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It’s hard to believe, but every now and then life on the Thousand Sunny gets a bit boring.
It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes the sea is empty, the weather is stable and the excitement that is their lives simmers down to something less explosive than the usual fare. Usopp doesn’t mind really, in his mind that ebb and flow is instrumental to keeping a person sane.
Now, the sun is setting, painting the horizon vivid reds, pinks, and oranges, colors that Usopp can only dream of recreating on his canvas. It’s the kind of view one could lose themselves in if they wanted to. He settles down on the deck, resting in a lawn chair underneath the shade from Nami’s tangerine trees and watches on for a while, the sounds of the crew settling in for the night surrounding him accompanied by the ambient noise of the sea in motion. He dozes off probably, because the next thing he registers is the sky turning over into a deep midnight blue and the only lights still on are in the crow’s nest and the galley. It’s good timing, since Usopp’s up for the first watch shift of the night. He knows that if he really wanted to, he could ask (nag, beg) Zoro to take over for him, their swordsman is a night owl after all, but with the clammy night air sticking to his skin and the memory of the heat from midday still fresh on his mind he doesn’t really look forward to moving down to the stagnant air crowding the men’s bunks below deck.
Usopp considers the glow from the galley for a moment, the idea of a cold drink before Sanji closes down for the night beckoning him. Just as he’s about to muster up the energy to move the lights flicker out and their cook steps out onto the deck. He raises an eyebrow when he spots Usopp.
“Have you moved all evening, longnose?” he says, amusement obvious in his tone. “You look like you’re about to melt on the spot.”
Usopp rolls his eyes, but just as he’s about to open his mouth he’s beaten to the punch by Sanji turning on his heels, a mumble of “Hang on” thrown over his shoulder. Usopp watches after him, blinks, and then there he is again, quick as lightning, a tray of blessed refreshments in his hands. Sanji sets the drink tray down by Usopp’s feet and drags over a lawn chair of his own before he sits down. Graceful as always, but the air about him is different with the smart suit that is Sanji’s usual uniform exchanged for a thin t-shirt and soft pants. Sharp edges all smoothed out somehow. Usopp bends over to pick up the cold drink, condensation making the glass slippery beneath his fingers. With this, maybe he’ll make it through the night in a solid state. Next to him Sanji takes out a cigarette from behind his ear and busies himself with lighting it. A night cap, Usopp thinks to himself and can’t help snickering.
Sanji smiles around his cigarette, as if he’s in on the joke, and reclines in the chair until he's almost lying down. Usopp does the same.
“Not sleeping then?” he asks.
“Not yet,” Sanji replies, “I’m no good in this kinda heat.”
“Me neither,” Usopp sighs, drawn out and exaggerated and Sanji slaps him across the chest.
“Knock that off,” he scoffs.
Usopp pouts and slurps loudly through the straw in his drink. What’s the point in complaining if you don’t get to be obnoxious about it?
It’s Sanji’s turn to roll his eyes, but his legs are crossed, one foot tapping in the air, one arm thrown back behind his head and it’s impossible to not get caught up in the contentment rolling off him in waves. Usopp follows his gaze towards the sky extending out above them and understands.
“It’s strange,” he starts, the storyteller in him pausing and waiting for Sanji’s answering hum before he goes on.
“You’d think it’s the same sky no matter where we go, but I don’t recognize any of these stars from back home.”
Sanji glances at him. “No?”
Usopp shakes his head. “There,” he says and points towards the north, “there used to be a bear, her cub trailing behind.” He moves his fingers, following the outline of constellations he remembers from his childhood. “And there, to the south, was a hunter at the ready, his bowstring drawn and arrow knocked. Kinda morbid if you ask me.”
He laughs. “I’d make up my own constellations too. Better ones obviously, with better stories.”
“Of course, you did,” Sanji hums.
Usopp shrugs.
“I guess it goes to show how far we’ve come.” It frightens him in a way, to be so far away from home even the sky is different, all traces of the familiar long gone. At the same time there’s a backside to the feeling, that same terrifying excitement of an empty page. Of uncharted seas, unknown lands.
Sanji looks back up at the sky. “I recognize a few of them. I used to read a lot as a kid.”
“Really?” Usopp can’t help but ask, surprise coloring his voice.
Sanji looks over and grins around his cigarette. “Why, don’t look like the type? I was pretty quiet, you know. Had my nose buried in books more often than not. Though I guess that’s before I started hanging around the kitchen.”
