(Mihawk doesn't really regret anything. He just recognizes that they had both been going Through Some Stuff and it didn't seem worth the energy to maintain any sort of genuine frustration toward the cook.
It's more of a gesture of peace above all else. A basket filled with herbs and spices, some nice cuts of meat wrapped carefully, and a well-crafted cutting board. A simple note is attached that reads:)
No need to keep sneaking into my stock. Just come as you will.
[ he means to ask what exactly has been happening, since he knows the absolute shitty nightmare of having his insides and outsides ripped apart to form something... sort of not human. but it might be too soon to have a civilized conversation. if mihawk gained some annoying ass rabbit ears, there might be justice in the world.
still, he recognizes a peace offering when he sees it. he also doesn't see the point in continuing a feud that will lead toward nothing good. when he sends the basket back, there's a bottle of his latest trial batch of wine, this one aged with a little bit of magic, just as mihawk had suggested.
the bottle is nestled among several lavish, white feathers, the long plumes fluffy and bright, meticulously cleaned and carefully placed to minimize damage.
(He has to admit that it's a rather thoughtful gift. Sanji, once again, serves to be a pleasant surprise. His hat had become a bit lacking since arriving in this disgusting world.
Well. He did say he would review the wine properly.
So, Sanji gets a message in his notebook a few days later:)
The wine is better. Now we're talking high quality. Though it still needs something. Perhaps enchant the barrels?
(A genuine suggestion. He had never considered the possibility of creating wine through magic. The possibilities here were endless.
More importantly though...)
I hear that you were also subject to a bodily change. A rabbit, was it?
Mister Sanji. This is Bee. I was the child with the rabbit. I have something to tell you and I think you will probably be very displeased with me.
( be brave, bee!!! )
While you were distracted, I stole a knife from you, right up my shirt sleeve. I am sorry. I was scared but that is no excuse for thievery. I have a new knife now and I feel very guilty about having yours. I can bring it back to you, and I accept whatever punishment you think reasonable.
( along with nami's gift, there is a small bundle of handwritten recipe cards — distinctly not in shanks' handwriting — wrapped with twine, which feature a range of somewhat normal to ... more creative local recipes. did he steal these from a house he was delivering presents to? probably. don't think about it too much. )
[ naturally, having been raised by the school of zeff™, sanji does not know how to react to this bit of unexpected kindness from luffy's... mentor?? dad????? questionable older male figure. he's only heard snatches of shanks' name from random anecdotes that luffy will drop at the most inopportune moments, and generally doesn't know shit about the man beyond seeing his wanted posters littered around the baratie.
any acquaintance of luffy's might be considered a friend to the straw hats, if luffy didn't keep such bad company. (marines??????)
still, the countless number of times he's been dropped on his head hasn't rid him of his manners yet. (they are, however, reserved for Women.)
several days later — ]
was that cottage cheese sausage recipe supposed to be a hint?
( a concerning thing for a chef: the sound of someone, early in the morning, rooting around in his kitchen, with the distinct impression of not wanting to be heard. far be it from bee to show up uninvited, but today is a special enough occasion that she thinks the oversight in manners could be overlooked in favor of this. this, of course, being a slanted, three-tier cake that seemingly popped up out of nowhere. it's unbecoming in a way that only childlike earnestness can hope to achieve — the color of the cake just a little too brown, peaking through the shellacked yellow frosting that's just a little too melty, making the whole creation structurally questionable. bee is not saved from the mania either, a thick streak of frosting in her hair almost like she used it to gel her hair back — body otherwise a tapestry of little sugary smudges, from her face to her arms, which support a piping bag currently decorating the cake with little blue swirls in several different shades.
it's not especially traditional for writing to be on any cake in the six duchies, if only because mostly older generation bakers don't know how to read or write. so, she didn't think about addressing it — but there is a smudgy painting made on the cake's face with frosting, a bunny curled up on its back, a red heart painted on its chest. along the sides of the cake, and what she's currently piping, are little decorative bees at random places.
