A/N: Because I've been told this way too many times in my life.
Aimi sat at the table in the office's little makeshift kitchen eating the savory lunch that her boyfriend had packed for her when two of her fellow coworkers walked in. They shuffled around behind her, opening the refrigerator and using the microwave, before taking a seat beside her.
"Hey, Aimi," they said politely. Aimi greeted them back and continued to eat, spaced out, while the two women beside her chatted idly by as they ate. She was pulled out of her daydream by one of the women asking her a question.
"Hmm?" She questioned, prompting the woman to repeat herself.
"I asked where you get your lunches from," said one of the them, the redhead. "We've been wanting to ask you since they always look so delicious."
"Ah," Aimi said. "I don't buy them anywhere."
"Oh! You make them yourself!" Exclaimed the second one, a brunette. "You must be really talented if they're as delicious as they look."
"Umm. No. My boyfriend makes them for me. And they are actually more delicious than they look."
"You're so lucky! I wish my husband would cook," whined the redhead. "If only once!" Aimi smiled as the brunette laughed.
"Yeah," said Aimi. "I know how very lucky I am to have him." She took another bite of her food. "He's actually the sous chef of a restaurant."
"What? Really?" Asked both of the women. "Which restaurant?"
"Um. The Baratie," Aimi told them. Both of the women's eyes widened.
"That really huge, fancy restaurant downtown?" Asked the redhead.
"I've been there once before," said the brunette. "It's expensive, but the food is worth it; it's so amazing." Said the brunette. "Wow. Talk about lucky. You get to eat five-star restaurant-worthy cuisine every night." Aimi smiled at the two women, not minding the friendly conversation that they had started.
"Well, I hope not every night," said the redhead. A questioning look appeared on both Aimi's and the brunette's faces. Seeing the confused faces, the redhead explained. "In my home, I'm the only one that cooks. It gets really tiring so whenever I can, I get my husband to buy dinner instead so I can have a break every now and then." She nodded as she continued to talk. "And I only cook at home for my family. Your boyfriend has to cook for dozens of people a day and then go home to cook more. It must be tiring."
"Oh," exclaimed the brunette. "I see! Well, I'm sure Aimi cooks sometimes, right?" She asked turning to look at the woman that she had just addressed.
"Well, um," she stuttered, a blush rising up in her cheeks. "I don't really know how to cook." The two women gasped at the confession.
"What?! But cooking is such an important skill to know!" Said the brunette, shock across her face. The redhead's face, however, was filled with disdain.
"Shame on you!" She chastised, shaking her head causing a small frown to form on Aimi's face. "What kind of woman doesn't know how to cook?" She continued. Aimi swallowed hard. She knew what this woman was going to say. She had heard it many times but no matter how many times she had heard it, it never failed to chip away at her self-confidence.
"You can at least make rice or something, right?" Inquired the redhead.
"I can make a grilled cheese!" Aimi said with a forced smile, hoping to ease the woman's berating, but it only seemed to make the woman more irritated.
"Honestly, it's such a simple skill to learn," the redhead told her. "You'd have to be lazy not to learn it." Aimi was now frowning as the woman stared straight at her. "I feel so sorry for that man." Every word that the woman said was making Aimi feel smaller and smaller. "To have to work all day and then come home to work more. All to feed a woman who won't bother learning how to do something so easy." The redhead shook her head.
Aimi took a deep breath and put away her food. She wasn't hungry anymore, she realized. Quietly excusing herself, she left.
Aimi moped around a bit when she got home before entering the kitchen. She stood in the center staring all around her, wide eyed—she really didn't know her way around the kitchen, at all. She was frozen in place when she heard the door open. And then when she felt two hands on her shoulders and soft lips press against her cheek to give her a kiss, she jumped—as if she had just been caught doing something that she wasn't supposed to be doing. She turned around to look at her boyfriend who was looking at her with a raised (curly) eyebrow.
"Are you alright?" He asked her. Aimi observed his face. Did he look tired, she wondered. Was that woman right?
"Y-yeah, Sanji. I'm great!" she answered. Sanji gave her a skeptical look, but decided to not question it. She watched his back as he told her what he was going to make for dinner while he grabbed whatever ingredients he needed. Aimi bit her lip, unsure of what she should do.
"Um," she hesitated, "let me help!" Sanji turned around to look at her questioningly.
"There's no need for that," he told her.
"But I want to!" She protested. There was a pause.
"Are you sure you're alright?" He asked. She nodded. Sanji sighed, knowing how stubborn Aimi could be. "Alright, then. How about you cut the vegetables?" He offered.
Aimi nodded, grabbing the vegetables and a knife. She washed both before placing them down on a cutting board and chopping them. She was getting frustrated that they weren't coming out perfect like they would with Sanji. She felt tears start to form in her eyes as she told herself that she couldn't even do something as simple as cut some vegetables. She stopped when she saw the green peppers were turning into red ones. Her brow furrowed in confusion until she realized what was going on.
"Sanji!" She shouted, voice slightly shaky. She felt herself start to grow nauseous.
"Aimi!" She heard him shout from behind her.
Her breathing grew heavy and her surrounding started to fade a little. She could hear how frantic Sanji sounded. She could feel herself being moved. And then there was something cold on her hand. She found herself sitting on the tiles of the bathroom floor with a slice of bread in her hand.
"Come on, Aimi," she heard Sanji say. "Eat it."
She felt something touching her head, but she was too disoriented to think about it. She focused on the bread in her hand and shakily moved it to her mouth, taking small bites. After a few bites, she felt her surroundings start to clear up. She noticed that she was sitting on the bathroom floor between Sanji's legs, her back pressed to his chest. His arms were wrapped around her torso while his head was placed on top of hers. There was a half-eaten slice of bread in her right hand and when she looked to her left, she saw a band-aid around her index finger.
"I cut myself?" She asked aloud for confirmation.
"Yeah," Sanji replied. She felt his head move down to her shoulder, his face pressing into the crook of her neck. "Don't scare me like that again."
"I'm sorry," she told him, after a pause. Tears welled up in her eyes as all of the previous events came back into her mind and before she knew it, she was crying.
"What's wrong, love?" He asked her, turning her around to face him. "Does it hurt?" Aimi shook her head. "Then—?"
"I'm so useless!" She shouted. Sanji's eyes widened at her words. "I can't even cut some vegetables. It's such an easy thing and I can't even do that." Sanji placed his hands on either side of her face and wiped away the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.
"Aimi," he started softly. "That doesn't make you useless." Aimi's eyes stared right back into his.
"But I can't cook. I can't even do a simple thing like cook," she sniffled, her tears dying down. "Hell, I burn toast half the time." Sanji pressed his nose against hers.
"I don't care if you burn the toast all the time," he told her. "It doesn't matter. You have me for that. You'll always have me for that."
"But don't you get tired of it? Of cooking all the time? You come home from work, but then you have to cook for me. I just make things harder for you. But if I could cook, then—."
"Silly," he cut her off.
"Huh?" She questioned.
"You're being silly. I don't mind cooking all day. I do what I do because I love it. I spend all day doing what I love and then I get to come home to continue doing what I love for the woman I love." He gave her a gentle kiss. Aimi bit her lip. She opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by her growling stomach. Sanji let out a laugh as Aimi blushed.
"Come on," he said, grabbing onto her hand. He stood up and pulled her along with him. "Let's quiet down that beast. And if you really want," he added. "I can teach you some things along the way."
A smile spread across Aimi's tear stained face.
'Yeah,' she thought. 'I am really lucky to have him.'