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( whatever he was expecting when he hopped up onto luffy's, isn't what he gets. he's a bit surprised to see his crew, but knows that if luffy picked them, that they're likely decent people. if one of them sort of, maybe, for some reason unbeknownst to ace ( at the time, at least ), catches his eye, that's his own business and it's not something he lets his expression betray, either. if he lights the man's cigarette for him just to show off a little, flirt a little, that's his own business. if he follows him into the kitchen under the guise of having that cup of tea, but really he just kind of wants to watch him for some reason, that's also his own business.
there's something about the cook — sanji — that ace likes. he can't say what it really is, but there's some sort of pull to him, a draw that ace hasn't felt before in all of his travels. it's weird, sure, but he can't say he hates it. even though his offer to help is rebuffed, he helps with clean up, regardless of what sanji says. it's the least he can do, plus, he gets to spend more time with him, so it's a pretty good win.
he travels with them for a bit though he doesn't have to; he's just feeling particularly selfish and wants to stick close to him for a little bit longer. there's something about the tone of his voice that digs down deep into ace's chest and settles there. his smiles are bright and it makes ace's chest squeeze whenever he does. when they travel by foot, somehow ( ""somehow"" ) they always wind up beside one another. ace is always there to lend a helping hand to light his cigarettes when needed or light the fire for cooking.
it's late one evening when they're tucked away between some sand dunes and rocks, everyone is fed and bedded down for the evening or heading in that direction. sanji seems to still be awake, so ace nonchalantly saunters over and drops down beside him, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, hands planted behind him to lean on. )
Not cold, are you?
there's something about the cook — sanji — that ace likes. he can't say what it really is, but there's some sort of pull to him, a draw that ace hasn't felt before in all of his travels. it's weird, sure, but he can't say he hates it. even though his offer to help is rebuffed, he helps with clean up, regardless of what sanji says. it's the least he can do, plus, he gets to spend more time with him, so it's a pretty good win.
he travels with them for a bit though he doesn't have to; he's just feeling particularly selfish and wants to stick close to him for a little bit longer. there's something about the tone of his voice that digs down deep into ace's chest and settles there. his smiles are bright and it makes ace's chest squeeze whenever he does. when they travel by foot, somehow ( ""somehow"" ) they always wind up beside one another. ace is always there to lend a helping hand to light his cigarettes when needed or light the fire for cooking.
it's late one evening when they're tucked away between some sand dunes and rocks, everyone is fed and bedded down for the evening or heading in that direction. sanji seems to still be awake, so ace nonchalantly saunters over and drops down beside him, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, hands planted behind him to lean on. )
Not cold, are you?
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At first, it's nothing striking. This is Luffy's brother, after all -- and Sanji, no matter how much he bitches, is terribly fond of the rubber trashcan, so of course he'd be kindly disposed toward anyone Luffy adores so much as he clearly does his big brother. That just makes sense. And Ace is -- well, he's a lot of things. He's polite, for one, strikingly so. It's different from Sanji's trained manners, rough around the edges and obviously the result of significant effort, but it's politeness all the same. He offers to help with food and cleanup, which of course Sanji declines because guests should never feel obliged to help out, but the offer warms his heart all the same. And there's something more, something… undefinable. It's easily hidden amongst all the clear and obvious reasons that Ace is a terribly likeable person, but in the still, quiet moments when Sanji can admit things to himself, he can see that there is something more to it than that. Even more than the things he does not let himself notice -- the broad span of Ace's muscled shoulders, the easy confidence of his bearing, the mischief that sparkles in his dark eyes, the appealing scatter of freckles across his face. No, those things are forbidden, but still. It's more even than those.
He has no idea what it is, and he isn't sure he wants to dig for it. He's not afraid -- fuck no, who the fuck would be afraid of a little thing like his own feelings? (Actually, there's a vast deep well of things there, but fuck that. If he doesn't look at it, it doesn't exist.)
He just… isn't entirely sure he can face all of the everything that lurks in the way that Ace's smile catches his eye, that's all. Not yet. Maybe tomorrow, he tells himself each evening. Maybe it will make more sense and be clearer tomorrow.
He's enjoying a cigarette as their group beds down for the night. The desert moves quickly from the heat of day to the chill of night, and with the sun down, the temperature has plummeted. Which makes it all the more tangible that Sanji's goosebumps under his shirtsleeves ease as Ace settles beside him. The man carries warmth like a mantle about him. ]
Not now, I'm not.
