Luffy looks down at his hand after it gets swatted away, like he can't quite figure out why that happened. For once, his fingers aren't even sticky! (Not that having sticky fingers would have stopped him from doing it, but still.)
He's stuck on whether or not to ask about it, but then Sanji has another strange question for him, and at least Luffy knows the answer to it this time: "I just fought a whale!" So they literally just got to the Grand Line, Nami hasn't even gotten sick yet. Maybe it's not a great sign that first thing Luffy did was get separated from his ship and most of his crew on their inaugural stop, but Sanji's here with him so he's pretty sure he hasn't totally botched it.
Normally, he wouldn't feel like this was a botch at all, and he'd just set out to explore the place and have a little fun before finding a way back, but Sanji is worrying him. It's the visual differences he can't explain, the odd questions, the fact that he's clearly been in some sort of scuffle but he won't tell his Captain about it. Luffy's lips press together for a moment like he's thinking as hard as he can, and apparently in doing so he decides that Sanji didn't really mean to whack him away a moment ago, maybe he'd just pressed on something that hurt him and it was a reflex. This time when he reaches for Sanji's face again, he's more careful and he just uses his knuckles to brush the fall of blond hair away from the side of his cook's forehead, where he thought he'd seen the signs of bruising before getting rebuffed. "You did get hit!" he says, alarmed, when he reveals the fading bruise near Sanji's temple to the bright morning island sunlight.
A whale. His eyes dart to the left in thought. Laboon? Their most recent crewmate is Brook, and he's talking about meeting Laboon? That was ages ago! For goodness' sake, they were nearly out of Paradise before everything went so wrong.
It's also esoteric enough that not just anyone would know about their encounter with Laboon upon climbing Reverse Mountain. That gives further credence to the puzzling identity of the man before him, even as they're rapidly reaching a head in regards to how far they can take this impromptu game of cat and mouse.
And why does Luffy keep touching him like that?
Touching in and of itself is nothing special. Luffy is a tactile creature by nature, ever eager to loop his arms around his crew and paste himself to unsuspecting bodies. He puts his whole being into everything he does. In other words, the gentle touch doesn't suit his vivacious image, which is why Sanji's brow draws a little tighter at the tenderness of those knuckles against his hair before he releases the newfound tension with a blink. It's far too reminiscent of those fanciful wishes he entertains in solitude that paint the image of a dainty, affectionate hand reaching out with the promise of something soft, and the transposition is jarring enough that he reaches up to lay his hand over Luffy's wrist in order to coax it down.
Given everything else, this would be too dirty a trick for the likes of them to play on him. It's just misplaced concern on Luffy's end. Yeah. Must be.
"Yeah, because I've been training. Don't sound so alarmed," he says, coolly against the tingling awareness of the way his bang falls back down over his eye. It tickles, almost. It's strange, so he presses instead: "Seriously, you don't remember? We met that whale months ago."
Luffy's eyes bug out, and it's enough to distract him from being deflected again, though Sanji is going to have to move his hand first if he wants to stop touching because Luffy is absolutely not going to pull his wrist away on his own. "Months?! Is that why you've gotten shorter??" Why does Luffy think that's how that works??? Truly, who can say.
But it's Sanji, so obviously Luffy believes him, even if he definitely doesn't feel like he's missing any time. His clothes are the same as the ones he put on this morning, down to the little dribble of soy sauce he'd gotten on his favorite red vest at breakfast in his haste to inhale everything Sanji made for them. There's probably some sort of explanation for that, like maybe his cuddling up to Usopp has finally stopped being a foolproof way to get the sniper to help remove food stains from his clothes, which is pretty tragic. Or maybe he'd simply created identical messes months apart, which is tragic in its own way even if Luffy wouldn't be nearly as disappointed. Maybe—
It doesn't matter, because considering the absolutely ridiculous speed-run they'd collectively done through most of the East Blue's notorious pirates, Luffy wonders with mounting dismay just how many memories that means he's missing now. Months on the Grand Line, with his crew, having doubtlessly millions of exciting adventures (Luffy can't count.) All of that gone in the blink of an eye!
He droops like a deflating balloon, bemoaning: "all I remember is breakfast!" That's normal. "And making out a little!" Oop! Hopefully Sanji likes surprises.
Is that why he's gotten shorter? Just when he thinks Luffy can't possibly be that stupid, he's proven wrong. His stint on the rock may or may not have affected his growth, but he's taken care of his nutritional needs on the daily for years, and his spine's been fully recovered from the avalanche for some time now. To suggest he's somehow unraveled all of that and shrunken himself in the span of several months is absurd and, frankly, insulting.
But what does Luffy know! He's an idiot who can't gauge differences in height! Sure, Sanji had entertained similar thoughts earlier, but Luffy is made up of rubber whereas he isn't. The distinction is important—and one he's about to spit out in protest when the gears of his mind grind to a cacophonous halt at the next bombshell to drop all too casually.
Rendered speechless, Sanji stares wide-eyed at the deflated human balloon. Then he explodes from the shock, swinging his arm down and out in a wide arc that rips Luffy's hand away from his person as he exclaims in a shrill voice, "What?! With whom?!" Since when does Luffy make out with anyone?
Wow! Whatever reaction Luffy had been expecting, it wasn't that. He tries to take it seriously for a moment, because of all those things that had him worried just a second ago, but... but Sanji is really doing an uncanny impression of someone who just got goosed with a cattle prod. He's never seen the cook so shocked and appalled before, and he feels like he's done plenty of insane things in front of him just for a reaction by now! Luffy can't help himself, stumbling back as his hand is dislodged for the second time, he cackles at the look on Sanji's face until he has to brace both hands on his knees to avoid toppling over. "What!"
He recovers after a moment, though, like he's just figuring out that Sanji is really asking him that question. He definitely doesn't get what Sanji is acting so shocked for: normally when the reactions are this big, it's because someone's jealous of someone else and playing it up to blow off steam—alright, and maybe the captain does play into that a little. So sue him! Luffy likes when Sanji and Zoro get jealous enough to be spitting mad at each other, because that makes them competitive, and that makes them fun. To watch or to play with, either is good.
But that definitely does not seem to be what's going on here.
"With you, obviously!" Obviously??? Sooner or later Luffy will wrap his head around the idea that Sanji doesn't just... know, but now is not that time. He thinks maybe Sanji's making some joke that he doesn't understand, which would not be unheard of, considering that most things in the world fly right over his head. "And Nami," he tacks on. He'd gone after Sanji to distract him from the bacon he'd been trying to steal, not that it had worked. (He hadn't been too disappointed in the end, though, which is the beauty of that particular tactic.) But with Nami it had been a little later, she'd been amused by his attempts to take her mind off the stress of the haywire log pose, and willing to entertain his distraction methods until the needle had veered back towards the island again in the middle of him tugging at her belt, and she'd shooed him away. "Why are you being so weird? Is this a joke that I don't get?" He's one to talk, here.
An aborted sound escapes Sanji at the candid answer, spoken with such carefreeness that it temporarily robs him of all intellectual thought. His hand twitches in the air beside him while his brain struggles in vain to compute the weight of this newfound knowledge, which is the furthest thing from obvious. His reprieve comes in the form of a name that spills like an afterthought, and he lashes out at the first opportunity he gets with an open palm aimed at Luffy's temple. "Why, you . . . ! Leave Nami out of this!" Whether he misses or strikes true, he hunches his shoulders in on himself once he's pulled his arm back, winded and panting.
A joke at his expense? Fine. Of the crew, Sanji is aware Luffy in particular likes to poke fun at certain habits while Usopp has no shortage of comments to share about his fits of passion, but to throw Nami's sweet name into the mix for laughs is a low he won't ever tolerate. Even if, well . . .
Even so, his overactive imagination wonders for a traitorous moment if he was present at the same time as Nami in Luffy's bizarre fantasy. He can't begin to picture how rubber might feel in such a context—never would have guessed Luffy was interested in that sort of thing in the first place—but it's no trouble at all to imagine the heavenly softness of plush lips and fair skin as they press up against his own, oh-so chaste and . . . damn!
