@svvcrdsman - SENDER KISSES RECEIVER'S INNER WRIST + IN THE KITCHEN ♡
↪ Swing by before last call. I'll whip you up a treat. ↪ x
ㅤㅤThe hours drift by as Sanji looks at the messages once more, a double set of blue ticks firmly in place yet there's no response, the edge of a thumb lightly tapping against the side of the phone as if the rhythm would somehow drum up a reply, going so far as venturing to a different part of the building in case the low ceiling of the temporary establishment had an effect on reception ( aucune aide là ). A spark of inadequacy threatens to take hold as the cook considers that perhaps the addition of the 'x' had been a little much, wishing he could withdraw it despite knowing it was far too late, departing from the spot he'd been hovering at near the till behind the bar to delve into the inner depths of the kitchen, leaving behind a member of front-of-house taking a payment from their last group of indulgent customers as they make arrangements to head home. The blond hadn't heard from the other man in a few days, knowing fully that Zoro had an excessively hectic work schedule this week, frequently intermittently fighting the urge to scroll through social media profiles in search of any inkling of what he was up to ( aucune chance ).
ㅤㅤㅤㅤA knot forms within the base of Sanji's stomach as he opts to call it a night, the swinging entrance juddering closed behind him just as a distant commotion starts up on the other side of the expansive sleek room, someone apparently wanting to head inside despite their doors on the verge of shutting ( ça arrive de temps en temps ). Fingertips absentmindedly fumble at one of the loosening buttons keeping the cook's apron in place, the opposing palm lowering to rest against the cool surface of a countertop, index finger lightly tapping with the sheen of lighting overhead splayed across metal ( il déteste ressentir ça ). It's a thought that's swallowed down as the man tells himself that he shouldn't have had any expectations, that nothing had changed as such so this morose sentiment is uncalled for— except, that's not how Sanji parses his emotions as things draw out, anticipation having gotten itself embroiled with genuine longing, the lengthening of time spent apart ( aussi petit soit-il en apparence ) making matters all the more difficult when forlornly thinking forwards to the future.
ㅤㅤ"Qui suis-je plaisantais. Je ne pourrai pas survivre à une relation à distance," the blond glumly mutters to himself under his breath, navy blue fabric falling away from his front to be placed to one side, the motion of the sous chef's frame overshadowed by another's bearing - a familiar warmth lingers against the back of Sanji's wrist, digits tracing a delicate line over faint creases of skin that peek from the layers of his sleeve, a touch that slowly evolves to be increasingly ardent in its intentions, contact that grows firmer as the man feels an enveloping grasp. The cook remains perfectly still as notes of cologne drift across to engulf his senses ( il sentait toujours si bon ), lips parting in contented relief as Zoro's comforting form presses against Sanji's back, an arm desirously wrapping around his midriff tugging him closer still into a full bodied embrace. Temples poised with respective visages nestling against one another's, the pair remain like this for a moment in blissful silence, a quiet murmur of the kitchen's lighting being the sole means of interruption.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤThe blond lifts a hand to grace Zoro's jaw with a doting caress, the words "missed you" tumbling from his lips without any hint of hesitation or embarrassment, a gesture that's met with an inclination of the other's countenance - pout inchingly brushing against the cook's wrist with inate deference, there's a huff of a teasing smile in the mix, the air around them growing playfully charged ( il adorait quand Zoro était comme ça ). "Now, about that treat..." There's a look about the other that Sanji knows all too well, fair line of vision growing half lidded as he fights back every urge to accept such an offer due to his own principles... no matter how difficult. "Kitchen's closed," the man muses with a feigned air of elevated importance, a digit extended from the palm being lavished with attention lightly prodding the other in the cheek with a grin. "But... play your cards right, and I'll figure something out."
