Chapter Text
Sanji paused.
"Pretty, ain't it?" Patty passed by him, arms laden with sullied dishes, and directing an appreciative glance at the flower arrangement.
It was a medium sized piece in an elegant white vase with an array of springtime flowers – vibrant pinks and orange daisies, meshed with long stalks of violet colored bellflowers and thin wisps of green leaves. The arch of bellflowers, loosely braided and affixed over the entirety of the piece, reminded Sanji of a prima ballerina’s grand leap. It was understated enough not to detract from the Baratie’s decor, clean white lines mixed with rich solid mahogany oak, Sanji must have passed it a dozen times but once he finally stopped, he had to stare.
Sanji frowned – the feeling he got from this arrangement was different than the usual ones. It was not just pretty; it had an almost calming effect on him.
"While you were gone setting up the Nasugasira for those few months, the flower shop that we were using before seriously went downhill in quality,” explained Patty.
Sanji had been meaning to talk to Zeff about their current florist after he finished breaking ground for the Baratie’s sister restaurant: Nasugasira. The flower shop owner they had been using had drastically declined in quality as of late. They probably thought they could pull a fast one, thinking they would be too busy to notice that they were including more filler and cheap flowers in their pieces for the Baratie.
“..and the old man, geez was he heated,” continued Patty. “He almost personally threw the guy out of the restaurant himself with the last crappy floral arrangement.” He grinned widely at the memory, “Luckily we found another florist. It’s a couple of blocks away and a little more expensive, but…”
Patty nodded his head toward their clients. It was brunch time and predominantly filled with ladies - Sanji had gladly served them personally earlier - and many of them, with beautiful smiles on their faces, had their phones out to take pictures of the table’s centerpieces. The tabletop pieces were similar to the larger ones along the walls, albeit smaller. They had a similar effect of being truly dynamic of a piece of art once inspected further - with sprigs of delicately arranged orange and yellow daisies and brilliant blue harmony irises with brown twigs interspaced, all arranged in clear, square water vases with obvious care.
“Looks like it’s worth it,” said Sanji with a satisfied grin. “The lady who arranged it must have a beautiful spirit to match her craft.”
Already images of a serene smile and long, graceful fingers danced in his mind as he imaged the florist. Truly the beautiful woman must be a garden fairy.
“Nah, the florist is a dude. Pretty nice guy if you ask me,” said Patty as he continued his trek back into the kitchen.
Sanji snorted, dreams shattered and disappointed. His image of a beautiful long legged flower fairy abruptly turned into a dirty gnome. “Didn’t ask you, ya shitty cook.”
---
“Not bad,” said Zeff. He sniffed at the delicate stalk of basil in his hand, his long whiskers brushing against the delicate plant, before he threw it inside his mouth with a thoughtful hum. He smacked his lips and inhaled through his nose to allow the aromatic flavors of the herb to better circulate on his palate.
“Naturally,” replied Usopp with a smug grin, amused and honored at the attention of care the chef paid to the plant. “When I was three, I was already growing a hundred acres of pumpkins and squash. Herbs are a small matter for my brilliant green thumb and toes.”
Zeff raised his eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly at the obvious lie.
Usopp blushed. “I mean, I’m glad you like it. After I started making floral arrangements for the Baratie, my business has grown by at least 30%. The least I could do is share some of my greenhouse stash.”
“So you’re the guy who makes the arrangements.” Sanji suddenly appeared from directly behind the florist. Well, his image of a garden gnome was not completely inaccurate, the man did have a long nose like a gnome.
Usopp squeaked, nearly jumping out of his seat on the kitchen stool and sending herbs and flowers flying into the air if not for Sanji grasping him on his shoulder and steadying him.
“I-I am,” stammered Usopp. He looked up at Sanji, a streak of red across his brown cheeks and the tip of his long nose. Sanji felt a thump in his chest as the other stared bashfully up at him through impossibly long lashes.
“This is little eggplant,” said Zeff, he was leaning on his arm, staring at Sanji and Usopp with one of his shitty fucking grins – the bastard loved keeping him in the dark.