Sucking in a sharp breath, he hastily clamps a hand over the lower half of his face when a damning warmth crawls down the bridge of his nose. He needs a smoke. Surely the pack he's got with him must have dried out by now. It's right there in his pocket. He just needs to fish it out and work the match until it catches.
First things first.
"You're the one who needs to quit joking around!" he barks against his hand. "Listen, Luffy! I don't know what's gotten into your head, and I expect you to take responsibility if what you say about Nami is true . . . but you and I have never done anything like that!"
The hit takes him by surprise. It doesn't hurt, exactly, because he's rubber and he's certainly had worse (even at this early stage.) The sting all comes from the shock of it, like Sanji just turned his world completely upside-down by being willing to strike him. Over this. His head snaps to the side and his hat bounces off of it, suspended over his back by the strap.
He blinks, baffled, looking at the sand off to the side of them. He has no idea what to do with his body, getting hit makes his adrenaline kick up but he doesn't want to fight Sanji if it's not for fun, and whatever's happening right here is not fun. Breath coming quicker, he reaches up to touch the spot where Sanji's palm landed like he's not even sure it just happened or if he's having a really unpleasant dream while they're all stranded off the coast of this stupid little island.
When he looks back at the cook, fingers still suspended by his own temple, he stares like Sanji has grown three extra heads in the last two minutes. His lips flatten out again, and his complete lack of poker face probably makes it pretty clear that he's hurt and frustrated and still very confused.
"You don't like Nami?" He asks, stupidly, because he knows that's not true but he can't place why Sanji's is acting like Nami is separate, like she wouldn't be with them if they're all together. Before any of the rest of it, Sanji has been very enthusiastic about Nami, even if Luffy hadn't really figured that out back at the restaurant along with everyone else. He figured it out shortly after when Sanji was the only one who backed Luffy up with no hesitation when Luffy wanted to go get her back, so it's fine.
Is this jealousy? Turns out it's not as funny when Luffy's caught on the other end of it. He'd always taken for granted that Sanji likes him, it was always in the lopsided curve of his helplessly fond smile when Luffy says something so much stupider than he expected, the pleased crinkle around his eyes when Luffy gushes about his food, the way he preens when Luffy compliments him for some physical feat just to watch Zoro get incensed on the other side of the deck.
Maybe... he should stop doing that, now. Hmm.
Finally dropping his hand, Luffy squares his shoulders. He can feel his face getting red, which is stupid, because he's never been embarrassed about any of it but there's something in the way that Sanji insists they've never done anything that makes him feel like there's a little fist twisting everything up in his gut. He doesn't like it. Angrily: "I don't understand. Why are you acting like it's bad?"
It isn't the first time he's struck Luffy for his foolishness, nor will it be the last. Having said that, Sanji gets the sinking feeling that he's made the wrong choice. A familiar weight settles in his gut at the sight of Luffy's oddly sombre expression, shocking him into a state of sobriety.
He sputters at the implication that he finds Nami lacking. It should be clear to anyone with eyes that Sanji loves Nami. She's the perfect package—a lovely cocktail of beauty and compassion whose wits can outmaneuver the most merciless of storms. Even in her fits of temper, she shines bright like the orange rays of the sun reflected on the ocean's waves. The mere thought of her sets his heart aflutter all day, every day. Who doesn't adore Nami? Who in their right mind would look at that goddess and think her unworthy of love in all its forms? That's why he wants Luffy to be responsible!
And then there's this idiot. Sanji's hand falls from his face, his palm and the space between his nose and lips smeared by a dribble of blood that accompanies the heated tingling in his cheeks. Shame, his mind supplies. It's surreal to imagine Luffy being intimate with anyone, but there's never been a freer man in all the Blue Sea. The beauty of Luffy is that he would split the sea in twain for anyone under his wing; selfish though he can be, he never fails to share his freedom with others.
When Sanji stops to think about it, it makes more sense than he'd care to admit. He recognizes the ugly truth for what it is—that he's more than a little envious of how deep the bond between Luffy and Nami might run, all jokes aside. Even if it is a joke, Nami isn't here to confirm or deny. There's only Sanji, who knows with absolute certainty that there's no such connection between himself and Luffy despite Luffy's wild imagination that would put the three of them in the same league.
It's make-believe, so why does Luffy look so angry? This is the sort of nonsense they used to get up to every day. It doesn't make any sense; none of this does.
Sanji raises his arms to gesture between them, the damp suit jacket gripped in one hand swaying thickly with the motion. "Be reasonable," he starts, placating, "and think about what you're saying. As painful as it is for me to admit it, there's nothing wrong with you and Nami. But you and me? That doesn't make any sense!"
Luffy's building anger slips and starts the slow process of deflating at the sight of Sanji's bloodied face, but for the first time he doesn't reach out because they haven't solved anything and it feels like expressing concern might not be taken well right now. Sanji is really going through it, huh...
Still, if Sanji wants Luffy to consider any particular social stigma he's going to have to come out and name it directly (and then explain it after, probably), because Luffy certainly isn't going to do the legwork of connecting the dots of the implication for him. He did not grow up with the pressure to conform to anyone's standards himself, at least not in that way, and when he left the relative seclusion of his life on Dawn Island he was already too set in his ways to care about anyone's perception of what he liked or didn't like or didn't know he liked until he was hit with the hammer of realization somewhere between the islands of the East Blue.
And to him, it had been a fun hammer. He'd liked that hammer. The shattering blow of something more being revealed under the surface where he'd never thought to look before. It had felt like a brand new adventure with some of the people that he liked the best in the world, because when he'd been around the age to develop any hang-ups about that sort of thing, there had only really been Ace. Ace was even more feral than he'd been at that age, so he really hadn't had any sexuality-related neurosis to pass down to his little brother. (Alright, there had also been the mountain bandits, but while perhaps line-cooks (derogatory) and bandits are on about the same level of deeply unhinged options for child-rearing, it was Dadan's family, so by necessity her presence forced them to avoid some of the worst masculinity-lined pitfalls that might otherwise be expected of bandit groups.)
"Why not? It makes sense to me." He crosses his arms, looking stubborn, like he's about to dig in his heels and force the world to bend itself around him instead of budging one inch. Like it matters to him that much. "I like you the same as I like Nami, and Zoro, and Usopp." Did he mention the rest yet? Oops. "I like the face you make when you're cooking something you've never tried before and everyone tells you how good it is. I like the way your arms look when you roll up your sleeves before you use a knife. I like how many muscles you've got even though you look kinda skinny in your suits, it's like it's a secret. I like when you kick someone and you don't even have to take your hands out of your pockets to stay balanced." Alright, so Luffy's a little flushed now too. That's hardly his fault!! "I like how you'll feed anyone who is hungry, even if they can't give you anything back for it. I like how much you feel for everyone we meet, even if we don't really know them. I like that you take care of everyone on the crew and remember which stuff they like to eat, even though you could just cook anything you feel like and we'd eat it." He's getting a little carried away, and he has to remind himself why he's rattling off the mental catalogue he has of all his Favorite Little Things about Sanji. "And, I like the way you smile when you talk about the All Blue. What about that doesn't make sense?"
Sanji clamps his mouth shut at the drop of Zoro and Usopp's names. His arms drop down to hang limply at his sides while his mind runs at a pace of a baker's dozen of miles per second. What, does that mean Luffy is involved with the entire crew? Is that their beloved captain's fantasy? Because in that case . . . things suddenly make a lot more sense. It's not just Sanji and Nami. If everyone from the East Blue is there, the overlaps become a little more believable.
Zoro is an invaluable member of the crew. He's done things for them that nobody else could have—things that still weigh on Sanji's jittery shoulders. If Zoro is their guardian, then Usopp is their braveheart. He's the closest to Luffy in age, and the two of them bring life wherever they go, being noisy at the worst of times and uplifting at the best. Sanji has no qualms with admitting to himself that Zoro and Usopp are good people, and he's beginning to see that good people are Luffy's type.
