Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: One Piece

Characters: Sanji and Nami

Special Tags: Modern AU

Nami nervously glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, watching anxiously as the second hand slowly tick-tick-ticked its way around the round surface. As she shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair, her fingers twiddling and her anxiety rising, she wondered if she had somehow confused the time that Sanji would arrive home, or that he had decided to work late without calling her, or if something unforeseen had arisen to keep him. Sighing forlornly, she slumped down in the chair and pouted at the perfectly set table, complete with her finest dishes and a beautiful centerpiece with a burning candle. Tonight, I wanted to surprise him with dinner, she moped.

Ever since they had been married, Sanji, being a cook by trade, made a habit of cooking dinner when he arrived home from his restaurant. Nami was a meteorologist specializing in ocean weather current and predicting hurricanes, and although it was an intense job, she often arrived home earlier than he did most nights. There was no rhyme or reason to why he insisted on cooking for her, more than he enjoyed both cooking and doting on her, but for once she had decided to treat the man she loved. But it looks like that isn't the case, she whined silently as she got up to stir the pot of soup still simmering on the stove top.

She had broken into Sanji's recipe book to find something she, a novice at best, was capable of making, but had found the challenge trying. All she had managed to find was a simple beef stew, and to her displeasure it wasn't romantic in the slightest. Yet, it was all she could do, and so she had slaved away over it to try and replicate his design to the best of her ability. She wasn't sure how it had come out, in all honesty, and part of her worried that Sanji would take offense to her attempting to best his work. He loves me. He would never… Right?

She jumped violently when she heard the door unlock and her husband step into the entryway down the hall, so much so that she flung the ladle and sent soup all over the walls. Scrambling and screaming mentally, she hastily wiped it away with a dishtowel while praying her husband stuck to the habit of taking his time removing his shoes and chef's jacket. When he finally wandered into the kitchen, she was just finishing up, and she whirled around while flinging the soiled rag aside to beam nervously at him.

"What's all this?" he asked with a mildly confused expression, unsure whether to stare at her, the set table, or the pot of soup on the stove. Nami discreetly switched off the heat on the stove before bobbing over to him, indicating for him to sit down. Actually, she grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him into the chair, making him all the more perplexed.

"I made dinner!" she cried happily, hovering beside him in an attempt to gauge his reaction. "You always treat me, Sanji, so I decided to treat you! That's okay, right?" Thankfully, Sanji returned her bright smile with one of his own and rose out of the seat to peck her on the cheek, making her blush with delight.

"Of course it is. That makes me happy," he responded, leaning back in the chair and motioning for her to go about her business. Positively giddy, Nami grabbed his bowl and filled it with rice and stew, bringing it over to him carefully.

"Dinner is served!" she announced theatrically as she set it down in front of him.

"Beef stew?" he asked her, and his tone was hard to read so for an instant she thought he was disappointed. Then he grinned widely and grabbed a spoon to begin shoveling it into his mouth. "I love it!" he cried through mouthfuls.

"Really?!" she gasped, happiness welling up inside her like a balloon. "Oh, I'm so happy! Have some more!" she demanded and snatched the bowl away as soon as he was finished to refill it. He began eating it with gusto again, and as she basked in the praise she bobbed back over to the stove to fix herself a plate. Sanji noticed this and jumped up from the table, laughing nervously as he sidled to her side and took the bowl from her.

"No, no, what are you doing?" he asked her. She glanced up at him, her turn to be perplexed.

"Um… I'm eating?" she answered with a cocked eyebrow. He's acting suspicious now.

"But I don't want you to eat it! I'm selfish; it's so good, I want it to myself!" he grinned and promptly inhaled the entire bowl of her stew. What…? She thought in utter bewilderment, then gasped in horror. He doesn't want me to eat it because it's bad!

"No! I wanna taste it!" she snapped and snatched the ladle off the counter to dip it into the pot. Sanji yelped and grabbed the giant stainless steel pot, ripping it away from her and taking off across the house. "Hey! Sanji!" she shouted as she took off after him. She chased him into the living room, climbing over the couch to vault of the cushions and latch onto his back, wrapping her legs around his middle so her arms were free to reach towards the pot.

"Ahh! Nami! I'll fall!" he cried as he became dangerously unbalanced, the stew sloshing around in the pot and onto his clothes and the floor.

"I don't care!" she shouted angrily as she struggled to get a scoop of the stew out. "It's my creation! I wanna taste it!" Somehow, she managed to finally get a ladleful of the stew, and before he could do anything about it, she shoved the whole thing into her mouth. She instantly spat it out and began coughing. It's terrible! She wailed silently, tears coming to her eyes at both her failure and the abhorrent taste. Having lost, Sanji sighed and set the pot down onto the coffee table, while Nami just clung helplessly onto his back. She buried her face into his neck, sniffling.

"Nami…?" he murmured softly.

"I just wanted to make a good dinner for you…" she sniffed miserably. "I can't even do that… I'm a failure as a wife." Sanji exhaled deeply and walked over to the couch, setting her down before crouching down in front of her. She avoided his gaze, staring miserably at her lap.

"Nami. Look at me," he commanded, and when she would not obey, he put a finger under her chin to lift her face. Her teary eyes met his, and she found them to be a mixture of amusement and love. "Do you really think I gauge your mettle as a wife on your cooking?" he chuckled.

"No…" she mumbled in defeat, her shoulders slumping. He reached up to put his hands on her upper arrms.

"No," he confirmed. "So what if you can't cook? That's what I do for you. There are plenty of other things you do for me," he told her gently.

"Like what?" she snapped. She was slightly irritated at making such a fool of herself, and damn it, she hated when he was right. He didn't get angry at her, though; he just laughed.

"Well, you always eat all my cooking. That makes me, as a chef, happy," he began.

"That's really not helping," she huffed, but he raised one of his hands to place a finger over her lips.

"I wasn't finished. You always set my clothes out for me in the morning," he continued. That's true. I get up earlier than he does. Sanji loves to sleep; if I didn't set out his clothes, he would be late all the time… His list didn't end there, though. "You do all the shopping, too, and you're always so careful to make sure that you buy the right things."

"Well… I wouldn't want you to have to cancel a meal because you didn't have the right stuff…" she admitted warily, rubbing her hands together nervously.

"That's right, and a lot of times you always buy extra things for me," he nodded. She smiled lightly. I just can't help it. I'll be walking through the aisles and I'll see something that he might like, and I just can't help but get it because I know he'll be happy! "You always make sure the kitchen is so clean, too." Sanji hated a dirty kitchen; she knew that, and so she tried to keep it tidy and clean for him every day. Am I really so useful? She thought, feeling her self-doubt fading little by little.

"Those are all things you can do, though," she protested with a frown. Sanji smiled lovingly and poked her nose.

"True. But there's something you do that only you can do," he smiled. Something about that smile, so gentle and full of love, made her heart race. "Nami, you are always here waiting for me. You get me through the roughest of days, because I know when I come home, you'll welcome me with open arms." Nami blinked, then blushed and shifted shyly on the couch.

"Yeah… That's true…" she admitted quietly.

"Please, don't ever doubt yourself. You're my wife, and you're the best wife I could ever have. I wouldn't want anyone else," he smiled as he gently stroked her hair.

"Even one that could cook?" she asked.

"Even one that could cook," he nodded, and then he leaned forward to kiss her softly on the mouth. Nami closed her eyes, accepting his love like he accepted her. I don't have to worry about anything, she thought blissfully. Sanji loves me, no matter what. I'll do things for him that only I can do… I'll make him the happiest man alive.