Sanji huffed, exasperated, at the nickname that his adopted father still insisted on using despite the fact he was a grown man. “And this is Usopp, he’s the one who makes the flower arrangements. He’s also the owner of the flower shop, Pop Green.”
“Hey geezer, the name’s Sanji,” he corrected with a huff. “Not eggplant.”
“And he’s not a chick,” Zeff nodded toward Usopp who furrowed his brow slightly.
“It’s a pleasure,” said Usopp wryly. “Zeff has told me a lot about you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mostly about you being a pervert for the ladies,” interjected Zeff. “That, and wetting the bed until you were eleven.”
“Shitty geezer!” Sanji howled, about to wallop the older man except Zeff threw a sprig of rosemary into his open mouth, causing him to pause.
“Oh,” he munched on the plant, his nostril filling up with spicy-sweet tang of rosemary. “That’s good.”
Usopp grinned. “It’s also a good diuretic.”
That earned him a thump on the head.
---
Sanji looked up Usopp’s name later that evening. The man could not have been much older than him, but he was already a business owner. Hm.
King Usopp…
Huh.
Immediately numerous news articles appeared on the search engine - there were pictures of a young man, scrawny with a long nose standing next to beautifully crafted floral arrangements, some almost as tall as he was. Next to his flowers, when busy pruning the edges, his fingertips reverently touching the leaves of a bud, he was confident and focused. However, that dramatically changed once on the awards stage; Sanji could almost see his knees knocking in stage fright. Sanji clicked the first link and. He was younger than him by two years, and surprisingly a three-time national champion in floral art while only a teenager.
Skimming the article, it mostly included a quick bio, the son of a single mother who was a professional painter. She was mostly regionally recognized, but her son, Usopp, had surpassed all expectation and was considered a prodigy when it came to the art of flower arrangement. He won an international floral arrangement competition before abruptly disappearing from the spotlight.
Sanji liked a mystery. Albeit, primarily centered on gorgeous ladies. However, the more he tried to push the nonsensical wonder of the young florist, the more he kept envisioning curious dark eyes and an endearingly dry smile directed toward him.
---
“Pop Green should be somewhere here…” Sanji looked up from the map on his cellphone.
There was hardly a sign, but he nevertheless headed in the direction of the building quite literally covered in ivy.
The exterior of the tan and brown brownstone building was nearly completely enveloped by vibrant foliage. On the windows on the second floor, peeking through the lush ivy leaves were boxes of purple African violets and white gardenias. It almost seemed normal compared to the buildings on either side of it – he was walking down the infamous artists’ district after all. The block was known in the city and surrounding area for its unusually eclectic storefront. The buildings surrounding the ivy covered Pop Green were both weathered and seemingly average brownstones except one was covered in a red, white, and blue motif with large white stars scattered along the windows and balcony façade like an explosion of fireworks while the other had musical notes and a silhouette of a piano keyboard on its window blinds – on the front door was the shop’s mascot, a smiling blue whale with an afro on its head seemingly singing along to the notes surrounding it.
Sanji paused outside, next to the earthen pots filled with sunflowers. Some of the sunflowers nearly stood as tall as him, all happily pointing toward the sun. He would have to ask Usopp if he could have the plants after they withered for the sunflower seeds.
The front of the store had large windows, allowing the direct sun to warmly shine in and passersby to see the vast array of plants - from the vibrant multitude of roses - the typical red and white to the cheerful yellow - waiting to be bundled in bouquet for a passing couple, to the slightly unusual like the cacti standing in the sunny corner of the store. The only sign indicating that this was the Pop Green flower shop was a chalk sign sitting in front alongside the sunflowers.
“Hey bro!” A tall man with fluorescent blue hair on a large motorcycle with speedo-like shorts – Sanji nearly gagged on his cigarette – paused before heading into the garage of the star covered building. He lifted his sunglasses and smiled sunnily, “You should go in, it’s pretty rad!”
“Thanks for the advice,” said Sanji drily as he finished his cigarette, uninterested in the advice of a person that was not a beautiful woman.
