#ginsanji | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whirlybirdwhat · 5 years

Text

Smoke and Sea-Salt

Ao3 - Part three of the “Nearest Thing To Dreams” Series, Modern- Reincarnation Au, GinSanji, Bittersweet, 4k+ words. Read on Ao3 for best quality, warnings and authors notes. Enjoy!

Sanji meets Gin when he is sixteen and the other is freshly seventeen, spending his birthday smoking his heart out in the Baratie’s back alley.

They lock eyes when Sanji goes to throw out the trash, and well, it’s my break, Sanji thinks, and joins him.

It is the start of something - not something great but something all the same.

Later, Sanji learns that Gin was out there smoking on his birthday because one, the only friends he has are in the ‘family business’ and would have taken him out for something extremely dubious, and two, he had seen Sanji take breaks out there before and thought he was cute.

It’s a bit alarming, in the way that one gets when you learn someone has noticed you before, and in the way that one gets when you learn someone has noticedyou before. There’s a difference there - one is stalkerish and one is flattering. Sanji can’t decide which feeling he feels more.

Whatever it is, he continues to spend his three o’clock break under the sun in an old, well-worn tux, smoking his future away with Gin leaning on the wall beside him.

It’s a nice routine.

(Sanji just wishes his heart would agree with his mind that this is what his future could be, with Gin,but it refuses although it falls for the other all the same.)

(Someone else is coming.)

On Sanji’s own 17th birthday, near a year later, celebrated in the morning with Zeff and the cooks, he finally learns what Gin’s family business is.

The local Krieg mafia, headed by nonother than the notorious Don Krieg.

He learns this when Gin casually slinks into the restaurant, eyes wide with sorrow, and tells him in no uncertain terms that Krieg wants a seat and he won’t leave without one nor will he pay.

Sanji leaves the Baratie that day with a swollen jaw, a black eye (thankfully no broken bones) and an emptiness in his heart that had been eased by Gin’s presence.

But –

Gin had punched him on orders of his boss (His uncle) when the Baratie refused to let him go without paying.

And it hurts far more than it should.

(The Baratie will always offer food to anyone who needs it. That will never change. But – there are certain lines that will not be crossed. They area five star elitist restaurant after all.

And Gin knows that.

Gin knows what he himself means to Sanji

So why did he do this – is all Sanji can asks, even though he already knows the answer)

Gin apologizes.

Sanji won’t hear him. Instead, he thinks of the promise that they would spend Sanji’s birthday together, in the evening, just the two of them with a picnic on the city rooftops, a cigarette shared (and maybe something more.)

Gin had made the mistake of mentioning his plans to his uncle (Don Krieg, small time mafia boss who had just enough power to make him dangerous to the common folk – not that the Baratie was common but only four of them had any experience fighting and Sanji, only 17 was one of them)who had then decided that they would pay Gin’s friend a visit, donate some business to his restaurant.

The cook has never hated his birthday more.

Gin won’t stop apologizing. And, eventually, Sanji starts believing him when Gin starts bringing him food. His favorite food, that Gin absolutely could not make because he’s a shitty cook, but it’s proof that he cares.

And, eating spicy seafood pasta on the rooftop of the Baratie, Sanji decides that sometimes family is shit (he has experience) and ruins everything, but Gin didn’t mean it so it’s okay.

(He has always been kind.)

Things settle in like they did before. Sanji cooks, Gin loiters, they both smoke and talk, and it’s all good.

Now, however, Gin will sometimes come in with blood on his knuckles, and Sanji will wash it off with care, applying bandages with well-practiced hands (kitchen knives are sharp, and before, kicks sometimes broke skin.) Now, they will spar, and walk around the city, and hold hands when no one is watching.

Eventually, finally, Gin kisses him, right in the spot they first met. Sanji, after a brief shock, kisses back just as fervently.

And then their days do not change all that much, but are filled with something a bit more, when the taste of home-cooked food covers up the taste of ash in their mouths, and the laughter they share is completed with kisses on the side and hands and bodies held close.

And Sanji is finally happier than he’s been in a long time.

Gin makes everything better, but -

Sanji was a runaway from a shit-hole abusive home on a private island, with bullies (though that is fartoo light a word) for brothers, an uncaring sister, a dead mother and a father who just wanted him to be quiet and shut up because he wasn’t good enough.

