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"I can't read when you're staring at me like that."
Your eyes were glued onto the page, as you tried to digest the words that continued to be nothing but a blur. Despite the plot becoming a mystery to you, you continued on, hoping to keep up the pretense of focus.
You'd just go back a few pages in the morning.
"You seem to be reading just fine," Sanji said cheekily, smiling through his words and the cigarette burning orange between his lips.
He rested on his side, chest propped up as he watched you, lazily. A cloud of smoke rose through the air, hovering over you before drifting out the cracked window.
Though you hated the way it lingered, sometimes, it was comforting, how it smelled like Sanji.
You rolled your eyes, but your mock indignation was useless, once you saw the way he was looking at you. It was how he always looked at you — like you were more beautiful than a string of starlights in the galaxy.
With heated cheeks, you shoved his face away when he came in for a kiss, trying not to smile.
"No," you mumbled, pinching a page between your fingers, your interest in the book, unfortunately, lost. "I'm distracted. You're distracting me."
The candle flickered, making it difficult to read, anyway. It was late. midnight dampened the day with its raven hues, and you were wrapped in the bright warmth of another, heart pumping blood through your chest with sickening affection.
As if the world was telling you to put the book down.
Sanji laughed, resting his chin on your knees as he stared up at you, the blue of his irises more to you than the summer skies. The lean muscles of his biceps flexed as he leaned over to dump the dwindling cigarette into the ash tray. “You’re distracting. How can I look at anything else when you’re in the room, chérie?”
"Is that so?" you hummed softly, batting your eyelashes at him innocently. "Maybe you should leave the room, then."
Sanji pouted, his palm splayed across your thigh, tracing startlingly soft patterns across your skin. "Wouldn't you get lonely?"
"Nope," you said, "You're a nuisance."
But you smiled through the words, no real heat behind them. Instead, you found yourself leaning over to kiss him, your fingers threading their way easily through his hair.
“A nuisance, huh?” Sanji whispered against your mouth, still tasting starkly of the wine he’d cracked open at dinner. His stubble rubbed your skin as he traced kisses across your cheeks, mouth still parted into a grin. “Maybe I’ll keep bothering you if this is the result.”
You laughed, and it was almost gut-wrenching, just how happy you sounded. It had always seemed a faraway, incapable dream, to be in love like this. Sometimes, you were still almost certain you'd wake up from it one day.
Sanji, as if reading your thoughts, curled up beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple before nestling into your side. he dropped his chin to your shoulder, nose brushing against your cheek.
“Will you read to me?” he asked, eyes so gentle, like he couldn't bear to look away from you.
Your chest hiccuped, and you softened, melting, just a little more. It wasn't easy for you, like it was for Sanji, to voice the endless adoration your felt for him, but you tried. In your own little way, you did everything you could to show him his affections were returned.
“You don’t even know what it’s about,” you said, exhaling a short laugh as you squeezed his hand, hoping it communicated every ounce of love you felt for him.
He smiled against your cheek and kissed you again, understanding.
“Do you want to tell me?” Sanji asked, weaving your fingers together, gently caressing your knuckles. There was a sleepy haze to his eyes, and he settled further into the bed. “I’ll listen.”
You swallowed, choking back your own emotion.
The hopefulness in his voice had you nearly tossing the book aside to kiss him hard, hold him close until you both fell asleep, lulled by the sounds of the sea and the wind against the sails.
It was rare to have such an attuned ear, and even rarer for someone to remember. Sanji seemed to pick up on all the little things you'd thought no one would ever notice, all the words you never spoke.
It still caught you off guard, when he brought up something you’d said weeks again, repeated it back to you like it would have been a sin to think such a simple fact was meaningless. When he listened to you talk about the books he never would have cared about otherwise, and recalled details even you had forgotten.
You loved him so much for it.
You flicked the book back open again, letting your fingers trace the pages you'd already read. “Sure, Sanji,” you said, exhaling softly. “I’ll tell you about it.”