Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.
Rating: K+
Summary: When Sanji tells Usopp he's going to be late, the mechanic couldn't be any more excited; which leaves a certain curly-browed blonde worried for what's in store for him when he gets home.
Warnings: Some crude language, AU, and Sanuso
Yet another story for Sanuso Saturday! Also, happy (slightly belated) birthday Sanji!
"I'm going to be late tonight."
On the inside, Usopp practically melted with delight at Sanji's words; but years of being an expert liar taught him that acting out of the norm would tip off the listener to the lie. So he whined as best he could, "But San-jiiii, I'm starving! How long are you going to be?"
"Not long. The banquet for that shitty gentleman's club ran longer than we thought it would so we're still cleaning up. Probably an hour."
"An hour?! I'll die before then! Are you sure you can't come any sooner?" Ha, that had sounded just perfect!
There was a soft sigh on the other end. "Don't be so over-dramatic. If you really need to, have a snack. And when I say snack I don't mean run to the nearest shitty fast food restaurant and get three hamburgers. I mean like an apple or something."
"You take out all the fun in life, you know that?" He even made sure to jut out his lower lip, sure the pout could be heard over the phone.
"Oh yes, preventing you from eating crap food and making you five-star style meals instead makes me such a monster." Usopp chuckled softly at that. "Listen I gotta go but I'll be home soon, alright? I love you."
"Better be. Love you too." There was only a beep to tell him the call had been disconnected, the slap of his flip phone closing like triumphant applause as Usopp shook his hips. "Yes! Oh man, my greatness is becoming a burden!" He grinned widely as he inspected the rack of tools carefully hung alongside one of the cabinets, reaching out for one, setting it beside the other items he would need. "Wait 'till he comes home and sees this."
He turned, heading across the room, "I know just what he'll say." Usopp told himself, lowering his pitch to mimic Sanji's, "'Oh Usopp, what a surprise! You're too good to me!', 'Oh, great and wonderful Usopp, this is amazing! You must teach me all you know!', 'Uso-chwan, it's obvious you're more of a man than I could ever be! I'm not worthy of you, but if you'll have me even still, I would be honored!'"
The dark-skinned male laughed to himself, certain that was how it would go as he reached for the last thing he needed.
Usopp was up to something.
It hadn't been hard for Sanji to figure it out with how much the other male hammed up his little performance. The last time he had acted like this was a year or so back when it was nearly Christmas. Usopp had shoved him out the door insistently to go do some last minute shopping just so he could give him one of his gifts early that year (because he really hadn't had anywhere to hide it). It was a pull-out tie organizer that Usopp had constructed himself – with some help from Franky, a good friend of theirs. Capable of holding over a hundred ties, of which Sanji did indeed have that many, the little space-saver 'drawer' built into their closet had been quite an amazing and useful present.
But he wasn't quite sure what the occasion might be this time.
It was July 20th. Meaning it was neither of their birthdays, not even close to their anniversary, and every even slightly romantic holiday was so far off on either end of the calendar year not even the stores were thinking about them. And Sanji, being the dreamy kind of guy he was, knew for certain he would never forget a date important to them.
Maybe (and this had happened a few times in the course of their relationship), his husband was trying to butter him up for something he wanted. But what? Could it be that power drill he had been dropping hints about a few months back? Maybe he wanted to go on vacation somewhere – their passing discussions about visiting Australia hadn't come up in a while. Or - oh shit, what if he wanted to talk about getting a pet tarantula again?!
He shuddered in horror at the very thought.
By the time he had turned onto their street, he still hadn't quite figured out the answer and though light was spilling from the edges of the window, the curtains were drawn in the living room, revealing nothing to him. He flipped off the car and headed up the walk, turning the key in the deadbolt and hearing the tumbler within the lock rattle as it came undone. He placed his hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath, preparing himself for anything as he opened the door.
It was the smell that hit him first. An almost overpowering scent of bacon and olive oil; yet he hardly had time to get past it before the sight got to him next. Their table, a small, round thing that after a time had also become a partial storage place for their recent mail or some of Usopp's gadgets, had been cleaned off and nicely decorated for once with one of their best tablecloths, a lit candle, and two plates full of food.
And Usopp, also a little better dressed than usual, stood there behind it all, smiling as proudly as a child who just created his first artistic masterpiece on the hallway wall. "Surprise!"
And surprised he was. "I-Usopp, what… what is all this?"
The mechanic grinned wider, coming around the table to where he stood, "You said you wanted a night off, remember?"
"…I did?" Sanji asked, mind drawing a complete blank.
"Yeah!" A hand caught his wrist, pulling him towards the table, "You said it wasn't fair I always get to come home and put up my feet and relax while you still have to make dinner. So, I made dinner for you!"
Oh, right. The conversation was mostly a haze. It had happened weeks ago when he was feeling a little frustrated after a rather unpleasant day at work. He hadn't really meant anything by it though other than to blow off some steam.
"You… made dinner?" He repeated incredulously. Not that Usopp couldn't cook; over the years, Sanji had taught him how to make a few things here and there like an omelet or traditional Japanese rice – but when it came down to a full course-style meal he did things just a little too… creatively. And like a good portion of the inventions he made in his workspace, most of his projects turned into disasters. One particular misadventure that came to mind was the excessively sweet spaghetti sauce the younger had added too much sugar to, claiming it could be both dinner and dessert!
(He didn't even want to recall the clumpy, slightly crispy noodles Usopp had completely forgotten to stir.)
"Don't worry, I used one of your recipes."
"But," He argued as he came to the table, "I don't write down my recipes."
"I know. I watched you and wrote it down myself. Every step, so I would get it just right!"
He did what?!
It was a little much for his brain to handle, slowly looking down at the food. And to his trained eye he could already tell the steak was overcooked and had been lathered with way too much spare bacon grease and the vegetable medley was going to be crunchy because the sheen wasn't right and the olive oil dressing would be overpoweringly strong.
But all those details seemed not to matter at all, because Usopp had not forgotten the most important ingredient of all – one that needs to be poured into every bit of every meal.
He could see it, in the still steaming black tea with the honey already beside it; in the dark flecks of one edge of the meat that was thoroughly cut away from the bone; in the carrot at the top of the vegetables, tenderly carved into the shape of a heart.
Sanji swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the gift he now understood had no ulterior motive behind it other than to make him happy, and turned to a still very eager and proud Usopp and said, "I can't wait to eat."
He reached out, curling his hand around the back of Usopp's neck to bring him close, the secret ingredient in the kiss they shared the same as the one in the meal on the table.
A/N: A big thanks goes out to my friends for this one: Skins, who gave me the prompt 'Steak', and Stripesandteeth, whose recent blowing of my mind with their curious observations helped me come up with the premise for this story.