He ran away on a dinky little raft, on his eighth birthday, and never looked back, even when his food rations ran out and he was left as a starving eight-year-old lost at sea. Eventually he found his way to Zeff’s kitchen after he washed up at the quiet port on the outskirts of the city, snatching food from the pantry when no one was looking. The old man found him in the back alley two hours later, as a starving boy throwing up everything he had eaten.

He will forever be thankful that Zeff took him in and will gladly lug around the ball and chain that is the debt he owes to the man for saving his life.

However, this man, still a father to him, doesn’t have a dream to share with him, doesn’t have a reason to let him stay beyond the moral code of you do not let kids starve and Sanji’s begging pleas for help.

Now, while cooking makes him happy and the smoke in his lungs chases away the last bits of physical hunger, his heart is looking for more.And, like before, he won’t find it here, with Gin, who does ease the pain just a little bit.

(But he’s still trapped)

He tells Gin about it, once, the longing for something he doesn’t even know, the feeling of an ache in his heart like something irreplaceable is missingbut the other man, for once, doesn’t understand.

It hurts more than Sanji thought it would, the confusion in the Gins eyes hiding the feeling of aren’t I enough?

(You see, Sanji’s always been a romantic at heart. He likes acting chivalrous to the ladies who’ll let him, to Gin whenever he feels like mob work is too rough on the other, and prefers a nice fairy tale to a lusty romance. He’d always pictured that once you found the one, that onewould understand each and every thought and dream and heart of yours that you could ever have.

He’d thought it be like the ocean he always sees in his dreams, crystal clear and perfect, and filled with all the people and food he could ever need to be happy.

He’d thought Gin would be like that – like they were soulmates or something silly like that.

Guess he was wrong.)

Later, Sanji will brush it aside, and Gin won’t ever comment on the look Sanji gets in his eye when he looks out to the harbor. The look that says this isn’t enough.

Because hey – this was never supposed to be enough, or great, or even good.

It was just supposed to be theirs,this chemistry between them.

Between smokes, they can almost pretend it is all those things it wasn’t supposed to be.

They both have shaking hands, Sanji notes, when Sanji’s eighteen and Gin is nineteen, half a year gone by of sweet glances and touches.

His shake, because sometimes he’s back in his family’s basement, or on that dinghy out at sea with no food in his stomach and family around him. His shake, because sometimes he has one too many cigarettes when the urge to grab all the food in the pantry gets too much (too many days without food, he had been tempted to bite off his leg)or he drinks one too many coffees to chase the chill away.

He wonders if Gin’s hands shake because he too had had one too many cigarettes or coffees that day, or if he too has a couple of bad memories stuck in his head that don’t want to leave.

(Occasionally, Gin will sneak into Sanji’s window on the third floor of the Baratie, shimmying up the fire escape with bruised arms and three packs of cigarettes, and climb shivering into Sanji’s bed with blood still on his hands and face.

Sanji simply turns over and accepts Gin into the circle of his arms, tucking Gins head against his chest and holding him tight. He never quite lets Gin light a cigarette, preferring him to use the words Sanji whispers, sweet and promising, as comfort instead but when he wakes up, Gin is gone and there’s always a pile of ashes on the floor.

He never shows up the next day either.)

Sanji wonders, but never asks (he has a feeling that it’s not his place to. After all – what would Gin ask in return? The part of Sanji that’s reserved for someone else entirely?)

He never asks.

Sanji kills a man on June 8, when the summer sun is high and blood hits with a wet smack on sizzling city pavement.

He’s only eighteen and his hands are shaking and there’s blood on his shoes and oh god, head aren’t supposed to turn that far and be that bloody oh god he just killed a man with his kick.

Distantly, he feels that this isn’t the first time there’s ever been murderous blood on his hands (before the seas were always deadly). Distantly, he feels Gin throwing his jacket over his shoulders and ushering him out of the alley where the man (he had a gun, was going to kill Gin, something about a debt, thought he was stronger) lies, dead. Distantly, he hears Gin telling him that the mob will cover it up, that the police in this city are corrupted anyway, that he’s safe–

But all he can focus on is the blood on his shiny black dress shoes, freshly polished for the date he and Gin were going to go on to celebrate Sanji’s promotion as the Sous chef of the Baratie before he can even legally taste some of the dishes they serve.

He doesn’t wake up from the daze he’s in until he’s seated in Gin’s apartment, small but cozy, with a hot mug of something chocolatey looking between his hands and Gin’s concerned eyes looking into his own.