Funny, how going from two to four makes all the difference. Sanji has no reason to take issue with that, not when he thrills in the idea of polyamory himself. Luffy's heart is big, so it reasons that he would love big, too.
"Huh?"
Caught up in his thoughts as he is, Sanji is sorely underprepared for the love bomb Luffy drops on him without preamble. He blinks once, then twice, and then some more while he gapes like a guppy. His eyes grow increasingly wide with every compliment Luffy pays him, even the idiotic ones ("it's like it's a secret"? He's lean, not skinny!) that are quintessentially Luffy yet not. Sanji is aware of what he can do as a cook and a leg specialist; those are things on which he prides himself, so praise in either realm feels earned. But then Luffy talks about Sanji's face and feelings while flushed himself, and that rips the breath out of his lungs as if a gust has torn through him.
He didn't think that was possible.
"What about that doesn't make sense?" asks Luffy. Everything, Sanji almost shouts. All of it edges too close to the nebulous truth he's kept inside for the better part of his adolescence, yet still Luffy perorates such heartfelt words. "It makes sense to me," he'd said. What's with him? Who taught him that? Those are things Sanji never expected to hear—not even from the fictitious ladies in his most indulgent fantasies, because he would never burden a woman with his worries, and certainly not from another man.
And what lovely words they are, so much so that Sanji's entire face begins to tremble before he realizes it. He tenses, shutting out the tremors in exchange for a pinched look, as he balls his free hand into a fist. "You," he says, swallowing past the dryness of his throat and willing his voice not to sound so thin, "you're serious."
"Of course I'm serious," he says, gentler than he really means to. He can be more than a little oblivious even on the best of days, but it's impossible to miss how far he just pushed Sanji with that little rant, or the way the cook seems to be barely holding it together now. He just couldn't stand the idea that Sanji doesn't know how much Luffy likes him. How wrong he was about it not making sense. Whatever else there is—missing memories (different ones, between the two of them), or weird height differences, or strangely curly brows—Sanji is still Sanji is still Sanji. Right?
For once, he's not sure if he should keep going or if he should let up. Usually he doesn't hesitate, but something about all of that had made him feel a little vulnerable, too, in ways he usually doesn't. Like it's too complex, even though everything felt so simple before.
This time when he reaches for Sanji, he just grabs his hand, the one smeared with blood from his nose where he'd either tried to stop it or hide it, Luffy isn't sure. He plucks up the bottom of his vest at the same time, and uses his own shirt to wipe the blood off wordlessly. It'll blend in with the red easily enough, and he knows Sanji doesn't like his hands being dirty but he never wipes anything off onto his own clothes, so Luffy can't just leave him like that. When he's satisfied that he's mostly fixed the issue, he reluctantly drops Sanji's hand again before he can get pushed away.
Baby steps.
"Are you done being weird?" Sorry, Sanji. He's still not polite at all. "We have to figure out what happened to the Merry."
Edited (oops default icon definitely does NOT work in this situation lol) 2024-03-20 17:44 (UTC)
For the lack of a better response, he yields his hand to Luffy. It's the same hand that struck him earlier, but the touch he receives is gentle, which is surreal.
Sanji doesn't do gentle with men. Much as he loves Zeff and considers the Baratie to be his first home, there's never been a soft moment between any combination of them. Having the blood from his hand wiped on Luffy's vest is objectively gross, but the underlying tenderness is an entire distraction of its own. By the time Luffy lets go, it's as if Sanji's palm and fingers are on fire from how intensely they tingle.
And he's the weird one, apparently.
He needs to sit down. Even better, Lady Luck is on his side for once: An excuse to work off the excitement pumping through his body presents itself on a silver platter, and Sanji seizes it with long strides past Luffy as he says in a low voice, "Wait here. I'll take a look."
If this really is Luffy, there's no way he'll heed the command to stay still. Sanji doesn't mind, though. He has something else to focus on now, and it's the flawless execution of the steps he's been perfecting ever since he fled in the sole direction left to him. Wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand, he steps into the clearing of sand beyond the edge of the forest and looks up at the clouds spotting the blue sky. He bends his legs, then takes the leap of faith into the air, where one kick after another eventually brings him to a decent vantage point overhead.
Things are quiet in the sky. The earth always moves while the sea never stops roaring. The clouds, on the other hand, are silent witnesses to Sanji as he surveys the shore below them. No matter where he looks, the Merry is nowhere to be seen. Naturally, the Sunny is also absent.
The fall isn't nearly as exhilarating as the rise. Still, there's a certain satisfaction to the feeling of the wind as it rushes past him. One shoe hits the sand, followed by another, and Sanji lands with his back to where he last left Luffy.
"The Merry isn't here. In fact, there's not a single ship anchored around this part of the shore."
Despite his dramatics in the moment, Luffy has already completely forgotten the strike. Certainly no mark was left, and he even reaches over one shoulder to tug back on his hat, missing its familiar weight.
He finds himself regretting not pushing things, a little bit. Especially when Sanji moves on so determinedly and Luffy is left wondering if he actually got through to him after all.
There's no time to really dwell on that, though, because: "Huh?!" he protests instantly, despite the fact that Sanji getting all bossy with that low voice is really kinda distracting. "I'm not gonna just—"
Apparently he is gonna just wait there, because he's suddenly incredibly busy gaping as Sanji leaves his side by walking past him (rude), and then before Luffy can take more than two hasty steps to follow, going straight up in the air. His surprised shout chases Sanji up past the tree line and trails off into the clouds, and by the time Sanji lands again, Luffy has grabbed the highest sturdy branches of the tree closest to the edge of the weird little forest and he has begun preparing to launch himself upwards into the sky like a slingshot as well.
To do what? Who knows. Float for a moment before crashing back down, in all likelihood. He just doesn't want to be left behind.
He anti-climactically lets his arms return to their normal length with a pair of rubbery snaps when that becomes no longer necessary, though. "You can fly?!" Luffy makes an immediate addition to the list of his favorite things about Sanji because: "That's so cool! Have you always been able to do that? Why didn't you tell me?" He's worried about the news of the ship, but not so much that he can't stop to goggle at his cook's amazing skills. Besides, just like he's not alone here, the Merry isn't alone either. Nami and Usopp will figure out what to do, definitely, and Zoro will keep them safe.
"Would you remember it if I had?" Less of a question and more of his making a point, he adds: "I couldn't do it when we first entered the Grand Line. It's something I picked up recently." Much as he prides himself on the achievement, he doesn't dwell on the topic. It dredges up terrible, invasive memories—memories that are still his waking nightmare, all things considered.
Sanji reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. It can stand to be drier, so he doesn't bother to light the stick as he slots it between his lips. Just having it there is enough for occupying restless nerves, and he can't afford to blow through the only pack on his person too soon.
Now that he's heard them again, he finds that he'd been missing the familiar stretch and snap of rubber. Just like the sounds of sizzling oil in a pan and a blade against the cutting board, they're home. This isn't a revolutionary thought by any means, but considering their exchange earlier, well . . .
"Anyway, the Merry is gone." Has been, but he keeps that to himself for now. He shoves a hand in his pant pocket. "What now?"
"We go exploring!" Luffy grins, earlier argument seemingly forgotten now as well. It's not, not really, but even he can recognize that suggesting making out again because Sanji apparently doesn't remember what it's like is a risky move at the moment.
That doesn't mean Luffy's impulse control is going to last forever, especially if exploration doesn't rustle up something exciting and dangerous to do, but it does mean Sanji is being given a few moments of grace to try to grasp at normalcy.
