puppycrush2 | week three

[Sanji takes the time to pull out and examine the odd bread here and there before putting it back in its proper place. His senses are discerning and quick, and so they clear about half the aisle at a reasonable pace.]

If something's weird, it's either new or expired. [That's to say, it can be a good or bad thing, depending. He straightens from a crouch after putting away a package from the lowest shelf.] But I do. Every step counts; I prefer to make as much as I can from scratch.

You're so dedicated, damn.

[ His tone is a bit exasperated, but still awed. He can't imagine putting so much effort into something like that — or at the very least, not into cooking. Everytime he's had to make a meal for himself, he has made something simple, fast and filling, and most certainly not toiled for hours. ]

Is it about the taste?

Something like that.

[His gaze sweeps the length of the aisle before he moves farther down to read the labels on a row of grain bags. For Sanji, it's not about convenience, but something more abstract.]

A single step performed without love ruins the dish, and I'm not in the business of feeding my customers anything half-hearted.

[ Love? He tilts his head. ]

That's surprisingly... sentimental. And romantic.

[ Sanji is hard to read and cool-headed. He really only gets super emotional when he's around girls, so he wouldn't have expected him to take such a blatantly feelings-forward stance towards his craft. He'd thought it might be about pride, or proving himself, perhaps. Or, maybe he could've been led to believe Sanji felt that way about cooking for girls only. As they go down the aisle, he finds he doesn't know anything about grains, so his eyes only linger on the things that have cool packaging. ]

You feel that way towards everyone who eats your food?

Yeah.

[His lips tugs into a wry smile as he handles a small bag of wheat.]

It doesn't matter whether they're friend or foe. [Josuke already knows. Man or woman, human or otherwise . . . All of that makes no difference to Sanji.] Food doesn't discriminate. What happens after is another story, but all I care about before is whether someone's enjoying their meal.

[ Well, it's not hard to guess why he'd have such a philosophy. Josuke smiles, the curve of his lips kind. Lightly teasingly: ]

Hah... you really like taking care of people.

[ Gruff as he can act, Josuke sees through it. Sanji's the one that's always making sure they have food at discussions; he's thinking of everyone's hunger all the time, perhaps. Just as in every fleeting touch, Josuke tends to peek in on other people's health. ]

You're a lot kinder than people give you credit for, I think.

[That's about it for this section. Onward to the noodles, which he transitions toward with a dismissive wave in Josuke's direction.]

It doesn't matter to me what the men think. [Sanji stops before pastas and glances over his shoulder.] But I can say the same for you.

[Isn't it Josuke who's always looking after others? He has the empathy for it, not to mention the boundaries to discuss potential matches objectively. He's not overly emotional like Sanji is. It's no wonder he can get on with anybody.]

Nah. Most people figure out I've got a heart pretty quick.

[ Which he can say without sounding totally egotistical because he's very humble about it. Josuke is kind; that's a fact everyone who spends enough time around him knows. He gets enough credit and then some. ]

You, though... [ He refrains from pointing out that Sanji is doing it again, in however subtle a way - trying to push him back, that is - instead turning his back to rifle through dried noodle packages. ] It's like you don't want people to think of you that way, maybe.

[ He's not going to push it, that's just his observation. Without looking up from his search: ]

You might not care what I think, but someone other than me will point it out one day. You'll see.

[Is that a threat?

He knows it isn't, yet his heart stutters all the same as he turns back to examine an unfamiliar brand of pasta. It's not as if he doesn't know what he's doing. Sanji is overly open with his heart on several levels, but there are a few where he'd rather eat dirt than admit what he feels. Rather than him, all eyes should be turned on people like Josuke, who are the true bright spots.]

Yeah, well . . . we'll see about that.

[That's the best he's got before he looks over at Josuke, nose wrinkling.]

You'd better not be thinking about getting any of those instant cups.

[ That makes him laugh, the sound low and drawling, while he waves a container of the noodles in question. ]

What are you even going to do if I do?

[ There's very clear challenge there, his expression smug. Sanji will have to admit that he cares in some capacity to get him to put it back - if he really doesn't care, he'll let Josuke walk off with it. ]

They're good. Maybe I'll make it with love.

[Thoroughly scandalized, Sanji's expression twists into one of utter indignation.]

All you're doing is pouring in hot water! What about your nutrient intake?

[Don't bastardize his love like this!]

[ It might be fun to mess with Sanji more... but, he knows that cooking must be how he shows his affection. Words are hard for him, but taking care of others lets him show his worries another way. His smile softens, eyes knowing. ]

I eat these all the time, [ this is not comforting ] Besides, I'll feel bad if I consult you for every meal. You've got a lot on your plate, feeding everyone. Are you that worried?

[ Sanji works so hard for everyone... maybe he's eating cup noodles out of a want to give him a break!! ]

[This is not comforting.]

I'm the cook. It's my job to feed the ladies balanced meals and give the rest to you guys.

[This is still better than cup noodles and not nearly anywhere as bad as he makes it sound. He turns away with a huff to round the aisle.]

Do what you want, but it makes no difference to me.

[Feeding someone is never an inconvenience; rather, it's a joy and a privilege. Feeling bad for putting him to work in the kitchen? Ridiculous.]

[ "And give the rest to you guys," "it makes no difference to me," hah.....

Josuke's expression flattens, all the fun taken out of teasing Sanji in a mere second. With a giant sigh, he leaves the package where he found it, pursing his lips into a slight pout. ]

You're like, the worst date ever. Way to make a guy feel special...

