puppycrush2 | week three

[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.

You don't care about it?

[ Well... that's still fine, isn't it? Josuke rests his cheek in his palm, watching Sanji analyze his random piece of salad. Whatever he's talking about, it clearly has something to do with his alleged inner turmoil, given the cryptic and sullen way he's brought it up. So, it is no longer the time to distract himself with strawberries. ]

Or you don't know what balances you? Those are really different things.

[No amount of staring is going to change the taste of this salad; however, it's a good enough exercise in figuring out exactly how it was handled. He chews, swallows, and digs around to pick up some more.]

For me, it's the same.

[He doesn't know, and it's not a priority. He's never looked at relationships, platonic or otherwise, as something to be made even.]

That's why I'd thought it might've been me and Dorothea.

[ Not knowing and not caring are the same? So, then -

Sanji doesn't think about himself at all.

It's a pretty easy conclusion to draw. Sanji's always giving, and he doesn't seem to pick up on when other people are trying to help him or get close. Josuke thinks, in that moment, that Sanji has likely only been thinking about the matches with regard to what he can offer someone else, not what he might deserve or want. His eyes lower to the table. ]

Because...?

[This is an easy question, so he continues to dine casually on the salad between words.]

I'm going to be broke pretty soon. [In hindsight, that should've tipped him off straightaway that it'd be a no match. He can't provide half the stability Dorothea wants.] But she picked me at the ceremony . . . and I would have given her anything she needed to see her happy.

[He hates to see a woman sad. Consequently, the matchup had made sense to him. He would have bled, sweated, and cried for her happiness—happily, at that.]

[ Something flickers across his face then, subtle, but noticeable. A small twitch in his brow. Sanji can be frustrating to be around. But other times, he randomly says something that sounds so sweet and lonely and sad, and it makes something ache in him, quietly. He hesitates, knowing he needs to handle what he says delicately — with the simplicity with which Sanji answered, he thinks he doesn't even realize what a fragile thing he'd just put in Josuke's hands.

He can see the root of the confusion that Sanji's having. He'd probably act like this towards anyone who picked him at the ceremony... well, at least the girls, openly. He might feel this way on the inside towards anyone, though. ]

Did you ever think about what she might do for you, though?

[ He's very gentle when he asks, putting very little force behind the question. It's possible it never even occurred to him. ]

Relationships... aren't a one way street. It's good to want to work hard to make someone happy, but... [ He trails off, fidgeting with the plastic in front of him. ] The other person should want to work hard to make you happy too, and be there for you, and everything else. You know? It isn't the same as cooking a meal for someone.

[He pauses mid chew at the question with a frown, then waits for Josuke to finish his piece before resuming. The answer is no, because why would he? Dorothea didn't—still doesn't—owe him anything. Nobody does.

His gaze is fixed on the table and subsequently the plastic between them. He sees how Josuke plays with the carton, but in avoiding eye contact he misses the nuances in the latter's expression while he gives a light grimace in return.

Sanji swallows. He doesn't like it, this idea that someone should do something for him.]

It's the same to me. I don't need anything else. . . . But it's a problem for the show.

[And he'd hate to ruin it for everyone else, just because he's clueless.]

[ Everyone needs something, he wants to say, but doesn't. He gets the feeling Sanji would still see himself as the sole exception. He tries to be firm in pushing back, shaking his head. ]

But giving and giving... that's showing someone you care about them, maybe. But not being cared about. It isn't the same. For a relationship to work, there's gotta be both.

[ It's a little embarrassing talking about it in such romantic terms — the tips of his ears flush, as he glances up. ]

We don't need to get by on just what we need, either... [ Sanji is thinking only of the bare minimum. And he's not certain if he'll be able to change his perspective... but he wants to try. ] What kind of things do you want, when you think about this stuff? Other than someone that enjoys your food. Or, something that you'd think, "that'd be nice if they were like that."

[His eyes flit up, because he's averted them for too long at this point—and Josuke really is a sincere guy. Flushing at the mere talk of romance as a whole? Please.

Exhaling, Sanji leaves his fork in the salad and leans back in his seat. His lips stretch into a smile as he delves into the usual daydream.]

When it comes to romance . . . I'd like to go on dates. I'll bring a bouquet of flowers I picked from the garden, and we'll tour somewhere nice while talking about our day. Then we'll stop at a restaurant with good food and an excellent view, where we'll talk some more . . . and when we make our way back as the sun sets, we might hold hands before . . .

[He trails off, blissfully lost in the fantasy. Just thinking about it makes his palms tingle.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject