Dingbats in a Black Box
Aug. 16th, 2007 01:09 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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onepieceyaoi100Title: Dingbats in a Black Box
Rating: PG (if only because this is a Sanji fic and is automatically rated for some—reasonably mild, in this case— swearing)
Word Count: 300
Pairing: It’s more of a Sanji/Zeff father/son drabble, really.I so fail at this whole yaoi thing.
Topic: Unseen
Summary: The Baratie houses no Sherlock Holmes.
A/N: Criticism highly encouraged. I came up with this bit a few hours before the submission date and, to be completely honest, I’m not very happy with how it came out. I sense my re-writing this if I wake up in the morning and find myself full of hate for it. (But it fit the topic and thus had to be posted nao. Mynot very strict but still somewhat intact moral code dictated I do so. And, no, I don’t know what that has to do with anything. D8) Just lemme know if you have anything to say about it~ ♥
It was difficult to find, but if you looked closely enough it was there. And while it was a little too bad that the men of the Baratie didn’t have half the ounce of observational skills required to take notice, it certainly made Zeff’s life easier.
He’d told all of them, at one point or another, that the boy was just for decoration.
The boy, predictably enough, had screamed at him.
(Then he’d proceeded to spit, curse, and kick his way through puberty out of spite, but that really was beside the point…)
But all the same, one would imagine that the cooks on the Baratie should have noticed the nuance of affection between their head and assistant chef. An open ear would have caught the old man muttering fighting techniques to the boy whenever they went out to the market. A sharp eye would have seen his proud smile when their little eggplant’s Soup of the Day made headlines.
Then there was Sanji, bright-eyed and bushy tailed and showing off what he’d learned to Zeff, the anticipatory clench of his tiny fists and the subsequent hands-in-pocket stance he’d taken after he hit fifteen and grew legs a dead give away. It was, after all, a glaringly obvious flaw he’d never really outgrown.
But the whole lot of them were as blind as dingbats in a black box and so the crew of the Baratie continued with their lives, dangerous things that they were.
Owner Zeff stayed the strict old man; Sanji, the mutinous brat.
Hate, it seemed, was their only opinion of one another. It would be the way things went until one rubbery pirate decided to bounce into their restaurant without a reservation (the little bastard).
It really was all very elementary.
In a twisted kind of way.
Rating: PG (if only because this is a Sanji fic and is automatically rated for some—reasonably mild, in this case— swearing)
Word Count: 300
Pairing: It’s more of a Sanji/Zeff father/son drabble, really.
Topic: Unseen
Summary: The Baratie houses no Sherlock Holmes.
A/N: Criticism highly encouraged. I came up with this bit a few hours before the submission date and, to be completely honest, I’m not very happy with how it came out. I sense my re-writing this if I wake up in the morning and find myself full of hate for it. (But it fit the topic and thus had to be posted nao. My
It was difficult to find, but if you looked closely enough it was there. And while it was a little too bad that the men of the Baratie didn’t have half the ounce of observational skills required to take notice, it certainly made Zeff’s life easier.
He’d told all of them, at one point or another, that the boy was just for decoration.
The boy, predictably enough, had screamed at him.
(Then he’d proceeded to spit, curse, and kick his way through puberty out of spite, but that really was beside the point…)
But all the same, one would imagine that the cooks on the Baratie should have noticed the nuance of affection between their head and assistant chef. An open ear would have caught the old man muttering fighting techniques to the boy whenever they went out to the market. A sharp eye would have seen his proud smile when their little eggplant’s Soup of the Day made headlines.
Then there was Sanji, bright-eyed and bushy tailed and showing off what he’d learned to Zeff, the anticipatory clench of his tiny fists and the subsequent hands-in-pocket stance he’d taken after he hit fifteen and grew legs a dead give away. It was, after all, a glaringly obvious flaw he’d never really outgrown.
But the whole lot of them were as blind as dingbats in a black box and so the crew of the Baratie continued with their lives, dangerous things that they were.
Owner Zeff stayed the strict old man; Sanji, the mutinous brat.
Hate, it seemed, was their only opinion of one another. It would be the way things went until one rubbery pirate decided to bounce into their restaurant without a reservation (the little bastard).
It really was all very elementary.
In a twisted kind of way.
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Date: 2007-08-15 08:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-16 03:23 pm (UTC)bitchyloud love. <3no subject
Date: 2007-08-15 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-16 03:26 pm (UTC)