yes, the kitchen is a mess. and yes, she does expect to get cuffed for it. but bee has a friend, and that friend has a birthday, so this is the most important thing that has ever and will ever happen to her. )
[ the first time anyone celebrated sanji's birthday had been disastrous. patty had sussed it out of him when he was turning twelve, and sanji had thought nothing of it, having spent far too many birthdays without a birthday to expect one now — but then he'd walked into the kitchen for breakfast prep, and everyone at the baratie jumped out and started singing behind an enormous, flaming cake, and sanji had felt his soul leave his body. he'd been so spooked that he'd instantly burst into uncontrollable sobs, much to zeff's horror, and then when reality scratched the surface and he realized it was his birthday they were all celebrating, he'd been even more inconsolable.
it hadn't been the last birthday of his they'd celebrated together, just the worst one. but after that, zeff learned quickly of sanji's intolerance to surprises, and it had been (relatively) smooth sailing from then on. to this day, sanji doesn't put much importance on his birthday anyway, telling no one, not even nami and zoro, and he's glad for it because he wakes up like every other day as of late — with bile in his throat and an urgent need to piss.
the sun is barely up as he hangs over the toilet, hacking up the little he'd been able to stomach the night before. whatever's happening to his body, he's not a fucking fan. straightening, he plucks his crisp shirt from where it's hanging on the back of the door, pulling it on and cuffing the sleeves, then dragging his trousers up and notching the belt. he looks almost normal, if not for the velveteen ears drooping into his hair. thanks to his renewed connection with nami, his antlers are hidden away because he's tired of hearing zoro complain about the constant threat of losing an eye in his sleep.
speaking of eyes. he brushes his hair down over the gray one, and then hears a noise from the kitchen. his gaze narrows, and then he's striding out, ready to pin an intruder to the wall with his foot, but the sight that greets him is far more horrifying. he's twelve again, facing a room of rambunctious cooks and a flaming cake — except the cake is almost certainly going to sink in the next five minutes, if it's lucky.
normally, he'd start with what she did right (a lot, actually — it's still functionally cake), and then go into why it's about to topple. but his eyes prickle hotly, and something sticky clogs his throat, and his mood tilts far, far to the left.
he slams a hand down on the counter, rattling sugary bowls and sticky spoons. the cake, to its credit, stands tall. ]
( admittedly, while she knew eventually she would be caught and while that is the point of a surprise, bee hadn't considered sanji would be more than passably angry at her wrecking of his kitchen. she isn't going to make him clean it — maybe that's why his eyes are all wet? when people feel intense emotions that they don't bother to hide, it's like they all reach out to bee and slap her, demanding acknowledgement. it had dulled before, when she first came to this village — now it's like the power of the skill is making up for lost time, multiplied tenfold by the intense expression of sanji's emotive eyes. overtime, she's gotten better at looking him in his face when he speaks, but now she steps off the chair she was using to bring herself to a height with the counter, moving to put her back to a wall, and staring at sanji's knees with a dozen eyes. expectantly awaiting her beating. )
It is your birthday. One's second of the third.
( which she heard in a dream, sort of. just not her own, and not the kind that needs to be written down.
apparently lady nettle, bee's some three decades older sister and skillmistress at buckkeep, is quite a skilled dreamwalker. it isn't a talent bee thought she had, and not one she could easily replicate, but something about sanji's dream had dragged her into it, maybe thanks to all of his blood she had drunken lately, like his dream wanted her to acknowledge it. so, she did. it didn't seem like a bad dream exactly, but tense, which she figured was because he didn't know how to tell anyone it was his birthday. now it seems like an invasion she can't exactly admit to, without him getting even more angry, so she keeps her gaze downcast and her mouth sealed, fingers belatedly untying the apron around her waist. )
Are you going to kick me? ( it seems unthinkable to her that sanji would, but maybe if she made him angry enough. along with the skill comes the ghost of a wolf who lives inside her, who reminds her do not seek out trouble, little cub and if he lunges, use your teeth which bee already knows she won't. it had been satisfying to rip out a chunk of dwalia — it wouldn't feel good to do to sanji. embarrassing herself, she reverts back to the child she once was, and makes a whining humming sound in the back of her throat, like sanji's displeasure has wounded her. ) I will clean up your kitchen. I apologize for the mess.
