their kids.«
A few minutes and several very irritated remarks later, Ace had realized he’d misheard. Sanji wasn’t called Baby after all, Ace just claimed that remembering names wasn’t his thing, so he wouldn’t bother trying.
»Say it a few more times and you’ll be running on low flame only, got it?« But he realized Ace loved pushing him to the brink, so he practiced calm and control until the little word stopped getting to him.
»You’re a guest. Guests don’t work in my kitchen,« he said again, even though he felt a bit sorry seeing the poor guy standing there like he’d been summoned but forgotten. »Just tell me something about yourself.«
Sanji didn’t even know why he’d come up with that idea, but Ace enjoyed talking. He was curious. Curious people liked to talk, and Sanji wanted to keep his guest entertained as best as he could.
»About me?«
»Can't spot anyone else here.« Sanji demonstratively turned around, glancing over his shoulder. »Go on. Where’re you from?«
»The Lamentina,« Ace answered slowly, »the second ship in Whitebeard’s fleet.«
»Where you were born, genius.«
»In the East Blue,« Ace said. »Some shitty little island nobody knows and I’ll never set foot on again. Luffy’s on the Grand Line now, he would've been the only thing I missed.«
He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at the empty table. Leaned his full weight against the counter, wood against hip bones. That had to hurt, hadn't it? The red cord around his neck that tethered his hat looked like it was cutting off his air.
Ace was lying. Sanji just didn’t know why he bothered.
»You two don’t look alike at all,« slipped out before he could think about it. »You and Luffy, I mean.«
Ace’s gaze snapped up before his head followed. He tapped the floor with the tip of his boot. Once, twice. Sanji turned back to his kitchen, letting the cooled rice balls roll neatly from his palms.
»You think so?«
His voice was wrapped in a threat Sanji couldn’t quite grasp.
»I do.«
Maybe he’d stepped into something that was none of his business. Sanji was pretty sure Luffy and Ace weren’t blood-related, more sure than he’d ever been of anything, but it wasn’t on his menu, and if his guest didn’t want to talk about it, so be it.
»I was born in the East Blue too,« he lied, quite smoothly compared to Ace's attempt. »Sarah Bay. I sailed with the Marines for a while, then went back to my father at the Baratié.«
They were lying like scum, so they might as well have fun with it. Sanji used that to his advantage.
»The Baratié,« Ace repeated slowly, savoring the word. »Red-Leg Zeff’s restaurant. That’s where I met you for the first time.«
Sanji spun around, staring in disbelief.
»You were head chef, smoking out on the veranda.« Ace smirked like it was a fond memory. »You gave old Zeff a hard time, your favourite thing to do. I remember your hair, it was a little shorter and less bleached. And then there was that girl, with the loudmouth at her side.«
»Amara,« Sanji hummed, smiling as his brain shut off completely. »She was beautiful. Like a water lily on glittering waves.«
Ace squinted. »You were crying.«
Sometimes even the desert felt like the coldest place in the world, when a breeze was sharp enough to cut the warmth from a man's bones.
»Onions,« Sanji said, hands failing him. »The only thing that helps is fresh air.«
»Good for you then, you are a very pretty crier,« Ace chuckled. »I’ve never seen anyone cry like that.«
»Then you should try cutting onions, too. Burns like hell.«
Maybe the coldness in his voice gave him away, but he didn’t want to talk about that day. It was bad enough that he had had to live through that day, and the thought that he had been caught crying was awful. And he certainly wasn't pretty when he cried. His family had made sure to teach him that.
The silence filled with oppressive weight, stretching around them like a cage of nothing but distanced proximity. Ace studied him quietly, irises soaked in concern, even if it wasn’t real.
»Too bad,« Sanji said eventually. »I don’t remember you at all. I was very arrogant back then. Didn’t talk to customers much.«
»You were so cute,« Ace smiled. »Still are.«
Sanji shook his head, as if he could fend off Ace’s nonsense with the motion alone. He’d never been cute and never wanted to be. Those words confused him, he didn't know what Ace meant by that, and they made him feel jittery.
»I’ll show you cute,« he muttered. »That’s rude. You wanted to teach Luffy manners, didn’t you? You don’t have any yourself.«
»I think you’re cute. Nothing rude about that.«
An annoying, thrilling feeling settled in Sanji’s stomach. »You don’t just say stuff like that! We don’t even know each other. I’m not cute, I’m a guy. Guys aren’t cute.«
»So you don't like cute guys?« Ace hummed, head tipping to the side. »What’s your type, Sanji?«
He sounded confident, like he’d like to hear a certain answer, but for once, he’d asked a question that grounded Sanji again. He didn’t have to think for long, as they ventured into familiar territory.