Usopp boggles at that. He can’t bring to mind a version of Sanji that doesn’t spend the majority of his time in a kitchen, no matter how little. He has wondered idly at the childhoods of his crewmates, some easier to imagine than others, and in his mind he has envisioned a miniature Sanji, a kid with a permanent scowl that inspires no fear, that always talks back, that picked up smoking way too early. It’s far away from the image that is presented to him now and for a moment he can’t quite make it work. And then it does. It slots in easily with Sanji, the wide-eyed romantic. Sanji who is always humming to himself softly while he moves around the galley. Who will let Luffy hang off him like a backpack for an entire afternoon as long as their captain keeps his hands to himself. Who has a stool set aside at the counter especially for when Chopper asks to help out in the kitchen. Sanji who’s banned from telling stories on the sleepless nights in the men’s bunk room, his tastes running too bittersweet, his tales inevitably ending in tragedy.
“No actually, I can kinda see it,” Usopp replies finally, returns the grin.
Sanji hums, foot still tapping in the air. “What were you like then, as a kid? A little hell-raiser I’d guess?”
“Spot-on,” Usopp laughs. “Completely out of control. The villagers lived in fear of what I’d come up with next.”
“I don’t believe you,” Sanji chuckles, “you were probably the sweetest kid.”
“Well, maybe the truth lies somewhere in between," Usopp concedes easily. “Though it’s true I was all over the place. Couldn’t sit still for the life of me.”
“Sounds fun. I would have loved to be your friend.”
“Yeah?” Usopp asks, and maybe it’s the late hour but there is this tinge of wistfulness to Sanji’s smile. It permeates, like a scent in the air. “I’d have liked that. Could have used more friends.”
He’d ended up with a bunch of little brothers instead and while he adores them with all his heart, it would have been nice to have someone his own age to turn to. Someone to look out for who’d have his back in return.
“Yeah. I probably wouldn’t have left you alone, used to be clingy like that.” Still smiling, but there’s that hint of self-deprecation that’s all Sanji.
Usopp scoffs.
“As if you’re not still clingy. You’re just weird about it now. All performative.”
“Excuse me?” Sanji splutters, jerking forward in his seat.
“You heard me, if you want to be around us, be around us. Instead of being all over-the-top with the girls or picking fights with us guys.”
“As if you’re one to talk, longnose,” Sanji bites back, though the effect is ruined by embarrassment painting the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks. “Whenever you’re in a mood you isolate yourself in your workshop.”
Usopp gapes, affronted.
“Do not!”
“Yeah, you do. Even though the last thing you need is to be alone with your own head.”
Usopp slides down in his seat, feels his face scrunch up in annoyance. “Not true, man.”
Sanji rolls his eyes. “You know it is. I leave the lying to you.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m out-right hilarious, didn’t you know?”
Sanji leans back again, takes a long drag from his cigarette and releases an even longer exhale, smoke curling around him. It should be disgusting, but through sheer familiarity the scent of tobacco has become comforting.
“I’m just saying,” Sanji starts, reaching with his free hand to tap Usopp on the knee, fingertips knocking against the soft fabric of his sleep pants. ”Go bug Franky when you get keyed up. Or Brook, or Chopper, or any of us. Come bother me in the galley. There's no reason you should deal with it alone.”
Usopp frowns, unwilling to admit to himself that maybe their cook has a point, that his knee-jerk urge to hunker down and hide when things get too much has never been proven much useful. Still:
“That goes both ways,” he retorts, tone somewhat sullen. “You’re more than welcome to hang-out with us, you know? Sometimes I swear that you act like we only keep you around because you cook. As if Luffy wouldn’t lose his mind if you said yes to fishing with us just once.”
Now it’s suddenly Sanji’s turn to glance away, lips pursed into a pout he’d most certainly deny to hell and back. ”No need to exaggerate, asshole.”
Usopp groans loudly. ”I’m not, for once.”
”Fine, fine. No need to be all dramatic about it.”
”I think there is actually.” Usopp lowers his brows to aim a proper stare at Sanji. “Look, I think we’ve reached a stalemate of denial here. Let’s just make a deal, I’ll think about what you said, yeah, and you’ll do the same?”
Sanji glares back, for a moment looking like he’ll walk off all together, before he slumps in his seat.
“Sure, longnose. That sounds fair enough.”
Usopp smiles. A victory is a victory. He sticks his hand out.
“Seal it with a handshake.”
“Fuck off,” Sanji grumbles, but there’s no heat to it at all and he offers his hand all the same, his grip firm.
Usopp finally relaxes back into his lounge chair and polishes off the last of his drink. It’s turned lukewarm in the heat but no less delicious. Maybe he should ask Sanji how he makes them one of these days. Cash in on the promise he just made.
Next to him Sanji’s leaned back too, a fresh cigarette dangling between his fingers. “So,” he starts, gesturing up at the night sky. “What do you see?”
Usopp hums a question, tilting his head back.
“You said you used to make up your own constellations.”
“Well yeah, but you’re kind of putting me on the spot here.”
Sanji huffs a laugh. “As if, you probably have a dozen ideas already.”
And well, that’s not untrue so Usopp turns his gaze to the stars and starts spinning a story.