( it's not like nami didn't tell zoro a while ago that scribbling out his words doesn't stop them from being scrawled across his recipient's page as he writes, but —
it's also very hard to think about anything other than his ... whatever sanji is to him — and his hot, wet cunt.
[ it's actually comforting that zoro is still a complete fucking idiot when it comes to writing in the notebook, especially considering all the changes hitting sanji at a breakneck speed. ]
thought you liked men.
[ where'd his patience go? probably wherever his bladder control has wandered off to. ]
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What staples are you looking for in your cooking arsenal?
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what do you and your shitty mustache know about cooking?
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(Can you even grow facial hair???
Wait, this isn't why he's here.)
I'm not asking for myself. I'm asking for your sake.
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[ sanji, they don't swoon over you, either. ]
there are spices in the markets. the witches use them for their shitty rituals.
i need them all.
why are you offering? nami and i aren't for sale.
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delivery
It's more of a gesture of peace above all else. A basket filled with herbs and spices, some nice cuts of meat wrapped carefully, and a well-crafted cutting board. A simple note is attached that reads:)
No need to keep sneaking into my stock. Just come as you will.
-Mihawk
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still, he recognizes a peace offering when he sees it. he also doesn't see the point in continuing a feud that will lead toward nothing good. when he sends the basket back, there's a bottle of his latest trial batch of wine, this one aged with a little bit of magic, just as mihawk had suggested.
the bottle is nestled among several lavish, white feathers, the long plumes fluffy and bright, meticulously cleaned and carefully placed to minimize damage.
on the back of mihawk's original note: ]
for your shitty hat.
-sanji
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Well. He did say he would review the wine properly.
So, Sanji gets a message in his notebook a few days later:)
The wine is better. Now we're talking high quality. Though it still needs something. Perhaps enchant the barrels?
(A genuine suggestion. He had never considered the possibility of creating wine through magic. The possibilities here were endless.
More importantly though...)
I hear that you were also subject to a bodily change. A rabbit, was it?
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text — un: CUB
( be brave, bee!!! )
While you were distracted, I stole a knife from you, right up my shirt sleeve. I am sorry. I was scared but that is no excuse for thievery. I have a new knife now and I feel very guilty about having yours.
I can bring it back to you, and I accept whatever punishment you think reasonable.
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[ he maybe owes zoro an apology or twelve. ]
what [ the fuck ] were you gonna do with it?
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» action
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special delivery ✨
If you're ever in need of inspiration.
-S ☠️
text — un: SANJI
any acquaintance of luffy's might be considered a friend to the straw hats, if luffy didn't keep such bad company. (marines??????)
still, the countless number of times he's been dropped on his head hasn't rid him of his manners yet. (they are, however, reserved for Women.)
several days later — ]
was that cottage cheese sausage recipe supposed to be a hint?
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( he didn't even look at half the recipes okay he was in a rush. )
if i wanted to leave a hint, i would've been a wee bit more obvious than that
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text — un: NAMI
maybe ... an orange tart?
text — un: SANJI
someone sweet craving something sweet?
i'll go tell the idiot mosshead to go hunt down some oranges for me while i whip up a flaky crust.
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oh, but actually, strawberries sound really good too ...
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cw: consent talk
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cw: nsfw
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text — un: BEESTING
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They said they can reattach an eye, for you. I have many extra eyes. You might have noticed that, I think.
