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onepiece_3002011-03-17 04:12 pm
night-mare-chan.livejournal.com) wrote in onepiece_3002011-03-17 04:12 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Hunger
Word Count: 299 (and man was that a pain. T_T)
Character(s): Sanji, Zeff
Topic: Crutch
Media: fic
Spoiler(s): Uhh...well all pre-Grandline stuff
Rating: T
The carrot lay on the table, cut in irregular rounds. Not perfect yet. Sanji frowned. The sound of rapid chopping filled the air, the steady thock thock thock like frantic heartbeat. Sanji cocked his head so he could see that shit-cook who was working a cleaver through a thick juicy hank of meat. For now Zeff's back was turned. Sanji rested his hand over a handful of chopped carrot. His heart pounded in his throat. He shouldn't take it. He knew but just…just in case. Sanji curled his fingers under the wet slices, and slid them into his apron pocket.
“That’s not for you!” the shit cook said and Sanji had just a moment for his heart to jump up and strangle him before the hard wood of the shit-cook’s leg slammed into his cheek and sent him crashing hard against the wall.
“What was that for?!” Sanji snapped, when he could see again, tasting blood in his mouth, eyes stinging. Zeff stood a few feet away, towering over the now silent kitchen, arms folded across his chest.
“If you’re going to use food as a crutch, eggplant, you don’t belong in a kitchen.”
Sanji felt his cheeks heat. He grabbed the carrot from his apron and slammed them back onto a table before marching away, gritting his teeth. Once he reached his tiny berth he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve then scrabbled under his pillow for the small crumpled pack of cigarettes. After a few tries he managed to light the cigarette and took a deep draw, feeling the smoke filling his mouth, imagining it filling his belly. Soon even his hands stopped shaking. Sanji leaned his head back and blew out a thin stream of smoke. Zeff was wrong. He didn’t need any shitty crutch.
Word Count: 299 (and man was that a pain. T_T)
Character(s): Sanji, Zeff
Topic: Crutch
Media: fic
Spoiler(s): Uhh...well all pre-Grandline stuff
Rating: T
The carrot lay on the table, cut in irregular rounds. Not perfect yet. Sanji frowned. The sound of rapid chopping filled the air, the steady thock thock thock like frantic heartbeat. Sanji cocked his head so he could see that shit-cook who was working a cleaver through a thick juicy hank of meat. For now Zeff's back was turned. Sanji rested his hand over a handful of chopped carrot. His heart pounded in his throat. He shouldn't take it. He knew but just…just in case. Sanji curled his fingers under the wet slices, and slid them into his apron pocket.
“That’s not for you!” the shit cook said and Sanji had just a moment for his heart to jump up and strangle him before the hard wood of the shit-cook’s leg slammed into his cheek and sent him crashing hard against the wall.
“What was that for?!” Sanji snapped, when he could see again, tasting blood in his mouth, eyes stinging. Zeff stood a few feet away, towering over the now silent kitchen, arms folded across his chest.
“If you’re going to use food as a crutch, eggplant, you don’t belong in a kitchen.”
Sanji felt his cheeks heat. He grabbed the carrot from his apron and slammed them back onto a table before marching away, gritting his teeth. Once he reached his tiny berth he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve then scrabbled under his pillow for the small crumpled pack of cigarettes. After a few tries he managed to light the cigarette and took a deep draw, feeling the smoke filling his mouth, imagining it filling his belly. Soon even his hands stopped shaking. Sanji leaned his head back and blew out a thin stream of smoke. Zeff was wrong. He didn’t need any shitty crutch.