[ He complains, moodily and a little childishly, but even then, there's still a comedic base behind his words. This is exactly why he was originally thinking of laying off and keeping out of Sanji's space; everytime he gets like this, Josuke starts feeling he's twisting his arm just being in his vicinity. His feelings never end up progressing far, with the constant reminders that he'd treat any of the seven girls better than he'd treat him. He has personal reasons to feel distrusting of anyone too enamored with women, and each time it gets brought up, Josuke psychs himself out. Anytime he starts feeling confident enough to make a bit more of an advance or like he might be able to help Sanji with his clearly convoluted feelings, something like this happens, and he gets too introspective to try.

Well. He still promised Sanji could be in charge, so he follows along, but he's thinking it's probably a good idea to just forfeit his half of the budget over to his companion. Anyway, he hates dwelling on his own feelings, so he changes the subject quickly, to something Sanji probably wants to talk about more: ]

Maybe we should at least try to find something good for the girls while we're here.

[Sanji pauses around the bend.

He's doing it again, isn't he? It was so much easier back at the Baratie when they screamed at and fought with each other without hard feelings. That was how they showed they cared. Even on the Sunny, everyone knows what he's like. Everybody knows: Sanji tolerates men and becomes hopeless around women. That's just how he is. They don't say anything, and it's comfortable.

This isn't the Sunny. And Josuke put him in charge, so Sanji changes course abruptly despite the appealing suggestion to shop for the girls.]

Let's eat.

[He saw some prepared meals and tables on the side earlier. In fact, he's going to pick some up right now.]

[ He thinks of something smart to say in response to Sanji giving up the chance to use up all their money on the girls — my food's gonna make it so you can't buy another thing for Asa, you know — but he holds his tongue. The issue of men fawning over women irresponsibly or too excessively makes him bitter and annoyed, but he has always known this about himself and usually can keep it contained, as he did every day that he saw his mom cry over his deadbeat father. It's only actually bothering him now because this time, it also feels like a slight against him. ]

Huh? Wouldn't you rather eat food after this? It's not gonna be that good.

[ Which he offers neutrally, thinking that maybe Sanji doesn't know that grocery store food is pretty certifiably mid. His eyes gloss over the options there, looking disinterested. ]

And it definitely wasn't made to your "standards."

[Who cares if it's good? He didn't make good food when he was younger, and still . . . ]

It's still a meal. [Put together by people, unlike dumping dried noodles in a cup.] Preparing food takes hard work.

[He can appreciate it in his own way, so he grabs a box without being choosy to get it checked out, then find a seat at a vacant table in the corner.]

[ Pressing x to doubt in his mind about the hard work the employees of Wh*le F**ds are putting in to making this stuff... then again, he hasn't worked in a grocery store before, so he drops the issue. But he also doesn't pick out anything for himself, instead opening up that package of strawberries he'd brought along in tow earlier. He'll just pay for it later... he sneaks little snacks out of the produce in his cart at the grocery store all the time. Better these than a lukewarm sub-par meal, at least in his mind. ]

You could've said something if you were that hungry, you know.

[ Which has to be the reason why they've suddenly veered over here, and he doesn't even attempt to think of an alternative explanation. Like a hooligan, he leans back in his chair until the back legs tip him back, using one of his long legs to ease himself back and forth. ]

Or did you just not notice until right now?

[The strawberries are a good choice. Sanji, meanwhile, busies himself to a serving of modest salad. It's something to soothe the soul while his thoughts swirl. He chews for a bit, taking in the leafy texture and flavor as he ponders to little avail.]

I can't figure it out. [Said in lieu of an answer to Josuke's question, he stalls by biting into another forkful of salad.] The matches . . . My match.

......

[ He returns his gaze back, looking confused. ]

...What?

[ Taken off guard by another hard left, he blinks, pausing in his reaching for a strawberry. Is he talking about the ceremony? That's his first thought. ]

Yeah, I think we're all still a little cloudy on it...

No.

[He keeps eating. Maybe it's an excuse not to look Josuke in the eye. Whatever the case, he can't leave the food unfinished.]

I don't have a clue. Wednesday and Ryuji made sense, but if you ask me . . . I can't tell you anything about what mine could be.

I thought we talked about this a little.

[ He quirks a brow, not quite understanding. Someone spontaneous and adventurous who might align with his chaotic pirate life. That was at least a place to start. ]

You have to at least have an idea of what they wouldn't be like. A food waster, for example.

[ Which he says while taking a bite out of one of the fruits. ]

Or are you not sure about even that?

I know whom I like.

[That's not the same as a match, though. The matches were decided on an algorithm—logic over feeling. He loses his head whenever he's caught up in the throes of attraction, which makes his very nature a detriment to the game.

The salad is mediocre. He keeps eating, anyway, because it's better than the alternative.]

Who knows? I'm just a cook.

[ Distracted by Sanji's match theory problems, he's reluctantly goaded back into being helpful instead of being moody, turning thoughtful. He sets his chair back down, lining up the tops of the strawberries he's eaten on the lid of the carton. ]

Well, then... it doesn't really matter who your match is, right? As long as your feelings are genuine, that's what matters.

[ He hunts around for the next best strawberry, thinking about what Ritsuka had told him. ]

I don't think there's anything wrong with that... those two things being separate, that is. [ It's simple to Josuke; he came into the game having a firm boundary between who his match was and who he might like personally. He knows the two probably weren't going to be the same, just looking at the odds. But, he approaches a lot of things statistically. ] For the sake of the game, though, I bet matches have to do with balance.

[Of course there's nothing wrong with that. Why should feelings be contained by statistics? That's impossible. That's why people like Anna should be free to fall for whomever they want, rather than be constrained by what a show tells them is perfect. It's so simple, and yet nothing is.

Sanji picks up a piece of salad by the tines of his fork, inspecting it.]

That's the problem. [The words come out akin to a low sigh.] I don't care about balance.

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