Rating: Pg-13 (language)
Just in case you missed it the first time! This rating may change in future chapters, with each chapter recieving an appropriate warning.
Pairing: As of yet undecided - you can suggest whichever takes your fancy, but it really depends on how the story develops.
Warning: This is an AU, now usually they are iffy things to read, so please give this one a chance, I'm going to keep the characters as IC as possible because if they're too OOC then they aren't really the characters they're supposed to be in the first place. if I go a little off I apologise, but I'm happy for you all to tell me so I can improve the story.
Feedback - be nice peeps! I love a good constructive criticism anyday, but anything negative/flamey will be ignored.
Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece in either is Anime or its written form. One Piece and all it's characters belong to Eiichiro Oda.
(I own the cat, because the cat is mine 3 )
Humble Abode
It was tasteful, the place he called home.
It was large enough for a family, despite only housing one man. It had a spacious kitchen, which was of paramount importance to the man who owned it. It contained every item anyone could possibly require in the kitchen, and some of this equipment the young chef had not even used himself, in spite of having owned the little place for several years since leaving university.
Despite this, he still found joy in finding his home clean and welcoming. He made sure the house had at least one good clean a week, making sure the dusting was done, each nook and cranny was hoovered and that everything was in it's rightful place, be it in a drawer, on a table or simply shelved.
He was proud of his house…
It also had a beautiful en-suite bathroom with stunning white tiles with tiny painted leaves on them. It was ivy, or so his friend had told him when he had finished the last tile and fastened the pot. His dark haired old college friend had taken up the arts, and had become a successful interior decorator, known to have brought his colourful designs to life in the home of even Mayor Iceberg himself.
He had proudly shown off his décor to his visitors, and then had them ask him for said 'artists' contact number. He should have charged Usopp for all the commissions he'd received that way.
There was also the master bedroom, which was unlike the rest of the house in how it was sparse. It was quite a dark room, with the walls being painted a rich deep blue and his curtains a beautiful shade of sapphire. He was particularly fond of the soft, thick cobalt carpet. The blonde was always impressed with how the softness between his toes remained buoyant and supple.
Although the young man was known to have several callers, not one of them had seen this room. This single chamber that was solely his own in that it was the one place that exclusively belonged to Sanji; it was the most private place in his life, completely untouched by the world.
In contrast to this room the rest of his home was open, and he had no objections at all to any of his friends and visitors poking about or looking a little more closely than was polite. He was a patient man, as long as shoes were taken off at the front door and crumbs weren't left in places where crumbs should not belong.
There was the living room and dining room – separated of course, one could not entertain ones friends if they were too busy watching the television. Both had the same cream colour-scheme to them and he found that it was a very forgiving tone that went well with almost everything. Especially his chocolate coloured coffee table. The old man hadn't agreed on that one, and even gone as far as to get him an unpleasant house-warming gift as some form of revenge for the table he had so vehemently objected to.
The item in question had been a money box. A china duck with a crude curled eyebrow drawn above its right eye. The tiny feathers were speckled with miniscule brown spots, and its feathers were a garish shade of sunshine yellow.
He knew it was a light-hearted jab at his appearance, and he noted with some amusement that the following gift he received from his co-workers in honour of his new abode was another poultry figurine with a ridiculously large yellow moustache. It had been crudely attached to the birds upper beak with duct-tape, a joke in itself that had not been lost on the cook, and reminded him strongly of his old man.
The two ducks now sat side by side in the centre of the offending coffee table, a keepsake of the bond and debt he owed the older chef; his father in all but blood.
The spare room was sparsely decorated, though the décor was welcoming; a comfortable and private place for any visitor and was, as always, the bed he chose when courting a young lady whenever he saw fit. The sanctuary of his bedroom never violated by such fleeting romances, instead these passing flings were confined here.
As such, Sanji endeavoured to keep his personal castle clean and free from all things he would consider a threat to his furniture. However, the frequent and often unannounced calls from some of his more…colourful acquaintances, often left his pristine quarters in disarray, and left the wellbeing of his furnishings questionable.
It was a different acquaintance; however, that was leaving his neat and tidy abode in a state of disorder. He wasn't pleased about it, but was acutely aware of the fact that it was entirely his own fault for inviting the creature in, in the first place.
That 'poor' creature…he had found it on his way walking back from work once. It had just stopped raining, which had only added to the pathetic appearance of the feline as it mewed at him pitifully as he passed by the bus-stop. In a rare moment of pity for an animal he would usually have believed would make a better entrée than a pet, he decided to take it home.
He knew he should have just dried it off, fed it and then kicked it out. But he didn't. And now all he could find over every squashy and comfy surface in his household was cat fluff. And what was worse was that the colour of the blasted animal clashed horribly with the colour schemes of the house.
Well, actually they didn't. But they were very obvious and clung stubbornly to his trousers, which meant he had to clean them off with a clothes brush before he went to work. This, in turn, meant he had to wake up earlier; another thing to add to the list of what annoyed him about his unwelcome guest.
He still couldn't get over the fact that the animal was green. Despite his misgivings about both having it in his house and letting it stay in his house, he thought it was...cute. For a grass-green cat.
A fat, grass-green cat.
The blasted ball of fluff was currently using his bed as its own personal futon and causing him great vexation. He didn't know how it had gotten in there; into his locked bedroom, but what he did know was that it had been in his house-hold, uninvited, long past its welcome.
He had always believed that the only living thing to enter his sanctuary would be the one true love of his life. This would obviously be a beautiful, no, stunning woman who was not only gorgeous on the outside but angelic…saintly inside. But no, this feline, this non-human-and-certainly-not-ideal-woman, had breached the sanctity of his personal domicile and he was not amused.
He constantly poked it, trying to channel his annoyance into its being, hoping that with a distinct display of irritation the thing would just take the hint and leave. All it did was shed all over his clean house. And now it was shedding green fluff all over his freshly changed sheets.
He knew that it knew the sheets were clean. It was just that the creature currently curled up on his mattress, snuggled in his favorite quilt cover didn't seem to give a damn. He growled. The uninvited guest yawned widely, displaying an impressive set of rather sharp canines and equally evil-looking incisors.
Sanji swore it was mocking him. Not just with its presence, but with its actions, or rather...inactions. All the animal did was sleep. And crap on his ferns.
Bastard.
He hated it. His ferns had died, his fish had mysteriously disappeared and he had suddenly acquired tinned pet food to keep it away from his meals.
Once the invader had the audacity to launch itself onto the table, devour both his bacon and his hash brown and leave all in the space of under a minute. He had never seen it move that fast. Ever. He was so shocked that he had only reacted after it had returned to polish off his sausage, then he had screamed at the green flash as it had returned, low and behold, to his bed.
Bloody whiskered monstrosity.
His alarm clock went off, ringing incessantly, reminding him that it was time for work. It blinked apologetically as he tapped it off, glancing at the floresent glow of 6:30am saluting him. He sighed, picking up his uniform and making his way out of the room, glancing back at the bed-thief before trotting down the stairs.