puppycrush2 | week three

[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.]

[ Josuke listens patiently, blinking when Sanji trails off. ]

....But that could be with anyone, though.

[ That sufficiently told him nothing about what kind of person Sanji envisions wanting in his life. It's all about the idea of romance, nothing of substance. He puts two fingers to his temple, trying to puzzle out how he can explain this to him, or try to get him to think about the game, his match, or even just what kind of person might be good for him without pushing too hard. ]

I meant more like... for me, when I think about being with someone, I want them to be like my friend. We can laugh and tell each other anything. I protect them, and they protect me. I don't wanna have any worries when they're nearby... [ At the beginning of the competition, other contestants had told him his type was too abstract; he can't help himself, though. ] Going on dates is fun and all, but that's the most important thing to me.

[ He seems a bit sheepish going into detail about what he's been thinking of when trying to find his match and/or a partner here, but he goes on with it anyway. He cups both sides of his face, looking at Sanji quizzically. ]

How about this... how would you feel if someone to treated you the way you treat others? [ THE GIRLS AT LEAST ] Wanting to cook for you and give you flowers and stuff.

[Sanji opens his eyes.

That's the point. It can be anyone, so long as they choose to spend time with him. That's what matters the most.

But that's not what he says. Sanji's expression sobers as he listens to Josuke, which soldifies some things in his mind. The latter is so open about his desire for fairness, for someone to lean on and to prop up at once—to protect and to be protected. It's a lovely concept that gnaws softly on Sanji's nerves, though he maintains a placid yet attentive look on the outside.

His gaze falls on the unfinished portions between them in answer to the question. Recalling a heartfelt egg on rice from the other day, his eyes scrunch in imagined satisfaction as he smiles to himself, thoroughly tickled by the idea.]

A homemade meal, eh? . . . Sounds damn nice.

[ New idea unlocked... he should cook Sanji one of the basic meals he knows how to make, like fried pork cutlet. He knows Sanji well enough now that he knows he won't stick up his nose at someone else's cooking efforts, even if they're a man. He'll keep this thought to himself though, it should be a surprise... if Sanji is ever out of the kitchen long enough for him to manage it.

He smiles, encouraging. ]

Right, so maybe try looking for someone who'd do things like that for you. Doing a little favor for you now and then to make life easier. [ It's very obvious the idea is appealing to Sanji... it's a little cute. ] Someone who thinks about when you must be hungry, you know?

[ He'll just try to keep the analogies in the realm of food... that seems to be the easiest way to break through to Sanji. After he says that, though, he finally goes back to eating, leaning back in his chair again now that he feels he took a step forward towards making things clearer for him. Hopefully. ]

[Spurred on by Josuke's words, Sanji imagines such a person. Someone who'd think of and provide for him without his saying anything . . . A kind, sensitive soul who'd give and ask for nothing in return . . . Someone like . . .

His smile loosens a touch at the bittersweet memories as he absently goes for another forkful. There's no way he'd accept that. He lifts the fork to his mouth, deciding to concentrate on the salad again, when he notices an odd color and texture against the leafy greens.

His heart stops beating at the sight of a caterpillar wriggling faintly on its modest bed of salad. As soon as he registers what he's seeing, Sanji drops the fork—and the caterpillar with it—before letting out a shrill scream. Snapping his foot out on reflex, his leg cleaves the table in half from beneath and sends the pieces airborne as if he were kicking up mere foam, all while he scrambles back until his chair tips over. He drops to the floor on his back, knocking the wind out of him, and gets on all fours to crawl away with a sense of great urgency.]

[ He's snapped out of his temporary peace by the table literally splitting in two. At first, he thinks it might be from an outside attack — until he sees Sanji pathetically flailing and crawling away. His eyes dart this way and that, until he sees the poor little caterpillar inching away from the now dropped salad. ]

A bug...!?

[ That is so disgusting...... and Josuke is only mildly more respectable about being grossed out by it than Sanji. He gives the spilled salad and fruit a very wide berth, trying to scoot over and catch up with his companion. ]

Ew, you ate so much of it! [ AND IT HAD A BUG IN IT!!!!!!! He leans down to grab Sanji by the back of the shirt. ] Hold on, we can't just leave all of this like this!!

[Scruffed by Josuke, Sanji stops his escape attempt when his mind finally catches up to him.]

No . . . You're right. [Swallowing down his dread, he steadies his arms, climbs onto his feet, and turns around to look at the mess he's created.] I still have to finish . . . Is it gone?

[There's a breathy quality to his voice as he glances around fretfully, fearful of happening upon something with so many legs again. But the salad and even the strawberry tops . . . He can't just abandon them uneaten!]

Still have to finish...?! Dude, don't eat the rest of that!

[ With Sanji back on his feet, Josuke goes about... well, fixing the situation. Thankfully he always carries a handkerchief on him, which he plucks from his jacket pocket. Unbeknownst to Sanji, Josuke's Stand goes ahead and touches all of what went awry in the kicking fiasco: the table, the salad, the container of strawberries, and even the caterpillar.

Everything slowly goes back into place... except for the one thing. The caterpillar seems to magnetically float over to Josuke's hand instead, landing in his palm atop the handkerchief. Otherwise... the table looks just like it did, sans one trespasser in the greens.

