Caught With His Pants Down

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Three

“There we go – you’re not going anywhere this time,” said Sugarlips. She had secured Sanji to the chair (or at least what she hoped was secured – he hadn’t done any damage yet but he had been going through her drawers) and put her hands on her hips. “You’ll get a cigarette in two hours and then lunch two hours after that. Two hours later, a cigarette, then dinner two hours after that, and a cigarette before bed.”

“I thought we were supposed to smoke a cigarette after we went to bed?”

Sanji was expecting a smack or another barrage of insults, but Sugarlips seemed to be taking the suggestion seriously. “Well, if I tied you to the headboard again and got you spread eagled it might work,” she said, looking at her bed in interest. Then she shook her head. “No, then I wouldn’t be able to sleep in my bed – you’d be taking up too much room.”

Sanji couldn’t believe she was considering it. “No thanks,” he said dryly. “I like using my hands.”

“Yeah, you are good with them,” she said.

“So if you wanted to do what we did last night you should-“

“No.”

Sanji sighed. It was worth a try.

Sugarlips shrugged. “Well, either way, I’m going to make sure we’re still on course and go sunbathe for a little bit. She pulled off her top, revealing a cute green bikini top underneath. Sanji’s eyes were glued to her chest, which bounced a little while she was still trying to get the neck cuff over her head.

Then again, he’d gotten very close to them last night (and just about every other part of her body) so it wasn’t as bad as looking at Nami-san or Robin-chan, whom he might never get a chance with. It wasn’t an unknown curiosity – they were toys he’d played with already. Also, they were toys owned by a girl who had threatened to shoot him.

The bounty hunter left the shirt next to the desk in a pile of clothing that, Sanji realized, was actually quite large. He watched her leave the room, humming to herself as she, presumably, made her way to the deck. He toed at the pile and caught a t-shirt. It felt like it had a film of . . . something . . . on it. He grimaced. Girls weren’t supposed to be messy.

Then again, she was a bounty hunter, so she might have been busy hunting away from the boat for a while and things just kind of . . . sat . . . for a while. He noticed his shirt, jacket, and boxer shorts were also added the pile. He hung his head. Granted, he didn’t exactly get to wash his clothes all the time but he did have the decency to hang them up.

He looked at his hands – still tied up, but now he knew where the scissors were. And since the chair wasn’t bolted to the floor, then maybe he could make it back over to her dresser. He looked over. The distance wasn’t that far, and if he kept quiet then, as undignified as it was, he could hobble over to the dresser, somehow get the drawer open, and retrieve the desired cutting implement.

All he had to do was rock forward, get onto the balls of his feet, and he could move around. It would be very awkward until he could get himself free of the chair, but it was some mobility. He sighed. “Okay . . . on three, Sanji,” he muttered to himself. He started to rock the chair forward. “One . . . two . . SHIT!”

Sanji had succeeded in propelling himself forward, but he’d pushed a little TOO hard and now he was on a collision course with Sugarlips’ pile of dirty laundry. Jerking his body against his bindings he desperately tried to break his fall, but instead found himself face to face with a particularly nasty sock and a bra that smelled like old, festering cheese (but would have looked FANTASTIC on Nami).

As least the laundry broke his fall – it was better than having his neck broken from colliding with the floor and having no way to soften the impact. Sure, Sugarlips had left his hands in front of his chest but they wouldn’t have done him much good. The laundry was smelly, but it made the fall shorter (due to its size) and softer (due to its contents).

But the SMELL! It hadn’t been so bad from where he was before – he could kind of smell it, but it was a lot different than being face first in it. Sanji wanted to gag. This was the first time in his life he’d been upset he’d been this close to a bra. Normally being face to cup with a bra was a joyous occasion – it meant he was going to get lucky. But this . . .

Sanji considered puking. He would get busted for another escape attempt, but he had to get his face out of that laundry pile before Sugarlips got back. Maybe he could try and tell her that a wave knocked him over or something. He sighed, then regretted the decision – there was a sweaty t-shirt nearby and he could see the pit stains out of the corner of his eye.

“Damn it!”

He clenched his eyes shut, held his breath, and tried to roll onto his side. Sanji started to shift all of his weight to his left, bracing himself for a fall on his side. The chair wobbled and for a moment he was balanced on one edge of the chair. He clenched his eyes shut as he landed on his shoulder – still in the laundry pile of doom, but at least he didn’t have THAT in his face anymore.

Sanji breathed heavily – the air was still pretty rank but it was a lot better than before. He looked around, wondering what could possibly help him now. It was a pile of laundry – what the hell was sharp in a pile of laundry? Cloth? Hell no. He sighed, wrapping his hands around the first thing he found.

A bra (another one that Nami would have looked stunning in). He looked down at it. It was a bright orange with pink polka dots and a little pink bow in the center. The straps were thin and orange, just like the rest of it, though somehow she’d gotten deodorant on the left one. It had some padding to it, just above the garment’s underwire.