When he does wake up from the hazy nightmare, he immediately hurls into the trash can conveniently placed by his feet, and wonders if this is why Gin’s hands shake so bad.

The raspy, trailed off whisper of ‘I was fourteen when…,’ (the ‘I first killed’ is unsaid but implied) and the offer of a cigarette answers that.

Sanji kills three more men before he turns twenty, each time for self-defense, and each time he ends up at Gin’s, where he smokes through three packs and pukes up his entire stomach for the night.

Gin hold him through all of it, like how Sanji held (holds) him all those nights he snuck into Sanji’s room, whispering words of comfort and praise.

(Gin has always looked at Sanji like he is the kindest, most wonderful man on Earth, and Sanji has never quite known why. Yet, he appreciates it in the quiet praise Gin gives him, calling him ‘my prince’ in sweeter moments coupled with your amazing, kind, caring, more than I could ever be, how do I deserve you (I love you) because it always manages to lift him out of whatever depressing mood he’s in then.

Does Gin understand that Sanji thinks (almost) the same of him? Perhaps he should say it more often)

After a year of that, Sanji is finally twenty when he decides that enough is enough, and if that being the boyfriend of the second in command of the local mafia’s going to make his hands (keep them safe for they are a cooks hands, a chefs hands, you need them to serve who you love) dirty with blood and make his shiny black shoes red, then he might as well actlike the fearsome boyfriend they all think he’s not (if only to keep them away.)

He’s twenty when he kills in cold blood for the first time.

(They can’t recognize the man’s face when he’s done – Sanji had never been good with weapons but his legs had always been as strong as steel and he understands the bones that one needs to break to make one look hideous. He had entertained the thought of going to beauty school after all.)

He spends the night huddled on their bathroom floor (Because, it’s been three years at this point, and they spend half the time sleeping at another’s place, and Gin’s place is already payed for by Krieg so why not move in) huddled in Gins arms, but he doesn’t have to kill a man in the city limits ever again after that.

(He’s always been kind but never to those who hurt those he loves)

There are good moments in this life mixed with tragedy, however.

Sanji’s favorite memory, favorite date with Gin will always be the time where they got lost in the city and ended up eating some shitty roadside tacos on the rooftop of an abandoned apartment complex, clad in torn up fancy suits in the brisk winter air.

It’s amazing because it’s the opposite of what Gin had planned (dining at the second fanciest restaurant in town, then going for a stroll down the harbor side lights where the streets were all decorated for the festival that night) due to the fact of everything going wrong in a hilariously spectacular manner, and it’s amazing because it’s the opposite of every thing Sanji has ever know and it’s so refreshingthat way.

Gin’s sheepishly indignant half the night (“I swear the driver was bribed to drop us off at the wrong place! I don’t even know where we are” “That’s not helping your case Gin,”) but Sanji swears he has never grinned longer or happier (maybe in a different life) so he’s content with the shitty night and the twinkling city skyline and the man (that he must love, for what else could this feeling be?) beside him.

But – tragedy always seems to run out in this horrible, horrible world of theirs.

Carne and Patty are the ones to break it to him on one of the slowest days of the year, when Sanji is just freshly 21.

Zeff – unbeatable, immortal, strong, amputee Zeff, who had been more a father to Sanji than his biological one had ever been, who had taught Sanji too cook and comforted him through all his shaking hands and flashbacks to when a raised hand meant something different then a pat on the back – is dying.

As in – will be gone by this time next year.

Sanji practically collapses from shock as medical terms fly over his head (undetected-cancer- in his bones – from his amputation can’t be fixed -chemo may help), his own heart beating unbearably fast.

It isn’t fair.

Sanji had given up college (perhaps he would have gone to a culinary school, or even a beauty school), given up searching (for something he didn’t know yet, know he’ll know soon enough,) given up the money he saved, given up everything for Zeff and the pride of Zeff’s life, the Baratie, because Zeff had savedhim.

He owes a debt.

But Zeff was dying, was leaving the Baratie to Sanji in his will, and it was soul crushing to see those hands, once swift and precise, struggle to do even the slightest of tasks in the kitchen.

(“Little eggplant, what are you doing! You don’t cut pork like that, watch and learn-” “Wow! That’s not bad you shitty old man-” “Show some respect kid!”)