“Yeah bro! The plants are pretty awesome, but the lady, OWW, she’s the most super ever!” The man grinned widely before he rode his bike inside.
“A lady?” Sanji perked up. “A super lady? Hmm.” He eagerly crushed his cigarette and walked inside. The little bell of the door rang softly as he opened it. The smell of soil - warm and heady - and fresh plants - fragrant and fresh - immediately hit his nose.
“Welcome to Pop Green. How many I help you?” A beautiful woman, a little bit older than him, with a mysterious smile looked up from her book at the counter, her long fingers holding a page in mid-turn.
“Such beauty!” Sanji swooned. The mental image of whom he envisioned was the original floral artist paled in comparison to the visage before him.
“I’m Sanji, the general manager of the Baratie,” he stated as he eagerly glided over to the woman. He extended his hand, “But more importantly, may I have the honor of asking your name?”
Her smile widened slightly, amused, as he reverently placed a kiss on the smooth brown skin of the back of her hand. “Nico Robin. It’s a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is mine,” said Sanji, the hearts in his eyes that were directed towards Robin obvious even to the plants.
“How may I help you?” Robin pulled a large leather bound book from the side of her counter. In it was a monthly calendar, with the occasional bright yellow post-it note, all filled in with beautiful, calligraphy-like writing and the occasional messy scrawl. “According to my notes and receipts, we have already delivered the Baratie’s flowers for the week. The next order won’t be due until Friday.”
“I’m sure a brilliant beauty like yourself would never mess up an order. We are quite satisfied with this weeks flowers,” assured Sanji. “Usopp called Zeff earlier about some herbs that I could pick up. Although,” he leaned closer, “I would be more than happy for you to show me them in his place. The blue haired ruffian outside said that there was a lovely lady inside but his statement did not do you justice.”
“Lovely…” Robin’s smile remained professional, if still not unreadable, but her eyes warmed. “Did he perchance use the word super?”
“Why he did, but to be more accurate, he should have affixed your beauty with words like magnificent or breathtaking.”
“I am actually quite fond of super,” Robin stated, shooting a warm glance to the building the man had disappeared into earlier. She gracefully stood up, her tall stature nearly matching his - Sanji nearly fell to his knees in reverence - and turned around, “Usopp is out in the greenhouse. Let me show you the way.”
“Gladly!”
Pass a back room filled with even more plants, most of them refrigerated, along with rows and rows of ribbons, wire, and foam, different sorts of shears and scissors, and a shelf with vases of all different shapes and size. There was an open sketch pad, a half drawn flower arrangement was in the forefront of the page; little doodles of Venus fly traps and humanoid beetles chasing after stick figures were in the margins. In the corner of the room was a battered brown couch that Sanji could have sworn he had seen months ago dumped in a nearby alleyway. Someone had attempted to make it more presentable with a decorative and truly gaudy green and orange throw.
Robin opened a heavy iron door. Sanji was momentarily blinded; lightly colored spots decorated his vision. He blinked several times and stood star struck.
There was a literal garden-slash-forest in the middle of downtown East Blue.
Numbly, he could hear Robin turn on her heel. She tapped him on the shoulder – he would never wash this jacket again – and pointed in the direction of a greenhouse in the far corner. “He’s in there. Try not to startle him too much.”
“Thank you so much for your gracious assistance, my lovely lady,” Sanji said, shooting her a grin before she disappeared behind the door. The path, a haphazard walkway with what looked like found pieces of cement and cobblestone, spiraled throughout the courtyard amongst the rows and rows of planted and boxed flowers and various other plants. There were also edibles, not just herbs and flowers. The little bell pepper plants were coming in nicely, he observed as he walked through the greenery.
Sanji frowned, hearing muffled noises in the greenhouse. The thin plastic walls shook. Tentatively opening the rickety door, his senses were assaulted with hot air and incredibly loud heavy metal music. Screaming heavy metal music at that.
