I don't own any of the characters mentioned by name in this story.
The Ladies' Men Club
"What did I do wrong this time?" the man in a monk's robe moaned, his head on the bar. His cheek still bore the imprint of a hand, a gift from a very irate demon slayer earlier that day. "I mean, it's not like I haven't touched her there before…"
He took a gulp of the beer in front of him, and sighed. "Perhaps I need to approach her a different way," he mused. "My methods have worked on other women before, but Sango is far more precious to me, and worthy of better. But who to ask for advice? Certainly not Inuyasha, or any of the others." Miroku sighed again. "I need some help."
"What's wrong with you?" a voice asked. Miroku lifted his head off the bar to see a man in a black suit with a cigarette sticking out of the corner of his mouth behind the bar drying a wine glass. "Too much beer?"
"If that were only the case," Miroku said wistfully, "then I would not be feeling so wretched."
"Ah, a woman, right?" said the other man, hanging the glass up and letting out a plume of smoke. "I know just how you feel. The navigator on our ship makes me feel exactly the same way."
Miroku looked up at this, and was surprised to find that his companion's visible eye, the other being hidden behind a curtain of blond hair, had at some point during his speech become a large heart. "My Nami is so gorgeous that she makes the sun jealous, and all the treasure in the world is like trash beside her."
Noting these comments in the back of his mind for future use, Miroku began to feel more hopeful. Had he found the help he needed?
"I am Miroku, an itinerant monk," he said, offering a hand.
"Sanji. Usually cook of the Straw-Hat Pirates, currently barkeep here due to… an accident," the blond replied, returning the handshake. "So, what happened with your lady to make you feel so low?"
"I have never had a problem with the ladies before," Miroku began, "but my dearest Sango is entirely different. None of my usual methods work with her, and more often than not, I end up with nothing but bruises for my trouble."
"I have the same trouble with Nami," Sanji said in understanding. "What methods do you use?"
"I'll show you," Miroku said. He stood and, looking around, spied a young woman sitting alone at the other end of the bar. Pointing her out to Sanji, he made his way over to her while Sanji watched.
"Excuse me, miss," he said, raising his voice enough for her to hear him over the noisy crowd, "would you be willing to bear my child?"
At the other end of the bar, Sanji choked. The man called that an approach? What a complete lecher!
By now, Miroku had returned to Sanji, a new handprint mirroring his earlier one. "She doesn't seem to like it either…" he said sorrowfully.
Sanji growled, and restrained himself from kicking the monk. He didn't want to be made to stay longer to pay for more breakages caused by another brawl. "I can't believe you just did that," he growled instead, the menace in his voice clear. "You do not treat a lady like that! You need to be kind, sensitive, polite and have half a dozen other qualities you obviously lack!"
"So how do you do it then?" Miroku wanted to know. "Your methods obviously aren't working with this Nami woman; why should I believe that your way works at all?"
"Just watch," Sanji snarled, standing. He made his way over to the same girl.
"I apologise for my vulgar friend," he said to her, smiling as his eye became a heart again. "After all, the fool failed to see that you are more beautiful than a summer rose, and sweeter than the finest dessert. Please, allow me to prepare you the most delicious drink you have ever tasted, though it will pale into insignificance beside your perfection. On the house."
The girl gave him a shy and somewhat bemused smile, and Sanji took this for assent. He waltzed around behind the bar and began mixing her a cocktail, quelling the owner's protests with a single death-promising glare.
Miroku sighed as he watched Sanji and the girl chatting and laughing as she sipped her cocktail. Sanji was much better at this than he was. Then he brightened. So Sanji was the right person to get advice and tips from!
He was about to join them to congratulate and beg lessons from Sanji when the door to the street opened, revealing a tall man with dark blond hair so long it covered his eyes. He was wearing white pants, a red top with a white design and a blue neck-kerchief, and had a relaxed, devil-may-care attitude about him.
The girl squealed, and ran to him, Sanji and her cocktail forgotten. "Nanashi!" she shrieked, and threw herself into his arms.
"Hey, babe," he said, smiling down at her. "Did you miss me?"
"Oh, of course, Nanashi," she cooed. "It's been awfully dull without you."
They then turned and left, her clinging to his arm, leaving a shattered Sanji and a secretly amused Miroku behind.
"You know, I thought when I saw you two together that you were the right person to ask for help with women," Miroku said, clapping a hand on Sanji's shoulder. "But now…"
"Asking for help…" said Sanji slowly, ignoring Miroku and staring after the departed couple. "Hey, hold on," he called suddenly, throwing down the tea-towel he'd been holding. "I want to ask you something!"
"Asking for help was my idea!" Miroku shouted after him as Sanji leapt the bar and took off, long legs flashing. "So wait for me! I want to ask him too!"
I have nothing against any of these characters, and think they're all cute.
Though this is currently a oneshot, I may continue it if anyone thinks it's worth it. Sanji and Miroku taking lessons in the Nanashi method could be interesting...