It was like the world was crumbling around him. All he would have left was this goddamnedrestaurantwhich had for the past few years acted like a prison – the physical form of his debt owed to Zeff.

(“Kid! What are you doing stealing food from my kitchen– damn. You’re half-dead, aren’t you? Need some food.” Strong arms picking him up and holding him close, the uneven beat of a peg leg from an old war wound the soothing lullaby to a starved ten-year-old. “I’ll bring you to my restaurant – it’s the Baratie, my pride and joy, and with the best food you’ll ever taste.”)

What would he do when Zeff was gone? When all he had was his father’s restaurant and a boyfriend caught up in the mafia?

(“Finally got yourself a boy, ay Eggplant?” “Shut up you shitty old geezer!” “Bahahaha! Tell him he’s welcome to dinner anytime as long as you cook and I get to show him pictures of you just learning to cook” “What good is that for me?!”)

What would he do then?

(Little Eggplant – why’re you hiding food? You know you can eat whatever food you want around here as long as you don��t waste it. You aren’t on the raft anymore, you can stop-)

“-wringing your hands like the worlds gonna end, Sanji.”

Sanji looks up, at Zeff in the bed next to him, his hair limp and head forgoing his usual chef’s hat but his eyes still twinkling, and tries to smile, thoughts paused.

It lasts for all of three seconds before tears well up in his eyes, and he wipes them away shamefully.

All Zeff does is give a short chuckle and open his arms. “It’s going to be okay, Eggplant. They’ll find you someday.” (He’s always known something was missing from Sanji’s life)

Throwing himself into Zeff’s arms, Sanji can almost believe it to be true – that it will be okay.

(Because – in this world the ocean he searched so hard for doesn’t exist. In this world, he doesn’t share a dream with the man who raised but still a debt, and in this world, this life time, it’s already far past the time he should have met them. (Though he doesn’t know who they are, not yet.) Nothings right and everything is, because it isn’t before.

And Sanji just wants to go home.)

Zeff dies on a rainy day, two months after he gave Gin the permission to marry Sanji (like the lack of it would have stopped Gin) and a lifetime before the engaged couple plan to get married. He goes peacefully, his last words being ‘Smile, Eggplant,’ said to Sanji the night before he passed in the early morning, and his funeral a week later is as rainy as his death.

Sanji holds hands with Gin and opens the door to hisownrestaurant, the Baratie, a week after that.

It doesn’t feel like home – but he’ll make one with Gin, in the top floor of the restaurant if he has too.

(Because it’s a different life).

Life goes on without Zeff’s presence.

Patty and Carne still argue.

Gin still comes home with blood on his knuckles and shadows in his eyes.

Sanji’s hands still shake and the Baratie is as popular as ever.

The only difference is he smokes even more now.

Maybe he’s hoping that one day the cancer will take him like it did Zeff, because hell if it’s like he can breathe now anyway.

And suddenly – he can breathe again, with the entrance of three rowdy teens and one young adult bursting into the Baratie.

The eldest is long-nosed, with dark skin, pierced ears and a ratty beanie on top of his head. He’s laughing, teasing the other two guys in the group as the woman next to him slaps his shoulder playfully. Sanji can’t help but think he’s missing something with his outfit (flashes of a tall slingshot go through his mind but that can’tbe right -)

The sole woman of the group seems to be in charge, as she is guiding the other around. Her orange hair is in that odd between state when someone is trying to grow out their hair. She’s the only one even remotely dressed for the restaurant that the Baratie is, with a tight, dark blue dress and heels, but there’s a sense about her that she knows exactly. what kind of looks she gets and doesn’t give a damn about them.

The other two men in the group are younger, obviously teens, and standing close by each other. One has a sharp look in his eye despite the continuous yawns and sleepy look he has, and closely cropped bright green hair sits atop his head. He has three piercings on one ear, and none on the other, and is carrying an odd bag across his bag.

Sanji gets a flash of irritation when he looks at him. He doesn’t know why.

The last person is the one that draws most of his attention however – the one that makes all his worries go away and the weight on his chest feel like feathers. He’s dressed in a ratty red hoodie, with a scar sloping under his wide dark eyes, and a straw hat atop his black hair like a crown. He’s arm in arm with the green-haired kid, and is chattering excitedly.

(King, Sanji thinks, recognizing him, My Captain.)

