Once again, not meant to be yaoi unless you choose to think so. :)

Disclaimer: One Piece and all characters mentioned are created by Eiichiro Oda.

"That's so cool! What a weird looking fish! Zoro, Zoro! You've got to come see this!"

I paused for a moment while serving the ladies their afternoon tea and glanced up. My captain was teetering dangerously over the railing staring into the sea, his mouth split into a wide grin, one foot wrangling in the air with joyous excitement. "Zoro! Come on!"

Zoro. Zoro again. It's always Zoro.

Never me.

Whenever something amused Luffy, or when he found something interesting and fun he would like to share, the first thing he would do was to turn around eagerly, looking for that stupid swordsman.

The only times he did shout for me was to ask for food.

"Sanji! Feed meeeee……!"

"Meat! Meat! I want more meat, Sanji!"

And I supposed that's right in a way. I was, after all, only the cook. And I've been a cook all my life, I knew my place well. My duty here was to feed the crew, feed the captain. The same way I had on the Baratie, feeding people.

I cook, I serve the food I cook, and I clean up the mess after the others had eaten. Nothing more, nothing less.

Unlike Zoro. Unlike the first-mate.

The first-mate would always have a special place in the captain's heart. He was the one who had been with the captain the longest, faced dangers and shared adventures together in a time before there was anyone else; experiences which the rest of them could only guess at. He was the one the captain felt the closest to, trusted the most; the one the captain most wished to share all his joys and sorrows with.

Of course, Luffy wasn't like most pirate captains. I knew Luffy loved me, the same way he loved all of us. All his nakama. And though I knew I didn't show it, I adored and respected Luffy as my captain; despite of, and perhaps because of, all his goofiness and impossible stupidity.

That's why it was so unfair! I'm not any less loyal to Luffy than that seaweed head, nor do I love him any less. Still, it was obvious who the captain's favourite person was on this ship.

Yet, I knew I should feel no grudge. The captain and his first-mate. Their special bond. That was just the way things were.

But my heart just couldn't help but hurt a little, every time I hear Luffy call for that bastard.

"Sanji-kun?"

There was a touch of concern in Nami-san's voice, but mostly puzzlement, as she wondered why I had suddenly paused in the midst of serving her the tea, teapot still held poised in my unmoving hand.

"Nothing, Nami-san." I replied smoothly around my cigarette, and resumed filling her cup with a bright smile. I'm good at this, hiding these little episodes of dark mood. After all, I had practice. Luffy shouted enthusiastically for his first-mate several times a day.

But perhaps I'm not as good as I had thought, for she studied me shrewdly with her quick clever eyes. Then, she smiled, gently, to let me know she knew I was upset, although not the cause.

Ah…my Nami-san…so intelligent, so beautiful, so kind and thoughtful …surely a goddess came to earth in the guise of a human…

I told her as much, in quite a few more words, along with a loving gaze and all appropriate gestures of worship. She let me swoon for a few moments longer then asked sweetly, "The raspberry tart was absolutely delicious today. Would you get me another?"

"At once, Nami-san!"

"And some coffee, cook-san, if you will." Robin-chan looked up from her book, with one of her mysterious smiles which always set my heart aflutter. "I don't fancy tea very much."

"Of course, Robin-chan!"

I glided away towards the galley, my mood considerably improved. I'm not the first-mate, I'm the cook. And my rightful place was here, cooking and serving. And when I come to think about it, I could want nothing more.

But when I saw that stupid swordsman napping propped up against the railings, his legs sprawled across the deck so I had to walk around them, my anger rose again. He hadn't answered Luffy with anything more than a sleepy grunt. Luffy, in his carefree ways wouldn't mind. He was still leaning over the railing, one hand clasped over the straw hat, grinning down into the waters.

But I minded. Minded that Zoro, that block-headed thing, had something so special and precious here, something which I would never have, and he wasn't even aware of it. That he could sleep right through it.

My eyes narrowed.

For that and everything else, and because I could, I kicked him.