Josuke shivers, holding his hand far, far away from his body. With his other free hand, he's gonna make an executive decision and try to take the salad away, before Sanji potentially eats bug eggs and shit. ]

Gross... I told you it was going to be bad!

[Sanji pauses at what appears to be Josuke's power in the works. It's a truly handy ability that restores the food to its rightful place on the table and not on the floor, which is frankly a crime. He can't believe he did that.

Resolving to treat the salad and strawberries the way they deserve to be treated, he reaches for the former, only to be thwarted by Josuke. He grabs onto the other side of the container and shoots Josuke a challenging glare, uncaring of potential contaminants.]

Give it back. It's still food! I'm not going to waste it.

It had a bug in it! It could make you sick!

[ He protests, but he doesn't quite yet use his superior strength to yank the container away from him. It's pretty obvious why Sanji might have issues with wasting food, given the horrible time he spent not having any, and what sacrifices had to be made in its absence. So he can have sympathy for Sanji not wanting to throw away anything edible. At the same time, this salad is not edible by Josuke's standards... also, he is truly suffering because the longer they have this stand-off, the longer he has to hold this damn caterpillar. ]

I get where you're coming from, but I don't want your stomach to hurt later, man.

[The solution is simple: Josuke relinquishes the salad and takes care of the caterpillar. Sanji's hold on the container of salad is equally unyielding as he grits his teeth.]

I haven't been sick a day in my life, so you don't have to worry about that. I'm not letting you throw this away!

[Give him his damn salad back.]

[ Huffing, Josuke gives up, throwing up his hand after letting go of the stupid box. ]

Fine! Have it your way.

[ He personally thinks that's disgusting, but he's not about to throw hands with Sanji over it. Just because he can understand why Sanji acts this way doesn't mean he thinks it's particularly good for him.... he winces, even though he's the one that ceded the food. Aggravated and muttering, but walking off to release the caterpillar outside: ]

I wasn't trying to waste it, I'm just trying to think of you. Jeez...

[ He needs to defend himself!! ]

[Relief washes over Sanji, who reclaims his spot at the table with the salad in tow. He understands that Josuke is concerned, but there are some things he can't allow, because food will always take precedence. Having learned his lesson, he checks for surprise creepy-crawlies before digging back in with more gusto.

By the time Josuke returns, Sanji has finished off the last of the salad. He points at the strawberry tops.]

Welcome back. Say, are you going to eat those?

[Curiosity underlines his tone. As a favor to Josuke, Sanji will eat those for him if the former doesn't want them.]

[ When he plops back down in his chair heavily, it's done with a grimace. He hates touching bugs, but the poor thing didn't deserve to die just because it happened to crawl into a dumb salad. Still.... there goes my appetite for the rest of the day. ]

Huh? I've never tried eating them, really. I thought you weren't supposed to?

[ He can see where this is headed already, and he fixes Sanji with a questioning look, as if asking him to elaborate. ]

[Josuke is a stronger, kinder warrior than Sanji will ever be. The latter has already banished the caterpillar from his memory, lest he lose it.]

They're rich in vitamins and antioxidants with anti-inflammatory properties. You just have to make sure they've been thoroughly washed.

Oh... really? I thought it was just... I dunno, leaves.

[ He didn't know this, and he trusts Sanji to not lie about food to trick him into eating something. The strawberries did seem like they were fine... and cleaned well. And he took care to check if there were any more creepy crawlies when he fixed the table. ]

I guess I could try it, if you want me to.

What do you think a salad is?

[Granted, there's far more to a proper salad than just leaves. They're there, though, and people eat them.

Having said that, he wasn't expecting Josuke to make such a meaningful offer. Most guys will fight tooth and nail to refuse something once they've decided that they won't eat it. Sanji blinks, and that's all he shows of his surprise before he jerks his chin at the container of strawberries.]

It's best practice to finish your own food. Go ahead.

Leaves that are normal to eat, obviously.

[ He huffs, sourly, taking one of the strawberry tops for himself. To be honest, if Sanji weren't here, he probably wouldn't bother doing this. Only his knowledge and witnessed experience of Sanji's neurotic behavior regarding food gives him the will to even attempt it.

All that being said, he bites one of the strawberry tops in half with little fanfare; if it were the salad that had a bug in it, that'd be a different thing. He couldn't be paid enough to eat that. Ugh, stop thinking about it. He chews, slowly, not looking particularly disgusted or enthused. ]

It tastes... bitter, I guess?

[What are normal leaves?]

But not bad, right? They're good for you.

[The fact that Josuke makes the attempt puts Sanji in a better mood. It makes him want to try harder in order to return the favor, which opens up another can of worms . . . but that's for him to worry about, not Josuke.]

You can use them to make a variety of drinks. How do you feel about tea?

I like coffee more.

[ See, he's even eating the other half. It's not pleasant, but he can endure this much for the sake of Sanji's mental calmness. ]

In the morning, my mom will make it with cream and sugar.... [ At least talking about this is distracting him from the bitter after taste of the leaves, which he works his mouth a bit to try to rub away. ] Some teas are just way too bitter.

[The calyx is also bitter, he knows. Casually, he reaches over to snatch one of the remaining strawberry tops and pop it in his mouth.]

Well, I don't blame you for that. I prefer black tea, myself. [It's more malty than bitter.] There's nothing wrong with coffee, especially if it's served by your mom.

week three | dates

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BUG IN FOOD GATE

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