[ The words come out with a smile, more of one than he'd intended, and for just a moment, he feels a stab of momentary… not panic, no, but concern. That didn't sound like flirting, right? Sanji doesn't flirt with men. It's just the truth, that's all. He was -- not cold, no, but perhaps slightly less warm than he'd really like to be, before Ace sat down. Now he's not. ]
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or, he wasn't, at least, until that remark.
ace glances over, his brows lifted slightly as if to question what he just heard. because that — unfortunately for sanji — sounded like a flirt. he sort of wishes he still had his hat up on his head to block the expressions flitting across his face at the idea something might be reciprocated. probably better to not actually be looking at sanji. so, he faces outward again and struggles to tamp down on the grin that's pulling at his lips.
it doesn't mean anything and he knows it doesn't, but he can't really tell that to the whimsical part of himself that wants it to mean even the tiniest bit. )
Can I take that to mean you don't mind me joining you?
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Fuck. No, that's too much even for his own denial. He really doesn't want Ace to think he's flirting, because that would make everything extremely weird at best, and at worst he'd have to do his best to kick the guy in the face, which would be a whole other debacle of its own (if it's even possible), so it's really best if everything stays nice and casual and --
And thank all the heavens that might exist, because Sanji's spiral into an edge of panic has taken a bare breath of a second, and it's just enough time for Ace to glance at him, eyebrows rising in an unspoken question, but then he looks away and stares into the desert instead of trying to make something of that statement. Crisis averted. Just a friendly evening chat, that's all. ]
Go right ahead. [ You're good company, he almost adds, because it's true and he means it in an entirely platonic way, but he catches his tongue and bites back the words before they escape. No matter how plainly he means it, it would sound wrong, and that's that. ] Pull up a bit of sand and make yourself comfortable.
no subject
he lets the silence hang between them for a few moments, enjoying it — along with the company, the ambiance, the way the sky stretches out in front of them with thousands of glittering stars. there's a certain kind of romance to it, and not necessarily the romantic sort, just the feeling.
not to say he wouldn't like it to be a little more on that romantic side, but he doesn't quite have a bead on sanji yet and isn't really going to push his luck. well, not too far anyway. ace does enjoy taking a few chances here and there. he tips his head back enough to make it obvious he's looking at the sky, )
You ever see anything that ( and he drags his gaze back to sanji, lids a little lower and a possibly flirtatious lift to one side of his mouth ) pretty?
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At least no one else is here to see this. He can't be mad at Ace for it (even if he'd like to be, and he tells himself firmly that he would like to be! But even that is protesting just a hair too much) but he would kick the shit out of any witness -- any male witness -- to this conversation.
He hurriedly glances away and takes a long drag at the remaining stub of his cigarette to cover his fluster. ]
Not… [ It comes out as a croak. He clears his throat and tries again. ] Not this kind of pretty. There's a thousand sorts in the world, but this is… [ A wave of his hand. ] Different. New, I guess.
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though, he kind of has an idea whenever sanji deigns to look at him and he can feel gooseflesh prickling along the back of his neck and down his arms.
flirting is pretty easy, and if ace is honest, sometimes he doesn't put much effort into it because he knows he's pretty charming. there's some resistance with sanji, though he wishes there wasn't. he also can't tell if there's a double meaning behind his response like there was behind his own question. this is perplexing in a brand new way. )
Nothing wrong with appreciating something new. Sometimes that leads to fun opportunities and a new appreciation for something you may not have considered before.
( a little more blatant? yes. )
sorry about the wait!!!
There's a dim corner of Sanji's mind that appreciates, in a gibbering panic sort of way, that Ace's flirting is deft enough that he has the option of continuing to pretend that they're only talking about the sunset, nothing more. He could, if he wanted, keep that door firmly closed, maintain his status quo. He doesn't have to play this game.
But it would absolutely, unquestionably be pretending, at this point. That much he has to acknowledge, if only to himself. It isn't just the sunset Ace thinks is pretty, and Sanji has absolutely no idea how he feels about that.
(Other than the panic, that is.)
And that's the hardest part. He should know. He should be fully disinterested in having any man, even someone as pleasant as Ace, flirt with him. It should be an easy answer, so easy it can't even be called a decision. If he's not interested in men, then he's just... not interested, right?
Well, in that case, all the denial and self-discipline in the world don't mean shit. The answer isn't easy and, fucking shit, he is interested. Interested enough that even as he panics, he desperately doesn't want Ace to see him panicking, and just as desperately doesn't want the guy to leave. ]
That's... [ Pause. Swallow. Try to work some moisture back into his suddenly very dry mouth. Just the desert air and the need to ration their water, right? ]
That's true. See the world, see new things.
[ Fuck it. Fuck everything. The shitty old man isn't here to cut off his balls if he fails to live up to the geezer's standard of manhood, right?
(Right, but the thought is less bracing than he'd hoped. Some reassurance that he's not making a horribly wrong choice would be welcome. But those dark eyes, gone just a little heavy-lidded and lingering on him, are an invitation he is rapidly losing the strength to resist.
He meets that gaze, pale eyes to dark, and screws up his courage enough to smile, still uncertain but at least welcoming. ]
Get to know new people.
[ By his standards it's barely a flirt. But his voice inflects just a little extra on get to know. ]