Lone

     You don’t. It’s become…normal. Somewhere along the way, his presence stopped feeling overwhelming and started feeling steady. “Oi,” Zoro mutters from across the table, unimpressed. “You’re staring again.”

     “I am appreciating,” Sanji replies smoothly, not even looking at him. His attention stays exactly where it was- on you. “Try it sometime.” You duck your head a little, but it’s slower this time. Less instinctive retreat, more quiet embarrassment. Sanji notices the difference. Of course he does. His hand shifts- just slightly- until it rests against yours properly this time. Warm. Certain. His thumb brushes once over your knuckles, slow and absentminded, like it’s second nature.

     “Eat,” he says gently. “You trained this morning, didn’t you?” You nod, still looking down. “...a little.”

     “A little,” he repeats, like he doesn’t believe that for a second. There’s a hint of fondness in it. “I saw the deck.” Your grip tightens around the cup. Right. You hadn’t meant to leave marks. Not deep ones- but enough. Enough that someone observant would notice. Sanji doesn’t comment on it, not directly. Instead, his hand gives yours a small, reassuring squeeze. “You work too hard,” he murmurs. “At least let me take care of you…hm?” Your shoulders draw in slightly- but not away. “...Okay.” It’s quiet, barely there. But it’s enough. It always is with him.

     Across the table, Nami watches with a knowing smile. “He’s been like this all morning,” she says, resting her chin in her hand. “You’d think you were made of glass.” Sanji finally glances up, just long enough to frown. “She deserves to be treated gently.” Usopp leans forward. “Yeah, but she-” Zoro cuts him off with a snort. “She’s not fragile.” There’s a brief pause. You feel it before you understand it- that shift in the air. That awareness. 

          It happens sometimes. Usually when training comes up. Usually when people remember. 

     Your hand stills slightly in Sanji’s. You don’t say anything. You never do. Sanji’s thumb brushes your knuckles again- slower this time. Grounding. “She can be strong,” he says calmly, gaze flicking back to you, softening instantly, “and still be cared for.” The tension dissolves just like that. Like it was never there. Luffy laughs about something. Usopp gets distracted. Nami just smiles a little wider. Zoro grunts but doesn’t argue. And Sanji-

     Sanji leans just a little closer. “Do you want something sweeter?” He asks quietly. “I made tarts earlier.” You blink up at him, surprised. “...You did?”

     “For you?” He says, softer now, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like there’s no other reason worth mentioning. “Of course.” The warmth rises to your cheeks again, softer this time.  Easier. “...Okay.” His expression brightens- subtle, but unmistakable. “There she is,” he mutters, almost to himself. Before you can overthink it, his hand slips from yours only to return a second later- this time resting lightly at your back as he guides you up from your seat. Gentle. Certain. Like he’s done it a hundred times. His hand at your back shifts slightly higher now, thumb brushing once. “Come, love.” And you go- without hesitation. 

    The deck is quieter in the afternoon. Most of the crew has drifted off- Luffy somewhere near the figurehead, Usopp and Nami arguing over something you don’t quite catch. You stay near the far side. It’s easier that way. Less eyes, less noise. The sword rests comfortably in your grip, familiar weight grounding as you move through the final motion of a practiced form. Clean and precise. Controlled. You exhale softly as the blade lowers.

          “...You’re incredible.”

     You freeze. Of course he’s there. Slowly, you turn your head. Sanji stands a few steps away, arms crossed loosely, watching you like he always does- focused, but softer than anything else. Not sharp or assessing. Just…admiring. Your fingers tighten slightly around the hilt. “...I didn’t think anyone was watching.”