Because like... now that he's thinking about it, Luffy wonders what would happen if he pulled out all the stops? All those little tricks he's learned over the last few weeks, about exactly what Sanji likes when he's being kissed? The way his cheeks get so much warmer when Luffy picks him up by the thighs, and holds him up against the wall without real effort? The noise he makes when Luffy presses on his tongue piercing, and coaxes it into his own mouth? It feels like it would be cheating, almost. Luffy is a pirate so he's just fine playing a little dirty, but he's still not sure exactly what will make this confusing version of his cook too angry to want to mess around.
Besides: "that's why we came here anyway, right? There's gotta be something fun on this island! The others will find a way to get to us." He offers Sanji's shoulder a comforting pat, though Sanji didn't seem particularly worried about it in the first place, before he turns on his heel and starts marching jauntily towards the darkness beyond the dense line of trees. Adventure awaits!
That's what he figured. Trust Luffy to dive headfirst into an adventure with present worries all but forgotten. There's the matter of missing memories and little details that don't add up they'll have to address sooner than later, but Sanji knows better than to restrain Luffy ahead of time. Besides, even if he didn't come here for fun, he's also curious to see what the island has to offer.
Once Luffy's back is turned to him, Sanji glances at the phantom weight on his shoulder. He passes his suit jacket to his other hand and flips it over said shoulder, disguising the intangible press with something real. Then he falls into step behind Luffy before his mind can get away from him, and it's just like old times as he slides into the familiar rhythm of a simple jaunt with ease.
"I was checking out the perimeter before you showed up," he says around the unlit cigarette in his mouth. While there's no paved road, there are beaten paths that suggest the presence of wildlife, dimly illuminated by what meager rays of light that have managed to penetrate the canopy of trees towering over them. Old leaves crunch and brittle twigs snap under their feet as they walk, deafeningly sharp in the natural silence that he continues to talk over: "It gets darker the deeper you go. Seeing as you're used to this sort of thing, though, it shouldn't be a problem for you."
He figures a jungle and a forest share enough similarities for experience in one to be serviceable in the other. As for Sanji, he has enough common sense (and recent experience of his own, however begrudging) to compensate for the excess of time he's spent on ships all his life. Together, they'll make do.
Luffy glances back over one shoulder at Sanji and laughs, holding out his rubbery hand in the direction that Sanji is trailing him, teasing this time. "I'll hold your hand if you're scared," he offers with wiggling fingers, as the gloom of the forest canopy begins to truly descend and cast them both in shadows.
It turns out that years living and hunting in the jungle has not made Luffy a silent, graceful presence among the trees (there is a reason he had to learn to hunt predators, rather than prey animals.) No, instead he goes stomping through the dense foliage like someone who can easily punch a tiger's teeth out of its face... or in this particular case, bounce right back after eating shit over some roots, which is precisely what he ends up doing once he takes his eyes off the path ahead to make a joke at Sanji.
"Oof!" Truly, he is an idiot.
He's an idiot who can cackle at himself though, at least, and he dusts off the crunchy leaves and dirt from his knees once he clambers back up to his feet. Lesson learned, he slows his pace just enough to stick next to Sanji instead of continuing to plow on ahead (at least for the next minute or two, who knows how long it will last), following one of the wildlife trails for lack of anywhere else to start. "Hey, Sanji. In the months I don't remember... we've had fun, right?" He doesn't want the grand adventure spoiled, exactly, but he wants to know he's at least brought his crew some happiness while they're together.
Sanji grimaces at the proffered hand. Him, scared? As if! Luffy should just pay attention to where he's goi—there he goes. "Watch where you're going, stupid."
Then they're walking shoulder to shoulder. Sanji doesn't mind it, nor does he expect it to last. The way Luffy marches on with aplomb is a bigger comfort than he'd care to admit—easy to track, too—and he strides into the encroaching darkness without a break in pace when a question is posed to him.
There are few things that Luffy truly hates despite his many vices; if his uncharacteristic outburst at the lovely Shakky's bar is anything to go by, having an adventure spoiled is one of them. The journey itself means everything to him, so Sanji won't ruin it with a boring retelling. Erring on the side of caution is better, anyway (even if he can't quite put his finger on what it is that he's avoiding).
"Yeah. It's the Grand Line, after all." Of course, it hasn't been just fun and games. Things were like that even before they left the East Blue, though, and have no bearing on the answer. The question is whether or not they've been enjoying themselves as intended, because Luffy cares deeply about the crew. Raising the subject of Sabaody Archipelago will only serve to unnecessarily stress him out; ergo, Sanji doesn't bring it up. "It's been one adventure after another. You'd have to see some of the things we've seen to believe them."
Luffy's grin is not relieved as much as it is vindicated, because hell yeah!! That's what he thought! And he bumps his shoulder against Sanji's as they walk, comfortable and casual in the dim forest light. "Good! I can't wait—" oh, hang on. He pauses, face screwed up and thinking hard, because he honestly still doesn't understand everything that's going on. "Or... I hope I remember soon?" That doesn't feel quite right either, but what can he do about it? Wait until the crew catches up and explains everything is his current plan, though of course he's not against things starting to make sense on their own, even if he's not really counting on it.
Though speaking of things being off: "Why is your eyebrow all curly now?" Is that something Sanji was just shaving off before?? Maybe he should have been more nosy. He tacks on: "It looks cool," in case it's a fashion statement that Luffy just isn't stylish enough to understand, which is definitely possible (probable, even.)
Eventually the animal tracks lead towards a cave system, the entrance to which clearly tilts downwards into the ground, so it becomes impossible to follow them in the damp dirt of the forest floor. Unwilling to give up on the idea of finding meat somewhere on the island while they wait for the Merry to show back up, Luffy only wastes a moment peering into the cave's pitch black depths before snapping a rubbery arm up into a nearby tree and yanking down a medium-sized branch right off its trunk. He cracks the green wood in half at the start of further branching to get rid of all the leaves, and then he squeezes the top bit between his impossibly strong fingers a few times to make the wood there start splintering and fraying. It's not pretty, but it'll work as a torch for a little while even without anything useful like cloth and oil to wrap around the top. "Hey, can you set this on fire?" Because he knows Sanji's got a lighter on him. And look! For once he's got enough sense not to barrel right into the darkness! (Even if he definitely doesn't have any plans for when the stick eventually burns itself out right on his hands, probably while they're way down in the dark cave.)
Wait until the crew catches up and explains everything is, by a great stroke of coincidence, also Sanji's plan. That should've been the end of that until then, but the niggling in the back of his mind returns at the nonchalant comment about his eyebrows. Since when has Luffy cared about them? (Has he always thought that?) Of all his features, it had to be those . . .
The unease only grows at Luffy's quick thinking with the branch. Sanji regards the makeshift torch in silence, rolling the cigarette to-and-fro with his lips. While it's not the greatest idea, the fact that there's an idea at all is bizarre. He feels around his pocket for a lighter. Is this a sign of maturation or something else?
Either way, he isn't afraid of the dark. With a click and a fwip, a small flame flares to life above Sanji's hand. He tilts it toward the branch, but doesn't close the gap just yet. "I can, but what are you gonna do once it burns itself out? You'll burn your hand."
Luffy realizes that his question got dodged, but he doesn't push immediately because he's trying to give Sanji at least a little bit of wiggle room, here.
Also because he's caught. Luffy's expression goes slack like he doesn't have an answer for that entirely reasonable question... because he doesn't. "Uh," he looks down at his fingers, considers that he doesn't want to burn himself but he's not particularly concerned about it either, because he never is about stuff like that. Then he grins like he solved the problem, which is ridiculous because all he's got is: "We can just explore really fast! It'll be fine." He wiggles the stick expectantly, though he does at least tack on: "It burns slow if it's a really new stick. It's still wet inside and stuff." Behold, your wise leader!
It's an explanation from an exhausted brother long ago, probably. Luffy parrots it more than really grasps it, but the effect is the same, so what can you do? "Come on, there could be meat down there!" Ah, so he admits to his true motives.