“What kind of shitty taste does this guy have?” Sanji muttered, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end and his nerves frayed at the noise that he refused to call music. It was hot, borderline sweltering, within the walls of the greenhouse. The walls quivered at the noise, and the seemingly more delicate plants swayed, as if attempting to head bang to the noise. The majority of the plants in the greenhouse were definitely not native to East Blue, he observed as he trekked inward. He spied a banana tree off in the distance.
The further he trekked, the more he expected a monkey to jump at him. He glared the Venus flytraps that he swore followed his movement as he crossed the expansive greenhouse.
Sanji eventually came across wild hair, thick curls of inky black, poke up from behind a bush. Turning the corner, he saw Usopp crouched low, in scruffy brown overalls, his hair tied up in a loose bun with a tie-dyed bandana wrapped around his skull. In his bare hands was a small plant that clearly had seen better days. His full lips moved, not along with the song. Sanji rolled his eyes, a fond and warm feeling in his chest as he realized that Usopp was talking to the plant, despite the fact that his voice was probably drowned out amongst the heavy metal. Spying the old school boom box, Sanji abruptly tapped the Power button with the heel of his shoe.
“- reat Usopp was a mighty warrior - what the -” Usopp squeaked out loud, clutching the plant to his chest and stared wide eyed around him. “Oh.”
“Hey,” said Sanji, suddenly unnerved by the abrupt quiet as Usopp stared up at him dumbly.
“Hello,” replied Usopp after a beat. He jolted and suddenly raised the plant, it was the size of Sanji’s hand and it was nearly brown except its stem, “And this is Fernando.”
“You name your plants?”
“Yeah,” Usopp looked down at plant and smiled fondly. “Especially the ones like these, the abandoned ones, I think they need them the most.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
“It’s a blue thistle,” continued Usopp. “It was in the park, near the kids’ playground, trampled and halfway dead. I thought maybe… I could save it.” He flushed, scratching his face and smudging his cheek with soil. “Silly, right?”
“Nah,” Sanji crouched down, staring at the brow beaten plant, any indicator that it was a flower let alone a viable plant nearly gone. He shrugged, swiping the dirt from Usopp’s face. “It’s a good goal.”
Usopp abruptly turned away. The tips of his ears were red. “A-anyway! I have to repot this plant.”
Sanji mentally berated himself. Why did he do that? He rationalized the dirt had probably bothered his internal clean freak. His fingers twitched, the memory of soft brown skin, warmed by the sun, lingered.
Usopp had a small container, an old plastic yogurt bowl, in his hands. He mumbled to himself before scooping several mixtures of soil in it and then carefully depositing the thistle in its confines. “Where’s Zeff? I thought he was the one who coming to taste the rest of my herbs?”
“Stuff came up.” Stuff being that Sanji may or may not have bugged Zeff for the past couple of days to take his place to visit Usopp - err, Pop Green. For the sake of herbs and not because he was curious about this florist with the wild hair and charming smile. Yes. Herbs.
“Oh, ok,” said Usopp as he placed the pot with the halfway dying thistle in the indirect sunlight. He poured a little water and lastly patted the pot, “See ya later, Fernando. Get better.”
He brushed off his overalls, in reality only putting more dirt on said article of clothing. “Come on, I already harvested the fresh herbs, but I have some that I was drying for you to taste too.”
“Show me the way, Great Usopp.” Sanji even extended a hand in front of himself, indicating to Usopp to lead the way.
“Damn straight,” said Usopp with an obviously pleased grin. He tapped the boombox on as he marched out, heavy metal blasting throughout the small building. Sanji swore the plants perked up once the music resumed.
Sanji happily accepted the crate full of herbs: nearly overflowing with thyme, basil, sage, and a multitude of others that he would inspect later. He had not expected the walk to the roof of the building.
Sanji eyed the fire escape, potted plants hanging from the sides. “I’m pretty sure those plants are a hazard in it of itself.”
“The fire marshal and I are chums,” said Usopp, his voice quaked slightly. “But don’t tell him I said that.”
“Uh huh.”
They passed the second floor – someone was using it as an apartment. Surprisingly, it was not overrun with plants. However, there were numerous sketchbooks, the open pages were covered in doodles and drawings similar to the drawing in the store, atop the tables. Otherwise, it was orderly.