Sanji rushes to serve them despite the fact that he’s not a waiter anymore, recognition of some strange sort flashing in his head, and ushers them to the table in the back (why does he know they’re going to be a rowdy bunch?)

The youngest – Luffy, his friends called him, My King, Sanji’s heart says – looksat Sanji with all the love of a thousand suns and shouts “Hey! We found you! I knew you’d be here!”

And Sanji can do nothing but smile and say “Hey, Captain. My name is Sanji, I’ll be taking. Your order today.”

He doesn’t know why he said captain (yes, he does)and he doesn’t know why he’s still smiling after he has to kick them out for starting a fight with some of the thugs that slink around, but he’s so unbearably happy.

With Gin’s arms around him, that night he dreams of a beautiful blue sea, surrounded by the voices of people he loves.

(Gin isn’t in that dream. That explains a lot, doesn’t it?)

The next day, the group strolls in again. This time, instead of just eating, Luffy asks Sanji a question.

Be my cook (again)?

Sanji kicks them out without explanation, not even bothering to make them pay for their food.

That night, he breaks down in Gin’s arms without explanation, because how could he explain?

He loved Gin. They were going to be married for heaven’s sake. He loved him like he loved spicy seafood pasta, like all the food in the world. Gin was kind and caring and they had so many memories together, and Gin lovedhim so how could he explain?

How could he explain that this group of four filled in the hole in his heart, the one that searched for nonexistent oceans and more, that Gin, in the five years that he knew him, never could?

How could he explain to the love of his life that for some inexplicable reason, his heart belonged to a group of strangers that he just met?

How could he?

Luffy asks again the next day, this time only accompanied by Nami. They order a drink and nothing else, and look imploringly at Sanji, begging him to come with them.

He kicks them out – but this time Carne and Patty are witnesses to it.

“Boss,” they say, “Why?” Throw away your happiness? Why are they so important? Why do you care? Why do you not go with them? Sanji doesn’t know what they mean, and lights another cigarette.

“I don’t know,” he says, breathing out a plume of smoke. “I don’t know.”

He cries himself to sleep that night, bed cold as Gin is out on a job, and the family he knows he wants, he has, nowhere to be found.

Luffy comes alone the fourth time, the last time.

Sanji looks at him, tired and eyes puffy, and sighs.

“Be my cook?” Luffy asks, eyes big and soulful, and ratty straw hat held out as an offering.

“No.” Sanji responds, pushing the straw hat back to its owner and kicking him out, “No.”

Sanji goes into the office and draws up the paperwork for the Baratie’s ownership, starting the process of changing his name on the papers to Patty’s.

Then, he goes home and has the best night of his life with Gin, forcing every happy moment he can out of it.

He knows it’s the last night they’ll ever spend together, and in their bed, wrapped in Gin’s arms, he cries tears at the tumultuous emotions inside overwhelm him.

In the morning, Gin wakes up to him packing half his stuff away.

There’s a sad look in Gins eyes as he watches Sanji fiddle with the engagement ring he bought Sanji, but it’s understanding too, unlike it was before.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Is all he asks. “The people of your dreams? The ones who can give you everything you need?”

And all Sanji can do is cry and nod. “Yeah.”

In response, Gin grabs him by the front of his shirt and kisses him more passionately then he ever has before, before resting his forehead against Sanji’s.

“Then I’ll see you off.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Will you be happy with them? Will you be free with them?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m not mad. As long as you’re happy I’m happy. I don’t want you to go but – “

“I love you Gin.”

“…I love you too.”

Gin drives Sanji and his bags to the Baratie, and kisses him one last time before driving off, both feeling a piece of their heart break as it happens.

Once Gin is out of sight, he calls Patty and Carne over and hands them the paperwork with no explanation. By the time he makes it out to the entrance, Luffy is waiting there next to Sanji’s bags.

“You ready, Chef Sanji?”

“As I’ll ever be Captain.”

And with the biggest grin on his face, Sanji throws his bags into the backseat of the painted van outside and hops into the Camaro next to it.

“Where to?”

(Because – there are no happy endings here, at least not completely happy. But – looking at the kids next to him in the Camaro, and the others in the Merry, Sanji can’t help but feel freeagain.)

“Wait – hey mosshead what’s your name again?”

“The fuck you just say to me dart-brows?”

“Shishishishi!”

Yeah.

Gins not here – but Sanji is the happiest he’s ever been.

13 notes · View notes