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[deviledlegs]

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[deviledlegs]

[The Surgeon of Death reduced to treating paper cuts? Well, shit. Sanji is just going to snicker at that mental image the entire twenty minutes he has left to himself. That's like someone asking Sanji to microwave them chicken nuggets.

When Law arrives, Sanji kicks open the door with his toes, a steaming pot of creamy parmesan pasta in his hands. The smell of garlic is everywhere, and the table is set for two.]

No more paper cuts then?

[hot_mes]

[one of the most pleasant things to greet him at a door, really. Smells so good, how did he ever live on rice and fish for most of a year? Just don't remind him that pasta is a cousin of bread and he'll eat everything set before him]

Yeah. Infirmary's quiet.

[he settles himself down as usual, this is all routine by now.]

You don't know how to do anything small, do you?

[deviledlegs]

[He snorts wryly as he nudges the door shut, then sets the pot in the center of the table between them.]

Old habits die hard, and this is one habit I don't plan on quitting anytime soon. [A shrug, and he starts heaping Law's portion onto his plate.] Besides, I can hand out the leftovers.

[hot_mes]

[perils of cooking for a large crew, he guesses]

I'm sure you do. To all the women, is it?

[he gets started without any further fanfare, so as to keep himself a little busy doing what he actually came here to do before springing his other topic on Sanji. He's been warned, but Law's too awkward to just come out with it until he's gotten a few bites of dinner.]

...so. That thing I texted you about.

[deviledlegs]

[Sanji swallows his own sizable bite of pasta before grinning like a madman.]

Maybe. All the grieving maidens done in by Torao's cruel scowl.

[hot_mes]

[MAN WHY

he's totally making this face, now.]

There are no grieving maidens, shut up. Just one that won't leave me alone.

[deviledlegs]

So this is about Miss Caedra?

[Whatever the problem is, he's already decided it must be Law's fault.]

[hot_mes]

Yeah... [idly moving pasta bits around on his plate like the poutiest poutface ever] We need to...talk. About our thing. I've never talked to anyone about things like that before.

[help plz love-cook?]

[deviledlegs]

[Sanji considers this confession very seriously as he chews and swallows.]

Do you even know how to start a normal conversation?

[hot_mes]

[ALL THE STARING seriously if looks could kill...]

Don't joke around with me, I'm trying to be serious.

[deviledlegs]

So am I. [He returns quite level, without missing a beat. He is not even remotely afraid of Law, but murder glares don't nurture good appetites.] You just called what you two have a "thing." Like you don't even know what it is.

[hot_mes]

I don't. [shh eating for a second. he's not above talking with his mouth full, though.] At least, I don't know if she wants more than what I want out of it.

[deviledlegs]

[Sanji feels sorry for Miss Caedra. What an angelic and patient woman.

When he speaks, he rolls through each word with a methodical slowness better reserved for small children.]

Repeat after me: "My dear, sweet Caedra, what would you like me to do for you today?"

[hot_mes]

[his steady deadpan communicates so much no]

Maybe asking for advice from you was the wrong strategy.

[deviledlegs]

[Sanji points his fork at Law. Very aggressively.]

You already know how I would talk to a lady like Miss Caedra, and we both know you couldn't manage that level of adulation even if you wanted to! I'm trying to dumb this down for you here.

Have you even tried just asking her? Not as some shitty, all important, one-time talk. Just as a regular fucking thing.

[hot_mes]

She doesn't need adulation. [well, he's wrong there, but at least they've already sort of accepted that he's not going to fawn on her and she can live without it] You can keep the poetry, we already talk to each other like normal people.

[he's been under the weight of A Talk ever since she said they needed to have one, so he hasn't conceived of doing it any other way. Inflexibility is his trademark, after all.]

...but. How?

[deviledlegs]

Okay, okay. I'll give you three easy steps that not even you can grump up.

[Sanji drops the attitude (and his fork) albeit reluctantly.]

First! You choose the right time. Don't pull that shit right before or after anything important. Don't hold her daily activities hostage either. Ask her when she's free, and wait your damn turn.

Second! You make her comfortable. Good food always works, but any creature comforts are important. You don't want her to feel trapped. She should want to keep talking to you because it's comfortable.

And finally! You ask her opinions. She obviously has a lot of them. If you don't listen to them, I'll roast your jewels like fucking chestnuts.

Got it?

[hot_mes]

[well he's not wrong about that last bit]

...choose a good time, don't make her uncomfortable, and. [like a lame, shameful dumbass] Listen. I got it.

[hilariously, these are all things that Law isn't used to doing. what does he care if he makes people uncomfortable or drags them aside during something important? He takes Sanji's advice like a strategy, a tactic to apply to get what he wants. What? It's not like she'll care if he's magnanimous and open.]

[deviledlegs]

[This is the real reason people call Law the Surgeon of Death. He'll save people's lives with his skill and power, then immediately torture them with his atrocious bedside manner.]

You're gonna repeat it back to me one more time after dinner. I won't let you leave until I know you've got it down. These are the very basics, you know.

[He can't make sure Law will follow through, but he can make sure that he memorizes this shit. At the very least, this way, the guy shouldn't make the same mistake twice.]

[hot_mes]

[pouting fiercely because he hates being treated like a child, but this time he brought it on himself. He really is being a child about this oh-so-serious talk about his non-relationship.]

Basics, huh? I suppose I should be glad it's not a real relationship. I'd rather stab myself than have to go through that.

[deviledlegs]

[Sanji takes an appreciative bite of pasta and promptly kicks Law under the table.]

[hot_mes]

[OW DAMMIT]

What the hell was that for?!

[deviledlegs]

For every time you've gotten off with that shitty attitude!

[Suck it.]

[hot_mes]

Then you'd be kicking me every day for the next twenty-eight years, because that's how long I've gotten away with it.

[huff grumble huff now excuse me while I eat this delicious pasta, you jerk]

You can keep the hearts and flowers. That's not for me and never will be. Don't try to make me into you.

[deviledlegs]

Don't tempt me.

[You're very welcome, you lucky bastard.]

I don't expect you to be me. I expect you not to talk shit about a woman's needs at my fucking table.