“That’s my apartment,” said Usopp as they walked up the stairs.
“You own the building?”
“Yeah, well…” Usopp shrugged. “Cost effective.”
Downtown East Blue was an up and coming part of city, just five years ago it had been easily one of the more dilapidated part of the city. However, there was a boom of interest for the downtown location, and while real estate prices were still affordable, to own a building was a still lofty sum. Zeff had taken out a hefty bank loan to afford the location for the Baratie.
“I’ll have you know I was a former bounty hunter,” announced Usopp as they stepped atop the roof. It too was covered in numerous plants. In the middle was what looked like a shack. Inside were rows of drying racks. “The best there was, I bagged over a thousand criminals.” He puffed his chest as he walked confidently through a row of racks. Sanji sniffed the air; the pungent smell of dried herbs permeated the air.
Usopp extended his arms in the air, “This building is bought with money filled with justice!”
“Sure,” said Sanji as he pulled out a rack. Hm. Sage.
“Give it another day or so,” Usopp said as he pulled out another rack. “Here, these are good.”
Sanji gave it a sniff, pleased. “You’re right.”
“Of course,” Usopp smugly rubbed his nose. “I’m a master gardener. I have one of the best noses there is.”
“Probably because it’s so long,” muttered Sanji as he sampled some thyme; it had a pleasantly strong tang.
“The pride of my family,” huffed Usopp, thumping his chest. His voice grew softer, “It runs in my mom’s side of the family.”
“Where she now? Was she a bounty hunter too?” Sanji looked up after a moment after a lack of response.
“She passed away a few years ago,” said Usopp after he noticed Sanji staring. He waved his hand, “She was really ill, especially after my dad left a-and,” Usopp paled, shuffling the herbs, his fingers trembling as he placed them in the basket above the fresh ones. “I- I told you too much, I’m sure you didn’t need to know that…”
“Was that the reason why you disappeared from competition?” Sanji grabbed Usopp’s wrists, holding them tightly until the tremors subsided.
“You looked me up,” Usopp said surprised and touched. “I meant it when I told you I was awesome.”
“You were right,” agreed Sanji. “You are pretty great. Even more so than I thought initially.”
---
“Lavender and chamomile tea,” said Sanji as he placed it in front of Usopp. “I added some lemon balm.”
“Smells great.” Usopp wrapped his fingers around the mug, scrunching his face at the first sip. He stuck out his tongue, “I bunt mah thunng.”
“Idiot,” said Sanji fondly. There were even herbs hanging in Usopp’s kitchen. Given that Sanji was a few inches taller than Usopp, he had to duck slightly lest he get a face full of tarragon.
“When do you have to go back to the restaurant, by the way?” Usopp nodded toward the crate of herbs in the corner. “Dinner rush and all?”
“It’s my day off,” Sanji replied as he lit himself a cigarette. He inhaled happily. The smell of earth and herbs had finally become overbearing. “Shouldn’t you be manning the store instead of allowing a beautiful women to handle it on her own?”
“Robin?” Usopp looked at the clock hanging from the doorframe - it was shaped like an armadillo. “She probably started closing up after she invited you to the back. Her husband works next door and picks her up and helps her close the store.”
Sanji gasped out loud, nearly dropping his cigarette from his mouth. “She’s married?!”
To speedo man?
“Yeah,” said Usopp as he added more honey to his tea. “She doesn’t like dirt to stain her ring so she doesn’t wear it at work.” Usopp jabbed a thumb to the building next door, the one with the outrageous blue and black sign with stars littering across the name. “He owns Franky’s Motors next door.”
Before Sanji has the opportunity to weep, lightning cracked in the air.
“The sky is still blue,” murmured Usopp, peering out the window. Dark clouds, heavy with precipitation, were quickly darkening the sky.
“Shitty newsman,” grunted Sanji as he lit himself another cigarette. He was not in the mood to walk back in the pouring rain. He was wearing his good leather shoes. “He said it was only a 30% chance of stormy weather.”