     “I always watch,” he says easily. There’s no hesitation in it. No embarrassment. Just fact. The heat rises to your face almost immediately, and you look down, carefully guiding the blade back into its sheath. “I’m not that-”

     “You are,” he interrupts gently. Not firm. Just certain. You pause. He steps closer- but slower this time, like he’s giving you space to meet him halfway. When he reaches you, his attention drops- not to your face, but to your hands. “...May I?” You blink. “Hm?” His fingers hover near yours, not quite touching. “Your hands,” he clarifies softly. “Just for a moment.” There’s no urgency. No worry. Just care. You hesitate for half a second, then you nod. “...Okay.” That’s all he needs. 

     His hands are warm when they close around yours- careful, like he’s holding something delicate, even though he knows you’re not. His thumb brushes lightly across your palm, then over your fingers, turning your hand just enough to see better. There are faint marks. Nothing serious, but enough. Sanji’s brows draw together slightly- not upset. Just…thoughtful. “You grip too tightly at the end,” he murmurs. You blink in surprise. “I do?”

     “A little,” he says, glancing up at you briefly before looking back down. “It’s not wrong- but it’s hard on you.” His thumb presses gently into your palm, right where the strain lingers. You flinch- just slightly. He stills immediately. “...Too much?”

     “No,” you say quickly. “It’s okay.” Your voice is quiet- but steady. After a second, he resumes, slower this time. Softer. Rubbing small, careful circles into your palm. It’s…nice. You hadn’t realized how tense your hands were until now. “...You don’t have to do this,” you murmur, though you don’t pull away. “I know.” His answer is immediate. Simple. “I want to.” The same as before. Your shoulders relax, just a little.

     He shifts his hold, guiding your other hand into his, treating it with the same care. Like it deserves it. Like you do. “You’re very precise,” he adds after a moment. “The way you move.” You glance at him, surprised again. “Not many people can control a blade like that.” There’s something quieter in his voice now. Not awe. Respect. You look down at your hands in his. “I was taught well.” It slips out before you can stop it. Just a little too honest. For a brief second, his hands still. Not pulling away, not tightening. Just…noticing. Then his thumb brushes across your knuckles again, gentle and grounding. “I can see that,” he says softly. And that’s it. Not questions or pushing, just acceptance.

     Something in your chest eases. He finishes with your hands slowly, like he’s in no rush at all. Like this moment is something to be savoured, just for this moment. When he’s done, he doesn’t let go right away. Instead, he lifts one of your hands slightly, turning it in the light. “...Better,” he hums. Your lips press together, a little shy. “...Thank you.” His gaze flickers up to yours. Warm. “Anytime.” And then, before you can overthink it-

     He leans in just enough to press something soft against your knuckles. A kiss. Light and unhurried, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You freeze, then immediately look away, heat rushing to your face. He smiles. You don’t see it- but you hear it in his voice. “...There she is.” His hand slips from yours, only to settle- familiar, steady- at your back. “Come,” he murmurs. “You’ve done enough for today.” Your fingers curl slightly where his had been. “...Okay.” And when he guides you toward the kitchen this time- you lean, just a little, into the touch.

you stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up as you sliced strawberries into uneven little hearts. sanji had laughed at your attempt exactly once before quietly fixing the knife in your hand and guiding your fingers.

"like this, my love."

his hand rested over yours, warm and calloused from years in the kitchen. he never rushed you. even if the strawberries came out crooked, he looked at them as though they belonged in a five-star restaurant.

"perfect."

"they're lopsided..."

"they're yours <3"

that was enough for him.

the pie sat cooling by the window while the sea breeze drifted in through the porthole. somewhere above deck, the ship creaked with the rhythm of the waves.

sanji turned the transponder snail radio on.

it crackled for a second before a slow jazz tune floated through the kitchen.

you caught him smiling.

"don't even think about it."

"think about what?"

"i know that look."

he placed the dish towel over his shoulder with exaggerated innocence.

"can't a man dance with the love of his life?"

"you're in the middle of washing dishes."

"those dishes can wait."

before you could protest, he slipped an arm around your waist and gently stole you away from the counter.

your bare feet shuffled across the wooden floor.