"You, explore fast? Give me a break!" There's little doubt in Sanji's mind that Luffy will move along quickly, but this and the penchant for getting distracted are separate matters. The lighter clinks shut with the flick of his wrist, extinguishing the flame. "If it's that wet, the smoke will make it impossible to see down there."
He glances around, assessing their dim surroundings before taking languid steps over to a sizable boulder nearby. He drops his weight onto it with his back hunched, then draws his gaze up in Luffy's direction. "We'll wait for it to dry out some more," he says, plucking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and gesturing with the same hand. The wet stick is an excuse more than anything, but that's hardly important in the face of what he really wants to pursue. Despite his initial plan to wait, it's bothering him a little too much; the sooner he gets to the bottom of the mystery, the better. "There's something we need to talk about first."
The captain makes a wordlessly offended noise when Sanji casually flicks his lighter closed again. It's not that Luffy doesn't know how to make fire without it, but the whole process is so tedious and boring, and he doesn't wanna.
So he resigns himself to sagging onto the rock as well, a lightly drooping creature made entirely of disappointment at his adventure (his imagined meal) being postponed, and then he plasters his too-pliant rubber body against the cook's side almost immediately as retribution for making them stop. He does wave his stick listlessly out in front of them like he's trying to dry it out with the air, though, playing along with Sanji's excuse. Or genuinely believing it, who knows with Luffy?
"About what?" The words come out too round, because his cheek is pressed against Sanji's still damp shoulder now, and it'll stay there until he gets properly shaken off (or struck by another flight of fancy.) A beat. "... If it's because of something I ate, I can't remember, so you can't be mad at me." Flawless logic, clearly.
Well, this is unexpected. He thought Luffy would restlessly wander the vicinity while they chat—yet here they are, pressed against each other on a rock just big enough to hold them. Then again, should Sanji be surprised after what he's heard?
No, he's not going to dwell on that train of thought.
He plants a hand on the side of Luffy's head and pushes without real strength behind the motion. If that ridiculous defense is about the fridge, Luffy never could help himself. By rote, Sanji admonishes, "Quit stealing the food before it's ready." Then he lets go.
"Anyway, that's not it." He cranes his neck toward Luffy. "You said something interesting about my face earlier."
Luffy lets Sanji push his head away.... but only his head. His neck stretches out cartoonishly until Sanji gives up his half-hearted attempts to dislodge him, then they're right back where they started.
He doesn't even acknowledge that it happened, he just tilts his chin enough to make eye contact and grin at him when Sanji cranes his neck and looks down, comfortable as can be.
"Huh?" He does blink at the question, though, eyes drifting to the side like he's genuinely casting back for what he may or may not have said. "That I like the way it looks when people tell you that your food is tasty?" A beat. "Oh! Or that I like the way you smile when you talk about the All Blue?" Alright, he is maybe being a little tiny bit obtuse on purpose, but he's just still not convinced that he actually managed to get through to Sanji earlier, so.
That doesn't mean he's not actually curious about what he'd asked just a few moments ago, though, so he does eventually acquiesce with: "Or because your eyebrow is all swirly now?" He reaches up with his free hand to touch the center of the curl with the pad of his pointer finger, a little boop, if Sanji doesn't move to intercept.
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He's stuck on whether or not to ask about it, but then Sanji has another strange question for him, and at least Luffy knows the answer to it this time: "I just fought a whale!" So they literally just got to the Grand Line, Nami hasn't even gotten sick yet. Maybe it's not a great sign that first thing Luffy did was get separated from his ship and most of his crew on their inaugural stop, but Sanji's here with him so he's pretty sure he hasn't totally botched it.
Normally, he wouldn't feel like this was a botch at all, and he'd just set out to explore the place and have a little fun before finding a way back, but Sanji is worrying him. It's the visual differences he can't explain, the odd questions, the fact that he's clearly been in some sort of scuffle but he won't tell his Captain about it. Luffy's lips press together for a moment like he's thinking as hard as he can, and apparently in doing so he decides that Sanji didn't really mean to whack him away a moment ago, maybe he'd just pressed on something that hurt him and it was a reflex. This time when he reaches for Sanji's face again, he's more careful and he just uses his knuckles to brush the fall of blond hair away from the side of his cook's forehead, where he thought he'd seen the signs of bruising before getting rebuffed. "You did get hit!" he says, alarmed, when he reveals the fading bruise near Sanji's temple to the bright morning island sunlight.
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It's also esoteric enough that not just anyone would know about their encounter with Laboon upon climbing Reverse Mountain. That gives further credence to the puzzling identity of the man before him, even as they're rapidly reaching a head in regards to how far they can take this impromptu game of cat and mouse.
And why does Luffy keep touching him like that?
Touching in and of itself is nothing special. Luffy is a tactile creature by nature, ever eager to loop his arms around his crew and paste himself to unsuspecting bodies. He puts his whole being into everything he does. In other words, the gentle touch doesn't suit his vivacious image, which is why Sanji's brow draws a little tighter at the tenderness of those knuckles against his hair before he releases the newfound tension with a blink. It's far too reminiscent of those fanciful wishes he entertains in solitude that paint the image of a dainty, affectionate hand reaching out with the promise of something soft, and the transposition is jarring enough that he reaches up to lay his hand over Luffy's wrist in order to coax it down.
Given everything else, this would be too dirty a trick for the likes of them to play on him. It's just misplaced concern on Luffy's end. Yeah. Must be.
"Yeah, because I've been training. Don't sound so alarmed," he says, coolly against the tingling awareness of the way his bang falls back down over his eye. It tickles, almost. It's strange, so he presses instead: "Seriously, you don't remember? We met that whale months ago."
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But it's Sanji, so obviously Luffy believes him, even if he definitely doesn't feel like he's missing any time. His clothes are the same as the ones he put on this morning, down to the little dribble of soy sauce he'd gotten on his favorite red vest at breakfast in his haste to inhale everything Sanji made for them. There's probably some sort of explanation for that, like maybe his cuddling up to Usopp has finally stopped being a foolproof way to get the sniper to help remove food stains from his clothes, which is pretty tragic. Or maybe he'd simply created identical messes months apart, which is tragic in its own way even if Luffy wouldn't be nearly as disappointed. Maybe—
It doesn't matter, because considering the absolutely ridiculous speed-run they'd collectively done through most of the East Blue's notorious pirates, Luffy wonders with mounting dismay just how many memories that means he's missing now. Months on the Grand Line, with his crew, having doubtlessly millions of exciting adventures (Luffy can't count.) All of that gone in the blink of an eye!
He droops like a deflating balloon, bemoaning: "all I remember is breakfast!" That's normal. "And making out a little!" Oop! Hopefully Sanji likes surprises.
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Is that why he's gotten shorter? Just when he thinks Luffy can't possibly be that stupid, he's proven wrong. His stint on the rock may or may not have affected his growth, but he's taken care of his nutritional needs on the daily for years, and his spine's been fully recovered from the avalanche for some time now. To suggest he's somehow unraveled all of that and shrunken himself in the span of several months is absurd and, frankly, insulting.
But what does Luffy know! He's an idiot who can't gauge differences in height! Sure, Sanji had entertained similar thoughts earlier, but Luffy is made up of rubber whereas he isn't. The distinction is important—and one he's about to spit out in protest when the gears of his mind grind to a cacophonous halt at the next bombshell to drop all too casually.
Rendered speechless, Sanji stares wide-eyed at the deflated human balloon. Then he explodes from the shock, swinging his arm down and out in a wide arc that rips Luffy's hand away from his person as he exclaims in a shrill voice, "What?! With whom?!" Since when does Luffy make out with anyone?
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He recovers after a moment, though, like he's just figuring out that Sanji is really asking him that question. He definitely doesn't get what Sanji is acting so shocked for: normally when the reactions are this big, it's because someone's jealous of someone else and playing it up to blow off steam—alright, and maybe the captain does play into that a little. So sue him! Luffy likes when Sanji and Zoro get jealous enough to be spitting mad at each other, because that makes them competitive, and that makes them fun. To watch or to play with, either is good.
