Sanji walked around the grocery store, casually browsing the aisles for what he needed. It had been another crazy night bleeding into a too-early morning of partying with the rest of his crew, and oh-so-salacious and naughty unmentionable acts with Zoro when everyone had finally fucked off to sleep. Exhaustion didn’t begin to cover it but the ache in his thighs was a pleasant reminder that it was a worthy suffering he would happily suffer again.
He felt chill and totally at ease despite being in little else than jeans and a t-shirt, a little divergence from his usual suit. He could blame Zoro, but really, the comfort of his current getup was preferable to the buttons and procedures his brain could not have wrapped around when Sanji had stumbled out of bed in the late morning. He had woken Zoro when he did.
“Where the hell you going?” Zoro had mumbled, half awake.
“Groceries,” Sanji replied, probably still wasted to some degree in retrospect.
Zoro had chucked a black shirt at him and Sanji gratefully put it on, stumbling and falling while he dressed himself otherwise.
And so he had meandered into the store, catching the occasional weird glance and at two points, the hushed and harried “escort away” dance that parents sometimes did with their children when they realized just who they were looking at.
He was, however, a little off put by the degree of weird he was experiencing today. It seemed to far exceed any normal day amongst the regular citizens, so to speak, and he felt he looked approachable which made it all the more strange. Even if he felt completely wrecked from the previous evening, he’d never gotten these kinds of weird interactions (adjacent to an interaction, he supposed) when hungover so something was clearly amiss.
“Don’t look at him,” he heard a woman whisper to her friend.
“Yeah right, can’t believe some people just walk around like that,” her friend replied.
Sanji’s ears reddened. There was little else he hated more than somehow catching the ire and disapproval of beautiful ladies. He knew the shirt was clean, he knew he didn’t smell, so what the hell kind of vibe was it that he was giving off? Was it really so awful for him to walk around in jeans and a shirt? It was getting weird.
As if that weren’t enough, he kept getting approached by men. Burly men, more muscle bound than the Mosshead, beefy like they were giving an over-stuffed Luffy a run for his money. It was like they could smell the debauchery he’d gotten up to with Zoro on his every pore— a humiliating and deeply unwelcome thought.
“Hey there handsome,” the last burly, bearded, bearish guy had said. “How about I buy you a meal?”
“No thank you,” Sanji had replied and smiled politely.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” he’d winked. “I’m in the second stall.”
It was too anachronistic. Outside of his apparel, which he wore often enough to rule that out, there was no other explanation besides some secret knowledge random people had that he was up until sunrise getting freaky with a green haired idiot.
“Literally never sleeping with that bastard again,” Sanji mumbled to himself as he made his way out of the store. He didn’t mean it, of course, but he felt the frustration of the morning in a visceral, unwelcome place in his bones that something deeply amiss and unbecoming had transpired without his knowledge. People couldn’t… smell the kind of sex you’d had… could they? There wasn’t some secret broadcast alerting everyone what he’d done, was there?
“Oh Sanji’s back!” Luffy cheerfully announced to the crew.
“Great, now we can get our things together and— oh my god Sanji what are you wearing!” Nami exclaimed.
“Pants and a t shirt? Is it really that unusual for me to be casual?” Sanji replied, slightly annoyed considering the time he’d had at the grocery store.
“Oh Sanji,” Nami choked on her laughter. Robin chuckled in the background and Usopp tried desperately to hold it in. Sanji was losing his patience with everything as he set the bags of provisions down at the table.
“Little bro, that’s quite the statement you’re makin’,” Franky boomed.
“What! Casual clothes? That I like being casual sometimes?”
“Do you really not know what you’re wearing?” Usopp asked him, a look of concern and amusement on his face.
“Seriously, what is wrong with my outfit?! I think I look nice! What is everyone’s problem!”
“Sanji, why don’t you read what the back of your shirt says,” Robin replied in her kind and calm tone.
Exasperated, Sanji took his shirt off and turned it around to see the back. In big, bold, white letters he read the words “I ain’t gay, but I ain’t exactly not gay,” each evil, asshole letter accosting him like a dagger to his face: mocking, taunting, eviscerating him in broad daylight.
He stood there for approximately forty seconds, in total shock, before his face flooded with blood and the sense and dawning realization rippled through him like a tidal wave. If anyone said anything during that time, he couldn’t tell. All Sanji knew was that at the precise moment his wits came back to him, he quickly scanned the room for Zoro before letting out a singular mortified scream.
inspired from this post x :)
if u feel it, a ☕️ is always welcome 💋