»Red hair, big tits, and sassy.«
He was just about to turn around and ask what Ace’s type was. He could be picky, after all. He was a famous pirate and asked pretty weird questions, but as Whitebeard's favourite he probably had it easier with women. His body was athletic and he had a beautiful smile, one that made girls' heads spin.
»I meant your type of man, baby.«
The fresh plate nearly slipped from Sanji’s hand, just a step away from falling to the floor and shattering into millions of pieces, he managed and sighed deeply.
That explained a lot. He wondered why he hadn’t figured it out a lot earlier, as he was usually the one who was good at understanding people and saw through them, quite reliable.
An uncomfortable blush crept onto his cheeks. He didn’t know what to do, didn't know what to say, didn’t want to be rude. He wanted to keep talking to Ace, not give him false hope, coax the last few secrets out of him...
»Listen,« he said eventually, »I don’t know how you got that idea, but I’m into women. Women only.«
»You sure?« Ace asked lazily, eyebrows raised.
»Yes, very sure.«
His voice grew louder, firmer. He was sick of weird questions. Ace behaved so strangely around him and this conversation led nowhere safe, no place of calm, and Ace’s mere presence made him lose self-confidence, threatening him with shameless words. The fear of getting burned, lost in the fire, rattled him so badly he couldn’t even look Ace in the eyes anymore.
»Want to try anyway?«
Sanji’s mouth popped open. His eyes refused to leave the counter, even when he straightened up again. A tingling spread through his guts, flooding his nervous system with thousands of tiny shocks. He waited for Ace to laugh, to mark it as a joke, but he just stood there, looking at him, perfectly calm.
»No,« Sanji choked out.
»Was that a question?«
Sanji’s gaze crept across the work surface. The stovetop, the pans, the pots. The planks on the wall, stained with grease and smoke. Bronze skin speckled with freckles, defined muscles, belt, bracelets, broad shoulders, pitch-black hair, a sharp jawline. Full, velvety lips slowly pulling into a knowing grin.
»Baby? You still alive?«
Light shot through Ace’s eyes, igniting them into a sea of molten gold. Sanji’s breath hitched, he couldn’t remember who he was or what he was doing here for a moment, he just saw them burn. Trapped flames behind thick glass, waiting to devour everything they could catch. Hands that craved more and more, feeding on him shamelessly. Dangerous, untamed will.
»Ace,« he heard himself say in a warning tone, growling like a wounded animal. »Stop hitting on me.«
Snow-white teeth flashed, edges as sharp as Sea Kings’.
»Sorry,« Ace said, retreating back to his table. »Let me know if you change your mind.« He snorted. »Or if I can help with something else. Man, I feel so useless. I’m not used to being this pampered.«
The tension gripping Sanji’s body climbed all the way into his jaw. He ground his teeth together, the sound clashing through the silence. The sun was blinding. The air too thick. His nose itched. He needed chi. Smokes. Smokes!
His fingers grazed over the familiar paper pack, and his pulse calmed in an instant. Of course he didn’t smoke in the galley, at least not if they planned to eat there later. He shouldn't leave his guest alone, but he had to, otherwise he would lose his mind and drown in a black sea of confusion.
Sanji stretched his arm out toward him, the cigarette between his fingers.
Ace smiled, sweet and blissful like an old friend, head propped on one hand, and with the other he conjured a small flame into the air. Tiny sparks sprayed from his fingertips, glowing like fairy dust.
»Handy,« Sanji said before stepping outside and greedily dragging the toxic smoke into his lungs, like it could erase the last few minutes from his memory. But it couldn't.
His hands trembled faintly. He looked out at the sea, the deep blue of relentless tides, the shining dunes and mountains of sand, miles and miles of dusty emptiness, nothing but golden streams and gentle breeze. So beautiful to watch, yet his heart refused to calm down.
Curiosity.
His worst trait. He always went too far, baited by the thought of tasting something new, something better, though the disappointment mostly outweighed. His brain was always hunting for new stimuli, rewiring itself over and over again, forever searching for a task and a kick. He was helplessly drawn to trouble in a chice disguise.
What would it taste like, he asked himself.
A man on his tongue, rough and salty, nothing like familiar. Bronze skin between his teeth, freckles clouding his mind. A cunning hand in his hair and false affection seeping down his throat while he gave his body away for a stranger to treat. Kisses like burns. A dish made by a completely different recipe.
Sanji choked on the smoke and coughed, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.