Sanji’s eyes snapped open. UNDERWIRE!

Sugarlips yawned, blinking tiredly. She’d fallen asleep while sunbathing – that was no good. She briefly wondered how long she’d been out – hopefully Sanji was right where she left him and hadn’t gotten out again. He was a sneaky little son of a bitch. Great lay, but very, very sneaky.

Sugarlips sat up and looked around, looking down at the Eternal Pose to the Marine base and swore – they were headed in the exact OPPOSITE direction! Rats! I fell asleep! I need to get the ship back on course! Grabbing her gun and heading to the ship’s wheel, she checked their direction. They were headed straight back to Ivory Island, where she’d pick Sanji up from. She did NOT want to deal with the rest of his crew – one of them was bad enough!

Then she smelled something. Something wonderful.

“He’s loose,” she realized. Clinging to her gun, she put her back to the kitchen door. He was in there. With all of her good kitchen knives and who knew how much poisoned or drugged food. Biting her bottom lip and realizing that maybe her mother was right and she SHOULD have been a dentist, she kicked in the door and stormed in, holding the gun in front of her.

“HOLD IT RIGHT – WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?”

Sure enough, Sanji was standing there in the middle of her kitchen, now with a surprised look on his face, a cigarette half falling out of his mouth, and his hands in the air (though one of them was holding a spatula). There was something cooking on the stove (probably the salmon she’d picked up a couple of days ago, and what appeared to be a pot of simmering fried rice) and a fresh salad on the table.

This, however, wasn’t what she was enraged about, although having a pirate cooking in her kitchen certainly wasn’t ‘normal’ by any stretch of the imagination. What made her mad was that the pirate cooking in her kitchen was wearing her favorite apron. Her favorite Criminal brand apron with the big pockets in the front she’d gotten for her last birthday.

It was the ONLY thing he was wearing.

“Um, I’m making dinner?” he said.

“WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS!?”

“In the laundry.”

Sugarlips raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘in the laundry’?” Sanji was about to answer when she shook the gun at him. “Put your hands behind your back and turn around! I wanna see them at all times!”

Sanji grinned, looking behind him. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’ve seen your ass before, dipshit.”

“Look, I know a lot of guys like it that way but I can’t get over that that’s where-“

“Shut up!”

Sanji did as he was told and Sugarlips bound his hands with the strings of the apron. “I don’t know what the hell made you decide to cook and do laundry in your situation but I’m not really sure I care right now. I’m bringing you back to my room and this time you’re STAYING in the closet until we get to the Marine base, then you’ll be THEIR problem.”

“Once again, I’m not gay! You of all people should know that!”

“I KNOW THAT!”

Sugarlips roughly pushed him towards her cabin, keeping the gun to the back of his head as she grumbled about how she deserved a vacation after this. She sighed to herself as she opened the door to her cabin, trying to decide what she was going to do about his rather . . . pants-less . . . state of being. As it was she was going to need to wash her apron-

The bounty hunter froze. Sanji smiled.

“What the hell did you do to my laundry?”

“I did it.”

There, sitting on her (now neatly made) bed was clean laundry, folded neatly and organized by color. Her jaw dropped. “You did all of my laundry,” she said slowly. She was in disbelief. She looked at him, stepping around in front of him. “You did all of my laundry.” She looked back at the pile of clothing. “You did all of my laundry.”

“The last load is drying right now – that’s where my clothes are, too.”

“You did all of my laundry.”

Sanji nodded, looking at her in worry. “Yes, we’ve established this already.”

Wordlessly, Sugarlips led him to the closet, untied him, took the apron from him, and handcuffed him to the clothing bar. She closed the door (while Sanji stared in some kind of disappointed disbelief) and slid to the floor, looking at the clean clothing on her bed. The giant pile of laundry was gone. Looking out the window, she could see the rest of it (including his jacket, pants, shirt, tie, and underwear) hanging to dry. “He did all of my laundry. The son of a bitch did all of my laundry.”

That was when she noticed it sticking out of the trash. Her limited edition designer bra, the one that had cost her ten thousand berries, was ripped open, the mangled and jagged underwire from the left cup glistening in the lamplight. Her eyes widened and the corner of her mouth crept up her face into a shaky, unreal smile.

“THAT WAS MY FAVORITE BRA YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Author’s Notes

Okay, so an SBS said that all the men do their laundry in one great big “laundry event” that smelled really bad but seriously – Sanji’s got the highest possible score on fashion sense (according to Oda) so I’m thinking the smell isn’t coming from his laundry – the other boys may cause his laundry to smell and although I suppose I would by the notion that he only have one or two suits . . . c’mon Oda, really?

Anyways, today (July 31) is my birthday which means my readers get a present. Enjoy!

-Dixxy