“You can stay until the weather lets up,” said Usopp. “I have a spare guest room.” He made a noise in the back of his throat, “But it’s covered in gardening magazines and sketch pads. You might need to give me a minute or twenty to clean it up.”
“I’m not planning on spending the night,” assured Sanji too quickly.
A large bolt of thunder cracked in the rain and the building shook.
Usopp latched onto Sanji’s arm, his fingers digging into the sleeve of his jacket.
Sanji shook his arm, but Usopp’s grip was tight. “Wimp.”
“You looked scared,” was the whimpered response.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It started off slow but quickly the drops of rain multiplied until it felt like nature itself was knocking a million times over on the roof, demanding to get in.
“I wouldn’t mind the couch,” said Sanji after a beat.
“Cook dinner and you got a deal,” replied Usopp, a large relieved grin on his face as he slowly unlatched himself from Sanji’s arm.
“This is extortion,” muttered Sanji but he opened the fridge door. “What do you want and what do you have?”
“I’ll eat anything except mushrooms.”
“You’ll eat what I give you. Picky eaters are the fucking worst,” retorted Sanji, ignoring Usopp as the other stuck his tongue out at him, He grumbled as he pulled out the various containers of leftovers from Usopp’s kitchen. Horrified was an understatement of what he was feeling.
“I like take-out,” shrugged Usopp.
“Like a heathen,” Sanji gritted his teeth as he pulled a pot out. Soup it was. Checking the cabinets, he breathed a sigh of relief once he saw there was a sack of flour available.
An hour later and there was bread baking and a large pot of soup bubbling atop Usopp’s stove.
“I’m a fuckin’ miracle worker,” exclaimed Sanji proudly.
“Indeed, it smells lovely,” said a familiar voice. Robin had stuck her head outside of her apartment window, which was adjacent to Usopp’s kitchen window.
“Hey Robin,” Usopp waved. Sanji swooned once again.
“Usopp-bro!” Franky joined Robin and poked his head through the window of their apartment. “Got enough to share? We’ll bring the wine and dessert! Robin got an awesome pie!”
“For a beautiful lady, I will happily forsake meals for these two!” Sanji responded eagerly.
“You’re using my ingredients and stove!” Usopp huffed. He opened the backdoor of his kitchen that led to the walkway adjoining their apartments. Again, not exactly up to code but the fire marshal did not have to know. “You forgot to go grocery shopping again, didn’t you Franky?”
“However, he remembered to buy cola.” The smile on Robin’s face was nearly subzero.
Franky blushed, a mixture of bashful and ashamed as he walked behind Robin.
There was enough food for everyone. A bottle of wine turned into three, and they moved the impromptu dinner party into the living room after the power went out.
“No, we don’t need your absurd cola powered lanterns,” said Robin as she and Usopp brought candles from the flower shop. Sanji uncorked the third bottle of wine and made hot mulled wine to have along with the pie. The temperature had rapidly fallen as a result of the storm. While the rain continued to pour throughout the night, the occasional crack of lightning and boom of thunder resounding in the air, no one seemed to mind.
Sanji woke up with a start.
It was still dark. Fortunately, someone must have blown out the candles before the building had caught on fire. The moon shone through the open windows of Usopp’s apartments, lighting the apartment in a soft pale blue and white glow.
Robin and Franky were lying lengthwise on the sofa; she was tucked protectively against the back of the couch by Franky’s larger form.
There was weight on Sanji’s shoulder, distracting him from being envious. He turned and soft, thick black hair brushed against his face - oh.
Usopp was beside him on the loveseat, tucked in a loose ball, his head resting heavily on Sanji’s shoulder. He looked down at his lap; a thick brown and navy blue quilt was draped over his lap, solely on him. “Stupid.”
Carefully, not wake Usopp, Sanji partially draped the quilt onto the slumbering man, tucking the other corner around his shoulders.
Usopp murmured, happy and warm, and snuggled closer.
Sanji huffed, a grin on his face that he would deny if ever questioned, and slouched a little more and closed his eyes.