But that definitely does not seem to be what's going on here.
"With you, obviously!" Obviously??? Sooner or later Luffy will wrap his head around the idea that Sanji doesn't just... know, but now is not that time. He thinks maybe Sanji's making some joke that he doesn't understand, which would not be unheard of, considering that most things in the world fly right over his head. "And Nami," he tacks on. He'd gone after Sanji to distract him from the bacon he'd been trying to steal, not that it had worked. (He hadn't been too disappointed in the end, though, which is the beauty of that particular tactic.) But with Nami it had been a little later, she'd been amused by his attempts to take her mind off the stress of the haywire log pose, and willing to entertain his distraction methods until the needle had veered back towards the island again in the middle of him tugging at her belt, and she'd shooed him away. "Why are you being so weird? Is this a joke that I don't get?" He's one to talk, here.
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A joke at his expense? Fine. Of the crew, Sanji is aware Luffy in particular likes to poke fun at certain habits while Usopp has no shortage of comments to share about his fits of passion, but to throw Nami's sweet name into the mix for laughs is a low he won't ever tolerate. Even if, well . . .
Even so, his overactive imagination wonders for a traitorous moment if he was present at the same time as Nami in Luffy's bizarre fantasy. He can't begin to picture how rubber might feel in such a context—never would have guessed Luffy was interested in that sort of thing in the first place—but it's no trouble at all to imagine the heavenly softness of plush lips and fair skin as they press up against his own, oh-so chaste and . . . damn!
Sucking in a sharp breath, he hastily clamps a hand over the lower half of his face when a damning warmth crawls down the bridge of his nose. He needs a smoke. Surely the pack he's got with him must have dried out by now. It's right there in his pocket. He just needs to fish it out and work the match until it catches.
First things first.
"You're the one who needs to quit joking around!" he barks against his hand. "Listen, Luffy! I don't know what's gotten into your head, and I expect you to take responsibility if what you say about Nami is true . . . but you and I have never done anything like that!"
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He blinks, baffled, looking at the sand off to the side of them. He has no idea what to do with his body, getting hit makes his adrenaline kick up but he doesn't want to fight Sanji if it's not for fun, and whatever's happening right here is not fun. Breath coming quicker, he reaches up to touch the spot where Sanji's palm landed like he's not even sure it just happened or if he's having a really unpleasant dream while they're all stranded off the coast of this stupid little island.
When he looks back at the cook, fingers still suspended by his own temple, he stares like Sanji has grown three extra heads in the last two minutes. His lips flatten out again, and his complete lack of poker face probably makes it pretty clear that he's hurt and frustrated and still very confused.
"You don't like Nami?" He asks, stupidly, because he knows that's not true but he can't place why Sanji's is acting like Nami is separate, like she wouldn't be with them if they're all together. Before any of the rest of it, Sanji has been very enthusiastic about Nami, even if Luffy hadn't really figured that out back at the restaurant along with everyone else. He figured it out shortly after when Sanji was the only one who backed Luffy up with no hesitation when Luffy wanted to go get her back, so it's fine.
Is this jealousy? Turns out it's not as funny when Luffy's caught on the other end of it. He'd always taken for granted that Sanji likes him, it was always in the lopsided curve of his helplessly fond smile when Luffy says something so much stupider than he expected, the pleased crinkle around his eyes when Luffy gushes about his food, the way he preens when Luffy compliments him for some physical feat just to watch Zoro get incensed on the other side of the deck.
Maybe... he should stop doing that, now. Hmm.
Finally dropping his hand, Luffy squares his shoulders. He can feel his face getting red, which is stupid, because he's never been embarrassed about any of it but there's something in the way that Sanji insists they've never done anything that makes him feel like there's a little fist twisting everything up in his gut. He doesn't like it. Angrily: "I don't understand. Why are you acting like it's bad?"
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He sputters at the implication that he finds Nami lacking. It should be clear to anyone with eyes that Sanji loves Nami. She's the perfect package—a lovely cocktail of beauty and compassion whose wits can outmaneuver the most merciless of storms. Even in her fits of temper, she shines bright like the orange rays of the sun reflected on the ocean's waves. The mere thought of her sets his heart aflutter all day, every day. Who doesn't adore Nami? Who in their right mind would look at that goddess and think her unworthy of love in all its forms? That's why he wants Luffy to be responsible!
And then there's this idiot. Sanji's hand falls from his face, his palm and the space between his nose and lips smeared by a dribble of blood that accompanies the heated tingling in his cheeks. Shame, his mind supplies. It's surreal to imagine Luffy being intimate with anyone, but there's never been a freer man in all the Blue Sea. The beauty of Luffy is that he would split the sea in twain for anyone under his wing; selfish though he can be, he never fails to share his freedom with others.
When Sanji stops to think about it, it makes more sense than he'd care to admit. He recognizes the ugly truth for what it is—that he's more than a little envious of how deep the bond between Luffy and Nami might run, all jokes aside. Even if it is a joke, Nami isn't here to confirm or deny. There's only Sanji, who knows with absolute certainty that there's no such connection between himself and Luffy despite Luffy's wild imagination that would put the three of them in the same league.
It's make-believe, so why does Luffy look so angry? This is the sort of nonsense they used to get up to every day. It doesn't make any sense; none of this does.
Sanji raises his arms to gesture between them, the damp suit jacket gripped in one hand swaying thickly with the motion. "Be reasonable," he starts, placating, "and think about what you're saying. As painful as it is for me to admit it, there's nothing wrong with you and Nami. But you and me? That doesn't make any sense!"
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Luffy's building anger slips and starts the slow process of deflating at the sight of Sanji's bloodied face, but for the first time he doesn't reach out because they haven't solved anything and it feels like expressing concern might not be taken well right now. Sanji is really going through it, huh...
Still, if Sanji wants Luffy to consider any particular social stigma he's going to have to come out and name it directly (and then explain it after, probably), because Luffy certainly isn't going to do the legwork of connecting the dots of the implication for him. He did not grow up with the pressure to conform to anyone's standards himself, at least not in that way, and when he left the relative seclusion of his life on Dawn Island he was already too set in his ways to care about anyone's perception of what he liked or didn't like or didn't know he liked until he was hit with the hammer of realization somewhere between the islands of the East Blue.
And to him, it had been a fun hammer. He'd liked that hammer. The shattering blow of something more being revealed under the surface where he'd never thought to look before. It had felt like a brand new adventure with some of the people that he liked the best in the world, because when he'd been around the age to develop any hang-ups about that sort of thing, there had only really been Ace. Ace was even more feral than he'd been at that age, so he really hadn't had any sexuality-related neurosis to pass down to his little brother. (Alright, there had also been the mountain bandits, but while perhaps line-cooks (derogatory) and bandits are on about the same level of deeply unhinged options for child-rearing, it was Dadan's family, so by necessity her presence forced them to avoid some of the worst masculinity-lined pitfalls that might otherwise be expected of bandit groups.)
"Why not? It makes sense to me." He crosses his arms, looking stubborn, like he's about to dig in his heels and force the world to bend itself around him instead of budging one inch. Like it matters to him that much. "I like you the same as I like Nami, and Zoro, and Usopp." Did he mention the rest yet? Oops. "I like the face you make when you're cooking something you've never tried before and everyone tells you how good it is. I like the way your arms look when you roll up your sleeves before you use a knife. I like how many muscles you've got even though you look kinda skinny in your suits, it's like it's a secret. I like when you kick someone and you don't even have to take your hands out of your pockets to stay balanced." Alright, so Luffy's a little flushed now too. That's hardly his fault!! "I like how you'll feed anyone who is hungry, even if they can't give you anything back for it. I like how much you feel for everyone we meet, even if we don't really know them. I like that you take care of everyone on the crew and remember which stuff they like to eat, even though you could just cook anything you feel like and we'd eat it." He's getting a little carried away, and he has to remind himself why he's rattling off the mental catalogue he has of all his Favorite Little Things about Sanji. "And, I like the way you smile when you talk about the All Blue. What about that doesn't make sense?"
