[ Birthdays have never held much meaning for Sanji.
It's a simple fact of the circumstances surrounding his life. Reviled by his family, there'd been no indulgent celebrations for him growing up. He might have shared the date with his brothers, but it had been as hellish as any other day had been. Even life aboard the Baratie hadn't changed his perspective, not when it had been so easy to think of his tiny life as still being completely unimportant. Oh, Zeff had left small gifts– a new knife, the latest cookbook, a batch of especially rare ingredients– but sentimantility had never been something he expressed easily, preferring a hastily scrawled note or a gruffly murmured congratulations for surviving another year.
Those little celebrations had thrilled him, but he'd never quite learned to believe that he deserved them. For anyone else– for Nami especially, who he'd gladly dote and spoil when her birthday came– it's another matter entirely,
Sleep still has a firm hold on him early that morning when Nami slips out of bed. It's been months since he'd mentioned when his birthday was– long enough that he's forgotten mentioning to her– and she's still the only person he's told about it. It hadn't seemed worth mentioning to anyone else. Despite the grip that sleep has on him, even in his dreams, he still notices her loss, still notices the lack of warmth and softness, notices the way things no longer feel right. In the dream, they're aboard the Merry– they all are, Usopp and Luffy and Zoro, too– as they sit on deck and watch the sunset together. And for a moment, she's gone, no longer wrapped tight in his arms, no longer warm in his embrace, but still, the feeling of her lips brushing against his cheek lingers like a promise.
Time, thankfully, has no meaning in the land of the dreaming and that sensation only truly lasts a moment before she returns and Sanji sighs, both in the dream and reality, shifting closer as she slides back into place, back to where she belongs. Sleep is losing it's hold by then, it's grip growing weaker, and with every kiss that she brushes against his skin, it weakens further until at last he does stir as he shakes off the last dredges of sleep, a quiet sound humming in his throat as he stretches out and blinks open eyes lidded with the remnants of sleep. ]
Nami–? [ Blinking a few more time, he beams down at her with a grin that's still bright despite how small it is– Sanji's still not awake enough to manage more– but what she says cuts right through the foggy sleepiness that still clouds his thoughts.
His birthday.
He laughs softly, the sound both weak and somehow joyful, as he catches her face between his palms and gingerly strokes his thumbs along her cheekbones. Even without the bond, the sheer, unfeigned delight is obvious on his face as he presses the softest kiss he can against her lips. ]
You remembered my birthday. [ Laughing sleepily, he kisses her again, just as soft, just as sweet. He shouldn't care about anyone remembering it, but the fact that she did is so, so special to him. It's about that time that the smell of food wafts over from where she's left it and, if anything, he looks even more delighted when he realizes what she's done. ] DId you– did you make us breakfast?
🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛
It's a simple fact of the circumstances surrounding his life. Reviled by his family, there'd been no indulgent celebrations for him growing up. He might have shared the date with his brothers, but it had been as hellish as any other day had been. Even life aboard the Baratie hadn't changed his perspective, not when it had been so easy to think of his tiny life as still being completely unimportant. Oh, Zeff had left small gifts– a new knife, the latest cookbook, a batch of especially rare ingredients– but sentimantility had never been something he expressed easily, preferring a hastily scrawled note or a gruffly murmured congratulations for surviving another year.
Those little celebrations had thrilled him, but he'd never quite learned to believe that he deserved them. For anyone else– for Nami especially, who he'd gladly dote and spoil when her birthday came– it's another matter entirely,
Sleep still has a firm hold on him early that morning when Nami slips out of bed. It's been months since he'd mentioned when his birthday was– long enough that he's forgotten mentioning to her– and she's still the only person he's told about it. It hadn't seemed worth mentioning to anyone else. Despite the grip that sleep has on him, even in his dreams, he still notices her loss, still notices the lack of warmth and softness, notices the way things no longer feel right. In the dream, they're aboard the Merry– they all are, Usopp and Luffy and Zoro, too– as they sit on deck and watch the sunset together. And for a moment, she's gone, no longer wrapped tight in his arms, no longer warm in his embrace, but still, the feeling of her lips brushing against his cheek lingers like a promise.
Time, thankfully, has no meaning in the land of the dreaming and that sensation only truly lasts a moment before she returns and Sanji sighs, both in the dream and reality, shifting closer as she slides back into place, back to where she belongs. Sleep is losing it's hold by then, it's grip growing weaker, and with every kiss that she brushes against his skin, it weakens further until at last he does stir as he shakes off the last dredges of sleep, a quiet sound humming in his throat as he stretches out and blinks open eyes lidded with the remnants of sleep. ]
Nami–? [ Blinking a few more time, he beams down at her with a grin that's still bright despite how small it is– Sanji's still not awake enough to manage more– but what she says cuts right through the foggy sleepiness that still clouds his thoughts.
His birthday.
He laughs softly, the sound both weak and somehow joyful, as he catches her face between his palms and gingerly strokes his thumbs along her cheekbones. Even without the bond, the sheer, unfeigned delight is obvious on his face as he presses the softest kiss he can against her lips. ]
You remembered my birthday. [ Laughing sleepily, he kisses her again, just as soft, just as sweet. He shouldn't care about anyone remembering it, but the fact that she did is so, so special to him. It's about that time that the smell of food wafts over from where she's left it and, if anything, he looks even more delighted when he realizes what she's done. ] DId you– did you make us breakfast?