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» action
it's not especially traditional for writing to be on any cake in the six duchies, if only because mostly older generation bakers don't know how to read or write. so, she didn't think about addressing it — but there is a smudgy painting made on the cake's face with frosting, a bunny curled up on its back, a red heart painted on its chest. along the sides of the cake, and what she's currently piping, are little decorative bees at random places.
yes, the kitchen is a mess. and yes, she does expect to get cuffed for it. but bee has a friend, and that friend has a birthday, so this is the most important thing that has ever and will ever happen to her. )
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it hadn't been the last birthday of his they'd celebrated together, just the worst one. but after that, zeff learned quickly of sanji's intolerance to surprises, and it had been (relatively) smooth sailing from then on. to this day, sanji doesn't put much importance on his birthday anyway, telling no one, not even nami and zoro, and he's glad for it because he wakes up like every other day as of late — with bile in his throat and an urgent need to piss.
the sun is barely up as he hangs over the toilet, hacking up the little he'd been able to stomach the night before. whatever's happening to his body, he's not a fucking fan. straightening, he plucks his crisp shirt from where it's hanging on the back of the door, pulling it on and cuffing the sleeves, then dragging his trousers up and notching the belt. he looks almost normal, if not for the velveteen ears drooping into his hair. thanks to his renewed connection with nami, his antlers are hidden away because he's tired of hearing zoro complain about the constant threat of losing an eye in his sleep.
speaking of eyes. he brushes his hair down over the gray one, and then hears a noise from the kitchen. his gaze narrows, and then he's striding out, ready to pin an intruder to the wall with his foot, but the sight that greets him is far more horrifying. he's twelve again, facing a room of rambunctious cooks and a flaming cake — except the cake is almost certainly going to sink in the next five minutes, if it's lucky.
normally, he'd start with what she did right (a lot, actually — it's still functionally cake), and then go into why it's about to topple. but his eyes prickle hotly, and something sticky clogs his throat, and his mood tilts far, far to the left.
he slams a hand down on the counter, rattling sugary bowls and sticky spoons. the cake, to its credit, stands tall. ]
What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?
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It is your birthday. One's second of the third.
( which she heard in a dream, sort of. just not her own, and not the kind that needs to be written down.
apparently lady nettle, bee's some three decades older sister and skillmistress at buckkeep, is quite a skilled dreamwalker. it isn't a talent bee thought she had, and not one she could easily replicate, but something about sanji's dream had dragged her into it, maybe thanks to all of his blood she had drunken lately, like his dream wanted her to acknowledge it. so, she did. it didn't seem like a bad dream exactly, but tense, which she figured was because he didn't know how to tell anyone it was his birthday. now it seems like an invasion she can't exactly admit to, without him getting even more angry, so she keeps her gaze downcast and her mouth sealed, fingers belatedly untying the apron around her waist. )
Are you going to kick me? ( it seems unthinkable to her that sanji would, but maybe if she made him angry enough. along with the skill comes the ghost of a wolf who lives inside her, who reminds her do not seek out trouble, little cub and if he lunges, use your teeth which bee already knows she won't. it had been satisfying to rip out a chunk of dwalia — it wouldn't feel good to do to sanji. embarrassing herself, she reverts back to the child she once was, and makes a whining humming sound in the back of her throat, like sanji's displeasure has wounded her. ) I will clean up your kitchen. I apologize for the mess.
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text —
do you seriously have a
is it part of a ritual with nami or
let me s
you shouldn't be
can i please
are you getting some rest
( it's not like nami didn't tell zoro a while ago that scribbling out his words doesn't stop them from being scrawled across his recipient's page as he writes, but —
it's also very hard to think about anything other than his ... whatever sanji is to him — and his hot, wet cunt.
so. )
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thought you liked men.
[ where'd his patience go? probably wherever his bladder control has wandered off to. ]
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shitheads like you make me want to change my mind
what the fuck does that have to do with it
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