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Zoro is an invaluable member of the crew. He's done things for them that nobody else could have—things that still weigh on Sanji's jittery shoulders. If Zoro is their guardian, then Usopp is their braveheart. He's the closest to Luffy in age, and the two of them bring life wherever they go, being noisy at the worst of times and uplifting at the best. Sanji has no qualms with admitting to himself that Zoro and Usopp are good people, and he's beginning to see that good people are Luffy's type.
Funny, how going from two to four makes all the difference. Sanji has no reason to take issue with that, not when he thrills in the idea of polyamory himself. Luffy's heart is big, so it reasons that he would love big, too.
"Huh?"
Caught up in his thoughts as he is, Sanji is sorely underprepared for the love bomb Luffy drops on him without preamble. He blinks once, then twice, and then some more while he gapes like a guppy. His eyes grow increasingly wide with every compliment Luffy pays him, even the idiotic ones ("it's like it's a secret"? He's lean, not skinny!) that are quintessentially Luffy yet not. Sanji is aware of what he can do as a cook and a leg specialist; those are things on which he prides himself, so praise in either realm feels earned. But then Luffy talks about Sanji's face and feelings while flushed himself, and that rips the breath out of his lungs as if a gust has torn through him.
He didn't think that was possible.
"What about that doesn't make sense?" asks Luffy. Everything, Sanji almost shouts. All of it edges too close to the nebulous truth he's kept inside for the better part of his adolescence, yet still Luffy perorates such heartfelt words. "It makes sense to me," he'd said. What's with him? Who taught him that? Those are things Sanji never expected to hear—not even from the fictitious ladies in his most indulgent fantasies, because he would never burden a woman with his worries, and certainly not from another man.
And what lovely words they are, so much so that Sanji's entire face begins to tremble before he realizes it. He tenses, shutting out the tremors in exchange for a pinched look, as he balls his free hand into a fist. "You," he says, swallowing past the dryness of his throat and willing his voice not to sound so thin, "you're serious."
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For once, he's not sure if he should keep going or if he should let up. Usually he doesn't hesitate, but something about all of that had made him feel a little vulnerable, too, in ways he usually doesn't. Like it's too complex, even though everything felt so simple before.
This time when he reaches for Sanji, he just grabs his hand, the one smeared with blood from his nose where he'd either tried to stop it or hide it, Luffy isn't sure. He plucks up the bottom of his vest at the same time, and uses his own shirt to wipe the blood off wordlessly. It'll blend in with the red easily enough, and he knows Sanji doesn't like his hands being dirty but he never wipes anything off onto his own clothes, so Luffy can't just leave him like that. When he's satisfied that he's mostly fixed the issue, he reluctantly drops Sanji's hand again before he can get pushed away.
Baby steps.
"Are you done being weird?" Sorry, Sanji. He's still not polite at all. "We have to figure out what happened to the Merry."
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Sanji doesn't do gentle with men. Much as he loves Zeff and considers the Baratie to be his first home, there's never been a soft moment between any combination of them. Having the blood from his hand wiped on Luffy's vest is objectively gross, but the underlying tenderness is an entire distraction of its own. By the time Luffy lets go, it's as if Sanji's palm and fingers are on fire from how intensely they tingle.
And he's the weird one, apparently.
He needs to sit down. Even better, Lady Luck is on his side for once: An excuse to work off the excitement pumping through his body presents itself on a silver platter, and Sanji seizes it with long strides past Luffy as he says in a low voice, "Wait here. I'll take a look."
If this really is Luffy, there's no way he'll heed the command to stay still. Sanji doesn't mind, though. He has something else to focus on now, and it's the flawless execution of the steps he's been perfecting ever since he fled in the sole direction left to him. Wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand, he steps into the clearing of sand beyond the edge of the forest and looks up at the clouds spotting the blue sky. He bends his legs, then takes the leap of faith into the air, where one kick after another eventually brings him to a decent vantage point overhead.
Things are quiet in the sky. The earth always moves while the sea never stops roaring. The clouds, on the other hand, are silent witnesses to Sanji as he surveys the shore below them. No matter where he looks, the Merry is nowhere to be seen. Naturally, the Sunny is also absent.
The fall isn't nearly as exhilarating as the rise. Still, there's a certain satisfaction to the feeling of the wind as it rushes past him. One shoe hits the sand, followed by another, and Sanji lands with his back to where he last left Luffy.
"The Merry isn't here. In fact, there's not a single ship anchored around this part of the shore."
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He finds himself regretting not pushing things, a little bit. Especially when Sanji moves on so determinedly and Luffy is left wondering if he actually got through to him after all.
There's no time to really dwell on that, though, because: "Huh?!" he protests instantly, despite the fact that Sanji getting all bossy with that low voice is really kinda distracting. "I'm not gonna just—"
Apparently he is gonna just wait there, because he's suddenly incredibly busy gaping as Sanji leaves his side by walking past him (rude), and then before Luffy can take more than two hasty steps to follow, going straight up in the air. His surprised shout chases Sanji up past the tree line and trails off into the clouds, and by the time Sanji lands again, Luffy has grabbed the highest sturdy branches of the tree closest to the edge of the weird little forest and he has begun preparing to launch himself upwards into the sky like a slingshot as well.
To do what? Who knows. Float for a moment before crashing back down, in all likelihood. He just doesn't want to be left behind.
He anti-climactically lets his arms return to their normal length with a pair of rubbery snaps when that becomes no longer necessary, though. "You can fly?!" Luffy makes an immediate addition to the list of his favorite things about Sanji because: "That's so cool! Have you always been able to do that? Why didn't you tell me?" He's worried about the news of the ship, but not so much that he can't stop to goggle at his cook's amazing skills. Besides, just like he's not alone here, the Merry isn't alone either. Nami and Usopp will figure out what to do, definitely, and Zoro will keep them safe.
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Sanji reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. It can stand to be drier, so he doesn't bother to light the stick as he slots it between his lips. Just having it there is enough for occupying restless nerves, and he can't afford to blow through the only pack on his person too soon.
Now that he's heard them again, he finds that he'd been missing the familiar stretch and snap of rubber. Just like the sounds of sizzling oil in a pan and a blade against the cutting board, they're home. This isn't a revolutionary thought by any means, but considering their exchange earlier, well . . .
"Anyway, the Merry is gone." Has been, but he keeps that to himself for now. He shoves a hand in his pant pocket. "What now?"
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That doesn't mean Luffy's impulse control is going to last forever, especially if exploration doesn't rustle up something exciting and dangerous to do, but it does mean Sanji is being given a few moments of grace to try to grasp at normalcy.
Because like... now that he's thinking about it, Luffy wonders what would happen if he pulled out all the stops? All those little tricks he's learned over the last few weeks, about exactly what Sanji likes when he's being kissed? The way his cheeks get so much warmer when Luffy picks him up by the thighs, and holds him up against the wall without real effort? The noise he makes when Luffy presses on his tongue piercing, and coaxes it into his own mouth? It feels like it would be cheating, almost. Luffy is a pirate so he's just fine playing a little dirty, but he's still not sure exactly what will make this confusing version of his cook too angry to want to mess around.
Besides: "that's why we came here anyway, right? There's gotta be something fun on this island! The others will find a way to get to us." He offers Sanji's shoulder a comforting pat, though Sanji didn't seem particularly worried about it in the first place, before he turns on his heel and starts marching jauntily towards the darkness beyond the dense line of trees. Adventure awaits!
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Once Luffy's back is turned to him, Sanji glances at the phantom weight on his shoulder. He passes his suit jacket to his other hand and flips it over said shoulder, disguising the intangible press with something real. Then he falls into step behind Luffy before his mind can get away from him, and it's just like old times as he slides into the familiar rhythm of a simple jaunt with ease.