"sanji..."

"hm?"

"the sink is overflowing."

he glanced over your shoulder.

"...that's tomorrow's problem."

you laughed, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

his heartbeat was steady. warm. safe.

he hummed along with the music, guiding you through slow, clumsy circles around the kitchen.

"you're stepping on my feet."

"impossible."

"you just did."

"then your feet should consider themselves fortunate."

you snorted.

"that's ridiculous."

"i'm completely serious."

his chin rested lightly atop your head.

if someone walked into the kitchen right now, sanji wouldn't even notice. nothing existed beyond the tiny world the two of you had created between the stove and the sink.

after a while, the song ended.

neither of you moved.

eventually, you pulled away just enough to reach for the mixing bowl.

"come on, chef."

"yes, ma'am."

you handed him the whisk.

he handed it back.

"you're whisking."

"i thought you were helping."

"i am."

he stepped behind you again, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"this is helping."

"you're hugging me."

"exactly."

"sanji."

"yes?"

"i can't whisk like this."

"i have complete faith in you."

you rolled your eyes, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

with some awkward maneuvering, you managed to stir the filling while he remained attached to your back like he'd forgotten people were capable of existing separately.

he rested his cheek against your shoulder.

"...i missed you."

you blinked.

"i was upstairs for ten minutes just a few moments ago...."

"the longest ten minutes of my life."

"you are so dramatic..."

"and yet i'm right."

you reached up to gently scratch behind his ear.

his shoulders relaxed immediately.

"...that's cheating."

"you like it."

"...i do."

the pie finally went into the oven.

the dishes were eventually washed.

the kitchen was cleaned.

well...

mostly.

when nami wandered in the next morning, she found a perfectly spotless kitchen.

except for two people asleep on the small couch in the corner.

sanji was sitting upright against the armrest, one hand still loosely intertwined with yours as though he might lose you if he let go.

you were curled against his chest, still wearing one of his oversized shirts.

nami smiled to herself before quietly grabbing a cup of coffee for her and robin.

she made sure not to wake them.

Communicative: Unapologetically Expressive

Carlos is a breath of fresh air because he is one of the few characters in the series that isn’t emotionally constipated. He communicates. If he’s got something on his mind, he finds a way to express it. He also does it in a way that is very direct by getting to the point, although he could be quite brash and crude at times.

He doesn’t shy away from giving out compliments. He refers to Jill as a: Fine Young Lady, Supercop, and a Tall Drink of Water. He never misses a chance (when the situation is appropriate) to compliment Jill and in a way this could also be seen as boosting the morale. But it is important to point out that although he is flirty, he never objectifies Jill - when his teammate referred to Jill as Carlos’ hot date, Carlos immediately shuts it down by saying “Nah, she's not like that. Hell, she's not like anybody.”

Unserious-Humorous Disposition

He is undeniable funny and was shown to have a rather chill attitude despite the dire seriousness of the situation he is in. He could be rather crude, because he is shown to swear quite a lot in the game. He always cracks a joke, and the most memorable like to me was when Jill asked if he was flirting with her and he responded with “Why? Are you interested?”…which is also a rather open-ended response by de-escalating Jill’s accusation into a playful banter 😏. And we can’t forget about the iconic “It's alright, you go on ahead. I'm not gonna die on you, and leave you in a cold, cruel, Carlos-less world.” which is his way of reassuring Jill not to worry about him.

Sincerely Respectful

He knows when to joke, and would immediately call himself out on his behaviour and apologize (aka the display of sincerity) when he notices a negative reaction from the other person. For example, when Jill pushes his hand away - he acknowledges her action but he isn’t rude about it: “Personal space, OK. I get it. Let's go.”

And he exhibits emotional intelligence by being able to differentiate between different situations, because he turns serious and shows concern when Jill gets infected. But he does everything while still being respectful Jill and never patronizing her.