"I was checking out the perimeter before you showed up," he says around the unlit cigarette in his mouth. While there's no paved road, there are beaten paths that suggest the presence of wildlife, dimly illuminated by what meager rays of light that have managed to penetrate the canopy of trees towering over them. Old leaves crunch and brittle twigs snap under their feet as they walk, deafeningly sharp in the natural silence that he continues to talk over: "It gets darker the deeper you go. Seeing as you're used to this sort of thing, though, it shouldn't be a problem for you."
He figures a jungle and a forest share enough similarities for experience in one to be serviceable in the other. As for Sanji, he has enough common sense (and recent experience of his own, however begrudging) to compensate for the excess of time he's spent on ships all his life. Together, they'll make do.
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It turns out that years living and hunting in the jungle has not made Luffy a silent, graceful presence among the trees (there is a reason he had to learn to hunt predators, rather than prey animals.) No, instead he goes stomping through the dense foliage like someone who can easily punch a tiger's teeth out of its face... or in this particular case, bounce right back after eating shit over some roots, which is precisely what he ends up doing once he takes his eyes off the path ahead to make a joke at Sanji.
"Oof!" Truly, he is an idiot.
He's an idiot who can cackle at himself though, at least, and he dusts off the crunchy leaves and dirt from his knees once he clambers back up to his feet. Lesson learned, he slows his pace just enough to stick next to Sanji instead of continuing to plow on ahead (at least for the next minute or two, who knows how long it will last), following one of the wildlife trails for lack of anywhere else to start. "Hey, Sanji. In the months I don't remember... we've had fun, right?" He doesn't want the grand adventure spoiled, exactly, but he wants to know he's at least brought his crew some happiness while they're together.
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Then they're walking shoulder to shoulder. Sanji doesn't mind it, nor does he expect it to last. The way Luffy marches on with aplomb is a bigger comfort than he'd care to admit—easy to track, too—and he strides into the encroaching darkness without a break in pace when a question is posed to him.
There are few things that Luffy truly hates despite his many vices; if his uncharacteristic outburst at the lovely Shakky's bar is anything to go by, having an adventure spoiled is one of them. The journey itself means everything to him, so Sanji won't ruin it with a boring retelling. Erring on the side of caution is better, anyway (even if he can't quite put his finger on what it is that he's avoiding).
"Yeah. It's the Grand Line, after all." Of course, it hasn't been just fun and games. Things were like that even before they left the East Blue, though, and have no bearing on the answer. The question is whether or not they've been enjoying themselves as intended, because Luffy cares deeply about the crew. Raising the subject of Sabaody Archipelago will only serve to unnecessarily stress him out; ergo, Sanji doesn't bring it up. "It's been one adventure after another. You'd have to see some of the things we've seen to believe them."
sorry this is so late!! got real busy
Though speaking of things being off: "Why is your eyebrow all curly now?" Is that something Sanji was just shaving off before?? Maybe he should have been more nosy. He tacks on: "It looks cool," in case it's a fashion statement that Luffy just isn't stylish enough to understand, which is definitely possible (probable, even.)
Eventually the animal tracks lead towards a cave system, the entrance to which clearly tilts downwards into the ground, so it becomes impossible to follow them in the damp dirt of the forest floor. Unwilling to give up on the idea of finding meat somewhere on the island while they wait for the Merry to show back up, Luffy only wastes a moment peering into the cave's pitch black depths before snapping a rubbery arm up into a nearby tree and yanking down a medium-sized branch right off its trunk. He cracks the green wood in half at the start of further branching to get rid of all the leaves, and then he squeezes the top bit between his impossibly strong fingers a few times to make the wood there start splintering and fraying. It's not pretty, but it'll work as a torch for a little while even without anything useful like cloth and oil to wrap around the top. "Hey, can you set this on fire?" Because he knows Sanji's got a lighter on him. And look! For once he's got enough sense not to barrel right into the darkness! (Even if he definitely doesn't have any plans for when the stick eventually burns itself out right on his hands, probably while they're way down in the dark cave.)
all good! take your time, and welcome back. ♥
The unease only grows at Luffy's quick thinking with the branch. Sanji regards the makeshift torch in silence, rolling the cigarette to-and-fro with his lips. While it's not the greatest idea, the fact that there's an idea at all is bizarre. He feels around his pocket for a lighter. Is this a sign of maturation or something else?
Either way, he isn't afraid of the dark. With a click and a fwip, a small flame flares to life above Sanji's hand. He tilts it toward the branch, but doesn't close the gap just yet. "I can, but what are you gonna do once it burns itself out? You'll burn your hand."
thank you ♥!!
Also because he's caught. Luffy's expression goes slack like he doesn't have an answer for that entirely reasonable question... because he doesn't. "Uh," he looks down at his fingers, considers that he doesn't want to burn himself but he's not particularly concerned about it either, because he never is about stuff like that. Then he grins like he solved the problem, which is ridiculous because all he's got is: "We can just explore really fast! It'll be fine." He wiggles the stick expectantly, though he does at least tack on: "It burns slow if it's a really new stick. It's still wet inside and stuff." Behold, your wise leader!
It's an explanation from an exhausted brother long ago, probably. Luffy parrots it more than really grasps it, but the effect is the same, so what can you do? "Come on, there could be meat down there!" Ah, so he admits to his true motives.
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"You, explore fast? Give me a break!" There's little doubt in Sanji's mind that Luffy will move along quickly, but this and the penchant for getting distracted are separate matters. The lighter clinks shut with the flick of his wrist, extinguishing the flame. "If it's that wet, the smoke will make it impossible to see down there."
He glances around, assessing their dim surroundings before taking languid steps over to a sizable boulder nearby. He drops his weight onto it with his back hunched, then draws his gaze up in Luffy's direction. "We'll wait for it to dry out some more," he says, plucking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and gesturing with the same hand. The wet stick is an excuse more than anything, but that's hardly important in the face of what he really wants to pursue. Despite his initial plan to wait, it's bothering him a little too much; the sooner he gets to the bottom of the mystery, the better. "There's something we need to talk about first."
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So he resigns himself to sagging onto the rock as well, a lightly drooping creature made entirely of disappointment at his adventure (his imagined meal) being postponed, and then he plasters his too-pliant rubber body against the cook's side almost immediately as retribution for making them stop. He does wave his stick listlessly out in front of them like he's trying to dry it out with the air, though, playing along with Sanji's excuse. Or genuinely believing it, who knows with Luffy?
"About what?" The words come out too round, because his cheek is pressed against Sanji's still damp shoulder now, and it'll stay there until he gets properly shaken off (or struck by another flight of fancy.) A beat. "... If it's because of something I ate, I can't remember, so you can't be mad at me." Flawless logic, clearly.
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No, he's not going to dwell on that train of thought.
He plants a hand on the side of Luffy's head and pushes without real strength behind the motion. If that ridiculous defense is about the fridge, Luffy never could help himself. By rote, Sanji admonishes, "Quit stealing the food before it's ready." Then he lets go.
"Anyway, that's not it." He cranes his neck toward Luffy. "You said something interesting about my face earlier."
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He doesn't even acknowledge that it happened, he just tilts his chin enough to make eye contact and grin at him when Sanji cranes his neck and looks down, comfortable as can be.
"Huh?" He does blink at the question, though, eyes drifting to the side like he's genuinely casting back for what he may or may not have said. "That I like the way it looks when people tell you that your food is tasty?" A beat. "Oh! Or that I like the way you smile when you talk about the All Blue?" Alright, he is maybe being a little tiny bit obtuse on purpose, but he's just still not convinced that he actually managed to get through to Sanji earlier, so.
That doesn't mean he's not actually curious about what he'd asked just a few moments ago, though, so he does eventually acquiesce with: "Or because your eyebrow is all swirly now?" He reaches up with his free hand to touch the center of the curl with the pad of his pointer finger, a little boop, if Sanji doesn't move to intercept.
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